Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.
-grins- OK, sorry about that last cliffy . . . read on to find out what happened next!
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Estel watched, horrified, as Schartz stabbed down towards Legolas' unprotected chest, his own discomforts ceasing to matter. If the elf died now, all would be lost . . . and it seemed inevitable that he would.
Legolas, though, was a better fighter than Estel would have believed possible and he would not let go of life so easily. The elf reached up, grasped the orc's fist with both hands and twisted desperately, trying to deflect the knife from its intended path.
To Estel, the precise sequence of events was never very clear. Schartz was obviously not expecting the prince's defensive movement and he stumbled, thrown off-balance. That much Estel could follow. But then Schartz was roaring and Legolas was holding the knife, which was dripping with dark, thick blood. Somehow the blade had penetrated the orc instead of the elf, although Estel was unsure of how severe the wound was, or even where it had been inflicted.
The other orcs were not concerned with such trivial matters. All they knew was that this elf had killed one of their number and now injured their leader. The time for clever word-games or one-to-one fighting had passed. They wanted blood.
Within seconds Estel's view of the original combatants was blocked as the orcs surged forward. Suspended from the ceiling, the human could only look on hopelessly as the duel turned into a mêlée. The orcs began to turn on each other, vicious in their lust for blood. Swords and knives were drawn, fists used as clubs. A deafening noise filled the cave and Estel felt as though his eardrums would burst.
Suddenly Legolas' blond head appeared from the crush, breathing hard. Miraculously, he seemed to have escaped serious injury and had even managed to recover his weapons.
"Legolas, what are you doing here? Where are my brothers?" Estel hissed, knowing that the elf would hear him even against the cacophony of the fighting.
The prince ignored him, looking round to check that none of the orcs were paying them any attention. He sliced at the bonds around the man's limbs, dropping him roughly to the floor. "Can you walk?"
Estel could not hear the words, but he understood the gist of what Legolas was asking. He stood shakily. His legs felt reasonably solid – it was his back that pained him. "Yes, I think so."
Legolas put his mouth closer to the human's ear. "Then get into one of those tunnels and keep your head down. I will return later, understand?"
"Yes, but - "
"Go!" Legolas pushed Estel none too gently in the required direction and whirled round to face the orcs again. The lumbering creatures had taken advantage of the opportunity to settle a few old scores and two or three corpses already littered the ground. Legolas took a deep breath and dived back into the fray, dodging several badly aimed blows as he did so. He was looking for the wounded Schartz – if he could just get the orcs away from the cave . . .
Schartz was furious. That cursed elf had stabbed him in the side – not a particularly serious injury, but a painful one – and now he had lost control of his small horde. All thoughts of gaining information on Rivendell had fled his mind, replaced by fierce ideas of vengeance on the elf.
He did not have to wait long for his chance. Legolas had managed to get back across to the entrance and his blood-streaked face was staring straight at Schartz.
"I'll make you pay for this, elf," Schartz growled, rising finally to his feet.
Legolas snorted. "Really? I would suggest that you sort out your own troops first. After all, we have already proved that you have no chance of beating me single-handedly." He turned and walked calmly away, hoping that Schartz would take the bait.
Sure enough, he had not gone more than half a dozen steps when he heard a roar that drowned out the fighting, a roar that almost caused the mountain to vibrate. It screamed out something in the Black Speech, causing a pain in Legolas' ears. He turned to look back and saw all seven of the surviving orcs – including Schartz – come streaming out of the cave.
Wondering if his plan had really been so wise, Legolas ran for all he was worth.
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Estel crouched in the shadows, forgotten, listening to the footsteps fading away. He closed his eyes in pain. Now that there were no distractions, his back was beginning to throb angrily.
The young man leaned his head back against the rough stone, waiting and worrying.
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Elladan allowed the corpse to fall back on the ground. "That is Estel's arrow, no doubt about it."
Elrohir bit his lip, looking around the deserted campsite. "Then he has been taken."
His twin nodded, standing up. "And if they've gone up into the mountains, as they almost certainly have, our chances of finding them are slim at best."
Elrohir turned slightly and surveyed the Misty Mountains, his heart sinking. Defiant, he tried to find a shred of optimism. "They cannot have gone that far and we have plenty of elves. We should find them before – well, before."
"And what of Legolas? Do you think he was captured as well?"
The younger twin stood for a moment, considering. "No, I doubt it," he said at last, almost reluctantly. "Say what you will, he's obviously talented with that bow of his. I think there would have been more than one body here if Legolas and Estel had been together."
