A/N : Thank you so much for all those Birthday e-cards you guys sent me! I love them all. And I also appreciate your concern about my health. I feel so loved! Worry no more, everyone. I'm hundred percent fine now.

Well, sorta. LOL!

I bet that all of you is dying to know what the soap and water is for, right? So before you start reading the next installment, please be forewarned—this chapter contains angst and heavy torture scene. Some of you might find this too hard to accept.

Enjoy the torture…err…the chapter.

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It was a definite chaos outside the prison. All the slaves were on the loose, and Movrak's guards were frantic to recapture them.

Hiding next to a shed, Eldarion grinned to see the newly-freed slaves ran for the big gate, shouting wildly as they rammed bodily into the guards who stepped in their way. Some of them managed to dodge being captured, while the rest—mostly the women and children—stumbled half-way and were quickly apprehended. Still, they refused to be dragged back to the cells without a fight. And fight the guardsmen they did, screaming and hollering at the top of their lungs, fists flying and legs kicking.

Satisfied that he had created the distraction he needed, Eldarion turned and gestured for the small figure crouching next to him, "Come, let's go."

The young boy, the one who had been his cell-mate, meekly obeyed. He had nowhere else to go, so he had been following Eldarion around like a lost puppy, mimicking the elder boy's every move. But the boy-slave was immediately puzzled when Eldarion veered not for the gate but towards the main house instead.

"Where are we going? I thought we're supposed to escape."

"We will. But we need to get my friend out of the house first," Eldarion replied as he led the way, gluing himself to the shadows near the high wall. Most of the guardsmen were now busy in the front square, their hands full with the runaway slaves.

Shocked, the younger boy froze in his tracks. "We are going to the house? You must be mad!"

Eldarion also stopped, scowling. "Call me whatever you wish, but I must help my friend."

"But he is an elf!"

Truly angry now, Eldarion sent his companion a murderous glare. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

The other boy shrank back against the wall, looking quite terrified. "Uh…n…nothing. I'm just…well, confused. How can an elf be your friend?"

"And how can he not be?"

"But elves are fierce and nasty creatures! They kill without mercy. Just look at what your so-called friend did to those guards. He is no better than Movrak and his men, cruel as he is."

Eldarion felt like whacking the younger boy upside the head for his pitiful naiveté. "You don't know what you're talking about, boy. Elves are fierce, yes, when they need to be. But they are never cruel."

"And how do you know that?"

Because I'm part elf myself, Eldarion wanted to admit. He said instead, "Look, let's stop talking and move on. We are wasting too much time already. We need to get into the house while the guards are still preoccupied."

"I'm not going into the house! We might get caught and thrown back into the cells."

"The elf needs our help!"

"He is your friend. Not mine. You help him!"

Eldarion was so furious he nearly choked the younger boy to death. "My friend is the reason why we managed to free ourselves. If not for him, both of us would still be sitting in that blasted dungeon!"

"And I'll do anything not to return there again!" With that claim, the slave-boy pushed Eldarion aside and ran towards the direction of the big gate. He never looked back.

"Why, the stupid ungrateful lout!" Eldarion fumed, staring at the small figure that quickly vanished amidst the scuffling throng in the middle of the courtyard. "Serves him right if they caught him again!"

Shaking his head, the young prince gathered his wits to concentrate on the task at hand. He resumed walking with stealthy steps, still camouflaged by the deep shadows. After fifty yards, he stopped and hid himself behind a water barrel, trying to figure out what he should do next.

Trembling with adrenaline and anxiety, Eldarion's heart raced a mile a minute. He was glad that, so far, his presence was still undetected. But he knew that his luck would not last long when he got to the house because Movrak's guardsmen practically blocked the doorway. It was doubtful that he could move past them without raising the alarm, let alone finding Legolas and getting the elf out to safety.

