Chapter 10
More Than You Think You Are
Legolas was shoved into the small room and forced to his knees in one corner. His injured leg buckled underneath him and the elf could do nothing to get away, his strength fading to paralyzed shock. His arms were yanked behind him and cold steel manacles clapped about his wrists, digging into the soft flesh. Satisfied the elf wouldn't go anywhere, Árë and Faroth left, shutting the door behind them and plunging the already shadowed room into utter darkness.
Breathing rather hard, Legolas jerked his hands around, searching for a more comfortable position as he tried to gather his bearings. Heavy darkness clouded his sight to the point that he could only see vague shadows. He hated caves! The walls felt as though they were closing in on him, trapping his spirit. All he could make of this place for sure was of the walls made of close-packed wood, and the floor annoyingly damp and cold. The elf felt as though he were kneeling in water. His torn leggings allowed the chilling floor free access to his legs, quickly turning them numb with cold.
His senses suddenly caught another figure on the other side of the room. Relaxing slowly, he allowed his dimmed elvish glow to brighten by several degrees, bringing into detail the form of another being. The man he saw now was quiet and unmoving, his breathing soft and slow. Not even Legolas' eyes could detect any defined useful detail to visibly confirm what he felt he knew, since the man's face was turned from him. But somehow, his heart needed no witness.
"Estel?" he asked, his voice tainted with disbelief.
He heard the figure move ever so slightly, as if he had turned only his head from the wall to whoever had spoken. Silence echoed for a few moments until the man broke it, removing any and all doubt Legolas had left.
"Who... you?" The answering voice was wearily quiet; pain filled and slightly slurred. After several hours of torment and making no sounds save cries of distress had made his voice gruff. The shock of the pain he had known only a short while ago had worn down, allowing him more control. Yet even after all he had been through and endured, his voice was still his, and Legolas knew.
"Estel, it is you!" Legolas let relief flood through him. "It's me, Legolas!"
The man was silent for a few moments, searching for the answer that seemed to flicker under the far reaches of his mind.
"... Legolas?" Aragorn softly and slowly spoke the name that he had often blindly cried out in his pain. Then Ralorn had spoken the truth; they had captured the prince. Had his friend truly come? No a desperate dream he had prayed for come to life, not a trick, but the softly glowing figure was truly here for him?
Realization ripped apart the veil and Aragorn shifted to get up, to go to the prince, only to be stopped by his aching body. He groaned softly as he again rolled back to his side, again breathing deeply to soothe his racing heart. Pained as he was, he still did not cease to call for his friend. Desperately, he softly spoke out to the elf again; needing something, some physical contact so he could know the fair being was real. He couldn't see, his eyes wild in the thick, suffocating darkness, his ears struggling to catch the light sounds of his elf friend's voice he longed to believe was there.
Legolas walked forward on his knees, ignoring the hard ache in his leg and removing the small distance between them. Straining his arms and craning his head forward, he barely managed to reach out to the man. Once Aragorn knew his friend was close enough, he stopped Legolas' movement by leaning his head toward the elf's. The instant Aragorn could feel his friend's head lean against his own he let loose a small, broken up sigh. For the first time during this unbelievably slow, dark day he was with someone who didn't want to hurt him or kill him. The relief of it drove his deepening breath to hitch slightly, leaving him to finally shed the unwilling, silent tears he had held back. The sudden realization of his friend's suffering so close to the surface put Legolas' fear into overload. It was too soon for the man to have built any tolerance to his situation and though he desperately wished otherwise, the tears came freely.
"No, it is well Estel... I'm right here, right here. I've come, and I'm not going to leave you. Shh... Shh..." Legolas leaned his head closer and relaxed against his friend's head, trying to calm his young friend verbally until he felt something damp slid against his face. Tears... that belonged to the man.
"Legolas... please..." Aragorn whispered desperately into the elf's ear, afraid to move. "Please... get out... can't take anymore..." He winced hard, groaning and clenching his teeth against the waves of intense discomfort. His words were fumbled and his voice shook badly. He hurt so much.
For the first time Legolas really began to notice just how much the man shook, how cold he felt, and how the room smelled of pain... pain and blood. Particularly the corner Aragorn was in, for the elf hadn't really noticed anything unusual until now and his senses were tingling unpleasantly. The very feel of it was making the prince shudder, and the way Aragorn spoke was scaring him more than he wanted to admit. "Estel? Mellon-nin, what have they done to you?"
Legolas got a reaction he never would have expected coming from the man. Aragorn turned away from his friend and shakily pressed his forehead against the cold ground, physically unable to speak. His blood froze. He didn't want to reveal the shame and terror, not to Legolas... Valar spare him, not to anyone.
"Estel?" Legolas' voice was suddenly quiet and fearful. "Estel, what-"
"No." An odd whisper, like the moaning of a fierce wind, interrupted the elf. "... Please... don't ask."
"Estel-"
"No!" The ranger weakly lifted one arm to wrap around his head, stifling a cry as his shoulders strained in his attempt to hide. His tears were the only clue Legolas had to the layers and layers of aching guilt and fear. "Please... don't make me..."
"Estel, why do you fear me?" Legolas' voice was now confused and afraid, his heart twisting within him. Why? Why wouldn't Aragorn speak; let him help?
"I... cannot." The words were frighteningly soft, hardly louder than the patter of young feet. "... Cannot."
Legolas stared, disbelieving eyes taking in the form of his friend less than a foot from him. Aragorn never turned away from him like this. Never refused an offer of help in such a time of need... whatever hatred Legolas had borne for Ralorn and his men had now flared into a hotter rage. He was going to find out what Ralorn had done and kill the elf for his actions, for turning Aragorn away from those the man knew cared.
Fear and anger feed the adrenaline rush that suddenly flowed through the elf. He responded to it, knowing it was his only weapon to aide him now. Turning around and wrapping his hands around the chain that held him confined, he pulled it taunt and placed his feet up against the wall. Common sense was ignored in the face of his growing anger, cutting off all else. The walls made of thick, heavy wood; the chains strong and firmly bolted in place with steel bolts. But they did not matter anymore, for Legolas had what he needed; what he knew to be stronger than the craft of cold elves whose hearts were dead.
For just a moment he froze, listening to the sound of his own soft breathing, feeling the cold metal in his fingers, registering the tightness of its hold on the wall. Aragorn had grown very quiet; no longer could Legolas hear the sounds of his all-consuming anguish, hardly even the depth of his breathing. The still silence of his friend only hardened the elf's concentration.
