My Immortal
Fury
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An indeterminate amount of time passed, countless hours that lulled Legolas into a comfortable rest that healed his abused body, but one would have to be deaf to miss the voluminous lumbering of orcs. Legolas came into awareness when a dark laugh passed through the shadows to his ears. "Looks like the Elf had himself a good time. I warn you, boy, we have your companion out here. Make a false move and she's dead."
Pulling himself to a standing position and clutching the dagger firmly, Legolas called, "Celebrían, are you well?"
She gave no reply, but the orc did. "She's out." His grip on the dagger tightened until a black form covered the open doorway to his cell. Goralûk studied him with intent eyes. "Give up the weapon or watch me cut her into tiny pieces."
Legolas was half-tempted to fling the blade at him in a vicious way, but knew it would gain him nothing but trouble. He tossed it down at the orc's feet, then waited for whatever would come next. Goralûk laughed as he scooped the dagger up and stepped aside. The light made Lady Celebrían's pale dress seem to glow as they hurled her in. She tumbled to the floor at his feet without crying out or moving.
Ignoring his audience, Legolas knelt and looked over the Lady of Imladris carefully, trying to ascertain the extent of her injuries. "Brennil nîn?" he whispered gently, turning her over. Her face was dark with blood and markings. Something other than wisdom took over his mind. The Prince of Mirkwood tilted his head up, glaring in open hatred of their captors. "Why?"
My Lady.
Goralûk cocked his head, studying the Elf. He seemed amused by the prince's sudden fire. "It is my nature." He took a step towards the two of them, his expression a mask of danger intent and a deep, insatiable hunger. "Blood and pain is my nature. And ah, how sweet she was." A rumbling, insinuating laugh filled Legolas with deep anger.
The Elf clenched his jaw and laid his burden back down upon the cold floor. "Leave her alone," he hissed, feeling dangerous himself. "Satisfy your need for blood with a warrior, not a defenseless woman."
His enemy did not back down, would not have even had Legolas threatened with weapons. This beast would be inevitably greedy as all the servants of Sauron were, but he would not let it save his life if it meant accepting defeat. He was a dangerous one. "I will have satisfaction," he rasped low, flitting those glittering eyes over the Elf before him. "And I see no need to free anyone. This is where the both of you will make your graves." The deadly certainty in his voice was unwavering and confident.
"The only grave I intend to make is yours," Legolas growled back in retort, readying himself to fight.
Goralûk stared back, and then whipped his hand out without warning, snaring the prince's hair. He jerked roughly, dragging the Elf towards him. Trying to ignore the pain, Legolas gripped the orc's leather cuirass, pulling, struggling, doing anything to throw the monster off balance.
The orc only laughed, his dirty fingers tangling the golden strands, spinning them tighter and tighter as he forced the prince out of his cell into the open. He jerked back, throwing Legolas into an arch that brought him to his knees, then threw him down to the stone floor. When he straightened and looked up, he saw three more had joined the fray, surrounding him. "This is how you fight?" he asked incredulously, turning his heated gaze on their leader. "You alone cannot subdue even one Elf? You need help to do it?"
Smiling, Goralûk kicked dust at him. "This isn't about subduing. This is about causing you pain and that I will share with my boys, just like I did with her." He growled, drawing a dagger. "You like to fight, Elf?"
Maneuvering to his feet, remaining crouched, Legolas looked for any window from which to break free the deadly circle. Their shining eyes were keen on him, focused and waiting for the start to their fun. He could see no immediate route of escape. "I like to fight," he answered, glaring up steadily, "if only to keep monsters like you from walking the earth!"
One of the others snarled, kicking with a heavy boot, shoving the Elf forward. Legolas fell onto his hands hard with a groan, but saw a chance. He used their amused distraction to propel himself into Goralûk, shoving him down. The surprised orc gave an angry shout, struggling viciously to regain the power he had over the Elf. This prompted the others, whose collective growls were like a pack of hungry wolves converging on him. Legolas sent his fist flying into Goralûk's jaw before feeling hands on his shoulders, jerking him away.
Their fingers were rough, claws sinking into his tender skin without care for whatever wounds he bore. They ripped him off their leader and threw him across the room. A sharp, echoing thud filled the dark room as he slammed back against a wooden cell door. He let out a hard breath, immediately turning his concentration back to the battle at hand. One of them was closing on him with a drawn blade. He chose to exploit that one's confidence first.
Legolas pushed himself off the door, standing ready until the black creature crept forward with a moist laugh. It thrust the dagger forward in an attempt to catch the Elf in the stomach. He easily dodged the blow and used his swiftness to reach for the hilt. The orc growled as he turned the blade back towards the wielder, forcing it dangerously close to its stomach.
For a long moment there was a power struggle; the blade switching targets back and forth more than once. His foe had the definitive advantage in strength, but Legolas was nimble. He let up on the blade, allowing it to come near to hitting him, then twisted out of the way. The orc had assumed himself victorious too soon. His arm was stretched stiffly, his elbow locked, diminishing his reflexes enough that the Elf could get a hold of his wrist and hold it while he slammed his free hand into the orc's elbow, straining it in the wrong direction. It howled and dropped the blade instinctively.
