Immortal
Chapter 1 - Captive

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

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Never before had Legolas of Mirkwood considered what it would be like to be in such a pain that would rob him of his ability to think clearly, assess and get himself out of danger. There was always a first time for everything. He had the wits about him to remain still and hold his tongue despite the terrible headache he was suffering, but he held off for a bit on the planning. The surface he was on was cool and pleasant and if he could discipline himself enough to not move, he could almost remember what it was like to be free of such pain.

When a wave of dizziness passed, Legolas considered what he could ascertain from his current position. He was on his chest, his hands above his head, bound by heavy manacles. His left cheek was pressed against the stone ground and his nose was uncomfortably close to his forearm, nearly smothering him. Aside from the throbbing in his head he did not believe he was otherwise injured.

That understood, Legolas opened himself up to the setting outside his own little dreadful corner of wherever they had laid him. He could hear the crackling of a fire, could smell the foul stench of orcs. Their voices made him wish he had not come awake with their darkness and volume. Brushing past himself, Legolas forced himself to focus on their words. "You let the ale get warm! Get me another!" The sound of liquid slapping against stone preceded the crack of a wooden mug hitting the floor.

"Perhaps I would have arrived sooner had you not injured my leg," replied a soft voice, whose shaking timbre betrayed fear and pain. It was feminine and most definitely Elvish. The wisdom of the years had aged this voice beyond his own youthful countenance.

A harsh slap filled the air, she groaned and then fell. Legolas deemed the time for resting over and pushed himself up, ready to go to her aid despite the odds. His vision blurred a little from his fast movement, then cleared as he looked upon a form curled up on the floor near a crudely set up table where at least six orcs were laughing. For a moment all he could think was how her pale blue dress was ruined by filth and blood.

"Well now you done it," growled a member of the party that was not amused—the self-same one that had bested him. He sat at the head of the table near where the Elf-woman had fallen, nudging her with his boot. "She's out again. Now you get up and get our ale, you maggot!"

The offender made a deep, unhappy rumbling sound in the back of his throat, but obeyed and snatched his cup up from the floor. When he saw Legolas, he stopped and twisted his head to the side. "Well, well. The little one's awake. What's the matter, brat? We rob you of your mother?"

Legolas looked around for any sign of his weapons. "Avanich, ind ae lín adar gâr lín thîr, ingon torog ubennen le lín!" He saw no sign of any implements of escape.
-You didn't, but if your father has your face, I guess a troll denied you yours.

The orc neared and drew his foot back, making ready to kick him, but his commander stopped him. "Knock that one out before we can cut him and I'll have my fun sticking holes in you!"

Glaring down, his would-be attacker hissed, "You wait, Elf. You just wait." Curling his lip, the orc lumbered off into another part of the caves.

Legolas leaned back against the rock he had been placed near, composing himself as another wave of pain seared through his head. Looking at the apparent leader through half-lidded eyes, he said, "Will you allow me to see to her?"

The leader shook his head. "She'll wake up in due time. Besides, you'll be busy." That most likely did not mean anything pleasant. Legolas tensed when he stood from the table and approached, looking down in mild amusement. "I am Goralûk. Remember that for the next few days."

"Why only the next few days?" he asked, supposing the answer already.

He was not disappointed. "That's how long you have to live, Elf. And I suggest you keep your pretty words inside your head and speak Common if you'd like to keep it."

Legolas closed his eyes. "I shall try to remember." For his insolence he was rewarded with a backhanded blow to the cheek that drove him down to the ground again. His head spun and he did not get back up. He heard the orc grunt as it walked away, listened as it hauled the other Elf up and dragged her closer. She hit the floor beside Legolas and made a soft, pained sound.

The Prince of Mirkwood shifted himself to look at her, opening his eyes to the garish light. Her golden hair covered her face, but he could see blue eyes looking beyond the strands at him. Bracing himself up painfully, Legolas reached for her and brushed her hair back, gasping at the eyes that stared back. It was the Lady of Imladris, the wife of Lord Elrond and mother to the twin princes he counted as friends. He knew her face, for it was not unlike theirs. Her lip was cracked and bloody, her face bruised. It was a sore sight to behold of any Elf, especially one so gentle as she. "Are you all right?" he asked in a soft tone.

Goralûk sneered at his concern and kicked his arm back from her. Legolas fell and glared at his enemy, hungering for the moment when these fiends would pay for their actions. Smirking at his malcontent, the orc retreated back to where the others were drinking.

The Prince of Mirkwood bit back his anger and sat up to see of the woman he had come to rescue. Lady Celebrían stirred as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. When her eyes fixed on his face they were pained, but calm. "I endure. You are Legolas?" she asked, her eyes glinting with the question.

He knew instinctively why she had not referred to his title. If the orcs learned they held important figures their danger could become all the worse. He nodded at her question, knitting his brow as he looked her over. A sudden tension began in the pit of his stomach. He stopped himself, as he always did, from exploring the oncoming thoughts, focusing on the here and now. "And I know you as well. Does he expect you home?" His hope was that Lord Elrond would send of his guardians to search for her.

Her eyes misted as she nodded gravely. She said nothing, laying very still and closing her eyes. The prince knew not how long she must have endured the company of these orcs, but by now she would be exhausted. His heart went out to her, for he could tell she was already wearing down. They were going to have to get out of here fast, but there were many foes and his weapons were gone.

"Elf," rasped Goralûk, his eyes fixed upon Legolas.

Meeting the hungry gaze, he sat up with nothing less than confidence written upon his features. "I have a name."

This amused the orc greatly, who laughed, then shook his head. "Get up."

"And if I refuse?" he asked hotly, though he knew there would be little patience spared for his defiance. He would use wisdom, but he would not be broken.

The beast's lips twitched into a hopeful grin. "You watch me hurt her."

It was a bad situation. They would use them against each other, tormenting one if the other did not obey orders. Legolas looked down at the unconscious form, knowing he could not allow harm to come to her, even if meant his own pain. His head throbbing, he brought himself to his feet, displaying as little weakness as he could. "What do you want?" His tone was short and deep, filled with contempt.

Goralûk watched him with full recognition of his situation glittering in two black eyes. He knew the Elf was cornered, knew he could do little else than obey or pay the consequences. Ghoulish, shining eyes in the shadows waited to see what Legolas would do, hungry for him to make a mistake that would allow their leader to relent for their fun. These beings despised Elves, for they were everything their forebears used to be. Everything they could never be. Legolas dared not show his fear, but he felt as though the cave walls were closing in on him.

The orc motioned to the table for him to sit. "We're going to talk about your home."

Crossing his arms, Legolas made his way to the table, scouting for his weapons along the way. There was no sign. Frustrated, he sat down as far from the others as he could, glaring at his enemy. Goralûk seemed to enjoy that.

Author: Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed or sent an email!!! You made my day! :D Hope you enjoy this next chapter!