CHAPTER TWELVE

Miracles Happen

Elrohir sat by the windowsill's edge, watching the sunrise behind the vale of pink clouds on the horizon made jagged by the mountains. He squinted his eyes and looked down at his hands that were on the edge. Elladan was snoring behind him as usual, the blankets covering him and completely over his head. His pillows were shoved on the floor and a single arm hung over the bedside clenching and unclenching as he dreamed.

They would be leaving for Mirkwood that day and smiling he knew he had to get Elladan up and moving or else they would never go anywhere. Climbing onto the bed, he stood over his brother and a wicked smile crept across his face as he stared at the pile of blankets that rose and fell with Elladan's deep rhythmic breathing. "Sleeping beauty, you can wake up now," he cooed as he began to remove the quilt from the elder twin's peaceful face.

"Elrohir, go away," Elladan mumbled beneath his blankets as he kicked and Elrohir was knocked from the bed onto the floor.

"Do not force me to get a healer in here to wake you," Elrohir growled as he fixed his disheveled hair and stood up in annoyance. Brushing off his clothes he muttered, "these were only just washed too."

Elladan smiled as he lay under the blankets and teased lightly, "I don't think that any of the Elf maidens would mind if you took your clothes off for them to wash."

"You think you are so funny," Elrohir said as he strode to the bed side and narrowed his eyes, casting a scathing glare at the shifting covers that his brother was laughing beneath as he was half asleep. "You know if you don't get up father might go ahead and change his mind. We aren't necessary for him to go you know."

There was silence and a light snore floated up the blankets. Elrohir scowled and then sighed as he shrugged his shoulders dramatically. "I was honestly hoping I wouldn't have to do this." He was glad Glorfindel had left the Healing Ward early that morning. Otherwise he had a feeling that he would be humiliated.

Gathering himself he jumped and landed directly on top of Elladan whom gave a surprised cry. Rolling over he looked up into Elrohir's smiling face and the twinkling grey eyes. Frowning, he grumbled, "oh, get off." Elrohir laughed at his brother's disgruntled voice and the glare on his face. "I said get off," Elladan repeated with some heat.

After falling out of a window, Elladan didn't appreciate this in the least, though he was in no more pain from the rose stickers. He gave Elrohir a shove and the younger twin suddenly collapsed on top of him and said in a teasing voice, "I love you too brother, dear."

"Elrohir…" growled Elladan as his younger brother smiled and propped himself up on his elbows on Elladan's chest placing his chin in his hands so he could stare directly into his elder twin's face. "Elrohir, you have forgotten about my ribs!"

Elrohir quickly and nearly instantaneously backed off and his joyous face was turned to one of instant regret and worry. "Are you alright El-" He didn't get to finish his question because Elladan grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at his head, smacking him square in the face and flipping over his shoulder to break a vase on a table nearby.

Elrohir glared sinisterly and said, "You are a liar, and you are lucky Ada never liked that particular vase."

Elladan just looked extremely smug smiled as Elrohir continued to glare evenly and unrelentingly.

"You seem to be in the habit or breaking things lately. Especially Ada's things. I think you are becoming a klutz like Rothinzil," Elrohir said as he took his brother's clean clothes he had brought for Elladan to change into and tossed them onto the bed.

"There is no comparison," Elladan protested as he stared at the sage colored under shirt, tunic and leggings somewhat incredulously. "These are exactly the same as yours. We haven't dressed identical in years."

Elrohir shook his head as he sat on a chair near the bed and muttered, "You're right. Roth is even more graceful than you." He snorted and leaned back, placing his arms on the arm rests leisurely as he watched Elladan's expression. It was amusing, or at least more amusing than watching paint dry…

"You exaggerate, brother," Elladan muttered beneath his breath as he started to flip the blankets off his body and climb out of the bed. "What is the occasion that we should dress identical?"

