CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I Don't Want to Go

Legolas woke slowly and he shifted as he felt the warm blankets over him. Closing his eyes again, he pulled them closer about himself and thinking that he was safe at home he said in a mumble, "it is still dark…too early to get up." He covered his head in the soft material and then he felt the aroma of straw and he heard water dripping from dank walls. It was then he knew where he was and he poked his head out from beneath the blanket and peered into the dim light.

He felt dizzy, but strangely stronger and revived...if that was possible. He felt as though he was healing faster. He muttered to himself as he sat up and let the blankets fall from abut him, "ouch. What time is it?" He rubbed his eyes and shivering, pulled the blanket back on and curled his knees up to his chin before resting his head on them gently.

A glowering voice from the corner in a separate cell answered, "the afternoon of the next day if you really want to know." Caranfëa was far from even what could be called a 'relatively good mood'. He snorted and said, "you have been asleep all night and until what had to be around one! I thought you had gone into a coma!"

"Glad to know you cared so much Caranfëa," answered Legolas a bit sarcastically. He coughed and then felt pain in his leg as he tried to move the stiff and incompliant limb. He moaned and looking at the wound was relieved to see that it seemed to be healing rather abruptly. But at the same time it was a bit frightening.

He looked at Caranfëa through the dim light that they had, that, as he looked about noticed it came from a torch in the wall not too far away. The red-haired little Elf was not moving and Legolas saw that his lip was swollen and his breathing was a bit off. What had befallen his friend? He asked in a whisper, " Caranfëa?"

"Legolas, I don't want to talk now, alright?" he snapped and glared in the darkness.

Legolas rolled his eyes and said intellectively, fine with me. He shifted and wondered grumpily if he had been forgotten about by King. Not that he would have minded in the least, but he wished that he had been set free first. But all in due time, all in due time, he told himself.

He was not frightened anymore, at least not now. But he did feel the great sensation of anger that was about to erupt and he scowled at his wound nebulously. If not for that wound he could be free. Or perhaps not. If it weren't for this painful, aggravating, menace of a wound he would be fighting for his life in that cursed pit and trying to think of anything BUT killing himself to escape the horror of having to kill someone or something innocent.

He was actually grateful for this wound now, if that was possible. Since he had nothing better to do than make up his own rules at the moment he decided that it was possible. He then began to think of what other rules he could make up for himself and for others to follow once he got out.

Unable to think of anything new, the Elf leaned back against the bars and sighed with monotony moreover with anxiety of what he did not know of. He wished Aragorn were here. Caranfëa was someone to talk to, if he would hold a civil conversation. But that was obviously not an option right now and all Legolas could guess from his companion's uneven breathing was that he had suffered something horrible quite recently.

But he knew the little red-head well enough to know that to try and feel sorry for the Elf….to console him in anyway… made him angrier and in even more misery. Caranfëa was self-efficient and when others tried to comfort him he thought of it as them telling him that he was weak and not good enough. Which was far from true. He was a very strong spirited Elf, consequently that was his name. His father, Celebalda, had named him well.

Legolas was not about to open that jar of fish bait and he decided that right now since there seemed to be nobody to help him, he had better start being self-sufficient too. As much as he wanted someone to cry one, there was no one there and he was alone. He did not like to face that, but it was true.

Caranfëa was a companion, but not a true friend.

It was then Legolas realized that the cold was getting worse and he began to shiver slightly. He pulled the blanket tighter about his now fast becoming sketchy frame and muttered to himself, "I wonder where Rothinzil is. I hope he is alive and well." He looked at his breath that came in steamy puffs against the cold air of the mine and winter.

Caranfëa's rough and yet Elven musical voice answered, "Rothinzil? I recall him, he came back with you a few days before I left. I honestly didn't think that he would manage to pull himself through."

Legolas stiffened and asked in a barbed tone of voice that was guarded, "why not?" He felt obligated to defend his absent friend and he had nothing better to do anyway, but that was not hte point. The blonde Elf narrowed his blue eyes and glared duskily at the little Elf through the darkness.

Caranfëa snorted and said askance, "because he was so mixed up when you found him he could hardly shoot a bow straight. Not only that; he was so weak and thin I thought he would die even if he was mentally stable." Caranfëa's tone was one of scorn and he asked, "so tell me. Do his arrows fly now?"

