AN: As promised, chapter three up before I leave town. I won't be able to post again until Sunday, possibly pretty late (though I think we're going to be back by about five...but with my family you never know). Anyway, here's chapter three.
Chapter Three: Prisoners of Lothram
"Legolas? Can you hear me?"
The elf groaned, slowly opening his eyes to see the worried visage of Aragorn peering over him. "St-strider?" he asked, fighting to sit up.
"Here, let me help you. You've been unconscious for hours."
Legolas let his friend help him sit, gratefully accepting the cup of water the ranger handed him. "Where are we?" he asked, wincing as one hand massaged his bruised side. He glanced around, noticing that they were in a small cell with one window, and a torch hanging in a bracket in the wall outside their cell, which he could see through the bars that had been erected to separate the cell from the main chamber.
"I'm not sure. We're a long way from the inn...we must have ridden nearly five hours after we left."
"Five?" Legolas asked, resting his head back against the wall.
"After about an hour Creon called that you had passed out, but the leader was unwilling to stop. He made sure you were still alive and not likely to die, and kept us going," Aragorn sighed and sat next to Legolas, close enough that their arms were almost brushing. "I don't understand why they didn't just kill us."
"Vengeance," Legolas replied, wincing as a cough sent sharp pains through his chest. "He's afraid of what would happen if our bodies were discovered."
Aragorn nodded, grunting his agreement. "How do you feel?" he asked, concern coloring his voice.
"Fine?" Legolas said, though it was more of a question than an actual answer.
The ranger groaned as though his friend had made a bad joke. "And what does 'fine' mean?" he asked.
Legolas sighed. "I ache," he finally said.
"Your chest?" Aragorn asked.
The elf paused to consider which pain was worse, and shook his head. "My shoulders," he replied, sensing the man's surprise.
Aragorn half-turned and knelt beside the elf, gently loosening the ties of his shirt and sliding the neck back to glimpse his friend's shoulders. "Ai, Legolas..." he murmured, gently touching the tender skin.
Legolas hissed. "Don't touch it!" he said sharply, wondering at the human's need to touch everything.
"You're very bruised," the man explained, sitting back down after carefully replacing Legolas' shirt. "Worse than the ones on your stomach."
The elf sighed, leaning against Aragorn to take the pressure off his injured back. The ranger very gently put an arm around the elf's lower back, conscious to avoid any other wounds, and began humming an old song.
"How long do you think they'll hold us here?" he asked, shifting the elf's weight slightly so he could lean back against the wall.
"Possibly the rest of our lives," Legolas replied sleepily, fighting the exhausting that had taken hold of his body.
"Go to sleep, Elf," Aragorn said, a smile clear in his voice.
Legolas fought to keep his eyes open, but finally just leaned his head against his friend's shoulder and let sleep claim him.
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Aragorn heaved a sigh of relief as he felt his friend's breathing even out. At least if Legolas was sleeping he wouldn't be in any more pain, he reasoned. The bruising on the elf's shoulders had angered him, and he well remembered the beating Dormian had inflicted upon Legolas because the elf was trying to protect him.
He shifted slightly, wincing as a protruding rock dug into his back. He'd gotten a few cuffs for his rebellious behavior, but the leader had been wise (or unfortunate) enough to realize he could guarantee the ranger's cooperation by threatening the elf. So Aragorn had come somewhat peacefully, rankling at the way the bandits treated his unconscious friend.
The men had taken their cloaks, boots, and packs, and Aragorn desperately hoped that no one discovered the secret pocket of his pack in which he'd hidden the Ring of Barahir. If it remained undiscovered there was still a chance they could retrieve it if—when—they escaped, but if someone had found it and decided to sell it the ring was lost forever.
Legolas whimpered and stirred in his sleep, and Aragorn took back up humming the old lullaby to soothe his friend. He reached up his free hand to make sure, once again, that the elf wasn't running a fever—as though the previous twelve times he had done so were not enough.
Sudden footsteps approaching warned Aragorn that someone was coming, and he nudged Legolas back to consciousness.
The door to the cell swung open, and in stepped the man who had lead the bandits at the inn, followed by Dormian, Creon, and another man Aragorn didn't know. The men all shared similar coloring; dark blonde, almost brown, hair and dark eyes, except that the fourth bandit's hair was graying.
"What business brings the two of you to these parts?" the fourth bandit asked. "Surely a ranger and an elf would have something better than to terrorize the peoples of this land?"
Aragorn straightened in surprise. "We were just passing through," he replied. "We were making for the village of Bree, a few days' south of the inn."
"I know where Bree is," the bandit said with a hint of amusement. "Dormian tells me that the elf insulted him and he was only taking what vengeance he was due."
The ranger could feel his friend's sigh. "Legolas caught Dormian stealing from him. If by insult you mean that he did not turn your man over to the authorities when he had the chance, then I suppose he is guilty."
The bandit smirked at this answer. "He claims the two of you are spies," he added, crossing his arms over his chest. "What were you doing in these lands?"
Aragorn hesitated, glancing over at Legolas. He was rewarded for his hesitation when Creon backhanded him. "You will answer Master Lothram when asks you a question!"
"Peace, Creon," Lothram held up a hand to halt the bandit.
"We were making for Rivendell," Aragorn finally said, deciding that the truth would be the best answer. "I am familiar with the lord of that place...we were hoping he might shelter us for a time and exchange some information."
He could sense the snort Legolas was holding in. He certainly was "familiar" with Lord Elrond...considering the older elf had raised him as a son.
Lothram carefully studied the pair, as though he could see the truth in their minds. "An innocent excursion, you say?" he asked with a hint of amusement.
"It is the truth," Legolas said softly, ignoring Dormian's glare. Aragorn briefly wondered just what the man could have against the elf.
The leader of the bandits shook his head. "I will return on the morrow. Perhaps you will have an answer then."
"What about their packs, Master Lothram?" Dormian asked greedily. "Maybe you could find something in there."
Lothram's eyes narrowed as he considered the bandit. "I will not leave you to paw through their possessions like a common thief, Dormian, to steal what would please you. I will search their packs myself."
Dormian nodded, but his eyes were glittering dangerously. As Lothram left, the thief paused to look back at the ranger and elf. "I only hope Lothram lets me question you," he said, a trace of sadistic glee in his voice. "I have always wanted to wring a scream from an elf."
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