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I Will Always Return
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CHAPTER THREE
You Won't Face This World Alone
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All of Legolas' instincts were screaming at him to turn around and bolt and his reflexes were tense as he stood between two men, their hands on his shoulders, keeping him held firmly in place. Ceorl had left to make sure everything was ready, but he had told Deor explicitly that Legolas was to be bound hand and foot and chained to an iron link at the back of the cave, where he was certain that the prince would find no escape. Of course, a guard was to be posted at all times with absolutely no exceptions, under pain of death.
There were just two problems with these orders. The main one being that Legolas did not want to go into that cave and that there was almost no way to force an Elf, even a bound and wounded one, to do something that he really didn't want to do, unless you used brute force. The second problem was that, contrary to Legolas' first impression, Deor was deviously intelligent and more than a little power hungry. Giving him absolute control over a captive was like tempting a shark with blood; it just wasn't a good choice.
Whether it was because he had felt inferior since he was a child or because he was just simply sick minded and without a cure, Legolas didn't know, but the human seemed to enjoy putting others down, especially by way of physical coercion. If Ceorl had known this he would have never placed Deor in charge but it was too late and it was also very likely that the blonde man would never know.
Deor stood before Legolas, watching him with a grave expression. He no longer even looked the idiot he had seemed before. Hands held behind his back, he rocked back on his heels as he almost gloated to the Elf, "My orders were explicit. You are to be bound and chained in that cave."
Legolas was quiet for a moment before he raised his brows and said matter-of-factly, "I am not going into that cave."
The reaction he received was almost humorous. Obviously this had not been the retort Deor had been anticipating and he looked blank for a minute. Either he had thought Legolas would simply be silent or that he would make some witty remark. "Well that is too bad, Elf, because I am in charge and I am telling you that you are going into that cave and you will be bound and if you don't comply soon I can arrange for some grim consequences." He stared into Legolas' eyes with dead seriousness. "It would behove you to obey, Legolas. I don't make promises I can't and won't keep and I am promising you that your struggles are futile and in the end they will only make things worse."
Legolas seemed to be mulling things over in his mind for a moment. Finally he spoke in a surly way, spitting accurately at the human in front of him. "Adan, when this is all over you will find I keep my promises as well and I am promising you that I will not make this easy for you and that you will pay for it in the end."
"Sadly, I never expected less from something like you," Deor responded smoothly, nodding to the three men holding the Elf. "Get him into that cave."
Legolas bucked, throwing his head back in their grasps and dug his feet into the ground. He was as strong as at least two men, being an Elf and he had been entirely serious not making this easy for them. They just didn't seem to understand exactly what he had meant.
Deor watched things calmly for about one minute before his face flushed red either in anger or humiliation and he seethed. "He is just one Elf! Get him in there now!" Looking at Legolas, his eyes reflected the misery he was going to make sure this Elf went through every day until he was killed.
One of the men grabbed the back of Legolas' head by his hair, pulling on it viciously and yanking Legolas' head back so that his throat was fully exposed and his chin was pointed towards the sky. This held off most of the Elf's struggles because in this position it wouldn't be hard for the men to snap Legolas' neck. As defiant as Legolas was, he was going to try and stall death for as long as possible. Survival was more important at this point than stubbornness.
In the end though, Deor was forced to get two more men from the cave to come and bodily force Legolas through its mouth and to the back. All in all, it took five humans to force the Elf in and another two to properly secure him so he wouldn't rush out.
Glaring at the Elf, Deor drew his hand back and smacked it across Legolas' face, causing the prince to stumble against the wall. Bound as he was, Legolas only barely caught himself. The man's hit had not missed the welt on his face from where his bow had snapped across his cheek bone and it hurt surprisingly more than Legolas had thought it would. He tasted blood and felt his stricken cheek grow hot.
But the man didn't stop there, he was not yet through with this Elf that had caused him humiliation in front of all these other men and decided to make things as difficult as possible. Pulling Legolas away from the wall by his tunic front, the human hit him across the face again, snapping Legolas' face sharply to the side. Doing this repeatedly, the human only stopped when blood ran from Legolas' nose and mouth. He stepped back and watched as Legolas' eyes glittered angrily, but with slightly more moisture than had glistened in them moments ago.
Stunned, Legolas was hardly aware that the men were pressing him to the ground and binding his feet tightly about the ankles. His ropes that bound his hands were severed only to be replaced by rusty but highly effective manacles that were snapped on far too tight. The abrasive rock of the wall rubbed against the sore and swollen skin of his lacerated arm, causing it to smart in reprisal.
"That ought to hold you, Legolas, and if you know what is good for you, you will be silent," Deor said calmly, turning his back on the Elf to converse with his human companions.
Legolas took the man's advice for the moment, trying to discern what was being said and seeing if he could ascertain anything valuable about these circumstances. He could easily hear what was being said without his Elvish hearing capabilities, for the cave amplified the sound considerably.
"Send scouts to see if that ranger is following us. If he is, leave signs to draw him in. Make sure none come with him," Deor said slowly. "Ceorl wishes this of you above all things at the moment, I think."
"What should we do with those accompanying him?" asked one of the men, grim with a sallow looking face and sour eyes.
