I Will Always Return

:0Ї0:

CHAPTER TEN

Remember ...You're Alive

It had been some hours since Elrohir had managed to concoct the correct formula to successfully slow Estel's body down and cause the tense muscles to relax. He had also managed to successfully find a way to staunch the severe bleeding of Aragorn's wound, but it still looked like the ranger had been bled white. However, sometime during this process the Elves' weapons had been confiscated and their supply bags plundered and taken as well. Neither of the Elves had been overly compliant but Elrohir had resisted the most and generally thrown a fit, which had truly been something to behold. He had been very close to getting his way too, but when Legolas had been wrenched away from Aragorn and a knife pressed against his throat, the twin had been forced to yield to the traitors' request or allow them to end his friend's life.

However, it had taken a little more encouragement to coerce the Elves into submitting themselves to tight cords that were wrapped around their wrists. Not being stupid, the men had forced the Elves' hands behind their backs, garnering quite a struggle out of Legolas, who was more than hesitant to be placed in bonds again and border on being helpless to himself and his friends. When the hemp was bound tightly around the raw and abraded skin of Legolas' healing wrists, Elrohir grimaced in sympathy as he heard a small hiss push past the prince's lips. The fair-haired Elf didn't flinch, but Elrohir could tell that he wanted to.

"That ought to hold you Elves!" One of the ruffians patted Legolas' cheek in a degrading way, causing the prince to pull roughly away in disgust. "Fancy meeting under these circumstances once more, Elf." He had remembered Ceorl's fair-haired captive all too well and a thrill of power swept through him as he realized that he had the valued prisoner in his clutches and that Ceorl was not available to interfere. If things had not been so dire, he might have taken advantage of this situation. Legolas remembered him too. This happened to be the same man, he realized, that thought some gentle laughter was a crime.

Legolas' eyes smouldered at the loathed touch, but he knew that either he or Elrohir were hardly in any position or health to be fighting. They needed to try and recover for Estel, who was so close to death's door, that Legolas could swear by all of the Valar that he actually felt the human fading. The way Aragorn's face was colourless and transparent, expressing the dark bruises even more against the pale skin, made death look vibrant.

The men would have no doubt liked to have taken out their frustrations on the Elves, especially Legolas, but time and plight did not permit it so they left all three captives to keep each other company with guards posted nearby.

Aragorn was lying on the ground, free of bonds and in an addled, drugged state. He had heard the struggle between the men and his brother, as well as with Legolas. As much as he wished he could, Aragorn simply could not deny that he was glad they had finally submitted. He didn't want either of them to receive more damage than they already had. Elrohir might not have known it, but the large patch of brown and dried blood on his shoulder had not been lost on the ranger. Not matter how much pain he had been in, he couldn't stop looking out for his brother, as he couldn't stop looking out for Legolas. He had seen the condition the Elf had been in and it had ranked below poor about ten abrasions back.

Blinking, he twisted his head to catch a glimpse of them once more. Elrohir was scooted close to Legolas, or vice versa and anger was evident on their ashen faces. Looking at their hands, since he had a sidelong view of them, he could tell the purplish discolouration in the appendages stemmed from lack of circulation.

Closing his eyes, Aragorn blocked the view of their misery. He hurt all over and he didn't want to have to fight the burning he felt in his heart when he saw Legolas' nearly mangled body. He didn't know how Legolas would recover, he just didn't. It was true that Elves were resilient but he knew that Legolas' old wounds had never fully healed and that these new ones that had been layered on top of the old ones were pushing the prince over the edge, whether Legolas would ever admit it or not.

Aragorn wanted to curl up, but he felt too weak to move at all and knew that whatever drug Elrohir had forced him to ingest had been potent, meaning that Elrohir was scared. When Elrohir was scared or felt like he was out of control of things he fell back onto his medicine capabilities in hopes that they would solve what he could not. Unfortunately, the combination of this medicine and the blood loss had made Aragorn very thirsty –nay, unbelievably thirsty. Turning his head away from them, he scanned the area groggily for any water, making up his mind that if he saw some, he would try to crawl towards it.

Elrohir had heard the grass crinkling under Aragorn's abrupt movements and he blinked, looking wearily at the ranger. Legolas, feeling Elrohir move next to him, followed the twin's anxious gaze to where Aragorn was lying.

When Aragorn turned his head again and focused his blurred vision, he saw them staring at him. Forcing a thin smile, he tried to encourage them, struggling to keep a small flame of hope glowing inside. Legolas looked as though he was death himself.

Since there was no one around to prevent them from keeping close together, Elrohir and Legolas crawled their way over to the man, flanking either side of him. Aragorn looked seriously up at Legolas. "You aren't going to leave me again, are you?"

Stunned by the question, even though he knew that he shouldn't be, Legolas couldn't answer for a minute. Elrohir glared at him, wondering why he wasn't speaking. "No," Legolas pushed his shock aside, blinking back tears. "Never."

Aragorn reached a hand out and gingerly touched Legolas' knee with his fingers, wanting to feel his friend close to make sure that he wasn't a phantom. Closing his eyes wearily, he semi-nodded. "It is well."

Elrohir and Legolas immediately shared alarm. The younger twin's voice pulled Aragorn out of what would have been a deep and impenetrable sleep. "You must stay awake, or I fear that you may never wake up."

