CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Board is Set
Legolas woke up and he felt like everything was spinning closed his eyes again. His mouth was parched and his stomach felt so empty. Sitting up, he shivered and stood up. Pacing sounded like an entertaining thing to do at the moment.
Caranfëa was not in his cell. Legolas knew he was probably out fighting for his life somewhere. The thought made him stop pacing a minute and sigh.
Go around unused chains, stop, turn, walk the other way, stop, turn, walk the other way, he told himself as he paced back and forth before the door and up and down the length of his iron prison that he was becoming comfortable in.
He was so engrossed in pacing, that he did not notice when King came in, followed by three other rather large men. So when he heard a calm and still sinister voice say, "having fun Elf? Are you getting your exercise?" it was fair to say he jumped.
Glaring, he asked darkly, "what do you care?" He stopped pacing and just watched as King chuckled coldly. "I knew you would be getting edgy and so I did you a favor. I scheduled you a play date before your big night tonight."
Legolas knew what this meant. It was more than obvious. A torture session was coming. He asked with an equally calm voice, "don't you mean a torture appointment?" He was so bored and yet weary he did not care. Not anymore. What was going to come was going to come and fearing it was not going to hold anything back and would only worsen the situation.
"You see?" asked the man in a weary tone that spoke of exasperation, "You do not fear me, not a bit. I know it. You did at one time, but you are beyond fear now, aren't you? If you don't fear me, how can I expect you to do my will?" He sighed and said, "I have brought three friends of mine to teach you the meaning of fear, Elf. However I must leave now. I have so many things to do before our guests arrive. I have given them explicate instructions, but if those don't work or you cause too much trouble, they can improvise. My only requirement for them is that you are well enough to fight in the end after a few hours rest."
Legolas glared, "I will never do your will."
"Oh but you will, slave," retorted the man icily.
Legolas just narrowed his eyes in slits of defiance. As the key to his cell grated in the rusty lock, he made now move to try and escape the inevitable. "I am not your slave, human," he stated in a hard and still carefully flat tone as two men gripped his upper arms and pulled him back towards the wall where he expected he was going to be shackled.
King just chuckled and his laugh sent thrills of fear, like tendrils of ice, reaching for Legolas' heart. Then the man left and called over his shoulder, "I shall see you in about an hour princeling."
Then men did not even talk to the captive Elf as they shoved him up against the wall and attached the shackles to his ankles and wrists to keep him in place. Legolas glared at them with attentive eyes that noticed all they were doing and soaked up their attitudes and constitution and in one scrutinizing glance.
He watched as they unrolled cloths and set them on small stools they had brought in. On the cloths, were instruments of different kinds and Legolas turned his face away from them whenever the men looked up. As Legolas gazed at the different instruments meant for this 'play-date' he saw the halter, tongue-chain he had been forced to wear and the pain of it came back like a ghost in his jaw and mouth.
He was still not fully healed from it and he winced inwardly as he thought of it tearing open the old wounds and digging them deeper. He also had no desire to taste his own blood again.
They had other shackles with them, he noticed. They were heavy and iron, heavier than the ones he wore now. They also had a long chain strung through them and he guessed that was for trussing the unfortunate prisoner up by the ceiling and leaving him to dangle with his feet barely touching the ground. There also was a short chain between the cuffs of the manacles, for keeping the hands together.
One of the men came and gripped Legolas' chin and his fingers bit into the Elf's flesh tightly, pinching his skin and creating bruises. "see?" he sneered. "Look what fun all four of us shall have? We even brought toys."
Legolas just jerked his face free and twisted his head away. A growing threat was rising in his convulsing stomach. Just then, a hard and sturdy punch crashed into his diaphragm, knocking the wind from his lungs and another in his gut sent him doubling over with a hiss. The chains he bore did not allow him to go far and he tried to curl into himself.
He was pulled up again and this time all three started in on him with their fists, using his abdomen as a punching bag and leaving him feeling quite winded and bowed against the fetters that were all that held him from curling up on the floor.
One punch had even smashed into his nose, causing blood to run down his face and a throbbing sensation to pulse through his body as consciousness threatened to relieve itself of its duty. Then men pulled his head up by the hair and looked at the bloodied face with smirks on their faces.
This had only been a test, to see how much he would take. Legolas knew it and he knew he must not fail or else the torment would be ten times worse. Seeing the angered and mutinous look reflecting in the prince's eyes, the men scowled. They had expected this, of course, but he still should be a little less antagonistic.
Evidently not.
So giving him one more punch in the gut to double him over, they undid the manacles from his wrists and ankles. He fell to the ground and curled into a ball, his body still aching form the abuse he had just received. The floor felt so good right now.
Then, of course, if it was comfortable, that was the last place he was going to be allowed to be.
Pulling him up by his hair, and arms, the yanked his hands behind his back and attached the strange shackles he had seen earlier on them. Legolas struggled a little, but was punched in the side of the head and nearly went out cold. The world spun and he tipped sideways. They grabbed a lock of hair and pulled him straight.
Threading the chains to a loop at the top of the prison, they then left enough room in it to force Legolas onto his knees. Then they pulled his arms up behind him, only halfway, but the pain was astonishing. He felt his breath stolen away. Such a simple thing caused such agony….it was unthinkable.
It felt like his joints were sliding out and cracking, breaking and he could certainly feel them grinding and trying to wrench free from their sockets. But when they pulled the chain up tighter Legolas arched his back slightly to try and ease the pressure his joints were grinding with by rising further than his knee, but they pushed him down and caused his arms to scream. He winced and they taunted, "simple, but it hurts, doesn't it?"
He saw them reach for the halter chain and Legolas felt his stomach jolt.
Putting on a defiant face, he followed their steps as they came to force him to accept it into his mouth. Grabbing him by his hair, they yanked his head back, sending more caustic pain through his back and arms. He jerked and struggled but they put an end to that by pulling his arms further up backward. Legolas writhed a little and then stopped, because it hurt more.
Another man gripped his chin tightly and pressed hard, causing dull, but horrible pain to stab his jaw and cheeks, forcing him to open his mouth to relieve the horrible pressure. But he was not going to accept that horse-bit of a device again and jerked his head away fiercely.