Legolas snapped angrily and with a choked voice that came from his own emotions trying to throttle him, "You! He is my best friend and he is more than sane for your information!" Then the prince's tone got even darker as he felt a red haze about to flood over his eyes. "You are worse off than he right now! How dare you even try to conjecture that he is emotionally unstable! He is healed remarkably well and I would trust him with my life or risk all to save his!" Legolas felt his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Caranfëa had a horrible habit, mused the prince angrily as his felt his jaw clamp, of making him angry at the most ill-omened times. He was always unable to strangle the other and it was a penchant that was beginning to grate strongly upon his nerves. But, he thought grimly to himself, he was sure that Caranfëa knew that with all certainty, either that or he just didn't care when he made his prince angry and happened to always be lucky. But the subsequent was least likely.

He sighed as Caranfëa responded thickly, "well I beg your pardon Prince Legolas!" The little Elf's chains rattled angrily as he began to shift his position in his frustration and total displeasure. "I was only held captive and tortured ceaselessly all these cursed years 'underground'! You are going to have to forgive my unfamiliarity of current events!" He heard the other grunt and finish, "but if Rothinzil isn't dead already, then he shall be soon. Calmir will make sure that he is stone-cold dead."

"Caranfëa!" the name was filled with agitation towards the addressed, "have you never listened to your father's teachings that you need to learn the value of incarcerating your mouth while you are ahead?"

The two might have gone further into the argument, but a door flung open and both jerked their heads up; startled.

King stood in the doorway. His large frame standing out and framed by the light. "Legolas!" he greeted the blonde prince with a false grin of happiness and a smile in his voice. "Prince Legolas, is it not?"

Legolas could have been knocked over with a feather and he stammered, "how do…"before he caught himself and shut his jaw with a tight snap. He was not going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he had no recollection of anything from the past two days. He followed the man with his eyes and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I know your name?" finished the man with an insane grin that made Legolas believe a frog or perhaps a crazed warg was back in this Dark Dúnadan's history. Though that was a slur on Aragorn's part, chuckled the Elf inwardly. The human shook his head, "but you told me yourself. I thought we were actually beginning to get along my liege," he said mockingly as he inclined his head to look at the now perfectly serene Elf.

"Never." Legolas' tone was flat. He was not about to use any tone that could possibly be used by the man to feed off of and grow more annoyingly by the minute.

The Dark man leaned against the bars casually and looked in on the immortal as he crossed his arms. "Have a nice sleep I suppose?" he mused.

Legolas said nothing and then he looked at the floor. He was beginning to wonder if something had not been done to him while he had slept. The man continued and ignored the blonde being's bothersome silence. "Are you hungry my prince?" he asked with a smirk as he produced an apple from his pocket that he must have gotten from the winter store, which would keep well in this cold weather. He tossed it around in his hands a moment before looking to see of the captive's expression had changed.

If he was looking to see the Elf's mouth watering he was sorely disappointed. Legolas did not look like he cared for anything that would be considered edible. As a matter of fact the thought turned the Elf's stomach upside down, sending it for a loop.

"Legolas, I honestly am only looking out for your well being. Where would I be without your kind?" he asked in a hurt voice as he noticed the Elf would not even look up at him.

"Then you would let me go home, to where my people need me." He looked daggers and said, "also, I know who you are and I know that you know all about me and my kind. If you are looking for my well being, then why do you keep me where my heart pleads to be set free?"

The man raised his brows in mock surprise and then said smoothly, "oh my lord?" He tossed the apple from hand to hand again. "Legolas you wound me. Are my accommodations not better than many meant for your kind here?" He smiled, "have I harmed you once? Not a single hair on your head have I hurt though you have continuously refused to respect me for my kindness."

"Kindness?" scoffed the Elf bitterly. "Being kept in a cage and forced to fight like an animal a kindness? Nay Dark Dúnadan, it is an evil."

Caranfëa looked at Legolas before he looked away swiftly once more. He was not about to interfere in anyway. He was already being starved into submission (which would never work) and he did not need a beating or worse on top of that. He may have been stubborn but he was not stupid, whatever others may believe or think.

King just drew back his lips in a cold smile, "Legolas, my little princling, you have much to learn about evil." He then saw Caranfëa eyeing him darkly from the corner of his cage and he said as he took a bite from the apple, "hungry little one?" Caranfëa turned up his nose and the man laughed shortly and then he produced the key to the blonde being's prison from his pocket and opened the door to let himself in.

