Chapter 3

Dreams Again

'Mandossea', at first glance, looked little more than a clearing in the woods, with several large, wooden corrals. But then Legolas looked up. The trees above him were networked with platforms, ladders, ropes, and even, it appeared, rooms. It was akin to the woods in Lorien Legolas had always heard talk of, but nowhere near as efficient or beautiful. Still, it was pretty good, for what Leoglas assumed must have been the orcs' hand at building.

"Mandossea?" he repeated after a long moment of staring up. "Why, what is this place?"

'Mandossea' meant, roughly, 'see what terror is'. Both unnerving and unsurprising, to say the least.

Mornaeg's victorious smirk didn't improve the situation. "Mandossea is…the birth of a new idea. A new- tactic. But don't concern yourself with that, Legolas, you won't be permitted to assist in my plans anyway. I have more important things for you."

Legolas' next question was predictable, but that didn't bother him a bit. "What about Aragorn? What will be done with him?"

"Nothing, yet. Later on? Why don't you wait and see, Lindo? Don't go spoiling all my surprises." Mornaeg smiled at Legolas' glare, and spun his horse around full-circle, addressing the orcs over his shoulder. "Take the both of them bellow to my tree. Leave the human, but stake the elf."

The orcs were, as ever, quick to comply, untying, and then pulling the limp form of Aragorn down from the cart, and heading forward to a particularly giant tree. When they gained the back of it, Legolas could see there was a great stone covering the entrance into a hollow trunk.

Brog pushed to the front, and with the assistance of two other orcs- who seemed more than a little disgruntled to help -shoved the titanic stone away from the entrance by about three feet.

Legolas was shoved inside by two orcs, followed by a third with a torch. The interior was a maze of roots and damp moss, and it surprised Legolas that the tree was even standing anymore, with so many plants feeding off of it from the inside.

Legolas gasped as an unexpected kick landed just behind his right knee, and his sank to his knees, catching himself on bound hands. The second orc scrambled to grab the rope attached to the prince's wrists, jerking it and Legolas closer to the ceiling, and securing it to a tree-root that looked more like a tree branch.

Legolas didn't even bother trying to mess with his ropes just yet. He knew they wouldn't just come undone, and that he'd never make it out the small entrance past the orcs anyway.

Brog approached the entrance, and carelessly, threw Aragorn inside. "Estel?" Legolas called urgently, but the human lay still near the entrance, his wrists still bound, and his eyes still closed. And after the orcs grunted and complained for a few moments, the stone slid shut again, plunging the two friends into complete darkness.

"Estel, can you hear me? Aragorn?"

No response. Legolas wished that his elven glow could illuminate further than it did, but in such total darkness, it was hard for him to see his own hands in front of his face, let alone the human who lay sprawled somewhere across the room. Plus there was something about the darkness of evil as well as the lack of light that seemed to constrain his ability to bring light.

"Please be okay, Aragorn," he pleaded allowed, because it felt better to pretend that his friend was still awake, listening to him. He felt less alone that way. "I can't lose you yet, mellon-nin, not after all we've been through. Just hang on, all right? Hold on, Estel."

He hurt…he hurt so badly, and it broke Aragorn's heart.

He was writing, quickly, so he would not forget what he was going to say. Such words- words that blurred in the human's vision, though he was desperate to read them over the other's shoulder.

At last, the elf stopped writing, put his paper down, and stared out the window. Looking for something…someone. Aragorn took the paper, his eyes dancing back and forth over it.

An mellon mi enyalie,

/to the friend who will remember/

Time hurts. It burns. It freezes.

Fair it well then. Tonight. For this night it leaves.

This night time ceases, leaving a cold body in its wake.

The heir to folly. The king of none.

But no more.

Remember tonight in hope. This night. The night of surrender.

