Fili rode, making sure his brother wasn't going to fall off. Kili was sleeping deeper than before. He was no longer in a restless healing sleep but taking much needed time to recover.
Fili knew that Tauriel was troubled by how slow they travelled. Wargs were wicked fast and needed hardly any rest. The horses they had been given were not in the best condition and did not have good stamina. Fili knew that the long stretches where they had to allow the horses to go slow – or worse, stop completely - grated on Tauriel's nerves.
She was worried for her companion. Of course, they would not be trying to rescue him if she had not been. Fili had grown to like Tauriel during their travels. She was kind and witty, someone that it was enjoyable – though not easy – to talk to. She did not talk much about Legolas, but if he was mentioned, a fire grew in her eyes, determined, strong.
It was clear that they had a deep bond.
Fili glanced at Kili as he squirmed to the side. Carefully, Fili balanced him.
"Fili?" Ӧin asked, seeming unsure if he wanted to talk at all. Fili turned in surprise. The other dwarves – Bofur and Ӧin – had been protesting their involvement with the elves silently. They had not spoken.
Fili was sure they were only speaking now that Tauriel was gone. Even though they had agreed to come, they had made it clear that they did not wish to work with the wood elves. Tauriel did not reach out to them, and who could blame her?
She had too much on her mind.
"Yes, Ӧin?" Fili asked. His voice was cold and strong, not what the companionable dwarves were used to.
"We still do not understand why you ride to help the elves," Ӧin said. "Kili has awakened. Though he sleeps again, we know he is healed. The elf is not here. Let us go, return to Lake Town. This is not our battle."
"You suggest we turn on a promise?" Fili snapped. "We agreed to help. I was serious while saying it. Do you wish to dishonor yourself?"
"No, of course not," Bofur said. "But I also do not wish to die."
"So you rather live, dishonored, knowing you gave up, knowing you failed?" Fili said. "Tauriel needs help."
"How do you know she does not lie?" Bofur argued. "Perhaps it is a plot from the elves to capture us and get us killed!"
"And the orcs listen to the will of elves? I saw an orc proclaim that Legolas would fall to shadow and betray his people. Would it stop there? They wish to make a leader – dark, powerful, treacherous. If they do, then none will be safe. Mark my words – if we are to fail, then more will be lost than one elf."
Fili's horse turned the corner and whinnied as it saw Tauriel's. Immediately, the other dwarves fell silent in front of her.
Fili nodded in greeting to Tauriel. She looked at him with wide, scared eyes. Upon seeing her stiff posture and scared exterior, Fili knew something was wrong.
"What has happened, Tauriel?" he asked, frightened.
"The trees led me to where the orcs stopped for rest. They tortured him… His blood covers the stone. The trees shudder with the utmost horror from what they have seen from that night."
Fili swallowed hard. He knew that Tauriel was not naïve. She had understood that Legolas was going to be injured, going to be tortured, but to see its effect? It was shaking, if not shattering.
"We will rescue him, Tauriel," Fili said, trying to comfort her. She spurred her horse without speaking, turning away and riding. Fili followed her, glancing at the other dwarves. He could tell that they still did not trust her or believed in this mission.
As Tauriel rode, she spoke softly so that Fili strained his ears to hear.
"We must save him. There is no question of that."
Fili swallowed. The other dwarves were muttering among themselves. Fili knew it would cause problems in the future. To fight together without trusting one another… It could lead to death for them all or the failure of their mission.
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Legolas stared at the eye, into the eye. The will which he had so arrogantly spoke of nearly left him as flashes of cold terror ran through him.
He had just insulted Sauron himself, calling him human and saying he feared Legolas.
Legolas could not imagine a worse situation.
However, he vowed to himself to stand strong before Sauron. He would not give in; he would be no puppet for the Dark Lord.
Legolas felt the darkness stop pushing him into the floor. He stood, throwing his weight onto shaky legs, trying to hide his sweltering fear.
"Do you fear me now, son of Thranduil?" Sauron breathed, his voice still echoing around the stone. Legolas squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath.
"Perhaps so, Deceiver. You are well spoke of my people. But fear will not change my answer. I will not give in. I am strong and stand tall. You will not defeat me."