"Kill them, of course. Take no prisoners." He glanced heatedly back at Legolas, who feigned innocence and disinterest. "One is more than enough." If he had been given the chance to have things his way he would have given Legolas over to the orcs but he didn't have the willpower or strength to cross Ceorl. Besides, he and Ceorl had been friends since they were Riders in training and quarrelling over such petty differences would only destroy what portion of that friendship was left. To be honest, it really wasn't much.
Becoming aware of the blood trickling down his face, Legolas twisted his neck and wiped the blood on the shoulder of his outer tunic, not being able to use the back of his hand. He didn't appreciate that look in the least, he decided absentmindedly.
"Aye, Deor. If you say so," said the man in response to the other, though it sounded a bit reluctant.
"Good then, see that it is done." Deor brushed the men off literally with a wave of his hand, preparing to tend to the Elf which he had temporarily left alone tied to the wall.
The men seemed to either get the message they were not wanted or understood what Deor wanted to do and left without exchanging any more words with anyone. Either way, Deor wasn't unpleased and he turned around to look at Legolas. The Elf could claim that he wasn't scared, but Deor could tell that Legolas would like to be anywhere but here. If the Elf could become invisible with the wall then he would have had done so a long time ago.
"Well, now we have some time to get to know one another, wouldn't you agree, Legolas?" Deor questioned, tucking some of Legolas' loose golden hair behind his pointed ear in a cold gesture of mock cordialness.
Legolas pulled away as far as possible, indisposed to let this human lay a finger on him. If looks could kill then Deor would have dropped dead on the spot. "Do not touch me!" He snapped the warning tartly, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. Memories of Harad, especially of Sarchel and his unique forms of interrogation were returning and he was frightened, those being some of the last reflections that he would ever wish to relive.
The man smiled at the helplessness of his captive, flicking one of Legolas' pointy ears, trying to provoke the Elf.
Legolas might have been able to help his reaction except for his fear and he warned again, this time in a lower and more serious voice. "Don't touch me!" Legolas' hands clenched above his head as he tried to pull back further only to feel icy stone at his back the more he tried to struggle backward. The stone was unyielding. There was no where to go.
Legolas' warnings fell on deaf ears. Grabbing a lock of Legolas' hair, he pulled the lengthy strand taut, exposing its distance end to end. Smiling, he let it fall and watched as Legolas worked to remain cold and belaying, almost like a statue.
"You seem upset Legolas. Why is that?" the human questioned, smiling as Legolas gave him an irritated stare.
"I specifically demanded not to be touched, human. Are you deaf or just plain stupid?" His retort was short, but so was his temper.
Deor's smile melted off his face and he took out his knife without so much as exchanging another word with the Elf, who obviously had gone a bit too far with his witty remarks.
Legolas didn't move a muscle, he didn't even blink but inside he was cringing simply at the thought that these humans possessed knives. Why was it always the insane people who managed to get a hold of a knife and knew exactly how to use it to cause the most pain? Altogether Ceorl had done very little damage, at least in comparison to Sarchel but that was like comparing an unripe apple to a ripe one, Legolas imagined. Give the other time and it would grow to be just as big. Give a wicked human time, and he could be just as nasty as the next.
He didn't know where this was all going to go but he knew that the results were definitely not going to be ones he would appreciate. Watching the man intently, as a dog watches a master who had beaten it too many times, Legolas noticed that the look in his eyes was controlled somehow and not as full of bloodlust as he had feared. All the same, he did not like the expression on the man's face as he stepped so that he was towering directly above the Elf and then stooped to his level, with his breath rushing down Legolas' neck.
The prince squirmed away, annoyed and alarmed. His body's natural response to fear was unavoidable and he couldn't stop his heart as it began to hammer in his chest as it reacted with the adrenaline being released into his system. "Leave me alone," he demanded briskly, smothering his old memories one by one, as quickly as he was able.
Deor shook his head. "I am not going to seriously hurt you, I just am curious how you would look with –well… a different hair cut. You couldn't be too different from us if one chooses to disregard your pointy ears. Oh! We can get rid of those too!" He announced cheerfully, watching Legolas' face with jovial smile.
Legolas swallowed quietly, knowing as any Elf would that his ears were one of the most sensitive parts of his body. He glared at the blonde man, feeling insulted despite his anxiety. He was still far different from them and there were some things that were incapable of change, no matter how much you mutilated the outside. But that didn't matter and even though finding solace in that knowledge, it couldn't help him escape the pain that would come. If the man chose to remove the tips from his ears that the prince had always been rather proud of, then Legolas would be completely helpless to prevent it.
The men that had been loitering around in the cave, with nothing else to do took a sudden interest in what their second in command was doing in the rear of the grotto and gradually made their way over, joking and shoving one another as they went. A few shoved their companions purposefully close to Legolas and sometimes right into him, jarring his damaged ribs and injured arm so that he was forced to grit his teeth. Leaning his head back against the stone, the Elf wondered what all was going to happen next. He didn't expect anything good to come of bored, treacherous men capable of having some entertainment only at the expense of a hated prisoner.
They were all crowding around him now, and the Elf felt a thrill of fear ripple through his body as memories of this many men in proximity returned, causing him to shiver involuntarily. He was in Harad again and it seemed as though the small door he had entered through was getting smaller, closing off his escape. He could quite possibly be trapped here forever… could die here.
