This is the third time I'm writing this chapter. I'm not joking. The first time I typed it, and forgot to save. The second time I retyped it, I saved on a stupid floppy disk which tells me that the file is unavailable. What is this? A conspiracy not to let me upload this chapter??!!

Before I continue grouching, just wanted to say thank you to all the people who reviewed and send me their good wishes. They were much appreciated! Thank you to Kenren for having uploaded and A/N for me (haha, very funny bout the bed). It was nothing really serious, I was lucky enough to get out in time for the Christmas exams (note the sarcasm please). Well anyway, I'm back!

One last thing. The Return of The King is not a good film. It's a work of art!!!!!! The battle scenes are fantastic, and they were pretty loyal to Tolkein's work. (How many of you knew Pippin was so good at singing??? )

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5. Raindrops and Tears

They soon reached the place where the elven patrol had left Melchoir and his men. The elves searched for some traces of the disappeared Hurdíen. They managed to find his tracks quickly; he had taken little or no pains to hide his movements. He probably thought that by the time they would have realized that he and the prince had disappeared, he would have been too far away for them to catch him. Derwen's mouth stretched into a thin line. That filthy edan had made the worst mistake of his whole life. If he had dared harm a single hair of Legolas's head, he would regret ever having heard of elves.

~.~.~.~

It was getting darker by the minute. The storm clouds were gathering thickly overhead, and it threatened to start raining any minute. The crown prince cursed softly. The rain would make it hard to follow the man's tracks. Elven eyes are sharp, but not even they can see what is no longer there. The elves had dismounted from their horses, and were stealing softly through the undergrowth. They wanted to move quickly before…

The rain started pelting down. The elves were dismayed, but continued along their progress. A bent twig there, a piece of cloth there. Thank the Valar the man was so careless! Had it been an elf they were following, they would never have found so many traces. They were sure that they were getting closer by the second. At any moment, they would reach they, and the princeling would be restored to his family.

Derwen stopped suddenly. The trees were sending out a message. He could feel their anger, their concern and anxiety… he wished that he had his naneth's gift… she could communicate with the trees as though they were elves…. What was happening? Why were the trees so agitated? Sudenly, he caught the muffled sounds of scuffling, low shrieks and whispers. It all sounded like… oh no… please…please….

The prince felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and turned to see Ranrieth, his closest companion, looking at him. He could see reflected in his eyes, the same thought. They were approaching spiders feeding. The elves could only pray that the meal was not a blonde haired elfing.

~.~.~.~

The rain had stopped and the sounds were getting clearer by the second. Finally, the elves could see their foes clearly. The fresh smell of blood pervaded their nostrils. Hardened warriors though they were, they hated and were disgusted by the spiders and their horrific way of feeding. Derwen closed his eyes and rallied his wits about him. The spiders were seven; they could easily defeat them. He drew his bow and took aim. His warriors did likewise.

A shriek of dismay was heard as three of the spiders fell, hit by arrows. The elves unsheathed their swords and charged into the clearing. Derwen hacked away at the spiders which were ill prepared for battle. The fight was short and bloody. The dead spiders littered the ground, their filthy blood seeping out onto the grass, staining it a deep red. Derwen replaced the sword in its scabbard forced himself to look at the carcass the brutes were feeding on. The face was unrecognizable, for it was a bloodied pulp, and the body was horrifically mutilated, with flesh torn away from various parts to expose the white bones. Some limbs were torn away… The elves turned away from the mess. They were horrified, but a sigh of relief rose collectively, for the body, or what was left of it, was far too large to be that of the elfling.

"It is, or was a human, my lord." Ranrieth spoke softly, as he watched his prince. Derwen nodded slightly, and the relief turned to worry. If that human was the one who had taken his brother, then where was the elfling? The spiders could not have taken him away, they would have left him bound while they finished feeding… A shout caught his attention, and he saw one of his companions standing at the edge of a ravine. The elf had turned pale, and looked at his prince with stricken eyes.

Derwen moved slowly towards the other, for his legs seemed to have turned to stone. He looked down. Blood pounded in his ears, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He turned deathly pale and lifted his eyes to meet those of Ranrieth, which were wide in horror. Something was caught in the bramble half way down. That something was fluttering slightly in the wind. It was a cloak, his brother's cloak. And it was stained with blood.

~.~.~.~

"Take care of this one, for he will get us a good price." The men stared with undisguised curiosity at the small creature on the floor, which their master, Kieldún, had brought with him. Legolas stared back, and he did not like what he saw. They looked like a rough bunch. There seemed to be so many, and were so large. Their voices were rough and uncouth, and he caught several strange looks on the faces of a few. He swallowed, and wished desperately that he could wake up from this nightmare. But he knew he would not, for he had felt the blows, and had seen the knife slide between the ribs of the other. The look of terror in Hurdíen's eyes he could not forget, and he was aware of the presence of the same man who had so pitilessly killed one of his own, just beside him. He clenches his fists tightly. Legolas knew that this was not a nightmare where he would wake up to find himself in the arms or his father or sister. This was real.

"I'll take him." A red haired man rose from his place and approached the elfling. The elfling tried to dodge, but was grasped by the scruff of the neck. Kieldún lifted him up to meet his eyes. The young one dared not struggle. The look in the man's eyes was enough to quench any resistance from his part. "Listen carefully to me," the salve trader said softly, as he looked into the blue eyes of the new slave. "One foolish move from your part, and I will tear out your guts. Understand? " The elfling nodded, struggling not to whimper at the man's menacing tone as he heard the men laugh raucously.

"He's about to wet himself!"

"Poor critter, mayhap he wants a cuddle! Give him one Gus! ",

"Run me lads, afore he drowns us in tears!"

Legolas closed his eyes and tried to block all the taunts, the insults. He would never, ever cry before these brutes. He hated them with all his heart.

~.~.~.~

He was pushed into the small dark room by the red haired man, with several sneers and comments. The door slammed behind him and he turned to look at his new quarters. His eyes widened with horror. The stench of urine was overpowering, and dirt and grime filled the place. The only window was so high up and small that the elfling could not even see the sky and the stars. There were other forsaken beings in the same prison. Four or five women were huddled together at a side, wrists bound tightly. They might once have been pretty, but they had aged before their time, and their faces were worn and haggard, hair straggling and coated with dirt. They were dressed in rags, and their skinny arms bore several scars. There were men too; some were sprawled on the floor, trying to sleep on the cold, grey stones, while others were bound tightly. His entry drew a few glances, but then their interest faded quickly. He was only another slave. A single dwarf was chained to the wall, and as his eyes met those of the elfling, he glared fiercely at the child, and spat in his direction. Legolas scrambled away from him, and tried to make himself as small as possible by drawing his knees to his chest.

They had travelled for hours to reach this hell hole, and all the bones in his body ached with weariness. His throat was parched, but the only water he could see was dark and murky, and he would never drink from it. Suddenly he realised that he needed to relieve himself, but where? He bit his lip and tried hard not to cry. He felt so alone with all these people. He longed desperately to be back in Mirkwood, where there were no faces full of misery and despair, where the air was fresh and the water clean, and the trees sang to themselves songs full of joy and beauty. He longed for the sound of his father's voice and the warmth and love of his brothers and sister.

The child could bear it no longer and he buried his face in his hands as tears ran down his face. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, his heart calling for his family, begging them to save him from this misery. That night, Legolas Thranduilion of the house of Oropher, prince of Mirkwood, and slave of men, cried himself to sleep on the cold, grey stones.

The night, the stars wept.

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More doom and gloom in the following chapters!! :-p Any comments?