Chapter 3! This chapter is officially dedicated to Viggomaniac! Thanks to her, we have this chapter up! For some reason it disappeared, and as you would realize, it takes a while to type, so THANK YOU, Viggomaniac!
Chapter 3: A Father's Love (awwww... squeak )
Elladan and Elrohir rushed quickly up to their father's quarters. They found the door locked and Elrond was not there.
"He is not here." Elrohir stated, staring at the door as though hoping their father might suddenly appear and open it. He started running back down the corridor near Elrond's quarters. "Come on!" he yelled to Elladan over his shoulder.
"I'm going to look the other way!" Elladan answered. He went down the stairs again. When Elrohir had gone down in to the courtyard, he heard a voice call his name. He turned to see his sister Arwen, a concerned look upon her fair face.
"Elrohir," said Arwen. "Why have you returned so soon? Has something gone wrong?"
"Something has gone terribly wrong, Arwen!" answered Elrohir. "I have to speak with Ada. Where is he?"
"He is having another conference with Mithrandir, in his study."
"Hannen-le," Elrohir said, breathing a sigh of relief. He started on his way, then paused and turned to his sister. "Arwen, Elladan is upstairs somewhere. Would you find him, please, and tell him where Ada and I are?"
Arwen nodded, and wasted no time in going to do so. Elrohir ran quickly to the office and pounded on the door. "Ada! Mithrandir! Open the door, please!"
Elrond went to the door and opened it quickly, surprised and concerned to see his son.
"Elrohir! What has happened?" At that moment, Elladan come up behind his brother. Elrond looked to the two of them, then motioned for them to come inside.
Gandalf sat in a chair beside a table with many maps upon it. He, too, looked surprised at the sudden entrance of Elladan and Elrohir.
Elrond ushered them inside and said, "Havo dad." When they had seated themselves beside their father and Gandalf, Elrond spoke. "Now. Tell me, my sons, what has caused this early return?"
"'Tis about Estel and Legolas, Ada," said Elrohir. He looked to Gandalf briefly before continuing, bluntly, "They have been found and captured by the enemy."
The effect was instantaneous. Elrond gripped the arms of his chair tightly and said, "Are you sure? How did you come by this information?"
"The night before last we had been watching a group of orcs when two more came. They told the others that an elf and a man had been captu4red. We could not challenge them to a battle. They were too many. At least forty strong. Apparently they were captured not two days ago. What are the chances of a man traveling with an elf? It had to have been Estel and Legolas! Not only that, but they were captured around the Misty Mountains."
Having said all this, Elrohir slumped down in his chair, weary from the exhausting ride. His brother clasped his shoulder encouragingly. Elrohir threw him a grateful look.
Elladan watched his father's reaction. In fact, had the situation not been so serious, he might have been amused at the look he gave Gandalf. It was partly accusing, part I-told-you-so, and partly anxious. He wasted no time in taking action however. He turned first to Elladan and Elrohir. "Get some sleep!" he said, his anxiousness making his voice more curt than it would have been in normal circumstances.
"But--" Elrohir began to protest, but he was cut off.
"Don't' argue with me, Elrohir. You are no use to us half asleep!" he turned to Elladan before he could say anything. "And that goes for you too! I will not leave without you! I will assemble warriors to leave and when we are prepared, you will know. Now, go!"
The two stood up simultaneously. Their faces clearly showed they wanted to argue, but left quietly.
As soon as they were gone, Elrond turned to Gandalf, who still had not said a word.
"What should we do, Mithrandir?"
Gandalf shook his head. "I have sent them to their death."
Elrond did not know what to say. "I...I suppose I must send word to Thranduil."
"Yes, I suppose you must."
Without another word, Elrond left. Upon leaving he saw Elladan explaining the situation to Arwen. He looked in pain as a silent tear fell down her lovely face. She loved him...
Elrond tore his gaze away and went to send word to Thranduil.
