Well, here is chapter five! And all you Aragorn angst fans…he finally gets into MAJOR trouble (and things will only escalate from there)! LOL There are two people we would like to thanks: Our beta, Nyctea Scandiaca! She is wonderful! And Marie Delcore, a dear friend who wrote the little lyrics we inserted. She didn't want us to give her credit but…LOL
I Will Always Return
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CHAPTER FIVE
What if Our Places Were Reversed?
The stars
Are dying as I sing
Obscured by Darkness
Behind Death's Raven wings
-By Marie Delcore
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The Elf was singing softly under his breath in low melodic tones, trying to provide some comfort in the darkness that was only broken by the sudden flashes of lightning, which died too quickly. The boy sitting next to him leaned back against the wall a few feet away from Legolas, appreciative of the singing and allowed it to start lulling him to sleep. His eyelids were heavy and he knew that Legolas wasn't going to try to escape; his wrists would be shredded if he thrashed around too much in those rough manacles.
Sighing, Legolas stared out with large eyes into the darkness of the cave. There were no campfires burning anymore and the air had turned cold from the ravaging storm that was still raging outside. The thunder often droned out Legolas gentle song but the Elf was beyond really caring and continued singing anyway. He shivered every now and then when the wind whipped into the cave and the cold air of it smashed against his exposed torso. Being an Elf he normally didn't get cold this easily, but his immune system along with the many other problems with his health were leaving him almost drained of resistance.
He still had a soft glow emitting from his skin, his inner light expanding outward, but it was less than it had once been and still had not fully recovered from Harad. Held in the darkness of this cave with these cruel men, it was dying again. He could feel it fading. Legolas stopped his singing for a moment, smiling slowly and splitting his broken lip accidentally in the process. Idly licking the blood, he remembered when the sun had set and the men had been fascinated by the light that had radiated in small doses from his figure. However, it had been the boy sitting next to him who had asked about it, undaunted by the difference in their race even if he was a bit wary.
Everything was quiet for a moment and even the thunder seemed to have reached an uncharacteristic lull. Legolas looked at the cave mouth where he could hear water tumbling from the lip of it, creating a small waterfall, but he could not see it. Picking up his soft song again, Legolas began to hum it, tired of articulating the words.
Apparently, even if the boy was appreciative, the men were not and there was a low, severe growl, "Shut your racket, Elf! If I have to come over there…" his voice slurred in sleep and he fell back into his dreams.
Not caring to stir up anymore trouble this night, Legolas sighed tiredly once moreand contented himself to being silent. Shifting in his manacles to try and relieve the throbbing pain in his wrists and back and causing the chain to clink rather loudly, he heard the light sleeping human snarl, "I told you to shut up, Elf!" His voice sounded more malicious this time and Legolas held still, laying his head against the wall between his bound arms. He wasn't going to look for trouble, especially with a grumpy human that hated him when he was in a good mood.
He was fast becoming frustrated enough to bash his head back against the stone that chilled his back. His hands should be freezing as well, except he had long ago lost feeling in them again. The cuffs enclosing his wrists were just too tight.
Closing his eyes, he knew he would get no sleep, but that wasn't why he was closing them. He wanted to shut out the storm, the dark, the cold, the metal, the men… everything. He wanted to return home, to old memories that he could never forget. Memories of what his life had been less than five years ago.
Thinking of his father and remembering suddenly when he was little and first taught to shoot an arrow and his father had been bursting with pride. With a shameful half-smile, Legolas recalled the time that his mother had tried not to grin at him as she chided him for eating honey cakes right before dinner. Legolas remembered that she had cuffed him gently on the back of the head and threatened to send him to bed without his supper because he had known better and was probably full of honey cakes anyway.
He suddenly found himself feeling so homesick that he was becoming physically ill. He missed his soft bed and cosy, but spacious bedroom and the warm blankets that he pulled over his head when he was too lazy to get up and close the window in the cold of night. He missed having his father coming in, stripping the blankets from the bed and reminding him of the late hour he had managed to get away with sleeping into.
He supposed he wouldn't ever have any of those experiences again and that now they were little more than memories. He had finally discovered a road that led to nowhere.
The boy opened his eyes next to the Elf and chanced a glance at him as the lightning lit up the close quarters of the cave. Legolas was shivering slightly and the boy frowned thoughtfully, watching as the white flash ended and the darkness flooded between them once more, obscuring his sight. He suddenly became guiltily aware of his much too large overcoat and the layers of tunic beneath. Legolas had less than this.
Quietly, the child slipped off the overcoat and scooting closer to Legolas, he waited for the next flash of lightning to reveal the Elf's form before he hesitantly laid the coat across Legolas' exposed torso. He wasn't sure what the Elf's reaction would be, but he didn't much care. He wanted to help and he knew the captive needed it.
Legolas jumped in surprise, having been lost in memories and when he realized it was only a coat, he cast a surprised and mildly annoyed look in the boy's direction. This was just like something Estel would have done when he was younger. He still did actually. The boy looked a little fearfully at the Elf, even though he knew that Legolas was effectively chained to the rock face. "You were shivering. I have to keep you alive," he answered truthfully, struggling with the feelings of kindness that opposed the bitterness he had felt for a long time.
Legolas couldn't see the boy in the dark but he knew that it was done for more than merely keeping him alive. Sighing, he whispered gently, "Et is a cold night. You need it." If this boy was half as stubborn as Aragorn then arguing with him would be completely futile and Legolas had to admit he was grateful for the warmth it provided. However, he still felt that the child needed it more. "What would your father say?" he asked in a low whisper.
He heard the boy hold his breath in frightened thought. He wouldn't infuriate his father, not over this. True, he cared about the Elf, but his father was not a person he wanted to face when angry… again. He had learned very early that Ceorl was not the sort of person that you tried to manipulate or undermine in any form. And he had been painfully aware of what his father had thought of him since his birth.
"Take it back," Legolas commanded softly. He didn't want an innocent to suffer for him… it was bad enough that Aragorn was coming and was out there somewhere waiting for a chance to throw caution to the wind and attempt to sneak in and get them both back out. He would never be able to get these manacles open, good lock-picking skills or not.
He could feel the child's hesitation; even though the boy had already been assured that it was alright. Slowly, the boy reached out a shaking hand and pulled the cloak from the Elf, leaving Legolas exposed to the cold once more.
He took in a quick, deep breath, almost moaning when his ribs protested earnestly.
A growl from the same grumpy man that had threatened Legolas earlier, warning the two in a few barely lucid words that they had better stop gabbing. Legolas felt indignant. The snoring and thunder were altogether much louder than Legolas and the child could ever be at a whisper.
A particularly loud clap ricocheted off the walls and caused Legolas to wince as he shook his sensitive ears. Several more like it followed and he flinched each time, wishing his hands were free to cover up his ears.
As the thunder rang inside his head, other memories he had forgotten years ago surfaced and he wanted to cry. His father used to hold him close and rock him during storms like this when he was a small Elfling. He wished the older Elf was here now, protecting him, letting him bury his face in his robes and hiding from everything for just a short time… just one minute.
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Aragorn crouched just outside the cave entrance, concealed easily by the dark and tall grass. Rain poured off his hood in cascading waterfalls, distorting his vision. He stared at the ground for a minute, relieving his cloak of the water building inside its creases. Lifting his head, he glanced at the cave opening through narrowed eyes. He knew that Legolas was in there, but unfortunately the lightning didn't provide the light needed to discover the Elf and if he was going to attempt a rescue it was going to have to be in the blackness of the storm.