Aragorn's leaden eyelids pulled back from his empty eyes and he blinked a couple of times. "Elrohir…" his breathed whine was almost childish in nature. "I am so very tired…"

Legolas looked at Elrohir only a moment before he scrutinized Estel's condition. "Would you like another story?" Legolas asked hopefully.

Aragorn stared blearily up at Elrohir and was about to ask for Elladan when suddenly he realized what he should have been aware of for a few hours now. Elladan was not here. His stomach lurched and he felt himself grow cold as fresh sweat beaded on his forehead and chest. "Where is Elladan?" he asked in a feverish whisper. His voice was thick with constricting fear. Elladan must not have overcome his wound when he was shot.

Elrohir quickly tried to put his brother's heart at ease. "Oh, no! Estel," he beseeched his human brother, "Elladan is alive! He will mend –slowly– but he will!"

Aragorn almost laughed with relief but breathing alone ached too much and he didn't think that he could gather up the strength to laugh anyway. "I would l-l-love to h-h-hear that story." He extended his other hand weakly for Elrohir's arm or knee, whichever was closer. Elrohir scooted himself closer.

"Then you shall hear it, if you promise me one thing."

Aragorn smiled, as sign of his compliance since he was too drained for much other motion.

"Promise me that will stay awake," Elrohir asked, forcing a small smile.

Legolas added a bit shakily, uncertainty lacing his voice. "Promise that you won't leave me."

Aragorn's sickly smile broadened slightly across his pasty face and he swallowed hard before speaking. "You need not bind me by a promise, Legolas." He echoed the Elf's earlier words, causing the prince grin.

"I know, but it comforts me."

Aragorn's gaze divided between the two anxious Elves and he vowed, "I p-promise I shall stay awake…" Despite the fact that he meant his promise with all his heart, it was going to be the most difficult one that he had ever had to keep in his life. He didn't want to tell his brother or Legolas, but it was getting to the point where sometimes if he didn't remember to breathe, then he went without breath. The drugs given by Elrohir, though potent, had not been enough to drone out all of his agony and his abdomen still flared hotly with bright pain.

Elrohir started the tale before Estel had even seconds to be bored and possibly drone out. The story went without interruption, and intrigued Legolas as well. The telling of it took close to an hour, at least to thoroughly explain it.

At the end of the story, Legolas smiled at Aragorn. "Do you know what that means, sleepy ranger?"

Aragorn was actually, fully awake and excited. "That boy is alive! He didn't go deliver the message to the orcs after all!" His pain and weariness were forgotten in his jovial exclamation.

Legolas nodded excitedly, ignoring his suddenly flaring headache that was like a growing fire between his temples. "Yes! He must! Ah, that lightens my heart a bit."

Aragorn coughed a little in pain, but agreed, "Me too." He had not forgotten the kindness the boy had shown to both him and Legolas, but especially to Legolas, when Aragorn was unable to be with him. Legolas would never admit it, but that child had comforted Legolas immensely when he was so lonely and frightened –oh Legolas would never even admit it to himself, but he had been afraid.

Elrohir quirked an eyebrow, and smiled at them. "I knew that you knew him, but had I known that good tidings of him would have made you both feel so much better, I would have spoken of him sooner and lightened your hearts."

Legolas changed the subject, becoming aware of Aragorn's wheezing, which had begun during the telling of the story, but had become increasingly worse. "How do you feel, mellon nîn?" His normally smooth brow creased in worry, not liking how Aragorn's fighting body seemed to be slowly succumbing piece by piece. Legolas had already noticed that the man didn't seem to be able to generate body heat, much less retain it.

Recognizing the need for Estel to be warm as well, Elrohir scooted even closer, and once again cursed the fact that his hands were bound. If they were not he would be holding the human up against his own body, if Legolas didn't get to him first.

Bending down, he kissed his brother's feverish forehead, saying, "I wish I could keep you warmer." Aragorn reached out a trembling hand and brushed a strand of dark hair from Elrohir's face, tucking it behind his ear. "But you'll be all right."

"I know, gwador nîn." He was content to just hear Elrohir's encouraging voice, telling him that he was all right. He may not have fully believed the words –if he was honest he didn't believe them at all –but he enjoyed hearing them because they came from his brother. Aragorn wanted to know how their homes fared before he died, because he didn't believe that he would ever get a chance to see them again, but he was afraid to ask and he doubted that Elrohir would tell him anything anyway.

Elrohir seemed to read his thoughts as did Legolas. Elves! Aragorn closed his eyes and almost shook his head. The instant his eyes shut, Legolas accused, "You are sleeping!"

Aragorn opened them again and denied the allegation, as though he was scandalized. "No, I wasn't." He tried to smile. "I was merely seeing if looking at the inside of my eyelids is anymore entertaining than listening to you two." He drew a shuddering breath. "If you want to know, it wasn't much better."

Elrohir, playing along for the time being, cocked his head to the side and his eye brows nearly went into his hair. "Much?" he asked dubiously, almost taking a light insult. If it kept Estel awake and concentrated on other things then he didn't mind seeming as silly or naive as he could possibly get. He had almost forgotten the unspoken question that was weighing on his brother's heart. Unfortunately, Legolas had not.

