CHAPTER TWENTY
Last the Night
'Smoke' Aragorn said as they walked into the back door of a bar. 'Not that his is anything new.' He sighed inwardly as he glanced morbidly about the room he was lead into by Damrod who made it more than obvious he knew where he was going. This room, Aragorn noted emotionlessly, was just beyond the kitchen and not yet in the common room. But that was typical of a room meant for private use.
But here is where it became completely different. Aragorn smiled dryly as he thought of the oddity and the absurdity of it. It had a second door beneath you -a trap door. But it was no ordinary trap door either and was a bit craftier than he had given these people credit for.
Most trap doors opened up from the floorboards but this one definitely had its own charm. It opened up from the bottom of the fireplace, Aragorn observed darkly. 'I will probably suffocate from smoke inhalation,' the more annoying and less optimistic part of his mind felt obligated to remind him. He reluctantly placed a single foot on the first stone step. 'Ah, more stairs.' His weary body was beginning to loathe stairs more than he had ever thought one could loathe a non-living object.
One step further and he felt the cold air of the tunnel slap his face, quite literally and he jerked back as his wounds tensed and pain coursed through his system. Frowning, he watched Damrod descend a few more steps before the one of the barkeep that was with them asked in a way that grated on Aragorn's nerves, "afraid of the dark, ranger?"
Aragorn resisted rolling his dramatically and tried his best to count to ten before responding. "No, not really. But after being tortured within the very inch of my life I think that my body is weary of being placed in the dark where it is cold and my wounds and muscles grow stiff and sore." If he hadn't been in such a precarious situation he might have been even angrier.
The fat barkeeper merely raised an eyebrow before pushing Aragorn forward slightly more. "Whatever, just get walking, would you please?"
Aragorn cast the man a withering glare and then turned back to he steps, slowly going lower into the miserable dark, dank place. Snorting in aggravation at the outright rudeness and insensitivity of this corpulent barkeeper, the ranger muttered, "good evening to you too, grouchy."
"Something you would like to say, ranger?" asked the barman again, his green eyes flashing in annoyance. The tapster obviously was not pleased with having a Gondorian ranger in his bar, moreover hiding the said ranger in his bar.
"Not really, no," Aragorn answered gruffly, as he glared daggers at the stone steps about his feet, rather than turning around for fear that if he saw that man's face he would want to wipe that smirk right off. 'Prig,' Aragorn grumbled mentally.
He had came to the conclusion that he didn't like these people a long time ago. It wasn't that one or two of them weren't kind here and there but they seemed by nature to be self-fish and center-minded. He was being used as a piece in a game he didn't want to be a part of. All he wanted was to go home. If the Haradrim wanted to fight amongst themselves then they could as far as he was concerned. It kept them off Gondor's back.
Reaching the final step, he watched curiously as Damrod turned around, spinning on his heel, to look and see how he had faired as he went down the stairs. The other man smiled and said quietly, "well I see you made it down the stairs alive."
Aragorn gave the man the most annoyed look he could come up with. "Your concern is touching." He feltthe barkeeper's hand come to rest rather strongly on his shoulder. He decided almost immediately that he was not comfortable with the forcefulness of the man's grip. He tried to shrug it off but unfortunately, and much to his displeasure and alarm, he could not shake the hand free. As a matter of fact, he seemed to feel it distinctly tighten. 'Ah, this cannot be good. Eru, what are they doing to Legolas?' he asked himself silently.
'You know he is probably in trouble, as usual,' another annoying voice entered his head impassively. And Aragorn had to agree.
Damrod looked around nervously, if that were possible, before asking in a falsely jovial voice, "well how do you like these accommodations?" He held his arms out about him, gesturing to the tiny room that couldn't possibly be larger than eight feet by six feet. And it smelled dank, Aragorn noted gloomily.
"What is going on?" Aragorn asked, deciding to go ahead and simply cut through the chase, not desiring to play a cordial game that only wasted time. He narrowed his eyes indignantly whilst trying to shake off the barkeeper's hand once more and grimacing mentally in irritation when it refused to be moved out of place. His eyebrows came together, as his expression became hostile looking as he stared Damrod down.
"This is the deal ranger," Damrod began as the barkeeper's grip tightened and Aragorn glanced over his shoulder, glaring darkly. But the corpulent man simply dragged Aragorn back and slammed him up against the wall.
The ranger worked to keep the surprise off of his face as he watched the two other men press in closer to him, keeping him firmly against the uncomfortable, cold stone wall that was somewhat damp. Come to think of it, the floor wasn't overly dry either, but it was sandy and absorbed the water that flowed in rather easily.
"You will not leave here for anything, understood?" he narrowed his eyes for emphasis, his breath was hot and spongy on his cheek and Aragorn turned his head away abruptly. Seeing Aragorn's indignant expression, the man sneered, "unless you would want some punishment to befall your little friend."
"I thought you needed him alive?" Aragorn asked, startled at the threat that he never expected to receive.
"We can come up with some very painful punishments that won't kill Lindir, trust us," he advised grimly as he gazed into Aragorn's dark, stormy looking silver eyes. They looked as hard as cold iron mingled with ice water from the deepest and coldest wells of the earth. "Whatever you do, he will pay and vise versa, understood?" Damrod fought the urge to shiver as, much to his surprise and dismay, the eyes of the ranger turned a shade colder and seemed to grow more intense and deep as they bored into his.
