Title: Dragonfire

Author: White Wolf

Genre: Action/Adventure/Fantasy

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: No, I still don‘t own that elf or that ranger. Only the original characters belong to me. I get no money from this---only the pleasure of writing it.

Chapter One

"Those footprints can belong to only one creature," Aragorn stated confidently. He did not have small feet for a man, but he frowned slightly to see how little his own appeared to be next to the depression in the soft earth he was staring at.

Legolas nodded. "A dragon."

"I had no idea that one lived anywhere around here." They stood not all that far north of Rivendell, close to the foothills at the base of the Misty Mountains.

"This one may not live around here," Legolas pointed out. "They do fly, you know." The elf grinned at his human friend. Then he frowned slightly. "But they rarely ever walk."

Both man and elf looked toward the direction that the tracks led. Finding dragon tracks was indeed a rare occurrence. Usually the first sign of a dragon was seeing one flying overhead.

Aragorn turned a questioning expression toward Legolas. "Well?"

"Well what?" the elf asked.

"What is a dragon doing walking around here?"

The elven archer was a little irritated at the question and had no problem letting the ranger know it. "How should I know?" he replied with a sharp tone.

"You’re an elf," the man stated flatly, as if that explained everything. However, the look on his friend’s face told him clearly the elf didn’t understand the implication of the remark.

Legolas continued to stare at the ranger for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. When he finally got himself under control, he said, "I have been aware of that fact for many years now, Estel. What has it got to do with the current situation?"

"Well, it’s widely known that elves have a special affinity for animals. Your people communicate with them and know a great deal about where and how they live. I thought you might know why a dragon would be out walking around in this area."

"I hardly know what to say, Estel. I appreciate the compliment. However, elves are not all-knowing, when it comes to dragons. I am as much in the dark here as you are." Compliment aside, Legolas was too annoyed by his friend’s presumption to notice that he had just admitted to a lack of knowledge, especially about animals. It was something he rarely ever did.

Aragorn was not offended by the elf‘s irritated attitude, and he didn’t want to call attention to Legolas’s admission of ignorance regarding this dragon, at least for the present, so he ignored the elf‘s words. "Then I guess we have no choice but to follow the tracks and see where they will lead."

"Where they will lead is to a dragon, Estel." Legolas commented logically. "Do you really want to go there?" He may not have known as much about dragons as Aragorn had thought, but he sure knew that dragon’s were exceedingly dangerous. He was sure the man knew that, too. Everyone was well aware of Smaug and his deadly ways.

The grin that spread across Aragorn’s face left no doubt what his answer would be. His words confirmed it. "Of course, I want to go there. Think of the opportunity we’ll have." He started off, striding swiftly beside the dragon tracks, leaving an exasperated elf in his wake.

Legolas shook his blond head. Hadn’t he done this before? Weren’t he and Estel always getting into some kind of trouble that never failed to ensnare them and was most likely destined to do so again? "Think of the opportunity to find a new way to die," the elf muttered. Then he sighed and began to follow the ranger, visions of being turned into a steaming puddle swirling through his mind.

*~*~*~*

Legolas had taken the lead at the end of the second hour. The dragon tracks consistent. In soft dirt, they were several inches deep; in hard dirt they were shallower, butt they never ceased all together. They were pointing in a relatively straight line toward the mountains.

Suddenly, Legolas called a halt to their progress.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked softly, not sure whether speaking normally might cause a problem. He decided not to take the risk of being overheard by the dragon or anything else unpleasant that might have caught the elf‘s attention.

"Do you not hear it?" Legolas inquired. "The dragon is on the other side of those rocks just ahead of us." He jabbed his forefinger several times slightly to their right.

Aragorn listened and thought he heard the faint sounds of...grumbling? He almost forgot to be quiet, when he started laughing out loud. He clamped his hand over his mouth. Pulling his hand down, after a minute, he said, "If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was the voice of a very irritated dwarf."

The sound was indeed a voice, and it was indeed irritated. And it did come very close to sounding just like a dwarf.

Both elf and ranger crept up to the rocks and silently moved so that they could peer around them to see what lay beyond. It surprised neither one that what they saw was not even close to being a dwarf. It was a dragon hunched down little more than thirty feet from their position.

What they heard was the voice of an irritated dragon, a very irritated dragon.

"...walking around in this miserable place," the voice was saying.

Legolas and Aragorn turned their heads so that their eyes met. They were sure the expression they each saw on the other’s face was the same one on their own.

"A red dragon," they both said simultaneously.

"A young one from the look of it," Legolas said. Then he noticed something odd about the dragon. Why was it bending over and seemingly caressing its left wing? "There is something wrong with it."

Aragorn didn’t try to figure out what Legolas was talking about. He was occupied with staring at the red creature in front of him. If it had been standing upright, it would have been a good fifteen feet tall. Its tail, which it had curved behind it, was in itself almost half again that long. Two large horns swept back from just behind and above its eyes. The sun sparkled off of its scaly body, flashing a brilliant red.

"Despite its dangerous nature, the beast is beautiful." Legolas remarked, always able to appreciate beauty whenever he beheld it.

Aragorn laughed. "See what I mean?" he said. "You elves can find beauty in anything that breathes."

"I never have found any such beauty in an orc, or a warg, either, for that matter." Legolas replied, making a face of disgust. "And the spiders of Mirkwood..."

"Well there are exceptions," Aragorn admitted, "even for elves."

The archer continued with his admiration. "Do you not see how the sun reflects off of the smooth scales and how..."

"All right, I get your point, Legolas." The man was not about to stand there and listen to the physical virtues of a red dragon, of all things. "What do we do now?"

"Why are you asking me? You are the one who wanted to follow it."

"Very well then..." Aragorn began. He didn’t get any further.

The voice that came at them was no longer grumbling. It was loud, and it was demanding. "Who goes there? Show yourselves."

"Now look what you’ve done."

"Me?" the elf protested yet again.

"Now!" came the demand from beyond the rocks. There was no denying that it would have to be obeyed. To do otherwise would put the two friends in peril, since they knew they were not going to be able to run from the creature.

Legolas and Aragorn shrugged at each other and then walked resignedly around their stone shelter and stood before the dragon. Neither showed fear but then neither could deny their pounding hearts and clenched stomach muscles, because neither had ever stood and stared up into the gleaming yellow eyes of a dragon.

"Why have you followed me?" the dragon asked in the same demanding tone. "Surely you do not intend to try and kill me."

It was then that elf and ranger were glad that neither had drawn a weapon before facing this creature. Like trying to run, they didn’t believe they would have been able to kill or even harm the dragon before it killed them.

Both Legolas and Aragorn held their hands out in front of them, palms up, to show that they were unarmed. They weren’t sure whether that would matter in the end, but it’s all they could think of to do, at the moment.

"We do not intend to harm you," Aragorn said.

The dragon snorted. "As if you could," it remarked haughtily. "An elf and a human would have no chance against me," the dragon scoffed.

In an attempt to show the two beings it towered over that its words were accurate, the dragon raised its head, pointing it to the sky, and blew out a white hot flame a good twenty feet into the air. It was only the distance above them that kept Legolas and Aragorn from feeling the full intensity of the heat. As it was, they felt their cheeks warming.

Aragorn leaned over and whispered to Legolas. "If it’s trying to impress us, it’s working---in my case, at any rate." He was sure the roaring of the flames would hide his words, though they were not derogatory ones and would probably only serve to increase the dragon’s naturally inflated ego.

As the dragon continued to blow fire, it raised its wings to spread them out and make itself even more daunting. That was the a big mistake. It suddenly screamed in pain and pulled its left wing down and cradled it against the front of its huge body.

Legolas and Aragorn just stared in disbelief.

The elf was the first to recover. "What is wrong with your wing?"

"Nothing," the dragon snapped fiercely, though it was clear the beast was not telling the truth.

"Sounds like someone else I know," the ranger said without taking his eyes off of the red creature before him.

"I have no idea who you could be talking about," Legolas remarked in his most innocent voice. "Unless, of course, it is one of your brothers."

Aragorn laughed. It was true Elladan and Elrohir often tried to hide injuries, but no one was more stubborn about doing it than the elf that stood beside him.

The ranger then took a tentative step forward, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I am a healer among my people. Perhaps I can help you."

The dragon glared at Aragorn. "I do not need the help of a human. Nor do I trust one not to try to do whatever damage he could inflict...before dying." The dragon’s meaning was clear.

"Is there anyone among your kind who can aid you?" Legolas asked, as he stepped up beside the ranger. The dragon may have a fearsome reputation, but the elf had been gripped by a feeling of sympathy for the creature. He hoped it wasn’t being misplaced.

When the dragon lowered its head, Legolas and Aragorn feared that their time in Middle-earth may be at an end.

Aragorn couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and grimacing. He didn’t want to see the flames come shooting down toward him. ‘It will hurt for only a second,’ he said in his mind in an attempt to comfort himself.

Silence fell as the dragon was apparently trying to decide the intentions of these two beings. After a moment, the beast came to the conclusion that elf and man meant no harm to him. Perhaps...

"You say you are a healer. What experience have you had healing an injured dragon?"

"Fair question," Legolas said, turning to his friend. "Well, healer, what experience have you had with injured dragons?"

The man opened his eyes and gave the wood-elf a narrow-eyed, sideways look that spoke of possible retribution at a date to be named later. He smiled at the dragon. "What is your name?"

"Treco," the creature answered.

With the mention of the dragon’s name, the beast was no longer thought of as an ‘it’ but as a ‘he‘. "Well, Treco, I have not actually treated a dragon before," the ranger admitted. "But a broken bone is a broken bone. Yours is just a bit larger than most I’ve dealt with."

"And will take a much bigger bandage," Legolas pointed out helpfully. He just shrugged when the man turned a scathing glare his way. "True, is it not?"

Aragorn was not about to comment on the elf’s remark nor answer his question.

Treco flicked his tongue out and licked his wing where the break in the bone created a crooked angle. There was a definite look of pain on the dragon’s face. He looked more like a very big family pet right then, and the thought almost made Aragorn laugh. However, he was smart enough to know that doing so was not the wisest thing he could do.

When Treco looked at Aragorn, he nodded. "I will let you look at my wing. If you appear to know what you are doing, I will let you fix it." He said it as if he was bestowing a distinct honor on th man.

The ranger smiled but at Treco’s next words of warning, his face took on a sober expression.

"If you attempt to deceive me by trying to gain control of me, you and your elven friend will be turned to ash. Do we understand one another?"

"Perfectly," Aragorn replied with a forced smile, while swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

Seeing no point in delaying, Aragorn swung his pack off of his back and bent down to get the supplies he would need. He glanced up at Treco, who, now that he had decided to trust the two, seemed more preoccupied with his painful injury than with them.

When Legolas crouched down beside the ranger, Aragorn said, "What have I gotten us into? I want to help him, but what if I screw up? You heard what he said would happen to us."

"Then I suggest you do not screw up," Legolas told him wryly. "I do not wish to become a pile of ashes."

The man did not dignify that comment with one of his own. All of his doubts were firmly pushed to the back of his mind. He, with Legolas’s help, had a dragon wing to repair.

*~*~*~*

An hour later, and the medical treatment was over. Aragorn stared at his empty medical supply pack. Even Legolas’s pack no longer contained any of the emergency supplies he carried. "Let us hope neither of us needs any healing before we reach Rivendell."

"You must be joking," Legolas stated. "When have we ever returned to the home of Lord Elrond in any condition short of near death?"

"It’s not that bad," Aragorn defended. He thought for a moment, then said, "Well... usually only one of us is."

Treco was looking at his left wing. The bone that had previously been painfully bent was now straight and bound tightly with many strips of white cloth. It had been a painful procedure, but one that he understood was necessary. Like any flesh and blood creature, no dragon is ever immune to suffering. He had taken the repair work in stride, only belching out flames twice in response to Aragorn‘s and Legolas’s ministrations. Thus only twice did he nearly scare the life out of elf and man.

The healer in Aragorn made him turn and come just short of shaking his finger at the red creature. "Do not move your wing too much. The bone needs time to knit back together. It will be stronger once it does. You, of course, will not even think about flying."

Treco’s eyes glittered. He did not like to be told what to do. Dragons were the freest creatures in Middle-earth, going wherever and whenever they chose, and only rarely did anyone attempt to stop them. But he had just suffered so his wing could be mended and ruining that by disobeying the ones who had helped him was foolish. Even a young dragon could figure that out.

"Meet us back here in six weeks," Aragorn instructed. "I think the bandage can be removed then." The ranger eyed his handiwork again. ‘Not bad for fixing a dragon‘, he mused.

Treco started to protest the length of time he would have to spend walking around wherever he went. Then he thought better of it. These two had risked their lives to help him, so he didn’t think it right to gripe. After all, they had had nothing to do with the fact he had stepped out on a rocky ledge that had collapsed under his weight. He had fallen on his wing before being able to right himself so he could fly away. He had landed at the bottom of the ravine below the cliff ledge and considered himself lucky only one wing bone had been broken. It could have been his neck, and no healer could have fixed that.

The hardest thing he ever did in his life was the thing he did now, when he said, "Thank you." It wasn’t as hard as he had thought it would be. "I will be here in six weeks."

He turned and left before he ended up ruining his fearsome reputation all together. Just before he rounded another group of rocks, he turned back. "No one else must know of this."

"Not a soul," Aragorn replied. He didn’t know how he could keep such a secret, but he wasn’t willing to risk life and limb to a vengeful dragon by revealing it. On a more serious note, he also had Legolas’s life to think about. The elf was at risk, as well.

The human sat down, his legs suddenly becoming too weak to hold him up. "Did that just happen, or am I dreaming?"

"Well, if you are, we are sharing the same dream," Legolas said. He remained standing, but he was just as amazed by the recent event. He wondered what they would find at the end of the next six weeks.

TBC

Chapter Two

Six weeks later to the day, Legolas and Aragorn arrived at the place where they had first met Treco and were to meet him again. They had been forced to rush, so that they could arrive in time, since they had been a fair distance away by the time they were free to leave for the meeting place. They also knew that the dragon was not likely to be very patient in waiting for them.

“Great,” Aragorn muttered. “We hurried, and he isn’t even here.” The ranger was more than a little perturbed.

“He will be here,” Legolas reassured his friend.

Aragorn stared at the elf. “And just how many times have you rendezvoused with a dragon in your many years of life?”

Indignantly, Legolas said, “One does not necessarily need to have done something to know of its future predictability. Did you not learn that in your studies?” Then he added, “Or did you, in your rebellious youth, skip them?”

“I was not a rebellious youth. I studied plenty, believe me. Lord Elrond would not allow anything less.”

“I remember many a fine spring day spent indoors studying and being tested on what he had learned before being allowed to go outside and play.” He also remembered many a fine spring day when Lord Elrond permitted him to do his studying outside. However, he saw no reason to mention that particular fact, although Legolas was well aware of it, often having spent time with the young human on those out door study sessions.

Reminiscences ended abruptly when Legolas held his hand up for silence. He cocked his head, listening intently to sounds that the ranger could not, as yet, hear.

In a voice only slightly above a whisper, the man asked, “What is it?”

“We are not alone,” the elf announced, pulling his bow off of his back and fitting an arrow to the string.

Knowing Legolas would not have drawn a weapon, if it was the dragon that he had heard, Aragorn quietly drew his sword. “How many?” he asked.

“I do not know, but they are all around us.” For that reason he did not take aim but simply kept his bow in readiness, preferring to wait until he had the most optimal target in sight. When that time came, it would take him only an instant to raise his bow and fire.

The two friends quickly moved so that they were standing back to back. It was an old familiar stance they used when facing multiple enemies, known or unknown.

They had barely gotten themselves set, when several rough looking men made their presence known. Easterlings!

“Well. Well,” one of the men said. “Look what we have here---an elf and, if I’m not mistaken, a ranger.” Grinning at the pair, he sneered, “Put your toy bow away, little elf.” He pointed a dirty finger at Aragorn. “And you can drop that puny sword you carry.”

Neither elf nor ranger moved a muscle. The man’s grin faded. “I said drop your weapons.”

“And why should we do that?” Aragorn asked, eyeing the large man that stood slightly to his left.

“You are outnumbered, that’s why.” It was plain by the reddening of his cheeks that this man was becoming angrier by the minute. Evidently he was not used to having his orders disobeyed nor did he like it.

He tried to stare down the ranger, but Aragorn remained unaffected, so the Easterling said, “We will relieve you of all your weapons by force, if you do not do as I say. Trust me. That will not be a peasant experience---for the two of you, at least.” The grin was back. “Now put your weapons down.”

“Not likely,” the elf replied. His back was to the man, who was speaking, but he faced two other men, who looked just as disagreeable as the apparent leader did.

“You might want to rethink that defiant attitude, elf.”

“Let’s just rush them,” another of the men spoke up for the first time. He took a step forward and glanced over to the leader in hopes he would be given the command to forcibly disarm these two ‘foreigners‘.

“We aren’t alone,” Aragorn said in a steady voice. “Leave now, and you may be spared.”

Laughter erupted all around. The ranger’s words rang hollow in their estimation. They certainly weren’t going to just turn around and go away because this ranger told them to. The notion was absurd. These men lived for danger, and the prospect of a fight delighted rather than repelled them.

The leader made a great show of looking all around him. “Where are your allies? I see no help in sight for the two of you. Maybe your friends realized what you don’t: that there is no chance to win against us, so they are the ones who fled to save their own skins.”

The words were met with more laughter from the unkempt group. “Hobert, take their weapons.”

One of the men boldly walked forward. He stopped when Legolas, who was almost directly in front of him, raised his bow several inches, though he still didn‘t fully draw it.

“Go on, Hobert. He won’t shoot,” came the leader’s confident comment. Making eye contact with Aragorn, he pointed upward and to his left. “Look there.”

A man was standing on the top of a seven foot rock several yards away, with a full view of the two friends within the circle. He held a fully drawn bow. When the leader looked back at the elf and the ranger, he grinned again “He may only get one shot off, but he will kill one of you. Which one will it be?”

“And which one of you wants to die?” Aragorn said in return. He made a great show of looking around at the various members of the group within his line of sight before settling on the leader. “Are you the one eager to end his life?“ he asked.

The large man merely shrugged. Aragorn’s words didn’t have the desired effect, which is what he half expected. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Legolas and Aragorn both realized with dismay that the Easterling was right. One of them would surely die before the remaining one could do more than kill one or two of these men. It was not worth it. The better plan would be to let themselves be taken, repulsive as that thought was, and then wait for their chance at escape later.

“Face me, elf,” came the leader’s command.

Reluctant to turn his unprotected back on any of these men, Legolas nonetheless turned around to stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

With a silent agreement borne from long association with each other, both bow and sword hit the ground.

The leader smiled, revealing yellowed teeth that made Legolas look away. “I’m sure you carry knives in your boots. I want those, too.”

After relinquishing their hidden knives, the elf and the ranger had their hands forcefully pulled behind their backs and then tightly bound. More tightly than was necessary, they each noted.

Aragorn looked at his friend. “Treco will be here, eh? I don’t see him. Do you?”

Legolas stared at the ranger. “We set a day, Estel. Not an exact moment. He will come.”

“Yeah, sure. After we’ve been taken away to Valar knows where.” He shoot his head. “This scene sure seems familiar.” He couldn’t begin to count how many times he and the elf had been taken prisoner by one enemy or another in their many years together. Would it ever end?

The elf only shrugged at his friend’s remark and then winced at the pain the tight ropes caused by that simple movement.

Aragorn turned his head to the skies, hoping to get a glimpse of Treco swooping down toward them for the rescue. What a sight that would be. It only occurred to him later that if the dragon had obeyed orders, he would be walking, not flying. Somehow the prospect of that sight didn’t seem as awe-inspiring. However, any way the dragon showed up, hopping on one leg even, would be good enough for him.

“Who says he would help us anyway?” the ranger asked, pulling his eyes away from the sky and putting them squarely on the elf. “I doubt he would risk being shot at by a number of men just to save our hides. We fixed his wing, so he is probably hundreds of leagues from here, enjoying his old life with no thought for us at all.”

Legolas wanted to argue the point in defense of the dragon, but just as he opened his mouth, he and Aragorn were roughly shoved forward. Several men walked ahead and several behind them. There would be no chance for escape as long as they were moving in such a manner. They would have to bide their time a while longer.

*~*~*~*

More than once during the four hour journey before dark, Aragorn scanned the skies. Despite his earlier comments, he wasn’t quite ready to give up on the idea that Treco may be tracking them, ready to attack the Easterlings and free him and Legolas. It didn’t happen, which, in all honesty, wasn’t really a surprise to him.

Aragorn had no way of knowing that Treco had arrived a the meeting place less than half an hour after the two friends had been captured and taken away.

It was Treco who waited and waited for the elf and the ranger to show up. He had been patient, at first, but as time went by, he became very annoyed that the two beings, who had been the ones to tell him to come back here on this appointed day, had not shown up themselves.

Treco was not prepared to stay and wait indefinitely for an unreliable mortal and a normally reliable elf. That elf must have been adversely influenced by the human. Treco didn’t care who was to blame. He began to pace up and down, grumbling angrily, as time went by.

Soon he could stand no more, as he ripped through the now tattered bandages with long jagged teeth. Testing the viability of the now mended bone and being satisfied his wing would support him in the air, he had taken flight.

It had felt so good to fly that the dragon took off toward his home, soon forgetting all about the undependable twosome.

Aragorn would not have been happy to know he had been right about being forgotten by a homeward-bound, flying dragon, though in fairness, the dragon had shown up.

*~*~*~*

When the golden glow of the setting sun was all that was visible on the western horizon, the Easterlings stopped to make camp.

Legolas and Aragorn were shoved down, each next to a large tree a good four feet apart. Both had ropes tied around their waists and secured around the tree trunks. Their hands were left bound.

“We’re thirsty,” the ranger told the two men, who had tied them up. “Might we have some water?” His voice was calm, not displaying any of the anger he felt. Antagonizing these men was not going to get them anything but grief. They needed food and water to keep up their strength. It was the only way they had a chance of fulfilling their idea of escaping.

“We’ll see,” one of the men said. “It depends on how generous Grath is feeling this evening.” He laughed harshly. “I wouldn’t lay any money on that happening. However, dead you’re not worth much to....” He clamped his mouth shut before revealing something he was evidently not supposed to reveal.

“To whom?” Aragorn asked.

“Not my place to say,” was the only answer he got. The man turned and hurried away.

“I had a feeling these were not the people who wanted us, “ Aragorn mused. “They’re the enforcer types, hardly the thinkers.”

Legolas nodded then changed the subject. “So Grath is the leader’s name.” Not once had anyone called him by name during their journey here. “Have you ever heard of him?”

“No, but then I don‘t really think his reputation is very widespread.” He couldn’t help a small chuckle.

“Not like Strider‘s, at any rate,” Legolas returned in the same light vein.

“Of course not.”

A short silence fell before Aragorn said, “My hands are getting numb. If they feed us anything, I‘ll have to slurp it up with my tongue.”

“The feeling in my hands is fast fading, as well,” Legolas informed his friend. “As for your slurping your food, I’ve seen that enough to last a lifetime---an elf’s lifetime,” he added with a straight face.

The ranger just gave the elf the look he usually did, whenever he said such things, like the immortality of elves, the way heat and cold don’t affect elves as much as mortals, the keen sight and hearing of elves, the endurance elves display, the physical strength of elves, the... The list of elven superiority seemed endless.

Legolas was always happy to point out that elves also had great intuition, sensing things that mortals had no clue about. It was always done in fun. Legolas would never say anything that would offend or hurt his friend.

Aragorn merely narrowed his eyes at the elf, and it made Legolas laugh. Unfortunately, it was the wrong time to show mirth.

Having heard the elf’s laugher, Grath walked up and backhanded Legolas across the face. His hand made an angry red splotch on the elf’s porcelain skin. The man glared down at him. “I guess if you have the strength to laugh, you aren’t in any great need of nourishment. You’ll not get any tonight.”

Grath walked away then turned back and pointed his forefinger at Aragorn. “That goes for you, too, ranger Now it was his turn to laugh, which he did. The sound was loud, rough and grating.

Legolas winced more at the words themselves than the harshness of the sound. He looked at his friend. “I am sorry, mellon nin. I did not mean to provoke him. Now you will also go without.”

“If I had my way, I’d have provoked my hard fist right into his ugly, lopsided mouth.”

Legolas shook his head. “Estel, you have such a colorful way with words.”

“Yeah. And it probably would have gotten us both beaten. Not that people like those,” he jutted his jaw toward the Easterlings gathered around their campfire, “would need much of an excuse to cause someone pain.”

He did not mention that crude though the men may be, they evidently knew how to cook. Drifting smoke carried the smell of roasting fowl of some kind toward the two captives, and it was all Aragorn could do to keep himself from licking his lips. It was only the thought that one of those horrid men might see him doing it and realize that the ranger was suffering hunger pangs that kept him from doing it. His stomach, however, was not as discerning. Luckily, only Legolas heard the internal protest.

In an effort to keep his mind off of his ravenous appetite, Aragon said, “Have you seen any weakness in their defenses we can exploit?”

Legolas’s mind was somewhere far up in the star-strewn heavens, and only jerked back to the present, when he realized that his friend had asked the same question twice. “What did you say?”

Understanding the elf’s lack of attention and not making a comment on it, Aragorn said, “Weaknesses. Do you see any we can take advantage of?”

“I have not as yet, but men will always make mistakes,” he grinned at the man beside him, “so all we have to do is wait until such mistakes present themselves.”

Not offended by the elf’s remark, the man nodded. “I think that after they turn in for the night, our chance for escape will increase.” It was a logical idea that had served them well under similar circumstances in the past.

When the camp finally quieted for the night, guards were set about the perimeter. To the consternation of both elf and ranger, two guards were set to watch them. Unfortunately, neither one looked as if they were going to go to sleep on the job. No liquor was present to aid them in that, and the two stared at the prisoners, as if daring them to make a move.

“I think these two take their guard duty rather seriously,” Aragorn comment in elvish, pretty sure he would not be understood.

“So it would appear,” Legolas replied.

“Hey, there. None of that. Speak a decent language we can all understand.

“Well so much for secret plans.” When one of the guards raised up apparently ready to enforce the command not to speak something they could not follow, Aragorn said in the common tongue, “All right. Don’t get excited. We know how to speak so even you can understand.” He knew he was lucky when the man didn’t take offense, or if he did, he didn’t do anything about it.

TBC

Chapter Three

The next day was a repeat of the day before, and the day after that showed no signs of being any different. Other than the fact that Legolas and Aragorn were finally given water and fed, meager though it was, the days seemed to melt one into another.

The terrain they traveled was rocky. Though not true mountains, it was close enough, with stone soaring over their heads on the right and falling away into a tree-covered abyss on their left. There wasn’t much to see to tell them where they were being led, other than that they were heading northwest. Neither elf nor ranger had been this way before.

Legolas and Aragorn spent their time trying to figure out a way to get themselves free of the Easterlings, who were obviously just as determined to keep their prize captives firmly in tow. For now, the men, extremely careful with their security, were winning the battle of wills.

A very irked human ranger grumbled, as he and Legolas were pulled to their feet shortly after dawn of the third morning to begin another day of what was to the captives, mindless travel. He glared at the guards, who once again made sure the captives’ bonds were secure before allowing them to move away from the two trees where they had been tied. “Why won’t any of you tell us where we’re going?”

“Now,” one of them grinned, “where would be the fun in that?”