Sighing, he pulled his cloak tighter about himself as the rain was driven mercilessly around and against him. It found its way in the cloak, soaking his clothes, but Aragorn didn't care. He was too intent on his errand and ignored everything else.
Biting his lower lip, he decided that Legolas had been alone long enough already and that despite the risk of the storm and of getting caught, he was going to get that Elf out of there or die trying. He couldn't stand waiting here, shivering, and thinking of Legolas being cold, miserable, in pain and bound somewhere in there. He had not forgotten the crimson he had seen in the bucket and he was sure that it was not from one of the Rohirrim.
If Legolas had bled enough to completely stain a bucket full of water to a dark red then he was inevitably weak. What ever these men had done to his friend, Aragorn knew that they had been brutal and merciless about carrying it out, something that made his blood boil to merely think about it.
His resolve hardened and he knew that he could not wait any longer. Legolas needed him right now and he wasn't going to leave the Elf alone another minute nor let him be harmed any more than he already was. He felt bile rising in his throat as he guessed randomly at the many ways that they could have spilled that much of Legolas' blood.
Standing up, Aragorn knew that getting past the cave entrance would be simple enough. These men had not thought to post sentries on a night like this, most likely supposing that no soul was stupid enough to be out wandering in this weather. Or maybe, thinking that no one posed a threat who might be trailing them, which made Aragorn wonder if they knew he was around and were prepared.
It didn't matter. Sooner or later he was going to have to clash with them if he sincerely wished to get Legolas back and the sooner the better, at least for Legolas' sake.
Drawing a deep breath, Aragorn placed one foot in front of the other, stepping into the shadow of the cavern and continued silently a few more feet. By setting his foot on the ground heel first and slowly rolling it down along the side of his foot until his entire foot connected with the ground, he made very little noise if any. Aragorn had learned long ago how to become avoid discovery when he needed to and he was using that knowledge to aid him now.
He suddenly felt a thrill of fear stab through him. He had seen Legolas covered in blood and tortured before but then he had watched it happen and had known for the most part what he would see. This time everything was a nasty surprise. He didn't want to see Legolas writhing in pain somewhere or see his face hollow and his eyes wide in fear. Aragorn didn't want to feel his heart break at the sight.
Aragorn had gained a few yards now, but he knew he was heading into the clusters of sleeping men and if he brushed against or stepped on one then it would be finished. He would die or be kept with Legolas and escape would be much harder or even impossible. Shivering against the cold, he knew that these sleeping men had created a formidable problem.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the inner portion of the cave. Aragorn had been staring straight ahead into the darkness, wondering how far the cave went back. However, as the lightning had flickered in and filled the room with a mild white–blue light, he had seen Legolas' lithe form.
The ranger's breath was momentarily lost and he almost stumbled forward a few steps onto the sleeping man in front of him, ready to run to his friend's side. Gaping, he suddenly snapped his jaw shut angrily and seeing a strange sort of path in the light of another flash of lightning, he stepped over the sleeping human in front of him. The men slept in almost a complete cluster but by fate or design, they had left a small, narrow path of sorts that would be easy for the ranger to traverse without waking someone, providing that he didn't make a sound.
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Legolas had finally begun to doze off, his eyes shut and his head lay back between his chained arms, leaning against one of them. His breathing still hitched every now and then but for the most part was one of an uneasy sleeper. The boy was awake beside him, watching the mouth of the cave idly. He couldn't rest and his heart had been moved.
He had never before considered contradicting his father openly or rebelling against his evil actions and the inflictions made upon others. However, this time he didn't think he could remain silent and live with himself later. Legolas was so kind to him when he need not be and he could tell the Elf was suffering greatly but refusing to show it. That was to be commended and the boy knew it. Legolas had offered a name, an identity and selflessly turned down the overcoat thinking of the boy's benefit over his own without any hesitation. The fifteen-year-old had never met such a selfless person and was beginning to think he had missed out on a lot of the goodness of life.
Looking cautiously over at Legolas, the Elf was revealed during a flash of lightning and he saw the prince was still shivering and that his face was white with blood loss. Legolas' hands were shaking above his head with stress, pain and weakness.
Suddenly, glancing back at the cave mouth, he saw the figure of an intruder advancing towards them cautiously, avoiding the sleeping men. He stepped carefully around Ceorl's outstretched hand as the man slept. Having felt contented and secure with his plans beforehand, Ceorl had fallen into a deep and restful sleep.
The boy's heart caught in his throat and he subconsciously held his breath. It was true that this man had probably come for Legolas but he doubted that the man would differentiate him from a foe. Thorongil. That was who this was. Well, the fifteen-year old thought absentmindedly, his father had been right when he had said the captain wouldn't leave the Elf alone for long.
Aragorn was standing before them both in mere seconds, his eyes dark with anger at the sight of his maliciously abused friend. Staring at the boy and realizing that he wasn't going to sound any sort of alarm, Aragorn ignored him and crouched by Legolas' side.
Gently his hands traced the edges of Legolas' bruised face and he whispered encouragingly, "Legolas. Wake, mellon nîn." The prince's blue eyes fluttered open and his hands jerked impulsively in his chains as he woke up with a jolt, probably from a bad dream. Aragorn quickly reached up and grabbed them, holding them still to keep them from clinking. They couldn't afford to be discovered now.
His stomach felt sick as he felt how cold Legolas' hands were and the way they were shaking. He couldn't see the extent of Legolas' torment and injury in the darkness only broken by random flashes of light, but he didn't need to. He could read it in his friend's shivers and his shallow breathing. "Estel?" a tired voice whispered guardedly in a way that seemed entirely too loud in Aragorn's ears.
"Yes. It is I, Thorongil. I have come," Aragorn answered, trying to get the Elf to remember his alias. It worked.
The prince almost jolted. His voice was raspy and thin when he spoke next. "Did they get you too?" Aragorn couldn't miss the frightened tone and his hands bracketed the Elf's face gently so that the bruised cheeks were not offended.
"No. Not yet. I have come to free you," he murmured back. He felt moisture around the Elf's eyes and wiped it tenderly away with his thumbs. His friend was or had been crying.
There was an ominous silence between them. He felt Legolas swallow hard and removed his hands slowly from the prince's face, placing them on his knees. "Thorongil, you must leave. I will only slow you down and they want you dead." However, Legolas' suggestion was belied by the naked fear in his voice. He didn't want to die and he didn't want to be… be tortured and mutilated for the rest of his life.
The fifteen-year old listened in complete silence, observing the close friendship that was of a kind he had never seen before. It was intriguing and he wanted to learn more.
Aragorn shook his head so water spilled off his sopping hood. Ignoring that, he protested softly. "No. No mellon nîn, I cannot. I won't leave you in the dark here by yourself another minute. I would die for you rather than leave here alone. We have had this conversation already," he reminded firmly, wondering how it might be possible to pick the locks. Reaching up as Legolas argued, he felt the manacles and was angered to feel how they cut into Legolas' soft skin.
The boy perked up at this and shifted uneasily though he said nothing. Thorongil had not been here earlier. They could not have spoken thus. It was impossible.
"Yes, and you deliberately ignored me," Legolas pointed out, gritting his teeth and hissing quietly with a suppressed cry as Aragorn accidentally tugged at his cuffs a bit too harshly. The man apologized quickly and ceased his inspection for the time being, afraid to hurt the Elf again.