"This is unfair!" Aragorn protested and attempted to break free but the barkeeper held his back firmly with one hand and Aragorn supposed a hobbit could hold him back at the moment. "You cannot do this-"
"But that is where you are wrong. I can and am. Listen to me, ranger, I am completely serious, do not test me. If you need anything, Gelion will check in on you every now and then," Damrod assured; gesturing at the bartender, who glared grimly at Aragorn and looked anything but sympathetic, accommodating or helpful. And that must be an understatement, Aragorn realized as he glanced wearily at Gelion.
Thunder rumbled overhead and all in the tiny room looked up. "This is where we leave you, ranger."
"What are you going to do with Lindir?" Aragorn asked quietly. He felt the color drain from his face as he felt a dread gathering in the very crux of his stomach. He hoped Legolas decided to be cooperative, for his own sake he truly did. Oh, he would supposedly suffer the consequences for Legolas' actions, which was very frustrating, but Legolas would probably get knocked around a bit regardless. He was an Elf and they were a proud and mighty people. To have one bound and at their mercy amused most people and they often took complete advantage of it.
"We cannot tell you, this is on a need-to-know basis and-"
"I need to know," Aragorn objected angrily, his temper flaring.
"If you fall into the hands of Dorrag's men, then we don't want you to be able to tell them anything. What you don't know, you can't tell," finished Damrod as he stepped away. He frowned, "they will be here in a couple of hours."
Aragorn snorted angrily and looked away as he felt himself turning bitter. They were all going to die and there was no use denying it. He had promised to get Legolas home but now it looked as though that wasn't going to happen. He didn't even have the honor and privilege of dying by Legolas' side, they were completely separated. Truly, they had never gotten to say farewell to one another and who knew if they would see each other one the other side since the fate of men was sundered from the fate of the Elves? Anger boiled and Aragorn cast one dark, perfectly sinister glower, at the back of the two men, boring his eyes through them.
Damrod glanced at Gelion as they both felt the disturbing and haunting sense of Aragorn's piercing eyes running them through with a malice. Climbing the stairs as quickly as they were able without tripping over their own feet, both of the men slammed the door and Aragorn grimaced as everything went completely black.
O0O0O0O0O0O
Sighing, Legolas leaned his head back against the wall wearily. He was far form being a happy Elf and his patience was wearing dangerously thin. It was now dark in the room with night upon them but every now and then it was lit dimly by a radiant streak of lightning that slashed through the sky, slamming into the earth. A loud clap of thunder or a long lasting and low rumble would follow and Legolas would close his eyes as he imagined himself anywhere else.
He was lonely and depressed but also bored, more bored than he had been in years. And that included his time spent in some of the most boring meetings in his memory, which reached considerably back. He had counted cobwebs, and that had been interesting at first, observing some annoyingly happy spiders crawling and scheming inside their self-made sticky little homes. But he soon grew bored with watched the Arachnids during brief flashes of lightning and he began to give himself the creeps when they wouldn't be in the same spot as before and he couldn't find them. So naturally he decided it was best not to think about them.
Changing the subject there was something else he thought was not too appealing. The rain had brought in the rats as they sought shelter, and he could here them scampering around and in the rafters just above his head. If the dark with spiders wasn't horrible enough, the dark with spiders and rats was much worse, he decided gloomily.
Shifting his weight as he felt his legs going numb from sitting in the same position for entirely too long, Legolas thought that he needed to get up and get his blood moving. Trying to rise he found that his joints were more than extremely stiff and his wounds felt very sore. Gingerly touching the cuts that graced his chest in red streaks crusted over as they healed, he found that more than one of them was overly warm to the touch. They were feverish. 'Splendid,' the Wood-Elf thought despondently. 'An infection. This is just what I need.'
Withdrawing his hand, he sighed and looked towards the window dejectedly as the lightning blew up the sky and provided a meager amount of light that lasted for an insufficient partial second. He was about to turn away from the window when something, little lights flickering, caught his attention. Narrowing his blue eyes in curiosity and slight alarm, he watched them without moving from where he was standing. They were all like individual, tiny orange fire all in the formation of a rectangle with the exception of a few stragglers and a few leaders. Campfires didn't move, he told himself inwardly as he observed them coming closer, or least it appeared they were.
He grimaced when he noticed that they were splitting into two groups. Fires didn't do that as a general rule, at least not by themselves. These were soldiers, Legolas realized with a sickening sense of dread mounting in his stomach. But what he could not understand is why the entire detachment wasn't simply coming to obliterate Astroggen. From what the man…Damrod had said, Mysol was nearby. But he had thought that Mysol wasn't an objective of Dorrag's. But trying to understand Dorrag's diluted train of thought was beyond him and he honestly didn't entirely want to.
But if the soldiers were where they were now, then that meant they wold be here in less than two hours. Where was Aragorn? What had they done with his friend! Eru, he hoped he was hidden away somewhere safe. Anger burned in his heart and looking out the window as he watched the soldiers coming from the Haradrim capital of Sygul, Legolas let the wind whip his hair about his face.
Leaning out the window he looked into the street, he saw the women were coming out, with a meager amount of possessions in their arms, dragging their children after them. Fear began to creep over him and all his muscles tense and his skin crawl as he realized the mortal danger they were all in. The women were fleeing with their children and all things precious.
