Reviewer responses for Chapter 22:

Deana: Almost to where I left off. I'm thrilled that you have stayed with me through all the revisions and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate it!!

Karone Evertree: LOL...no way NEAR scotch free. Read on!

Moonyasha: Thank you...glad you thought the chapter was good. Sorry for this wait!

Shadowfax2931, Zammy: Glad you liked it! UPDATE comin' at ya!

Mornflower: ROTFLMAO, Your review was hilarious! Thanks for it! Hope you enjoy this chappie too!

Insanechildfanfic: Thanks for your review! Every little encouragement counts!

Alatariel Narmolanya: Thank you...sorry to hear about the virus...Here you go...update...

The-burglar: Yes, me and cliffies. Always doing that...hehe. Hey, don't worry about the reviewing thing. You have reviewed a few times already and I greatly appreciate it! Thanks so much!

A/N: Again, apology in order for the long wait, but RL is hectic with elections approaching. Hopefully after Nov. 2, I will be able to get online with Phoenixqueen more often and update more often!!! Enjoy!


Chapter 23: Crime and Punishment

North Tower...

Legolas tugged half-heartedly at the restraints around his wrists as his shoulders began to cramp. He grumbled under his breath when all he managed to do was make matters worse by rubbing his wrists raw.

Arwen, seeing him struggle, came quickly. "Legolas you mustn't move so much, you are hurting yourself more." She reached up, gently moving his right arm so she could see his wrist. The skin was red and chafed. If the Elf kept moving they would soon start to bleed.

Exasperated, Legolas smacked his head against the stone wall behind him. "I just wish I could move more, my muscles are starting to cramp up and there isn't a thing I can do about it!"

The Queen was about to comment when the door to the room was thrown open and two, large Orcs entered the room, followed closely by Graelath himself. "Ah, so I see you haven't gotten much rest, Elf. Wonder why that is." He laughed lightly, taking in the frustrated Elf and the Queen at his side.

"Isn't it sweet that the lady would see fit to try to ease your discomfort? But I fear I have to take her away for a time." He turned to Arwen, extending his hand in imitation of a nobleman, such as the ones of Aragorn's court. "Would you join me for dinner, Milady?" he said, bowing his head lightly.

But Arwen was having none of it, her anger at the wizard's treatment of Legolas getting the better of her. "Do you honestly believe acting noble will make me swoon to your every desire? If you do, you are greatly mistaken. Your false show of chivalry cannot hide your true colors, Graelath. I'm not hungry and would prefer to remain with Legolas."

To her great surprise, Graelath lashed out, slapping her hard across the face, knocking her to the bed which luckily broke her fall. She vaguely heard Legolas shout some rather nasty Dwarvish curses he'd learned from Gimli.

Reaching up, she lightly touched her cheek, wincing at the pain. Then, she looked up. Legolas wasn't finished with his tirade and his harsh tone had caught Graelath's attention.

"I used to know Elvish, but I have long since forgotten it, what did you say to me?" He said; his voice dangerously low.

Legolas, still quite angered by Graelath's actions and without a thought for the consequences of his words, spat back at him. "If you were even remotely intelligent and had learned anything in your great many years, you would have known those were Dwarvish curses, not Elvish, for the Elven tongue is beautiful and flowing, like a graceful song. But you know nothing of grace or tact."

Graelath's eyes narrowed more, if that were possible, and his face fairly fumed with fury. "You dare to speak to me in such an insolent tone when it is you who are chained to this wall. You both need a lesson in obedience!"

Graelath motioned to the Orcs who had accompanied him into the room. They quickly detached the end of the chains from the wall, though Legolas' wrists were still bound.

Legolas' eyes flashed with anger, but he dared not speak. It would only make the torture worse. His gaze fell on Arwen, who looked ready to say something in his defense. He vehemently shook his head in warning and her eyes lowered.

The exchange was not lost on Graelath. "Oh, yes, this is going to be quite fun. Let's see if you are as strong as you look, Elf." Turning to someone just outside the doorway, Graelath added. "Bring the Queen; I don't want her to miss out on this, she needs to be shown I mean business in all that I do."

The two Orcs who held Legolas' chains pulled suddenly, nearly knocking him down in the process. Their jubilant taunts only further enraged the Elf and he sneered at them, not caring if they saw fit to punish him for it.

The creature on his right backhanded him, sending him careening into the wall. "Don't be smart with me, Elf."

Graelath turned on them, his eyes blazing. "Lay another hand on that Elf, Moroch, and you will answer to me. He is mine to break."

Moroch grumbled, "Yes, Master."