"Stop it!" snapped the man from behind him and landed a startling kick to the small of Legolas' back, lurching him forward against the chains and nearly dislocating his arms. Then they pulled his head back as he gasped to regain his stolen breath.
Legolas tried to yank his head free again as he felt the cold metal enter his mouth and close about his tongue again. The many unsmooth links tightened and chewed into the flesh of his tongue.
He had thought it was in his mouth and tightened. But they cinched the straps and clicked them in place behind his head. Legolas shuddered and felt a scream building up in the back of his throat. But this gag and torture device prevented him from it.
It was much tighter than before and bit deeper, filling his mouth with his own blood again. It was a repulsive taste and he tried to swallow it back, but his tongue was ripped even more. He could not breathe, and a feeling of fright set in as he writhed before them. He wanted to end this.
Hardly realizing he had closed his eyes against the pain, he opened them to see a man brining a strange hood and panic rose in his heart. But he would not break, he would not let them see it. No, never.
And another came back with a pot of hot water that Legolas could see steam curling from the top. He did not want to know what it was for and looked at the ground as one man came and tipped his head before pulling the chains that tore his mouth to see if they were tight enough. Legolas gagged on blood and tried to cough but he could not and his eyes watered, to his shame. It was not tears, but it was too close. Then man gripped the chain piece that ran along Legolas' cheek and then said, "are you having fun Legolas?" Not letting the Elf answer for himself he jerked the bit up and down viciously to serve as a nod of the head, driving the nipping rings further into the skin, where it would hurt to extract them and Legolas was certain that they would be none too gentle.
Blood mixed with saliva ran from the corners of his mouth and dripped from his chin and his mouth was stinging as though a thousand bees were all attacking it at once. The man gave it one last ferocious jerk down to make it stab the corners of his mouth and form new lacerations to draw more blood.
Kicking the tormented captive in the stomach that was already mottled with bruises, the man went and took the hood from what had to be his junior. He strode up to Legolas and waved it before the prince's face. Legolas saw it as made of wool.
"We are going to play a favorite game of mine," said the man with a cold chuckle. "It is like blind man's buff but a little more….artistic." He gripped the sides of the hood and a man came up behind Legolas and placed his hands on the sides of the prince's cheeks, holding his head in place.
After sliding the woolen hood over Legolas face the men stepped back and waited. The feeling of suffocation would be unbearable. Legolas jerked his head around, trying to shake off the hot and stuff cover.
He could not see and the air was so close. He felt a sick feeling coming and suddenly he gave a cry that caused his curb to bite deeper as a blow struck his ribs. Another hit him just below his smallest floating rib and smashed the air from his lungs. Legolas writhed and then his arms started to shiver as the chains stretched them backwards and up.
The kicks were coming from all sides now and he was crying out a little more frequently. The blood made his face itch as it smeared around in the hot and stuffy hood.
When the shower of painful blows stopped, Legolas tensed, expecting something worse. He was shuddering and convulsing now in terrible pain.
But he felt relief flood him when the chains that had been stretching his arms were removed.
Falling forward and bringing his arms to curl around his middle, Legolas cowered on the floor with the hood on. He could not see, he could hardly hear and more or less could not breathe, but his agony was so considerably less he was grateful.
The men looked down at the trembling being beneath them and smiled. He was learning his lesson well.
But they had one last thing to do to him and that was to dip his face with the woolen hood into the hot water.
They didn't even give him time to get a breath before his face was immersed in the hot water and the wool absorbed the liquid quickly, and went tight about the Elf's mouth and nose.
With his arms twisted behind his back by the men's hands, Legolas could not remove the suffocating hood that was not tight and he could not draw in a breath. His feet kicked out and hit against the ground as he twisted and turned in suffering. He felt like he was in his death throes and his chest was screaming for air and heaving, but with no oxygen entering to feed weakening strength.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, allowing the horrible, twisted metal to tear his skin around his mouth corners and his inner cheeks. His tongue already felt like it was in tatters. But he could not help it and continued to buck as he asphyxiated.
The men watched as the struggles and surges began to cease and the Elf went limp in their grip. Thinking they had killed him, they quickly pulled him out of the water and whipped the hood from the immortal's face.
Legolas golden hair was plastered to a very pale face that was still smeared with crimson stains. His limp head leaned backwards over the headman's arm and more blood trickled down his chin in little rivulets. "Poor bastard," muttered he man as he placed Legolas on his stomach and hit him in the small of his back.
There was a small cough but no breath was drawn in. The halter was keeping back his air and choking him to death. Quickly the men cut the strap and let the chain slide form the blonde being's ensanguined mouth. It was followed by a flow of blood that had built up in the mouth. Then the Elf drew a shivering breath and lay there on the ground, panting.
The man watched as the color seemed to slowly come back to the blonde being's face. The blue eyes remained tightly closed and the prince shivered and winced against the cold, against his pain, against his shame.
He drew one last deep, calming breath and forced himself to rise up onto his knees. Wiping blood from his mouth and glaring at his captors he smiled. As insane as it was he smiled. He was still alive, he was still breathing and unbroken. His body was aching, but his spirit was still strong. Stumbling backwards, he pressed himself against the wall. Not out of fear, he needed it to stand, for he was still shaking.
The three surrounded him and growled, "you are strong Elf, very strong. But we can still break you, have no fear of that." The head of the three placed a hand on Legolas' throat while the two others held his arms and pinned him against the wall. The grip on his throat tightened and the man asked scornfully, "what am I going to have to do to you, Elf?" He hissed, "how can I make you squirm and beg liked the cur you are?"
He released his clutch on the prince's throat and backhanded Legolas twice across his face, the strength of the second blow sending the Elf to the floor. Legolas rubbed his face and glared up at the human, who was giving back a withering look.
He then had an idea. Oh it was wicked. But it would have this Elf crawling out of his skin.
Kicking Legolas in the ribs and rolling him over onto his back he demanded the other men, "hold his arms, while I get those chains."