"Insolent elf!" Sauron roared. Legolas stumbled back from the blazing anger, feeling it burning his face and torso. He struck the back wall, gasping with pain from his stiff back. "How dare you defy me to my face! You will shatter, elf! You say you will always stand strong, but always is a long time, princeling. Longer still for us, immortal! I will never die, and I will rule Middle Earth forever. Should it take a year or a day, you will fight alongside my army. None of your people know of your capture! There will be no rescue!"
Legolas stood still, fear tightening in his chest. Sauron – loathe as he was to admit it – was correct. There would be no rescue. Tauriel was dead, and his people – his father – knew not of his location or his capture. Even the dwarves were dead.
How could he even attempt to not give in? Sauron had nearly defeated the free people of Middle Earth, and he, one elf, was trying to stand alone before him. He had been hasty in his insults. Now, the veil of shadow was lifted, and Legolas could not hope to be saved.
He could defeat a human; he could defeat an orc or goblin. However, trying to fight against the Dark Lord of Mordor – a Maia - would be impossible. How could he defeat a being sent to the world to help build it?
For Sauron had once been a wizard, trying to do good in the world. Then Morgoth had corrupted him and changed him into what he now was – dark, evil, immortal.
How could Legolas hope to stand against such a force?
"Do you yield, elf?" Sauron breathed. His voice echoed from around the room, sounding painfully loud in Legolas' ears.
Legolas looked at him. He had no hope of winning a battle of their wills.
However, he could not give in so easily. Have pity on the stubbornness of elves – he would most likely lose his life and sanity to have hold of his pride.
"Never," he whispered. His voice was small but unmovable. "I am as unchangeable as the sea. Toss a rock, and I will absorb it. You cannot defeat me or destroy my purpose. Throw a rock, I dare you."
"You tempt me, elf! You are no fool. Fighting against me is desperate folly, and yet, you do not give in. What supports you, elf? What keeps you from falling before me?"
Legolas stared into the eye, considering the question. Hope did not drive him – hope for what? He would not be rescued; he would not escape or survive.
Love did not drive him. Tauriel was dead.
Nor did hate bring reason for his actions. Hate was never a reason to fight for it would always fade and die at the worst of moments.
Suddenly, Legolas knew why he fought.
"I fight because I failed before," he spat. "I will not fall again. Wound me, torture me, I will not break! I will survive for my family, of whom I could not rescue."
"Touching, fool," Sauron said. "You failed before. Do you now deserve your free will? You like to believe that they are healed in Valinor? Once an elf drops into shadows, they cannot be saved. Look, elf, at the orcs. Do you know where they came from? The hideous skin, the tortured stare, and lack of will?"
"They come from the north," Legolas said, unsure of why Sauron spoke of the orcs.
"Ah, naïve, elf?" Sauron chuckled. "They were once elves. Morgoth took them into Utumno and twisted them, tortured them until they became a creation of his own. You turn your back on orcs, cruelly shooting them down. Many ages ago, they were your kin! Surprised, son of Thranduil? You do not know everything, and you will fall to shadow."
Legolas stared, horror-struck at Sauron. The cruelty of orcs, the anger, the brutality… were once of elves.
As Legolas stood, silent, thinking, Sauron attacked. He did not move, but the shadows pressed into Legolas, engulfing him, surrounding him.
He let out a cry as what felt like hands – dozens of them – pressed into his body. They held onto him painfully tight, gripping him, digging their fingers in his back. Pulling him down to his knees, he struggled fruitlessly against the crowd of disembodied hands. Legolas could not move, could not see. The hands pulled at his hair and the tatters of his clothing.
Sauron's voice echoed as he called out in Black Speech. Legolas cringed as the harsh sounds hurt his ears. As Sauron's voice grew louder, pain exploded through his body.
There was no source, so complete was the fire of pain and torture. Legolas screamed, feeling his throat contract and twist, causing agony to rocket through him. He could clearly feel each nerve burning through him, panicking him and causing despair.
Shaking violently, he brought a hand up to try to tear at the pain, ripping at his own skin, causing blood to dot his pale body.
And through it all, through pain and fear and suffering, Legolas could hear Sauron's laughter.
He had been too quick to insult a being more powerful than he, and finally, he truly knew what he was facing.
What had he done?
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Hey, guys! Guess what: my school already has a two hour delay due to the fact the wind chill is negative twenty-three degrees (Celsius) or negative ten degrees (Fahrenheit)! That means I actually have time to write!
Please review!
Thanks to all readers and reviewers!
disclaimer: Tolkien owns all!