"Get them up," Garthond commanded his remaining company. Five or six was all he had left out of the original thirteen; the blasted elves and ranger had managed to destroy half of his band. But it was worth it, he knew...now they could have a little fun and games.
He personally dragged Thranduil to his feet, taking hold of his critically wounded shoulder. Thranduil stubbornly held in the shriek of pain that rose to his throat, and as two of the ruffians seized his weapons, he stared at Garthond, his flashing green eyes burning with hatred for the murderer.
"Your people tried to kill me," he said, his voice slightly trembling with passion. "You tried to destroy my kingdom and my people...but deadliest of all, you tried to kill my son."
Garthond smiled at his words. "Your son...made the worst mistake he could have ever made..." he leaned forward, almost touching the Lord's face with his scruffy beard. "He let me go." He laughed loudly, tauntingly, just as his men were dragging the unconscious body of the prince across to him.
Thranduil's heart thumped in his chest so hard it hurt, and he gasped in bewilderment as his son, stripped of his weapons, was roughly dropped at the feet of Garthond. He wrenched himself out of the man's grip, and went down on both knees, drawing Legolas' fair head into his lap.
"Ion-nin," he whispered, fearing in his heart that there would be no response. Legolas' breathing was ragged, but his eyes fluttered open, his father's voice triggering something in his consciousness.
"Ada?" he barely spoke, but it was audible to his father's ears. He sighed in relief. "I'm here, Legolas," he spoke comfortingly.
"Where is Aragorn?" With his father's help, Legolas sat up slowly, his head spinning.
"He's right here!"
Aragorn was flung into Legolas' arms. The elves caught him, startled by the rough treatment of the youth.
Legolas desperately clung to Aragorn, holding his bleeding chest to his own. His slender hand grasped the dark head, pulling him into a protective embrace. Blood from the deep gash to Aragorn's head ran over his hand, and with each gasping breath he took, Legolas could feel more of his life force escaping his body. It sent chills down the elf's spine, and stabbed fear into his heart. His friend was dying.
Thranduil went to place a hand on his son's shaking shoulders, but Garthond seized his wrist. He pulled the king over nearer to the remains of the fire; the coals and ashes had been scattered about during the fight...now, the camp looked forlorn and as if it had been abandoned for years. Thranduil guessed that it would not be long before it was.
Garthond sheathed his sword with a loud scraping sound, echoing in the elves' ears. Still eyeing the prince, Garthond proceeded to tend to his own wounds. Casually, Garthond took the knife offered him by a comrade, and stepped over Thranduil, who still lay by the destroyed fire-debris. He proceeded to heat the blade by the smoldering ashes and hot stones, seemingly taking his time to deal with his captives.
Thranduil lay half-risen, knowing if he moved it would send shocks of pain through his entire left side. He longed to move closer to his son, to give what comfort he could to his only family...to comfort the dying. Yet he dared not move an inch; the temper of the wild-men was well known. Garthond meant to keep them apart, separate from each other.
A tall man stood in front of him too, his sword point hovering threateningly near his chin. Thranduil cold not help but glare up at him, his green eyes growing darker and darker with built-up rage.
Suddenly he heard Garthond grunt, and a hissing sound. He turned his fair head and saw that the leader had been able to remove the two arrows that had penetrated his chest, and was now proceeding to sear up the wounds with the - knife as a brand. A sudden breeze blew the smoke towards him; a nauseating smell of burned flesh pierced his nostrils, and he jerked away, the smell overwhelming him.
Legolas bent closer to Aragorn, trying to shield him from the sickly odor. The men surrounding him chuckled quietly, not bothered by the invasion of their senses. Legolas ignored them, only holding his mellon's bleeding body, begging him to hold on a minute longer.
Finally, ignoring the pain in his broken arm, Garthond stood.
"You," he stepped over the king once more, but spoke to Legolas.
The devastated warrior did not lift his head.
"You!" Garthond roared.
Pain-filled eyes brimming with tears were lifted, the evidence of an aching heart.
Garthond was unmoved. "Come over here," the man pointed in front of him with one finger.