Elrohir thought for a moment and shrugged before looking at the floor tiredly. He sighed and then said quietly, "I miss Estel and the old times. If I can't relive my time with Estel, I wane to relive it with you. Like when we were younger and didn't have so much to worry about."

Elladan nodded and said, "Well I agree that it would be sort of amusing to dress alike again. But I wonder how the rest of Rivendell will take to it?"

"Erestor will be next to himself with aggravation," Elrohir laughed as he stood up and continued to snicker. Elladan began to strip his old nightshirt off and slid the clean undershirt on and then pulled the tunic over his head. Amusement crossed Elrohir's face as he saw the red speckles on Elladan's skin where the thorns had left their mark. Sniggering quietly as he turned around to allow his brother to put his clean leggings on in privacy, Elrohir stared out the window of the ward.

"Okay, I'm dressed," Elladan said as he through his cloths into a heap in the corner. Straightening his tunic and pulling at it, he smiled at Elrohir. But Elrohir noticed his smile was weak and concern gathered onto the younger brother's cheerful face.

"Elladan are you…well?" he asked softly while looking dubiously at his twin, who was giving him a strange look.

"Yes. I mean the only thing wrong is that I think I pulled some of my muscle away form my cracked ribs. But I should be alright," Elladan warded off his brother's over concern over such a small thing. "Cracked ribs are a minor injury when you really think about it."

"It depends on where they are cracked," came a calm voice that lingered in the air. Helinyetillë strode in with Erestor following directly behind her, reading over some reports of the herbal stock or something of that nature. The maiden smiled and produced some bandages that she had rolled up in her hand. "While Lord Erestor checks through my records of stock (which he will find to be flawless) I shall bind your ribs to ensure the muscle is not separated from the bone."

Elladan rolled his eyes and grumbled crossly, "I just put my tunic on!" His indignant look was priceless.

Helinyetillë crossed her arms and rocked back on her heals before she said, "Well Lord Elladan, you can just take it off." Erestor walked past her towards the storage rooms, shaking his head as he went. His eyes continued to be locked on the paper and its contents.

"Helinyetillë, how exactly do you find time to write all this down?" asked Erestor from the storage room as he gazed into all the boxes to ensure that they were low on nothing. He felt the texture of the Athelas leaves to make sure they had not some how lost their verve and virtue. He was amazed to find they were remarkably well kept.

Helinyetillë talked over her shoulder as she prepared to bind Elladan's chest. "My work is my life, Lord Erestor, as I believe yours is." Her response was factual and crisp. She was not trying to show off in the least and so her voice had the clear ring of truth.

Erestor came out of the storage room and was still shaking his head. Putting the papers in order, he set them on the bed beside her hand and said, "well Lady Helinyetillë, I find them to be well kept not to mention well organized and the storage room in wonderful shape."

"Thank you Lord Erestor. I find it strange that all the other healers seem to be somewhat…intimidated by your presence. You certainly don't seem to be so overbearing," she said as she smiled and tied off Elladan's bandages and pressed around his chest to make sure it was bound tightly. Elladan continued to look perfectly indignant and even when he winced and grimaced in pain.

"You obviously are blind," he uttered in a low mutter that was not wasted on the young maiden.

"You would be wise to shut your mouth Elladan," she snapped aggressively as she straightened up, smoothed out her skirts and picked up the papers before addressing the counselor.

"Actually," Erestor said uneasily. "There was one problem I found, very minor, but important all the same. I think one of your files was incorrectly labeled."

"I am rather occupied now, my lord," Helinyetillë said as she tapped the papers against a tabletop firmly and briskly. "However, if you wish to discuss it later I would be honored since I know your skill in paper work is hardly matched." Her grey-green eyes flashed as she smiled and said, "good-day, my lord."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances of amusement and shock and Erestor walked stiffly out of the room with a scarlet face.

