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CHAPTER TWELVE
Wait For Me, Then Let Me Go
Legolas felt all his muscles straining to an unhealthy tightness as he pulled against a harness trying to haul a cart filled with hunks of worthless rock up a steep incline in the dark. The cut that had been inflicted upon his chest was smarting considerably more than it should be as the leather straps of the harness pressed and infuriated the wound to the point of utter agony that was far from incomplete. The edges around the wound were hot as though they had been near a fire and red tinted the flesh about the laceration as well. He felt his whole body throbbing with each heart beat, so that the very blood keeping him alive hurt with a dull ache. His wounded leg was shaking from his effort to keep working and avoid another beating. It was a complete misery to him and hampered every move he made and it was also in critical danger of becoming infected. He was not sure at the moment whether he should be angry, hurt, annoyed or simply give up striving against these ignorant humans who cared nothing for his anguish, in all actuality they enjoyed every minute of it. These humans were insane and he was trapped with them, there was no way out.
Legolas felt so tired. He had been working back in the mine since before the sun rose, now it was near evening, and his joints ached. He was an Elf, so he did have more endurance than men. But he was no pack animal and even Elves tired of pulling cart upon cart of heavy stone. It also dampened his spirits to acknowledge the fact that there was not a bit of greenery in this place. It was all dark, dank, and cold. He already felt very old, like he had never felt and for an Elf he was considerably young yet.
Legolas watched as the men watched him. Every move he made was met with scorn and hate. His eyes though enervated, blazed with molten fire when he heard them commenting about how worthless Elves are if they could not throttle a simple warg. He could feel his hands balling into tight fists behind his back where they had been cruelly and unnecessarily tired with biting cords.
Calmir watched him and said, "Elf, is that as fast as you can go?" He glared and Legolas saw anger rising in the utterly insane mortal's eyes.
"I could go faster were I not treated like a dog, beaten like a mule and scorned like the dirt with my hands unreasonably bound with cords that are painfully tight and expected to work with a ripped leg!" he seethed, no longer caring what they did to him now. Whatever they were going to do, he would have to take. Legolas glare intensified in darkness so much, that if he had been the only supply of literal light to the room, it would have been pitch black. Calmir could see the furious eyes of dark blue burning from behind strands of sweaty and dirtied blonde hair.
Calmir just smiled slowly, as though he was thinking of a perfectly wicked thing to do to the cheeky Elf. Legolas had no time to try and figure out what in the world this mad being was planning next before he found himself flat upon his back staring into the dark nothingness above. His hands and arms screamed and he moaned quietly. He hated himself at that moment for that. He had not meant to but it had happened nonetheless and he was certain Calmir had heard it moreover.
Legolas tried to rise and was struck down again. His leg wavered and then gave out and he felt fear pulse through his system in such a fashion he feared for his heart. It felt like it was ready to leap from its cavity in his aching chest.
Legolas fought inwardly for what had to be only fifty seconds though it seemed like years for his composure. He mentally slowed his heart beat down and bit so hard down on his lower lip to hide the pained look longing to slide across his face that he feared it would bleed. He felt Calmir's fingers on his chest wound and forbore the beckoning urge to wince in agony.
The man smiled grimly and shifted the straps of harness away with flicks of his hand to reveal the wound's true predicament. It was fast becoming infected and dirt caked the dry blood that was dark as any violet color. Any deliberate pressure on it and Legolas felt that he was going to scream, but he held his composure relatively well-considering the circumstances.
Calmir pressed it hard and Legolas felt a dull and merciless throbbing come from the wound and he could feel sweat beginning to form on his brow that had gone cold. Elves could not get sick, but wounds could kill them and still give them a fever, but technically, it was the wound, not an illness. He felt the rough fingers applying more and more pressure and he felt hot blood run anew from it and he knew that if he saw no bruise there tomorrow that he would have to be blind. He would not be surprised if it already was turning black and blue now from all the pressing and pinching around it.
Calmir watched Legolas' blood flow over his fingers in a dark colored river; actually a series of rivers. The Elf was doing a good job with resisting the urge to even hiss in pain. He put his ear near the passive blonde being's own pointed one, resting his chin on the captive Elf's shoulder and said, "so Elf, what were you saying?"
Legolas turned his head away and contemplated whether or not answering the question would be better than his silence. His intention was not to take the easy way around, it was to stay alive. He thought though, with his pride getting the better of him, that if he remained silent it would be a sign of intimidation, which certainly was not even present in his mind-yet. "I was simply stating that I can't work under these conditions and if you want the loads to go faster, make them lighter. But why should I work for you anyway master human? What have you done to earn my respect and servitude?"
Legolas arched one of his bloodied brows as he waited for an answer. Calmir sneered and said, "If you really want to know why you shoulder work for me I can tell you." He dug his fingers deeper into the wound and Legolas used more of his will than he had expected to bite back a cry. "Because we can kill you, we can hurt you severely Elf. You are at our mercy, and luckily for you, we can be very merciful. For instance you are indebted to me for not giving you the beating you just asked for with open arms!" He laughed scornfully and Legolas' face turned into another dark scowl, like a storm about to break.
It should have been a warning to this man and all concerned, but the human was too ignorant to take it into consideration. Legolas spat, "I am at no ones mercy. For your knowledge, my spirit can leave when it wishes and I can go to my final place of resting at a mere whim." He smiled coldly, "I can be at peace with or without your consent." He knew that this would irk the insane and completely illogical human that was holding him captive.
Calmir did not get angry as Legolas had more than expected, and in fact had counted on, instead, the man smiled back and looking into his face was like looking into a frozen river. Legolas shivered and Calmir hissed, "you exaggerate my dear Elf. You exaggerate greatly."
So perhaps Legolas had exaggerated a wee bit, but he certainly had not expected this man to know that. This was shocking. However, if he let Calmir so much as see a splinter of his shock then he would lose this battle of wills and that he would not do or by the Valar he would go to the West. That was a promise. Narrowing his blue-silver eyes, the Elf-prince stared had at the man smirking above him and said slowly and through grit teeth of frustration, "you wish I was. And what do you know of Elves, Master Human?" he asked with a sneer that was all too false and obviously so.