They didn't have much time but there was no way to pick these without a light. Even if they had the key it would probably be impossible. Sighing inaudibly in frustration, the ranger turned to the fifteen-year old boy and growled dangerously, "Where is the key?"
The boy choked up in fear, misunderstanding Aragorn's anger to be directed at him and he didn't answer. He was unable to find his voice.
Aragorn growled again, "Where is the key?" He was not blessed with the luxury of having patience considering the small window of time he had to free Legolas and so his voice was low but sharp.
Legolas gently intervened on behalf of his newer friend. "He has done me no harm, Thorongil. Leave him alone."
Aragorn reluctantly submitted to the prince's request and sat down quietly beside the Elf. He was not defeated, not yet, but there was nothing else he could do for the time being. It was too dark to get the prince free without causing him more pain and from the way he could feel the Elf trembling at his side, he knew that Legolas had been through enough. If getting him out of the shackles and out of harms way meant causing him more harm then Aragorn didn't have the heart for it. Besides, there had to be another way. There just had to be.
Legolas' voice lost some of its normally calm demeanour as he asked in disconcertion, "What are you doing?" His tone was unsteady and Aragorn reached upward, grabbing one of his freezing hands and holding it gently.
"Staying with you," he answered simply, preparing himself for the compilation of reasons why he was behaving like an idiot that he knew the Elf was capable of contriving on very short notice.
But Legolas was not himself. He gave no real reason other than one for his outbreak of uncharacteristic desperation but merely plead with Aragorn in a low and nearly inaudible voice. "You must leave! They will kill you! Right in front of me! Don't you understand? Can't you understand at all? That would be the worst torture for me to have to go through, even compared to what I know is coming!" Aragorn felt him shiver and shuffled consolingly closer to the prince, but was surprised when Legolas stiffened and tried to squirm away. "You. Have. To. Leave." Each word Legolas spoke was made into a sentence by emphasis.
Aragorn refused to listen and shook his head before whispering, "Never. Either we go home together or we don't go home at all. What has gotten into you to be acting so strangely?" he questioned, too tired to guess and too impatient to wait upon the evasive Elf. He knew that Legolas would avoid the subject for a considerable amount of time… forever if at all possible.
There was a heavy silence. Legolas answered at last, "They plan to sell me out to some man -yes, I think he is a man. I am not sure," he amended his thoughts as he spoke. "His name thus far has been Sharky. He means to keep me for… for… making a new breed of orc." Aragorn could feel the fear radiating from the Elf. Legolas had never been this afraid in Harad, even at the prospect of death because death was something he could handle. He would retain himself in death. To turn him into the thing he hated most by letting that thing cause him pain beyond the point of where it was capable of being borne was more than he could ask of the prince.
Aragorn didn't know what he could say that could comfort his friend at all. The only comfort would be in getting him free from the heavy threat of torment and death. Turning to look across Legolas even though he couldn't even see in the dark, he asked the boy impatiently, "Who has the key?" His voice was still a bit sharper than was necessary because of his own fear for his dearest friend.
The fifteen-year-old answered shakily, "My father." Legolas may trust this human, but he couldn't help but be afraid. After all, it was his father and people who had dared bring harm to the Elf. He didn't believe that could garner any love from Thorongil.
Aragorn's next question was predicted by Legolas beforehand and he interrupted quietly before ranger could finish. "Could you-"
"Do not ask that of him, Thorongil. It would prove fruitless and more trouble than it is worth." Legolas' murmured interjection was barely acknowledged by the desperate ranger, whose only thoughts were to get his closest friend free.
Aragorn didn't quite understand what Legolas was speaking of, but all his life he had trusted the Elf and if Legolas said it would only cause unnecessary trouble then he was obligated to believe him.
Aragorn rose to inspect Legolas' manacles once more through touch, just too see if he could identify at the least the type of mechanism of the lock. Just then there was a low grumble of irritation caused by a woken sleeper and the sound of the human staggering groggily to his feet. "I warned you about talking Elf…" the slurred threat bounced eerily off the walls between two claps of thunder. "You are going to get it… you are…"
Aragorn froze automatically as lighting hit directly outside the cave, making the Elf, boy and ranger flinch simultaneously. The light penetrated the cave with painful brightness, revealing everything, even minute crevices that were before unnoticeable. Aragorn suddenly found himself being gawked at by the barely awake man as though he had three heads and a barbed tail.
He stood there for a moment, observing the attempted prisoner escape before he remembered that he had a voice. Applying it liberally, he hollered at the top of his lungs, rushing over other sleeping or waking men to try and restrain the ranger.
Aragorn placed himself protectively between the angry men and Legolas, ready to go down fighting rather than allow any more harm to befall Legolas, who had taken as much as he could handle in one night. Besides, it wasn't Legolas' fault that he had come to try and rescue him and Aragorn would be damned if he would let his friend take the punishment for his actions. Taking a defensive stance, he chanced a glance back over at the Elf to see Legolas looking defiant but alarmed and irritated with what he was doing. It was obvious that the prince wished that he would escape.
The boy separated himself from them as he saw his father. Ceorl rose with a satisfied smirk on his face as a dozen crossbows were levelled on Thorongil and torches flared up. However, the blonde man's eyes narrowed when he saw his son and he growled out, "Why did you not raise an alarm?" He knew very well his son had allowed Aragorn in and he was not going to tolerate it.
The boy stammered in fear as a he shuffled grudgingly forward towards the others. "I-I-I-"
Aragorn relieved him of an answer. "I told him I would kill him. You have a good son. He does as he's told." The ranger feigned the incident, knowing that for some odd reason Legolas cared about the fate of the fifteen-year-old. The child must not be like the others, because Aragorn knew he was the only human the prince wholly trusted.
Ceorl seemed to accept the answer for now since there were more immediate problems at hand. Glaring at Legolas, he shook his head and 'tsked' under his breath. Clasping his hands behind his back, the human sauntered over until he was standing in front of Thorongil looking accusingly around the ranger at the captive. "You know I cannot let this go unpunished, don't you Legolas?" Legolas shifted uneasily, his pain from his other wounds suddenly flaring up in memory. "You tried to escape me," reasoned Ceorl all too calmly.
Thorongil glared at Ceorl through the coldest set of grey eyes the man had ever seen. He was forced to suppress a shiver as he read clearly that Thorongil would kill him one of these days. Well, he would make sure that the ranger was never given such a chance.
The ranger snarled fiercely, knowing perfectly well that he had nothing to lose. He was already submerged over his head in this and he meant to get deeper. "Do not TOUCH him, or you will answer to me." His hand went instinctively for his broadsword but he froze as the men closed in tighter with their crossbows, promising a swift death should he draw.
Ceorl smiled evilly and Legolas shivered, knowing they meant to kill his best friend. The nightmare he had feared would come true right before his eyes and he was not able to raise a finger to stop it. Helpless terror squeezed his heart.
"Surrender your weapons, Thorongil, and come forward," Ceorl demanded, holding out his hand expectantly to accept Thorongil's sword, quiver and arrows.
Legolas cried out to the ranger frantically, "No! Don't surrender! Fight, Thorongil! Fight!" His hands clenched above his head in their bonds as he twisted in them, ignoring his pain and struggling to get to Aragorn's side and support him. He knew it was futile but he couldn't help it. He felt the hot trickle of blood running down his arms as the metal cut into his wrists' vulnerable skin.
Aragorn didn't even turn around, but tried to calm the Elf kindly, "Peace, Legolas." His instincts were screaming at him to fight but he wasn't going to force Legolas to watch him die or get the Elf into more trouble.