O0O

Elladan stared at his father with a shocked face as he nearly choked on his honey cake. "You said we could travel to Mirkwood with you!" He protested immediately after swallowing. Elrohir leaned against a pillar, scowling in the corner; a shadow seemed to have fallen on his face. What made him even a little more frustrated than being told he could do something and then being denied was being told he could do something and being denied without real reasons for it.

Elrond didn't answer for a minute, then he choked out in a tense voice, "I have lost your mother and my wife, I am losing my daughter and Estel. I will not lose you both. You are staying here to look after things while I am gone."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and emitted a small sigh in exasperation before crossing the meager amount of space that lay between him and the door and exiting the room. He was tired of this constant arguing over something so simple. It wasn't that he was cold hearted, but that he knew Elladan and Elrohir were grown and capable of defending themselves. They needed to be allowed to make their own decisions. That and if Elrond wanted Rivendell to remain standing he wouldn't keep them here while he was absent.

Elrond watched Glorfindel leave before he turned back to Elladan who had pure fury in his eyes. "Ada, Elrohir and I managed to free mother, or we tried and we came out…alive. "

"And that may not happen again," Elrond seethed uncomfortably. "If I lost you my heart would break. …It would kill me." Sighing in his anxiety and sorrow, Elrond mumbled, "Excuse me for a moment."

Walking out quietly, Elrond didn't give a thought to where he was a traveling as long as it was anywhere but where his sons were and the hurtful question of travel.

Finding himself alone in his study, Elrond drew a shaky breath and sat in his most comfortable chair, fingering his quill and wondering how he had come to have such stubborn and frighteningly insane sons. He missed Estel, whom he felt was the one who, actually help to keep them safe. Estel had been the mediator out of all of his sons. If there was a fight, he could usually patch things up. He also gave Elladan and Elrohir a reason to be more rational about their actions and take less risk. But then again they would risk anything to keep the young ranger safe and he would do anything to protect them.

"You can't keep them under your wings forever. This is not the first time we have had this conversation."

Elrond glanced up at the golden-haired Elf-lord before him and considered standing up, but thought better of it. At the moment he felt very weak and he didn't trust his strength. "Glorfindel, my friend, you cannot possibly begin to understand." Elrond's voice sounded so tired and a stab of slight fear entered Glorfindel's heart.

"Mellon nin, I may not know exactly how you feel, but I know how I feel and I love them as though they were my children. I would never wish harm to come to them but if you love someone you have to let them go," Glorfindel said in a soft voice. He sat on the corner of Elrond's desk calmly as he was able but his hands were shaking.

Elrond had lost interest in many things lately, especially song and feasting. He didn't watch sunrises or sunsets anymore and there had been days when he had never left his room, never left his bed. He had always said he was just feeling unusually tired but Glorfindel knew that Elrond's heart was breaking.

He had not even feared for his friend's heart when Celebrian had come back with her wounds and miseries. But now, knowing all Elrond had gone through before and knowing all that he would never want to go through again eh did fear for it. Elrond was danger of dying from a broken heart.

Elrond had always been the strong one and now Glorfindel was truly scared for the survival of Rivendell, which was itself not so tranquil anymore. Elves had been quarreling and orcs had been sighted directly on its borders and moving in closer. The power of Vilya was dying as Elrond faded. If Estel didn't come back Rivendell would cease to exist, as they knew it; it might cease to exist entirely. Glorfindel had even noticed that normally trees that were evergreen were turning a dingy brown and falling to litter the cold ground. It had already begun; Rivendell was failing.

"They are my sons, Glorfindel. I can't just let them go!" Elrond said quietly as a dangerous light came into his eyes.

"You let Estel go," Glorfindel reasoned.

"He chose exile!" Elrond growled. "I would never turn him out!"

"And yet you sent no one to look for him!" Glorfindel seethed back angrily as he felt his temper rising. "It has been two years!"

