Into the Labyrinth

Author: Mirfaen

Chapter 20: At the Mercy of Another

Elvish:

Edhelneth - Elfling

u-'osto – fear not

ortheritham sain – we will defeat them

henniad - thanks


Isorfinduil stared with slightly dazed eyes as the blackness of night began to creep away from the window to be replaced by the grayish-pink of dawn. The sun was rising over the mountains. His eyes ached from lack of sleep and he was drained from keeping a constant vigilance throughout the night. He thought back over the days and realized that the last time his body had gotten rest was over five days ago.

Movement drew his eyes downward again and he found that Elladan was stirring. The Rivendell Elf's skin was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, making it seem as though he shined slightly in the golden light of the candle. His grey eyes had stilled their rapid movement and now it appeared as though he was sleeping normally.

Isorfinduil rose from where he had been leaning against the wall on the bed next to Elladan's and glanced across the Elf's form to where Elrohir sat. The younger twin had not moved throughout the entire night. He looked back to Isorfinduil, his eyes fervent and waiting.

"He might wake soon," Elrohir said.

"Perhaps it would be best for him if I was not here when he wakes," Isorfinduil said, moving to pick up his overcoat and bandana from the wooden chair.

"No," Elrohir said. "Stay. Just don't start anything with him too soon. I know you would not do it purposely, but…give him space."

"Of course," Isorfinduil replied immediately. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Elladan's, watching the sleeping Elf with restless eyes. "Is there nothing else I can do to help him?"

Elrohir stared at him for a long moment before answering. "No. You would help him?"

Isorfinduil looked back at him, puzzled. "Of course I would."

"Your hatred for him does not reach this far?"

"I don't hate him, Elrohir, though I know my actions tell otherwise."

"Then please, tell me why the two of you argue with such passion. Do you simply not see eye to eye? Is that it?"

"No," Isorfinduil replied, drawing back slightly from Elrohir's more aggressive manner. "We understand each other more than we let on."

Elrohir watched him silently.

"Elladan and I are a lot like each other, I know that's what you're thinking. And it's true. We have our differences, but I see myself in him. I know that he sees himself in me as well, I have seen it on his face. Perhaps that is why he refuses to make amends. You know as well as I that I have humbled myself to apologize to him several times, but he never takes the second step."

Isorfinduil's eyes had drifted and he now stared out the window as he spoke, where golden rays of sunlight were beginning to stream through the curtain.

"Forgive me for the trouble that our antagonism has caused you. You have showed great patience and that is more than I would be able to do, were I in your position."

"I know that the last thing the two of you need is a third voice entering your arguments. I help when necessary, but the fight is between you two and that is how it must be resolved."

They fell into thoughtful silence for several moments and Elrohir moved to the window, pulling back the small curtain and flooding the room in the light of dawn.

"Where are they, Elrohir?" Isorfinduil said behind him, his smooth voice tinged with despair. "It has taken us so long just to find out the smallest bit of information. And even so, it is not enough. I fear of what they have come up against. Of what we are coming up against. I feel a dark presence relating to the Labyrinth – deep hatred, dangerous jealousy. I fear it will get worse before the end."


A clean-cut man in fine silk clothing leaned forward in his seat to follow the action that was taking place far below him. It was astonishing to say the least, but he had anticipated the outcome of this fight and his money was proving to have been placed well.

When the Lavi brothers first introduced the Elf to the crowd, the man had been suspicious and had held his wager, choosing to view the strange creature's abilities before betting on them. How he wished that he could have known sooner how this being could wield a weapon. The sight was fantastical for one who was familiar only with humans and animals. Every time he watched the Elf battling it was as though he were seeing a legend unfold before his very eyes.

The finely clothed man watched the Elf's upper body snap far backwards to avoid the swing of a dagger and then twist down and to the side to come up behind his opponent. He had a clear shot at the other man's back and the spectators drew in their breath, but the Elf hesitated and his opponent had spun around – the moment was lost.

