Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers: Lozrii, bobby, haruka33, invisigoth3, and Ronnu. I live for those bits of encouragement. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

The first real sensation that seemed to resonate in every single nerve-ending of his body was pain. His mind was a mass of confusion, not understanding why such a feeling was taking over all of his senses. His eyes moved back and forth beneath his lids as he tried to make sense of the situation. Ever so slowly and with a great deal of effort, tired lids opened half way as though he did not have the energy to open them any wider. Glazed, unfocused eyes gradually took in his surroundings making the pain in his head hurt even worse when he could not discern them. Before he even had a chance to recall the memories of the past few hours, a massive creature stalked into his line of view noticing that his prisoner was awake.

"Looky 'ere boys. It's awake!"

The orc sneered in the elf's face as he grabbed a handful of the long, golden locks and pulled him upright. His body protested the sudden movement, every fiber of his being screaming in agony. He felt the enticing pull of unconsciousness, and he would have gladly accepted the offer of sweet slumber, if not for the despicable beast holding him who sadistically shook the elf a little more to keep him awake.

"None of that, now. An unconscious elf is no fun to torture," the orc whispered gruffly in his ear.

In a matter of seconds, an entire group of the vile creatures surrounded them both, sending shivers up Legolas' back. He did not know if it was from the fear of the imminent pain, the cold of his rain-beaten body in the chilly night air, or a combination of both. For once in his life he was afraid for his own life. He never thought his fate would be met at the hands of such cruelty. Strangely enough, he always thought it would be something rather undignified and foolish, like a fall from his horse, or an infection from a hunting trip gone wrong. Hunting trip…the memories seemed to wash over him like a tidal wave.

He remembered everything now: the cave, Aragorn, the arrows, punching his best friend, him riding to safety (at least he hoped). His eyes searched frantically around straining to see past the orcs surrounding him trying to assure himself that the human was not caught and imprisoned with him. He felt the slightest bit of relief in that moment knowing that Aragorn was probably safe and away from there. Maybe Aragorn would save him…maybe. His reverie was cut short when one of the orcs growled and a fist connected with his side.

"Wakey, wakey elf." Seeing the blonde-haired elf focused again on the situation at hand, the orc took great pride in yelling for the others to follow suit.

"Let's have some fun boys!" The grunts and yells of apparent satisfaction filled the air and in moments the blonde elf was in the center, lying on the ground, staring helplessly into the eyes of the hateful creatures as punches and kicks rained down on him. Feeling ashamed at the thought of yelling in pain, he shouted instead the name of his best friend.

"Estel! Help me!"

"Legolas!" A raspy voice shouted as a man bolted upright in bed, feverish eyes staring wildly around the room.

"Shhhh, ion nin. Lay back down," a gentle voice coaxed hoping to keep the man from further injury. He complied unwillingly as his body was too weak to fight against the force of the soft, yet firm pressure of two hands on his chest. The mutterings, 'have to help' and 'Legolas' continued though they faded as the man returned to sleep.

"How is he ada?" Elladan asked from the doorway, having been just passing by when he heard his brother's frantic calls. "Is he not any better?"

"I am afraid his fever is still too high," replied a very weary Lord Elrond who continued to wet his son's forehead with a moist cloth. Worry lines seemed to be permanently etched in his elvish face. Sighing deeply in frustration at Aragorn's lack of progress, Elrond removed the cloth and laid it in the water-filled bowl on the nightstand beside his son's bed. He moved to put his head in hands when he realized that the eldest twin was still standing there, worriedly look at his father now instead of his sick brother.

"Everything will be fine, Elladan. He's been through worse." Elrond sounded as though he were trying to convince himself that those words were true. Not only was his son ill, but Legolas was nowhere to be seen. Fearing that Aragorn's words were not from a hallucination, Elrond immediately had sent out riders to try and find the undoubtedly injured prince. 'Those two will be the death of me,' the elf lord reflected tiredly. He was pulled out of his musings by a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Get some rest, ada. You will be of no use to Estel if you make yourself ill as well. I can watch him for a while," Elladan offered though his eyes told his father that there was no arguing against it.

"I will," Elrond nodded, his voice resigned. He stood up from his chair where he spent the better part of the previous day trying everything in his power to heal his son. He walked to the door, but did not leave; instead, he leaned in the entrance.

"What is wrong, ada?" Elladan asked fearfully when his father stopped. Never before had he seen him look so worn and defeated.

"I worry for Legolas," He stated simply.

"We will find him," his son said steadfastly.

"Iston. But in what condition, I wonder," Elrond said speaking more aloud to the tension-filled room rather than to Elladan. With that, he left leaving a troubled elf behind him.

"Where is ada?" Elrohir asked as he entered Aragorn's room to find his twin caring for the man rather than his father.

"I finally sent him to rest. Healing wears on him both physically and mentally," Elladan replied never taking his eyes off his ailing brother. "Has there been any luck with the search?"

"No," Elrohir said miserably. "It's like he disappeared. Are we sure that Legolas was captured by orcs?" He asked hoping for a different answer from his adamant brother.

"Estel said he was, and I do not believe he was dreaming. Why else wouldn't his best friend be here with him?"

"I know. I just wanted to believe that Legolas was safe and not right now in the hands of those filthy creatures. Do you know what could happen to him if we don't find him in time?" Elrohir asked, fear creeping into his voice. Elladan could only nod in response.

"It would be so much easier if Estel was coherent enough to tell us where they were camping. The rain storm washed away any indication of where they may have been. We could be looking in all the wrong places," Elrohir continued exasperated.

Everyone knew the ramifications should Legolas not be found in time. No one ever voiced them aloud, but it was understood. A grief like that would tear the family apart. Aragorn would never forgive himself for what happened even if it was not in his power to prevent it. Life would never be the same again. And Legolas' father…to lose his wife and then to lose his son. No. No one dared to think about any of that. Voicing such concerns only made it more of a real possibility instead of a terrible nightmare. Legolas was an intricate part of their lives and they refused to lose him without a fight.

"We will find him, Elrohir. Believe that. Believe in him. He will not lose his will to live. He will come back to us," Elladan stated forcefully, each sentenced enunciated as though if he said them, they would become truth.

Elrohir remained silent and watched wordlessly as Aragorn lay restless on the bed. No doubt his mind was continuing its barrage of torturous illusions of a beaten and dying elf. No one in the room realized including the man's feverish mind that those dreams had become a reality.

Somewhere in the middle of the woods, Legolas lay broken and beaten on the dirty woodland floor. Blood from his wounded shoulder coated the fallen leaves, the ground becoming a blend of red and brown and green. Barely audible breaths came from the half-conscious elf who could barely stand the sharp pain from his battered chest. 'Maybe death would be a blessing,' he thought to himself feeling completely and utterly defeated. He could hardly stay awake (if that's what you would call his present state) for the throbbing pain was almost too much to bear. He never thought he'd find himself giving in. The stubbornness and resilience seemed to abandon him leaving him tired and utterly desolate. Maybe he had finally had enough. The torture which seemed to last for hours had surely left their mark on him. This time he didn't think he could fight back…not even for his best friend. Legolas coughed a few times, making him feel as though his ribs were breaking all over again. His lungs screamed for oxygen and the pain finally overwhelmed. He could fight it no longer. His eyes slid shut and his head rolled to the side. No one could endure such injuries and pain. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting.

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