Legolas didn't struggle, he knew it would only make things worse and make him seem as though he was afraid, which he was, but not enough to beg for the mercy he would not receive. He just lay there, breathing heavily and licking his bleeding lips and sucking on his bleeding mouth that was still stinging with a vengeance.
The man came back with a set of four manacles and some stakes to pound into the ground. Putting the blonde being's wrists and ankles into the chains the then cackled derangedly, "my orders were to make it so you can still fight later. You will be able to. But after you are mauled beyond recognition, you will still need to be identified." Legolas had a feeling he knew where this was going.
When he smelled smoke and saw flames out of the corner of his eye, he knew what was about to transpire. The men were laughing and Legolas could feel his heart thumping inside his chest as fear set in. It was more than obvious to a complete idiot what was going to happen, he was going to get branded.
It was no use begging, none would listen and he would be shown as the 'fearful, weak Elf' the 'begging cur'. He was not going to be labeled as such. He was going to escape. The fire had just been made, so the iron would not be hot for some time.
Pulling at the manacles that were about his wrists, the he managed to loosen the stake that was holding his right arm to the ground. It was not loose enough that he could pull it up, but that was going to change. He could hear their scornful laughter bouncing off the walls. But he heard another sound, a scratching beyond the wall. The orcs were trying to break past the rocks again and tunnel in.
Pulling now on the left shackle, he managed to loosen the stake some and he pulling some more then rested. They were not placed into the earthen floor well, but hard enough to move all the same. As he smelled the smoke and felt the heat of the fire from where he lay chained on his back to the floor, desperation and panic gripped his heart. He kicked at the chains on his ankles and jerked his arms against the strength of his restraints.
Halfway up, the pegs jammed. They were jagged at the edges and would go no further. Valar! No! He pleaded in his head. This cannot be happening. Kicking and wrenching some more, he managed to loosen the spikes enough to them out far enough for one more good lurch to have at least one free.
Then men were still laughing and he heard one say, "we can't wait to hear that pretty voice of yours! It's a shame no one else will hear you scream!" Their taunts were less than comforting.
"Your pathetic struggling is amusing Elf! As if it will do you a bit of good!" Their laughter hooted throughout the tunnel like room and Legolas winced against the fear those words evoked. The laughter was cruel, like that of orcs. But they were smarter than orcs and able to find crueler and more devious ways of teaching him pain.
Managing suddenly to his relief to pop up the stake that secured his left hand to the ground, Legolas smiled shakily. This was more like it. He was not going to be branded like a mule or some horse, he was not going to be marked as owned.
Reaching over with his left, the Elf accomplished freeing his right. Now he had only to get his feet free.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them lifting up the iron and it was glowing. They were coming.
His heart was thumping wildly and it felt as though it might tear free of its cavity in his chest.
Pulling the stakes out of the ground that held his feet, Legolas jumped up, only to get his ankles entangled in the chains and fell down again onto a knee.
Scrambling back up, he began a limping run. The cries behind him were more than idol threats and he knew it. "Get over here you scum! While you are chained to the floor we can do worse than brand you!"
Legolas stumbled towards the large, thick wooden door and when he reached it he found it was locked. Slamming into it, he moaned quietly and hopelessly, "no! NO!" His hands clawed at it and he banged his fists upon it in vain. Turning around and seeing them coming with clubs and whips, he knew he was cornered.
He had two choices: to cower and plead with them for mercy. Or to fight them, risk capture and worse torment but have the chance of freedom. Choosing to fight, he narrowed his eyes and knitted his brows. Maybe he could force them to kill him. Maybe they could free him. He could not be here another minute.
The men came with sneers on their faces, "locked is it?" Raising the club, the headman, the head torturer, was about to brain the prince with it, but Legolas leaped aside. His feet were caught up in the chains again though and he fell.
Tumbling clear of their steel toed boots, the immortal floundered up and crouched, waiting for the next move. The door he had been trying to escape from a little while before suddenly opened and went for it.
The face that greeted him on the other side was the last one he had ever hoped to see again. King gripped his wrist while grinning, "finally afraid, Prince Legolas?" he asked as he shoved the Elf backward into the arms of the three men to grabbed him and readily began to club him.
With the Elf secured between two of them, the head torturer came and kicked him in the stomach with such force that even as Legolas curled into himself and he felt the wind leave his lungs he was hurled backwards, landing hard against rock wall.
Dazed, the prince shook the dust and grime from his hair, before he was clubbed in the side of the head and spots muddled his vision. Still fighting in his mind, his body ceased struggling and he looked up at King. The Dark Dúnadan was smiling in a way that made Legolas feel sick.
"A valiant attempt for freedom, my prince, but you failed. Everything has a price, especially valiancy and failure. What shall I do with you?" he asked. "These good men were kind enough to try and teach you a lesson and you foolishly deny learning more wisdom?" he asked, gesturing to the three mortals and sneering at the Elf.
Legolas just shivered and looked at the floor. He was hoping that the price would be death. Just a clean death would be great right then. But he knew that his captors were not that kind. Death was dealt out at a painful price and he doubted that he was going to be even that lucky. "Since you are going to be fighting tonight," meditated King, "punishment is put off until a more appropriate time." Then he spat, "get up and keep your eyes to the floor, slave!"
The prince of Mirkwood didn't move. His raised his eyes and met King's cold and commanding glare with bitter growl in his throat that was all he could do to grind out, "I am no one's slave, traitor. I bow to no one." His eyes had glazed over with a sheet of seemingly shatterproof ice that glistened dangerously, like the sun upon the pools of a clear stream. The jaw of the blonde being was locked firmly in place, ignoring the pain of his mouth wounds and his lips curled into a daring sneer.
King clenched his jaw as well and his lips turned into a thin white line. "Legolas," he said thickly and in a wrathful tone. "Get up and beg forgiveness for your lapse in respect." The three men came closer around the defiant captive and their knuckles turned white as they tightened their clubs, ready to beat the Elf within an inch of his life.
"Never." One word said it all.
