A/N: This update is way overdue, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I've been hard at work with "Legosue", which I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying, and I was was working so hard trying to satisfy the readers of that story that I forgot entirely about this one. I apologize, and I hope I haven't lost any of you, and that you're still willing to read this. There's not much left of the story. And I send a large thank you out to one of my reviewers, Andeldaiel, who was actually the one who booted me into updating this story. Thanx, I really needed a slap in the face to wake me up and realize that there might be readers waiting for the continuation of the story! -smooches!-

Not much longer now!

----------------

Disclaimer: None of it is mine. That's the irony of fanfiction.

---------------

ch.14

"Tell me, elf, do you ever give up?" Xin asked, ceasing his pacing and glaring at the prince. Legolas bowed his head and did not answer. Xin backhanded the elf again, jerking Legolas' head to the side. The prince wiped his bleeding lip on his shoulder since his hands were of no use.

"Answer me when I am talking to you!" Xin growled. "I will ask the question again. Do you ever give up?" Legolas smiled softly despite the situation.

"Never," he whispered. Xin snarled deep in his throat and whapped the whip against Legolas' ribs. The elf tensed and bit his bleeding lip, but did not cry out. He would not give the orc the pleasure of hearing his screams.

"I see," Xin drawled, fingering the bloody lash. "You will be hard to break, but it will be all the more satisfying when I do succeed." Legolas glowered at his captor.

"The only way you will break me is if you kill me," he snarled. "You can't take me." The elf was rewarded with another bite from the whip. He jerked in his bonds.

"A barbed tongue will be no good to you here, elf," Xin growled. "The only thing it will grant you is another moment of pain, another day of misery, another year of angst and a whole lifetime of anguish ahead of you. You should speak better to your masters."

"I have no master," Legolas spat, closing his eyes as another blow from the lash stung his hurting body.

"You will soon," Xin replied, swinging the whip again, "realize that you are wrong. I am your master and you will learn to deal with it."

"You can do whatever you want, but you will never have my obedience," Legolas gasped around the pain that was blurring his vision. Xin's lip lifted in a snarl, his anger rising at the fight the elf was putting up. His growl suddenly turned to a purr as a wonderful thought hit him. He strutted to the captive boy, swinging the whip merrily and making sure Legolas saw where he was going. The light blue eyes widened in horror as they saw what the orc commander was planning to do. He tugged uselessly against his bonds, the links of the chain digging into his flesh.

"No! Do whatever you want with me but do not harm the boy!" Legolas pleaded, watching as the lash was raised. Estel shrank back from the evil being in front of him, pulling back against his captors. Xin smiled evilly.

"Too late, elf," he laughed. "You are too stubborn for your own good and have pushed me to the limit. Now you get to watch this one's suffering." The lash descended.

"NO!"

Legolas raged against the chains holding him like an untamed steed, screaming curses in every language he knew. Xin ignored the roars and continued to beat the pitiful form of the boy in front of him, enjoying the small cries of pain that met his ears. He knew he would receive this kind of reaction from the prince; the two prisoners seemed close and willing to protect each other at any cost, and therefore, while they were each other's strength, they were also each other's weakness. Xin could have laughed at the irony of it, which he did anyway, only increasing the elf's unrelenting wave of fury.

Legolas was so angry the world came through his eyes in a red haze. He would not have been surprised if the calming blue of his eyes swirled into a mist of garnet. His throat began to burn from the things he was screaming at the horrid orc, and half of the things he roared into the air he had never uttered before, so vulgar were they. He felt as if he had suddenly burst into flame in the frigid air. He watched each stroke of the whip upon Estel's skin to be another reason for revenge, another orc that would lie dead by his hand. He vowed it to the forests and his own star that he would take the life from the one destroying Estel's.

Suddenly he switched to the common language so the orc commander could understand him. "You are weak, you filthy spawn of darkness, weak! Instead of facing me you try and force me through the torture of a small boy, one who is not even ten, only because he is smaller than you and cannot resist against the beatings! You call yourself strong, then face me! Do not tell me you are frightened of me, you scrap of immoral beast!" Xin ceased the strokes of the lash and froze even as Legolas thundered the entire speech. Estel lay on the ground, curled in on himself and bleeding, and felt the whip bites end. He risked peeking through his arms at the orc standing over him, and almost hid again when he saw the rage and fury boiling over the misshapen face.