"Glorfindel, do not accuse me of being a bad father!" Elrond stood up and pointed a shaking finger at the golden-haired Balrog-Slayer. "You didn't exactly volunteer to leave!" The lord of Imladris pointed out accusingly as he slumped back into his chair.

"I didn't exactly know where to look! And, Lord Elrond Peredhil, he is not my son!" Glorfindel's temper was beginning to reach its peak. His blue eyes narrowed into slits of pure wrath. "Your sorrow and lack of action is killing your own people and everyone close to you!" The Gondolin Elf bit out with resentment. "Vilya's power is getting out of your control. Trees are withering and Elves are quarrelling. It has been long since we heard music in the Great Hall."

"Glorfindel, you are going too far!" The raven-haired Elf-lord snapped in his own defense. "I am in control!"

"That's what you like to think! You are broken, Lord Elrond! Broken and you refuse to heal!" Glorfindel's voice was bitter now and his point was made completely clear. "Do not make me drag you to Mirkwood. You need to get out in the open air and see the world around you. It is falling into darkness and Rivendell is one of the last places of safety. You know this as well as I do and you have a responsibility to keep it that way."

"I do not refuse to heal! I am not broken!" he nearly snarled as he felt his guilt biting at his own conscience, causing it to bleed. "I am still well, I am simply tired."

"Because your heart is breaking!" Glorfindel said as he stood up to leave. "I stick by you because you are my friend and I owe you that. But you are tired because your heart is dying and you won't admit it."

Elrond fell quiet and Glorfindel reached the door. "I will meet you in the stable with your sons, Lord Elrond."

O0O0O0O0O0O

Pain, numbness, darkness, and bright light, all merging into a world of mystery and contorted agony.

Legolas opened his liquid blue orbs and blinked his surroundings into focus. It was dark and for a moment he feared he was in the dreaded box once again. Jerking up he felt nothing above him and below him his shaking and drawn hands clenched the cold smooth stones of the floor. Shifting a bit further, he felt straw gently brush his hands and arms in a fashion he once found irritating and scratchy but that now felt beyond all praise.

Wrinkling his brow in confusion, Legolas asked in a shaking voice, "Estel?" He felt so alone and unsure. Was Estel dead or had it all been a dark dream?

Shivering and trying to rise but found that he was far too weak to even lift himself to his knees. Blood, cold and dried coated his side, crusting it over. Legolas felt his battered abdomen over with a cold hand and found that the damage didn't seem to extend to life threatening…not yet. The knives had definitely been carefully planned to not slice or jab any vital organs. But they still hurt a great deal. As a matter of fact they hurt enough that he wondered if pain itself was a killer…if so he was in mortal danger.

Legolas felt himself reeling and before he could stop himself he fell onto his face. Too tired to rise, the Elf lay on the floor and moaned, "Estel, please, please…where are you?"

He groped in the darkness around him, seeking for his friend's hand. He found it, cold and nearly stiff but as his fingers touched the wrist he detected a small pulse. Aragorn was alive and Legolas felt his spirit's rise slightly though he felt the darkness seem to double and weigh them down. He came to feel what he had been conscious of all along. He was helpless, powerless and weak.

Crawling closer to Aragorn, though his wounds grated against the rough straw and jagged pieces of stone, Legolas set his head by the human's arm and snuggled up against the ranger for comfort; feeling a friend so close. His eyes still felt swollen, just as though he had cried for centuries.

"Estel," Legolas spoke to the still form quietly in a hoarse voice. "This has turned out to be more than I bargained for. I thought that we would different from everyone else. I thought that we would last." Breathing heavily but shallowly in his horrible pain, the defeated Elf whispered, "there was once an Elf and a human, captured by Sauron. Baren, of your bloodline, and his friend Felegund." Swallowing before he continued, Legolas murmured, "they thought they would be strong enough. But in the end, Felegund, the Elf, perished to save the human, his closest friend."

