AN: Yay! Another update! I just want to thank you all so much for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me! Aaaaaannnnd a BIG thank you to HarryEstel! Why? Because the dear reviewed every single chapter, all with good things to say! Thanx girl! -huggles- And cookies for all the others! Woo!

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Disclaimer: I really don't have enough time to come up with anything witty for the disclaimer because my bus is about to come to take me to school. So I'm going to just say: None of it is mine.

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(I'm listening to Green Day. God, those guys rock my sox. :oD "Ha ha you're dead, and I'm so happy..." one of their songs; hilarious)

ch.15

Miles away, a light brown mare raged within her stable. She knew something was wrong. She could sense the evil in the air. It practically roared unmercifully in her ears. She wished to be freed from the small compartment in which she was being held. Her elf was in danger, she knew that and needed to find someone who could help her find him. She knew from the fact that he had not been to see her in days, and he normally came every other day to check up on her at least. His absence was suspicious and she felt it had something to so with the amount of immorality fogging the air. She snorted in frustration and exasperation as the sturdy wood door to her stable held. She didn't know how else to get help, besides…

Khílya raised her long snout to the sky and screeched as loudly as she could, adding a note of panic and fear into her tone. She hoped that it would alert the elves here and that they would come set her free to find her elf.

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Estel crawled slowly to the huddled form of the elf. His chains dragged slowly after him, slithering across the ground. In the dim light of the full moon, the boy could see the horrible state his elven friend was in, and he winced from only seeing Legolas' condition. There were burns and slashes marring the fair skin of his back and bruises dotted his arms. The prince was obviously in an enormous amount of pain. He was trembling violently and would not look up at Estel, even though he had heard the boy coming.

The small boy reached tentatively out and gently prodded his friend's arm. Legolas recoiled and gave a low hiss of pain, pressing his forehead against the earth. Estel instantly drew back, not wishing to cause his friend any more pain. He sat silently by the prince's side for a moment.

"What happened, Legolas?" he asked quietly, his voice's volume barely above the crickets that chirped deeply in the forest's depths. The elf curled in on himself tightly and turned away, tears of shame trailing down his face. Estel was not lost on his anguish.

"Legolas, please tell me," he whispered, bending down next to his friend to see his face. Legolas made a slight sound of angst and he withdrew further.

"Leave me, Estel," he murmured, refusing to look at the boy. Estel only came closer. He wanted to touch his friend but was afraid of causing the elf more pain.

"I will not," he whispered. "I promised never to leave you and I won't. Why won't you talk to me? What did I do wrong?" At that last sentence Legolas sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain it caused, and grabbed the boy's shoulders. Estel started at the sudden vehemence but stared back into the wide eyes of his friend.

"Nothing, Estel, you have done nothing," Legolas whispered urgently. "Do not blame yourself for what has happened to me. What I did was only my fault." Estel brushed the new tears away from Legolas' face.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"They…they have broken me," Legolas whispered hoarsely, bowing his head and allowing the normally proud stance of his shoulders slump. Estel shook his head. This elf was the strongest being he knew. They could not have broken him.

"I don't believe you," he said softly. Legolas chuckled once without mirth, more like a grunt.

"It is the truth. Have I ever lied to you before?"

"But…but how?"

"I wanted to get away from the pain, Estel," the elf said, raising his head again and meeting the boy's silver eyes. "I would have done anything they asked me to…I was so weak then…I am now owned by the orc commander."

"No, you are not," Estel said firmly, drawing forward until their foreheads touched. He gazed into the blue eyes merely inches from his own and held a stern gaze.

"Do you feel as though you are owned, Legolas?" Estel asked, sounding much older than his true age. "Do you feel the hold of the orc commander? Do you feel that you must do whatever he tells you to, no matter what the cost? Or do you still feel the tug of freedom at your heart, or feel the winds calling you to the forests of your home, or know that your soul and heart will always belong to only yourself and the wilderness, never to another? If so, then you are not owned. You will never be owned until you give up all hope or longing for the places and people you love. Only then, mellon-nîn, my friend, will you be owned."