"You will regret this, slave." King looked at the man that Legolas had given the simple title of 'head torturer'. "Jaerden, I want him up and put in his cell. Make sure all the shackles are tight. But harm him no more unless you must. I want him to be able to win tonight, not just make a showing."
Legolas was grabbed and yanked up to his feet. His arms were twisted behind his back as he was lead back towards the minute sized cell. "When my friend comes for me, you will wish you had never done this!" Legolas threatened over his shoulder.
"No, when he comes, you will wish he hadn't, just like he will."
Legolas was shoved back into his cell and slammed back against the wall where the manacles were placed by onto his wrists and ankles. He gave them all a withering glare in turn, but the one called Jaerden, placed his hand on the crown of Legolas' golden head and forced him to look at the ground. "If I were King, I would make you kiss that."
Legolas jerked his head free and looked away. Then, he noticed Caranfëa wasn't in his cage like cell. Where was the little Elf? Was he dead? Of had he escaped? It was hard to say. Knowing the little Elf like he did Legolas knew it was impossible to predict anything Caranfëa did. He did not like to be second guessed and made a point of being different in more ways than physical appearance. He vowed he would never go to the West, just because some Elves he couldn't stand would be there. Legolas doubted he meant it, but there was no knowing. "What ever did you manage to do now?" he asked to the wall as he heard the lock slam into place and the key be wrenched free from the rusty lock.
Suddenly the voice of King spoke in a low voice, "how's Caranfëa?" He sounded concerned, but hardly for the Elf's safety. He was concerned for the safety of his cryptic business.
"He is in a lot of pain, King. The wrist is broken." Legolas felt a lump welling in his throat. He cared for the little rebel as being one of his people and in a way, a friend. Though with a friend like Caranfëa one hardly needed enemies.
"It was his own fault. The little fool. Oh, well. I suppose I should go and finish him off." Legolas winced and he felt tears begin to bite at his eye corners, begging to be released.
"But it can be mended!" protested Jaerden. "You went to the trouble to fix this Elf-"
"Incase you have been blind for the past ten minutes, I will tell you, my hands are full." He could hear the men pacing beyond the large wooden door where they had gone as he had stared at the wall. "I don't have time to splint it and he wouldn't let the bandage stay. He wants to die."
"Then why give him what he wants?" asked Jaerden. His voice sounded sinister and deadly. Legolas shivered.
King smiled behind the door and said, "an excellent point. And you can be the one to drag him from The Pit and place him in his cage. Our other guests will be here soon. I would be a rude host if I kept them waiting."
"Not until you pay me and my men our dues." The voice of Jaerden had changed to a hard and dark voice that was demanding.
"That blonde brat is still defiant as ever. He is afraid, but you haven't gotten him be really scared enough. He was defiant the minute the pain was gone-" King was interrupted.
"He is stronger than most. Something keeps him going," spoke Jaerden softly. "I don't know much of Elves. But there is something he is clinging to and he isn't about to let go." His voice changed to a compressed tone as he said, "he is waiting for something."
King nodded and said thoughtfully but with a foreboding tarnish to it, "he is waiting for his friend." Glaring into the darkness he growled, "forget Caranfëa. We have traps to prepare."
Elméra stumbled back into the open door out of breath. She was breathing deeply and Roth stared at her questioningly. She smiled and shook her head. "I was too scared to breath often out there." Roth smiled slowly, but it was a nervous and unsure smile.
Elméra lifted up the bunble she carried and said, "I have you a tunic and I think I found you and …..Legolas'…."she looked at the dark-haired Elf dubiously.
"Legolas'," confirmed Rothinzil narrowing his brows in thought of his friend.
"Legolas' knives." Her voice was low, husky and excited. She began to unwrap them from the clothes and pulled out one of the twin knives that Legolas always carried. She handed it to Roth with a shaky hand.
Receiving it gingerly, the dark-haired warrior handled it with reverence, knowing its value to its owner. As he looked at it he spoke softly, "this is Prince Legolas' knife. One of a pair, did you by chance get the other?" he asked as he looked at her face which bore the look of awe.
"I did," stammered the maiden as she produced it from beneath another flap of cloth. "I also have another I think you will recognize." After the assertion, she drew forth a blade that was longer than the twin knives and with an oak handle engraved with leaves and animals of the forest. The silver shimmered on the blade and Roth's eyes widened and he smiled.
'You found her," he said excitedly. "She is my sword." Elméra narrowed her eyes for a moment and for a brief second she thought he cared more about that sword than he did her.
"Pretty short sword," she said stiffly as she unfolded the tunic and held it up to him to see if it would be a fit. It would, with room to spare.
"Well, you have to remember my primary area of expertise is archery. I rarely get into close enough quarters to fight with blades," he explained patiently as she held out the tunic and cloak for him to wear.
Rothinzil slid into the tunic easily after handing the weapons to Elméra. It was a looser fit than she had ever expected and this alone was proof that Roth was slowly starving. She wished she could gather up some food for him to eat. A romantic dinner sounded so wonderful right now. Under the stars, the both of them. Then she inwardly shook that ridiculous notion out of her head. Right now, that was impossible.
"It is a bit big, but that will help trap warmth," she added to compensate for his frown as he eyed the clothing and she tossed him the cloak.
Roth wriggled into the cloak and fumbled with the clasp. Sighing, Elméra swatted his hands away from the fastener at his throat as though they were a couple of unsightly bugs before she straightened the clasp and fastened it. Roth smiled as she placed her head on his chest to hear his heart. Then, the maiden gently took her hand and put it over Roth's. Drawing his hand close, she set it between her breasts so he could feel her heart beating.
Rothinzil flushed considerably and she laughed into the cloak, "my dear Elf, you are so cute when you do that." This only caused Rothinzil to flush deeper as his embarrassment grew. He had never considered touching her thus and then he felt incredibly young, even for an Elf. And as an Elf he was still barely past his teenage years.
"Well," he fumbled for the right words. "I never…I mean never mind." She giggled and pushing herself away, letting his hand slide free she walked towards the door.