Remember…

-Legolas

Legolas was watching him now, his eyes were sad, and dull. "I can't do it anymore, Estel, I tried, but…I'm ready to give up, now. I wish you were here to talk me out of it, mellon-nin," and he smiled vaguely, taking the paper from Aragorn's hands gently, and laying it under his mattress. "He'll find it here…he'll always know what it is that hurt me so, and why…"

"No, Legolas you don't have to do this!"

"I'm sorry, Estel…I know you would probably hate me for this, maybe, but…if you only knew how badly it hurt, I think you would understand."

Aragorn's heart raced. "Legolas- don't! Don't, Legolas! Eal lin layaa kuil!"

He wasn't listening. He stood slowly, and reached for-

The human tried to yell the other's name, but his voice was growing quieter and quieter. He was lying on his bed, and seemed to be stiff, unable to stop his friend. "Lib ta...in sikil...please, Legolas…please don't."

"Estel…for you, Estel."

"In sikil! Eal lin layaa kuil! Legolas, please! I'm coming, I'm coming! LEGOLAS!"

"Estel STOP IT!"

Aragorn jerked awake, and wondered for a moment if he'd even opened his eyes yet. It was completely dark, and smelled musty, wherever he was. His mind fought to catch up with him, and finally decided that Mornaeg must have reached his destination.

Finally, these random thoughts stopped running through his head, and his thoughts landed on Legolas.

"Legolas?"

"Ea le firn san, Estel," Legolas moaned from somewhere across the room.

Aragorn crawled as best he could with his hands still bound, towards the sound of the elf's voice, and the very, very pale glow of his skin. "Legolas, I'm here. I'm not dead, I'm here."

"Ea le firn san!"

"I'm not dead," Aragorn insisted, continuing his crawl.

"Then what were you dreaming of, Estel?" Legolas demanded quietly, almost more to himself.

"I- it was just a dream, Legolas, it doesn't matter."

Legolas nodded, and then, remembering his friend couldn't see him, said, "All right."

"Where are we, anyway?"

The prince put away his thoughts, his fears, the conclusions he'd jumped to…Aragorn was sick, after all, and could have any number of dreams. Instead, he worked with his ropes some more, and explained all he could to Aragorn.

When the stone slid away from the tree's entrance, both friends were instantly blinded, giving the orcs an unexpected advantage. All Legolas knew, as he squinted through the unbearable daylight, was that the rope tied to the ropes around his wrists was being untied, and that he was next moment stumbling outside after Aragorn.

Upon further inspection, once his sight had adjusted, it wasn't actually terribly bright outside. Black clouds still covered the sky efficiently, and rain was sprinkling on the forest in a light mist. The whole woodland looked light dusk, and everything was overly green.

"This way," the orc over Legolas shoulder growled, shoving him towards a ladder leading up the tree he and Aragorn had been in.

Aragorn turned automatically to follow, but Gamdag snarled, stepping in the human's way, and shoving him in the other direction. "Not you, human," he spat, "you're going with the rest of the workers."

"Na-ea mae im, Legolas," Aragorn promised, for he could feel the elf's worried expression on his back.

/I will be fine, Legolas./

Legolas only nodded -holding with all his mind to the idea that Mornaeg wouldn't kill the human as long as he could be useful- and allowed himself to be shoved to and then prodded up the ladder.

When he gained the top of the ladder, two new orcs hauled him up by his arms, and then marched him off down the platform.

"Stop," came one of the orc's gruff orders, and both grabbed Legolas' shoulders, halting him, and knocking on the makeshift door they had stopped in front of.

That was rather surprising, since Legolas had never seen an orc resist smashing the door in. And even now, as the taller of the two knocked, it was clumsy, as though someone had only just recently showed him how.

"Enter," came the response from within, and Legolas knew instantly where he was headed, and tried to swallow the fear in his throat.

Sure enough, the door opened to reveal a small, dim room, where there were only really five things other than the wood holding it together: a wooden chest, a metal ring protruding from the floor, a length of elven rope tied to the ring, a window, and Mornaeg.

"Mae Govonnen, Lindo."

Legolas only glared in response.