All at once Legolas reared back, driving the chain back with him. The steel bolts strained but held firm, unwilling to loosen their hold. Shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, Legolas pulled again, working to straighten his legs. The slow crawl of metal bending apart reached his ears, and Legolas let a small cry of anger escape him, putting all he had into his own freedom.
'They can trap me,' he thought fiercely, 'but they can never hold me down!'
Several small snapping noises came, and then the loud strained groans of the steel bolts attested to the fast weakening metal. It was the last resistance against the strength Legolas put forth, but finally gave in. A booming crack signaled the separation. The wood moaned in frustration as Legolas fell backwards a few feet, the limp chain still within his iron grasp. Legolas sighed in victory. He had done it.
The manacles that bound him had only a few feet or so of chain between them, limiting his movement. Very simply he stepped backwards over the chains so they where in front of him rather than behind. Not that he really cared at the moment how very secured he still was; all he wanted was to reach Aragorn, and now he could. Legolas inched his way over to the man's side, following the rhythm of his young friend's breathing.
When he had been left alone Aragorn had quickly learned to endure and control his pain, his mind struggling to accept and harness his fear. Over the last several minutes he had dedicated all his remaining strength to controlling his body. Much of the original shock that had so petrified him immobile was now fading, giving him the power to again speak and even move a little, but no amount of time as of yet could heal the hazardous effects on his own mind. His eyes were wide and terrified as he watched Legolas snap the chains that bound the elf, fear rippling through him. His friend had changed drastically in his eyes. The fierce concern written on the prince's face had turned to that of terrifying hate, transformed for the briefest of moments into one of his tormentors. If Legolas could break through chains as those similar to the ones that once held him suspended off the ground, what would the elf do to him, weak and defenseless as he was?
Legolas watched Aragorn attempt to curl up tightly into one corner as well as he could, wrapping his arms about his head but his legs lay straight and unmoving away from him. It was as if he was trying to bury away from the elf's glow. As Legolas reached out to the man, Aragorn's voice suddenly stopped him.
"Don't... touch me." The words were familiar, automatically spoken as he had when the guards had him, but now hoarse with emotion and echoed with the tone similar to the plea of a small child. If possible he curled up even tighter, wrapping his arms securely around his face and trying to pull his legs all the way into himself, but he moaned softly before they got halfway and stopped again.
Legolas was speechless, his hands falling back to rest in his lap. Not even in the early days of their friendship had Aragorn recoiled from any casual touch as sharply as he did now. Horror cut a harsh wound into Legolas' spirit. He had always been the one to back away from the man's touch, but he never thought Aragorn would do the same to him, not even in times as horrifying as this. His head bowed forward and a soft call of despair escaped him, allowing a tear he had been holding back to fall and he was thankful now for the intense darkness of the room.
"Estel," Legolas whispered the man's elvish name again as though he was trying to call him back from a field of dreams, tender and surprisingly calm, his voice effectively hiding what his face openly showed. "You know who I am. Whatever Ralorn did to you, you know I would never do the same." Legolas tried not to choke on the words, willing the strength to remain in his words. Whatever the guards had done, he knew it was much worse than he had thought it would be and he greatly feared now for his friend. "You trusted me before. Please Estel... I will not hurt you. Let me help you."
Aragorn slowly lifted his head inches above his arm and let his gaze rise to lock with his friend's. The movements made him wince hard, ripping through him in a wave of unconcealed torment. Yet his body throbbed still with so much since his last terrible beating that his mind hardly took notice anymore. What they had last done to him was far worse than any cruel treatment he ever really expected. He didn't want it to be this way. He had expected beatings, verbal torment, death even... but not this. Not what they had ended up doing to him to break his spirit. The lies the voices in his head fed him were shoved down, and Aragorn fearfully chose to listen to his heart instead. With his eyes he seemed to send Legolas a message that the elf immediately understood and responded to.
Moving closer until his elvish glow was again thrown over the man, Legolas let his eyes visibly examine his friend's body. Wiping away the tear that had fallen and sighing deeply, Legolas let one hand fall to his friend's head in a gesture of comfort and to discover any signs of a fever. At the gentle touch of the hand on his forehead Aragorn flinched, sucking his breath in sharply but fought the urge to pull away. The unspoken lesson his body had been taught for the last day was far too distraught and painfully learned to know with whom it was accompanied now. All it knew was that the touch of hurt came from the touch of others and recoiled against any attempt, no matter who or how gentle. Even so, Aragorn didn't even think he could get away if he truly even wanted to. Legolas quickly recognized the fear and soothed his friend with the quiet whisper of his voice, calming him well before trying to assess the nature of his injuries.
The only thing Aragorn wore was his leggings, so torn and ragged they did not even go past his knees, layered with the heavy scent of blood. Much of his exposed skin was a cold pale white that looked to be struggling to regain its natural color, but wherever there was an injury the flesh was raw and some bled still. Aragorn was shivering slightly from the chill of the room, his injuries helping him on no level. On the left side of his face a terrible gash had been opened and his once fair face was swollen with bruises and covered with blood. Right away Legolas could tell that injuries looked much worse than they really were, but he wasn't sure about what he could not see. Other than many other dark bruises, particularly the ones that wrapped around the ranger's shoulders and revealing only a fragment of a story filled with hideous treatment sessions, Legolas could see nothing that would cause his friend such pain and fear. He had seen Aragorn through such wounds before. Why was this any different?
"Aragorn," Legolas whispered, again lifting his hands and letting them hover over his friend. "Where is your pain?"
Silly as the question was, Aragorn understood. Slowly, carefully, he uncurled his legs. A stronger smell of blood struck Legolas right in the face. The elf first turned his attention to Aragorn's feet, easily the most discolored and garnering the most attention from the prince at first glance.
"May I touch your feet?" Legolas had no desire to frighten his friend more.
Aragorn's response was to again brace his forehead against the floor and close his eyes, forcing himself to breath slowly and deeply. He no longer trusted himself to speak, little as he already did, but Legolas took it as the permission it was. He let his hands fall to Aragorn's feet, but since he could not twist them around to see the soles, he shut his eyes and let his sensitive fingers tell him the story. Hardly a moment later his eyes shut tighter, both he and the man wincing at his touch; Aragorn in pain, him in disbelief.
Strips of skin greeted the elf's fingertips. Jagged, rough, bloody wounds marred the surface so badly that Legolas knew Aragorn was incapable of standing on his own with the wounds so deep and new. Legolas recognized the method even though he had never endured it himself. Someone had whipped the soles raw.
A slight flicker caught his eye and Legolas' attention was redirected to the man's thigh. Blood was slowly blossoming over the ripped fabric, but from what injury Legolas was uncertain.