"It would be a shame to see such a strong and smart Elf wither away," he said thoughtfully as he crouched down to the golden-haired immortal's level looked into the deep blue orbs possessed with a smoldering rage. He then saw that as the fair-haired immortal slid a little further away he used his injured limb. The man reached a hand out and grasped the ankle, pulling the leg gently and yet firmly straight. "It is healing well. Soon you will be put to the test."

Legolas pulled the limb back and then the Dark Dúnadan frowned thoughtfully. "I am actually beginning to become rather fond of you Elf. You do not annoy me as does my other pet over there." He gestured towards the red-headed Caranfëa who was facing the other way, though he heard every word. "I might actually choose to set you free in time."

"You would never do that, do not play with me."

"That leg is just not healing fast enough. But I can fix that easily enough," he added and stood up, brushing his knees off. He chose to ignore that the Elf had dared to call him a liar. He did not want to hate this Elf and so he was going to put it off as long as possible.

He walked out quickly and Caranfëa turned and looked at his liege before saying, "whatever happens, do exactly as he says or you may find yourself to be an Elf-dinner on the go."

Legolas wrinkled his forehead and his eyes formed into slits as he asked, "pardon?"

"He is going to give you the 'warg-treatment'. Just don't struggle or you may turn out with your leg missing."

Legolas felt his throat constrict a little before he asked, "and that is…"

"Animals have the ability to heal wounds faster, they have to, to survive, hence why they lick themselves when they are wounded. If they did not they would surely die of infection and just plain weakness." Caranfëa felt himself going ill recalling the last 'treatment' he had received roughly four years ago. He had come to the conclussion twice over, that he did not wear slobber well.

This was an obvious answer, but not the least bit comforting. When wargs tasted blood, they went mad.

He did not have much time to wonder as he heard voices and heavy panting and three men appeared. Two were holding a warg between them. It was a she-warg and was lunging at her chain trying to get away, but when she saw Legolas she stopped and sniffed. If wargs could smile, Legolas was more than assured that this one would be grinning from one rough ear to the next.

King reentered the fair-haired being's cell and in his hand he had a single manacle attached to a peg by a heavy chain. He reached for Legolas' foot but the prince withdrew it quickly. The Dark Dúnadan just rolled his eyes and grasped it tightly as he slipped the metal fetter on it and locked it. He then pulled until the prince's leg was taught and he placed a stalwart knee on the shin and held the limb firmly, if not painfully, in place. Legolas did not waste his energy struggling against his strength.

Legolas watched as the man proceeded to pound the peg into the earth and when he removed his knee Legolas felt pain run up his own for a few moments. But that was least of his concern. He could not pull his leg back. It was outstretched and left for this creature to have its way with.

He then motioned for the men to let the warg come and they brought her over to where the prince was chained. She sniffed the Elf over and when she saw the maimed leg she placed a paw on the kneecap and her nails bit slightly into his flesh. Legolas wanted to shiver and he felt his eyes growing wide as he looked at her and all her bulk.

She was making an odd noise that was a cross between a purr and a growl as her eyes looked over the wound. Then her tongue came out and licked the blood-covered wound. Legolas felt the rough tongue run over his wound and finally he did tremble and the warg licked her lips as she tasted the Elf's sweet blood.

It was luscious to her and she continued to lick the wound with an intense passion. Legolas tried not to be repulsed, but it was unavoidable. He shivered and watched with large eyes as her massive and abrasive tongue went in and out in a rhythm. Pushing aside the tear in his legging and more or less savoring his blood.

He watched as his wound seemed less unhealthy and already seemed to regain a hale color. But he also noticed that his blood was running out that had coated the outside and the she-warg was beginning to eye the rest of him. He knew what Caranfëa had meant by no struggling. Any sudden move now could be entirely fatal.

He suddenly tried to jerk away anyway as she finished and she dug in her claws. King said, "don't move Elf, unless you want to lose your head." He even looked nervous. That was one thing that Legolas did savor right then was the fact that King was uncomfortable and a bit leery.

The warg then noticed the laceration the prince's chest, sustained from Calmir in his madness. She seemed to smile after licking all the blood from the prince's leg and she placed her nose against his chest that was rising and falling fearfully. Her tongue fell upon this wound as well and would come up to the immortal's throat and Legolas was certain she knew that from his jugular she could get all the precious blood she wanted. She was nearly finished with the cut and Legolas felt a cold fear clutching at him with cold tendril like fingers as he realized she still wanted more.