Calmir laughed a cold and yet frighteningly honest laugh that nearly made Legolas lose his composure and shrink away, nearly. "Elf, I know much. I suppose next you would ask how? I have dealt with your kind before, though tragically they had to die." He stood up and glared down at the blue-eyed Elf lying on the cold stone with eyes that were narrowed, yet he could tell that they were fighting to stay in that form. "There are other Elves around, and here they now dwell. They never see the sunlight anymore. They were smart; they did not force us to kill them. I hope you will be that sensible Master Elf?" he turned his eyes away and looked behind him as there was the sound of metal on stone and then the eerie sound of metal on metal that bounced off the walls with bizarre and slightly disturbing echoes.
The men had struck iron and would need help to haul it out and haul the hewn rocks from the metal that was the prize. This was the realization that Legolas came to with a mental grown of weariness and irritation. The man's eyes shifted and he looked at Legolas and the fair-haired prince took this dangerous opportunity to ask gruffly concerning the supposedly other Elves that dwelled in this terrible place, "where are they then?"
Calmir did not respond at first, calculating whether this Elf had the strength to pull anymore stone. The cruel part of his mind said yes, and that option sounded a whole lot more appealing. Turning on Legolas he then answered with a question of his own as though he had not heard all that the blonde being had said, "the other Elves? They are where your friend will be after I am finished here. They are fighting for their lives and perhaps, when they become worthless, they will be freed someday." Here he tapped the sword like dagger he carried at his left side and then he put a finger on Legolas' heart, right on top of where the deep and bleeding laceration marred the pale skin.
Legolas looked at this man and he wanted to say something, anything. But he could not. He first of all, did not have the strength to continue this fighting and secondly, it most likely would result in further injury that would only serve to further pain him and lower his chances of escape. He turned his eyes away from where they had been locked on Calmir's and then he glared daggers into the darkness, as though everything was its fault and glaring would actually do something about it.
Legolas suddenly cried out swiftly as he felt a shocking blow to his already battered ribs send his whole chest and side into a throbbing fest. He had not expected that deliberate blow to his aching body and being caught off guard, he could not help but cry out in bitter pain. He bit his lower lip once again to keep this ridiculous cry he had given from turning into a full-fledged scream of agony as pain coursed his side and he threatened to black out. He moaned inwardly as he realized that Calmir had found his broken ribs. However, with the deep black and blue bruises on his side and the swelling that was taking place, who could miss? His closed his eyes for only a moment and then he heard Calmir say thickly as though Legolas was stupid, "Elf, get up now!"
The man all but spelled it out and Legolas' eyes snapped open with a blue fire blazing in them rimmed by pain. It made quite an impression and Legolas looked like an Elf-lord of old. He strongly resembled his father.
He did not appreciate being addressed thus and he was not about to let this human, who was far younger than him get away with it. Even though that little voice inside was telling him to shut up while he was ahead, he had never listened to it, so why should he start now? Perhaps to come out alive? He thought glumly to himself. But he pressed that thought back and snapped sharply back as he struggled to rise form his painful position on the stone floor, "Human, I am not stupid, contrary to what seems to be the popular belief around here!" he glared around him at the many men who mined and had beaten him, cursed him and acted like he was an animal.
Calmir gave him an intense glare and reaching down, he gripped the Elf by his shoulders and pulled him up so his sweaty and pale cheek was against Calmir's own, then the man growled, "Elf, I know well how intelligent you are. I know well your capabilities. Do you not realize that it is only I that stand between you and your certain death here?"
Legolas growled back in a low and lethal voice of his own, "the thought had not even so much as crossed my mind for a brief moment." Why should it have? He resisted the urge to shiver as he felt the man's hot breath on the back of his neck, causing his hair on his neck to rise from the strange chill he felt. But he was more rankled and anxious than he was truly fearful. He had had the privilege of meeting far more dangerous and frightening beings than the likes of this man, so he saw no need for Calmir to flatter himself.
Calmir had expected that very sort of answer from the Elf and so he shrugged it off. This miserable Elfling would find out later. He would beg for his life and Calmir would love every minute of it with an intense passion.
Legolas did not like being this close to the vile human who insisted on making him feel utterly miserable. So one could say that he was not overly unhappy when he was cast off from where the man had grasped his shoulders; Legolas very gladly staggered forward. He would rather break his back transporting stone than be so close to this cruel mortal.
Calmir laughed quietly to himself as he watched the Elf struggle into a limping walk towards the place where the iron had been found. But then Legolas suddenly stopped.
His whole body trembled and then his leg crumpled beneath him and he gave a shortened cry before falling to the ground, landing harshly on his knees. His head hung and his pale golden hair, now dirtied nearly beyond recognition, fell as a curtain to hide his bruised and thinning features.
He could not take much more of this, he simply could not. It was not his spirit, but his body that was failing him. His spirit was strong and it could quite probably take much more, but his body was going to wither. He shivered and felt Calmir's hand on his shoulder, pressing in as a silent warning to get up or face more brutal abuse from whips and kicks.
But he could not rise; his leg was more or less dead. The warg's claws had caused far too much damage and it was most likely that he would not be able to walk for a few days or so, all things considered.
The prince flicked his disheveled hair back with a snap of his head and met the man's gaze head on and with battle in his eyes. Calmir was hardly amused as Legolas jerked his shoulder out from beneath this menace of a mortal's cold and harsh hand as though it was too hot for him to bear the touch of it.
Calmir knew that the Elf was unafraid and defiantly showing it without second consideration. This irked the man even more and as he gazed into the strong azure eyes of the undaunted immortal prince, he could not stand it any longer and the back of his hand came hard across Legolas' pale cheek. This sent the prince to the right and he slammed against the ground and felt the stones of the tunnel floor bite his side and pinch through his leggings.
