The orcs had finally halted. They had run throughout the night, never resting; dragging their captives along for the ride. Only when dawn's pale light had started to seep through the sky did the orc leader guide them into reasonable shelter from the sun's rays. The company quickly made their way into the trees, eager to escape the oncoming light of the morning.
"Stay there." Shaza shoved the bound elf to the ground and shook a warning finger at him. "Don't get any ideas about escaping, little elf." He grinned unpleasantly. "We have ways of making you regret it. You won't like them, but I daresay we'd get a good nights entertainment."
Legolas clamped his lips shut, biting back the scathing retort he longed to hurl at the sneering creature before him. For Aragorn's sake, he would remain silent. The prince bit his tongue as another orc tied him to a tree, pulling the ropes cruelly tight. He fought the urge to antagonize his captors, knowing that anything he said might bring down consequences on his friend.
Speaking of which…
Aragorn was in the process of being bound next to the elf, and Legolas heard the ranger's slight hiss of pain as his back connected with the rough bark. At the sound, the Mirkwood prince turned a ferocious glare on the orc binding the human. The twisted creature merely sneered and gave the rope an extra tug.
"Aragorn," Legolas whispered as their guard settled himself a short distance away.
No response.
"Strider?"
At the sound of the old nickname, the young human stirred, turning his head to gaze at his companion. Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. Though he could see the sorrow deep in their silver depths, Aragorn's eyes were clear, and focused. A small sad smile twitched at the ranger's lips.
"This," he said softly, knowing Legolas' ears could easily hear him, "Is far to familiar a scene, mellon nin."
"Agreed." The elf squirmed slightly against the ropes that held him and his friend.
"What are they after?"
"How do you mean?"
The human snorted rather indelicately. "Legolas, they went through special pains to take you alive. You can not deny that."
The golden eyebrows drew together in a frown. "No. I can not. Their leader…" the prince nodded his head towards the imposing figure at the other end of the camp. "He said something about needing me alive and able to travel back to Mirkwood."
Aragorn stared. "Mirkwood?" Then the rest of his companion's statement hit him. "Wait…back to Mirkwood?"
Legolas nodded, and was surprised to see his friend's face swim alarmingly before his eyes as he did so.
"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was worried. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing," the elf answered automatically, even as he fought a sudden wave of dizziness that passed over him. "I'm fine."
Immediately, one dark brow crawled up the ranger's forehead in a frighteningly accurate imitaion of his foster father. "You are 'fine.' In other words, something is seriously wrong. Is it your arm?"
Legolas shook his head in adamant refusal, ignoring the burning sensation that was indeed traveling from the wound he had received. He hadn't had much chance to notice it on the mad dash through the night, but now that he was sitting still…it was definitely there. "Truly, I am fine." He smiled disarmingly at the dark haired man's skeptical look. "Besides, even if there were something wrong…what could you do?"
Aragorn scowled darkly, but had to admit his friend had a valid point.
"Hey you!" Their guard threw a stone in their direction, narrowly missing Legolas' head. "Be quiet! Get some sleep while you can. We have another nice walk tonight." He laughed nastily, and threw another stone, which bounced off the tree trunk between the two friends.
Legolas waited until the guard moved away, then whispered softly to his companion. "He's right. Get some sleep, Aragorn. I'll stay awake first."
The human nodded. "Wake me in two hours."
The elf sat still, remaining silent. After what seemed like a very long time, he heard the ranger's breathing even out and grow deeper. He was asleep.
Legolas sighed, leaning his head back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes. He had not told Aragorn the truth. The pain from his arm was growing, spreading in waves…making him curiously lightheaded. Not to mention what it was doing to his vision… Cautiously, he slitted one eye open and squinted down at his arm. The wound was no longer bleeding at least. However, the black tint around the edges worried him. His mouth settled into a grim line. The blade must have been poisoned.
But that didn't make sense…
Why would the orcs go through all the trouble to capture him if only to have him die of poison?
He sighed again. He did not know. And it hurt his head too much to try to figure it out at the moment. A slight shudder shook the elf's form. How had it gotten so cold so quickly?
Suddenly he was tired…so tired. The prince ground his teeth together hard, forcing his eyes to stay open. He had to stay awake…One of them needed to be awake, and Aragorn needed sleep more than an elf would…at least normally…Legolas shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and quickly realised just how bad of an idea that was. The entire camp spun and swayed in his distorted vision. He shut his eyes tightly, keeping out the dizzying image.