“Fun? Is that what this is? You were all bored, so you decided to have a little fun, and we were it?” Aragorn’s face was getting red, even though he knew that was hardly the true reason. Slyly he thought that maybe he could coax one of the guards into making a slip of the tongue and telling them something useful.

“There’s a little more to it than that,” the other guard confirmed, making one last pull on the rope around Legolas’s wrists to make sure it was good and tight.

This guy didn’t trust elves, having heard too many stores about their enhanced abilities and fearing that this one might do something to make his bonds magically drop off. Common sense should have told him, if that was possible, Legolas would have done it long before now. Common sense evidently wasn’t this man’s strong suit. “But who says we can’t have a little fun along the way,” he blithely concluded.

The company of humans and elf started off once again. The sky above them was clear, and the rising sun was spreading its golden light over the land. However, visible through the gap in the rocks and the trees, ominous dark clouds were beginning to gather, and the outcome of that gathering did not bode well for the travelers.

“It’s going to rain,” Aragorn said loudly, making sure that everyone heard him.

Hobert, walking right in front of him, laughed. He turned and looked the ranger in the eye. “Don’t tell me the two of you are afraid of getting yourself a little wet.”

“From the look of those clouds, getting ‘a little wet’ won’t be the only problem we have.” The ranger knew that a violent storm was approaching, and that meant dangerous lightning.

As if to reinforce what Aragorn had just said, lightning flashed several times in the midst of the gathering gloom, momentarily turning the black clouds to glowing silver and gray. Thunder rumbled a moment later, rolling across the sky toward them.

None of the Easterlings seemed to care that the weather was about to become threatening. The group marched on until the dark clouds settled overhead, having moved downward until they were almost close enough to touch.

Aragorn looked back over his shoulder and sighed as the sun and the blue sky retreated under the storm’s advance. He had been through enough of these storms to know they were all about to be inundated.

In less than five minutes, the clouds released their load and everyone was drenched to the bone in seconds.

Grath turned back and pointed to Hobert and another man. “Tie ropes to those two and keep a good hold on them. I don’t want this rain to give them any ideas that they can get away from us.” He laughed harshly, as if the thought was an absurd one.

Each man did exactly as Grath instructed. Neither one wanted to have to face their leader and explain how the captives got away. They knew from experience that a mere scolding was not going to be their only punishment.

Aragorn, looking very frustrated as the ropes were tied to their existing bonds, turned to Legolas. “He read my mind,” the man grumbled.

Despite the fact that Legolas was no less frustrated, he couldn’t hold back a smile. “I think Grath has had experience transporting prisoners before he crossed our path.”

The ranger waited until the guards had moved ahead and then glanced sideways at his elven friend. “Are you giving up?”

“Not I,” the elf replied. “Extra precautions or not this rain is our best chance to get away.”

The two were speaking quietly to each other, using the sound of the driving rain to mask what they were saying.

No one else appeared to hear or care that the elf and the ranger were talking to each other. It was probably due to supreme confidence.

Legolas heard one of the men up ahead tell Grath that there was a cave large enough to hold all of them not too far up the trail.

Grath didn’t seem to be worried about finding shelter. However, thunder that shook the ground and a flash of lightning close enough to sizzle the air seemed to make his mind up. He nodded. Tough these men may be, but Grath realized that they were no match for the storm that was breaking over them.

The neutral expression on Aragorn’s face told Legolas that the man had not heard the comment about the cave. “Our chance is just ahead,” he whispered.

Aragorn had no idea what Legolas was referring to, but he trusted the elf implicitly, so he subtly tensed his body in preparation for whatever chance to escape presented itself.

When Legolas spotted the darkened area amid the grayness of the rain, he raised his hands up to waist level and wrapped his fingers around the rope that Hobert, about five feet ahead of him, was holding.

Watching every move the elf made, Aragorn did the same. He knew that no matter what was about to happen, getting the ropes away from the two guards that held them was the first step.

A small tree, no more than four feet high, proved to be the catalyst that the captives needed to make their move.

As the two guards with the ropes rounded the far side of the little tree, Legolas, followed instantly by Aragorn, jerked on the lead ropes as hard as they could.

Both guards were pulled off of their feet. They slid into the tree with a painful thump. The tree’s small but strong branches slapped at the men and kept them down, struggling to gain their footing.

Legolas sent the little tree a heartfelt thank you for its aid in thwarting the guards attempts to rise. The elf smiled, as the tree sent its reply of pleasure to be able to aid one of the silvan Firstborn, who it had never seen before but knew instantly.

Legolas and Aragorn wasted no time in turning to each other and using their fingers to undo the other’s long lead rope. When they were free, they took off running back down the trail. It was a bit awkward to maneuver with their hands still bound, but there was no time to deal with those right then.

“Up,” Legolas said, as he leapt easily onto a rock that stood a good three feet above him.

There was no way the human could copy the elf and leap up that rock. Instead, he grabbed a handhold and began to scramble up beside Legolas. He felt a bit proud of himself for making it to the top of the rock without having to have Legolas help him. It was hardly the time to indulge in pride, but the ranger grabbed his triumphs when and where he could, so he just grinned at his friend.

Legolas rolled his eyes and then turned quickly and began to climb more rocks, Aragorn right behind him. Between the two of them, they made it to a flat area about fifteen feet above the level of the cave.

It was then that the angry shouts of the Easterlings below could be heard. Grath was the main voice that carried up to the two friends.

Legolas had hoped the men would think that he and Aragorn had run back down the trail and start after them. He was right.

Through the curtain of gray rain, falling now almost as solid as a waterfall, Legolas and Aragorn saw the dark shaped of their previous captors running back the way they had come. Both let out a sigh of relief, though both knew they were a long way from being completely free.

“What I wouldn’t give for a red dragon right about now,” the ranger muttered.

Legolas laughed. “You are not going to give up on the idea of being rescued by Treco, are you?”

“Why should I? He owes us.”

“I doubt he sees it that way. Beside, what dragon in their right mind would be out flying in this storm?” Legolas raised an eyebrow to emphasize his question.

Aragorn shrugged. "Maybe they think flying through storms is a logical thing to do."

“Whoever said dragons do anything logical?” Legolas asked. He just shook his head, as he peered over the rocky ledge in front of them. “I think those men have all left. It is time we did the same.”

The elf did not stand up but crawled as best he could on hands and knees until he reached several bushes that would screen him and the ranger from anyone who happened to be looking up from below. It was doubtful that anyone could have seen them, but it paid to be cautious, especially since their freedom might depend on it.

They untied each other, flinging off their bonds but putting them in their pockets to keep from leaving a sign of their passing behind.

*~*~*~*

As Legolas and Aragorn continued to climb, the Easterlings continued backtracking.

Suddenly Grath stopped short and stared down at the ground.

“What is it?” a man named Donnis asked.

Grath pointed to the muddy trail. “Look. All of the tracks are headed back toward the cave. Those two didn’t come back this way.”

He was still not quite ready to abandon where they now were, so he told his men to spread out and make sure that no tracks were to be found on the edges of the trail, indicating that elf and ranger had moved off the main trail to throw off any search for them.

Grath did not know that elves did not leave footprints, even in the mud. All he cared about was finding some evidence that someone had traveled back down this trail.

Nothing was found.

“Right. They didn’t come this way.”

“Where could they have gone?” Donnis asked. He wasn’t a stupid man, but he was a young one with limited experience.

Grath glared at the younger man, but did not want to waste time trying to explain. “They had to have climbed up above the cave. Come on.”

When they reached the area where Legolas and Aragorn had started up the rocks, Grath stopped and frowned, as he surveyed the ground.

Even the inexperienced Donnis realized that there was only one set of prints. “They’ve split up,” he observed.

Looking around, Grath scratched his head. If the rain had wiped out one set of prints, it surely would have wiped out the other. What he saw was faint, but for someone used to tracking, he could see them plain enough. What he couldn’t see was even a hint of more tracks. It made so sense unless the elf and the ranger had indeed split up. Somehow he didn’t think that was the case, or if it was, it wasn’t a permanent split.

One thing he did know is that no one could follow tracks he couldn’t see, so the man began to climb the rocks after the only prints he was sure of.

The rain made climbing hard for the big man, but he managed to get up the slippery rocks.

His men were having a great deal less luck, but there was no thought that they wouldn’t try.

Slipping and sliding, the Easterlings finally made it up to the level where Legolas and Aragorn had stopped and untied themselves a few moments before.

No one was there. Neither were there any tracks, even the faint ones seen below.

*~*~*~*

Having seen Grath start to make his way up, Legolas and Aragorn had moved silently away, working their way along the higher trail they had found.

“I sure wish those Easterlings had left us our cloaks,” the ranger grumbled. “This rain is making it hard to see and even speak without fear of drowning.”

“At least ii is just as hard on them,” Legolas pointed out, trying to give his friend some comfort. “And the rain isn’t all that cold.”

“Speak for yourself,” Aragorn said, as he shivered.

Laughing lightly, Legolas slipped around a large rock and began to climb once again up the slippery face of a twenty foot cliff. He tried to keep the tall trees on the near side of the trial between him and whoever might be looking upward. He couldn’t count on the rain alone to serve as an effective screen.

Reaching the top, Legolas swung himself up onto the flat surface he found there. He lay down and turned to hang over the edge in an effort to help Aragorn make the last few feet. The man was not there.

Legolas couldn’t hold back a rising panic, as he searched the rocky cliff face for his friend. His keen sight pierced the curtain of rain, afraid that he would see the ranger’s broken body lying on the rocky trail, but he saw no one anywhere below him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Where could Aragorn be?

Fearing to call out the ranger’s name, Legolas swung himself back over the cliff edge and began to climb back down.

“Where are you going?” came a very familiar voice above the elf.

Legolas looked up, blinking to clear the water from his eyes, which he quickly locked onto those of Aragorn, whose head was all that was visible.

Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, Legolas made his way back up and over, rolling next to the ranger. In the steadiest voice he could manage, Legolas said, “I thought you had fallen.”

“Why would you think that?” Aragorn immediately regretted the attempt at mock indignation. He saw the worry that was just now fading from the elf’s bright blue-gray eyes. “I found an easier way for me a few yards farther over and came up that way. I’m sorry I worried you, Legolas.”

“As long as you are safe.”

“Well neither of us will be, if we don’t get moving. I heard Grath and the others farther to the right. I think they are coming up here, as well.”

That’s all the two needed. They backed away from the edge of the cliff, stood and began to run, making their way into a small grove of trees fifty yards off to their left.

A quick glance from both at their surroundings showed that there was no avoiding the open ground they would have to cross to get there.

TBC

Chapter Four

"Run, Estel" Legolas urged, as he sprinted across the open, rain-drenched ground. He kept his eyes on the dark shapes of the trees that loomed ever larger directly ahead of him. He just had to reach the nearest one and vault himself up into its branches.

Getting Aragorn up with him would be more difficult, but he had managed it before and felt strongly that it could be accomplished this time, as well. Then all they would need to do was conceal themselves among the sheltering leaves. Grath and his mean would be searching the ground. He didn’t think that they would be spotted in the best of times, and with this downpour, hiding would be much easier.

"I’m running," came Aragorn’s breathless reply. The man was moving as fast as he could, but found himself falling farther and farther behind the fleet-footed elf. Normally, he was quick for a human, but the mud he was moving through sucked at his boots and made lifting his feet more difficult. It didn’t help that the rain was splashing so hard in his face that it was almost blinding him.

Legolas turned back, sensing that Aragorn was having trouble, but the ranger waved him on and called out, "Don’t stop. I’ll get there." In an exasperated voice he muttered, "Eventually."

Legolas was no more than fifteen yards from the nearest tree, when an arrow slammed down right in front of him. It was the first sign that the Easterlings had found the two friends, dashing any hope they had that they could get away unnoticed. The elf leapt over the shaft and kept going. Two more arrows thudded down near his pumping legs, and these were so close they caused him to veer off to his right.

Aragorn couldn’t figure out why Legolas would alter his course until he came to the first arrow. He ventured a quick glance behind him and saw two of the Easterlings aiming more arrows, though it was quickly apparent to him that he was not the intended target. He understood that the men had to stop Legolas first.

When Aragorn turned back around, he saw Legolas stumble and almost go down. Without actually seeing the reason for the unusual occurrence through the gray curtain of rain, the man was sure that Legolas had been hit by one of the arrows.

Just as Legolas reached the first tree, another arrow struck him, and he fell against the trunk, gripping the bark to keep himself upright. The pain from the two arrows merged into one agony that was quickly spreading across his back.

Spurred by fear, Aragorn increased his pace, mud or no mud. When he reached the elf, he saw two blue-fletched arrows embedded in Legolas’s left shoulder. He couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t appear that they had been just lucky shots, since it didn’t seem that either shaft was meant to kill. However, the man was too worried and too angry that his friend was wounded to bother admiring the marksmanship of the archers.

Aragorn put his arms around Legolas’s waist and eased him down into a sitting position.

"We will be taken again. I cannot climb," the elf reluctantly said. Shot or not, it was a weakness he hated admitting to, especially for one at home in the trees.

"Don’t worry, mellon nin. We gave it a good try." Lowering his voice, Aragorn whispered, "Pretend to be unconscious."

At Aragorn’s quiet urging, Legolas closed his eyes and rested his head against the man’s shoulder. He didn’t know what his friend had in mind, but he was prepared to go along with whatever it turned out to be. Knowing Aragorn as he did, he was sure it would be interesting.

Grath and two men clutching bows approached the ranger and the wounded elf. Not too far behind the rest of the Easterlings were making their way toward the former, and soon to be future, captives.

"You two gave us a merry chase," Grath said. Strangely, despite his naturally gruff voice, he didn’t sound angry. His next words explained why. "I enjoy a good hunt. Unfortunately, it has to end. We need to get where we’re going without any more delays."

"No more delays?" Aragorn scoffed. "Your men just shot Legolas---twice. Don’t you think that will cause a delay?." Grath may not be angry, but Aragorn was angry enough for the both of them.

"We did have to stop him getting up in these trees. I’ve heard about wood elves and their ability to move through the trees as easily as men do on the ground. That would never do."

"So you just shoot him?"

Grath shrugged. "Nothing vital was hit. He looks like he’ll live."

"Maybe and maybe not. I’m a trained healer. I’ll have to tend to his wounds immediately. Wounded elves do not react like you and me."

Grath frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Elves are far more susceptible to wounds like this than humans. They don’t tolerate foreign objects in their flesh very well. If they don’t get treatment quickly, they get fatal infections, contract raging fevers and die in a very short amount of time. Wood elves are the worst." Aragorn looked up at Grath. "I’m surprised you don’t know that."

An expression of doubt crossed Grath’s face. He knew more about elves than the average human, but even he was aware that there were a lot of things, mysterious things mostly, that he didn’t know about the fair race. Yet he wasn’t willing to admit that to this ranger. "I’ve learned a lot about elves. I’ve never heard that before."

"I dare say there is a lot you haven’t heard about elves," Aragorn informed the big man. "I know them well, and they still surprise me sometimes. You do know what closed eyes on an elf means. Right?"

Grath’s face paled. He had no idea, but it didn’t sound like it was a good thing.

Just then a moan escaped the elf’s lips. It was repeated, louder and more urgent this time.

"Well? Do you want to just stand around and let him die?" Aragorn demanded. "I told you I need to take care of him immediately, and time is wasting." The ranger added, "Or is he not important to whoever it is you are taking us to?"

That question seemed to spur Grath into action. "All right. Take him into the trees where the rain isn’t so bad. You can tend to him there. But don’t try anything funny. We’ll be watching you."

Relieved, Aragorn scooped Legolas up in his arms and headed deeper into the small forest.

As he walked, he felt Legolas shaking, but it didn’t seem to him to be the kind of tremors suffered as a result of trauma, although he was sure Legolas was hurting pretty badly. Aragorn soon realized what was causing the shaking. The elf was laughing.

Aragron looked down and saw that the supposedly unconscious elf was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. If the situation hadn’t been what it was, Aragorn would have dropped the elf on the ground. As it was, he barely kept himself from laughing.

Finding a particularly large tree, Aragorn stopped and set Legolas down, carefully avoiding the wooden shafts as he leaned the elf’s right side against the tree trunk.

The tree, in an attempt to provide shelter, moved its leaves in such a way that they formed an almost solid roof above the two friends’ heads.

Legolas, his hand resting on a large root, sent his gratitude to the tree for the protection of its sheltering leaves.

Only Aragorn seemed to notice that not so much as a single drop of water fell on the two. Even though he was well aware the tree wouldn’t hear him, he also sent his own thanks.

When Grath stopped a few feet away, Aragorn looked at him. "I’m going to need my pack. I have to get the athelas leaves and some bandages."

"And you might just have a knife in there, too," the big man said, sounding more like the gruff man they had been traveling with for the past three days.

The ranger narrowed his eyes, wanting so much to say, "You idiot." But it would not help to antagonize the Easterling leader. Legolas would probably be the one to suffer for his defiance. So instead, he said, "I’m not about to abandon my wounded friend so I can try to attack all of you with one knife, if I had one." Getting exasperated, he added, "You can search my pack all you want, but I’ve warned you, you must hurry."

Graph nodded toward Hobert, who was carrying Aragorn’s pack. "Search it, and then bring it here." His voice was stern and indicated that he still hadn’t forgiven Hobert for being one of those who had allowed the two captives to escape.

Hobert, aware he was on shaky ground with Grath, immediately did as he was told. The young man swung the pack down from his shoulder and set it on the ground, bending down to kneel beside it. He both looked inside and then ran his hand all around the interior of the pack until he was satisfied it contained no hidden weapon. Hobert then stepped forward and dropped the pack beside the ranger.

"Give me room," Aragorn told the men, waving them back.

Grath and Hobert both moved back a few steps. Neither was too far away to keep from seeing and hearing everything that might go on during the treatment of the elf. Grath in particular was not a trusting soul and remained somewhat wary.

Aragorn promptly ignored the Easterlings, who surrounded them. His sole focus now was on Legolas. Aragorn put a hand on each side of the elf’s face. "Legolas, wake up. Legolas, you must wake up now."

Grath stared at the ranger. "Why are you trying to wake him up? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be unconscious when you pull those arrows out?"

Aragorn knew, of course, that Legolas was already conscious, although he wished at this moment that the elf could be spared the intense pain he was about to suffer. He thought fast, finally saying, "Elves need to be aware during a trauma like this, or they could sink into a coma and drift away into death without ever waking up."

Turning back to his friend, Aragorn said, "Legolas, wake and open your eyes." The man’s voice was low but insistent.

Legolas slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at Aragorn. In elvish, he said, "Laid all that on a bit thick, did you not? Fatal infection, raging fever and a quick death?"

Also in elvish, Aragorn replied, "Well I had to make sure they would let me do what needed to be done for you.

"You were right about one thing."

"What?"

"Elves, particularly this elf, do not tolerate foreign objects in their flesh very well."

"Hey," Grath hollered. "I told you two to speak Common only."

It was time to lay on some more ‘facts‘ about elves. "During trauma, elves can process only in their own tongue." That sounded far-fetched even to the ranger, but he couldn't take it back now. "For someone who thinks he knows all about elves, you don’t know a lot." He knew he was taking a chance on antagonizing the big man, but he was having to cover one lie with another as fast as he could think of them, and the best way to be convincing was to keep Grath off balance by having him doubt himself.

Legolas recognized this outlandish maneuver of his friend’s and had to stifle a laugh. "It is a good thing that you are quick-witted," Legolas told Aragorn. "Or is it just that you are an exceptionally accomplished liar?"

"I sure hope I don’t accidentally twist either of those arrows when I pull them out," the ranger commented almost to himself, not daring to look at Legolas‘s face for fear he wouldn‘t be able to stop himself from grinning.

"What are you two talking about?" Grath asked, attempting to control his suspicion.

"I’m trying to find out exactly the kind of pain he is suffering and how far it has spread. As I feared, it’s bad. I have to hurry." Aragorn was able to keep a straight face now, because he knew that the underlying situation was serious.

He retrieved several athelas leaves from his medical pouch and handed them to Legolas to chew. The elf had been through this so many times in the past that he knew exactly what to do.

While Legolas chewed the leaves, Aragorn inspected the arrows closely. The first one, the higher of the two, was not too deep and shouldn’t cause much of a problem. "Bite down on the leaves," he instructed the elf and pulled the arrow out quickly. It came free fairly easily.

Aragorn checked the lower and deeper of the arrows. He frowned. This one was not going to be so easy. There were two possible problems. One was that the arrowhead could puncture Legolas’s left lung if not taken out very carefully. The second potential problem was that the arrowhead could also catch up under the elf’s shoulder blade. If the metal piece came off and stayed inside, it would have to be cut out, and the trouble that would cause would increase a hundredfold.

Legolas took the chewed up leaves out of his mouth. He saw the concerned look on Aragorn‘s face. "This one will be bad," he commented, continuing in elvish.

That statement told the ranger that Legolas understood the situation. It was now that he really wished the elf was unconscious for real.

The two stared at each other, complete understanding and complete trust passing between them in silence.

Legolas nodded, putting the athelas back in his mouth. He was ready.

Aragorn grasped the arrow firmly and began to pull with a steady pressure. The shaft did not budge at first, but the ranger did not let up. Soon the arrow was moving.

Legolas’s whole body tensed. It took all of his willpower to keep from crying out. The pain was incredible. Instead he just bit down harder on the now mushy leaves in his mouth and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

Unknown to either of the friends, both of Graph’s handd had balled into fists, and he was squeezing them with all his strength. He had been through this very thing more times than he cared to admit. His life had become too hardened to have any real sympathy for the elf, but watching what Legolas was going through brought back those unpleasant memories.

In what seemed like far too long, the arrow, with arrowhead intact, finally came free. So did a great deal of blood.

Taking no time to be gentle, Aragorn unfastened both of Legolas’s outer and under tunics and pulled them down, revealing the two ugly and freely bleeding wounds. The man then took the mass of athelas leaves out of the elf’s mouth and quickly applied it to the wounds.

Wiping away as much of the blood as he could, Aragorn added more padding to the second wound than he did to the first one. He wrapped both as tightly as he dared. However, by the time he had finished binding the elf’s shoulder, blood had seeped through the bandage of the lower wound.

Aragorn stared at the spreading crimson stain with dismay. He placed the palm of his right hand over it and applied pressure, using his left hand to push against the front of Legolas’s shoulder. He was hoping that would greatly slow, if not completely stop, the bleeding. He knew the added pain he was causing and whispered in the elf’s ear, "I hate this, mellon nin, but I have to do it."

"I know," Legolas whispered back. "Do what you must, Estel."

"What’s happening?" Grath asked, not liking to be out of the conversation for very long.

"I have to stop the bleeding before..." he didn’t finish the thought, because he suddenly realized that what he was saying was true and not just a made up piece of fiction he was handing Grath.

TBC

Chapter Five

Grath seemed to be so fascinated with what Aragorn was doing that he didn’t even notice how much time was slipping by. He and the other Easterlings were just standing and staring as the ranger tried desperately to save the elf.

Legolas didn’t move or utter a sound while Aragorn attempted to stem the flow of blood, which had now spread beyond the size of his hand pressing against the bandage.

The ranger looked at Hobert. “Look in my pack and get some more bandages.” He didn’t care that he was giving an order to one of the Easterlings, who now held him captive for the second time. He was not only used to giving orders, but he needed something done he couldn’t do himself right then.

Hobert looked at Grath, who nodded. The big man still didn’t care anything about the elf as a person. If he died, so be it, as far as his own feelings were concerned. But he had been given a job to do and that was to deliver the elf and the ranger to the one who had paid him to do it. Grath was not one to fail in anything he set his mind to accomplish. Besides, he knew that his current ‘boss’ was likely to react violently, if he didn’t get what he had paid for.

Hobert bent down and opened the ranger’s pack, pulling out more strips of clean, white cloth. He handed it to Aragorn. “This is all there is.”

“It’s not enough,” the ranger said, as he took the cloth from the Easterling’s hand. “You all must carry bandages. I need some.”

Grath hesitated. He and his men carried cloth to be used for the various injuries that inevitably occurred during their travels. For that reason he was reluctant to give any to this man. “We may need them for ourselves.”

Angrily, Aragorn said, “I need bandages now! You can always get more.” When there was no answer to his outburst, he turned a furious face to Grath. “Then give me the cloaks you took from us. I can tear some strips from one of them.”

This suggestion met with more acceptance, though Grath asked, “Why do you want both cloaks? You won’t need that many bandages.”

“I’ll need one for a blanket. He’ll need to be kept warm.”

Grath frowned. “I thought elves weren’t effected by the cold, and it’s barely even chilly.”

“Normally, he wouldn’t be effected at all, but he’s wounded and...”

“All right. All right. I get it,” Grath grumbled.
“Get the cloaks,” he ordered, jutting his chin at Donnis, who he knew was the one carrying them.

Donnis retrieved the cloaks and handed them to him.

Forcing himself not to snatch the familiar items out of Donnis‘s hands, Aragorn lay one cloak down and, holding the other one, began tearing off several long strips of the soft, dark green elvish fabric. Setting the shortened cloak aside, he unwound the blood-soaked cloth from Legolas‘s shoulder. The top wound had almost stopped bleeding, but more blood streamed down from the lower wound. He shook his head in dismay at what his practiced eye told him. “Bandages alone aren’t going to do it.” He knew what would do it but didn’t think Grath was going be too happy about granting the procedure, since it involved handing over a weapon.

“I need to cauterize the wound. It’s the only way to stop the bleeding.”

“You expect us to try to build a fire with wet wood and then just hand you a knife?” Grath said incredulously. “You must be daft. Or you think I am.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I am not going to attack you and leave Legolas to suffer the consequences. If I don’t stop this bleeding, he will die. It’s as simple as that.” There was such pure conviction behind his words that they carried far more weight than any of the tales he had spun about elves.

Grath believed him without doubt. He could see for himself how much blood the elf was losing. “All right. But I don‘t think there’s any dry wood around here to start that fire you want.”

No sooner had those words left Grath‘s mouth than several small branches fell out of the tree and landed right in front of Grath. They appeared to be fairly dry. All of the Easterlings took two or three steps backwards, staring up into the tree with more than a little fear in their eyes.

“What’s this? Some kind of elven magic?” Hobert asked.

“The tree understands,” Aragorn began to explain in all sincerity. “Wood elves can communicate with them. Why do you think no rain has fallen on him and I under its branches? It wants to protect and save Legolas.”

As strange as this sounded to the Easterling leader, Grath had seen too many unnatural things in his life to doubt what he was being told.

“Gather that wood, and start a fire,” Aragorn ordered, his patience running very thin at this point.

No one moved.

As startled as anyone by the falling branches, Grath recovered quickly. It took several commands from him before any of his men would touch the fallen wood. Even then they stared wide-eyed at it, as if fearing some sort of dark magic would erupt and consume them. Grasping the branches at arms’ length two of the men piled them together and using flint and metal, got a small blaze going. Then they backed off.

Grath drew one of his knives from its sheath and put it into the center of the flames. Then he, too, stepped back, not sure what to expect. However, he refused to let his face betray his fear. Inwardly he had to force down any betrayal of his true feelings in front of the captives and especially his men.

When the knife was hot enough for Aragorn’s approval, he took a small piece of a fallen branch and put it into Legolas’s mouth. He didn’t have to tell the elf to bite down.

Aragorn quickly removed the athelas on the wound and set it aside. Then he reached for the knife and, knowing that hesitation would only make things worse, he placed the flat of the hot blade against the wound.