Legolas' eyes had became wide as he realized that Aragorn was about to relinquish his weapons and give in for his sake. The prince's breath immediately accelerated and he insisted, "Thorongil! Don't you dare!"
Aragorn turned around as he was unbuckling his scabbard from his belt. Soothingly, he murmured, "Shhhhhh… please mellon nîn." He didn't want the prince to attract attention to himself, even if he already had about as much as he could get anyway.
Legolas became silent but he sparred with Ceorl in a baleful glare. The man merely grinned broader and walked closer to Thorongil, accepting all the ranger's weapons and passing them off to some of his eagerly helpful but groggy men. "Smart choice," he whispered, tilting his head pointedly over at Legolas. "I would hate to have to harm him further."
The archers continued to keep Aragorn in the sights of their bows and showed no sign of releasing their vigil any time soon. Aragorn had expected Legolas to look furious with him, or be glaring like a drenched cat, but the defeated expression in Legolas' blue eyes broke Aragorn's heart. It was entirely out of Legolas' character and a shiver ran up his spine.
A handful of Ceorl's men advanced towards the ranger with a length of rope, appropriately sized for binding the man's hands. Aragorn's muscles tensed as he openly showed that he was unwilling to be bound like that.
Ceorl sighed in annoyance. Side-stepping around the ranger, actually shoving Thorongil partially out of his path, the blonde man reached Legolas' side in less than two strides. Flicking open a knife that he had drawn from his boot, he examined it in the firelight tauntingly for a moment before slipping it behind Legolas' left ear's tip. Legolas flinched but was unable to withdraw as Ceorl pressed the delicate point threateningly against the blade.
Aragorn watched as Legolas closed his eyes, waiting to feel the excruciating pain that only an Elf could fully appreciate and know if the point was severed. Even though he wondered how Ceorl knew about the Elven weakness, Aragorn doubted that the man was bluffing and he held his hands outward, already pressed together. He was taking no chances with Legolas' wellbeing. Although, he did have to give Ceorl credit for his creativity. No one ever had threatened him with cutting off the tips of his best friend's ears before.
However, after he felt the ropes twining about his wrists and becoming uncomfortably tighter by the minute he noticed that Ceorl had still not removed the knife tip from behind Legolas' ear and was still smiling manically. "I have complied! What are you doing?" Aragorn growled in his friend's defence. He should have known that his acquiescence in his own capture was no assurance that they would keep their end of the bargain but still, he had been hoping…
"Relax, I can harm him no further according to my superiors, which means he will keep his little points!" The man flicked one of them after withdrawing his blade, causing Legolas to recoil and jerk his head out of range of more taunts and blows the man might deal out. "It's just so amusing to see him squirm," the man looked directly at Legolas as he spoke the barb, hoping to see a reaction but went unrewarded.
The fifteen-year-old boy watched everything in silence, his scrutinizing gaze constantly changing from person to person.
Aragorn's eyes suddenly saw the brands on his friend's abdomen and the inflamed edges. The ranger had not spared a second to look before but he felt his blood boil now. He could tell that they had been cleansed but in the flickering firelight they still looked sinister. The bruises and abrasions decorating Legolas' face and upper body were noticed but didn't acquire as much of the ranger's attention as the three brands that had been applied. He had known that Legolas had been in horrible pain but now the cries of his friend that had echoed through his head were perfectly understandable.
However he wasn't permitted more time to consider all that had happened to his friend or where the bucket of bloodied water had come from.
Some men grabbed his shoulders and steered him over to Legolas' side, about to bind him to one of the rings that held Legolas' manacles in place. However, Ceorl stopped them with a raised hand. "Not quite yet," he dictated, motioning for them to bring Aragorn back to stand before Legolas, who was looking genuinely confused. As far as he had known, Aragorn was supposed to die, even though they still might have that in mind.
"Legolas, dear prince, we cannot harm you any further without a very good excuse that would be presentable to our superiors. However, you do recall that I said this was not going to go unpunished, do you not?" he inquired, watching with satisfaction as a look of complete horror stretched across Legolas' fair face. Legolas knew that evil twinkle in the man's soulless eyes, but this time it was different and the Elf was sure as to why.
Eyes widening, Legolas was so intent on what was about to transpire that he forgot that the deplorable man had used his title. "No!" he croaked, before he found his voice. "No!" But here, of course, he had no authority and the beatings he had taken earlier had left his voice without its demanding tone. He was merely making a request in their eyes, nothing more and they knew it.
Ceorl appeared to be reconsidering his choice and mulling over his options before he suddenly laughed and said, "How about… yes?"
Legolas' hands clenched above his head and he dug his feet into the ground as he pulled himself up against his bonds, supporting his back with the wall, still forced to remain in a half crouched position. His wrists chaffed more against the metal wrapped around them, but that suddenly didn't matter so much anymore. "He did nothing wrong! It was I who tried to escape! Please, don't do this!"
Ceorl muttered nonchalantly, "Have you not figured out that you are not expendable and he is, therefore he will suffer the consequences for all of your actions?"
Turning to Aragorn, he seemed to be contemplating where to start but he figured it out rather quickly. Drawing his fist back, he slammed it with brute force into Aragorn's jaw, making the ranger stagger backwards and fall. Smiling wickedly, Ceorl cracked his knuckles. "I liked that."
Aragorn tried to get back up but a man delivered a harsh kick to his abdomen, causing him to curl in one himself in meagre defence against more blows. Ceorl motioned for the other men to get out of the way and went at Aragorn himself, landing a savage and well placed kick into the man's ribs and eliciting a cry of surprise and pain that caused Legolas to flinch.
Aragorn couldn't believe what amount of pain well placed kicks could impose on a body and he curled into himself tighter. It wasn't much of a defence, but it was all that he had.
He wasn't aware of too much after the next two kicks and so when someone cried out it took him a few moments to realize that it had been himself. The blows came in rapid succession and when Ceorl was sure he had subdued Aragorn sufficiently, he dragged the other man up by the front of his tunic.
However, he wasn't finished.
"This is why you must never cross me again Elf," he glanced over with satisfaction at Legolas, who was trembling in anxiety and the shameful guilt that was ripping him apart. Looking back down at Aragorn, he added, "And if you cross me I can make this a whole lot worse. I am not even finished with this little lesson yet. Legolas, why don't you enlighten your friend as to some of the things that you endured for your… disobedience and barbed tongue?"
Legolas retained some of his composure but a lot of his fear leaked out in a one-worded whisper, "Thorongil…"
:0Ї0:
The hours seemed to tick by slower than they ever had in Legolas' entire life as he had watched his friend writhe between the two spears wedged into the earth. If someone told Legolas that millennia had passed he would readily believe it. The man's wrists had been bound to the top of the spears, just as Legolas' had earlier and the prince couldn't help but shake as he watched his friend suffer in the same position he had found himself in not too long ago.
Ceorl appeared to have completed his work at last and Legolas was relieved to see that he had rejected the branding idea with Aragorn. All the same, he had done the human considerable hurt.
His wrists had torn against the rough rope used to bind his hands, though luckily they had not cut into the main artery. All the same, blood ran down in minor trickles from underneath the rope, but that was nothing compared to the other injuries even if none were life threatening.
Aragorn's breathing had accelerated to a dangerous rate and his eyes were tightly closed in recovery as he struggled to maintain some rough sort of composure. Legolas felt sick just looking at the human's unnaturally pale and almost green face. It made the Elf cringe to know that Aragorn had done this for him, to spare him any more pain and loneliness. The man didn't have to get captured for him and endure this but he had.
