AN: Just a warning, this chapter is a bit violent.
Chapter Two: The Vengeance of Dormian
Legolas was awakened suddenly a few hours later when a hand clamped over his mouth and someone dragged him off of his bed.
"Well, if it isn't the merciful elf," someone spat, driving a punch into his gut. He struggled briefly, unable to free himself from the two men who were holding him from behind.
"Keep fighting, Boy, and your friend will pay," the man warned, nodding over to where two more men were holding Aragorn, a knife to the ranger's throat.
Legolas' eyes widened. "What do you want?" he asked as soon as he was able to speak, recognizing the man as the pickpocket from before.
"I want revenge," the man growled, dark eyes flashing as he punched Legolas in the stomach again. "The pride of Dormian is not easily lost, Elf."
The elf bit back a cry as the man's fists found targets in his midsection again, followed by a dizzying uppercut to his jaw and a blow to his eye.
"Not so high and mighty now, are we?" Dormian taunted, rooting through the elf's clothing for what valuables he was carrying. All he found was the small pouch of coins, for Legolas was wearing no jewelry save the brooch that was still in his cloak. The man backhanded his captive, splitting the elf's lip in the process.
"Leave him alone!" Strider called out, struggling against the men who held him.
Seething, Dormian drove one last blow into Legolas' belly before turning to face Strider. "And who are you to say so?" the man snarled. "We know that the elf isn't carrying anything valuable...what about you?"
Legolas' mind whirled. He knew Strider was probably wearing the Ring of Barahir, or had it in one of his pockets as it was one of the man's most treasured possessions. If Dormian took it and it found its way into the hands of one of Sauron's minions...or worse, if Dormian himself recognized it his friend would be in serious danger.
"So this is how you reclaim your honor?" he taunted, raising his voice so Dormian would be sure to hear him. "Pitiful. Understand that I did not let you go out of any mercy; it was merely because I did not want to be soiled by deigning to concern myself with the likes of you."
Vaguely aware of Aragorn's frantic 'are you mad?' expression, Legolas held his head as high as he could as Dormian stalked back toward him. "Is that what you think?" the man asked, grabbing the elf by the back of the neck and squeezing painfully. "You think you're better than me?"
Growling, Dormian kneed Legolas in the midsection, doubling the elf over. He rained down blows on his captive's head and shoulders, not stopping until he had knocked Legolas free of his companions' grip. Still not satisfied that the elf had learned his lesson Dormian let loose with several kicks to the elf's ribcage, and Legolas fought back a cry of pain as he felt something snap in his side.
Dormian laughed as the elf feebly fought to protect his battered ribcage against the man's attack and grabbed Legolas by the hair, pulling his head up enough to spit in the elf's face. "Let this be a lesson to you, Elf; men are not so easily trifled with." He called his men and led them away, slamming the door shut behind them.
Legolas could hear them laughing as they made their way down the hall, but he focused on curling up around the pain in his chest. Every breath was agony, and when he placed his hand against his side he felt blood from a wound the man's boot had opened.
"Legolas," Aragorn called, dropping to his knees beside the elf, a slight tone of remonstration in his voice. "Do you act like this because you don't know any better? Or because you think it is fun to tempt the Valar?" he asked with a trace of dark amusement mixed with anger.
"Ring," Legolas managed to wheeze. Strider stared at him in puzzlement, gently prying the elf's hand away from his side. "They would have found your ring."
Strider's eyes lit up in understanding, but his gaze grew saddened. "Legolas," he said with a sigh, shaking his head. "I hid the ring in my pack when we arrived."
The elf blinked, and had he not been in so much pain he would have found the situation rather humorous. "At least they didn't hurt you," he whispered.
"But they hurt you," the ranger replied, reaching for his pack of healing supplies with an air of regretful familiarity. "I've told you many times, I can take care of myself," he added, lighting a lamp so he could better see his patient.