Why did the Elf continue to hold back when he was given the opportunity to kill his enemy? This was a deathmatch after all. Was the obvious injury from the Warg hampering his movements? All who were present remembered the outstanding battle between the Warg and the Elf, the latter of which clearly bore the marks. Blood had seeped through his shirt in long lines that ran from a shoulder down his back.

The man in the crowd felt a tinge of sorrow for the Elf. His fights had been scheduled so often and close together, that that wound of his wasn't going to heal for a long time. He was surprised as it was that the blond warrior was holding up so well. Did he ever tire? Did not those long bleeding slashes pain him when he moved with such speed and force?

Even now, the agile being in the pit was ducking and leaning his shoulders back in turn with lightning fast reflexes as his dagger-wielding opponent lashed out in fury. The Elf must have sensed the corner creeping up at his back, for he suddenly moved to one side and took the offensive, driving the other man back in a blur of motion.

Spectators on either side of the man in the crowd let out a cheer upon seeing the Elf's aggression. Perhaps this time he would follow through when he got the chance and kill his adversary. They knew he most certainly had the means. But as always with the newer fighters, the Elf seemed unused and unwilling to kill a man outright without moral purpose. In time he would see that moral purpose had no place in The Labyrinth.

The dagger flew from the hand of the Elf's opponent. The man stood panting and sweating, staring at his victor with wide eyes. The Elf took two rapid steps forward and brought his own dagger to the man's throat. The crowd held its breath. The defeated man dropped to his knees and the Elf stared down at him for a long moment, the dagger in his hand unmoving. In a swift movement he spun and raised his bare arm, pointing the blade directly at the Lavi Brothers and making cold eye contact with them both before backing away from the defeated fighter. It was an unspoken rejection to participate in the brothers' game.


"Elladan."

Dark gray eyes snapped open and Elladan drew in a sharp breath, sweet relief rushing over him like a tidal wave as he glanced around at their sunlit room. He turned to Elrohir with wild eyes, too overwhelmed from his dream to say anything.

Elrohir was silent for a moment, watching his brother take quick, deep breaths. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"How bad was it?"

Elladan closed his eyes, attempting to block out the visions that played over in his head. "It was bad. Not the worst I've ever had, but…it was far from good."

He quickly opened his eyes again, looking around the room. His gaze came to rest on Isorfinduil and they stared at each other before Elladan shifted to a more upright position on his bed.

"Though it is the last thing I wish to do at this moment," he began darkly, wiping a sleeve over his face, "I must tell you some of the things I saw. Most of the scenes seemed distant in both time and space and I feel they concern us little. But several of them had an energy and closeness to them that I cannot explain."

"Yes," Elrohir said, his glance flickering briefly past his twin to Isorfinduil, "Most all of the dreams somehow relate to the situation we are currently in at the time."

Elladan closed his eyes briefly and went through his mind, searching for the visions that had felt closest despite his utter loathing to do so. "There was a beast. I was on a stone floor, surrounded by…brown. There is no way to describe it. But I had the distinct impression that I was trapped. Wherever I was I could not get out, and the beast came at me from the front. It was so fast that I could not get a grasp on what it was. I could have been a bear…although now that I think about it, it was too vile to be a bear. I believe it was a Warg."

Isorfinduil and Elrohir looked at each other silently. What would a Warg have to do with their situation in Rahma?

Elladan made a face as he remembered the next bit. "It somehow clawed me down the back. Over the left shoulder and down," he said, moving his hand to show them. "It was incredibly painful. That is one of the foremost parts of the dream, though I know not how that will come to play in our situation."

"There was nothing else after that?" Elrohir asked.

"No, the scene changed right after."

"Are there any others that felt close?"

"Yes, there was one other and this one had more clarity and energy than the first. I was standing in an intense storm. Strong rainfall and fierce lightning. I was in the trees and as I moved forward I saw during the lightning strikes many men standing and moving about a figure that was tied to a large tree. It was clear the person was in great pain and though I did not see who it was I felt that I knew them as a friend or companion, for my heart went out to their distress."