"Elrohir, how are things at home?" He had not been in the mood to allow Rothinzil to inform him of much of anything, but here, waiting for death or for freedom, there was hardly anything else to do but swap news and stories. And even if they kept Aragorn entertained, they made him feel better too.

Elrohir was silent for a minute, not knowing how to answer. He would have paid double to think of a way to change the subject, but as he could not without being overly obvious he was forced to face Legolas' inquiry. The more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to realize that there was no way to break the news easily to either Aragorn or Legolas.

"It is…not that good, but not that bad either." He was halfway lying but Estel was so direly sick from his severe wound and Elrohir didn't want to make him feel any worse. He was sure that Legolas would ask him of this again later if he didn't provide a full answer, but that was all right.

What Elrohir had seemed to have forgotten or maybe had not realized and understood, was that Aragorn had grown up a lot in the years of the travels of Thorongil. Both he and Legolas had. Legolas was no longer the jovial Wood-Elf prince that he had once been. War had worked strange ways in them both. "Do not baby me, Elrohir," Estel demanded, his lips tightly pressed as he swallowed back more pain. If either Legolas or Aragorn were to look into a mirror, they would no recognize their reflections, and in truth, might have been a little afraid.

Elrohir gulped, knowing that no answer could be worse than not answering at all. "There is perpetual winter in Imladris." He wouldn't expect any other mortal to understand this, but he knew that Estel would.

Aragorn closed his eyes and clenched them, but Elrohir and Legolas both knew that this time, there was no danger of him falling asleep. "Why doesn't ada use the… it?" Aragorn questioned, slowly reopening his orbs so that he could stare up at the darkening sky. Of course he was referring to Vilya, but that name was forbidden to be spoken outside of the most trusted of company and location.

Elrohir shook his head, seemingly frustrated. "Oh, Estel, I don't know! I don't think he has the strength any longer. He left Imaldris some time ago, going to Mirkwood looking for you. He had gone from there to Lórien when we left, to visit Arwen if you want to know." Aragorn looked uncomfortable, not appreciating the turn this answer had taken. Elrohir closed his eyes shortly and when he reopened them, he tried to convey his sister's deepest wishes. "She misses you Estel, despite Ada. She loves you."

Legolas cast a quick, silent warning to Elrohir. This subject had been tender and sensitive all during his and Aragorn's travels and he had rarely approached the matter. As a matter of fact, he had never brought it up. Only Aragorn had once in a while, and all Legolas had done was listen and let the ranger bare his soul.

Elrohir read the clue and attempted to change the subject. "Sorry, ummm…"

Aragorn gently interjected, "It is all right. How fares she?" He didn't feel comforted, asking this question, and in fact, his pain seemed to increase, but he was desperate for word of her. Even in the war, as much as he had missed his father, and his brothers, his thought had ever turned to her.

"Things go well with her," Elrohir assured calmly. He didn't want to tell Aragorn that since she had first laid eyes on him and since he had been gone for so long, her laughter was less and eventually becoming non-existent. He didn't know if his father blamed Aragorn, but he knew that he and Elladan would never blame Aragorn. Arwen's choices were not his to take guilt for.

Aragorn sensed that he was being left in the dark, but he was too tired to put up an argument. "That is good…then."

Legolas finally mustered up the courage to ask the question lying closest on his heart. "How fares Mirkwood? How fares my father?"

Elrohir took longer to formulate his response. "Things have become very dark, Legolas." He didn't want to say what he and everyone else already knew. Thranduil's will was almost broken, thinking Legolas was dead. He had lost all that he had truly cared about and his will that had helped hold back the spiders and worked the magic on the gates, was fading.

Legolas didn't move…he didn't even blink. His heart seemed to stop beating and he forgot how to breathe. He had never meant to cause this, but how had he been supposed to choose between his father and a sworn brother? Either outcome, he was sure, would have been horrible and more than he could bear, but it didn't change how his heart and soul seemed stolen away. "But is my father…well?" He couldn't even breathe the question "Is my father …alive?"

Elrohir knew that he had to be loyal to his friend and therefore be completely honest. "No," he shook his head sadly. Aragorn was afraid to look at Legolas at first but then forced himself to, and shuddered when he saw the growing void in his friend's eyes. Elrohir apologized, "Legolas, I am so sorry-"

"No," Legolas cut him off quietly. "I asked you." Legolas suddenly seemed to shrink and he became very cold. "I set off to prevent the Dark Lord's work, and only managed to make his job easier in my own home." Looking towards the North where Mirkwood lay, he promised, "But I will get home and I will see everything restored."

After this everyone was quiet, turning their eyes to watch the sun begin to sink beneath the line and leave a world of growing black. The stars were gradually peeking out one by one, but Legolas refused to look at them, hardly believing he deserved the privilege of looking upon their unsoiled radiance that night. At last, he mumbled darkly, "Why doesn't Roth hurry up?"

Elrohir sighed. "I am sure that he is doing the best he can."

Aragorn split his sceptical look between Elrohir and Legolas. The expression actually looked genuine, if one considered the ranger's condition. "You sent Roth to do negotiations? What?" Roth was not that kind of Elf. For all his antics, he could make a good warrior –even a great one, but never a politician or diplomat –he just wasn't that devious even if he was incredibly intelligent.