The elf did not know what to do. Thranduil saw him gaze once more into the dying man's face, and then, his mind made up, he gently set him down, and stood, a little wobbly, but his face blank and expressionless. Legolas knew he had to keep Garthond focused on him, if there was any hope for his friend to survive.
How little he knew that the wild-man standing before was not interested in the Ranger.
Blood from his own head wound trickled into his eye, but Legolas ignored it. He saw his father looking at him concernedly, but he did not flinch. Though his mind was still hazy, he knew he had to appear strong in front of his tormenter, or he would win.
Garthond leaned back on one foot and eyed the prince before him. Not a sound stirred the air, no birds, no breeze, nothing. The silence however, was all too loud for Thranduil. His palms were sweaty and his body quivered with dread, fear for what would happen to his beloved. His eyes darted back and forth from Legolas to their captor, watching for the first hint of danger.
Garthond's guttural voice thundered down on the elves. "You two have been giving me quite a lot of trouble, Your Highness."
Legolas said nothing.
Garthond was not discouraged. "We're going to play a little game, Your Lordship," he added sarcastically, enunciating every syllable. "You will have to make a difficult choice; after you have made your decision, you'll get a reward."
Legolas and Thranduil's brows knit in apprehension.
"You don't know just how much I've wanted to do this," the man said menacingly. His band chuckled and sneered, enjoying the elf's humiliation.
Legolas said nothing, only staring at him, unwavering.
As Garthond continued, his voice began to seethe with fury, and he trembled with indignation. He turned to Thranduil, still waiting on the ground beside him, holding his aching and bloody shoulder. "You took away our freedom, our way of life. You," he turned back to Legolas. "You took away my brother, you and your friend there slaughtered him in his steps, and took away everything from me! Now, I am going to make you pay!" He bolted forward, grabbing Legolas' collar, hoisting him off the ground. "I am going to make you suffer as I have, knowing that the blood of your loved ones is on your hands!"
He released his hold and turned his back on Legolas, seeking to regain control of himself. Legolas rubbed his throat and breathed in deeply. He stopped his father with a slight move of his hand, assuring him he was all right. Looking up at the man pacing in front of him, he could not begin to guess what choice he would have to make, but whatever it was, Legolas knew that it would be one of the most difficult he had ever made.
Abruptly, Garthond faced him with a snap of his heels and proclaimed his announcement. "It is obvious to both you and me that your father and your friend are in critical condition. Aye?" he asked, grinning at his own humor.
Legolas indulged him, and nodded, though he did not like the sound of the topic.
"Well then, we can only take on two prisoners. You I must have; I won't let my brother's killer get away from me." Garthond moved in close, standing toe to toe with the elf-warrior. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, a false, tauntingly playful growl. "We have to kill one of the others, though...and you're going to decide which it will be."
Chapter SixLegolas heard Thranduil intake a breath, or at least, he thought it was Thranduil, he wasn't sure...it may have been himself. He stood in stunned silence, staring at the tormenter in front of him, hoping against all hope that he had heard wrong. But the grin on the man's face told him everything. This was no jest: he would have to choose between his mellon-nin...and his father.
It was the most horrific game he could have ever played. He must gamble away a loved one's life...for the other to survive.
The son looked down at the father; their eyes met, their hearts burst within them. How could he betray his father? It was impossible! This one had given him life, had loved him, had been his mentor—the one he had wanted to be like all his life. How could he...?
Aragorn's moan interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his fair head toward the sound. The Ranger stirred slightly, groaning from pain and delirium.
He was his mellon-nin...NO!
He couldn't!
Not Aragorn! Not Estel, "hope"...not... Strider...
They had been through everything together, through thick and thin, through the most horrible places imaginable...Strider had risked his life on more than one occasion for him, he had been there when no one else was...He was a part of him. They were like one soul, one person, one family.
Family. His eyes shifted again to his adar lying there beside him. Thranduil shook his head at him, silently begging for his son to give him up, to save the youth, the one they had both come to love. Legolas' brows flinched, and he made as if he wanted to say something, but the words could not come.
'How can I do it, Ada?' his mind screamed. 'How can I trade one for the other...? How can I choose which portion of my heart must be torn out?'
His mournful blue eyes welled, and his sight was blurred for a moment. He turned his head away, not wishing Garthond, or his father, to see him so perplexed and weak.