Legolas jerked and bit down on the wooden piece in his mouth as hard as he could. The searing pain was pure agony. He tried unsuccessfully to block out the sound and smell of sizzling blood and flesh. The pain let up only a fraction when Aragorn pulled the knife away.

The ranger grabbed the used athelas, pulling away the blood soaked part and then placed it down on the now-cauterized wound. He took the strips of cloak and again bound the elf’s wounds, this time also making a sling to ease the pressure on the elf’s arm and shoulder.

Aragorn could feel Legolas shaking. He remembered how he had suffered uncontrollable tremors from fierce sunburns on several occasions in his childhood. They had been so bad that each time it had happened he had been forced to spend several days in bed, his father and brothers taking turns slathering his super-sensitive skin with salves and ointments.

Those memories of painful times paled in comparison to this, or so it seemed to him now. He wasn’t so sure that a very young Estel would have agreed with that assessment. Perhaps it was just that this situation was life-threatening, while his earlier misadventures in the sun had only been painful.

Before Grath could demand his knife back, Aragorn handed it to the man accompanied by a cold stare. He was grateful that the big man had consented to let him use the knife, but he felt he should not have had to demand something that was obviously needed to save someone’s life. He didn’t want to take the time to analyze the fact that he had spent a large part of his life learning the healing arts from Lord Elrond, acknowledged by most as the best healer in Middle-earth, while Grath was a brute of a man who did unsavory things for money and the pleasure of being in control.

Legolas pulled the piece of wood out of his mouth. He wanted to thank Aragorn and tell the ranger that he was all right, but he was afraid that if he tried to speak, his voice would tremble as bad as he body was doing, and prideful though it may be, he was not willing to let the Easterlings hear that, even if they did understand it was because of what he was going through. The elf simply looked at his friend and gave him a weak smile of reassurance. Then he passed out.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas before his head could hit the rough bark of the tree. Holding him carefully with one arm, he put the fingers of his free hand against the elf’s neck, detecting a weak but steady pulse. He was relieved but also worried, knowing the elf was not yet completely out of danger.

“Is he alive?” Grath asked, his voice devoid of any concern, other than that of losing one of his captives.

“Yes,” the ranger replied. “His body is giving him the rest he needs to try to recover.”

“Try to recover?” Grath asked. “You mean after all you did, he could still die?”

Aragorn knew it was unlikely now, but he wasn’t above putting a scare into the Easterling leader. “Yes.”

Grath didn’t look very happy but said nothing in response.

Aragorn held Legolas against his shoulder, as he folded the remainder of the cloak he had used for bandages into a pillow as soft as any made of feathers. He put the cloak down beside a large tree root. Shaking the other cloak out on the wet ground with one hand, he gently laid Legolas down and covered him with the extra folds of the cloak. He put the elf’s right hand on the root, so he would stay in contact with the tree, which Aragorn hoped could offer comfort to Legolas’s subconscious mind.

Grath started to say something about them wasting time letting the elf rest when they needed to get moving. He stopped himself, as he realized that that was rather an impractical thing to do, at the moment. Even if the ranger carried the elf, it was too late, because when he looked around him, he saw that not only had the rain stopped but a deeper gloom was beginning to settle over them. He sighed. This was evidently going to be their campsite for the night. “It’s too late to leave, so we’ll camp here tonight,” he announced to the group.

There were grumbles from the men. They were not too happy about spending the night here under this ‘magic’ tree. Who knew what might befall them while they slept.

Hobert blurted out, “I don’t suppose that tree would give us some more dry wood. We need to build up the fire.”

Donnis took a swing at Hobert. “Leave well enough alone,” he snarled. “I, for one, don’t want anything from that cursed tree.”

As if in response to Donnis’s insult, several large drops of water hit the man on the head.

The other Easterling’s laughed, when Donnis jumped backwards, catching his boot on an exposed root and falling on his butt.

“That’s enough!” Grath yelled. He didn’t feel too comfortable being here, either, but he wasn’t going to give in to these fears of magic. “It was just a coincidence. Now get your gear ready to settle down. We’ll eat and then turn in. I want to get an early start.” He was determined that no matter the elf’s condition, they were going to continue the journey to their destination.

“To comment on your comment, Donnis,” Aragorn said, “the tree is not cursed. It just doesn’t like Easterlings.” He hadn’t done much to hold back on the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Donnis glared at Aragorn but said nothing. He snatched his pack up and moved out from under the trees, choosing a spot in a small clearing that was open to the cloudy but now rain-free sky. He would put his blanket in the mud before he slept under any tree that talked to elves. He noted with satisfaction that all but Grath had done the same thing.

With a sadistic grin, Grath said, “You can take the first watch tonight, Donnis. That way you’ll have pletny of time to contemplate whether this very large tree can still reach you out there should it have a mind to.” Grath wasn’t above mentally tormenting his own men for a bit of fun, if the mood took him.

Donnis was used to Grath’s sadistic comments, but that didn’t stop him from blanching at the thought that the tree might actually try to hurt him. The man tried to hide the fact that when he laid his blanket out, he moved it a little farther away than the spot he had first chosen.

Before turning to get his own pack, a curious Grath asked Aragorn, “What are you going to sleep on?” It was obvious from his tone that he had no intention of offering the ranger a blanket.

“I’m not going to sleep,” Aragorn declared simply.

Grath realized that the man was going to stay awake all night and watch the elf. “Suit yourself. Are you going to eat anything?”

“I’m not hungry.”

That was also fine with Grath. He would have given the ranger something if he had wanted it, but since he didn’t, the big man wasn’t going to worry about it. He did throw the ranger’s water skin on the ground beside him and walked away.

After the Easterlings had eaten their meager but relatively nourishing meal of dried meat and water, they turned in to get what sleep they could. Grath had assigned three of them to stay near Legolas and Aragorn to make sure the ranger didn’t attempt to carry the elf off and disappear in the darkness of night. He was fairly sure that the ranger wouldn’t move the elf for fear of starting his wounds bleeding again, but he wasn’t prepared to count on that.

Once the Easterlings settled down, Aragorn ignored them. He cared not one bit if every one of them stood and watched him all night. As Grath had suspected, the man was not going to risk Legolas getting worse in a likely vain attempt to escape. It wasn’t worth it.

Aragorn sat down next to Legolas and placed the open palm of his right hand over the elf’s heart. In elvish he whispered, “Rest and recover, Legolas. I’ll watch over you.” He knew the elf was well aware of that fact, since they had done it for each other many times in their long friendship, but the ranger felt better saying it.

*~*~*~*

As the night wore on, all remnants of the storm disappeared. leaving a cloud-free sky in its wake. The tree that had protected elf and ranger from the rain earlier now moved its leaves in such a way that a clear view was opened up directly above the two friends.

Aragorn looked up and saw the heavenly diamonds twinkling in the small part of the inky sky that he could see. He then looked at Legolas and wished the elf could see the stars that he loved so much. For the second time the ranger sent a silent thank you to the tree. Even though Legolas couldn’t see those stars, perhaps the elf could somehow sense their presence above him.

The ranger did not know what the dawn would bring, but for now, even under the current circumstances, there was peace of sorts, and Aragorn was grateful for it.

TBC

Chapter Six

Aragorn blinked several times, not sure if he had been dozing or not. His mind seemed to be making its way from a world of twilight into one that was slowly becoming clearer. He must have slept.

The first thing he noticed was that dawn had come. It was still somewhat gloomy under the trees of the small forest, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before daylight reached even here.

He looked down and found that his hand was right where he had left it, resting on Legolas’s chest. It rose and fell in a steady rhythm that reassured the ranger. Even in the dim light, he could see that the elf was no longer unconscious but asleep. His eyes, rather than being completely closed, were now only half so. That was definitely a good sign. If only Grath would wait another day, so Legolas would have more time to recover. He was sure that wasn’t going to happen. The Easterling leader had made it very clear that the journey was going to continue this morning no matter what, and there would be no way to change the man’s mind.

Moving his hand to the elf’s forehead, Aragorn felt for any indication that the archer had developed fever during the night. Legolas’s skin was cool to the touch. A quick check of his pulse told the ranger that Legolas’s heartbeat was stronger than it had been the night before, and though it still wasn’t quite what it should be, his body had made good use of the rest he had been able to get.

Grath’s gruff voice broke the peaceful silence of the early morning. “Come on, you lazy louts. It’s time to get up. We have miles to go before your worthless hides can rest again.”

Those words were followed by a faint thud and a groan. Grath had most likely kicked one of his men to emphasize his command. It was easy to imagine that he had probably enjoyed doing it.

Grath walked over to where the captives were being watched by the two men, who had taken the last watch. He jutted his chin at the ranger. “How’s the elf?” There was no attempt to make his voice sound like he was in any way concerned.

Slowly Aragorn raised his head and stared up at the physically imposing man. In a flat tone, he said, “He needs more rest.”

“Too bad. He won’t get it here. We eat first, and then we move out. Carry him, if you must, but we aren’t staying here. No arguments.” Grath turned away.

“I will have to check Legolas’s wounds,” Aragorn protested, hoping to buy even a few more minutes before the elf would have to be put on his feet and forced to travel.

Over his shoulder, Grath said, “Then do it while we eat. I won’t let him delay us any more than he already has.” There was a subtle but definite note of warning in the leader’s tone.

The campfire had long since burned itself out. There was no dry wood anywhere around, except perhaps up in the tree, and none of the Easterlings, who had guarded the group during the night, were going to go that route again. A cold breakfast was far better than tempting fate by trying to secure more ‘magic’ wood from the tree.

Aragorn unwrapped the cloak from around Legolas and gently shook him, hating to do it but knowing it had to be done. “Legolas, mellon nin, you must wake now.”

The elf moaned slightly, as he turned more toward the sound of the ranger’s familiar voice and inadvertently put too much pressure on his wounded shoulder. He quickly shifted enough to lift his shoulder off the ground.

“Easy,” Aragorn said.

Legolas’s unfocused eyes gradually cleared, and it was soon apparent that he was back in the waking world and remembered everything that had happened.

Seeing that his friend was fully aware, Aragorn said, “I need to check your wounds.”

Having been through this routine many times before, Legolas nodded, and with his friend’s help, he sat up. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a painful groan, as his shoulder protested the movement.

Pulling the left side of the elf’s two tunics down, the man smiled. The green fabric strips of the elven cloak showed no sign of bleeding. “The cauterization worked. There’s no blood. How do you feel?”

“I have been better,” Legolas admitted. Offering a small grin, he added, “But I am fine.”

Aragorn knew better but didn’t argue. However, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ask, “Now where have I heard those words before?“

Legolas’s grin widened. He raised both of his eyebrows, as if to innocently say he had no idea.

Compared to the condition Legolas had been in the night before, the ranger was willing to accept the elf’s self-diagnosis. “Good, then you will eat something.” At Legolas’s slight frown, Aragorn held his hand up. “Grath says we leave after everyone has eaten, and you, mellon nin, need to eat to regain your strength. He’s in a hurry to get wherever we’re going, so he won’t let us stop for rest, should you need it on the trail.”

Legolas realized that Aragorn was right. Even if he disagreed, which he didn’t, he wasn’t going to cause his friend another moment of concern on his behalf, if he could help it. “I will eat,” he conceded. The ranger’s grin was the elf’s reward for giving in, and it pleased him.

The ranger got up and walked toward Grath, who was sitting and eating in the little clearing where Donnis and most of the other men had slept. Several of the Easterlings got up and drew their knives at his approach, not sure what the ranger’s intention was.

“We would like something to eat,” Aragorn declared, holding his hands out in front of him in a non-threatening way.

Once Grath was sure Aragorn was not planning anything, he instructed Hobert to provide the ranger and the elf with a share of the food. “Since the elf wants to eat something, I gather he’s better.” There was a touch of sarcasm, since Aragorn had made a point of saying only moments ago that Legolas needed more rest.

“Better but not well,” Aragorn corrected. He was already well aware that he was not going to change Grath’s mind about leaving, but any chance he had to put the fact Legolas was still not recovered into the man’s mind, the better things might be down the line. It was worth a try and wasn’t really a lie.

Hobert secured several strips of dried meat and a few of the berries left over from the day before and handed them to Aragorn. He also gave the man one of the water skins.

Nodding, Aragorn took the offered items and returned to where Legolas sat under the tree. As he approached, he grinned, seeing that the elf had his eyes closed with an almost dreamy expression on his face.

“Talking to the tree?” he asked, as he sat down next to the elf.

Legolas took his hand from where he had been holding it against the tree trunk. “Yes. We have become friends.” Taking the meat strips from Aragorn’s hand, he said, “Hannon le.” He began to chew one of the meat strips.

“I’m curious about something,” the ranger said. “When it was mentioned last night that we needed dry wood for a fire, branches suddenly fell out of the tree. Now how would a tree way out here in the middle of nowhere know to do that?” The man cocked his head to the side, waiting to hear the answer to that.

Legolas’s face broke out in a broad grin. He thought about giving the ranger a far-fetched answer but, in the end, decided to tell the truth. “I told it to.”

“Ah,“ Aragorn said, nodding in understanding. “That makes sense.” Then he frowned. “What about the tree dumping those rain drops on Donnis’s head? You were unconscious then and couldn’t have told the tree to do that.”

“The tree dumped rain drops on Donnis?”

“It sure did.”

Legolas knew that Donnis had to have done or said something against either him or the tree to cause such a reaction. “What did Donnis do?”

“He called the tree cursed.”

Legolas looked up into the thick branches overhead and smiled, as if to say ‘good for you‘. To Aragorn, he said, “I am sorry I missed it.”

Aragorn laughed. “Donnis, not to mention all the others, were terrified. The branches falling had scared them enough already. They slept out in the clearing where they are now. They all suspected dark, elven magic.”

“It’s widely known that we talk to trees, so I suppose to mortals, that would appear to be a form of magic,” Legolas mused.

Aragorn nodded. “Well most men fear what they don’t understand.”

The subject was dropped when the ranger saw Grath rise from where he had been sitting on the ground. It looked like the time for eating was over, which meant it would soon be time to go. “Grath is getting ready to leave. Finish your food. Legolas. You’ll need the strength it will provide.”

Grath approached the two captives. He looked at Aragorn. “Get him up. We’re leaving.” He stood for a moment, as if waiting to see if the other man was going to try and argue. He almost hoped he would. Grath was never reluctant to let anyone and everyone know exactly who was in charge.

“We’ll be ready,” Aragorn assured the big man. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. We’re going to continue the journey, whether you’re ready or not. We’ll drag the both of you, if necessary.” He left them to get themselves ready.

Legolas wasn’t the least insulted that Grath was talking over him, as if he wasn’t even there. He knew the man was dangerous enough to keep track of, but as a person, he was not worth the effort it would take to feel slighted.

Swallowing the last bite of the dried meat, Legolas reached up to a now standing Aragorn, who took his friend’s right hand and pulled him to his feet.

The elf swayed slightly before steadying himself by grabbing onto the ranger’s shoulder. Once his balance was established, and it was evident he wasn’t going to fall, he let go. “I am fine.”

The words brought a smile to the ranger’s lips, as he reached down, got the long cloak and shook it out before wrapping it around Legolas, securing it with the pin that was still attached to it. He then grabbed the short cloak that had been the elf’s pillow and settled it around his own shoulders. The pin was missing, but he put his pack over one shoulder and the water skin over the other, sure they would hold the cloak in place.

Legolas tried to take the water skin to put on his good right shoulder but Aragorn lightly swatted his hand away. “You don’t need any extra weight,” the ranger told him. “Just keep yourself upright.”

Legolas frowned but did not argue. He was unwilling to admit out loud that keeping himself upright might prove to be harder than he was hoping it would.

When Aragorn saw that the elf was not going to give him an argument, he turned toward the Easterlings, who were now grouped together, waiting for word from their leader to move out.

Grath motioned for the captives to come out from under the tree and come over to them.

Just before moving away, Legolas reached out and touched the tree. ‘Thank you, my friend. If possible, I will return one day to see you.’ The tree gave its own farewell to the silvan elf it had come to know and care about.

Then elf and ranger obeyed the gestured command to join the others. When they reached the Easterlings, the men surrounded the two. Aragorn half expected Grath to grab the pack and water skin and perhaps even the cloaks from them. After all, they had not been allowed to keep any of those things on the way here. There was no move to take the objects. Aragorn wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was grateful.

Just before they all set out, Grath looked at Legolas and Aragorn and pointed his finger. “No more of that elven jubberish. You’ll speak in the Common tongue from now on, and you’ll do it in a voice loud enough for those around you to hear.” After a pause, he siad, “Better yet, don’t talk at all.“ Then he turned and headed down the path tha would take them away from the small forest.

More than one of the Easterlings looked back toward the tree that had sheltered the two captives while confounding themselves and then looked away with relieved expressions on their faces. They were more than happy to be leaving the tree they considered cursed far behind them.

Donnis, the only real ‘victim’ of the tree, refused to even glance its way, once he had turned his back on it. “Good riddance” he muttered in a barely audible voice.

Only Legolas, walking near him, heard it, and it made him smile.

*~*~*~*

Grath kept the group moving at a steady pace regardless of the difficulty of the terraine.

Legolas had been doing his best to travel the trail under his own power. For the most part he had done so. At first even the slight downward turn of the trail had been manageable. However, as the pathway became steeper, he began to have trouble keeping his feet under him.

The first time he stumbled bad enough to lose his balance, only Aragorn’s quick reflexes kept the elf from falling. Two of the Easterlings had drawn their weapons and made a move toward the elf, thinking the move was an attempt to create an opportunity to escape.

Seeing Legolas’s pale face made Hobert doubt that the stumble was anything but a genuine one. Then seeing Aragorn grab the elf and put his arm around his friend’s waist confirmed it. The Easterling moved closer. “Is he all right?”

Aragorn’s concern for Legolas was temporarily overtaken by anger. “Of course, he’s not all right. He’s been forced to walk for hours, when he should have been resting,” the ranger almost snarled.

Hobert didn’t think the elf could go much farther, so he thought about going to Grath at the front of the line and telling him what had happened. He didn’t get the chance, as the leader called a halt and walked back to face the captives, intent on finding out why there was talking.

The Easterling leader was not happy, when he approached the two captives and found the elf with his head down, eyes closed, and the ranger basically holding him up.

Hobert looked up and saw that the sun was past its zenith. “We should stop for the mid-day meal...” he began.

Grath silenced the man with a fierce look and then said, “We aren’t stopping now.” He looked at Aragorn. “Carry him.”

At those words, Legolas’s eyes snapped open and he raised his head. “I can walk.”

The leader looked skeptical. “It doesn’t look like it to me.”

Fire flashed in the elf’s eyes. “I can walk,” he repeated more insistently.

Aragorn knew the pride his elven friend possessed. There had been times in the past, when the ranger had had to resort to carrying the injured elf, but never in front of strangers. Even among friends and family, Legolas usually had to be unconscious. With a sigh of resignation at Grath’s refusal to give in even an inch, the ranger said, “I will see to it he stays on his feet.”

Grath narrowed his eyes but only nodded. He turned and again took up his position at the front of the group and began leading them down the trail.

Legolas fought with all the inner strength he had to keep walking under his own power. He was successful for the most part. Aragorn kept his arm loosely around the elf’s waist just so he would be there in case Legolas stumbled again. He didn’t, though the support was welcome.

*~*~*~*

For the next hour, the captives and their Easterling captors continued moving down the trail. Then they rounded a particularly large outcropping of rock, revealing a large, lush valley, stretching out before them. A ribbon of silver wound its way from an unseen mountain spring below them, across the valley and out of sight.

On the left, several miles distant, rose a dark, stone fortress, complete with turrets and battlements.

Without so much as a glance between them, both Legolas and Aragorn felt that this imposing structure was their destination, and both had a deep foreboding that they were sure would only increase as they moved toward it.

TBC

Chapter Seven

Aragorn’s grip on Legolas tightened, as the elf’s legs tried to buckle under him. Each time they tired to betray him, he steadfastly forced them to keep the rest of him upright. It was a struggle he wasn’t sure he could win.

Being as close as he was to Legolas, Aragorn could feel the strength draining from his friend’s body. The farther they traveled, the weaker the elf became. Aragorn could also feel the archer stiffen in response to that weakness, pushing his resolve as hard as he could. ‘This can’t go on much longer,’ the ranger worriedly thought to himself. Elven determination alone was not going to sustain Legolas beyond his body’s ability to function the way he wanted it to.

While this struggle went on, the group finally reached the bottom of the high ground, which now leveled out onto the valley floor. It was a welcome relief to all of the travelers.

It was even more of a relief to both elf and ranger, when Grath called a halt. “We’ll stop here for mid-day meal,” he announced. “But don’t get too comfortable. We won’t be staying long.” That last statement was aimed mostly at the two captives, who immediately moved onto a grassy area a few feet away without even asking permission to do so.

Aragorn eased Legolas to the ground and then sat down beside him. “How are you doing?” he asked, sure he would hear the familiar answer but needing to ask anyway.

“Glad to be sitting,” the elf replied to the surprise of the ranger. True, Legolas hadn’t admitted he was tired or hurting, both of which were all too obvious to Aragorn, but the elf also hadn’t lied and said he was fine.

Once the elf was settled, the first thing Aragorn did was pull the water skin off of his shoulder and unstopper it. He handed the top portion to Legolas to hold in his right hand and drink while Aragorn supported the heavier bottom part.

Legolas took several long swallows, savoring the cool liquid, as it slid down his throat and offered him a measure of refreshment. When he had taken his fill, he handed the top of the skin to Aragorn, who then drank from it.

The rest of the Easterlings had spread out around the pair but did not sit overly close, certainly nothing like what would be expected of men, who had prisoners to guard.

Grath not only didn’t seem concerned, but he was none too close himself. He had finally accepted the fact that the ranger wasn’t going to try escaping as long as the elf was too weak to have a chance of achieving success. After all, they had already tried gaining their freedom when both were healthy, and that had ended in recapture. He had confidence that his men could again handle any future attempt should one be made.

A few moments later, Donnis walked over and unceremoniously dropped several pieces of dried meat, from the same supply that they had all been eating for several days, into Aragorn’s lap. The man said nothing, just scowled before turning and going to find a spot far from the pair.

“I’m sure Donnis wouldn’t have brought us food on his own,” Aragorn said quietly. “Grath must have told him to bring it over.”

“He did,” Legolas replied. “I saw Grath hand him the meat and motion for him to give it to us. Donnis did not seem too happy.”

“I don’t think he likes us much.”

Legolas laughed. “He probably thinks I will conjure up some dark, elven magic and turn him into a frog.”

An evil look came into the ranger’s eyes. “Can you?”

“Estel! You know I cannot. Besides, if I could do that, I would have done it to all of them long before they shot me.” The elf grimaced, thinking of what he had already gone through at the Easterlings’ hands and what he was still going through now.

“Yes, I suppose you would have,” Aragorn sighed, as he handed two of the meat strips to the elf. “Still, that would have been something to see---a whole bunch of Easterling frogs croaking, hopping about and eating flies.”

“Estel, you can be very wicked sometimes.”

Aragorn smiled. Then changing the subject, he asked in a much more serious tone, “What did you make of that fortress we saw from above? It looks more than a little daunting.”

Legolas didn’t have to think about his answer. “That is where we are being taken, and it will not be pleasant for either of us.”

“You sense evil there?” the ranger inquired of the intuitive elf.

“Not the same kind of evil that permeates the Shadow. This feels more like something involving humans.”

“So you believe that it’s a place of men.”

“Yes. But that does not mean that it is any less troubling. Nor does it mean that another kind of evil does not reside there,” Legolas was quick to explain. “Not all evil is discernable, even by the Firstborn.”

“That’s comforting,” Aragorn said, grinning at the elf. He finished off his second piece of meat and followed it with another drink from the water skin.

Legolas only shrugged. He wished he could reassure his friend that whatever was in the fortress he would definitely be able to sense and thus give a warning about. However, he could not do what he was not able to do. Aragorn understood that, and, in the many years that the two had been friends, the man had never expected more or found fault with him for it, especially since it was far more often that Legolas’s intuition had worked well enough to save them.

It wasn’t until Grath stood up and motioned for everyone to get ready to leave once again, that Aragorn realized that the Easterling leader had not stopped them from talking to each other. They had even been unconsciously speaking in elvish and had been allowed to do that also. It was logical to assume that Grath figured they were talking about the fortress, and that he was not anxious to stop them from doing so.

The ranger didn’t know how right he was. Grath hoped the elf and the ranger were discussing the fortress and their soon to be imprisonment there. If it caused them even the slightest bit of apprehension, he was happy, because that was his intention. The one who had hired him would be pleased, if he delivered fearful prisoners, who would be far easier to control than defiant ones.

Having the elf wounded and weak, and the ranger’s attention diverted by concern over his friend was even better. That hadn’t been planned, since he hadn’t known the elf was going to be shot, but to Grath’s way of thinking, things were working out nicely. He was almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his pay off. It had been promised to be more substantial this time than any he had received in the past.

Aragorn waited until every one of the Easterlings were on their feet before he stood up himself and reached down to help Legolas up. The fact the elf gritted his teeth, when he rose, get not get past the ranger. He almost gritted his own teeth in frustration and anger that Legolas was once more forced to travel before he was ready. His fast elven healing ability did not work as well on an exhausted body.

The ranger’s expression of worry and simmering anger did not go unnoticed by the elf. “I will make it to the fortress, Estel. Do not trouble your heart for my sake.” He knew as he said them that the words would fall on deaf ears, and they did.

The man nodded, but his expression did not change. Aragorn was not foolish enough to think he could go full boar into the fortress and demand that Legolas get the aid and rest he needed much as he may want to do just that. They were prisoners and would be treated as such, no matter their condition. Even as that thought entered the ranger’s head, he knew he would do whatever it took to help and protect Legolas as best he could.

As for escaping, that prospect would have to be studied to some degree and a plan figured out, most certainly with Legolas’s help, but for sure he was not going to just sit around and ‘be a captive’. No matter who was responsible for them being captured or what that person wanted with them, he knew neither one of them would bend to that person’s will. Escape was the goal and escape would be forthcoming.

All these thoughts went through the ranger’s mind, as they walked toward the fortress. In theory and in practice, it never hurt to start thinking about a plan, as soon as it became apparent that one was going to be needed.

*~*~*~*

It was late afternoon when the group came out of the trees that covered most of the valley and made their way onto the expanse of green that surrounded the fortress almost a half mile away. Even at that distance, the structure was imposing. It rose well over a hundred feet in the air, not including the turrets that were placed at regular intervals all around the top. The building, at its base, was over twice as wide as it was high.

The stone that it was constructed of was a natural dark gray, almost black. The place had an ancient feel to it despite the fact it was so well cared for it looked almost new. The grounds around it were equally immaculate.

Aragorn let out a low whistle, a touch of awe reflected in his eyes. He was too wary to really like the place, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Legolas, forcing himself not to lean on the ranger for support, shook his head. This close the foreboding he had felt when he first saw the structure increased tenfold. It prickled in his mind much too much to allow any kind of admiration to slip through. It also made him rethink his earlier idea. There was evil here, and it was definitely more than man-made.

So fearful was he for Aragorn and himself, that if he had been able to, Legolas would have turned and run the other way, dragging the ranger with him. As it was, all he could do was stand next to his friend and stare apprehensively.

Grath, on the other hand, grinned broadly. Seeing the elf’s unguarded fear was pleasing. It was short-lived, as he motioned for all of them to follow him, and he started toward the fortress.

He worked hard to mask his own fear. It wouldn’t do to show any kind of weakness in the presence of the one who lived here. It wouldn’t do at all. Bluff and bluster had been his trademark when his greed for a high reward brought him to this place, and it would have to serve him again now.

