Title: "After the Wars"
Author: BalianswordChapter: 1, "The Beginning"
Summary: This is definitely something different. Legolas was taken prisoner during the War of the Ring. A year after he has been taken prisoner Aragorn comes to his rescue. The only question is, how can you save someone that has been lost to the world for so long?
A/N: None of the characters are mine. This never happened. There is slash, so if you need to, stop reading now. Otherwise I enjoy all reviews and thank you for reading.
A sliver blade pressed against his throat. His hands were in the dirt, his face covered in a mixture of blood, dirt, and mud. If he were to look in a mirror now not even he would recognize himself. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and his lungs and ribs ached. But everything seemed to stop as the blade cooled the skin of his neck.
In a sudden movement he lunged his body forward. The blade left a slight cut on the base of his neck. It did not matter though, for he was free once more. He stood the best he could and staggered back until his back hit a wall. Again his attacker came at him. This time he grabbed the knife and in breaking the attacker's hand turned it upon the orc and drove it into his forehead. The muddy orc fell back, hitting the ground, dead instantly.
He tipped his head back, letting the cool rain hit his face. The blood and mud began to wash away, but to him it never left. He could always feel the liquid on his cheeks, the mud stuck to his body, the dirt in his eyes. It continued to rain and he continued to drink. For all he knew it would be the last water he would have in days.
There were roars of disappointment from the crowd that had gathered. It would not be long before again he would have to fight for his life. The elf let his head drop. He stared at the orcs, despising each of them, and then coughed. He put the back of his hand to his mouth. There was blood here. For weeks he had been coughing as such, yet he had begun to ignore it, for there was nothing that could cure him now.
Legolas was quickly pushed back into an iron cage. It did not matter, he was safer here. He was locked once more in darkness. Slowly his eyes closed, his fingers not releasing the knife in his hand, and he tried to sleep. Yet sleep would not come, and if it did, he would quickly wish that it had not.
Aragorn mounted the horse and looked back at the men that followed. They had been looking for the orcs that had survived the destruction of the ring for some time. Now, thanks to a few brave scouts, they had found them. Aragorn had always wanted to go after the orcs. Yet, when he heard they had captives, he knew that the time must be now.
They rode out and covered much ground. Yet it took the entirety of three days before they reached the camp of the orcs. Aragorn motioned for his men to stop. They had tied the horses further back. Now, they were on the ground, where they were most vulnerable.
Aragorn watched the smoke billow from a fire. It was not the smoke of wood, he knew. It was the smoke of a burning body. One of his men motioned a group to move forward. Aragorn drew his sword. The time was now.
Aragorn helped push the rock away from the cave. He lit a torch and was the first to enter the cave. The cave went deep into the earth. Aragorn at first wondered what could be kept hidden here. Yet when he reached the bottom of the pit he knew. There were cages of elves, men, and even a few hobbits stacked upon one another. The sight was enough to make Aragorn's heart stop beating.
"Get them out," Aragorn ordered of his men. He himself carried his torch to a corner. Before he had reached it men were already calling out that those in the cages were already dead. "Keep looking."
Aragorn heard something just then. It was the sound of a piece of metal hitting the stone floor of the cave. He turned and another part of the room was illuminated in the light. Aragorn thought that his heart had already been stopped, but when he saw the cage in the farthest corner of the room, he knew that his pain had only just begun.
He rushed forward and fell down to his knees. He quickly unbolted the cage and pulled the door open. Aragorn reached into the cage and wrapped his arms around the elf. He pulled him out carefully and held him in his arms.
"Legolas," the king whispered as he put a hand on the placid forehead of the elf. It was an amazement that he had even recognized him. His blond hair was stained a muddy brown and blood red, his face too thin, his body was too thin, his lips parched, his breathing shallow. There were scars on his hands, one on his neck, another on his lip, and one on his brow. Aragorn held him close, not even wanting to know where other scars could be found on his body.
Legolas said nothing as Aragorn held him. His eyes refused to open. Everything about him reeked of death, yet still he held on. In his dreams he thought for a moment he heard Aragorn's voice. Yet it was soon flooded over by the battle screams of the orcs and the screams of those that had already been killed.
Aragorn carefully lifted Legolas from the horse. Not once had he awoken in the last three days. Aragorn tried to think of other things but knew that Legolas was fading. He carried him quickly into the palace, running past even Arwen, and took him to his own chambers. He lay him down and called for physicians immediately. The worst was on its way.
A/N: This chapter is designed just so that you will become aware of what it going on. The second chapter will pick up, I promise. Please review if you have time.
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