Sielge: Dead is right. Breaked is right too. But...which is it truly? Only the psychic monkey knows.

Irish Anor: O. K. 'Tis about Estel and Legolas, ADA!

Silver Moon-Celeb Ithil: Unfortunately, the human being who has the misfortune of being naturally lazy cannot be changed. However, we tried to update asap. ELIJAH WOOD EYES!!! Hee hee just kidding thanx for reviewing.

Legolas4me: Yes, Thranduil is a very nice daddy. Thank you for making us feel special we like descriptiveness, or as we like to say, "fluff".

Bluemoon: bleh I know your real name haha

EverKitsune: Our penname is very dear to our heart sniffle (ahem bronze axe and golden staff hee hee those are Gimli and Gandalf in case you are wondering) We updated!!! Yay!!! It took forever, and one incident in which we lost the story...shiver Thank you for reviewing! Please review again (we love reviews!)

RafflesianTuriel: Oh. That's so nice. We are the 2 best story friend thingies ever. That makes us feel special, thank you!

A/N: Please R/R we like reviews, even if they are complaints (do I smell a cliffie?) or death threats. Beware for we have a dinner plate. We honestly apologize if we scared any reviewers away with our ahem UNIQUE replies.

Disclaimer: We own everything in the universe as we are the kings except for LOTR cuz that is in a universe of its own. HOO HA! O. K. (It's ok one word, Elijah Wood, you great prat!)

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Let me fall

If I fall

Although the phoenix

May or may not rise

I will dance so freely

Holding onto no one

You can hold me only if you too will fall

Away from all these useless fears and chains

Someone I am is waiting for my courage

The one I want

The one I will become

Will carry me

So let me fall

If I must fall

I won't heed your warnings

I won't hear

Let me fall

If I fall

There's no reason

To miss this one chance

This perfect moment

Just let me fall

-Josh Groban

Chapter 4: Fatal redemption

Elrond looked towards the mountains looming ahead of them. The sky was just beginning to lighten as the sun rose over the Misty Mountains, casting light in various places and shadows in others. As they neared the mountains they were placed into the shadow of the great landform. From the front of their group, Thranduil jumped from his gelding and kneeled in the rocky soil. He then stood back up and cried, "Orc tracks! They are numerous!"

The rest of the Elves rode forward and also jumped off their horses, but the Istar lingered back. Elladan studied the tracks before agreeing. "These are indeed the Orcs we are tracking. This must be where Estel and Legolas are being held captive!"

The Elves continued on, stepped carefully and leading their horses behind them for the terrain was much too jagged to ride. The company failed to notice that they were one less in number, for the wizard had disappeared. After the morning had come and gone, they came to an entrance.

A long dark tunnel led into the mountain, and the tracks led into the sinister path. Thranduil peered into it for a moment. Then, after giving Elrond a hard stare as though daring him to say they would not tread the road, strode into the darkness, disappeared in the tunnel.

The place was filled with a foul stench and an eerie silence. As they journeyed further in, however, they found no sign of any Orcs—or of Aragorn and Legolas. Thranduil soon found a narrow passage lit dimly by flickering, dying torches that apparently led down to a darkened chamber. He motioned to Elrond and the twins, and together they began to descend. The air was stuffy, the overwhelming odor making it difficult to breathe.

They pushed open the large door and entered the chamber. It was a dungeon, surrounded by prison cells. Thranduil walked forward, hoping to find some sign that his son had been held there.

Suddenly, Elrohir spotted a glint of metal against the stone floor. He pushed the door open and rushed in, then knelt down and picked it up. He looked at it and stood slowly, no emotion in his face.

"Elrohir," said Elrond. "What is it?"

"Ada," he answered. "This is Estel's."

Elrond and Elladan entered, and Elrohir dropped the item into his father's hand.

"The Ring of Barahir," Elrond said softly. "Aragorn's ring."

Thranduil looked up. "Aragorn?" he said slowly, his voice showing none of the emotions he was feeling. "The Heir of Isildur?"

Elrond nodded, his eyes bright against the darkness, Thranduil gave no physical response and said nothing, but instead scrutinized the dark room. He saw that the floor seemed to be coated with a dark substance. As he examined it closer he was hit with the sickening realization that it was blood. It was still fresh, he noted, as he touched it and lifted a finger smeared with Elven blood. Tattered pieces of garments also lay on the ground, drenched in the crimson fluid. The nauseating smell of blood overwhelmed his senses.