There was a strange noise, he heard and pulled himself back from the window as though he was half in a trance. The disquiet and fanfare was coming from beyond the door and it was far too loud to be rats. Having the distinct and rather horrible feeling sinking in his gut, the Elf froze as he realized they were steps, steps as men were coming up. He doubted they had come to welcome him into Harad with a party and honey-cakes along with a throng of good-wishes. He smiled inwardly for no real reason while his face remained uncommonly callous and sedated.
He could feel his hands becoming sweaty in he palms, as he grew more nervous. Gripped by fear and slight quandary, he turned back to the window and looked at the soldiers coming. Lightening lit up the sky and he felt himself sink to the floor as his Elven eyes saw an Oliphaunt or two traveling with the warriors fresh out of Sygul, but they seemed to be traveling with the detachment heading in the direction of Mysol. Looking down during another flash of lightning, the Elven Prince realized that he was not on his knees and hadn't sank but that he must have felt his heart slip right down to his toes. 'That is the second time at least it has done this!' he mused to himself. It was a feeling that gave him the shivers and he shuddered unstoppably.
Legolas felt his heart thudding wildly in his chest as though it was trying to escape the cage of his ribs, hearing the people coming up the stars. What did they want with him? Where had they taken Aragorn? If Dorrag's forces captured Aragorn he would be tortured and then most definitely killed! Legolas narrowed his eyes as he forced his heart to calm down. He wasn't going to leave Aragorn and allow himself to be taken somewhere else.
An annoying voice said cynically, 'you can't fit through that window, fool!'
But a second voice murmured through his head insanely, 'of course you can, just not without breaking something.'
Legolas shook his head and watched with the flash of lightning as the doorknob slowly turned, as it was unlocked. Backstepping towards the window, Legolas prepared himself to have to leap out of it. His eyes grew in alarm when Mytra came rushing in with her cloak on, with her was Damrod and with him were two more men. Immediately seeing the lengths of rope they carried and then noticing the gag, Legolas bit out as calmly as he could, "no."
"Lindir you are going to go with the women and the children to Mysol. Don't make us hurt you, alright?" Damrod said as he stepped closer and was about to grab one of Legolas' wrists. Legolas yanked it away roughly with a brutal glare before the man got one finger to touch it. He wasn't going to voluntarily let any of them lay a hand on him.
"I will not be bound and I absolutely refuse to leave!" he protested loudly, not caring who heard. Mytra looked firm in the light to the lantern. Her face seemed to be carved of stone and her eyes looked like hard and cold gems set in the smooth surface of a stone as they caught the light of the torch and glittered maliciously. "Now if you will excuse me, I must find my friend."
Damrod snorted incredulously as he watched the Elf shift further away form them and the bonds to be set. "You can't get past us, Lindir. Now come along nicely, please."
"Oh I don't mean to get past you at all," the Elf said smoothly and quite honestly as he backed nearer to the window. The Elven Prince felt a cold and calculating smile coming to his lips as he realized what he was about to do was going to come as a complete shock to these people. He was going to enjoy the last few seconds when he would see the look on their faces before he fell the entire sixty feet to the streets below.
"Lindir, don't do something incredibly stupid," Damrod warned. "You cannot fit through that window and the fall alone would kill you. Please, just come with us." He stepped closer and Legolas jerked back in a repulsed and annoyed fashion. Damrod glared and grabbed one of Legolas' wrists, calling behind him for support from the men to his rear, which gladly came forward to lend their comrade a hand.
Legolas felt frustration and fear giving him a new strength. But he found himself dragged backwards so he was pinned against Damrod's chest with his head held by an arm across his neck, choking him slightly and getting tighter the more he struggled. His hands were being pulled in front and he could feel the rough snake-like hemp touching the newly healed skin. Deciding it was now or never, the Elf pulled one arm back away form the bonds and then jerked if forward in one fluent motion before ramming it back as hard as he was able into Damrod's defenseless stomach.
The man was caught off guard and with a grunt he released the Elf who didn't stop the think but made a break for the meager excuse for a window. The men were too shocked to do anything to restrain the fighting Elf and actually did their best to get out of his way. As far as they were concerned he was insane and it might be unhealthy to get too close. A wild light was in his eyes and when the lightning flash and cast a purple-white light on him he looked perfectly sinister and menacing.
Legolas climbed so that he was ready to drop out of the window, his body hardly fitting between the sides of the opening. Smiling back at the men as coldly as if it were a frosty morning in February, the Elf said, "I am no mindless piece to be pushed around on your game board."
With those last words, Legolas shoved himself off the window, closing his eyes as he fell. To his dismay he felt the sickening feeling like his stomach was still up in the windowsill and was trying to catch up with him. Grimacing in slight fear of pain to come, he anticipated the fall to the ground. The wind allowed his golden hair to float about him even as the rain soaked it and began to plaster it to his body in strands.
So this is what falling feels like? Interesting…
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone give a soft grunt and realized that it had been himself who had groaned as his body came in contact with the ground. But then he noticed it was far too spongy and soft and besides that he felt absolutely no pain. He didn't know a great deal about falls and impacts but he had supposed he would feel some pain and the street was hard dirt not soft and …sweet smelling. Whatever he was lying sprawled in was also an itchy substance that was prickly but felt familiar.