Legolas' hearing had fully returned and he heard the rain pouring down outside this impenetrable fortress in which they were imprisoned. Each drop making its own individual sound as it pattered to the earth, bounced off the harsh stones of the palace and added the puddles of murky water that was flooding the desert country. Sometimes he had remembered his home and the sunshine wondering what it felt like, for his memories were even beginning to fade.

He missed his home so much and at times he wished that he had never left. But what would have happened if he had never left? He would have never been there for Aragorn but the human had been doing fine on his own. Drawing a deep breath that bordered on a sob of loneliness, the prince wondered if he had stayed home if any of this had happened. Maybe Aragorn would have taken a different route and missed the ambush entirely and never been captured. Or perhaps if he were captured they would have no reason to torture him and would have simply used him as a slave. In that case Aragorn would have found a way to escape in time.

Legolas knew it would have been far better if he had listened to his father and stayed home. Now he was truly sorry. His father was not only his father but also his king and he had defied him. Legolas deserved banishment and by their law he should receive it. But that was all right. He was already banished.

Trying to sit up in the dark, Legolas felt something cold and hard touch his hand's palm. Grasping it he winced as it stung his hand, slicing his flesh. It was then he realized they were back in his cell and that was the knife that Dorrag had thrown in to him…for him to kill himself with. Eyes narrowing and brows knitting in anger, Legolas glared in the dimness. He squeezed the blade harder and felt his blood rush over his hand as the knife severed the skin and released the sanguine fluid. But he was not thinking of his death, but of another's. Black anger entered his heart and he had not the strength to stop it. It was the anger that brought him new life and gave him a reason to live. He had to prove Dorrag wrong. He and Estel would make it through this and he would personally drive the blade into the works of that miserable Haradrim prince's heart.

A few moments ago he wouldn't have minded dying, he would have enjoyed it. But now he was determined not to. His hand holding Aragorn's cold one clenched and he whispered, "we are going to get out, mellon nin. I promise you."

He felt one of Aragorn's hands squeeze his faintly and a smile touched Legolas' lips as he smile and said, "that's it. Hold my hand. We shall do this together." Giving a small laugh, Legolas whispered into the night, "miracles happen."

He felt Aragorn stirring and knew that his friend was waking up, or trying. But he was deeply concerned that the ranger's wounds could be too extensive.

Legolas' sharp Elven ears picked up the sound of the strong bolt door slamming shut and the strong noise of booted feet against the cold cobblestones of the path to the cell. A faint torchlight glistened ahead of the men and reflected on the walls in strange and bizarre shadows of light. Legolas felt a panic rise in his heart as he realized that the men were coming back and that it wasn't for any nice reasons.

Running his hand down the blade of the knife until he felt the hilt, Legolas wrapped his fingers around the handle. Letting go of Aragorn's hand with his mangled one, Legolas stood up on his pair of weak legs and then crouched ready to spring. He was not going to let them torture himself or Aragorn again. He was going to fight to the death rather and take a few of the men down with him first.

The men were coming closer and now Legolas could see them clearly in the light of the brand. Brushing aside his blonde hair that was loose and in his face, the Elven prince prepared to sell his life dearly. A hard and resolute look replaced the hopeless and mournful dullness that had shrouded them in mist.

As the soldiers, lead by Sarchel appeared outside his cell door, Legolas held his readied position. The Lieutenant smirked and asked with a scornful voice, "still fighting Elf?"

Legolas made no response and he felt a second strength racing through is body as his adrenaline rushed through his veins. His pain was pushed out of his mind and he glared icily. "Still fighting," the Elf growled out as his hand with the dagger began to grip tighter as sweat slicked his palms. His voice was hoarse and showed all that he had suffered and how much he had been forced to cry out of even scream.

Knowing the risk he was taking and hating to take it, Legolas prepared to attack. He didn't expect to win, his wounds were too extensive and his strength would wane too quickly as his energy drained.