Legolas frowned. The last thing he needed was an Orc he had gotten into trouble at the other end of a whip or some other nasty implement of torture. He might be trouble later especially since I just got him in trouble with Graelath, I had better be careful around him. He was jostled from his thoughts when he was thrust into a well-lit room.

Taking a moment to get used to the difference in lighting, Legolas slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. When he had opened them, he wished he had kept them closed. Graelath had led them to what seemed to be none other then a torture chamber.

The walls were lined with whips, each with a different implement at the end. Whether it was simple leather or chains with spikes on the end, each whip looked extremely painful. In the middle of the room was a chair, equipped with many straps and a table, decked out with similar restraints. Legolas was led to neither.

Instead, he was forced back against a wall, his arms above his head, and again fastened tightly to the wall. He had even less maneuverability this time; his arms were stretched over his head as far as they would go, making his muscles scream with the strain almost immediately.

This time, the Orcs stooped and clamped irons on his ankles well. Guess he doesn't want me kicking then, Legolas thought dryly. His eyes moved around the room, watching as Arwen was seated in a chair but not bound to it. At least he has no intention of harming Arwen.

His gaze focused on Graelath as the wizard stalked towards him, hands folded in the arms of his billowing cloak. With a nod of his head, he sent the two Orcs out of the room. "Guard the door; make certain we are not disturbed."

As soon as they were gone, Graelath came and stood inches from Legolas, looking him up and down appraisingly. "You look me in the eyes now, Elf, but soon you will not dare to do so." The wizard grinning lightly, pulling his arms from his cloak now, a dagger in his right hand.

With a menacing smile, he slid the blade of the knife under the ties of Legolas' tunic, than stopped. "Maybe I ought to leave these on, it makes cleaning the wounds so much more painful. But then, I wouldn't be able to watch the blood spill from you...choices, choices..."

Turning to Arwen, he said. "Which do you prefer, Queen Arwen, tunic on or off?"

Momentarily surprised that she was being asked this question, Arwen hesitated. She looked to Legolas for guidance, but he could not help her here. She looked into his eyes, decided he would suffer enough and said strongly, "I would prefer off if you must know."

Graelath frowned at Arwen but to Legolas' surprise, he did as she bid. Sliding the blade under the ties again, he sliced through them, allowing the tunic to fall open, exposing the Elf's bare skin.

Arwen's breath caught in her throat. Very few Elves scarred, but Legolas seemed to still bear reminders of the sword wound he had gotten in Eryn Lasgalen. Graelath followed her gaze. "Hmm...I thought the healing ability of the Elves left them with no scars. This is odd." Looking into Legolas' eyes, he asked, "Where did you get it?"

The Elf made no move to answer. He wouldn't give the wizard the satisfaction of knowing he had, indirectly, caused this scar. Instead, Legolas looked him right in the eye and remained silent.

Graelath's lips curled into a sneer. "Fine, then we will do this the hard way." He lowered the knife, lightly tracing the contour of the scar, not quite pushing hard enough to draw blood. "Where?"

Legolas remained silent, his breath even, seemingly unworried when in fact his heart wanted to race out of his chest and barrel from the room. He tensed slightly when the pressure increased and he felt the first rivulets of blood trickle down his lower torso.

Locking eyes with Arwen, he took comfort in her presence. He swallowed, still refusing to speak. Graelath leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "You might want to tell me."

Again, the Elf made no move to answer. He heard Graelath grunt, than felt a wave of pain as the dagger was ruthlessly jammed into the old wound. Refusing to cry out, he bit his lip hard and his eyes snapped shut. Clenching his hands tightly closed, he reeled against the pain but made no noise.

He waited until he felt the dagger ripped back out before he let out a breath and slowly opened his eyes again; pain etched in his face for only a moment before he brought it under control and again assumed a passive face. Blood rolled down to meet the top of his trousers and began to seep into the fabric, turning it a dark brown.

Tears began to fall from Arwen's eyes and his heart ached to comfort her, knowing that she was crying for him. He knew he would eventually cry out, knew that it was only a matter of time before Graelath had him writhing in pain. He hated to think what that would do to Arwen.

"You must learn to be a little more cooperative, Elf. You won't tell me where you got that scar; or anything else about you except that you are dear to the King...but no matter, I don't really need to know for I just do this for fun."

Legolas watched as Graelath moved to the chamber door. He couldn't make out what he was saying, but his heart hammered harder in his chest when he saw Graelath return with Moroch. "I need a little help from my friend here, perhaps he can persuade you to talk to me."