Daring himself to open his eyes he realized it was a cart of straw that had been rolling down the street, which explained why he still felt like he was moving. Looking up to where the window was he didn't see Damrod or anyone else looking out and frowned. He doubted they were simply giving up, Damrod seemed too stubborn for that. Entirely too stubborn.
His suspicions were proved all too true when he head a loud bang and the door to Mytra's home flung open.
Pressing himself into the straw and trying to shrink, Legolas prayed no one would discover him whom he didn't want to be discovered by. Feeling the cart speedup as chaos assimilated into the crowds of people thanks to the soldiers that were advancing ever nearer, Legolas knew he was going to have to get off. Knowing he had to get off was the easy part. Knowing where and how to get off was the difficult part.
But his decision was made for him when the cart took an extremely harsh turn and tipped nearly parallel to the ground, knocking out its accidental and unknown passenger. Legolas tumbled into the open road and winced as his wounds burst and his cracked ribs felt eh hard and sharp rocks jab him and create new and harsh bruises to add to the other ones that were just beginning to heal.
The Elf tried to scramble up but people could not see him and someone laid a heavy kick directly on top of a cracked rib, causing him to sink back to the earth in pain. Collapsing in the street he thought for certain someone would run him over with cart, being unable to see him in the dark. Curling in one himself he knew he had to get out of the road and up into the shadows between the buildings.
People rushed past and one was unfortunate and clumsy enough to trip over the prone Elf and fell with a curse. Legolas quickly crawled further away so he was out of kicking range and was about to get up when a cart came by loudly so he had some warning, but it still managed to catch him in the hip, slamming him the earth again. Elbereth! It was a stampede! Feeling the sharp pain running along his right side, Legolas feared he had broken something. Wincing, he forced himself to stand and then he froze as he wondered where he should run.
Eru! The darkness hid everything from his sight and the sounds came from all around as people panicked! 'Of course they wouldn't possess lanterns!' the more cynical part of his brain scoffed bitterly and in some disappointment. ' Well this darkness could actually help me,' he mused to himself silently. 'If I can't see them, they can't see me.' But the reverse aspect was what he didn't like. He needed to see them or else he could walk right into one in the dark and never realize it until they had him set in bonds and in a cart ready to be lead into some Valar-forsaken wasteland!
Lightning lit up the sky and Legolas saw everything for a split second. Everyone was running for his or her lives and it looked worse than hobbits racing from a dragon might seem. But he had noticed Damrod, or at least he thought it was the man, with Mytra, talking to someone who was shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. Crinkling his forehead in pain as his head throbbed relentlessly, the Elf wondered if the bandage hadn't been on it what sort of headache he would be having right now. He might have very well cracked his skull when he flipped out that wagon. Oddly enough he hadn't realized he had struck his head on the ground but he supposed that it was quite probable he had.
Blinking, he shook his head gently to try and rid it of the ringing that was pulsing through his ears and driving him to insanity. But when the potency of his headache only increased, the Elf stopped gave it up as a lost cause. Walking quickly, but taking care to listen closely about him so he wouldn't get flattened by a speeding cart and set of oxen, the prince found a place to hide in the shadow of a building and pressed himself up against the wall so that when lightning flashed none would spot him. He was counting on the chaos and darkness to conceal him.
Smiling deviously and rather belligerently, the prince decided he would wait for Damrod to come along and then he would get some questions answered, he was certain of that. He knew how to get that man to tell him what he wanted and more beyond that. Legolas didn't enjoy using creative techniques to get information but his best friend was the stakes and at the moment and, he decided undeniably and immediately, he didn't care very much about who ever was unfortunate enough to get questioned and was stupid enough not to answer him instantaneously.
He didn't have long before he recognized Damrod's voice to his left, just around the corner of the building. The man was cursing softly to himself and Legolas let his smile fade into a deep scowl and his eyes narrowed to look like blue slits of flame. His expert hearing told him that Damrod was about to walk right past him. Tensing the Elf waited for the exact moment and then his arm struck out, grabbing the man roughly by his shirt collar.
Pulling him over and slamming Damrod's back up against the house's side, Legolas pressed his hand into the man's neck and brought his face so it was inches from the Haradrim man's. "Where have you taken him, human?" he questioned acidly and without mercy in his voice.
"Elf, get your hands off me!" Damrod bit out. "Lindir, I will kill you-" he stopped as Legolas pressed the knife to the skin of his neck. He hadn't even known the Elf had possessed a knife! Devious and insane immortal, he would kill him! If it were the last thing he did, he would kill him…
"I don't think so," Legolas said in a sneer as he pressed the blade in closer and none too carefully. All his anger wanted to unleash and Legolas was having trouble controlling his temper. Copying the cold and merciless tone of voice that his interrogators had used on him in the past he spat, "now I have some questions and if you value your life you will answer them. Understood?" The prince was in no frame of mind to play games, not when there was so much he stood to lose.
Damrod spat back angrily and in frustration, "you are wasting your time."
Legolas removed the knife and then grabbed the man by his tunic, twisting his hands in the supple material, lifting the man off his feet and slamming him up onto the wall fiercely. "Really?" he asked his face now centimeters from Damrod's as he growled out, "I don't think so."