He broke off and they fell into uneasy silence. All three of them could not help the thought of who it was Elladan had seen. After long moments of worried thought, Elladan spoke again.

"The nearest I can tell is that I was seeing their capture. Or one of them. Wait…well, except for that storm that was raging. And as for the Warg…I have no idea." He shook his head gently, moving to the edge of his bed and stretching his arms behind his back.

Suddenly Isorfinduil cursed aloud. Elladan turned to him sharply, his eyes hard. Isorfinduil ignored the glare and glanced between the twins. "What of that rumor? Of…"

"Never trust a rumor, Edhelneth," Elladan cut in. "Even you should know not to give them a second thought."

"They should at least be brought into consideration," Isorfinduil responded, forcing himself to suppress his irritation at Elladan's nickname for him. "Especially when it-"

"There is a large amount of doubt that comes with each rumor. Yes, there is the possibility that it is true but with such overwhelming uncertainly, why confuse yourself by considering its truth?"

"Will you just listen to me and stop interrupting?"

"Why, do you have a bright idea?"

"If you would stop making everything so difficult, I could tell you."

"I should listen to this then. It's not too often that you have a bright idea. In fact, perhaps I should record this moment in history so that it might be remembered through the years as the sole moment in which Isorfinduil the Dim has a wave of slight intelligence."

Elrohir looked between his companions with deathly dissatisfaction. Not five minutes since Elladan woke up and they were at it again. Although he admitted readily that Elladan himself was doing all the instigating in this particular instance. He sighed deeply and interrupted their quarrel. "Why is it that moments ago bickering was blissfully absent from this room and here it is again like the plague?"

"The answer to that lies solely with Elladan, my friend," Isorfinduil said and continued before the older twin had a chance to respond. "I was merely going to bring to your attention what was heard about The Labyrinth being home to a Warg."

"You're right," Elrohir said, his face frozen in the sudden thought.

Isorfinduil could not resist a glance to the silent Elladan, followed by a curt smile.


"Bloody Hell," Amadeo said, his already deep voice lowered considerably. "I will not allow that creature to take control."

"What are you talking about?" Alymar asked in a plainly exasperated tone. "So he hasn't lost yet. What is this you are saying about control? Who is under lock and key even now? Us or him?"

"That is not the control I'm talking about," the red twin replied, pacing their luxurious headquarters. He had drawn the pair of nunchuks from his belt and was moving them angrily in his fist. "We set the rules here, Alymar. We tell him what to do and he does it. What happens now that he simply refuses to play it our way? The confidence that our men have in us could easily be shaken if he keeps this up."

Alymar glanced toward their locked door one more time to be certain they were alone. "You are right, brother. His behavior during last night's fight is disturbing and must not go on. I just am unsure as to what we should do about it. We can force him to do just about anything save to kill someone. That's simply impossible."

"It's not impossible, not by a long shot. Think, Alymar! When you want a person to do something, you need leverage over them. Physical or otherwise. In this case, our leverage would be the Ranger that came with him. Come, do not tell me you had not thought of that. It is the oldest play in the book. In fact, that is precisely why I do not think we should use the Ranger against the Elf. We've used that far too many times and I fear our audience is bored of watching a fighter go to great lengths to save a friend from a round of torture. We need something new."

"Are you trying to think of other ways to make him follow through on his deathmatches?"

"Possibly. Just something needs to change here. My rage grows each time I see him. If he did not make us so much money, then I would take great pleasure in seeing to his end. The bloody creature feels like he owns himself still, you can see it in him. The Ranger does too, which is remarkable for a human, I'll give him that."

Alymar sat down in a leather chair, content to simply watch his twin pace the floor and vocalize his dark thoughts.

"Maybe we should just kill the Ranger," the older twin continued. "I'm tired of him. Perhaps that would slow the Elf down enough to get some real suspense going in his fights. But then again it could also have an adverse affect and give the Elf an extra force behind his blows, should he feel the need to avenge his friend."

