Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)

Characters: All Peredhels, mainly Strider, Legolas……and something/someone deadly….

Timeline: Before FOTR

Rating: T

Warnings: Cruelty and maniacal behaviour. WIP.

Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..

Feedback: YES! Please!

A/N: Trinilee, hello! Many thanks for beta-ing this so quickly! You rock. Replies to reviews are on their way via email as soon as my account lets me get there (grrrr, computers...:-))

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Disclaimer: I own nothing of the works of Tolkien. Neither books, nor movies. I just borrow them and try to give them back in one piece later. I make no money with this story. Please, do not sue me.

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Chapter 15 – Games hunters play

Elladan was shaking his brother's shoulder, but the ranger's eyes would not open and after a moment the elf saw the rising of his brother's chest deepen and knew that Estel had fallen unconscious in his arms.

Bewildered, the older twin looked at his other brother, not comprehending what had just happened. Why had Estel fainted? What was wrong with him? But Elrohir looked as puzzled as Elladan felt.

Feeling Estel's pulse and his forehead, the younger twin noticed that the pulse was too fast for his liking and the skin too hot. Sighing inwardly, Elrohir spoke what his twin had been thinking: "How many more injuries has he hidden from us?"

Moving nearer to his human brother, Elladan gently took Estel's shoulders and placed the ranger's upper body against his own, trying to shield him from the nights cold and making it more comfortable for the man.

He could only shake his head at Elrohir's question, but inside he knew that their brother's condition was graver than they had thought.

When the hunter returned to fetch the tray, he found both humans asleep in the elves arms and wondered how the humans were able to find any sleep near such strange creatures.

xoxoxoxo

Cursing softly under his breath, Legolas made his way through the forest, the nocturnal insects that still dared to move were flying all around him, drawn to his blond hair and the white handles of his twin blades.

The stars were veiled and the moon was imprisoned by the heavy clouds that hung deep in the sky, nearly touching the tree tops. The wind had risen some hours ago, foreboding the coming storm and announcing its masters arrival.

But Legolas had no time to take this all in. All he knew was that he had lost the hunters from his sight and that he had to find the humans before it was too late.

When the humans had crossed the tiny river that gurgled beside their route, the archer had made a short stop to quench his thirst and to revive himself. It had taken him only a few minutes to do so, but when he had walked on, he had found that the hunters had hastened their horses and had ridden out of his sight.

Through the whole day the Prince had tried to catch up with them once more, but the deep imprints of the hooves had showed him that the hunters had indeed hastened onwards, sparing neither horses nor rider.

Now, deep into the night, Legolas was weary and tired. More than anything else he wished for a place to rest and lie down, to massage his aching muscles and to ease his troubled soul. How much further have these humans gone? the Prince mused. Starting to wonder whether the hunters had stopped at all or rode on until they reached the Misty Mountains, Legolas stumbled over a small root sticking out of the forest floor.

Having walked all day, his arms were moving slower than he was used to and therefore the elf landed flat on his stomach on the muddy ground. Cursing his luck, the elf lifted his head, only to let it fall back to the mud as fast as he could, splattering his blond braids with gray wet earth. Because there, only a few feet away from him, a red and golden glowing fire was illuminating the faces of at least three humans, all heavily armed.

Legolas had found the hunter's camp.

Crouching behind the plants that covered his slender form from curious eyes, the Prince let his gaze travel over the camp, searching for guards as well as for his friends. The guards were easy to spot, sitting and standing near the red fires, others lingering near the edge of the small clearing, surveying the trees and the underbrush.

Pressing his body low to the earth and breathing as shallow as he dared, Legolas' eyes moved from one side of the camp to the other, trying to spot his friends. After some more moments of unsuccessful staring, he felt his hope falter.

Had these humans disposed themselves of his friends? Had they already murdered them, letting their dead and beaten bodies lay on the cold and unforgiving ground to be burned by the sun and drenched by the rain? Was it possible that his friends were already dead, gone from this world into the sphere of the next?

Closing his deep blue eyes briefly, the archer took a deep breath to control the panic that rose in his chest. No, he thought. The hunter's had done no such thing. They needed them alive and furthermore, he had not seen any bodies and had not found any sign that would indicate that anything like that had happened.

Opening his eyes again to the black darkness of the forest and the demonic glow of the fires, the elf focused on the hunters, then the woods around him. Whispers reached his sensitive ears, whispers of struggle and hardship but also of joy because two of the eldar that had chosen to stay under the trees for the night.