"I always was under the assumption of tales that Elves were sweet and wise in their speech…"
"Not this one," mumbled the dark-haired warrior under his breath. He felt extremely tongue-tied at the moment and thoroughly embarrassed for no real reason.
She turned on him with eyes that were lit with love and happiness, "you have proven those tales true Roth." His red flush that had hardly left returned with a new vigor and he hung his head. "I am sorry,' Elméra said quickly, "I sound foolish, again."
"No, you don't," argued Roth before he could stop himself. Now he felt humiliated one too many times and added, "Legolas is waiting for us to rescue him." Looking at his sword, he stared at his reflection that danced across the silver of the sharp edged metal.
He was her protector, she thought dreamily. He would never let anything hurt her, he would never leave her, and he would always be there. He handed her his sword, "use this well. May she be good company to you."
Drawing in a sharp gasp she asked incredulously, "Rothinzil what in Middle Earth-"
"I will use Legolas'. I don't think he would let anyone else use them, you see," he plead for her understanding. His sword seemed to glow in her hand and she looked at it with astonished eyes. "She likes you," said Roth simply as he watched the strange gleam run across the blade. "You have a good heart and she will serve you honorably."
Elméra grinned and inquired, "your swords talk?"
"It is in their making. Everything has a creator, and his heart and soul is poured into his work, thus his mark is left," answered the raven-haired Elf with narrowed eyes; the answer was serious. "She was made by an Elf of Mirkwood, who is a great smith, named after the others of old, including Celebrimbor."
"So does this blade have feelings?" she asked, feeling very foolish.
"No. Just a perception of good and evil. It can sense either and acts as a warning device. Elves even created at some point, blades that glow when orcs come close." He held Legolas' knives carefully, hoping that they would glow for him and be willing to serve him. They seemed to ring faintly and a warm silver glow ran from their blade tips to the hilts. He felt himself sigh with gratitude and Elméra giggled and swung the sword he had leant up in an arc like motion.
Roth looked stunned. She obviously had some idea of what she was doing. "Where did you learn that?" he asked curiously.
"I watched Calmir and his friends on the farm and learned more for self defense than anything else," clarified the woman as she swung it over her head and it swished through the air with a clear ring echoing in both the beings' ears.
Roth watched her work with the blade and as he did he felt himself leaving, sort of fading into a mist where he could hear her laugh and feel the whoosh of the swiping sword, but he could not see it, not now. The fog like mist he was in was to think and hazy.
"Where am I?" he inquired to the vapor that seemed warm and embracing.
"Rothinzil," a deep, husky and comforting voice said ethereally. It was the voice of a woman that had to have lived ages and yet not so, for the voice also sounded young. "Rothinzil, sympathizer of men, by men betrayed."
Spinning around, he asked apprehensively, "who are you? Show yourself!" he commanded firmly but not threateningly.
"I am Lúthien, Daughter of Thingol," came a warm voice, like melted sugar.
Roth wrinkled his brow and asked, "how came you here?" He hardly knew much of this amazing maiden of great renown, but he knew she had died...for a mortal and for love. Spinning around to face the sweet voice that he had heard behind him he saw her standing there, right before him.
Her dark hair draped over her shoulders and her blue-gray eyes glittered ominously but understandingly. Her pale and serene face spoke of much the younger Elf could not understand. "Rothinzil," she spoke and her voice was low. " Do you know what you have called upon yourself?"
"It depends upon which you speak, Lady," spoke the warrior reverently. He felt himself shaking slightly as he beheld her beauty and her wisdom searching him.
"Look at your heart," she said and reached out a slender finger to come an inch away from the upper left of his chest. Roth looked and he saw a glow, a white flame that seemed to be burning. But he also noticed it was fading.
"It is dying, " he said in a whisper.
"It is your immortality, Rothinzil. You have given your heart to a mortal, even if you reject the fact," she answered calmly, her eyes searching his for doubt and fear.
Roth hardened them, but could not avoid the pierce of her gaze that seemed to stab him. "I don't understand."
"You have a choice to make." Her voice rose to a higher pitch. "Your heart is now given to a mortal and will not yield to another ever again. Reject it and you will live in sorrow forever, surrender to your love and you will live in happiness for a few more centuries then die, unless your grief kills you first. You know you will live longer than she."
"Why are you telling me this?" he inquired in a shaking voice.
Lúthien smiled a smile of one who knows and said, "I have been there. I know what fear, pain and sorrow are all about." She let the mist clear away to show Elméra swinging the sword gracefully, her strength and beauty shown in full. She smiled as she enjoyed herself for the first time in a long time. Her long, red hair swung about her neck and face.
Roth shook his head. He certainly didn't want to die, but as he watched her, her bravery and her spirit dance with the sword as she practiced. He wanted to be with her forever. Eternity was a long time to be without her in his life. He wanted to always be by her side.
Lúthien read his thought and looked him in the eye as he asked, "what must I do?" He really didn't know. He wished Legolas was here. He missed his friend now more than ever.
"'I only find it fair to warn you that the world shall be against you. You shall be in more danger than ever and peace will be hard to find, yet your happiness will be great.' This message comes not from me, but from Mandos. He bids you not surrender, though he knows you will."
"Then let us not postpone it, I give everything up. To live only a few more centuries and die alone shall be my fate."
"Perhaps not alone, but that is yet to be seen. But I do not postpone anything. Now you have spoken it, let go." She came and placed her hand over his heart and it felt hot like fire, but it did not burn. The white light of his immortality glowed around it and shown on her face.
Roth drew a deep breath and exhaled it and as he did, he felt the spot above his heart that had been hot grow cold and the glow faded. He felt strange and fear clutched at him with tendrils of misty pain and loss. What had he done? But there was no going back, if he did he would regret it forever.
Lúthien withdrew her hand and opened it to reveal the glowing immortal life that Roth had once possessed. And she smiled, "I have been there and I'm standing with you now. Do not be afraid, Rothinzil. You have a good heart." She then held out her hand, offering him the chance to go back, but he did not take it. So she closed it and when she opened it the life Roth had known and taken for granted was gone.