With a bellow of flaring ire, the orc commander spun on his heel and raised the whip, this time the target the flesh of the elf, not of the little boy. Legolas bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as the threshing began, but Estel saw not fear or pain in his eyes when the blue orbs were covered, the boy saw…accomplishment. Legolas had meant to draw the orc's attention away from his friend and he had succeeded. Estel raised himself to his knees, the all too familiar grasp of orcs' claws digging into his forearms as he gazed on in horror at Legolas' beating.

Xin seemed to be taking out every figment of rage and anger out on the helpless elf, using all of his strength through the lash he held. Every thew of Legolas' body was tense as he accepted the whipping silently, his eyes closed and refusing to let tears of pain pass. He struggled not to cry out and pressed his lips together tightly in an effort to not do so as each whip stroke hurt worse than the last. He felt consciousness slipping away from him and gave in willingly, his tight muscles going slack in the bonds, his head falling forward. Xin panted in near extortion, giving one last blow to the unconscious elf for only spite. Estel had tears streaming down his cheeks and did not notice them. He flinched when Xin waved his hand, but the movement was only a signal and the orc guards threw him onto the ground near their camp. Estel scrambled around and realized that they had left Legolas chained to the tree. He stumbled to his feet.

"Please…w-what about my friend?" he stammered weakly. The orcs laughed at his request as if it were a great joke.

"What about 'im?" one asked. "He can enjoy his time there while it lasts. He deserves it after gettin' the boss so angry. Enjoy the view, maggot." They stalked off, leaving a small, weeping bundle huddled on the ground and a bleeding, lean elf attached to a tree behind them.

-----------------

King Thranduil paced the fire room restlessly, his piercing gray gaze fixed to the floor. It had been a night and a day since Legolas and Estel went missing, and the two fathers were nearly fraying at the edges from worry. The twins and Arwen had come back late last night, having found nothing, and went to their rooms to rest before setting out once more that evening to search for their friends. Lord Elrond andThranduil stayed in the fire room still. They had not left since the information had reached the elven king's ears and chose to remain.

"King Thranduil, please sit down," Elrond muttered calmly. The other elf's pacing was beginning to wear his nerves. Thranduil shook his head mutely and continued to walk back and forth across the interior, his boots soundless against the stone floor. Elrond sat rigidly on the couch by the fire. He stared at his hands resting in his lap, then out the window, but neither view provided any comfort for his crazed and anxious heart. He sighed quietly as Thranduil turned at the windows and walked to the other side of the room.

"Thranduil, please, stop pacing," the elven lord said softly, a hint of frustration in his voice. "It is beginning to make me nervous."

"Beginning!" The king raged, throwing his hands into the air. "Beginning? You should be as nervous as I am! How can you sit there so calmly while our sons might be in danger? How can you possibly care about anything else?"

"I admit that I am anxious, yes, but I at least still have hope that the boys are all right," Elrond replied calmly. "I am not letting my nervousness eat away at me." From what you at least see on the outside. Thranduil grunted and came back to the windows again. There he stopped and stared out at the sky, for which Elrond was relieved. The pacing had been annoying him greatly.

"You have others," the king muttered softly, surprising the elven lord more than if he had suddenly hollered. "Other children that are still here for you." There was emotion swaying in Thrnaduil's tone and eyes that was too great to be missed. Elrond stood and came to the king's side by the window, a small comfort if any should Thranduil want to find consolation in someone.

The elven king gazed at the stars for a moment. "Legolas and I used to climb trees when he was younger. We would most likely creep from the palace at night, while his mother was not watching us. She would always chide us about going out of the palace walls while it was dark outside. I taught Legolas how to climb trees." Thranduil smiled softly and shook his head at the fond memories. The small smile disappeared and sudden tears swarmed through the deep gray depths.