Amadeo paused his trek across the floorboards in thought. "No, I suppose we should keep him alive for a while longer. He does bring in money as well, after all. Our main problem is with his fleet-footed friend," he said bitterly. "If that one really meets no challenge then very soon no one is going to dare bet against him. We need proper odds with each fight. If he is victorious over every person we send his way then the odds are going to be tipped completely in his favor and our customers will have no one to bet against."

"So we need to either find a beast or man so good that the Elf will be put on the run for once," Alymar mused, "Or we need to bring him down to more reasonable standards."

"Or both," Amadeo replied, his voice distant. "Since he has no apparent weakness, why do we not simply give him one? And as for his ultimate opponent…what creature is the blood enemy of the Elves?"

"The Orc," Alymar answered with a nod. "But brother I just do not think a single Orc is going to cut it. A well trained Orc against a man is a worthy match, but an Elf?"

"That is it!" Amadeo said with growing fervor. "He is perhaps matchless against any one enemy, but that is because we have only pitted him against one at a time. How would he fare with a proper weakness against, say ten blood enemies?"

Alymar became slightly hesitant. "That might kill him. We want to weaken him, we don't want to off him so soon. Perhaps we should do one or the other."

"No," Amadeo replied firmly. "We've played around long enough. It's time to get serious."

Alymar held back for only a split second before nodding and raising his voice, "Sureim!"

The door opened and the lieutenant stepped inside.

"We would like to spend some time with the Elf. Could you fetch him for us?"

Sureim gave a genuine smile. "It would bring me pleasure."

"Oh, and I suppose he may not be entirely willing to come along," Alymar started with a glance at his twin, "Perhaps it would be beneficial to us all if he were a bit sedated, wouldn't you say?"

"Wait," Amadeo held up a hand. "What would you say to rearranging the fight tonight? Say, throw the Ranger in the pit with our top champion swordmaster. Our clientele need a real deathmatch and it will give us plenty of time with the Elf, hm? Better yet, how about you sit in on the fight, Alymar, so that no one gets suspicious and I will take care of Elf."

"Sounds like a night."


A knock at the door caused three heads to turn simultaneously.

"It's just me, Juda," came the woman's pleasant voice from the hallway. "Is anyone there?"

Elrohir went to the door and welcomed the plumb woman inside, quickly closing the door again. Juda stood inside the doorway, wringing her hands.

"Some men were just here," she began without preamble, her face worried. "I think they were looking for one of you twins."

Elrohir looked puzzled and rather uneasy. "Well…do you know who they were? Did they give you their names?"

"No, no," she replied. Her full cheeks were rosy and her brown hair seemed unwilling to stay in its ponytail. "They were mighty casual about the whole affair. Just came in and first asked about our business rates like they wanted a room. But then they asked real pleasant like if I'd come across a tall strange man with long dark hair. They described your clothing and all."

"Strange?" Isorfinduil repeated. "That is certainly one of the twins."

"They didn't say what their business with us was?" Elrohir asked with a good-natured glare at Isorfinduil.

"They said they were friends and were just looking to get together with ye. But I'll tell ye one thing, one of them I have seen before, and he was in the company of Rabo, that mobster."

"Ah, yes," Elrohir said, his features easing. "I was wondering when they'd come along."

"Ye know them then? I told them I didn't recall seeing the likes of ye."

"And thank you for doing so. I don't exactly know them but I know what they're after. Though now that they've taken the bait I feel it's too late for me to get involved."

"What ever are you going on about?" Juda said, the worry gone from her face and her hands on her hips.

"I believe they are largely involved with The Labyrinth – it is their job to recruit new fighters. Or at least to find worthy candidates so that the Lavi Brothers can have them brought in. I was planning to infiltrate them in hopes of gaining information. But they've followed up on me at just the wrong time. Tomorrow Isor goes to meet Kenan. We already have our link to information."

