Sorry, but we had to post this early because tonight is going to be busy. We want to go and see the new Harry Potter movie with a couple of friends. Tin seems to enjoy Harry Potter, I am not the biggest fan, but I thought since I saw the other movies, I should see this one too! waves at Horse Luvar>.
Anyway, you probably all could care less and I can't blame you! LOL
WARNING: Evil cliffie is also in effect for this chapter as well! Hehehehehe…..and there is another appearance by some strangely intelligent orcs…how did THAT happen? Enjoy and please review!
Ripples
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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Vertigo
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Staggering alone through the Emyn Duir, Legolas felt sick to his stomach again and he wanted to stop and rest. His high cheekbones finally were beginning to sport some dark bruises and his proud face looked weary and sad. He didn't much resemble the royal he was.
Stopping to sag against the smooth bough of a tree, Legolas found himself sliding down the trunk as he began to feel a dizzy sensation and his knees folded of their own accord. He hadn't expelled all the venom from his body and it was absolutely begging for a chance to recuperate. Trees swirled and danced around before his eyes and sometimes merged or suddenly appeared to have a shadowy twin.
Closing his eyes until the world stopped spinning, Legolas wondered what he was supposed to do. There was no way that he alone could save anyone and he really wished Aragorn had thought of this before dashing off. He imagined that even if they had been captured together they might have come up with something to get them out of this mess. It had always worked in the past.
Banging his head back against the tree in frustration, the Elf was beginning to feel remarkably lost and alone. He didn't even have a single weapon to protect himself with and that was just the beginning of his troubles. Valar forbid a troupe of orcs pranced into view and discovered him like this! They would have a field day!
'Well,' he thought amusedly, 'I might be able to break one's nose before being throttled.' But really, he didn't have that sort of strength either.
Blinking as he hardly realized he had closed his eyes, Legolas decided that since he was weaponless the safest place for him would most likely be in a tree. The only thing that could reach him up that high was a spider and to be honest, he wasn't too worried about them since the rains. Everything was still slippery and he simply could not picture them struggling for their grips on the branches yet. If his earlier thoughts had been amusing this particular one actually brought a small smile to his face.
However it quickly faded as he knew that every Elf that could be spared, most likely meaning Arandur and two of his cronies, were out looking for him so his uncle could rip him apart and then kill him. On top of that Lord Elrond was being held captive as well as his own father with Estel just recently captured and probably going through one of Lostiâ's interrogations by now. Lostiâ appeared to have every person imaginable captured but the one he wanted the most, which, Legolas thought, feeling a bit more important for a minute, was slightly humorous.
However, he wasn't laughing.
Having all that he had left in the clutches of a mad Elf bent on the destruction of his life troubled him greatly to say the very least and he was well aware of the burden placed on him to set everything right.
Suddenly, his ears picked up the sound of a tramping and he cocked his head to the side, trying to identify where the noise was coming from. Realizing he wasn't in the tree he had selected to climb, the Elf reached up and grabbed a branch, pulling himself up with some difficulty accredited to recent events.
Going higher he made a scrunched up face as his hand placed itself squarely in some old spider thread that was soaked from the rain and no longer sticky but slimy and just plain gross. Shaking his hand free of the mess, the Elf found a nearly comfortable nook in the branches and seated himself, legs stretched out before him on the thick branch.
Carefully his eyes scanned the ground below and all around him. A harsh growling voice made him moan inside his head as it barked out orders to its troupes. Orcs. This had to be the worst streak of luck he had discovered in a long time. Farlost wasn't as horrible as this because this was at his home, the one place he had always taken for granted as being a safe haven.
Their abrasive voices made his ears ring and his already pulsing headache border on being unbearable. And, if his hearing wasn't cheating him, they were coming this way and were none too few in number. The rains and prospect of defenseless creatures drenched by he downpour must have prompted them to issue forth to see what sport they could get out of the situation. Rubbing his hand on his temples, the Elf wondered idly why it always had to be orcs…?
He didn't get an answer but as the beasts crashed through the vegetation, striking it down with their ugly curved scimitars, Legolas did get a look at their numbers and was surprised to find that there were near thirty. They hadn't traveled in these sorts of numbers since many years ago, since the years his mother died as a matter of fact.