Legolas had been so buried in memories that he hadn't even realized that his breathing was no longer under his control and had sped up slightly to keep up with the racing of his heart, much to Deor's amusement. "Afraid, Legolas?" he questioned, his dark eyes glittering evilly.
Gaining control of his breathing once more so that he was capable of an answer that wouldn't be accompanied by a gasp or shudder, Legolas managed, "Not of you, Adan."
Deor paused and then his smile broadened devilishly. "Then what are you afraid of?" For a moment he looked deceptively like a mother, trying to comfort a frightened child.
Feeling disinclined to answer, Legolas just diverted his eyes and thought of Aragorn. He would die before he let this man know that he was terrified of Aragorn coming here.
Deor wasn't even watching his captive anymore. His fingers were gliding cautiously along the silvery edge of his long and almost Elvish looking knife, as though deciding whether it was sharpened enough or not. He must have decided that indeed it was, and then he turned to Legolas with a twisted smile that reminded the prince of a snarling warg that was playing with its prey in a game it knew that it was going to win.
Some men voluntarily came forward without a signal from their second-in-command, apparently sensing his need and their hands firmly gripped Legolas' shoulders, digging in so hard that the prince was sure that they were going to leave some minor bruises. His joints complained slightly as the humans' fingers found painful ways of digging into them and the Elf frowned, never taking his eyes off Deor. Inside, he was growing more and more uneasy at the restraining grips that he couldn't free himself of.
This human was going to die someday, but Legolas preferred that he would be around to see it. That would be satisfaction indeed! Unfortunately he had a feeling that these two mortals, Ceorl and Deor, would end up outliving him and a disappointed look momentarily flittered across his face.
Deor laid the knife gently on the dirt near Legolas' feet and moved his hands towards the Elf's face, causing Legolas to withdraw in mild irritation. Deor only growled sharply under his breath in annoyance and grabbed a handful of Legolas' hair, jerking the Elf's head closer so that he could get his hands on the prince's braids. Yanking the tie that held the largest of the three, he allowed it to fall about the captive's shoulders, concealing the smaller two by mistake. But that was only a minor problem that was soon set right when he swished the Elf's long hair to the side with a swipe of his hand and then, forcefully freed the smaller two on either side of Legolas' head, so that the full length of his hair was exposed.
Glaring like a livid feline, the Elf sighed in exasperation, barely able to be grateful that this was all they were doing so far. He had a feeling that Deor was afraid to actually cross Ceorl and that his boss wanted him in one piece still.
Deor grabbed another long lock of Legolas' hair, ruthlessly pulling it taut so that it drew against his scalp, forcing him to flinch slightly. Placing the extremely sharp blade of his knife that he had retrieved from the floor, beneath the golden strands, Deor applied pressure. A cold smile bloomed on his face and the laughter of the men echoed through Legolas' ears and mind as the blade severed through his hair. Deor didn't stop there but proceeded to another lock and another cut and from there went on to the rest of Legolas' once long and beautiful hair.
Soon there was eight to nine inches taken off all the way around and Legolas was forcing back a flush of humiliation. He would never live this down, which, he realized, might not matter too much because he wouldn't get the chance to live very long anyway.
The laughs of the men were the hardest thing to bear and then he saw Doer step back and observe his handiwork with pride and satisfaction. The more his grin broadened the redder Legolas' cheeks became. He was unable to prevent it and the prince wished he could become invisible and from there just curl up and die. The men holding his shoulders inadvertently dug their fingers deeper into joints and skin as they laughed uncontrollably, deepening Legolas' hot flush.
"Not so pretty now, hey, Legolas?" Deor taunted, realizing that this had upset the Elf very much whether the immortal had admitted it or not. But, Deor told himself, the Elf still had a lingering beauty that seemed to hover around him and with his hair cut it only seemed to serve to make his blue eyes glow ten times as bright, making them look much more virulent in his anger.
His smile fading, Deor stepped over to the side of the prince and none too carefully, gripped the delicate pointy tip of one of Legolas' ears, pleased when the Elf attempted to withdraw from the man's tightening grip. "They say an Elf's ear is the most sensitive part of their body," he mused openly, watching as Legolas suddenly seemed to shrink into himself.
Legolas' face went noticeably pale and his eyes grew wide in a sort of helpless terror. He would take a beating and being cut with knives over this any time. He knew the pain this would create would receive nothing short of a scream from his throat and a cold chill clattered up and down his spine. He was barely able to restrain an involuntary shudder, but he knew the man felt his tensed muscles. This was not something that Legolas could hide.
He managed to demand heatedly in his near panic, "Do not touch me!" He didn't care too much for Ceorl but at the moment he was fairly missing the human.
"You would feel so much better in our company Legolas if you simply looked like us," Doer explained, as though that should be reason enough for this, even if they were friends which they obviously were not.
"Release my ear, human," Legolas tone had taken a desperate and lethal ring as he tried to intimidate them into letting him be. Glaring caustically around his shortened hair that had slipped into his eyes, the Elf looked almost like he might actually bite somebody at any given moment.
"Legolas, you are in no position to be giving orders," the chestnut haired human reminded him in an agitated tone, not wanting to delay the fun any longer, like an anxious, spoiled child during a holiday.
"You are in no position to be touching me," Legolas answered bitterly, trying once more to pull away and with no success. Finding that he was trapped, Legolas resisted the urge to blanch and instead threatened adamantly, "Your leader would have your hide on the walls of this cave if you touched me."
