During the next day, while Legolas was gone, Aragorn approached the remaining two elves. But one still was too ill and the other too grief stricken to be of much help. They agreed to not hinder any flight plan the ranger could come up with, though.

Now he only had to convince Legolas, for Aragorn's idea would not work without his support. When Legolas came back in the evening, the young ranger quietly observed him. Legolas seemed even less approachable than the days before, if that was possible. Aragorn did not go to him instantly, instead he waited until the orcs brought food, and told them what to expect the next day. Whoever Legolas chose would have to endure twenty whiplashes. Aragorn and Hilmar exchanged a glance. Perhaps they could indeed set their plan into motion.

Silently Aragorn went to his feet and stepped towards Legolas. While he went closer, he made some disturbing observations. Despite his calm exterior, Legolas was slightly shaking. Also the odour of blood was around him like a dark cloud. On purpose, Aragorn made a small shuffling noise with his feet, and as he had expected, Legolas suddenly snapped to attention. The elf had not been aware of him before. Deeply worried, Aragorn looked into Legolas' eyes.

"Stand back!" ordered Legolas harshly.

Aragorn stopped where he was, but did not retreat. Instead he quietly, so that only elven ears could catch his words, asked, "Are you well?"

Legolas swayed slightly, but adjusted his stance and his body was tensed for instant action. Aragorn did not doubt that the elf still could take him, if he would provoke him now. When Legolas said nothing, Aragorn ventured further, "The orcs put you to torment, did they not? Perhaps you should sit down, rest for a while..."

Legolas' eyes flickered over the other occupants of the cell, but they were at their usual places, and talking quietly among themselves. Aragorn had asked them to pay him and the elf no mind when he would approach him, and luckily they obeyed his wish. Again, Aragorn tried to draw Legolas into conversation, "If we had a plan to escape, would you aid us?"

Now he had Legolas' undivided attention – but not his trust. The elf frowned, and growled, "Why would you ask me to aid you? What trickery is this?"

"I ask because we can not do it without you. And I ask because I am sure you loathe this place and the predicament we all are in as much as every one of us."

Legolas took a shaky breath, and for one moment his face and eyes betrayed his vulnerability, his exhaustion and despair. Aragorn had guessed right. Legolas was not by his own choice tormenting them. Then the mask was once more in place. And Aragorn knew why. Legolas needed the mask to keep going. Whatever his reasons for acting as torturer – and Aragorn could take a few well educated guesses, based on what he knew about the elf – Legolas could not continue if he allowed himself to care now, or be cared about. So he shut himself off.

Aragorn asked again, "Will you aid us?"

Legolas moved not, said nothing this time. Stubbornly Aragorn explained his plan, "The best moment for us to overtake them is when they bring you and whoever was with you back. So, next time you are brought back whoever was with you will play unconscious, but attack the moment the orcs open the cell door. They are never quite as vigilant then as when they get you, so they'll not expect that. We will be prepared to fight though. Can you take out the two who are always covering you, before they raise an alarm?"

Still Legolas answered him not, but he looked at Aragorn fully now, and his eyes burned. Aragorn slightly nodded, and said, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Hilmar, my fellow ranger, knows you will choose him for tomorrow-"

Legolas jerked, and swayed again, and Aragorn had to forcefully keep back to not rush to his side and offer aid. Instead he quietly continued, "He is the best choice, and confident he can take the twenty lashes and still fight. It would help if you concentrate on his left side, for he is right handed."

Now Legolas gave an almost imperceptible nod. Relieved, Aragorn approached the last topic on his mind, "You should rest tonight. I would guard your sleep, if you trust me."

"I shall not find rest in this place."

"Lie down at least. Relax your body for a while, if not your mind."

A tremble went through Legolas. Again his eyes searched the cave as if he was looking for a sign of danger or betrayal. Aragorn waited calmly.

"Do not deceit me!"

In a low murmur, to insure that no other, not even the two elves, would be able to overhear, Aragorn answered, "Why would I, Legolas Thranduilion? Escape without your aid is not possible."

