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Legolas did not awake for many hours, his exhausted and agonized body taking as much rest as it was given. When the elf finally awoke, he was confused as to why the orcs and hill men had left him alone so long. Looking up to the sunny sky barely shining through the wooded area, Legolas understood why.
Orcs hated the daytime. The only ones known to travel during the day were in a hurry for one reason or another. Obviously, the mission with the heir was not so important.
Gazing around the camp, the elf could plainly hear the laughs of the orcs and hill men as they enjoyed themselves around their two separate camps. The orcs were playing a twisted game with an animal they had caught, and the hill men were merely playing card games.
Legolas sighed and allowed his head to drop, but his eyes closed against the overwhelming pain he still felt in his ancient body. The internal bleeding needed to be addressed quickly, but the prince knew that he would most likely die before the week was out. Whether due to the bleeding or some new devices by the man from Mordor, Legolas did not expect to live.
Lying there, being left alone for once by his captors, Legolas was able to enjoy the nature around him. Even though he was still worried about Aragorn's safety, as well as his own, the elf basked in the limited sunshine and the shade of the trees.
For over an hour or two, he did not move a single muscle. Legolas was contented for the time that he was not being harmed.
Alas, his peace did not last. Opening his crystal blue eyes near sun down, the injured being could hear heavy footsteps approach the camp near him. Chatter and laughter could be identified, and Legolas was sure that more hill men had arrived at the camp.
But, when the captured elf saw the form being carried carelessly towards the leader's tent, he could not withhold a gasp. Slung over one of the bigger man's shoulders was his best friend.
"Estel." He breathed with worry, and began to struggle to his feet. Looking around at the orcs and humans, he noticed that none were aware of his raising. Managing to stagger to his unstable feet, Legolas faltered as Dúnhere appeared in front of him.
Grabbing the weakened elf's arms, the leader of the hill men dragged the helpless being into the tent holding the man from Mordor and Legolas' best friend.
Seeing Aragorn laying on the ground, his arms and legs tightly bound, Legolas could not help but try to move to his injured friend's side. Being halted by the grip on his arms, all the elf could do was glare at the man who now knelt next to the ranger.
"So, the righteous ranger finally joins us. I must confess, I thought it would be longer until he met up with us." Watching the elf's reaction, the leader from Mordor unsheathed his dagger from his belt.
Holding it up to Aragorn's face, he talked straight to Legolas. "I want you to care for him for now." Showing a meaningful expression, the younger being stood. Motioning to Dúnhere, the leader silently ordered the removal of the elf and ranger.
Nodding his affirmation, the hill man bent down and pulled the unconscious ranger across his shoulders, and looked to the elf. Seeing the injured being, he recognized the need to help the elf as well. Wrapping a strong hand around Legolas' right biceps, he led the elf from the tent, and right to where Legolas had been before.
Dropping Aragorn unceremoniously to the ground, Dúnhere motioned for Legolas to sit beside the ranger. The prince stiffly lowered himself to the ground, and then looked up expectantly to the man. Dúnhere merely glared at him.
"What?" he barked finally when it was apparent Legolas wanted something.
"How am I to tend to him if my hands are bound?" the hill man looked to the elf as if another head had sprouted from his throat, but didn't move to comply. Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"As if I would try anything." At Dúnhere's dubious look, Legolas elaborated. "I'm wounded, and so is he. There are orcs and hill men everywhere, and I can barely move. Aragorn is tied up and has no weapons. We may want to escape but we're not suicidal." Dúnhere looked to him out of the corner of his eye, but agreed.
Moving forward, he removed his dagger and sliced easily through the ropes around the elf's wrists. Throwing the torn cords away, Dúnhere pointed the small blade to Legolas in dangerous meaning.
"You try anything, and I will kill the both of you." The elf nodded in understanding, but then practically dismissed the man as he leaned over his unawares friend. Gently probing around Aragorn's temples, Legolas found the large knot where the club had smashed into the ranger's head.
Cringing in shared pain, Legolas examined his friend, and discovered the wound to his right shoulder. It bled little, but it seemed to be affecting Aragorn somewhat. Not knowing what else to do, the wood-elf tore a piece of Aragorn's tunic, and gently wiped away the dried blood.
Now, all he had left to do was wait the ranger's waking. Unfortunately, that only left the elf to worrying and confusion.
How had these men captured his friend? Where had Aragorn being taken from? And, what was the point of capturing Legolas and using him if they had gone after Aragorn anyway?
A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Legolas' stomach, and he grew cold. They were going to torture him to get to Aragorn, he just knew it. The leader knew how Aragorn felt towards his friends and family, and realized that the ranger would suffer more pain if they hurt someone he loved in his stead. To watch someone else's suffering would break the dúnadan better than any physical torture done to his body.