"Hmm, I suppose so," agreed Elladan, pushing the prince to the back of his mind. Wherever the Silvan elf was, he could surely take care of himself. Estel was more important now. "How long until the others get here?"
"We have sent runners out. They should be here soon," replied Elrohir. Elladan shook his head.
"Too much time has been lost already. We will be too late if we linger here. We must go now. Are you coming?"
Elrohir snorted softly. "As if you need to ask. I will let the others know – they can catch us up."
Elladan nodded absent-mindedly as his twin moved away, his eyes returning to the mountains. He was convinced of the need to hurry and yet he could not rid himself of a terrible conviction that Estel was already lost, that they had tarried too long . . .
His fist clenched. No.
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Legolas pounded up another steep gradient, pushing his body to its limits. The orcs were close behind and while the elf had succeeded in drawing them away from the cave, he had absolutely no idea what to do next. Skilful as the prince was, he could not defeat seven of them on his own.
An arrow whizzed past his head, close enough to nick his scalp. Legolas faltered. He had not realised that this particular group of orcs included an archer and running ahead like this made the elf an easy target.
Hurriedly Legolas ducked around the next corner and unslung his bow, stringing two arrows at once. The time for confrontation was upon him and he had no wish to be fighting closely with more orcs than was absolutely necessary.
Praying for luck, Legolas stepped out in front of the oncoming orcs and shot. Both arrows flew true, as did the next two. Now there were just the two orcs and Schartz left. All three were too close for archery.
Legolas cast aside his bow and took up his knives. The first orc charged him and the elf sidestepped, struggling to keep to the narrow path. One brief glance down the fearsome drop on the other side was enough to convince the prince that falling would not be a good idea.
Unfortunately, that left little room to fight and the elf's superior speed could not be used to its full advantage. Against one orc this would not be a great problem – against three, it was slightly more of a handicap. Tactics were hardly relevant; it was a straightforward battle for survival.
This being so, Legolas lost no time in stabbing the closest orc through its black heart. His aim was precise and the creature died quickly, its warm blood making Legolas' grasp of his dagger slippery. The prince pulled his weapon back, barely dodging a brutal blow from the second orc. This one, the elf realised dimly, must be the archer; before Legolas could move away, it thrust a dark arrow deep into his shoulder.
Legolas let out an involuntary cry of pain as he fell towards the path, but did not let his concentration slide. Turning on his way down, he stretched out his legs and scythed, knocking the orc off its feet. Before the beast could react, the prince's dagger had found its throat.
A triumphant growl filled the air. Schartz leaned over Legolas, pinning the elf to the ground and forcing him to let go of his weapons. When the orc spoke, his saliva sprayed Legolas' face and the prince flinched in distaste.
"So it's you an' me, elf. An' it won't be you walkin' away, that much I promise you."
The orc reached out and cruelly twisted the arrow still embedded in Legolas' shoulder. The elf writhed, his face going pale. Schartz laughed, revealing large brown teeth that came to savage points.
"You know, you'd make a fine meal, a pretty thing like you. Maybe I should bleed you, bring out the flavour in the meat, what d'you reckon?"
One sharp claw traced Legolas' jugular and the elf redoubled his efforts to get free, ignoring the protests from his shoulder. If he could only find something to push against –
Schartz shifted his position slightly and Legolas seized his chance. Spreading his hands against the stone, the prince pushed himself up as hard as he could, rolling as he did so. Schartz was caught unawares and released his grip, pitching dangerously over the sheer drop below. Legolas gave one more violent twist and the orc tipped over; down he fell, to a certain death on the rocks some hundreds of feet below.
Legolas' feeling of relief lasted for a split-second before it was replaced by a horror as Schartz's scrabbling hands caught at his ankle. The weight of the orc pulled the prince over the edge and only a hasty grab at a small jutting rock prevented him from falling.
Luckily it was his right arm that had grasped the tiny handhold, thus avoiding straining his injured shoulder. Even so, Schartz was unbelievably heavy and the rough rock was cutting into Legolas' palm. The elf knew he would be unable to hang on for longer than a few seconds unless he got rid of the orc.
This, however, was easier said than done. Schartz was determined not to let go and his claws were digging fiercely into Legolas' ankle. The elf kicked as hard as he could, but the orc hung on grimly.
"Don't think you'll get rid of me that bloody easy! If I fall, you're a goner too!"
Legolas gritted his teeth, ignoring Schartz's shouts. He moved his legs up and down in a running motion, his customary calm beginning to desert him. His hand slipped slightly – no more than a thousandth of an inch, if that, but to the elf it felt like half a foot – and another burst of adrenalin shot through the prince's system. He kicked harder and finally felt his boot begin to slip off, pulled down by Schartz's bulk.