Legolas let him go, ducking as the monster swung its arm out, grasping the blade as he did so. When he straightened he saw he had a very angry party of orcs on his hands. Goralûk fingered a wooden club that had frayed sides and splinters sticking out, watching and waiting. There was a quiet bloodlust in his eyes that would not be denied.
Feral growls filtered through the air and glittering eyes in the dim reminded him of the perils of his home. The forests of Mirkwood were thick and filled with dangers that only multiplied by night. He was accustomed to fighting creatures that cared only for the kill, but the reality always hit him with the same dread and the same anger. These things should not happen.
"Rattled, boy?" Goralûk growled, advancing with the others. "You ever fight an orc?"
Holding the knife firmly, Legolas growled, "I have fought and killed many of your kind, beast." He shifted his gaze between them, waiting for the initiative move. "Four more will not add greatly to my count."
The laughter was dry, condescending. Sneering, he motioned his lackeys forth and they obeyed, all three closing in around Legolas. One thrust his dagger and he threw himself out of the way, into one of the others, knocking it down to the group. He had scarce too little an opportunity, so he made his move and plunged the blade in his hand down into the throat. A deep cry turned into a gurgle and dark blood spurted from the wound, sprinkling in thick drops onto the Elf's hand.
He grasped the hilt, tearing it from his enemy's flesh, but was not fast enough to prevent the blow to his shoulder. With great force his attacker slammed his foot against him, knocking him completely off his kill. His back hit the cold floor, knocking the wind out of him. The orc kicked his wrist away from the fallen dagger, then bent down and reclaimed it, handing it off to its rightful owner.
Then it lifted a mace on him, sending it down full force. Legolas ignored his pain and rolled out of the way just in time to save his life. They had learned, though, and instead of hefting its mace back up, the fiend abandoned it for the moment and snagged the prince's tunic, jerking him to his feet. It pushed him back into the wall, then backhanded him viciously.
By the time the stars cleared from his vision, the mace had found its owner once again. The orc grinned and grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the stone wall as his companion mirrored on the other side. Legolas jerked at his captors like a caged animal, but could not break free. Goralûk stepped before him, holding his club. "Are you afraid, Elf?"
Breathing hard, staring intently without fear or worry, Legolas hissed, "Not afraid, orc. Do as you will. I will endure."
Nodding as though he doubted that statement, Goralûk lifted his club. He hit right where he knew it would hurt, sending the rough edges and sharp splinters into the gash on the Elf's shoulder. Legolas bit his lip, but could not withhold a groan of pain. It seared his abused flesh like a fire. His breathing came hard and without his conscious thought his eyes were tightly closed. He knew he could not remain this way, still as the pain assailed him. He had to fight, had to take any chance as it came to try and defeat his enemy, but the hold they had on him was firm.
Goralûk slammed the wooden implement into him again, this time going for his stomach. The Elf tried to double over, but they restrained him, putting hands on his shoulders. He bit his lip against the pain of a hand on his injury, drawing his head up so he could meet the orc's triumphant look. The monster laughed at that and drew his fist back, then let it fly into his captive's jaw.
His head snapped back and a dull headache began. Legolas spit blood from his lip, then looked up again, anger firing his strength. He jerked away from the orcs again, this time succeeding enough that he could dive into Goralûk. He curled his fingers and scratched down the beast's face, causing him to growl in rage. The orc shoved him away, screaming, "Hold him, you scum!" Impulsively, he smashed the club against the prince's head.
Immediately Legolas lost his grasp on what was going on, darkness overtaking his vision for a moment. He dimly felt himself being dragged to his feet, felt hands pulling at his shirt until the chill of the dungeon sailed over his flesh like a ghostly caress. He groaned as they shoved him against the wall again, this time face first. With a snarl Goralûk sent his club into the Elf's back and that woke him out of his momentary darkness. Legolas arched and yelled out, then was shoved back against the wall again. "You seem to enjoy defiance," the leader of the orcs purred, hitting him again. "Defy me, Elf! Show me what makes you so blessed!" He hit again.
Legolas did not speak, did not give in to the orc's obvious want of more banter. He was too focused on the pain assaulting his body. The attack was merciless and painful, and soon he lost track of what they were doing until finally he was allowed to fall to his knees. Goralûk grasped his head, running his finger through his braids until they were undone, the ties split and fluttering to the floor.
Hands swept across his flesh and hungry growls and lapping gave him the sickening truth that they were consuming his blood. "Now you see how your end will come about," Goralûk sneered, standing above him. He grabbed a mass of sweat-moistened, blood-smeared golden hair and dragged Legolas back to his cell, throwing him in. "You have no name."
The cell door slammed shut and was locked. Hovering on his hands and knees, Legolas tried to clear the fog over his mind, but found weariness overtaking him quickly. The Prince of Mirkwood glanced at Lady Celebrían with soft, regretful eyes, then collapsed and gave in.
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Author: Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.
Sindar:
1 – Brennil nîn? – My Lady?
A/N: Thanks for the reviews again! RE: Romance, not between Legolas and Celebrían, that's for sure. ;) I like to maintain a certain plausibility and while that would be challenging…it's not one I think I'd care to try just now. ;) Anyway, yeah…there is a sad tale behind Leggy's dream, which I'll flesh out chapter by chapter. :) Hope you enjoy the angst!