Legolas' frown deepened and he said nothing, feeling too distraught at this moment and not wanting to stress about Roth on top of everything else.

Elrohir supplied an answer. Shaking his head dejectedly, he muttered. "Shocking, I know." He grinned wickedly at Legolas. "It is his fault, really. He wouldn't have any less, than another chance to get himself killed. One of us had to do the negotiating."

Aragorn smiled. When he spoke, his voice was bit scratchier. "I b-bet he volunteered for that."

Elrohir's voice was morbid as he stared darkly at the grass. "Not exactly."

Aragorn grimaced. He could only imagine, at least, he could if his head would stop swinging and flowering with odd shapes of colour. He had hardly realized that he had closed his eyes yet again. It had become so natural to want to keep them shut. They felt like they were made of lead.

Elrohir's anxious, persistent, voice reiterating through his consciousness prompted him to prop them open once more. Everything looked soft, fuzzy and almost cuddly. Even an orc might look adorable if he saw it now. Blackness was encroaching on the edges of his vision, creating only a small portal for him to see through and even that portal was unclear. Blinking, he tried to focus on Legolas' face and then onto Elrohir's. "You have to stay awake Estel," the younger twin demanded. "You promised Legolas."

Aragorn blinked some more, trying to dispel his vision impediments. "…wasn't sleeping."

Elrohir smiled wryly. "Of course not. I was merely reminding you."

Aragorn stared up at the sky. "Ah, thank you."

Silence.

The impending news of Mirkwood and Rivendell's continued decline into darkness had quieted everyone and was weighing heavily on all of their hearts, despite any attempts to be optimistic. Legolas' heart felt as though it was now trapped in his stomach and a dark nausea was swirling. He was going to be sick. He had thought that his body wouldn't register anymore pain, because it had already taken as much as it could handle, but his body and soul seemed to be separate issues. Right now his soul was aching and he could not alleviate it –he didn't want to.

Aragorn was in so much pain and feely so groggy that he was barely aware. When he had heard that Rivendell had fallen into perpetual winter, he had felt nothing but an increase of the shock his body was already fighting. Of course he wasn't cold-hearted toward his home, but his mind and body were in no state that allowed him to willingly accept any terrible or heart-wrenching fact. He was going numb and suddenly, things were not so important anymore. Each breath, he expected to be his last. He didn't want to give up for his brothers' sakes or for Legolas'…or for Arwen's or his homeland, but he was beginning to wonder if he had much of a choice.

Elrohir just didn't know what to say that could possibly comfort either of them. He would like nothing better than to pull them into an embrace and promise that everything was going to be all right…eventually. Of course, with his arms bound this was quite impossible and even if they were not, he was terrified of making a promise that he wouldn't be able to keep. A broken promise could do a lot more damage than one that was never made. His knees were beginning to hurt from kneeling so much and so he shifted and crossed his legs, still remaining close to his little brother. After a moment, Legolas did the same thing, but he doubted that the prince was copying him. He doubted that Legolas was much aware of his surroundings.

Where Legolas sat, brooding, he mumbled inaudibly, "Roth you had better come soon, or Valar help me, I will choke you."

Suddenly, his sharp ears caught footsteps approaching and without looking up, he new that some of their captors were returning. Things must not have been going well between the forces.

:0Ї0:

Rothinzil nervously patted his horse, trying to calm himself. He waited a few minutes for results. It wasn't working. Negotiating with Thengel had been easy enough, and as a matter of fact, he had seemed very compliant in his want to make things right again. That had disturbed the warrior more than an argument would have. He had not been prepared for the idea to be welcomed, but there was nothing to complain about in that regard. It was what the traitors were demanding that was causing the lull in the progress and Rothinzil still could not get over their paranoid stupidity.

There were many outrageous demands that they could have asked to be fulfilled, but they had only made a few. They would not be harmed if they released all three of the hostages. For the exchange, King Thengel himself would ride down unescorted and shake on it, since there was no paper or ink and nothing could be written out and seal with his insignia. King Thengel and his most trusted warriors were discussing the terms now in privacy. These demands were just ridiculous, Roth concluded, but he feared what they would bring. He had known that Legolas and Elrohir had come up with an idiotic plan but he had not understood the full extent of it until now. He had a sinking suspicion that the only thing those three would all be doing was easing themselves into the other world. Scowling, Rothinzil was reminded of how much he absolutely hated it when he was left behind. Legolas had left him behind once, found himself over his head in trouble, and now he was doing it again. Had he learned nothing? Of course.

The voice of some of the traitors pulled Roth out of his inner monologue and he frowned darkly, focusing on the group of fraternizing men near a thousand yards ahead, limiting their distance to a yelling range. "Your friends are going to die if we don't get answers soon, Elf!" "I think Thorongil is in the other realm already!" "Are you just going to gawk at us?" "Are you deaf or something?"

Roth glowered, his eyes becoming narrowed slits. Shaking his head mentally while remaining stony on the outside, he decided to ignore the threats. There were a few more idle, goading shouts and then one caught his attention, alerting all of his senses. He sat up straighter with a jerk and stared at the men apprehensively.