A shiver went through the elf when they neared the the massive front doors made of thick oak and re-enforced with iron bars and bolts.

Grath did not approach the doors but instead turned to the right, intending to follow the designated path that led all the way around the stone building.

The first time he had been summoned there, Grath had been told to always bring his prisoners to a small door at the back. That’s where he was headed now.

Aragorn had let go of Legolas before they reached this point, so he didn’t feel the elf’s tremor. It would not have surprised him, though. He had more than one shiver of his own, being this close to the stone structure.

Just as Grath made his turn, the huge front doors swung silently open in a mute invitation. A large marble entrance hall was revealed in the gold and orange glow of the setting sun.

Hearing nothing but seeing the movement, Grath turned back in surprise. It appeared that they were being beckoned to enter the building through the main entrance.

The Easterling leader took a deep breath and then waved his men and the two captives to enter. All of Grath’s men seemed surprised at the mysterious way they were greeted, or rather by the total lack of a greeting by anyone, human or otherwise. They clearly were not used to being ushered in in this fashion.

Crossing the threshold, Aragorn leaned toward Legolas and whispered, “Why do they let prisoners enter by the front door?”

“Prisoners do not,” came a soft feminine voice. “But guests do.”

All turned to see a tall woman, appearing to be around thirty years of age, walking toward them. She was dressed all in black. Her satin gown reached almost to the floor, stopping just short enough to reveal matching black satin slippers. Her straight hair, black as a raven’s wing, hung to her tiny waist. In contrast, her skin was porcelain white, almost translucent and more pale than any elven maiden’s.

Yet it was her eyes that were her most striking feature, drawing the attention of both elf and ranger. They were dark, though whether black or darkest brown, neither could tell. Her gaze was penetrating and more than a little disturbing. They revealed a high intelligence. She tried to give Legolas and Aragorn a warm smile, but those dark eyes never reflected that warmth. It did reveal perfect white teeth.

The woman saw Legolas’s left arm in a sling and his obvious difficulty walking. He looked weary beyond measure. A look of concern crossed her face. “The elf is injured. He is unwell.” She snapped a stern glare at Grath but did not question him. Yet it was obvious she wanted an answer from hin as to what had happened to the elf.

“My lady,” Grath began, his resolve to bluff and bluster vanishing like smoke in a strong breeze. “We...”

Her dark eyes never left his. Thinking perhaps he had been injured in an accident, she said, “Tell me you did not harm him.”

“Well... They tired to escape. We had no choice. We had...to shoot him.”

The woman’s jaw clenched tight, and a look of anger crossed her face. “You shot him?”

Grath took a deep breath and tried to continue with a little more confidence. “We were told to bring the two of them here no matter what. We had to stop them getting away. The elf had almost reached the trees and once...”

“Hush,” the woman commanded. “You must have misunderstood your instructions. Neither of them was meant to be harmed, certainly not shot.”

Grath looked like he wanted to argue that point but wasn’t sure he should do so with this intimidating woman. He prudently kept his mouth shut.

“I am sure you were not told to shoot this elf or anyone else,” the woman reiterated firmly. Her voice was softer, but her tone held a coldness and possibly even a veiled threat that made Grath very uncomfortable.

Without waiting for a rebuttal, she turned to Legolas, who was all but swaying on his feet. “Come. You must lie down. I have people who will take care of you.”

“I am a healer,” Aragorn quickly informed the woman. He didn’t like the idea of anyone in this place doing anything to Legolas. “I have herbs in my pack I can use to help him.”

The woman remained silent. A small crease appeared betwen her eyebrows. She appeared to be thinking over what Aragorn had said, clearly not sure whether to let the man have his way or insist that her people do whatever needed to be done for the elf.

While the woman pondered, Legolas looked closely at her. His eyes were slightly narrowed. He couldn’t figure out what was going on here. Someone had hired Grath and his men to bring him and Aragorn here by any means necessary. He doubted that the Easterling had gotten that wrong.

He looked at Aragorn and found the same confusion in his friend’s eyes.

The woman suddenly squared her shoulders. She seemed to have made up her mind about what to do. “Come,” she repeated.

Legolas’s body felt too bad and his mind was becoming too numb for him to want to continue worrying about this whole situation. The woman had said he needed to lie down, and that was all he wanted right then. Putting his trust in Aragorn to watch out for both of them, the elf simply nodded and began following the woman, as she turned and started walking away.

No one saw the feral smile on her face.

TBC

Chapter Eight

The raven-haired woman began leading the elf and the ranger down a long corridor and then turned into a doorway to the left. Just before moving out of sight of the Easterlings, she turned to face Grath. “Go around to the rear entrance and from there go to your rooms. You know the way. I will have someone bring your evening meal. We will talk later.” Not just the words but Allaura’s tone, as well, was a clear dismissal.

Grath frowned. He did not like being sent away like this. That had never happened before. In the past, after he had taken those he had brought here to the lower levels, the lowest being the most unpleasant of dungeons, he had been treated, if not cordially, at least with a semblance of gratitude for a job well done. He had always dealt with this woman, but he had the feeling that she was not the one in charge here, not the one who had hired him.

Knowing there was nothing he could do now but obey, Grath turned to lead his men outside on their trek around to the back of the building. He was not surprised when the doors opened by themselves, as if they, too, were ushering the men out of the building.

As he walked, Grath shook his head. There was something about these two captives that was different from all the others. They weren’t being treated the same. It had been implied that they were guests, and that made no sense to him. He had brought rangers here before, but this elf was the first of his kind that Grath had ever captured. He shook his head again. It couldn’t just be the elf. There had to be more to it than that.

He had no idea how many others may have been hired to do the same thing he and his mean were doing---bringing prisoners here. This place could be bursting with them, although he had never seen any others during the times he had come here. The dungeon always appeared to be empty, but it was a large place, so what outsider could know for sure.

He also had no idea why prisoners were being brought here or what was being done with them. None of his business, he reminded himself. Not the smartest of men but also not stupid, Grath knew enough to keep his curiosity to himself. If he stuck his nose in where it had no business being, he might find out firsthand what was happening, and he was sure that wouldn’t be a good thing.

Thinking again of the elf and the ranger, Grath decided it didn’t really matter what happened to either of them. Tie them to a stake in a black hole with the rats or put them up in the master chamber on silk sheets and feed them honey. He figured it would end up being the former, but it was all the same to him. He had been hired to do a job, and he had done it. Now he just wanted his reward, so he and his men could leave this place. Staying here longer than necessary gave him the creeps.

By the time all these thoughts had played out in the man’s head, he and his men had reached the rear door, gone in and made their way down to the second of the lower levels, where the servants rooms were located and where he and his men were to wait for their food and an eventual summons for him.

Upstairs, the raven-haired woman had led Legolas and Aragorn into a small side room that had a sofa lounge in the center covered in black satin. She pointed to it and then looked at Legolas. “You may lie down there.”

Legolas did not need a second invitation. He sat down and then lowered himself onto his back, being careful to avoid putting pressure on his wounded shoulder.

The softness of the small cushion under his head and the sofa under his body together with the sweet floral scent that emanated from both almost put him to sleep immediately. However, he forced his mind to stay alert. He was not ready to leave his friend alone and unarmed with this woman just yet. He almost laughed to think that he felt Aragorn would be at a disadvantage with her. Best not reveal that little idea to the ranger.

“My name is Allaura,” the woman said. “This castle belongs to my husband’s family. It is called Ravenlore.”

Legolas had never heard of it before, and yet that name, for a reason he could not identify, made him shudder.

Since there seemed to be more black furniture around than any other color, Aragorn thought that Ravenlore was an apt name for the place.

Eying Aragorn, the woman said, “See to your friend, and I will go and bring some bandages and tea.” Allaura swept out of the room.

While Aragorn took his pack from his shoulder and began rummaging through it, he said, “She mentioned a husband. I imagine he’s the one who Grath has been referring to, the one who is paying him to bring us here.”

Legolas had to force his mind to stay with the ranger by concentrating very hard on his words. He answered, “I would assume so.”

He stayed the ranger’s movements, when he reached out and wrapped his long fingers around Aragorn’s arm and then stared into his eyes. “I am sorry, Estel, but I cannot stay awake.“ His gaze intensified. “There is an air about that woman I do not trust. And I do not think she is ignorant of her husband’s dealings. Watch your back, mellon nin.” Against his will, the elf’s eyelids drooped until they were almost closed.

Aragorn knew there was no use in trying to keep the archer awake. He really didn’t want to, if it meant Legolas would get the rest he needed so much. It also meant that he could change the elf’s bandages without hurting him.

Allaura returned a few moments later. She set the tray containing three ornately engraved silver cups, a matching silver tea pot and honey and cream in two small matching silver bowls. Beside them was a large roll of clean, white cloth. Seeing the elf’s eyes closed, she sighed. “I see he has fallen into elven dreams.”

“He has been shot twice and then pushed beyond endurance. It’s a wonder he remained standing as long as he did.” There was a definite edge to the man’s voice.

“He is strong,” Allaura commented calmly.

Aragorn thought the woman was implying that Legolas’s strength made all that had happened to him minor occurrences. He took exception. “Yes, he is, but even the strength of elves cannot overcome serious wounds and rough treatment unless they are given a chance to recover.”

“You misunderstand me, young ranger,” Allaura said with a smile. “I merely meant that hope should be held onto firmly, when dealing with the Eldar.”

“I have dealt with them far more than you may think,” the man stated, his tone only slightly less confrontational. “I would never lack hope where they are concerned. As for Legolas, he is one of the strongest elves I have ever known.”

Allaaura, who had been pouring tea from the pot into one of the cups, asked, “Do you wish honey and cream in your tea?” When Aragorn nodded, she put a little of both into the tea and stirred it with a silver spoon. She then handed the cup to the man.

She was not surprised when, after taking it, Aragorn held it to his nose and sniffed the contents. Light laughter greeted the move. “I assure you there is nothing in that cup but the finest tea available and a bit of cream and honey.”

Aragorn looked up from the cup and stared into the woman’s dark eyes. “We were brought here as prisoners, no matter how much you may wish us to believe otherwise.” Without so much as a blink, he added, “I do not trust you.”

“Fair enough.” Allaura took the cup from the ranger’s hand and drank some of the tea herself. “I hope you do not mind drinking after me. I am not ill in any way, and this is the only way I can show you there is nothing of harm in the tea.”

Drinking after someone, who he was fairly sure was healthy, did not bother the man. As a ranger in the wild, he had, out of necessity, put far worse things in his body. He and Legolas often shared the same water skin. Of course, he knew Legolas well. He knew this woman not at all.

Deciding to take the chance, he nodded. He soon found his cup back in his hand, and he took a swallow. The tea was smooth and sweet and had a strong tea flavor. He didn’t doubt that it was the finest available. He couldn’t help but smile, as he pronounced it, “Delicious.”

He looked down at Legolas, half wishing the elf was awake to enjoy the tea, cream and honey being his favorite flavorings. Still, his friend needed rest more than he needed tea.

Aragorn took a few more swallows. While doing so, he studied Allaura’s eyes. They were veiled, and he couldn’t read anything there that would tell him what he wanted to know. Abruptly, he asked, “Why have we been brought here?” The question was as direct as it could be.

There was no reaction on the woman’s face that Aragorn could see, but he did notice the tiniest of hesitations, as she put her own cup to her lips. After she took a sip, she set the cup down on the tray sitting on the table in front of her. Regarding the man across from her, she said, “You are convinced you and the elf are prisoners here.”

“I know it.”

Allaura sighed. “I guess then there is no reason to try and convince you otherwise.”

“None. Why are we here? Legolas and I both have the distinct impression we were singled out for this ‘honor’ rather than just being caught randomly.”

“That is not the case, though I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

Instead of explaining her answer to that none-to- veiled accusation, Allaura reached out and took the bandages still sitting on the side of the tray. “Tend to your friend.” The statement was a command. Gone was the soft voice of someone trying to make a friendly impression.

The ranger did just as he was told, though he preferred not to think of it as giving in to a command, since he needed to do it anyway, and clean bandages were being offered. Finishing off his tea with one last swallow, he set his cup on the tray beside the woman‘s and took the cloth from her hand.

Allaura stood up. “I will return shortly.” She stood up and walked out of the room, seemingly not worried about leaving the pair alone. She obviously felt the same way Grath had; no escape attempt would be made, as long as the elf was too weak to get very far.

Before the woman had even crossed the threshold, Aragorn’s attention was on Legolas. He gently turned the elf over more on his right side to give him easy access to the elf’s shoulder. He was glad the elf did not stir.

Working as methodically as he always did, Aragorn removed the sling, pulled the outer and inner tunics down and began unwinding the cloak strips.

Once the wounds were exposed, Aragorn took a good, long look at them, probing them as gently as he could. Both, especially the cauterized one, were an angry red color, yet both showed signs of beginning to heal. Being familiar with elven wounds, he knew the burned area may leave a bit of a telltale scar, but the other wound would not. None of the other wounds the elf had received through the years had ever scarred. Burns were different, but he hoped the elf’s smooth, flawless skin would remain so.

After wrapping Legolas’s shoulder again with the clean bandages, more for extra protection than anything, he replaced the tunics and the sling.

Smiling down at Legolas, Aragorn was once again grateful to the Valar for saving this most treasured of friends. He lightly brushed the elf’s slightly disheveled hair into place with his fingers. “You will be much better when you awaken.”

With nothing left to do and no where to go, Aragorn poured himself another cup of tea, flavored it with the cream and honey and then began to walk around the room and examine what he found.

Besides the sofa, there were four chairs in the room, all with black satin fabric covering them. Aragorn briefly wondered if Allaura had gotten her dress from the same material. He laughed and shook his head. What a silly thought.

There were large windows along the right side of the room, looking out onto the manicured lawns and the edge of the forest that covered most of the valley. There was a wistful look on his face, as he thought about him and Legolas running across that green grass and into the trees to freedom. ‘Later,’ he thought. ‘We will be able to do that later.’ He didn’t want to think about what awful things might happen between now and then.

Turning back to face the room, his attention was drawn to a large painting in an ornate gold frame. It was mounted over the mantle of the huge fireplace that covered a good deal of the wall to the right of the doorway.

Sipping his tea, the ranger walked over to stand under the painting. He couldn’t believe he had not noticed it before, but then he thought about what had been on his mind since he and Legolas had entered the room.

The painting was the portrait of a woman in a black satin dress. She had long raven-black hair and dark eyes. The woman was clearly Allaura. It appeared to be painted in this very room. The woman was wearing a blue gemstone, possibly a diamond, on a gold chain. Dangling almost to her shoulders were matching blue earrings.

Such jewelry was impossible to miss, so Aragorn was sure Allaura hadn’t been wearing it earlier, but then why would she? It was not something you wore every day. A gift from her husband perhaps?

However, it wasn’t the jewelry, the black dress or the portrait itself that held Aragorn’s attention. It was the eyes of the woman staring down at him. And that was the point; those dark eyes seemed to be looking into his very soul.

Aragorn turned sharply, when he heard a noise behind him. He was a bit unsettled to find that Allaura was standing within three feet of him. He may not be an elf, but he did have superior hearing and good instincts for a mortal, gifts of his elven blood, thinned out over the centuries though it may be. How had she gotten so close without him being aware of her presence?

He didn’t trust her. Legolas didn’t trust her. She could have buried a knife in his back, and he wouldn’t even have known it was coming. That notion frightened him. Yet he knew that he and Legolas must have been brought here for a specific purpose. Allaura wouldn’t have taken them into her home, allowed him to tend to Legolas’s wounds, only to kill him where he stood. She needed them both healthy. But what did she want with them? Why were they here?

TBC

Chapter Nine

Doing his best to hide his shock at suddenly seeing the woman so close to him, Aragorn said, “This painting is stunning. Is it your grandmother or your great grandmother perhaps? The resemblance is remarkable.”

Allaura smiled. “Thank you, but that is not an ancestor. That is me.”

Looking from the woman, who had stepped up beside him, to the painting, Aragorn said, “You? The painting is very old, so I assumed it was a much older lady.” Realizing how his words could be misinterpreted, he quickly said, “I didn’t mean to imply that I think the woman in the painting is old. I mean, she...you...are young and beautiful. I just meant the painting looks old, I...”

The man suddenly felt awkward, so he just stopped trying to rescue himself and instead waited to be chastised, something he had a feeling this woman could do with little effort.

To Aragorn’s surprise, Allaura simply said, “You are forgiven.” She again smiled at the ranger. “The painting is actually only ten years old. The artist wanted to make it look as if it came from a time long past. He was a romantic at heart, as I imagine most painters are to be able to do what they do.”

“He definitely accomplished his purpose then, at least as far as I‘m concerned. It certainly looks very old. And yes, it does have a romantic quality about it.” Despite the fact that the painting was of this woman, who he felt sure had had a hand in his capture, he couldn’t help but admire the portrait for the beautiful creation it was.

Silence fell between the ranger and the woman in black. Aragorn studied the painting while Allaura studied him, a fact he was totally aware of but chose to ignore, outwardly at any rate.

Allaura noticed that Aragorn was staring at the jewelry gracing the representation of her in the portrait. “The necklace and earrings you see were given to me by my husband on the tenth anniversary of our wedding, the day before the portrait was begun. I only wear the jewelry on special occasions. Perhaps you will see it before...” she hesitated a fraction before saying, “you leave.”

The hesitation and the implication that he and Legolas would be allowed to leave this place as any ordinary guest would, did not go unnoticed by the ranger. Her words did not ring true. ‘We’ll leave, but not by your hand, I’ll warrant,’ the man said to himself.

Just then Aragorn heard a moan coming from the sofa. He hoped that Legolas was merely shifting positions and not waking up. The elf needed much more sleep than what he had gotten so far.

Aragorn quickly set his empty cup on the mantle and rushed over to the sofa. When he came around the end and looked down, he was dismayed to see that Legolas had indeed awoken.

The elf blinked at him and then surveyed the room. He nodded slightly, indicating he knew where he was.

Kneeling down and frowning slightly, Aragorn said, “You should go back to sleep, Legolas. You need much more than you just got.” His words echoed his earlier thought.

Legolas was going to comment, until he saw Allaura come into view around the opposite end of the sofa. Instead of saying anything, he pressed his lips together and made a valiant attempt to sit up.

“Should you be up so soon?” Allaura asked. Her tone, like Grath’s had been, was not indicative of someone who really cared about the answer, though she tried to hide that fact with mock concern.

“I am fine,” the elf said. His tone was flat, imparting information with no real feeling behind it. He was not in the mood to pretend. He didn’t trust nor even like Allaura. She was not going to let them go, so why put on an act? It was only worth the effort if it accomplished a goal, and being as friendly as he could be wasn’t going to get him or Aragorn anywhere with this woman.

Aragorn grimaced but made no comment. It was soon apparent that Legolas wasn’t going to stay down, so the man reached out and helped his friend into a sitting position.

Legolas took a deep breath, making the effort to stifle a groan. “I am fine,” he repeated to Aragorn in a much softer voice before the ranger could question him.

“Then it is time you went to your room.” Allaura said with an edge to her voice. Her demeanor had changed completely, and all pretence had vanished. She was no longer interested in trying to fool these two people, who she realized didn’t believe her act anyway.

Neither elf nor ranger thought that they were going to be taken upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Their likely destination was to be found in the lower regions of the building.

That notion was confirmed a moment later, when four burly men, dressed in uniforms that identified them as some kind of soldier, probably guards. How they had been called was a mystery. Allaura had neither said a word nor pulled any kind of cord that would ring a silent bell somewhere else in the house tp let them know they were being summoned.

“Take them to the vault,” Allaura commanded the four somewhat haughtily. With those words, she turned and left the room.

As the four guards approached, Legolas and Aragorn looked at each other, and the ranger mouthed the word, “Vault?” He was expecting to hear instructions that they were to be taken to the dungeon. He guessed that in the end it probably meant the same thing.

Aragorn bristled when two of the guards, or whatever they were, grabbed Legolas and roughly pulled him up off of the sofa, eliciting an involuntary cry of pain, as the one on the elf’s left side yanked on his arm and consequently pulled his inured shoulder.

“Be careful,” the ranger said angrily. “He’s wounded.”

The guard holding Legolas’s left arm didn‘t say a word. Instead, he yanked even harder on it, adding a little twist as he did so, bringing a wince to Legolas’s face.

The ranger was being held by the other two guards and could do no more than attempt to lunge forward, hoping he could break loose and punch the guard who had hurt his friend. However, he wasn’t even able to take a full step before the hands holding him tightened painfully.

“Do not antagonize them, Estel,” Legolas said in elvish. “They will only take pleasure in hurting you.”

Aragorn wanted to say, ‘Like they just hurt you,’ but he kept silent. It was only because he knew that’s what Legolas wanted him to do.

The four guards did not understand what the elf had said, because if they had, they would have done exactly as he said just to prove the accuracy of his prediction. One glance at the twisted expressions on the faces of these men had told Legolas that cruelty was their strong suit.

Not liking it but going along with it, for now, Aragorn did not give the guards any more trouble, as he and Legolas were led out of the room and down the hallway.

They stopped at a door that blended into the wall under the elaborate staircase that led to the upper floors that it could have easily been overlooked. Behind the door was a set of stairs that went down.

Four levels later the stairs ended. The four guards and two prisoners turned to the left and began moving down a torch-lit passageway. Gone were the stone bricks that made up the building above. Down here everything was hewn out of solid rock.

Four times they came to a large iron door secured in the rock. Each time a different guard took a key from a chain around his neck and opened the door they faced, being sure to lock it again after they had all passed through.

Many twists and turns later, Legolas and Aragorn fund themselves pulled up short in front of yet another iron door. Thinking that this would lead to still another passageway, they were surprised when they were both roughly shoved through the doorway. Before either could turn around, the door was slammed and locked behind them.

One small torch, high on the back wall, was all the light they had. Looking at it, Aragorn said, “I suppose it could be worse. We could be in total darkness.”

He didn’t see Legolas shiver at the thought. The elf could hold himself together as long as there was some kind of light presnet, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. For all intents and purposes, this was a cave, and it made the elf uncomfortable.

Neither elf nor ranger knew if the entire area they had traveled through since leaving the stairway was what Allaura called the vault or if it referred only to this room. They looked around them.

The room was about twelve feet square, and perhaps ten feet high. Running the length of the back wall was a ledge about two feet high that was cut to look like a bench. It was only a foot or so wide so wouldn’t serve as much of a bed. A drain hole near the far right corner was the only thing that could be used for personal needs. A tiny stone bowl protruded from the wall not far from the door. It presumably was meant to hold water, though nothing was in it at the moment.

Except for the torch and its iron holder, securely fastened to the wall, everything in the room was made of stone. There were no blankets or pallets to lie on, not even any straw to soften the hard stone floor.

Aragorn laughed to himself. What else did he expect? This was a prison, after all, and he and Legolas were the prisoners. He hoped that in time they would be fed and given water. The thought occurred to him again, that Allaura wanted them alive for some secret purpose he could not fathom. He didn’t think he really wanted to.

Of course, there was no rule that said torture had to end in death, so there was always the chance the ominous-looking guards would be allowed to have a little fun at their prisoners’ expense. It was a sobering thought.

Legolas, to the dismay of both himself and Aragorn, began to sway slightly. He wasn’t dizzy and didn’t think he was going to pass out, but he wasn’t willing to chance it, so the instant the ranger grabbed for him, he nodded toward the stone bench against the far wall. He sat down, when he and Aragorn reached it.

“It isn’t very wide, Legolas, but, if you are careful, l think you can lie down. You need more sleep.”

The elf wasn’t sure if he could sleep under these conditions. Places like this usually made his mind race. But he knew he needed the sleep to fully recover his strength. And he couldn’t deny that elven dreams or even outright oblivion would be better than this. When he looked into the concerned eyes of his friend, he realized that Estel would not rest until he did.

Nodding, the elf lay down on his right side. Even as slender as he was, he barely fit, and that was with his back hard against the rock wall. He didn’t say a word about the discomfort that was caused by the unyielding stone of the bench pressing against his hip bone.

The elf had to face the fact that this was not a place that offered comfort, so he had best get used to it. Still, Legolas couldn’t help comparing where he was now to the incredibly soft sofa he had been lying on upstairs. He shook his head ruefully. Thoughts like that were only going to make him feel worse.

Aragorn noticed the shake of the elf’s head. “What’s wrong, Legolas? Do you have a headache?”

The elf laughed. “I think that is the only place on my body that does not hurt.” He realized immediately what he had said and the concern it would cause. When Aragorn frowned, the elf quickly said, “I said that in jest.”

“Let me guess. You are fine.” There was a small note of resigned sarcasm in the statement.

“Truly I am,” Legolas returned. “I will sleep, and be well when I awaken.”

“Which means you aren’t really well now.” The man grinned, seemingly happy he had caught the elf in a falsehood and challenging him to refute it.

Legolas merely shook his head again and sighed. He lay his head down on his right arm, which he stretched out over his head on the bench.

Aragorn’s face was mere inches from the elf’s, and he didn’t move until he saw Legolas’s eyes lose their focus. They were half closed, but that was better than being fully closed, so the ranger nodded to himself and stood up. Secure in the knowledge that his friend was finally going to get the sleep he needed, the man turned his attention to the room they were in.

Aragorn went to the center and studied the walls, turning slowly until he was back in his original position. He then examined the floor and the ceiling. The room was solid rock, just as he had thought, when he first entered it. There was absolutely nothing there that offered even the slightest chance for escape. That left just one possibility.

The ranger turned toward the door. He sized it up from where he stood. It was larger than the average door being about four feet across and a good seven feet high. He walked up to it and tapped it. The resulting sound told him exactly what he thought it would: the door was solid metal.

He ran his hand over it, concentrating on the hinges. They were secured into the iron frame with large, heavy bolts. It was easy to see that no amount of trying was going to be able to pry them loose.

The spot where the lock should be was smooth and solid. The door had to be locked and unlocked from the outside only, eliminating any chance to work on the lock from a hole on the inside.

Aragorn stepped back. It appeared that the only chance he and Legolas would have to get out of this room was when the door was open. Unfortunately, that also meant that guards would be present in the room and probably more outside in the passageway.

The man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t going to be easy. But then, he hadn’t really thought that it would be. Still, he was not willing to give up, certainly not this early in the game. He almost laughed at the word game. Weren’t there two sides? Wouldn’t they each be making moves until there was a winner and a loser. Wasn’t that the definition of a game? Of course, now the stakes were as high as they got---the lives of himself and Legolas.

He looked back at his sleeping friend. Nothing could be done until Legolas woke up, and they could discuss their course of action. Whatever was going to be done, the elf’s strength and wisdom would be needed.

With nothing left to do, Aragorn went over to the stone bench and made sure Legolas was still asleep before lying down on his left side, head-to-head with Legolas. Maybe getting a little sleep would help him, too. He had a feeling that he would also be needing his strength.

*~*~*~*

Upstairs, Allaura was sitting at her dressing table in a large ornately decorated bedchamber. On the table sat an open gold box, which held three items. Lying on the red velvet lining were a blue gen stone necklace and two matching earrings.

The woman smiled, as she reached in and pulled the necklace out, holding it up for inspection before fastening it around her neck. She then put on the earrings. Staring into the mirror in front of her, she admired her image.

“What do you think, my love?” she cooed, standing up and walking toward the large bed on the opposite side of the room. "It is time."

