Hi, there. Yes, I'm late again. I forgot to feed the plot bunnies so they refused to give me ideas. LOL!

Anyway, here's the chapter that some of you have been waiting for. Angst! The fun has just begun. There's more to come up. Stay tune!

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"Kel? What now?"

Staring earnestly at the frenzy of activities within the courtyard below, the elven prince gave no answer. His handsome face was as stiff as granite, while his cobalt blue eyes were so intense they flashed brilliantly in the dark

Gallard tried again, louder this time. "Didn't you hear me, elf?"

"I heard you," Keldarion finally replied through gritted teeth. He did not take his eyes off the prison entrance, foolishly expecting to see his younger brother to show himself there and wave gaily back at them.

"Legolas has been captured, hasn't he?"

"I believe so."

"So, what are we suppose to do?"

"We wait."

It was not what the draq really wanted to hear. "But what about our plan?"

"There has been a change of plan, remember?" Keldarion growled in Gallard's face. "Now you understand why I said we need backup plans when dealing with Legolas? They are for situation like this, where predictable twists come about like worms popping out of the earth!"

The elf turned away, trembling with barely controlled fury and unrestrained fear. "Ai! Silly elfling! Blast him for getting caught! I swear I'll…I'll…"

Shaken himself, Gallard placed a comforting hand on Keldarion's shoulder. "Easy now, my friend. Try not to get so rile up. It won't do us—or Legolas—or Eldarion—any good."

It took the elf a full minute to compose himself. Turning around, he nodded apologetically at Gallard. "You're right. Let us keep a level head here. For the time being, the only thing we can do is make sure of what's really going on down there before we can act. We already have two stupid brats who need rescuing. We don't want to add two more to the list."

"I agree." Gallard grinned. "Then we wait?"

Keldarion nodded again. "We wait, and we observe. Something important might come up."

So they spent the next half hour crouching behind the rampart, watching the unfolding scene below them. The sleepy keep had been stirred fully awake by all the excitement. More guards were seen rushing about, either to tend to the burnt smithy, or to make urgent rounds in search of any other intruders.

Luckily for the two companions, none of the guards took the initiative to climb atop the rampart. Both elf and draq were spared from discovery.

For now.

"Well, well, well. Look who's here to join the bloody funfair," Keldarion muttered awhile later as a stout-looking man emerged from the great house, dressed in a night robe and chamber slippers.

"Who are you talking about?"

"You see that man?" Keldarion pointed. The said man was rushing across the wide courtyard towards the slave prison, with several guards dogging his harried footsteps.

Gallard nodded with a frown. "Well, who is he?"

Keldarion smirked without humor. "Who else?"

"That is Movrak?" The draq was clearly astonished.

"The one and only."

Gallard shuddered. "Yikes! He looks like a toad!"

"Figuratively speaking, yes, he is a toad. Ugly, filthy, slimy and all other unflattering adjectives you can imagine on a man." Keldarion clenched his fists as he softly added, "And he likes young, pretty boys too."

It took Gallard a long time before he could speak, his face turning pale. "Oh, no. If he sees Legolas, he…"

"He will take pleasure in torturing my brother to death," Keldarion quickly responded. "It's a well known fact that the man doesn't care much about elves. There is something about our beauty and grace that irks him so."

Keldarion blushed slightly when Gallard sent him an amused gaze. He quickly amended, "Well, it is good-looking boys like Eldarion that grabs his carnal interest. And that is a well-known fact, too. Many innocent boys have come under his power, abducted from their homes from all over the land before they were forced into something that their young mind still could not understand."

With a weary sigh, he rubbed a hand down his face. "Valar! I don't know what to tell Aragorn if his son has already been…"

The elf shook his head, unable to finish his musing.

"We must get them both out of there!" Gallard exclaimed, scarcely able to contain his growing anxiety.

"We will." Keldarion's gaze narrowed as Movrak disappeared into the prison. "Soon."

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At present, Movrak was not a very happy man. His easy slumber had been abruptly disturbed when the guards came pounding urgently at his door. He was a lot less happy when he found out about the burnt smithy. But what rankled him the most was when he was told that an elf had managed to break into the prison and killed more than ten of his guardsmen.

"What is an elf doing in my keep? Is he spying on me?" he muttered as he rushed down the stairs that led to the underground cells.

Nothing could have surprised him more. His keep had been intruded before, sure, but only by thieves who desired a share of his wealth and treasure. Of course, none of them succeeded to leave with their life intact. So, why an elf? And the slave prison, of all places? Now that was bizarre.

Something fishy was going on here, and he was determined to find out what it was.

