Well, here is chapter five, you bloodthirsty people! Enjoy and review, please!

Ripples

CHAPTER FIVE

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Murky Water

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Aragorn padded smoothly over to his father's bed, making good use of the faint rays of bluish light provided by a small glow-globe that, thankfully, Elrond had left lit. He felt his heart rate lower and a meager amount of peacefulness spread through him as he watched the elderly Elf drawing a deep breath in his sleep.

Staring down at the limp features of Elrond's face that seemed carefree as his open but unfocused eyes stared into nothing Aragorn suddenly felt safe. Gently he pulled the blanket that had slid down near the bottom of the bed up over his father's shoulders but stopped when the Elf-lord's hand quietly grabbed his wrist.

"What do you want, Estel?" Elrond mumbled, still half asleep.

It took him a moment to bring the young ranger's face into focus. Aragorn grabbed that brief moment to speak. "Ada, I just wanted to check and see if you were…safe. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, of course I am safe," Elrond raised himself upon an elbow and gave Aragorn a dubious look that came frighteningly close to becoming the dreaded 'look'. "Is something wrong?" The tone of his voice had changed to demanding, but remained forcefully calm. It was impressive how quickly voices could change, Aragorn thought indolently.

The man stroked the quilt with his fingers and intensely studied the fabric for a minute and half. Finally he managed to find the rights words, or at least as close as he was sure he could get. "Ada, things have taken a strange twist. Rána…isn't all that he appears to be." His voice trailed off as he lost what had been an explanation.

Elrond raised himself to an upright position and his eyes narrowed in an obviously distraught and seriously interested manner. Lifting a brow he asked incredulously but still calmly, "how so, Estel? Sit and tell me everything, my son." The elder Elf gestured lightly to a comfortable looking chair at the bedside, or at least close enough to it that they could talk in reasonably quiet voices.

Aragorn shook his head and objected respectfully. "I would rather not, father. I can't! I am too worried for Legolas." The young man began to pace nervously as Elrond stood up, swinging his legs over the bed so he sat comfortably on the edge. He eyed Aragorn as thought the human might wear a hole through the floor, but as he watched his foster son his concern mounted. When Aragorn's pacing notably increased Elrond bit his lip, something he hadn't done in nigh on a thousand years at least.

"Why? Estel, as your father I am commanding you to sit and tell me everything!" Elrond didn't enjoy having to be firm with Estel but he didn't think he would be able to calm Aragorn and get him to see reason if he did not get the man to take a seat. If Aragorn would be still for little over a mili-second they might accomplish something!

Realizing that Estel must not have heard him because he never had ignored him completely and was still pacing excessively, Elrond reached out a hand. Grabbing the young man's sleeve, Elrond gently guided him to the overstuffed chair and nodded pointedly for him to sit down.

Taking a clue, Aragorn stayed in the chair though his muscles were begging him to get up and walk to and fro. His nerves, also, were pathetically whining to be relieved and no matter how he turned or shifted in the chair he simply could not find a comfortable position to save his life –or his sanity.

"Now," Elrond spoke slowly, perfectly aware of the fact that he sounded as though he was talking to a distraught four-year old. "Tell me everything and if it helps, take your time." His hand enclosed Aragorn's, which was shaking with emotion and adrenaline pulsing through his system.

Aragorn stared at his father's hand silently for a minute, not sure how to start his explanations. However, as he thought things through and his mind began to slow down he came to the conclusion that his silence was only enhancing any peril that Legolas might be in and that the entire palace already faced. Drawing a deep breath he decided that everything had to start somewhere…

"Ada, Rána tired to kill Voronwë …"

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Lying on the floor, staring up at what could possibly be the ceiling, however he wasn't entirely sure since everything seemed to be spinning in and out of focus in an annoying fashion. Actually, Legolas wasn't too sure about that either, considering the room still appeared to be dark between the instantaneous flashes of white light from the lightning. It was just that past experience told him that blows to the head usually consisted of headaches that followed blinding pain initiating the spinning of the world. Blinking in surprise, Legolas winced as he truly confirmed someone or something had struck him upside the head.

A hand that had just recently entangled itself in his tunic was revealed in a particularly brilliant flash of lightning that lit up the sky as though on cue. But there was another light, duller but more constant, reflecting a bluish color and pushing back the darkness enough to reveal Legolas' opponent. Ah, someone had a glow-globe in their possession, Legolas took note before he managed to put his vision into half-decent focus on the Elf boring into his eyes with an icy pair of silver ones.