"Estel, is there something wrong with your leg?"
Aragorn shook his head but his forehead did not move from the floor. He tensed like a terrified cat ready to spring as Legolas tried to find another wound; his fingers, through gentle, horrified the man much to his dislike. After a few moments of the elf searching, Aragorn spoke even more softly than before, dark fear flowing from his voice.
"Legolas," Gulping hard, he tried not to lose control, but it was proving too much for his overworked body and weary mind. His vision blurred as he spoke next. "It's not... leg."
"But then where-" Legolas froze as realization struck him like a kick in the guts. Oh Valar no... Please heaven, not like that! Not to discover that Aragorn's self-pride and dignity had been torn away. They had gone far beyond trying to break him. No wonder his fighting spirit had faded from him; his unique sparkle missing from his eyes. Legolas could almost feel himself melt in front of his friend as the answer flooded into his heart.
"Estel?" Legolas said in a low, frightened tone. "Did they... did they... oh Valar... Estel, did-did he rape you?"
Legolas recalled how the man had flinched under his touch, backing away from his presence but soon finding he could not, pleading 'Don't touch me,' and crying when all he could register now was the hurt. But then Legolas could see Aragorn as when he first saw him, when he called out to his friend, relieved once the elf was near, knowing the nightmare could parhaps have an end. He was so young still... but like a tormented child he was breaking to such an unknown, unexpected foe. Legolas knew that Aragorn's trust in him and love for life far surpassed the pain his tormentors inflicted, but as he knew the young ranger was grateful it was the elf that was helping him and no one else, another part of him cursed his own horrible weakness of body and would have given anything to have his friend not know. It was like two sides battling each other, the man in the middle not knowing which way to run. He wanted to be stronger than this, stronger than his fear and the pain, but at that moment he knew he could not. Just couldn't. He was far beyond his breaking point.
Aragorn hardly moved at the question, but instead of trying to back away again, he looked at the elf with eyes red with tears, face swollen with bruises, one side of his face obscured by hair caked with dust and blood... and only nodded, shame disgracing his once proud head. Why? Legolas could almost hear him ask. Why this?
"Such... a... coward..." he whispered, aching from more than physical torment.
Not two seconds later Legolas was carefully lifting the man from his corner, unable to take it anymore. The guards had left him unchained, trusting with no doubt that the human would not move alone and for that unintended mercy Legolas was glad. With one arm around his back and the other under his knees, Legolas braced Aragorn against himself as he backed up a few paces, scooting away from the spot Aragorn had claimed as his own. More than anything else, he wanted to take his friend away from that blood-stained corner that spoke of only soul-wrenched suffering and memory. Once Legolas could feel the wood of the wall pushing against his back, he settled down and placed Aragorn carefully in his lap, gently embracing the man at the same time. Immediately as Legolas wrapped his arms around Aragorn's thin, starved frame he began to cry softly, feeling pain so sharp he wasn't sure at first what to say.
It was all so familiar to a veteran of much pain... the wounds healed but some scars remained, dark and deep and ugly.
Aragorn's body was again desperately trying to reject the gentle compassion, his muscles jerking weakly in the prince's soft but firm grip. He tried to still his body, but the mental abuse was not one to wear away so quickly and his back was beginning to spasm again, his tailbone bruised to the core. Aragorn could not help the violent shuddering that tormented his mind and fed his fear. Tears fell down his face in frustration. Only his heart ached to be comforted so.
Then all at once Legolas' voice broke through the hard box Aragorn had unconsciously built around himself, the protection that now threatened the man's very state of mind.
"Aragorn... Estel, do not fear. It's me, you know who I am. You know I would never hurt you. You know I only want to help you. Oh brother of my heart, you know how much you mean to me. I will not hurt you. Can you hear me Estel? I will never hurt you!"
Legolas began to rock him back and forth gently, soothing the man quietly with his voice that no longer spoke real words. Unconsciously Aragorn did begin to relax, shoving away the voices and leaning hard on his side into Legolas' strong, warm, comforting embrace, his need for comfort far sharper than the steel trap jaws of his own mind. For several long minutes they sat there, reunited at last and neither able to let go.
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"You... saved me... Legolas," Aragorn's quiet voice suddenly echoed through the room that had been silent for the past several minutes. Legolas had just completed all the care he could give, offering whatever comfort he could to any injury with almost nothing on hand. Legolas could hear faint thundering from outside, and knew the rain he had felt upon entering this place had finally unleashed in full fury during the early hours of the evening, now soaking through to the ground they knelt on. The mud had helped greatly in stopping the remaining blood flow, the only temporary cure Legolas could come up with until they were blessed with more.
Aragorn couldn't sit up on his own. His back ached so much that the slightest move sent waves of pain down through his legs, and his fractured ribs made it so difficult for him to breathe. Only Legolas could move him around without hurting him. Though he hated the fact that he couldn't do anything by himself, despite it all Aragorn was grateful that he was with his best friend, for he already feared he wouldn't have survived the night.
He was not intended to.
Legolas didn't respond to the statement, but instead lifted Aragorn part-way off the ground and settled the ranger's head and upper body onto his lap, needing the contact as badly as his friend did – not for comfort as Aragorn did, but for reassurance that the man lived still. He was far from stable.
"Rest now if you can. I'll watch over you."
Aragorn shuddered but didn't back away. Feverish, injury-induced heat now radiated off his body though he still shivered from the cold. He had lost more than a safe amount of blood and his body was trying hard to make up for the damage. But to sleep, really sleep, that was a luxury he had not really had since reaching this horrid place. The only time he had fallen to unconsciousness since Gowen had left was scarce and the memory of why dark. Legs useless, Aragorn burrowed as close to his friend as he possibly could, now comforted by the warmth and proximity of the other.
"Legolas..." he murmured wearily, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.
The elf leaned over his friend, resting his forehead against Aragorn's temple and quietly shushing the man, letting him know he wasn't alone.
"I'm still here my friend. I'm right here." All Legolas could do was wait now, and pray the guards' interest would not be on them for several hours. With his hand resting atop the human's, all Aragorn could do was sleep.
§§§
"Look."
"Where?"
"Right there. Beyond the glade. Can you not see them?"
"Aye, I see them now. That is him for sure." The elf paused a moment. "I count five. Do you see more?"
Elladan, who had the best sight of the twins, shook his head as he peered through the falling rain. "I see no more. Five is all that search for us now."
"Elladan?"
The older twin absently rubbed his injured arm and shoulder. "Yes?"