"Oh, such manners you have." Mornaeg tisked loudly, and motioned the orcs clinging to Legolas closer. "I hope you don't mind me tying you up, Lindo," he said conversationally, picking up the length of elven rope tied to the ring, and looping it around Legolas's all ready bound wrists. "But you see, I don't trust the orcs with knots." His fingers flew in circles, looping, tying off, and then finally pulling a last knot with a tug.

His eyes flicked to the two orcs. "Stand by the door please, mellhyn-nin."

Legolas flinched at the free use of the elvish word for 'friends' on orcs. "What do you want, Mornaeg? To kill me?"

"Why would I kill you, Lindo? You are my friend, remember? We don't all try to get our friends killed." He smirked, and Legolas felt his fingers curl into fists automatically. "Now, now, Lindo. Don't be so angry," Mornaeg teased coolly. "You really ought to be proud of yourself, you've done us all a favor. Arasen was weak anyway. Survival of the fittest and all that."

"Edren was good." The prince's anger was just barely in check, and he knew it. He couldn't hold it back long…by the look in the other elf's eyes, that was the idea.

"Oh, I don't know," Mornaeg countered thoughtfully. "Had he lived, he would only be bumbling into more stupid mistakes, and gotten himself killed sooner later. It's inevitable with truly cowardly elves; they always choose what looks right over the smart thing. No, no, I don't blame you for getting him killed. I've been meaning to thank you, actually."

"Murderer!" Legolas screamed, unable to handle the verbal abuse to Edren, and unwilling to let go of his pain. He knew he was tied, he knew there were orcs just behind him, but that didn't deter him in the least from flying at Mornaeg, fingers outstretched for the knife dangling from the other's belt.

He briefly felt the impact of his fingers against Mornaeg's face, but he was not expecting the elf's knee to shoot up in ready defense, and wind him in the stomach. Legolas doubled over, coughing, and crumpling to the floor. He could feel Morneag towering over him, but his eyes stayed resolutely shut.

"Thank you for killing him, Lindo," he said coldly, with no tone gratitude whatsoever.

"You killed him."

"No, I mean it. It's been really helpful to me, having him dead. Hannon le."

"Leave me alone."

"Now that Arasen's gone, it's really a great load off my mind."

"What do you want!" Legolas demanded, sitting up, and opening his eyes at last. "What. Do you want, Mornaeg."

"Call me Tiro-Lim," Mornaeg crooned. "Call me Tiro-Lim, and we'll start there."

"I…no." Legolas broke off in a gasp, toppling over from a second blow, and clutching his stomach again, while Mornaeg casually massaged his knuckles.

"Call me Tiro-Lim, Lindo," he repeated, once the prince had recovered partially.

Legolas hesitated, trying to collect his thoughts, and felt Mornaeg move around behind him. "Why."

"Call me Tiro-Lim," he repeated simply. "I want to hear it."

"Is that all?"

No response.

"All right then, all right." Legolas sighed, knowing that Mornaeg was winning, but it was a small victory, and somehow not worth getting beat up over. If only for Estel, I need to keep my head. "All right," he said a third time. "Tiro-Lim." And he shrugged, to prove it didn't mean anything.

There was a pause. "Good, Lindo…good. Now, I want you to say: 'ea le mellon-nin, Tiro-Lim'."

/you are my friend, Tiro-Lim./

No way, Legolas wanted to say, but he paused instead, choosing his words carefully. "'Mellon' is a word I do not use lightly, Morn-" he felt a whisper of movement behind him, "Tiro-Lim," he corrected quickly, and there was stillness behind him.

"Just say it, Lindo, you once said it freely."

"Yes, but that was a long time ago!"

"And…?"

