CHAPTER FOUR
Injury
The first impression one was put under upon entering the town that the Elves found themselves being lead into like animals was that it was rather dreary and that flower gardens and joyous things were not even heard of. It was bleak and a silent wind swept over it, brushing thatch off roves and sending it to blow across the street.
The faces were all made of stone, thought Rothinzil dully as he looked abut. There was not a single person wearing a color other than black, for they were in mourning for the dead that had met their doom at the scimitars of orcs and goblins.
The people shot them the most malicious and most venomous glares that Legolas had seen in a long while and he could feel Rothinzil drawing closer to him and nearly tripping over his feet. He began to wonder if whether or not his friend was scared out of his wits. It was most probable, decided the blonde Elf at length and he sighed as he looked at the raven-haired immortal walking numbly by his side.
The ground on the street was pure slush and muck from melted snow and dirty water. It soaked into the prince's suede boots and chilled his feet and it splashed up onto his clothes from the horses' feet, making the once warm clothing wet and cold.
Legolas watched the people of the town sharply, noticing every move they made. He saw men shoveling snow away from the steps and women gathering their children in. As the Elf watched he thought of Strider and the town of Bree. But Aragorn was miles away now and he was glad the man was not here.
One young human boy was shoveling snow for his mother took and cast a shovel full into the air; it landed on top of the Elves heads in a wet mush of mud and sleet. Legolas shook his head to get it out of his hair and off his face. Roth did the same and both of the Elves winced when a cold and sharp wind blew on them, freezing their faces from the water and slush that had once been on them.
As the Elves began to slow down, their fetters were pulled on so that they were forced to keep up or stumble into the mud and muck face first.
Small boys picked up snowballs mixed with hard pieces of ice and chucked them hard at the immortal's heads. Legolas and Roth ducked and tried to keep up with the pace of their captors but it was difficult. Of course Roth had to trip at some point.
When he did, he gave a cry as his bonds cut into his flesh, the iron cuffs were put onto the Elves tight, but the most tight on Roth. They cut his skin painfully and he hissed as he watched blood seep out from under them. The men did not care and pulled harder. The boys in the street saw the Elves' weak point and cast more hard snowballs at their heads.
Legolas stopped, not caring if the cuffs cut into him, and went to his friend's side, helping the other to his feet. Roth said in a harsh whisper, "what are you doing?"
Legolas said quietly, "helping you, you are hurt." He looked at the blood on Roth's hands and said, "remind me to tend to that." Of course, he knew that he would have to remind himself. Rothinzil wouldn't forget, but he would never trouble Legolas over it, and that was a fact Legolas had learned some time ago.
Legolas suddenly felt a pain as a snowball found its mark and hit his face. It burned and he closed his eyes against tears that threatened. He felt lonely, hurt and utterly miserable. He knew that he was feeling sorry for himself but it was hard not to. He hated this place, these people were insane and he wished he was anywhere but here. Legolas felt a cut where a chunk of ice had jabbed him, beginning to burn with fire and he felt the hot blood trickling onto his cheek. Roth's looked at Legolas and said in a whisper, "Legolas, we have to move."
One of the men on the horses yanked painfully on he blonde Elf's wrists, causing Legolas to stumble slightly. The prince dug in his heels and glared, "I would thank you to stop unreasonably hurting us."
The man laughed and said, "would you now? Too bad Elf!" He not only pulled, but struck out with his riding crop at the blonde Elf who stood stone still and let the fire in his eyes speak his thoughts. The baton came within centimeters of hitting the Elf's face, but Legolas didn't even have to move to avoid it.
The Elves were lead to the end of the town, to a cold and dreary jail obviously not been in use for some time. The jailer saw the men approaching and he could feel his eyes widen when he saw the Elves trailing behind them. "Elves, eh? So it was they what did all this mess?" He scowled. "I am not surprised." Legolas rolled his eyes against the slight to his people and home. It was a disgusting and painful aspect of life; men no longer liked Elves and the races were now estranged. Legolas knew that the Valar had to have a reason for this seemingly bleak outlook the races had on each other, but he could not understand it and he wished it had not happened in his lifetime. Although men were not his greatest fear, he had learned that they were not always to be trusted.
The other man said, "aye. Show them our best." He stopped his horse and handed the chain that connected Legolas and Roth together and was used to guide them, over to the jailer. He then dismounted and took a bag with him. "I've got their weapons in here."
The jailer smiled, "set them by the door and I will lock those up after I have locked up these little whelps!" Legolas and Roth stared at each other with wry and hardly recognizable smiles, they were far older than the men so being called 'whelps' was a bit odd. They also were taller than the humans were and that was a bit laughable as well.
They were taken to a small cell that could barely hold two and shoved roughly in. Legolas went to the edge by the bars and asked, "so what happens next?" He almost asked this sarcastically except for the fact that he feared the worst. He had a rough idea of what was coming, still the answer sent his blood to run frigid.
