Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.
Fudge and cookies to everyone still reading, hope you all had a happy Hallowe'en!
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For Eru's sake, not again! Legolas growled in frustration at the large rock that blocked his path. It was yet another dead-end.
The prince looked up at the pale blue sky. Dawn was slowly breaking and he had been following the orcs all night. Somehow, though, he had contrived to lose them in the long, twisting mountain roads.
Sighing, Legolas turned back. The horde had left few tracks on the hard stone and the stench of orcs had soon been replaced by the fetid odour of goblins. There had been no sign of these latter, for which Legolas was profoundly grateful. He guessed that they were lying low, wary of their orc cousins.
Again Legolas glanced at the sky, which, like yesterday, was cloudless. There was less shelter in the heights than there was at the foothills of the mountains and the photophobic orcs would soon be looking for a place to hide from the sun. Then Estel really would be in trouble.
The elf quickened his pace.
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Estel screwed up his eyes against the bright light as the group rounded a corner. The sun had risen some time ago, but until now the orcs had been sheltered from its harsh rays by the vast expanse of rock.
The orc carrying Estel let loose a deep snarl. "I 'ope you ain't expecting us to walk in this, Schartz. It stings."
The one addressed as Schartz, presumably the leader, swung round. "Shut your prattle, you. We ain't far from the cave; you'll just 'ave to live with it 'til then. Anyway, I didn't 'ear you moaning when we was back at the bottom and there was plenty of sun there."
"There was more shelter and all. 'Ow far's this cave of yours, anyway? This one 'ere's like a sack o' bleeding rocks."
"'Ere, we're 'ere. 'Appy now?"
"Perfectly," replied the orc, dumping Estel unceremoniously on the floor as he entered the shadowy chamber. The man let out a muffled cry as he hit the hard stone floor.
Schartz stepped up to Estel, leaning into him. The young man gagged as the creature's rotten breath enveloped him. Lazily the orc slit the bonds around Estel's hands and mouth.
"Well then. What do we 'ave 'ere? A human that parades round in elf costumes and carries their stinkin' weapons? You must be well favoured by Himself, I reckon."
Estel refused to look away, much as he wanted to. He gathered all his courage. "It is none of your business, yrch."
The blow to his face was hard and unexpected, dislodging one of the human's teeth. Estel tasted the coppery blood in his mouth and grimaced. The orc smiled.
"As it 'appens, I reckon it is my business. I reckon there are plenty of things you could tell us about your Lord Elrond, if you 'ad a mind to." His grin widened and Estel felt a surge of fear.
Turning to his companions, Schartz barked out something in the guttural Black Speech. Estel could not understand the words, but he would have wagered his last ha'penny that they did not bode well.
The cave was clearly the beginning of a complex system of underground passages, with various tunnels heading deeper into the bowels of the mountains. Even so, there was plenty of space in this first cavern for Estel and all the orcs.
The young man was dragged over to the centre of the cave and pushed to his feet. A long piece of rope was tied around his wrists and then threaded through a rusty iron ring that was set into the reasonably low ceiling. The end of it all saw Estel positioned securely upright, with no hope of escaping.
Schartz ran his scaly claws over Estel's face almost tenderly. "I'll ask you again – what connection do you 'ave with them filthy elves?"
Estel scowled back, determined not to cave in. "None that I would tell you."
Schartz growled. "'Ave it your way then." His black talons caught Estel's tunic and pulled hard. The orc was strong and succeeded in ripping the soft material, leaving the human bare-chested. "He's all yours, lads."
The whip came from behind and Estel never saw it, only heard the soft whistle as the leather flew through the air. He felt the dull thud as it hit him, rocking him forward, then a moment later experienced the true pain as it flared through his body, causing him to gasp slightly. Yet no sooner had Estel registered this than another blow came, then another. The man bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, searching for a distraction. Desperately he began to recite the significant dates of the First Age, forcing himself to ignore the surrounding orcs.
I will not cry out, I will not . . .
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"Here, look. This is where he crossed."
Elrond nodded, agreeing with Elladan's words. He reached out and gently touched the clearly visible footprint, hoping for some vision, for some sign that would tell him where Estel was . . . but there was nothing. He sighed and straightened up. "And this was last night, you say? Ilúvatar help us, he could be anywhere by now."
The twins shared a nervous glance, both noting the undertone of worry in their father's voice. Glorfindel caught the look and gave the two a reassuring nod before addressing Elrond.
"Do not panic, my lord. We have five search parties here of six elves each, with more on hand should we need them. We will find Estel – and Prince Legolas."
