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Ripples

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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Cold Ripples

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When consciousness came back within what had to be a few moments Legolas found himself bound with his hands above his head and his back to a pole with his feet secured at the bottom. Blinking, he gave his head a shake and looked blearily around.

He found his father easily enough, struggling between two Elves. Elrond and Estel were together, he noticed wearily. Their hands were unbound but being weaponless, it really made little difference; they were still more or less captive.

He noticed that his uncle was holding a crooked scimitar, the kind used by orcs and he shuddered. He had only used a blade of that sort when he absolutely had no other option and was even loath to touch one then. The fact that his uncle was using it because he wanted to…it was unthinkable.

A large, nearly massive fire was blossoming and crackling to his right, nearly too close for comfort but that wasn't the worst of his troubles so he didn't dwell on it too much as he felt the intense heat breathe down on him. Twisting his face away, his tired and addled mind began to remember and put things together rather quickly, bringing him back up to speed with the situation.

He pulled on the bonds above his head, knowing well enough they were probably strong enough to support his weight and hold him in place all at once, but having to test them just to make sure. But even if they weren't strong enough, the bonds on his feet certainly would be able to do their job. Feet? What feet? He couldn't even feel his feet anymore.

Lostiâ finally seemed to notice his nephew was awake and walked uncaringly towards the younger Elf, who was shooting an intense glare. Swinging and twirling the orc-make weapon, the silver-haired Elf chatted almost leisurely. "Well the day is nearly up and if you don't die today I don't think I would like that very much." Lostiâ wrinkled his nose as he spoke, putting emphases on his statement. "As I said earlier, it is time to get this over with."

"I still cannot understand why you are doing this," Legolas insisted, knowing his time was drawing near and if he wanted to say something he had better start speaking now and hope to be allowed time to finish. "You cannot change the past. It is set…forever."

Lostiâ seemed genuinely puzzled for a moment and his normally smooth forehead wrinkled. Legolas appeared to have taken him by surprise and Aragorn narrowed his eyes in curiosity, wondering what had caught the other Elf off guard. He certainly hadn't heard anything that he felt wasn't common knowledge.

"Of course you can change the past," objected Lostiâ slowly, lowering the blade as a bit of the pleasure and gloating drained from his eyes. Some of his jovial tone had bled out of his voice and he shook his head. "You just have to push yourself and try hard enough. Anything can change!"

"No!" Legolas protested, shaking his head in objection. "Not anything! There are some things that none can change and that you just have to learn to live with and compensate for! Is that how far you have fallen, to not know fantasy from reality?" Legolas still couldn't believe his uncle couldn't come back and he was going to try his best. This wasn't about saving his life, but about saving a life that had once been of the noble sort and bringing them back to reason.

"Never!" Lostiâ growled, an angered spark catching his eyes on fire. "If you apply yourself enough we can change everything!" He glowered at his nephew, who as twisting in his bonds, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists.

"How is killing me going to bring my mother back or change anything at all? Don't you see?" Legolas plead desperately, glancing at the other Elves to see if any of them were beginning to understand this at all. To his surprise one or two were looking a bit more uncomfortable with the situation. Though he couldn't tell if it was because they were scared of Lostiâ or having a change of heart. "Lostiâ, a birth is like a stone cast in the water, it causes ripples, which touch many lives all at once and continue forever and cannot be stopped even long after the person is dead."

Legolas didn't know if he had made an impact on the other Elf's corrupted train of thought, but at least he could say he tried. Frowning, he pushed his toes against the earth and tired unsuccessfully to take some of the deep pain in his wrists away.

Lostiâ had paused, but no doubt flickered in his gaze, only a storm of fury borne on a strong wind of bitter hatred. Closing the space between himself and Legolas he whispered, "well no new ripples will your life create. It ends here tonight!"

Thranduil slammed himself forward against the Elves gripping him, screaming, "Lostiâ! You cannot do this! You will be accomplishing nothing less than common murder!" Realizing there was no reasoning with the crazed Elf, Thranduil set all pride aside. "Take me instead but let Legolas go!" He was not above begging for his son's life, not at all.

"You're going to die anyway, Thranduil, believe me. I would kill you first, however that would sort of spoil things, now wouldn't it?" the silver-haired Elf answered, the dark aurora around him becoming more intense, making the limited light in the forest even more dim.

Aragorn looked at Thranduil, seeing the despair in his eyes and then watched Legolas, seeing his best friend looking at his father so desperately and a longing expression on his face of wearied acceptance.

