A/N1: This chapter is dedicated to Tom McClean, a friend who went to be with the ancestors two nights ago after suffering a massive heart attack. You will be missed Tom. Namarië mellon-nín.

A/N2: I am also co-dedicating this chapter to Linuvial Greenleaf who unknowingly got me passed my writer's block. If you can write in spiral notebooks, mellon-nín, then so can I.

A/N3: Why does the slave boss pick on Legolas more than Halgar? Perhaps the inner beauty that all elves carried within their hearts was something that Himlad sensed and couldn't abide unless he himself could possess it and since he knew he couldn't, he tried to destroy it.

A/N4: Warning for mild language.

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"Know that the pain will pass, and, when it passes, you will be stronger, happier, more sensitive and aware."
-- Mel Colgrove

Chapter 10

Hoth

Lord Elrond Peredhil, Noldor Lord of Imladris and keeper of a Ring of Power, gave a sigh of exasperation - just like anybody else would have when faced with a pile of dispatches and scrolls that he swore was getting taller, even as he looked at them. He picked up his quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and then picked up the first dispatch. The pile didn't seem to be impressed by either his glare or his raised eyebrow, and so the Lord of Imladris decided the time had finally come to begin his daily work.

He had just picked up the third scroll when a flash of movement outside the window of his study caught his attention. He paused, quill still hovering over the document in front of him, and turned his head toward the window. Again there was a flash of movement, but this time he saw what it was that had caught his attention.

A messenger falcon, wearing a leg band adorned with Mirkwood colors, flew by the window and was quickly lost to sight. Sitting back in his chair, Elrond continued to watch and sure enough, a few seconds later the large bird came flying back in the opposite direction. Intrigued by the bird's odd behavior, he laid the quill down by the side of the dispatch he had been working on and walked to the window. Just as he reached the glass and looked outside, the falcon flew by again, this time at eye level and when it did, he could have sworn that the bird glared at him.

Chuckling to himself not only at the bird's apparent confusion but also its persistence, he decided to go to the aviary and attempt to find out why the bird was expending its energy in such erratic behavior instead of resting after its long journey in the comfort of warm bedding. When he reached the room, he immediately understood what was going on for the wooden window, normally kept open so that birds carrying messages could come in and rest upon their arrival in Imladris, was closed. Not more than a few seconds after he opened the window and slipped the small wooden dowel into the hole that was used to prop the window open, the falcon flew in and finally came to rest on the pile of warm straw. As it fanned its large wings one final time, it cheeped at the Lord as if thanking him for finally noticing its dilemma.

Elrond knew that the message from Mirkwood must be urgent if the King had sent it by such a swift messenger rather than by one of the slower carrier pigeons. After stroking the great bird's head to sooth it and after offering it a treat always kept ready in a bowl just inside the door, he took the small message tube off the bird's leg. He was surprised once more, when he saw that the message was addressed to Estel.

He was on his way out the door of the aviary when an out-of-breath Bird Master ran up to him, apologizing profusely for his tardiness and promising that the behavior would not be repeated in the future. After speaking with the elf for a few moments and letting him know that the falcon had just arrived from Mirkwood, the Lord continued walking back the way he had come. A servant was just passing by the study door when the Lord arrived and after stopping the elf, he requested that he find his youngest son and ask him to come to his study.

Elrond frowned, wondering why the King would be sending Aragorn a message, unless it had something to do with Legolas. He shook his head, hoping the young Prince was well but sensing somewhere in his heart that that was probably not the case; but if the young one was well, once he and Aragorn were united, the world as they all knew it would probably be changed forever.

"Eru help us all." He said as he shook his head then sat down at his desk, sighing deeply and once more picking up his quill.

Lord Elrond had managed to work his way through a number of dispatches when he sensed the approach of his youngest. Although young even by human standards, the young Ranger was quite stealthy and if he had not been an elf, he would probably not have heard the young edan's approach. But not only was he an elf, but he was a father as well, with the defensive skills that only the father of twin sons and a young human could possibly have acquired. He smiled, for there was no way that any of his sons possessed the necessary skills to sneak up on such a wary father.

"Not bad Estel, but not yet good enough to fool your father."

Elrond smiled as Aragorn kissed him on the top of the head.

"You sent for me, Ada?"

Elrond handed the message tube to Aragorn.

"This just arrived for you. Thranduil sent it with one of his fastest falcons and since it is addressed to you, I assume that it has something to do with the young Prince."

Aragorn took the tube from his father and sat cross-legged on the couch but after his father raised an eyebrow at such unseemly behavior, he put his feet on the floor and removed the small piece of parchment from the tube in his hands. He spent some moments reading the letter then, frowning, he turned to his father who waited patiently for his son to gather his thoughts and speak.