Gently cradling Aragorn's inanimate frame, Legolas could feel despair creeping up on him again, but, also, a stronger determination than before. He could not scream. Not one sound. If he did, than the leader would win, for Aragorn would fight anything he could to get Legolas' punishment. The ranger would sacrifice himself for his friend without a second thought, but the elf grasped the fact that if he did, then Middle Earth would be in danger.
Aragorn was the last of a line nearly extinct. He was the last one directly descended from Isildur, and he was the one needed against Sauron and Mordor when the time came. Everyone needed him, and if Legolas could keep him safe in any way he could, than he would. Physical pain and torture meant nothing to him if it meant that Aragorn's life would be spared.
But, he also understood Aragorn's thoughts and feelings. To see your friend take punishment for you would be devastating, and no less than heartbreaking to the ranger. Aragorn had always felt the world on his shoulders, and took the guilt complex to a whole other level. The human cared about everything, and anyone injured under his watch was considered a failure on the part of Aragorn. That he had failed in his duty, and the result was the suffering of another.
Legolas remembered long ago when the dúnadan had discovered his lineage. He had been barely twenty years old, and he and the elven prince of Mirkwood had been friends for scarcely two years when Elrond told his foster son.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, and future king of Gondor and Arnor. Estel Elrondillon had practically ceased to exist, and the young human had felt the betrayal and burdens of his ancestry. But, his biggest fears had been what none had expected.
He feared that the importance of his survival would overcome everything else. That death would occur just for his protection, and Aragorn knew that he could not bear that. One night on the balcony outside of his chambers, Estel had confessed his terror to the elf.
Aragorn had understood at once the importance of his own life, and he told Legolas how he feared his life would one day overshadow the rescue of another. He admitted that he suspected it would one day come to choosing between his own life and that of someone he loved. That night, he had tried to send Legolas away.
"Estel, don't you even try!" the elf grabbed Aragorn's arms, and forced the young human to look him full in the eyes. "I would be no true friend if I chose to walk away from you now, or ever!" seeing that his words were not getting through to the stubborn adan, Legolas sighed, and took Aragorn into his arms.
"No one will stop loving you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. No matter your ancestry, you are still Estel Elrondillon, brother to Elladan and Elrohir. No one will think less of you because you are the heir. You are still the greatest friend I have ever known."
Still holding on to the doubtful human, Legolas could feel the stiffness in Aragorn's body. "I will never leave you, no matter what happens. Even if someone were to take me because of who I know, I would never hate you. It is no fault of yours what blood runs through your veins." Pulling away finally, he made sure Aragorn was paying very close attention.
"Even if I were to die for you, I would do it gladly. You are my sworn blood brother, Aragorn. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing."
Looking down at the ranger now, Legolas was hoping that Aragorn remembered his vow as well. Knowing that Legolas was willingly going through all of the torment for him would, hopefully, ease some of the pain Aragorn was bound to experience.
Hearing slight moaning, Legolas looked down to his friend, and was grateful to see the human's gray eyes opening. Examining the ranger again, Legolas was sure that Aragorn had a concussion, but not a serious one.
"Aragorn?" he whispered quietly. The human looked up, somewhat startled, but then flashed Legolas a grin filled with relief.
"Legolas! Thank the Valar!" Aragorn took a hurried once-over the elf's body, and was not happy with what he saw. "Are you alright?" gently pushing Legolas' hair back, Aragorn could see a gash near his hairline, and many bruises across the elf's normally fair features.
Giving the elven prince a look that resembled his father's, Aragorn hastily attempted to sit up, but immediately lay back down as his head swam. Legolas held his shoulders steady, and waited with the ranger for the spell to pass.
After a few minutes, Aragorn began to see straight again, and then sat up more slowly. Pulling away from Legolas, he looked over the prince a second time, and could see a lot more of the elf's injuries easier.
Noticing that his hands were still bound and Legolas' weren't, Aragorn glared at the elf. Legolas merely shrugged, and tried to move away from his inquisitive friend. The ranger, on the other hand, didn't let the elf move far, and pinned him next to a tree. Analyzing Legolas for movement, Aragorn speared the wood-elf with a look that spoke plainly. Tell me where you're injured.
As if the human had spoken aloud, Legolas began an indignant act. "Now, what would ever make you think I'm injured?" Aragorn did not waste words, and merely looked to the elf. Legolas squirmed under his powerful gaze, and gave in.
Sighing, he quietly spoke. "I have some broken ribs, welts on my back, and I'm not sure about my hipbone." Aragorn continued to stare until Legolas finally relented. "Alright! I think I have some internal bleeding, too."
The ranger nodded his displeasure, but only gestured for Legolas to remove his tunic.
"Aragorn..." the elf began, but his friend cut off any arguments.