The man laughed and said, "you will get a hearing, but what good it will do you I know not." Then he gave a cold glare and said, "and if you are found guilty you'll swing."
Legolas growled, "but it wasn't us! It was those other men that were with the constabulary!" He knew these men would never listen and he was getting frustrated. And this was all because he was different, because he was an Elf.
Roth stood beside him and his glare was about as dark as the prince's, "you can't be serious!" he gasped. "How can two do all that you men are telling us of?" The younger Elf rolled his eyes and leaned back against he wall then jumped away like he had been kicked. It was damp and dripping. Slime, cold and shiny decorated the walls with its presence. He looked at his shoulder and saw it was soggy as well.
The prison guard began to laugh and then smacked his cloak against the bars of the cell and said angrily, "shut yer traps! Or I can make you! See?" Then he gave a cruel smile and said, "you Elves have a nice stay." Then man then took the keys and hung them up on a peg by the door (but far enough all hopes of reaching them were lost) then he shut the iron door to the jail and walked out.
Legolas glared at the keys for moment, they were so close and yet out of reach. It was enough to drive one mad if he dwelled on it and what did sulking ever do to get anyone anywhere? He leaned back against the wall and sighed. Rothinzil growled, "if only we could get those keys!"
Legolas looked sidelong and up at his friend. He said quietly, "what good is it to run like a criminal? It makes us in the wrong. I will face them and let the evil be on their heads, not on mine." He rested his chin on his knees and blew a curt blast of air upward to shift his loosening hair. Then he looked at Roth again, who was still staring at the keys with fire in his eyes. Legolas rolled his eyes back down to look at the floor and mumbled, "it does no good to sulk over something you can't have. It only worsens your state of mind." He closed his eyes and tried to cross his arms and realize that the shackles of iron were still on his wrists, linking them painfully together. His wrists were chaffed raw and hurt, for the cuffs were far too tight than they should ever be. What did they think he was?
Roth looked at his prince and saw the pained look in the blonde Elf's eyes. "I still wish I had the keys! But your wrists are horrible! If I could get a hold of those ruffian men-" he began gruffly.
Legolas frowned and gave his friend a harsh look of shear annoyance, "you would do what? Talk them to death? We don't have our weapons that are in a sack somewhere!" the fair-haired Elf pointed out abruptly. He set his chin back down onto his knees slowly and muttered, "those cowardly men are free. I bet that even if we are ruled innocent we will have to face them again."
Roth smiled and said, "of course we would! What do you expect?" He hit his forehead lightly on the prison bars, staring out into the dimness. He did not like it here; it was dank and dark, dreary, cold and lonely. There was no fire to warm them, it was about as cold as outside, but with no wind chill and from the small window snow blew in and fell on them. The floor was wet and uncomfortable. Yes, they had cots, but they were not very comforting at all.
The only light the Elves had came from the small window and a globe like lamp that hung from the ceiling and cast an odd glow that was eerie. Strange shadows danced on the walls and Legolas felt fear. It was too much like an orc den and he was wet and miserable. He was sure they would be 'forgotten' when it came to eating and he was also sure blankets were not even in the humans' dreams or farthest thoughts.
He looked at Roth with a darkened scowl and a look hat plainly showed he was not amused and said, "your wrists are in a bad way. Let me see if I can't get those dratted cuffs off."
Roth was silent for a minute and then said, "no, it is of no importance." He looked at his prince and saw red set against Legolas' pale cheek. Blood. His prince was cut. "Legolas!" he gasped and the surprised fair-haired Elf looked at him with a strange look. Was Roth finally completely mad or was he on the edge? Most likely completely mad, thought the fair-haired being grimly.
"What?" asked the blonde immortal with narrowed brows as he watched alarm gather on his friend's face like rain clouds. Roth had better not start mothering him again or he would end up killing himself before their trial began.
Roth stammered, "you gave a cut on your face! It is bleeding! Don't you dare say you had no idea, or I will have to hurt you!" declared the younger Mirkwood archer wildly as he came to crouch by his liege's side. He narrowed his eyes as he squinted to get a better look in the dim light. It was better than no light, but honestly, he did not find much difference.
Legolas frowned harder than he had been before, (if that is possible) and put his finger on the wound that he just came to remember. "Oh," he said with a bit of surprise and then he mumbled, "I must have forgotten. Guess it is pretty small compared to the hot water we got ourselves in this time." He tried to down play his wound, hoping that Rothinzil would agree and let it go.
He should have known he was mistaken.
The raven-haired immortal had no intention of doing that. He hissed in pain that came from sympathy and gently ran his finger beneath it. "Legolas, that has to hurt. Don't tell me it doesn't. However, I think we are lucky, it is not deep," explained the younger Elf promptly and all at once. He grabbed the upper part of his cloak that had no mud on it and was mostly dry and clean. Then he carefully pulled it over enough that he could wipe the blood from the prince's face away.