"We know now, at least that they were here," Elrond said. "What I do not know is where they have been taken now."

"They just recently left. I can still smell the Orcs, though they aren't here anymore..." Elrohir looked at the blood on the ground. "And this blood was recently spilled."

Thranduil stood abruptly, anger ablaze in his heart. "They've taken them somewhere."

"But where can we go? We have not the slightest idea as to where they are!" said Elladan.

"Do you think they are taking them... to Mordor?" Elrohir asked.

"Perhaps to Rhovanion," his brother answered. "It is closer, and they have their stronghold there."

"I will go to Rhovanion." Thranduil said. "If I do not find Legolas there... then I will venture to Mordor."

Elrond looked at him sharply. "Thranduil, if Legolas and Aragorn have been taken to Mordor, then you know the fate that has befallen them. There will be nothing we can do."

The Elvenking said nothing, but gave Elrond a look of anger and sorrow. Then he turned and slowly left the chamber.

Legolas stumbled again. Aragorn wished to help his friend, but he was not allowed near the elf. Finally, after a long day of pain, they reached a river and Groushnak yelled orders to get a fire going. They threw the exhausted prisoners to the ground, and for a moment, the two were left unguarded. Aragorn edged over to Legolas, unnoticed by the Orcs.

"Legolas," he said quietly. "I think there may be a way to escape!"

Legolas gave no motion to say he had even heard the man, but Aragorn continued.

"If we can find a way to distract them, we may be able to leave before they realize!"

The elf did not answer.

Just then, an Orc realized the two prisoners were conversing. He and two other Orcs came over and pulled Aragorn away.

Aragorn was pushed to the ground again by a tree. He sat up against it, and looked over at Legolas. The elf was lying motionless on the ground. Aragorn looked away, unable to see his friend in such a horrible state.

The Orcs were gathering beside the fire now, arguing loudly about something. Aragorn ignored them, instead, concentrating on escape route. They were surrounded by trees, but Aragorn highly doubted Legolas could climb one in his condition. So caught up in his thoughts, was he, that he did not notice the Orcs had stopped arguing. He was still searching his environment when he noticed the large Orc behind him.

"Planning something, this one is!" growled the Orc.

"He's a sneaky one all right," agreed the other Orc. "I knew he was a bad one the moment I saw him!"

Aragorn stared determinedly ahead of him, refusing to be provoked into giving anything away. The Orcs soon grew bored of him as they skulked over to the elf. Legolas' eyes were closed, but they fluttered open as the Orcs began to taunt him. He was too weary to react, and when the two realized that, they began to abuse him, as they kicked and hit him around.

Aragorn found himself unable to watch any longer. "Stop!" he said. Hadn't they caused the elf enough pain already? Why must they persist in constantly tormenting him?

The Orcs laughed out loud. "You want us to stop, do you?" one said haughtily. "Tell us what we need to know and you can end this anytime."

"I'll just promise you this," Aragorn said, his voice quiet and full of suppressed anger. "When this is over, I will kill you all. And I will do it slowly. I will make sure that your suffer dearly for every wound you inflicted upon him."

This, of course, sent the Orcs into another fit of laughter. They continued to abuse and taunt Legolas until they were called away by their superiors.

The night's progression was agonizingly slow. Every minute dragged on, and it seemed that sawn would never come. But in Aragorn and Legolas' world, day and night no longer mattered. It was impossible to recall how many days had passed since they first entered Groushnak's cursed torture chamber. Life itself was curse, for Legolas would have welcomed death with open arms. To die would mean freedom from this terrible bondage. It would be a just reward for all the hardships he had been forced to endure. But all reasoning, after such terrible torture, he should be dead by now. So why did he keep going without any hope?

Hour later, Legolas half-felt himself being dragged to his feet. Aragorn's voice calling his name was distant and unclear. He was aware of only one thing: they were moving again. Moving towards their unknown destination and his certain death. For Legolas had made his decision: once they reached the place, he would call upon Aragorn to fulfill his promise, and his suffering would end.

Thranduil nudged his horse to go faster. He did not know where his youngest son was, but he knew what fate awaited him if he stayed there much longer. A leaf fluttered down before him, as though to prove his point. How much longer could he take this unbearable ache in his heart? What pained him most was not so much that his son was being tortured, but that he was powerless to stop it. Powerless to end the suffering of his son... of his life.