"Damn the elf. Look at the mess he made." Movrak hastily covered his mouth with the sleeve of his robe when he came to the slain bodies of his guardsmen, arranged neatly side by side on the dirty floor. He nearly gagged at the high stench of blood which still oozed from the corpses.

"Get rid of them and clean this up!" he barked to his men, shuddering. "I can't stand the smell."

They rushed to do his bidding. One of them, a tall and muscular man with a mop of bright red hair, stepped toward him. "My lord. Pardon us for calling you down here at a time when…"

"Hush," the merchant ordered with an impatient wave. "Just show me the intruder."

"This way, my lord."

Movrak followed, hugging his robe to his large body. He gingerly stepped across the sticky-slick floor with a grimace, clearly disgusted by all the blood and the dismal interior of the prison. Not once did he glance at the slaves behind the bars, which was to be expected. The slaves made not a single sound to attract the merchant's attention anyway. Meek and scared, they just gaped in silence as their master walked past them.

The red-haired guardsman took Movrak to the furthest cell where they kept their latest prisoner. The intruder was still unconscious. They had chained him to the wall with his arms stretched high above his head. Both his feet were bound to the floor by another length of chain, keeping him completely immobile. The arrow was still buried in his left calf, with the long wooden shaft broken off. A trail of blood was running down one side of his face, only to drop soundlessly at his feet. He had lost his cloak and turban during the scuffle, so now his bare head lay slumped over his chest, allowing his long golden hair to drape forward and covered the rest of his features. His flesh, not to mention the tip of his pointed ears, looked as pale as snow.

Beaten, bloodied and no longer a threat, but definitely an elf.

Movrak was not impressed by what he saw. In fact, his entire being slowly burned with anger and hate. Without taking his eyes off the elf, he snapped at the hovering guard next to him, "What exactly happen? How did this creature manage to break in?"

'Red' gulped and began to explain, "The…the fire, my lord. I think he started it so that he could lure the watch away from the prison entrance. We were all busy at the burning smithy when the slaves suddenly created a big noise. When some of us came down here to investigate the cause, the elf just attacked without warning."

Movrak's frown grew darker. "Was he alone?"

"We saw no one with him, my lord. He fought alone."

"He alone managed to kill ten people?" Movrak was incredulous, glaring at the guard. "How did you train your men, then?"

Red was clearly embarrassed. "Our men fought bravely, my lord, but this elf moved too fast. We never saw anything like it. He wore a turban and a cloth-mask so we didn't expect that he was an elf at first. We had to shoot his leg, or he would have escaped. And he…"

"Enough," Movrak curtly said. Red could talk and talk until his mouth went dry but still be unable to precisely explain the entire scenario. The real answer was to come from the elf himself.

"Wake him up."

Red blinked. "My lord?"

"I said, wake him up!" Movrak snarled in reply. "Douse him with water or something until he awakes. I need to ask him questions. I want to know who he is and why he comes here."

His glare grew fiercer when Red hesitated. "Come on, get on with it!"

The other man quickly turned to give out the orders to his two comrades, who quickly left the prison to fetch the water from the trough outside, next to the entrance. Meanwhile, Movrak stepped closer to the bound prisoner. He gripped the elf's chin in one hand and jerked it up.

If the elf were human, his strikingly beautiful countenance could have melted the merchant's heart. A face so fine and fair, so lovely and yet so masculine—something that Movrak always preferred while choosing his 'boys'.

But not on an elf.

"Filthy creature," he growled, and spat into the prisoner's face.

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Legolas slowly regained his senses. Something wet and slimy was running down his chin. And someone was speaking angrily to him.

What's this?

Numb, his mind foggy, he could not comprehend what he was hearing. Everything seemed so muddled up. He tried to lift his head, but it felt too heavy. His eyelids fluttered, but he just couldn't make them open, so jumbled his wits were. His nostrils caught the scent of blood, and that made him confuse.

Whose blood? Mine?

The angry voice came again, very close to his ear.

Who is this annoying, ill-suffering scum of the earth that just can't leave me alone to my…

A dash of cold water hit him in the face, causing him to jerk to full awareness. Gasping and spluttering, Legolas blinked rapidly to clear his vision—and found himself staring down at a scowling, chubby face of a man.

Movrak.

No one needed to tell the elf that he was in deep, deep trouble.

"Finally, you awake!" the merchant yelled. "Now you may answer some questions."

Calling himself a thousand kinds of a fool due to his foiled mission, Legolas instinctively struggled against his bonds for some release. He then gave up, knowing his effort was futile and that it only gave him muscle cramps. Relaxing slightly, he responded to Movrak's words by returning a killing glare of his own. He noted with grim satisfaction when the man took a cautious step backward.

"What do you want to know, human?" Legolas softly asked, his eyes burning bright like molten silver.