Legolas fell to the ground. One of the Orcs muttered something about it being "enough for today," and the three left, leaving Legolas lying in the middle of the chamber.
As soon as the door shut, Aragorn whispered Legolas' name. The elf could not answer, and his breath came in short, sudden gasps. Aragorn felt a wave of hopelessness overcome him.
Legolas coughed and emitted a sharp groan. Aragorn stayed silent. He was tired of this place, and hated it. He hated the dim, flickering torches, the foul smell that he would never get used to, the Orcs' voices ringing in his ear...the sight of his friend, tortured and beaten...how long would they be forced to endure this?
Legolas managed to prop himself up against the wall. His eyes met Aragorn's.
"Legolas," Aragorn said, "we will find a way out." Legolas merely looked away, and clutched the chains on the wall to steady himself. Aragorn felt another terrible pang of guilt. The elf was holding on with the characteristic bravery and strength of his people, but Aragorn knew that he went on without hope. Legolas felt that there were only two possible fates that he could come to now—death...or something worse.
Everything was quiet. All Aragorn could hear was Legolas' troubled breathing and quiet crackle of the torches. He laid his head against the wall and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.
Eventually, Aragorn did get to sleep, though it was little better than being awake, for his dreams were dark and troubled. After a troubled sleep for not even an hour he awoke again to see Legolas staring blankly at him with pain glazed eyes. Aragorn called out his name again, but the elf just closed his eyes and looked away. His breathing was even more uneven and he was taking short gasps.
He felt guilt lie heavy on his heart. Both of them were weakening, and it was only a matter of time before one of them gave in. Aragorn only wondered who it would be. What was worse: torture of the body, or torture of the heart and mind?
Aragorn shivered. The chamber was very cold; he was wearing only his light tunic. He looked over at Legolas, whose tunic had been torn to shreds from the whippings. Aragorn knew that Elves did not feel extremities, but the cold air would bite into the open wounds and cause Legolas even more pain. But there was nothing that Aragorn could do now. The Orcs had left Legolas in the middle of the chamber, where he was alone and could not be reached.
Legolas shut his eyes, wishing Mandos would take him. For the first time ever, he felt completely helpless. He hated the feeling. He hated the feeling of hopeless weakness and the inability to do anything about it. What he disliked the most was that Estel was watching his weakness. He felt angry at himself. It was his fault they were here! It should have been obvious how many Orcs there were, and yet he did not realize...
He felt a shudder run through his body. He hadn't known such pain was possible. After the initial shock of the brand, pain didn't seem real. His first reaction was his scream. He couldn't help it. The scream was torn from his throat. He realized afterwards what was imprinted upon his tongue. The eye of Sauron. The brand was still lying in the corner.
Legolas tried to think of something else. He tried to remember Mirkwood, his home. Dim memories came to him of starry nights spent gazing into the heavens, of practicing archery during the day with Gildur... memories of happier times. But soon these memories began to fade, replaced with the horror of the past few days. Had it really only been a few days? For him those days had been a long, endless nightmare—time did not seem to pass. All that Legolas was aware of was the unbearable pain...
He looked to Estel. The man had his eyes closed and he was tossing and turning in his sleep. Legolas knew he had found a friend in him, strange as that may have seemed. He knew his father would not be happy. Legolas knew, also, that he would give his life for this man; which would surprise many people that knew him, for his brother had been murdered by wicked men.
Though he died more than a century ago, grief still lay heavy on his heart. They had been so close. Gildur was the one who first taught Legolas how to use a bow. When Legolas had learned of his brother's death, he locked himself in his room and had nearly died of grief. He only thing that kept him alive was his father. After Gildur's death, Legolas had become close with his father. His last family. However, lately, expectations and demands had become high for the prince.
Suddenly pain shot through his body and he was torn from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body ached; the feeling made even the slightest movement strenuous. Legolas groaned. He would give anything to just end it—all of the suffering, all of the pain. Anything to just let everything go...