Legolas winced slightly and closed his eyes so he did not have to look at the stone and iron walls that held them in, prisoners in the darkness. The wind blew chill and snow whirled in, falling onto the Elves and causing them to sigh with weariness. Legolas brushed Roth's finger away and said, "well, at least we can try and get some sleep. I doubt we will be bothered for some time." The cut, Roth noticed with relief, was no larger than a paper cut but had bleed considerably more.
Roth looked slightly wounded and said with a sigh; "I can't sleep here. It is too dark and cold. I do not like it here, but you lighten my heart Legolas, at least I am not alone." He drew a shaky breath and sat down beside Legolas and drew his knees up to his chin and rested his head on them with another sigh.
Legolas opened one blue eye to look at his friend, "shut your eyes, it is easier that way and pretend you are at home." He shut it again and drew a deep breath, then his breathing began to get easier and lighter as he tried to drift into peaceful slumber.
Roth frowned, "I am remembering Legolas." He shivered and Legolas opened both his eyes and lifted his head off his knees to stare his friend in the eye. They spared each other in a contest of sharp glances, trying to perceive beyond what was being shown by the other's features.
"Remembering what?" asked the prince in a low voice that was slightly unsteady. Roth's past was a sad one and Legolas felt compelled to listen. He did not want to hear it again really. It would be the last thing he needed to hear in this place, another depressing tale even though, he had to admit, the ending was rather blissful and fortunate.
"My life with men, before you found me and took me home to be with you and my brother."
Legolas thought he was going to be sick from weariness and the sorrow he felt for his friend. He asked softly, "care to talk about it?" What more could he do than be their for his friend? What better purpose did he have in this confinement than to comfort his companion? He was not sure and nearly found himself knitting his smooth forehead in consideration.
Roth shook his head, "there isn't much to say," he answered in a murmur. He was just beginning to understand it himself and did not expect others to try. Yet he knew he could trust Legolas. It was the prince who had save him and pulled him through. If it weren't for Legolas he would have died at age eighty-four in exile.
Legolas looked at him and said, "I know you know I am here, so wake me if you change your mind, alright?" He shut his eyes and listened, knowing his friend was going to start talking. But to his surprise, Roth was silent. In alarm, the fair-haired immortal lifted his chin off his knees again and looked at his friend with narrowed azure eyes and in the dim light it was hard to tell whether they were open or closed. "Roth?" he asked quickly; alarm adding a cold ring to his voice.
"I thought you said you were going to sleep?" asked the other Elf as he rested his own chin back onto his knees. His eyes watched his closest friend intently and with a very suggesting amount of gathering suspicion, wondering what Legolas was up to.
Legolas said, "I can't. You are hurting and I want to help you, but you have to let me." He knew that Roth was bottling all his pain up and he knew that if his friend did this long enough it would destroy him. Rothinzil was still giving him the 'don't-even-think-about-it' look that irked the prince at this moment. He thought of going over for a moment and shaking Roth by his neck, but that was not going to help things and it was rather unbefitting a Prince of the Elves. If Roth did not want to talk about, why bring it up? The young archer was testing the blonde Elf's nerves considerably. Legolas had always considered himself a rather patient Elf, but now he was beginning to question whether he even had that largely underrated quality.
"I would rather not tell you. You wouldn't understand and really, to be forthright, it is none of your concern Legolas" stated the other stubbornly and rather rashly considering that if Legolas ever wished he could get the other banished. He kept his eyes shut so he would not have to look at Legolas and meet his gaze and said, "now rest, you are obligated to it. Your stab-wound is still healing."
Legolas sighed and said, "not until you let me in on this secret you seem so centered on keeping from me and seem to have been doing a good job at it all these years!" His anger was rising now as well as his curiosity. He was already angry at their predicament and the injustice they were receiving because of their race, but now that his own friend was acting like he wouldn't understand and the blonde Elf was becoming positively irate.
Roth just said slowly, "they were cruel to me and I didn't even know it then. I suppose they never knew it either. I always thought that was how it was supposed to be." He wrinkled his normally smooth brow and raised his clear hazel eyes to meet the prince's blue ones.
Legolas narrowed his eyes in bitterness as he recalled the broken Elf he had found in dire need of relief and comfort. He knew Roth hated being drugged because he was when he was younger they had done it, and now this cruel treatment by men was bringing it all back. "You can tell me, I am listening."
Roth was silent for so long Legolas was about to check and see if against all odds the raven-haired Elf had fallen asleep. Roth then asked just as the prince began to grow uneasy, "they drugged me..."
Legolas sighed and said, "when they caught you, I know." He closed his eyes and set his chin on his knees.
Roth continued and asked with a frown, "I thought you were going to listen? Legolas, you look like you are asleep! Are you hurt?" he finished with concern mounting his voice.
Legolas shot his eyes open and said in a hurry, "no, I am not hurt! I am sorry Roth, I am listening now and was to begin with. You must remember my dear friend, that looks are often deceiving, as they were in this very case!" He narrowed his eyes to look at his friend with a slight scowl and watched as the younger Elf struggled for words.