He stood there gaping, at a loss for words and feeling numb. Was this what death felt like? But he was still physically living, just he wasn't what he had used to be. But he suddenly felt joy insuppressible as he knew who he would share his mortal life with until death did they part.
Lúthien said, "you fell empty, but you won't forever. It is a passing thing, time will heal it." She came and took his hand in hers and said, "you shall face many trials now. For it is not fitting that the Eldar should wed the Edain." Then she smiled and said, "until the sun sets on your time this is our last farewell."
Then she was gone and he was standing looking at past Elméra with a dropped jaw. She stopped working with the sword and turned to him. Laughing now she asked a question that made Rothinzil feel ridiculous, "what are you doing?"
"Thinking," he responded matter-of-factly. It was true anyway. "I am beginning to wonder whether you should really come with me. It is going to be dangerous. Very dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Rothinzil! I can't stay behind and anyway I laugh in the face of danger," she disputed fiercely and her eyes seemed to get a dangerous glow in them.
"Well, we can laugh later, right now I am serious."
"How are you going to make me?" she asked simply, placing a hand on her hip and glaring daggers at the Elf that a moment ago she had been cooing over.
Rothinzil glared and then he looked off into the darker part of the storage room. Stubborn, stupid female! What did she know of battles? What did she know of true combat? This was going to be dangerous and could very well prove lethal. "I will have enough to think about getting Legolas out alive. I don't need to have to look after you!"
"Look after me?" she seethed angrily. "Who pulled you from death's grasp, may I ask? I think I am owed more credit than you present me with!" ended the maiden harshly.
"You saved me, yes, but that was different. Elméra, you could be killed," he said urgently. What part of the words, killed, deceased, slain, death, did she not comprehend?
"We all are going to have to make sacrifices Rothinzil. This is my battle too, and you can not stop me from choosing to defend my life!" she finished nearly in tears. "Why did you lend me your sword if you didn't expect me to use it?" she demanded, brandishing the weapon in his face.
"Be careful with that!" he said hurriedly. "And if you must know it was so you could defend yourself if you had to. I have other obligations that will not permit me to always be there to protect you! I-I-I…if you died so would I!" he struggled to explain. He knew they had all made sacrifices, no one the more. "If you were in any other situation and there was a chance for to go fight and you stay behind. You had no revenge to seek on anyone, would you go or stay?"
Her chin quivered, "I would stay. But I am locked down here just as much as you are and everybody is needed." Elméra scowled and said, "now do you understand?"
"I suppose there is no stopping you," he ended the argument grimly and pulled her close so that her head was against his heart. She pushed back.
"Roth, you feel so cold. Why?" Her voice was panicked. She looked at him and her face was contorted in fear. "Roth?"
"I made a promise," he said simply and pulled her close again.
She shoved away and glared at him, her eyes running over him. "I know Elves speak in riddles, don't play with me, Rothinzil!" she warned him off from where she felt he was heading.
"I can't tell you," he managed out and turned away. "Perhaps some other time."
"I don't want there to be any secrets between us," she begged, tugging at his arm to pull him around.
"Some things are buried too deeply and take time to dig out, Elméra," he said. "I'm sorry." He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "For me the pain and wonder is still too near." She looked hurt, but she nodded, seeing the pain reflected on his face. She did not want to pressure him into a corner and force him to tell her something that would make him feel stabbed through the heart.
"I trust you," she murmured and said, "as you said earlier, Legolas can't hold out much longer. We need to be moving on." Bracing herself against his chest, she reached her arms behind him and pulled his hood up around his face. Then she tucked his long, dark locks of hair back into it gently. As her hands brushed against his ears he jerked back.
Thinking she had hurt him, she stared at him with an inquiring look. He chuckled and said, "it tickles." Smiling she chortled,
"I will have to remember that." She then reached her hand back into his hood and was careful not to brush his ears. Roth still flinched and smiled brightly as she made sure his hair and ears were hidden. She grabbed the sides of his hood and pulled him closer with a teasing grin, "I would think you were afraid of me if I didn't know you were a brave warrior."
"I am so terrified," he said sarcastically and pulled at the tunic that he still felt awkward in. Making sure he had the twin knives clean and ready for liberal use, he looked at her and said, "we had best get going, otherwise there might not be any Legolas to rescue. He has this uncanny knack for getting his captors furious with him." Elméra turned completely sober and nodded in coherence.
The cave was small at the opening and there was no possible way the horses would fit. As much as they hated to do it, the three companions would have to bid farewell to their faithful beasts. The horses hung their heads and nickered softly and sorrowfully. Naneth looked down the cave through the door and whinnied softly, calling for Rothinzil. When no one answered back, she followed Legolas' horse away mournfully.
Erestor sighed and looked back at Glorfindel, who was watching the horses go with an almost mournful look on his face himself. He had a soft spot for horses, especially his dear Asfaloth. Aragorn shivered and placing his hands on the human's shoulders, Erestor steered him into the cave entrance. Glorfindel was the last to enter the hidden space.
Once in sight he joined the circle of Elves and the ranger who were sitting on the floor. There was no fire, for none knew what dangers it would bring. Right now it would help the enemy more than it would them. At least they were out of the wind.
Aragorn felt his face warming now that the frigid gusts were not constantly beating on him. It was a strange hot feeling that he welcomed. But it meant almost nothing all the same. Legolas and Rothinzil were still in danger and he was not going to enjoy anything until he found them. Even finding them was not enough, he had to save them.
"Do you know anything of the situation we are all placed in?" asked Glorfindel to Celebalda.
The addressed Elf wrinkled his brow and said, "we are unaware of anything past the fact that Legolas is missing and that Roth is with him…again," he added briefly, looking at the Gondolin Elf with single raised brow in question.
"Legolas and Rothinzil were kidnapped," explained Glorfindel sorrowfully. "We have not been able to find them and they were not in good condition when they were taken. I am sorry to tell you that we cannot find the entrance to the mines we are certain they are being held in." He finished it all with a sigh.
Celebalda stiffened at this information. "Legolas doesn't like caves," he muttered darkly. "I don't know about Roth." His voice was full of emotional pain.