To his annoyance, Eldarion had to admit that the slave-boy had been right. Saving Legolas would only land him back into the cell. Sooner or later, someone would notice him and give chase. It was highly likely that he would be captured once more, and then Legolas' effort and self sacrifice would be all for nothing.

Eldarion spent a long moment pondering on his dilemma. To enter the house was a huge risk to his life. To leave Legolas behind would break his own heart. Whichever decision he chose, the crown prince of Gondor was damned either way.

The young prince was surprised to realize that silent tears had coursed down his cheeks. He angrily brushed them away, loath to fall apart at a time like this. He tried to stay on focus, but couldn't forget how awful Legolas had looked when the elf was dragged away, badly bruised and bloodied and in terrible pain. Such a faithful friend he was, silently suffering those cruel beatings simply for Eldarion's sake.

All for him.

And I'm thinking of running for my life and leave him in this evil place? Am I that selfish? Absolutely not!

Fired by renewed determination, Eldarion braced himself behind the water barrel, preparing to make a mad dash towards an unprotected dark window situated on the left side of the house.

He had taken only a step forward when, suddenly, a strong arm grabbed him from behind and yanked him backwards. A hand quickly covered his mouth before he could cry out in protest. Desperate for release, he lashed out some wild kicks which his assailant easily avoided.

"Cease struggling, young one! It's me."

Eldarion instantly went still when he heard that voice. He whirled around as the arms released him, only to gape in amazement.

"Keldarion? You are here?"

The elder son of Thranduil did not look overly happy to see him. "Unfortunately for me, yes, I'm here—saving the butts of Middle-earth's spoilest brats as usual."

Forgetting himself, Eldarion threw himself into the elf's arms in great relief. "Oh, I'm so glad you found me! Ai Elbereth! I don't know what to do, Kel. Legolas is in the house. They have planned to do something to him and I know it's nothing good. We must get him out of there now. I can't do it myself so please help me. I swear I won't ask for anything ever again and I promise not to be so reckless that I drag everyone into a mess which I can't…"

"Darion, hush down for a second, will you?" Slightly amused, Keldarion had stilled Eldarion's outpouring words by placing a long, graceful fingertip on the boy's lips. "Tell me first—are you all right?"

"I'm not badly hurt," Eldarion said after he impatiently pushed down the elf's hand. "But, I'm worried about Legolas. They beat him fiercely to make him talk. Now they've taken him to Movrak and Lord knows what that horrid man are doing to him."

Keldarion's mood turned dark once more. Without a word, he grabbed hold of Eldarion's arm and pulled the boy towards the nearest staircase which would lead them up to the rampart. Hawkeye the eagle was above there somewhere, keeping his eye on everything to make sure that no enemy sneaked upon both princes on the ground. It was the draq who had first noticed the Gondorim heir creeping alone in the dark.

"Hey, wait! Where are you taking me?" Eldarion hissed, planting his feet in protest.

"Up and over the wall, and far away from this bloody place," Keldarion curtly answered.

"What about Legolas? We can't leave him behind. They'll kill him!"

Keldarion swiveled around and stared hard at the boy, his blue eyes flashing with barely contained wrath. The elf's fury was so dangerously palpable that Eldarion flinched and took a wary step back. Never had he seen Keldarion looked so frightening.

"I've seen him and I know what he is up against more than you do." Keldarion's voice was eerily soft as he spoke. "So be quiet and do as I say. You must be out of this keep before the sun rises."

Stunned into silence, Eldarion could only follow as the elf tugged him forward. But as they were ascending the stairs, the boy couldn't stop himself from asking, "What of Legolas, Kel? We can't just abandon him."

It took a long moment for Keldarion to reply. But when he did answer, his tone was so cold it sent shivers up and down Eldarion's spine.

"Don't worry. I won't let those humans kill my brother. In a few hours, I will return and rescue Legolas."

Smiling bitterly, the elf prince added, "And then I'll kill him myself."

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In the common hall, Movrak paced to and fro as he impatiently waited. The appointed guard was taking his own sweet time to fetch the pail of water and lye soap as ordered. He had been gone for quite some time, and that caused the rest of the guardsmen to fidget restlessly.