"Legolas, you may have internal bleeding and broken bones. Right now, I doubt very much that the hill men are going to let you go for some medical attention, so you have better let me look." Aragorn's stern gray eyes were enough to stop any protests, but it was also the underlying concern that got to the elven prince.
Complying, he started to take off his over tunics. "Orcs." He said out of the blue, and Aragorn averted his gaze from the wounds on his friend's torso to look up at the elf's face.
"What?"
"Orcs. There aren't only hill men. The orcs arrived before we left for Moria." The ranger's face grew even tauter, but he didn't comment. Instead, his face paled as he saw the condition of Legolas' body.
Looking up to his friend, Aragorn moved closer to the elf, and maneuvered so he was sitting behind him. Gently running a hand down the defaced back, Aragorn gulped as he heard Legolas' tiny gasps of pain.
"Oh, mellon nín /my friend/. What did they do to you?" Legolas' eyes were tightly closed against the pain his friend's administrations were bringing, but he attempted some light humor.
"Oh, you know. A whack here, a hit there." But, he bit his lip as Aragorn's fingers came around to feel his arm. Hearing dwarvish curses, Legolas felt embarrassment as the ranger gently pulled his left arm from where the elf tried to hide the wound.
"Blessed Ilúvatar! Legolas, what happened!" the elf strove to downplay his injury, but seeing the look on Aragorn's face, he decided to just tell his best friend what had happened since his capture.
"I guess I got too mouthy." Aragorn looked up from the archer's arm, and Legolas could tell by the pinched features that the ranger knew what the injured elf was going through. "They used a long dagger. Put it in around my wrist and didn't stop until they got to my elbow." The look of horror on Aragorn's face affected Legolas, and he attempted to pull his appendage away from the skilled fingers of the ranger. In spite of that, Aragorn kept his grip firm.
"Legolas, this is already getting infected." The look of concern echoed in the friends' eyes, and the ranger continued to speak with emotion. "If it isn't treated soon..." Legolas finished the healer's sentence.
"I could lose use of my arm."
"Or, the entire arm itself." Legolas paled, his stunned eyes fixing on his wounded limb.
"Estel..."
"Don't worry, Legolas. We'll be able to get to Ada, and he'll heal it. You'll be able to use it like nothing happened." The ranger's assurances worked a little, and Legolas gave a mini-smile.
"Your father is not going to be too happy."
"What, that he'll have to save that overly skilled arm of yours? You're right." The two smiled, but then Aragorn resumed his examination. Wrapping the elf's forearm with strips ripped from his over-shirt, the man looked over the rest of Legolas' wounds.
Cleaning Legolas' back as much as he could, he wrapped the worst welts with strips torn from his over-shirt and the one underneath. Then, he ultimately reached the front of Legolas' upper body.
Seeing the swelling, Aragorn very gently ran a hand over the broken ribs, and tried to work past his friend's pain-filled moans. Working quickly, he confirmed what Legolas had assessed earlier. Five of his left ribs were broken, and three on his right side. Two were cracked in all, but it was apparent the elf suffered from internal bleeding.
Not knowing the full extent still, Aragorn wrapped the ribs tightly so that they would be supported. Discerning that the elf would be in pain if he lay on the ground on any part of his upper body, the ranger helped Legolas lean against him, and told him to rest.
Legolas only smiled, and revealed that even though he was weary, he would get no rest that night.
Looking around, Aragorn found that while he had treated the elf, the sun had set. Sighing, he leaned on the bark of the tree behind him, and waited.
Unfortunately for the wounded elf, the wait was not very long. Dúnhere stomped his way over, and towered over the two wounded friends. Drawing his face into a displeased look at seeing the elf's bandages, he none too gently kicked Legolas' leg to get his attention.
"Elf! You had better wake up!" Legolas' eyes shot open, but he didn't look to the human standing over him and Aragorn.
Aragorn, on the other hand, glared with contempt at the leader of the men who had captured him.
Dúnhere didn't acknowledge the ranger's loathing, and merely pointed threateningly to Legolas. "Behave and the orcs won't have a reason for going after your friend here." Sneering to the ranger, the hill man walked over to join his men.
"Damn hill men, why did they get involved in all this?" but, then an idea came to Aragorn. Starting to stand up, he remembered the cords around his feet. Taking time to untie them with his bound hands, Aragorn casually asked the elf,
"So, who's the one that captured you again?" Legolas watched as the ranger got ready, and then indicated that he would need help up. Reaching down, Aragorn's eyebrows raised in waiting. Legolas looked to the ground, but gave a straight answer.
"I don't know, stubborn ranger. All I know is that he is a commander of Mordor." Having started to help Legolas to his feet, the man stopped in surprise, and stared to his friend.
"A commander of Mordor! Legolas, the only human commander of Mordor would be..." a voice cut him off, and he spun quickly to face the newcomer.
