I feel like you don't want me around.
I guess I'll pack all my things,
I guess I'll see you around,
It's all been bottled up until now
As I walk out your door,
All I can hear is the sound
Of always, always, always, always...
--Saliva
Aragorn went over the route again in his head. He would cross the Misty Mountains at the pass right behind Rivendell. Then, after traveling north along the western border of Mirkwood, he would cross at the gap between the Misty Mountains and the Grey Mountains, and continue traveling along the Misty Mountains until he reached Carn Dûm. After that, he would travel south until he met up with the Northern Rangers. This plan was of course just an outline with a lot of scouting along the way. A ranger had to know the terrain.
Aragorn sighed. He would never regret meeting Arwen, or even falling in love with her, for that matter, but he did wish he could see his family again. He hated feeling this way, stuck between two worlds. He knew only of elves, yet he was not one of them. He longed to be like his brothers, yet he was not truly as they were. He was a mortal; they were immortal. Aragorn sighed again. Life was not very fair sometimes. Aragorn walked like this for the rest of the day, berating himself, life, fate, and just about anything else he could think of. He made camp in the same manner, still preoccupied by his thoughts. At least he had made a good fifteen leagues.
After a quick meal of some gathered roots, and a strip of dried venison, Aragorn put out the fire and rolled out his bedroll. He had just started to drift asleep when he heard faint grunting and footfalls. He bolted upright with a rush of adrenaline. Orcs! He quickly erased all signs of his ever being there and melted into the trees, watching for the orcs. Orcs had never been this close to Rivendell before.
A horde of orcs passed through the glade that a few minutes back had been Aragorn's camp. One, two, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, forty… Aragorn silently counted. They were heading the same direction as he. After the last of the orcs had passed, he crept out from his hiding place. The grass in the clearing had been trampled by many booted feet. The orcs clearly were not expecting anyone to be looking for them; the pass behind Rivendell was rarely used, after it had become unstable after an earthquake. But how did the orcs know of it? Aragorn decided he would do a little snooping. It did not exactly require him to rely on his excellent tracking abilities, as the orcs had made no effort to hide their trail.
It was almost dawn, when he heard a soft grunt. He whirled around, to see a lone orc running straight at him. It must have gotten separated from the rest of the pack while hunting. The element of surprise lost, the creature gave a shrill cry as it charged. Aragorn watched the orc coming, and at the last minute, he whipped out his sword, impaling the beast. It gave a strangled cry and went limp.
Aragorn removed his sword and wiped the blade distastefully. Orc blood was extremely corrosive; it had to be cleaned off immediately, or it would start pitting the metal. He resheathed his sword and looked around warily. The orcs would have heard the commotion, and discover the corpse, sooner or later. Meanwhile he had better get as far away as possible. He had a nasty feeling that he was about to become the one hunted.
He had just left, when he heard a howl of rage behind him. Why did the unfortunate always seem to happen sooner rather than later? Aragorn sighed for how many times, he had already lost count. This was going to be a long journey.
A faint cry was carried to Grishnak's ears on the wind. He mulled over the noise, wondering if it was some forest animal, but decided that it sounded distinctly orc-like. Also, one of the men in his troop still had not come back. "Go check out that noise!" he bellowed, pointing two orcs, Graghra and Schagh, in the direction he had heard the noise come from. "Rest of you scum, hurry up and pitch camp! The suns coming up!"
As the orcs scurried around looking for a dark place to rest until nightfall, Grishnak eyed his surroundings warily. At one point, he thought he saw a slight movement in the tree, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Other than that, everything was peaceful. That is, as peaceful as it could be with a band of orcs around.
They had barely stopped for five minutes before the relative quietness was pierced by a shrill howl of rage.
Looks like they had found something.
Legolas glared at the trees. Actually, he glared at everything in general. Then his expression changed to one of slight regret. He almost could not believe that he had actually done it.
//Legolas entered the house, leaves and twigs entangled in his long blonde hair.
"Legolas!" Thranduil bellowed. "How dare you come in like this? And we have guests over!"
