A.N. First of all a BIG thank you to NiRi for betaing this for me, she did a wonderful job reminding me that commas are good and run-on sentences are very, very bad.

I am glad to see a few new readers among the reviewers, but many more people are reading and not reviewing. Think of it as the tiny toll you pay for reading, a little fee. And it doesn't hurt, not one bit.

A quick warning about this chapter. As Elrond said in the last chapter, things always have to get worse before they get better. So it gets a good bit worse for Legolas in this one. Nothing graphic, but our favourite elfling does get a bit roughed up. And little Estel cries a bit. You have been warned.

I cannot believe I am on to Chapter 10. Whoo-Hoo.

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One Friend to Another

10:

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Pain. Nausea. Fear. Darkness.

They registered in Legolas' foggy brain one by one, then they were joined by a deep, bone chilling cold. As he came awake each of his senses came aware, and he assessed himself as best he could with a sluggish mind. He could hear noises now - the snuffling of a distressed horse, garbled voices from a distance, and the nearby sniffling of someone crying.

Legolas ached from head to boots, his limbs felt heavy and stiff. The nausea ebbed and flowed in his stomach, but he did not feel as if he was going to be sick. His tongue was practically stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he was terribly thirsty. That was the least of his worries though. A pain in his chest stabbed through him with every breath, starting at the site of his old wound and emanating up his shoulder and down his left arm. The wound throbbed mercilessly, constantly,and he gritted his teeth against it, feeling what little strength he had dissipate with every beat of his heart. He rode the pain out and pushed it down, willing it to ease so that he may move and possibly find out where on the whole of Arda he was. How had he gotten here? And just who was that he could hear crying?

Finally,deciding that the best action for the moment would be to open his eyes and see for himself, he did so. The first thing he saw was that it was dusk, the second was the floor of a strange forestjust in front of his face. He realised that lying sprawled on his face in the dirt was not a good place to be. He moved to get up…..only to gasp as that old pain came back from the place he had hidden it andbrought its friends once more, Cold and Nausea. So he stopped trying to rise and lay still for a moment.

He could not move his hands from wherever they were behind him, and something tight was biting into the flesh of his wrists. Testing his legs, he found that he could not move them either. With a grunt, he struggled to wriggle off his stomach and onto his side at least, so that he could maybe get a better look at his surroundings. At his pained grunt of effort he managed, but the small noise and movement also alerted the crying being beside him. The sniffing stopped before a small quiet voice spoke up in a shaky whisper, a word that sounded like "Leg'lass

The crying being obviously knew him. But did he know them? He couldn't recall the face that went with that voice, so he moved his head as best he could and gasped again, this time in shock. Just in front of him, obviously trussed up and as bound as he, was the young boy from Imladris. The child had a tree at his back, his clothes were filthy and torn, and his small cherubic face was tear stained and distressed. Estel, his foggy mind finally informed him. The child's name was Estel, and his heart went out to him.

"Estel!" Legolas exclaimed….or tried to. The name came out as a husky squeak that shamed him. He cleared his throat noisily, and the child's eyes opened wide at the sound.

"Shhh!" the little boy pleaded. "They will hear you!"

That did not sound good. "Who, penneth?" Legolas asked, his voice now slightly clearer.

"The smelly men, over there" the child whispered, indicating somewhere behind Legolas with a nod of his head.

The elf craned his neck to take a quick glance behind him, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. Orcs. A band of about ten orcs encircled a small fire something disgusting was roasting over on a crude spit. Now that he could see themhe could hear the abomination to Arda that was Black Speech as the filthy creatures garbled and grunted among themselves.

Why had he not realized that he and the child were at the mercy of orcs? He should have known as soon as it dawned on him that he was tied, that he was in the possession of someone or something. Elbereth knows he should have smelled them!

Legolas closed his eyes again, a sudden wave of despair flooding though his very being. What was wrong with him?

How had he, the last prince of Mirkwood and experienced warrior elf, gotten himself captured by orcs? No, not just himself, he corrected. He had managed to drag with him the young human adopted by Lord Elrond. How had the child gotten here? Was Elrond somewhere near?

"Estel" Legolas whispered as quietly as he could, opening his eyes again. "What happened, child? How are you here?"