Legolas felt a single tear fall down his face. All of these days his emotions had been intense, and many times he had wanted to cry but had forced the tears back with stubborn pride. But now he began to weep bitterly, harder than ever before. Tears streamed down his bloody face openly. He mourned for the world that he had left behind, for this father, whom he would never see again, for Estel, for his brother... and for all of Middle-earth, which would see Sauron's wrath at it's very worst.
A white horse galloped into Rivendell. And its rider, Kind Thranduil of Mirkwood, disembarked quickly as he rode up to where Elrond, Mithrandir, Elladan and Elrohir were awaiting him. He wasted no time with formalities; simply asked what concerned him most.
"What has happened to my son?"
Elrond looked to the wins. Finally Elladan spoke.
"Legolas and his companion were captured by Orcs while scouting in the Misty Mountains," he said. "Elrohir and I were not able to learn any more than that."
A memory flashed in Thranduil's mind, a memory of Gildur lying cold and lifeless... he tried to shake those thoughts away, and turned to Mithrandir. "How could this have happened?"
"We have discovered parties of Orcs around the Misty Mountains and Rhovanion as you know. Thranduil, Sauron's forces are moving. However, what we do not know is why he has chosen these two regions to invade. That is why we sent scouts. Elladan and Elrohir were scouting Rhovanion. Legolas and his companion took to the Misty Mountains. Apparently they have been captured around two days ago..."
"Exactly who was my son's companion?" interrupted Thranduil impatiently.
"My son," said Elrond, not eager to find out Thranduil's reaction to Legolas' traveling with a human.
Thranduil looked pointedly at Elladan and Elrohir.
"Both your sons look fine to me, Elrond. And yet my son is not?"
Elrond stalled. "My...foster son..."
Thranduil raised his brow and repeated Elrond's words, "Foster son?"
Elrond sighed. "My mortal son...His name is Estel."
Thranduil's already alabaster face went dead white. "Your MORTAL son? When did this come to happen?"
"Thranduil, do not blame Estel for Legolas' capture!"
"And why shouldn't I?' asked Thranduil angrily. "I know my son is not foolish enough to get captured by Orcs! I do not want to find another child lying stabbed and lifeless!"
All was deadly silent. Finally, Elrond spoke.
"Nor do I wish to find that the same has happened to my foster son," he said. "He was not foolish either. Whatever has happened, it was not because of foolishness."
Thranduil glared. In his mind, he felt that maybe their capture had been the result of betrayal. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then changed his mind. He turned and again mountain his horse.
"What are you doing?" Elrond asked. He had not planned on leaving so abruptly after Thranduil's arrival.
"I ride to the Misty Mountains to find my son! My ONLY son, all that is left of my family. You may go when you will, but I ride now!" Thranduil snapped. Elrond nodded to his sons and told them to ready the horses.
Elladan and Elrohir immediately left, returning about fifteen minutes later. They were riding their horses, and guiding along two other geldings. They had packs. As soon as they arrived Thranduil turned his stallion around. He spoke no more words. He just wanted to get to his son before he had to bury another child. However, not in his darkest fears could Thranduil have imagined what his son was really going through...
At some point during the night, Legolas fell asleep. He had not wanted to fall asleep, for fear that nightmares would take him again, but weariness eventually got the better of him, and he surrendered to sleep.
Aragorn lay on the floor of the cell, staring at the ceiling. It was impossible to distinguish night from day; time just passed, every so slowly. Pretty soon, Aragorn heard the Orcs returning. Legolas woke up, and looked them in the eye as they entered the chamber.
"Ognak!" snapped the lead Orc. One of the other two tossed something into Aragorn's cell, and another at Legolas' feet. Aragorn picked it up, and examined it. They had thrown him a dry crust of bread and a few strips of some unidentifiable dried meat. Legolas looked at the food at his feet in disgust. Ognak smiled at the lead Orc.
"Should Ugluk and I get the drought, Groushnak?"