With a snap of Graelath's fingers, Legolas suddenly found himself facing the wall, his arms and legs now crossed above and below him. He cringed when pain rippled through his stomach, the wound smarting at the violent jerk.

He heard Graelath speak again, sarcasm in his voice as he addressed the Queen. Evidently, he was still angry at her and was going to make her participate in her friend's torture. "Lady Arwen, please choose an implement from this wall here."

Arwen looked at Graelath with all the loathing she could muster. Her eyes were dark and her fists clenched. "Why do you torment me this way? Making me choose how to hurt a dear friend is no way to win my affection."

Graelath leaned closer. "Either you choose it or I will," he said with a sneer.

Knowing the wizard would choose the worst of the weapons possible, Arwen looked over the wall of whips; not sure which ones were worse. Her eyes fell on the simple leather one and she pointed to it. "There, that one."

To her immense surprise, Graelath removed it from the wall and turned to Moroch, "Go ahead and choose from the remaining ones, my friend."

Arwen was seething. "You tricked me!"

The wizard just smiled sweetly. "You think me stupid, Queen Arwen? I knew you would choose the least painful one of them all."

Legolas, hearing the exchange leaned his head against the wall. Arwen was trying to help him, but she was angering the wizard in the process. He only hoped the wizard would focus all his attention on him and leave the Queen alone.

He heard, rather then saw, Moroch approaching. Graelath took hold of Arwen and dragged her over to the wall Legolas was chained to. "You will see much better from here," he said, placing her right beside Legolas.

The elf prince turned his head toward her, eyes full of sorrow. "Goheno nin," (Forgive me), Legolas said quietly, looking into the Queen's eyes.

She didn't answer, but swallowed, her eyes looking to the left toward Moroch, giving Legolas a split-second forewarning before the whip came down. As soon as the pain hit, he swung his head away from Arwen, not wanting to hurt her anymore then he had to.

From the feel of it, Moroch had chosen a whip with spikes at the end. It didn't just slap and leave welts; it tore through the flesh, drawing blood effortlessly. And Moroch was definitely putting effort into it.

There was a slight pause, as if Moroch was waiting for Graelath's blessing, then the blows fell like rain, ripping and shredding cloth and skin. Legolas held in all sound, jerking as the hits came, his eyes clamped shut and hands clenched.

His tunic was soon in tatters and the whip was only hitting flesh, making it all the more painful. His breath hitched in his throat when the whip hit a spot of sensitive, barely healed skin where he had taken the sword wound in the Shire.

Seeing the reaction of the Elf, Moroch aimed more blows toward that spot and Legolas found he was hard-pressed to keep quiet as the pain increased exponentially. He started to quiver; his body not fully healed enough to take this kind of abuse.

Moroch grew more and more angered as Legolas remained quiet and he suddenly threw all his weight into one of the strikes. He smiled when Legolas screeched involuntarily.

The blow sent fire across his back and Legolas cried out, though he tried not to. He slumped forward, leaning his forehead against the wall, trying to think of anything but what was happening to him.

The whip kept falling and Legolas was shaking uncontrollably now, silent tears threatening to fall as he was washed away by the waves of red-hot pain. He suddenly heard Arwen sobbing. Gathering what precious little strength he had, the Elf turned his head and opened his eyes, looking to her.

Arwen looked at him, crying openly at her friend's plight. Seeing his eyes on her, she whispered, "Goheno nin, Legolas!" (Forgive me, Legolas!)

Mustering the last of his strength, Legolas whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking, "Avo 'osto, Arwen." (Fear not, Arwen.)

Then he was again swept away by the pain and he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for support.

Graelath watched from behind Moroch, his eyes narrowing as he saw how well the Elf took the whipping. I'll need to do something more painful then, if tearing flesh does nothing to break him. Perhaps burning will...

"Moroch, that is enough, we need a new tactic." Graelath moved forward, eying the bloody mess Moroch had turned the Elf's back into. "Elf, turn back around."

Despite the pain he was in, Legolas knew disobedience was not the proper path right now and he struggled to turn round. He winced at the effort, but managed to face the wizard. His shoulders were slumped and he was breathing faster then normal, but his eyes were still defiant.

Graelath liked the challenge he saw, it would make killing the Elf all the more desirable when the time came. He saw that the prince was not leaning against the wall and he smiled lightly. Moving toward him, he suddenly thrust his hand out and shoved the Elf against the wall.

Legolas cut off the cry the action elicited, closing his eyes at the sensation of blinding pain. Graelath laughed and Legolas opened his eyes. "You can go on for quite some time I would reckon," Graelath said, smiling.