Legolas violently jerked. This confirmed Aragorn's guess about his identity. For a moment it seemed as if he would argue some more, but then Legolas sat down. Gingerly, to not pull his hurting side more than necessary, Aragorn did the same.

Aragorn and Hilmar exchanged a glance, and the older ranger gave the younger an encouraging smile. Grateful, Aragorn grinned back. Then he let his gaze travel over the others. The adults among the humans still ignored elf and ranger, but the girl stared in open astonishment. The two elves focused exclusively on their fallen companion. Their quit laments could be heard, and Aragorn knew they would sing over the dead body for the whole night. Aragorn was not sure if Legolas slept at all, and in the morning it was the elf, who warned him about the approaching orcs, "They come."

Instantly Aragorn retreated. While Legolas went up to assume his usual stance, Aragorn sat down next to Hilmar. And just in time. Moments later Legolas and Hilmar were taken away by the orcs.

* * * * *

While Legolas and Hilmar were gone, the others prepared as best as they could. Aragorn and Hilmar already had lain near the iron door of the cell, so he was positioned ideal, without raising suspicion. Naomer and Meothen gathered a few small stones, and gave them to their children and Sibolda. They would not really work as weapon, but hopefully distract the orcs long enough to allow the men to attack. The two Rohirrim would pretend to have a fight. Aragorn hoped that the orcs would be amused by it, and not suspect a trick. But first they all had to wait. The hours were long and hard. Aragorn tried to empty his mind. Worry would only weaken him now. There was nothing he could do. Either Hilmar would still be conscious and able to begin the fight, or he would not. All the rest of them could do was prepare, and hope for the best.

Finally they came. Two orcs carried Hilmar between them. The older ranger's feet left tracks on the dusty ground, and blood mixed with sweat rolled in rivulets from the many welts on his exposed back. There were much more than could be expected from twenty whiplashes. Aragorn, who was supposed to observe the arguing two men, could not help but stare at the sight for a moment longer, before his eyes flickered to Legolas. Again the elf showed no reaction at all, he was completely withdrawn.

'Don't assume!' Aragorn chided himself for the moment of distrust. He knew nothing of what had happened. He had to trust in Legolas, or they would surely fail. Luckily neither Naomer nor Meothen were aware that something was not right, they began to push each other.

The orcs laughed, and one even cheered them on. While Aragorn pretended to watch the two Rohirrim, he heard how the key was pushed into the lock. A moment later a squeaking sound told everyone that the deciding moment arrived. If Hilmar was still able, he would make his move now.

Tensed for instant action, Aragorn still waited. And then hell broke lose. A shout of Hilmar – the signal – was followed instantly by an elven war cry, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. A moment later Aragorn was on his feet and through the door, and slammed into an orc who kicked against Hilmar's body. Hand to hand combat with an angry orc was not something Aragorn ever intended to do again, but in the end he was victorious. The orc was dead.

Aragorn looked around. The two Rohirrim had taken out the other orc near the door, and Legolas stood between two more orcs who lay on the ground. One had died of a broken neck. The other had a crushed throat, and was still twisting and gurgling for breath, but would surely die, albeit it would take some time. Legolas was watching calmly, with cold eyes. Aragorn shivered at the sight, grabbed a scimitar that was lying nearby, and with one swift stroke ended the orc's life. No one, not even an orc, deserved to die such a cruel slow dead.

And then Aragorn focused on Hilmar, who was on the ground, unmoving. With fear in his heart, Aragorn knelt next to him, and turned him around. Hilmar's chest was as bloody as his back, welts were covering it, and even his face. And an iron poker was sticking out of his side. A poker like Legolas had used to brand him, and the area around it was black and burnt. With trembling fingers Aragorn felt for a pulse. But he found none. Hilmar was dead.

