My thanks to DaHybridQueen and LegolasLover2003 for their reviews and to all of you still reading. This has grown somewhat from my original plan and seems to have developed a life of its own so I hope I'm not boring you all too much as it goes on!

ILVB - look out for more scars I'm afraid,and yes, I had that scene in mind with the orcs, Pippin and Merry in mind when I wrote it!

Love the festive praline syrup :) Thanks for sticking with me.

Here's the next one then. I'm not sure when I will have chance to post after this with all the festivities but will try not to keep you waiting for too long.

Wishing you all a happy and peaceful Christmas and a prosperous New year.

And as usual. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 36

Elladan drops silently from the tree to land at his brothers side. He has been intermittently trying to gain height to scout out the land and any sign of movement but up until now has had no luck. This time however the grim smile on his face tells his brother a different story.

"There is a large band of orcs over to the west of us, moving slowly through the trees about half a day away. They are trampling everything underfoot as usual so if we strike out in that direction" he points to the left, "we should pick up their trail in no time."

Elrohir nods and begins to follow him once again, the pair passing through the forest leaving barely a trace behind them. He can still feel the rage inside bubbling just under his calm exterior but is keeping it pushed down at present. He knows, however, that it is not far beneath the surface and it will not take much for his control to slip and the fury unleashed will not abate until it is sated this time. Thranduil does not realise just how lucky he was and he looks at his brother in silent thanks. Without Elladans intervention the king would, most probably, be dead and Elrohir most likely have followed at the realisation of what he had done, if the Mirkwood guard had not already dispatched him before that, of course.

"Valar save me from my temper" Elrohirs silent plea is heartfelt, yet part of him still wants to hold the rage close, feed it even, as he and his brother used to, to wreak vengeance upon all the foul creatures they could find, in a blood lust born by their mothers defilement, for years uncounted.

"Hold." Elladans voice breaks through the younger twins dark thoughts and he halts his progress to look over to where his sibling points. "There!" a feral gleam dances in Elladans eyes "See the tracks?

"I could hardly miss them, gwador" Elrohirs sarcastic remark is tempered by a smile "although," he chuckles softly " we could follow them by their stench alone."

His brother smiles back at him, glad to see the sign of lightening in Elrohirs mood, then they pick up the trail and increase their pace slightly as they follow in its wake. "They seem to be headed south" he muses to himself. "I wonder if our destinations are the same?"

"It would seem most logical" Elrohir answers startling his brother somewhat as he had not realised he spoke aloud. "The darkness in this accursed forest appears to emanate from there so it would be only natural for the foul beasts to gravitate towards that place." His lip curls into a grimace as he speaks.

"Aye, and the logical place from which the plot Thranduil suspects to have also emanated" Elladan mutters darkly, "If, indeed there is such a plot" he scowls.

"'twould make much sense, 'dan" the younger elf replies thoughtfully " and go a long way to explain the strange behaviour of certain wood elves recently." He stops suddenly, gaze fixed upon the ground. "Dan!" he calls urgently "Blood!"

The single word is enough to make Elladan halt and retrace his tracks rapidly "where?" he asks scanning the ground, dismayed that he could have missed such a thing.

"Here," Elrohir squats down at the base of a tree, "I noticed the smudge on the trunk first" he looks up and his twin follows worried dark brown eyes with his own, taking in the rusty smear that begins at about chest height then runs down towards the ground ending with a congealed pool of thick deep red liquid at the trees roots. The most worrying aspect of the stain to the two warriors though is not the quantity or position but the faint glow it possesses "Elven!" two voices, one word, drawn from identical mouths in a pain filled hiss.

If the orcs themselves were not enough to drive the twins on with the pursuit, the presence of one of the first born amongst the fell crowd awakes such fury in the pair that not even the Valar themselves could have held them back. Regardless of whether the unknown elf still lives or not, the brothers vow of years gone by still holds and these orcs will meet the same fate as have so many before them, or they will die trying.

As one the pair arise and, needing no words between them, draw their great swords, then, each seeming to have grown taller and sterner, stalk off along the trail like leopards chasing prey.