Something shattered and died inside and Aragorn couldn't contain himself any longer. It was like molten lava had decided to spill and spread throughout his entire body and he began to shake. He himself was a ripple of Legolas' life and he didn't know what would happen if his friend died. "Lostiâ! Take me instead! Please!"

All eyes turned in wonder upon the human and Elrond forcefully shoved him back, hoping he wasn't too late and the human hadn't already sealed his fate.

"Shut up Strider!" Legolas snapped, fear and frustration making his voice have an edge. He would rather die himself than see Aragorn take his place.

Seeing the two people closest to Legolas in life begging for his life and offering themselves in his place made an amused and icy smile pull at Lostiâ's lips. This was all that he had been waiting for since the day Legolas was born and now it was here. He nearly closed his eyes to savor the moment and his mouth nearly watered as he could picture everyone's faces, now suspended in horror, but soon crumpling as he plunged the crooked scimitar through Legolas' heart.

But then many things happened at once and all of the sudden Arandur gave a routed cry, "orcs! Orcs!" He released Thranduil's right shoulder, pointing frantically over a small rise near the clearing where the trees were slightly thinner. The warrior was nearly jumping up and down with anxiety and surprise. His green eyes that were normally narrowed in hate or concentration were now wide in disclosure and terror.

And indeed, Arandur was right. The foul creatures were almost literally pouring over the small incline, pulling out their scimitars and other various, twisted weapons of evil make. The green-eyed warrior quickly released Thranduil entirely and his four followers released their charges as well, not having time for that anymore.

Pulling their bows from their backs and notching arrows with hands that moved quicker than sight, the five Elves aimed and fired, taking down exactly five orcs almost immediately. But that was only 'a few leaves in the forest' as the Elves liked to say and did nothing to stop the flourish of the beasts crashing through the brush, laughing at such outnumbered victims.

Lostiâ rolled his eyes in slight dissatisfaction, and looking at Legolas, suddenly smiled. Reaching up, he patted the bound and helpless Elf's cheek happily. "Enjoy, nephew," he taunted, referring to the orcs as they came bounding among the Elves, picking fights with a few of Arandur's companions who were working not to be run through from one of the foul creatures in the small and surrounding cluster.

Helpless as he was, Legolas couldn't stop anything the orcs wanted to do to him and he shivered as fear set in, trying to gain control of his thoughts, but with a short struggle he refused it that power. However, that couldn't stop him from thinking things through. At least he knew that Lostiâ's method of killing him was sure to be quick, all things considered but if the orcs took advantage of him being bound as he was and carried him off to their dark confines under the evil ground of Dol Guldur… That thought was disconcerting and nearly more than Legolas could bear.

Lostiâ smiled. He actually could have never pictured something this perfect but here it was. Legolas was going to die exactly as his mother had and it was his own entire fault too.

Lostiâ would have stayed to gloat more but he was forced to defend himself as a small band of the foul beasts encircled him and began to hedge him in, doing their best to try and just get a grip on him. Without too much difficulty, Lostiâ broke through which didn't surprise Legolas overly much because as insane as his uncle was he was good at close quarters combat and was known for his expertise.

Elrond was at Thranduil's side, Legolas noticed dryly as he tried to locate everyone, fighting off adversaries that attempted to kill them both whilst trying to slice through Thranduil's bonds. He grimaced as he noticed Elrond was forced to use an orc's blade because his own had been left behind as well as Thranduil's, having been part of the agreement.

Pulling his eyes away from his father and Lord Elrond, Legolas located Arandur and another Elf hemmed in by a group of ten larger Uruks, though they appeared to be holding their own and Arandur's eyes had a lethal glow. He was turning and stabbing left and right, things being entirely too close for decent and safe bow work. The green-eyed warrior was gaping, as he looked around, disconcerted by all the orcs that were coming out of the woodwork.

To his sudden alarm, he couldn't find Estel anywhere! Where was that reckless human?

A piercing shriek tore his attention away and he felt his stomach sink.

Unfortunately, an Elf had already fell with a mortal wound and was immediately pounced upon by a group of three orcs, who began to kick and punch him even as the life drained from his body. His pained and routed cries went unnoticed by everyone and Legolas swallowed. "That will be me," he muttered as a band of around eight noticed him and laughing, began to put their scimitars away and pull out some crude ropes of their own, made from a black version of rough hemp.

Legolas breathed heavily as he realized he wasn't for being killed and stared them down with a withering glare. If his feet weren't bound there was one so close he would have liked to kick him back a pace or even break his neck.