"The smelly men grabbed me when you fell asleep under the tree," the child answered matter-of-factly, and the elf groaned, full of shame at passing out in one of the most dangerous parts of all of Arda. "They were going to kill you, the child continued in the same matter-of-fact manner. "But I stopped them."

Legolas' eyes grew wide imagining the small human babe, attacking ten orcs with his tiny bow and arrows and defending the unconscious elf.

"How, penneth?" He asked the boy. "How did you stop them?"

"I told them who you were"

Legolas once more stifled a groan and closed his eyes in despair, then quickly opened them again to halt the vision of the orcs dragging him and the child to Dol Gudur as a rich prize for the Necromancer.

"But how did you get here with me, Estel?" He asked the boy. "Why are you not at home in Imladris?"

"I followed you," the child admitted sheepishly, glancing down at his feet. "I did not want you to leave."

Legolas studied the little face in front of him, trying to read the emotions there. He himself did not know how to feel at this news. He had opened his mouth to speak again when he saw Estel's eyes go wide at something behind him. In that instant something hard connected sharply with his kidneys, driving the air from his lungs and sending tendrils of pain shooting up his back. Legolas had a sneaking suspicion the "something hard" had been a sharp, armour clad foot.

"Shut up, elf!" came the unmistakable voice of an orc, and he was kicked hard again.

Unable to hold back the cry of pain this time, the elf saw concern and worry cross the face of the child in front of him, and the boy opened his mouth as if to speak to the orc. The elf quickly shook his head at the child, warning him to stay silent, trying to convey to the boy through his eyes that he was alright. The boy looked unconvinced but shut his mouth anyway.

Legolas felt a great clawed hand grab his shoulder and pull him over onto his back, his hands painfully trapped underneath him. The orc that leaned over him was bigger than any he had seen or killed before. The creature was almost his height and broad like a human, but the face was a twisted parody of nothing human or elven. It reminded Legolas of the face of a deformed pig, the skin grey and mottled. The stench of the thing made him have to swallow a gag reflex as it leaned closer in to his face.

"So the elf filth is awake, finally," it stated stupidly. "Grknak will be pleased"

Turning from the elf, Urshgk called to his commander and waved him over with a clawed hand.

If Legolas thought the previous orc was large, this new one was even larger and uglier. Grknak peered down at him with a leer, obviously delighted that the elf was conscious. Now he could get some answers to many questions he had for the elf scum. And if he couldn't get those answers, at least his little band of followers could finally have their "sport".

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"Are ye' the prince of Mirkwood, scum?" came a question again.

Again the pause for the answerbut when once more the answer did not come, a clawed fist was hammered into Legolas' mid-section and pain spread through him. Unable to double over to protect himself from the many repeated blows, Legolas' vision was blurring and his breath was coming in short sharp gasps. His whole body was on fire and his ribs screamed in agony. He knew several of them were badly bruised or cracked.

"Is your father the worthless king of Mirkwood?" came another question and another punishing beating when he didn't answer.

The Immortal was tied in a standing position to a sturdy tree, his ankles still bound but his hands now pulled behind him and secured to the tree on either side and around the trunk rather than behind his back. He just about had his feet flat on the ground, a great thick rope wound around his shoulders to further secure him to the tree. In truth the ropes were hardly needed. Legolas had felt as weak as a new born kitten even before the "questioning" had begun. Nothing but the ropes kept him upright.

"Where are the patrols stationed in that cursed woods of yours?"

The elf concentrated on breathing. It was all he could do as the questioning and beatings continued. All strength had fled long ago from his body. The pain flowed and pulsed and screamed through every part of him, and he prayed for unconsciousness or death to end it.

He felt so cold underneath it all. Strangely enough the cold was the strongest of all. He felt like he had been submerged in a great fast flowing river in the dead of a Mirkwood winter, so cold it was. And it was getting so hard to breathe.

"What is the password into the Mirkwood halls?"

Another question, another pause, another fist connected and he felt blood well up at the back of his throat. He did not have the energy or air to cough it up and spit it out. He just let it well up and trickle past his lips and down his chin. Darkness swam at the edge of his vision, and he knew the signs. Unconsciousness was blissfully, mercifully on it's way, only one more hit should do it, and then it would be over, for a while at least.