Legolas knew it had to be hard, for mortals were the only family Roth had ever known in his entire life besides a vague memory of his mother. All he knew was that she had been beautiful and her voice had chased away pain for a short time...until she died.
A fair Elf-maiden dark of hair and light of skin clutched a young babe close to her side as they crouched in the grass and shadows of the night. The child had to be near three and he was dark of hair as well, but unlike her eyes, his were a hazel color that nearly glowed. He was trembling, not from cold, for it was the season of summer, but from fear.
They had been out with some other Elves and his father, a human when he had strayed farther than he should have, much farther. His mother had tried to find him and once she did, she began to guide him home. Being no stranger to the forest it was a rather easy task for her but fate was stronger.
As she was heading back towards the Mirkwood palace, she came across the still form of her husband, an arrow projecting from his breast and his sword in hand. The shaft was black; orcs were near. She caught her breath and pushed her young child back before scooping up and holding him close. He was already shivering as his Elven telepathy sensed his mother's distress.
She went a few steps further and saw the ground littered with her dead companions, maidens and their Elflings, warriors with their swords and bows in hand. One even had his sword embedded deep into the chest of an orc that had a knife driven likewise into the fair being.
Not knowing what else to do, she ran as fast as her skirts allowed. The one place her son would be safe that she could get to now was the border near Lake Town, where there were men who would most likely find the babe.
But even as she ran, the woman could hear the orcs crying behind her and she could hear their trampling feet, The ground groaned beneath them and she was her legs shaking even as she stumbled further.
They had been along the border as it was so it was not long before she broke the tree line and was running through deep and spongy grass. But her skirt hooked on a sharp and grizzled tussock and she tried to jerk it clear but she only managed to caught further.
Her eyes wee large and she knew that it was only moments before the orcs came. Her baby! She could not let them find him thus, alone and so young. But there was no escape.
She then found a hole in the ground as she stumbled into it. It was an old and hopefully abandoned badger burrow, but it would serve its purpose. She carefully slid her little precious child into the small hiding place. Her sensitive hearing told her she had only a second so she stopped down and held his hand tightly. He was shaking and all she really wanted to do was hold him close, but she was hoping that when she fell, she would fall over the whole and hide him from the orcs.
He wrinkled his brow, not fully understanding the dire situation and his chin quivered. "It will be okay..." She whispered softly, "it will be okay...I will keep you safe from harm my little darling child."
Then her eyes went wide as she jerked forward and the Elfling felt her hand go cold as the life of the Eldar left her and she faded into death's grip, her hand still firmly pressed into her son's tiny one.
Iron shod feet trampled over head and the child shivered uncontrollably. His mother wasn't gone forever, was she? He did not know. He tugged at her hand and rubbed his hand down her face but it was cold and she no longer laughed. Her eyes were open and yet forever closed and he felt the glow that she had carried rise and leave. It was then he knew his mother was gone and he began to sob without letting up.
His tears fell like rain and his buried his face into his small little hands.
But his sobbing also had attracted the attention of some orcs. Hearing the small cries, they searched for the source of the noise that was music to their ears, a helpless baby cry.
But he was not meant to become the orcs' latest toy and men traveling nearby heard the commotion and came running. Though the orcs outnumbered them, they slew them all. As one discovered the hole and cast the son's mother aside, a spear ran through the fowl creatures center and he was dead.
A man reached into the burrow instead, seeing what it was the beasts had wanted. When he saw the fallen Elf-maiden his heart went out and his hand was greeted with a set of fierce little teeth. He yanked his hand back with a cry of surprise and then reached back in and hauled out the trembling little Elfling by a single pointed ear.
He noticed how the child's gaze was unwavering and yet foam seemed to cover the hazel eyes, like dew on a flower and he said, "you need a home, don't you?" Smiling warmly he said, "ahhh, but I speak no Elvish, so I cannot know your name. So you shall be Rothinzil, the Foam-Flower."
The named Rothinzil ran against the man and hugged him for he sensed this was a human he could trust and the mortal reminded him sharply of his father. He was given a special tasting sort of way bread and suddenly everything dimmed and he went limp.
The man lifted the little youth off the ground and carried him away. But the dose had not been strong enough and had only served to impair the Elfling's speech and he could not move as he was taken away into a world that he had never really known and yet half of him belonged there.
Roth began again, "they drugged me, every night before bed. I used to think it was to help me sleep better and to their way of thinking it might have been, but now I know it was my torment while I lived with them. They always would complain about my eyes being open when I slept and so I was drugged...to keep them closed."
"My child you cannot sleep with open eyes. It is not healthy. Drink this," explained the man with a smiling face as he placed a spoonful of dark liquid to the young Elfling's lips. Rothinzil twisted his head away at first and his head was forced back the other way and the bitter tasting potion was placed in his mouth.
As he tried his best to sleep, dark dreams took him. He saw his mother dying and his home dark and eerie. Strange shapes of evil creatures swirled in his mind and chased each other around. It was misery that he faced every night and yet he thought it was how it should be.
