After crossing the river, the human had tried to talk to Legolas again, but was forced to quiet when Ramlin quickened to ride beside them, eying the beautiful Elf with undisguised lust. Strider is after this goblet, too, the Prince meditated, ignoring the greasy mercenary staring at him, though he speaks as if his aims were loftier.
Legolas was perplexed. The man had apologized for leaving him with Ramlin, he had assisted him in recovering from the poison, fed him, and treated him with respect, yet he conceded that his goal was the same as the men who had captured him. He wants the goblet for his own purposes. He fancies riches or immortality. Either way, he is willing, despite his claim that he would aid me, to keep me in captivity as long as his purposes are served.
An ache had settled in the archer's head that rivaled the ache in his still healing leg. I could stand earlier. Mayhap I could escape. The thought brought optimism to the dismal drama in which he currently found himself. After crossing the river, Legolas had been surprised to find they were traveling eastwards, back to Mirkwood, or so it seemed. If we travel further east, we may encounter a border patrol. The Elves of Eryn Galen had been driven from the south of the forest where Dol Guldur lay, even as far north of the abandoned tower as they headed, but Legolas allowed himself to hope to encounter some of his brethren.
"Halt, Ament, we are tired. Let us break, brother!" Ramlin dismounted without awaiting his brother's assent, and stalked off into a nearby copse of trees.
Nature calls. Unexpectedly, Legolas knew how he might escape.
The others stopped, also, stretching their legs and digging in their packs for sustenance. Ament and Meika ambled to Strider's horse, two knives and the coil of rope in Ament's hands. They set about silently removing and retying the ropes about Legolas' legs as Strider held the second knife uselessly at the Elf's throat, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Legolas, before finishing with binds in place around the Prince's ankles anon.
"Put him by that tree, Strider. We might as well rest awhile." Ament turned to Jalian. "Pass the bread, man, I'm starving." Strider picked up Legolas with ease, placing him next to a tree gently and helping the Prince to sit in some semblance of comfort. The human joined his fellow conspirators in their meal, though, eating and drinking as one of them, his back to the Elf. The men sat down together, passing flasks and bread, making small talk.
Ramlin returned to the small clearing, seated himself down beside Ament, grabbed a flask of water, and turned the conversation towards the task at hand, asking, "How much longer, Ament?"
"We've only been riding for half a day, brother."
"I am anxious to see our plans succeed," Ramlin replied, glancing briefly at Legolas before continuing, "Besides, the rain comes again. We should try to make the forest before then."
We are going back to Mirkwood? Are these humans mad? The woods around Dol Guldur are riddled with Orc and spiders.
Ament narrowed his eyes in blatant incredulity at his brother's readiness to obey his plans. "No more than two days ride and we will reach our destination."
"I cannot believe it!" Doran's excitement lit the archer's blond, bearded face, smiling as he exclaimed, "Two more days and we will have the chance to even the odds against the Elves!"
Their leader sniggered, still looking at Ramlin in disbelief. "You mean you two have given up your scheme so easily?"
Ramlin glared at his brother while Doran protested, "I care not about it, Ament. Either way I get what I want. It will only take longer your way."
It seems Ament is not so easily convinced, at any rate, the Elf mused, seeing Ament narrow his eyes further in disbelief.
"I have heard that the Elven King Thranduil has more riches than any of the Elves. Imagine what we could do with that wealth," Meika offered in an attempt to diffuse the tense atmosphere. "I say we start with Mirkwood." Legolas stiffened at the mention of his father and home, his warrior's instinct immediately on high alert that any attempt would be made to cause harm to his people.
Jalian rubbed his hands together, contemplating. "The Elves won't know what hit them, will they Meika? They'll certainly be surprised. We need to be more planned, though, about how we attack. We cannot just walk into their realm, expecting them to hand the wealth over."
"Of course not. Don't worry, I've planned this well," Ament assured, taking a long drink of water before he continued. "When the time comes, there will be no resistance." No one questioned Ament's declaration, he had lead them this far and all had gone well; besides, Legolas could tell that save for Strider, the other mercenaries likely did not have the wits to doubt the fiery-haired mercenary.
"I think I'll buy Minis Tirith." The men laughed vigorously at Meika's jest.
"Tell the truth, Meika, tell them what you want," Jalian prodded the now blushing Meika.