Groushnak nodded with an evil grin. The other two left, only to return a few minutes later holding two flasks of a dark, foul-smelling liquid. Groushnak looked from Legolas to Aragorn.
"Well?" Groushnak asked. "You're of no use to us dead. You'd better eat it, because that's the only food you're going to get." When Legolas still did nothing, the Orc kicked him in the chest. "I told you to eat it!"
Legolas was coughing and gasping from the unexpected blow to his chest. He looked at the food in front of him, knowing that there was no way he could bring himself to eat it. Finally, Groushnak lost patience. He grabbed Legolas' jaw and forced his mouth open. He then started to force the food down his throat. Legolas coughed and gagged, trying to pull away. The meat had a revolting taste, but Legolas had no choice but to swallow it. He dared not guess from what creature the meat came. However, the worst had not yet come. Groushnak now grabbed Legolas' jaw again and poured the drought down. Legolas jerked back as the foul liquid stung his burn horribly. Not only that, but it tasted even worse than the meat. Just tasting it was enough to make him sick. But he forced himself to take it, knowing that there was no alternative.
Aragorn found himself yelling at them to stop, but they didn't pay any attention to him. The Orcs laughed and taunted, enjoying watching the elf suffer. Aragorn turned away. He wouldn't be able to take this much longer...soon he would give in...but he was bound by the promise that he had made to Legolas...and he wasn't sure he could hold to it much longer.
Just then Aragorn heard retching sounds. He turned to Legolas, almost against his will. The elf was convulsing. He had already emptied his stomach of the fetid drought and meat. His body was now going through horrible spasms. He body had already expelled the food and drink, and now it was just trying to rid itself of what was no longer there.
Aragorn could only imagine the pain Legolas was going through. Suddenly the elf began throwing up blood. Aragorn closed his eyes and looked away, but he could not block out the horrible sound.
It was not that he had never seen someone convulse or vomit, he was a healer, but this was the first time he was unable to help. He knew that Legolas was strong, but for an elf any Orc-food was utterly revolting.
Legolas finally stopped, and sat there, staring at the floor and breathing hard. The Orcs looked at each other, unsure of what to do. They couldn't let the elf starve, but it was evident that they couldn't feed him their food. Aragorn had been starving but now his appetite was gone. He did, however manage to choke down the break so that he wouldn't be forced to eat the rest.
Groushnak turned and left, completely frustrated. Ognak and Ugluk didn't follow.
"I'm sick of this!" Ognak said. "We should just get this over with."
"That isn't how Groushnak wants it." Ugluk answered. "But doing it this way isn't getting anywhere."
"Well, Groushnak should never have been put in charge of this in the first place." He looked at Legolas, hatred and contempt in his eyes. "We're going to break you, elf. Just you wait," he said, looking from Legolas to Aragorn. Then he and Ugluk turned and left.
Legolas sat in the middle of the chamber, surrounded by a mixture of his own blood and vomit.
Aragorn watched, knowing that nothing he said could help the elf. He wished he could do anything! Instead he was safe in his cell, forced to watch Legolas be tortured. His thoughts turned to his family. Were Elladan and Elrohir safe? He figured they were, since they obviously not drown here...rather he hoped they were...
Would his father ever know what happened to them? Probably not. They would probably perish down...in the darkness...alone. His thoughts then turned to Arwen. The beautiful Evenstar of her people. He could not help that he had fallen in love with her! If he was truly following in Beren's footsteps, then he would be the death of Arwen. The death of an immortal...
Then he realized now he was probably the death of Legolas! Another immortal! He felt guilt lie heavy on his heart. It was all his fault that they were trapped here to be unmercifully tortured. Did Legolas hate him? As his thoughts turned to Legolas he thought about the elf's brother, Gildur. Legolas spoke of his brother and his death, but he had not spoken of how he died.
What he did know was they would probably never get out of here alive.