Furious at himself for that slip in showing his fear, Movrak stiffened his spine and straightened up to his full height—not that it improved matters because the elf still towered over him at six-feet tall. That angered the man more, having to look up at his prisoner instead of looking him down.

With a curt gesture, he demanded that Red gave him his cudgel. The guardsman obliged before he retreated a bit to provide some space for the merchant to maneuver.

Gripping the wooden club in both meaty fists, Movrak edged closer towards the elf. "Who are you?"

Stubbornly, Legolas decided to keep quiet. He just stared at the man, his face now empty of any expressions. Movrak swung the cudgel high, smack across the elf's face.

"Answer me, damn it! Who the heck are you?"

Legolas reeled unsteadily from the blow, seeing lots and lots of stars. With his head still spinning, he gingerly ran his tongue over his broken lips. He tasted his own blood, sweet and metallic. His fury mounted with alarming pace, but he quickly tapped it down.

"Who am I?" the elf croaked, smiling crookedly at the man. "Trust me, Movrak. You don't want to know."

Movrak's eyes widened briefly before they narrowed to a slit. "You know who I am?"

"Well, who wouldn't?" Legolas managed a slight shrug. "You expect me not to recognize you when you are obviously the richest man in Harodem?"

Oddly, that seemed to please the merchant. His voice was less harsh when he asked next, "Why are you here, elf? What did you attempt to do?"

Legolas played the nonchalant passerby. "Oh, nothing important. Just visiting. I have things for dungeons, you know."

Movrak swung the cudgel again, this time hitting the elf in the stomach, causing Legolas to bend over at the waist, grunting with pain.

"Answer me, you stupid creature!" the man cried out, furiously waving the cudgel about. "Why are you really here? Who sent you? Are you a spy?"

"A spy? Wow. Fancy that." With some difficulty, the elf emitted a weak chuckle. "My boss will surely blow his top knowing that I've bungled my 'assignment'—whatever it was."

Yes, my 'boss' will surely did, he dryly mused inwardly. I bet Kel has already blown his top ten times over!

"You are not answering my questions." Movrak's patience was thin, and it was getting even flimsy by the minute. "Tell me who you work for, or I'll make sure you won't get any sleep tonight."

"Why not?"

The man was perplexed by the question. "Why what?"

"Why won't I get any sleep tonight?" Legolas tried to keep a straight face, hoping he was not overdoing it. Without being told, he already knew what was coming.

His eyes gleaming, Movrak gave the elf a nasty smile.

"Because you are going to talk. And they are going to make you," the merchant responded, indicating his surrounding guardsmen who looked more than happy to jump and do his bidding. He turned to hand the cudgel back to Red.

"I want to know his name, his origin, and his intentions. Make sure he answers your every question. If he refused…" Movrak shrugged. "Well, just do whatever you can to make him speak. I want all the answers by tomorrow morning. If not, you are out of my employment. You understand?"

"As my lord wishes," Red replied, his face grim

Movrak nodded and turned to leave. As he walked past the cells, he glanced cursorily at the slaves—and caught Eldarion glaring back at him.

The man halted, surprised to see the fury in the boy's steady gaze. He strode swiftly towards the cell. "Do you know about any of this, boy?"

Eldarion flinched slightly. Luckily, Movrak didn't seem to notice. The boy lowered his head and appeared submissive. "Why would I know anything, Lord Movrak? I'm just your slave."

All were quiet for quite a while. Tension was strong within the already edgy atmosphere.

Finally, Movrak smiled. "Good. You knew your duty then."

He turned to the guards. "Open the cage and take this dark-haired boy to my chamber."

Eldarion's head jerked up instantly, his face paled with shock and dread. He heard a smothered choking sound coming from Legolas, but that was all the reaction the elf gave. The boy understood that his friend was feigning disinterest, as if they never knew one another.

Legolas' face was expressionless, but Eldarion could see the dangerous glint in the elf's eyes that described his warring emotions.

"Err…my lord?" One of the guards spoke, looking extremely uncomfortable. "We…we've lost the keys."

Not understanding at first, Movrak frowned in puzzlement. "What did you say?"

"The keys—to open the cell doors. We've lost them."

Movrak grew red in the face. "What do you mean, you've lost the keys! Which guard that was supposed to hold them?"

"It was Derik's duty to keep the keys tonight, my lord, but he…" Red explained, pointing at the dead bodies that his comrades were gathering to be taken away for burial. "Well, the elf has killed him. We searched his body and the others but couldn't find the keys. They've gone missing."

"But that is ridiculous! They must be here, somewhere!" Movrak roared. His mood was so foul that veins appeared in the pale skin of his temples and throat. His eyes were wild as he surveyed the prison interior, as if the keys would pop out at his mere glare.