Silently thanking the trees that sheltered him from the eyes of the hunters, Legolas let his gaze wander to the edge of the forest, scanning the tree line for any sign of his friends. And, short moments later, his tired eyes found what he had been looking for. There, in the cold of the night and the shadows of the dark, his friends were sitting under the trees, sheltered some from the wind but open to the cold.

Glancing around to survey the countryside, Legolas had to admit to himself, that there was no way for him to reach his friends side as on one side the horses barred his way and on the other the thick underbrush was full of long thorns.

Anger and frustration rose in his heart to battle over the rule of it and he balled his hands into fists in his agitation. He was so near, so near but unable to help them; again! How could the Valar be so cruel to him? Had he not always served them right? Had he not held them high in his thoughts and adorned them as much as he could?

Not understanding why he should deserve such a cruel fate, the blond archer crawled as near to his friends as he could, then pulled his cloak around his slim shoulders and even over his hair, covering it from view. So he lay and watched, willing his eyes to stay open and to watch over his friends during the night.

The sight before him did not ease his troubled mind, as it seemed that Estel was more hurt than he had thought at first. The ranger was half resting in the older twins lap, cradled in the twin's arms as much as was possible due to the harsh bonds that bound them, the human's head resting against the elf's shoulder, eyes closed and the face whiter than freshly fallen snow on a clear winters morning.

Legolas could not be sure in the darkness, but he had the feeling that the rising and falling of the humans chest was labored, as if a heavy weight was resting on it, making breathing difficult and painful. But what the elf could tell although the shadows of the night played with him and made the scene change before his eyes, was the worried expression on both the twins faces.

They traded glances from time to time, conversing without words as only the two could, so strong was the bond they shared. When another bolt of lightening burned the air, Legolas saw its reflection in the older Peredhels' eyes, illuminating the bottomless orbs and opening the door to the twin's soul for a timeless moment, and all Legolas could see was despair and fear.

Fighting against the gentle murmur of sleep, ignoring the demands of his tired body, battling against hunger and thirst and strengthening himself against the cold that seeped through his clothes, the Prince lay himself down in the wet grass, sheltered by the looming figures of the ancient trees, watching over his friends until the morning came.

xoxoxoxo

The full moon, imprisoned by the gray masses of clouds that walked the night sky, looked weakly upon the sleeping Earth, from time to time illuminating the life below. The wind that made the trees sigh and the leaves whisper had not yet lessened, but the storm that was to come lay still in its lair, waiting for the right time to unleash its powers and to make all life yield before it.

So was it that neither the slumbering twins nor the tired Mirkwood Prince became aware of the danger that had woken in the resting camp, making its way towards its intended prey, not hindered by the men that woke slowly or the guards that stood vigil over their sleeping companions.

As the threat had made its way through the grass, passing dying fires and sleeping hunters, stopping before the bound captives and waking them with its presence, it was already to late for them to prevent what was to come.

Legolas, being woken by the shouts of the twins, raised his head inside his hiding place and watched with horror as one of the tall humans dragged his young friend to his feet, pushing the rising twins to the ground, put a small dagger under Estel's chin and then directed the ranger to the other side of the camp.

Legolas had to watch in desperate helplessness how his young friend looked back over his shoulder as the man pushed him away from his brothers, giving the agitated elves a small smile to reassure them that he was well; how the two elven brothers would not stay where they were and again rose to their feet only to be forced to the ground by other hunters that had joined the action; how the hunters bound the twins to the huge tress they had leaned against; how Elladan screamed his little brothers name, calling to him in elvish to stay strong; how Elrohir struggled against his bonds, unable to bear what was to come and how Estel did not even try to fight his captor but walked with him as best he could with his injured leg to the other side of the clearing, then a little ways into the woods, so far that Legolas could not see him any more.

The night no longer was still and quiet, but filled with both laughter and pain; the hunters anticipating what was to come, the elves feeling the ranger's pain as if it was their own. And in some ways, it was.

Legolas, a ghost in the night, moved nearer to the place Estel had been taken, but the hunters had moved into the woods too, so that he was not able to go as far as he wished. Crouching behind trees and making his body invisible in the darkness that surrounded him, the elf ventured into the woods, needing to see for himself what was to come.

And what awaited the ranger, Legolas already knew, as it had happened too often already.

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He did not like this at all. No, Dagnir thought, he did not like the way things were going, but letting his second-in-command have a bit of fun would certainly calm his subordinate's mood and the men's desire for blood and action.