"I helped him climb up by himself. I remember being so proud when he reached the top, being so happy when I saw the self-confidence and joy in his eyes. Then he embraced me and said, 'I love you, Ada.' I loved him too. And I still do." The tears slid down Thranduil's fair cheeks, but he did not bother brushing them away. Elrond took a deep breath and said probably the hardest thing he ever had to.

"He is convinced that you do not," the elven lord whispered softly. Thranduil turned pain-filled eyes to Elrond, who could not meet them and stared at his hands instead.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked. "Has he told you this?"

"Yes," Elrond murmured. "He has told me that he thinks you do not love him. He also told me that he believes you blame him for his mother's death and thence so shun him for it."

"How? How can he think such things?"

"You have never corrected him, Thranduil," Elrond said, at last meeting the king's gaze with his own. "Have you ever told him once that you do not believe it was his fault?"

"Yes," Thranduil replied. "I told him."

"When?"

"When he was a child, the night it happened."

"Have you ever told him after that night?"

"No. He has never brought it up."

"And that is why he still believes it is his fault. You cannot only tell him once for the guilt to be killed. The fact that you did not, as well as the fact that you further withdrew from him, let the guilt grow and spread until it sucked him of all emotion save it and self-loathing. Can you believe, Thranduil, that your own son was afraid of you seeing him when he was injured? He was frightened that it would only bring your acceptance of him lower and that you would dislike him more."

"But I do not dislike him," Thranduil said quickly, his mind whirling from all of the information on his son he was receiving. The fact that the elven lord knew more of Legolas than the king did himself was fearful.

"Did you ever tell him that?" Elrond asked in sudden vehemence, slapping his open palm on the stone windowsill. "What more, did you ever tell him you loved him for who he was?" The elven king felt the unpleasant sensation of heart-crushing guilt flow into him. No, he had never told his son that he did not hate him. No, he had never said he loved his one and only child, whom he cherished more than the world itself. That was why Thranduil had seen the slight flicker of fear enter his son's eyes when he had entered the room the day he had arrived in Rivendell. That was why Legolas had apologized to his father before the king had left. Because the young prince was claiming the guilt that rightfully belonged to Thranduil.

The king let the tears speak what his heart was screaming. He paced back to one of the couches in front of the fire and collapsed ungracefully into it, putting his head in his hands and shaking from the sobs that shook his lithe frame. He admitted to himself now: he had been a horrible father for Legolas all these years. Thranduil had gotten only the best things for his son, from tutors to wellbeing to even clothes and food, but he had never given to Legolas what all children deserved. Undying love. Thranduil felt it in his heart, of course, but he had never shown it nor faced it directly, and for that Legolas was frightened of him, for that Legolas was locked in his own stoic shell. For that the prince held all of this guilt and sorrow that could have been banished, if Thranduil had only spoken what he felt for his son.

I have been healing well in this place, Adar, and not just physically.

That was what Legolas had meant those nights ago. His heart had been healing, he had tried to tell his father that, but Thranduil had ignored the statement and had tried to take the prince away. He had not paid any attention to the inner needs of his son.

The distraught elven king rocked himself gently back and forth as he wept openly, trying to comfort himself, though at the moment he felt like taking his own life. He felt no shame in crying in front of Elrond, for he had even forgotten that the elven lord was there, so wrapped in his grief was he.

Thranduil winced as he felt Elrond's hand upon his back. The lord sat down next to the king and gave what consolation he could. Thranduil averted his gaze and let his hands drop away from his face. When he at last spoke, his voice was filled with sorrow.

"Legolas is the only thing I have left," he whispered. "He is the only thing that keeps me alive. Instead of being joyous that I at least did not lose my only son, I grieved for the loss of my wife and kept distance between Legolas and I. That is not what I should have done; I should have told him every day since his mother's death that I loved him dearly…I never did, and I might never will now that he is gone, possibly in some grave danger. I will probably never get to tell him that I do not blame him, I do love him more than anything else in the world and that I was the wrong one all these years…" Thranduil's words were lost as he began to weep again, too strongly for any to get past his grief. Elrond stayed close as a silent comfort and allowed the king to stay locked in his own tomb of misery. He at last spoke, his voice soft.