"I think they have spotted us as well." Elrohir was right; the riders they watched had altered their original course slightly, heading now toward where the twins stood partly hidden.
Elladan and Elrohir had not been long delayed by the dark rider Ralorn had sent to hunt them, in reality only a few hours. The bite mark dealt to Elladan's arm and shoulder was deep and it took a while for Elrohir to bring the bleeding under control. It was the only physical difference between them – Elladan's sleeve had been cut, his arm guard removed, and thick bandages now protected the wounds.
Their delay however, had cost them catching up with Legolas, who was a fast and sure rider. The twins had stopped little, tracking the prince's trail and slowly finding themselves farther and farther away from the realm they knew as home. They had remained close though, never more than a day behind the prince and while Legolas knew not of their state, they knew of his.
Elladan dismounted slowly and stood next to his horse, stroking the animal's powerful neck while deep in thought. "Elrohir, we should send the horses back. It's Ralorn for sure. We don't need them with us any longer."
Elrohir nodded, understanding and agreeing. "Let us be swift. They approach us with no small speed."
They removed light provisions from their supplies, enough to ensure they would not have to worry about themselves or anyone they undoubtedly would find without. Thanking the animals again for their faithful service, Elladan and Elrohir turned them around and bid them go home. The two horses obediently did as instructed, trotting lightly over the terrain back towards Rivendell.
Elrohir touched his brother on his uninjured shoulder. His grey eyes were fierce. "They come."
"Then let us meet them." Elladan led the way out of the cluster of trees they had taken their cover under, his hand lighting on an arrow, taking in the touch of the fletching before drawing it out of his quiver. He stepped out into the open and took his stance, ready and waiting with the bow at his side.
Elrohir drew his sword. The weapon stood to his hip and curved at the tip, the design strong and deadly sharp. A foot-long knife remained at his side if the need should call for it, but for now the younger twin held his sword with both hands wrapped around it in a ready position.
Ralorn rode fast, the horses of him and his men pounding hard into the ground. Their breath was heavy in the air, a mist mixing in the growing intensity of the storm. It had been well over an hour since they had left the cave, and they had been riding hard since. Ralorn had not lead by knowledge of a destination but by some growing instinct within him that guided him here, right to his long sought-after targets.
Ralorn's eyes were glinting as they locked with his oppressors' gaze. His black horse suddenly made a quick stop on the muddy ground, neighing sharply as Ralorn pulled him to a halt about twenty-five feet from the twins while his guard followed suit, his gaze up in arms. Anger rolled away from him in waves.
The twin's gazes where no less intense. Elladan began to raise his bow in warning, bringing the feathers to his mouth but did not sight in the arrow just yet, letting the other elf know he would not take any threats lightly. Elrohir tensed next to him, watching patiently for the moment and making no move as of yet.
Ralorn's gaze passed from one elf to the other, allowing the years of the past to melt away and reveal them as they truly were. They had changed much. He could see wisdom and strength were there was once innocence and uncertainty, for the two elves had grown into warriors since last they had crossed paths.
Elladan spoke first, never letting his hold on the bow drop. "Ralorn, we are here to liberate the release of the one you have taken from us."
"And I am here to complete the last stage of your capture." Ralorn's voice was short and cold. "When we discovered Prince Legolas out by himself I almost assumed you had not come at all. That would have been detrimental indeed to the little human you have the gall to call brother."
Elladan and Elrohir were both seething at this point. "Ralorn," Elladan said hotly, "If you have tormented him-"
"You'll claim blood rights on me too? I've heard that one already today, don't bore me again. Your Mirkwood friend already warned me of it, I know the risks. I thank you for your concern, but I think you should worry more important matters for now."
Ralorn brought one hand up and with two fingers gestured his men forward. "Take them."
Elrohir stood in front of Elladan defensively. He was not going anywhere without a fight, neither of them were. Elladan, whether he admitted it or not was still pained by the wolf bite, though he hid it well. The younger twin took a defensive stance in front of his brother, holding his proffered weapon out in a ready position.
"We will not be taken captive until you have released those you have captured as liability against us. We will not be subject to your vicious abuse until we are all you have." Elrohir's voice was also cold, his eyes sparkling dangerously. Around him, rain fell relentlessly, spiraling down from the sky in thick waves. Thunder rumbled darkly in the distance.
"That is not possible. If you want them freed you must come under my control or they will both die. You want to exchange your lives for theirs, submit here and now."
It was too much of a trap. If they submitted, Ralorn could easily refuse to release anyone and keep them all to a devastating fate. Elrohir did not lower his gaze, nor his sword. Never on such terms would he willingly give in. It was folly.
Elladan tried to step forward and gain a position by his twin, but Elrohir would have none of it. "Stay back, Elladan," he whispered, though his tone was firm. It was rare when Elrohir took control of a situation such as this in the manner he was, but that was exactly what he was doing now. "Watch my back."
Elladan knew he would never win against the piercing gaze Elrohir graced him with for a moment. He stepped back, and prepared to do as instructed, raising his bow again and preparing to sight in on the arrow.
"So you won't come willingly?" Ralorn turned around and spoke to his men, pointing at the twins. "Overtake them. I want them alive."
Lom, Mayroniel, Faroth, and Árë all dismounted, unsheathing their weapons as they hit the ground. Elrohir adjusted his footing, preparing to fight while Elladan backed up a pace, fixing his arrow on an unknown target. His injury it seemed had been forgotten.
"Ralorn!" Elladan took over, yelling above another round of thunder to catch the other elf's attention before any fighting had begun. Against such odds their outlook was bleak. Either of them could easily be injured to the point of crippling or even killed. With other lives on the line it was not a risk he was willing to take.
When the elf gave him his attention, Elladan sighted his arrow as he spoke. "Ralorn, if you allow a fight to begin I swear I will kill you for it. I don't care what happens to me because of it, but I will have your head in the end."
Faroth and Mayroniel made to move closer to Ralorn to protect him, but Elladan stopped them. "If you get any closer I will kill him right now." His voice was incensed and his gaze deadly. He meant what he said and was in no mood to play around. Both Faroth and Mayroniel stopped, faces expressionless but by actions quite angry.
Ralorn did not waver under the fire in Elladan's eyes. He didn't like the way this was going, he hated giving his tormentors any quarter of relief, but he could not do anything otherwise without jeopardizing everything he had worked for. "What do you want?"
"I want you to release my brother and my elven friend from your clutches, let us go free and move beyond your hate, but you will give me none of that; not here, not now, not yet."