Of course he had heard about the "game" Bauglir was playing with the elves and actually, he could not care less. It did not matter to him if the two elves lived or not. They could serve as bait for other elves or earn him some money if he sold them, but money was not what he wanted.

He needed his revenge. That was all that mattered to him and all he cared about was the well-being of the child. He had not killed the ranger earlier because the man had a feeling for how to deal with the child and the little boy seemed comfortable with the human.

But now, after a whole day with the two identical looking elves, Dagnir had seen how the child felt secure and comfortable with one of them, and the ranger had caused him enough trouble to anger him. That man was only a burden.

So, why not let his subordinate have some fun with him? In the condition the ranger was in, it would scarcely make a difference as the man would die either way in the next few days, either because of his injuries or because he would kill him, as simple as that.

But the ranger was not the captain's only concern. Since his little "reminder" for Bauglir, his subordinate had behaved unusually. Bauglir had avoided his presence, averted his gaze when their eyes had met. If was as if his second-in-command was hiding something from him and it was a feeling Dagnir did not like at all. It made him uneasy and he had not felt uneasy in years. Time with the ranger would surely satisfy Bauglir's hunger for power and the craving the man felt for inflicting pain.

Turning away from the scene before him, the captain returned to one of the fires, sitting down in the grass and stared into the embers of the once vivid fire. He would let his second-in-command have his share of pleasure. Dagnir needed not to see what was happening he had seen it many times before and it was always the same; he would hear when Bauglir was finished with the ranger.

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Legolas needed to see what was happening to his friend and although he could almost touch the hunters that stood before him in the forest, laughing and jeering, he felt no fear for himself, only fear for his friend's fate.

Scanning the scene before him, Legolas heart missed a beat and his breath caught in his throat. He had expected many things, from beating his friend to using him as a target for arrow practicing, but what played out now before his very eyes, the elf had not expected to see.

There, near the gurgling stream, the tall dark haired human hunter was standing, surrounded by his comrades, a few holding torches, others only glaring at what was happening. At first, the blond archer could not see his friend. Estel stood neither beside the tall hunter, nor between some of the other humans.

Straining his eyes to see past the flickering red glow and the even darker shadows that the torches created in the night, Legolas let his eyes travel from one side to the other, but still, Estel was no where in sight.

Then, one of the hunters shifted his stance and finally, his friend was revealed to Legolas´ sharp elven eyes. The sight made his skin curl and the blood freeze in his veins. Balling his hands to fists at his side and silently cursing the hunters in more languages than he knew he could curse in. Digging his fingernails into the soft palms of his hands, the elf stood stiff behind a tree, shadowed by the foliage and the night and watched what was happening to his friend, unable to de anything, unable to help the ranger and spare him from the cruel fate the tall human would put him through.

When one of the hunters had shifted his weight and had moved to the side, Legolas had seen that tall human, the human that had been in Imladris too, was not standing between the trees, as the archer had first thought. No, the man was standing in the running stream, sword in one hand, torch in the other.

But it was not the sight of the man standing in the almost two feet deep water that shimmered like black satin in the night, what made the Prince's heart stop was the cause for the human to enter the freezing river.

Because there, in the middle of the stream, was Estel, lying on his back amidst the swirling masses of black ice, hands bound behind his back and his face just under the mirroring surface of the water.

With both mouth and nose under the surface of the river, there was no way for the ranger to draw breath, but even if he had not been bound, there would have been no way for him to rise and feed his starving lungs.

Over him, one foot placed firmly on the ranger's chest, stood Bauglir, his sharp sword, which reflected each stroke of lightening with a blinding intensity, at the ranger's throat. Should Estel move his head to the welcoming surface, he would slice his own neck on the silver blade, should the ranger stay under water, he would surely drown. It was a situation the youngest Peredhel could not escape.

Legolas saw how his friend's eyes were directed at the man that held him in the river, not leaving the other human´s eyes even for a moment. Estel's hair was swirling around his head, a mass of dark strands in the glittering blackness. His friend did not move; no twitch of the human's limb could be seen and the elf wondered for the shortest moment of time if his friend was already dead.

But when the tall hunter pressed his blade down, deeper into the water and therewith at his friend's neck, the archer could see Estel pull back as much as the water and the stony riverbed allowed him to do, and it was not much.

For long moments neither his friend nor the dark haired hunter moved, but when the moments stretched into minutes, Legolas watched how his human friend started to move under the water, sending shivers through the water and causing small droplets of glimmering water to fly into the air only to reunite with the stream a few seconds later.

