Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.

Rating: PG – 13

Author's Note: Just on an idle chatter, pure love of LOTR fandom seems to be thinning these days...is everyone leaving for something else now? (cries) Well anyway, I shall not be swept away with the tide! (Har har)

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by Kasmi Kassim

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From Twilight to Dawn

Chapter 8: Wits Contested

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Never before had Legolas seen so many sedatives used in succession. He promised himself to check his use of herbs when he returned to the healing ward. These things were beyond unpleasant. Especially when taken with barely any food.

He sighed, drifting in and out of consciousness. He could faintly feel the rhythmic gait of the horse underneath him, and the rough breathing of the man who sat behind him. He had considered jumping off and running away, despite his groggy state, but gave up on that idea as soon as he tugged his feet to find them bound to the saddle. He was being delivered like a captured animal, helpless and immobile.

How many days had it been? He could not tell for sure. He remembered seeing two sunsets. And many evenings, and campfires. They had traveled long. And day after day, he was put to sleep and lugged onto the horse. The men had decided that drugging their prisoner was better than putting up with sore legs and broken bones among themselves every mealtime. The slender elf was deceptively strong.

"Set camp," called out a voice. Ah, the voice of the man who held him. Rolof.

The men dismounted in a woody area, and quickly went about the business of setting up bedrolls and building a fire. Legolas felt his body leaning onto one side. And then, he was hanging limply in the arms of that man. His body felt heavy and tired, despite his mind's confused activity.

Rolof carried Legolas to the side of the camp, and laid him down carefully onto a soft bed of moss hidden behind a fallen log. Legolas heard footsteps approach. He knew the sound well. One of the men had come from the fire to give Rolof his dinner. Rolof sat down by Legolas, and began to eat. Legolas remained motionless, eyes closed.

It was always Rolof who rode with him during the day. And it was always Rolof, no one else, who watched him while the others ate. He sat apart from the campfire, alone by the prone elf, eating in the dark. Legolas knew this, for the effect of the sedative always wore off by the evening. But he kept his eyes closed – he knew well that humans always mistook this for sleep – and remained unmoving. He would not be rash. He had to know what these men were after.

"Wake up, Master Elf."

The whisper was rugged, hot against his neck. A sharp edge of cold steel pressed against his chest.

The sedative was wearing off, but his muscles were slow in regaining normal function. Groggily, he blinked his eyes, and stared up at the man who hovered over him. Roloth sat by him, dark as a shadow, with a strange gleam in his eyes. He was looking over Legolas with a scrutiny so intense that the elf shuddered and turned away.

"So you are Legolas."

The whisper was soft, barely audible through the banter of the men by the campfire some steps away. Legolas swallowed, and faced the man again.

"How do you know my name?" The voice was weak. Legolas felt dizzy.

Rolof smiled. "I know many things about you, besides your name."

Startled, Legolas blinked, and the man let out a soft laughter. It was like a growl, rolling off of his lips. He tossed the bone of the meat in his hand and sat closer.

"Tell me, Legolas. How old are you?"

Legolas realized that his tunic was unclasped, the fabric opened and parted down to his abdomen. The man's knife was drawing lazy circles over his skin.

When met with silence, the man raised his eyes from the smooth skin of the elf's torso. He smiled.

"Revenge is such a strange thing, is it not?" he whispered. The smile made Legolas shudder. "An undeserving child pays for his the sins of his king...an innocent, blooming child..."

Legolas strained against his bonds, but found that it was useless. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, and his legs were still numb. He gritted his teeth.

"What has the king of Mirkwood done to you?" he hissed. All filial animosity forgotten, his mind flared with anger at one who dared to accuse his father of wrongdoing. His father could be overprotective, and he was a meddling nuisance, and he found a way to always get in his way – but he never made wrong decisions, and he knew it. Legolas strained against his bonds again, mind hot with fury. He trusted his father, not because he was his parent but because he was worth trusting and respecting. No one would speak against him without good reason, or else they would face the wrath of the whole of Mirkwood.

Rolof opened his mouth to speak, but sudden sounds of hooves invaded the air. Legolas' eyes flitted upward. Rolof quickly sheathed his knife and redid the clasps to the young elf's tunic. With a grunt, he stood, moving away.

"At last!"

A distant voice called. Legolas strained his body to turn and see, but a log lay where Rolof was sitting, obstructing his view. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to contain his frustration. Sensitive ears strained to pick up the distant noises as they came nearer. Men dismounting horses.

"So what happened? Did you find the elf?"

"By Mordor, can you believe it? After everything we told them, they threw us out!" Indignant voice.