"Not ever," Ralorn hissed at him, and a moment later a knife struck Elladan in his injured shoulder, throwing him backwards and knocking him to the ground at the sudden pain. The abuse he had already suffered under the tigerwolf was still healing and the sharp blade did nothing to help him. It cut through his bandages and imbedded itself deep into the muscle of his shoulder. As he fell Mayroniel and Faroth rushed forward, throwing his bow out of his hands and pinned him to the ground firmly. Elladan let loose a surprised grunt of pain as his newly torn shoulder was pushed into the ground. He struggled against his capturers, but Faroth and Mayroniel had been too fast and he was overcome.
"Elladan!" Elrohir watched in horror as in the blink of an eye Faroth had his knife out of its sheath and in the air. Elladan had been too distracted at the moment to notice... or so he thought. What he didn't know was that Faroth specialized in this type of betrayal – he had also been the one who had broken into Rivendell that night to steal a most precious quarry. Faroth more than any of the elves knew the limits to speed and stealth, talents honed many times over in the long years of his life and honored greatly by Ralorn.
Ralorn, at the moment, was smiling. Faroth never let him down. Of the Guard Faroth and Mayroniel were his most trusted; the ones who had never failed him and together were a force to be reckoned with. The two elves struggled with their prisoner, but soon Elladan ceased to move while his body remained tense, knowing for the moment that he had been defeated.
Elrohir let his gaze rise from his twin to Ralorn, and then to Lom, who stood in front of him and blocking his view of the others. Lom was young but he was strong, holding his sword in both hands comfortably, prepared to strike. Many thoughts were going through Elrohir's head. He needed to get through Lom in order to reach anyone else, because it was clear that Lom was blocking him. Árë had returned to Ralorn's side, protecting the elf should Elrohir try to pull a stunt similar to Faroth's just moments before.
Elrohir's face suddenly went impassive, blank but chilling to look upon. Lom watched him carefully, trying to figure out what the elf twin was thinking. It was as though Elrohir had shut himself off from the others, his focus entirely on the one who stood in his way. Until this fight was over and one of them lay defeated or dying, it was clear they would see nothing else but the fire in each other's eyes. Elrohir let his left foot slide back behind his right, his sword following the motion until it found a place pointing down behind the twin, the elf's hands right near his hip in a steady, strong grip about the handle. Lom mimicked him, taking a similar stance not three feet away from the other, though he brought his sword up to his shoulder near his neck, holding it parallel to the ground in both hands. For a moment they froze, taking in the intensity of each other's gaze while trying to infuse some fear with their own. Then, as if triggered at the same time Elrohir and Lom leapt forward and their swords clashed; Elrohir bringing his up and Lom forcing his down in first contact and the fight was on.
Elladan felt as though he were watching it in slow motion. Elrohir was rising in the defense and held his own strongly, though Lom was proving to be a formidable swordsman and rose with his enemy. Neither wanting to kill his foe, they both attempted to either disarm or injure his opponent, their swords clashing again and again. Elladan felt as though his breath was eluding him entirely as he watched Elrohir dodge, parry, and strike at Lom, who made one furious attack after another. Several minutes of this passed by, two elves locked in a battle, each with very different desires.
No one made to stop them; all seemed transfixed at the sight of the battle. Árë stood close by Ralorn's side and about ten feet away Mayroniel and Faroth had Elladan on the ground. Elrohir and Lom were fighting right near Elladan's legs in an area of about fifteen square feet, hardly paying them any mind.
Lom, egged on by ego and desperation – the desire to prove himself to his master, pressed Elrohir to the limit, barely giving him any time to recover from a strike before coming in with another. The elf twin parried blow after blow. After several minutes Elrohir began to show signs of wear, his breath coming in quickly. Lom noticed the change and began to press his advantage, picking up his speed and forcing Elrohir to keep up with him. Elrohir's strained movements began to bolster his confidence.
Elrohir grit his teeth, obviously doing the best he could but as of yet he had not found the opening he was looking for. He knew Elladan was probably watching him in horror and wished he could console the other, but that would take concentration he could not spare at the moment. He could only pray that the opening he was looking for would come soon. He squinted as he parried Lom's sword, as if wincing from the force of the blades crashing together and then falling apart.
Then, at that instant, something completely unexpected happened that made Elladan gasp in surprise. Elrohir swung his sword again, but not at Lom. It was off to the side; Elrohir wasn't even looking at Lom when he drove his sword forward. This so perplexed his opponent that Lom actually smiled, convinced for a split second that his plan to weary the other had worked. Elrohir was now swinging so wildly. It made him hesitate – for just an instant – as he retracted his sword for what he believed to be his final strike, aiming to knock Elrohir's sword out of his hands.
This was exactly what Elrohir had been counting on – the overconfidence, the moment of hesitation. He used his own momentum to pull himself into a roll. As Elladan looked on in shock, Elrohir stuck his sword into the soft earth and used it to propel his legs upward, smashing it into Lom's face, snapping the other elf's chin back. Lom was on the ground an instant later, shaking his head and trying to figure out what had happened.
Elrohir stood and pulled his sword from the ground, all weariness gone. He had never been truly tired in any way. It had all been a ruse to earn that precious second of hesitation. Elrohir looked over at Elladan while Lom struggled to regain his feet, giving his twin a small smile of reassurance that Elladan returned.
Elladan's smile however, quickly opened in terror. "Look out!" he cried, and earned himself a none-too-gentle blow to the head. Lom had gained his feet and his sword, using Elrohir's moment of distraction against him just as Elrohir had, aiming his shining blade right toward Elrohir's abdomen, seeming to forget Ralorn's strict request to take both the twins alive.
Elrohir turned his eyes.
When he realized what was happening, he had no time to parry, no time to dodge. There was only one counter move. Elrohir rose his own blade and stabbed it in the direction of the other elf's neck, rolling his body as he did so and allowing Lom's sword to catch a piece of his armor. The light chainmail he wore and the leather shirt underneath ripped open, but the action had saved him from getting anything worse than a nasty cut.
Elrohir's blade, however, had found a direct hit, unhindered as the sword cut into Lom's unprotected neck. Blood spurted. Lom fell forward, a look of surprise and shock in his eyes were rage had once been. His body crumpled to the ground, staining the slippery mud red. His body quivered, but not for long. Lom was dead.
Elladan's heart fell back to rest within the cavity of his chest. The fight was over, Elrohir had won. But there was no look of relief or excitement in his twin's eyes. Instead, he looked devastated. He dropped to his knees in the mud beside the fallen body, regret and despair filling his face. He had not wanted to kill the other, he had never meant to, but that was how it had ended. Lightning heightened his features and pale face as the rain continued to fall, flickering over him in a haunted way.