Legolas looked at his friend and he felt tears in the back of his throat. It was miserable to sleep with your eyes closed and Elves only did it under stress, Roth had done it for eighty-four years straight every time he slept and he still did it sometimes out of habit.
The remember sighed and said, "they also would punish me for climbing trees...for walking on thin fences and things that cats walked on...I guess that is why I am still not a great tree climber to this day." Legolas could tell Rothinzil was in a lot of pain and yet he could not help but wonder what his real name had been.
Roth shivered and said in a little voice curious of tone, "I wonder if we can get blankets here." It amazed Legolas how quickly gentle Roth was to recover and change a subject. It could also be annoying at times. What ever was he going to do with this Elf? Valar only knew and only the Valar could help him!
Legolas gave a small laugh and said, "shhhh! We don't want a guard in here. The place stinks enough already and I bet what blankets they would give us would hardly be worth it!"
Roth didn't even catch the prince's jest and he just shut his eyes and kept his chin rested on his knees that were still tight up near his chest. Then he asked, "Legolas, do you recall how you first found me?" He sounded half-asleep and Legolas was sorely tempted not to answer. However, when Roth opened an eye and looked his way, he knew he had to. So he said quietly,
"Yes, I do." He would never have forgotten that day. It had been the first time in years he had been totally taken off guard and let another into his life since his mother's tragic death. He had been afraid to get close to anyone else ad Roth had opened his heart and perhaps...if Roth had not of found him by fate that day he would never have even given friendship with the twins or Aragorn a thought. Legolas knew he would have remained in Mirkwood forever, in his pain and loss. Even though venturing out meant taking chances and getting hurt physically, it was better than letting his inner pain brood and manifest itself in his heart.
Roth smiled and said, "I am glad you found me. I needed someone to teach me how to be an Elf!" He meant this in raillery but it came out half way serious.
Legolas laughed and said, "I am still not sure you have mastered it, but you gave it a good try!" He tried not to think about the poor state he had found that half-starved and shadow like Roth at the young and vulnerable age of eighty-four. Legolas himself had been already near five hundred.
Legolas and Celebalda were walking through the woods. The light was growing dim and they knew the spiders would be out soon. The both had their bows at the ready, expecting a little trouble or perhaps being overly jumpy. They were not too sure. Celebalda was in training to become the captain of all Mirkwood's Guard and he and Legolas were on their way back.
The pair were along the Northern part of Mirkwood's borders, near Lake Town, or well, within a day's walk. Anyway, they were eager and pressing on for home. Legolas was still in a state of heartache over his mother's death, though he would not recognize it at all. Who so ever pointed it out, got snapped at. The Mirkwood Prince had created a barrier about himself that even his father was finding hard to break through. As a matter of fact, Thranduil was fearing for Legolas' soul, he was worried his son would fall into darkness. You could not tell from the way he dressed or so much the way he acted, but more by the way he talked and the sad look in his eyes even when he laughed.
Honestly, King Thranduil was considering sending Legolas into the West where he knew for certain that his son would be cured beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the prince had other intentions, he did not want to leave these woods that he loved and in truth he was looking for a reason to stay.
Celebalda suddenly said in a bristling voice, "something is out there, can you not here the horses? Stay close my prince." The Elves made sure their bows were ready.
Legolas said, "I do not think it is dangerous, we would have known by now."
Celebalda said with a sigh, "it could be wargs feasting on the herd for all we know! They are your father's horses! What is that matter with you? You didn't used to be this way!" He ended ardently.
Legolas was about to respond when they heard a trembling voice say, "I don't want to hurt you. It is well, I promise." This served to rise the youthful Elf's intrigue and he was going mad with the want to go and investigate.
The voice seemed to fill with empty brokenness and great loss. Legolas sighed, the voice sounded too familiar. Should he know this voice? Or was it a figment of his imagination? But no! Celebalda had heard it too, so it was real. But who was it, for the voice was that of an Elf and yet broken.
Legolas looked at Celebalda and said, "whoever that is, we have to find him and bring him home. I think he is hurt and looking for comfort among the horses!"
Celebalda looked at his prince with a look of complete lack of understanding and silent horror, "what are you saying? What if it is a thief? You would bring a thief home? Legolas you are mad, you know that! With all due respect, your father would not like it1 He does not take well to strangers!" pleaded Celebalda, but his lecture fell upon deaf ears as he should have known, he had wasted much breath.
Legolas as already out near the horses and the edge of the wood. They were crowding around a figure in he center. They did not seem scared and so Legolas knew that chances were this being that they would encounter was not evil, for the horses, being of Elven breed, would sense it. Subconsciously, the fair-haired Elf lowered his bow and did not even look behind to see Celebalda running up to guard and be with his prince. As much as Legolas was frustrated with him, it was his place.
Legolas walked cautiously in around the horses, they all seemed calm and did not even look at him. The fair-haired immortal just crinkled his brow in confusion and wonder.