"You, Elf, have defied me for the last time. With that injury, you are worthless, or at least to me. I have not the time and money to heal you. And my dear sister says you are a brave Elf of great nobility!" he scoffed at the prince who lay on the ground with his eyes closed trying not to open them again for fear if he saw Calmir's perfectly obnoxious face again he would be forced to attempt its destruction thereby causing more harm to himself than was needed under the given circumstances. "I am going to sell you to some one that I know will break you and make you Elf." He smiled, "to kill you would profit me not at all, so why would I be that merciful?"
Legolas held back a moan. But then sounds began to fade and he felt strangely like he was going numb. Perhaps he was dying; perhaps he was finally going to be at peace? But no, he knew that wasn't the case. Regrettably, he knew it was only consciousness leaving him and not his spirit leaving his body.
Before everything completely faded and he was oblivious to everything about his being, the prince felt hands grabbing him, lifting him and his head was reeling as he was slung over someone's shoulder and the collar that had been around his neck press against his throat enough to feel like he was being strangled.
Rothinzil sat as best as he could with the horrible collar and shackles. He was cold, miserable and lonely. His hazel eyes were closed, but it was dark, so why would that make a difference? "Exactly!" he said softly out loud before he could stop himself, "I am still alone."
Then he heard footsteps and a hiss as a torch came to life, bringing an eerie red glow to the room. He heard voices and one was certainly Calmir's gruff and yet smooth speech that made him so sinister, Rothinzil decided darkly, not shifting his chin from its comfortable (given the circumstances) position on his knees. Legolas was gone, he knew that and he did not care what they did to him now. His only reason for staying alive had been for keeping his prince alive and now what hope was there in that?
He heard the footsteps of the heavy booted feet stay beside him and he did not open a single eye, at least, not until he heard the voice of the women he had met earlier, Elméra. Her voice drifted like silver, for it was heavy and yet beautiful. "Brother, why can't you just let him go? What has he done to garner such treatment?" she inquired briskly as she assessed the situation herself in a brief glance that told her all she wanted to know.
Calmir growled, "you came to live with me. You found out the truth!" Then his eyes blazed with a dangerous fire that she felt could not be extinguished, "now you cannot leave, unless you prefer to die."
She stared at him only for a moment and then said, "perhaps I would, but that did nothing to answer my question." She saw Calmir draw his boot back and then she knew that he was about to savagely kick this dark-haired Elf for no reason other than the fact that he was angry with her. She screamed, "No!" Her voice echoed off the walls and Roth had already guessed the events taking place.
However, his judgment was more off than he could have hoped and his shoulder was grazed to leave a welt like bruise. Inwardly cursing his ill luck, the Elf opened up his eyes and swirled them upward to see Calmir bending over him with an angry gaze bereft of mercy. "I hope you are smarter than your friend," snapped Calmir as he grabbed the chain leash that he had chosen as his instrument of emotional torment and control of the stated Elf.
Rothinzil asked in a hard voice, "what did you do to him? Where is he?" He was rewarded with a slap across his face; flushing a red color to his pale facade and leaving a vague and nearly indiscernible hand print to decorate his features.
"I ask the questions! You remain silent unless I command you to speak!" commanded Calmir in a malicious growl that stated more plainly than anything else that he was in no mood to be messed with.
Rothinzil was many things, but he was not stupid. Mad would be a fitting word at times or even completely insane, but never stupid. He knew when defying his captor would bring upon far more injury than was necessary. This much he had learned from personal experience and had long had it in memory. However, he did not often decide to follow it and as a matter of fact, had to trail in his prince's footsteps and antagonize his subjugator further. This was definitely one of those times when the word 'insane' was a perfectly reasonable and accurate description. Before he could check himself, the raven-haired being snapped, "You may ask the questions, but I give the answers my way in my time, or you will know nothing."
He had glint in his narrowed hazel eyes that made them glow a dangerous green in the dim light. Calmir snorted, "you Elves just don't know when to shut up do you?" he asked scornfully. "Well, that's alright... for now...you are going to make me some money now, all right Elf? If you make me profit from your existence, then it will be easier for you here, but if you lose and fail me, then you fail yourself and I have the privilege of making your life a living Hell. Am I understood?"
Elméra looked at Rothinzil with unlinking eyes of a deep blue and her auburn hair hung about her face, bracketing it and making it glow. 'Elf, defy him! Defy him!' was the clear message Rothinzil read in the azure depths of her eyes and he was more than willing to comply. Other than the reason of safety, why would he not pass up the chance to make his captor seethe? For all he cared, this man could be seeing red.
Rothinzil glared and said bitterly, "men, always so sure." He more or less spat the slur and his eyes connected with a Calmir's dark ones that looked evil in the light. Rothinzil was sure that the man was related to an orc somewhere in his family tree.
Calmir gave a forbidding laugh and snorted sniffed arrogantly, "we shall see Elf, we shall see." Then he turned to Elméra and asked, "have you ever seen a fight, my dear sister?"
She blinked and then said in a growl, "I would never dream of watching such things. I see no benefit from participating in such vile activities." Her eyes fell on Rothinzil and she felt his pain radiating from him. She then raised a brow skeptically and ignored her brother's annoyed look and questioned gloomily, "are you about to introduce me to the like then, my brother?"
Calmir answered with a sneer that sounded fair all the same, "don't be so gloomy Elméra, it does no favors for our luck and it makes things so dull."
Elméra 's jaw tightened and she ground her teeth until she decided darkly that it was unfit for a lady to be conducting herself thus and that it might not be exactly beneficial for her complexion. She forced herself to relax and appear to be at ease. At an early age she had found quite a comfort in lying. It had been necessary for survival and now she was forced to use this horrible tactic once more. She smiled thinly and said around her anger, "if you say so."
This had destroyed her life utterly and she was finding it unbearable that she should linger and watch with false innocence while it continued. She was tired of hiding, tired of being alone. She was tired of running from her troubles and tired of keeping secrets. She wanted to be free. But she could not, not yet. She was tired of being suppressed by fears grown into great barriers in her life. Her confidence had been placed in so many failing things that she did not know what to believe in any more and the world seemed to be passing her by.