"What? The elf-lord threw you out?" Rolof's voice. Disbelieving.

"No, it was his sons. The young vermins!"

"The deceitful little things-"

"-never expected them to give us a harsher sentence-"

"We still can't believe it! Nothing worked!"

Legolas quieted his breathing. The crickets sang under the harsh tone of the men, who were now near.

"Worry not," said Rolof's voice, with a hint of a smirk. "We do not need Legolas. We have with us a Mirkwood elf. He will guide us."

Legolas blinked.

Rolof hustled the men toward him, and he was soon dragged up into a sitting position. He stared at two dark-haired men, who were staring at him with curiosity. Rolof gently grasped his shoulder.

"Tell us, Master Elf," he said sweetly. "What is your name?"

Legolas stared.

Rolof's grip suddenly became vicious. Pain flared throughout Legolas' body.

"Tell us, Master Elf," said the man, in a low voice that spoke danger. "What is the source of your drinking water?"

Legolas closed his eyes. Thoughts and calculations swirled and clashed, swift and reflexive as in battle. His voice was calm. "The river."

"Which river?" Iron hands gripped his hair tight. Legolas gritted his teeth.

"There is a secret passage. A stream protected by elven magic, which keeps all evil poisons at bay."

"Ah." Rolof suddenly released his hold. Legolas was thrown back onto the ground. He looked up blankly, meeting the gazes of the curious men.

"May I go now?" The question was hollow.

Rolof chuckled. "You already know that you cannot, Master Elf. You will have to guide us to this stream. We will get lost without your guidance."

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Legolas was compliant to the men's wishes. He followed orders, and did not attempt to escape when guards were sparse. His encounters with sedatives lessened by day until the men finally decided that it would be a waste to use any more on the elf. Soon, only Rolof kept his watch over him, and all other men forgot about their captive. They were always busy talking about the various tactics they could employ to undo the kingdom of Mirkwood, and what they would do with the spoils. Whenever those conversations started, Legolas strained to listen; sitting on Rolof's horse, he could still make out most of the conversation, though Rolof could not. The man did not seem interested in the whole plot. His eyes were only on Legolas; his interests seemed to lie in the elf alone. The elf had a feeling that this man's motives ran in a different direction from the rest of the men.

And what of his knowledge of Legolas' name?

Something about the man made Legolas uneasy. He had known his name, and yet he had lied to his fellow men that he did not know. That meant that he knew something that the others did not, and wanted the keep the others in the dark. He had a different purpose for Legolas. Something about the gleam in his eyes told Legolas that this man was more dangerous than all of the others put together.

It did not take long for Legolas to decide that he could use some dissension among the men.

"Gama," he called one day, beckoning to one of the young men who had proclaimed to have been thrown out of Imladris. This man was a leader of the group, sharing his authority with the older and more knowledgeable Rolof. He walked toward Legolas, somewhat startled.

Legolas glanced around. The others were busy setting camp, and Rolof had wandered away to tend to his horse. His chance would be brief. He lowered his voice, prompting the man to lean in closer.

"You do need me to guide you through the maze of the forest, do you not?" His eyes glittered in the fading light.

Gama nodded, a suspicious frown marring his features. He was a handsome young man with dark hair and an athletic body. His youth and vigor provided a different kind of leadership from Rolof's quiet and growling words. He treated Legolas with indifference, and the rest of the men followed suit – except for Rolof. He and Rolof did not get along.

Blue eyes flicked toward Rolof's figure in the distance. Legolas lowered his voice even more. He could feel his wrists becoming raw from the biting ropes.

"I have a proposal."

The man's eyes narrowed. Legolas glanced around again. Gama nodded. "I'm listening."

"Rolof is planning to kill me before we get to the forest."

Gama's mouth fell open. He stared at Legolas, and then turned to stare at Rolof. He turned back to Legolas.

"Why should I believe you?" his eyes scoured the elf up and down.

"You may have noticed," said the elf impassively, "that he lets no one else guard me, and insists on riding with me at all times. I have felt his blade against my heart every night. He is waiting for a perfect chance."

Gama tilted his head, gauging the elf's words. The elf's eyes flickered.

"I am the only one who can help you survive the forest. I am an unwelcome sight to Mirkwood; I will guide you only up to the castle if you agree to set me free afterwards."

This grabbed the man's attention. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Why do you fear being seen by your fellow elves?"

The elf stared back with impassive eyes, and glanced toward Rolof, who was returning. Gama quickly sat back, and patted Legolas' shoulder. "We shall talk later, Master Elf." He stood up and strolled toward Rolof to greet him, before joining the men by the fire.