Suddenly, that very orc's jaw dropped, and its mouth formed into an 'o' shape as it stumbled backwards, a knife of it's own evil sort of make embedded in it's chest. The other orcs retreated back a step, uncertain of what to do and frightened that they had just lost one of their own when this Elf wasn't even unbound. Blinking and spitting their curses in the Black Speech in disbelief, they debated whether one captive Elf was worth half of their lives even if they fell in the favor of their Master.

Legolas saw movement from the corner of his eye and twisted his head painfully to see what it was. His heart stopped and then picked up its pace as he recognized the familiar fighting stride of his father and Lord Elrond's grim face.

The orcs began to panic, realizing this one Elf would cost them too dearly and Legolas felt slightly contented as they began to rush backwards before they turned tail and fled for their lives. They were quickly pursued by the two furious Elf-lord's, causing them to shriek louder for support but to no avail.

Legolas sighed as he was still not freed from his painful bonds and he knew as well as anyone that those orcs were most likely not going to be the last ones to try and finish him off.

A soft noise behind him and he jerked, twisting in his bonds as he tried to see what adversary was about to stab him in the back. Unfortunately, the post was about an inch too wide and his bonds were far too tight and had him pinned securely in place. Moaning, he closed his eyes and waited to feel the bite of steel in his spine and the sharp intake but shortness of breath to follow before death.

A semi-playful voice whispered in his pointy ear, "you aren't giving up already, are you?"

A small smile crept across Legolas' face and soon was formed into an all out grin. "No, never, why?" His voice was soft and was bleeding with relief.

Aragorn just snorted skeptically. "Nothing, nothing at all, but your long face was a bit deceptive."

Legolas cringed as he felt Aragorn, who he realized had shinnied up the pole, was sawing at his bonds. "Yes," he spoke around grit teeth. "Looks do that to you." His already raw wrists were not appreciating the amount of jerking but he knew it was hardly preventable. After all, he could hardly expect Aragorn to keep his balance and severe his ropes. Suddenly he glowered and reminded demandingly, "You shouldn't be doing this with your leg!"

"I can leave you hanging here if you want," teased the human, stretching his face around the pole and stealing a look at the Elf's irritated and tense expression. The prince's lips were pressed in a tight and thin white line.

Noticing Legolas wasn't in the mood for even a light jest, Aragorn allowed his smile to fade and he knitted his brows as he concentrated on making those Elven bonds that were cruelly tight, break. It wasn't that easy if he wished to avoid nicking Legolas' skin and the ranger felt a sweat forming on his brow in heated drops.

"You are taking long enough," the Elf snapped, irritated even though he was also extremely grateful. He wasn't angry with Aragorn but the ranger was going to bear the main force of his frustrations anyway.

Suddenly, before Aragorn realized it he had sawed through the bonds on Legolas' wrists and was unable to shout a warning to the Elf, who fell forward, still attached the post by his feet. Having the wind knocked painfully out of his bruised chest, Legolas glared behind him at the ranger who was working post haste to try and sever those bonds as well. "A word of warning would have been nice," Legolas hissed in irritation.

"Sorry, remind me to be more convenient next time I try and save your life," grumbled the ranger under his breath, concentrating on getting his blade to slice through the rope without gauging Legolas' ankle. He knew that if Legolas were already grumpy that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Plus he also was well aware that his friend had suffered more than his share these past twenty-four hours.

Legolas sighed, as the bonds seemed to slither form his ankles and the blood rushed back and then glanced sheepishly back at Aragorn, "sorry if I was sharp a few moments ago. I suppose I was a little scared."

Aragorn shook his head and because of the situation answered tersely. "I understand, now let's get you on your feet," he prompted the Elf, gripping one of Legolas' arms and pulling him up, steadying the prince with his other hand.

Looking around, the friends discovered that most of the fighting was complete and the remaining orcs were fleeing for their lives but were being pursued by the surviving Elves. Their ranks had been decimated at the cost of only one Elf's life. Aragorn glanced Legolas over, realizing for the first time that he had been scared himself. He had thought he would lose his best friend forever and that was too long to live without him.

Aragorn picked up a long orc knife lying on the ground and offered the hilt to the prince. "Care to help?" he asked, giving a soft and encouraging smile.

Legolas reached out hesitatingly and then his fingers tightened around the weapon as he slowly slid it from Aragorn's grasp. "My pleasure." A dangerous light was kindling in his eyes and Aragorn almost pitied the first orc the Elf would come across.

