Elladan was the first to react; he considered herding his friends and brother out of the tunnel altogether, but the rapidly forthcoming footsteps did not allow them the time he knew it would take to help the Prince escape up the ladder. So instead, the Noldo shoved his stationary brother back into the room they had just exited, and more gently guided Legolas and his ever-vigilant keeper, Tirn, to the rear. The four Elves pushed as far into the unsound dirt wall that they dared; the twins crouched on either side of the door, while the sentry shielded the distraught Prince in the corner. Looking to his brother, Elladan nodded, the instructions passing between them tacitly. Elrohir unsheathed the long blade at his waist slowly, the burnished metal making no sound as it slid free of its leather-lined sheathe, while his twin did the same. Come this way, human. He did not want to run after the man in the hallway, as he was sure this would create a ruckus any other mercenaries would be sure to hear.
"Doran!" The footsteps faltered as they approached the opened door, their owner obviously hesitant. "Doran."
The Noldo peered out into the dark corridor around the shoddy doorframe. It is only one unarmed human. As the mercenary reached the doorway, the troupe of Elves pushed farther back into the shadows.
"Are you there Doran? I can't see nothin', mate." Elladan tracked the mercenary's progress across the threshold; he waited patiently for his brother to step forward. "Damn it, Doran, this ain't no time for tricks. Come out where I can see you. What'd you do with the torch?" The moment the human had walked far enough into the room, the Imladrian Lord had his sword at the man's neck.
"Do not move, human," the twin commanded. Elladan came out from behind the door, stepping in front of the panicked mercenary with his own sword outthrust towards the human's chest. From this angle, the Noldo could see that the mercenary was horribly disfigured, his face and scalp were covered in old burns that had never healed properly, he lacked the use of one eye or it was made of glass, and the man was absolutely petrified.
"Hey, no need for this. I ain't armed," the mercenary begged. The man's features were fearfully slack in response to the enraged Elven face before him and the proximity of the Elven blade at his throat. "I'm just looking for a friend, that's all."
"And your friend just happened to be in an underground tunnel where the Prince of Eryn Galen was being imprisoned?" Elladan snorted. We will keep this one to press for answers, but if this human has hurt Estel or Legolas, he is dead afterward, the Noldo vowed, though he lowered his sword. "Where are your leader and the Ranger?"
Slowly, the scarred human raised his hand, wary not to move too suddenly as he pointed to the blade at his throat that Elrohir still held. "Whatever you want, Elf, just give me room to breathe." Elladan nodded to his brother and the twin complied, moving his broadsword to rest in the small of the man's back.
"Where is Strider?" The Prince had broken his sentry's mothering grasp, and limped his way to Elladan to stand in front of the human.
He hangs by a thread. Elladan realized, his healer's scrutiny ascertaining, albeit unknowingly, what his human brother had realized earlier that day: If not for his duty to Mirkwood, the Prince would have succumbed to grief already.
"Tell 'em, Legolas. Tell 'em I didn't hurt you." The human beseeched the Elda familiarly, as though they were longtime friends. He had his hands raised in petition and his face showed no surprise or resentment at seeing the Prince freed. The man pled to Elladan, pointing to Legolas, "I just want out. I don't want this no more. I didn't hurt it. Just let me go. I don't want nothing anymore. I ain't hurt it or no one."
Tirn had come to stand behind the mercenary, beside Elrohir, and his incensed demeanor at his Prince's diminution warned Elladan that the human was coming close to suffering the effects of the sentry's indignation. However, the Prince shook his head, halting Tirn's advance. "No, Jalian, you did me no harm, except to take me from my home and place me at the mercy of your fetid companions. Where are Strider and Ament?"
Perhaps deciding that collaboration would behoove him more than begging, the mercenary answered, nearly weeping as he glanced at each irate Elf before him, "I left them. I wanted out."
"Where did you leave them, human? We heard what sounded like the roof collapsing." Elrohir poked the mercenary in the back lightly with the sharp tip of his sword, emphasizing his growing weariness of listening to the man's inanity.