Lying on the bed was a dark-haired man. His naked body was covered loosely by a black satin sheet. Any normal man would have been excited by the approach of such a beautiful woman, whose very demeanor promised desire and passion. This man was different. His eyes held only terror.

TBC

Chapter Ten

Aragorn woke with a start, not sure what had brought him to consciousness so abruptly.

Whenever he woke normally, his mind was sometimes a bit foggy, especially if he had been tired and had slept long or soundly. However, whenever he was awakened by something external, his ranger training brought his mind into sharp focus and his body to full alert immediately. Such was the case now.

He sat up quickly and held very still, listening for any sound that might tell him what had interrupted his sleep. No sound reached his straining ears.

After a few moments of total silence, the man shook his head. He was sure that something had awakened him, but there was nothing now that would account for it. Had it been a dream? He couldn’t remember having one.

Aragorn then turned his attention to Legolas. He looked down at his friend. The elf was lying just as Aragorn had last seen him, and thank the Valar, he was still asleep. Whatever had awoken him had not disturbed the elf.

The man watched the steady rise and fall of Legolas’s chest and reassured himself that the elven archer was getting the rest he desperately needed. Every moment that he slept was a moment closer to his recovery.

Aragorn reached down and ran his fingertips lightly over the elf’s exposed temple and across his soft golden hair. A smile lifted the corners of the ranger’s mouth. “Sleep, mellon nin,” he murmured.

Aragorn didn’t know how many times or for how long he had looked at the surrounding stone walls without gaining even a clue as to how he and Legolas could gain their freedom. It almost brought a scream of frustration from the man.

Time seemed to crawl, because in this closed-in stone ‘vault‘, there was no way to judge how much time had passed since they had been imprisoned here. Well, he suddenly realized, that wasn’t entirely true. On closer inspection, Aragorn noted that the torch on the wall was burning lower than it had when first they arrived. That was not a good thing.

He knew roughly how long a torch would last, given its size and the amount of pitch it would hold. But here, he didn’t know when the torch had been lit to begin with, but he felt they had been here several hours, perhaps all night.

It was a puzzle he didn’t intend on spending too much time contemplating, since he couldn’t do anything about it anyway. He only hoped that it would still be burning when Legolas woke up. Being deep underground surrounded by all this stone would be hard enough on the wood elf without having him wake to total darkness.

Aragorn leaned against the cool stone at his back. His mind was full of questions and speculation. He had so few facts to go on that even thinking about all the possibilities was an exercise in futility. Yet, what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go back to sleep. That he was sure of. Staring blankly at the walls wasn’t an option either. The situation he found himself and Legolas in was hardly conducive to peace of mind.

He had to think through all that had happened from the moment they had been captured by Grath and his men up to now. Perhaps something would come to him, something he hadn’t noticed before or that hadn’t seemed important at the time. At the least, he would have some ideas to discuss with Legolas, when the elf woke up.

One thought after another, mostly in the form of questions, came to the ranger. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that nothing useful was coming to him. Stubborn as he was, he kept at it. He wished that Legolas was awake to talk to, but there was no way he would wake the elf, even if he slept for another full day.

No sooner had that thought entered the man’s head than he heard a noise at the door. The distinct sound of a key was quickly followed by the sound of the lock turning. Several seconds later the heavy iron door swung open, admitting two of the guards who had brought the two friends down here.

In their hands were two small trays. This was presumably their evening meal, though even in this timeless place, it seemed a bit late to be eating. “Ah well,’ he thought, ’food is food whenever it shows up’. He also realized that he’d better take advantage of the offer, because next to freedom the one thing that always seemed to be taken away first was something to eat. Aragorn wasn’t sure what kind of food they were being fed, but his stomach was telling him it wanted something put in it, and it wasn’t particular what.

Aragorn looked past the guards with the trays and saw the other two standing silently in the passageway. There wasn’t going to be any chances taken for the prisoners to escape past the ones inside.

The ranger looked back at the guards walking toward the rear wall. They placed the trays on the bench near Legolas’s feet.

“At least we won’t be left to starve,” the ranger muttered.

Neither guard commented.

“Is it still evening, or is it morning?”

There was still no reply.

“Do you have orders not to talk to prisoners?” He had hoped that he could engage at least one of them in conversation and maybe learn something useful. When no response came, Aragorn decided that that was probably the reason there was not going to be any talking.

The two guards never looked at the ranger or even the sleeping elf. They just completed their task and turned to leave.

“Hey, what about the torch?” the man called out to the retreating backs. “It’s burning low and won’t last long.”

Neither guard broke stride. They walked out the door, this time slamming it behind them and relocking it.

Legolas jumped when the loud noise reverberated off the stone walls, assaulting the elf’s sensitive ears. His half-lidded eyes snapped all the way open, and his head came up.

Aragorn let out a low curse word that would have made a dwarf proud. He scooted over and put his hand on Legolas’s arm, trying to keep him from rising. “It’s all right, Legolas. Go back to sleep.”

The elf shook his head. “What happened?”

“The guards came in to bring us something to eat and then slammed the door when they left. I think they did it deliberately to try and wake you.”

Seeing that Legolas wasn’t going to stay down, Aragorn helped him sit up.

Legolas looked around him, quickly noticing that the room was dimmer. He looked up at the torch.

Aragorn grimaced. Of course, the elf would notice the torch was losing its light. Before Legolas could say anything, Aragorn said, “They didn’t replace it, and it will burn out soon.” He knew how Legolas would take that news, but there was nothing he could do to change it. “I’m sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize for that which you have not done wrong, Estel. I have told you this many times.” He understood that the man was not apologizing for himself but for the situation. Still, Legolas hated for his friend to feel the need to apologize for anything.

He tried to offer a smile to reassure the ranger that it was well with him, but the thought of soon being in total darkness made the result less than what he intended, so he tried more words. “We are together, Estel, and that is the important thing. We could be in separate cells, cut off from each other.”

Aragorn dreaded the very thought of that. He smiled, knowing that there was no way Legolas was going to admit that the impending darkness here in this place of stone would unsettle him, so he wisely changed the subject. “How are your wounds?”

The elf hesitated a moment, as he took stock of his injured shoulder. “A little sore.” He reached his right hand around and felt under the bandage but could reach only the top wound, which was the more minor of the two. It was close to being completely gone. He was sure that the one that had been cauterized was not too far behind. “They will be healed soon,” he declared with confidence.

Staring into Legolas’s blue-gray eyes told the ranger that the elf was probably telling the truth. When it came to the proud elf’s injuries, it was often hard to tell. He chose not to show mistrust by checking for himself and since there was no evidence to the contrary, Aragorn decided to accept the elf‘s declaration of well-being. With a grin on his face, the man said, “Good, then let’s see what kind of food they give prisoners around here.”

Aragorn got up and walked around to where the two trays sat at the end of the stone bench to Legolas’s left. He leaned close and peered at the plates. “Doesn’t look bad,” he finally pronounced. “There’s an apple, some cheese and a piece of bread. It all seems to be fresh.” He sniffed at the cheese to confirm his statement. Looking into the cup next to the plate, he added, “And water.” He turned to the elf and smiled. “We’ve certainly had worse.”

Sitting down on Legolas’s left, Aragorn picked up one of the trays and set it on the elf’s lap. “Eat,” he commanded with a tone that brooked no argument. Aragorn was happy to see the elf pick up the cheese, wrap the bread around it and begin eating. He eagerly did the same.

Neither spoke as they consumed the meal. It hadn’t been a great deal of food, but it was enough to satisfy them.

When they were finished, Aragorn took the empty plates and stacked them together on top of both trays. He carried then over to the door and set them down on the floor beside it.

He had no sooner sat back down next to Legolas than they heard a single muffled booming noise penetrate through the stone above their heads, causing a vibration that sent a shower of fine stone dust drifting down from the ceiling several feet in front of the bench.

Both elf and man looked up and stared at the ceiling.

“What was that?” Legolas asked. “It sounded as if someone stomped on the floor above us.”

“That,” the man said, “is what woke me up earlier.” For some reason he was sure that that had been the sound he had heard in his sleep, though he didn’t think it had been this loud, because there had been no stone dust that time. “As for what made it, I have no idea.”

The sound came again, slightly louder this time. More dust fell.

“Well whoever it is had better stop or they will bring the rock down upon us.” The elf couldn’t be sure how accurate that assessment was, since he didn’t know how thick the rock above them was. Common sense told him it was probably substantial, so whoever could bring down stone dust was obviously powerful.

Legolas and Aragorn sat together and listened intently but heard no further disturbance. The two looked at each other and shrugged.

A few minutes later the guards returned. This time three of them came into the room while one remained out in the hall. It didn’t take three guards to pick up the food trays and carry them away, so both friends suddenly had a bad feeling about what it might mean.

While one guard did pick up the trays, the other two walked over to where Aragorn sat. Reaching down, they grabbed him by both arms, roughly pulled him to his feet and started toward the door with him.

The man tried ot struggle, but he was hampered by the vise-like grips the guards had on him.

Legolas rose up angrily. Swinging the loose sling he had removed from his arm before he ate out of his way, he tired to pry the ranger loose, but he was roughly pushed back down onto the bench.

“Legolas, don’t try to fight them. It’ll only injure you more. I’ll be all right.”

The elven prince watched helplessly, as the guards took Aragorn out of the room. When they were gone, he went to the door and hit his fist against it in frustration and fear for his friend’s well-being. He didn’t know in what condition the ranger would be returned to him, or even if he would be returned. That last thought was quickly pushed aside. After all, hadn’t they just been fed? The elf clung to the idea that such would not have been the case if.... He shook his head and leaned his forehead against the door. “Come back safely, Estel.”

It was then that the torch decided to die. It sputtered a few seconds, sparked to life a brief moment before going out again, this time for good. “Oh great. Just what I needed,” the elf stated, mimicking what Aragorn often said when the opposite was usually true. Legolas was certainly not afraid of the dark, but in a place like this, which too closely resembled a cave - or a tomb - it helped the nerves to have light.

The archer made his way back to the bench and sat down, sighing heavily. There was nothing to do but wait for Aragorn to return. He hoped, but didn’t really believe, that the guards would bring a new torch with them when they brought the man back. Time would tell.

*~*~*~*

Aragorn was taken back the way he and Legolas had come when they were first brought down here. The guards didn’t push or pull him but kept moving at a steady pace, however, their grip on his arms never lessened even a fraction.

Whenever one of the guards holding Aragorn was required to produce the key for whichever door they arrived at, another guard would take the man’s arm. At no time was he free, even for a second. One guard always stood behind, ready to stop any attempt the prisoner might make to run, even though there was nowhere he could go. All the doors before and behind him were locked.

When they reached the level of the main floor, the guards led Aragorn to a small circular stairway.

The area they were in was somewhat cramped with no light other than torches placed at the same point at every complete circle in the stairs.

The width of the steps was so narrow that they would accommodate only one person at a time and since the guards would not let go of Aragorn, they all had to travel with each one on a different step. It was all so awkward that the ranger’s arms were painfully held all the way up.

The ranger was relieved when they finally reached the top. Another door that had to be unlocked greeted them, but the man soon found himself in a long wide, corridor. It was richly decorated with tapestries, paintings and carved wooden tables lining the sides. Here there were no torches, but finely crafted chandeliers that hung from a ceiling painted gold and while.

As they proceeded down the hallway, Aragorn’s searching eyes found a note of discord in all this finery. On the tables and in small alcoves along the walls were black statues of what could only be described as demons or perhaps just deformed beings that suggested such. They were hideous to behold, and he looked away from them, forcing himself not to shiver.

The guards brought Aragorn to a stop in front of a set of double doors. Both swung open, revealing Allaura, a wide smile, though hardly a warm one, on her face.

The woman nodded to the guards, who released Aragorn. None of them moved away until Allarua stepped forward, took the ranger by the arm and pulled him inside, pushing the doors closed with her free hand. She led Aragorn deeper into the room. “The guards will remain in the hall.”

Aragorn didn’t doubt it. He had assumed they would remain nearby. They had been too careful bringing him here to just leave the area unguarded. He gently rubbed both of his arms, where he was sure bruises would soon be evident.

Glancing back at the closed doors, he said, “Those guards don’t speak, do they?” It was a notion that had come to him on the way up. Not that he had continued trying to engage them in conversation on the way up here, but there was just something about them that made him think they were not just being closed mouth to prisoners.

In a totally off-handed way, Allaura said, “Their tongues were cut out.” She turned and looked at the man and with much more intensity. “I do not like unwarranted conversation that might breed, shall we say, rebellion in the ranks.”

“I can’t imagine anyone deliberately crossing you.”

Allaura laughed. “No, but it does not hurt to reduce the temptation to do so.”

Aragorn stared wide-eyed at the woman. “Does not hurt? You cut out their tongues!” He probably should have not said that out loud, but he could hardly take it back now.

To his surprise, Allaura just laughed. “Shall we change subjects?” she asked quietly. There was a note in her voice that said doing so would be prudent.

Aragorn nodded. That was fine with him. “I see you are wearing the necklace and earrings from the painting. Was that on my account?” It sounded arrogant, but he was curious, especially considering their earlier conversation about the jewelry.

“No. But I did leave them on for you.”

The ranger wasn’t sure he liked the way she said that.

TBC

Chapter Eleven

Allaura smiled at the human ranger, who stood before her. “What do you think of them now that you see them in person?” She turned her head slightly to show off the earring fastened in her right ear. Holding the gold chain of the necklace between her thumb and forefinger, she dangled the blue pendant in front of his face.

“The painting doesn’t do them justice,” he replied in all honesty, as his eyes locked onto the dazzling blue stone.

Allaura twisted the chain in her fingers, causing the stone to spin slowly from side to side. The reflection criss-crossed the man’s face. When the sparkles settled in his eyes, she stopped its motion and held it still.

The strong light from the stone hurt the ranger’s eyes, but he was powerless to turn his head away. All sense of time and place began to fade from the Aragorn’s mind. He was aware of nothing but the swirl of blue he stared into, as he lost himself in its hypnotic depths.

“Tell me what you are thinking?” the woman asked, her voice barely above a whisper, seemingly fearful of breaking the connection between man and stone.

There was no reply from Aragorn. He stood motionless. Deep inside his mind a small voice was screaming a warning at him, but he couldn’t for the life of him think why. The pendant he stared at was many-faceted, carefully crafted and exquisitely beautiful, but basically it was just a crystaline rock. It could not harm him, so he ignored the warning.

To make sure that Aragorn was truly under the enchantment of the necklace, Allaura dug her fingernails into the ranger’s arm. Even through his sleeve the woman’s long nails would have been quite painful. When no reaction was forthcoming, Allaura nodded to herself. She knew he felt the pain she was inflicting, but his eyes remained locked on the blue stone. He was indeed caught firmly in the web she had woven.

“Come,” she told him, pulling him toward the bed by the same arm she had just left red marks on. “Remove your coat, shirt and boots.” The words were soft but held an edge that made it a clear command not to be disobeyed. His obedience would be further proof of the depth of the spell he was under.

Fleetingly Aragorn thought that he should be objecting to the order he had been given, but his mind by now was too numb to obey anything other than the woman’s voice. His own inner voice had become only so much gibberish that no longer meant anything to him.

Soon all but the man’s leggings sat in a pile around his feet. Allaura lifted the black satin sheets and the black quilt that lay on top. She said nothing but indicated with her free hand that he was to lie down.

He did so.

Allaura pulled the covers up to Aragorn’s chest and sat down on the side of the bed next to the ranger and leaned toward him. As she did so, the necklace fell onto his bare right shoulder. The feel of the jewel against his skin was both ice cold and searing hot at the same time. He moaned, which only seemed to excite Allaura. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him on the mouth - hard. “It is time,” she whispered alluringly.

Aragorn pulled her to him and held her in a tight embrace. The necklace was pressed into his skin between their two bodies. He moaned again, but it was a sound born of pain not pleasure.

*~*~*~*

Legolas sat alone on the stone bench in the dark vault deep underground. He tried to convince himself that the darkness was caused by his tightly closed eyes and not the fact there was not so much as a speck of light in the room. Try as it might, the alert elven mind couldn’t talk itself into believing that idea. The fact he was gripping the edge of the bench with fingers that were close to hurting from the effort didn’t help matters any.

Like Aragorn, the elf thought that he and the ranger would not have been fed unless they were meant to be kept alive for some purpose. But for what purpose? He knew from past experience that there were far worse things in this world than dying. Legolas was not afraid of death, though the thought of doing it all alone down here in this place of stone was far more unnerving than any death on a battlefield he could imagine.

Legolas took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He realized it was not really the darkness that unsettled him so much as it was the loss of a connection with Nature. If he could only hear the song of the trees, the call of a bird of prey winging silently on the night wind, the rustle of small animal feet scurrying through the forest, the hum of insects or the sound of a bubbling stream. And the stars. Oh, how his heart ached to see the stars.

Legolas didn’t want to think about the fact that if the ranger were there, he would be saying soothing elvish words to the archer to ease his troubled mind.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about his own discomfort. It was Aragorn that mattered. Legolas was genuinely worried about the ranger.

He couldn’t begin to guess where his friend was or what was being done to him. The elf was fairly sure that whatever it was had to do with Allaura and possibly her husband, though he didn’t have enough information about the man yet to make that determination.

The prince’s thoughts were interrupted when the walls once again shook from a loud booming noise that clearly originated from above. Legolas’s eyes snapped open, but it was his ears that picked up the sound of stone dust falling from the ceiling, only this time the dust sounded more like tiny pebbles hitting the rocky floor at his feet.

He looked up and was rewarded with the finer dust falling directly into his eyes. He lowered his head and used both hands to try and dislodge the irritant from his eyes, which felt like they were full of sand, an appropriate description under the circumstances. Blinking rapidly along with the irritation brought enough tears to wash most of the dust away.

The noise that had preceded the dislodging of the stone on the ceiling was louder than it had been at any time before. Prudently Legolas hid his face in the crook of his right arm, effectively avoiding more dust in his eyes, when a second boom shook the room.

When silence once again dominated, Legolas looked up. “I do not believe it,” he said aloud, suddenly concluding what the noise must be. Was it possible?

While Legolas contemplated the implausible thought that had occurred ot him, the door to the vault opened. Dim light from the passageway poured across the floor. A lit torch came flying into the room, landing against the bench not far from where Legolas sat.

Grateful beyond belief, the elf grabbed the torch and quickly jumped onto the bench and set the torch into its holder on the wall before the guard, who had thrown it, could change his mind and take it back.

When Legolas jumped back down and turned around, his eyes went wide. Two of the guards were pushing Aragorn into the room. As soon as the man cleared the door, it was pulled shut and locked.

Even in the flickering light, the elf could see that Aragorn’s face was very pale. Legolas grabbed both of his friend’s arms and ran his eyes over the ranger’s body, front and back, looking for blood or any other sign of injury. “Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.

There was no answer. Legolas raised his head and looked into the man’s eyes. He saw a blank stare, devoid of recognition. “Estel?.” He shook the man gently. “Speak to me.”

The elf’s heart lurched to see that his friend did not seem to know him but continued to stare straight ahead. Legolas guided Aragorn to the bench, turned him around and sat him down. There had been no resistance to the move, but neither had there been any indication that the man knew what was being done to him.

Legolas lifted Aragorn’s right arm and let it drop. It fell limply to his side. “Oh, mellon nin, what have they done to you?”

Aragorn appeared - mindless. The very word scared the elf. Had Allaura, or her husband or whoever had held Aragorn in their power, somehow taken the man’s mind? No, the elf would not believe that. His friend had merely been put into some sort of trance. That was all. Legolas refused to think that anything more serious had been done to his friend. He tried not to think how bad that alone could end up being.

Legolas gripped the ranger’s shoulder, trying to impart a physical reassurance to him that the elf was there with him. When Aragorn moaned, Legolas frowned. He pulled the ranger’s coat and shirt down off of his shoulder and saw a round red mark that looked very much like a burn. “What is this?” He reached toward it, but stayed his hand before he could cause Aragorn any more pain.

There was no way to tell whether this burn mark had to do with Aragorn’s present condition or if it had been done purely as a means of imparting pain for its own sake. Either way, Legolas was furious.

After several more attempts to reach his friend’s mind, it became obvious that Aragorn was not going to simply snap out of this trance-like state by being talked out of it. Perhaps rest would be helpful. Legolas lay the ranger down on his side on the narrow bench, again receiving no resistance. He reached down and closed the open eyes that gazed blankly at the front wall.

Legolas sat down and leaned back against the wall, his hand resting lightly on Aragorn‘s head. He was not going to even think about seeking sleep until his friend woke up and was hopefully himself again. The elf didn’t know what he would do, if Aragorn did not come out of this.

*~*~*~*

Allaura once again sat at the dressing table in her bed chamber. This time she was putting the necklace and earrings back into the box she had removed them from earlier in the evening. They had served their purpose, for the time being anyway.

She took a deep breath, feeling stronger and more refreshed than she had in a long time. Her husband no longer provided her with what she needed to maintain herself. She had relied on him too many times. Such a pity. She didn’t really love him, of course, but she had once had feelings for him, certainly more so than for any other man she had known. That was why she had married him, well that and being able to get her hands on Ravenlore. But tonight had shown her that he was past his usefulness to her. He had not been able to give her anything. Never before had she been required to take another in the same week much less the same night.

Allaura should have known that he would wear out eventually. Humans were so puny. That was why she had hired Grath and his men to bring her fresh men, who were in the prime of their strength. This ranger was a perfect example. She had been thrilled to learn that he was one of the long-lived Dúnedain, and as such, he had given her a resurgence that she could barely remember from any time in the past.

However, the woman had to admit that her excitement was not just for the ranger. He had been invigorating, but he was not the one she truly wanted. The ranger had merely been a wonderful bonus. It was the elf she truly craved. Her anger at Grath for almost killing the fair being had known no bounds. That was why she had gone down into the lower level where Grath waited and had personally slit his throat. The guards would take care of the rest of his men.

The elf’s wounds had weakened him to the point that she dared not attempt to take him, because eager as she was, she was not willing to risk damaging him in any way.

Allaura laughed. Perhaps she had been a little hasty in killing Grath. After all, he had brought the captives to her, and now she not only had the delicious Dúnadan, but she still had the elf to look forward to. A shiver of excitement ran through her at the anticipation.

The elf would last much longer than any human ever could, possibly even forever, despite the demands she would place on the immortal body. And by carefully interchanging the two of them, she could have a life beyond her wildest dreams and certainly far better than any she had experienced up to now. Why had she not thought of the combination before now? Ah well, better now than never.

TBC

Chapter Twelve

Legolas continued to sit, his hand on the ranger’s head, and wait. He looked down from time to time, but there had been no apparent change in the man’s condition, at least none that the elf could discern. Normally that would have been a good thing. Now it was just the opposite.

“Please, Estel, you must come out of this...this thing that has been done to you.” The elf spoke aloud, though his voice was so soft that had there been others in the room, none would have heard him.

Time dragged on, and Legolas’s heart grew more troubled. He tried valiantly to keep the creeping unease at bay, telling himself that it was much too soon to give up on believing the ranger would return to himself.

Something within the elf felt that Aragorn’s unnatural state involved some dark magic, and it was the kind that wasn’t going to be easily overcome. How he would love to have Lord Elrond, Mithrandir and the Lady Galadriel here to combat whatever was wrong with Aragorn. He smiled grimly. No dark magic conjured up by anyone short of the Dark Lord himself could stand against those three, so his friend would be well in short order. But he knew that no such rescue would occur in this awful place.

Still, Legolas knew he would never give up on his friend. If Aragorn woke up unchanged from the man who had been returned, then.... The wood-elf shook off that thought. Until or unless that happened, feeling this way was as much a waste of time, as wishing for the two great elves and the wily wizard to suddenly appear. He would just have to staunchly hold to hope that some way out would be revealed before it was too late.

Legolas was so worried about the ranger that he never even gave a thought to the danger he himself might be in.

Legolas’s resolve began to slip slightly when, after checking the ranger again, the elf found nothing any different than the last dozen times he had searched for a change. Yet he could not just ignore the sleeping ranger, as if nothing were amiss. The elf yearned to find something - anything - that pointed to the fact his friend was going to recover. He found nothing.

Legolas once again leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He began to sing, softly at first. Then his clear, melodic voice rose in a song recalled from an earlier time as a warrior of the woodland realm. The elvish words were those of the resolve to hold on to hope in the face of any and all that might try to destroy those who fought for the good that was in this world.

The blond elf had last sung that song when he and the patrol he was leading were on the verge of a battle with orcs, wargs and giant spiders deep in Mirkwood‘s southern reaches close to Dol Guldur. The odds had been against them, and the song had offered a measure of solace to the patrol members before the impending battle.

They had all fought long and hard and though there had been many wounded elves, himself included, the arrival of another patrol just when things looked their bleakest, had turned the tide in their favor, and the enemy had ultimately been dispatched.

Even as the song and the memory lifted his heart, Legolas knew that he and Aragorn were on their own. Whether they were overmatched beyond deliverance remained to be seen. One thing he was certain of: Before there could be any chance of escape, Aragorn would have to recover.

It took a moment for Legolas to realize that Aragorn had stirred slightly. The song stopped abruptly in mid-sentence.

Legolas was on his knees beside the bench in a flash. “Estel.” he called. No further motion came from the man. “Estel,” the elf called again a little more urgently, as he gently shook the ranger’s shoulder.

The gray eyes opened slowly. For a moment there was nothing in their depths that reflected any kind of awareness. The man was just as he had been the night before, his eyes totally devoid of recognition.

The elf lowered his head, resting it on his right arm, still clutching Aragorn. “Oh, Estel.“ Just before Legolas could sink into despair, he heard the only sound that could have lifted the heaviness of his heart. “Legolas?”

The archer jerked his head up. “Yes, mellon nin. I am here,” His voice reflected his immense relief. He dared not remove his hands from the ranger’s shoulders. He refused to lose contact with Aragorn, afraid that doing so would somehow cause the man to sink back into his world of darkness. And Legolas had no doubt that it was into darkness that Aragorn had been sent.

“Where...?”

“You are back in the vault,” the elf informed the obviously confused man. He would have given anything right then to be able to tell his friend that they were outside in the cool morning air, that they were free. But, of course, he could not.

With Legolas’s help, Aragorn struggled to sit up. He shook his head, trying to loosen the cobwebs that had decided to grow there. “I feel so weak,” Aragorn informed the elf.

Worry creased the space between Legolas’s eyebrows. “What is the last thing you remember?” the archer asked, hoping to gain at least some idea of what they were dealing with. Legolas, who had risen to help Aragorn sit up, now sat down beside the ranger.

“The last thing I remember is being in Allarua’s room, her bed chamber, to be exact. She was showing me the earrings and necklace she wore in the painting. I had admired them when we were first taken to the room where you lay on the sofa.” There was a frown that flickered across the ranger’s face.

The concern in Legolas’s eyes grew more pronounced. “What is it, Estel? Are you in pain?”

“No. I just...” he paused to collect his memories and put them into coherent thoughts. “Allaura held the blue pendant up to my face. I became lost in its beauty. I saw only the blue swirls and sparkles in my eyes. Everything else, even Allaura, faded into the background and then disappeared all together. Until...”

Though anxious to hear more, Legolas waited patiently for the ranger to gather his scattered thoughts and resume relating what he remembered.

Aragorn continued, though somewhat haltingly. “Until I found myself in her bed.“ The realization stunned the man. So did his next revelation. “I was lying in her bed, Legolas, and I kissed her.” He shook his head in disbelief that he had actually done such a thing. “I remember wanting desperately to take her in my arms and kiss her. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.” He groaned and couldn’t stop himself from wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, as if the gesture would rid him of the memory. “Legolas, I couldn’t stop myself. I think I may have....”