Suddenly the prince saw the men tighten their grip on the chain and just as they did, the warg-lunged for Legolas' throat. She missed narrowly and they pulled her out of the prison to lock her back into whatever dark whole she had come from. Legolas just watched as King strode in and looked at his wound before tsking to himself, "it still is an ugly thing." But he had to admit, it looked a sight better.

He dug the peg out and then he undid the manacle on the prince's foot. Legolas withdrew his leg slowly as it now felt stiff and the man smiled, "soon you will be ready to fight, my dear Elf."

As he left Legolas's cell he looked at Caranfëa and asked in a parent to son sort of tone that was filled with intense mockery, "ready to go?"

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Elméra walked as quietly as she might through the seemingly abandoned corridors. She did not feel frightened really, but a little suspicious.

It was too quiet and where was her brother? He certainly was not working in the mine. Calmir was lazy and he would never work for his money. That is why he had captured Rothinzil and Legolas to begin with.

As walked through the darkness she began to think about that Elf and a sloppy, wayward grin spread across her pale features. He was strangely sweet, she mused, and she could tell that he was extremely kind hearted. It hurt her to see him in so much agony and ready to welcome death with opened arms to embrace it with.

She had never seen an Elf really before and now she was in love with one? The notion was foolish, she told herself with an inward sigh as she nearly stumbled over a stone that caught her suede boot. She looked around, for she could have sword she heard a rapid breath exhale and she felt eyes on her now.

They did not seem friendly and she swallowed down a cold and large lump of fear that was steadily rising in the back of her throat. Inclining her head as she wiped away her long hair from her face, she noticed her palms were sweaty with fear.

Drawing a deep breath she suddenly felt the urge to return to Rothinzil…she feared he was dead. A dread had fallen on her heart that she could not shake and she quivered slightly.

Pivoting on her heal, she turned and fled down the corridor as though all the orcs ever spawned were on her trail and ready to slay her cruelly. Her hair whipped behind her and she let it fly like a red banner.

But the young women suddenly halted and narrowed her eyes. She was allowing herself to get carried away and not only was that foolish but illogical. She had nothing to fear that she knew of. She saw no danger, but her senses told her otherwise.

The feeling of eyes was becoming increasingly more convincing and she placed her hand on the dagger she worse at her side. Her hand slid on the hilt as she prepared to draw it. Then she moved forward a careful step. Nothing. She was becoming like some silly housewife, jumping at every sound and suspicions were beginning to rob her of her sanity. She chuckled inwardly as she tried to suppress her growing fear.

Rothinzil was only a little ways away and she could walk to him a matter of a few more minutes, for she had not dared to stray too far.

She narrowed her eyes into even smaller slits, though it made seeing in the poor light of the mine much more difficult and grabbing her hair in the other hand swung it to one side of her neck.

It was only a few moments when she stumbled back upon the door to the old storage room. She breathed a deep breath of relief as she tossed her body against the door for a moment of rest. Removing her hand from the dagger, she closed her eyes. All seemed well. She was safe. He had nothing to fear to begin with, now she felt perfectly balmy. Chuckling, she opened her eyes and stared into Calmir's face as he smiled coldly and asked in a tone of ice and steel, "my sister, I was so worried for you. The body of that Elf is gone and I fear he isn't dead. He could be looking for you."

She shook her head as her demeanor changed to a closed and tight expression of mind and said, "don't be silly brother dear! He is dead, I saw him die." She turned her face away and looked at the ground. She then looked up and into his eyes.

The man laughed and said, "I think not sister. You saw him stabbed, but he did not die, did he?" he asked as he pressed his hands to her throat. She felt terrors reach for her and she glared at him with hard eyes.

"I do not know of what you speak," she said flatly and tried to shift away from her insane brother, but he tightened his grip. Placing a hand on her dagger, even though she felt frozen in fear, the maiden was about to stab him, but he caught her hand and smiled even more, if that were possible.

"Let us not start to kill family members now." Taking the dagger he tossed it out into the dark and he pressed his fingers into her throat until a sense of vertigo began to overcome her senses and she looked at him with wide and bleary eyes that still had a clear message: I hate you.

"Brother…," she began in a tight voice. But she did not know what to say. She could not betray Rothinzil and yet she was scared, not of death, but of how she would die. But she was older and she was not going to stand for this. She had stood up to him before and now was no different, was it? "You let go of me now. I mean it Calmir."

He hissed, "tell me what I want to know." Then a false kindness came to his voice that was more of derision, "I won't harm him if you want him as your little whore."