Elrond surveyed the countryside that surrounded his home, wondering again where Estel was and if he was all right. He mentally shook himself – such thoughts were unprofitable right now.
"Get them out there, then. Have a good runner in each team should any trace of either of them be found. I will return home."
Glorfindel nodded and turned away to relay Elrond's orders. The twins looked at their father questioningly.
"Ada?" asked Elrohir. "Why did you come if only to go back immediately?"
Elrond rubbed his temples, trying to explain his reasoning. "I thought that if I came here I might see something, that the Valar would point me in the right direction . . . but I am blind. My heart tells me nothing and so I return to the one place where information will surely be sent. Besides, I left Gilraen in a state of some distress. She will need someone with her should the news be bad."
Elladan grasped his father's hand. "It will not be, Ada. Elrohir and I are searching as well and we will find Estel."
His sons' determination caused Elrond to smile a little. He only prayed that they were right.
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Legolas paused, ears straining. He was sure . . . yes, there it was. The grating sound of orc laughter. He must be close now.
The prince had been running, but now he walked sedately. If his vague plan was to have any chance of success, it was vital that he appeared calm and collected. Even then it would be risky, but he could not think of a better idea.
Keeping his ears pricked, Legolas followed the sounds of the orcs.
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"Stop it! Leave me be . . . please." Estel had never known pain like this, had never before felt the harsh bite of a whip. His resolve was fast crumbling in the face of this abuse.
Schartz grinned delightedly, holding up his hand for the others to stop. "Well, well, well! Don't take much to break you after all, does it lads?"
Estel did not respond, swaying slightly. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes, but the cruel straps around his wrists held him upright.
Schartz prodded the human's chest. "Now you listen up. We'll stop, right enough, just as soon as you tell us what business you have with the bloody elves. I'd be willin' to bet that their little fortress ain't as secure as they paint it, see? And you're goin' to be our key."
Before Estel could think of an answer, a voice rang out from the cave entrance. "And what exactly is going on here?"
The orcs, taken by surprise, turned as one body. They had been so engrossed by the grisly flogging that not one of them had noticed the intruder's approach.
Estel craned over his captors' heads, not daring to believe that the voice was real. Then he caught a sight of the speaker and relief rushed through him. Legolas was here! A dozen questions raced through the man's mind, not least of which was the whereabouts of his brothers. Was it possible that they were here as well?
Schartz barged his way over to the elf, growling. "Who are you an' what d'you think you're doin' 'ere?"
Legolas' eyes met Estel's for a brief moment, but no recognition showed. Estel's heart began to sink. He did not understand what Legolas was doing.
The prince turned his gaze back to Schartz. "I was passing through the mountains when I heard your black horde," he replied coolly. "It struck me as worthy of further investigation, nothing more."
"Don't bloody lie to me," snarled Schartz. He drew a large, curved blade, stained with years of use and poor care. Holding it at the elf's throat, he surveyed the newcomer. "You've come to rescue your mate here – you're one of them Rivendell elves, with the rest of you waitin' round the corner. I'm not as thick as all that, elf."
Legolas raised a contemptuous eyebrow. He pushed the blade away from him with his bare hand, causing Estel to wince. "Yet you seemingly cannot tell the difference between an elf of Imladris and one of Mirkwood. I assure you I have nothing to do with the Noldor and I would certainly not go out of my way to rescue any human – especially such a pitiful specimen as this one appears to be. I merely thought that there might be an opportunity here to rid Middle-Earth of some more orcs – and it would seem that I was right."
Schartz looked at him narrowly, but did not say anything for a moment. Estel felt relieved, despite the elf's harsh words– whatever Legolas was planning, this over-confident orc seemed to be falling for it.
The same could not be said, unfortunately, of the orc that had carried Estel. It stepped forward menacingly. "That's what you reckon, is it? Let's see how bloody cocky you are with a blade between your ribs!"
But Legolas' reactions were swift and before the throwing knife had even left the orc's hand, the elf let one of his own daggers fly. It struck the orc squarely in the throat and the creature slumped harmlessly to the ground, its blade slipping out of its grasp.
"What the . . . you'll pay for that." Schartz's wrath was up and he looked ready to slaughter the elf on the spot. The other orcs pressed in, scenting blood, until Estel's view of Legolas was blocked.
The elf backed away a little and held up a finger. "One moment. I have a proposition for you, if you are a strong enough fighter."
Schartz drew himself up. He stood a full foot taller than Legolas. "You won't find one stronger, elf. What d'you want?"