Aragorn listened absentmindedly to the conversation between the Gondolin warrior and the Mirkwood captain. He had nothing left, just an empty heart. He felt so depressed. There wasn't a road he knew that lead to anywhere.
Looking in the back of the cave he got up and began to walk towards it. Pulling his cloak tighter about himself as he felt a chill run through to his marrow, the ranger fumbled over a stone and tripped. His hands landed in cold, frozen dirt and mud. In the frozen mud, he discovered tracks. Tracing them with his fingers, he knew that they were human. Elves would have made hardly any tracks and orcs were deeper and broader.
A wind blew up out of the cave and ruffled through his wavy hair. The ranger looked back into the darkness with bright silver eyes. An ominous feeling came over his heart and he grimaced as he picked himself up off his knees. Brushing dirt and grime from his clothes the man choked back a cough and crept further into the darkness, leaving behind the Elves.
As he stared into the murkiness of the stuffy environment, the man became lost in thought. He knew suddenly where Legolas was. He was in there, in the dark, waiting to be rescued. He could imagine his friend's face twisted in fear and sorrow.
Aragorn's heart was in his throat he could not swallow; he could not breathe. He was afraid, no; he was terrified for his friend. He also felt horror for Roth knowing the young Elf's history.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder and a voice whispered into his ear, "Erestor was having a fit. You had better get back here and let him know you are alright."
"Legolas is back there," the dark-haired man said ecstatically.
Glorfindel wrinkled his forehead and looked with narrowed and concerned eyes at the earnest young man before him. "Pardon?" he asked. "Estel, this is just a cave." He did not know this for a fact, but he was pretty certain that was all it was, no more. Oh perhaps orcs had been here once, but that had to be a while ago.
"No," hissed Aragorn in a dark tone. "This is the entrance to the mines. I can feel it." Aragorn looked back into the dark and Glorfindel cleared his throat.
"Are you sure? How do you know?" asked the Elf tensely as he began to feel nervous in the thick and imminent darkness. His blue eyes looked over the ranger's serious face.
"There are tracks, I felt them with my hand," accounted the dark-haired man. "They were too deep for an Elf, too light and narrow for an orc." He squeezed his hand as he thought of how he had discovered them. It was then he realized how numb and cold his fingers were.
"You know if that is true, it changes everything," stated the golden-haired being as he glanced over his shoulder at the other Elves in the front of the entrance. He saw Erestor talking in hushed and neurotic tones with Celebalda. The counselor's face was twisted in deep anxiety and frustration.
Aragorn thought for a moment and then his frowned and narrowed his eyes. "There could be a trap." He drew in a sharp breath and shook his head, "do you think they knew we were coming?" he questioned the Elf-lord fearfully.
"I do not know," said Glorfindel in a completely sober tone that was hardly ever heard to come past his lips. He scowled with verbatim, "show me the imprints."
Aragorn crouched to the ground and so did Glorfindel right beside him. Grabbing the Gondolin Elf's hand, he placed it where he had felt the indication frozen in the mud. Glorfindel felt the edges and his anxiety grew. These were human tracks. Or so he thought. This could very well be the hidden entrance. If it was, it made sense.
He heard a low hiss that sounded dangerously like a threat call out, "Glorfindel! Estel!" It was Erestor's voice and the golden-haired immortal raised his head from where he had it bent in thought. He stood up and called to the adviser.
"Yes! Stop it!" His voice rash and in a venomous censuring hiss. He ran his boot over where the prints were and Aragorn continued to run his finger over another set of identical indications as though by doing that he would bring Legolas back. If that were all that was needed though, it would be too easy. He knew this fact and admitted it ruefully.
Erestor held aloft the small lantern and walked stiffly and quickly towards his companions. He stood before Glorfindel and placed his hand on either of Glorfindel's arm, giving the limbs a light squeeze. "What in all Arda is the matter with you?" he snapped in a reprehensible tone. But his eyes spoke of worry.
"This is it, Erestor," said Glorfindel evenly to the adviser. It was worth saying just to see the counselor's jaw drop.
"Are you sure of that information?" Erestor spoke in a stammer. His eyes darted past Glorfindel to Aragorn, who could dimly be seen tracing the tracks in hopeless despair and staring back into the void darkness of the cavern. The lantern light did not reach far, so none could see the flame of determination reflecting in the man's eyes.
"Estel found the tracks. I looked at them and they are from a man."
"Would you choose this as a hide out for a mine door?" asked Erestor forthrightly as he released his grip on the other's arms. His tone clearly showed he had some skepticism about the entire speculation, but Glorfindel also observed that the timbre was light enough that Erestor's mind was not closed to the possibility.
"Do I look like a miner?" answered Glorfindel before saying, "I would, actually, though. It looks just like a simple cave. Most mines have doors and shafts and such. Not likes this. Many would pass it off as another common grotto," he concluded.
Erestor raised a dark brow and nodded, seeing the point that Glorfindel made well. Then he smiled tensely. "How do you know what a mine looks like?"
"Has Elrond ever told you of the time I was sent by him to talk to Dwarves in order to find out some information about the Seven?" he asked with a waning smile flashing across his face as well.
Snickering slightly, the counselor muttered, "yes, yes.."
"Well does that answer your question?" finished the Gondolin Elf as he gazed off into the black of the ominous subterranean passage.
"Very well," commented the adviser dryly. He then said, "so are we going to go back there? I do not like this…It seems to be a good place for an attack on their part. Wouldn't you think?"
Glorfindel glanced at Erestor before returning his attention to the darkness. "I am not sure. But I think you are right. However, if we do not go, Estel will on his own." His eyes rested on the ranger, who was standing now, watching the darkness as though Legolas might just step out of it.
"Then what are we going to do?" asked Erestor crossly.
"You are the adviser," Glorfindel reminded.
Erestor felt a stab of embarrassment. He flushed and was grateful for the dim light so Glorfindel could not see. That was one thing he could never live down. "I have never been in this sort of situation before," Erestor hesitated. He looked at the ground and muttered, "I don't know."
Glorfindel heard it but he had to put mirth at the dark-haired Elf's humiliation aside. "Here comes Celebalda," he muttered grimly.