She tried once more to tear away but his grip was far too strong, "he is not my whore! He is my friend!" she snapped as her hands clawed at her neck. He shook her and she felt her lungs throbbing for sweet air. However, her pride was not about to let her give in and she felt a bitter anger rising in her heart to slay him, but she was going to do that. Not yet anyway…

"Whatever you say sister. Now tell me where he is, because if I have to find him, he will be killed. I will skin him alive and I mean it. But if you tell me, I may yet let him leave." She twisted and writhed in his grip some more before giving him the desired answer.

"Very well," she moaned and a tear slid down her face as she began to sob. "I hid him in the back of one of the furthest mines. Please don't kill him!" She was begging now and as her brother's hands came from her throat, she fell to her knees before him and her arms went across her stomach as she rocked back and forth in all appearances emotional agony.

Calmir grinned and said, "I won't…yet." He turned and began to walk away, but then he stopped abruptly and spun back around to look down at his sister's shaking form. He felt suddenly happy, as though what he had done was a good thing and lunging his foot out, he struck her in the face with the toe of his boot, breaking her lip. She sucked in a quick break, so as not cry out as she felt the lower lip swelling and hot, salty blood rushing into her mouth with a sickening feeling that followed it. Her mouth was stinging sharply and she licked the corners with her tongue, tasting her pain. "Thank you sister."

She whispered bitterly behind him as he went, "and you're not welcome brother." As she stumbled up, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth to remove the blood that had appeared again. Her old comforts with lying had returned and she felt her heart turning hard once more. But after the experience she had just undergone, she was going to fight the old habit, but rather embrace it as a survival technique.

She placed her hand on the door and slowly, not making a sound and willing that she wouldn't, she slipped inside quickly and with the grace of an Elven princess of the old world, before it was changed.

Rothinzil was awake now and a light was in his eyes that showed he was feeling alive and better. The minute he had heard the door being opened, his eyes had darted to it to see who would appear through it. When he saw that it was Elméra, he had relaxed and let out a deep breath before wincing.

When she saw him she smiled, but he felt that it was hollow. She said softly, "so you are awake Rothinzil?" She shut the door gently as the Elf struggled to sit up.

"I am, for what it is worth." He honestly felt that he might as well be dead, because there was nothing he could do to help her or the situation each was in. He had let his prince down and his King. He could certainly never return to Mirkwood, for he could not face telling Thranduil that his only son and heir was dead or lost forever and that it was his fault. It was not that he feared his King's wrath, it was that he knew if he told Thranduil this horrible thing Mirkwood would fall into darkness and the King of the Wood-Elves would die of grief.

She answered, "I thought I had lost you." She drew her hand across her mouth again and it came off red with her own blood.

This did not escape the eyes of the Elf. He narrowed them into slits and asked firmly but gently, "Lady Elméra, come a bit closer, if you will." She looked uncertain and he murmured, "you are hurt Lady." She remembered her mouth, which she had been unconsciously wiping blood from and put a hand over it, turning away.

"Don't trouble yourself. I am fine," she said reassuringly over her shoulder.

"You remind me of Legolas or a couple other friends of mine, "he snickered as he wheezed around the pain of his wound.

She turned on him and raised a perfect red brow skeptically, "oh?" She walked closer until she stood above him and asked with a laugh in her voice, "how so?"

Rothinzil resisted the urge to laugh his head off at her and spoke around his chuckles, "they are never hurt."

She actually laughed and suddenly stopped as Rothinzil wheezed in pain. Bending down, she licked the blood on her lip before shifting the old furs behind the Elf to give him better support for breathing. Blood was soon back on her lip and Rothinzil reached a trembling hand up and wiped it away for her and she looked at him in shock. It looked as though Elméra was about to break down, but she put her emotions under control. "Rothinzil, why do you care?"

"You dragged me from the brink of death. I consider that to be something a friend would do," he answered quietly.

She kneeled by him and asked in a wavering and yet strong voice, "do you think of me as more than a friend?"

He looked away for a moment, wondering what to say. He did, didn't he? But he was one of the Eldar…she was not. He knew that this would be the greatest thing he had to give, but he felt she was worthy of it. She had dared to drag him to safety, she had used her strength that she needed to survive to call him from the dark. "I think of you as a close friend." He struggled to sit up as she watched a series of emotions strange and great, wondrous and terrible, pass over her face.