Slightly intimidated by the merchant's wrath, Eldarion retreated deeper into the shadows, trying to run from the attention. The boy could feel the cold steel of the keys resting against his flesh, right under his rump. He didn't dare take them out of his pants lest everyone knew he held the missing keys.

Still, one person obviously did.

The small boy that shared his cell was staring at him with widened eyes. He had seen it when the elf threw the keys into the cell. He opened his mouth to speak, so Eldarion frantically shook his head in warning. Thankfully, the child obeyed and ran his gaze away.

Both boys jumped when Movrak suddenly banged at the cell bars.

"Open this damn door!" the man was yelling again, now kicking at the bars. He looked like a desperate man swiftly losing his mind, too carried away by his ungratified lust.

"But the keys, my lord…"

"Hang the keys and hang you all!" Movrak swiveled and faced his guardsmen. "Get the smith to open this cell. Tell him to break down the bars if he has to!"

The merchant went off in huff, grumbling and muttering about incompetent hirelings. Red shook his head but dared not comment. Instead, he sent some of his men to go looking for the blacksmith who was last seen at the burnt smithy, wandering among the wreckage.

Anticipation made the man smile as he walked back towards the prisoner, completely unconcerned about anything else. The guard didn't like Movrak, but he sure liked his job. The pay was good, and the excitement he derived from his work was greatly satisfying. Not to mention the one that he was facing.

Who would have thought that an elf would fall under his mercy?

"All right, elf. Come clean with me," Red started, his hands upon his hips. "We would let you go if you tell us all that we want to know."

"Like Mordor you would," Legolas muttered with a grimace, for he began to feel to strain in his up stretched arms.

"Right. We wouldn't. I was just starting a conversation here." Red's smile only grew wider. "How are you holding up? Are you comfortable?"

"Go push your head into the cesspit," the elf shot back, glaring balefully at the man. In return, Red swung his cudgel into Legolas' stomach, again and again so that he could barely breathe. Bound like that, with his entire torso lay vulnerably exposed to every strike, he had not the means to defend himself.

Crying out in dismay, Eldarion leaped to the bars and hang there. He began to tremble uncontrollably, unable to do anything but watch his friend being beaten to a bloody pulp. He wanted so badly to come to Legolas' rescue, but he was stuck dumb with panic, not knowing exactly what to do.

The other slaves were avidly watching the beating, but none among them had the courage to speak. They were all silent, feeling quite guilty as they realized that the noise they made earlier had led to the elf's downfall.

"You are enjoying this, kid?" One of the remaining guards walked closer to the cell to grin down at Eldarion. The young prince quickly moved away from the bars.

The man chuckled. He turned to enjoy the 'show' himself but Eldarion suddenly blurted out, "Stop hitting him!"

Everyone went still. Red lowered his hand as he slowly turned around. "What did you say, boy?"

"Don't…don't hit him anymore," Eldarion stuttered. "S…stop. Please."

Red and the rest of the guards narrowed their eyes as they gazed accusingly back at Eldarion. "And why should we stop? Do you know him?"

Thinking rapidly, Eldarion tried to make out a credible answer. "He…he grunts a lot, like a slaughtered pig. I can't stand hearing it. Take your beating outside!"

The guards looked at one another, and burst into laughter.

Red shook his head. "Boy, you are pathetic. And for that, I'm going to make him scream for you before the night ends." He swung his cudgel again, and Legolas' grunting continued.

Eldarion shut his eyes and lowered his head, ashamed for being so helpless to aid his friend.

"Say nothing more, Eldarion," Legolas suddenly cried out in elven tongue. "Bring no risk to yourself. Say nothing!"

The boy quickly looked up. The elf was not looking at him but staring straight at emptiness. He spoke again, much softer this time, "Try…to get some sleep, Darion. Forget…what you hear. Just…just go to sleep..."

He wants me to sleep? While they are beating him? Eldarion thought incredulously.

"I'll…I'll be fine…" Legolas' voice grew fainter.

"What are you saying, eh, elf?" Red ceased hitting and grabbed the elf by his shirtfront. "I can't understand you! Speak Westron!"

No answer. Another guard stepped forward and offered to continue Red's work. Red agreed, and handed over the torture instrument. The beating resumed.

Disheartened, Eldarion scrambled to the furthest corner of his cell and burrowed himself there. He clapped his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

The young prince of Gondor still sat there, rocking himself back and forth, even when the beating finally ceased a long while later.

TBC…

I would like to take this opportunity to say how sorry I am to hear about the devastation in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. It brought to my mind the recent horrific disaster of tsunami that hit Asia late last year. I give my condolences to all the victims and their families. May you find the trength to carry on.