Legolas had abruptly fallen into a deep silence following all that strange shouting. Restrained yet unbound, he lay motionless on the floor while his striking eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing, which was quite unnerving to Movrak and his men. They watched the elf warily, not knowing what their prisoner decided to do next.

When the much-awaited guard did reappear a while later, the merchant immediately rounded on him to give him a piece of his mind. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for ages!"

Winded a bit, the other man gingerly put down the brimming pail onto the floor. "Pardon me, my lord. I don't know where they store the lye soap so I had to rouse one of the servants to get it for me. She had to go down to the cellar in the dark and almost went tumbling down the stairs when the rats…"

"Oh, save me the excuses!" Movrak put up a hand to stop the guard's rambling. "Did you bring the soap?"

"It is right here, my lord." The guard showed him a small bundle the size of an adult's fist, which he hastily unwrapped. Lying within the fold of the brown paper was a block of homemade lye soap, the kind that was commonly used by every household for washing and cleaning. It looked harmless, but Movrak's twisted mind was able to construct a powerful weapon from it.

"Put it into the water and make me some suds," Movrak ordered. He then pointed to another guard. "You! Help him. I want this done quickly."

As the men obeyed, Movrak turned to look down at the elf, smiling with anticipation. "If this won't make you talk, then I don't know what will."

Legolas only stared back at him in silence, looking not the least bit perturbed. But, inside, he was deeply curious. What is the soap water for? Give me a bath?

"I'm going to give you one more chance before I take the next step," the merchant kept on talking. "All you need to do is tell me who you are, who you work for, and why you are here. Easy enough questions with easy enough answers, I believe. Talk now while you still can, my dearest elf. Tell me everything."

Legolas cleared his throat before he spoke, "Actually, I do have something to tell you."

Cocking an eyebrow, Movrak leaned a bit closer to hear the elf's next words. "Yes? I'm listening."

With a crooked grin, Legolas replied, "You smell worst than a week-old corpse. Go wash your privates with that soap, and get rid of all those lice and maggots making home in your nether region."

The merchant flinched and stepped back, his face turning red with anger and humiliation. The surrounding guardsmen knew better than to laugh out loud so they averted their gaze, looking anywhere but at their master as they tired to control their bubbling mirth.

"Aren't you two finished?" Movrak barked at the guards tending to the water. Both men were deep in suds to their elbows. "Hurry up, you fools! Bring that pail over here!"

As the two guards rushed forward with the pail between them, Movrak turned to the others. "Keep a firm hold on the elf. I don't want him to thrash and struggle and spoil my plan."

Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation as the men tightened their grip on him, almost cutting off his blood circulation. This is a complete overkill. I am so weak I can't even lift a finger, let alone thrash like a trapped rat!

"All right, elf. You asked for this." Movrak suddenly bent over Legolas, looking very fierce and determined. "You are thirsty, aren't you? Then, would you like some drink?"

Before Legolas could answer, the merchant roughly grabbed his jaw, pried it open and tilted the content of the pail right into his mouth. The elf choked and sputtered as soap water ran freely down his throat. Some even flowed into his nose and washed over his eyes, momentarily blinding him. For several painful moments he panicked, unable to breathe with soapsuds overwhelming his lungs. His entire body shuddered and convulsed as his mouth and entire gullet burned from the highly alkaline liquid.

The tormenting deluge suddenly stopped. The pail was taken away, and Legolas lay there, gasping and trembling uncontrollably. With painful needles pricking like crazy in his chest and esophagus, he bemusedly thought to himself, All my life I've had many kinds of things pushed down my throat—bitter tonic, spicy soup, stag's blood, lethal poison. But soap water? Now, that's new!

And then someone grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head off the floor.

"Ready to talk, elf? Or do you need to drink some more?" Movrak growled.