A few orcs made the mistake of thinking Aragorn and Legolas were too worn out to resist or simply too stupid and tried to break through, finding out quickly that even an injured Elf could still be a furious Elf not to mention a lethal one. Legolas twirled the blade, putting on a brief show before driving it through the mail of one orc, withdrawing it, and stabbing another orc to attempted to kill him form behind.

Aragorn ran one through the gut with the orc scimitar that he had 'borrowed' and then whacked the head off another within the same minute.

Looking at Legolas, he noticed the Elf's breathing was labored slightly but that he was still going strong, all things considered and appeared to be holding his own very nicely. His jaw line was set and Aragorn knew that he was making these orcs pay for everything past and present while enjoying himself in the process.

Within another ten minutes the orcs were crushed and defeated and only one or two limped back to tell the tale.

Sighing, Legolas suddenly jerked as he found himself surrounded By Arandur and three other Elves, who had their bows leveled for his head. He may have escaped the orcs but these Elves had definitely not forgotten the entire point of being out here in the first place. Aragorn backed up against his friend as Legolas shot everyone a scathing glare.

Thranduil and Elrond came running up, only to have the crossbows turned on them as Lostiâ came to take care of Legolas himself.

"Lostiâ, let's talk this over," Thranduil suggested as calmly as possible from where he was being held but was unable to keep the suspense from bleeding into his voice. "We aren't dead, we are privileged to have voices."

"It's too late for that," Lostiâ snapped, turning cold eyes on Legolas, who didn't flinch or even move a muscle. He was beyond that now and he wasn't afraid anymore. "You will die." Drawing his sword, he walked towards the prince, crossing the meager amount of separating space in seconds and standing inches away from his nephew.

To his credit, Legolas didn't withdraw and he answered as simply as was possible, "you are destroying yourself." His blue eyes didn't blink once as they locked with Lostiâ's like two bulls tangling their horns.

"That's what you think," Lostiâ growled, raising his blade and placing the tip above Legolas' heart before giving it a small dig, causing it to bite into the skin and draw a small drop of blood. "But you are a fool." Legolas still did not jerk away, but remained calm.

He could hear his father screaming as he his face drained and he could feel Aragorn standing in horror beside him, a crossbow leveled for his heart if he should try and interfere. Elrond was tense beside Thranduil, his face nearly transparent it was so white and aged looking. But Legolas was feeling so far away, as though he was already gone and he didn't acknowledge them.

Just as his uncle was about to give the knife the fatal push and instigate the fatal plunge, Legolas used his own dagger to thwart the blow and swung up, blocking a strike to his head. He wasn't about to die yet, and he wouldn't kill Lostiâ if he could help it. He could tell the silver-haired Elf was locked inside this prison of mixed emotions and hate, wanting something more and begging for an escape. He just didn't realize that he was trying to break free by use of the wrong method and was only digging himself deeper into the pit his bitterness had trapped him in long ago.

The two exchanged strikes with their weapons, each parrying the other causing the eerie sounding of metal on metal to resound through the forest. Their faces were creased with misery and concentration, as they didn't allow their eyes to falter or their steps to stumble.

"Lostiâ," Legolas addressed his uncle before blocking a stab meant for his heart. "You don't have to be this way. You can be free and find happiness if you just let your hate go. It has possessed you."

"How do you know?" Lostiâ snapped dubiously, his eyes narrowing and he laughed in mocking disgust. Legolas tried to press him close to a tree to hem him in and he jerked aside, not willing to be trapped that way.

"I believe you are stronger than this," Legolas persisted, aggravated. "You keep putting your conscience to rest. Wake it up!" The prince stumbled slightly, being weaker than his uncle since the venom had literally sucked the energy from his body. It was hard for him to fight at this fast rate and he felt himself growing weak.

Their blades were a blur to those watching and even to the participants themselves it seemed as blow were exchanged too fast for sight. The clangs were intense and soon the two Elves had become interlocked, dropping to the ground, fighting to get the upper hand.

Legolas felt adrenaline flood into his system, giving him a bit more strength. But he wasn't strong enough to match Lostiâ, and the elder Elf managed to get him flipped over onto his back, preparing to deliver the deadly stab through his heart. Sweat trickled into Legolas' eyes and he panted in exhaustion, coughing a little as he felt his uncle's knee press into the center of his ribcage.

Lostiâ snarled victoriously. "So my sister is avenged."

UMMM...yeah, this IS the most evil cliffie...um...please, don't kill us! You want the last chapter, right? (weak smiles). Hey! We warned you that the most evil one was yet to come (points defensively to Surgeon General's warning at beginning of story)! So don't blame us! LOL

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