“Estel, do not blame yourself. You were not thinking clearly.”

“But what if she and I...?” He couldn’t finish the sentence, as a shudder went through his body. It was revolting to him just to think about what he believed he had done. Putting it into words made his stomach tie itself into a knot.

“Estel, she did something to your mind. My guess is she used that necklace to put some kind of spell on you. Your desire was not real.”

“No, but what obviously happened was.”

“You do not know what happened.” After a heartbeat, Legolas added, “Do you?”

“No. I remember nothing until I woke up here just now.” The bewilderment in Aragorn’s mind was unmistakable in his expression.

“So you cannot say for sure what took place.”

“Not really. But I feel dirty. That must account for something.” the ranger said miserably.

“It may be just what she wanted you to believe happened.“

“I don’t think it was just an illusion. What’s the point in that?”

“Who knows. She is evil, Estel. She may just have wanted to play games with your mind.”

“If that’s the case, it worked.”

Legolas had no reply for that. He felt bad for his friend. Nothing that happened was his fault, yet he knew deep down that if their roles had been reversed, he would feel the same way.

Was this the reason they had been brought here? For sex? Surely not. After all, Allaura had a husband, and if he was involved in their being captured in the first place, then Legolas felt there had to be more involved than just seducing Aragorn.

Perhaps Allaura was just trying to make her husband jealous, and it had nothing to do with the reason he and Aragorn were here.

Then another idea came to the elf. What about the necklace? What part did it have to play in all this? It must have some kind of power. It had burned Aragorn, unless he had it all wrong, and something else had done that. The jewel may enhance Allaura’s perceived power, or it could be the sole source. Legolas clearly needed more information.

“Estel, do you remember this happening?” the elf asked suddenly, startling the brooding human, who jerked his head up and blinked.

Aragorn was puzzled, when Legolas reached up and pulled his coat and shirt down off of his right shoulder. The man looked down at the red, puffy spot in surprise.

“No, I don’t know how that got there.” He looked into the blue-gray eyes of the elf next to him. “What could have caused that?”

“I think it was the necklace. Allaura must have needed to touch your skin to do whatever it was she did. Why the burn, I do not know.” Legolas paused for a second. “I think it either put something into you or took something out.” That idea had just occurred to him, as he looked at the red mark more closely, though he had no notion of why that thought had come to him. He wasn’t sure which one would be better, if the word better could even be applied in this case. Whichever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Aragorn was thinking the same thing. “I think maybe it took something out,” he finally said.

“Why do you think so?”

“I’m so weak. I feel as though I’ve been running uphill all day. Surely that would point to being drained in some way.” The man couldn’t help shuddering at the thought. “Of course, I could be suffering from some kind of poison.”

At the mention of that word, Legolas put his hand on Aragorn’s forehead. He took a deep breath, but let it out in a rush when the ranger’s skin was cool to his touch.

“I don’t feel like I have fever,” the healer in the man said helpfully.

Legolas smiled. “No, you do not have fever. Do you have any other symptoms?”

“None that I’ve discovered so far. Just the weakness.”

When Aragorn frowned, the elf thought he was about to reveal something unpleasant he had just realized. “What?”

“It seems lighter in here.” He looked up at the torch. “It isn’t flickering anymore.”

Legolas almost laughed in relief. However, knowing that Aragorn would be upset, if he knew the torch had gone out, and Legolas had been in darkness for several hours, the elf decided not to mention that little bit of information. Instead he just said, “They brought a new torch.”

The man had seen a flicker of something - was it fear? - in Legolas’s eyes. He knew the elf wasn’t going to tell him anything voluntarily, so he asked, “When?”

“It does not matter,” Legolas replied, trying to deflect the man’s curiosity. If he knew when, he would know the truth. “We have a good one now. It should last several more hours.”

The ranger, however, would not be denied. “When did they bring it, Legolas?” The words were spoken sternly.

The elf closed his eyes. “When they brought you back.”

Aragorn nodded. “Just as I suspected. You sat down here alone in the dark the whole time I was gone, didn’t you?”

“I am all right, Estel. You do not have to worry about it. We have light, and that is all that matters.” He stared at his friend, half challenging and half pleading for no further discussion on the subject.

Aragorn realized that pressing the point was - pointless. He just nodded and looked down at the floor. Soon another frown appeared. “There are tiny rocks all over the floor. I’m sure they weren’t here before.” He looked up and saw small round shadows, indicating pits in the formerly smooth stone where the rocks had fallen from. He looked anxious as he asked, “Legolas, did something else happen to cause this?”

“Another loud booming noise and some very strong vibrations. They brought small pebbles down this time, as well as more dust.”

For the first time, Aragorn noticed that there was dust in Legolas’s hair, as well as on his tunic. He reached out and brushed some it off of the elf’s clothes. “Were you standing in the middle of the room?”

“No. I was sitting right here.”

“So it happened after the torch went out. Right?”

The elf looked slightly exasperated. “Estel, I told you I am fine. We are together now in a lighted room.” It was again time to deflect the conversation to another, though related, subject. “Besides, I have a bit of news that I think will surprise you.”

Aragorn recognized the ploy, having seen it many times. Legolas was stubbornly resisting talking about the darkness, so the ranger decided to relent and drop the subject by asking, “What?” He couldn’t begin to imagine what his friend could be talking about. If someone had come to deliver news to Legolas, the elf would surely have mentioned it before now.

As if reading the ranger’s mind, Legolas said, “No one has come to tell me anything, but I have guessed at something. I think I know what is making that noise and bringing dust and pebbles down from the ceiling.” He paused to add to the suspense.

The all-too-familiar ploy worked. “Come on, elf. Tell me,” the human demanded with impatient curiosity.

“I believe Treco is up there.” Legolas turned his eyes upward and then leveled them at the ranger, anxious to see his reaction.

The reaction was just as expected. Aragorn’s eyes widened. “That red dragon we helped? Are you serious?”

“Quite,” was the simple reply.

“What makes you think so? I mean, a dragon down here? How is that even possible? We came down small passageways and four sets of stairs.” He stared at the elf, as if he had grown another head, or lost the one he had.

“I was in the dark and wasn’t distracted by anything else. I listened to the sound. I believe it was the roar of a dragon. It was muffled but louder than before, more distinct. A creature that size could easily loosen tiny rocks and dust. I cannot be positive it belongs to Treco, of course, but that is my guess. There are not that many dragons around anymore.

“As to how he, or anything that large, could get down here, there are probably a lot of entrances we know nothing about in this place. We have not actually seen what is directly above us. We just assumed it is the same as where we are, but thinking so is probably an error on our part.”

Aragorn sat and mulled over what Legolas had just revealed to him. Was such a thing possible? It was true that they didn’t really know what lay over their heads. And such a place as Ravenlore must have all sorts of hidden passages, and the fact that one or more of them could be large enough to accommodate a dragon was perhaps not as farfetched as it seemed. Consider what had just happened to him upstairs while in Allaura’s clutches. He turned that unpleasant thought aside. It would take a long time to get over that, if he ever did.

A familiar light of adventure suddenly lit up the ranger’s face. “How can we find out?”

Legolas didn’t have the chance to answer. A noise outside the room caught his attention. He looked toward the door, simultaneously rising up and standing in front of Aragorn in an attempt to shield him from who the elf was sure was on the other side of the door.

TBC

I want to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year. Keep safe, because I want to see every one of you in 2006. And bring some friends!

Chapter Thirteen

It took a moment before the noise outside in the passageway got close enough to the door for the ranger to pick up and identify. The guards were coming again.

What now? The man paled to think that Allaura may be wanting him again. Hadn’t she done enough to him already? Common sense told him that the woman was a long way from being through with him, but he was still hoping that there wasn’t going to be a repeat so soon. He unconsciously reached up and lightly rubbed his burned shoulder.

Then Aragorn stood up beside Legolas, trying to ignore the weakness in his legs. He forced himself to remain upright.

Legolas turned to him in concern.
“You should stay seated, Estel.”

“No,“ the ranger stated firmly, “We face this together, mellon nin, no matter what is coming.” He knew though that, if the guards had come to get him, he with his weakness and Legolas still not fully recovered from his wounds, could not stop them.

The two friends faced the door as it swung open. Two guards entered baring two trays of food. As always, one stayed by the door while the other carried the trays to the bench, set them down, and then both guards left.

Elf and man sat down in utter relief. They looked at each other and grinned, almost sheepishly at the fear of what they thought might be about to happen, not that they didn’t have good reason to be afraid. Thankfully it had been a false alarm - this time.

“Did those guards ever say anything to you when they took you upstairs?” Legolas asked curiously, food forgotten for the moment.

The man shuddered when he said, “Allaura had their tongues cut out, so they couldn’t talk to the prisoners. Why they would do her bidding after she did that to them, I have no idea.”

Legolas shook his head. That was just another thing that re-enforced how evil she truly was. “She probably used the necklace on them, too, to make them obey her,” the elf suggested. It made sense, considering what she had done to Aragorn.

“Then why the need to cut out their tongues?”

“Good question,” the elf replied. “She probably enjoyed doing it.”

“You make a good point.” Thinking the same thing Legolas had a moment ago, Aragorn said, “More evidence of her evil ways.”

The elf was thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder. Could she be a minion of Sauron?”

“She’s cruel enough,” Aragorn said with a touch of anger. He suppressed another shudder.

“But then how is her,” Legolas paused, trying to think of the right word to use, “appetite, hidden way out here where few venture, going to further the Dark Lord’s quest for dominance over Middle-earth? He prefers to use those who go out and conquer many, such as the Shadow creatures that are working to overthrow my home.” The last statement was spoken with understandable bitterness.

Aragorn reached over and put his hand on Legolas’s shoulder and squeezed it in a non-verbal gesture of sympathy and understanding. He knew how the wood-elves of Mirkwood treasured their forest home and how the Shadow’s encroachment wounded the hearts of those ethereal beings who should spend their lives in light and joy, not fighting darkness. He squeezed the elf’s shoulder again.

Legolas gave his friend a quick smile, as he put his hand on top of the ranger’s in acknowledgement of the man’s empathy.

After a short silence of shared comradeship, they seemed to reach the same decision at the same time. Both looked down at the food trays.

Aragorn was slightly dismayed to see that the plates contained the same food the two had been given before. He decided to look on the bright side of the situation. "They may lack imagination when it comes to serving a variety of food, but at least they aren’t starving us."

Legolas laughed. "True enough." He refrained from saying that the repetition did not bother him as it did the human.

*~*~*~*

Almost a week went by in much the same manner. Elf and man ate, slept, and they received new torches, so that there was always light in the vault. Mostly they waited. It was nerve-wracking never knowing when the door opened, if the guards were going to take one of them.

During the days that passed, Legolas kept up a brave front, but inside he was on the verge of crumbling. The stone that virtually entombed them was so oppressive that the archer sometimes had to force himself not to curl up in a ball and weep.

The façade of the elf did not fool Aragorn. He recognized the signs. Added to that was the fact he knew how Legolas reacted when he was surrounded by stone for any length of time. This place was no different than some of the caves they had been forced to spend time in.

He would have given anything for a window, even a very small one, so that Legolas could see the sky, especially at night, when the stars sparkled brightly, and the moon spread its silver glow on all below. There were times he would have gladly dug one out of the unyielding stone with his bare hands, if he could have managed it.

Aragorn tried to lift the elf’s failing spirits with talk of anything and everything, focusing for the most part on some of their past adventures. He avoided talking about their homes or families. That, he feared, would not only upset Legolas, but it wouldn’t do much for his own spirits, either. So, he concentrated on things that would not make his heart yearn but would instead bring a smile to the elf’s lips.

Reminiscing worked some of the time, and every smile or laugh that came from the archer brought joy to Aragorn’s heart. But he was aware that it was only a temporary measure., because, despite his best efforts, Legolas continued to sink into despair, and the ranger couldn’t stop it.

*~*~*~*

The sixth day dawned just like all the rest. The guards brought food to the prisoners, the same they had been eating all along. They also tossed a new torch into the corner, safely out of the reach of the elf and the ranger until the door was closed again. The routine was always the same.

Legolas turned his head away from the food and closed his eyes. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

A half hour after the guards left, the two trays were still sitting untouched on the bench. It wasn’t the exasperation of the ranger over eating the same thing day after day that caused him to ignore the food. It was worry for his friend.

Aragorn was sitting next to the elf. He had given him time to change his mind about eating before he said anything. Now his patience was at an end. “Legolas, I’m sorry you’re trapped down here. I don’t think Allaura knows what being surrounded by stone for long days does to an elf, especially a wood-elf.”

“It would not matter to her.” Legolas’s voice was low and filled with a resignation that bordered on defeat.

It greatly saddened Aragorn to hear that tone coming from the normally lighthearted elf.

He tried again. “We won’t be here forever, Legolas,” the ranger encouraged. “We will get out of here.”

Another soft sigh. “It may not matter for me.”

“Things may look hopeless right now, but we can’t give up. Isn‘t that what you’ve told me on more than one occasion?”

Legolas turned and looked at the concerned face of his friend. “I do not intend to give up, Estel. But the stone steals my will, even though I fight it. You know how much I need the trees, the rivers, the green grass, the stars. I need to breathe the fresh air. I do not know how long I can hold back the darkness that is trying to consume me.”

Aragorn closed his eyes, a look of pain on his features. “I would do anything to help you, Legolas. You know that.”

A slender hand rested lightly on the ranger’s arm. “I know you would, Estel. Do not try to take blame upon yourself, because you cannot remedy the situation. You are here with me, and that is a great comfort.” The elf offered a weak smile. “I could not go on without you beside me.”

There may not be any words that would take the dark feeling from this elf, and Aragorn certainly couldn’t get them out of here, at the moment, however, he could offer his support in the only way he knew how. He put his arms around Legolas and pulled the elf into a tight embrace.

Aragorn smiled to himself when he felt the tension in the elf’s body relax a little. It wasn’t much, but it was what he was expecting, and it lightened his heart a bit.

The two friends remained like that for several moments. The ranger was not going to be the one to let go first, preferring to let Legolas make that decision, when he was ready.

Finally Legolas did pull back. “Thank you, Estel. I will do my best to overcome this dark feeling the stone has placed in my heart and mind.”

“I know you will, mellon nin. You are too strong to give in and let it take you,” the ranger reassured. Then he laughed. “Shall we partake of this wonderful meal that has been lovingly prepared for us?”

Just as intended, the question brought a smile to the elf’s pale face. And that brought a smile to the ranger’s.

*~*~*~*

Two hours later, the door opened again. One of the guards moved toward the trays. The elf and the ranger paid little attention, as he picked up the trays. It was what they were expecting. What they were not expecting was for the door to remain open while the trays were removed and then set on the floor of the passageway.

The guard then returned with the other one and headed straight for Legolas. This time, it was Aragorn who jumped in front of the elf to protect him. He was forcibly pushed back down onto the bench. Before he could react, the elf was roughly grabbed and yanked to his feet. The emotionless guards pulled him across the floor and out of the vault.

“No!,” the man screamed. He gained his feet and rushed forward, reaching the door just as it was slammed in his face. He pounded on the cold iron in vain. Unlike Legolas, when the ranger had been taken the week before, Aragorn knew exactly what was going to happen to the sensitive elf. And thanks to him, now so did Legolas. “Take me again,” Aragorn pleaded to the empty air. “Take me.”

*~*~*~*

Allaura was waiting anxiously for the elf to arrive in her bed chamber. She had given the elf more than enough time to heal from his wounds, and now the time had finally come to indulge herself. Now, at last, he was on his way.

The ranger had given her the resurgence she had needed after her husband had failed so miserably. That had been a major disappointment. So thanks to the ranger, she really needed no renewal. However, she couldn’t bring herself to wait any longer. The anticipation was making her tingle.

As she waited, another emotion held sway with her, as well. She found that she was still angry over what had been done to the elf by that idiot Grath to cause this delay in enjoying her pleasure. Ah well, the Easterling had paid for his profound lack of judgment in a pool of blood.

A knock at the door made Allaura jump, so deep had she been in her thoughts. The woman took a deep breath before calling, “Come.” Another tingle went through her, as she stood from her dressing table and faced the door.

Allaura quickly ran her hand through her long, black hair and shook her head so that it hung smoothly down her back. She had not been this excited in a very long time.

Her eyes lit up when the door opened to reveal the golden-haired elf standing between two of her guards. A smile spread across her face. “Bring him in.”

Legolas’s unreadable expression did not change when the guards let go of him, bowed to the lady and quietly left. He didn’t move a muscle, as she walked up to him and then made a slow circle around him. Her dark eyes ran up and down his body in an appraisal that clearly pleased her.

Legolas’s eyes met her appreciative ones with a cold stare.

Allaura laughed. “You do not seem pleased to be here.”

Legolas deftly turned his response away from himself. “You hurt my friend.”

“Hurt? I hardly think so. He was fortunate. I gave him something few men have ever experienced before.”

“No. You took something from him.”

That statement startled Allaura. She had no idea the elf had figured out what she had done to the ranger in this room. Her mind was racing. Should she admit the elf was right or try to convince him otherwise?

Then Allaura suddenly laughed. Why was she getting so upset? Perhaps neither of them really knew anything. They could just be guessing. And even if they did know, what did it matter anyway? They could do nothing about it.

Despite Allaura’s best effort, she could not hide the panic that had first appeared in her eyes, fleeting though it was, from the elf’s scrutiny. He, on the other hand, did not reveal a thing to her about what was going on inside of him.

Allaura’s eyes hardened for a moment, effectively cutting off what the elf had seen.

When the woman reached up and attempted to touch Legolas’s cheek, he leaned back out of her grasp. “Do not touch me,” he warned. The very thought of it made his skin crawl.

Again Allaura laughed. “You are not the one in control here. You are mine, and I will do with you as I please. The sooner you accept that the better things will be for you.” Her tone was tinged with anger.

The elf glared hard into the woman‘s dark eyes. “I belong to no one but myself.”

Almost faster than sight, Allaura slapped the wood-elf. “You will learn the error of that statement soon enough.”

Her eyes were narrowed, when she reached out again, and this time succeeded in touching Legolas’s now reddened cheek, caressing it with the backs of her fingers, as if the gesture could take the sting of her brief attack away.

Legolas grit his teeth but didn’t try to move out of the way. He knew Allaura was not regretting the slap in the least and would do it again, if she felt he was resisting her. However, the look in the prince’s eyes hadn’t lost any of the cold glare that resided there.

It wasn’t until she touched him, that the woman realized just how pale the elf’s skin was. Frowning she said, “I do not remember you being so pale, even when you were ill from your wounds.”

The elf pulled her hand away and quickly dropped it. “You have kept me locked away underground with no sunlight,” Legolas ground out, trying not to show the bitterness he felt He thought but did not add, ‘What did you expect?’ He also did not mention what the oppression of the stone was doing to him. He didn’t want her to know about that, if she didn’t know it already.

“I can change that situation for you. Would you like to stay in a room similar to this one with all the comforts you could possibly want, including the delicious fare my kitchens can provide?” This time her voice had altered to sound soft and soothing.

The elf wanted so badly to tell her what she could do with her offer, but he knew he would be causing great damage to himself and perhaps Aragorn, if he did that. If agreeing would make them stronger and more able to create a chance to escape, then perhaps it was worth considering. Swallowing his pride, he said, “Perhaps, but I will not do it without Estel.”

“The ranger? I might include him. We shall have to see how things here work out.”

The implication of her words was not lost on the elf: Do as I say, and you may both be free of the vault. It might just prove to be too high a price to pay. He would have to discuss it with Aragorn.

Before another word was spoken, Allaura grasped her necklace and held it up in front of the elf’s face.

Legolas turned his head away. He knew what the woman was planning, and he didn’t want any part of it. Even, as he did it, he realized that it was a futile gesture. He felt pretty sure he could handle her physically, but he was also pretty sure that the guards were close enough to be able to hear Allaura’s call, if she needed them.

To Legolas’s surprise, when Allaura grabbed his chin, her strength was such that she easily turned his head back so that he faced her. And to his dismay, the blue necklace was hanging right in front of his eyes.

TBC

Chapter Fourteen

The footsteps of the guards had long died away before Aragorn turned from the door. He took a step toward the bench, intending to sit down. ‘And do what?’ he asked himself. ‘Sit and wring my hands?’ Instead, the ranger leaned back against the cold iron that was the first in a long line of obstacles that now separated him from Legolas.

He had been quite serious, when he had been willing to be taken again to spare Legolas. He still hadn’t remembered what Allaura did to him. All he had was his suspicions based on a few sparse clues: kissing Allaura, even though the thought of it made him shudder; his burned shoulder; what Legolas told him about retuning in the trance-like state. Even loss of the memory of what happened told him she had done something to him he would never have done if left to his own choice.

Now he had to stay down here and imagine the same thing happening to Legolas, who was by his very nature, more sensitive to things like that.

Elves did not take sex lightly. Not like men, who often thought nothing of having a one-nighter with a woman just because they found her physically attractive. No emotions need be involved.

Elves were not sexually cold, of course, quite the opposite in fact, but making love for them truly involved the word love. It was a commitment far beyond any casual implications.

Aragorn had no idea how damaging this encounter could be to Legolas’s emotional state, if Allaura forced herself on him. He couldn’t believe Legolas would emerge unscathed, even though the elf would in no way be to blame.

Another thought intruded into the man’s troubled thoughts. What if she did something even worse to Legolas? He couldn’t imagine what that might be, and to be honest, he didn’t want to try. However, that didn’t stop the horrible possibilities from swirling around in his head.

With his back still firmly against the door, the ranger put his head into his hands in a gesture of complete helplessness. There was nothing he could do to help his friend or to stop what he feared was about to happen.

*~*~*~*

Two massive, iron double doors stood at one end of a huge stone chamber deep under Ravenlore. A matching pair of doors stood on the other side of the thick wall. The outer ones opened into the passageway beyond and the inner ones opened into the chamber.

The clang of metal resounded through the stone chamber, as first one of the outer doors and then an inner one opened. Only an arm and a hand was visible, as a large tray piled high with raw meat was pushed into the room.

As soon as the one delivering the tray judged that it had cleared the path of the inner door, the arm was quickly withdrawn and the door was pulled shut.

Even before the outer door could be closed, a white-hot flame shot out toward it. The roaring flames fanned out across both inner doors.

When the flames receded, the iron glowed red but did not melt nor even warp. They cooled quickly and returned to their former impenetrable state. The charred stone around them was the only evidence of what had just happened.

The dragon responsible for the flames narrowed his eyes in anger, as he growled, “I must find out what spell that witch has put on those doors. No ordinary iron could withstand my flame.” It was a lament the creature made every time the doors failed to be reduced to a puddle of molten metal. He was not used to being defeated, and it galled him.

Treco had been in this awful place for almost two weeks now, ever since he had been on his way back from his journey to meet the elf and the human who had helped mend his broken wing.

The dragon thought back to that day.

~~He had been flying north and grumbling about the fact that, despite his better judgment, he had taken the time to go to the meeting place. And then those beings had not even shown up.

The dragon had never had many dealings with the other sentient races of Middle-earth. Any such encounters had been unavoidable accidents, as this one had been.

The fact that an elf was involved had given Treco a measure of hope that this encounter would be different. He hated to admit that the two beings he had met had actually helped him, which was why he had been willing to meet them again. But of course, they had disappointed him, as deep down he believed they would.
‘Stick to your own kind’, he had been told more times than he cared to think about. But a young dragon, at least this young dragon, had been curious. ‘Serves you right’, he had told himself, when the meeting failed to materialize, and he had flown off with a vow never again to trust anyone not a dragon.

No one, however, had ever warned him not to fly over this cursed valley and certainly not over this fortress. Such places had never posed a problem for him before. Nothing built by other races had ever worried him much, even when those creatures had fired their puny projectiles at him. This place had proven to be different.
He had been hit hard with some kind of force that knocked him out of the air. He was lucky he hadn’t broken his neck or another wing. Much to his chagrin, he had been netted and then he - a dragon of all things! - had been dragged into this chamber through a huge tunnel. He had been somewhat groggy and was never quite able to figure out how that had been done or by whom.

Now he was secured to the wall with a chain that was so thick and heavy, even he could not break its links. He suspected that the same spell cast on the doors to keep them from melting had been put on the chain to keep him from breaking loose. He had pulled with all of his might but never was able to force the bolt holding the chain out of the wall. Another spell, he supposed.

Not wanting to be fried to a crisp, no one wanted to go inside the chamber and give him water, so a small spigot in the wall constantly dripped water into a trough. He would drink it dry, and by the time he was thirsty again, it had refilled enough to keep him satisfied. He was being fed regularly. Treco couldn’t figure out why he was here.

Only once had someone come into the chamber far enough to talk to him. Allaura, she called herself. Witch is what he called her, though he had no idea if that’s what she really was.

She had told him he might as well resign himself to his fate, because he was now hers.

“What fate?” he had asked her.

“I have very special plans for you,” had been her cool answer. She had stood silently then, not bothering to explain and not showing the slightest fear.

Without warning, Treco had fired a flame at her. She was engulfed by the searing fire, so much so that Treco couldn’t even see her. He continued like that until his breath almost gave out. Thinking her no more than ashes, he withdrew the flame.

Allaura stood in front of him, completely unscathed, and smiled at him. “You cannot kill me, dragon. Do not try. I may need you, but I will not tolerate insubordination.” Then as a clear warning, she said, “There have been other dragons, and there can be more still.”

“What do you mean ‘there have been other dragons’?”

“Surely you do not think that you are the first. I have had others of your kind in my service.”

Then Treco had suddenly remembered the story that his father told him of his uncle, who had vanished in this same part of the world long before Treco was born. A rumor had circulated that the formidable dragon had been taken and killed by a witch. His father had refused to believe it, but the rumor had persisted. Now it looked as if the story could be true.

Furious, Treco had been sorely tempted to shoot another flame at the woman, but if she had withstood the first assault, she would most likely be able to withstand another. And if she could do that, she could kill him, too, and probably would just to show him who was in charge. He had roared and stomped his foot in frustration but did nothing more.

Allaura had laughed.

Treco did not take well to being laughed at. He was a dragon, after all, but what could he do? He had cringed, glad that none of his kin could see him now, although he would have been willing to endure the humiliation, if only one of them would come and rescue him. He was sure being laughed at would have become a large part of his life after that, but at least he’d be free. He was proving that dragons and dungeons did not mix very well.~~

With a sigh that brought little tendrils of smoke floating out of his nostrils, Treco turned his thoughts back to the present. Looking backward was not going to help him in his current situation.

Treco advanced on the tray of meat. As usual, he was barely able to reach it by leaning forward as far as he could, his chained leg stretched out behind him. Gripping the tray with his mouth, he pulled it back to a position that allowed him to settle himself on the floor and eat at his leisure.

The large red creature tried to push everything else out of his mind. The food was good, and right now, that was all he allowed to matter.

*~*~*~*

The instant Legolas saw the blue stone in front of him, he closed his eyes. He silently thanked Aragorn for telling him what had happened to him, otherwise he would have done the same thing the unsuspecting ranger had done and stared at it.

“Open your eyes,” Allaura demanded, though her voice was low.

Legolas did not obey. The woman’s hand was still firmly gripping his chin, so he couldn’t move his head away again, but he didn’t think she would be able to force his eyelids up with both hands occupied.

“I am in no hurry,” she told him, speaking slowly, as if to emphasize her words.