He managed to sit up and she looked at him with watering eyes that she hated herself for at the moment, "Rothinzil, you could get worse. Please lay back down."

"No," he spoke so soft it was hardly audible. Elméra looked at him and she narrowed her eyes in anger and a fierce light lit up in them that was somewhat frightening. All the tears that had looked like they were ready to spill over seemed to vanish.

"Rothinzil, you lay back down and rest!" she demanded in a hiss. She began to stand up, but he caught her arm and she did not try to get free, instead she stared at him with tapering eyes and a bristling anger crossing her features. It was nearly comical in the Mirkwood Elf's opinion. She was ready to scold the inured being some more but never got the chance. Rothinzil's lips came into contact gently with her cheek and she felt a tremor of happiness and shock rush through her. It was radiant joy.

Afterhe had planted the kiss she pushed herself away a moment and he looked into her eyes that seemed to glitter not with anger, but a dream-like joy as the maiden spoke, "Rothinzil you are badly wounded…"

"And if I die tomorrow, I would want you to know what I thought of you," he answered and she smiled before he shifted her hair away from her fae and smiled like a lost puppy that has found a home. She wanted him to kiss her on the lips but she imagined that blood would not taste too wonderful.

Rothinzil sank back down into the furs with a sigh. His wound hurt, but he seemed numb to it and numb to all evil. He felt dazed and a careless grin spread across his face like spilled water. He looked at the ceiling and sighed again before his weariness began to take over and he slid into a peaceful retreat of rest.

Elméra watched him for a brief moment and then she smiled and shook her head as she pulled the furs closer about her beloved to make sure he did not get chilled. She placed her slender hand about his face and then bracketed his pale features in both of hands as she whispered, "You are so lovable Rothinzil and you have such a large heart." Just saying his name made her smile inside and chase away rain clouds with rains that threatened to drown her spirits.

His face contorted in his sleep as he felt his wound eating him away and withering at his health. The maiden, being very tired and lonely, lied down beside her Elf and began to close her eyes, listening to his uneasy breathing. Her hand she set over his heart, so she could feel it beating, so she could feel that he was alive. The other hand she placed under her cheek and she watched his face before her eyes closed all the way and she too fell asleep.

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Stupid, insane, ridiculous, incompetent, could the list go any further? Mused the golden-hared Elf-lord as he sat by the bed that bore Estel. Of course the list could go further! A whole lot further if he were not so nervous that he could hardly think of anymore words in his vocabulary that described himself at this moment. Wait….'idiot' was another one that was certainly the truth.

If it wasn't then he didn't know what was. No one in their right mind would have let Erestor be alone with Estel injured for an hour or more. Yet he had done so. He had abandoned his lord's son, no matter how long, he had still done it.

He looked across the room where Erestor was indulged deeply in a red book that from the title Glorfindel gathered it was about the land surrounding the village and the mines, abandoned or active. Well, now supposedly all were abandoned. The Gondolin lord had his doubts.

Erestor snorted and said, "there is a mine not far from here supposedly vast and no longer in use and hasn't been for a long time. Not since the orcs started tunneling near it." Keeping his face in the book, he continued, "I would bet anything that is where they are. Perhaps those men that took them are in league with the orcs."

Glorfindel shivered and said, "that is possible, but we will not know until Estel awakes…if he awakes." The golden-haired Elf sighed and said, "if he doesn't I will never forgive myself."

He had been so naive…..so stupid. He was not a young little Elf of only a few centuries. He knew better, he was thousands of years old and he went against his better judgement and it very well could cost his lord's son's life. He wished he could go back in time and drag Estel back even kicking and screaming home.

He let Aragorn go to save Legolas and Roth, but now that was even uncertain, so the ranger's death would be in vain. And if he didn't die, all he had been through would have been in vain and he would have to live with the fact that Legolas and/or Rothinzil were dead.

"You still blame yourself," the counselor shook his head and muttered, "it is unhealthy and you know as well as I that brooding does nothing for a situation unless it worsens it." The dark-haired adviser closed the book and spoke again, "besides, you know that is anything but becoming of an Elf-lord such as yourself and you have a reputation to protect."

"Not anymore," answered the addressed Elf-lord grimly. "After Estel dies what reputation is worth protecting?" he asked as he watched the counselor.

The raven-haired Elf inclined his head and looked at his companion quizzically, "You have to turn this life around. It isn't helping and right now is the time when we need to be all that we can be. Time is running out, Lord Glorfindel."