Deor paused, slowly looking Legolas in the eye in deliberate manner. The ecstasy of the men around them seemed to cease as their second in command's distress passed through them as well. "Legolas," he said slowly, as though wearily. "You know nothing of Ceorl and his plans."
Deor was so intent on staring Legolas down that he didn't notice the men parting all around him as though they were butter being cleaved with a knife. He especially didn't hear their anxious murmurs or see the reflection in Legolas' eyes of someone coming up behind.
"And apparently you do not either, Deor," spat an all too familiar voice and Legolas watched as the colour drained from the chestnut-haired man's face as the human struggled to hold his surprise in check.
Yielding his grip on Legolas' ear, knocking Legolas' head against the wall slightly as he did so, the man spun around to meet his leader. His defiant, cool facial expression had morphed into one of apologies and near remorse. Ceorl had returned sooner than expected.
Ceorl at least was pleased that Deor wasn't denying anything or arguing or even worse –trying to explain things. He had simply stopped what he was doing.
Legolas shook his head ever so slightly, trying to gradually relieve it of the pulsing pain. It had almost been gone, or at least been unnoticed, but the contact his head had made with the rough stone had refuelled it once more. Blinking, he took a keen interest in the two men before him.
Ceorl looked at the golden locks of hair that littered the floor and kicked one with his boot. Glancing at Legolas with an indifferent expression, he then turned his gaze back to the men. "Well, you had your fun tonight." Deor just bowed his head deferentially, sheathing his knife and then shooting Legolas a hateful and covert glare.
The prince merely twisted his face away in refusal to acknowledge the gesture, putting up his nose in protest.
"Deor, I want you to go and lay some snares around the place, just in case we have company." Ceorl's voice was commanding and yet soft. The chestnut-haired man didn't question it but scuttled out in a hurry to do the other man's bidding.
Turning to Legolas, the blonde commander snapped his hand back and cracked Legolas across the face. Legolas cried out softly at the abrupt assault. There was no way the Elf could have braced himself for it. The sound of the man's hand connecting with his cheek seemed to echo through the cave and all the men turned from where they had been walking away and stared for a few moments before leaving their commander to his work.
"Legolas, were there any others with you and Thorongil that I haven't seen? Don't you lie to me, unless you want to resume with me what Deor had been thoughtful enough to start." The warning was severe and Legolas blinked, wondering what had provoked such a question from this human. It certainly didn't make sense in his mind.
Straightening himself up against his bonds and the rock that he was attached to, the Elf answered honestly even though he didn't expect to be believed. "No. None at all." His voice was soft and his own curiosity was unmistakable, if one was willing to listen.
Ceorl was not willing to listen. He had already made up his mind and there was precious little that Legolas could do to change it.
Sighing, the prince knew this as soon as the man shook his head and opened his mouth. It was the same old story and Legolas was so tired of them that he could spit but all that he did was clench his jaw and steel himself for the human's response.
Ceorl frowned angrily, perhaps in frustration. "Legolas, you know your friend will be here soon. Before tomorrow, actually." His frown darkened with his eyes and turned into an all-out scowl, like the look of murky and ominous clouds before the breaking of a storm. "He isn't working alone and his helpers aren't Rohirrim."
Legolas couldn't say he knew a thing about what Ceorl spoke. "There was no one else, human. What is so hard about that phrase that you can't understand?" He pressed his back further against the wall, trying to take some of the pressure from his aching wrists by finding another means to support his body. He could no longer feel his fingers.
Ceorl just growled under his breath. "Legolas, the others…three of them are Elven. That means that they came from Mirkwood, where I know you came from."
Legolas shook his head, prepared to clear up this misunderstanding that was so commonly made by humans. "No, it doesn't. There are many Elven realms. Mine is one of many." There as no use denying that he had come from Mirkwood. That had been told earlier. And anyway, his name didn't seem to mean overly much to this man.
"You lie," Ceorl hissed, his patience quickly waning. He had never been a patient man and in especially now he was no exception. His bloodied arm was still cradled but with his other one he proceeded to slap Legolas again, knocking his face back against the rock and opening an abrasion on his temple.
But he didn't stop there and when the Elf had scarcely recovered he shot his hand out, grasping Legolas' throat and pressing his fingers into the Elf's windpipe, nearly collapsing the narrow tunnel.
Legolas had received no breath before hand and he jerked back frantically but was unable to dislodge the man's iron grip, no matter how he twisted. He could feel his lungs begging for oxygen that he couldn't give them and his muscles began to jerk as he struggled with the death hold. His hands clenched tightly above his head so that their knuckles turned white and desperately, Legolas kicked his bound feet together in an attempt to wedge them against the man and pry him free.
All attempts were futile and Legolas was quickly becoming exhausted, with no way to replenish the non-existent supply of oxygen in his lungs. Soft, filmy black material was sliding around the edges of his eyes, gradually seeping in towards the centre, obscuring his vision and blinking did nothing to dispel it. His mouth was opening and closing convulsively in a frantic attempt to gulp down any amount of air.
Ceorl watched as Legolas struggles became weaker and weaker and his eyes began to turn glassy as the light bled out of their depths. The prince's face was turning from a purplish colour to white…
Ceorl relinquished his death-hold and it was all Legolas could do to breathe again.