When he dared to open them again, he was relieved to see the camp had reverted back to its stationary position.
Of course, now there were these black spots hovering at the edges of his line of sight… The elf prince blinked hard, hoping to drive them away.
No luck.
Was it his imagination, or were the black spots spreading…? No, no they were spreading. His consciousness was slowly being pulled from him…
Darkness swallowed him, and his eyes slid shut.
0-0-0-0
Orchbeck snarled at the sun that managed to filter through the leaves of the trees. He couldn't wait to get back to Mirkwood…Ah, Mirkwood. His yellow eyes lit up as he remembered the cool darkness of Mirkwood's depths, where sunlight had not found its way for hundreds of years. His gaze fastened on his two prisoners.
The key to his return, and the instrument of his revenge against Mirkwood's king…all in one golden haired being. He frowned slightly.
The two appeared to be sleeping. Both leaning limply against the ropes that bound them to their tree. Both pairs of eyes tightly shut.
Something teased at his memory…something about the sleeping habits of the elves…he couldn't remember and it bothered him. What was it about his captive that was tweaking at the back his mind?
The orc captain shrugged, then laid himself down and turned his face away from the sun. Perhaps it would come to him later.
0-0-0-0
Elladan sank to the ground, breathing heavily. His face was coated in rock dust and sweat. His hair was matted with the same mixture, and it clung to his face and neck. Blood crusted along a small wound on his forehead, but it was not serious. It had stopped bleeding some time ago.
The older twin ground the heels of his scratched and bruised hands into his bloodshot eyes. He was so tired…he glanced at the still form next to him and pushed himself back onto his feet. He didn't have time to be tired.
Elrohir might not have very much time left.
The younger of Elrond's sons had not stirred throughout the night. His light was dim, but he still breathed.
Elladan heaved more of the rock away, gradually making his way through the mound that held his twin fast. It was slow, but the dark-haired elf had almost made it through. Elrohir was almost freed.
Elladan finally knelt beside his brother, grasping his shoulders and pulling him away from the stones that had almost claimed the younger twins' life.
Lord Elrond's first-born leaned back against the wall of the cave, his brother's head cushioned in his lap. Exhaustion weighed heavily down on Elladan, threatening to drag him into slumber. He swiped wearily at his face, wishing for nothing more than a good long sleep, yet knowing that he could not.
Not until he knew for sure that Elrohir would be alright.
His hands tightened almost unconsciously on his brother's shoulders, as though he could anchor the younger twin by sheer physical force. One hand slowly pushed the strands of loose hair away from Elrohir's face, and tucked them behind the pointed ears.
Despair welled up in Elladan's heart. He was not the healer that Elrond, or even Aragorn was. He did not know just how serious Elrohir's injuries might be, and was uncertain as to how they were going to escape from their prison of stone. His elven heart already yearned for daylight, starlight…anything other than the bare rock illuminated by his and his brother's faint glow.
He glanced down and a frown furrowed his forehead.
Very faint glow…
" Elrohir," he whispered softly. There was no response. The older twin sighed softly. This was too much. "Avo bado, gwanor nin… maetho i mor…an nin."
Tears welled in his grey eyes, and his throat closed. He allowed his eyelids to slide shut, sending two drops streaking down his fair face. In truth, he did not wish to open them again. He did not desire to see his brother like this…nor the cave…nor anything else at the moment.
"Elladan?"
Elladan's eyes flew open. He stared downwards into the face of a very confused looking Elrohir.
The younger twin blinked slowly and gazed up at his brother. "Mas…mas na Estel?"
Elladan felt his heart shrink at those words. "U-Iston."
Elrohir tried to push himself into a sitting position, but was quickly halted by his brother.
"Don't, Elrohir. Please, I don't know how badly you were injured…"The twin halted his movements, and relaxed with a sigh. "What happened?"
"Before or after you jumped under a mountain of falling stone?"
"I seem to remember that part…" He blinked and shifted slightly, wincing as he moved his left leg. "But I do not remember anything after the ceiling falling."
"There is not much to remember," Elladan noted the wince, but chose not to comment on it for the moment. "We were both knocked unconscious. When I awoke, I could not hear any sounds of orcs, and you were half buried." He breathed a shaky sigh as he looked down at his twin. As happy as he was to see Elrohir awake, he was worried. Elrohir's light was still so dim…
"Ah. That must be why I feel as though I have been crushed between a dwarven smith's hammer and anvil."