As he neared the center of the ring of horses, the prince saw a being sitting on a small rock with his elbows on his knees and his chin cupped in his hands. Legolas was shocked to see the raven-haired being was thin and frail looking. He had dark rings under and around his eyes, making the white eyeball seem bright, but in the hazel eyes Legolas saw extreme pain.
The being trembled as in extreme cold or heartache. Legolas began to go closer when Celebalda's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Legolas, I cannot allow you to do this! You cannot see whether or not he has a concealed weapon."
Legolas brushed him off and said strictly, "Celebalda, he is hurting and I wish to help him!"
The being jumped up when he realized someone was there and Legolas looked at the figure in utter shock, for he saw pointy ears, long and gracefully tipped and the face was fair. This was another Elf, but what was wrong with this picture? Obviously something, but it was hard to tell what it was for Legolas. For Celebalda it was simple. No Elf should be in that state.
The Elf seemed young and forlorn and Legolas watched this strange immortal and as he stared into the hurting eyes he saw his own face reflected back, maybe with darker hair and leaner frame, but the eyes, though hazel had a story of hurt to tell that certainly ran nearly parallel to his own tale of anguish. .
Legolas watched as the Elf opened his mouth and seemed to be scared, "please don't hurt me! Please, I didn't know you lived here, I will go peaceably!" The other seemed to tremble and Legolas was shocked. Why was this Elf frightened of him and Celebalda? It didn't seem right and he knew it wasn't.
"What?" asked the prince in utter bewilderment. "I would never hurt you, if someone has hurt you let me know, we will help." Legolas reached his hand out and the raven-haired immortal backed off a step, jolting off the rock as though he had been shocked by lightning or sat on ice.
"No! You Elves are cruel, after my mother's death, you deserted me and left me for dead!" he cringed and Celebalda sighed. This other was mad and it was no use trying to help. This Elf was broken and lost. He was beyond aid. It wasdn't that he was cold hearted, but he could see when it was no use anymore.
But for Legolas it was different. He had to believe that this Elf could come back...this Elf was broken...like he was. If this Elf could not come back, who could say he could? Legolas had to believe.
"I want to help you, but you have to let me," pleaded the prince. His blue eyes were pleading for understanding.
The Elf stopped and looked hesitant, between fear and yearning for friendship. "I c-can't believe that you would do that...for me..." He trembled, "it is a trick."
Celebalda said, "let us go back, if he wants to be left here-"
"I can't! He is young and broken. We are most likely his only chance and he is mine! Don't you get it?" snapped the prince with much heat.
So going over to the ebony-haired Elf he said, "I will help you, you have my word." The prince put his bow over his back and he smiled a thin smile. "I can take you back with me and you can live with me and my father."
The strange Elf asked in a awed voice, "who are you?" He had not received any kindness in weeks, not since his human parents had died...the only family he had ever known and trusted had failed him and he had been driven out. The other humans could not except an Elf and shunned him to the point of heartache and starvation.
Legolas smiled warmly, like he had not in a long time, "I am Prince Legolas Greenleaf Thranduillion of Mirkwood."
The other smiled back weakly and said, "I am Rothinzil, though I am known as Roth to those who I called family."
Now for both of them it was a matter of looking in the mirror and seeing their reflections past the mask of pain, but had it been too long since they last saw themselves? Would they recognize it if they saw it?
Rothinzil looked at Legolas to see if the prince was asleep, he had been silent for sometime now and Rothinzil was actually hoping his friend was getting rest. But to his dismay, Legolas was awake and yet Roth could see his thoughts were lost. He did not know for certain what the prince was reminiscing but he had an idea. "Legolas," he said quietly, "I wonder what will happen to us."
Legolas said as if he was just pulled out of a dream, "they are men Roth and they deal out justice all too often more in fear than in truth. I honestly do not know and to be outspoken I am trying not think about it." He shifted and their was a soft clatter of irons as his cuffs shifted. He could not sleep and he could tell that his younger friend was weary.
"Roth?" he asked softly and with a bit of anxiety tainting the tone in which he spoke.
"Hmmm..." asked the other without moving.
"Get some sleep. I can't so I will keep watch." Legolas wanted his friend to rest, Roth had done nothing but fret over him and his wound for months and he could more than us the rest. The wind blew again and the snow filtered in through that cursed and yet blessed window! Legolas shook his head and flicked frosty flakes out of his hair, but some melted, making him wet.
Roth said, "I can't Legolas. I don't sleep well in irons!" He sounded alarmed.
Legolas sighed and mumbled, "I can tell you a story and most likely it will be so boring you will fall asleep as soon as I begin to speak!"
Rothinzil groaned and rolled his eyes, "try me!" he growled. He was more than certain that the story would be anything but boring knowing the prince the way he did. The younger Elf settled back against the wall, unwilling to lay on the pallet that was on the wet and cold ground for the purpose of sleep.
As far as both of the Elves were concerned, the walls and floor were far more comfortable and smelled twice as clean.