While Legolas strove to re-teach his lungs what it meant to breathe, the blonde man growled, "Now, they came from Mirkwood, who else is with them? What is their goal? Do they know you are missing?"
Managing to clear his head somewhat, Legolas answered tartly, "Why don't you go and ask them?" He didn't understand what this man was talking about and he was becoming frustrated as well as afraid. He couldn't tell the man things that he didn't know and if he made them up he would be in worse trouble.
Ceorl grabbed Legolas' jaw, painfully constricting his fingers around it so that they bit and bruised his skin despite the riding glove on the man's hand. Forcing Legolas' chin up so that the prince was forced to lock eyes with him, the human glared angrily. "Legolas, you are at the edge of the world now, there is no help for you here. You claim not to have answers but I know better. Three dark-haired Elves and you can't tell me anything about them?" he asked incredulously, giving Legolas' chin a downward thrust as he released it. "You are a liar."
For a split second understanding dawned on Legolas and a look of comprehension flickered across his fair face. He was unable to disguise it in time to hide the fact that he knew something now, whether he had before or not and Ceorl smiled coldly.
/The twins and Rothinzil! Valar, they would venture out to do something like this, wouldn't they? I cannot let them fall into this trap. It is bad enough Aragorn is going to walk right into it for me, but not them too./
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Aragorn was scared, scared of losing everything.
There was a heavy weight of helplessness that was tearing at his heart knowing that he was coming close to reaching his friend and on the other hand having no idea what would happen next. His heart reminded him that the Elf was alive but he knew that Legolas could not possibly be well.
He had asked himself what he would ever do if Legolas died… just once he had dared the question. The answer had been immediate. He would be incomplete. He couldn't go forward with life and simply forget about the Elf and he couldn't remember Legolas without forcing himself to be incomplete and broken.
Looking out desolately at the boulders and other jumbled rocks that were overgrown with grass, the man knew that this was it. Here was where he knew they had taken his friend, probably for the fortification and security of the caves that lined the area. Caves… Legolas hated caves.
Not prepared to leave his friend in the dark and having no intention of doing any such thing to begin with, Aragorn started to press forward.
There was a series of three twangs and the man pulled his horse still, his heart beat increasing steadily as the silence around him even seemed ominous. Three arrows were embedded up to their feathers in a small knoll close by and he stared curiously in the direction the shots had come from.
The human's jaw dropped and he felt himself shaking all over. "Elladan," he breathed, almost falling from his horse' back in his shock. "Elrohir… Rothinzil!"
The three Elves had finally managed to catch up to Legolas and Aragorn's trail and shouldering their bows, they rushed forward.
Aragorn dismounted as fast as he knew how and ran, meeting them halfway. Elladan embraced him first, coddling the human, whom he considered to be his youngest brother, against him in a warm hug. Feeling Aragorn bury his face in his tunic, Elladan gave a quiet chuckle that soon ceased as he noticed what Elrohir and Roth had noticed almost immediately.
The ranger's shoulders were shaking and it wasn't from any form of laughter. The man was crying. Glancing around worriedly, the elder Elf missed seeing Legolas' face and sighed heavily, easing himself gently away from Aragorn and allowing him a better look around. Where was that Wood-Elf?
A sickening feeling pulled at the centre of his stomach and he and Elrohir exchanged sorrowful glances before the silence was ruptured by Rothinzil's crestfallen voice. "But he is around somewhere? Isn't he?" The dejected expression mingled with disbelief that filled Roth's eyes tore at Aragorn's already lacerated heart as he realized he couldn't tell Rothinzil "yes".
Looking away, Aragorn walked slowly over to stand beside Elladan, who was staring intently at their surroundings as if it would explain everything. "I lost him, Elladan. We were so close to coming home and I…I wanted to help the Rohirrim. Mordor is giving them trouble and they are having trouble from within. I thought…I thought that Legolas and I could change things… The orcs…" Aragorn drew a deep breath that he knew would be required to bring him to say what he was about to. "The orcs captured him but they didn't keep him. Someone else has him."
No one said anything at first. No one had to. They all knew the gravity of the situation without a single word between them.
Roth's face had gone white, as though some deep wound had drained his blood from his body. Fearing that the mortal Elf wouldn't be able to stand on his own for much longer and that the distressing news was taking its toll, Elrohir placed an assuring hand on the other's arm and squeezed gently. Roth accepted the solace it offered, even though at the moment all he desired was to be alone. He knew his friend's intentions and they were well enough and he didn't want to hurt Elrohir's feelings.
Elladan simply looked as though he had been punched in the gut and he nodded in understanding. "How long ago was this?" He knew it couldn't have been more than a day or so ago. "We have been hard on your trail for some time, Estel… -ur Thorongil," he corrected, trying to build up the habit while in Rohan, understanding this to be Aragorn's pseudo name.
"It was just last night," Aragorn answered softly, feeling relief washing through him now that his brothers were here. He didn't feel so helpless anymore even if he still felt sick. Suddenly he noticed Elladan's firm and inquiring look and the man furthered his explanations. "We were passing through Rohan, when some Rohirrim came and surrounded us -King Thengel himself." He mentioned nothing of Legolas man handling, fearing to set Elladan's anger off too soon and that the older Elf wouldn't listen to him. Cautiously, Aragorn completed, "They were having trouble with the Dark Lord. He wants their darker horses… they refused. Now they are paying the price. I want to help them and I thought I could. Legolas wanted to go home. I told him he should… he wouldn't leave-"
"Did you expect him to?" Roth cut in brutally, irritated and feeling like his heart had been torn from his chest and stomped flat. When Aragorn merely shook his head and cast a set of guilty and almost wet eyes on him, Roth just scowled and lashed out verbally, "He is your best friend! He would die for you! And you knew he would follow you into a dragon's throat if you led him there!"