Elladan looked over at Ralorn. The elf looked livid. It had not been Elrohir's fault in any way, he had been acting on self-defense at that moment and Lom had been pursuing a matter of pride, not duty. Yet none of that changed the fact that Lom had been killed, bringing the total to two dead guards in the past week, more than he had seen in the past three hundred years.
"Árë, take him," Ralorn said, his voice low. Elrohir seemed to be in a state of slight shock; now would be the best time to catch the elf off guard. Árë stepped forward behind the elf twin and pulled Elrohir's arms behind his back quickly. At first Elrohir did little to respond to the treatment, it was not until Árë had brought him to his feet that he began to notice that he too had been taken prisoner.
The twins were bound, their weapons removed, and put together on the back of a horse. Elrohir was trembling as they were bound in place; Elladan could feel it clearly as his twin sat in front of him. Ralorn had not spoken to them yet, apparently too angry with them and desiring only to get moving out of the ghastly weather.
"Shh, it's all right El, it's all right..." Elladan whispered gentle encouragement to his brother as Faroth and Árë began to drag Lom's body to a small cliff about thirty feet away from where the fight had taken place, throwing the corpse over the edge while Ralorn and Mayroniel looked on with a mixture of remorse and pity in their eyes.
"I didn't mean to... I didn't want to kill him..." Elrohir did not cease to tremble, silent tears falling down his face easily mistaken as the rain. The more sensitive one of the two twins, Elrohir felt deeply for what had been done. Never once had he had the desire to kill, even one under Ralorn's thumb. The old reminder that 'if it hadn't of been him, it would have been you' didn't help much. It should not have happened that way... but what else could he have done?
"I know, I know you didn't mean to. It was an accident El; it wasn't your fault..." Elladan allowed Elrohir to lean back against him a little more, whispering gently into his ear. Knowing Elrohir needed comfort in this situation more than anything else; Elladan gave all that he could to keep Elrohir with him. "It was him, I watched the fight. He was trying to take advantage of you being distracted and you did exactly what you were supposed to do. You did what anyone would have done. It was not your fault. It was not your fault..."
"El... you are bleeding..." Elrohir noticed Elladan's arm when he looked back. When Elladan had been forced onto the back of the horse, Faroth had wasted no time in ripping the knife out of his shoulder. The damage was bad, but not bad enough to alarm Elladan very much. It hurt, but it was Elrohir who concerned him more.
"I'll be fine, do not fear." Elladan turned Elrohir's attention away from himself, knowing it would do neither of them any good if they worried about such things now. There was nothing they could do.
The rain was coming down so hard that all the elves had decided to dismount, leading their horses back to the cave rather than riding them. Only Elladan and Elrohir sat on a horse, but they were surrounded on all sides by the others and their horse lead by Árë. There was no chance of escape now, and even if they could, any sign of Legolas' trail would have been washed away by now. The ground was sickeningly slick and dangerous; the going was much slower than usual.
Elladan continued to whisper directly into Elrohir's ear, so softly that not even the elves around them could detect what he said.
"It's going to be all right, Elrohir. Estel's out there, he needs us. I need you to help me, and we'll be able to get him and Legolas out. That's all that matters now. We're going to save them. It's going to be all right, we're going to Estel..."
§§§
Aragorn slept badly. It did not matter how physically worn and emotionally beaten he was, it could not drag him down to a deep, healing sleep. Every time his subconscious reached the limit between light and deep slumber, something would bring him back to the surface with a jolt. In which case, since he now refused to tread the path of no return, his body would jerk as he awoke yet again, ever hunted by some fear.
Legolas could do little more than be a comfort and a voice in the darkness. He continued to hold Aragorn's upper body in his lap and his arms wrapped around his friend to starve off both chill and fear. Aragorn, fully confident now that Legolas was real and no illusion, took great comfort in being held no matter how childish it made him feel. After all he had been through, he needed it.
Hours ticked by as Aragorn fitfully slept in a world that brought him little relief, and Legolas either talking or singing softly to the ranger or himself. The cave was oddly silent. It sounded as though few if any beings other than themselves were now hidden in this place beneath the earth. Legolas didn't know what to make of the little he had discovered from Ralorn. Parhaps he had come to assume that if Legolas had made it, the twins were not far behind... But that was not the case at all. The prince still knew nothing of what had transpired since that day they were attacked by the tigerwolves and the dark rider. He didn't know where the twins were... or if the twins were even alive.
"We may have outdone ourselves this time, Estel," Legolas whispered at some point, still feeling the feverish heat coming from the one he held. For the first time he didn't know what to do, had no answer to a question for the future. If the twins were truly gone, there would be no hope of a rescue. By the time anyone else would find this place – indeed, if they ever did – they would already be dead.
Aragorn was in no condition to travel. Legolas' options were sadly limited when it came to thoughts of escape since he was determined to keep Estel with him. He was lost for a time in darkening thoughts and uncertainty. Outside he could clearly hear the pounding of the rain. The sky was unleashing great fury in a full downpour. He could hear the lightning crash and thunder rumble in the distance. It was going to be a most dreary night whether they were inside the cave or not.
Even the sky was angry this night.
Aragorn woke slowly this time, his mind still threaded with sleep. It had been over three hours since Legolas had joined him, three hours since he had seen any of the guards. He lifted his head slightly as a touch of delirium caught him, but Legolas held him steadily until the nausea passed.
"How are you feeling?" Legolas asked him gently when he sensed Aragorn's clearness of mind, though still foggy from hurt.
Aragorn shut his eyes and breathed in softly. "Fantastic."
Legolas smiled. Aragorn had barely begun to heal, his condition had hardly changed, but his heart was a bit lighter and that was what mattered. Aragorn had discovered his will to survive again and that in and of itself was the best healer right now.
"Yes, I suppose that under the current circumstances I should expect no less." Legolas stated, trying to draw some mirth on the fact that Aragorn always made light of his own injuries. He was desperate to forget about their growing situation for a moment.
Aragorn made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a cough that he intended to be a chuckle and Legolas couldn't help but add, "And in the future I shall try to remember that those guttural sounds you pass off as verbal responses are not from the wild boars-"
"Ah Legolas," Aragorn cut the elf off. "Of all the things to come out of your mouth at a time like this..."
"Worry not my friend. I am only taking pleasure in reminding you of your more charming personality traits when ill..."
Aragorn recognized Legolas' attempts to cheer him somewhat and humored the elf with a real chuckle, something the elf felt more than heard. Legolas accepted it as the thanks that it was.