Garthond, however, smiled brilliantly. "It's not as easy as it sounded, is it?" He guffawed loudly, enjoying himself.
Thranduil could stand it no longer. He rose to his knees, as far as he could make it, and fixed the wild-man with a stare that even Legolas had come to fear.
"Adar, no!" he vainly tried to get his father's attention.
"Leave...him...alone." Thranduil's voice was deeper than his son had ever heard it. It seemed to be his soul speaking, as if Thranduil's very being was commanding his voice.
Garthond looked down at him. "Excuse me?" he said, somewhat surprised by the elf's boldness.
"You heard me. I said leave him alone. I am the one you should be torturing, not him. He's not your concern."
Garthond snapped. "I'll make him my concern, whether you like it or not!" He violently smashed his fist into the king's face, sending him sprawling back to the forest floor.
Legolas yelled in fury. For the second time that night, he leapt onto Garthond. They went down together, locked arm in arm, neck to neck, rolling in the leaves and charred wood of the fire. The surrounding men charged after them, grabbing and pulling at the elf, trying to pry him loose from their leader.
One of them managed to seize a fistful of blonde hair. He hoisted the elf toward him, forcing Legolas to release the hold he had on his enemy.
He didn't go quietly, however. He still kicked and thrashed against the man that held him, yelling and cursing the man that had come to destroy him.
The man pinned the elf to the ground and held him there, sword blade across his throat. Legolas knew it was useless...there was nothing he could do...the choice had to be made.
Garthond stood, massaging his throat and growling at the renewed discomfort in his left arm. He stomped over to the prone elf-king, and kicked him viciously in the stomach, purely for spite and revenge. Thranduil did not even cringe; he lay unconscious and defeated, having done what he could to relieve his son's pain.
The giant now stood over Legolas' helpless position, his eyes fiery and furious. "I'm going to give you one more chance, elf," he spat. "Then, I'm going to make the choice for you. "
Legolas' eyes went wide. It couldn't come to that, it couldn't. He had a chance to save one of them, he had a chance to save part of his heart. The tears ran unchecked now, as lay there, knowing there was no escape. His mind raced, his time running out, he knew.
The monster of a man bent down over him, leaning into his face. "Well?" he snarled. "Who will it be?"
Legolas looked one more time at his father, laying thrown aside on the ground. He heard Aragorn once more, calling for someone, who it was he could not tell. The memories flooded over him...
Adar teaching him to ride...
Strider following him down the hall, trying to sneak into the kitchens for dessert...
Adar...calmly brushing his mother's long, golden hair in her room, when he thought he wasn't looking...
Strider...sparing with him in Rivendell, as the twins cheered them on...
Adar...holding him when there was no comfort, when he saw his mother's body pass him by for the final time...
Strider...holding him through the pain he had felt, when he had been tortured by those awful nightmares, those dreams of his mother's death...
Adar...Strider...Adar...memories...so many memories...
Garthond's fist made contact with his cheekbone. "Tell me!" he yelled. Legolas looked up at him. The tears would not be held back, and his breath grew quick and raspy as he cried.
The decision had been made.
"Take him." The elf's was barely a whisper. He breathed in deep, trying to gain his breath against the words and tears choking in his throat. "TAKE HIM!" he could not hold it in. He turned his head away from his tormentors, the blade at his throat breaking his skin.
"Which one?" Garthond leaned in closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Legolas choked on the words. My...my f..f..." his voice failed him.
Garthond picked up on the word. "Fffriend? Father? WHO?" he lost his patience.
There was no answer.
Legolas stared up at the man bearing down on him. His heart...broke.
"My...f..."
The whizzing sound over his head did not register to the elf's distraught, despairing mind, but the men around him ducked and sprang to defensive positions. The man that had stood over Legolas dropped dead beside him, an arrow in his side. Legolas did not move...his mind was too groggy from his distress. He just lay there, the shouts of the men and the sound of swords striking each other lost to him.
He couldn't believe he had just done what he had done. He had betrayed the person he loved the most...the one he knew would do anything to save him...
His mind overpowered, his heart crushed from his treachery, Legolas faded into darkness, not caring if he ever awoke.