"Nay, not a cave in. That was the door shutting. They can't get out. I left them." Noting the exasperated expressions on the Elves' faces, the mercenary sighed as though irritated himself at how thick his captors were. "The goblet, the room with the goblet, or so they thought it was. It was a trap door. I pulled it open but it shuts itself. That's where they are. They can't get out."
Elladan looked to his twin, seeing the same relief. He is alive but trapped, which means it would be easier for us to find him.
"If you want 'em alive though, you'd better go quick. Ament ain't too happy with Strider and they're likely to kill one another when they figure out they can't get out," the mercenary added helpfully, a hopeful smile on his face.
He must think we are letting him free.
"Show us this trap door." Elrohir's statement was a not a question. The human cringed in fear, his face falling at the knowledge that he would be shown no clemency by the Elves around him.
"Wait," Elladan told them, grabbing from the floor a torch that although dusty was still wet with enough fresh oil to be of use. He pulled free his flint to light it, moving as quickly as he could for he was eager to find his brother. Nodding, he told his twin, "Let us go."
Another careless prod of the sword at his back prompted the mercenary into motion, and the four Elves and human walked from the room, out into the corridor with Jalian in the lead. Tirn, Elladan noticed, never let his hand fall from the Prince's elbow, as though afraid that Legolas would vanish. He may very well disappear, the Noldo thought, trailing the mercenary and his brother, who had hold of Jalian's tunic as they walked, his blade never far from the man's body. Memories of his own mother's departure from Middle Earth overwhelmed the Elf, and he turned his gaze from the Wood-Elf, unwilling to lose himself to such empty thoughts. We will save him, we will save them both, he pledged on Legolas and Aragorn's behalf, sparing the Prince a final forlorn look. The derelict tunnel before them portended a collapse, but whose downfall it foretold Elladan could not begin to guess.
"It's right up here," Jalian commented after they had walked for several minutes in silence. He pointed towards the darkest end of the tunnel. The Noldo's exceptional eyesight showed him that not far beyond the door the mercenary pointed to, the passageway had fallen; tree roots and stone slab lay in broken pieces on the floor, as did an enormous mound of soil. The mercenary turned to them, pulling free of Elrohir's grasp and heedless of the sword still pointed at him to beg, "I showed you. Now let me go. Ament will kill me for helping you."
"He is right. Ament will kill him," Legolas declared stoically, glaring at the human while he surreptitiously held onto Tirn's forearm to keep from falling. "But what would stay you from deceiving us, trapping us in the tunnel as you have trapped Strider and Ament behind the trapdoor?" Jalian seemed to ponder this, his hands flitting about his sides in his desperate agitation. The Prince responded for the mercenary, "Nothing. However, if you aid us, I will personally speak on your behalf to King Thranduil for mercy." At the mention of the sovereign's name, the human blanched, the only color on his skin smudges of dirt and the oddly tinted, scarred flesh.
Elladan stepped forward, seizing the mercenary's tunic once more and pushing him forward callously. "Go, then, into the room."
For all his fear, this may well be a trap, the Noldo decided, desiring the mercenary to lead the way just in case. With a grimace, Jalian bobbed his head in frustrated acquiescence and stepped through the doorway.
The room was similar to the room outside the cell close to where they had found the Prince, save the trapdoor in the far corner and a handle that stuck out from the wall. Muffled voices could be heard behind the door, and Elladan's apprehension as to what state in which they would find Estel spurred him into action. Elladan shoved the end of the torch between two slabs of stone in the wall, which lit the room just enough to give the Elves enough light by which to see, although the humans would have a harder time in the dimness. Elladan seized the mercenary and dragged him to the lever. "How does it work?"
Jalian stared thoughtfully at the Noldo, rubbing his head as he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, really," he replied in the same quiet tone. "Strider just pulled the lever, and that's what I did."
"Open it."
"No, wait." Legolas had joined the twins and mercenary at the door, his sentry following closely behind. "Ament does not know I am freed or that you are here," he reasoned.