Legolas is once more wrenched from the comforting dark shelter he has come to find more and more welcome, by the sudden cold deluge he recognises as the prelude to pain. Curling into a tight ball he tries to ignore the kicks aimed at his battered body, willing his mind to flee once more to his safe, dark haven but the pain refuses to let him go, anchoring him to reality like a boat unable to slip its mooring in a storm. Suddenly he feels an explosion of pain in his leg as a booted foot connects with the shards of bone from the initial break and he can take no more. A heartwrenching scream tears itself from his unwilling throat and the floodgates open. He feels himself lifted by the hair until he is face to face with the orc captain once more and his mind barely registers the triumphant grin seen through a haze of tears before being unceremoniously dropped to the ground again in a sobbing heap.

Three figures sit around the flickering flames of a small campfire in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Two are contemplating the reward they look forward to and smile inwardly as their plans for spending it take shape. The third, however, does not share such happy dreams.

Estel can not relax. Ever since reaching this spot he has felt tense and on edge. They had arrived at the edge of a rocky outcrop yesterday afternoon and his companions had automatically set about making camp. Draeg had thrown their empty waterskins at him and gestured to a fast running stream of crystal clear water at the edge of the tree line and Estel had complied with the unspoken command whilst Flinn gathered wood and began setting a fire.

Now it was their second night here and the waiting was beginning to pull at the young mans nerves. This was, apparently, the rendevous spot, where it was intended they should take over possession of a captive elf and from here transport him to the dark fortress of Dol Guldur for reasons Draeg either did not or would not reveal.

"Not be long now lad" the gruff voice breaks into Estels thoughts "soon 'ave enough ta live like a lord" Draeg grins, the firelight giving his eyes a sinister, ruby glow.

"Aye," Flinns excited voice chimes in "I knows what I'm doing wiv mine" he throws the rabbit bone he has been sucking upon into the bushes and a lascivious smile spreads across his face as he runs his hands up and down his body suggestively.

"I don't think we need to guess" Draeg chuckles with a knowing wink at Estel "Do we lad?"

Estel gathers himself enough to grin back but remains silent. He does not trust himself to speak without snapping. Can they not see how wrong this is? How can they give up a creature of light and beauty to the dark without a qualm, just for the coin to exchange for a brief moments pleasure? He feels his blood begin to boil and rises to his feet. He needs to get away, to calm down, before he does something to jeopardise his position here, he needs these men alive in order to effect the rescue he has planned.

"Back in a mo, just gonna" he lets raised eyebrows and a nod finish the sentence, implying he needs to relieve himself, before heading off towards the trees beyond the stream, taking deep breaths to calm his jangling nerves. He only hopes that those they are expecting arrive soon.

Throat raw from screaming, eyes red from tears the broken elf hangs suspended between two trees. Blood runs in rivulets of bright crimson down his back, from the deep strips of broken skin torn from his body by the cruel lash held in the laughing orcs hand.

Time has ceased to hold any meaning for the young archer. All his stubbornness and pride has been washed away by the sea of pain surrounding his mind. Every nerve ending is aflame, the merest touch on his skin now is an agony and he floats in a haze somewhere between worlds, conciousness ebbing and flowing like the tide.

The moment that first scream had left him he knew he had lost. The orc captain had gleefully accepted it and immediately set about forcing him to relinquish more and more. Laughing loudly he had pulled the prince to his feet, shaking him like a rag doll before throwing him to a group of his underlings with the command to bind him tightly in the position he now holds.

The beast comes to stand in front of the prince once more, the long, three tailed whip trailing from one clawed hand. With the other he takes hold of the pallid face that hangs facing the ground and holds it up to stare into the once so bright blue eyes that are now cloudy and dull.

"Not so proud now are we, pretty one" the elf barely registers the words or the blast of foul breath that accompanies them and the orc smiles with satisfaction then lets go. "Cut 'im down boys" he turns to the avidly watching band that surround him "I think that's broken 'im in nicely fer the boss don't you?" Laughing loudly the rabble jostle each other in their eagerness to get to the bloody figure.

"Remember!"the captain yells as the first orc dips one finger into the crimson stream then brings it to his mouth "No eating! He remains alive!" there is a collective moan as the smell of blood fills the orcs nostrils and saliva fills their mouths, "You can clean up the blood though" he chuckles as Legolas disapears under a sea of lapping tongues and reaching claws as they happily carry out this last order.