I Will Always Return

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

If it's Worth Saving Me

Legolas couldn't feel or see much because of his bonds, but what he did see or feel was almost unbearable. His ribs felt like they had exploded from the new series of repeated blows the men had rained down on them. He had known that a fair amount of them had been cracked or more than a few were broken, but he would bet almost anything that they all had suffered more than cracks. Strangely enough, even though his senses had dulled earlier, the new burst of adrenaline had sharpened them and sounds and sights were amplified to an almost painful degree.

The prince had not been able to keep his eyes open for long once they began to enhance the imagery of what was taking place around him. He preferred his torments and his tormentors to remain sort of faceless and he was very tired anyway. Shifting, the prince stopped immediately when he felt fire break out in his wounded shoulder. During the process of goading a small scream from Elf, the sharper parts of their heavy riding boots had burst the stitches of his sword wound and torn the skin. Surprisingly, it was not bleeding very much at all. Legolas' body had retained barely enough blood to survive and now, it was gearing all of it towards the prince's major organs. The result of this was that his body was not very compliant and slow to react.

He could hear voices, one of which was most certainly Rothinzil's. The warrior sounded scared and Legolas hated how the proud Elf's voice trembled. He could tell that Roth was ready to beg for his release, and for the release of Estel and Elrohir. But there was another more serene voice working side by side with his friend's in an effort to coax their captors into seeing the light of reason. The voice was obviously that of an aged human but it had the melodious quality of an Elf's.

There was the sound of someone dismounting and then Legolas heard the men surrounding him tense and heft their spears and short swords, assuming a defensive stance. "Let me see to my friend," Roth demanded in a quiet, but dangerous tone that was a threat by itself. "He is dying, can you not see it?" All patience had bled out of Roth and he stepped decisively forward, only to be stopped by spears nipping at his throat and chest.

"One more move, Elf," one of the men growled and jabbed the sharp point of his spear against Roth's chest, cutting past the tunic and digging into the skin. It was a threat and Roth knew it. Gálmód cautioned him with a glare, bidding the Elf to consider the consequences.

The warrior's face looked panicked and he was almost sick with anxiety. At a loss, the gentle natured Elf pressed a little further but stopped when it became apparent that they would quite readily run him through. "Please, he'll die-"

"Then give us your weapons, Elf," snapped one man, holding his palm outstretched towards the warrior, expectantly.

Roth back-pedalled, unwilling to become another victim and play into their hands. It would never do for these men to find themselves with a fourth bargaining piece. Legolas and Elrohir had knowingly done so, for Estel's sake, but Roth knew that if these men had any more power and any more chances things would only become worse. "No. They are not yours to take. Move aside, he needs aid."

"We didn't come here to negotiate with Elves!" snarled another older man, shouldering his way to the forefront of the men. Spitting at Roth, he reached past the spear and shoved the Elf back a pace, unknowingly applying pressure to the warrior's shoulder wound. Roth grimaced before he could help himself, causing the angered man to sneer. "Mount your pony and sit down before you hurt yourself Elf!" He spewed the "advice" as the slur it was meant to be.

Roth barely spared himself an embarrassing fall backward as he regained his balance, but did not comply with the demands. His hazel eyes turned a dark green with insult and anger and he started forward again, only to feel Gálmód's arm slap across his chest, creating a barrier and calling him to peace. Being a stranger to this land's customs and desiring to get Legolas free above all things, the Elf reluctantly remained a pace behind the elderly adviser, but his eyes remained transfixed on Legolas. The prince was obviously in incredible pain.

Here the conversation switched into the flowing speech of the Rohirrim, of which Roth knew next to nothing. He had picked up a few words here or there, but nothing that would really make this any more understandable. Apprehension became visible on his paling face with the knowledge that his friends' fates would be the topic of conversation and he could understand nothing.

The men ignored him, as though he wasn't even there.

The elderly man that had shoved the warrior back walked boldly in front of Gálmód, who remained motionless as well as dispassionate. "What is it you have to say, Master Gálmód?"

"That I want this band of rebels you have taken up with to disperse, Master Déorwine." Even in making his demands, Gálmód's voice was very civil and calm. There was no deception. This was how he was, and it even managed to garner respect from these people.

"'Fraid we can't oblige. We would, naturally, but we have some younger men among us who don't want to die." The older man's raspy voice worsened towards the end and he coughed to clear it.