Placing his hand on the lever, the disfigured human offered cooperatively, whispering, "That's right. Let me lure 'im out."
He watched the mercenary sadistically kick the rotted corpses in the cell one by one, muttering unintelligible curses to himself as he shattered the decomposed prisoners' skeletons into clouds of splintery decay. Ages old dust flew about the room in the leader's whirlwind of mindless rage. At least he is kicking them and not me, Aragorn concluded. He was unsure of what to do. The decrepit condition of their surroundings only promised further tragedy if they tried to dig their way out. Ament had already tried to break the slab of stone barring their exit, an impossible feat given that it was encased in mortared stone and bulky timbers, and itself was too solid for naught but heavy weapons to overcome, something they sorely lacked. As terrified as he was, the Ranger was satisfied that if nothing else, Ament's malicious plans would never come to fruition. This promise I can keep to Legolas, although I will not see us both out alive. He tried to avoid a rain of fractured bone but was pulled abruptly forward when Ament caught hold of the leash, yanking the man to his knees.
"You have done this. What did you promise him?" Ament shoved the burning torch at the Ranger, who could barely dodge the quick jabs. "Doran heard you talking to him. What lies have you told Jalian? Is he coming back for you? Where is Doran?"
Overwhelmed by the volley of questions and the dangerous proximity of the flame, the Ranger did not try to answer. Another tug of the rope brought the Ranger's hands over his head, exposing his already aggrieved stomach to the man's enflamed stick, an opportunity the mercenary used with violent glee as he stabbed at the healer again. But Aragorn would not give in to his mistreatment so easily. Jerking back on the leash by swinging his arms downwards as hard as he could, the Ranger ignored the severe pain that lanced throughout him as his movement ripped at the burnt flesh of his belly. His action, however, proved successful, and the mercenary was wrenched forwards, his balance thrown, and his momentum bringing him to his knees before the healer. The torch came with him. For an instant, the blindingly bright flame seemed destined to land on the Ranger's head, and had not Aragorn inadvertently fallen backwards from his own pain-induced instability, it would have.
Ament growled, grabbing for the torch before the healer could pick himself from the floor. With fire in hand, the mercenary lunged at the Ranger, throwing himself from his knees onto the healer's form and pushing Estel back onto the ground underneath him, sitting astride the Ranger's stomach. "You have crossed me for the last time, Strider," Ament snarled, sinking the alight limb into the Ranger's chest, the oily flame burning through the healer's leather overcoat, tunic, skin, and then muscle with a wet hiss. Only when the sharpened end hit bone did its progress stop, its tip too big to pass through the narrow space between the Ranger's ribs. The air rushed from the healer's lungs as he tried to scream, though he managed only a garbled, choked wheeze. Ament seemed intent on skewering Aragorn with the limb, pushing with all his weight to break past the barrier blocking him from killing the Ranger. Estel wrapped his hands around the torch, unmindful of it scorching his hands, to remove the searing heat, to expunge the cause of the horrid smell of his own roasting flesh. He pushed with all his might but could not oust the limb, and so he bucked riotously, unable to kick the man from his stomach, but hoping to throw the man enough to gain control of the torch.
The leader's hold slackened and Aragorn twisted the flame from his chest, tossing the offending weapon from him as he struggled to squirm from underneath Ament, disregarding the piercing agony erupting from even his slightest motion. The torch rolled in the dust for a few short moments before sputtering out, leaving Ranger and mercenary in absolute darkness. Aragorn scuttled backwards, kicking his feet out to propel his prone body away from Ament, until his head smacked the bricked wall behind him. He sat up and pushed his back against the wall, looking wildly about him, despite his inability to see, to catch any movement by the leader. Nausea roiled within him, and the bitter taste in his mouth matched the pungent smell of his scorched flesh. Estel fought the urge to close his eyes because he knew that doing so was the initial step to relinquishing whatever lucidity he had, and he was not willing to die without seeing the leader dead first. You promised Legolas. See this through, he chided himself. Ament may yet find his way out. Jalian or Doran may come back.