Legolas stared in astonishment at the boy, wondering where the wisdom of his words had come from. It seemed that this experience had hollowed out the innocent young boy that had been Estel and replaced him with one that was much wiser than the number of his years. The elf saw the truth behind Estel's words and realized that the boy was right.

"But I even told him that he was my master," Legolas whispered.

"Did you mean what you said?" Estel asked. The prince shook his head slightly. "Then they were merely words," the boy murmured. "If you did not mean them then that means that they are not true."

"Oh, Estel," Legolas pulled his young friend into a tight embrace of gratitude. "Where have you gotten this sudden wisdom from?"

"From you, Legolas," Estel whispered, huddling in the elf's arms. "You never gave up hope in me. I am only returning the favor."

"Hannon le, Estel," Legolas whispered softly into his friend's ear. "You have been a light in my life ever since I first arrived. You healed me in a way no healer ever could, not even one as experienced as your father. You have a gift, Estel, use it well."

"I will, Legolas," the boy murmured, closing his eyes. The two of them fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, the light of the stars washing over them.

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"Did you hear that?" Thranduil asked, lifting his head. Elrond looked up as well. They were still seated on the couch near the fire, waiting for the twins and Arwen to return from their search. The king thought he had heard something from outside and stood up quickly. The elven lord followed and the two made their way outside, to where the sounds were coming from. Thranduil saw a horse thrashing within the confines of its stable, screeching as it had been doing for some minutes now.

"Khílya!" Thranduil cried, running to the stall. He remembered when Legolas had named the foal after his mother, so the king would know the horse almost as much as he did the original Khílya. Thranduil attempted to calm the mare without opening the door. Khílya rubbed her nose desperately against his outstretched hand and recognized the king for who he was in relation to her own elf. She nickered and slammed her hoof against the stable door, wanting to get out and find her elf who she knew was in trouble.

"This is Legolas' mare," Thranduil mused, wondering what had gotten the horse so agitated. He tried to reach her to calm her. "What is the problem?"

"She could know where he is," Elrond said. "I've been told that elven horses who have close bonds with their riders can find them when in trouble. It's ether that or she could follow his scent. We could let her lead us to where she might think he is."

"I am desperate enough to try it," Thranduil muttered, going to retrieve his own steed. Elrond strode and called his dappled gray horse from its stall. The elven king looped the end of a rope around Khílya's neck and tied the other around his own steed's throat. He leaped onto his mount's back and opened the stable door.

Khílya immediately burst from the stable with a loud whinny, taking off at a full gallop. Thranduil's steed nickered as the rope caught and forced it to match the mare's hurried pace so suddenly. Elrond followed close behind and they streaked through the forest in a blur. They passed close by the twins and Arwen on their own mounts on the path. The three shouted in surprise and soon took up the chase, following quickly behind their father and the panicked mare.

Khílya had never run so fast in her life, and she had galloped very fast before. She felt her legs straining and saw the path blurring by beneath her hooves, but with each frantic beat of her run and frenzied pump of her heart she feared she might be too late to save her elf.

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"Stop! He can't take anymore!"

Estel struggled against the orcs holding him the next evening, raging with all of his strength to try and reach Legolas. The elf was lying crumpled on the ground, his head bowed and tucked underneath his arms. A swarm of orcs surrounded him, mercilessly beating him with their fists and boots. Given the state he was in, he would not survive much longer if they continued their cruel treatment.

"No! Legolas!"

"Shut up, maggot!"

A blow from one of the orcs holding Estel folded him over and knocked the air from his lungs. He coughed heavily before he could get his breath back. He still pulled uselessly against his captors, wanting to help the elf they were playing with. He felt white hot rage snap powerfully within him. Legolas had not even done anything to deserve this abuse. The only reason the orcs were doing this was for spite, a sign that they owned him.

A sudden cry of pain echoed through the air, causing Estel's heart to lurch. He screamed at the orcs clutching his arms and kicked out at them, receiving only blows back as a reward. Estel fell to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks and his voice raised in Elvish curses. The commotion around Legolas ceased and they glanced around at the boy struggling on the ground with two orcs. They lifted the beaten elf and threw him aside, their fun with him forgotten. They went to help with the boy.