"Long time no see, Estel." Aragorn could barely keep the stunned look from his face.
"Freca." The human's voice was filled with suppressed anger, and all he could do was glare to the man who wanted him dead.
"Ah, I was wondering when one of you would remember me. Although, you certainly have more reason than your elf friend here." Legolas looked wildly from one human to the other. Leaning close to Aragorn, he whispered,
"What's he talking about?" but, Elrond's foster son did not acknowledge his friend.
"I have every reason to remember a murderer who tried to frame me." The coldness held within Aragorn's voice sent shivers down Legolas' spine. Now, he recalled exactly who this human was.
Years ago, a ranger had come to Rivendell with Aragorn for the Winter Solstice season. His name had been Freca, and he had been a young man supposedly from Rohan. He was new with Aragorn's troupe, and the chieftain of the Dúnedain of the north wanted to get to know his new man. Aragorn had made an excuse to stop by Imladris at that time, but in reality it had been a reason to see his family for the cherished season.
But, not all had turned out well.
Murders had been committed all around Imladris, ranging from kitchen maids to high elves. Unfortunately for Aragorn, all evidence had pointed to him as the perpetrator. Elves all over Rivendell had seen a dark haired man flee the scenes, and at first, Freca had been the suspect. But, as time went on, and the murders kept occurring, the man from Rohan had developed alibis. Hapless, Aragorn had no witnesses to his whereabouts.
In the end, Aragorn had nearly been tried and sentenced in the murders, and Freca had almost gotten off free. Until, Legolas had come to Rivendell to clear his friend's name. During all this, the dark Númenorean had gotten skittish. Thinking that the elf and ranger were on to him, Freca had tried to go after Aragorn.
Legolas had helped Aragorn defeat the crazed man, but Freca had managed to escape. Until this moment, the Mirkwood elf had heard nothing of the man from Rohan. Although, it seemed, Aragorn had.
Waving a hand unconcerned, Freca smiled cruelly to the two in front of him. "For twenty years I've wanted revenge on you. I knew from the moment that elf came my plan was done for." Aragorn didn't do anything, didn't bat an eyelid.
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have tried murdering elves in the place I was raised." Freca laughed, and then stepped closer until he was face to face with his former leader.
"You shouldn't have gotten in my way. Now, I'll make you pay in the worst way imaginable." Motioning with his head for Dúnhere, the evil man stepped back as the hill man grabbed Legolas from behind. Placing a dagger to the pale throat, the man waited for Freca's order.
Aragorn, seeing the hill man seize Legolas, immediately turned to defend his friend. From behind, Freca had drawn his sword, and now hit Aragorn in the shoulder blades with the hilt. Causing the ranger to crash to the ground, the commander stood over his captive.
Aragorn, hearing Legolas' panicked cries, could do nothing to reassure his friend. Still dazed from the last blows to his head, the dúnadan's awareness was swimming about, threatening to send him under.
Legolas, though, understood his friend's trouble. "Blasted humans! He already has a head injury due to your injure happy men! You hit him any more and you'll have problems doing anything with him!" the elf's struggles were minimum, but his words hit hard.
Freca, frowning in petulance, reluctantly put his blade away. Kneeling next to the stunned ranger, he whispered a warning in Aragorn's ear. "Don't try any heroics, Estel. My patience is thin with you already, and you have to remember one fact: We don't need the elf." Leaving it at that, Freca stood, and gesticulated for his men.
All moving away from Aragorn and Legolas for the moment, the elf didn't waste an instant. Painfully kneeling next to the ranger, Legolas assisted Aragorn in sitting up. Rubbing the back of his neck and rotating his shoulders, the wearied ranger looked to his friend.
"Legolas, I'm sorry." Legolas' tired grin brought a little smile to the man's bearded face.
"Oh, Estel, you certainly have a way with people." Aragorn chuckled.
"No, just with those I like." Groaning, he moved his neck from side to side, attempting to rid the throbbing from his jugular area. Looking to Legolas again, he sighed resignedly. "Alright, what do you want to know?"
Legolas looked to him exasperated. "Who is he? I mean, now!" Aragorn shook his head, a hand still around one side of his neck. Sighing yet again, the ranger attempted to give a straight response.
"I haven't heard much, but the rangers have been watching Mordor for some time now.
Around ten years ago, a human went to Sauron, and as far as we know, convinced the Dark Lord to take him into his service. The human rose in ranks, and last I heard, became one of the top commanders in Sauron's dominion." Legolas nodded for Aragorn to continue, but the ranger waited a few seconds to sort his thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned against his friend for a moment. Regaining his senses, he continued. "He is called the messenger of Sauron." He looked Legolas right in the eyes, making sure the elf comprehended. "The Mouth of Sauron."
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