In response, Legolas spat at the man full in the face. Movrak recoiled with an outrage cry, frantically wiping his face against his sleeve.

"You bastard!" the man yelled angrily. To the guards, he ordered, "Give him more!"

The top of the pail was back against Legolas' mouth, this time for a bit longer than before. His heart felt like exploding from the lack of air, as well as the burning flame that was roaring inside his chest. He couldn't stop himself from screaming in pain then, and the sickly gurgling sound he made was close to that of a slaughtered pig.

Legolas was convinced that he was about to drown when the pail finally ran empty. He gagged and wheezed, fighting desperately to breath. As some water was still trapped in his throat, that proved to be quite a difficult task.

In his impatience, Movrak kicked the bucket away and boldly placed one foot on the elf's belly. He pressed down hard with great relish, satisfied to see the horrible grimace that quickly appeared on Legolas' face.

"Your stomach is not feeling too good now, is it?" the merchant asked, mockingly. "It will feel a lot better if you start telling me everything that I want to know."

Legolas audibly moaned, his entire guts on fire. "You are…a tyrant…Movrak…"

"Yes, I know." The said tyrant smiled. "Come on, elf. You can at least tell me your name. I promise I'll take my foot off you."

Weakly, the elf chuckled and threw a droll look at the merchant. "Fine. If you…bloody insist…I will tell you. Better take note. I have…many names. Let's see if…I got them all correct."

The elf frowned, as if trying to recall, before continuing, "Well, my children called me Dada, my father calls me Nothing-but-trouble, my brother calls me Pesky-brat, my wife calls me Honey-bun, my friends call me Stubborn-idiot, and my…"

Movrak instantly lost his temper. With a roar, he raised his foot and stomped down with all his might. Legolas' arms and legs instantly jackknifed into the air from the impact to his abdomen, while the remaining soap water came gushing out of his throat and nose, drowning him yet again. To his horror, he began to retch, throwing up his stomach content all over himself. He tried to curl himself into a ball to ease his discomfort but the men wouldn't even let him.

"You despicable, lying creature!" Movrak went berserk with fury as he kicked repeatedly at the elf's already limp body. "Why can't you just answer me? Why are you being so stubborn, you stupid bastard?"

Legolas knew there was no point for him to answer, so he closed his eyes and willed himself to drift into unconsciousness. Unfortunately, that angered Movrak more.

"Wake up, you dung-meat! I'm not finish with you! Wake up!" the man screamed, stomping his foot again, this time squarely on the elf's groin.

The pain was terribly excruciating, enough to send Legolas instantly into oblivion. His head lolled to one side, and then he went absolutely still. Disgusted, Movrak whirled away, muttering curses under his breath.

"My lord Movrak! We bring you some ill news!" A group of guardsmen suddenly burst into the hall, surprising the others.

Movrak was clearly not pleased by this latest disturbance. "Damn it, what now!"

"The slaves! They have escaped!"

"THEY WHAT!"

It was hard to believe, but Movrak went redder than any human could possibly be. He shot a foul word at no one in particular and rushed away to check on the 'news' himself. At the doorway, he paused, growing thoughtful as he stared at the unconscious elf.

"My lord? Is something the matter?" the red-haired chief-guard inquired.

"The elf. He has his hands on this, I'm sure of it." Movrak looked grim as he began to understand the true reason that Legolas was in the house. "It was his plan all along, and we fall blindly for it."

Red gulped, knowing that he was naturally the one to blame. "What…uh…do you want us to do with him, my lord? Keep trying to make him talk?"

The merchant's expression turned even darker. "You have proven how useless you are in that department! He won't talk if you were doing the asking! Use another method."

"And that would be…?"

"The Rock, man. Put the elf under The Rock." Movrak nodded in satisfaction. "If that still won't make him confess, than let him die as a squashed mute."

TBC…

See? Didn't I tell you I'm still as crazy as ever?

p/s : Rutu, what cobalt blue thing? I don't receive it! Help!