"And…" Legolas bit his lip and shook his head, glancing over his shoulder towards where Mornaeg probably stood. "I don't really remember that time anymore, Tiro-Lim. I don't know you as a friend. I know you only as Aragorn and my enemy, and- Edren's KILLER," he added passionately, half expecting pain, but Mornaeg didn't stir. "And," he went on carefully, "and all I remember of you clearly, is how you blamed me for the death of your brother, which you could have prevented, had you-"

Legolas cried out, despite the fact that he had mentally planned not to make a sound. His back arched when Mornaeg's boot made contact with it, and through the blinding pain, he heard the elf murmuring dangerously, "I am not the one to blame for Minaeg's death, Lindo, and judging by how you sacrificed Edren for yourself, it does not surprise me that my brother died."

Mornaeg aimed a kick at Legolas' side, and lashed out hard, making contact with the heal of his boot. Legolas gasped, and fell over, moaning quietly, but trying to grip himself. Lying on the floor, he opened his eyes halfway, and found himself facing Mornaeg's boots. The soles and heals were hammered metal.

"Now. Say: 'ea le mellon-nin, Tiro-Lim'. Mean it, Lindo."

Legolas licked his lips numbly. Was it worth it? To save the word 'mellon' -a word more meaningful to him than Mornaeg could ever understand- for Aragorn? For Edren?

"Say it, Lindo."

"Ea-" Legolas paused.

"Yes…?"

"Ea le friend, Tiro-Lim."

Legolas couldn't see him, but he was pretty sure Mornaeg was glaring, judging by the warm spot on the back of his head. He let a smirk cross his face, before it disappeared behind a clenched jaw as Mornaeg dealt another blow to his back.

"That way," the orc who had just cut Aragorn's ropes told him, pointing to a line of orcs standing in front of a makeshift table between two trees. The human was prodded and shoved by the orcs on either side of him towards the line, and then jerked to a halt.

The line moved quickly, and finally, Aragorn was standing in front of the table. A particularly deformed-looking orc stood behind the table, which was littered with crude weapons and tools. Aragorn eyed the assorted knives interestedly, his fingers twitching to snatch one.

"Think of your fingers as silent," Elrohir's voice echoed in his ears, "and keep your wrist straight; the fingers work, not the hand. Use your index finger, and your middle finger, because that way, you can slip it against your palm before anyone gets a glimpse. Now. The really important thing, Estel, do not tell Adda I taught you this, and if ever you try it on Elladan, don't lift anything from his pocket, because he always notices, his reflexes are much better than yours, and I don't want to explain to Adda how your fingers got broken."

Aragorn smiled gently to himself, but his memory was cut short by the especially ugly orc across the table shouting, "Hey!" and throwing a pointed stick at him. Aragorn caught it, and then looked at the orc questioningly.

But he didn't get the question answered, because, next second, he was being shoved off into the woods again. They walked for only a few minutes, and then found themselves facing a curtain of ivy. Looking up, Aragorn could see it had been purposefully hung from the trees above with twine. It would have been beautiful, if steam was leaking out like slimy oil between the leaves. Stumbling in front of the orcs' rough hands, he stepped through the curtain to an unbelievable sight.

They were standing in a forest room about twenty feet across in all directions. Ivy curtains ran all the way around like walls, holding moister and heat in, making the air very stuffy. In the center of the clearing were three trees, and all looked as though they were dying.

And, most terrifying of all, on the ground, covering half the dirt floor, baby green, pointing arrow-up to the sky…Bengwiil.

"You're growing Bengwiil," he said blankly, meaning 'you' as Mornaeg, even though he wasn't there.

The orcs ignored him, giving him a shove forward, taking it step by step, until he was standing on soil instead of Bengwiil. "Plant the roots," the orc said stupidly, "and dig in the dirt with the stick. Roots are over there," he motioned vaguely to a burlap sack sitting a few feet away.

"Do it in a row," the second orc added, and the first nodded importantly.

"Yes, in a row, and be careful with the roots, Adar says they die easy."

Aragorn rolled his eyes, still having a hard time adjusting to the free use of 'Adda' by orcs of all beings. "Right," he said easily, and to at least get their bad breath off his neck, started immediately to churning up the soil with his pointed stick.