Making sure his blonde hair was still tucked successfully behind his ears and hidden in the folds of the cloak and hood, Legolas did his best to remain concealed to their view. Even if he had his weapons he was too weak to use them properly against this many foes and he was sure that they would have a definite advantage health wise.
Legolas hardly dared to breath and remained completely motionless as the sadist creatures chose his tree out of millions of others to gather under. He knew one mistake and he was as good as dead so he calmed his body and became as still as if he was one of the branches.
They talked about many things, mostly in their Black Speech and Legolas didn't care to listen. He knew a few words just from hard learned experience but he wasn't in the frame of mind to try and translate anything, least of all when they started laughing over something.
A Elbereth! He didn't have time for this!
However the topic soon changed to one that interested him significantly. He had heard their word for 'Elf' or 'Elves', he couldn't discern between them. Either they had picked up his scent or seen something he should know of. Strangely, they switched to the common tongue in the heat of their argument.
"Gar! There was an Elf here not a few moments ago!" protested one of the Uruk's as his impatient and incredulous comrades put its sniffing capabilities into question.
"Nonsense Gorbog! Know you not the tales from 'ere?" snarled another scornfully, giving Gorbog a shove that resulted in a mutinous snarl.
Legolas tensed, as he was certain he knew all too well what they were talking about. For a moment his heart froze as Gorbog glanced up his way, his eyes barely missing discovering the fair being.
The other orc continued. "There was an Elf slaughter over here a thousand years ago or so the tales say. Their scent and sorrow lingers in this place and ever it fools less wise orcs into thinking they might have a little sport." His eyes trained themselves pointedly on Gorbog and the others laughed rancorously, making Legolas want to shield his ears.
Gorbog appeared to ignore the explanations of legends and worthless superstition as he spoke above their laughter. "It smells fresher than that!"
"Elf-blood never goes stale I'll warrant!" One of the other's spoke up with a chuckle.
"It's all legends only!" Gorbog insisted maliciously, becoming frustrated and drawing his scimitar in challenge, poking it at his companions as he spoke. "You are all fools!"
"No, yer the fool!" snapped another, not appreciating having a sword poked at him and becoming irritated with this other's independent thinking. "Have you not seen His thralls, the two still alive? Aye, so you have! Well where do you think he got them two Elves from then?" He cackled evilly and sneered, "They didn't come to him themselves! They were brought as gifts!"
Legolas didn't care to hear anymore but he was hypnotized by their horrible conversation. Even the orcs knew of his slip years ago though they seemed to revere it as being a great victory on their part. It made a hot fire ignite in his chest as he itched to reach back and grab his bow and shoot a few arrows into their heads. If he had his bow with him he might have actually tried taking them all on.
Unfortunately all he could do was sit and listen.
Gorbog didn't seem so easily satisfied with the assertion that the scent of an Elf came from the blood spilled years ago. He simply couldn't buy that and contended, "There was an Elf here not long ago! I am telling you that they are making mischief again and we need to go put them in their place!"
A few orcs obviously backed Gorbog, though it was probably more because they were bored and killing a few Elves sounded like a splendid idea.
Legolas shuddered, inept to stop himself.
A leaf fell from the branch he was on, fluttering down to land right at Gorbog's feet. The orc lifted his head and sniffed slowly, skeptical that the leaf had fallen on its own.
Closing his eyes, Legolas even held his breath, waiting for the creature and its companions to just go and leave him alone.
It was a good ten minutes before Gorbog and his comrades were partially satisfied. Even then they scowled and growled up at Legolas though they were not able to see him, jabbing upwards with their crooked scimitars before turning around and marching off.
Legolas didn't wait to make sure they weren't watching him but sat up straight, his heart pounding. Even if Arandur, Lostiâ and all of them were able to put aside their differences and fight side by side they wouldn't be able to defeat thirty orcs without a few casualties and the deaths could come from either side of the divisions of the Elves.
Aragorn was already injured and Legolas doubted he would survive the battle, if you could really call it a battle. It would be more like a loaded game of dice because the outcome would be an orc victory either way.