Behind his father, seated in the great hall, Legolas could see a pair of identical dark-haired elves. One of them smiled slightly and whispered something to the other, causing him to chuckle and nod.
Legolas scowled. "I am tired of your never-ending lessons in etiquette and princely manners. If you had wanted me to dress up, why did not you just tell me earlier, before I left?" Legolas retorted, his voice rising to match his frustration and anger.
Thranduil glared at his son. "Have you forgotten your place? Last time I checked, I was still King, and you were still Prince!"
Legolas and his father glared at each other, seething. Both father and son, in their rage, had become oblivious to the presence of the other two elves in the room, so when one of them spoke, Legolas nearly jumped out of his skin.
"I'm really sorry to interrupt, but I was just wondering if you have seen a human around these parts?" one of them ventured, addressing Legolas.
Legolas shook his head curtly once and turned to leave, but was stopped by his father's voice. "You will learn to be more respectful and proper!"
"Sire, I am done! I am leaving!" Legolas shouted. He pivoted and stormed out the front door.//
Legolas looked at the forest around him. He had actually run away. He was standing there, debating whether or not to return home when he noticed some tracks. Orc tracks. He'd never hunted alone, Raniean or Trelan had always accompanied him, as was proper of a prince, but how difficult could hunting orc be? He was soon to learn that it could be extremely difficult indeed.
Grishnak wondered at how odd luck could be. They had been tracking someone, probably on foot, since there were not many tracks, but instead, waiting by the road, they had found a pretty little elf-maid on horseback.
//The orcs lay in ambush along the road. A lone rider slowly approached, unaware of the impending disaster. She had dark hair and was unarmed. She hummed a merry little tune as she rode.
When she reached the middle of the pass, and the middle of the ambush, her horse suddenly stopped, its nostrils flaring. The she-elf whispered something to it in Elvish.
Seeing that their cover was about to be blown, Grishnak stepped out from behind the rocks and cracked a whip right in front of the horses nose. The horse spooked, rearing and throwing its rider. The rider fell with a cry of surprise, and then pain as she landed at an odd angle and her leg snapped with an audible crack.//
So catching her had not been that hard, but maybe their dear silently slaying friend would come to rescue the maiden in distress. Grishnak had a feeling he was the heroic type.
Run, run, flee! Sounds everywhere! Orcs, whips, flee! Flee! Flee! Fly! Run! Smell of evil! Sounds, shapes, scary! Hurts, scratches, bruises, run! Fly, fly, fly! Asfaloth was terrified. She reared and bolted, running toward the forest she spotted in the distance and perceived as safety.
Aragorn lay in the shadows right outside the orc-camp. Most of the orcs were sleeping in the heat of day. Then he noticed another figure lying crumpled in the clearing. She had dark hair, a tattered dress, and appeared unconscious.
She stirred, waking a few of the surrounding orcs. Their voices were carried to Aragorn on the wind.
"Look! Little elfy's waking up!"
Elf? She lifted her head, and for an instant, Aragorn could clearly see her face. It was Arwen!
He threw all caution to the wind, his rage driving him into a rampage. With a wild cry, he drew his sword and charged into the clearing. He fought like a man possessed, not noticing the wounds he was receiving. All he could think of was Arwen, his love.
The orcs scattered at first, surprised by the sudden attack, but after realizing there was only one attacker, began to close in, surrounding the lone human.
Legolas' Elven ears picked up the sound of battle. He followed the commotion until he reached a clearing. He could see a single man in Ranger garb surrounded by a mass of orcs. Legolas idly wondered why humans were always so stupid.
Legolas strung his bow and began picking off the orcs. Thinking an Elven regiment had come, the orcs fled, leaving the human alone in the glade. The human searched that clearing for something, and not finding it, sighed, and all vigor seemed to leave him. Then he strode across the clearing to where Legolas stood.
"Hannon le."
Legolas' eyes widened slightly in surprise. The human spoke Sindarin nearly flawlessly. "Who are you?" Legolas asked.
The man sighed again. "I have many names, but you may call me Estel."
And he had an Elven name. Remembering the two dark-haired elves, he added, "I believe someone, or two someones rather, are searching for you."
"Were they twins?"