"They wouldn't have to, providing that they renounce their actions and release the three captives." Turning to look at Roth, Gálmód saw that the warrior was hardly paying attention to the negotiations at all. He had eyes and ears for only his friend right now. Every sound or move Legolas made, no matter how minute, he noticed. However the prince wasn't moving much at all. "The blonde Elf is dying, Déorwine."

The old man nodded gravely and looked a little remorseful. He lowered his shaggy head for a minute before glancing back at the curled-up Elf. Legolas' breaths were coming in ragged, short gasps that were dangerously shallow. Looking back at Gálmód with drooping eyes, the man whispered, "I know."

"If he dies, your chances of mercy will lessen. Our terms are that all three must be alive and surrendered to us. You would be wise to let his friend here tend to him." The aged counsellor scrutinized the situation before him. This was not going well. "How fare the others?" He asked softly, but with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Déorwine sighed and said, "I don't see how the ranger is hanging on. I can't understand it. The dark-haired Elf is doing fine though, a little roughed up, but he had that coming."

Gálmód was not anymore impressed, but his concern was finally beginning to show through. "If they die, there is going to be real trouble. The Elven realms are quiet now. They will be roused."

"Sharky will be angry, so will the Dark One," a younger man intervened brusquely. "I imagine that their anger will be greater."

Gálmód ignored the younger man and glowered angrily at Déorwine. "How did all of this come about? The king has always been good to his people!" He shook his head. "Surely you realize that this has been ridiculous from the start and is bordering on insanity now?"

"Now is not the time for long tales, Master Gálmód," the older man reminded wisely.

"True enough," the counsellor admitted, his eyes darkening. "Time is flying by, lives are at stake. Here is what the king offers: your lives for theirs." He wasn't going to try and explain what should be self-explanatory, that would be a waste of time, which was what these people wanted. "We want no more blood to be spilled. The king desires only peace and the resolution between brothers. We are all from Rohan. If you need protection from those you previously sided with, you shall have it." Thengel had not actually said this, but Gálmód could easily see him accepting it.

Déorwine was still suspicious, even though it was obvious that he wanted this to end. The people of Rohan were proud folk and he no less than anyone else. This begging for their lives was becoming unbearable.

The younger men were still not so sure. They had their families' lives to think about. "And His Majesty did such a wonderful job of looking out for us before!" snapped the one that had interrupted earlier.

Roth was beginning to sense that things were going ill and he felt panic bubbling in his chest. He didn't appreciate being left out in the dark of the conversation and looked sidelong Gálmód. "What is being said? What about my friends?" His voice was tainted with desperation. Although Roth had not intended it, his eyes seemed to enlarge to nearly twice their natural size.

Gálmód waited a moment before addressing the Elf in Common. "Things are going much the same. I don't think that they appreciate your presence. You are going to have to trust me and keep silent."

Roth's voice became bitter. "That is hard to do when one of my friends is dying at your feet, while the others suffer out of sight." His eyes, though still large, burned with distrust.

Gálmód could understand the warrior's frustrations, but there wasn't much that he could do. The men they were dealing with were not going to accept the removal of the prince from their grasps nor Roth in their midst. They had been through this once. He was quiet for a moment, everyone was. "I will see what I can do," he assured softly.

Roth gave a small frown of dismay as the conversation resumed in Rohirrim, but said nothing. They wouldn't listen to him anyway, and if they really didn't like his presence it would probably only make matters worse.

He didn't know what had been said, but the conversation had been curt and a bit heated. However, he had no objections when one of the humans grabbed his arm, dragged him around the barrier of spears and all but threw him down by Legolas' side. He spoke as though he had just tried to quiet a child throwing a temper tantrum. "Good, maybe he will be quiet now!"

Roth didn't care to hear anymore of their conversation, as it would be unintelligible to his ears anyway. Legolas shifted, and rolled halfway onto his back, blinking rapidly as he tried to bring Roth's face into focus. He had not been conscious of the conversation, but he had felt the proximity of Roth dropping down beside him and had he had wondered if it was one of the men.

"Roth?" Legolas asked groggily, suppressing a wheeze as his insides protested.

Roth wanted to cry and no matter how much he willed his eyes not to water up, they did. With a trembling hand, he brushed back some of Legolas' dirtied hair from where it had stuck to his clammy face. The prince forced a thin smile. "Yes, I've come back." The way bright red blood was collecting in the corners of Legolas' mouth's corners and was lining his lips was frightening.