Had Legolas been conscious, he would have probably done something to stop Estel's beatings, but he was not. The boy was thrown down beside the elf as the sky began to be dotted by the stars and the moon was rising. He huddled in a still ball for a moment, then crawled to the elf's side. Legolas' breathing was ragged and shallow, his nearly healed cuts from the whip were reopened from the beating he had just taken. His blue glow was fading in the coming darkness. Estel had a bloody nose, but he forgot all about it as he scanned Legolas' condition. The boy curled against the elven prince's side and rested his head against his friend's chest, hearing the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

So wrong. Everything had gone so wrong, ever since they had been captured by the orcs. They were beaten and treated like slaves, attached to chains. Estel tried to keep hope, but it was so hard to do when every odd was against you and the very moon seemed to curse your existence. Estel felt the hope he had slipping away from him as he watched Legolas' glow become dimmer, his life ebbing away right beneath Estel's hands. The boy began to weep at everything that had happened, the situation they were in, the fact that they were hurting and scared and wanted to be free from this hell. He wept openly, not caring anymore whether the orcs heard or not. He did not care if they beat him, or if he lived. He actually wanted to die, something he had never before wished upon himself. Woe is one who is so young and innocent and already wishing to die so early in their existence, with so many things they had not done or seen or experienced, and having their wishes for life torn brutally away by another cruel hand. Woe on so many levels.

Estel felt the body beneath him stir. He silenced his weeping and looked up to see Legolas' eyes open, the blue faded and clouded over in pain. He moaned softly and blinked, trying to retrieve all of his awareness. He looked down at the boy and smiled faintly in encouragement.

"Are you alright?" Estel asked, sitting up slightly. Legolas took a deep breath and fought to keep the pain from his expression. He could not lie to the boy; he had never done it before and would not start now.

"I'm not so sure, Estel," he mumbled quietly, gazing up at the stars. "I don't think I am going to live through this." Estel grabbed his hand and inched forward, his silver eyes wide.

"No, Legolas," he whispered. "You will live. We both will. I know it." Legolas closed his eyes and smiled softly. He tightened the hold he had on the boy's hand.

"Estel," he murmured. "'Hope' is the perfect name for you. But this time my spirit is failing me, Estel. I cannot keep going on like this." It was the truth. Elves were never meant to live in this sort of condition. They were beings of light, of life. They could die if their souls were put under too much strain, and the elven prince felt that he could take no more. The abuse and darkness Legolas was dealing with was fatally weakening him. Estel felt tears building in his eyes. He shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "You cannot leave me."

"Oh, Estel, I will never leave you, as long as you keep me in your heart," Legolas said quietly, stroking the boy's cheek with the back of his fingers.

"But you promised that we would go either way together," Estel mumbled, his breath hitching. "You promised me." Legolas felt tears spring in his own eyes and struggled to sit up. He enfolded the weeping boy tightly in his arms and rested his head on top of Estel's own, rocking them slowly back and forth.

"I do not break promises often, Estel," Legolas whispered. "I do not want to break one now, especially to you. Yet I have no choice. You are so young, Estel, much too young to be joining your ancestors. It is not your time to fly and will not be for a while. I have led a good life, but you have not yet had the chance to. Please do not follow me if I choose to fly. Stay grounded and live your life. Though I may not be able to keep my first promise, I am able to make another." Legolas pulled Estel away from him and gazed into the glistening silver eyes.

"Across seas or plains, through life and death, past all troubles and problems, we will always be friends," the elf murmured, brushing away Estel's tears. "Our hearts are bound as one and nothing, not even the great hand of death, may break them apart. We can never be separated." Estel nodded in agreement and fell into Legolas' arms again, wanting to be close in what his friend thought were his last moments.