When the movements of the ranger became stronger, Bauglir put more weight onto his captive's chest, wanting to hold him down and under the water. The humans standing near the river laughed and jeered, pointing at the ranger and holding their torches higher to get a better view of the scene before them.

It made Legolas sick to have to see this, but he could not tear his gaze away either. Praying to the Valar to lend his friend the strength he would need, the Prince continued to watch what was happening.

xoxoxoxo

He needed to breathe, to fill his lungs with air and let them work again. "Again", that word was most prominent on Estel's mind. Bauglir was again trying to kill him, he was unable to take breath, again, and what was most unnerving, again, Estel felt powerless to do anything to stop that man from harming him.

He had lain still as long as he had been able to do so, but now his lungs were on fire and his chest felt even more crushed than it had already been. His arms and legs felt numb as the water had chilled them. The tiny stones that scraped against his hands and his injured arm felt like hundreds of glass shards, cutting into his skin.

Through the surface, he could see Bauglir, standing above him, torch raised, sword in hand. The ranger could not see the hunter's eyes as the water that flowed over his face made his vision blurry, but he felt almost sure that the man's eyes were twinkling with mirth and pleasure.

As the coldness of the water that surrounded him like a second skin and soothed his feverish brow, as his vision became misty and his movements weaker, the ranger felt torn between staying under water and trying to break the surface. Would Bauglir really kill him? Had Dagnir not said that he needed him alive?

Closing his eyes briefly and hoping that he was right with his assumptions, Estel took the risk. He pushed himself off the riverbed, using his bound hands for support – and resurfaced.

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As his friend's head broke through the surface of the dark water, Legolas pressed himself at the tree before him, eager to see if the tall human had injured his friend with the sword. He could see Estel pant and gasp, filling his lungs with the much needed air, stirring the water around his body.

Bauglir was standing above the ranger, sword still in hand, and to the archer's relief, there was no blood sprinkling the silver blade. It seemed his young friend had not been hurt after all. But, Legolas wondered, what was that hunter then doing with the blade? If he had not the intention of hurting Estel with it, there was no need to press it at the ranger's throat, not even as a threat. It would turn out to be a meaningless gesture.

Bending forward a bit to see more, but still hidden by the tree and the night, the archer saw how the tall hunter bent down towards his friend, who still struggled to catch his breath. As the other hunters were still laughing, a human would have some difficulty understanding what the hunter was saying, but with his keen elvish hearing, the archer understood every single word.

"You broke the rules, ranger. Did I not tell you not to resurface before I tell you to? This means punishment, ranger." Grinning, Bauglir slammed his fist into Estel's face, sending the ranger back into the river, swallowing ice cold water and landing painfully on his injured arm.

The yelp of pain that wanted to break free was cut short by the water that rushed into his mouth and lungs, filling them and choking the human. Coughing and spluttering he sat up again, his face pale in the scarce light and his eyes screwed shut in pain.

Having handed his torch to one of the other humans and still grinning like someone possessed, Bauglir bent down and gripped a fistful of the ranger's dark hair in own large hand, yanking Estel's head upwards, exposing his neck. Being forced to look up into Bauglir's face, the young Elrondion did not flinch or pull away, but held the gaze as steady as he could.

Once more, the tall hunter's fist, holding the sword, slammed into the ranger's head, and the sickening sound of a sword hilt connecting with something hard resounded in the woods. Estel fell back into the water, only to swallow more of the ice cold liquid. But the welcoming unconsciousness that he had awaited did not come, as the chill of the water immediately reawakened his senses and made his body stay alert.

Legolas could only watch as the tall hunter once more pressed his booted foot on his friends chest, forcing the rangers body and face under water, starting the game all over again.

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How long the ordeal had lasted, the elf could not tell, but as the tall hunter had finally grabbed the ranger by the collar of his wet shirt and had hauled his limp body out of the icy water only to throw him mercilessly onto the riverbank, coughing up water and shivering from the cold, Legolas had thanked the Valar for this blessing.

The wind that had increased in intensity had made the ranger tremble from cold, his hair, skin and clothes dripping with the freezing river water. From what the Prince could see, many new bruises had awakened on Estel's face, contrasting starkly against the paleness of his skin and the tangle of dark hair.

Bauglir, as Legolas had heard the hunters call the man, had taken the rangers arm in a death grip and had then more dragged than pushed him back into the direction of the camp, not bothering to wait until his captive had caught his breath again or had managed to pull his feet under his body. Estel had been practically carried over the campsite, the hunters still laughing amongst themselves, passing the fires and finally reaching the trees the twins were still bound to.