"King Thranduil sent the message on behalf of Legolas, Ada. Legolas asked me to meet him in a little village that lies at the head of the Ninglor River. He said to tell me that the matter was urgent and to be alert for slavers that may be in the area and if that if his father did not hear from him in two weeks, he was supposed to contact Elladan and Elrohir here, and they would know what to do."

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"As soon as I can pack and saddle a horse."

"I know that it would be useless for me to tell you to be careful Estel."

Aragorn smiled for his father knew him too well.

"Ada, if Legolas says that the situation is urgent, then he must need my help badly and you know I would never tell him no. I do, however, promise to be as careful as I can."

Elrond could see the worry in his son's eyes.

"Estel, Legolas knows you will come as soon as you get the message. It doesn't sound as if he is in trouble - " the two look at each other and said in unison, " - yet!"

Elrond turned back to his desk and his work as Aragorn got up to leave.

"That bay mare of mine hasn't been ridden in awhile." He said matter-of-factly without looking at his youngest son. "She's fast and good at a distance."

"Thank you, Ada."

After kissing his father on the top of his head one more time, he ran out of the room.

At the sound of his youngest son's rapidly receding footsteps, Elrond began to mutter to himself. "I think that boy's philosophy is … don't walk when you can run!"

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Aragorn took the stairs to the family's private living quarters two at a time as he raced for his room and once inside, started grabbing extra tunics and leggings and other things he would need on his journey and shoving them haphazardly into his pack. He smiled as he thought of the teasing that he would have gotten from Legolas for his sloppiness - if he had been there. Once again he thought of the message and even though he did not have the gift of foresight that his father had, his stomach was still getting queasy from the feeling of impending disaster he was getting. Something was wrong - very wrong.

The last item to go inside his pack was his healer's kit and as a matter of habit, he opened it and went through the items inside, making sure that the kit was completely stocked. That had been one of the first lessons his father had taught him when he had first become old enough to go out on his own - keep the healing kit stocked. If you never had a chance to use it, fine, but if something happened - a full healer's kit could mean the difference between life and death.

Looking around the room one last time and making sure he had not missed anything, he buckled on his sword and dagger, grabbed his quiver, bow, and long leather "ranger's coat" as his brothers called it, and seeing nothing else that he really needed, ran from the room.

He ran down the stairs the same way that he had a few moments before - two at a time - but after almost running into the family's butler, Elurin, he slowed his pace a bit and after apologizing to the aged elf, ran out the front door and up the path to the stables.

Once he had reached his destination, he ran to the stall where his father kept his bay mare, Hiril, who started dancing as soon as Aragorn picked up the saddle. The Lady knew she was going on a trip and was eager for it to begin for it had been long since she had had a chance to stretch her long, beautiful legs.

Aragorn smiled at the mare and spent some time calming her and rubbing her behind her ears, telling her that he had need of her great strength and speed because his friend needed him and he must travel to a far place as quickly as possible.

"I would appreciate your assistance on this journey, my Lady, for without you I may not arrive in time to aid my friend."

The mare seemed to understand and nickered then nodded her head as if to say, "What are we waiting for then?"

Leading her out of the stable then mounting, Aragorn galloped towards the front gate of Imladris. He gently pulled the mare to a stop at the steps of the Last Homely House, for his father was standing there with a large packet in his hands.

"Elurin said that you left so quickly, Estel, that you didn't stop for food. Take this waybread for your journey."

"I thank you Ada. And please, thank Elurin for me as well."

"Have a safe journey, Estel and do try to come back home without having to be carried in!"

Touching his forehead in thanks then laying his hand over his heart, Aragorn laughed then galloped away.

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He had decided to go over the High Pass and had also thought that if he cut through the forest on the Imladris side of the pass instead of taking the more well traveled route, he could save almost half a day of riding. Hiril was fresh and ready for travel and Aragorn found that he had to gently rein her in on several occasions. Patting her neck he kindly told her not to "spend it all in one place," for they had a long way yet to go.

Sitting easily in the saddle, he was relaxed in body yet alert in mind, his eyes continuously scanning the passing landscape, as he remained alert for anything that could be a hindrance to his travel or his life. The ranger in him allowed him to do no less and he found himself moving easily with the rolling gate of the mare in a partnership that would insure that there would be something left at the end of the day other than sore legs and back.

He would count himself three times blessed if he encountered no orcs, wargs or trolls before he met with Legolas, even though mobile danger wasn't the only thing he had to watch out for and contend with. He threw himself down and to the side and briefly clung to the side of Hiril's neck as she galloped beneath the low hanging branch of a tree. The mare had trusted that her rider would see the branch just as she trusted him to guide her over holes and around rocks and other impediments that could easily result in a broken leg if she did not miss them.