The man had been kicked some more, and from the bruising developing on his ribcage area Legolas could tell that there wereat least two broken ribs but probably more. Blood showed on the man's back where he had been flogged –over fifteen lashes with a singled tongued lash, Legolas had counted, shuddering with each one as he remembered what it was like.
Sweat had pooled on the ranger's face and he lifted it now, his grey eyes opening to gaze deep into Legolas' blue ones. There was no regret in them, or self-pity. Legolas could tell the only thing the ranger was sorry for was that he had to watch him suffer.
Ceorl came between them, kicking Aragorn in the mouth with the back of his heel as though he was nothing more than an aggravating dog. Legolas glared dangerously as the man didn't even notice the blood that dribbled down Aragorn's chin. This, Ceorl ignored as well. "So, Legolas, did we learn our lesson, hm?" he asked, cupping Legolas' chin in his hand and forcing the Elf to keep eye contact.
Legolas wanted to make one of his witty remarks that he should have been known for by now but he didn't want Aragorn to take a blow for something he had said. Shame stung on his cheeks as they flushed crimson despite his otherwise pasty pale features and he was sure that Ceorl felt the excessive heat on his hand. "Yes," his voice was soft but his eyes were hard as they gazed into the man's, clearly belying any submissive answer he might give.
Ceorl knew this, but he had managed to get the Elf to cough up the words. There would be time to make them genuine later. Releasing Legolas' chin with a downward thrust, he smiled in meagre satisfaction. "Good," he said, his voice gloating.
Motioning to the men standing near Aragorn, he gestured uncaringly, "Cut him down."
There was a soft set of two snick noises and Aragorn crumpled unceremoniously to the ground like a wet piece of paper. He immediately regretted his hard fall as pain burned through his ribs and he curled up tighter. His eyes were shut again but he could hear everything and his heart burned as he heard the metallic clinking of Legolas fighting against his shackles, struggling to be at his side. The Elf seemed to have come to life again and was repeatedly jerking against the manacles, trying to break free.
Ceorl looked at Legolas through the corners of his eyes and shook his head. "Relax, Elf." A wicked smile crossed his face. "Or maybe we need to commence another lesson, hm?" His eyes seemed to light up and Legolas sank back against the wall, submitting to the chains that held him securely in place. His eyes continued to focus desperately on the ranger and they flickered with anxiety and pain.
"That is what I thought," he goaded, kicking dirt in Aragorn's face, garnering a murderous look from the Elf-prince. "It's all right, your majesty, he'll live."
Legolas visibly started and his eyes shifted from Aragorn to look at the Rohirric traitor in shock. He might have covered up his surprise in time if he had not been so anxious for Aragorn, but it was too late for 'might have's'.
Aragorn heard the use of Legolas' proper title and his eyes fluttered open and he tilted his head so that he could see what was transpiring between his friend and the human commander. He knew that Legolas' identity could cause some serious problems for the Elf and he only wished that he could crawl over to get to the prince's side.
Legolas knew that there was no use denying anything and he was sure that they would only harm Aragorn further should he decide to be defiant. Out of pure curiosity, the Elf-prince asked emotionlessly, "When did you discover this?"
Ceorl tried to look as though it had been the easiest thing to come across but Legolas was not easily fooled so the human just continued. "Do you not remember that little note in your boot?"
Legolas remained silent but his cheeks flooded red once more as he remembered the contents of the letter. Those had been the hardest feelings he had ever put on paper and he had not even let Aragorn read them though he was sure the ranger could tell what they were without looking. It deeply bothered the Elf that his most painful and sensitive thoughts were now in the hands of a heartless and unfeeling traitor.
"You cannot read Elvish, what would you care or know about it?" His voice was unsurprisingly hoarse and his eyes had grown large against his will as his body reacted to the alarm surging through it.
"I couldn't," conceded the man around a belying grin. "A messenger that came a little while ago could. Your poor father," he mocked, feigning tears as he spat accurately on the Elf, instigating Legolas to withdraw closer against the wall at his back. "Well, you'll never see him again, Legolas."
The words hit Legolas as harshly as a slap in the face even though his facial expression didn't change much. He had known it since his capture, of course, and admitted it to himself regularly but to hear those words coming from this man's mouth made him sick. It was like a promise had been made and it seemed to slice clear to the depths of his heart, which had been made vulnerable since Aragorn's capture and torment.
"Have a nice remainder of the night," Ceorl stated, patting Legolas' cheek coldly with his callused hand. He had said enough, that much he could read on the Elf's face and in his eyes. Somewhere, deep inside, he had struck a painful chord and that left him feeling rather satisfied. He would sleep well until dawn.
Looking at Aragorn, who was lying defencelessly on the stony ground he shrugged uncaringly. "Put him by the Elf –but make sure that he is thoroughly secured even though," his eyes connected with Legolas' blue ones, "I doubt that they will try to escape."
Aragorn was yanked to his feet by his arms and dragged with little resistance over to Legolas, who was watching everything as though in a stupor, still hanging on the words that Ceorl had spoken. He was observing everything in a silent disbelief and denial. He couldn't believe that he was here, that Aragorn was here, that these men knew his weakest point and that he was going to end up dying.
The ranger's hands were yanked up and his ropes untied and threaded through one of the iron circles holding Legolas' manacles against the wall before they were once again bound around his bleeding wrists. He was pressed uncomfortably close to Legolas so that to even be slightly relaxed he had to rest his head on Legolas' bloodied and bruised shoulder. However, he had no intention of causing Legolas any more pain and would rather suffer himself.
The men circled the prisoners for a little while, but quickly lost interest since there was obviously going to be no further entertainment coming at their prisoners' expense that night. If they had expected either the Elf or ranger to break down and sob they were sorely disappointed.
Ceorl had long ago retired to stretch out on his pallet by a dimming fire. "Come men," he cheerfully invited those still lingering hungrily around the bound prisoners. "Rest. We have much to do tomorrow." However, his invitation had not been extended to his own son and even if it was, it was likely the boy would not wish to accept.
Even so, the fifteen-year-old liked to think that he had been invited and that he had merely declined the invite. It was less painful that way even though he was practically numb to pain, or had been until these bothersome captives were taken into custody. He had never known himself to have feelings of open caring for anyone before. He had always concentrated on himself. The last person he had cared about –his mother– had died.
Staying in the shadows, he watched the quiet exchange between Legolas and Aragorn with keen interest. He wondered at the way they spoke, as brothers, having never been so close to anyone in his life. It was the marvelling feeling he had experienced watching the ranger take Legolas' punishment without complaint, understanding his friend was in desperate need of a reprieve. The rain picked up again and the weather took a turn for the worse once more, which was not a good sign, almost like an omen.
Legolas didn't meet Aragorn's gaze and the ranger knew why. The Elf didn't want the ranger to see the moisture in his eyes. Aragorn whispered quietly into the prince's ear, being sure to use Elvish. "They are liars. Put faith in me and in yourself. You will see your father again in this world."
Legolas twisted his face away, feeling his breathing accelerating as he suppressed a sob. It was barely visible for any of the captors to notice, but for Aragorn, who knew the Elf like the back of his hand, it was easily evident. Legolas shook his head, disavowing his friend's words. "How do you know we aren't clinging to a false hope? You have to admit that this situation is overwhelmingly against us."
Aragorn knew the question he was about to ask was probably walking on thin ice but he was willing to risk it. "What was in the letter?"