Elladan considered for a moment. "So now we must simply stay out of their way until the The Labyrinth goes down."

"Well it may be more difficult than that," Isorfinduil countered. "This is a highly organized crime ring and I doubt that they will give up so easily on a potential target. Perhaps avoiding them is not the answer here. It will make them suspicious."

"Oh, dear," Juda put in helpfully. She began to wring her hands again. "This just isn't your week, is it?"

"Several weeks, actually," Elrohir murmured distractedly. "What if I go to them and follow through the original plan?"

"What if they jump you on the spot?" Elladan expressed with a shake of his head. "We can't risk losing one of our numbers now."

"I think if I play it like I'm interested but still hesitant, they'll give me at least a couple more days room to think it out. I would guess that they simply hire those who are willing to be on their team. It's most likely the able but unwilling who are abducted to be fighters. So if I'm careful I can give them the pretense of one who desperately needs a job and is starting to consider more underhanded ways of collecting money."

"You always were a good liar."

"Thank you."


"A change of plans this late always heralds something underhanded," Seon commented dryly from his cot.

The next cell over, Aragorn shook his head. "This whole thing is underhanded."

"Well, tonight will be extra unscrupulous, I'll guarantee that. You watch yourself out there. They've got something planned."

Legolas listened to their talk despondently from across the passageway. He could not bring himself to join in and sat with his back against the wall, allowing the coolness of the wood to soothe the aching wound in his shoulder and back. The injury had been aggravated during his fight the night before but had stopped bleeding some time ago. Thinking about it brought to mind something he'd meant to inquire about.

"Furn," he called, remembering only just in time to use Aragorn's false name, "are you well enough to fight tonight? Are you recovered?"

"Yes," was the immediate response. "A little roughing up won't stop me. But even if I wasn't, what could we do about it?"

Legolas didn't reply. That was something that was becoming all too apparent to him. What could they do against something so large?

There was only one thing that they could do about their situation and that was to not lose hope, as he reminded himself firmly. To lose hope was to let The Labyrinth win. He had been through many worse situations and he would not let this confinement bring him down.

"Of all the scrapes you've gotten us into, I must say this is by far the most interesting," Legolas commented lightly with a hint of a smile.

There was a pause and then Aragorn's voice replied, "I do try to make things exciting. I'm glad you noticed."

"Quite."

The usual sounds of a crowd gathering in the fighting arena had been building over the last few minutes and Legolas noted that it would soon be time for the guards to come. Aragorn seemed restless across the small hall.

"U-'osto, Aragorn," Legolas said comfortingly, hoping that hearing the Elvish tongue would calm the young man's fears some. "Ortheritham sain."

"Henniad," the Ranger replied shortly as a group of guards started down the long hall towards their cells.

Legolas watched silently as his friend was taken through the large wooden doorway and into the arena. The Elf tried to keep his worry for the young man under control but he could not help the thought that both of them must eventually meet their match. They were far from invulnerable and Aragorn was still learning the ways of the Dúnedain. It was only a matter of time until he was paired against someone more skilled than he was. Legolas could only hope that that time was put off until they could escape or The Labyrinth was taken down from the outside.

"That's rather odd," Seon commented and Legolas moved to his doorway so that he could see the brown-haired man across the hall. "That low down lieutenant Sureim wasn't here this time. I wonder what he's up to."

Legolas didn't know what to think about that, so he posed a question that had been bothering him to the kind man. "Who is it that Furnerain will be fighting tonight? A champion swordmaster…is he here?"

A long, empty silence followed his voice and Legolas felt a cold tendril of unease grip his heart. He watched Seon carefully and the middle-aged man's eyes avoided him. "Seon," Legolas said more firmly. "Who is it?"

"If it wasn't a deathmatch tonight it wouldn't matter," Seon murmured and stepped back out of Legolas' line of view. "Our young friend may have a problem."

Legolas realized suddenly that Derral hadn't spoken in quite some time.