Strider listened. He could hear Ament breathing but could not tell from where the noise came, not with the abnormal reverberations of the hushed sound throughout the cell and adjoining bedroom. The abrupt sensation of a hand on his ankle startled the Ranger, and he reflexively kicked out, perceiving the distinct, satisfying sound of a cracking bone as the hard sole of his boot met with some part of Ament's body. A growled scream followed. Pulling his legs under him, the Ranger tried to stand, using overlaps in the roughly laid stones behind him for support, but ere he had gained his feet, the slick pain of a blade pushing through the muscle of his calf brought him back to the rock floor. The unexpected change of position stretched old and new wounds, causing the healer to coil into himself, bringing his knees up to protect his egregiously injured belly and chest as the leader crawled over him, stabbing the short blade several times at the Ranger's topmost leg and thigh before losing his grip on the bloodied hilt. When it clattered to the floor, Aragorn lashed out with his bound hands, pummeling the insanely persistent mercenary, who seemed oblivious to the hail of fists on his body. Ament returned the blows, landing several excruciating punches to the Ranger's stomach and chest, and causing Estel to curl more tightly upon himself as his burns were jarred repeatedly.
"Fool," Ament roared. "You will perish with the rest of these worthless souls, Strider." Grabbing the healer's hair, the leader rammed Estel's head into the stone wall behind him repetitively, causing stars to dance before the Ranger's eyes. "You are a liability. Like Meika, like Ramlin." He leant down to whisper in Aragorn's ear, his hand fumbling for the mislaid dagger, "And like them, you will die."
With pleasure, if only I could know you will die with me, the Ranger thought despondently, his mind giving way to the blackness not around him, but within. He did not have to see the mercenary to know the crazed man's expression as his hands finally clasped the blade.
The screech of the trapdoor being opened compelled the weary Ranger to blink skeptically, the notion of escape revived in his befuddled, aching mind. Ament held the dagger at Aragorn's throat, his hand wavering unsteadily in the lightless cell, slicing tentative shallow lines across the healer's neck.
"Ament, it's Jalian. Are you in there, mate?"
I hope his plan works. Tirn looked to his Prince, who with him was crouching in the shadows of the tunnel by the door, watching the occupants of the room before them absorbedly. He needs to be in Eryn Galen.
In all honesty, the sentry did not know what the Prince needed but he had hoped that the sons of Elrond would know. When Jalian had offered to call Ament out, to bait the mercenary to the battle prepared twins, Tirn had been hesitant. The scarred human's belittlement of his Prince had not been assuaged by Legolas' confirmation that Jalian had not hurt him, and the sentry wanted his arrow to puncture the disfigured man's heart as it had the other mercenary earlier. Nevertheless, the twins and the Prince had been adamant, believing the Ranger to be in grave danger and the goblet likely to have been found, and Jalian to be the best means of ascertaining whether these things were true. They would take no chances. Besides, Jalian assured them that Ament trusted him, that he would be unsuspecting of any subterfuge.
The twins stood to the side of the door, waiting in the far corner against the wall in which the door was set, while Jalian stood on the opposite side of the room, holding the lever down to keep the slab door ajar. "Hurry Ament, I can't hold this thing forever." The scarred mercenary sounded terrified, his voice cracking as he rambled. "What happened to the torch, Ament? I can't see anything. Did you get the goblet? Are you in there?"
Careful, human, lest you give us away. Elladan shifted nervously beside Elrohir when the sound of a short-lived scuffle from within the dark cell met their ears. I hope their brother is well.
At the doorway appeared a human in a long leather overcoat, and behind him appeared a deranged, red haired human with a blade held to the first human's throat. The leather-clad human was barely conscious, it seemed to Tirn. "I thought you had left us, Jalian. But perhaps you came back for you co-conspirator here. Couldn't leave Strider, could you?"
The one with the knife must be their leader.
"What do you mean, Ament? I just went to check on Doran and the Elf. They're in the front. I came back to get you –"
The knife-wielding human interrupted with mirthless chuckles, and the Ranger grunted as the blade gouged his throat with each shake of the mercenary's arm. "I am no idiot, Jalian. Doran saw you and Strider talking. What are you planning?"