"If their consulting takes much longer," they threatened impatiently. "Your golden-haired friend is dying first and we'll see if that doesn't bring you to reason any faster!"

Those were the right words to say if they wanted Roth to heed their voices and they had his undivided attention. His long-seeing Elvish eyes easily narrowed in on Legolas, being shoved forward between the angry, frightened men. His nose was bleeding again but Roth knew that Legolas was too wearied and beaten down to have resisted much. He must have been struck out of spite. Legolas' eyes were downcast and a sad, regretful expression clouded his features. Once he was in the forefront of the parley, one man stepped out with a crossbow –a loaded crossbow.

Roth watched as they roughly manhandled his friend simply to see if they could garner a reaction out of him before throwing him to his knees, which didn't take much effort. Rothinzil couldn't hear what they were telling his prince but he didn't need to. If he got any angrier, he was sure that he would take ill with a temperature or have a fury-induced heart attack.

Legolas blinked tiredly, not sure how all this had happened and wondering what was going on. When he saw them bring out the crossbow and heard the threats he sighed dejectedly. He knew why they had chosen him instead of Estel or Elrohir. Elrohir was too strong and would constantly fight them. Estel was too weak and wouldn't last even on his knees. They had needed someone weak enough to cause little trouble, but strong enough to stand on his own.

A scratchy whisper caught the prince's attention and he raised his eyes to glower at the human posing the crossbow. "Beg for your life, Elf! Tell your friends how much you want to live! Tell them!"

Legolas didn't even decide to grace the man with an answer and he turned his head away dispassionately. Blinking, he stared at a few taller blades of grass wafting in the breeze. It was strangely captivating and for a few moments he hardly noticed anything else.

The human seemed exasperated when Legolas suddenly turned and merely looked at him, almost as though this was all very casual. "Look, Elf, you had better beg, or we can force you to!" He slung the bow over his shoulder and cracked his knuckles menacingly. "See?"

Legolas nodded almost enthusiastically. "I see many things, actually. First of all, I see that you are being incredibly stupid and arrogant. Secondly, that no one cares and thirdly, that the arrows of your crossbow are shaped a bit crooked."

The man looked dumbfounded for a minute and he almost turned to check his arrows and see if the Elf was right. However, that would only make him look more stupid and that just simply wouldn't work. Shaking his head, he snarled. "You're worthless!"

Legolas almost nodded in agreement. Yes, right now he was practically worthless. He couldn't help his friends, he wasn't going to beg for his life, and he couldn't help himself either. Ah, well, he supposed that it would be unfair if he was allowed to do everything. His body shuddered as he attempted to draw a deep breath for a drawn out sigh and the sigh came out as a cough.

Elrohir, Legolas willed mentally, don't you dare let that drifty ­Adan fall asleep. Promise or no promise, there were some things that were spinning completely out of Aragorn's control and he knew that the human would never admit it. Of course, Legolas also knew that if their places were reversed he would never admit it either –especially not to himself.

"I guess we are just going to have to do things the hard way, aren't we?" the man asked. He had become irritated with the crossbow and its arrows and handed them off to another man nearby. "You had better tell your friends that someone is going to die, Elf! It may not be you, but someone is going to die! Is that understood? If you value any of your captive friends you will beg for their lives as well as your own."

Legolas hated this, he truly did. He had gotten himself captured so that he could rescue Aragorn. He had made the assumption that these men would have easy terms to keep, mainly that they were allowed to keep their heads if all three of the captives were returned. But it was not so. These men wanted more than that, however stupid their requests were. It was hard to argue with idiots when they had such an advantage. If he didn't beg, it jeopardized Aragorn's life –the life that he had come to save.

He felt a crossbow bolt gently prick against his temple and he shifted disdainfully away, glowering at the man wielding it. The weapon was trained on him now. If he didn't comply then he was going to die and he had a feeling that Aragorn could be next. He couldn't allow that, no matter the costs. He had promised that to himself before his second capture.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked tiredly, a defeated slump coming into his shoulders.

The man smiled wickedly. "I knew that you would see reason!" But Legolas noticed with some apprehensions and a little annoyance that the man pulled back on the crossbow and put the Elf directly in the sights. But then he shifted the bow's aim and a muffled thuck could be heard beside Legolas as the arrow ripped the grass and embedded itself in the earth up to the feathers.

Legolas frowned. "Your arrow shafts are crooked and the feathers are a bit shabby," he noted dryly.

His remarks went either unnoticed or were just plainly ignored. "Tell them that the next arrow is going to weave its way to your heart." The human notched another arrow, and set it into the bow, drawing it back and placing his fingers eagerly on the trigger.

When Roth had seen that arrow released and look as though it was going to impale his dearest friend and prince, he had nearly died. His heart had stopped beating and his lungs had held onto the breath they had just drawn, letting it loose only a few seconds later. But now that he had seen it miss Legolas altogether and harmlessly strike the grass, he was incensed. He didn't know what made these people think that they could antagonize his friend and get away with it, but he imagined that it derived from their blatant lack of intelligence.

But the hitching line of Sindarin speech he heard made him freeze and nearly die all over again. "Rothinzil! You have c-c-cconvince them to hurry the meeting! You have to!" Legolas' voice was so raspy that it was barely recognizable and he cold tell that Legolas' strength was draining to provide energy for him to yell like he had seconds ago.