"You will regret this Elf!" Damrod said as he struggled to get free. Lightning flashed and he looked into the coldest set of blue eyes he had ever seen in his life. They were so cold he felt all warmth drain from his body and he shivered as they seemed to grow a shade cooler. Was it possible to say they looked completely heartless? No, they had pity and fear, but not for him.
"I might, but not as much as I will regret not doing it," Legolas answered coolly. "Now I am going to try this again," he said, trying to remain patient as he smiled sinisterly, unable to restrain himself. "Where did you take Thorongil?" he snarled, trying to sound as fierce as he could. Damrod wriggled some more.
"I will never tell you Elf!" he protested as thunder rumbled loudly and lightning streaked the sky once again.
"Let us pretend I didn't hear that last comment because of the thunder. Now what was that you told me?" Legolas asked icily, twisting the tunic some more and considering using the knife beneath the man's chin again. He slammed the man against the wall as hard as he could and heard the man grunt.
"I said I will never-" his response was cut off abruptly as Legolas saw his face revealed in the lightning and slammed his fist into the man's jaw, rocketing his head back to slam bluntly against the wood of the house and a faint cracking noise sounded. Legolas hoped it wasn't the man's neck or head and he had to admit, he hadn't meant to hit the human that hard. But he had to get that information or Aragorn would die and that was not an option.
"Where have you taken my friend?" he inquired and tossed the man to the ground roughly as possible while keeping a grip on him. Legolas could hear his heavy breathing as fear began to grip the Harad mortal. He had reason to be afraid, he was giving Legolas less and less time to save his friend's life. If Aragorn died this man would regret ever having seen Legolas and that was an unconditional promise. Sneering inwardly, Legolas commented silently, 'this can be easy or it can be hard. Take your pick.'
"Elf, you are insane-' he saw the glower Legolas's face possessed and the pure and unaltered anger the Elf conveyed through his eyes alone. Placing his knees on the man's chest, Legolas sneered down, his eyes reminding Damrod of dark and icy wells of water in the crux of a cave's coldest fissure. He could not help but flinch as Legolas placed the knife directly over his lung, ready to run him through.
"I have decided to be generous and let you live if you cooperate. If you don't however, I can promise you I will readily tear you apart," the blonde being guaranteed his captive. "Now where didyoutakemyfriend?" he asked thickly with bitterness creeping into his voice. "You are losing this game you have been playing so you might as well tell me right there, right now before I force you to." Thunder rumbled and Damrod sighed wearily.
"He is at the tavern, the barkeeper has a trap door built in his fireplace, it is sealed so smoke can't really leak in. But he will never let you get that ranger out-"
"We'll see about that. Later. Where is this tavern?" Legolas asked, hardly able to keep a tremor of excitement out of his voice. He frowned irritably when there was a long silence that seemed to last an entire era but in fact lasted near fifty seconds or less. His frown turning into an all out scowl, he picked the man up by his shirtfront and slammed him back into the ground violently. Grinding his teeth in what just might be called an unhealthy way, Legolas bit out threateningly, "you had better start talking. Eru, for your own good you had better!"
Legolas diverted his attention for a moment as he heard trumpets sound. The detachment of Haradrim warriors from Sygul was nearing the city, he could see their torches coming closer and he could hear their war chants. Narrowing his eyes, he turned his attention reluctantly back to the human he had pressed to the wet earth. "Think of it," Legolas taunted slowly, allowing his point to sink in as the knife blade began to sink into the man's chest, "I could stop, right now and let you live. I could do that. I wouldn't have to rip out a lung…. Maybe your liver. I mean, it's no problem for me if you want to go about this the hard way."
But he had lied. It was a problem, a big problem.
Legolas resisted the urge to shudder as he felt the hot blood squirt out of this man's chest and heard his rapid breathing. He knew what it was like to be tortured and he had doing it, Valar he really did. His hands would never feel clean of this blood that now ran over them, hot and bright red. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew his hands were red. And he couldn't stop them from trembling. The man gave a cry and then one of his hands came over Legolas' shaking one.
"You don't really want to be doing this. Stop Elf, and come with me. Just stop," the man bit out around a set of grit teeth. He arched his back and hissed as Legolas accidentally gave the knife a twist as his hand clenched. He didn't want to do this but this man had used him, had been willing to put his friend into danger. He couldn't stop now, not when this man was so close to imparting to him all the information he wanted to know or needed to.
"I won't stop until you tell me what I need to know," he hissed and pulled the dagger out, then watched, gripped by disgust, as lightning lit up the sky and showed the bright blood spurting out of a wound on the man's chest, a wound he had deviously planned and created. Eru, he felt miserable and the rain washed the blood onto his own clothes in scarlet rivers, staining them as a reminder of this incident. He had known people who took pride in interrogations were sick, but he hadn't known exactly how sick until now.
His contorted face stared down at the man who was watching him closely. But to him it seemed this Elf was determined and he shuddered in pain and wonder. He had never seen a being the adamant and this mysterious. Fear began to reach out cold tendrils towards his heart as he wondered what this blonde Elf was capable of and how far he would go to get the information he wanted. He had heard stories when he was young, about Elves, wicked and unrelenting. What had he thought, thinking he could mess with an Elf? And a desperate Elf at that.