Legolas went blank, emotionless, as he remembered everything himself. Shuddering, he answered thoughtfully, "I don't want to talk about it… I miss him sometimes, you know?" He couldn't avoid the subject, even if he could avoid a direct answer. All of his pain and his torment had been pent up inside and was tearing itself up within the confines of his heart.
"Legolas, we'll get out of this. I promise. You still have to see me crowned king some day, remember?" His soft spoken Elvish brought a small smile to Legolas' face. Aragorn smiled too. "You promised."
Legolas nodded, assuring the ranger he hadn't forgotten. "I did."
"And you have never broken a promise," Aragorn reminded encouragingly, shifting in his bonds a little as the circulation to his hands lessened. The tingling sensation had almost been forgotten since Harad, but now he was recalling how annoying it was. This was not lost on the Elf, who glared bitterly at the human's bonds.
Legolas was quiet a moment. "Never." A heavy silence fell over everything only broken by the rain and the laughs of the jovial men, who knew that the game was in play and that they were so far winning. "But, Estel, I cannot see it, my home. I remember what it looks like, but I can't see myself walking there again."
Aragorn didn't know what to say and honestly, he was feeling a little sick. Elves were known to be able to see ahead into the future, though he didn't know whether or not Legolas possessed such a gift. Deciding that he wanted some time to think about things and also knowing all his friend had endured, and was still enduring, also having a good idea of what he was going to endure, the ranger advised, "Maybe it is because you are too tired. Sleep, my friend. I will look after you."
The gentle Elven words in the tongue of Legolas' people brought some consolation to the prince and he leaned back against the wall in an effort to relax a little. To his credit, he wasn't allowing the cave to coerce him so much. Aragorn was right; he was feeling exhausted and craved rest. Elf or not, he needed the amnesty only sleep could bring. Outwardly he lied, "I am an Elf. I am not tired. You sleep. I will look over you."
However, the Elf's bleary eyes and abnormally submissive behaviour were not lost on the ranger. True, since Harad the Elf had softened and become less defiant and more quiet and elusive, but this was not in his line of character at all. Usually he was much more vibrant. "My friend, you can barely keep your eyes open," Aragorn was quick to point out as Legolas blinked vapidly.
Legolas thought of protesting, he honestly did, but Aragorn was right… he was too tired. Sighing in temporary submission to his friend's request, the prince desperately stifled a yawn, still not willing to admit that he was so tired. "If you are going to keep on with this annoying insistence then I suppose it is pointless to refuse?"
Aragorn smiled despite the grim situation and the fact that Legolas' changed behaviour was frightening him. "Exactly. So rest. I will wake you later," he urged the Elf gently, careful not to sound overly pushy.
"No you won't… you never do," Legolas countered even as he allowed his eyes to close, blocking out the oppressive cave, and the darkness, and the men and Aragorn's battered figure. Even his breathing seemed to be oppressed, and Legolas knew it went beyond the physical aspect of a few cracked and/or broken ribs. It was the atmosphere… the crushing feeling of an impending doom.
"You are right," Aragorn admitted in a semi-droll tone. "I probably won't." His voice trailed off as he saw Legolas' eyes close, even though since Harad that had been relatively common. The memories were still vivid and even Aragorn had nightmares about them every now and then; nightmares that made him regret ever taking Legolas with him. He was aging the supposedly ageless immortal and the painful part was that Legolas was perfectly willing to let it happen.
Legolas' breathing took a long time to become regulated, or at least as regulated as it could possibly get considering the circumstances and Legolas' wounds. It was obvious that the Elf, as tired as he was, was apparently too unnerved for sleep to come easily and Aragorn couldn't blame him.
Inspecting Legolas' wounds since he could get a good look at them from where he had been bound, the man winced in sympathy. The light from a flickering torch barely cast enough light to reveal them, but Aragorn was used to working under such conditions.
There were three brand marks, still inflamed and looking just as sinister as when he had first laid eyes on them. He couldn't get a good look at Legolas' shoulders but he could tell from the dried blood that the Elf had tasted the lash for a time and from the bruises and abrasions his kicking session had lasted far longer than Aragorn's.
Broken ribs and whip wheals he could deal with within reason, but Aragorn's healing expertise told him that if the brands were not tended to better than being sloshed with clean water, then Legolas was running the serious risk of developing a severe infection . It was one of the few things Elves could succumb to and in this state.
The fifteen-year-old finally crept out of the shadows as he noticed Aragorn observing Legolas' wounds with tender care, seeing the last of the men going back to sleep for a couple of hours. Standing by Aragorn he seemed to be trying to form words. Finally, the boy asked hesitantly, "Why did you do that?"
Aragorn gave him an expectant as well as questioning look. When the boy didn't understand he asked quietly, "Do what?" He turned his attention away from the youth as his anxiety for Legolas began to peak deep inside.
"Come for him, get tormented –for him? You two are close," he finished his inquiry with the soft, tentative statement. He doubted there was anyone who would do that for him and somehow that made him feel sick and abandoned.
"He is my friend," Aragorn answered simply. "And really more like a brother. I dragged him into this; none of it was his fault. It is my responsibility as a friend to see him through it." The man's voice was hoarse and he cleared it, barely able to avoid waking people up.
"What has he done for you?" the boy asked, sitting by Aragorn. He didn't know what it was, but he trusted these two almost without question and he wanted whatever it was that they had. He was desperate for companionship and true camaraderie with someone. After all, everybody needed a friend.
Aragorn winced at those words. Actually the Elf had done a lot more than he could ever do in return. It was Legolas who had gotten them through Harad; he was convinced, even if in the end he had rescued the Elf. Legolas had been fearless, even in the face of death and gotten them both out of prison when Aragorn wouldn't have blamed him if he had given up. "More than I can repay him for."
Aragorn noticed the boy's foot and remembered his crippled condition.
"What is it like?" asked the youth, watching Aragorn's face intently for the man's reaction. If he had noticed what Aragorn had been looking at, he didn't show it. Aragorn was sure that he had noticed and he quickly diverted his eyes back to Legolas, just to check on his friend and make sure that the Elf was actually sleeping.
"What is what like?" Aragorn asked tiredly, barely able to stay awake himself and follow this conversation. His head leaned against Legolas' shoulder, causing the Elf to stir slightly, nearly wake up and sink back into a fitful sleep. There was comfort in being close to each other and Aragorn felt some of his pain lessen.
"To have a friend that would do anything for you."
Aragorn thought silently for a moment, remembering the good and the bad times that he and Legolas had shared. Finally he spoke, but his voice was absorbed in memories. "It's difficult to explain… to have a friend that would do anything for you… um, well… It is similar to… I really don't know how to say this." He was quiet for a while longer before he tried again to put everything he felt in his heart into words. Since his head was throbbing and he could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears this was a harder thing to accomplish than he had ever thought it could be.
"It is like having a brother, only I don't think you fight as much… it is like your hearts are sort of attached. You are one. You never feel alone… at least not for long." There were absolutely no words to accurately describe his appreciation or the feeling of their friendship, so these would have to do.
Legolas must have drifted out of sleep at the soft sound of voices near his ears and he murmured in a slurred voice, "It's like being a pillow." The Elf rotated his shoulder stiffly to make his point, but permitted the ranger to keep his head there as he was too tired and too depressed to care and it felt good to feel a friend so close. He wasn't so afraid anymore and his spirits were lifted a little. Aragorn had promised that he would get him home.