The man near Legolas clouted him on the ear with his fist, earning a cry of surprise from the unsuspecting prince, who ducked closer to the ground. "Say it in a language we can all understand!"

Legolas was at a loss for a moment. He didn't want these men to hear his private conversation. It was none of their business and it would simply never do. "But my warrior doesn't understand the Common Tongue, and right now he has taken charge of the negotiating." Legolas resourcefully came up the lie. In truth, it was the exact opposite. It had taken Legolas a long time to teach Rothinzil fluent Sindarin after upbringing at the hands of mortals where only Common was spoken. They were still working on sharpening his Quenya. But no matter, these people could never know that.

The man blinked, astonished. "He doesn't?"

Legolas' answer was impatient. "No. He doesn't."

The man seemed frustrated and then he raised the crossbow and threatened. "How do we know that you are telling the truth and not feeding us a pack of lies, Elf?"

Legolas' mind-set was surly and his answer clearly reflected it. "You don't." If his eyes could get any colder, they would be frozen in his head. If he got any angrier then the frozen orbs would likely crack through their centre.

However, he was almost one hundred percent certain that he could hear this man's teeth grinding in frustration. Well, at least he was getting some satisfaction out of this, because being seen as a weak bargaining chip before his friends and allies was definitely not something he would call amusing. "Very well, Elf, but say something wrong and we find out…then we will kill one of your friends!"

Legolas almost sighed. That was the same old threat. These people were not that creative. He couldn't understand how they could be so effective through repetition, but they were. "Have it your way," he answered darkly, turning his face to look towards where Rothinzil was on the knoll gaping at him with apprehensive eyes. He hoped his friend remembered to breathe.

"Oh, I will Elf," the man with the crossbow promised in an equally dark monotone. "Keep talking!" he demanded, giving Legolas a dig in the knee, finding the most vulnerable part of the joint to inflict his boot upon. Legolas flinched angrily.

Thinking of a message that wouldn't scare Rothinzil into the next realm, Legolas finally settled on one. "Rothinzil, are they finished yet? These men are irritating…I am afraid for Estel! He isn't doing so well! Elrohir is with him!"

Rothinzil suddenly began to feel a bubbling, sort of boiling feeling in his chest. He had made a mistake, he realized. He had thought he was angry before, but no, of course, he had been wrong. He was angry now. Before, he had merely been aggravated and impatient as well as afraid.

"I can't! Legolas, it is not up to me! What are they doing to you? What have they done to Elrohir and to Estel?" Roth shouted back, trying not to let his desperation show. However, he couldn't erase it off his face, where it was written in his eyes and on his brow. He could feel his hands shaking on his horse and he clutched the animal's coarse mane to hide it. It shook its head in minor annoyance.

Legolas shuddered exhaustedly. The exertion from yelling was wearing heavily on his already overtaxed constitution. His lungs convulsed as he restrained humiliating coughs. He felt the arrow tickling under his chin and twisted away, irritating and still regaining his breath. "They aren't very encouraging people!" Legolas tried to guise his voice so it was sounding close to desperation. "Although, they do try!"

Roth scowled. "My lord, that is not what I asked!"

Legolas almost gave a belying half-smile. "Roth! We don't have time! If that meeting is not cut short, there will be no one to rescue!"

Roth grimaced. He had no power, here, none at all. If he did, they would all have been dead and his friends free.

The man holding the crossbow lowered the weapon before handing it off once more. He was going to need both his hands. His boot connected sharply with Legolas' head, underestimating the effect that it would have on the already weakened prisoner. "Straying off topic?" the man guessed in a hiss.

Legolas opened one eye to glower at the man darkly, before speaking. Sharp barbs of pain were darting back and forth between his temples, and the more he opened his eyes, the worse the pain became. "I was not, Adan!" Legolas snapped, switching back into Common.

The man obviously as not impressed. Legolas tried to pull away as the human's fingers snarled themselves in his hair, but they pulled his throbbing head back. "Then what all is there to talk about? You don't sound very desperate!"

Legolas opened both of his eyes this time, swirling them around to meet his captor's eyes. "Should I give you that satisfaction?"

"I don't believe you, Elf! If your companion could only understand…Elf-speak, he could have not consorted with those men! No one here speaks your language!"

Legolas had to admit that he had not foreseen this, but there was no way to deny it. Common was easier to learn than the language of the Rohirrim and it wouldn't be plausible that he would learn that instead. Roth could barely get his tongue around Quenya.

"You are a liar, Elf!" the man accused, throwing Legolas' backward by his hair. Legolas coughed a little as his back impacted hard with the ground. "You know," the man suggested, in open debate, "the only thing that doesn't lie is screams."

Legolas used his feet to push him backward a little, putting himself just out of the man's reach. He knew his effort was in vain. "You don't have to do this! All you have to do is come to their side!" he implored them to understand. "They wish no vengeance on you."

The man sneered angrily, "They want justice!"