While waiting restlessly in the fighting pit for his mystery opponent to arrive, Aragorn's eyes ran over the inside of his stone surroundings. He noted the sliding stone door from which the Warg had come not long ago and found that there was a nearly identical door on the opposite wall, only the second was twice as large.

He pondered the portal for a moment longer until he realized that the noise of the crowd had grown in the last few seconds. The clang of the metal gate sounded behind him and he turned to face his opponent.

He froze in shock upon seeing Derral standing at the ready with a gargantuan scimitar in his meaty fist. The man's thick black eyebrows had lowered over his dark gaze and his bulking shoulders were tensed. Aragorn stared at him, unable to move, as dread spread into his limbs.

"This is why I don't like to make friends here, kid," the black-bearded man growled, his face a mask of chilling aggression. "I just end up having to kill them."


Sureim and his men came in by storm. Throwing the door to Legolas' room open, Sureim swung an arm around and shot the Elf in the chest with a dart, motioning for his men to take him quickly.

A dead weight spread instantly through Legolas' arms and legs, making it feel as though his limbs had turned to cement. His mind was blurred with confusion and a knee buckled under him just as several men laid hold of his arms. They dragged him upright again and as soon as he was on his feet, he shoved the men back and stumbled away from them. The door to his room was standing wide open, not six feet away.

Only half a second had passed however, before a wave of darkness rolled over his mind and he staggered against the wall for support. His arms were pinned again and no matter how hard he twisted and pulled, he could not shake their iron grip.

"That's more like it," Sureim commented darkly and he wrenched the Elf's blond head back by the hair to stare into his eyes. "Why don't you behave this nicely on a regular basis?"


"Derral," Aragorn implored in a soft voice, "Derral, we don't have to do this. We could refuse."

Derral took a step forward, swinging the massive scimitar in flashing arcs before him. "Sorry, kid. They'll kill both of us if we refuse. It's been tried before. This way at least one of us is going to live."

"No," Aragorn's voice raised in inch. "There has to be a way to get through this!"

Derral seemingly ignored him, moving the scimitar's direction so that it flipped behind his back and over his front in a blur of motion. The crowd loved it. Half on their feet, they cried for the bloodshed to begin.

"I'm not going to do this," the Ranger resolved.

"Then you are going to die."


Legolas had never before in his long life felt so utterly exhausted as when he was shoved into a chair in some empty back room of The Labyrinth. The drug did its job well and the warrior felt that each movement was dreadfully effortful. He could not put up more than a weak resistance when the guards tied his arms behind his back and he wondered distantly why they even thought that was necessary. His head hung low as he blinked and tried to clear his sluggish mind.

Amadeo had been waiting in the room when they entered and watched the Elf with unrestrained hatred and gloating. This is where the games would end and the real fun would begin.


Aragorn leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding the swing of the scimitar at his middle. The air sang as the massive blade cut through it with breathtaking speed.

Aragorn's own sword had been little help in his desperate effort to survive the last minute or two. It was large and imposing, but similarly heavy and unwieldy. The Ranger was used to a much lighter sword and the one in his hand now, though it was useful for blocking the more simple attacks, proved to be rather cumbersome. Already his arm began to quiver at the strain that had been added to it.

Derral's dark eyes were frighteningly untamed and he wielded his mighty scimitar with ease. The swordmaster had yet to even break a sweat.

Mind racing as he barely deflected a slice aimed for his neck, Aragorn came to the conclusion that something here needed to change or he would not live five minutes. Chest heaving, he decided not to give up on Derral.

"Listen to me," he managed to get out before he had to stop short as Derral's scimitar came within an inch of his head. "There has to be a way for both of us to live through this. But you need to help me!"

"Can't," the other man replied curtly. "Helping each other out will only get us killed sooner."

Aragorn cast around in his head for a solution as he parried a low strike and backed up a step. "Where do these doors in the wall lead? Would we be able to open them ourselves?"

"Small one leads to a dead end – the Warg's cage. Big one you just don't want to open. Even if you could."