He felt his own blood pulsing form the wound and his energy fading as his life fluid fled his body. Looking into Legolas' cold and now numb looking eyes in the flickering light of the lightning he croaked out grudgingly, "its at the end of this street. On the corner. You cannot miss it." Closing his eyes, he looked away, unable to meet the Elf's eyes that were cold and merciless now though he sensed there was something else behind them. But it was carefully masked and with another shudder the man opened his eyes and looked at the being standing over him with a naked blade.
"Are you lying?" Legolas asked, hoping and praying that he wasn't and that this was the truth. He didn't want to interrogate further, he didn't.
"No," whispered Damrod quietly as his eyes locked on the knife Legolas' hand held as though he expected it to be plunged through his heart. Thunder rumbled forebodingly and Legolas followed the man's gaze slowly, not wanting to look but feeling compelled to. He had no control anymore, everything was turning into chaos. He had just tortured someone!
Now he saw what the man's eyes were locked on, his hand… his hand that held the bloodied knife. Rain was washing the crimson liquid away and it was dripping, dripping and staining the ground. Legolas looked at it, hypnotized by what he had done and what he could do.
Suddenly there was a thump and Legolas grunted as he realized something had impacted against this stomach. No, he amended mentally; something had just impacted his stomach hard. He toppled backwards and realized with alarm and dismay that Damrod had come out on top, his hands on his throat. Legolas gasped for breath helplessly as he felt the fingers constricting and pressing his airway in. "Never take your eyes off your enemy, Elf," he snarled and pressed in tighter. "You are coming to Mysol, understood?"
"No…"Legolas croaked out as best as he could with his airway constricted. "I will never…. Never leave….my…m-my…friend!" His hands clenched and unclenched as his heels dug up mud as they pounded the ground and kicked, trying to help free him of the suffocating hands. His hands gripped the earth and he gapped.
"But you will," Damrod said. "Or I will choke you now." He smiled as he watched the Elf squirm beneath him.
"No," Legolas managed out, his eyes growing wide but taking on a furious touch, he watched everything turn red and then fade into blurry images as his oxygen deprivation began to take its toll on his body. There were two men around him now, yes, two but they seemed to come and go and merge. Now there was one, funny how they looked alike. Was Darcíl here with his twin? No, it was only Damrod…alone.
Shaking his head, Legolas knew that if he didn't get the man off of him he was going to suffocate to death. Wriggling his knees up so that they were between the man and himself, Legolas kicked out quickly, wasting no time and breathed deeply as he felt the man's fingers release from their lethal grip on his throat. There was a loud crash and a cry then things went silent.
Lying down on the ground as the rain beat him, Legolas gasped and gulped in the air as his starved lungs craved more and more air, more than he could take in at once. His breathing was rapid and deep as his chest heaved more and more and then finally, after what seemed to be decade, settled to just simple, deep breathing. Thunder rumbled and the winds picked up with the rain intensifying with them so that it was blinding and was actually stinging his skin. His bandages were soaked and now sliding off and revealing his deep lacerations that were bleeding once more as the scabs and dried blood dissolved,
'This just about figures,' Legolas thought grimly to himself as he looked at the bandages that were too wet to truly serve their purpose. In disgust he stripped them off and flung the linen aside. Then the lightning became more vehement and he saw Damrod lying against a building, his face pale and his eyes blindly staring. 'Broke his neck,' commented the Elf emotionlessly. 'Pity.'
It wasn't that he had wanted to kill the man, he had simply wanted to get him off so he wouldn't be choked to death. But he didn't feel any guilt about the man's death. He wouldn't have killed him if Damrod hadn't attacked him first. It was his own cursed fault, no one else's.
Leaving the man where he had fallen, the Elf briefly gave the corpse a pitying look before he turned and faced the street corner. The blonde being knew that he had minimal time to rescue Aragorn and get him out before the city was captured and they were hunted out and taken prisoner again.
But his ears picked up a peculiar sound, a very peculiar sound. He knew it without even thinking. It was s soft creak and then a nearly silent twang followed by a whistling noise that was scarcely heard even by the Elf. A volley of arrows had been released from somewhere. Just betting it was from the approaching detachment out of Sygul, Legolas looked hesitantly in the direction of the coming company of Haradrim warriors. Indeed, there were flaming arrows. Blinking as he watched them fall, the Elf didn't move knowing that he was out of range or at least he had thought he was. But an alarm went off in his head when one managed to land dangerously close to him directly at his feet.
Staring at it for moment he made up his mind that waiting here for the warriors to march in, firing flaming arrows and burning buildings was not the wisest decision he could come up with. As he began to back away, he heard the not so familiar sound of homes and shops catching fire and the sound of roofs, like kindling, popping and cracking as the thatching was consumed.
He was grateful for the light, but little else, the immortal decided grimly. Looking around he saw that the women and children were already gone, but in the distance he could still see the caravan leaving slowly. Sighing inwardly, he knew that chances were they would never make it farther than halfway.
Looking around in the world now colored in orange tints and large and bizarre dancing shadows, Legolas suddenly began to run towards the village tavern, which wasn't on fire yet. But that couldn't last very long, he concluded as he reached the tavern door swiftly and glanced in. Narrowing his eyes he saw the barkeeper, a rather …large man, grabbing his weapons and seemingly preparing for battle, or at least trying to. Half-smiling, half-scowling, Legolas gave a soft and incredulous snort that was more or less inaudible.