As soon as Aragorn had his breath back, he added with a glimmer of pleasure entirely his own. "This sounds very much like someone else I know-"
"Hey!"
"Don't you deny it either!"
Legolas smiled and Aragorn would have returned it had not the notion been so painful. He simply let the elf hold him and jest with him, trying to lift some of the darkness that had settled so deeply in the cave. As the elf's mirth subsided and the darkness began to fill the place where light mirth had been, Aragorn did not object when Legolas leaned his head against his friend's and began to hum a simple elvish tune, fighting the waves of despair as long as he could for the both of them. He had to. He could not lose hope; it would destroy them both.
A short while later both prisoners heard noise within the cave as beings entered its depths again. Wherever the guards had been, they had now most assuredly returned. The elf and man confined would not be ignored much longer.
"Legolas," Aragorn said wearily, as though it pained him emotionally to speak what he knew he must. "You must return to your wall and me to mine. The guards will come soon. They cannot find anything different from before."
He heard the elf sigh and knew that Legolas had been dreading this. "I wish there was another way..." Legolas murmured, resisting leaving Aragorn alone like this. The physical contact between the two of them had kept both of them stable, for not once had Legolas thought of the crushing, suffocating weight of the earth around him; neither had Aragorn given into despair as he otherwise probably would have.
"Please Legolas. I can't allow them to hurt you. I – I need you to be strong for me. Please, they may come soon."
"All right Estel," Legolas sighed heavily. "I will do as you ask."
Legolas with more gentleness many thought the elves possessed laid Aragorn on his side close to his old corner, barely jouncing the man. Aragorn's body could not be handled too roughly as of yet, it would do him no good and more than a little damage. Once Aragorn was as comfortable as he could get, Legolas hesitated and looked at the man squarely in the eyes.
"Don't let go Estel," he warned, though there was fear and pain in the elf's eyes. After so much, he could not see the man die here; he couldn't, refused to even think of it. Not after all that had been done. "I'll be with you. You can't leave me yet. Promise me you'll try?"
Aragorn could only nod his head beyond speaking. "I promise I won't despair as long as I am able."
Once the vow had been made Legolas turned and walked the few steps to where his broken locks lay waiting. All Legolas did was reinsert the chain to the connecting hook and push the lock and broken wood back into place. It wouldn't have held a five-year-old, but it served its purpose in making Legolas appear secure.
Once he was settled, Legolas sat and faced his friend. "Estel?"
Aragorn moaned softly as a short spasm of pain rippled through him. With Legolas gone from him, the light and warmth had been taken as well. The man was once again fully aware of his injuries, the cold, and just how much they both hurt.
Legolas' voice raised a notch in concern. "Estel?"
"I'll be fine," Aragorn forced himself to speak clearly – at least he still could speak. "It just hurts a little-"
"Be still, don't dwell on it. Think about something else now." Legolas wished he could do something more than he was.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything. Like something about home."
Silence resumed as Aragorn struggled to obey. Legolas listened to the rain pound harder against the mountain. It was surely coming down hard. Even the earth around them was softening almost inperceptively, slowly staining the captives dark with traces of mud. Legolas noticed how it gave easily underneath both his touch and his friend's.
The prince was torn out of his musings when Aragorn called to him suddenly. "Legolas!"
"What? What is it? What's wrong?"
"Oh, why didn't I think of this before?" Aragorn breathed in frustration. "It may be our only chance. I'm such a human!--"
"Be quiet about being human! What is this you speak of Estel?" Legolas felt a leap of hope shoot through his heart.
"I don't know Legolas, it could be dangerous but I think I know a way that we could-"
Aragorn was cut off as the door opened suddenly and loudly, firelight filling the interior of the dark room and making them both jump in surprise. Two guards entered, followed shortly by a third, who proceeded to unlock both prisoners in haste.
The locks were undone in the middle of the chain and Legolas' outburst with his own fetters went unnoticed. He was escorted roughly by one guard, Faroth, since he could walk, and Aragorn was carried by the other two. Neither of them were gentle and Aragorn had to keep himself from screaming. Ai Valar, how it hurt to move so! He let loose a breathless groan of pain as his body was jounced far too soon.
Legolas twisted in his bonds still about his wrists and the foot of chain between them. The guards led them swiftly, deeper into the tunnels. He was growing quite angry at this situation and how his friend was being treated so, far lower than what he deserved. If they ever made it back to the room, Legolas was determined to find out what Aragorn had intended to say.
'Escape,' he pleaded in his heart as his guard shoved him forward toward a room filled with torchlight and ever moving shadows of beings within. 'Let it have been escape.'
000000000000
The weather was turning from bad to worse. Elladan had given up counting how many times he felt the horse below him and Elrohir slip and stumble over the deadly ground. For the last hour he had dedicated all his energy of heart to keep Elrohir from slipping away, and eventually the younger twin did calm and his body stilled, comforted by his brother's presence and his words.
With the tricky water-logged earth slowing them down it took the group nearly two hours to get back to the cave. Elladan had fallen silent about twenty minutes before they reached the destination, finally feeling some peace of mind in regards to Elrohir's state. They would have to talk about it again, but that would be another time, another day.
When they did reach the entrance Elrohir and Elladan gave a very similar reaction to its entrance as Aragorn and Legolas had. It was a hopeless sight, the blackness of the interior unreflected by the lightning that crashed and boomed over them. When they were finally just beyond it, the twins were untied and again surrounded by all the elves save Ralorn, who lead the way into cave. The horses brought up the rear, thankful at the very least for the relief from the wind and the cold.
The twins were man-handled deeper into the cave, taking the main passageway down until they had passed by the first two offshoots and then turned directly left into a small room with no door. The interior however, was filled with lit torches, the room lit brightly. It was there that they were forced to the ground and no longer constantly prodded along. They did notice however, that another elf – Silore, they soon found out - who had not gone on the journey with them had joined the group, bringing the total Guard up to five beings now. Outnumbered and trapped, the twins could only wait to see what would happen.
Ralorn had to bask in the moment. It was done. He had finally done it. Far away from home, from help, deep in the mountains and sheltered in the cave where he had grown up... he had his quarry. He had the opportunity to do all that he had desired to do for so long. He turned to the twins, studying them for a moment, considering.
"Faroth," he said suddenly, not breaking his gaze from the forms of his two new captives. "Take Árë and Silore and go get the other two prisoners. I believe it is time to reunite them."
Faroth nodded, and with Árë and Silore in tow left the room quickly, turning farther down the cave to a deeper section of the underground tunnels.