The moon shone brightly against the dark velvety blanket of darkness, which covered the sky. Bright stars also dotted the heavens. It was the ideal night for traveling, for the moon and stars illuminated the night and lit their path. There were no sounds in the still night, save for the hoof beats of the horses and the occasional rustling of dead leaves.

They rode with great haste and speed for Rhovanion, forsaking any stealth they might have begun with. The Carrock River drew nearer as the night wore on. There they would stop and allow their horses to rest. From there, they would scout for any signs of Orcs being near. With any luck, they would find Aragorn and Legolas... hopefully alive. Thranduil could now only pray that they would be alive. Legolas was his only son, and the only family he had left; he did not want to lose him as well. If Legolas died, Thranduil was not so sure that he would have the will to live either.

He suddenly became aware of hoof beats behind him. He turns and saw Elrond riding about a foot behind his own steed. The Noldor Elf was stared ahead intently, with a look of determined concentration, making it appear as though he had seen something. Then, he abruptly shook his head and realized Thranduil was staring at him.

He paused for a moment, noting the grief in Thranduil's eyes. He noticed how his hands would every so often make their way to the necklace he had found. How, though Elves did not normally feel fatigue, his eyes had dark circles beneath them. Then, realizing that he was now staring, he jerked his away.

"They are alive, Thranduil," he said suddenly and softly into the silence. "We would know if they were not."

"Perhaps, Elrond," replied the Sindar. "Yet I know something terrible has befallen my son."

Though it was dark, Elrond saw the tears glimmering Thranduil's eyes, though he was too proud to let them fall.

Abruptly, Thranduil spoke, though his voice was barely audible. "He is my last and youngest son, Elrond. He took after his mother; kind, gentle and yet fierce. He has never done anything to deserve this. The last thing I ever said to him was to leave. We had a quarrel, which was not rare between us. Ever since Gildur was murdered, I pushed Legolas to be the best in everything. And yet, he was never good enough in my eyes. You must understand, Elrond. I have not forgiven men, either. They have taken everything I have loved. What they did not do themselves, they turned over to Orcs. There are so many things I wish I could do over..."

Elrond looks at Thranduil empathetically. At least he still had all of his children and his wife was waiting for him across the sea. The silence grew awkward for a moment before Elladan suddenly galloped beside them, Elrohir just behind him.

"Adar!" he began, before Elrohir arrived beside him, finishing his sentence.

"Mithrandir has gone!"

Legolas stumbled again, his was blurred with pain, and every few steps that he took, he fell. The Orcs would then punish him with either the whips, or by kicking him. He wanted nothing more than to lay down, but he forced himself to keep going merely by the thought that tonight, it would all be over.

Aragorn was walking nearby, his hands bound, staring ahead with a loathsome look in his eyes. The Orcs never laid a hand on him, yet they bothered him with taunts and jeers which he ignored. Legolas was determined not to look the man in the eyes. While he was enduring intense physical torment, he knew the mental strain Aragorn must be under, to have held out this long. And what he would have to do tonight would just make it worse.

Another Orc kicked Legolas' legs, and in a moment of anger he had the absurd urge to kick him back. And he would have if he had the strength. Instead he forced himself to keep walking. He could not put Aragorn under any more pain than was necessary. He had enough sorrow weighing him down already, and Legolas' last request tonight would help him not... Yet what was Legolas to do? He felt ashamed that he was taking the "cowards" way out, but if he were to go on as he was... He knew if the Orcs tortured him any longer, they would soon grow tired of their "games" and might come up with worse, more twisted ideas. Legolas was sure death was better than whatever sick idea the Orcs might come up with.

He heard Aragorn softly speak his name again, and Legolas almost turned. Yet surely Aragorn would understand if he knew just how much agony he was truly feeling... and not all of the body. He felt shame burn him. Surely Aragorn was feeling even more pain than him. Had it been his fault that they were now being tortured? Maybe if he had been truly listening, he would have realized that the two of them could not take them all. Maybe if he had nit hidden in the tree like a coward, shooting arrows as an assassin, they would have been the ones interrogating. Not the ones being interrogated.

He could not go on like this; that he knew. Once he was dead, Aragorn would not be hindered by him and could escape. It was the best thing Aragorn could do, even if the ranger did not realize it, he would understand later.