"All hope is not lost, Thranduil," Elrond whispered. "They could yet still be saved, if we could only find them. You have now recognized your faults; the only thing that will ease them is if you voice them to your son, who we will find, I promise you that. They cannot be far and you will get the chance to see him again."

"Dead or alive?" Thranduil mumbled quietly. Elrond sighed.

"That is still unknown, yet do not fear too much or grieve too soon. There is always hope, in whatever situation, the only problem is you have to find it. Find yours, Thranduil, and if you hang onto it, it can do wondrous things. But do not use it over its expanse, for if proved wrong it could become vicious." The elven king was silent for a moment before he chose his words and used them.

"You were always wiser than me, Elrond," he murmured. "And, as you usually were then and now, you are right. The boys will be found before long. Thank you. It must be as hard for you as it is for me, and yet you are still strong enough to comfort me. You have come to love that human boy, I can see that." The elven lord smiled softly.

"You are correct in that. I do love Estel, he is like another son to me, and I will not see him gone so early in his young life." Thranduil nodded and his gaze found the hypnotic dance of the flames. The two leaders of elven realms, the two fathers, sat silently as the night sounds filtered through the open windows behind them.

------------------

Legolas slowly came awake, the sharp piercing pain of a headache behind his eyes being the first thing he was aware of. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter to try and blunt the pain in his head. The second thing he noticed was that every inch of him hurt, and that his shoulders were greatly strained. His arms felt stretched and he was sure some muscle tissue was torn. He opened his eyes, receiving another spike of pain behind his brow, and tried to take in his surroundings. It was dark outside, he saw, and the orcs were gathered around a fire to stave off the chill in the air, of which the elf was soon completely aware of and began to tremble furiously in the chains that held him.

His hearing was the second thing that he perceived, and the orcs' harsh laughter suddenly seemed much too loud combined with the crackle of the fire and the soft weeping coming from below him.

Weeping…?

Legolas looked down and saw Estel curled against the trunk of the tree the elf was chained to, his head buried in his arms and his knees pulled up to his chest to save warmth and find comfort. The small boy's shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly, struggling not to be heard by the orcs, for that would only bring attention to himself and they would have caught him in his moment of weakness. His body hurt from the beatings he had received earlier in the day and he wanted his ada. He felt he was stuck in hell and there was no way out.

Legolas felt a pain sharper and greater than that in his head and arms. He wanted to touch the boy, to comfort him and show him that he was not the only one who wanted to go home, but he could only tug uselessly against his bonds, which caused him more pain anyway. Estel, alerted by the quiet sound of the chinking chains, snapped his head up and saw that Legolas was looking at him through pained and bleary eyes. The small boy immediately leaped to his feet.

"Are you…alright?" Legolas asked through gritted teeth as he tried not to reveal the amount of hurt he was in. Estel was not fooled and reached out to help, but soon jerked is hand back as he realized that touching the elf would only increase the pain.

"I'm fine," the boy replied softly, wiping the tears away from his face with the back of his hand. "I'm worried about you, Legolas."

"I'll…be fine," the elf whispered with a reassuring smile. "Worry not, Estel. They cannot break me nor will I let them break you."

"You should not have done that," Estel said, remembering the prince's sacrifice for his own safety. "I could handle it, you didn't need to put yourself in pain just for me."

"I wanted to, Estel," Legolas whispered. "I could not sit by and watch them hurt you when there was a chance I could stop it. And I did. That was the only thing I wanted. It puts me through more pain to simply watch them torment you than to go through the torment myself. I hate seeing them hurt you so severely. No young one deserves to have memories of such pain or grief."

"But Legolas…" Tears had begun to trace down Estel's face again. The elf shook his head slightly.

"No, Estel. Do not weep. Come here," he whispered softly. Estel drew slightly closer. Legolas gestured with his head for the boy to come even closer until he stood just inches away from the chained prince. Legolas stared deeply into the misty silver eyes barely three inches away.

"Do not lose hope, Estel," Legolas murmured. "There is always a way to escape from horrible places. I escaped the first time and I was barely older than you. If you find hope and believe in it you can do things that you never knew you could do before. Now look at me," Legolas said, for Estel had averted his gaze, "and know that we will get out of here together."