Elladan did not appreciate his brother's attempt at levity. "Be serious."
"What makes you think I am not?" Elrohir glanced around the cave. "How long have I been out?"
"Quite a while."
At the tense sound of his twin's voice, Elrohir looked up again into his brother's face. "Meaning a very long while, in which you dug me out and took no rest, am I right?" He saw the exhaustion pulling at Elldan's eyes and knew that he was correct. A small smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.
"Go to sleep. I'll be alright."
Elladan shook his head, eyes burning. "I can't sleep…we have to get out of here. Estel and Legolas…"
"Elladan…" Elrohir lifted a hand and placed it firmly over his brother's mouth. "You will not be in any shape to help them if you fall over with weariness. Or perhaps that is your intent. When the orcs see you lying curled up on the ground, snoring, ('Elves do not snore!' Elladan interjected in a shocked voice, but Elrohir paid him no heed.) they will be so overcome with laughter that they will be easily defeated." His gaze softened as he saw his brother's face twist with indecision.
" I am worried for them as well. But…we will not be able to help them if you do not take some rest."
Elladan sighed. "Very well. But not long." He cast worried eyes down at his younger brother. "Promise me that if I do not wake, you will wake me in an hour."
Elrohir gazed at his brother, taking in the tired stoop of the dark-haired elf's shoulders, cut across his forehead, bruised fingers, torn palms, and general dirt and sweat layer of grime.
"I promise," he lied easily.
0-0-0-0
Elrond strode through the halls of his home, curiously restless. A bright, beautiful spring morning had dawned over Imladris…and he could not enjoy it. Nor could he seem to hold still for more than three seconds together.
Finally he forced himself to sit at his desk. But even there, his long fingers tapped at the smooth wood constantly.
With a snort of self-disgust, the elven lord rose once more and started to pace his study. Something was wrong…he could feel it…so engrossed in his own thoughts, he did not notice Glorfindel knocking on the door for a good ten minutes.
The golden haired elf scowled darkly as his Lord finally admitted him. "About time. What were you thinking of?"
"I can not say…"Elrond's brows drew together in a frown. "For I do not know myself…I feel…as though something is very wrong."
Glorfindel's expression immediately smoothed over. He had served Elrond for many years, and had learned never to disregard one of the elf lord's 'feelings'. "What do you think of it?" he probed.
Elrond started to pace again, his frown growing more and more fierce. "Something to do with my sons. And Legolas…" the dark-haired elf's voice trailed away as he stopped suddenly, his eyes closing.
"Elrond?" Glorfindel stepped forwards, worried. He stopped as Elrond spoke again.
"Darkness…" The lord of Imladris' mouth flattened into grim line. "Darkness and pain." He opened his eyes again, and Glorfindel was shocked to see anger in the grey depths.
"Gather a company of our warriors," Elrond said harshly. "As quickly as possible."
The blond elf lord hastily departed and Elrond was left to himself. Alone.
The vision he had seen burned behind the dark grey eyes. A vision of pain. Of suffering.
Of his sons.
A cry of anguish echoed in his mind. Dark hair fell over a young man's forehead, partially obscuring the purple bruises that colored the otherwise pale skin. He leaned over a still form, calling out a name as he pulled the being into his arms. Tears stood in the silver eyes…falling down his cheeks onto his lifeless companion's golden hair… And dark twisted shadows surrounded the two. Their ugly laughter drifted through the air.
Elrond shook his head, wishing to see no more.
Two dark-haired elves sat against the wall of a cave, the one's head pillowed in the other's lap. Both were injured… The one leaning against the wall was asleep, his eyes open and unfocused. The second was awake, but his light was dim. Very dim. Elrond could see just how badly wounded he really was…
Then the vision faded, and the lord of Imladris was left grinding his teeth.
Something or someone had hurt his sons.
And when he found out who or what it was, they would realize just how incredibly stupid that descision had been.
0-0-0-0
Mellon nin-My friendAvo bado, gwanor nin…Maetho i mor…an nin.- Do not go, my brother…Fight the dark, for me.
Mas…mas na Estel?- Where…Where is Estel?
U-iston- I don't know.
0-0-0-0