Legolas nodded.
"Elladan and Elrohir. I told them not to follow me." Remembering something, the human asked, "Did you see an elf here? A female?"
Legolas shook his head.
"They must have smuggled her out during the melee." The man looked crestfallen.
"Who was she?" Legolas was feeling quite confused. He'd never met a human who knew this many elves, not that he'd met many humans. Plus, were not Elladan and Elrohir the sons of Elrond? How did this human know them? And why were they following him?
"Arwen," he answered. His voice was full of bitter anguish and regret. "The cursed spawn of Mordor have Arwen!"
"Arwen, the daughter of Elrond?" This man sure had a lot of ties to the elf-lord of Imladris.
The human nodded. "Well, who are you?"
"Legolas."
"Prince of Mirkwood?" the human asked.
"Yes," Legolas said, rolling his eyes. Then he noticed the human was wounded. "You're hurt!"
"Oh, yeah," the human answered vaguely. His eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and collapsed bonelessly to the ground, unconscious.
Legolas sighed. Foolish human.
Grishnak fumed. They had let a lone human slip from their grasp, after he had already been surrounded. Orcs were idiots! And it had been easy to see from the frequency of the arrows that there had only been one elf. Anyhow, they will both soon be mine.
By chance, when he glanced towards his captive, she stirred and looked around confusedly. Grishnak smiled. "She wakes." The orcs aroused and rushed pell-mell at their victim. Grishnak waited, there was no use to intervene; brute force could drastically lower an elf's strong fortitude.
Half an hour passed and the elf began looking faint. "Stop," he ordered. She could not pass out now; his fun with her was just about to begin.
"Elfy will not scream. What do we do now?" a stupid orc asked.
"Bring me a branding iron, it is my turn now." Grishnak grinned. Seeing the elf cringe, he chuckled. He strode over and almost gently touched her bruised cheek, causing her flinch. He smirked and ran a finger along a particularly deep gash on her back. She gasped sharply. This will do nicely.
"Dear elf, do you like games?" Without waiting for her answer, he continued, "Well I hope you do, because I am going to play a lot of games with you," Grishnak taunted. The orcs jeered when the elf recoiled and struggled against her bonds. He stroked her wound again and added, "We cannot have you bleeding to death, can we?"
He pressed the glowing brand onto her gash, cauterizing the wound. The elf screamed, arching her back and writhing weakly. "I am very good healer, see? Are you in need of more of my services?" The elf shook her head helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks, her breath coming in ragged sobs.
"No? Do not worry; I am very generous in my services. I am sure a little more healing will make you feel much better." True to his word, another wound was soon also cauterized.
Arwen writhed in agony. The burning pain in her back was unbearable, and it seemed that her captor was not about to stop. She truly feared this orc; he was too intelligent and played cruel games with not only her body, but also her mind. Hope for escape completely died inside her.
Suddenly fresh pain shot through her side, the branding iron was pressed against cut in her side. She screamed, her flesh contorted and burned, and on it, was the mark of the eye. She found that she could not stop screaming. Grishnak smirked and whispered in her ear, "Beg, Elfy, and I may just end your pain."
She whimpered as the brand was removed. Everything inside her rebelled against the idea of begging from the orc, but the pain, it obliterated everything. Anything was acceptable to escape the pain.
She hesitated, then whispered brokenly, "Please stop…I…I beg you…" She wept, shame-faced.
"Louder," he commanded, snickering.
"Please…I beg you…stop!" Never again would she be able to hold up her head. She had begged an orc!
"As you wish, my dear princess," he agreed. Arwen felt a hard object connect with her skull and her world spiraled into darkness.
Elrond could see an elf being tormented amidst a mob of orcs. He could hear her cries of distress and pain as she was forced to suffer pain he would not have wished upon his worst enemies. As he got closer, he could see that the elf was his beloved daughter, and his breath hitched as he heard he soft pleas for mercy. As an orc bashed her over the head, he found himself sitting suddenly upright in bed, shouting. "No! Arwen!"