The orc yelled and tried to grab Legolas' other foot, but the attempt was futile. Screaming oaths and curses, Schartz fell, eventually silenced by the crunch as he hit the ground.
Freed of the extra weight, Legolas easily found a purchase on the craggy rock. Slowly and agonisingly, the elf inched himself back up to the safety of the path, collapsing on the dusty road.
Once he had regained his breath, Legolas sat up carefully. He fingered the arrow stuck in his shoulder, took a deep breath, grasped the shaft and pulled. The barbed missile came out whole, thankfully, but it caused immense bleeding. Legolas swore and reached for his knife, cutting off part of his tunic sleeve to act as a makeshift bandage.
The bleeding would stop fairly quickly, Legolas knew – elven bodies were swift to heal – but he needed water to cleanse the wound. There was some in his pack, which he had left back in the cave, but the prince did not want to show Estel that he was injured. Somewhere between here and there must be a small pool of some kind where I can clean myself up.
Wearily, the elf began to retrace his steps.
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Estel shivered, goose bumps standing out on his skin. It was cold and dank in the cave, but the human had not dared to move, scared lest the orcs returned. He could clearly see Legolas' pack lying across the entrance and knew that it contained the painkilling herbs he required, but he could not bring himself to cross even that short distance – what if those fallen orcs were not dead at all, but merely unconscious?
The man had lost track of how many minutes or hours had passed by the time Legolas entered the cavern. Estel called out, trying to move his stiff legs.
"Legolas! Legolas. I'm here!"
The elf hurried over.
"Estel, how do you fare?"
"Not wonderfully," gasped Estel, awkwardly standing. Legolas ducked his head under the young man's arm, supporting him. Estel winced as the elf's arm pressed against his back.
"Come on, Estel, over here. Then we can see to your wounds."
Estel nodded, taking a little bit more of his own weight. They reached the entrance and the human sank gratefully down in the glorious sunlight.
"Are all the orcs gone?"
"All of them," confirmed Legolas, fetching his pack and hunting through it for the herbs he wanted. "How does your back feel?"
"Like it's on fire," admitted Estel. "Where are my brothers?"
Legolas did not answer his question. "Hold still. I need to wash the dirt from these cuts and it will sting."
Estel gritted his teeth as the prince applied a wet cloth to his raw back. The cleaning seemed to last a long time and the man had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out.
"All right, I have finished," said Legolas and Estel relaxed slightly. "Which of these lotions is best for cuts? They are different to the ones we have in Mirkwood."
"The light green one," replied Estel. He had been well schooled in the art of healing by both Lord Elrond and his mother. "Legolas, where are my brothers?"
The gentle fingers administering the cool ointment paused for a moment, and then continued. "I do not know. I have not seen them since yesterday lunch."
Estel twisted his head round so that he could see the elf. "What do you mean? Didn't you tell them where you were going?"
"Didn't you?" retorted the prince sharply. "I did not have time to run around after two practical jokers, not when you were already in the orcs' hands. As it happens, you were lucky. Had I not asked the trees about that pathetic hole of yours, I would never have known of your capture."
Estel had forgotten about the hole and the trick he and his brothers had planned. Another comment of Legolas' caught his attention. "You asked the trees? You can talk to trees?" he asked incredulously.
"Of course," responded Legolas, packing away his things. "I am a wood elf – a fact that you and the twins seem to have difficulty remembering." He looked at the human curiously. "Why did you leave Imladris?"
Estel blushed slightly. "I saw a strange camp and I thought I ought to find out what it was."
It was Legolas' turn to look incredulous. "You deliberately went to investigate an orc camp?"
"I didn't know they were orcs!" protested Estel, defending himself as best he could. "I just - "
The prince shook his head. "It is high time we returned to Imladris, so that Lord Elrond can have a look at your back. I am no healer and besides, I have little experience with mortals. You can explain yourself there."
The elf shouldered his bow and Estel was puzzled to notice a small wince. In fact, now that he thought about it, Legolas appeared bruised and dishevelled.
"Legolas, are you all right? What happened to your boots and sleeve?"
"Casualties of war," answered the prince, a small smile on his lips. "Can you walk unaided?"
Estel eyed his companion suspiciously, but he could see no sign of a serious injury. Legolas seemed hale and hearty, his thick cloak slung over his shoulders. "I think so," he sighed, rising gingerly.
"Then we will not lose any more time. Come on."
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