Aragorn winced under the harsh accusations, blanching as he realized that he might have taken advantage of their friendship, even if it hadn't been his intent. Elladan came to his brother's defence, glaring daggers at Roth.
"Rothinzil stop this. Estel could never have predicted any of this! You know that! Now let him finish!" the older twin demanded, forgetting to use Aragorn's alias in the heat of the situation. Feeling Aragorn's distress, he subconsciously stepped between the human and Rothinzil. He knew that the dark-haired warrior wasn't angry with Estel but considering the circumstances, but he also knew that Aragorn was going to bear the brunt of it nevertheless.
Aragorn took this opportunity to finish his explanations even if they were more hurried than before. "We were heading towards Snowbourn and were intercepted by orcs. They set fire to the grass and Legolas was captured and maybe even wounded. The fire absorbed all sounds and I never knew until it was too late. But I followed and discovered something strange." All eyes were on him now, but he didn't notice and his heart raced in excitement and fear for his friend. "He was traded off to some men I think… Rohirrim traitors perhaps."
Elladan openly shook his head while Elrohir verbally objected, "Are you sure? The Rohirrim are a proud and honest people."
Aragorn conceded the point with a nod but then quickly wondered aloud. "What if not all of them are purely Rohirrim? If they had a score to settle with Rohan it would make sense that they would do it now, while the trouble seems to have been accredited purely to the Dark One."
Elladan still seemed disinclined to agree so easily. "How do you know it was Rohirrim men? It could have been others? What is it that makes you think he was exchanged?" He needed some more concrete evidence, despite the fact that Aragorn's word alone bore a lot of weight in his heart and mind. He trusted his brother immensely, more than anyone would ever understand, but this was all sounding improbable.
Aragorn looked up at Elladan with pleading eyes and he begged, not caring how he sounded. Things had become far too desperate for that. "Elladan, please, just trust me. You have to. I have learned a lot more about tracking in my time spent at war and I know what I saw. Please. Time is failing us."
Roth stood secluded from the others, arms folded and hood drawn about his face as he purposefully isolated himself, dealing with his frustrating grief the only way that felt feasible at the moment. He felt horrible for lashing out at Aragorn as he had but he had wanted to see Legolas come home. He knew that things were failing in Mirkwood and Legolas needed to be there for his father and his people and it made him angry that because of Aragorn the prince was staying away so long. It was bordering on four years.
Elladan looked at Elrohir with an almost blank expression, remaining stoic. Elrohir's composure and returned gaze retained about the same abundance of stoicism, but he walked over to where Roth had chosen self-seclusion, resembling a depressed recluse. Gripping the younger Elf's arm gently at the sleeve, he gingerly tugged at the warrior as a sign to come along.
Roth resisted for only a couple seconds before he realized he didn't really want to be alone…he just didn't want to be here. Clumsily, he trailed after the younger twin and continued at a slow paced walk behind the others with his cloak hugging him closely.
Aragorn had already relieved the horse of its job, knowing it would only give them away at this point as one could hear a horse miles away if you listened to the ground. It was a luxury and a risk that they could not afford and he was prepared to tote everything on his back if he had to if it meant receiving the vantage point. Besides, there was no point in having a horse because they weren't running away and they wouldn't be running back.
Suddenly he shivered as he watched his brothers' backs. They might not come back.
:0Ї0:
Deor watched curiously as the four figures crossed over the knolls, slinking as though one of the Nine was breathing down their necks and yet moving fast enough to cover a large amount of distance in a short time. He wasn't stupid and it was only obvious why they were heading this way. Who had thought two people, who had accidentally gotten caught up in these affairs could find allies and suddenly become even more of a problem without even trying?
He had only just gotten out and started setting the snares and unfortunately none of them had been placed just yet. There was only one option if he wanted to stop the three Elves and meddling human. It was their skin or his and he was just selfish enough to care less about their predicament.
There was only one problem. At the moment they were out of range of his long bow and most certainly his spears. He also had the common sense to know that in a hand to hand combat situation he would be outmanned and far out skilled.
But his orders were his orders. It would probably be better to kill the Elves and capture the ranger. They had no need for the Elves and he had already discovered that the best Elf was a dead Elf. If you didn't need them alive and you let them live you were buying yourself more trouble than you could pay for and if it had been up to him, dear Legolas would have been dead a long time ago. After all, the ranger was only pursuing the Elf out of a false hope that Legolas could be alive. He had no idea for certain and as long as there was a possibility that Legolas lived, Deor was sure that the ranger would not give up the chase.
Growling angrily as he raised himself off his knees, the chestnut-haired human started his pursuit of the four at a light jog that soon turned into an all out sprint as he was forced to keep up with their fast pace. His father, a renowned hunter, had always told him that the prey set the pace of the chase. It was true.
