King Thranduil was dead.
Shock rammed Aragorn's senses mercilessly. He felt like he was on the end of a battering ram being thrust repeatedly into an unyielding iron door. How could he have let this happened?
"A ruse," he whispered bitterly to himself. "How could I have fallen for…when it was so obvious…"
The elf's hands were bound and lying on his stomach. Aragorn reached for his knife to cut the ropes, but his fingers could not seem to grasp the dagger. It felt like it was made of lead. He simply could not force himself to pick it up. Vaguely he observed that if he were to be attacked at this very moment, his reeling brain would not be able to react quickly enough to defend himself. He was simply in such an advanced state of pure disbelief that he felt he could not function.
The king was dead.
Mirkwood's ruler, Legolas's father, Elrond's friend…slain.
"I am so sorry, Your Highness," he whispered hoarsely. He reached over and closed the lids of the still elf's eyes.
He staggered to his feet, but seconds later crashed to the ground again. He shook his head as though trying to clear it. Even in his shock, he knew something was not right. His brain was far more muddled than it should be. He could not think straight. And though part of it was the horror from the elf-king's death, he had seen comrades slain in battle before and not reacted like this. Was it only because Thranduil was a great king, and the father of Legolas? Aragorn didn't know, but it bothered him.
So he sat next to the king's body.
He didn't know how long he sat there. But it seemed the right thing to do, he could not just abandon it there. So he would sit there until a better alternative presented itself.
The hours passed.
-
The key scraped in its lock to the door on Legolas's cell. Hastily the elf shoved his newly discovered clue into his breeches. He could not let his captors know what he had. The Ring of Barahir was quite a find, indeed!
He glared weakly at the tall man whose friendship he formerly valued.
"How do you feel?" the human asked softly. When Legolas didn't answer, he chuckled softly. "Not very well? Ah well. That's all right."
He nodded sharply and two men came forward suddenly. They carelessly wrenched open the chains and drew the elf ungently to his feet before shackling his wrists again with rope.
Aragorn eyed the elf approvingly. There was something mysterious glinting behind his eyes, like he knew something no one else did.
"That will do," was all he said. He nodded again to the men and stepped aside. They dragged the weakened elf with them, past Aragorn.
Legolas gazed questioningly at the one he used to call friend as he passed the human.
"Good bye, Legolas," called the human softly. A smirk alight on his face, he turned and left.
A jolt of terror ran through the elf's heart. This was it. Aragorn had bidden him good bye, and the tone of finality in his voice could only mean one thing: death. Aragorn had finally grown weary of toying with him, and was sending him to his execution.
The burly men took the unresisting elf to a far gate outside the building. They were outside now, and Legolas was actually able to get a look at where they were. It was a dense forest, and the building behind them blended in quite well with its sandy and green colors.
"Here?" Legolas said quietly. "Not inside?"
The two men exchanged glances and didn't reply.
"Don't want to make a mess, I suppose," the elf commented vaguely, almost ruefully.
One of the men withdrew a knife from his belt. Legolas stared at him quite calmly, looking him in the eye until he flinched and looked away.
"But not painful?" he mused quietly, almost as if he were observing someone else's pending execution and merely running a commentary on it.
Then the man lifted the knife. Legolas tilted his head higher. They would get no pleas of mercy from him. Death terrified him, but cowardice was almost equally frightening. He was too weak to fight them, and if this was to happen he felt there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The knife whistled down and Legolas flinched involuntarily, preparing to feel the sharp steel piercing his skin and draining life from him.
Instead, he felt his circulation restored as the ropes fell limply from his hands, severed by the blade Legolas had been so certain was marked to slay him.
He stared at the guard in pure, disbelieving shock. "Wh-what are you doing?" he stuttered, for once in his immortal life caught completely off guard.
The man jerked his head in the direction of the woods. "Master's orders. He says to tell you he's had his fun with you, now he's tired of you. No one will follow you, no one is waiting to ambush you. You're free to go. Now…get out."