Leaping from the tree in a bit of an ungainly fashion and landing on the balls of his feet, Legolas bent his knees to absorb the impact as he struggled to get up. Everything was fusing together, causing him to feel unnaturally disoriented and going into a state of vertigo.
Blinking, he sat up, not even realizing he had fallen to the ground and was bowed on his knees. Stumbling to his feet, Legolas shook his head and blinked once more, trying to dispel the sense of disconnectedness. Everything was swimming in and out of focus and he was beginning to get irritated.
After a moment, he finally was able to see straight and began to jog lightly in the direction of the cavern, knowing he had to warn them because it wouldn't be any better than common murder if he didn't. However, his reeling and still recovering body apparently had already been kicked into over drive some time back and was disinclined to work even harder.
To his aggravation he was forced to a reasonable paced walk.
However he couldn't confine himself to a walk very long and ignoring his body's demands to slow down and take it easy, he began to run, knowing he had little time and the beasts already had a ten minute head start.
But his steps were uneven and unbalanced; causing him to stumble frequently either on his own feet or on stalks and tree roots. If he wasn't on such an urgent errand there was no question that he would have been ashamed for his clumsiness. It was something an Elf prince wasn't supposed to have if he had everything else.
Suddenly something slammed into him and he found himself sprawled on the ground without much effort on his adversary's part. Shaking his head to clear his swirling vision Legolas struggled backwards as Arandur took another step towards him. "Arandur, you have to listen! There are orcs coming!" The prince implored the green-eyed warrior to heed his warning.
Arandur laughed mirthlessly and answered incredulously, "You just can't give up, can you?" A green flame made his eyes look darker and yet glowing all at once. "You know your little human friend is suffering for you. If I were you I would come along willingly," he advised, producing a length of rope.
Legolas stiffened, clearly unwilling to let himself be bound again. His blue eyes narrowed and he snapped, "You have to listen to me! I am trying to save your life and Lostiâ's too as well as everyone else's!" His desperation made his voice sharp and he wriggled backwards even further as Arandur advanced, and he was sure the other Elf was not even putting effort into ignoring his pleas.
Arandur just smiled in cold amusement and shook his head, twisting and untwisting the rope in his hands. "Legolas, you are making a scene."
Glaring, Legolas snapped testily, "I am talking about saving lives, here!" Obviously Arandur and his Elves thought themselves above death or were beyond reason, which exactly Legolas wasn't too sure. He suspected it was an equal combination of both. "I know I am going to die anyway but you don't have to if you listen to me!" He tried another desperate approach. If he could catch Arandur's interest then everyone, including himself might have a chance.
Arandur ignored him completely now and Legolas scowled in annoyance as the other Elf placed a boot on his chest and held it there. Snorting softly in momentary defeat, Legolas only winced as the rope was laced about his wrists and drawn tight, digging into the tears in his skin from his previous bonds. He had already been aggravated and now he was just plan angry.
He never appreciated being ignored and now was the one time when he was finding it unbearable!
Struggling wildly, he slammed his bound hands into Arandur's face as the green-eyed warrior fought to pull him to his feet and force him to follow. "You have to understand!" he nearly screamed as Arandur pounced upon him a second time. "There are near thirty of them! The rains have made them bolder!"
Arandur had taken all he could stand of Legolas' twisting, kicking and squirming and even exceeded what he thought was the limit of his patience. Grabbing Legolas' shoulder he jerked the other Elf around and then slammed his knuckles abrasively into the prince's temple, causing Legolas to falter sideways. His legs tangled and he fell with a routed cry.
Arandur may have ran out of patience for Legolas' struggles, but Legolas had ran out of patience for Arandur's arrogant stupidity. If he couldn't make the warrior understand the danger then he couldn't and he would accept that. However, he was not going to willingly accept death just yet. Where there was a will there was a way.
Setting his jaw as he was pulled up by his hair, which was falling out of its braids and in his face, sticking to his pasty, moist skin, Legolas decided he would keep his silence for now. He couldn't afford to waste his dwindling supply of energy.
Arandur, he noticed as he looked at the other Elf closely for the first time, had a bloody nose where his bound hands must have come in contact with his face. Grimacing mentally, Legolas imagined he would pay for that later.