O0O
Aragorn sat in the dark; he could hear the fire popping and crackling above his head and sighed, as he knew that the fireplace was lit more to hide him than because it was needed. The temperature wasn't too cold out. Who would think to look for a trap door beneath a flaming log or two? Hopefully no one, though Dorrag and his men all seemed to be insane and someone had to think of putting it down here so someone could be insane enough to look, he decided morosely.
Just then above his head there was a loud bang followed by what he thought to be a curse of sorts. Trying weakly to stand, Aragorn came to the realization of just how stiff he was from being down here in the damp, cool dark. His wounds were sore and his muscles were not very willing to comply with his commands. But then again, his brain was not very good at giving commands at the moment. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember when it had last worked so slowly. Every slight twitch was agonizing and hurt with a cruel passion of its own.
Going over, he stumbled up the wooden stairs some of the way and tried to listen. Valar, if the soldiers found him he was as good as dead! And where ever was Legolas? That miserable Elf!
Another loud crash sounded and Aragorn crouched low below the trap door, listening fearfully and carefully. Obviously the barkeeper was having a fight with someone, but who that someone was he had no idea. Gelion was a big man, the ranger reminded himself. He should be perfectly careful of defending his position.
O0O
Legolas grimaced as he felt the hot and unfortunately familiar and coppery flavor of his crimson blood flowing from a busted lip. It trickled down his chin, as he lay sprawled against a table top with his feet barely touching the ground, with Gelion standing above him. He had been struck across the face by one of the man's large burly fists and now his head was spinning and he wondered if this was one hit too many to his skull. The room was merging and spinning in an irritating way that he was doing his best to put an end to.
"Elf, how did you get here?" questioned Gelion, standing over him with a club in hand, tapping it thoughtfully against the palm of the other as though deciding where he should start pummeling the nearly prone Elf.
Legolas glared back up wearily. He had to admit he was frowning a bit too much so he decided right then and there that a malicious smile would have the same cold affect he was searching for. "Never you mind," he snarled back. "I came for my friend. Now tell me where he is," Legolas began to rise slowly as he wriggled further from the man and his club that looked particularly cruel. "And I will cause you no trouble. We will leave momentarily, you have my word."
"You aren't going anywhere, Elf," Gelion said tensely as a cold smile to match Legolas ' crept across his face. He looked at his club pointedly before connecting eyes with Legolas, who still held the tiny dagger that he had received in the prison. This Elf was an idiot, he determined as he watched him reach for his pathetically short little dagger. As if it would do him a bit of good!
"Oh but that is where you are wrong, human, I am going somewhere, home. After I get my friend back, which if you will stop delaying me will be shortly," Legolas added distinctly. He swerved to the side to avoid a blow to his head with the club, which would have knocked him out stone cold if it had hit him. 'Watch where you are swinging that thing,' he pointed out mentally. 'It's dangerous.'
"Elf, you aren't leaving this house, unless I say so, which by the way, I say you aren't," Gelion growled as he came between the Elf and the door.
Legolas gave him a half frown and then turned his back on the man and made a break for the fireplace. Ugh, it was burning! How could he save Aragorn if he couldn't reach the door because there was a fire burning! This had to be the most frustrating thing he had ever been through if you disregarded the meeting where they argued for hours simply over trade to Lake Town when it was truly quite pointless.
There was a sharp and aggravating pain in between his shoulders, he realized as he gasped and fell flat on his face. His hands brushed against the flames before he jerked it away. Rolling over, he found himself looking up at Gelion, club raised, ready to strike again. Thinking quickly, Legolas quickly rolled over and rolled clear of the massive and heavy chunk of carved wood. Narrowly missing having a considerable bump raised on his skull, Legolas heard Gelion grunt in dismay. "Damn, Elf," he cursed loudly.
Standing up quickly, the Elf jerked to the side and then struck at the barkeeper's arm with his knife, cutting a bloody line across the limb. The man cried out in pain and drove his club at Legolas' side, managing to catch him and knocking the wind out of him whilst slamming him against the table corner.
This time it was Legolas' turn to cry out and he bit his lip as he felt the pain lanced through his already abused ribs and abdomen. Damn! He simply must go faster, he must. The soldiers were coming so he had to get Aragorn fast or they wouldn't get out of the town alive, especially since the archers were already in range.
Feeling dazed, Legolas only knew that his meager knife was not a good weapon in this fight. Looking over, he realized this was a kitchen after all, and there were pots, pans and all sorts of various knives. Really it could be a butcher house if he were looking to kill the man, but fortunately for the human he was not. His blue eyes swirled to look above him and he noticed detachedly that there was a large black skillet above his head, heavy and made of iron. Reaching up, he grabbed it and relieved the hook it had been resting on of its weight.
Gelion made one final swipe for the prince's head and that was his undoing. The swipe narrowly missed breaking Legolas' nose but the immortal jerked his head back, slamming the back of it against the wall with a violent smack. But at the same time, the prince brought the iron pan down hard and it smashed down across the man's forehead. He crumpled forward onto the dazed Elf; out stone cold and perhaps dead. Legolas decided quickly that he didn't care much about the man at this point it.