It took a little while, but eventually, the orcs pulled back to wander around by the ivy curtains instead, giving Aragorn a chance to look around. To his surprise, there were in fact, other people churning up soil around him, as well as retrieving new roots from the living plants. A great many were orcs, but it looked as though there were one or two elves as well. Aragorn's guess was that the orcs were paid to help, and the elves were not. It was the only way Mornaeg could have gotten a creature like an orc into gardening.

The human's curiosity grew as one of the elves tossed him odd glances, and then hastily got back to work. Could Adda be here? part of Aragorn's mind couldn't help but ask. But as his eyes roved back and forth over the area, he saw only three elves, and each had blonde hair. Perhaps he is in Mandossea, but somewhere other than here, he told himself hopefully. He wasn't used to having his own father gone…it was hard to fit into his head.

Aragorn could feel the orcs' eyes on the back of his neck again, so he started back to work, diving to the bag of roots, and grabbing a handful. They were, in fact, more like baby Bengwiil than anything else. A small, light green root with a curled-up leaf on top. Aragorn handled the delicate plants over to his spot, and started to digging up the dirt again.

He'd almost finished the first ditch, when his mind caught up with him. Just what are you doing? An excellent question. He wasn't very well going to plant Bengwiil on purpose was he? Glancing over his shoulder, Aragorn was sure there was no one watching him currently.

Keeping his back to the outer rim of orcs, he slipped a knife from up his sleeve silently, and let it drop into his palm. "Hannon le, Elrohir," he whispered under his breath, smiling at the stolen item, and lifting the first Bengwiil plant.

Without hesitation, Aragorn slit the root from the leaf, and then poked what was left of the stem into the dirt, leaving the baby leaf poking naked from the dark soil. Aragorn was a Ranger, but it didn't even take that to know that a plant could not grow without a root system. With nothing but a stem, the leaf would curl up and die for sure.

He smiled to himself, and slit the next root. And the next. The other nice thing about this was, he didn't have to dig much to stick a thin stem into the ground. But he used the stick anyway, to put on a show of working to the orcs, at least.

I hope Legolas is all right.

"Mellon, Legolas, mellon. It's not hard to say. 'Ea le mellon-nin'."

Legolas licked the blood from his lip, and rose to his knees yet again. "Why do you care! Even if I say the words, Mornaeg, I do not mean them!"

"Say it, Lindo, it'll be just like old times."

"No, no not like old times!" Legolas' throat was starting to hurt from shouting so often. "In 'old times', Mornaeg, you were sane. You were a friend, you deserved the name of 'mellon', as I understand from Edren. But that is all I know. What perhaps you once were, and it is not what you are NOW!"

Legolas curled in on himself as the expected blows came. One kick in the stomach, two, maybe three to the back, and finally, unexpectedly, fingers in his hair. Mornaeg jerked the prince's head up so he was looking directly into those hateful, unnaturally green eyes.

"If you remembered your own past better, Lindo, you would call me 'mellon' in an instant. I was your brother once."

Legolas watched the eyes in complete confusion. They bounced back and forth, as though Mornaeg had decided he wanted Legolas to love him. As though he just wanted to be his friend. But the emotion was being covered by hate, anger, and malevolence.

"Call me 'mellon', Lindo, do it. DO IT!"

Legolas flinched away, and shut his eyes. "You're mad, Mornaeg."

There was a short, painful pause, full of unspoken words, and then…to Legolas' shock, he felt himself being vaulted off the floor haphazardly, and could hear Mornaeg's rasping breath in his ears. His eyes flashed open, but by then, he was flying across the room.

A cry ripped from his all ready sore throat, as he came to the rope-tether's end, and was jerked back by his wrists towards the center of the room, landing hard on the wood floor. It all happened in a millisecond, and it took a full three heartbeats for the prince to even realize that Mornaeg had in fact thrown him across the room.

The two orcs on either side of him messed for a couple hopeless seconds with the knot around his wrists, and Mornaeg had to step across the room and untie it himself, shoving Legolas a step back towards them when he finished.

"Take him back downstairs."