"Groushnak!"

The Orc turned to his comrade, who had called to him from the rear of the group.

"What?"

The Orc's tone was bitter as he responded, "You've been driving us on for days, without rest or food! We won't reach Rhovanion for another few days as we can't be expected to go nonstop."

Several Orcs voiced their agreement, and Groushnak glared at them furiously. "So you would have the elves and the wizard catch our trail?" The rest nodded.

Aragorn looked up, startled. They were being tracked! A small glimmer of hope that he had long though gone slightly lightened the burden on his heart. Gandalf was coming, maybe Elrond... Valar, what would Elrond think? Maybe Thranduil was coming as well...

Legolas, however, felt worse at the though of his father, having to face him with yet another failure. And, if Thranduil did not reach them in time, he would find his on dead at Aragorn's hands... and never lose his hatred for men. After Gildur's death he had done everything he could to kill those men—and succeeded. What if he tried to murder Aragorn?

More guilt, Legolas though to himself. Will it never end? The horror, the bloodshed, the pain... Will it continue even after I am gone? What will this do to my father, to Aragorn?

Legolas hung his head and found himself staring the mutilated, bloody body that he no longer recognized. He would never know the consequences of his actions. And he told himself that it did not matter anymore; because his own guilt and suffering would forever end the night they reached Rhovanion.

That fateful night would end everything.

Ognak sat sharpening his dagger by the fire when Groushnak finally obliged their demands for rest. He watched as Ugluk and some others amused themselves by tying a rope around the elf and tethering him to a tree like an animal. Fools. Did they not know that the prisoner too weak to move anyway? Of course, this whole time the human was shouting protest. Ognak longed to cut his tongue out—he would not be able to stand the irritating voice much longer. Finally, when he, too, was secured to a tree, Ognak stuffed a gag in his mouth.

He walked back to the fire and sat to rest. Groushnak was pacing restlessly, angry at the delay. Ognak snorted. He was, by far, the biggest idiot of the lot. Why must they take orders from one with no knowledge of leadership? If Groushnak were unseated, he would be in charge. And he would kill the elf, make the human tell the truth, cut his tongue out, then kill him as well.

Ognak's lips curled into a vicious smile at the mere though of it. Groushnak would hold power no more. He would do it at Rhovanion... he would slay the fool, and enjoy every moment of it! Then everything would fall into place.

Filled with new joy and motivation, Ognak returned to polishing his dagger. Although, he needed a new cloth—he realized that he had used the other as a gag. The human would have a very unpleasant taste in his mouth for a very long time.

Aragorn was not sure what the Orc had put in his mouth, but it tasted of blood and metal. Maybe he should have kept quiet... but for them to treat Legolas as an animal just infuriated him. The elf lay against the tree, eyes pointed towards the heavens. Perhaps it was a trick of the dim light, but Aragorn thought he saw a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Legolas was smiling actually. He was thinking of Gildur. He remembered staring at the night sky with his beloved brother, and he found comfort in the fact that he would see him again. He closed his eyes briefly, almost hearing Gildur's voice, and though it at first was peaceful, he soon found he actually heard him speaking, and the funny thing was, the voice was telling Legolas to hold on and not to give up. He almost even fancied he could feel his brothers gentle hands stroking his hair gently as he had so many times when they had been younger and Legolas had had a bad dream. Legolas shook his head and was surprised when he felt tears upon his face. He felt hot pain course through his veins and he closed his eyes tightly so Aragorn would not see his pain...or his tears.

Hope. The word echoed in his mind. Could it be that he had truly heard his brother's voice? He shook his head and opened his eyes, but what he saw surprised him. Gildur stood above him, a sorrowful look upon his fair face. Legolas reached forward to touch his hand in order to ensure he was not a phantom. Gildur's hand was real enough. Forgetting his pain, despair, and the cruel orcs, he whispered his brother's name hoarsely. Gildur smiled sadly, his gentle green eyes filled with grief. His golden hair seemed to shine silver in the twilight. A single tear fell softly down his face as he opened his mouth to speak. Yet even as he did so, an orc noticed he was there. He took a step back, and his body began to fade.

"Baw!" cried Legolas. "Gildur avo heiram! No, don't leave!"

As Gildur faded completely, his last essence seemed to whisper hope.