Elrond tried to calm his breathing; after all, it had just been a bad dream. Or had it? His foresight was especially strong and often he saw events that had already transpired, or would in the future. Elrond could only hope it was the latter, and that he would be able to stop it before it happened. He quickly scribbled a note to his sons, who were off in the realm of the wood-elves of Mirkwood, and called to him a messenger.
"What biddings have you for me, hir-nîn?" the messenger, Camthalion, asked, somewhat sleepily.
"My apologies for waking you in such an awkward hour, but I fear that some ill fate has befallen Lady Arwen. You must make, with all haste, for the realm of Thranduil, and deliver to my sons this letter. You have my blessings and eternal gratitude. Now please, go!" Elrond ordered, handing him the message. After Camthalion had left, Elrond stepped out onto his balcony and sat down on the bench. Celebrían and he had spent many evenings together here, simply gazing at the stars. Elrond often thought about his wife, her eyes, her hair, he smile. He missed her so much. He hoped that he would not lose Arwen as well. He had nearly faded after she had left, and he doubted he would survive if he lost Arwen. He looked up at Eärendil, the brightest star in the sky and his father, and pondered the recent happenings until he eventually fell into an uneasy slumber.
Aragorn woke up feeling very sore. "Ada?" he inquired, softly.
"No, Aragorn, it is I, Legolas."
Aragorn cracked open an eyelid. "How do you know my name?" he inquired. He was sure had not told the elf.
"You talked a lot, while you were feverish," the elf answered, by way of explanation.
"Ah." Aragorn understood that one of this wounds must have gotten infected. The last thing he remembered was passing out in the glade. The rest had just been flashes. "How long have I been out?"
"About two days."
"Two days? Arwen!" Aragorn bolted upright, instantly regretting it, as his stitches pulled. He grimaced. He spotted his satchel across the…wooden platform. They were in a tree! He hated being up in trees; he had a nasty tendency to fall out of them. Oh well, he could complain later. Motioning across their makeshift dwelling, he said, "Hand me my satchel, please."
Legolas brought it over and watched as he pulled out a small packet of herbs. He chewed some and pressed the paste onto a wound on his thigh. "Athelas," he explained.
"Ah. Are you always getting injured?" Legolas asked, only half-jokingly.
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. He put on his best look of righteous insult, then put on a straight face and answered in his most serious voice, "Nay, only when I am in the company of prissy elves."
Now it was Legolas' turn to protest. "Prissy elf indeed. At least I am not a clumsy human," he added, giving the human a friendly shove.
Aragorn laughed, and then grimaced as his injuries were jarred. Seeing Legolas' concerned expression, he quickly tried to hide his pain. "We must make all haste in finding Lady Arwen," he said, changing the subject.
"Fine. But first, we stay here until you've rested a little. We cannot have you falling over every other step."
Legolas really did remind Aragorn of his brothers.
Legolas watched Aragorn until he was asleep. Legolas had never seen himself befriending a human, but Aragorn was not so bad. Legolas could understand why Elladan and Elrohir were worried for their little brother. The young human was a more than a little rash.
Legolas sighed as he thought about his family. He loved and respected his father, but Thranduil was always so strict and formal. He had not always been that way, but he had been changed by Elvéwen's murder at the hands of cruel humans. For that reason, his father would never approve of his befriending Aragorn.
But Legolas knew that his father would be worried about him. He needed a way to reassure his father without going back to Mirkwood. Then it came to him: he could write a letter and drop it off at the next village they passed. If they did not pass any villages, well then Legolas could worry about that when it happened. He pulled a scrap of parchment out of his pocket, found a feather, wet some charcoal and began.
My Father and King,
I would like you to know that I am safe. I am sorry if you are concerned by my absence, but I am in dire need of a break from courtly manners. I will return as soon as I am able. Know that I am thinking of you and that I love you always.
Your Son,
Legolas
P.S. Tell Elladan and Elrohir that I have found their brother, and that he is safe and currently traveling with me.
Legolas read over his letter. It was more a note, than a letter, but it contained everything that he need to say. He tucked that parchment into his boot for safekeeping and drifted off into the realm of sleep.