Moving swiftly through the trees, Hiril changed leads effortlessly as she wove her way between trees in places where neither man nor horse had ever traveled. And even though his was an urgent journey, Aragorn still enjoyed the trip, for in the place he traveled at this moment, there was a crispness to the pine-scented air, and a beauty for the eyes to see that could only be found in a pristine wilderness setting.

Even as the shadows began to grow longer as the sun continued its journey into the west, the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach did not go away. And for that reason alone, he traveled continuously, pausing only long enough to feed, water and rest the horse.

While he traveled, he had a chance to think about the message Legolas had sent him and the more he thought about it, the worse the feeling in his stomach got until it was all he could do to keep himself from urging Hiril on a little faster.

The bond he shared with Legolas was usually not wrong and at that moment it was screaming at him to hurry - that his brother needed him.

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The elf in the last wagon moaned in his sleep and tossed fitfully causing the human traveling with him to lightly brush the side of his face with the back of his fingers, after which the sleeping being lay still - for a time. Legolas had been plagued with bad dreams during the entire trip and so Halgar had taken it upon himself to remain awake while his friend slept so that if and when Legolas's sleep grew troubled he could try to soothe the bad dreams away.

Halgar looked at his friend as he quietly calmed him. Legolas was still sleeping with his eyes closed which was something that worried him, especially since the Prince had at one time told him that unless there was something wrong with an elf, they always slept with their eyes open. The bruises on his face were slowly fading, the swelling was gone and a soothing ointment Halgar always kept with him had almost healed the split in the elf's lips.

The stitches from his head wounds had been removed but the broken ribs and surprisingly, the dagger wound received in the battle with the Uruk Hai were the slowest of the injuries to heal.

Legolas's strength and energy were slower in returning and Halgar knew that the Prince's wounded spirit was partially to blame. He didn't speak as much as he use to, although Halgar didn't mind and did enough talking for both of them for he was quite used to having only himself to talk to.

Whenever they would be allowed to leave the wagon and walk about, Halgar always made a point to stay close to Legolas and do his best to take the abuse of the slaver guards onto himself. The slavers were determined to make the trip as miserable as possible for the elf and went out of their way to run into him with the shoulder of their horses and would often inflict punishment on him for the slightest infraction of oftentimes made-up rules. Halgar would do what he could to take the blow of the whip or the blame for breaking a rule - anything he could to allow Legolas a little more time to physically heal. The psychological healing, he had a feeling, would take much longer.

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The slavers and their prisoners reached the city at night, and when the wagons and horses finally emerged from the forest on the northeast side of the Sea of Rhûn, those inside the wagons gasped in amazement at the sight before them.

Although Halgar had been awake when they arrived and had been casually watching the trees as the wagons passed them by, there had still been no indication of the city's existence until they had emerged from the forest. He gently shook Legolas awake then helped him sit up, noticing the Prince wince when he did so.

The city before them was immense although as far away from the city's borders as they were, they could see little detail. There are so many tents around the perimeter of the city that at first it seemed almost like a tent city.

There was one structure, however, that dominated the landscape before them. The great palace was a multi-storied, garish-looking, stone structure that sat in the North Central third of the city. It reminded Halgar more of a monument to somebody's vanity than the functional seat of power for the government of a large city and the people who lived there. Whatever beauty and dignity the city itself might have possessed was lost in the shadow of this tribute to depravity. Halgar had never met the people who lived here, but already he could tell that he didn't like the place.

The semi-permanent structures the wagons passed on their way to wherever they were going suggested that the people were, or had come from, a nomadic culture at some point in their history.

As the slavers' wagons and the mounted guards made their way further into the heart of the bustling metropolis, and even though full dark had settled on the land, the lanterns that lined the streets and decorated the merchants booths kept the night at bay - and for a time the city of Hoth lay awake and alert.

Here and there among the multi-colored robes and tunics, Halgar and Legolas could see other beings, timid and self-effacing, who wore spiked collars around their necks and who cast furtive yet sympathetic glances at the two as their prison wagon lumbered by.

An ever-curious Halgar looked down at the wide, smooth streets that provided ample room for both pedestrians and wagons and he wondered at the design, for he had seen it nowhere else that he had ever been. Evenly spaced and intersecting at regular intervals, the smooth, semi-soft roads gave order to a seemingly disordered way of life.

Whatever charm the city might have had, wore thin then disappeared altogether before the wagons even came to a stop as it became glaringly apparent what the main source of income was for it.

"These people barter the flesh of others for a coin." Halgar said as he sadly shook his head. "They devalue the spirit of these beings to less than that of a pet pig."

He watched as a master beat, then kicked, a cowering slave who dared raise an arm over his head in his own defense.

"… and even less than that." He says softly.

Having gotten no response from Legolas, Halgar turned.

"Legolas?"