Glorfindel knew this, but he had needed someone to tell him. "You are right," he answered. He was not about to apologize for anything though and if that was what Erestor was looking for he would be sorely disappointed.

Erestor shook his head and responded shortly, "you are really feeling down to admit that I am right." He sighed, "Glorfindel, how can people respect Elves like ourselves more when they see you acting this way without hope?" He was going to regret this but he had to say it, "I am beginning to worry for you."

"Well don't waste your time, I am fine."

"Oh, I can tell," answered the other sarcastically and he stood up, going over to the fire he stoked it and spoke at the flames, "stubborn stupid, just like the twins…I can see where Captain Ancú gets it."

"Can you now?" asked Glorfindel bitterly and he looked at Estel, whose face had actually one paler and less life seemed to radiate from him. He was fading.

Erestor rolled his yes and watched the flames dancing merrily. The warmth on his face felt good and he breathed in the hot air that made him feel tired. He was weary enough to sleep from worry himself, but because of worry he could not sleep. It was kind of ironic now that he thought about it.

"Where are you? I am waiting for you, my friend," Legolas' voice drifted into his dreams and the ranger tried to shove it aside. But the haunting voice of his captive friend came again, stronger, "where are you? Have you forgotten about me? About your promise?"

"I have not forgotten. How could I?" he asked and then said, "but I am so weary."

"I know, I am here to help you." The prince's voice seemed so calm. Was he dead? Was he waiting for Aragorn in Mandos' Halls, or was he alive, waiting to be rescued.

"How can this be?" asked the ranger quietly as he felt pain race through his awareness and his body slow a little more.

"You have to wake up…"

"I can't fight this drug anymore. I tried Legolas…" he begged. It was a torment to go against the deadly potion. It would be so much easier to die….

"Wake up…."

Legolas, I would give it all for you. But this is impossible….."

"Wake up…" the voice continued.

"Legolas, I CAN'T!" snapped the ranger in his dream and he felt himself sliding further into darkness.

A mist surrounded him and the voice of his friend faded. Had Legolas died? Had he given up on him? What was going on?

"LEGOLAS!" he cried bitterly. "Come back, please! Don't leave me!"

The mist became to thick to see through and for a second the ranger thought that he was going to Mandos's Halls. But no, he could not be, because his body still beat with agony. It throbbed through him with his heartbeat, raced with his blood.

Then a new voice came to him, but one he recognized so well.

"Please come back, Estel," Glorfindel's calm voice reached his ears. "I made a horrible mistake and I am so sorry."

"Glorfindel?" asked the man skeptically.

"Estel, now is not your time to visit Mandos…again…anyway…please wake up. I will do anything. Legolas is lost. We can't find him."

"But he was just with me…." Answered the ranger in a bewildered voice.

"He is lost, perhaps dead. I don't know. You aren't going to leave me with just Lord Erestor, are you? That would be very cruel on your part." The Gondolin Elf tried to make light of the situation.

Aragorn shook his head and moaned, "you two don't really hate each other."

"That is yet to be proven. I can't say I would rescue him from a hoard of orcs."

"Glorfindel I can't do this…I don't have the strength…." He said in a tired voice that suddenly was beginning to slide and the ranger felt himself beginning to fall into Valar knew what. "Glorfindel!" he cried.

A hand reached through the mist and he reached for it, so it could pull him out of his horrible dream that was becoming real. He held the hand tight and felt himself hanging on by only that hold. The rest of him was swinging over Death's Brink.

With a jolt Aragorn was awake and next to the bed, he heard a thud and glancing over to his side, he saw Erestor…wasn't it? Yes, Erestor, kneeling on the floor and saying in a voice wrapped with devastation, "Glorfindel!" It almost sounded as though Glorfindel was in trouble and Erestor actually cared. Was he still dreaming? Possibly…

"Lord Erestor," murmured Aragorn softly with a voice so weak he hardly knew it was his own.

Erestor leaped up and said with a white face, "oh Valar! Estel! You live! But how…."

Glorfindel's eyes fluttered open and he muttered, "Erestor, pray to not slap my face again, whether I am unconscious or no." He sighed and said, "I was halfway awake and I can tell you that was entirely unnecessary!" The golden-haired Elf looked up at Estel and he smiled, "I thought I was going to lose you young one. Will you never cease to amaze me?"