Rothinzil looked at her once more before being forced into the room he had seen Legolas go into and come out ripped apart. And then he saw the people and he held his breath. It was hard to breathe and he could only imagine what had been going through Legolas' mind. When he finally did dare to inhale, the air had a sickly-sweet sour taste to it that made his stomach churn and feel like worms were crawling around in the interior.
It was not long before he found himself in the same place as Legolas and most likely to suffer the same fate. He was not going to fight for sport. He would much rather die first, though he wished to see his home once more.
Being pitted against a warg would not be all that bad, though bad enough, but when he set his hazel eyes upon the creature across the pit from him he coughed in surprise. It had the honor of being one of the last creatures in Middle-Earth that he would want to 'lock horns' with.
The beast he was staring at with wide eyes was a full-grown wild boar. Its razor tusks were more than capable of ending his life painfully and ripping his body into complete shreds. His breathing accelerated to a dangerous rate and he felt his hands developing a coldness and shaking sensation. His palms were slick with sweat.
His eyes searched the crowd in one quick sweep as he scrutinized the entire situation, but quickly stopped because the more he found out about it, the more he despised it. He could see many men all looking down at he and the menacing creature that he was wrongfully pitted against. Rothinzil shook his head mentally and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling he had from all those eyes watching him.
They made him feel ill to his stomach and shake more than the prospect of being ripped into slivers by a crazed boar that probably hadn't eaten in quite a few days. Although, he had to admit, that thought jarred his stomach as well and caused a lump to well up in his throat so that he thought it was quite probable he would vomit.
Then he groaned inside as the realization that he was weaponless sank slowly into his already over worked senses. He could never hope to remotely win, he would be cruelly torn and played with until his body was no more than a memory. And if he actually, through some bizarre fate, survived even though he had lost the engagement, he might as well have died because Calmir would skin him alive and that was most likely not a caricature of the truth either, he thought glumly.
He took a defensive stance and eyed the large tusker before him that was about to be released and he set all his train of thought to getting out of dodge as quickly as possible. But he still could not conceive even a wild idea of how he was supposed to win without a weapon! He was not an animal and most certainly would not use his teeth and what good would that do anyway?
But of course, he knew that was what men thought of him and had illegitimately made the assertion that Elves fought like animals' even thought Rothinzil knew that the men had to know differently. Shoving that thought out of his mind, the raven-haired Elf braced himself as he saw the boar released.
The cheer that went up from the men surrounding was utterly indescribable and it made a thrill race through him, but he was not going to fight. Not only would fighting be foolhardy, but it also would be perverted and yet in the eyes of the men who had captured him and tortured his prince it would be gratifying.
He was not going to give them that satisfaction.
As the animal came at him, the Elf leaped lightly onto the creature's bristly back and sprang lightly over it, landing on the ground at the creature's backside. He spun around as he landed, so that his front was facing the animal and then he backed off considerably and watched the bristly beast with wide eyes as it slowly spun around to face him.
It had taken the beastly thing a moment of two to realize its supposed victim was no where in front but behind and therefore it must turn around to spare with this new swift being, the likes of which he had never faced before. In his small mind, that made this extremely dangerous and this agile, scrawny creature it was pitted against must be ruthlessly killed.
Rothinzil saw the fire in the animal's little beady sable eyes that looked just as frightened as he was, but angry as well. The boar gave a snarl and lunged, Rothinzil was barely quick and lissome enough to slide out of the way and twist around the creature, avoiding the long and potentially dead white teeth that curved upward from its evil lips that were curled back in a fierce gnarl.
The men's cheers became louder and Rothinzil did his best to block them out and concentrate on survival. However, they were so loud and unconditionally obnoxious that he found that near impossible. One voice screamed above them all, "attack him Elf! Win you damn scion of a warg and a spider's nightmare!" Calmir was all but begging him to win and Rothinzil looked up to see the voice and saw that it did indeed belong to Calmir and standing beside Calmir were too other beings. Elméra stood on one side, while Kushor flanked the other.
But Elméra was as quiet as Kushor and Calmir were boisterous.
Her face looked graven of stone and her lips were in a thin line. She had the tragic look of a caged bird that thought mournfully of the sunlight and all things good, but did not know how to reach them. Her eyes looked slightly puffy and she seemed entranced by all that she saw.
Rothinzil watched her in sudden wonder and his concentration was thus broken.
He saw her eyes grow wide and he heard Calmir screaming for him to turn around-but it was too late and the Elf felt his side scream in agony as a horrid tusk grazed his abdomen and red blood crept across his tunic in a fanned out crimson stain.
Rothinzil crumpled to the ground and clutched at his side. He did not know what to do as he felt the animal's long teeth rip free of his flesh and the blood flow freely over him like river. The boar's face came away form him red with his silvery tinted blood.
Rothinzil gaped and he glared at the creature and waited for it to rip his throat out. His heart seemed to go calm and everything seemed to go still. A silence hung the air though he could see mouths moving in silent screams that he thought were mostly likely loud but he was not tuned into them.
But fate was with him for the moment and the boar's attention was abruptly diverted to across the pit when in the crowd's shoving and screaming along with other crazed behavior, a poor man fell in and Rothinzil watched as the wild hog turned its fierce and unforgiving gaze upon the unfortunate being and he cringed. Rothinzil had no desire to see the inevitable gruesome and horrible fate of this man.
The crowd went wild and Rothinzil leaned back against the sod wall of the pit he had been placed in and sighed, praying that the Valar would spare him the horrible pain and call him home then. His side was smarting sharply and it was bleeding freely.
Elméra looked at the down Elf and her face was drawn with emotional angst. Calmir was standing by her, his hands clenched into fists at his side and his face was an unhealthy shade of red. Rothinzil looked into the man's eyes and he saw his death, painful and unavoidable as though Calmir had screamed that fact out for the entire world to hear.