Seeing the man walk away, Legolas bit back a smile. He had planted the seed. Now, all he had to do was to wait for it to grow.

"Did you miss me, Legolas?" Rolof's voice slithered around his ears as his shadow came nearer. Legolas shuddered involuntarily, and looked away. He had to get away from this man soon. His presence spoke of darkness beyond the horizons which he had ever known.

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"We cannot walk straight into this path!"

Rolof's voice was angry. The man stood in the center of a circle of men, who were watching with apprehensive interest. Before him stood Gama, the only man in the band who was unafraid of Rolof. He narrowed his eyes.

"We must venture into the forest if we are to kill them."

"All we need is the river!" Rolof pointed angrily toward the elf, who was seated on a horse, staring. No one was guarding him at the moment. "The elf will guide us to the waterway, and we can poison them all through their drinking water!"

Gama snorted. "And you think we can walk to their river without being seen? We will need to put up a good act if we are to face them!"

Rolof ground his teeth. "You can walk into the king's palace. I will stay and watch over the elf."

Dark brown eyes flashed toward Legolas. The elf remained wide-eyed, seemingly bewildered. Gama's eyes were pooling with conflicting emotions. He was gauging his choices. The suspicion over Rolof's obsession with the elf was beginning to grow.

"Why do you insist on such a thing?" His voice was suddenly soft, low. Rolof glanced at the elf uneasily. Gama's eyes were glistening with menace. "Is it because you want us to walk into danger, while you alone make off with our elf? Or kill him?"

Rolof flinched.

Gama's expression hardened. It was enough. He stepped back and raised his hand.

In an instant, the men leaped on Rolof from all sides. He was immediately subdued, and soon thrown onto the dirt with his hands and feet bound. One of the men pulled out a sword.

"Do not kill him," called out a light tenor voice. The men turned, and found the elf staring down at Rolof. The older man's eyes glittered with realization and sudden fury.

"You...elf! You tricked me!" He struggled against the bonds, but a boot came down mercilessly upon his ribs. He gagged and fell silent.

Gama, with his foot still on Rolof's chest, looked questioningly toward the elf. The youth simply shook his head. "The elves will smell the blood on you. They will suspect you."

The men murmured consent, and Gama kicked Rolof's body. "All right, then," he growled, "we will leave you for the wild beasts."

He turned toward Legolas, and began to walk toward him, a dagger drawn. The other men watched in anticipation. The elf stared emotionlessly, and did not flinch when Gama grabbed his arm and brandished his dagger.

"You will guide us faithfully," he growled.

The elf nodded. His bonds were instantly cut.

Rubbing his raw wrists, he looked down at Gama, who walked a few paces to the side and mounted his own horse. "Take us," he said, pulling the reins. "Take us to the elf-king."

The elf nodded again. He quietly patted the neck of the horse that belonged to Rolof until now. "Follow me."

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To Be Continued

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brazgirl: Yes, adolescence. Sigh. Is it not the bane of us all? ;) The secret about these men will be revealed very soon now! Hang in there! Thanks for the review!

Jedi Cosmos: Ah, so happy to hear that you are enjoying it! Thank you!

Beling: I am surprised and honored to hear that you liked the short chapter so. Yes, I agree with the male friendships – it is so interesting and risky to touch on male friendships in this world. ;) And your view of the imagery and their symbolic meanings...and your wise understanding of Legolas' turmoils as an adolescent. Beautiful! Thank you for sharing your wisdom of experience with this amateur writer! ;)

Unsung Heroine: Ooh, I want to watch the ROTK EE too! Lucky you. ;) And yes, like you, I have long been pondering about the conflicts arising from the origin of orcs...I portrayed Legolas as a certain type of killer in Unfinished Earth, which is a result of the events that will be told in this story and its following. Thank you for the review!

Rede: Haha, I am glad to hear that you're still here! And noticing all those metaphors....brilliant reader, you are. ;) Well anyway, Thranduil or Haldir to the rescue? Hmm, let us see...;)

Templa Otmena: Ooh, glad to hear from you again! I do plan to dedicate a full multi-chapter fic each to Erestor-Glorfindel and Legolas-Haldir friendships, so don't be frustrated too much if I only hint at it here – this is, after all, about the young prince's turmoil with filial tension, lies and deception, and revelations of painful truths. And of course, the discovery of the orcs' origins and his reaction to it will pave the way to the kind of warrior that he becomes by the timeline of Unfinished Earth... Hehe. Thank you for your wonderful reviews!