Shrugging Sarchel opened the door and began to allow the soldiers to file in to take the Elf away since obviously the ranger was not going to talking for some time.

That was when Legolas made his move and stabbed swiftly, just as he would have with one of his twin knives. The first soldier fell dead, his throat cut and Legolas glared at Sarchel as he spun the knife between his fingers with amazing precision. He dared the Haradrim officer to try anything else.

"Impressive Elf," Sarchel muttered as he drew his own sword. "But you are weak and we are not." He stepped between his soldiers and the furious Elf that was glaring daggers at any who looked his way, which was more or less everyone.

"Now drop your weapon and hold your hands up," Sarchel commanded. "Or I will tell my men to shoot the ranger. He isn't necessary anymore." The soldiers readied their cross bows and the bolts were aimed at Aragorn's still form that lay in the straw of the cell.

Legolas looked at the men with shock and debated whether or not he possessed the skill or swiftness to kill them before they had a chance to shoot his friend. Decidedly not, he decided grimly. Frowning in the knowledge that he had lost and had accomplished next to nothing other than irritating these men to further want to harm himself and Aragorn, the Elf continued to hold on to the blade. He could not find the strength to drop it.

Putting it to his own throat, the blonde prince said, "if you harm the ranger further I will be lost to you forever. Do not test me." The coldness in the blue eyes showed that Legolas was no the least bit unsure. He was simply serious and not afraid to carry out his threat.

"Please," Sarchel begged wearily as the situation bored and aggravated him and he pointed his sword at Legolas' head, "drop the knife."

"So you can kill Thorongil and torture me?" Legolas asked bitterly. "Why doesn't that appeal to me?" He resisted the urge to jump as he nearly pressed the knife too deeply into the skin of his throat. The last thing that he needed was an accident. The only thing that was keeping him alive was keeping himself needed and alive for the men to try and use.

"Elf, you won't kill yourself. You are too scared," Sarchel taunted as he crept slowly closer.

Legolas laughed coldly, "no, I am not. I am warning you one last time, do not test me." He felt his hands shaking. He wasn't scared, but he was frustrated to near the point of tears.

A smooth voice spoke directly after Legolas' ears picked up the sound of footsteps. "Master Elf, drop the knife. We can talk things out. Lieutenant," he addressed Sarchel crossly. "Lower your sword. The rest of you, remove your crossbows." Prince Dorrag gave Legolas a venomous glare. "You have become more of a troublemaker than I had thought was possible."

"Underestimating you're your enemies is the worst stroke one can have against themselves," Legolas bit out as he kept the knife at his throat. His eyes locked on Dorrag and the Haradrim prince connected his eyes with the blonde being's.

"So I have learned," Dorrag said calculatingly around a set of heavily grinding teeth. "Please, Elf. I am sure we can reach an agreement."

"I doubt it," Legolas said dryly. He looked nervously at Aragorn lying on the floor to his right.

"Elf, you don't have a choice, because you are never leaving this dungeon alive unless it is on our terms and even then, you won't be alive long."

Darcíl nodded sagely at Dorrag's side before smiling wryly at Legolas. "You know you are losing, so if I were you I would drop that knife and look for help elsewhere."

His voice was a tone that Legolas had never heard come from him before. It was strange and twisted. Legolas stared at Darcíl for a moment as though the man had a second meaning in his words. But unable to detect any Legolas continued to give him a strange stare.

That was the undoing of Legolas' sparse grip on the situation and Dorrag whipped his sword from its sheath at his side, snapping it out at Legolas' face and the knife went spinning into the darkest corner of Legolas' cell with a clatter as it banged against the walls. It made a dull thud as it buried itself in the scanty amount of straw.

Smacking Legolas across face with the flat side of the sword, he knocked the Elf to the ground. Giving a satisfied smirk as he watched Legolas rise slowly, Dorrag said, "Elf, you are lucky I didn't break your filthy little neck. Arrogant fool."