But he did not shut his eyes and he did not turn away. He faced Calmir steadily, even as he felt himself fading and growing increasingly weak. He could feel his head beginning to droop to rest his chin upon his chest and his eyes continued to flutter as he tried to hold his gaze.
Elméra watched with much uncertainty. Her eyes darted to the Elf and to the hog that was being secured by many men. She looked at Calmir and said tersely, "he is dying!" Her voice was dripping with anxiety that she could not suppress. She did not know what it was, but she could not bring herself to just let him die. At least, she could not let him die alone and she could feel herself trembling as she saw a cloudy glaze of gray begin to pull over his hazel eyes that could quite presumably close forever.
He was so strong in her eyes, what had he done to deserve this? She had never cared much for the Elves and had thought of them as mystical beings of evil intent or of trouble causing catalysts that left soon after the flame was war was glowing and growing.
Now she knew better, but was it too late.
Rothinzil struggled to rise, pressing against the wall, but his muscles could not be willed and his pain was great. Her heart went out to him and yet all she could find the strength to do in her shock was watch as Calmir and Kushor hopped down into the pit after the hog was secured and pulled out with ropes.
They walked up to Rothinzil and the Elf looked defiantly up at them with his glazing eyes. The fact that he was still returning their gaze head on made Calmir's ire all the more great and he whipped out his dagger. "Elf," he said in a hoarse whisper choked by anger unconceivable by those who were not experiencing it and having it flow through their veins like a fell fire. "Elf," he repeated slowly, "I suppose you had a death wish or were otherwise trying to supplant me and fail me?"
Rothinzil gathered his breath around his rattling chest and he growled back, "the second assertion would be the most factual, murderer," he seethed bitterly as he felt certain death coming on him. He was going to die anyway, so what did he have to lose? He watched as Calmir's figure trembled with wrath and Kushor smiled evilly. Their looks were all too displeasing for Rothinzil's comfort, but he was not frightened. Agitated and a little curious as to what was about to happen after he died would be a far more precise description.
Elméra looked on, hand tightly clasped over her scarlet lips to withhold screams. Tears formed in her eyes and she closed them, afraid that the salty drops might escape. How she wanted to leave! But she could not, it was though her legs had grown roots and she was forever mounted to that spot with her eyes fixed on an irreversible horror.
How now she hated her brother. She hated him for how he had deserted her and her mother, she hated him for his cruelty and she more than suspected that he was behind her father's disappearance.
Kushor snarled his fingers in Rothinzil's clumped and rather unkept long dark hair, twisting it cruelly and dragging the bleeding immortal to his feet. He pulled Rothinzil against his chest and whispered, "this wound may or may not be fatal, but the one Calmir is about to give you is."
Calmir watched as Roth was held securely to his companion's chest and then the man ripped what was left of the tunic away from the abdomen to reveal the bloody and convulsing wound. He then placed his knife on the end of the deep tusk afflicted laceration closest to Roth's middle and began to drag it, lengthening the cut and causing Roth to jerk slightly against the blade and a slight whimper escaped the Mirkwood archer's paled lips as agony shot through his awareness.
The wound was enlarged until it went all the way across Rothinzil's middle and then Calmir looked into the pain filled eyes of the Elf and gave the blade a wicked twist before yanking it forcefully free. Rothinzil went limp against Kushor and the human let go, allowing the Elf to slide down him and land on the ground.
"You lost Elf, and now you can die and die knowing your friend is gone and you are alone and a failure," growled Calmir sinisterly as he wiped his blade nonchalantly on the straw before returning it to it's sheath at his left side.
He then looked at Kushor and said, "well, let us leave him to his blissful thoughts."
Rothinzil did not even hear them leave and he shivered as he felt his body growing cold. He was dying!
Elméra watched her brother leave and stared down at the form struggling for life in the straw. She eyed distance from the top of the pit, to the base where the dying Elf lay with a nervous but calculating glance that could also be described as languishing. She had never felt so helpless and frightened before in her life and as she looked at the writhing Elf that was curling into himself in horrible anguish, she felt desperate sorrow.
Closing her eyes, she jumped down into the pit where much blood had been spilled in years past and landed lightly on the straw strewn floor before turning herself in the archer's direction and then she trotted quickly to his side.
Rothinzil heard the footsteps and looked up at her with a trembling face as he tried to raise his head that felt as heavy as his guilt that he had not been able to spare Legolas. Her face was so drawn it looked ghost like in the dim room and he whispered, "my Lady?"
She dropped quickly down to her knees by his side and her gaze swept over the wound that was bleeding freely. He followed her gaze and then looked into her darkened eyes. She gently brushed the dark locks of hair that had fallen into Rothinzil's face and stuck to the perspiration that damped his façade and as she did she smiled warmly but Rothinzil noticed it quivered with nervousness. "I am going to save you," she whispered in a trembling voice. "But only if you want me to."
Rothinzil tried to smile back and answered quietly, "what have I left to live for?" He did not know. Then he asked before she could even contemplate an answer for the first question, "does my friend live?"
She began to unclasp the brooch of her cloak and answered hurriedly, "yes, he lives. But he is wounded as well my Lord."
She did not know how else to address this fair being that was beautiful and stronger than any she had ever had the honor of meeting and seemingly as calm and gentle as a cat or aged stag that eats the young green leaves.
Rothinzil relieved her of her uncertainty, "do not address me thus if it pleases you. I am a warrior, not a lord as well." He paused to catch his quickly departing breath before finishing, "my name is Rothinzil." Then he closed his eyes as pain washed over him in a wave of agony indescribable. A frail cough escaped his throat and he opened his eyes slowly again and blinked as he felt her hands, cold and trembling peeling back the cloth of his tunic from around the wound so she could pass a better judgement upon it's conjuncture.
She would have to stop the bleeding and later it would require stitches. But she knew not what or where she could take this Elf. If they were caught, they would both be slain out of hand. Her brother was absolutely incapable of a small cruelty and would reap great joy from slaying them both. The only thing that kept him from slaying her was that it did not yet suit his dark purposes.