He didn't know why he was surprised, really he didn't.

"Uncle," his voice was deliberately flat.

"Legolas, my favorite nephew," a sickeningly cool and smooth voice replied, causing a tingling sweat to start on the prince's palms as well as a spreading sensation of illness in his stomach's core.

If Legolas wasn't imagining things there was a bit more bitter sarcasm in his Uncle's voice than he had ever hoped to hear in one setting. If this situation hadn't been bad enough it had just gotten a step up to worse.

"I'm your only nephew," Legolas returned in a dark mumble, wondering if there was any possible way to wriggle free of Lostiâ's relentless grip on the front of his tunic.

Lostiâ, for his part, pretended his captive had never spoken a word and continued mordantly. "I must say I was beginning to wonder when you would come here and talk to Rána, you being so clever." His silver eyes possessed a chilling smile akin to sadism and Legolas moaned inside as he realized he was in trouble again.

Rolling his eyes around the room as he searched for Rána, he found the injured Elf holding the small glow-globe and for once he appeared to be malicious and it was a completely different part of his character that had been well hidden until now. As he looked at his uncle's friend further, he saw that the dark-haired Elf was positioned halfway behind the door, having stepped out some.

Realizing he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book, Legolas would have loved to slap himself and as a matter of fact, inwardly he was doing it receptively.

"Rána, I suppose you know full well that I wish my shot had not been a few inches off?" Legolas asked around a set of clenched teeth as a jab of anger at the betrayal stung with a vengeance, prodding and picking at his heart.

Rána seemed a bit uncomfortable, perhaps wondering if Legolas was referring to the immediate situation or other…events…Deciding that he didn't much care as the fact of the matter was that Legolas was the captive and he was not, the dark-haired Elf only smiled belligerently. "Oh I do indeed, but I can't say I'm…ungrateful."

"I figured that much," Legolas answered back morbidly.

"Legolas I would have thought over the years you would have acquired a bit more respect for your elders, hm?" Lostiâ asked as he noticeably tightened his grip on Legolas' tunic front before yanking the prince thoughtlessly to his feet, pulling him so that their faces nearly touched.

"I show respect to those who earn it," the captive prince bit out a he was becoming more and more angered at his treatment and the entire situation. He knew full well that though he had spoken only a few words he had just said a mouthful and that it wasn't likely these 'nice gentlemen' weren't going to seek retribution. But he would take things one-step at a time.

The punishment he did receive, Legolas had to admit, was rather unconventional so Lostiâ received a reasonably high mark for creativity. Finding himself launched backward and toppling head over heals with a medic cart that had been idly sitting around, Legolas became aware that there were various porcelain and glass dishes or beakers smashing and breaking all around him. They struck the floor with distinct shattering sounds that seemed extremely loud in Legolas' ears, though everything seemed sensitive right now.

Only moments later, though it seemed to last a life-age, Legolas discovered he was lying flat upon his back, broken beakers and bowls (some still whole and spinning) along with medical instruments and herbs sprawled unceremoniously all around him. Odd, that his right hand felt like it was literally on fire but soaked at the same time. If he wasn't mistaken, it was bleeding. The feeling as though his skin was being licked by a slow flame continued to grow, much in part to the mixtures of the herbal poultices that had been freed of their jars and mingled with one another and were now sinking into his skin. He didn't think they would be too harmful…

Sitting up slowly, with his ears ringing, Legolas dared himself to look at what he expected to be some gruesome abrasions. Lifting his hand from over a shattered ceramic beaker, Legolas realized that the wounds were not too extensive though they were bleeding rather profusely. Blinking and shifting his gaze back to the beaker and then back to his hand, Legolas came to the understanding that it was the beaker that had cut his hand and if he judged things from the burning feeling under his skin, there were still some pieces in there.

The bewildered prince was about to turn his gaze behind him but there was no need as a heavy gag found its way astonishingly fast into his mouth and between his teeth before being drawn taut near to the point of being suffocating. Legolas struggled wildly, even though he knew it was probably in vain and his hand was giving him fits of pain that were definitely distracting.

The gag in his mouth was abusively used as a rough handle to drag him backwards into the waiting arms of his attacker. Legolas bit down on the cloth as his right hand was dragged roughly across the floor and the jagged pieces of broken pottery.