Legolas sighed and said, "if you insist I will do my best." But now he had to think of a story. He knew many but he honestly wanted it to be boring, if it wasn't, then Roth would not sleep but get more excited than he already was. That would never do. Frowning, the fair-haired Elf said, "well...what one's haven't you heard?" He needed to know that first. Otherwise he had a feeling he would waste his breath telling one Roth already knew.
Roth muttered nearly under his breath, "Legolas, I was raised by humans!" Legolas had forgotten that part, silly as it was he had and he felt a fool. Leaning his head back against the wall he tried to think of a story. He knew many, but he did not want to give one that would excite his friend who was already bordering on madness.
"Do you know of Túrin of Turambar and Beleg Cúthalion? It is the tale of a man raised by Elves and his friend Beleg, an Elf who was a captain of a guard." Legolas cocked a brow and looked at his friend with a soft smile. Inwardly he was scolding himself, for this story was anything but boring. Roth would be near paranoid before he was finished.
Roth smiled back and said, "I must say I have not."
Legolas shook his head and said, "then I feel that you must know and so I must tell you."
But suddenly the Elves looked to the door and nearly jumped as they heard the key turn in the iron door. The men were back. They had other shackles and Legolas watched their eyes, cold and uncaring. He could see the want for swift justice in their eyes and began to fear they had come to carry it out on their own. It made the prince shudder inwardly, for he would never let them see it. He felt the hair raised on the back of his neck and cold fear grip his stomach. The thing fear did to the feared and those who did fear.
Roth just watched the men with wide eyes and then looked at Legolas, who was the one the human's eyes were on the most and he knew they had come for his prince. He felt sick and as he watched Legolas' face he knew then that the blonde Elf knew as well.
The Elves were going to be separated and after that only Valar knew what else could happen. Legolas looked at Roth with a moan and grumbled, "I guess the story will have to wait." He felt the sick feeling in his stomach rising and Legolas wished that Aragorn was there. He felt so alone in such a room with so many. It was a strange and eerie feeling that made him want to tremble.
Aragorn floundered through the deep snow. His feet felt frozen and he had a feeling they would be aching if only he could feel them at all! He had not brought his horse for fear it would freeze to death and so he had been walking for hours. The man wrapped he and Glorfindel's cloak about himself tightly.
The Gondolin Elf's cloak was warmer and it had the power of the Elves meshed within its weaving. It warded off the cold well and that helped some, but he still was more than a little disturbed by the thought that his feeling was gone in his feet and leaving his legs.
As the young man pressed towards the village of Farlost he began to wonder if he was freezing to death. For he felt more weary than he had in along time. But that also could come from a worried heart that had a feeling of dread over it. He expected to find Legolas' frozen body beside Roth's or find them at the hands of the people of Farlost. He did not know which he would rather hope for since one or the other was inevitable. Both would be a bad fate.
The snow was deep and hard on his body. The air was chill and that did not help things either, especially when it howled in his ears and blew his hair into his face. If he stayed out in the open long enough he would freeze and then what use would he be to either of his friends?
He tried to recall all that Elladan and Elrohir had told him about the dangers of cold weather, but his body was shutting down he was so numb. It was becoming increasingly harder to think and to remember to breath. He wished his brothers were here to guide him, but he was alone and he felt ill.
However, no matter how he felt Legolas and Rothinzil needed him and he would go to them. They could not be dead, not yet! He could not believe it, he was not willing to. It was impossible. His friends could not just die...not like this...frozen to death...could they? No, they could not. Wasn't there a air bubble or enclosure of some sort aroun them that protected them? None of them could die...but that was not true and the fact that he did not know if they were living or not was such a torment he wanted to stop moving altogether and give up.
What he really wanted was sleep, but that was the cold talking. No! He would not sleep! But what had his brothers always told him about ranging in fell weather? His mind was spinning backwards and upside down.
They had told him to get out of the wind, hadn't they? Go into a valley where the wind can't easily go and the snows are not to deep. But watch out for rockslides, was the other warning they had given along with a warning against mudslides.
Aragorn knew that near Farlost there was small valley with many caves and places near it. If he could reach their he could travel to the town the rest of the way by going through the valley and re-gathering his strength that was swiftly ebbing. He could feel it leaving with each gust of icy wind that burned across his face but he could not feel the pain.
The gorge was impending and the man was sure he would reach it within the next few minutes. Sighing, he continued to bumble his way through the snow, praying he would not step on the frozen bodies of his friends.
It was about ten minutes and he reached the gorge. It was still cold, but rock sides made it more of a ravine then a valley. It was steep and slick as he went down, the sides made slick by the ice and snow. Aragorn hoped he would not break something on the way down. However, he could not say it would be the first time.
But as he got closer he saw bodies, blue of face and yet blood covered their raiment in dark blotches frozen as well. Black, thick shafts stuck out from their bodies and heir own swords had black blood on them. Over some of the fallen men were orcs...no goblins. So this was where the goblins had gone? That is why they had not been attacked as they crossed the mountains.