Legolas hardly seemed to notice and made no move to lick it away.

"Had they not done enough already?" Roth whispered in Elven, biting his lip in sympathy. He wanted to check Legolas' ribs, to see how many were broken, but the prince looked so fragile that Roth was afraid to touch his injuries. He was no healer after all, and the last thing that Legolas needed was more pain at the hands of a friend.

Legolas attempted to answer his friend's question after a laboured breath. "Apparently not…think they are finished…now."

Roth stiffened as he put his friend's garbled words together and growled defensively, "They had better be, for their own sakes."

Legolas would have laughed, but he was almost hypnotized by his pain and by how dark his friend's eyes had become. They had turned dark green before, but now they bordered on black. He had never seen his friend in this angered of a state. "You will not interfere…" Legolas forced the command. He wouldn't be able to bear it if one more of his friends ended up with further injury on his account.

Roth ignored his lord's order, as though it had never been spoken, but Legolas knew that he was listening. Roth would keep silent rather than verbally defy him. "Where are Estel and Elrohir?" the warrior questioned gently, wincing as Legolas closed his eyes. Images were still too close and too painful.

Legolas swallowed slowly and then murmured, "They…s-should be back there…guarded…"

The warrior shook his head, and muttered sadly, "I couldn't free them anyway."

The prince's eyes slowly opened and Roth knew that whatever he was about to say was important, or Legolas wouldn't endure the pain of trying to bring things into focus again. The blue orbs locked with Roth's, which had softened back to darkened hazel at the helplessness of his friend. "He w-will die…Roth."

Roth shook his head adamantly. "No, no he won't, my lord." There was no need for either of them to clarify who "he" was.

To change the frightening conversation, Roth studied Legolas' bonds where his hands were pinned behind his back. The prince's fingers looked stiff and swollen and it was obvious he had lost all sensation in the appendages some time ago. Anger flared through the protective warrior and his hand strayed to his dagger concealed in his boot. Pulling out the small, intricately designed blade, Roth prepared to severe the overly tight cords, but at least a few of the men not conversing with Gálmód were watchful. Instantly a well placed kick smashed into his abdomen and slammed him backward onto his back. Taking advantage of the Wood-Elf's vulnerability that his prone position provided, one of them stomped on his wrist, forcing his finger's open so the knife could be confiscated. Roth didn't fight, knowing it would only make things worse.

Legolas groaned. "Rothinzil! No!" However good Rothinzil's intentions were, he didn't want his friend to suffer for him.

Gálmód paused his negotiations long enough to regain the crucial control of the situation. Without control, his sway would break. "Members of an envoy are not to be touched." His calm and yet clipped voice captured everyone's attention and no one moved.

"They are not to pull out weapons, either!" countered the man pinning Roth to the ground as he applied more pressure to the Elf's lean wrist. The warrior felt his fingers beginning to tingle.

"His intent was not to harm you," argued Gálmód, his serene tone now becoming severe. However, he couldn't argue that Roth had broken one of the unspoken rules of diplomacy. Elves, there was no working with the creatures. "Let him up."

The men exchanged wary glances and eased up on the Elf, and the human pinning his wrist to the ground removed his boot. Roth didn't wait to rise to his knees and then shuffled closer to Legolas, glowering angrily at the men. He didn't try to reclaim his knife, not wanting to garner more trouble that would put Legolas' life as well as Aragorn and Elrohir's lives, into further jeopardy. However, he did subconsciously cradle his bruising wrist against his body.

The knife was picked up and surrendered to Gálmód for safe keeping.

Roth waited until the negotiations resumed before he turned back to Legolas. His determination to get the prince's bonds off had not lessened, but he would have to find a new tactic. "This may hurt, my lord," he cautioned before setting his fingers to the knots and gently starting to pry them apart.

Legolas sucked air between his teeth and growled, "Leave them!" The pain of his chaffing raw skin made his voice inadvertently sharp.

Roth didn't relent. "It will feel better when they are off, my lord." His fingers continued to pull at the knots. He tried to be gentle, but it was a real hindrance that was making the untying of the knots impossible.