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Aragorn would have thought that Elrond would have been confused and not had the slightest idea who Voronwë was, or even been shocked by the story and conclusions he and Legolas had come to. But what he must have forgotten was that Elrond had been many places and seen many things. Chronic cases of hate and soul decay, unfortunately, were nothing new to him and he was really quite weary of them.

Drawing his vermilion robe tighter about himself, the elder Elf looked at Estel sadly before shaking his head in disbelief. "My Estel, I think there is more to this story than you know. The time is right," he added as an after thought.

Aragorn gave him a dubious but respectful expression that conveyed his confusion. Finally, Elrond noticed with some relief, Aragorn was beginning to relax back into his chair, though he was no less intrigued than before. As a matter of fact, Elrond wouldn't be overly surprised if the human's curiosity had doubled in the past few minutes.

In response to Aragorn's incredulous expression the Elf-lord sighed and breathed deeply, attempting to find words to explain the sad story that he thought Aragorn should know. He was a bit surprised that Legolas had not already mentioned it before, considering that the Elf and ranger were remarkably close as friends.

"Do you know how Legolas' mother was killed?" he finally asked softly, not likely to speak of it here more than anywhere else in all Middle Earth.

"I know she was cut down by orcs two thousand one hundred and thirty one years ago this night," Aragorn answered slowly, wondering what Elrond was getting at exactly. If there were more he was certain Legolas would have told him. It wasn't as though his friend had murdered her or anything…

"So Legolas has spoken to you of this?" Elrond asked expectantly but was disappointed by the answer he received. He had hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to explain and impart this to the ranger.

"I know only what I just told you," Aragorn replied in full honesty, beginning to feel slightly sick to his stomach and scanned the room unnoticeably for a spot to vomit if the need arouse. The secretive and sorrowful way that Elrond was conducting himself was making Aragorn unnaturally edgy.

"It was a night very much like this night in weather and mood," Elrond began to the telling of the tragedy from the very beginning, the best place to start. His heart was already beginning to feel a sore as it had when a guilt-ridden prince had told him the story years ago. It was one he had hoped to the Valar that he would never have to repeat.

"Legolas had been sent as an envoy to a neighboring country, minute and whose name doesn't matter because it no longer exists. Unfortunately he found some…trouble and was imprisoned there for a week before anyone found out –yes, Estel." Elrond broke off briefly as he added with a sad smile, "he was finding trouble long before you were even a thought."

Aragorn returned the sad smile in kind before the mood became completely sober once more and could even be called depressing as Elrond continued with his tale.

"Well when his mother discovered her son's whereabouts she naturally wanted to take a delegation to go and collect him. Thranduil wouldn't here of it for a week and from what I can piece together it was within that week's time, that unbeknownst to anyone, Legolas had made an escape and was traveling home. At the same time he reached the eves of Mirkwood, she had departed, taking with her a convoy/delegation that consisted of herself, Voronwë, Lostiâ and his wife (who was close to her) and Rána along with a few other Elves.

As fate would have it, a contingent of large orcs had picked up Legolas' scent without his knowledge." Here Elrond closed his eyes in a sorrowful way that made Aragorn's heart rise up into his throat, making it feel harder to breathe.

"Seeing the convoy of his friends and family traveling through the trees, Legolas bounded towards them, calling out especially to his mother. But then arrows flew and all around them the horde of wicked orcs descended, cutting down anyone who tried to withstand them or flee. It was a massacre. In the end Legolas did all he could to protect his mother but the orcs were great and in large number.

She saw one about to plunge a sword through his chest and tossed herself upon the blade, saving him but killing herself and she died instantly."

Elrond paused, gathering his thoughts once more. "Lostiâ never forgave Legolas, for he was close with his sister, Legolas' mother. And he had also lost his wife, leaving Voronwë motherless."

Aragorn's eyes were wide in disbelief and he blinked before speaking in a choked whisper. "I never thought there was that much to her death! How did –how has Legolas taken it? He has been acting…like Legolas. Do you think that Lostiâ is bringing a plan of vengeance into action? I knew there was a tension between Legolas and his uncle but I had no idea that it stemmed from this!"

"Well it does. And I do believe that Lostiâ has put a plan of some sort into action," Elrond agreed desolately. "But that is not the worst part we have to worry about. It is whom he has corrupted that we must fear and watch even more closely for. I fear that Rána may be one of them."