She was trapped here, but not totally helpless. If this Elf was healed and the other rescued, they may break free.
Taking her vermilion cloak that was the most beautiful thing she possessed, she draped it over him carefully and with the respect she felt he was due and then she whispered, "I can't carry you and you mustn't walk. I am going to try and find one of the various mules that are kept around here for the purpose of helping in the mines. Wait for me. Promise me you will hold on until I get back."
Her face looked so pleading and so troubled that had it been anybody else, with the possible exception of Legolas, he would have said it was better to die. But not this time, he would wait for her. He gave a smile that was vague and did not last more than a couple of seconds. "I promise my Lady. I shall await your return."
She smiled back and it was hollow. "You can call me Elméra, if it pleases you Rothinzil. I hold no position of power, yet I would have my brother not squandered the farm after my mother's death and my father abandoned us." She finished the sentence bitterly and Rothinzil frowned. "But never mind that, it is mere prattle to you I would imagine." She then lifted her crimson mantle that she had placed over Rothinzil moment's ago and looked once more than the baleful wound that was turning more threatening each minute.
This bleeding had to stop or Rothinzil would be drained white before she even left. She looked at her dress, which consisted of many layers as it was winter. Her hands trembled as she began to tear the cloth into strips and balled them into wads.
Rothinzil began to hiss softly as the supple wads of cloth were pressed into the gapping incision that had been cruelly made. Elméra did it as tenderly as she might, but it was not enough and he whimpered slightly in intense pain and her quintessence felt as though it was about to shatter in sheer sympathy. But against her emotional pain, she continued to gingerly press the cloth into the wound, smothering most of the bleeding.
Then she gently folded the cloak over the Elf that was now shaking as though with bitter cold and she whispered, "you are strong, I think, for many others would have died. But you wait for someone other than me. You wait for your friend, the blonde one." She smiled and added with a grin, "well he is far stronger than many here think possible and he will last for a time yet."
Rothinzil's shivering did not subside despite the cloak and he glanced at her with a grin that he felt was misplaced, "Legolas is strong Elméra, but he can't stand through this alone and neither can I. We Elves hate the dark and pain or loneliness makes it all the more unbearable."
Elméra looked at Rothinzil and said, "I will do what I may, but if Calmir finds out that I have spoken with Legolas, as you call him, it will go ill for him and all of us." She tucked the vermilion cloak tighter about Roth's form and said, "wait for me."
He shivered and closed his eyes more pain shot through his consciousness and he wished to that Valar that eh might pass out and what would come would come. He felt his blood still draining and he was so weak. He wished he could tell her that though she might take him away from here, he would eventually die and very soon. He was in so much agony.
She went to the edge of the pit and grasping a rope that dangled over the rim, she used it to help pull herself out. But as she looked back down in at the Elf that was lying motionless on the floor as though he was already death inbound, she could not help but ask herself, how was the mule going to get down there and back out?
This very question was now crossing Rothinzil's mind, but he was too weak to state in and in too much pain to care. If someone had told him that the world was about to end, he would have cared very little at this point so low was his spirit. He whispered, "I am sorry. I cannot hold on any longer." And then his hazel eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. Red lined his mouth ominously and his glow seemed to fade into nothingness.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Glorfindel held Aragorn close to himself with his cloak wrapped about the man to trap what warmth Aragorn had left. The ranger had begun to form a cold sweat and his breathing was turning perilously shallow and his face was ominously white. A few times he had cried out for his brothers, or for Legolas and Glorfindel found it terribly sad that they could not answer him because they were not there and they could not hear him.
Erestor walked quietly in the back, his calm demeanor changed to one of uncertainty and wariness. His sharp dark eyes watched ahead for any enemies and in his mind he tried to recall all the powers of healing that he had read up on. But his mind was at a complete loss and he felt so useless. He knew he should be able to help but he was finding out knowledge was useless if you could not put it into action.
Glorfindel had all his will concentrated on keeping the human alive until they found aid and Erestor could tell from Glorfindel's unnaturally troubled facade that he was ready to fail.
The sun had come up warm and bright, but it did nothing to melt the deep snow that but for being Elves, they would have been engulfed in it. Its bright rays made the snow shine and reflect back to make their eyes blink and smart from the painful illumination.
It was not windy and so the air temperature did not seem so chill. This was just as well, for Aragorn's condition could worsen incomparably if the wind picked up and its bite reached beyond the mantle he had been wrapped in as he was being carried towards Farlost.
As Erestor glanced his jaded eyes upward and blinked out the sun's rays, he saw two figures floundering in the deep snow. They were horses or his eyes were gypped by the brightness of the day and the darkness of his heart.
They were running towards them it seemed and he could hear them snorting out air in puffs of white steam. The snow danced up behind their hooves in billowing powered clouds. "Glorfindel," he said to get the Gondolin Elf's attention and when the golden-haired Elf looked at him, he glanced his eyes up in a gesture to the horses. "The town cannot be too far away."
Glorfindel just watched the horses and nodded his head. "They seem to be approaching this way, so let us wait for them. Perhaps the manner of their approach will tell us more of what we seek."
Erestor frowned darkly, "are you sure it would not be best to met them halfway?" His brows were knitted and a delicate crease formed between them that stated his obvious doubt and displeasure, not to mention his irritable frame of mind.
Glorfindel did not respond. He was too concentrated on the horses. One certainly looked like Prince Legolas' gray horse, the other looked like good old Naneth, Rothinzil's noble mare. Re-balancing the weight of the ranger that he bore, the Elf surveyed the scene before him with his keen blue eyes.
The horses were feet away now and it was terribly evident that they were riderless. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes into dark azure slits that showed his great anxiety and emotional unrest under a set of crinkled golden brows. Erestor looked at his companion darkly and then rotated his curious glance back at the horses that were fast approaching. Drawing a deep breath, he snorted it out in a quick spurt anxiousness.