"Ah, just a family and farm. Not much. Not Minis Tirith. What would I do with it?"
"You've no ambition, Meika. Strider and I plan to go on an Elf killing spree." Doran looked expectantly at the healer, winking his eye at Strider as if they shared a secret between the two of them. "We'll keep some, of course, for our slaves, but the rest I say we hang from their damn trees. How does that sound, Strider?"
Yes, how does that sound, Strider?
"It would take too much rope to hang that many Elves," Strider retorted blithely. Legolas listened intently, wishing he could see the man's face, as his apprehension to trust the healer returned tenfold.
"We will well be able to afford it!" Doran passed the flask onwards, his merriment at the daydream of slaughtering the Elves suddenly sobered. "We will both have our revenge, my friend. Tell me, Strider, what reasons have you to hate the Elves so much?"
Strider hesitated, an action not lost on Legolas, before he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then explained, "The Elves are responsible for the death of my parents." The human looked down, seemingly lost in thought. "The Firstborn have spent their time in Middle Earth; it will soon be time for them to leave."
"Indeed," Jalian heralded emphatically, "and we shall help them along."
A silence ensued until Meika again switched the conversation to less strained topics, bringing up the coming rain, but Legolas stopped paying attention. So, the truth comes out. The Prince could not understand why he felt betrayed. His deception was believable. No matter, the Elf thought, shaking his head faintly to dispel his disappointment in the human, he is just one more obstacle.
Fretfully, Aragorn tore the chunk of bread he held into tiny pieces, waiting for Ament to give the order for their departure. How will I explain this to Tauron? He doesn't trust me as it is. The Ranger had hoped he could dodge Doran's inquiry; however, he could not yet flee with the Elf, therefore he was forced to prolong his farce and could not evade answering questions lest he bring suspicion to himself. I wish Ament would tell us where we are going. If only I could see the map. I would not need to remain with these mercenaries if I knew were we are going.
Meika peered worriedly at the Ranger, who only smiled slightly in return. Let him think I am upset over the topic of our last conversation. Aragorn had only repeated what he had told Ramlin and Ament in Fulton, deciding he should stick with his lie.
Several more minutes passed in easy banter ere Ament stood, tossing his empty flask to Doran. "Come, gentlemen. Let us be off. We need the daylight."
Bustling about the makeshift camp, the mercenaries gathered their belongings quickly. Estel walked to Tauron when he had replaced his own property, intent on speaking to him as soon as possible about what he knew the Elf had overheard. Ramlin followed him closely, however, his licentious ogling of the immortal causing the Ranger's skin to crawl. When they had reached the captive, Ramlin bent down to cut the rope that detained the creature to the tree. Valar, cannot Ament or one of the others help me to do this?
Tauron's icy gaze could easily have frozen the mortal in place had not the creature been restrained with no chance at following through with the threat his eyes promised. His gaze did not lessen in intensity when he turned his regard to the Ranger. I suppose that settles it: there is no chance he wasn't paying attention, Aragorn sulked. I will have to talk to him soon.
Ramlin hoisted the Elf to his feet by his bound arms, something that Aragorn was certain must hurt. The mercenary was set to lug the captive to Strider's mount when the Wood-Elf spoke, surprising the mercenary, who hadn't yet heard their cargo utter a word.
"Nature calls," Tauron spoke softly.
At first, neither man understood what the captive meant, their thoughts on much different subjects. Ramlin chortled in amusement at the Elf's predicament when he caught on to Tauron's meaning. "I'll take you, Elfling," the mercenary teased in a malicious tone, pulling the Elda closer to him as he spoke.
Aragorn's protest over this suggestion never left his lips, for Ament piped from behind them, "I don't think so, brother. Strider will take him." The Ranger's mollification at Ament's order was short-lived when the leader commanded, "But go with them... in case the Elf causes trouble."
"I'll carry..." Ramlin endeavored to offer: Ament interrupted, "Cut his feet free and let him walk. The remnants of the blueweed should keep him slowed down." He glowered at Strider and Ramlin in turn, "Do not let him escape." The Ranger nodded and Ament's mammoth oaf of a brother only mumbled under his breath and sawed the coarse rope from the Elf's ankles. The three then headed towards the copse of trees, Aragorn's hand wound tightly about Tauron's upper arm.