Legolas felt hot blood run into his mouth and tasted its coppery and salty flavor. He stared first only at the ground and then slowly raised a set of cold and livid blue-crystal eyes to glare hauntingly at Dorrag; blood trickling down his chin from his broken lip. "You're the fool," he retorted tensely. His glare turned from Dorrag to settle on Darcíl, who looked perfectly at ease with everything that was transpiring.

"No, Elf. Now I am going to give you seven hours to regain your senses and if you haven't by then, I am going to hand you over to my men to do as like with you as long as the information is dragged from you. And after they have you crawling on the floor like a miserable worm, I sentence you to be put to death by hanging." Smiling he smirked, "have a nice seven hours."

The soldiers all lifted their crossbows and turned, filing out one by one, following their cruel prince. Sarchel walked by Dorrag's side, talking in hushed tones with his lord. Legolas watched them go and he noticed with some satisfaction that they must have felt his eyes on their backs as they left, for the ones in the back went as quickly as possible and glanced over their shoulders nervously.

Smiling slightly, the Elf got up and crawled over to Aragorn, lifting the human from where he was sprawled on the cold ground. "You will catch your death if you lay like that," he chided to the prone ranger as he collected him into his arms and looked at the pale face with a tinge of green in it.

Darcíl stepped forth from the shadows where he had waited for his lord to leave. He walked slowly to the bleak little cell and looked through the bars. His eyes came to rest on the pair of friends and their paled faces; forsaken eyes. He knew that as far as the Elf was concerned they had lost their last chance. He knew that the immortal still possessed quite a fervent fire within him, but it was being quenched slowly by his sorrow and misery. A small frown crossed the captain's face as he spoke to Legolas, "you cannot hold out much longer."

Legolas didn't even look up at the man of Harad as he demanded, "leave us alone." He held Aragorn close and a tear fell from his face to land on Aragorn's waxen one and trickle down the ranger's cheek in a small river. He had failed his best friend and nothing in the world could change that cold fact.

"You will break tomorrow. Nobody has held out longer and you are already too weak to put up a half decent fight." Darcíl pointed out bluntly.

"Why don't you go and attend your feast upstairs celebrating your victory?" asked Legolas bitterly without removing his eyes from Aragorn's face as he ran his hand through the ranger's dark locks mournfully.

"But we haven't obtained victory yet. And anyway, I have no reason to celebrate," he muttered grimly.

Legolas gave him strange look. "You don't?" he asked incredulously. Did this man think he was stupid or not listening? Whatever the case Legolas was more than half tempted to say 'liar'!

"No, I don't," Darcíl said quietly. He looked at the stone floor sadly.

"Indeed?" Legolas snorted. "Why not?"

"Because if you break tomorrow you doom my home and life." Producing a key he opened the cell door and stood before Legolas and narrowed his eyes. "I don't really care about you and whether you are in pain or live or not. I only want to you alive because Dorrag wants you dead. Is that understood?" He kicked Legolas' foot as he spoke.

"Not exactly, but I doubt you will explain anymore," responded the Elf smoothly but with a touch of anger.

"Not at the moment anyway," Darcíl as he looked over his shoulder nervously. His hand went to his sword hilt out of habit. They did not have long and if he didn't move quickly they would be captured and he tried for treason.

"So you are going to help us escape?" Legolas asked without letting the suspicion slide from his voice. His eyes left his ill friend and he glanced up at Darcíl mistrustfully. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Whether you believe me or not it is true. But if we do not hurry we will all be caught." Glancing down at Aragorn he asked swiftly, "Can you carry him?"

"How far?"

"Elf, it doesn't matter. Just, can you?" asked Darcíl again impatiently as he looked over his shoulder a second time. "If you can't I am not afraid to kill him and leave him behind," the Haradrim captain stated anxiously as he expect a troupe of soldiers to be sent down for his arrest at any moment.