Elrond went quiet a moment before he calmly amended his latest statement. "No, I know Rána is one of them. But why he would try to kill Voronwë is beyond me. Lostiâ would never want his own son dead. He doesn't strike me as being that confused."

Aragorn hadn't been listening to his father's last few statements, but was paying full attention to the sinking feeling in his stomach. There was a deep scar on Legolas' heart that constantly reminded the Elf of his dark past. It was torturing scar, one that was always reopening and causing a great amount of pain. There were tears Legolas had been crying for many years that no one had seen falling behind his eyes.

Aragorn never had thought from the way Legolas acted now that anything this drastic and horrible marred his friend's past.

Chewing his lower lip thoughtfully, Aragorn wondered if now that he knew all of this he should act any different around the Elf. Almost immediately the ranger decided against it. That wouldn't be fair to Legolas and probably wouldn't make things any easier. But he was definitely going to have to have a conversation about this! As much as it would burn like a wound in the process of being cleansed, he had to let Legolas know that he knew but didn't look down on him for it.

"I think I should go and talk to Legolas," Aragorn announced, looking at his father with a grim and set expression.

Elrond would have expressly forbid it if he didn't know it wouldn't do a whole lot of good. Knitting his brows, the Elf-lord frowned as he slipped smoothly into a pair of slippers that matched his robe quite well. "Be careful Estel. I think it might be wise to wait until the sun came up," he finished with a deterring suggestion.

Aragorn only answered matter-of-factly. "Perhaps, but I have to meet him at the Healing Ward anyway. He will be expecting me."

Elrond leveled his foster son with a critical glower and when he spoke the seriousness of his voice cut through Aragorn as effectively as a knife would have. "You have to be careful and I mean it! There could be serious trouble! You know, I am not even sure that you understand the meaning of the word 'careful' in the most distant definition. I suppose I will just have to trust and hope your interpretations are the same as mine," he finished wistfully.

"Ada," Aragorn assured with a blinding smile. "I will be all right. You'll see." His arms went around the elder Elf in a warm embrace that was returned with equal affection, if not more so.

Pushing his son away and holding him at arm's length, Elrond absorbed the love between them as he watched Aragorn's troubled but hopeful face. 'There is always too much of a good thing,' Elrond mused to himself as he released his son and the human began to rush out of the room. 'Like self-assurance for instance.'

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Dragging Legolas backwards, Lostiâ winced as his nephew jabbed his elbow forcefully backward, hitting him full in the mouth. Cursing around a broken lip, Legolas' uncle cinched the gag even tighter on the younger Elf a he growled, "keep this up and you will lose more than you will gain Legolas, I promise you that!"

He expected that Legolas wouldn't be easily subdued of course, but he had underestimated the prince's tenacity a little too much.

"Rána! Damn it! Help me!" He snapped sharply at his friend who hastily laid the glow-globe on the ground and gripped Legolas' ankles to try and pin his kicking legs down.

Feeling very desperate and not for a moment even considering stopping his resistance, Legolas kicked out even harder, catching Rána in the throat and forcing him back a few faltering and rather diminutive steps. The dark-haired Elf coughed as he recovered quickly; shooting Legolas a venomous glare that was so sharp it could have drawn blood. Drawing blood…now there was an idea that might help, Rána mused as a ruthless plan formed in his mind.

Stumbling to the upturned medic cart, the warrior fumbled and rummaged thought he broken dishes and scattered instruments and bandages. Finally getting annoyed with the lack of light, the grabbed the glow-globe and held it aloft over the spilled contents. At least ten seconds later, or what seemed longer if you actually bothered to pay attention to Lostiâ's cursing, Rána found what he had sought.

A small surgical knife lay amid the broken pieces of a glass beaker, just the right size for nicking a vein open and taking nearly over a pint of blood from that struggling princeling. Blood loss, he reasoned, would weaken Legolas enough that they would be given an opportunity to twist a rope around his wrists and perhaps around his ankles. But they definitely had to get something around his wrists.

Having no time to be ceremonial about opening a vein, Rána hurried over to where Lostiâ was being hard put to keep a grip on his fighting nephew. Taking a firm hold of Legolas' right arm, he the blade's edge on the under part of the forearm near the elbow. Applying a generous amount of pressure, he watched as the knife slid in through the tunic and into the flesh, cutting a large vein just enough to get some blood but not enough that they couldn't stop it.