The dark-haired Mirkwood Elf came over to them, followed by Thalionril. He asked stiffly, "can someone please explain to me what is going on?" His eyes darted from Aragorn, to Glorfindel to a scowling Erestor, giving each in turn a questioning stare. Thalionril just looked about as nervous as a deer caught between fire and a starving warg. Which way he jumped, he was caught.
Aragorn sighed and went over to the Elves. "Legolas and Rothinzil are back there," he gestured towards the lightlessness angrily. "They have them both in there!" he whispered fiercely.
Celebalda groaned, "and what evidence do you have to support that?"
Thalionril shifted slightly away from his captain and away from the others. It was not his place to choose sides and the young Lieutenant did not want to get involved in an argument where he was forced to choose sides. He could never argue with Glorfindel or Erestor, the great Elf-lords, anymore than he could with King Thranduil. But he could not go up against Celebalda, his captain and soon to be father-in-law.
Aragorn responded stiffly as he glared at the Elf-captain, "I found tracks. Too deep to be an Elf, to thin and narrow to be an orc, not to mention too light."
The head Elven officer sighed and said, "I do not doubt your growing skill, Dúnadan, but the fact is you are young. Are you sure?" he asked again. "My Prince and friend are both in the clutches of some monsters and I mean to get them back." He said this more to tell himself his goals than to inform the ranger.
"Would you call me young then, pen-eth?" said Glorfindel adamantly. His scowled deeply as the Mirkwood Elf grimaced.
"Most assuredly not. But even the wise make mistakes-"
"The fact is even Estel knows more of the situation than you do," said Glorfindel. "I checked the tracks and my conclusion concurs with his." He did not want to get into an argument with Celebalda, who seemed like a fine young captain with a loyal heart, but he wasn't going to let Aragorn get belittled either, accident or not. He shuddered to think of what would have happened if Legolas had heard Celebalda's last comments, or the twins.
"I am in no position to be able to argue with you Lord Glorfindel and your told and retold valor and wisdom speak against my want to get into conflict with you. But going in there is dangerous," he pointed out bluntly. "If I don't have to, I would rather not risk my Elves." He said in a lower timbre, "they aren't trained for this sort of thing."
Erestor just rolled his eyes and said with aplomb, "well it is too late for you to do that now! We will have to work with what we've got or go back. The latter is not an option." This was the counselor Glorfindel knew. He smiled in the dimming lantern light.
"I know, I know," chanted Celebalda succinctly. He drew a deep breath and asked his elder in a duteous way giving the situation they were in, "how shall we do this then?"
Erestor sighed impetuously and muttered, "Glorfindel, that question is deferred to you."
The Gondolin Elf cleared his throat, not expecting this deference and said, "What do you know of Gondolin's fall, Lord Erestor?" he questioned slowly. He did not like remembering it, but it was going to useful in this situation.
Erestor looked uncomfortable and admitted under Glorfindel's scrutinizing blue eyes, "Not as much as you, I am sure." He looked at the golden-haired Balrog-Slayer's eyes and then at the floor. He saw too much memory in the azure orbs for comfort.
"There was a tunnel, made, or told to be made, by the White Lady herself," he answered precisely. "I was one of the few who knew about it as there I was a captain and lord. In any event," he continued. "We traveled through it with other survivors, (including Eärendil) to escape the sack of the city and watched from a distance as she burned and Turgon's tower fell." Here the Elf-lord drew a deep and painful breath.
"We were ambushed at the top and I…I…fell. As I have scrutinized the situation over and over again in my mind, I now see that if we would have paired off and everyone had someone to watch his back, we might have made it. Might.'' He looked at Celebalda, who was staring in awe back.
Aragorn looked uncomfortable. He walked up and stood by Erestor, who looked down at him and smiled. "What Glorfindel just told took a lot more courage than the things many have done. Remember, that some words take more strength to say than some deeds in this earth, Young-One." His voice was a whisper and Aragorn just nodded.
"We are going to go and get Legolas or I am going by myself," he professed stiffly.
Erestor hissed, "just listen."
"So you are suggesting we pair up and venture into the unknown darkness of that place where I am sure there are traps galore?" he asked in a high-strung manner of speaking.
He shook his head contritely and in frustration at what he felt was his own lapse. "I cannot ascertain any other conceivable way," he accepted to himself. His eyes held Glorfindel and then switched over to hold Aragorn's and then a hard and determined look came over them. "We shall do it."
A smile bust across Aragorn's face and he breathed under his breath, "yes!" I'm coming Legolas. Roth, hold on.
TBC……Yeah, long chapter, huh? So, hmmm….-tallies off bad things on fingers- Legolas got the snot knocked out of him, Aragorn is sick and depressed but going through with the impossible, Erestor is going to be going into the mines where King is…OOPS! Our bad, those are good things! Sorry, our error. -wicked snickers-
Please review! Those mean so much to us! Please, please, please! Okay, so we aren't beyond begging. LOL
Review responses:
Leela 74: Hey! You're back! -hugs Leela- Thanks for the review! Yes, we know what you mean. Doesn't school stink at times? We have had reports and papers coming out of our ears! Well, not literally you understand! LOL That would be creepy. -shudders-
Nefhiriel: Thanks for the review! Have fun during the Christmas season! When you get back the story might be finished.
Vanessa: Awwwww…..gee, thanks for that cute review!
Deana: Yup, Legolas is going to be suffering from headaches galore if he isn't more careful about who he ticks off. LOL Thanks for the review.
Marie Delcore: Talk to you at lunch Mellon nin!Thanks for reviewing!
elitenschwein Yes, sick rangers are such un to play with. Thanks for the review.
Lil Cwick: Thanks for the sweet review!
Snow Glory: Yes, only a few more chapter to go, sorry. But there is a sequel, but it won't take place directly after this story, so in a way it's a sequel-prequel. Hehehehehehehe. Well, here's a hint for the whole bed of snakes thing, Aragorn hasn't been through enough yet. Thanks for the review!
Sorry if the responses were short, but we have no time.