The two sat huddled together beneath the stars, bound in chains and at the heart. They wept openly, their tears illuminated by the light of the moon. After a few moments Legolas began humming softly, a tune he had known since childhood and one his mother used to sing to him when he could not get to sleep at night. It was the small lullaby she had sang to him the night she was killed, her last gift to her son before flying. Legolas gave the tune willingly to the boy in his arms, wanting to give the same gift his mother had given to him. He did not sing it openly; it was for Estel's ears only and would always be.

I swear to you, new one, young one,

That you will never be alone,

I promise to you, small one, timid one,

Through our deep bond and love sewn.

Never will tears be shed,

Always there will be light,

From the stars and moon its glow shall be fed,

To stay eternally bright.

So remember this, tired one, worn one,

That wherever you may go,

My spirit will be with you, lovely one, little one,

And I will always love you so.

The young boy remembered the night he had wondered how beautiful it would sound if the elf prince were to sing. He knew now that elven voices, even those abused by pain and torn from roaring curses, were like no other. Legolas' song seemed to swirl mystically in the air, surrounding Estel in a warm and comforting mist. He closed his eyes as the lilting voice of his elven friend landed softly upon his ears. He was slightly disappointed when Legolas ended the tune, but the elf could go on no longer.

Legolas kissed Estel on the brow before lying down again, his strength sapped and his wounds aching. Estel lay down next to him, wanting to be a comfort for what they both knew would probably be their last chance to speak to each other. He rested his head on the elf's chest, hearing the once strong heartbeat begin to slow and fade as Legolas' life and light left him. Tears fell from his eyes again, but he did not wipe them away nor had the heart to. He gripped the prince's slender hand in his own tightly.

"I don't want you to leave, Legolas," Estel whispered. "I want to be with you."

"Please stay, Estel," the elf breathed, closing his eyes as their brightness dimmed. "You have a family that loves you and wants you here still. I will be happy when I go. I will be at peace. Please stay." Legolas fell into unconsciousness, still gradually fading away. His light was everything but gone and he was growing cold. Estel still held his hand, tears shining on his cheeks and his body shaking with hard sobs that he thought would never cease. This heartache was new to him and he found he hated its feeling.

"I want to come with you, Legolas," Estel whispered, brushing a lock of golden hair away from the elf's peaceful face. "You cannot leave me here alone. I cannot be alone in this place." He huddled protectively over Legolas' form, whispering pleas in Elvish that his friend could not hear. The sound of the orcs' laughter echoed painfully around him. He felt helpless as he was forced to watch Legolas, the dear friend he had made and come to love, slip silently away beneath him. He could not stand being so incompetent.

"Namarie, Legolas," Estel whispered in Elvish. "Farewell."

The laughing of the orcs behind him grew in volume. Estel sat up when he realized that they were not laughing anymore; they were screaming. The boy whirled around to see elven arrows fly from the forest behind him, piercing and felling many of the evil creatures, most of whom still did not know what was happening. Estel knelt over his friend's form and watched as steeds raced from the woods, carrying elven warriors shooting down at the dark beings that scuttled around their mounts. The boy tried to see if he recognized any of the elves, yet it was much too dark.

The orc army squalled and raised their weapons, rushing to meet the sudden attack that had disturbed their evening. There was the sound of bows singing farewell to their released arrows and clanging steel. Estel's ears rang at the clamor and was too busy watching the battle to see or hear the form creep up behind him and reach out.

He shouted in alarm as strong, clawed hands gripped his forearms, dragging him backwards. He looked back to see Xin hooking another hand around his waist and grunting as an arrow wound in his shoulder protested. Immediately Estel shouted and fought against the being that had a hold on him, kicking and punching out at the orc. He received blows back as punishment and hardly hit the orc commander at all, but he fought still, calling out to the elves for help. None could hear him over the din of the battle, all save one.

King Thranduil had mounted Khílya when they had entered the battle. She was the most willing to fight and she would bear him. While the rider upon her back swung a rapier at the dark swarm, she kicked out at their chests and legs, disabling them temporarily so the elves could take the opening and slay them. Thranduil had just sliced a orc with his thin sword when he heard a slight indecipherable mewling to his left.