'Estel,' the twins desperately thought together as the guards left. Elrohir kept his eyes on the door, whereas Elladan turned to Ralorn with a firm gaze most unpleasant. It was as if together they could watch both at the same time.
"What have you done to him?" Elladan asked carefully to Ralorn, not knowing if he wanted an answer but deep inside needing it. Ralorn knew what he was talking about, the responding gaze confirmed it. The look in his eyes however, put both the twins on edge. Whatever had happened did not look good.
"You have certainly chosen a rather bull-headed, arrogant man to join your family," Ralorn stated a bit sarcastically, his eyes snapping at the thought but his voice remained level. "I've never had more trouble with a human. He cut two fingers from Mayroniel's hand, helped a valuable prisoner of mine escape and then tried to escape himself. In any realm this would garner punishment and imprisonment, but since he was already a prisoner we had to take it to the next level..."
They all could suddenly hear sounds in the pathway; Faroth and the others were returning and at a much slower speed, weighed down by something.
"... but I'll let you figure out what we decided to do instead," Ralorn muttered at them darkly, turning away and allowing the twins to concentrate on what was being brought for them. As figures appeared in the entrance, both the twins felt their breath snag in their throats.
The guards entered slowly, contrasting sharply to the speed with which they had left. Árë and Silore entered first and they now held another – a forlorn, broken body that gave no immediate sign of life. Blood and soaked dirt matted the being's dark hair and covered sweaty skin, a sign of the deep pain he had endured and an unspoken curse that he may not survive without serious help.
The weary body let go of an aching moan, and the head rolled toward the locked gaze of the twins. Handled too roughly, his senses were on fire and Aragorn quickly discovered once again he barely held the power to speak. His eyes locked to the forms of his brothers, his heart choking at the sight that he wanted, and feared, the most. They had come, Ralorn had taunted him only, they had truly come... but now they were all subject to the twisted elf's mercy. The vision of his brothers wavered out of his grasp however, disappearing and no longer could he recognize them as numbing pain consumed his world.
Elladan's heart stopped. Elrohir couldn't breathe. They stared at the familiar face now twisted with pain and ceased all movement, their eyes never wavering from the unseeing ones of their little brother.
"Estel," Elladan finally managed to whisper, not in anger, or fear; pain, or regret just soft, warm, almost pleading as his heart ripped in half at the sight of his little brother's pain. It was a vain wish for what he saw not to be true.
Elrohir could do nothing, struck dumb for a moment. He could only sit and stare into the depths of the cloudy blue eyes and read the suffering they contained, unashamed tears falling down his fair face. He glanced at Elladan but his twin could not look him in the eye. Elladan had said everything would be all right, but now it seemed that everything wanted to prove him wrong. Heartache and shame tore his heart into shreds.
The twins hardly noticed when Legolas entered the room, guided by Faroth alone. The prince's gaze immediately fell to his friends, and a momentary flash of relief filled him. They were all right, he needn't wonder about their fate any longer. Understanding their reaction he wished to all ends that they would never have had to lay eyes on such a hideous sight, and it burned the prince as the hatred readily displayed now, out of the hands of Ralorn. The protectiveness the two strong-willed warriors had for their brother ran deep, deep and unbreakable. Yet it was breaking them now.
"Put him down," the commanding voice called from the back wall, expected and unwanted. The two guards did not set Aragorn down softly or roughly, but much like a mother would set down her child who was being willfully disobedient. But despite that, it was harder than what Aragorn could handle as of yet.
Trapped in the semi-wakefulness of delirium, the ranger couldn't help but call out for the last person he had spoken to and registered. "Legolas," he whispered through cracked lips as he shut his eyes, unable to hold in the pain of being handled far too roughly so soon. How he ached... "Legolas, help me... please..."
The plea nearly rent the elf's heart in two. Emotions closer to the surface than what he would have liked, Legolas made to move and aide his friend. His guard jerked him back.
"Don't you move," Faroth hissed, clearly displeased and ready to act swiftly if needed. Legolas' eyes burned into the elf, but held his ground.
Elladan found his voice, unable to tear his gaze away from his little brother. "Ralorn, let him go!"
"Be silent!" Ralorn said sharply. "You cannot save him now. No one can."
"No Ralorn, release him! Release him now or you will never have me alive!"
Ralorn hesitated at the bold statement; Elrohir swerved around to stare at his twin. For a moment they locked their gaze and in a breath swift understanding passed through them. Elrohir hardened his gaze to the firmness of Elladan's. They would both bind themselves to the same fate if it meant Aragorn could go free. Estel had so much ahead of him, a future that could change more lives than they could. But most importantly, he was their brother; he was bound to them by distant blood. The twins would feel like traitors of they did not do something. Legolas was of no matter to Ralorn, he would probably be set free. But as long as Aragorn got out of this black hole alive, both the twins would give their lives in utter surrender. Both Estel and Legolas were going to be all right or none of them would be. Such was the loyalty of the twin sons of Elrond.
"I swear it Ralorn. Release him or you will never have the chance to take out your revenge. I don't care how I do it, but I can assure you I will."
"As will I Ralorn," Elrohir's strong voice echoed the vow of Elladan. "If death is what you wish of us, let them both go and you shall have it. We will not tolerate anyone to be hurt so at our expense. This is between you and us. Do not torment the innocent; those who have played no part in this."
Ralorn's eyes were darting madly, just as they always did when he was deep in thought. But when a moment passed and his eyes grew alight with a dark malice, the three coherent captives felt their hearts freeze.
"Fine." Ralorn said, walking forward until he stood next to one of his guards – Silore. Turning his attention to the young elf, he spoke.
"Go get the farmer's brew ready." Silore smiled a trifle, and quickly disappeared to do as instructed. As to what, none of the captives were sure, and they feared it already.
Ralorn turned to the guards that had just brought Legolas and Aragorn in. now that Aragorn had served his purpose, Ralorn had no desire to keep the man or the prince around. "Take them back. Do not remove them until I command it."
"No Ralorn!" Elladan's voice deepened almost lethally as the three guards began to take their prisoners away. "Let them go! I do not make idle promises or threats and I meant what I said, they will profit you nothing if we are dead!"
The tall, dark elf turned to look at Elladan, paused for a moment, and laughed. Actually laughed, as though it was all so funny, that the twins were acting and speaking in a manner exactly as to what he intended.
"Oh, I certainly hope so," he said, grinning as Elladan froze, meeting his amused gaze with a surprised one. "In fact, I'm going to help you fulfill that promise since you desire it so much."
Turning again, he ordered his remaining guards. Now was the time. "Take them. It's time we finished this – we'll grant their wish."