:0Ї0:
It was not long before Deor had managed to get the upper hand on the situation. He could feel sweat trickling down the sides of his face and he frowned, gathering his breath as the four stopped, not to rest but to get their sense of direction and make sure they didn't miss a turn in the trail.
Retrieving his long bow of pure yew-wood from his back, the man smiled wickedly. Running his fingers along the string, he checked its strength and decided that it was in prefect condition. His hands darted behind his back as he fetched a long and slender shaft with a small but lethal head at the end. Notching it, Deor drew the kisser of the bow as well as the feathered portion of the shaft along his cheek.
His eyes squinted as he took careful aim at one Elf's back and then, letting the air steadily out of his lungs, he released and the arrow cut through the air as the bow released with a twang. Not waiting to see the reaction of the panicked companions or where his shot landed, the man quickly extracted another arrow from his full quiver and prepared to shoot again.
Elladan lurched forward, crashing against Aragorn with a surprised and curious expression on his face. His eyes held the human's and he stood there on his own for a few seconds and then crumpled in his adoptive brother's arms like a dropped rag doll. His body was shaking and Aragorn caught him. "Elladan?" he asked his older brother in shock, not understanding until he saw the shaft stick out of Elladan's back.
Gaping for a moment, it took Aragorn a couple of seconds to understand how lucky Elladan had actually been that the arrow had not hit his spine and severed it in two. All the same, it had only missed it by a couple inches at the most and there was no saying that the son of Elrond would live, even if he was in the most capable hands.
His brother's blood flooded over his hand and Aragorn felt the heat of it against his chest. The arrow had gone through to the other side.
Elrohir came over, clumsily shoving Aragorn away and gathering up Elladan all at once. There were tears brimming in his confused and bright grey eyes that broke Aragorn's heart. He had only seen Elrohir cry once or twice and never like this. Elladan connected his filming eyes with Elrohir's dreamily, as though he still didn't understand, which was true. He had no idea what had hit him.
Blinking, Aragorn staggered away from the scene, staring at the blood on his hands only to hear another abrupt cry and out of the corner of his eye a shape fell to the earth, clutching at his shoulder. "Rothinzil!" Aragorn yelled, hardly realizing he had even opened his mouth.
The dark-haired warrior merely gasped, his eyes registering both pain and horror. Staring into the wide hazel eyes, Aragorn could tell the Elf was asking for help but Aragorn seemed rooted to the spot. His friends and family were being shot but no one had even attempted to end his life.
Rushing to Roth's assistance, the ranger kneeled by his side, gently but quickly prying the Elf's long and bloodied fingers away form the shoulder wound. "It isn't bad Roth. You'll be all right. Just relax and slow your heart beat down." Experienced in healing, Aragorn knew that the Elf needed to level his heartbeat and slow his blood flow from the wound.
Roth complied, knowing Aragorn's capabilities and trusting them. Staring past the ranger , he whispered, "Strider, that sniper is after us, not you. He had some good shots at you and he didn't-"the Elf's words were broken off as Aragorn pushed the arrow through and then extracted it in a brief moment of intense pain. Roth's fingers clawed up grass as he suppressed a cry of ardent agony. "He wants you alive," the dark-haired warrior finished breathlessly.
He tried to struggle up, just as stubbornly as Legolas might have but Aragorn didn't have to expend too much effort to restrain him. Pressing his hands against Roth's good shoulder and his chest, the man demanded, "Stay on the ground. You are safer. He may think you are dead."
Roth complied reluctantly, not liking the feeling of uselessness that was creeping over him. For a moment he contemplated disobeying the minute Aragorn's back was turned but his thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
Elrohir was still cradling Elladan when the shaft struck him; throwing his brother from his grasp and slamming the younger brother forward almost over top the other. Elladan looked around rapidly, his eyes clouded with pain and his breathing shallow and sporadic. When he saw Elrohir's face crumple as a shaft buried itself in his back, snapping against the younger Elf's scapula, Elladan suddenly felt sick. He couldn't tell if the tears shimmering in his younger brother's eyes were because he had been shot or because Elrohir was in agony. It was probably both.
Elrohir, realizing his wound had not been fatal, forced himself to move past the sharp and blazing pain in his shoulder and struggled to get off of Elladan, afraid he would do his brother more harm. It felt as though his shoulder blade had been shattered but he could still move his arm with relative ease if he ignored his pain and the tenderness of the muscles surrounding it. Hot blood oozed around the arrow and soaked into his tunic and cloak.
Elladan saw what Elrohir was doing and grabbed his arm desperately. "No. Don't move. He will shoot again and this time you may not be so lucky." The older twin closed his eyes shortly, trying to suppress the agony coursing through his body in shocking waves. Opening them again after a moment, he sought Aragorn, who was crouched low beside him obviously preparing to extricate the arrow from his back.
Placing a shaking, white hand over Aragorn's, Elladan murmured, "You must leave us here-"
"At the mercy of a man who is wholly bereft of it?" Aragorn asked incredulously, not even looking at his brother.
"Yes. Estel, Legolas needs you. If you don't make it back to him, not one of us will. My heart tells me this: that if you are captured he will die and so will you." Elladan's voice was raspy and low, as though he was being strangled in a noose and a cold sweat pooled on his brow even as the colour left this lips.
Aragorn saw a clear picture of all this before everything sort of blurred and merged. A tear fell from his face and splashed against Elladan's white cheek and he choked back a sob, shoulders shaking as he knew his brother was right. Elladan forced his eyes to remain open.