Legolas couldn't believe his misfortune. I had hoped to be entrusted unto Strider without the aid of the oaf. The Elf concentrated on walking as wobbly as he might. No need for them to know my legs, other than the soreness of the flesh wounds, are operational again. The Valar may be smiling down on me yet. He hadn't truly expected them to cut his binds so that he was able to walk, and had not been able to plan past getting away from the other mercenaries perhaps to convince Strider to release him, but now that he could move his legs, the Prince's plans had changed. Their mistake. I will run as far as my legs will take me.
The sunlight fell in shafts through the boughs of the sparse trees, lighting the flowering undergrowth's blooms, and giving the woodland creature confidence in what he was about to try. The trees sang to him as always, their song an uplifting melody that stirred within him a homesickness that he had never experienced so strongly before. Soon, soon.
After a short distance, Strider stopped the Elf with a small tug on his arm. Ramlin stood facing them a few feet away, leering at Legolas in anticipation. The healer stepped in front of Legolas, grimacing in the mercenary's direction. "I'll cut your wrists free. Turn around." Strider took out his dagger while Legolas turned, submitting his hands to the healer, and his heart beating faster as his captors' were about to make another mistake in his favor.
"I don't think so," growled Ramlin mightily. Grabbing Strider's arm in his brawny fist, the mercenary yanked the healer's arm back from his task, nearly cutting Legolas with the healer's knife as he did so. "He stays bound."
Legolas turned, seeing Strider shoot Ramlin a mordant look of hatred, a look that Ramlin returned with pleasure. "Fine," the healer conceded, pulling his arm free from the mercenary's grasp, "I will help him."
Ramlin grinned, eying the Elf vindictively, "No, I will help him. Go back to the others."
Legolas choked back the panic that statement caused him. I cannot trust Strider; he will leave me alone with him again. I have to go now. The Elf held no weapon, his hands were tied behind his back, and he still recovered from poison to a wound that still grieved him, but he knew this might be the only chance he would get. Wait until their attention is elsewhere, he advised himself, because you will need the head start.
Turning his back to Legolas, Strider confronted the man, stepping closer to him and declaring firmly but softly, "We've no time for this. Ament wishes to leave immediately." The mercenary tried to shoulder the healer out of his way; however, Strider didn't relent and moved his body into the other man's body to block his access to the Elf. "Come on, Ramlin."
"Move, boy," the mercenary ordered, throwing his more massive frame into Strider's smaller one to displace the healer.
Still, Strider did not relent. "No, we need to hurry."
Nimbly, Ramlin snagged the healer by the front of his leather overcoat, hauling him off the ground and into the tree next to them. He pressed his fistful of leather and cloth against Strider's throat, making the man choke for air, while Legolas stepped back in surprise that the oaf would hurt one of his fellow mercenaries. With his face inches from that of the surprised healer, the brute hissed, "I think we've time, Strider. Go back to camp."
"You will not have him," the healer managed to counter as he clawed at Ramlin's hands to force the mercenary to release him, though his throat was constricted and his voice was barely a whisper. Enraged, Ramlin slammed the man into the trunk behind him again, knocking the air from Strider's lungs and tightening his pressure on the healer's airway.
He is trying to help me, the Prince wondered in shock, hesitant for only a moment ere this realization caused him to ram his shoulder into Ramlin's side, making the mercenary release his hold on the healer. Ramlin was taken off his guard; he had not been expecting the Elf to aid the healer, and bore a look of bewilderment while he stumbled backwards. The Prince wavered indecisively, for he was not willing to leave the healer to his death, but also not willing to stay for his own. Seeing that Strider was breathing though unconscious, he decided to flee and turned to do just that – his slow choice was moot when Ramlin's fist shot out across the space between them, impacting with a crack against the back of Legolas' head. He fell from the force of the blow, sprawled out face down in the thicket.
"Don't leave so soon, Elfling, we've time for fun."
Legolas was unable to recuperate with his hands still bound: he couldn't lift himself from the ground fast enough to avoid Ramlin, whose booted foot kicked him in his back mercilessly. After several jolts of agony from the mercenary's angered retaliation, Legolas felt the man grabbing his ankles, pulling him from the underbrush, and simultaneously flipping the Prince over onto his back. The mercenary flopped down and used the Wood-Elf's chest as a seat to pin him to the ground.
"I told you, Elfling, you will pay."