Aragorn looked at the dead men ad wondered what family they had left behind and what life they had lead before it was cut so brutally short by the sinister orcs.
He also looked about at the crevices in the rock, scared that more orcs were about and watching him. He had to get to Legolas and Roth. The ranger had no time for the stupid orcs. If they attacked him he would make them pay for hindering his way to his friends.
Even though it was snowing, a mist was still around the rocks and low hung clouds created a thick fog. His hair was damp through the hood and he marveled at that, this mist was evil. How else could it pierce Glorfindel's cloak and chill him to his marrow? He knew it was aiding his enemy and that they had to be hiding in wait for him or others somewhere.
But as he looked at the bodies he wondered of his friends were amongst them. He began to wonder if they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had to say he would not be surprised, but that would not help the sorrow he would feel if he did find them.
Even though he knew time was pressing and the orcs were lying in wait close by he had to look. The ranger began to look at all the fallen orcs, seeing if he could find Elven shafts in their necks or chests, but he saw none. So Legolas and Roth could not have been fighting, for even if it was close and man to man combat they would be able to fire at least two shots before having to use their blades. But perhaps not...Aragorn did not know so he began to look at the half covered and frozen corpses.
The man felt he was going to toss his Lembas, but he held his composure. They sight was going to haunt him for many a time to come...
Men with blood pouring from their mouths in frozen rivulets and their blue faces... The wet and the snow. The dismal feeling that held the gorge under its malice and eyes watching him from a distance. It was enough to send chills chasing up and down his spine and raising the hair on the back of his neck.
At long last and to his near complete relief he found no Elven bodies. Legolas and Roth could still be alive, but it was most likely that they were in prison. If that was the case they would not be alive for long.
He sighed and leaned back against the rocks so he could rest and think. He was grateful the wind was not so strong. As the young ranger surveyed the scene around him he knew it was absolutely imperative to keep moving. The man gave an inward chuckle as he realized that was Glorfindel's solution to everything: keep moving!
Pushing himself free of the rock wall, he willed his tired legs to move and to stop trembling. Surveying the rocks, he knew that he had to cross the gorge and climb out, then he realized that in his search for his supposedly fallen friends that he had crossed the gorge.
In surprise, the man sighed and gave a curt nod like gesture that stated, 'well that's over with anyway.' Brushing strands of his dark hair out of his face where they were sticking to his clammy skin, the man began to climb the wall.
He suddenly stopped, for he could of sworn he heard a sound like a bow being drawn back. However, when he stopped moving it stopped and so he continued against his better judgement.
But that was a mistake. It was too late when he heard the projectile released. It was too late when he tried to turn. Knowing he was most likely going to get hit in the head with it if it was well aimed, the man dropped from the wall and he heard a thud as the arrow hit the stone where his head had been. It clattered and crumpled as it fell down to him and hit his face.
Aragorn grunted as he hit the ground and stared at the mutilated arrow fell with him. He drew his sword and then took a defensive stance, ready to do combat with the fowl creatures. However a sharp and disdainful cackle caught his ears and he looked for the source of the cruel noise.
His eyes roved the ground when he could not find the source among the rock walls. It was then he saw a fatally wounded orc that was not dead yet, holding a bow. The creature had used its last shaft and Aragorn grimaced. He wished the thing would just die. But perhaps he could get some information from the miserable beast.
Going over he kicked the bow from the beast that gave a squeal and then snarled at him. Aragorn placed his foot on the creature's throat and pressed down, cutting off its air. The thing croaked and the ranger smiled cold as a frosty February morning.
The orc looked at its would be victim and saw the chilliest set of eyes it had ever seen. They were cold with anger and disgust and with an urgency the beast would never understand. The man growled, "did you see any Elves?"
The orc was silent and Aragorn pressed his boot in further. The creature would talk or regret it. He had no time for games. "Did you?" he asked again in a stony and fell voice that set fear into the injured monster.
"I saw...no Elves...they would be dead!" he croaked around his contracted throat. His eyes went cold and he gave the man the darkest glare he was able to muster.
Aragorn was undaunted. "You lie to me! They had to of come through here!" He looked around desperately. "Where are they!" he all but screamed.
The orc cackled and said, "they were never here...No horrible Elves with bright eyes..." the beast looked as though it meant to say more when it went limp and black blood flowed out of its mouth. It had died. The blood went onto the human's boot and Aragorn shook his foot in abhorrence. He felt vomit rising in the back of his throat and left quickly.
He was going to get his friends. He was on his way and all he could hope was that he would not be too late. Farlost was not more than an hour away even with the heavy snow, but he knew that an hour was going to count for many. Time was fleeting like a swift flowing stream.
TBC...
Sorry, but we have NO time for review responses due to horribly annoying school projects and papers and speeches. But thank you so much everyone. –hugs reviewers- You are the best. Please keep them coming. They mean so much to us! We will try to respond to them later if we have time.