Elladan and Elrohir had just packed all their bags onto their horses and were about to leave when they spotted a lone horse galloping towards them. A riderless horse. It stopped right in front of them and whinnied in distress. Elladan's heart missed a beat when he recognized the animal. It was Asfaloth, Glorfindel's beautiful white mare, whom Arwen had borrowed for the trip back to Lorien. Elladan glanced at his twin, and noticed that Elrohir had come to the same conclusion.
"We must find Arwen," Elladan, murmured. "There were orcs in the area." Elladan's chest tightened as he thought about their mother. Celebrían had been captured on her way back to Lothlórien, and tormented by orcs. Soon after, she had passed into the undying lands. Elladan and Elrohir still missed her terribly. They did not wish the same fate to befall their little sister.
"We will find her, and slay every orc in our path, if need be," Elrohir promised.
"How do you propose to do that?" a tall blonde elf asked, stepping out from the shadows. Elladan recognized him as Raniean, a captain of the Mirkwood elves.
Elrohir looked at him. "We are fully capable of taking care of ourselves," he said, frostily.
"If you have a better idea, we're willing to hear it," Elladan added.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Raniean answered. "I accompany you. With a party of warriors."
"And what would compel you to do that?" Elrohir asked. The Silvan elves had not been very helpful thus far.
"I have a friend who disappeared, well, ran away, a while ago, very much like your own brother. We need to find him. He has a tendency to find himself in very…interesting positions. In fact, also very like your own brother."
"Well, then by all means, lets go find them."
"I do need to get my men first," Raniean reminded them. "We will meet back here in an hour."
"Agreed," Elladan approved, sealing the pact with a firm clasp of the hand. "We'll meet back here in an hour, and bring them back."
"Look, the she-elf wakes!" Five orcs leered in Arwen's face, cackling with maniacal glee. On raised a rough wooden club and began slamming it violently against her already bloody and burned back. The others began raining blows and kicks on her unprotected body. Arwen flinched and smothered a cry of pain. I will not give in again!
The orcs soon got bored of simply delivering blows, so they suspended her from a crossbar across the top of the cavern and clamped her ankles to the floor. Arwen hung there, painfully stretched out, awaiting some new orc game. Ada, please do not see me this way.
An orc leaped at her, causing her to flinch and try to get away, but her chains held her back and her broken leg ached intolerably. The orc grinned maliciously and bared its teeth; his hand reached out and grabbed her right arm. The orc suddenly jerked its arm back and there was a loud crack. Arwen could not hold back her cry of pain this time, and she screamed breathlessly; her arm was broken. Another of the vile creatures picked up a multi-thonged whip and struck out at her back, until it was welted and bleeding nearly freely again. Arwen hung her head, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Beg, Elfy, or this will be in your gut," threatened an orc, brandishing a ragged orc-blade. Arwen slumped and cursed herself as she complied, "Stop, I…I beg you, no more…" I am begging like a whipped cur…to orcs…again…
"Of course!" The orc immediately bashed her on the head and the world went black.
"Aragorn! Daro!No dhínen!" Legolas hissed, wrestling the human back into the shadows.
"But…" Aragorn began to protest, but was cut off by the elf's hand over his mouth.
"Aragorn, you must remain silent and hidden," Legolas murmured. "If we get captured or killed, what good are we to Arwen?" Legolas could sympathize with the human; if Raniean or Trelan, or one of his other good friends was a captive of orcs, he knew that he would probably be having trouble calming down, too. But there was nothing they could do at the moment, but watch.
Legolas watched the scene down in the cavern unfold with horror. It had taken them several days to track the orcs down to this cavern, several days during which one could imagine the horrors Arwen was going through, but neither of them had imagined it to be this bad. He winced, hearing the crack of snapping bone, and had to restrain the human who would have charged into the full camp, had the elf not been there to hold him back.
A few minutes and several more struggles later, the commotion died down. Legolas had gathered from the random snatches of conversation that drifted up towards them that apparently, Arwen had fainted. Once all the orcs were asleep, Legolas whispered his plan to Aragorn.
Elvish TranslationsHannon le – thank you
Hir-nîn – my lord
Daro! – Stop!
No dhínen! – Be silent!