Damn elven endurance! Legolas thought to himself. For the first time in his life, he wished he didn't have the stamina and healing abilities of the Elves. If he was mortal, his body would fail him much sooner, saving him from more torture. But as he was an Elf, his body refused to allow him the sanctuary of unconsciousness.

While Legolas was lost in thought, Graelath had sent Moroch back to the hallway, fully intending on doing the next bit of torture on his own. This was his favorite technique because it was painfully slow.

He took hold of a pointed metal rod and held it inches from Legolas' face. "Do you know what I am going to do with this, Elf?" He asked, not really expecting Legolas to answer. When he was met with silence, he frowned. "Now, now, you need to be more polite and answer your betters."

Suddenly, Legolas spoke. "Amin feuya ten' lle!" (You disgust me!) He fairly spat the words at Graelath, knowing that the wizard had forgotten Elvish and would not know what he had said.

He was right.

"What did you say to me?" Graelath asked; his voice dangerously low.

Legolas just looked at him, fury in his eyes. He wasn't about to tell him the translation of his insult. It didn't matter anyway, Graelath was going to do what he was going to do no matter if Legolas cooperated or not. Perhaps now the wizard would push him past his limits and he would pass out.

"You will pay for your insolence, Elf. Be sure of that." The wizard turned toward Arwen. "What did he say, Lady?"

She shook her head from side to side, not saying anything. Her face was pale and drawn, and her tears were flowing faster with each passing moment. Graelath's face twisted in fury. He strode over to Arwen and shouted at her. "You won't tell me? Then you will be the reason your precious friend suffers so much! You must learn obedience, for my wife will be obedient. No better time to start then now!"

Stalking back to Legolas, Graelath dispensed with his metal rod and instead raised his hand and spoke in Etrain. Legolas' eyes widened when he felt extreme pressure on his chest. He found, suddenly, that it was getting harder and harder to breath.

He started to gasp now, shifting to try to ease the pressure. Suddenly, there was a sickening crunch and Legolas cried out. He felt the rib crack and shift inside him and his eyes jerked up to Graelath who stood smiling in front of him.

"Tell me what he said, Queen Arwen, or I will continue to break ribs until he has none left unbroken. Then I will continue the pressure until they puncture his lungs and he drowns in his own blood." Graelath didn't take his eyes from Legolas.

Arwen's voice wavered as she spoke. "You disgust me."

A frown creased Graelath's face. "I asked you to tell me what he said!" He was about to turn his magic on the Queen in anger when Legolas gasped.

"She told you what I said!" It took all his strength to relay that and he groaned, feeling a second rib crack.

As suddenly as the pressure had begun, it stopped, as Graelath lowered his hand. Legolas slumped forward; more in relief then exhaustion. Arwen was sobbing again. "I disgust you? Well, have you looked in the mirror lately, Elf, you aren't too becoming yourself at the moment."

He laughed now, once again raising his hand. A quick word and a bright flash of light erupted from his hand, impacting Legolas in the chest. Red-hot fire burnt his skin and he let out a strangled moan, not really having the energy or the breath to scream anymore, not after the last bit of magic. He could smell his singed tunic and looked up with fearful eyes this time.

Arwen saw the change in Legolas' eyes and as Graelath shouted again, she launched herself into the path of the bolt. It caught her in the midsection and she hit the ground hard, crying out. Legolas, seeing her move before realizing her intent, cried in fury. "Arwen! No!"

Graelath cursed, kneeling beside the Queen, checking for vital signs. Finding a pulse, he growled lightly and called to the Orcs outside the door. "Take the Queen back to the North Tower, put her in bed, DO NOT touch her in any way other then carrying her."

When they had left, carrying their precious cargo, Graelath turned back to Legolas. "We are not finished, though that was an unexpected mistake. You had better hope she is uninjured, not just for your own sake, but for your friend the King's."

Graelath took up the metal rod again and wasted no time. A light incantation and the tip turned a brilliant shade of red. Legolas knew what was coming and he steeled himself as he felt the first searing kiss of the molten metal against his bare chest.

The wizard dragged a scorching line along his breast, watching as an angry red burn appeared before his eyes. He could hear the Elf's labored breathing and he smiled. Looking up at Legolas' face, he raised the rod and brought it to the Elf's cheek.

Legolas' eyes burned as bright as the metal as Graelath marked his flawless skin, marring the white cheek with an angry red welt. When the Elf didn't move, Graelath again lost control and thrust the metal rod into Legolas' right shoulder.

This time a scream echoed through the lonely tower. And a Queen, emerging from unconsciousness in her prison, wept for a friend.