Aragorn took this as good news and bad news. The bad news was, there would be no escaping from their currant position, though he had already assumed as much. The good news was, Derral was responding to him.

But now Aragorn was at a loss. What other possible way could they both live through this night?


Amadeo lost no time in getting down to business.

"You are not going to survive this ordeal, of that I can assure you," he asserted confidently, and watched Legolas for a reaction. "You may survive this particular meeting between the two of us, but you will not see the outside world before you die. For you will die here. Whether it is tomorrow or ten years from now."

"You are quite mistaken," Legolas responded with equal confidence. Through his body had been weakened by the drug, he had lost none of his inner fire. "I will never die."

Amadeo erupted into laughter, catching Legolas by surprise. Forcing his mirth aside, the dark twin took a step forward and caught the Elf's chin in his strong hand and leaned down close.

"You are already dying."

The prince's heart skipped a beat and he strained to keep his gaze steady.

"Your heart weakens with each passing day that you wake up to the dismal interior of your room. It breaks a little bit each time your friend talks of escaping for you know inside that such a thing is far from your reach. Tell me, do you feel fear?"

"No," Legolas ground out, wishing that he was strong enough to pull away from the man's grip.

"You know that's a lie. Do you feel despair? Hopeless longing?"

Legolas didn't respond.

"Perhaps you find a small ray of hope every so often, yes? Your friends will find your location and rescue you? You will overpower the guards and sneak out a back door? So you follow this hope blindly. You follow it until you come to a stop and realize there is a wall before you. A dead end."

The red twin released his grip with a jerk and slowly spread his arms wide.

"Welcome to The Labyrinth."


"Derral, we need to work together if we're both going to live," Aragorn said again, hoping that this time the man would truly listen.

"We are not both going to live!" The black-bearded warrior bellowed in anger. "Face it, kid! One of us is going to die and it looks like it's gonna be you, so I suggest you shut up and fight!"

That was not quite the response Aragorn was hoping for. Derral was being completely hopeless and Aragorn's situation was becoming drearier by the moment.

A slice of pain caught him off guard and he gasped, gripping his sword arm tightly. A strong blow to his face knocked him back and another sent him to the ground. He fumbled his way backwards as Derral approached with deadly intent.

The man's foot lashed out, attempting to kick Aragorn's sword from his hand but the Ranger held tight to the weapon, grimacing at the pain that accompanied the blow. In sudden fury, Derral cried out and brought his scimitar soaring down towards the young man's wrist.

Jerking his arm, Aragorn drew his wrist out of the blade's drive but now his hand was between the hilt of Derral's scimitar and his own sword.

With a fierce crack, Derral's hilt connected with Aragorn's hand and the Ranger cried out as blinding pain raced up his arm. Rolling haphazardly away from Derral, Aragorn let his sword clatter to the ground and stood up shakily. The pain was nearly unbearable and for several moments he was aware of nothing else.

Glancing reluctantly down at his right hand, Aragorn's fears were proved true. His pointer and middle fingers were flaming red and were curled over slightly. They were stiff and would not move without another onslaught of pain. Flexing the rest of his hand and gritting his teeth against the sharp pain, he found to his dismay that the joint of his thumb was misshapen as well.

Derral was approaching him with a strange look in his eye. There was the steel glint of aggression still but with it flickered something that Aragorn could not place.

The scimitar swung lazily through the air and Derral stopped his approach.

"Let's see how long you last now."


"My problem with you is that you are unbalancing the probabilities for my gamblers. If there is not a proper symmetry between the fighters' chances of victory, there will be no one willing to bet for the underdog. You see my problem?"

"So get some fighters with real skill," Legolas proposed, adding an amount of scorn to his voice.

Amadeo's look hardened and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered to the six guards standing near the doorway.

Sureim smiled. "You haven't seen enough to be judging the skill of our fighters, Elf. We've been giving it to you easy."

"Why is it then you are worried about evening out the bets? What delays you from matching me against one of your more skilled fighters, if you have not done so already?"