Stumbling over all but blindly to wear the fireplace was, he knew the trapped door was beneath the flames. Knowing that there was no other way to get the fire out and the ashes removed eh reached his booted foot in the flames and began to roll out the burning logs. Shocking pain raced up his right leg and he felt like a Balrog was consuming his thigh as the flames licked his clothes and seared his skin. Crying out, the Elf realized with dismay and frustration he could get no more out with his feet and kneeling by the fireplace on the stone hearth, the Elf began to scoop the hot ashes out of the way with his hands, desperately trying to get to his friend.
He bit his lip and grimaced as he felt his hands burn and his skin turn extremely tender to the touch. He could smell the horrible stench of his own skin burning as he hurriedly scooped the door free of the smoldering coals and slightly burning kindling pieces. 'Elbereth, this hurts,' he groaned mentally. But it was all for Aragorn, all of it.
Opening his eyes, he saw the door handle and grabbed it, crying out as the metal burning his hand and then everything seemed to go cold and then he felt no more. Ignoring his own pain and discomfort, the prince realized he couldn't jerk the door open, it was locked with a bolt drawn across it. Cursing his luck, Legolas grabbed the scalding hot bolt without thinking twice and wrenched it over, releasing the lock. Using the handle, Legolas finally swung the door up and open and stared down into the shocked face of Aragorn.
O0O
Cortanyar looked at the village with a displeased and cold frown as he thoughtfully turned things over in his head, assessing the situation. These villagers, or at least a good percent of them, were putting up a decent fight, a fight he had honestly not fully expected, even though this town was known for its more rebellious tendencies and he should have known that today would be no exception. Sheathing his saber like sword, the man walked forward ad few more feet and screamed at his troupes. "Don't light the arrows, the enemy can dodge them! Use night arrows!"
Seriously, these warriors needed to learn to use their heads! It was not some extensive surgery that needed a highly developed brain! It was fighting for your life and trying to shoot he enemy full of arrows before he filled you full of them instead. Walking stiffly over to where one of his commanders was ordering the troupes to dash the fire, he glared, "well, how are we holding up, all things considered?"
"Sir, we have taken considerable loss after the first volley, but we vindicated them, sir." He looked up at his superior with a complaint and anxious expression on his face. It was clear that he was alarmed about more than the situation.
"How many did we lose?" Cortanyar questioned around set of grit teeth, his eyes darkened as they narrowed into slits of inquiry and wrath. "I am waiting, Lieutenant."
"Well, we lost at least twenty, maybe more. But we made them pay as much if not more," he added with a hopeful half-smile that was so small it was simply overlooked by Cortanyar as he gazed at the chaos surrounding his men and this entire blasted village.
"Who had ever thought these rebels could be so cursed hard to vanquish?" he spat contemptuously as he watched a few house burst into flame. A small smile played on his lips but then he pressed them tight with concern. He had been ordered to keep the city in tact. If he went ahead and burned few of these houses, Dorrag might not be too unpleased but if that fire spread, well life wouldn't be worth living when Dorrag found out. Cortanyar shifted his weight uneasily and then said, "move in, find that Elf and kill that ranger, Bring the Elf to me as soon as he is secured."
"Sir, with all due respect, this operation is going rather well, I believe. I mean all things considered we are driving the rebels out and killing them pretty quickly." He gave a shrug and said calmly, "and perhaps we can make a deal with the rebels if we cannot find the Elf and ranger." Maybe that was not the smartest thing to say when one considered Cortanyar's mood but it was too late to take it back, so biting his lip, the underling waited patiently for the inevitable wrath to follow.
Cortanyar sneered bitterly and then asked in a snarl, "oh? And what kind of deal are we talking about here?" His officers were all insane, he mused thoughtfully. You didn't bargain with the enemy, you forced them to obey you through fear and pain. You made their lives miserable, that was how you conquered.
"We could propose that we don't obliterate their village if they hand over the Elf and ranger," the Lieutenant said smoothly, trying to sound as convincing as possible but knowing that he was probably going to get nothing but harsh rebuke for his efforts. Something drew his attention to the right as he saw his men pressing back a small group of rebel's that might have attempted escape. "Stop them! No one of them gets away!" He shouted loudly and rather harshly.
"We bargain for the Elf and ranger?" Cortanyar asked with an amused expression on his face that looked belligerent as anything and he shook his head. "You know why you can't get further than being a Lieutenant? You have yet to realize that dead men are so much less resistant and troublesome than live ones. Not to mention the fact that the village is in so much turmoil the Elf and ranger are probably are lost to them as well."
The other man gulped silently and then got back to his duty all the while bristling form the rebuke and thinking venomously, 'or I have learned that killing may be the easiest way but not always the best way.' He looked at the troupes he had been placed in charge of and watched as they lit the meager wheat fields nearby and even though it rained, the crops went up after oil was thrown haphazardly on them. Glancing at the village he noticed that the soldiers were not encountering any more resistance and that in fact, the rebels were fleeing. Feeling some satisfaction, he looked up at his commander, who was smiling maliciously.
"Move in and break down every door, spare no house, but keep your torch happy men under control!" he added with a purposed look at men about them, brandishing torches as thought they were flags to be waved around without much thought. "We must not destroy the entire village!"
TBC...Hmmmmm...well we have a semi-evil cliffie. Can't say we are surprised. Legolas got rather violent there, didn't he? But you have to admit, Damrod asked for it!