Legolas could not move. He had never in his life been simply freed from captivity. Captors simply were more hostile than that. They did not simply have their fun then get tired of you and let you leave. At least, not the ones with purpose—and Aragorn had definitely had a purpose.
"I don't understand," he began slowly, but was cut off by a flash of steel which sliced sharply across his face.
"What's so difficult!" the man snarled. "Get out—now!"
He held up the knife threateningly. "Don't ask me why he's letting you go—we're not to kill you, but I can make a few more scars if you don't seem to get it. Get out of here."
Legolas slowly stepped backward towards the woods, watching the two men warily.
"Go," snapped the first, who had done all the talking.
Legolas took another tentative step backward and then, deciding that if this were indeed a ruse this would be his best shot at escape anyway, turned and fled as quickly as his wounded body would allow into the woods. He did not stop until the fortress was no longer in sight, and the burn in his side forced him to slow down.
A twig snapped to his left.
Legolas straightened immediately, fear unwittingly filling him. He was completely unarmed. Was this a trap, after all? It had to be.
He advanced slowly towards it, knowing it wasn't really a good idea as he had no weapons but unable to stand not knowing what it was. And if it was Aragorn's men, they would eventually catch him anyway.
He reached the source, and gasped.
Áirúlas and Belthan, his father's guards, were bound together on the ground in the middle of a plot of bushes, their mouths gagged as well. Legolas rushed to them and pulled the cloths from their mouths. Their eyes had also widened in shock and disbelief at the sight of their prince randomly appearing from nowhere. The second they could talk, they gasped.
"Prince Legolas!" Áirúlas gasped. "What—we were looking for you, Highness! How did you get here? Who kept you captive?"
"It's a long story," Legolas said grimly. He looked around.
"Our weapons were discarded over there," Belthan said, nodding his head to the left. Legolas looked, and they were indeed strewn in a careless pile on the ground. He seized a slender dagger and swiftly cut their bonds.
"My father—was he with you?" Legolas asked anxiously as soon as they were free. He was almost positive his father would not send the guards without going himself, for a mission as important as this one.
"His Highness was injured when we last saw him," Áirúlas said gravely.
"We were rendered unconscious by the bandits," Belthan added. "We have been awake for a while now, but we believe they left us here to die."
Legolas bit his lip as he scanned the two elves. Both were injured, one sporting a side arrow wound and the other various blood-crusted cuts and bruises.
"Can you walk?" he asked, helping them to their feet. Both nodded. They were in obvious pain, but were not about to let that stop them from their next obvious task: finding King Thranduil.
"We must find my father," Legolas said. "Do you think you can find the site of the battle? It's as best a place to start as any."
"It should not be hard," Áirúlas interjected. "I sensed we were not unconscious for long, so they cannot have had much time to take us anywhere."
"I came from that direction," Legolas said, pointing towards the direction of the fortress and deciding now was not the best time to talk about it.
"I believe…this way," Belthan said confidently, wincing as he walked.
They walked in silence, Legolas letting the other two use their elven senses to determine the last known location of the king.
They had walked perhaps a mile in silence before Áirúlas suddenly stopped, and Belthan nodded.
"We are close," the former breathed. "The air here—it is different. And see…" he stooped to pick up something off the ground. "An arrow shaft. Broken, from the battle—"
He stopped abruptly as all three elves picked up on some movement in the clearing ahead.
"Quietly," Legolas breathed, though the others did not need to be told.
They crept silently as only elves could until they could see. Belthan whispered that this was where the battle had occurred, he was certain of it.
Then it became clear just what—or who—was in that clearing.
Legolas's breath caught in his throat, and his heart burned suddenly with absolute rage and hatred.
Aragorn was in the clearing, kneeling, a knife in his hand, leaning over the unmoving body of King Thranduil.
So it had been a trap after all. Aragorn released him, only so he could see the human kill his father.
Two words left Legolas's mouth through gritted teeth.
"Kill him."
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Right! Written at midnight on a Starbucks high...let me know if it's any good! Please! Lattes for reviewers!
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