It wasn't long before they were at the cave since Arandur forced a merciless pace upon Legolas' worn-out body.
Stumbling in the yawning entrance, never minding it was a cave, Legolas collapsed onto his knees, ignoring the dismayed and surprised cries and expressions of everyone present. Arandur gave him a kick, making sure he would stay there and then he nodded to Lostiâ, who had turned from where he had busied himself trying to force from Aragorn where his nephew was hiding.
"Well I have to give it to you nephew," he said, patting Legolas' pale and clammy cheek. "I am candidly impressed." Smiling maliciously as Legolas recoiled at his touch, Lostiâ gave the prince a taunting shove in the shoulder.
"You would have been very proud of your friend," he went on after the pause. "He didn't tell anything to me about you at all." At this Lostiâ glared icily over at the ranger who was doubled over in the corner, blood streaming from a cut to his temple which was only one injury among many others that included a great deal of nasty bruises.
Elrond and Thranduil were being held back by the other Elves, which explained why Arandur had been alone when he went to find Legolas. Admittedly, the four Elves were having a challenge holding back the two Elf-lords who were frantic to reach their sons.
Legolas fixed his eyes first on Elrond, taking in the pale features and the tightly drawn face as his eyes told the tale of much that had happened. Elrond's deep eyes were nearly like mirrors into the past and Legolas cringed. He couldn't imagine the pain Elrond's heart had been forced to endure as his human foster son was tormented before his eyes. This was his entire fault…
Finally, forbidding his body to tremble, Legolas glanced up at his own father, who he noticed was watching him with a crumpled face. "Ada," he called for the elder Elf and was immediately rewarded with a kick to his already bruised abdomen.
Crying out, Legolas curled in on himself against the abuse and breathed heavily for a moment before he looked up at the Elf that had raised him. "Father…" he didn't care what Lostiâ thought or anyone else. He wanted to be held by the one he trusted unconditionally, he wanted it so badly he could taste it. And no matter how much he commanded his body not to tremble it refused to comply and his bound hands shook.
"Legolas." Thranduil felt himself shaking as well. He had lost his wife and he had the sinking feeling that he was about to lose his son, which was the last thing he had left. Glaring daggers at Lostiâ so sharply that if looks alone could draw blood he would have had done, the Elvenking commanded, "let me see my son!"
Lostiâ laughed heartlessly, giving Legolas a dig in the ribs with his foot. "Oh you'll see everything, I promise you." His dark eyes had a sadistic sparkle and Thranduil felt fear wreath and squeeze his heart.
Aragorn watched Legolas from the side of the argument, trying to ignore the blood running into his eyes from the abrasion on his temple. Breathing heavily as well as rapidly, the human hugged his abdomen where he had taken a great deal of the abuse to its center, being kicked and punched. "Legolas…" he whispered to his friend, knowing Legolas' sharp Elven hearing would pick it up. "Mellon nin…" He wanted to see his friend's face.
Legolas twisted and craned his neck so he could look into Aragorn's eyes, smiling encouragingly, but with blood evident in his mouth where Aragon guessed he had suffered a blow unless, no, he didn't think Legolas had undergone any internal bleeding. But he couldn't be sure. The wounds from Farlost hadn't been given much time to heal and so his body was weaker than normal.
Legolas wanted to speak but he simply didn't possess the energy and so he tried to broaden his smile enough to speak for him. A small glimmer came into his eyes that showed he wasn't entirely defeated but there was also a worried look although it seemed like it had nothing to do with the current circumstances.
Rolling over in the dirt, sprawled out on his back as the pain drained from his abdomen and was almost instantaneously replaced with weariness, Legolas coughed a little and blinked tiredly. His eyes roved the room seemingly for no other reason than to keep his mind off his fears. Aragorn noticed that his friend's face looked wan and sickly and that he was laboring to breathe.
"Legolas-"
"I'll be fine," murmured the Elf, knowing already what Aragorn was going to say. He stared at the dark and cold cave ceiling and shuddered involuntarily at the sight. "How's your leg?" he asked, trying to get his train of thought onto something else as well as being genuinely worried for the human.