Legolas almost nodded. He couldn't argue with that. He himself wanted it –perhaps more than anyone else -and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to the vengeance too. "But they are willing to set even that aside. What they want and what they need are two different matters. The Nameless One is gathering his forces. I have walked past there, I know. Your king needs more men. What he has now is not sufficient as defence against the coming evil. You know this. You planned an insurgency. Just place yourself back on the right side. Any man who surrenders will not be harmed."

The man considered the Elf's words for a minute, wondering if there was more that was being unsaid. "You lied about everything else-"

"Why would I lie about this?" Legolas interjected, not feeling very patient.

"You tell me!" The man snarled, kicking Legolas in the ribs. The prince's breath was spirited away and he was motionless for a moment, trying to catch it.

"I wouldn't…lie about this!" he insisted. If they didn't see reason, then they would never surrender and Estel would die, as would Elrohir. Legolas knew that he was going to die. Roth would have to return home alone and Legolas felt heartbroken as he realized he had just killed his friend's spirit. Roth would die before he reached home. The evil news would murder his soft heart.

"Maybe you would, to save yourself and your friends!" Legolas knew that the human was right. He would to save his friends, but he wasn't now! Oh well, they were going to do what they were going to do and there was no stopping them –things had gone beyond that. His spirit and body were fatigued with his injuries, his fears and the suffering of his friends.

:0Ї0:

Ever since the men had dragged Legolas off, nearly breaking his nose out of spite, Aragorn could not stop himself from shaking. Elrohir would have accredited this to the man's wound had not Legolas been taken away. The ranger was terrified now, but not for himself. Legolas was already in horrible shape, and if they applied anymore abuse he knew that the thread the prince's consciousness was dwindling on would break and from there anything could happen to the Elf. "Elrohir, you have to do something!" the man hissed, his chin quivering.

The Eldar scowled at him, frustrated. He was afraid too. But his bonds had rendered him helpless. "I can't, Estel!" he implored. But, he was unable to meet Aragorn's eyes and see the hurt in their silver depths.

"What is going to happen to him, Elrohir?" Aragorn's mind was still cloudy and he didn't fully understand what was happening. All he knew was that his best friend had just been dragged away and that they were using him for something.

Elrohir shook his head. He wished that he could say that he had answers, but he couldn't. "I can't say."

"Elrohir," Aragorn's soft voice caused the twin to stare the ranger full in the face. "We can't let him get killed."

:0Ї0:

"My name is Gálmód. I am the counsellor to King Thengel," a middle aged man with frosted blonde hair introduced himself to Rothinzil.

The Elf's eyes were dispassionate and his voice was a monotone. "I need no counsel, counsellor Gálmód."

The man shook his head, and looked to where Roth's eyes were transfixed. He couldn't see the Elf's friend, but he knew that he was there and he was well aware of what was happening. "You misunderstand me, Master Elf. I am to accompany you to negotiate with the men."

Roth snapped his head to lock eyes with the counsellor. "Your king is not coming as well?" His face was white as he realized that they would kill Legolas for this. Those traitors would kill him. "You don't understand! They will kill him! They will kill all three of them!" This counsellor, however good his intentions were, just couldn't understand how dire this situation was and all that stood to be lost.

"We'll see," he said with almost flawless serenity. An air of confidence befitting an aged counsellor glowed around him. Normally, Rothinzil would have found this confidence to be consoling but now he found it highly irritating. This man wouldn't be so calm if he truly understood all that was transpiring. If anything, this man would be lying on the ground, his head in hole and his hands covering his ears mumbling prayers.

Roth shook his head vigorously. "You don't understand. Not only are those three in there my truest friends, they are also very important in the Elven realms! If they die, trust me, you will find your country razed to the ground –and that will probably be for a warm up!" Actually, judging from the condition of Mirkwood and Rivendell, he doubted this would happen, unless Elladan survived and led a contingent in his father's stead. Rivendell was still licking its wounds from the earthquake as well as the loss of Elrond and Vilya. Mirkwood's wounds were so far untended. They needed Legolas.

Gálmód didn't look the least bit impressed, even if that was how he felt. "I understand, Master Rothinzil. However, I am very experienced in such tricky areas and have counselled for many, many years." It is not likely that he understood the age differences between most Elves and men, or he wouldn't have used his age as an assurance.

"I have walked the earth more years than probably your whole family tree combined. Serious trouble will come of this if your efforts fail, and you may not live to fully regret this." Roth's statements were deadpanned, as he was emotionally drained.

The counsellor raised an eyebrow. "Are your threatening me, Master Elf?"

"No," Roth answered tensely. "Merely informing you. And trust me; those are my best friends –my family. If they are killed, then I will not let this go."

"I will take that into consideration," Gálmód answered, still unnervingly calm. "I am sure that King Thengel has already."

Rothinzil just nodded, at a loss and realizing that taking his frustrations out on the man were not going to help. If anything, they were going to make things worse. "Good." However before the incredulously warrior could stop himself, his mouth was open and he was asking, "Why did he choose to send you?"

The human stared at the Elf for a moment, seeing if the being was attempting some sort of crude jest. Rothinzil was not. Gálmód almost shrugged, but that would not seem very diplomatic. "I am his chief counsellor; it is my right when he must send someone. I am good at what I do, rest assured."