The Misty Mountains loomed menacingly in the distance. Thranduil, Gandalf, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir drove their horses on with fierce determination, resting little and speaking not. The day was drawing to a close, yet as night drew ever nearer and the sun set low in the west, Thranduil showed no signs of stopping. They had been riding for about a week, yet the Misty Mountains were still some days away.
"Mithrandir, said Elrond, "We cannot ride through the night!"
"We may stop and rest," Gandalf answered. "But Thranduil is very determined to reach his son, so I do not think we will be able to persuade him to stop. We should not get separated—evil lurks in these forsaken lands."
"But what if we should lose our way in the dark?"
"Then I suppose we will go by instinct and find the trail in the morning."
"Can you not force him to stop?"
"It is not in my power to come between a father and his only child."
Elrond fell silent, his mind going back to Estel. He knew that Thranduil held Estel responsible for Legolas' capture; the Elvenking was very distrustful of other races, and he saw men as traitorous and disloyal—especially after the tragedy of Gildur's murder. But through Elrond had been against his foster son going as Legolas' companion, he knew that Estel was a noble man, and that he was not foolish. He was very concerned; though he didn't usually show it, he cared for Estel as his own son.
Elrond tried to put those thoughts behind him. He stared intently ahead, hoping for any sign of Legolas or Aragorn having been there. Just when he had resolved to not stopping, Thranduil abruptly stopped his stallion ahead. The Elvenking jumped off and bent over the ground. Elrond urged his horse to Thranduil before he jumped off his horse. "Man cenich?"
Thranduil did not answer but instead picked up what looked like a flask. It was dark, so he could not see what its exact shape was. He leaned closer curiously just as Thranduil threw it back to the ground and jumped back on his horse. His silver eyes gleamed. "They passed through here! We must ride on at once!"
Thranduil was about to ride away Elrond said, "Thranduil, we must take a rest, our horses grow ever more weary and we have been riding nonstop. You will not have the energy to ride on tomorrow."
Thranduil's eyes flashed and snapped, "And I shall be of no use whatsoever to my son if he is dead!"
"But what if we should lose our way in the dark?"
Thranduil glared at him. "I have traveled this way before. I will not lose my way. I will ride on, and you will not hinder me." With that, he mounted his tired horse and began to ride again Elladan looked to his father.
"Ada," he said.
I wish to ride on as well. I fear for Estel."
"I feel the same," said Elrohir. "But I will do whatever you bid."
Elrond looked to Gandalf. The wizard's gaze met his.
"We must make haste, Elrond."
"I know, but I am against--"
"Elrond..."
Elrond said nothing, but commanded his horse forward. Gandalf followed, then the twins. The world darkened, and the moon took its place high in the night sky. The travelers rode on through the perilous night.
Meanwhile, Thranduil kept a steady pace as he rode ahead of the rest of the group. He knew these lands. Nothing could keep him from those mountains. Somewhere in there was his son, imprisoned.
Thranduil's mind went to Gildur. He thought of how his older son had been betrayed and tortured...he could not let the same happen to Legolas. Elrond was a fool to send a man as his companion; he did not understand the treachery of men. He did not understand their hatred and corruption. He trusted men too much. All trust ever gave you was pain.
He looked up at the moon, thankful for its brightness. It was surrounded by stars and Thranduil wondered if Legolas would ever see the stars again. He had seen too many of his loved ones pass into that darkness. Thranduil felt a sudden pang of regret and guilt, remembering some of his last conversations with Legolas. He had demanded too much of his son; he had pushed him too hard and neglected to show him the fatherly love that he needed and deserved.
He just wanted Legolas to be able to take care of himself. He did not want to lose another son, so he pushed him. Legolas was the best archer in Mirkwood, and yet he pushed him harder. He had also bested many elves with knives and sword. He was proud of his son and he knew all the Mirkwood elves loved their prince.
Maybe the reason Legolas had been so eager to leave for this mission was because he had felt a need to prove himself. Was he, Thranduil, a demanding father, to blame for his beloved son's capture? He stopped his horse abruptly to let the thought sink in, and a wave of fear and guilt passed through him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes.