Legolas stopped struggling and looked numbly at the tiny wound in his arm that was spurting his silvery red blood like a miniature fountain. Knowing why Rána had done this and not being in any position to prevent it with his arm strongly secured in the dark-haired Elf's grip, Legolas could only watch as his blood stained the floor. He could already feel his vigor and strength fleeing his body and the more he fought the faster he became weak. Legolas relaxed against his uncle grudgingly, knowing that the more he struggled the more he would bleed. But even after Legolas had seemed to succumb to them and they had drained a pint of blood from his body the Elves were not satisfied until they had taken a little more.

Rána released Legolas' arm and stepped over all the chaos and broken dishes, reaching the bedside where he promptly shed the sheets from it. Ripping the bed sheets into long and wide strips, Rána bound them tightly about Legolas' wound that he had inflicted, preventing the prince from bleeding to death. After all, he wasn't supposed to die yet.

As the dark-haired warrior went to get the rope from where it had been haphazardly abandoned near the door, he staggered wearily. His own wound was hurting incredibly and he was becoming very anxious. He had not anticipated all of this, or at least not that it would happen this soon. Rána suddenly wheezed as pain broke over him. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists and his bit back a moan.

Legolas watched tiredly as the ropes were handed off to his uncle. Suddenly Legolas' impassive expression turned to a frustrated and irritated scowl as his arms were abruptly pulled behind him and twisted brutally. He was certain they were never designed to work this way. Already the joints that had served him quite well until now were beginning to ache and burn. Another thing that was far from comfortable was the really itchy and inescapably tight bonds twined about his wrists, cutting off his blood flow to his hands.

His uncle's hands tightened on his upper arms and the fair-haired captive resisted the urge to squirm away. In moments Legolas found himself being hauled to his feet, though he felt so heavy and weak that he thought it was definitely possible he could fall over at any given moment. He was beginning to wonder if some utterly maniacal person had exchanged his legs, which had worked fine before, for two lumps of useless lead. Something slippery was beneath his feet he realized and looked down idly to see he was sliding around in a puddle of his own blood, smearing it crimson across the white marble floor.

The thought made his stomach churn rather violently, but there was another problem beyond his illness.

His right hand, whose palm had been slashed to ribbons by the broken ceramic and glass was giving him quite a lot of pain and was still bleeding rather profusely. Even worse, he could tell that it still had the ceramic beneath the skin and it was being buried further.

Rána and Lostiâ were about to exit the room, dragging out Legolas with them under cover of darkness, dashing the glow-globe and prodding Legolas towards the door when they heard someone calling. Legolas was already missed and Lostiâ was very grateful for the gag in his nephew's mouth.

All the same he hissed in Legolas' ear, immediately putting the prisoner in mind of a large, venomous and rather ill tempered snake. "Make one peep and your friend will have to die. Understood?"

Legolas just jerked his face away in disgust and gave a soft and inaudible snort. His heart was pumping blood through is veins at an astonishing speed as he prayed to the Valar that Aragorn would simply think he had left and leave him. He was also earnestly praying that this wasn't too much to hope for.

"Legolas! Legolas!" He heard Aragorn's voice call into the darkness desperately. "Are you in here? I know it took me longer than fifteen minutes but I still would appreciate your answer!"

Lostiâ's fingers pressed and pinched the skin of Legolas' arms as he reminded his prisoner that the minutest sound would prove fatal for the ranger. As for Legolas, he felt like he was burning from the inside out with anxiety for his friend. He prayed and begged fervently that Aragorn wouldn't even consider lighting a glow-globe, because he knew that if the human saw or discovered what was going on before they were gone he wouldn't live to tell anyone

Legolas' sharp Elven ears picked up the minutest sounds of Aragorn's boots scuffing the floor and his breathing as he cautiously ventured into the dark room. He could feel his friend's presence right beside him as Aragorn walked further into the room, with only the darkness hiding everything. For Aragorn's sake Legolas held his breath and prayed the human wouldn't find the sticky puddle of blood on the floor.

It was frustrating to have his best friend right beside him and not be able to say anything to let him know he was there because it would mean his friend's death.

TBC…., well here was the angst and our dear Elf is already hurt! Please review! Please! Please! PLEASE!

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