"I can't, Elladan. I can't leave you here…"
"But you can't leave Legolas with them. He fears men, Estel –or at least their darker sides. He is alone. Don't leave him there for me or any of us. Bring him home. All is going badly in Mirkwood."
"Elladan…" Aragorn didn't mean to drag this on, but he didn't know how to let his brother go. He didn't want to trust to fate…it was too unpredictable and cruel.
Elladan murmured gently as he slowly shut his eyes, "You have learned almost everything in your journey. You have grown, little brother. But you still don't know how to say goodbye."
Aragorn didn't even bother to blink back further tears but let them spill, falling like rain onto Elladan's pasty face before running down it. The elder twin opened his eyes again at their cold, wet touch and splatter, staring up into Aragorn's face with a serene expression. He loved that human more than the man would ever know and right now he wished more than ever that he could find the right words to say.
Elrohir just looked at Estel with a promise in his eyes. "I won't let him die, Estel. This I swear by my grandfather's star." He suddenly shifted his gaze to behind Aragorn where Roth was, seeing the Elf laying still on the grass, his eyes staring up at nothing. "Is he-"
Aragorn cut his brother off. "No. He is merely pretending." Grabbing Elrohir's hand, ignoring how Elladan's blood made his grip slippery at best, the man begged with is eyes before he spoke. "Promise me that you all will live through this. Promise me, Elrohir!"
Elrohir nodded shakily, anxious to see Aragorn on his way before that archer arrived to see his handiwork. "Yes –yes I promise. Now go, before we are all caught!" he implored the ranger desperately.
Aragorn held Elrohir's gaze for a moment longer before he turned his face away, ripping himself away from his brothers and Rothinzil. He had to go. Time was too precious to waste and swallowing back any misgivings and horror he felt about the situation, Aragorn began to run towards the direction they had decided on heading before Elladan had been shot down. A look of desperation and determination blended in his eyes and on his face while the wind of his speed whipped his unkempt hair back behind his neck.
Suddenly the man was bowled over, tumbling head over heals down the small knoll and winding up flat on his back with the wind having escaped his lungs. Gasping a short breath, the man didn't know what had hit him.
Deor saw his vantage point and drew his sword, tossing his spear and bow idly to the side and standing before the ranger with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Ceorl wants you alive. He wants you and the Elf to die together, so you can look into each other's face and read the failure in both of your eyes before they close forever."
Aragorn's eyes became lit as though with fire at the mention of his friend's captivity. Stumbling up without a second thought, the ranger drew his sword and assumed a defensive stance. "Legolas is coming home with me!" He snarled savagely, ready to deal out death to anything that got in his way.
"Oh yes," Deor sneered malevolently, as he prepared to fight the ranger and drag him to their lair. "You will both be going home…to your final home. Ceorl has plans and he can't afford your interference. I doubt that if he let you both go you would simply ignore the situation here, as does he."
Aragorn didn't respond, not having time to pay any heed to the man's presumptuous goading. Raising his blade, he prepared for Deor to make this first move but it was an agony to wait out the seconds that seemed hours. He had a sinking feeling that Legolas needed him desperately right at this exact moment and here he was, fighting a traitor and a madman.
Roth, having raised himself up from the ground, glanced over at Aragorn with narrowed eyes that were slightly glassed over in pain. Identifying the problem, a small growl rose in the Elf-warrior's throat as he realized this human was getting in the way of his friend and of his prince's rescue.
Despite his agonizing pain and the stiff feeling seeping into the joint of his shoulder, Roth reached for his bow that had miraculously remained unbroken and on his back along with his quiver, which was still plentiful. Grasping the smooth, pliable wood, he swung it free, and then reached for an arrow.
Every movement was an agony to his upper body and he hissed softly between his clenched teeth. Notching the arrow into the string, he willed an unsteady peace throughout his body as he pulled the shaft back and lined up the chestnut-haired man in his sights. Releasing his air seconds before the projectile, the dark-haired Elf let the shaft fly.
Aragorn stared at Deor with a curious expression as the other human stumbled forward, his feet fumbling beneath him and an astonished look locked on his lifeless face. One large bubble made purely of blood blew through his mouth and then it burst, crimson running down his chin.
Collapsing forward, Deor lay still on his face, a brown and green projectile in his back, piercing through into his heart of cold stone. Shocked, Aragorn barely remembered to sheath his sword.
Stepping backward, away from the corpse, Aragorn's eyes sought out his killer and saw Roth, standing shakily and making his way awkwardly towards the twins, who looked rather satisfied and vindicated by the death of their would-be assassin.
Elrohir was obviously ignoring his own wound; which had not even been tended to yet. He had rolled Elladan onto his back and was feeling around the arrow, figuring out the best possible strategy to extract the projectile.
Having a sudden feeling of peace that seemed to radiate from his brothers and friend, the ranger smiled softly but without amusement, turning away and pelting through the grass into the direction he knew they had taken his friend. In the back of his mind a small cry for help was forcing its way to the front of his thoughts, a call from Legolas that touched his consciousness. It was almost as though they were connected and he could feel the Elf's distress pulsing through his thoughts without relent. Then, came the start of a headache of sympathy,and he was sure that he could feel Legolas' pain.
TBC….
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