The horses galloped up and were trembling with seemingly fear, but the Elves, in tune with all good creatures, knew otherwise.
Sweat slicked the horses' powerful bodies and they snorted into the air as they captured their breath once more. Glorfindel placed a hand on gentle Naneth's forelock and sighed, "she yearns for her master. Poor Rothinzil." He shook his head and placed his arm back under the ranger that he had managing to support with one arm for a few seconds.
Erestor scowled and said, "the other belongs to Prince Legolas then?" he inquired slowly as he thought things through.
Glorfindel answered quickly and yet unrushed, "yes, it is his." He scowled at the snow and scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot carelessly. He watched the ground and his foot for a fleeting moment before raising his fair-haired head to look Erestor in the eye, "I do not think Farlost is far away. I do not know the entire way, for I have never been there, but perhaps these horses can show us the rest of the way there."
Erestor looked Glorfindel back in the eye and battle flickered in his own dark ones. "Lord Glorfindel," he began thickly, "you are mad!" His thick voice turned into a scolding growl and he said, "they have no saddles, not even a bridle!" he pointed out tersely and all but shaking his finger like mother to a child at the Gondolin Lord. Glorfindel had a half-amused smile creeping across his face and it finally, despite all attempts, turned into an all out grin and then a gathering chuckle.
"Erestor, do not tell me you can't ride a horse bareback. I know you can!" he laughed and proceeded to look the animal's over to see if they were fit for riding. But then he looked at the snow, it was deep, they would flounder and get no where.
Erestor rolled his eyes and snapped, "of course I can1 But in this snow it is more than dangerous for both Elf and beast, do you know that?" He glared at Glorfindel as though the other was completely stupid.
Glorfindel frowned and said in response, "I know that! But I can't carry Estel and find strength to reach Farlost with him. Now unless you think you can muster up enough strength to bear him the rest of the way, we are going to try and ride these horses there, or at least I am going to set Estel on one."
Erestor muttered, "I suppose that is not a bad idea. But honestly, I can carry him Lord Glorfindel. You underestimate me, do you know that?" He frowned before asking with narrowed eyes as he looked at the snow, "do you think Thranduil has sent an envoy out to look for Legolas and Rothinzil. They can't have returned there or their horses would not be here. They are in trouble and we are not enough to get them out of it. It has worked out in the past, yes, but I can a feeling that tell me it will take more than what Elves have to offer. I think as men started it, men will finish it."
Glorfindel sighed and said, "I am sure that King Thranduil is doing his best right now and as Legolas is usually late for everything he may or may not think anything is wrong. Coupled with, the Anduin has finally been made uncrossable."
Erestor looked at Glorfindel with a look of annoyance and said in a low tone, "fine, you win, we will ride the horses to Farlost, get aid and then go from there."
Glorfindel chose Legolas' horse for his mount and patted the gray animal's head in a gentle caress. The mare snorted and then her nose touched Aragorn's blanched face in a concerned sort of nudge as if to say, 'where is Legolas? What is happening?'
Glorfindel stroked the horse's nose again and then called to Erestor curtly. "Get mounted, then I am going to hand Estel up to you and mount this horse of Prince Legolas'. You then will hand Estel back up to me unless you want to carry him the rest of the way."
The councilor of Rivendell frowned and said quietly so it was nearly stated to himself, "I can look after Estel for a time." He looked at the horse as he stood next to her and patted her dark near black side gently. Then, with the skill only an Elf could possess, he mounted her and was seated comfortably on top of her. It had been long since he had ridden bareback. But it was one of those things that came back.
He felt as comfortable on the horse as he did on the ground. He recalled how when he was younger his father had taught him to ride. But beyond that it brought back memories that did not bear remembrance. Narrowing his brows he looked at Glorfindel, "you may hand Estel up to me now Lord Glorfindel."
Glorfindel carefully handed up the ill human to the raven-haired councilor who just as conscientiously received him and set the man before him on the horse's back. Glorfindel shot Erestor a calculating glance and then asked nearly mistrustfully, "are you set Lord Erestor?"
"I am as always Lord Glorfindel," voiced the dark-haired Elf with voice that made it seem as though he wanted to go riding off now instead of waiting on the other's concern for him. He could take care of himself after all. Just because he did not leave Rivendell often did not mean he was made of glass. Glorfindel treated him like a sneeze would shatter him.
The golden-haired Elf said nothing, but went ahead and jumped up onto Naneth's back. The horse stepped sideways and Glorfindel adjusted to the creature's pace with much ease. She snorted and Glorfindel patted her neck as his blue far-seeing eyes darted to the horizon. He saw a valley ahead, mist lay around it where it was chilling and damp. He had a feeling that beyond this little dint in the land the town of Farlost was delved.
Erestor followed Glorfindel's eyes as though an invisible line linked them to the valley that was just ten minutes ahead. They did not know it was the same one as the one Aragorn had traveled through. Erestor frowned and said glumly, "so we have to cross that?"
Glorfindel said sarcastically, "unless you have a pair of wings hidden somewhere, yes. I am sure even you can tell that is the quickest way and time is chiefly what we need." The speaking Elf clicked his tongue softly and Naneth broke into a trot that soon developed into a splendid canter, sending powdery drifts of snow up from the cold ground.
Erestor watched the yellow-haired immortal for a moment before shaking his head and then nudging his own mount with his boot heels and followed after Glorfindel. He held Estel close to insure that the mortal would not slip from the mare's back as they galloped towards the town.
It was not more than a few seconds when he rode up alongside Glorfindel and the Gondolin lord looked at him and smiled, "decide to join me Lord Erestor?"
Erestor crinkled his brow and asked with a scornful laugh in his voice, "I had to or leave the poor town at your questionable sanity. Surely they deserve better than that?" he probed with a slight grin that Glorfindel had never seen before.
"Erestor were you actually attempting in a jest, though it was unsurprisingly off humor?" asked the Balrog-Slayer over his shoulder as his horse sprinted ahead, kicking up powder into Erestor's dark hair, causing the stated Elf to revolve his eyes upward to see the white flakes. The wind he and horse's speed were generating quickly blew the frozen crystal's from his dark strands that flailed behind him.