Amadeo stepped close to him again, his face a guise of passionate hatred. Legolas stared back under dark brows, his years of captaining his father's troops showing through. Amadeo's eyes faltered for a fleeting second before he drove his fist into the side of the Elf's face with the force of a sledgehammer.

Legolas' eyes flew shut to control the pain throbbing in his cheek as he brought his head wearily to face Amadeo again. His eyes were bright with contempt.

"You are naught but a bloody coward," he said darkly. "Are you so afraid of me that you had me drugged before you'd even come within ten feet? The power you feel now comes only from the weakness within you."

With a fierce cry, Amadeo grabbed the front of the Elf's blue shirt and dragged him roughly to his feet.

"Who is the one at my mercy?!" he roared into Legolas' face. "You would do well not to test my limits! I fear no man!"

With that, he shoved Legolas into a table that stood nearby and motioned briskly to the guards. Legolas stumbled against the table, fighting to keep his legs strong under him. Hands latched onto him from behind and he suddenly felt himself lifted bodily off the floor and placed firmly face down on the table. He bucked wildly under the weight of the guards holding him down, twisting in a near panic attempt to free himself. But even had he been at full strength and his hands not tied behind him, he would have been hard pressed to shift their combined weight.

Amadeo was breathing heavily next to him and Legolas heard the distinct ring of a knife being drawn out of its scabbard.

"To even out the odds," the twin in red explained simply. His hand touched the newly scabbed wounds on Legolas' shoulder, lightly at first, then he dug his nails down and raked them over the injury. The quick action broke open the wounds for the umpteenth time and Legolas' body tensed from the pain.

Unseen hands stretched out one of his legs and gripped it solidly. For a long moment there was no movement from behind him, nor sound, as though the room had taken in a breath and was waiting anxiously for some doom to take place.

The next moment, sharp, searing agony lit up Legolas' leg as Amadeo's knife sliced deeply into the back of his knee. A cry of pain burst from the Elf's lips and his shoulders arched even as he felt a warm gush of blood pulsing from the laceration and running over his leg. Moments passed in which his hazy mind registered nothing but his fiery new injury, the wounds in his shoulder nearly forgotten.

It took him a moment to realize that the hands had left him but he was too tired to make a move. And on top of that, he knew that any stressful movements would no doubt cause the streaming cut to open further.

A single pair of mighty hands took him by the shirt front again and he allowed himself to be hauled off the table to stand on one weak leg. Amadeo held him upright and nearly laughed in his face.

"I doubt that your exceptional skill will save you this time."


Whooie…yeah, so that I think is my first really cliff-hangerie-type ending! That was a long chapter, too! So you see why I had to cut there, right? :) I hope you all don't come and burn my house down for leaving you there!

Well, I'm all hyped up because a huge batch of thunderstorms just rolled over our house a couple hours ago! It was so exciting! So excuse my exclaimation points, if you will!!

Well guys, I hope life is treating you all well! Drop me a review and make my day even brighter! :)

Reviewer Responses:

Cosmic Castaway – Haha, don't worry about missing it, it made me extra happy to get a random review! I'm so glad you are enjoying it! Thank you!

Deana – Thank you, and there you have Legolas! Though I'm sure I didn't help your situation by leaving you there, did I??

Elenillor – I'm really glad you liked the dialogue! That part is always fun to do for some reason. Thanks so much for the review!

Enigma Jade – You sensed right! There was indeed prophecy. And I agree, I wouldn't want to have those dreams either! You'll have to wait and see how it all works out! (Ohh, the excitement is killing me!) :)

Libby – Haha, no I wouldn't throw the dream in there for a future story, no way! Don't worry, it has to do with this one. I hope you liked this chapter! (See? Blood! Just for you!!)

Niani - Thanks so much for the review, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


K guys, I'm out. Everyone have an awesome day, try not to get struck by lightning – depending on where you live…See you all next post!

Mirfaen