A cry wanted to break free of Aragorn's chest, but he would not allow sorrow to overcome him. Not yet, not here. Not while he knew not how Hilmar had died. He carefully checked his friend's body for further injuries, for anything that would convince him that Hilmar had died in the fight and not by the effects of having been tortured, but he found nothing. It seemed as if the other ranger had managed only to start the fight, distract the orcs long enough for the prisoners to come out, or perhaps even giving the signal had been his last action. Aragorn closed his eyes in anguish, before he managed to look at Legolas, who was still standing between the two orcs he had brought down. Aragorn knew his eyes held the accusations his mouth did not form, but he could not help it. For over a minute they stared at each other, neither saying a word.

"Come, lad. You can do nothing more for him. He gave his life so that we are free." Naomer tried to pull Aragorn to his feet while he spoke, and the young ranger allowed it. But when Meothen asked him to come with them, he wordlessly shook his head. He registered not how they left, with the remaining members of their families. He was not aware that the two young elves had fled the gruesome cave already, leaving the dead old elf behind. He stood with drooped shoulders, stared at Hilmar, and felt empty.

He knew not how much time had gone by, before he took a shaky breath, and finally looked around. Legolas and he were the only living ones left, and Aragorn knew they must fly, or it all would have been for naught. More orcs lived in these caves, they could not be captured again.

"We must go," said Aragorn, while he picked up the scimitar he formerly had used to kill the orc. Then he walked toward the entrance of the cave, but the elf followed him not. "Legolas, come!"

Again Legolas reacted not. Tempted for a moment to simply leave without waiting if Legolas would snap out of it or not, Aragorn grunted, and changed track, "What do you think they will do to you, when they find you here, amidst their slain comrades?"

"I care not what happens to me. But you must go." Toneless, flat voice. Legolas had barely moved his lips to answer, but he had answered.

Once more questioning Legolas' sanity, along with his own, Aragorn went back to the elf, grabbed Legolas at the arm, and roughly pulled him along. "Move!"

This time Legolas followed the command, but he ran woodenly, nothing was left of the typical elven grace. 'As long as he moves…' Aragorn grimly thought, and stayed behind the elf, to push him whenever he slowed.

They emerged out of the caves without further fight, to Aragorn's relief. In haste, he made for the woods, still pushing Legolas every now and then. The ranger had hoped that once outside Legolas would awaken from the stupor he seemed to be in, but it was not so. For several hours they ran, until finally, gasping for breath and holding his hurting side, Aragorn broke to his knees. Panting, he simply stayed were he was. Legolas ran a few more steps before he slowed and finally stopped.

"Do you hear any sign of pursuit?" asked Aragorn.

For a moment Legolas listened intently, but gave no answer. Praying that in case of danger Legolas would warn him, but too exhausted to push the elf for an answer, Aragorn murmured, "I need to rest a while."

Legolas still said nothing. For a few minutes Aragorn just stared dumbly at the ground and tried to control his ragged breath. Then he lifted his head, and glanced at the elf who seemingly had not moved at all since they had stopped.

"What are your plans, now that you are free again?" He felt not really up to talk, but Legolas' constant refusal to truly acknowledge him, their situation, anything, concerned Aragorn greatly.

Stiffly Legolas came next to him and crouched down. Then, with a carefully controlled slow motion, Legolas touched the scimitar Aragorn was still carrying and said, "I await your punishment."

"Punishment?" Aragorn asked, shocked.

Legolas said no more. He withdrew his hand, and crouched quietly, motionless and with his head bowed before the ranger. The whole figure spoke of misery. Was the expectation of being punished what made Legolas come with him in the end? Aragorn's thoughts whirled. He could relay to the feelings of guilt Legolas surely was experiencing now, but also he had not gotten over his confusion, and – admittedly – anger, about Hilmar's death. Harsher than he meant the words to sound, he said, "I have no right to judge what you did, for I don't know all the facts. No, Legolas, punishment will not come from me."

With these words Aragorn stood up, and limped a few steps away. There he stilled, and tried to calm his racing heart and his tormented thoughts. At some level all he wished for was to be left alone, to no longer have to see the elf who had tortured his friend to death. But his caring heart would not allow him to flee now. Instinctively Aragorn knew, if he left Legolas like this, the elf would not survive for long. Even so he might fade from grief.