A cruel and sharp kick brought Legolas to open his eyes. Ognak stood over him, where his brother had just been.

"Do you still think to contradict us, filth?"

He delivered another hard kick.

"We will break you; have no doubt. By the time we are finished with you, you shall wish you were dead."

Legolas ignored him, thinking instead about the apparition of his brother. Could it truly have been him? He had felt so real. Legolas tried to remember their last meeting...

flashback

The winter air was bitingly cold, even for one of the elven race. The chill wind of winter blew through the dark trees in the distance and left most of the land covered with icy snowflakes. The sun seemed to be a thing of the distant past, for the sky was grey with the season. Two elves and a single horse stood by a wooden bridge over a large frozen river.

The wind was in their flowing golden hair as well as the dark mane of the horse. Their eyes were fierce and piercing; clear green locked with bright silver and their fair skin was white.

"Nîr tôl erin baded lin. A tear comes on your going."

"Im garo heiram. I must go."

Legolas cast his pain-filled eyes down. "Saes," he muttered. "Baw. Ú-chenion. Please, no. I do not understand," he whispered despondently, though in his heart he knew he did.

"Im naer, muindor. I am sorry, brother."

They had already said their farewells; now Legolas supposed to be seeing him off. Instead he found himself attempting to convince Gildur not to leave.

"Mas thelich baded? Where will you go?" he continued stubbornly, though he knew the battle was already lost. Sadness was deep in Gildur's emerald orbs. "Edhored anim. Forgive me," whispered Legolas sadly.

The wind was growing stronger. It whistled around them and hurtled snow about them.

"Gerich vereth nín, muindor-nín," said Legolas over the wind. "Sílo Anor bo men lín. You have my love, my brother. May the Sun shine upon your road."

Legolas embraced his brother strongly, feeling sadness well up in him. Identical tears of sorrow cascaded down their faces, freezing before they hit the ground. Gildur leapt atop his steed and turned away, feeling that he would not have the heart to leave if he lingered any longer. He galloped away, and in Legolas heart he felt it to be the last time he would see his brother. His soft words were unheard as they were lost in the howling of the wind.

"I will miss you, my brother..."

end flashback

As the image of his last meeting with Gildur faded from Legolas' mind, he felt himself being pushed roughly to his feet. Could it already be time to leave? How many hours had he been lost in the reclusion of his thoughts? No matter—they were moving again. Legolas' sore, throbbing legs shook as he got to his feet, but he forced himself to press on as he remembered Gildur. His brother would never have given in to the pain. He would never have surrendered, gone down without a fight.

So given renewed strength, Legolas kept going, eyes staring ahead with fierce determination. He would get to Rhovanion. Although he was still going to carry out his plan, he planned to do so with dignity, and would not be dragged there like a helpless prisoner by these foul creatures.

Looking over at Aragorn, he managed to send his friend a small smile, and it amused him to see the man's bewilderment. But he need it—he would have to be strong.

Aragorn would be the one who would need courage now.

Elrond was in even worse spirits than before. Where had the bloody Istar disappeared to now? Now, when their need was greater than ever. It seemed that ill fate followed them through everything.

They had reached the Carrock River. Thranduil allowed for a short rest to allow their exhausted horses to regain their strength, then insisted that they continue. The hour was again late, the light scarce. But they went on now with slightly more hope—they believed they had found the Orcs' trail. Of course, they were still far from the swiftly moving group, but at least it provided some information.

Yet Gandalf's disappearance remained a constant enigma. It bothered Elrond to no end. As their tiresome journey dragged on, he grew angry as well—why would their trusted friend abandon them? The wizard was often unpredictable, but this was shocking, especially since he cared deeply about Aragorn and Legolas as well. Something must have happened. Yet after briefly discussing it, they realized that attempting to figure out why the wizard had left was pretty much hopeless.

They were riding again in silence when Elladan rode up beside his father.

"Ada?" he asked.

"Yes?"

Elladan hesitated briefly, then continued. "You have always been completely honest to me."

"Honesty is part of my role as a father."

"So answer me this, truthfully: when we reach the place where Estel and Legolas are being held, what do you think we will find?"

Elrond had feared this question for many leagues since they had left Imladris. He had, in fact, been wondering the same thing is they had first begun their trek. He drew in a deep breath and turned to his sons' apprehensive faces. Their long dark hair had long since escaped the leather ties which were supposed to hold their hair. Their usually calm and gentle brown eyes now held fear—an emotion the two elves rarely felt.