Erestor looked at Aragorn, who was now shaking with cold and he went to get another blanket. Upon returning he asked Glorfindel, who was sitting in his chair again, "Estel lives, you were on the floor…why doesn't this add up?" He knew that there was at least one gap hat needed filling, perhaps more, but brick by brick.

"I called him back Erestor. There are some benefits to being dead and coming back to life. Like the power to help call others back from the brink of death if the Valar assists me and it suits their purpose." The Gondolin Elf-lord sighed and said, "I think without them I would have killed myself." He sighed, "what strength I had was enough…barely."

Erestor just scowled and said as he tucked the woolen wrap about the human, who was watching both of the Elves with an expressionless face, "Lord Glorfindel you are the most reckless, incompetent Elf-lord Arda has ever even dreamt of knowing!" Aragorn was still trying to place events with how he had gotten to the place he was in. It wasn't working and it made him hurt even more with a relentless headache.

Glorfindel just sighed and retorted, "at least I am not the most stuck up and arrogant Elf-lord Arda has ever known."

"So are we going to engage in the 'name-game' now?" asked Erestor quizzically and with a raised brow as he stared at the other with a scrutinizing gaze. Aragorn was laughing inside, but somehow the smile just would not creep across his weary features.

The ranger wrinkled his forehead as he pondered why exactly he was still alive once more and then he felt ill, very ill. Legolas was not here.

Everything came back in a torrent of horror and misery…the arrow…the hill…his friends being surrounded and for all he knew killed or captured. It hurt him so deeply that he was ready to go back in to the coma. But Legolas had been in there…in his dream or vision…begging.

He was asking if Aragorn had forgotten about him. Was that really what Legolas was thinking now? No! That could not be! Or was Legolas already…gone…dead and lost? Oh Valar!

"We have to find them! They could be dead!" cried the ranger and he began to get up, but he moved far too fast and his head began to spin so that he fell back against the pillows, leaving Erestor and Glorfindel to exchange glowering frowns.

"We aren't going anywhere for at least a week! You just nearly died!" said Erestor firmly. He pressed Aragorn down as the stubborn human tried to get up again. "You are far from fit I think."

"And who exactly placed you in charge? " asked Glorfindel grumpily. "We don't have much time Erestor. Aragorn doesn't have to come with us. He can stay here and rest. In all reality you should stay here as well."

"Lord Glorfindel, you know very well that it would be impossible for you to go by yourself. What could one do?" asked the black-haired adviser as he went to sit in his chair by the fireside. "Now I see why Lord Elrond calls you 'mad'."

"He does not!" snorted the golden-haired Elf with a laugh.

"Oh yes he does!" argued the counselor valiantly. ''Mad' and 'young for his age'."

"I can just imagine," said the warrior flatly. He had had this suspicion for a while now, but Erestor only confirmed it. He mused further, though, that neither was unfitting for him at times and Lord Elrond was probably right. As always.

Aragorn said, "we don't have much time. I am telling you he was weak enough earlier though he would not admit it! Who knows what they are doing to him!"

Then Aragorn suddenly felt more ill than he had in a long time and he felt every once of color he had drain from his face and he passed out leaving both Elves to gape and causing them to forget their argument completely.

TBC……..You know what? We haven't had a true evil, sinister cliffy in fifteen chapters! Ugh! How awful! Don't you think:-) I mean, we must be coming down with something horrible! -cough- We had better look into that. LOL

Please leave us a review. We haven't been getting much feedback and so we are beginning to question this story's well being. Of course if you have school work or something, we understand (we have that too), but if you have a minute or two to spare, a review would be very much loved (we can stop posting whenever we want)! Not meaning to rant here though. :-) Just please give us feedback, it is comforting, it helps us grow in our writing skills and makes us happyLOL! Thanks from both of us.

Review responses: thank you much!

Marie Delcore: Oh indeed, poor everyone. Glad someone seems to care about little ol' Caranfea. He was beginning to feel rather hurt. - hugs resisting red-head- Ya gotta love 'im! Can't get enough of that gore! LOL Thanks for the review1 :-)

Nefhiriel: Oh! Hope everything is going okay with your dad! I, Celeb, know what that is like. My dad just had heart surgery a year ago last month actually. It can be a hard experience. Nope, certainly can't live without good ol' ranger pain. :-) Thanks for the review!

elitenschwein: Glad you enjoy the ranger angst. It is hard to write being an Elf lover. The author note at the end of that last chapter was totally a sardonic thing. We do not consider ourselves experts in the fine art of ranger torture. LOL :-) Thanks for the review.