Legolas couldn't answer, for his friend had chosen that moment to push his shirt and tunic up and see which, if any, ribs were broken. He gasped and instinctively pulled away, his vision graying, only to be drawn back by the soothing voice of the ranger. "That hurt," he complained, forcing his tone to take on more of a whine than it usually would.
Aragorn chuckled faintly. "It should. Two this time, Legolas."
The elf groaned. "Not quite a record, then," he commented, hissing as his friend began cleaning the gash Dormian's boot had left.
The ranger just shook his head. "This isn't funny," he said sharply.
Legolas rolled his eyes. "Don't, Strider," he said. "Please, not the 'I'm mortal and my life is not worth yours' lecture again."
"'Lecture'?"
"I've heard it seventy-three times," Legolas continued, fighting a wave of nausea as Aragorn helped him sit up to wrap his ribcage. "I believe I could recite it word for word, in case you've forgotten any of it."
Aragorn paused, resting his forehead against his friend's shoulder for a moment. Legolas was puzzled, until he realized the ranger was shaking with laughter. "Seventy-three?"
"That might be an understatement," the elf retorted, his voice growing faint in pain as Strider accidentally brushed up against a tender spot on his belly—one of many that would soon show itself as a bruise.
Neatly tying off the bandages, Strider took a scrap of cloth and began cleaning the blood off his friend's face, laughing as the elf tried to push him away.
"I can do it myself, Strider," Legolas complained, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle away from the ranger.
"I know y—" Strider hushed as Legolas suddenly grabbed his arm, alarm in his eyes.
"They're coming back," the elf whispered, a note of confusion coloring his voice.
The door was flung open again, and Legolas caught a glimpse of Dormian trailing behind another man before Aragorn crouched in front of the elf, shielding him from sight of the bandits.
"Stand aside," the other man, the one they didn't recognize, said.
At his nod, two of the bandits ran forward and pulled Aragorn away, earning themselves a fair number of bruises for their trouble.
The man knelt before the elf, capturing Legolas' chin in his hand and studying the darkened bruise that was beginning to show. "This was your vengeance, Dormian?" he asked sarcastically, shaking his head. "Because of you we now have two prisoners. You should have known we could not leave the elf...he would report this to his kin and they would take swift retribution on all who dwell here. And as for the ranger...how do we know he won't do the same?"
The man stood up, his expression saddening. "Bring them. Bind their hands, and pull their hoods over their faces," he pushed Dormian out the door, stopping to pick up the two packs that lay against one wall. "I will deal with you later, Dormian."
Legolas barely bit back a whimper as one of the men pulled his arms forward none-too-gently and bound his wrists tightly. Aragorn was treated the same, though his captors were even less gentle with him. After a word from Aragorn the men released him just enough to put his boots on—Legolas had slept in his. The bandits threw the cloaks around their prisoners and pulled the hoods up to cover their faces, just as the leader had ordered. "March, you," one of the men sneered, pushing Legolas out the door.
He stumbled, regaining his balance before the men could reach him again. Someone pushed up against his arm, and he turned to see Aragorn beside him, the man offering an encouraging glance. Then one of their captors pulled the ranger away, and a heavy hand landed on Legolas' shoulder, guiding him down the stairs and out a back way.
"Creon, take the elf. Abner, the ranger," the leader called, swinging up onto his horse. Their own horses were nowhere to be seen—Legolas sincerely hoped that they would be safe until he and Aragorn could return. They had stabled the horses at a livery rather than at the inn, and the innkeeper had insisted on locking up their weapons when they arrived. While Legolas understood the man's desire to keep conflicts in the inn from turning deadly, he knew that the bandits would not have been so bold had their captives been armed.
The man named Creon pushed Legolas up onto the front of his saddle, then climbed up behind him. One arm roughly encircled the elf's torso, and he gasped as his captor unwittingly squeezed against his broken ribs.
"We ride!" the leader announced, leading the men away from the inn and taking his prisoners north.
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
Okay, when I started posting this I forgot that I have to go out of town this weekend. I will post the next chapter before I leave Friday, but will not be able to post again until Sunday night.