"I... do not know," replied Elrond, too weary to beat around the bush. "Aragorn and Legolas are very strong; there is no doubt upon that. But they have been captured by the orcs for a long time..."

He shook his head, knowing in his hearth he blamed himself.

"Avo. Don't."

Elrond whipped his head around. So caught up in his guilt, he had failed to hear the Silvan Elf ride up beside him.

"Man pennich? What did you say?"

"Do not blame yourself, for I know guilt lurks hidden in your heart; already it is manifesting." His eyes were sharp and piercing. "You must eradicate such thoughts were they take over. Ere they rule your mind.. as they already rule mine."

The Nolder Elves stared at the Elven King. Elrond opened his mouth but Thranduil interrupted.

"No, do not try to comfort me. Do not contradict me, for I know in my heart where the blame truly lies: on myself."

He closed his eyes briefly and Elrond saw a silent tear fall from beneath closed lashes. Then, he opened his eyes and stared ahead, as though picturing his son. "Always he was trying to prove himself. Always he was striving to... to do what?"

Tears filled his eyes as he continued; seeming to have forgotten that he was not alone. A despairing look had filled his azure orbs.

"To please me? He was proven to me that moment he came into this world. He used to know that... until Gildur was murdered."

He turned to Elrond with wide eyes, and then as though Elrond had been condemning him, he spoke urgently. "I pushed him because I loved him... because I did not want to lose another child! And now... I have sent him to his death."

A few prolonged moments of silence followed. Then Elrond turned to Elrohir. "Try to find their trail," he said. His son nodded and dismounted, then quickly began to climb the nearest tree. The other three stood below, watching as he reached the top and shaded his eyes, looking into the distance.

"We are not far!" he reported, calling down. "Rhovanion is near, and the orcs have slowed their pace. With luck, we may be able to reach our destination shortly after they do and get in unexpected.

"Ada," Elladan said quietly. "I have a question."

Elrond prepared himself for another question like the last. "Yes, Elladan?"

"Ada, there are many Orcs. There will be twice as many as before, now that a second party is joining those already at Rhovanion. They will be alert for trespassers, after discovering Estel and Legolas. How do you plan to get in unnoticed?"

Elrond hesitated. Silently, he reprimanded himself for not thinking of it before. "I—"

"We did not travel thus far to abandon those we seek!" said Thranduil coldly. Placing a hand tightly around the hilt of on of his elven daggers, his eyes suddenly alight with a strange fire. "We will go in. Those who stand in your way will not live to alert the rest."

Elladan began to say something, but reconsidered after Elrond gave him a sharp look. The tension would have lasted, except that it was broken by a loud thud signifying Elrohir's ungraceful attempt to get down from the tree. He rose, finding three pairs of eyes staring at him.

"I... my foot got stuck." Elrohir stammer pathetically, pointing at his boot. Elrond shook his head.

"Come," said Thranduil. "We ride."

Ignoring his horse's irritated snort of protest, he began to ride on. Casting one more look at his sons, Elrond followed.

Elladan raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Nice," he commented sarcastically. "Very graceful."

"My foot was honestly stuck!" Elrohir protested.

"Right," Elladan said. The twins looked to one another for a few moments, then rode on as well.

Rhovanion was now drawing near. The Orcs were picking up their pace now; Groushnak had been angry with the slow progress they had been making after their rest. Legolas' legs were still shaky and weak, but he managed to go on at a decent pace without help. He was determined to ignore the pain he felt when they hit him as well as their taunts and jeers, although it proved to be no easy feat.

Every step he took caused more agony than the last and every breath was forced and shallow. Hope was not but a distant memory and gaiety seems to be a dream long forgotten, akin to the sands of Time slipping through his fingers and death's cold touch caressing his heart and mind...

Aragorn turned to Legolas. The prince was moving, and without complaint, but Aragorn could see the pain and grief which clouded his eyes. The climate had slowly been dropping and it pierced into his very bones, chilling his very mind. Fog had closed in all around them. It muddled all else and drenched them thoroughly. Every limb felt numb which, he supposed, was better than feeling other wounds, some deeper than flesh. Suddenly he could see the dim outline of a large dark forest. The Orcs, apparently, had also just noticed it.

"Ey!"