The councilor frowned and said, "I was, as a matter of fact, serious Lord Glorfindel. And if I would have had humor, it would have been very well placed," he added scrupulously and with raised brows.
It was only moments before they would reach the valley and an ill odor defiled the air about them causing the horses to stop and snort in disgust and fear, for it was the odor of the dead. The frozen and yet still decaying corpses in the valley. But Glorfindel had not reached the valley yet and it's mystery. They did not know about the deaths of the town's men and the foul orcs of the Misty Mountain's.
>>>>>>>>>>
Celebalda scanned the forest floor beneath his feet from where he stood in the tree. He had been posted here for four days to wait for Legolas' return, but the prince had not come. Of course it might take longer than four days, but he would know if Legolas was coming because in the winter, with his keen Elven vision, he could see campfires out in the distance as the prince drew nearer and now, he saw none. The leaves were so thick in Mirkwood that snow did not even reach the forest floor, but formed like a canopy above and sifted through between the leaves whenever the wind blew.
The crease between the brows of the Elf-captain showed his disturbed demeanor and his narrowed eyes that he sported made one keenly aware of his frustration. It was time to return home, but Legolas would not be accompanying him. He was not sure what he was going to tell King Thranduil, but he knew he would have to face his liege and the other Elves of Mirkwood when they heard that their prince had not come back.
Then again, maybe Legolas was just late again. It would not surprise him, or half of the inhabitance of Mirkwood, but he had a strange foreboding that something was most definitely wrong. Glancing once more at the ground below, he dropped judiciously down and bent his knees to absorb the impact. His dark hair fell around his face and sneaked out from beneath his cloak hood.
Frowning, he flipped his hair away and straightened his outer mantle before beginning back towards the palace.
I was no more than a few hours or so away if he rode a horse there, but being an Elf, he could run the distance and make good time. That, however, was not his intent, or at least not entirely. He wanted to make good time, but that would mean facing Thranduil's inevitable wrath quicker and that was one thing he did not want to do.
It was not that he feared his lord, but that like anyone, he did not like getting very nearly screamed at, or scolded, even if it was not directed at him. Sighing as he walked towards his home, he began to contemplate whether or not he should break into an even run and make all haste back.
At last he decided darkly that if he did not get back quickly, Thranduil would be even more displeased and that would do nothing to help matters at hand. So, after drawing a deep breath, the Elf-captain of all Mirkwood's guard broke into a run through the brush. He wished he had brought his horse, but with the orcs that often patrolled the borders near Mirkwood as one went further south, he had not even considered it for two reasons. First of all, it is harder to hide a horse and secondly, he dared not risk his horse being turned into some dinner of theirs.
"Legolas," he said to the trees as he ran, your father is going to kill you and most likely kill me. I highly doubt he has ever heard the saying, 'don't shoot the messenger'." The dark-haired Elf smiled and said; "If I am lucky you will show up just in time to claim the blame as usual."
He smacked a branch out of his way and picked up his pace a little bit. He was going to go a little faster until he was out of the southern border where the risk of an orc attack was constant. By the Valar, prince or not, he was going to strangle that scrawny little Elf as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west!
As he contemplated ways to waylay the prince as he traveled through the forest, painful memories rose from the back of his mind, sifting to the front. Things he had not thought about for along time and he shoved them back, but not before feeling a diminutive mass maturing in his throat.
TBC...well now, hmmmmm,Tin, wonder what will happn to our dear little Rothinzil now? Yes...we wonders. Please don't hurt us! He might be alive! -pokes Elf with stick- Wake up? Uh-oh! Maybe we did too much ofgood-ur...we mean...bad thing...
Review please? We want to know what you think, esp. if you areRothinzil (the doll baby) fan!
Review Responses:) Thanks mellyn nin! We love these so much.
Marie Delcore: Hey mellon nin! Oh yes, poor, poor Legolas. Hey, you were warned girl, you were warned. Yes, the dear ranger is dying...poor little guy. You figured? Ha! That is only because we talked to you at lunch oh wise one! LOL We think those kisses might tire him out or really get annoying after a while. Legolas still needs to be alert miss Delcore. LOL 'Chocolatize'? Interesting...very interesting...hmmmmmmm...but why make the pain go away---ur we mean...pain is SO bad. LOL Thanks for the funny review, friend.
Nefhiriel: Yes, well we love-ur-hate cliffies.E-mail can be such a bor, can't it? But without it, what is left in the world? Okay, we exaggerate. LOL Yes, not once but twice. That is always a thrill, huh? We feel that way about Cassia and Sio's or Nili's! Oh, dopn't worry, Aragorn had better quite complaining, he has a long ways to go yet. LOL Thanks for the cute and interesting review. :)
Deana: 'Poor Legolas'? Try very poor Legolas! LOL! Thanks for the review. :)
elitenschwein:Yay! Laptops rock. Awwww...thanks. Well, we don't really like creating female OC's, but it seemed to thing to do at the time. Glad we seem to be describing her well. It is hard to write about females, I guess because we are so used to writing about guys even though we are girls. LOL Yes! A green Erestor -insert snickers- might be a little less shocking, but -snorts here- you never know. Oh he will live...muahahahahahahaha! Okay...so we got a little carried away. Anyway...he will live, but just not happily for a long time. Thanks for the wonderful review:)
Snow Glory: Yes, he is an absolute doll baby! -cuddles Elf tightly and places bonnet on head before smiling proudly- See? LOL Yes, he gets to go and work in the mines. Oh boy! Just what he always wanted to do. Work in the pitch dark and get the snot knocked out of him periodically. Oh, yeah! Dumdadadadum! Elf power! This was a nice review. Hope you don't get into trouble for reviewing and being late! We would feel horrible. Thank you so much for sending it and braving dangers while doing so though:)LOL
Snowy: Hehehehehe. A new reviewer! Thank you, glad you like it:)