Surprisingly, it didn't take long for the exhausted Elf to drift back into a fitful sleep and Aragorn smiled sorrowfully. The youth sitting beside them pulled the ranger out of a reverie of fond memories of Rivendell, and of sleeping in the Hall of Fire with the twins and Legolas after they had all partied more than was good for them. Even if his reminiscence didn't possess the dream-like vision of the Elves' that could place them practically in the memory, his was still very vivid. He could almost smell the sweet smell of wood smoke again….
"I did what I could for his wounds," the boy's voice was consoling, possessing about the nicest tone Aragorn had heard out of these people. Blinking, he looked with unfocused eyes at the fifteen-year-old. He could tell that someone had done something but the boy's confirmation clarified it.
"Thank you." He was beginning to strongly feel the effects of his torment as the adrenaline in his system began to wear off, taking its toll. Now he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The rush of the endorphins entering and dispersing in his body had left him with an acute feeling of nausea that made him feel as though he had been punched in the gut… which during some time in his session, he had. To take his mind of his sickness, the human asked in a drowsy voice, "What is your name?"
There was a heavy silence. "I don't have one." The boy looked uneasily at his hands lying idly in his lap. "Ask your friend," said the youth, playing with his fingers nervously. "I am sure he can explain it. But right now you need rest and we had better get quiet before my father or anyone else hears this conversation. I don't think you or your friend would appreciate the consequences."
Aragorn recognized frustration and irritation in the youth's voice and decided to let it go. After all, the boy was right. They couldn't afford to get into trouble again and this conversation could definitely do just that. Twisting in his bonds so that his back was to the wall, Aragorn winced as his chaffed wrists were cut deeper by the harsh cords. He could feel fresh blood seeping around the binding.
The boy looked up at the bonds and winced in empathy and familiarity. The expression was not lost on Aragorn, but he decided almost immediately not to become involved. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know anyway, it might actually make him think worse of this situation if that was at all possible.
Sighing, the man wriggled closer to the Elf, feeling suddenly cold and trying to conserve the heat he still had. Legolas seemed to realize this in his fitful sleep and subconsciously moved closer to the ranger, providing what warmth he could. The fifteen-year-old watched them for a moment and then stood up wearily before hobbling over to a forlorn corner. He had a lot to think about.
Aragorn opened his eyes as he felt the younger human abscond from his side, but made no move to prevent it. He recognized the look in the boy's eyes that had all too often been reflected in his own. The look of wanting to be alone and invisible.
Feeling too tired, he allowed his head to loll against Legolas' shoulder, careful not to bear down on a bruise. His eyes felt like they had lids of lead and they slid shut, no matter how much he fought them. The rain droned against the cave ceiling and walls, creating a hushed rhythm and a calm atmosphere. The last thought he had before he slipped into a deep sleep was that Legolas was going to kill him in the morning. He had never woken the Elf up.
:0Ї0:
Roth felt frozen stiff. He couldn't move and was practically laying on Elrohir, who was groaning beneath him. He felt just about as sore even if he wasn't completely drenched and battered.
The rain had been unbelievably heavy not to mention oppressive. Roth had actually found himself wondering if you could drown from rain alone when it became hard to breathe. Now it had eased off into a gentle drizzle that would have been wonderful had he been indoors with a hot mug of steaming tea and Helluin snuggling at his side by the fire. At the moment though, the rain was positively miserable and only darkened the gloomy scenario.
The lighting had also slowed in its frequency and so the world mostly cast into darkness. Occasionally, thunder would rip through the air, making all of them cringe in surprise and crouch closer to one another. "Elrohir?"
The younger twin gasped in pain before answering Roth's inquiry. "Yes?"
"How's Elladan?" Roth's voice sounded hoarse and Elrohir heard the topmost Elf clear it before continuing. "Is he still dry?"
"I'm fine," murmured the older twin from beneath his twin's protection, feeling somewhat guilty about their sacrifice.
"I thought you were unconscious?" Elrohir inquired accusingly, staring into Elladan's bleary eyes.
Elladan swallowed hard around his pain that was barely controllable. "Not recently," he voice was a soft croak. "It comes and goes." His blood loss wasn't too bad anymore but his consciousness fluctuated between being aware and not, in an attempt to recover strength and escape the agony of the wound that went clear through his body.
Elrohir was silent, breathing heavily as he wondered how much longer he could remain conscious since he was still losing blood, even if it wasn't in considerable amounts. Roth spoke up for his friend when he noticed the lull in the conversation. "Well, we are going to take you to Mirkwood. You'll be healed there. Lord Elrond is still there."
Elladan smiled but was still unable to belie the effects of his pain that were shown on his pasty and pale face. Elrohir saw this and scowled but his brother only asked softly, "How are you, Elrohir?" He reached a clammy hand up and traced Elrohir's white face gently.
Elrohir winced at the coldness of Elladan's hand and how it shook against his cheek. "I'm alright. My wound is… fine… already healing actually…"
"Don't lie to me," Elladan said with more force than he knew he was capable of at the moment. Suddenly he closed his eyes; it was getting harder to keep them open. He smiled again as he felt Elrohir's fingers wrap around his cold, drawn ones and squeeze them gently on consolation.
"I am not lying," he responded with a forced grin. "Merely exaggerating."
"Same difference," Elladan managed out, enjoying the meagre jesting that was actually semi-serious. He squeezed his brother's hand back reassuringly. "Anyway, everything will be all right…" His hand suddenly went limp in Elrohir's and slid free, falling onto his chest beside the exit wound.
Elrohir gave a soft cry of surprise and then, twisted his face to look over his shoulder pleadingly at Rothinzil. "We are going to have to brave the rain and start leaving now. He isn't going to make it like this. His wound isn't beyond my expertise but I don't have the supplies to heal him."
Roth sighed, but knew that they had no other options. Legolas would have to get out of this one on his own, with Aragorn, or not at all. He missed them both and he was torn between telling Elrohir that he couldn't possibly help and doing all he could for the twins. He knew that this was just as hard for them, abandoning their little brother and friend.
"All right," he conceded at last. "How are we going to bear him?" He knew that his wound wouldn't permit extra weight for extended periods of time and neither would Elrohir's. If they had a horse this wouldn't have been such a dire situation but they didn't and they didn't have the materials to make a stretcher either.
"I don't know," Elrohir admitted in an almost defeated voice. He hadn't thought of that and it was rather discouraging. The rain was still falling but slowly it was failing, though it was still dark. There was no more thunder or lightning so no one could see. For a moment Elrohir wondered if they would die here, or at least if Elladan would.
Roth's urgently voice caught his attention. "There are hoof beats against the ground, can you not hear them?"
Elrohir was quiet and then said thoughtfully, "Dear Roth, everything seems to have been faded out lately. I am sorry. It appears your hearing is more attentive or better than mine." The younger twin strained to hear past the rain and gradually, as his emotions faded to back of his mind for a moment, replaced by leeriness, he could hear it. "A small company?" he questioned Roth almost under his breath, seeking confirmation.
Roth nodded slightly, even though he knew Elrohir couldn't see him in the dark. "I believe so."
He didn't have to say what they all were thinking. Were they all about to be killed? Did their attacker's companions know that the attempt on their lives had failed and that they needed to be finished off? Roth felt Elrohir tense under him and hug his brother close in a protective way.
"Well we won't go down without a fight," Roth growled determinedly, not ready embrace death quite yet and planning to stall it as long as possible. He reached towards his back to where his quiver and his one long knife were. The knife resembled a small sword but was more elegant and curved. It was bigger than either of Legolas' twin knives and was Roth's personal preference when it came to close combat. Not only that, it had been the butt end of so many of Legolas' jokes in the past that they were no longer funny.