But the next question did not come, and he raised his head with difficulty, almost disappointed that he had been denied his impending release.

To his total dismay, Legolas saw that the orcs were now untying the small child. He hoped and prayed that they would not hurt the tiny human. But it was in vain.

The big commanding orc, Grknak, grabbed him by the chin and loomed into his vision, unheeding of the elf's blood flowing over it's hand.

"So, elf!" the foul smelling creature spat. "You will not confirm who ye' are or give me information on Mirkwood. So let's see how you respond to the child getting the pain instead of you"

The orc gestured to the two creatures now holding the little boy tightly in their grip. They dragged him closer to stand in front of the tree Legolas was tied to. Grknak moved to stand at the side, well within reach of both the elf and the little human. Estel struggled futilely against his captors, tears of terror streaming down his small desolate face.

The child looked up and locked eyes with the elf, and Legolas had trouble meeting the innocent gaze. He knew the little boy was in this predicament because of him. Because he had been ill and had not heard the child following him from Imladris. He had not been strong enough to fight the illness and stay conscious when the orcs had found him. He had not been there for the child to defend him against the vile creatures and prevent them both getting captured. Legolas could not fathom what was wrong with him, why an old wound pained him terribly and orcs and human boys could sneak up on him unawares. Why the bone-chilling cold permeated every part of his weak body. He had never before felt so weak and vulnerable, so unelven in his long life before.

Why hadn't he listened and talked to Elrond when he had the chance? he asked himself. Now an innocent was going to suffer and die in front of him, and he was helpless to prevent it, helpless to stop himself witnessing it.

Legolas could not betray his king and people by answering the hideous orc's questions. His king, he thought again to himself. He had already betrayed his king, his father by getting himself into this nightmare situation. Why had he let pride and royal stubbornness stop him from seeking the help he knew he needed? He should be standing now at his father's side every inch the prince he was, not hobbled to a tree like some worthless animal.

Legolas looked away from the child's face and dropped his gaze to the ground. The darkness which had been lingering just at the edge of his vision for a very long time - months in fact- grew in intensity and threatened to swamp everything he was or ever could be. Inside himself, among the crippling pain and icy coldness, the elf felt something break. His spirit, his strength and his heart shattered into tiny pieces and scattered to the four winds.

Legolas sagged against the ropes that held him, his limbs numb and heavy as rock. His lungs struggled to draw in air and the pain in his chest throbbed and grew stronger than ever before. He thought he was going to be sick with the pain.

"Are ye' the prince of Mirkwood, Elf!" came that voice again, somewhere from a great distance.

With great difficulty, Legolas used the very last of his strength and will to raise his head again and open eyes he did not know had been closed. There was the child standing bravely in front of him, held by the two orcs, with Grknak holding a large handful of the child's hair, fist poised to pummel the little boy.

Estel stood unwavering and brave and did not struggle or cry, even though he knew what was about to happen. He wanted to cry, he wanted desperately to struggle and scream and get away, but he knew he couldn't. Legolas needed him to stay strong.

He could see the elf was dying. He knew the signs, had seen it in his own father three years ago when he was only two. Then he had watched those smelly beings like these ones run Arathorn through with a scimitar when the little family had almost reached the safety of Rivendell. He had watched, terrified and helpless, as the light went out in his father's eyes, as it was fading now in the beautiful azure eyes of the elf before him.

But that was then, before he had been trained by the elves how to be brave and hide your true feelings in the face of an enemy. How to find strength you thought you didn't have. Estel reached down deep inside and found that inner strength. But he didn't keep it for himself. He called the elf's name and met his eyes and he gave all he had into the connection between them.

"Leg'lass"

Legolas heard his name being called in that childish way of the boy he knew as Estel. It seemed to come from many miles away. He focused on the piercing grey eyes of the child, just as the Shadow finally took him. In those eyes he saw something that entered his heart and burrowed deep inside of him, as his consciousness went and he slumped down finally into the welcoming darkness. Like a small torch in a black cave, he took the little light with him and kept it safe in his heart.

The tiny spark of hope.

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TBC.

Sorry, me again. I want to apologise to anyone who got double alerts for this chapter, my fault. A big "oops" on my part.