Legolas shot Estel another quick look. "A duel. You and me, to prove who is the better fighter. And to make it interesting, I would wager on the outcome."
The orc looked suspicious. "A bet? And what d'you 'ave that I give a damn about, elf?"
The prince shrugged, appearing to think. After a moment, he replied. "Your prisoner. If I win, he goes free. If you win, you will have an extra captive."
"Why bother to fight you when I could kill you 'ere?" Schartz sneered.
"If you could have, you would have," replied Legolas. "You saw what happened to your friend. Besides, are you really about to turn down your chance of soundly defeating an elf?" He cocked his head and stared at the orc, offering his challenge.
"Fine," retorted Schartz angrily. "You'll get your fight. On one condition."
The prince looked askance.
"We will be unarmed. I won't go down with a blade in my throat."
Estel waited anxiously for Legolas' reply, the pain in his back temporarily forgotten. He had never seen the prince fight, but knew that the elf was primarily an archer, with his daggers as his secondary strength. To fight unarmed would surely be folly, especially when his opponent was so well equipped with teeth and claws.
The prince, however, barely hesitated before nodding curtly. He lowered his bow and arrows onto the floor along with his pack, placing his remaining knife on top of them. This done, Legolas turned back to Schartz.
"Let us begin."
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"Elladan! Elrohir!"
The twins looked up at the sound of their names. It was one of the runners from another search party and he seemed agitated about something.
"What is it? Have they found anything?" asked Elrohir urgently. They had been hunting for over an hour now with no luck.
The messenger nodded, his expression distressed. "An orc camp, at the foothills of the mountains. There is a dead one there, killed with one of our arrows. It seems that they left in something of a hurry – and all the evidence suggests that they took Estel with them."
Elladan looked at Elrohir, both taken back in an instant to the night, so many years ago, when their mother had vanished. Elladan shook his head and spoke in a low voice.
"Not this time, Elrohir. It is not the same." He turned to the runner, raising his voice again. "Take us there, quickly."
The other elf obliged and the twins ran after him, pushing the unpalatable thoughts to the back of their minds. Some things did not bear contemplation.
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"Let us begin."
Legolas watched Schartz warily. The others had backed away, forming a small circle that unwittingly included Estel. Silence reigned, all attention focused on the elf and the orc.
The prince was realistic enough to know that he would not win this fight on his own merits, not without a weapon. The Mirkwood elves were well trained in unarmed combat – the harsh realities of their home demanded it – but there was little that could be done against an orc's imposing strength. Legolas would have to rely on his superior speed and intelligence and pray that Schartz made a fatal mistake.
The orc stepped to the left and Legolas unconsciously mirrored the action, adopting a battle stance. He could feel that glass wall that always came when he fought, the wall that cut him off from his surroundings and any superfluous thoughts, leaving him devoid of all feeling, even pain, incapable of seeing the enemy as anything other than a moving target . . . Legolas felt this and as always there was a small, dark part of him that welcomed it. Estel and the other orcs were forgotten about, the reason for the fight discarded. All that existed, all that could exist, was himself, the enemy and this moment of waiting, balanced so finely that a single movement would shatter it . . .
Schartz lunged and Legolas dropped, throwing himself to the right. He landed on all fours like a cat and sprang back up, swinging a fist intended for Schartz's head. The orc blocked him easily and aimed a swipe at Legolas' midsection that the prince only narrowly missed.
The light – get him into the sunlight. The orc would be at a disadvantage and Legolas' chances would be that much higher. Accordingly the elf began to dance backwards, goading Schartz closer to the entrance, occasionally attempting attacks of his own.
Schartz, though, was not as unintelligent as most of his kind and he realised what Legolas was trying to do. Snarling, he threw himself at the elf, who, unprepared for the frontal attack, was knocked to the floor.
For a moment it seemed as though Schartz would surely win; then Legolas kicked out blindly, moving purely on instinct. Adrenalin lent the elf strength and the orc was thrown roughly away. Now Legolas was on top, struggling to get a firm grip on the creature's thick neck, hoping to strangle it to death.
It was a useless enterprise. Strong though Legolas was, the sheer bulk of the orc defeated him. Schartz roared and landed a fierce blow on the prince's stomach, sending the elf sprawling. Then the orc reached for his wide belt, drawing out something long and bright . . .
"Legolas!"
Even if Legolas had registered Estel's cry, the warning came too late. The prince had already spotted the gleam of the forbidden blade and was trying frantically to rise. But he had landed awkwardly and his leg protested against the movement; meanwhile, the orc's knife moved ever downwards in a path that would surely end in death . . .
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