Groushnak, who had been skulking behind Aragorn, moved ahead. He turned before speaking with another Orc and smiled cruelly.

"It's not far now, human. Soon, soon..."

He laughed, a brusque fetid sound, which was reminiscent of hoarse bark. Aragorn was repulsed as he glared at the Orc, sending looks of venom. Groushnak met the stare of a moment, but quickly turned away, moving forward once more. As he passed Legolas, Groushnak stabbed his fingers into one of Legolas' many wounds.

Aragorn watched Legolas stumble and he had a sudden vision of the elf lying in the dirt; cold... and dead.

The fog had not lessened when they entered the forest; rather it seemed to have gotten worse. Tension surrounded the group and the very air seemed to be charged with electricity. Legolas peered though the fog, but could barely decipher anything past the dark figures of the party and the dark forms of the majestic trees which surrounded them. He was unsure of whether he was acquainted with this part of the forest, or if it was too far south for patrols. Most likely it was, if the destination was to be Dol Guldur. Patrols did not venture near that place any longer. Evil exuded to the point where it hurt their very being. Already he could feel the malignant power in his mind...

Suddenly a call came from the front to stop and make camp. He was thrown to the ground viciously before being bound against a tree. Aragorn was thrown beside him, and two Orcs were left to guard them both. The orcs seemed edgy from the first, as though they were anticipating something.

"We will assemble forces at once," Groushnak ordered, not noticing that even as he spoke, they were closing in around him, their hands gripped tightly around the hilts of their weapons. He looked around. "What are you waiting for?" he barked, though an unnatural tension belied his voice.

"No, Groushnak," growled Ognak, a vicious gleam in his eyes. "We don't take orders from you any longer." He ran his finger along the length of the blade's jagged edge.

Groushnak drew his own sword and held it menacingly before Ognak. "You dare challenge me, fool?"

The Orcs behind Ognak snarled, gathering into a large mass and each drawing their own weapons. Groushnak turned to those who remained.

"Are you also too cowardly you stand behind your leader?" he inquired, his voice holding a dangerous tone. Nervously they lifted their blades and took their places beside him.

There was a prolonged silence as tension was built. The Orcs from both sides growled at the other. Abruptly, Ognak lunged for Groushnak, and the battle began. The sound of a bloody battle resounded through the silence as the sounds of swords clashing and orcs dying reverberated of the tree.

One of the squalid bodies fell before Aragorn's feet and the crude bloody weapon fell beside him. Then, realizing that the guards around them had long abandoned their posts and that the hastily made knot which bound his right hand was coming undone, he seized the opportunity and freed his right hands, then used the blade to free his left. Quickly, he crept silently over to Legolas and began to cut the elf's bonds. When his arms were free they fell limply you his side. He turned to Legolas who was leaning heavily on his shoulder.

"Come," Aragorn whispered, pulling the elf's bloody arm around his shoulders. "Now's our chance."

Helping Legolas to his feet, they stumbled shakily into the forest. After a few minutes, they were far enough away to be not be caught for the moment. Aragorn leaned Legolas against a tree and stat opposite him, the dagger in hand. The Elf coughed heavily, his breathing grew irregular as he struggled to force in air.

"Recover your strength, mellon-nín," Aragorn said, gently attempting to attend to the worst of Legolas' wounds. He was taken aback when the Elf caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

"No," Legolas said quietly. "It is not worth it."

"Legolas, this is our only chance to make our escape!"

"No, muindor-nín. There is no escape for me now... save for one."

Aragorn followed Legolas' gaze to the ground, where the crude dagger lay. His eyes widened. "Ú-chenion," he said softly, though in his heart, he knew he did. Only too well.

"You do not wish to. But you know what it is I seek."

"Im tur-uu... I cannot..."

"Aragorn, look at me."

Aragorn did look, and felt terrible sorrow at the sight of those spiritless eyes. Again, Legolas spoke.

"Please. For the sake of our friendship. End it quickly, before they find us—you know what will happen if they find us."

He knew. He also knew that if they were discovered, the fate the awaited his friend would undoubtedly make death seem a welcome end.

"Quickly!" whispered Legolas urgently. "Before they find us!"

In his eyes was a serenity that all his suffering would finally end. He gave Aragorn a small smile as his breathing began to slow.

Aragorn picked up the dagger with trembling hands and pointed it towards Legolas' heart...