Legolas stammered, "yes! I can carry him!" There were no second thoughts needed. He doubted that he would be able to carry Aragorn, he could barely walk himself, but his determination hardened and it fed his strength.

"Good, now get up!" he commanded sternly and turned to leave. When he realized Legolas was not behind him he stopped and turned around with a look akin to anger flashing in his eyes. "What's wrong Elf?" His unsympathetic voice made Legolas' stomach churn as he stood on his weak legs trying hard to carry his own weight and the weight of the unconscious ranger whom he could feel fading.

"I have been through hours upon hours of torture and you ask what is wrong?" the blonde prince seethed as he struggled forward. His blue eyes had a jaded tint in them and it was more than obvious the Elf was strongly feeling the effects of his fatigue.

"Elf I am being generous. I do not need him alive and if he slows you I can easily get rid of him." Legolas clutched Aragorn closer and a mutinous expression came across his face.

"You would be sorry if you tried, human," he managed out around his wheezing that came from the pain that coated his body. He felt like he was going to collapse any moment.

"You are in no position to be making threats!" reminded Darcíl with aggravation.

"We are wasting time!" Legolas spat. "Now are we leaving or not?" A green taint was entering Legolas' face as his stomach turned violently and he felt very ill.

"Get moving and we shall see." Darcíl began to walk towards the dead end of a dark passage. He stopped and turned around to see the trailing Elf giving him a questioning look. It was very nearly laughable and he couldn't blame the immortal really. What he was doing did seem rather stupid. "There is a trap door," he explained briefly and then let his actions speak for him.

A slight grating sound was heard as Darcíl put his strength into sliding a large stone slab away from the gapping hole that shown beneath it. A dank, stale odor came up and it did nothing to help Legolas' ill stomach. The thought of traveling down there, in the dark, it not please the Elf very much. Estel was not awake and this man could not possibly understand his fear or even care if he did.

Willing himself not to tremble, the Elf asked, "So are you coming with us?" Legolas shifted Aragorn's weight in his arms.

"I can't. If I disappear they will get suspicious and you shall not get far," Darcíl answered quickly as he motioned for the blonde being to get into the hole. He then showed the knife that had been in Legolas' cell and waved it before Legolas' face before he slipped it into the prince's boot since it was obvious the Elf's arms were full.

Legolas was hesitant. "Where does this lead?" The last thing he wanted was a trap or to get caught by some men and slain cruelly. He had to get Estel home. Something told him that nearly everything depended on it. And he didn't want to run in there, headless of dangers.

Darcíl answered gravely. "This leads to the village where my family lives. The people more than abhor the royal family and will provide your companion with aid. You, however, I am not sure about. But you must travel in the tunnel for at least three days without rest if you wish to get a head start before they realize where you are." Legolas gave him a reluctant look and Darcíl said, "You cannot use a torch. You must travel in the dark. A light could give you away and the fire would eat the oxygen. You have nothing to fear when it comes to turns and passages, however, the path is straight and narrow. Getting lost is not an option. When you reach the end, extend your arm upwards and you will feel a hand. Pull down on it and the door will open. You will be on the outskirts of the town."

"Well that sounds…encouraging," Legolas said wryly and with a twisted, grim smile. "Although I don't know whether I should be grateful to you for getting us out or angry with you for using us." He would have shrugged had he not been bearing Aragorn.

"There is not time for you to chose," Darcíl reminded gravely. "You must hurry or we are all three dead. Remember I would kill you on a battlefield and not think twice."

"Remember that feeling is mutual," Legolas responded irritably. The Elf extended one foot to set on the first stone step into darkness.

TBC………Please review! We love those. Legolas and Aragorn have "escaped", but how long could that last? And it is dark; Elves and darkness do not mix too well. Oh, and Aragorn is still not awake? This cannot be good…. Winces at readers Well we warned you guys! But there was some fluffy and kind parts…

Don't forget to review! We will post next week on Wednesday!