Legolas was sure Allaura knew about the lifespan of elves, but he thought he’d offer a reminder. “I am immortal.”

The laugh that escaped Allaura’s lips was chilling. “So am I,” she said. “But the ranger is not.” The woman paused to watch the misery that clearly showed on the elf’s face. Then she continued. “Shall we engage in a battle of wills for who knows how long, while he rots away below? A few words from me to my guards, and he will not be fed or given water. He will die a slow, painful and lonely death in a dark stone vault deep underground where no one will ever find his body or know what became of him. Could you live with that, knowing it came as the price for your stubborn elven pride?”

Legolas wanted her to shut up, but he couldn’t risk telling her so. He couldn’t gamble with Aragorn’s life like that just to demonstrate his defiance. Allaura could do what she said just for spite, to punish him for his impertinence.

Even though the elf kept his eyes closed a little while longer, the look of utter defeat on his face made Allaura smile, because she knew she had won. “Smart elf.”

When the archer did finally open his eyes, the necklace had not moved. It still hung at eye level only a few inches from his face.

Hoping that any punishment for Aragorn would be no more than a missed meal in the dark, the elf was fully resigned to whatever was going to happen next. Believing that he was saving the ranger’s very life, Legolas now stared hard into the blue stone.

The fiery gem filled the elf’s vision, making all else fade into nothingness. Its sparkles mesmerized him in a way that both sucked the life out of him and gave him life at the same time. He felt the back and forth pull but didn’t understand what it meant.

The soft part of the light floated through his consciousness like a fog, swirling in intricate patterns just out of the reach of what was left of his probing mind and kept him from pinning down its composition and its source.

The sharper shafts of light were different from the swirls. They shot like an arrow into his heart, then into his very soul. It was a sensation like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was hot and cold, light and dark, painful and yet offered pleasure beyond reckoning.

Legolas soon became so enamored of it that he couldn’t remember a time it hadn’t existed. And worse, he couldn’t imagine a time he wanted to be without it.

The blue light so filled his entire being that he was not aware of what his body was doing. He didn’t care what it was doing. He didn’t care if he even had a body. Legolas was like someone so hooked on a dangerous drug that the rest of the world ceased to exist and only the drug mattered.

Allaura saw the look on the elf’s face and knew she had him. He was even more lost than the ranger had been. This one would cause no trouble, she was sure. She could hand him a knife and turn her back and know that she would be perfectly safe, as long as she had the blue stone to entrance him. This one would be hers forever.

Briefly the woman toyed with the idea of doing away with the ranger all together. He was not really needed now. She had her immortal elf. But then she reconsidered, thinking that the human could prove to be a nice, amusing diversion from time to time.

As she led Legolas toward her bed, she momentarily turned away from him. When the blue light vanished from his sight, the elf screamed from the agony of the separation.

In desperation, he reached out, grabbed Allaura’s shoulder and spun her around to face him. He then grabbed the necklace and held it up to his eyes.

Startled, Allaura gripped the chain to keep the elf from breaking it and taking the necklace. But she soon realized that there was no pull on the chain. He was not trying to take it; he was merely trying to look at it again. Allaura relaxed.

Legolas held the necklace in his cupped hands and stared at it, savoring the feeling, as it once again filled his being with its perfect light. His mind felt at ease once more. All was right with his world.

Allaura had never seen anyone react this way before, but then she had never had an elf as her captive before. “So this is how it will be,” she mused, though she couldn’t be sure he even heard her.

Legolas stood totally transfixed by the stone. He was now its prisoner far more than he was Allaura’s.

TBC

Chapter Fifteen

At first, Allaura thought that the elf’s enchantment with the blue stone was amusing. The enraptured look on hs face, particularly in his eyes, made her smile. Even after he grabbed the necklace to keep the light connected to him, she was not alarmed. She had believed all she had to do to control him was give him a command.

“Legolas, look at me.” Her voice was soft. However, when the elf completely ignored her, she said, “Look at me,” in a louder and more commanding voice.

There was still no response, as Legolas continued to stare into the depths of the blue fire within the stone. He showed no signs of being aware of anything else.

In frustration, the woman reached out and put her right hand over the stone, effectively cutting it off from the elf’s sight.

This time, however, there was not the expected cry of anguish. Instead a low growl of angry warning came from the elf’s throat.

His eyes were captured by the stone’s light and would not leave it, but his mind was still functioning on a rudimentary level. Legolas’s mind was aware only enough to engage in doing whatever it needed to do to keep the light in front of him.

One of Legolas’s hands released the necklace and grabbed the woman’s wrist, squeezing it painfully.

Allaura jerked back at both the intensity of the look she saw on the elf’s face and the pain that his grasp was causing. She feared that he might actually try to do her harm, if she didn’t let him have his way. Reluctantly, she moved her hand and uncovered the blue stone.

Legolas let go of her wrist and once again cupped the necklace in both palms. He was instantly lost to the power of the blue fire.

Allaura stood and stared up at Legolas. How was this possible? How could the necklace so take over this elf’s being that he could possibly resort to violence to keep from being separated from it? This had never happened before, but she had to remind herself once more, that she had never used the necklace on an elf before. Still, this all-consuming reaction was disturbing.

Now that she had her hands on an immortal, she was not about to do anything to ruin it. This was new territory, and she had to handle it carefully, or she could lose him, something she was not willing to do.

Thinking fast, Allaura said, “Legolas, if you come with me, I will make sure that you have the light to keep.”

The elf didn’t break contact with

the stone, but his expression did change slightly.

Seizing on that , Allaura began to pull Legolas toward the bed, making sure she didn’t turn away from him. “Take off your clothes,

she said roughly. Perhaps she had not spoken forcefully enough before.

It made no difference. There was no response. This was getting to be more than frustrating. Allaura was not used to being ignored - for any reason.

Verbal commands weren‘t working, so there was no way the elf was going to take his tunic and shirt off himself. Maybe physical maneuvers would work, as long as he could keep his eyes on the blue stone. After all, she had been able to pull him toward the bed easily enough.

She would have to do it for him, not that she minded, though sex was not the purpose of what she was doing. Still, she saw no reason not to enjoy the action of partly disrobing him.

When the elf had been stripped from the waist up, Allaura put her hands on each of his shoulders and pushed him down onto his back across the bed. Due to the chain around her neck, she had to go down with him and stay close.

Through it all, the necklace remained at the same distance from Legolas’s face. He might as well have been a statue for all the movement his hands displayed. He also could be lying on cold rock on a mountaintop instead of a soft, luxurious bed for all he knew - or cared.

It wasn’t until they were lying down that she realized how difficult it was going to be to use the stone on him. She had to touch his body with it while chanting ancient words that invoked the power she sought from it. The elf was never going to let her take the stone away from his sight in order to press it to his body.

Well, she thought, if I do it quickly enough he cannot stop me. Thus deciding, Allaura snatched the necklace out of the elf’s hands. She quickly pressed it to Legolas’s shoulder, covering it with her palm in the same manner she had done previously with the ranger. As soon as it touched Legolas’s skin, she began chanting.

Legolas had a horrified look on his face. He let out a blood-curdling scream of anguish and pain. Whether this reaction was due to the elf’s separation from the blue light or from the necklace’s touch, was unclear. Either could have been the case.

Allaura was so surprised by the elf’s scream that she almost stopped the chant but forced herself to keep the ancient words flowing, aiming them at the elf’s right ear, as she leaned down closer to him.

The elf moaned and closed his eyes, his breath coming in short gasps before evening out when his body went limp.

Finishing the chant, Allaura carefully removed the necklace from the elf’s body. As with all of her victims, though she preferred not to think of them that way, a red burned area appeared, marring the otherwise flawless skin of the elf.

It wasn’t the elf’s reaction that had shocked her. It was the fact that she didn’t feel any different. She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Why hadn’t she felt anything? Calming her racing heart, she came to the conclusion that it was because she had just had the ranger and didn’t need to be infused again so soon. That was what she told herself, at any rate.

Still somewhat shocked and trying not to shake, Allaura gripped the necklace in her hand, covering the stone and keeping it from once again touching the elf, as she raised herself on one elbow and. stared down at Legolas’s frowning tace. It was clear that he was troubled even in unconsciousness. This had definitely never happened since she had first possessed the necklace.

She had lied to the ranger about how she had gotten the necklace and the earrings. Her husband had not given them to her. The truth was far different.

Many centuries ago, Allaura’s parents had died. She had been four years old at the time, and she was sent to be raised by her father’s father and the woman she had believed to be her father’s mother.

Her grandfather had died two days after Allaura turned fifteen, and her grandmother followed him three months later. After the shock of her second loss wore off, the teenaged girl began to go through the old woman’s possessions.

Tucked away in a closet, Allaura found a small wooden box, the same one she still had. In the box, she found the necklace and the earrings and immediately became entranced by them. The first time she put them on, a thrill went through her that she could not accurately describe or even understand.

In the bottom of the box, under the velvet lining, she found a handwritten note that explained the power of the necklace’s stone. It gave brief but detailed instructions on its use.

The one thing that caught Allaura’s attention was the statement that the necklace, when used as instructed, would grant the user immortality. Her grandmother had always been young and beautiful, not at all looking like the typical grandmother, at least not until shortly before she died. So if she was immortal, why had she died? It made no sense to Allaura at the time.

Later she was to find a letter her grandmother had written to her husband shortly after his death. She wanted to be with him and had put the necklace away and never touched it again, knowing that without its power to transfer a man’s life force into her, she could not sustain her immortality, and thus she had finally succumbed to old age.

How long she had lived, Allaura had no way of knowing, but it was plainly the love of her last husband, if indeed she had ever been married before, that had taken hold of her heart and turned it, so that even the necklace could not break the bond.

Her grandmother had not been a cruel soul. However, a mood of melancholy had overtaken her shortly after she had first used the necklace, and she could never escape the deaths she was forced to cause. Releasing its power had not been hard for her do. All this she had explained in the letter.

Allaura, on the other hand, had reacted differently to what the blue stone could do for her. She had not been a bad person growing up, but the power offered to her was a cruel kind of seduction she had not been able to reject.

No love, not even the man she herself had married just a few short years ago, could turn her from the immortal life she had gained . The very act of transferring the life forces she required was like a drug to her. She craved it beyond even her need to have it. She had loved her grandmother but considered the woman weak for letting a man turn her from the joy of what the blue stone could do for her.

Allaura laughed. If it had not been for her grandmother's choice to die, she herself would never have had the necklace to begin with. She would have lived a common, perhaps dreary, life and died a common, dreary death.

Soon her heart had been totally corrupted, and she thought nothing of the men she destroyed to maintain her life, not only the length of it but the quality of it, as well.

For centuries she had continued in the same pattern, using up the essence of men until they had nothing left to give, and then she discarded them, caring not that they were soon to die.

It had been a day in May, almost twenty years ago that she had met the man who would become her husband. She had liked him, certainly far more than any other man she had ever met. She had even loved him in her own twisted way.

When he had taken her to Ravenlore, she had known she must have it. It was then that they married and moved into the large stone house, which was more a fortress than a home.

Ravenlore was secluded, making it hard for Allaura to find the men she needed to sustain her. At first she had been reluctant to use her husband. However, necessity had won out over any genuine feelings she may have had for him.

It was only in recent years that he had begun to lose too much of the essence he needed to remain viable to her. It was then she had hired Grath and his men to find her new men, who could keep her in the physical condition she was accustomed to.

And now Grath had brought her an elf, someone she had never thought of using before. Someone she had soon realized could be her llife source for eternity.

Allaura stared down at the unconscious elf. This would never do. How was she going to handle this unexpected occurrence? Every single man she had ever taken had been easy to control. All she had ever had to do was give a command, and the men would do exactly as she wished.

Perhaps this elf was going to be too difficult. She could always go on the way she had been. But there was something in her make-up that wouldn’t allow her to give up on anyone, especially this one. She would keep him. All she needed to do was figure it out.

Allaura stood up and walked over to her dressing table and put the necklace in the wooden box. She didn’t want the elf to wake up and have the blue stone be the first thing he saw.

Going over to one of the windows in her room, she looked out over the manicured lawn and the forest beyond. She would wait until the elf woke up and see what condition he was in. Then she would go from there.

*~*~*~*

Far below the house, Aragorn languished in the stone vault. It was not so much the discomfort of the place as it was his worry over Legolas. The elf had been gone for hours.

It wasn’t until his stomach let him know it was not pleased at not being fed, that the ranger realized the guards had not come with his med-day meal. When no evening meal showed up either, he forgot his hunger and concentrated on his friend. “What has happened to you, mellon nin? What has that woman done to you?” He didn’t really want to know the answers to those questions, because if he did, he was afraid he would either be very angry or brokenhearted. Probably both.

He sat on the stone bench and shook his head, running his hands through his hair. It didn’t take long for him to become restless. He jumped up and started pacing. He wanted to throw something but there was nothing to throw. He thought about taking a boot off and throwing that against the wall, but that would only end up hurting him, because the floor was littered with the tiny pebbles from the ceiling.

Instead, Aragorn concentrated on calming himself down. He knew from experience that getting worked up was worse on the one doing it. Giving himself a fit wouldn’t help Legolas nor would it upset Allaura or the guards, if they ever found out about it, which was highly doubtful.

Aragorn sat back down, got up and paced, sat back down, got up and paced. On and on.

A loud crash above him, accompanied by a muffled bellowing noise and tiny pebbles and stone dust falling on his head halted his pacing in mid stride.

Once the dust settled, the ranger looked up. Thinking about what had just occurred, he began to believe that Legolas had been right about who - or what - might be above this vault.

“Treco, is that you up there?” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He was not surprised when there was no reply. If a dragon’s bellowing was muffled, then surely a human’s voice, even one that was yelling, would be impossible to hear.

“If Legolas were here, he could probably...” The man couldn’t finish the sentence, as a fresh pain entered his heart. “If Legolas were here, I’d be a much happier man right now, because I‘d know how he is.” Aragorn felt like doing his own stomping.

The vibrations and bellowing began again, and this time, they didn’t stop. So many pebbles and stone dust descended on Aragorn that he had to pull his tunic up over his head and mouth to keep the little rocks from hurting him and the dust from choking him.

He stood up on the stone bench and faced the wall. He was sure the ceiling was going to come down. After a few more violent shakes, it did.

TBC

Chapter Sixteen

Allaura finally turned away from the window and crossed the soft carpet, her long black dress floating silently about her feet. She stopped and stood beside the bed. Allaura stared down at the elf lying across the plush coverlet.

Her mind was a little calmer now than it had been a few moments earlier, but she had still not figured out what she was going to do. It did not sit well with her that there wasn’t really anything she could do until Legolas woke up, and she saw what condition he was in. Allaura was not one to waste too much time pondering a situation until all the facts were known.

The woman sighed. This elf was so beautiful. She again wondered why she hadn’t tried to take an elf long before this. Just looking upon his fair features, his flawless skin, his golden hair and his delicately pointed ears gave her a tingle she couldn’t deny.

If only he could be won over, so that she didn’t have to battle his obvious obsession with the blue stone. Knowing full well how powerful the stone was, she didn’t want to think about the fact she may not win such a battle. A thought then occurred to her. Did the elf want the stone, or did the stone want the elf?

So consuming were these musings that it took Allaura a moment to realize that the elf’s eyes had opened, though they seemed a bit unfocused. She waited almost breathlessly while he blinked them clear and looked about him. She was anxious to know if he remembered anything about what had happened.

Legolas’s eyes took in the ornate nature of the room. It didn’t take long for total recall to be reflected in their blue-gray depths. He continued to turn his head slowly, and when Allaura came into his line of sight, he frowned.

Allaura misread the reason for the frown. For a moment, she thought perhaps he was confused as to who she was. ‘He must not remember,’ she thought. That idea was soon shattered.

"Where is it?" Legolas asked in a slightly husky yet clearly demanding tone, as his frown deepened and he sat up.

The sudden thought that the frown and the elf’s beautiful features did not go together flashed through Allaura’s mind. Such a perfect face should always be smiling. The woman realized that she had never seen him smile. Perhaps that could be changed.

For the present, the elf’s frown was still firmly in place. He wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. "Where is it?" This time his voice bordered on a growl.

"Where is what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know of what I speak. Where is the necklace?" Legolas leveled his intense gaze directly into Allaura’s eyes.

"It is..." she hesitated, wondering how much she should say. She didn’t want him to become violent, if she lied and told him it was not here. The woman hated to admit it, but she might not be able to control him. Without the necklace on her, she had no more power than any ordinary mortal woman. Of course, wearing the necklace in front of him was even more dangerous. "It is locked away," she finally replied. It sounded lame, even to her.

"Give me the key," Legolas demanded.

This elf was not going to be dissuaded easily, but Allaura was going to try.

"You do not need the necklace. It is but a trifle that caught your eye for a brief moment." Changing the subject completely, she said, "You never told me if you wanted a room like this while you are here." Fully aware that the elf would mention his friend, she quickly added, "I may even be able to find a room for the ranger."

"You must think me addled. I will not be distracted." Legolas was not even aware he had completely ignored the reference to Aragorn. He stood up and reached out for Allaura.

She tried to move out of the way, but the elf was too quick. He grabbed her by both arms and held her, unmindful of how tight his grip was. "Where is the key?"

"I do not have it. I...."

"Liar. I know you would never trust anyone else with it." Legolas shook Allaura to emphasize his words. He didn’t care when Allaura winced at the sharp movement, as her head jerked back and forth. "Give me the key. Now!"

Allaura swallowed hard to hide her momentary fear. There would be no chance of putting the elf off, so in a resigned tone, she said, "If you release me, I will bring you the necklace."

The elf emitted a harsh laugh that was anything but humorous. "I am not naive enough to trust you. You will grab it for yourself and use it against me, as you have already tried to do. Give me the key."

*~*~*~*

Aragorn pressed himself as hard against the wall as he could but still several chunks of stone grazed his arms and back. No serious damage was done, but the scrapes that resulted, even through his clothes, were painful nonetheless. He expected, at any moment, to have a big rock land squarely on his head, easily crushing his skull. He was fortunate that that didn’t happen.

Yet it wasn’t the loss of his own life that Aragorn thought about, as he waited for the falling rocks to settle. It was the fact that if he died, Legolas would also be lost. He couldn’t let that happen, though right then, he had no idea how he could possibly prevent it.

Aragorn suddenly became aware that the ceiling had finally stopped falling and in place of all the noise the rocks made, his ears were now being assaulted by very loud roaring.

Cautiously, the man turned around and lowered his arms. He had no idea what would greet his eyes. First he saw a large pile of rocks in the center of the floor. He couldn’t help but take a deep breath of relief. The majority of the chunks of stone that had missed him would have been quite capable of killing him, just as he had feared.

He looked up and saw that a large part of the ceiling had come down, but it was the object occupying the space created that got the ranger’s immediate and undivided attention. There, extending down several feet below the level of the ruined ceiling, was a large clawed foot.

With an accompanying roar, the foot was jerked upward and disappeared from view. This move was quickly followed by what was surely a curse spoken in a language that was unknown to the man watching from below.

Aragorn stared, not sure he had seen what he thought he had seen. Maybe a rock had hit him on the head, and he was hallucinating. No, he knew what he had seen was real. It was Treco, or rather Treco‘s foot. The dragon was indeed the one above him and had been the one to stomp a hole in the ceiling, which, of course, would be the floor to his own vault.

"Treco!" the ranger yelled. Receiving no answer, he yelled even louder, "Tree-co!"

Above, the red dragon heard his name. He had just been about to roar again, but stopped and listened. He heard it again.

The huge creature, who had stepped back when he extracted his foot, looked around his prison. Seeing no one that could have spoken, he frowned. The double doors were still tightly closed.

The dragon then looked down at the hole in the floor. The voice must have come from there. He could tell at a glance it would be a tight fit to get his head into the open space his tantrum had caused, so he was careful when he lowered it until he could see into the room below him. All he saw was a pile of rocks in the center of the much smaller room.

Not immediately seeing anyone, Treco asked, "Who is there?"

"It’s me, Aragorn."

"Who?"

"Aragorn." The man repeated his name and stepped closer to the dragon’s head. "The ranger who repaired your wing. Remember?"

So, the human was here. Maybe that was why he and the elf hadn’t shown up when they were supposed to meet him. Perhaps they had also been captured by that witch, Allaura.

Treco’s anger rose. If this Aragorn and the elf had met him like they said they would, he wouldn’t be in this situation. The fact he would have flown over this valley on the way home, even if they had met him, didn’t occur to him and wouldn’t have appeased him, in any case. It was much easier to blame them than fault anything he himself had done.

Treco looked all around what to him was a tiny room but saw only the human. "Where is the elf? Is he not here, too?"

Aragorn almost flinched at the reminder that Legolas was not with him. He took a deep breath, so he could answer with a steady voice. "The lady of the house has him." The tone of the word ‘lady’ was unmistakably sarcastic. "Do you know her?"

The dragon snorted, sending a puff of smoke rolling toward the ranger, who couldn’t help taking a step back. "Unfortunately, I do know that witch. She is the one who used some kind of magic to capture me."

Aragorn was sure that would be a tale worth hearing, but right now he didn’t want to spare the time. "We need to get free, so I can find Legolas, and we can leave this awful place."

Nodding, the dragon said, "What do you propose?"

Aragorn thought hard on that question. Having a fire-breathing dragon at your disposal, one that was willing to help you, had to be an advantage. It didn’t matter that his help would only come because he wanted the same thing you did. Help was help.

Thinking further, Aragorn wondered why Treco hadn’t freed himself already? The man didn’t like having to ask that question, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like the answer.

"I don’t like talking to a disembodied head. Can you pull me up there?"

Treco’s head soon disappeared and his foot came back down through the hole. "Grab on."

Not wanting to slip on any loose rocks, it took a moment for Aragorn to climb up to the top of the pile. Once there, he reached up. No sooner had he wrapped his hands tightly around the largest toe on the dragon’s foot than he found himself flying up through the ceiling.

Treco gently set the man down on the floor in front of him.

The whole maneuver hadn’t taken but a few seconds, but Aragorn was glad when he feet touched the stone floor. "Thank you," he managed to say in a voice much calmer than he believed would be possible.

The ranger looked around him and let out a whistle. The room he now stood in was huge. He laughed. Why should that surprise him? After all, it held a very large dragon. Had such a room been built for another dragon? It couldn’t have been built for Treco, since he had only been here a short while, and this chamber had no doubt taken a long time to hewn out of the solid rock. It may have been used for some other purpose in times past. Aragorn’s curiosity was piqued, but again, he couldn’t take the time to try and learn the answer. Maybe later.

When he saw the iron doors at the far end of the room, a smile crept across his face. "Those doors are metal like the ones below." He turned his head and looked up at Treco. "Can you use your fire to melt them?" There was pure hope in his eyes.

The dragon stared down at the human somewhat miffed. "Do you think I have not thought to try that? Do you not see the scorch marks on the walls to each side of those doors? They are protected with magic of some sort. My flame has no effect on them."

Aragorn’s face fell. He should have known. If the dragon could have destroyed the doors, he would have done so when he first arrived and been long gone by now.

An idea struck the dragon. "I could lean down into your room and melt the doors there. I am sure there is no magic protecting them, since a mere human could do nothing to destroy them. You could then come up here and open my doors from the outside."

The ranger was shaking his head even before Treco finished speaking. "No I can’t."

"Why not?"

"There are three other doors in the passageway on the level of my room. They can only be opened with keys carried by the guards, so I can’t open them." The man sighed heavily. "You, of course, cannot get down the small passage to reach the other doors to melt them."

"So, I can melt those doors but cannot reach them. You can reach them but cannot open them." Treco puffed out more smoke in total frustration. "We are together but we cannot help each other or ourselves."

He shook his massive head in imitation of Aragorn’s movement a moment ago. "We must do something. I do not intend on spending the rest of my exceedingly long life in this stone coffin." The dragon looked as if he was about to stamp his foot.

"Let me think," said Aragorn. "There has to be a way." Without another word, the ranger sat down cross-legged on the stone floor, holding his head in his hands, as his mind sorted through the situation.

The vault below was ruined, and as soon as the guards arrived with Aragorn’s food, they would see the mess and the fact that he was gone, and...

Aragorn jumped up and snapped his fingers. "I have it!"

TBC

Chapter Seventeen

Two large yellow eyes turned down in Aragorn’s direction. “You have what?”

“A plan,” the ranger said triumphantly. At the look of curiosity on the dragon’s face, the ranger began to explain. “At first, I was worried that the guards would come and find the hole in the ceiling to my vault and me missing. But I realize now that would be a good thing.”

“How so?”

“When they come and find I’m gone, they’ll obviously see that the only place I could have gone is up here.”

Treco picked up on where the human was going with his idea. He quickly interrupted. “So you think they would then come up here.”

“Yes. That’s it exactly.” Aragorn was beaming.

“If you believe they would come in here to check for your whereabouts, do not bother. They would not come in here no matter what or who they were looking for. They are afraid of me, as well they should be,” the dragon was quick to point out, “so they just might decide to leave you up here, knowing there is no place else you can go.”

“Ah but would they? After all, I am wanted by Allaura.” The man stopped long enough to shutter at the thought, then continued. “They couldn’t afford to leave me here to be eaten by a fearsome dragon.”

“Eaten? I would not lower myself to eat a human. Flame one, yes. But eat one? Never!” The disgusting expression that Treco displayed almost made Aragorn laugh, despite the obvious insult that had just been voiced. But he certainly wasn’t about to try and convince this dragon that he would surely provide quite a tasty meal. No use tempting fate. Instead, he said, “But they don’t know that. They couldn’t take the chance of facing Allaura’s wrath. Cutting out their tongues would be minor compared to what she would probably do to them, if I...uh...disappeared.”

“I see your point,” the huge creature agreed. “They would come in here to at least have a look. Then I could flame them.” A very pleased look appeared on Treco’s face at the thought. “A nice pile of ashes they would make.” He’d really give them something to fear, as they watched his searing flame shooting toward them.

“No, Treco, you cannot flame them when they show up.”

The look in the dragon’s eyes turned dark. “And why not? If I do not kill them, they will run to Allaura, and we will never get out of here.”

“I agree, but first we have to get the keys to whatever doors we may encounter along our escape route. I doubt the ones on the lower level are the only ones. If you flame the guards before I obtain those keys, they would end up a melted mass among all those ashes and would be useless to us.”

The dragon’s only response was a snort of frustration accompanied by the all-too-familiar puff of smoke.

Aragorn looked up at Treco a little hesitant about what he was going to say next. Deciding that the only way was to just come out with it, he said, “You will have to play dead.”

“Play dead? What are you talking about?” the dragon questioned, clearly confused.

“My plan is to wait by the doors for the guards to come and see if I am still alive. The only problem is that all four of them will likely not come in here at the same time. Whenever they brought us food and a new torch, two of them always stayed out in the hall in case of trouble. There’s no reason to think they’ll do any different now.”

Aragorn took a deep breath before continuing his plan. “When the doors open, the two that come in must think you are dead. It’s the only way all four of them will venture inside to check. They’ll see one ‘dead’ dragon and no ranger."

Before Aragorn could finish, he heard Treco mutter, as if talking about something that might happened had he actually eaten the ranger, "I probably dropped dead of human poisoning."

Aragorn couldn't help but grin, even though it was another scathing insult, though he made no comment about it. Resuming as if there had been no interruption, he said, "I’ll then get the jump on them from behind and relieve them of their keys. Then you can ‘come alive’ and do what it is you dragons like to do. Once we get out of this dungeon we’ll go find Legolas.”