Elrohir just sighed wearily. "How much of a fight?" He doubted they could keep it up for long and he didn't want to abandon his brother's side to have his other half be killed, probably trampled, right off. He then again, as a warrior his heart's desire would be to die fighting if his immortal life had to end.
"As much as we can."
"Maybe they will miss us in the dark?" Elrohir asked logically as well as being nearly optimistic and in a low whisper.
"They have torches, I can see them," Roth said emotionlessly, pulling himself off of Elrohir, disturbed at how he felt about as heavy as a lump of lead. His muscles were slow to respond and his thoughts seemed to be sluggish. He had a sinking feeling that it was going to be a short fight and he wished he could tell his children and Helluin good-bye.
Elrohir frowned and knowing Roth's mood all too well, he pulled out his sword while still leaning protectively over Elladan. He was not going to let these people have an easy victim even though there was precious little that he could do about it.
The horses were almost literally on top of them and the riders reined them in without a word, circling the three Elves, spears poised to kill if the need arose. There were only three men, so it was almost an equal match. However, they wore armour and had the livery of King Thengel's most trusted soldiers. Elrohir had seen them before and his curiosity was rapidly peaking.
Speaking quickly in Elvish, he demanded of Roth, "Speak to them. Tell them we mean no harm to man or horse. Tell them we are in need of their aid." Roth was reluctant and the younger twin snapped, "Do it now!" He had been in this land before and knew what to expect, relatively speaking. He hadn't been prepared to get shot, have his best friend kidnapped and his little brother run off in pursuit.
Roth quickly spoke to the men, eyeing them critically as he addressed them. "We mean no harm to man or beast. We need your aid. We are wounded. One of us has taken a grievous wound and is dying as I speak." He knew they were running a large risk and in his mind, they were taking far too many things for granted. They didn't know these men's loyalties and didn't know their intentions. If Elrohir hadn't demanded this, he would have never done it. It was his respect for the elder Elf that had provoked him to follow through. "One friend and a brother were taken captive," he added, gauging the men's expressions.
The men didn't look malicious, even if they did look suspicious, confused and surprised. "Three Elves, and you seek our trust?"
"We speak no lies," Roth answered in a soft voice, afraid that Elrohir's faith had been placed in the wrong people. "We are in dire need of help-"
"Who are you? Name yourselves!" One of the three men demanded, his oil lighted torch flickering with the wind. "Be quick! We have urgent business with King Thengel."
Roth swallowed unnoticeably, looking to Elrohir for confirmation and the younger brother nodded tersely. "I am Rothinzil of Greenwood. This is Elrohir and with him is his brother Elladan Peredhil of Imladris."
The men's faces became less cloudy. The names of the twins carried a lot of weight, as they had aided Rohan before. Even if they couldn't identify Rothinzil's name, the fact that he travelled with the twins in their goodwill was enough to give him clearance in their minds. "Come, we have not the time to hear your tale here. When we reach camp, you may explain it and we will help you as we may." Besides, if they were helping the Elves, they were helping themselves. They might get some useful information. There had been some strange goings on.
Roth looked relieved, if still a bit suspicious, but Elrohir almost looked jovial, so the warrior put his suspicions aside for the moment. Proffering a hand to the younger twin, he pulled him up and then sheathed his long knife with the soft noise of metal against velvet as it slipped into its casing.
Elladan lay motionless and white-faced on the ground, looking thinner than Elrohir had ever remembered and frail… helpless. It burned his heart to see his proud brother thus reduced and crippled. If Elladan saw how defenceless he looked then he would have died of humiliation. Elrohir reached down and lightly touched Elladan's closed hand that lay on the ground and then touched his other hand lying limply on his chest.
"Oh, Elladan," he whispered sadly in Elvish, not sure how to move his brother without causing him more pain and injury. Looking over his shoulder, he silently asked Roth for his support, which the other Elf quickly gave.
Kneeling down by Elrohir, Roth placed his hand on the younger twin's good shoulder, still mindful not to apply too much pressure. "It will be all right. Now here," he slid his arms underneath the white-faced Elf, careful not to infuriate the already malignant wound.
Elrohir knew they were low on time and possibly buying trouble from the riders who had been kind enough to help and were pressed at the moment but he simply couldn't allow this of his injured friend. Grabbing Roth's forearm gently, he stopped any of the warrior's movements and said calmly in a way that was almost too soft to be detected, even by Elven ears, "No. He is my brother. I will do it."
Roth had thoughts of arguing but knew they would be futile and not the least bit helpful to the situation. Reluctantly yielding the motionless Elladan into Elrohir's care, he relented, "All right. But if you need help, I am right here." His voice was equally soft and low.
Elrohir nodded numbly, "I know, Roth." His sad eyes looked up at the dark-haired warrior and the orange light of the torch glared in them, reflecting off them in an odd way that made them seem even more sorrowful. "Thank you."
The Riders, pressed as they were, still seemed sympathetic to the Elves' dire situation. They had not dismounted, knowing first of all the pride of the Elves and secondly, not all of them had seen an Elf and knew what to expect. Therefore, they extended no help other than to offer them to ride with them on their horses.
Roth stood in one spot and stared at the men a bit incredulously. True, he had been raised by men, but past experience and living with Legolas for an exceedingly long time as an adopted brother had made him wary. The prince of Mirkwood would certainly not approve, not in the least. But what else was there to do? Pride could only take him so far, this he knew, and he wasn't going to give up his life over a few prejudices anyway. Besides, he had become mortal now, he should fit right in. His father was a man. But that was a long time ago…
He watched as Elrohir was permitted his own horse to be shared with no man since he had refused to allow his brother to be charged into someone else's care. If his brother was to die, he wanted to be the one holding him, even if Elladan never woke up to say good-bye. This, Roth could understand without thinking twice.
Two of the three riders had decided to share a particularly large horse that could easily support two men. The eldest of the three had heard and seen the legendary weightlessness of Elves and therefore, supposed that a horse could support all three. This was true, even if it would be difficult and uncomfortable.
"When we get there," the older of the men told the Elves, "I will show you to the Healing Tent where you can possibly help him and yourselves. However, our supplies have been dwindling and you might not get as much aid as you thought. However," he looked around darkly in the light of the oil torch, "at least it will be a sight warmer."
With that, Roth mounted the horse behind Elrohir and Elladan and took the reins, realizing that Elrohir was a bit preoccupied with keeping his brother collected in his lap as well as reasonably dry. Roth had not the skill of most Elves, being an exceedingly maladroit exception to their kind and even though he could ride without the reins he definitely preferred to have them in his hands. It was a bit reassuring in a sense and he felt more in control, which right now was welcome in almost any form.
Without a word, the riders turned their horses and headed off in the direction of Edoras, where they were sure that a few miles out their Lord, King Thengel, would be encamped. Roth grudgingly heeled the horse encouragingly in the ribs to get it to follow. He started to suddenly feel every cold and almost… sick. Even though he was now mortal, he had never experienced sickness and had taken it for granted that he couldn't get sick. He didn't know right now if that was what was happening or if his ill feeling could possibly be accredited to his wound. It felt like someone had just stuck a torch in his flesh.
TBC….
This was a…wicked…mean…cruel? Hmmm….we were informed that "nasty" is an understatement…now what other adjectives are there to describe this? Either way…this chapter was not Elf and Ranger friendly! LOL
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