The blond archer followed as silently as he could, hiding in the shadows and using the low hanging branches as cover. As the moon had been hidden by the storm clouds for the last hours, he worried not about his fair hair or skin, the hunters would not see him in this blackness of night even if he stood only a few feet in front of them.

He watched as Elladan's and Elrohir's faces screwed up in worry and fear, seeing their brother being dragged over the grass, his clothing as wet as if he had stood in a rainstorm for hours, his face even more pale, almost whiter than that of a deceased, dark bruises forming on his face and more surely hidden by his shirt.

Bauglir threw Estel to the unyielding ground, at the feet of the twins, near enough to see their brother clearly, but too far away to touch him in any way. Grinning again and giving his victim one last kick in the small of his back for good measure, the man turned and made his way to one of the fires, to warm up and to prepare for the rest of the night.

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The ranger, his hands still bound behind his back, moaned softly and tried to roll onto his back. After some fruitless attempts, he managed to roll over, exposing his wet chest to the cold and the biting wind, unprotected against the forces of nature.

Dimly he was aware that someone was calling his name, concerned voices floated towards him, but all he wanted was to ease the pressure in his chest, to get rid of the crushing feeling that seemed to make it impossible to breathe, that took his strength and left him weak and tired. Now, as he had succeeded in rolling over onto his back, the pressure on his chest and ribs had lifted somewhat, but still, every breath he took was a struggle and he was not sure how much longer he would be able to take up the fight.

With the decreasing of the pressure on his lungs, his awareness of his surroundings increased, letting him register for the first time that his brothers were calling his name, pleading with him to answer and to talk to them.

"Estel, seas, pedo! (speak!)" Elladan was calling to him to reply, to say something that showed his brothers that he was awake and lucid. Shivering more and more as his body registered the coldness and the winds that sneaked into his clothing, the ranger swallowed and all he managed was a hoarse "Im namae (I am well)", which neither of his brothers believed.

"Estel, mani marte? (What happened?)" Elrohir asked his brother, trying to keep the human awake and with them in the circles of consciousness. It worried the younger twin enormously that Estel had made no attempt to move closer to them, let alone face them directly, but just lay there, on the cold and wet grass, dripping wet and obviously shivering from the nights cold and the harsh wind.

"Nothing, Elrohir, nothing happened." He was so tired and it would take so much of his strength to explain to his older brothers what had happened. Furthermore, all Estel wanted was to forget, if only for this night, what had happened and how it had felt to lie in the cold, black water, seeing the glimmering surface above him, but being unable to reach it and knowing that if he did, all that he would receive was more pain and after that, the scary feeling of being buried alive in a grave of water.

But to ease his brother's hearts and to, perhaps, ease the cold in his body, the ranger struggled to a sitting position, his injured arm sending flashes of pain through his side, his leg protesting at the movement. But his limbs were still frozen and cold, for which helwas very thankful, as the movement would have been more painful if they had not been.

The short way to his brothers side was almost too much for his beaten body, and when Estel had finally reached the free space between Elladan and Elrohir, he felt his body go slack and his strength flee, leaving him panting and drained. He had closed his eyes in his pain and exertion, but he could hear his brothers soothing voices that still called to him, bade him to stay with them and to fight against the darkness that equally called out to his tormented mind.

Breathing heavily and at the same time trembling from cold, the younges Peredhel pushed himself as far up as he could, finally leaning against the tree trunk with his back, his head resting at the wood and his eyes still closed in his tired state.

As if from very far away he heard Elladan call his name and tell him to lean on him and had he not felt the way he did, he might have refused, reminding his older brother that he was not a child anymore, but as it was, he obeyed without so much as a second thought, letting his body slide sideways off the tree and lean his head against Elladan's strong shoulder.

When Estel's head found finally the peace it had sought for so long, the human thought about, for the first time since this nightmare had started, how lonely he had felt. As a ranger he was used to loneliness and a life full of dangers and solitude, but now, as his older brother was so near and he could smell the sweet flavor of Elladan's clothes and the scent of wood and grass that always seemed to be with the elf, Estel felt strangely at home, secure and loved by his family.

The soft rising and falling of the elf's chest soothed the human's troubled thoughts and the man felt himself succumb to slumber under the watchful eyes of his brothers. And although he knew that they had no power over the fate that awaited him, he let his body relax, pretending that it was not so.

End of chapter 15

Tbc asap

Xoxoxoxo

The next chapter is called "Trapped"