Legolas was too tired to struggle or argue and he was sure that Roth had only his best interest in mind. He did his best to hide his hisses of pain as his friend worked he relentless knots but they became inevitable and a stronger cry forced Roth to stop. He looked hurt and Legolas closed his eyes to block out the pained expression. "Legolas, I am afraid they won't budge. But the men are negotiating and you will be out of here in no time at all."

Legolas only smiled thinly. "I k-know, you tried."

Roth frowned and looked like he was in a round of mental kicking of himself. "It wasn't good enough. I am sorry."

Their conversation was interrupted by raised voices coming from Gálmód, Déorwine and other men that participated in the negotiating. Both of the Elves turned their attention to the heated debate, even though neither of them could understand a word of it. Legolas had known a little Rohirrim since his father had been very adamant that a prince should speak a variety of languages, but he was too groggy to remember anything helpful. Rothinzil could barely get his tongue around Elvish.

"Those of you who wish to return to us, may," Gálmód allowed, scrutinizing the men surrounding him in a semi-ring. "Those who do not want to don't have to, but the prisoners come with us alive. That is not negotiable."

"I have trusted you for many years, Gálmód. You are a good man. But we need the king's assurance. We need his insignia."

The counsellor shook his head. "He has no suck tokens with him. You shall have to trust me once again."

Legolas began to drift asleep as the heated discussions drew on for another hour. He wanted to care, and he did care about the fate of his friends and his family, but he new that there was nothing he could do to help anything right now. Roth consolingly stroked Legolas hair away from his face, but fearing that he would embarrass the prince, stopped and merely placed his hand on Legolas' good shoulder, massaging his fingers gently into the tense flesh. He wanted to pull Legolas close to him as the prince felt quite cold, but he was afraid to incite even one of his many injuries.

It seemed things droned on like this for some time and then Legolas felt horrible, pulsing pain in his hands, like needles of fire pricking into every available space of his skin. This was strange though, for he could also move his fingers…and his arms. Blinking as he pulled his arms in front of himself and immediately flexed his fingers, Legolas realized that his bonds had been cut. However, the pain he felt wrapping in hot bands around his abdomen and chest caused him to suddenly hug his arms against his body.

Rothinzil stared sadly at the prince and then slid his arms under him to pick him up when the Elf stopped him, feebly pulling away. "No." His voice wasn't clear, but it was obvious that he was fully conscious.

Roth misinterpreted his friend and shook his head, chastising, "You cannot walk on your own this time, my lord."

Legolas shook his head carefully, not having enough immediate breath to speak. When he gathered enough air, he explained, "I want no one else to carry…Estel…leave me…if you have to…but you are to carry him." He didn't understand what was going on, but if they were going anywhere he automatically assumed that Estel was going too. He couldn't hear any other voices and guessed that the negotiations were over and well over.

Roth didn't need to ask if it was an order, and even if he did, he didn't want to. He didn't agree with what Legolas wished, but he understood the reasoning and he wanted his prince to rest easily as possible. He wanted Legolas to know that Aragorn was in good hands.

Remaining on his knees for a minute, he was about to grasp Legolas' hand and tell him, "I will back for you", but the prince lashed out impatiently. "Time is waning! Go!" Rothinzil had not seen Aragorn's injuries. Legolas had and he wanted that human looked after as soon as possible. He wouldn't believe that Aragorn was dead, but he had not resigned himself to Aragorn living either. He was too scared of getting his hopes up and having them crushed in defeat. His heart was already in so many pieces and he didn't want it to shatter into even smaller fragments.

Rothinzil didn't hesitate, and all but jumped up. The camp was in the process of being abandoned and men walking around him looked at the warrior was though he was crazy but continued on their way. Going past Legolas, they stared down at the prince curiously, but Legolas didn't notice except maybe for their heavy footsteps. His eyes were closed and his senses were fairly overwhelmed in emotion and pain.

Roth looked back once, grimacing as he saw Legolas nearly get stepped on twice by careless humans. He hated leaving him so vulnerable and he was sure Thranduil would kill him if he ever found out.

Going further into the deserting camp, it didn't take the warrior long to locate Elrohir and Aragorn. The human was lying on the ground, looking as though death had already settled on him. His face held no colour, matching the rest of his overly thin, worn body. The man's eyes were closed and Roth felt fear wrap itself around his heart and squeeze so that he couldn't breathe. Elrohir was kneeling next to the ranger, still bound but visibly fighting the ropes so that his wrists were red and raw. The men had not bothered to untie the captive and Roth felt a surge of anger pass through him as he stood rooted to the ground.