Uttering a quick word of Elvish to Khílya, Thranduil spun around to see a large orc dragging off a struggling small form. Cries for help came from the being, and Thranduil recognized the voice to be that of Estel, Elrond's foster son. The next thing the elven king saw was the collapsed form lying on the ground at Estel's kicking feet, emanating a fading blue glow. Thranduil's heart lurched as he realized that the form lying on the ground was his son. He searched for an opening to reach the two boys, but he was surrounded by a large group of orcs.

Looking around quickly, Thranduil saw that the twins and Arwen were fighting off the army from the backs of their mounts, too preoccupied at the moment to be of much help. Slaying another one of the evil creatures around him, Thranduil scanned the dark mass for Elrond. He saw the elven lord hacking away at the orcs around his dapple-gray steed, struggling to clear them away.

"Elrond!" Thranduil hollered, trying to be heard over the massive noise of the battle. The elven lord spun around to face the king, who pointed at the one orc and their two sons in need of help. "Help them! Quickly!" he shouted in Elvish, so the orcs would not be able to know their intentions. Elrond saw Legolas and Estel and his face paled when he saw the orc holding the boy tug out a dagger from its boot.

Elrond swung his steed around and charged through the line of orcs, pulling out his sword and goading his horse faster for the orc commander. Xin saw the elf coming closer upon the mount and he gave up trying to steal the boy. He held the dagger to Estel's throat just as the elven lord leaped from the horse's back. Elrond froze when he saw the point of the poisoned knife held to his son's jugular, his sword raised and flashing with black blood in the moonlight. Xin purred greedily and smiled at the elf's hesitation.

"This one means something to you, eh?" he drawled. He held Estel by the hair and tipped his head back, bringing the blade of the dagger dangerously close to the boy's undefended throat. Estel swallowed tightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Give him to me or you die, orc," Elrond growled lethally, eyeing the blade threatening his son's life closely.

"And I suppose that if I did give him to you, you would spare my life?" Xin laughed gutturally, shaking the boy he held tauntingly. "That isn't going to happen. Instead, I'm going to take the boy and sell him. He's healthy. He'll make a good slave." Xin laughed again, the evil sound grating upon Elrond's ears. The elven lord glanced over the orc's shoulder once, then nodded imperceptibly. He lunged forward and grabbed Estel by the shoulders just as a sharp rapier swung from the darkness, severing Xin's head from his shoulders in one swift motion. The body of the orc thumped heavily to the ground and King Thranduil stepped out into view, his thin sword blackened by the orc commander's blood.

"Ada!" Estel cried, falling into his father's arms. He allowed himself to be enfolded within Elrond's embrace. "I thought I would never see you again."

"So did I, young one," Elrond whispered into the boy's hair, letting tears flow freely from his eyes. He rocked them slowly back and forth in a comforting rhythm. "I was so worried for you." Estel buried his face into his father's tunic and his tears sank into the soft fabric.

"Legolas! What did they do to you, ïon-nîn?" an anguished voice cried from behind him. Estel spun around to see Thranduil crouched over the limp form of the elven prince, his hands hovering over the burned and bruised body as he wondered if touching his son would only cause more damage or pain.

"Ada, Legolas is dying, you must help him!" Estel cried, separating himself reluctantly from his father and crawling over to where Thranduil knelt by the prince's side. The king glanced up at the boy, his piercing gaze softened and tears shining in their gray depths. Estel was slightly surprised at the sudden show of emotion from the king and placed a small hand upon the royal's shoulder for comfort. Thranduil did not push away this minute sign of understanding. He accepted it silently and watched as Elrond checked the prince's vitals with two fingers against Legolas' neck.

All was silent for a few moments, then a hoarse whisper floated into the air, broken with grief.

"He's…gone."

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Am I evil or what? CLIFFIE MANIA! You'd be surprised at how many reviews I've gotten, saying: "Don't kill him, please!" or "Don't kill him or you'll have a very angry mob on your front door!" Bring it on! lol

Reviews, please! Let out your inner bitch!