This was somewhat understandable, considering that Erestor always got chosen first in Rivendell. But, as finicky as that Elf-lord was, Roth would trust his life or the life of his friend's into Erestor's hands much more quickly than any human –save for Aragorn. But at the same time, the construction of the explanation had put the already agitated warrior on edge. "So this is a political benefit to you?"

"Possibly," he admitted without the least bit of hesitation. "Depending on how things turn out. But I don't need it. Anyway, there are much more important reasons. Regrettably, not all of these people are strangers."

Roth was intrigued. "Oh?"

"I have friends and old family relations among them –not bad people, although misled." He studied Roth's face for a minute and then confided, "I do not know what the way with Elves is, but with men they need a strong leader or they fall apart. Not all men are cut out to be leaders and those turn into followers. Thengel is a good king –but too gentle and his poverty stricken people needed assurance. All it took was two proud scouts to offer them that and they were eating out of the pair's hands. If they are scared now and they have to be made to believe their chances are greater than one to ten. They need a promise. Many of them trust me and my name carry's a lot of weight." Looking uncomfortable for the first time in a while, he admitted, "Almost more than the king's."

Roth looked a little more assured, even though he was still ill at ease for the most part. He was too scared for his friends and for his home and his terrorized heart was incapable in fully trusting anyone here. "Then why did they ask for the king?"

"Would you not want to speak to the one ultimately in charge if you were in their shoes? They want complete assurance."

"And you can give them that?" Rothinzil asked dubiously.

"We'll see."

The two then began to descend down the steep incline of the small knoll, their horses being used to the terrain and travelling at an even, incautious pace. Gálmód had gone first and Roth had kept his horse close on the other's heels, not wanting to seem fearful.

As they rode, he asked curiously, "What took the meeting so long?" He felt obligated to know since evidently Legolas had suffered for it. The prince had stopped crying out some time ago, but Roth knew that they had not stopped, still trying to encourage the prince to find his voice again.

"Convincing His Majesty not to go to them," answered the adviser matter-of-factly.

Roth nearly pulled his horse to a stop. Only the remembrance that time was precious preventing him from holding the conversation right here. "You had to talk him out of it? Why did you?"

"Would you risk harm to your lord, Master Rothinzil?" questioned Gálmód calmly, simultaneously guiding his cantering horse with aged skill.

Roth winced inwardly. He wouldn't, no, but he often didn't have the luxury of choice. Legolas wasn't considerate enough for that, which is what had gotten them all dragged into this mess that simply could have stayed strictly Rohan's business.

"I can tell that you would not," the aged man answered for the Elf. "Neither would we."

"But the people are scared and want assurance! Why would they kill the only one capable of granting them clemency?" The warrior just didn't understand this. None of it made any sense, even though he knew that the man he was talking to expected it to be perfectly understandable. Maybe his lack of comprehension stemmed from his fear-addled mind.

"It is protocol, Master Elf. We cannot run the risk. We cannot afford it. Théoden and his sister are both too young to rise to the throne. You have seen the reactions of men under a leader they do not have faith in. Now, imagine them leaderless," Gálmód grasped for Rothinzil's understanding. The warrior had to see that the realms of men were a delicate balancing scale that was easily tipped and that without certain practice, things would crumble from within and everything would go to ashes.

Rothinzil knew all of this, or had guessed it, but he still just couldn't gear his heart up to understand. A routed sort of half-scream tore his attention away from his inner thoughts and he jerked his head up, staring intently at where his friend was sprawled on his side, attempting feebly to curl in on his defenceless body. Gálmód's hand on his arm caused him to momentarily divert his attention away from Legolas, and he turned his head toward the human.

"Remain calm. Do not rush forward unless you wish to be shot and your friend killed. I give you this advice as a friend." His old eyes searched Rothinzil's face for compliance as well as comprehension.

The last thing the defensive warrior wanted to do was listen, but it seemed that he had no other options. Gálmód had an undeniable point. "I suppose I will have to trust you," he succumbed tensely.

Gálmód sighed. "It would help." He made a mental note that should he ever encounter Elves again, to remember that they were some of the most stubborn and suspicious creatures put together.

Their conversation ended as they reached their destination and pulled their animals to a stop. Gálmód's face was emotionless and cool, while Roth's was dead. His cheek bones stood out and his face was gaunt and drawn in terror. He had tried so hard to keep faith in his friends' strong wills and bring hope to the situation but all of his resolution was sucked into a dark void that consumed all reason.

Legolas wasn't moving.

TBC…

OH, that definitely cannot be a good thing. ;) You can blame our non-existent consciences for that. Actually, they sort of collaborated with us. Please, as always, review! We love hearing from you and all the ones from the last chapter were absolutely terrific! Thank you! And thanks for all the well-wishes. :D I am now recovering and doing my best to catch up in school before the end of the quarter… in a week! Eeps! My sister and Dad's birthday are on the fourth and fifth, so I have some gift shopping to do for that! Hehehehe...I know, that really isn't too much to complain about, is it?

IMPORTANT: Our site is now operational and amazingly, we have updated: having fan art, a picture of Rothinzil (created by me) and an animation created for us by Ponteh. –Waves to her-. We also have a March contest, so if you are bored that could be fun! ;)

Also, those of you who left their e-mail, you should have gotten review responses, we sent them, but if they don't arrive, THANKS!