Legolas was sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his kneecaps and as Halgar places a hand comfortingly on the elf's back, he could feel that the blonde elf was beginning to tremble.

"Legolas, are you not well?"

"No Halgar, I am not well, nor will I be well until I am rid of this place. This city disturbs my heart for I have been here before!"

"You have been here before?"

"Not here, Halgar, but in a place that also touched depravity, for it also traded the flesh of free beings for a coin and free beings were made to cower if they betrayed their purpose and refused to serve their masters who gave their bodies as gifts to pleasure others."

There was a mixture of fear and anger on his face.

"I have been to such a place and after I was freed, I swore that I would never go back."

He looked away as his eyes filled with tears.

"And yet, here I am once more."

They had not noticed that the wagon had stopped and both beings jumped when Himlad appeared beside them and shook the bars on the wagon.

"Look alive you two!" He laughed when they both jumped.

"Welcome to Hoth - your new home. Now haul your sorry asses out of that wagon."

Five guards surrounded them, and as they climbed out of the wagon, Himlad slashed Legolas viciously across his shoulders with his quirt, sending the elf to his knees after which he motioned to Halgar.

"Come on little rabbit. Come pick up your friend here then go over into that arena."

He pointed with the end of the quirt.

Helping Legolas to his feet, Halgar helped him towards the enclosure that Himlad had indicated. They had not been there long when a tall, dark-skinned man wearing dark, flowing robes, approached the slaver.

"Himlad, you old dog! I haven't seen you since last spring!"

The slaver spun at the sound of the familiar voice, then smiled and held his hand out which the other took then shook in a gesture of greeting.

"Tarag, my friend, it is good to see you as well!"

The two humans conversed quietly for a time, intermittently laughing as they caught up on all that had gone on since they had seen each other last. Then, when the formalities and niceties had at last been met and exhausted, the conversation finally got around to business.

"Tarzeg tells me you brought in some interesting merchandise for me to look at!"

The taller man grabbed a mutilated, one-eyed slave that had been kneeling at his feet by his collar and drug him closer, the slave nodding his head in his eagerness to please his master.

Tarag grimaced and covered his nose and mouth with one of his hands.

"You smell, Tarzeg!"

He threw the slave away from him in disgust and the human landed hard on the ground but even as he did the pitiful creature giggled nervously and grinned even more.

"I live to serve you, my Lord. My apologies for my odor, my Lord."

Himlad has been frozen in place during the exchange but quickly regained his composure.

"Aye, Tarag, I brought you a real treat."

Taking the taller man's arm, Himlad guided him to the enclosure and looked in.

"Little rabbit," he yelled, "you and your friend come over here - NOW!"

Climbing to their feet, Halgar and Legolas walked over to the fence. Tarag raised an eyebrow when he saw Legolas.

"An elf? Himlad you may be ugly, but you know what I like!"

He took the slaver by the arm and began to steer him towards a booth that was selling fermented beverages.

"Come, my friend. Let us haggle over a price with a drink in each hand!"

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After a satisfactory price had been decided upon, two brawny, dark-skinned men put heavy spiked collars with rings on the two and after attaching heavy lead-chains to the rings, took them across the city to one of the larger semi-permanent tents on the outskirts. There was a fenced-in area to the side of the tent in which they could see other beings milling about and who also wore the mark of their Master and Lord. As the two guards led Halgar and Legolas to the head guard's hut, Legolas made the mistake of glaring at one of the guards. The guard jerked on the chain attached to the elf's collar and drew him closer to himself until he was close enough to hit. Legolas was viciously and repeatedly slapped until both sides of his face were once more beginning to bruise.

"Lesson number one you worthless piece of meat - never meet the eyes of those better than you."

It was a hard lesson for Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood to learn, but as Halgar later told him, to survive until help arrived, they had to do whatever they needed to blend in and survive. As they sat in the dirt with the rest of the slaves, Legolas once more drew his knees up to chest and rested his forehead on them. Halgar was worried for his friend and could only pray that Aragorn would find them before the elf's memories and what he knew was about to come overpowered him.

TBC

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Star-Stallion: Yes … fear the quirt! Fear the coming of Star-Stallion who will wreak unimaginable havoc upon you as she seeks vengeance for your ill treatment of our heroes! Mwahahaha! I just about fell out of my chair when I read your review!!! LOL! You truly made my day! Thanks for the review and hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Deana: I agree - poor Legolas. He is finding himself back in a place he was hoping he would never have to go back to. Howwill hebe able to handle this? Well, it's anybody's guess. Thanks for the review.

Padfoot's Pup: How are they going to get out of this situation? The storm clouds are just building and the real storm hasn't even arrived! It's going to be an extremely difficult time for our guys. Am I starting to sound like a fortune cookie? Thanks for reviewing!