"Alive or dead?" Estel asked quietly, asking the very question that was burned in Legolas' mind at the very moment. The elf smiled faintly.

"Either way," he whispered. "We will go together. I will not leave you behind, I promise." The boy nodded.

"I will not leave you behind either, Legolas," he murmured. The elven prince smiled and bowed his head in exhaustion. His wounds were grieving him and he was torn and drained from when he had pulled against the bonds. He closed his eyes as Estel's concerned questions rang in his ears.

"Don't worry, Estel," Legolas whispered as he felt consciousness leave him. His entire body relaxed in the chains. Estel watched the elf's still form in concern before he sat against the tree again, curling into a tight ball to find warmth in the chilly night air. He hoped, even as his eyes closed and sleep found him, that tomorrow would not be so bad. He did not know how wrong he was.

------------------

Hours. Hours of it. Never stopping, relenting, giving him rest. His entire body shrieked in pain and he felt as if his soul were being physically wrenched from him. He hung loosely in his bonds, trying to ignore the mounting pain building in his nerves and the choking, angering laughter that rang from the orcs' throats. Throats he so wanted to pierce with a knife or throttle with his bare hands. The entire world around him warped and swam in dizzying patterns, making him want to retch. There was no relief.

Xin grinned cruelly as he delivered another stroke of the lash to the limp form hanging in the chains. He reveled in the violent wince that came from the bleeding body, the slight cry of pain that emerged from the prisoner's dry throat. Finally. The cruel treatment was beginning to take a toll on the being they held captive. Xin could almost see his soul bending, groaning under the weight of the abuse and distress, ready to snap at any moment. Any more of this and it would shatter.

Xin rewarded the prisoner with another bite from the whip, and another, the cries renting the air becoming louder and fueling the orc's greed for the sight of the soul's shattered pieces. The orcs gathered around for the horrid event cheered as their commander delivered another blow to the captive, chuckling gutturally at the hoarse cry of pain tearing from the being. It had taken some beatings and cruel treatment for the prisoner to even begin voicing his pain, but it had all been worth it to see the now lax form held in the chains. They knew as well as Xin did that it would take only minutes now for the process to be complete, and that their work would be rewarded only when the captive called Xin his master and released every shred of hope or strength.

First they had beaten the prisoner with the whip in rapid succession, their impatience and frustration mounting when the abused body they were flogging stayed silent. They then began to take out different torture devices their own master had invented, testing out the new tools on their captive. Their abuse included fire and spikes, metal-ended clubs and sharp, thin spines plunged into the open wounds of their 'play toy.' They had even given the prisoner a dose of Wyvern Milk, a certain poison that caused the nerves to overreact to pain. Only after the poison was applied would the captive cry out in pain, being beaten by the whip and other tools while the toxin was in his system, making one tiny pinch feel like two dragon claws clenching his flesh.

Now that the Wyvern Milk had worn off, they were simply beating the prisoner relentlessly, enjoying his cries and waiting for the moment that would declare him snapped. Xin stopped only often enough to ask who the captive's master was, continuing when the poor being gasped out the answer that no one owned him. They were all waiting anxiously for the answer that would prove all of their work necessary.

Xin halted his cruel whipping. The prisoner was gasping loudly, struggling to remain conscious after all that had been done to him. The orc commander strutted forward casually, snatching the bleeding being's chin in his armored hand and tilting the face up to reveal the pain-glazed eyes. The orc army leaned forward, hearing the well-known question that Xin asked yet again.

"Who is your master?" the cruel, harsh voice of Xin asked. "Who owns your body, mind and soul?" The prisoner hesitated before answering. Fear and doubt flickered across his clouded eyes as he stared into the face of his tormentor. He opened his mouth.

"…Y-you."

Xin released the prisoner with a triumphant smile and turned back to the roaring orcs that stood behind him. The captive fell limp when the orc commander let go of him, utter shame and self-loathing filling him to capacity. He wished to die that very moment and knew that he did not deserve an eased passing.

The prisoner bowed his head, silver tears echoing his shame.

Legolas Greenleaf was finally broken.

------------------

Not good. Reviews, please! If you beg, I might update faster:oD