Rushing over, he placed an assuring hand on Elrohir's shoulder to put an end to his struggling. "It would be easier if I cut you loose." Elrohir stopped abruptly and glared over his shoulder at the Wood-Elf.

"It took you long enough," he muttered darkly as Roth cut his ropes, freeing his hands, which burned for a minute.

Rothinzil wasted no time explaining or arguing, but ran over to where Aragorn lay. He slowed his steps before he stepped on the human. His eyes traced over Aragorn's body, mentally assessing him for the promised damage, but nothing could prepare him for the wound that he found. It had already been looked at and rudimentarily treated, but it still looked nasty and the Wood-Elf quickly turned his eyes to the ranger's face. It wasn't any more comforting and dropping to his knees, Roth held his hand less than a tenth of an inch over Aragorn's mouth and nose, checking for breathing. At first he felt nothing but and a thrill of fear made him clench up, but just before he was about to give up, a soft, barely felt breath wafted against the skin of his palm. Startled, Roth jerked his hand back and a surprised, but victorious smile spread on his face that was almost childish in its innocence. "He is alive!"

He slipped his hands under Aragorn's knees and behind the ranger's shoulders, mindful of his welts and other various wounds. Lifting Aragorn up off of the ground, he cradled the ranger close against his body, sharing his warmth in the process. Aragorn felt so cold.

Elrohir panicked at the sight of his fragile brother being moved. "What do you think you are you doing?" He rushed forward to relieve Roth of his burden but the Elf turned his back half way towards the twin to ward him off, allowing Elrohir to run into his good shoulder.

"Carrying him, what does it look like?" the warrior retorted, hugging Aragorn closer. The ranger stirred at the movement and Rothinzil fancied that the human's glazed eyes focused on his face for a moment before Aragorn inadvertently snuggled closer against him and was out again.

Elrohir couldn't help but feel a little jealous. That was his brother after all, and he wanted to be there for him and cuddle him close as he had not done in literally years. He glared expectantly at Rothinzil, who seemed remorseful. "I am sorry, but I promised my lord that no one else shall carry him."

"How about you don't and say you did?" Elrohir suggested, moving to accept Estel. He had obtained no hurt that was worse than anything Rothinzil had and he saw no reason why bearing his own brother should be withheld from him.

Rothinzil tried to smile deviously and said, "Or we don't mention any of this and see if Legolas even asks." He had no intention of keeping Estel away from his family and he was sure that if Legolas had thought Elrohir would be well enough, he would have wanted the younger twin to bear the human. He handed Aragorn carefully off to Elrohir, not relinquishing his support until he was sure that the ranger was secure in the other Elf's arms. Satisfied, he moved back a pace to give them room.

Elrohir frowned. "Where is Legolas?"

"In a heap on the ground. He insisted that I get Estel and carry him. I think he thought that you would be incapacitated." Roth looked alarmed. He needed to get back to the prince and gather him up before anything happened to him. The departing humans couldn't be too happy and Legolas was unprotected.

Elrohir shook his head. "I am afraid that I do not have his appetite for wounds and trouble."

Sighing he started back with Rothinzil, but the warrior outpaced him in his desperation to reach Legolas. Elrohir watched him rush ahead and a queasy feeling filled his stomach. He couldn't say for sure, but he doubted that Legolas thought he would be incapable of carrying Aragorn. Swallowing back cold fear, he began to wonder if Legolas had sent Roth away because he knew that he had to die.

TBC….

Okay, I realize that this chapter is early, but it is because Tinlaure and I will not be home Friday or Saturday, and we were sure that you wouldn't object to an early post. ;) We are going to Acquire the Fire in Muince Indiana with some friends.

But because time is short, review responses are going to have to be eliminated. Sorry, we both really are, but Tin and I simply have no time. The end of the quarter is next week and we have so much to do! And being away from home is a bit of inconvenience as well. LOL But honestly, we read and enjoyed every one of them! Thank you so much for all of them! We would love to hear from you again and hope to see your wonderful reviews in the inbox when we get back! ;)

Hmmm...and that's a bit of an evil cliffie too, isn't? HEY! You got an early post after all! LOL We know, we know, we should let you have your cake and eat it too... :D