So far their low whispers appeared to be ignored as Lostiâ and Thranduil along with Elrond were engaged in a heated argument. Arandur had even momentarily ignored them and put his word into the debate. But even unwatched and seemingly forgotten for the moment, both of the friends knew there was no chance for escape, at least not yet and they couldn't bring themselves to leave their fathers.
"It's fine." Legolas narrowed his eyes and gave a perfect rendition of his father's kingly glare. "I promise!" Aragorn insisted testily, narrowing his eyes and returning the glare equally.
Legolas was in no frame of mind or condition to slice hairs so he just smiled sarcastically. "I imagine it is."
Aragorn mumbled darkly under his breath for a few seconds and when he looked at the Elf again, the prince was frowning; worry creasing his naturally smooth brow.
Feeling Aragorn's eyes on him, Legolas turned his face towards the human. "Strider, there are around thirty orcs or more coming this way. They picked up my scent." His urgent whisper was sharp and blunt, but he was too distraught to be tactful and anyway, he didn't' have the time. If the accursed creatures were not on their doorstep in a matter of moments then he would be surprised.
It took a moment for the message to sink, his mind still being a bit addled from a blow to the head, but when Aragorn understood he gaped. "Legolas, we have to possess the worst luck imaginable."
The prince nodded slowly in agreement, careful not to instigate another headache. He closed his eyes shortly, warding off a spell of dizziness that was threatening to upgrade into all out vertigo again. Glancing at Aragorn, who had scooted closer, the Elf informed the obvious, "we don't have enough weapons or people. It will be a slaughter."
Seeing the hurt on his friend's face, the ranger used on of his bound hands to lace his fingers with the Elf's, noting how cold the prince's hand had gone. "It isn't your fault. It never was." His thumb rubbed along Legolas' in an attempt to soothe the fair being and raise his spirits. He could tell the Elf didn't believe him but there wasn't much else he could say.
Lostiâ spun a round from where he had been arguing and immediately sneered at the two friends, their fingers still intertwined. "Touching, really." If Thranduil hadn't gotten under his skin he might have actually laughed. An Elf and a human as friends? Legolas was more mixed up than he thought.
Thranduil wasn't fighting against his bonds anymore but shooting Lostiâ and everyone else a leveling glare. Beside him Elrond had washed himself in a calm and was observing everything with a scrutinizing and relentless gaze.
Lostiâ didn't seem the least bit put off by the attention or the glare and he gave a mocking bow. "The Lord of Rivendell." His acknowledgement was hollow. "Well, I regret the detainment of you and your…son. But when you mingle with bad blood such as this," he gestured with a wave of his hand to Legolas and his father. "Then you might as well expect trouble."
Getting between Legolas and Aragorn he smiled coldly. Taking their tightly gripped hands, he began to prod the fingers apart to separate the friends. They didn't resist unless by intensifying their grips and hooking their fingers tighter together until the tips went white.
Once Lostiâ had finally managed to untangle their hands and get them apart he reached down and grabbed Legolas by his upper arms, pulling him to his feet. When the prince swayed slightly the elder Elf gave him a shake that somehow managed to steady him and Legolas looked down at the ground, refusing to meet his father's eyes.
Lostiâ slammed the prince abruptly backwards and into the waiting arms of Arandur, who caught the prince and steadied him shortly. Lostiâ was about to walk past and lead the way to the clearing when turned to Legolas again and sneered, "too bad mommy isn't here to save you his time, hm?"
Legolas wasn't provided time for a reply as his uncle's fist impacted with his stomach, causing him to stumble backward a pace and his knees to nearly fold. That was at least the fifth hit to that exact spot and he feared for his organs. True, he had an Elven constitution but it could only handle so much abuse in such a short period of time. This was pushing his luck and Elven pride aside.
Arandur placed his hands on Legolas' shoulders, preparing to steer him out of the door and towards the clearing where Lostiâ had a special death in mind for him.
Suddenly a soft voice plead from the corner. "Ada, please," Voronwë implored his father for Legolas' life, his chin trembling as he worked to hold his head up against the pain in his chest. Only recently awaken form his nearly unconscious slumber, Legolas' cousin begged again. "Ada, please don't!"