There had been enough deaths. Aragorn turned around again, intent on talking with Legolas. The elf had risen and faced the ranger. His eyes were lifeless, his expression and his posture showed no emotion. But Aragorn was not fooled. Lightly he stepped before the elf, and quietly said, "Will you tell me what happened?"

"You have seen what happened. How I-" Legolas' voice broke.

Aragorn softly said, "How you tormented us, you mean to say?"

No word from Legolas, the elf had stilled completely, so Aragorn continued with a shaking voice, "The orcs forced you to torture us, didn't they? What hold over you did they have?"

Still Legolas was frozen. Aragorn went on, voice firmer now, "Had they realized how important you are? Did they try to break your will? What would've happened if you refused to do what they wanted? Wouldn't they have chosen the children, or the woman? Wouldn't they have delivered the double or even trice amount of whatever their cruel minds came up, if you didn't to us what they wanted?"

Legolas flinched badly, lifted his head and tonelessly said, "That is how your friend died. When the orcs suddenly changed their demands and told me to stab him, I did not… I could not…"

Aragorn gasped, and Legolas went silent once more. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Aragorn turned away. He did not want for Legolas to see the anger he felt. Anger, ironically, that Legolas had not been able to continue his cruel deeds. Perhaps Hilmar still would be alive, if only Legolas had been stronger… or if Aragorn himself had chosen a different course of action...

But no, the orcs were to blame. Almost relieved to have a focus for his inner upheaval, Aragorn finally felt ready to face Legolas again, and turned around – but the elf was gone.

Aragorn's exhaustion on top of the grievous injury finally got the better of him, and he did not manage to search Legolas' tracks or check the trees nearby for more than a few minutes. Even though he was certain the elf was in no condition to make it far right now, he could not gather the strength to follow him any more. Next to an old elm he sank down to the ground and, softly moaning in pain, checked his side.

As he had feared, the wound was infected already. He would have to search for herbs that would aid him, but first of all he needed rest. He was so tired. Sighing, he lay down, and rolled onto his back. Slight movement above him made him jerk his already half-lidded eyes open again. Legolas was perched on one of the highest branches of exactly the elm he unwittingly had chosen as resting place.

He honestly considered talking to the elf once more, but when he tried to sit up and his trembling arms failed him, he changed his mind. Instead he softly pleaded, "Would you stand guard? I can't..."

Legolas' answer – if one was forthcoming at all – Aragorn would never know. The ranger was unconscious mere moments later.

* * * * *

When he woke, the pain in his side had lessened considerably. His wound had been cared for; he could still smell the lingering odour of the herbs Legolas used to treat the burn with. Nearby a fire was merrily blazing, and Aragorn realized he was comfortably bedded on a layer of leaves. Aragorn looked around, and his eyes fell on Legolas, who was sitting nearby. Slowly, to not tear at his wound, he also sat up and murmured, "I am grateful for your aid, Legolas."

"Do not thank me!" was Legolas fierce replay, but after that he said no more, instead he went to his feet.

Hastily Aragorn, who feared that Legolas was about to leave, said the first thing that came to mind, "Are you heading back to Mirkwood?"

"I have an errant that will lead me further west. What is your destination?"

Aragorn said slowly, "I also travel west. I want to visit the Last Homely House."

After a tense silent moment Legolas asked, "You know of Imladris?"

"I was raised in Elrond's household."

Legolas nodded, and said no more. But his posture indicated that he was still uneasy. To distract him further, Aragorn said, "I am sure Elrond will welcome you in his home. You are travelling there, are you not?"

"I shall not be welcome in any elven realm, for I am a kin-slayer. I only head there because I swore to do so, and it is as good a place as any to await my sentence." The last words were a mere whisper.

Nervously Aragorn bit his lip. He was treading on dangerous ground here, and he knew it. But he could not see Legolas suffer such. He murmured, "Elrond will understand. He is a kin-slayer, too."

"What do you mean by that?"

With an outward calm he did not feel, Aragorn explained, "Over the millennia he has lost several elves he tried to heal. They died by his hand, by the actions he took or did not take."

"That is hardly the same!"