Yet, he refused to let them fall. He angrily blinked them back as a single, crystal, tear escaped his lashes and fell silently down his face. He began to set his horse into motion once again, though it was not long before he once again stopped just up ahead.
Orc corpses littered the ground, and blood tainted the grass. He jumped off his horse and heard horses stopping behind his, but he paid no heed. He saw a glimmer of gold, and he had a sickening feeling that he knew what it was. As he stepped closer, his fears were confirmed. A single golden mellyrn leaf lay there with silver etched into the veins. It was attached to a simple chain, just large enough to place over one's head.
He gently picked it up, as though it might break at any second. Elrond stepped up behind him and asked softly, "What is it?"
Thranduil straightened up and looked up towards the starry sky, for fear that Elrond might see the tears in his eyes that desperately threatened to fall.
"'Twas Gildur's...he...ever since then, Legolas carried it with him always." He turned the pendant over in his hand, wishing that none of this had ever happened. Then, suddenly, he heard something pushing through the trees...
"Yrch!" Elrohir hissed. He readied an arrow. Soon, a small group of them could be seen lurking behind the trees.
"Shoot!" Elrond commanded. He and Thranduil strung arrows while his sons began to fire. Orc-arrows countered the attack from behind the trees, narrowly missing the group of weary travelers. Soon, however, the barrage of arrows stopped. The Orcs lay dead.
Elladan jumped down from his horse and looked around.
"One of them got away!" he cried in dismay.
"Spies from the Misty Mountains." Gandalf exclaimed. "Ride now! We must get there quickly!"
Legolas avoided Aragorn's gaze. Shame burned inside of him. He had never in his life felt so weak as he did at this moment.
Abruptly he heard footsteps. The door banged open and Aragorn started. A group of Orcs stomped inside. Legolas felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw Groushnak. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"Get up, maggot!" he snapped at Legolas. The other three Orcs opened Aragorn's cell. The human immediately tried to get to Legolas, but a kick in his stomach from an Orc stopped him. They quickly beat him to the ground and cuffed his hands tightly. Aragorn struggled underneath their weight, wanting to get to his friend.
They dragged him up and pushed him roughly out of the cell. Legolas was sprawled across the floor and the Orcs were taunting him and jeering. Groushnak was nowhere in sight. One kicked him and Aragorn began struggling violently against his bonds. Legolas lifted up his head and looked directly into Aragorn's eyes for the first time in days.
Aragorn noticed with horror that the elf's eyes showed no pain, no emotion...no life.
"Legolas," he whispered, knowing the elf could hear him, but he did not finish his sentence. Legolas looked away.
Aragorn was once again pushed forward, and the Orcs began leading him through narrow stone corridors that led out of the mountains. He looked over his shoulder to see Legolas struggling weakly to his feet. Finally, the elf managed to stand shakily, only to be mercilessly herded forward by his captors. Aragorn tore his gaze away.
Aragorn realized that huge groups of Orcs were rushing in the same direction. Suddenly, they turned a corner, he saw pale beams of moonlight piercing the darkness, and felt a soft breeze. Soon he could see the way out.
There was, however, little time to enjoy the feeling of being outdoors again. As Aragorn was taken outside, his legs were shackled and he was pushed roughly to the ground. Soon Legolas was dragged out and thrown down beside him. The Orcs who had been guarding them went up ahead for a moment to speak to Groushnak, who had been outside.
"Estel."
Aragorn turned immediately. The elf's voice was hardly more than a pained whisper, but it was some comfort to hear him speak again. He began to say something, but Groushnak yelled out orders to leave. They dragged Legolas roughly up, and he swayed on his feet. His eyes had a slightly glazed look.
Aragorn stood up and began to follow to Orcs. He didn't know where they were taking them, but he wasn't sure they would survive the journey.
And even is they did survive, there would be no telling if the future that awaited them would be any more welcoming than the cold touch of death...