Lostiâ scowled at his son. "Voronwë, you are hurt. Stay out of this!" he commanded, irritated. He didn't know what his son was talking about exactly, but he had his suspicions and he didn't like them and he was working not to believe them.
Voronwë shook his head. "Forgive me father, I cannot." His voice was shaking from emotion and pain from his wound. He knew it was fatal and he was going to say what he had to now. "Legolas is like a brother to me. Would you kill my brother, Ada?" he asked, his eyes softening hopefully even as Lostiâ's face darkened.
Lostiâ's jaw dropped in visible shock and hanged for a few moments before he snapped it audibly shut. A cold fire was in his eyes as he stalked over to where his son lay. "He killed your mother!" snapped Lostiâ at his son. "He killed his own mother and you call him a 'brother'?"
Voronwë remained unmoved and smiled sadly. "He's my brother." He knew there was no hope in getting his father to understand. He and Legolas locked eyes before long and both of the younger Elves seemed to connect.
Without warning Voronwë's mournful face faltered and he screwed his rapidly paling features up in pain. Blood lined his mouth, turning it bright red against a waxy face. Coughing only caused more blood to begin to dribble from the corner of his mouth.
Lostiâ went and bracketed his son's face in his hands, for once allowing himself to look helpless as the child he had just gotten back slipped away. Shivering against the cold feeling that he remembered well seeping back into his blood, Voronwë traced his father's face with a shaking finger. "You love me Ada, but you can never know who I am." He felt his voice becoming thick with blood. "I could…never kill….n-n-needlessly."
Lostiâ shook his head disbelievingly. "Stay with me, Voronwë, please." His own voice was trembling against his will and he was unable to steady it. Hooking fingers with his son's weak ones, he felt the coldness of death creeping into the wounded Elf's veins.
Voronwë frowned as he began to feel his vigor leaving him, knowing what it meant, having been there before. Speaking round the coppery liquid in his mouth, Voronwë explained patiently, "You have to let me go now." He didn't want to stay, he was weary of this world and it's miserable people always killing and killing. He knew there were good beings, but it seemed they died selflessly and the evil lingered.
Lostiâ shook him gently, trying to get him to remain conscious but Voronwë was fading fast and in a few seconds he would be gone. "Let me go," he whispered softly as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. Swallowing thickly, the younger Elf drew a shallow breath and parted his bluing lips as though to speak and then suddenly became motionless.
Lostiâ felt his child's hand go completely cold and slide, as though in slow motion from his grasp, hitting the ground and resting there, fingers uncurled and limp. Not knowing what to do he began to shake uncontrollably and whispered frantically in mumbles, placing his hand on his son's heart that had ceased beating moments ago. "Voronwë," he whispered calmly, one last time, sliding his finger's over the dead Elf's eyelids, closing them forever.
Clenching his fists, Lostiâ closed his eyes and felt a wave of fury sweep over his body, breaking like a wave on a beach. Standing up stiffly, he turned on his heal and looked Thranduil aggressively in the eye as he snarled, nearly salivating in his rabid fury, "and this is the reward I get for trusting to your jurisdiction! Your justice!" He drew a guttural breath before continuing. "My son's banishment when he did no wrong and the release of a criminal that gave him a mortal wound in the end! My son outlived his banishment, he should have lived again here, in peace!"
"We all trusted Rána!" Thranduil retorted grimly, knowing the look in his brother-in-law's eyes to be lethal. "And you the most! He was your friend! Is that how well you know those closest to you?" His heart was beating wildly, fearing for Legolas as his son was being held in place by two other Elves, Arandur included. Elrond shifted uneasily beside the Elvenking, his eyes locked on Estel, who was slowly and inconspicuously standing.
"Yes," Lostiâ allowed around a set jaw. "We did. There are so many traitors in this world." He then spun around and his evilly glowing eyes fell on Legolas, who was returning the expression likewise and trying not to squirm under the belligerent attention. "And some are of our own blood."