Jalian glanced helplessly around him, his arms beginning to shake with the effort of keeping the lever down. "Nothing, boss. Just come out. I can't hold this door much longer."
"Come out? What, so you can have the goblet for your own?" Again the mercenary laughed, his sinister, joyless cachinnations grating on his audience's ears. "Nay, mayhap Strider and I will just stay in this hole in the wall. We were enjoying ourselves thoroughly before you came along."
A restless Legolas turned to Tirn, his blue eyes filled with fright for the human; the sentry shook his head, hoping to stay any attempt the Prince might be concocting to help his human friend. The twins were also edgy: their advantage on the leader was lost. Jalian was wrong about Ament. He obviously does not trust him. Given the mercenary's fear of his boss, Tirn doubted the human had lied to them, however. Now what?
As though in answer to his question, Elrohir strode forward and spoke as he walked. "Master Human. Believe me. You do not want to harm the Ranger. Hand him over." The shock on both the Ranger and the mercenary's face was tremendous, for though Ament may have expected deception, he had not anticipated artifice in union with Elves. Estel's shock gave way to unreserved relief, despite the dire conditions, and a titanic grin lit his face when he saw his brother standing before him. It was then that Tirn noted the Ranger's pallor and the blood smearing his neck. "You have no other options, human. Let him go, and perhaps we will let you live in spite of the travesties you have forced upon our brethren."
Ament had recovered from his shock, and while backing into the cell, slid the dagger down Strider's collarbone, educing both a red welt of blood in its wake and another stifled grunt of pain from the Ranger. Elrohir took a worried step forward, though his progress halted when the leader warned, "Come no closer, Elf, or I will spill his blood." When he was safely beyond the twin's reach, he added, "Ranger?" Ament snorted. "You lie well, Strider," he complained, addressing his captive with another gash. "What do you want with him? He is mine. His fate does not concern you."
Elladan had walked from his hiding spot to stand beside his brother, causing Ament to stare between the mirror images, astounded. "Why we want him does not concern you, human. Hand him over."
"No. I give him to you and I am dead. Strider is mine," Ament reasoned, his eyes gleaming.
He is mad, the astute sentry deduced, temporarily turning his attention to the Prince. Legolas appeared on the verge of leaping forward to aid Strider. I am not losing him again. Grasping the Prince's upper arm, the sentry earned a glare from his monarch as he stopped Legolas from jumping into the room.
The scarred human interrupted, "I can't hold this anymore." His limbs were quaking with the effort of keeping the door partly open.
Elladan made as though to aid him but the leader cautioned in a low, menacing voice, "Do not move, Elf, or your Ranger is dead." Jalian mewled with pain, heaving with all his might on the lever. Suddenly smiling, Ament offered, "You are here for Thranduil's brat, are you not? Or whatever is left of him?" Snickering, the human scowled even as he beamed at the twins. "Ramlin treated him properly. He will not live long, if he is not already dead. I want only him. Give him to me and I will let you have the Ranger."
At the reminder of the human's role in Legolas' torment, a seething Tirn clenched his fingers forcefully into his palms to keep his anger at bay. The Prince stood, prepared to trade himself for the Ranger as Ament had asked. Tirn grabbed Legolas' arm tightly, yanking him back down to earn a second scathing frown from Legolas.
"You are unaware of what powers the goblet truly holds, human," Elrohir adjoined. "You place more than just yourself in danger with its use. It is –"
"I need no advice from an Elf. For too long have your kind influenced the world of men for your own devices." His knife trembled at the Ranger's throat, slicing the skin with another shallow cut that was more painful than deadly. "Give me the Prince and you can have this worthless human. The goblet I shall keep."
Jalian groaned, his arms finally giving way as the lever slid from his hands and the trapdoor slammed shut with an authoritative, grandiose thud, enclosing Ranger and mercenary back in their dark room, and leaving the twins, Legolas, and Tirn wondering how the situation could become any worse.