Panicked by the man's position above him, the Elf fought against the weight, seeking to free himself. Ramlin hammered the Prince's stomach, trying to halt the creature's attempts at escape long enough to trap Legolas' legs beneath his. Legolas curled in on himself in pain, giving the mercenary the opening he needed to restrain the Elda's thrashing limbs. With the man still astride him, his legs secured beneath those of the brute above him, and his hands still bound painfully behind his back, Legolas could do nothing but buck wildly against the mercenary, hoping to unseat him. The growing expression of lust on Ramlin's face stopped his attempts summarily.
Please, Strider, wake up, he thought, wanting the healer to stop what Legolas himself could not.
Ramlin ripped at the Elf's tunic, his colossal hands tearing the stout fabric apart so that the archer's sinewy, pale chest was exposed. Legolas watched in repugnance and terror as the man leant down, the ravenous smile he shared with the Wood-Elf renewing the Prince's struggle. Giving the Elf a snide leer when Legolas could not free himself, the mercenary ran his hands along the smooth flesh of Legolas' chest before grasping the Prince's jaw, forcing it open with pressure at its joints.
"Be nice, beautiful, and I'll be nice to you," Ramlin lied, before sinking his slimy tongue in the Elf's mouth. The sensation of the man's forced kiss drove Legolas to increase his struggle again with new resolve, but his writhing did little to relieve him of his burden.
Valar, Strider, please wake up.
When the man had explored the Elf's mouth thoroughly, plunging his tongue past that archer's teeth and sliding it along the captive's evasive own, he released Legolas' jaw, leaning back. Ramlin licked his lips. "You do taste like berries. I will have to tell Doran. Perhaps I can convince him to try you out for himself," he said, chuckling.
Legolas turned his head, spitting the taste of the man out of his mouth, which earned him a powerful blow to the stomach in retribution. "You aren't having fun, Elfling?" Ramlin chuckled again, this time more maliciously. "Do you taste so sweet everywhere?"
"You disgust me."
Ramlin said nothing, unperturbed by his captive's anger. The man's hands roamed the Elf. Though he did not cease his struggles, Legolas could feel himself growing despondent, as if he weren't in the copse of trees being accosted by a foul human.
Do not give in, he told himself. I will live through this, if only to see this human die.
"Pretty Elfling." Ramlin scooted himself further down his captive's body, seating himself on the archer's thighs. As he yanked at the lacings to the Elf's leggings, the mercenary's eyes glossed with lust. Without pressure on his chest to keep him down, Legolas tried to sit up, thinking he could pull his legs free to flee, but the instant his torso rose, Ramlin rammed his elbow into the Elf's vulnerable stomach. Legolas fell to his side in pain, striving to breathe. He caught sight of the healer, who was still slumped against the tree as he lay, but appeared to be awakening.
Ramlin seized the Elf's hips, flipped him over deftly so that Legolas was again lying face down on the ground, and quipped, "Sorry, Elfling, but we're running out of time for our fun. I'm afraid we'll have to cut it short this time."
No longer caring to keep his pride, Legolas shouted hoarsely in an attempt to rouse the unconscious healer further, "Strider!" A ruthless thump to his kidneys threw Legolas' world into a gray haze, as the agony and despair of his situation overtook him. The Elf pled in a whisper, "No."
"Don't worry. This will be over soon," Ramlin murmured in the Elf's pointed ear.
A shadow fell over the Elf and mercenary. It was the only notice Ramlin had of the oncoming attack, but his awareness came too late, leaving him defenseless as the hilt of Strider's sword struck him with a resounding thump at the base of his skull. Legolas fell to his side in the grass with relief, astounded. He watched Ramlin crumple, falling to the ground, also. Promptly, the still disoriented healer made his way to the Elf, dropping to his knees, his worry obvious by his concerned expression.
"Tauron," the healer said in a fierce whisper, trying to get the Elf to respond. Legolas' eyes were still focused on his attacker, who was rising slowly, hand to the back of his head. Strider hauled the Elf to his feet. "Tauron, run," the healer murmured, ere turning to face the approaching mercenary.
At first, the Elf only continued to stare emotionlessly at the brutish human lunging towards him and the healer; however, his need for survival prevailed, and he bolted. His wounded leg throbbed but the Elf did not waver. Being caught again would be his eventual death, he knew, so Legolas sprang from the copse of trees, hoping his legs would not fail him, while making a wild run to the distant Mirkwood border.