"Is it not? He was faced with impossible choices. Every healer is in that position now and then – as were you, Legolas. You did not bring death by choice, your aim was to save as many as possible. The orcs are to blame, not you, nor any of us."

On the last word Aragorn's voice slightly faltered. Despite the turmoil and despair Legolas was in, he obviously caught on to that. His resentful glance changed to one of confusion. Then he blurted out, "You blame yourself?"

Aragorn ruefully laughed, and then said, "Elrond's sons named me the master of guilt often enough. I guess they do have a point. Yes, Legolas, for Hilmar's death at least I'd partly take blame, for it was my plan that lead to his death, if any blame were to place at someone else than the orcs' feet, that is."

Long Legolas answered not, but finally, with a sigh, he said, "You are wounded, so it might be best if we journey together for a while"

Soon they were on their way. They talked not much, despite Aragorn's occasional tries to start a conversation. Legolas was withdrawn to the point of being impolite. And after a while Aragorn, who also felt not much like speaking, simply accepted that he had a taciturn companion.

Soon they found a comfortable routine for setting up camp and dividing watches in the night. Truth to be told, during the first two nights Legolas stood guard alone, Aragorn was too exhausted and needed the rest badly. On the second evening the young ranger even withdrew deep into the woods, to finally let out some of his sorrow about Hilmar's death. But on the third day Aragorn felt how he slowly grew stronger again.

They took what nature provided. Aragorn gathered herbs and roots, and Legolas, who refused to eat anything, took responsibility for finding water each evening. Aragorn would almost have felt as if he was on a trip with his brothers once more, had it not been for the cloud of remorse and sadness that clung tightly to Legolas. The elf also refused any aid Aragorn offered for his injuries. Aragorn knew Legolas had been tortured by the orcs, but he never had a chance to check up on the wounds. He could only pray that superior elven healing abilities would take care of them.

And on their fifth day, finally, Aragorn for the first time dared to hope that Legolas would overcome his feelings of guilt.

Legolas had found a piece of wood that could serve as crude bow, and currently was braiding a bowstring from his long blond hair. Teasingly, Aragorn said, "Are you sure that thing will work?"

"Do you doubt my abilities, Strider?"

"Well, my friend, I'd trust in them better if you'd perhaps shoot at something with it, just to prove that the bow will not break?"

Just thinking of meat, of a real meal, made Aragorn's stomach grumble audible, and Legolas' lips twitched slightly. But still he did not look up from his work, instead he said, while he finished the bowstring, and attached it to the wood, "Well then, prepare a fire, while I hunt. But beware: if I manage to bring something to eat, you shall have to cook it."

And then Legolas was gone, leaving a softly chuckling ranger behind.

It took longer than Aragorn had expected. He had a fire ready, and wood enough to have it last for hours. Also he had gathered herbs to spice the meat Legolas hopefully would bring. He also found a sharp stone, and used that to try and make a few arrows out of some sticks he found. They would not be sufficient in a battle with orcs, but they might serve to kill perhaps a hare or bird. For anything more sophisticated he would need tools, and iron arrowheads, but making the arrows helped him to fight his nervousness during Legolas' long absence.

But then, three hours later, Aragorn knew something was wrong. There was no way that it could have taken an elf this long to find game in these woods. Aragorn had made eight arrows by now, surely Legolas would manage to make one in far less time, and one would be all a Mirkwood archer needed. No, something definitely was amiss.

Ranger that he was, Aragorn had kept his eyes and ears open for any kind of approaching danger, so he was certain no orc, or other beast, was nearby. It was midday, wolves were not hunting yet. Humans did not live here. And then he remembered the stories Elladan had told him when he was young. Stories of unsafe spots in the northern woods near the Misty Mountains, stories of animals and elves swallowed by small swamps hidden below green layers of something that looked like grass, promising a safety it did not provide.

A cold fist clenched Aragorn's heart, while he slowly, still in shock from his sudden fear, rose to his feet. He had been taught by his brothers to recognize the deadly traps, but it was more than likely that Legolas was not even aware of that particular danger. Aragorn left in haste in the direction Legolas formerly had taken.