Legolas suddenly spoke stronger and more calmly than he had all day, drawing everyone's attention to him as he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. "Lostiâ, evening is getting on. There is a band of thirty orcs coming our way. I saw them, I know. We don't have time for this! United we stand, divided we fall, its that simple." Staring everyone down in a challenging glare, he looked remarkably like his father but with his mother's eyes and mouth curved into a determined frown. "The greatest challenge in this world is putting aside all differences for a greater cause." Even racial differences…
Arandur chuckled scornfully and dug his fingers into the pressure point of Legolas' right shoulder, causing the prince to lean that way enough to relieve the discomfort. "I heard this same spiel from earlier, when I caught up with him." Turning Legolas so that he could stare into his eyes, the green-eyed Elf smiled coldly. "I don't believe him."
Legolas jerked backwards, stumbling slightly in his weakness. "You snake! You know it's real! We are all going to die, every last one of us!" Twisting his neck so he could connect eyes with every Elf present, Legolas continued. "The orcs will spare no one! They cannot see our differences! We are Elves, that is enough and that is all they know!" He had not forgotten Aragorn, but the ranger was not needed to make his point and he didn't want to remind Lostiâ of the human, who seemed at the moment forgotten.
Lostiâ glared. "Legolas how is it the orcs are coming? What were you doing by yourself after your friend sacrificed his freedom for your safety?" The elder Elf jerked Legolas away and gripped his throat, causing Thranduil to jerk in his bonds and Aragorn look to Elrond, begging his foster father to do something.
Elrond shook his head, motioning for Aragorn not to do anything rash. If the young human did something reckless and impulsive it could hurt more than it would help. He had a feeling Aragorn was wise enough to know this but he couldn't help but be overly protective over his youngest child let alone the future of Middle Earth.
Legolas found himself pressed against the cave wall, air way removed and through sheer force of will met is uncle's gaze with flinching. "What were you doing alone, Legolas?" he growled, putting his face inches away from Legolas' bruised one.
Legolas tried to swallow and then gurgled around the inhumanly tight grip, "I was trying to…get back here…for my friends and family. I hate the orcs."
"But not as much as you hate me," Lostiâ pressed, tightening his grip, digging his fingers into the warm and soft flesh of Legolas' neck, feeling how the blood pulsed beneath his grasp.
"I don't…hate any one of Illúvatar's children, not even you," Legolas squeezed out and then grit his teeth as he felt himself starving for oxygen. "I am…not like you and neither was Voronwë!" He knew that he could never get his uncle to understand that hate was not a cause towards any kind of good and that it was the primary destructor of the world. But he was also a bit angered that his uncle had accused him of allying with orcs of all creatures.
Lostiâ nearly didn't allow Legolas to breathe again but then he seemed to remember the suffocating Elf and released him, allowing Legolas to slide down the wall. "Voronwë was my son! He would have done my will in the end!" Lostiâ professed thickly. His voice changed to a slippery tone of sadism. "It will be a pleasure killing you, Legolas, a real pleasure."
From his place on the ground Legolas looked up, eyes narrowed and jaw line set. "If that is what truly makes you happy then I pity you!" His fingers massaged his bruising throat and did their best to get his wind pipe working correctly again. It took a few coughs but presently it was working about as well as it always had.
Lostiâ wasn't even watching him now, but was staring at his father. "Well we had best get this over with." Nodding to Arandur and the other Elves he smiled, "bring them. I will take care of my nephew."
As Legolas was dragged to his feet he struggled wildly, his eyes becoming wide and his face frantic. He wasn't scared of death, but the prospect of becoming a toy for an orc somehow wasn't very appealing. "You have to understand! You have to believe me! The orcs are coming! They will kill everyone!"
Lostiâ simply edged Legolas over to the cave wall and then, tangling his hand in a fistful of hair, used it as a handle to knock his head against the stone. Legolas felt consciousness fading and in his last few moments of awareness he watched his horrified father being escorted past and he saw Aragorn's pasty white face.
TBC…..Bit of a nasty cliffie there, but, um…..our guiltless consciences said it should end there so….you know the rest….LOL! Blame our consciences, they quit their job as far as fan fiction goes. LOL! Please review! We would love to continue hearing your comments and thoughts!
And thanks for all those reviews from chapter fifteen! They were very encouraging and wonderful! And they were the most we have seen per chapter for this story! Hopefully, the review response system provided by ff dot net, worked, yes? We responded to them all and almost as soon as we got them so if you didn't get a response….blame the system!