There was a look of determination in the ranger’s eyes that Treco suspected had nothing to do with the actual escape. “I will help you get out of this dungeon, if possible, but I will not stay around here while you go looking all over this very large house to find one elf.”

“I won’t leave him behind,” Aragorn stated with unmistakable firmness. “That is not an option, because that one elf is my brother. He also helped to mend your wing. I did not work alone, if you recall. But fear not. I won’t argue with you. Once we get out of here, you can go your own way, and I’ll go mine.” The ranger’s chin jutted out in a clear display of stubbornness.

“Fine,” the dragon declared.

“Fine,” the human echoed.

The two stubborn individuals just stood and stared at each other for a moment before Aragorn turned his back on the creature and crossed his arms over his chest.

The whole idea of Treco not wanting to help find Legolas was actually a ridiculous one and quite moot. The dragon would not fit in any of the upstairs corridors of Ravenlore. But, to the ranger’s way of thinking, Treco should have at least been willing to make the offer.

Staring a the man’s back, Treco was tempted to knock him to the floor in a fit of anger, but his ire soon dissipated. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed the human as much as the human needed him. They had to cooperate, for the time being anyway.

There was nothing for either of them to do now but wait until the guards came to the ranger’s vault to bring him his next meal. Once he heard them leave there to come up here, he would take up his position beside the double doors until they arrived. Everything after that he would have to play by ear.

There was no time to contemplate the odds of success, because in less than a minute, there was the clear sound of a metal door opening, and it didn’t take much conjecture to know which door it was. Aragorn put his finger to his lips for silence.

Under ordinary circumstances, there would have been a lot of shouting tinged with panic, when the ranger was found to be missing. However, since Aragorn couldn’t poke his head through the hole to see what was happening, and the guards had no tongues to form any words, the sound of their feet rapidly moving across the stone was the only clue the ranger had that they were leaving the vault.

Aragorn quickly motioned for the dragon to lie down and look dead.

Groaning inwardly that he was even considering doing this, Treco settled down onto his stomach, lay his head down on the floor and closed one eye.

“Both eyes, Treco. You are supposed to be dead,” the ranger admonished.

Treco protested. “I want to see.”

“You’ll see us fail to escape, if you don’t look properly dead,” the man hissed.

Another snort of frustration left the dragon’s mouth, but he soon complied and closed both eyes. Much as he wanted to see what was going to happen with the human and the guards, he wanted to be free a whole lot more.

Aragorn quickly ran across the large chamber and stood with his back to the wall next to the door on the right.

It wasn’t long before he heard a key turning in the lock. His muscles tensed, ready for action, and his heart pounded in anticipation. It would be only seconds before, for good or ill, the wisdom of his plan would be revealed.

*~*~*~*

Allaura stood and stared up into the scowling face of the elf. She had had no experience with elves, but she didn’t think the dark look she saw there meant anything other than what the same look meant on any other creature. The elf was angry.

She could give in, thus giving her time to think of some way to regain control of Legolas. Or she could defy him. She shook her head. The necklace might take control of him so firmly this time, she might never be able to get him back. Besides, her need for that control didn’t allow her to even attempt the former. It was perhaps the smarter thing to do, but she was prepared to show this elf who was in charge.

The woman was aware that Legolas had not lessened his grip on her arms. She chose to ignore the pain his fingers were causing.

“I will not give you the key, and if you try to hurt me further, you will never get it.”

“I will tear this place apart stone by stone, if I must, but I will find the necklace.” Legolas left no doubt that he was prepared to do exactly as he said.

Allaura jerked her head back and glared. “You seem to think that my only power comes from the blue stone. You are making a grave mistake, if that is what you believe.”

She saw the flicker of doubt in the elf’s eyes and pressed on. “I have used the necklace for many centuries, and it has infused me with much of its power.”

Legolas’s eyes hardened again. “Then why do you require its possession to do your bidding?”

A small smile appeared on Allaura’s face. “That is what you believe. I never said that. However, I will admit I need the necklace to get what I want from you, but I do not need it to cause you a great deal of harm.”

“You need me.”

“No, I want you. That is a big difference. Do not forget, I still have the ranger. He is a Dúnadan and will satisfy me for a long time to come.”

Another emotion flickered in the elf’s blue-gray eyes. It wasn’t quite recognition, but it showed that there was a memory that was trying to push itself to the forefront. It quickly disappeared in a renewal of the dark look Legolas gave the woman.

Allaura started to yell out for her guards. She needed to have this elf constrained while she retrieved her necklace. Allaura had told an outright lie when she had said the necklace had infused some of its power into her. She had none.

Once the guards had the elf in their grasp, she could get the necklace and then gain control over him and muddle his mind so that he was compliant to her will.

Before she could utter a single word, she remembered that it was time for the guards to take food to the ranger deep below Ravenlore. She had never before met resistance to her will, so she had never felt the need to leave one of them up here to stand guard.

“Having trouble, my dear?” came a cool voice from the direction of the doorway.

Allaura’s head spun around at the sound of the voice. “Ricard.” There was no way to tell by that one word whether she was glad to see this man or not.

The newcomer was tall, about the same height as Legolas. He had black hair and brown eyes and would have been considered handsome by most moral standards. However, there was a haggard look to his pale face and a haunted look in the dark eyes. His once muscular body was more than a little wasted, as if he hadn’t eaten or done anything strenuous in a long time.

The man took a step into the room before stopping and taking stock of the scene before him. His eyes immediately went to the elf, and then to the elf’s hands that were holding Allaura’s arms. He stifled a grin of satisfaction.

“Ricard, I need your help.” It was a simple statement of fact with no emotion behind it. It almost brought a groan of dismay that she had found it necessary to make that request.

The least she could do was sound a little bit needy, the man thought, though he was sure Allaura would never have said that, if she wasn’t desperate. She just wasn’t about to show it. “And what is it you require?” he asked calmly.

Allaura glanced at Legolas, who looked toward Ricard, as if he had just realized there was someone else in the room. His expression didn’t change.

“Get his hands off of me.”

Ricard moved toward the elf and hated himself for being so weak-willed. She had done that to him. She was destroying his spirit just as surely as she was destroying his body. Even if he could fight her, the way this elf was evidently doing, he knew he couldn’t overcome the power of the necklace, which he was sure she would use on him at the first opportunity. He had tried and tired over the years to fight against it but to no avail.

“Elves are immortal, Allaura. Do not destroy his life. Let him go.” The plea sounded pathetic, but it was all the man had left.

Allaura scoffed, “Do not be an idiot, Ricard, and do not presume that I am one. Ii is precisely because he is immortal that I will never let him go. You should be happy. That means I will not need you anymore.”

That statement led to two different conclusions: being left alone or death. Under the current circumstances, Ricard wasn’t sure which one was more appealing.

In Legolas’s single-minded determination to get the necklace back, he asked Ricard, “Will you get the key for me?” His tone was flat, lacking the passion he felt deep inside.

Ricard frowned. “What key is he talking about?” He knew that Allaura kept the wooden box containing the jewels locked, but he didn’t make the connection.

“I want the necklace,” the elf declared, indicating with those words what key he was referring to.

It wasn’t until then that Ricard noticed that Allaura wasn’t wearing the jewelry. Since she needed the blue stone in the necklace to obtain the life force she had to have to survive, he couldn’t understand why she didn’t have them on. In as steady a voice as he could muster, he told the elf, “I do not have the key.”

Legolas made a low growl deep in his throat and shook Allaura again, her long, black hair shimmering in the light at the movement.

Allaura’s look turned dark, and she snapped out an order. “Ricard, get hold of him!”

By that time, Ricard, who had stopped, took several more steps and reached the two. He stepped behind Legolas and wrapped his arms around the elf, pulling him back and allowing Allaura to twist loose.

Ordinarily, Legolas could have easily broken the man’s clasping arms, even had Ricard been in good health. But he himself was greatly weakened by what the blue stone had done to him. He struggled but could not break free from the hold that was stronger than looked possible.

Ricard held on for all he was worth, knowing that Allaura would be furious beyond reason, if the elf somehow got loose.

Not sparing the time to look at the struggle between elf and man, she turned and pulled the key out of the bodice of her dress. She quickly ran to the dressing table that held the wooden box.

Fumbling slightly in her haste, Allaura finally managed to get the key turned in the lock. She reached in and grabbed the necklace, slipping it over her head and settling it around her neck, as a deep sigh of relief escaped her.

When she turned back around to face Legolas and Ricard, a look of total triumph spread across her face. She had all the power now.

Her hand covered the blue stone, as she approached the elf and her husband. “Do as I say or you will both pay the price.”

Legolas had no idea what that meant nor did he care. His eyes lighted on the woman’s hand where he knew the jewel was secured, and that was all that mattered to him.

Ricard continued to keep his arms tightly around the elf. He cursed himself. He had had the opportunity not only to help this elf but to possibly end Allaura’s reign of terror. His fear of her had let that opportunity die before even giving it a chance. He knew his wife, so what would happen next was all too easy to predict.

TBC

Chapter Eighteen

Allaura removed her hand from covering the blue stone necklace and quickly shoved it toward Legolas’s neck. The sooner she could get the stone against his skin, the sooner she believed she could get complete control over him. She also needed to get it done without alerting the elf to what she was planning.

As quick as a cat, Legolas reached up and grabbed the necklace, encircling the stone in his long fingers and holding on to it with a death grip.

Both Allaura and Ricard immediately saw the two mistakes that had been made. Despite her efforts, Allaura had uncovered the stone while it was still within the elf’s sight, and though Ricard had his arms wrapped around the elf, he was holding him above the elbows, allowing Legolas the use of his lower arms.

As soon as the pendant was secure in his grasp, Legolas raised his right foot and brought it down on the top of Ricard’s foot. He wore only thin velvet house shoes, so the force of the blow was such that it caused the heel of Legolas’s boot to break the bones beneath it.

The man screamed and let go of Legolas, who then used his shoulder to push the man away from him. Falling to his right, Ricard was unable to put any pressure on his injured right foot, so he lost his balance and fell sideways onto the floor beside the bed. He moaned loudly, as he sat up and tried to cradle his damaged foot.

Ignoring the whimpering man behind him, Legolas used his left hand to push Allaura backwards so suddenly and so hard it caused her to lose her balance, as well, and she fall to the floor in a heap.

Legolas was so overjoyed at having the necklace in his possession that he started to look down at his prize but stopped just before it came into full view. He still retained enough presence of mind to know that if he looked at it, he would be helpless to prevent his enemies from taking it from him, and he would probably never see it again. That thought was the only thing that would - or could - prevent him from immediately losing himself in the sparkling blue fire of the stone.

Not pausing long enough to spare even a quick glance at either Allaura or Ricard, the elf ran out of the bedchamber and down the hall. He had no notion of where he was going, but he knew he had to find a safe place to hide, so he could be alone with the necklace. The trouble was that this house belonged to Allaura and Ricard, so they would obviously know all of its hidden places intimately.

It was then that Legolas thought of the dungeons far below the house. He wasn’t sure how he knew about them. He didn’t think he had ever been there. Perhaps it was just logical that a place like this ruled by someone like Allaura must certainly have dungeons. It was perfect. After all, what captive would deliberately hide down there?

Behind him, Legolas heard Allaura screaming. She was demanding that Ricard to go after the elf, but Legolas knew that whoever came after him, it would not be her husband. His foot was broken much too badly to even limp on, much less allow him to try and run down a swift elf.

Legolas disappeared down a staircase at one end of the corridor just as Allaura came out of the bedroom door. Luckily she had turned to look down the opposite end, and by the time she turned to check the other end, Legolas was out of sight.

Again the elf heard the woman scream, this time for the guards.

After several moments, none had arrived. Allaura would have been even more enraged than she already was, if she had known just how the guards were currently being occupied.

*~*~*~*

One of the double doors in the dragon’s chamber slowly opened. All of the guards knew that the chain holding the dragon would prevent him from physically reaching them, but they were also well aware that his flame easily could.

Hoping the huge beast would think he was about to be fed and thus hold off any attempt to harm them, one of the guards poked his head around the door and looked across the chamber. The dragon appeared to be asleep.

The guard stared. It was the first time the dragon was not waiting anxiously for them. The man pulled his head back, disappearing from sight for a moment before the door opened a little wider and another head appeared.

It had been several years since five men had been captured and given a choice: Become Allaura’s victims or lose their tongues and become her guards. Four of them chose the latter. The fifth did not and was ‘used up’ by the woman’s insatiable appetite for the life forces she needed to keep her alive and young. He had eventually shriveled up, begging her all the while to allow him to change his mind and become a guard. Allaura didn’t give second chances, so he had died.

In the intervening years of muteness, the four guards had developed a type of sign language. It was rudimentary, involving only basic words, but it was sufficient for their needs, and only they understood it.

These men were smart enough to know not to sign in front of Allaura. She may not be able to decipher what they were saying, but she would be well aware that they were communicating among themselves and that would bring about intense mistrust. They knew what that would lead to.

As far as Allaura was concerned, the guards were not only speechless and glad to be alive but ignorant, as well, which meant they were easily dominated. She was so dismissive of their ability to do anything but faithfully obey her every whim that she found it easy to push them from her thoughts until she needed their muscle.

The two guards, who were now staring at the dragon, turned to each other and signed: -Sleep-.

The other guard frowned and shook his head. -Dead?- He raised his eyebrows to indicate it was a question. The man didn’t know why he suspected the dragon had died. Maybe it was the way the beast’s head was lying on the floor. For some reason, it just didn’t look right.

-Dead?- The first guard repeated the sign for that word, also raising his own eyebrows.

The second guard nodded but was unable to explain his reason for thinking so. Instead, he just indicated with his hand they were to go and check. He started forward. The other guard followed behind him, hoping that his friend was right, and that the dragon was indeed dead and thus incapable of hurting then.

Suddenly the guard that was following the other one, slammed down onto the stone floor, having been hit on the head from behind. When the first guard turned he was met with a fist that came flying into his mouth. It knocked him back but did not drop him.

Aragorn spared a swift kick to the stomach of the downed man to keep him there and then turned his attention to the man that was now advancing on him.

Squaring his shoulders, the ranger dropped down to the floor, rolled forward and then kicked up with both feet, catching the guard under his chin and instantly knocking him unconscious.

Making sure the first guard was equally unable to fight by punching him hard, as he tried to rise, Aragorn quickly searched both until he located the two keys he was looking for.

After tucking the keys into a pocket, he ran to the open door and yelled, quickly flattening himself against the wall, just as he had done a few moments ago. He had to get the other two guards into the room. If they left, he would not only not get their keys, he would soon be faced with the wrath of Allaura, which would doom them all, Treco included.

The two guards outside the chamber knew, of course, that the yelling was not being made by their friends. It had to be the human ranger, who had escaped from the vault below.

The two men looked at each other, not sure what they should do. The only way they had of finding out what was happening was to go inside and see for themselves. Neither one was too eager to do that, but what choice did they have?

Each man slowly approached the doors and looked inside. As soon as they saw the other two guards on the floor, they looked immediately toward the back of the chamber. The dragon appeared to be - asleep? That make no sense. They noticed that their friends had not been burned. Had they killed the huge creature?

Risking the ire of the dragon if he was awakened, the two guards silently approached the two downed men. They realized their mistake too late.

Aragorn did virtually the same thing he had done to the two unconscious men. He knocked one in the head and kicked the other one under the chin. Both went down.

Aragorn retrieved the two keys these guards had and then stood and stared down at them. This was a lot easier than the man thought it would be.

Hearing nothing for a moment and being too curious to stand the wait any longer, Treco opened one eye just wide enough to make a slit he could see out of. When he saw that all four guards were on the floor and not moving, he opened both eyes and raised his head. “Well you seem to have taken care of the guards.”

“It wasn’t very hard, which was very surprising.. I guess Allaura can’t get very good help way out here,” the ranger remarked wryly. “That’s good for us.”

“Did you get the keys?” Treco asked anxiously.

“Indeed I did.” Aragorn reached into his pocket and pulled out the two keys he had placed there and put them with the other two. He proudly held all four of them up to show the dragon.

Treco nodded. “So which one of those keys unlocks this chain around my leg?”

Aragorn froze. He had completely forgotten that the dragon was chained to the wall. As far as he knew, the keys he had retrieved from the guards worked only on the doors. He couldn’t be sure about that, of course, so he wasn’t about to say that to Treco. One of the keys might well prove to be the one they needed to free the creature.

Swallowing hard, the ranger started walking toward Treco. “Let’s see, shall we?” All the while, he was paying that he was wrong and that one of them was the right one.

Treco turned as the ranger walked past him and headed to the spot the very large, very strong padlock rested on the floor below where the chain was anchored to the wall.

Holding his breath, Aragorn slid the first key into the lock and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge. The man exhaled and tried the second and third keys with the same results.

By the time he pushed the fourth key into the lock, he had a thin film of sweat on his forehead. He lifted his head and looked at the ceiling. ‘To whichever of the Valar who may be listening, please let this be the one that works.’ With those silent words, Aragorn inserted the last key and twisted.

A big sigh of relief came from the man, when the key turned and the big loop holding the chain to the metal cuff around the dragon’s leg popped open.

Before Aragorn could reach down and unfasten the cuff, Treco raised his leg and shook it violently, sending the cuff and the padlock flying across the chamber.

Treco looked down at the man standing near his foot. “My gratitude, ranger...uh...Aragorn.” Calling this human by his name was a concession the dragon was willing to make, considering what that human had just done for him.

“You are most welcome, Treco,” Aragorn replied. “You are also free to go.” He hoped the dragon would change his mind about helping to find Legolas, but he wasn’t going to ask.

Treco nodded and started to head for the doors.

Aragorn called after him, “Are you going to flame them?” He was curious to know if the dragon was actually going to kill these men.

The ranger’s question was met with one from Treco. “The doors below are locked, are they not?”

“I doubt the one to my vault is now, but as I said before, there are three others. I’m pretty sure the guards would have locked those, even in their haste to get up here. Why do you ask?”

“If we left them here and locked this door, they could not get out. Even if they dropped to the vault below, they would soon come to the locked doors in the lower passage, and they would be trapped.”

“But what if Allaura comes down here? I’m sure she could open the doors without the keys.” It seemed a reasonable idea to the ranger. It struck him as odd that it was the dragon who seemed reluctant to spare these men. He really wasn’t anxious to see the guards killed, despite what they had done, but he also didn’t want them running loose to warn Allaura and/or track him down.

The man shook his head. He couldn’t worry about the guards right now. He had a search to conduct. Time was of the essence. Aragorn didn’t know what was being done to Legolas, especially since the elf had been in Allaura‘s clutches for far too long. “Do with these guards what you will,” he finally said to Treco. I have to find Legolas.”

Without another word, the ranger moved past Treco, walked across the chamber and exited through the massive doors.

Once in the huge tunnel, he went in search of the stairs that would take him up to the main house and eventually to Allarua’s bedchamber where he believed the elf was being held.

Treco just stood in stunned silence and watched the human leave. It seemed the guards’ fates were being left up to him.

*~*~*~*

Legolas ran down first one corridor and then another, trying to find the way down to the lower levels where the dungeons were. He kept the necklace clutched tightly in his right hand. There was going to be no chance that he would lose it in his desperate race to find a secure hiding place.

The elf’s keen ears soon picked up the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor he was in. He knew he wouldn’t be able to retrace his steps and go back down the corridor before he was seen. There just wasn’t time.

Fearing that he was about to be discovered, Legolas saw a door to his left and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. The door was locked. He tired the next one with the same result.

The elf was trying not to panic, as the footsteps grew louder, bringing the approaching person closer to him. He rushed to a door directly across the hall.

This door was unlocked, and the elf wasted no time in opening it and slipping inside just before the other person could see him.

Legolas started to leave the door slightly ajar so he could see if it was Allaura, who had come after him, or someone else. On second thought, he was afraid that the crack, no matter how small, would be noticed. He couldn’t risk being found, so he closed the door and let out a deep breath of relief.

Aragorn rushed down the corridor past the door that Legolas was now leaning against, never suspecting that the friend he was so desperately seeking was only a few feet away.

TBC

Chapter Nineteen

Legolas waited, barely breathing, until he no longer heard footsteps in the corridor on the other side of the door. If he had been paying more attention to the actual sound of the footfalls, instead of just registering the fact that he had to avoid whoever it was making them, he would have recognized them as those of his long-time friend. As it was, he felt only relief that the person had moved on past and he had not been discovered.

When he thought it was safe, Legolas opened the door and peered out. He neither saw nor heard anyone in the hallway.

The elf knew he had to get out of the main house and down into the dungeon before someone found him. The longer he stayed up here, the more likely it was that he would be found, and if that happened, there was no doubt that the necklace would be taken from him. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

The elven archer suddenly remembered that there had been four guards, and he had no doubt that they were also after him. He hoped that they would all be together. If they had split up to cover more ground, it would be harder to avoid them.

Then there was Allaura. The elf had no doubts that that evil woman was on his trail. He had already dismissed her husband as a pursuer, since he was too injured to participate in the search. The archer only hoped that there were no others in the house that could join in the search for him.

Slipping out of the room, Legolas moved swiftly yet stealthily down the corridor until he found another staircase. As long as he could keep moving down, he knew he would eventually reach the safety of the dungeon.

As he moved, Legolas could almost feel the blue stone burning his hand, as if reminding him that it was still there. He thought that the sensation was probably his imagination fueled by his intense desire to stare once more into its depths. That, however, would have to wait until he reached a place where he could do so in complete privacy.

Down he went to the next level and found a small door under the staircase he had just descended. Trying the handle, the door opened, revealing another stairway. This one was far different from the others in the house. This one had stone walls and wound around itself like a corkscrew. It looked to be well-used, as the stone steps were worn.

As Legolas moved downward once more, he cocked his head slightly, a frown on his face. This place seemed familiar to him. Had he been this way before? He couldn’t quite grasp the memory, if memory it truly was. Perhaps it just reminded him of others of this same type.

He shook his head. It mattered not. Finding a safe place to flood his inner being with the blue fire in the necklace was all he cared about. Whatever other thoughts came into his mind quickly vanished, driven out by the need to lose himself in the blue stone. It pervaded everything in his life.

Legolas reached the end of the winding steps and stood at the end of a long stone passageway. He had gone down as far as he could go. This had to be it. This was the dungeon, a cruel prison for most, a place of salvation for him.

He rushed forward until he saw a metal door in front of him. It was halfway open. This, too, looked familiar. He didn‘t stop to ponder why but continued on. Farther along, he found another opened door and then a third. It was after this one that a side door came into view. It stood wide, almost blocking the entire passageway. Torch light flickered off of the dull metal.

Legolas rounded the door and turned into the room, stopping short at what he saw there. A pile of rocks covered the center of the room, and there was a rather large hole in the ceiling. It was obvious where the rocks had come from.

The elf didn’t like the idea of sitting in this room. Anyone above could look down and see him. With this in mind, he went down the entire length of the passageway. Every side door he came to was locked.

When he reached the end, there was another set of steps, but they led only upward. There was nothing to do but go back to the one room he had access to and just hope that no one would look down into the hole in the ceiling.

Entering the room again, Legolas looked clower at what was there. It wasn’t until he saw the stone bench along the back wall that the elf frowned in puzzlement. Why were so many of the things that he had seen look familiar to him? It made no sense. He must surely have been here before, but why then could he not remember? Being in a dungeon was not an experience a person was likely to forget.

Legolas glanced down at the necklace and an almost startled look crossed his face. The blue stone he was so anxious to stare into must have taken his memory away, or at least the majority of it. The elf laughed. Did it really matter? Why should he bother himself even trying to remember inconsequential things from the past, when the blue stone was the only thing that counted?

What lay up above in the room over his head didn’t matter. How the hole had gotten there didn’t matter. He felt safe here, safe from prying eyes and attempts to take the necklace away from him.

Sitting down on the floor in one of the back corners with his back up against the stone bench, Legolas held the pendant out in front of him and smiled, as the blue sparkles were soon reflected in his searching eyes. Deeper and deeper he went until blue was all he knew and all he cared to know.

*~*~*~*

Making his way along the huge tunnel one level above the enraptured elf was a most determined dragon. Freedom lay just a few yards away, and nothing and no one was going to stop him from gaining that freedom. Like the elf, he was single-minded. In mere moments, he would be winging his way homeward.

It took a lot of willpower for Treco not to begin running, in an attempt to get out of this dreadful place as quickly as possible. The tunnel was certainly big enough to accommodate him. After all, he had been brought down here this way. Still there was little room to spare. Running would cause his body to jostle too much, and he didn’t want to end up cracking his head on the stone ceiling or scraping a wing, especially since he had just had the left one mended.

There was another reason the dragon wanted to move faster. He wanted to outrun the growing feeling that he should stay behind and help the human find his elven friend. Now was that any way for a dragon to be thinking? Help a human? Look for an elf? What would his father, or any of this family, think about that? He knew the answer to that all too well and preferred not to dwell on it. “Well I am not going to stay here, so that takes care of that.”

Moving down the tunnel and trying to keep freedom his only concern, Treco was nonetheless becoming reluctant to leave. The two other beings had helped him when he needed it, and the ranger had come up with the plan that led to his freedom, so... The dragon shook off the thought and hurried on ahead. However, that thought kept creeping back to prick at his mind. Was he gaining a conscience? ‘Not possible,’ he told himself. ‘Definitely not possible. Those two are on their own.’

The dragon reached the end of the tunnel, burst through the doors he came to and found himself standing outside in the fresh, glorious, open air.

Treco closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths. He was tempted to point his head upward and let go a roaring flame in an act of pure joy. However, he couldn’t take the chance that doing so would attract unwanted attention. He couldn’t risk having that witch Allaura use more of her magic on him to keep him from flying away.

Not wanting to give one more moment of his time to this place, Treco spread his wings and lifted into the air.

As he rose higher into the sky, Treco looked back down at Ravenlore. Too bad about the two beings he was leaving behind. They would just have to get out of their situation themselves. The human was also loose, so he could find his elven friend. Now was the time for self-preservation. Echoing an earlier thought, Treco said aloud, “They are on their own.”

In a matter of moments, the huge red dragon was just a speck on the horizon.

*~*~*~*

A loud feminine voice ehcoed down the corridor Aragorn found himself in. Allaura was obviously very angry and coming his way, so the ranger had to find a hiding place - and quick.

He had time to check one door only, and worst luck, it was locked. A few feet away on his right, Aragorn saw a table set back into an alcove. He headed for it. The table had thin legs and offered no real hiding place, but hopefully, if he hunkered down behind it, he wouldn’t be noticed.

Quickly the man swung one end of the table out and then slipped behind it, pulling it back as far as it would go. Sitting on top was one of the grotesque black statues that Aragorn remembered seeing when he was first brought upstairs from the vault far below. He tried not to look at the deformed being in what appeared to be smoothly carved stone. It took a decidedly twisted mind to create such an equally twisted piece of art, if this could even be considered art. He doubted it.

Aragorn heard footsteps coming and turned himself sideways, so his knees would not be sticking out under the table. It was at this moment that he fervently wished he was a hobbit.

Even hearing Allaura open and close what must have been every door along the corridor, Aragorn still hoped that the woman would never think to look into the ranger’s rather exposed hiding place. He couldn’t know that Legolas had escaped her, and she was prepared to search every nook and cranny for the elf.

Turning his head slightly, Aragorn saw the door he had tried a moment ago. It was almost directly across from where he crouched. If Allaura looked down even slightly once she checked the room the door opened into to, then he would surely be seen. The hallway was too wide to hide the fact that someone was in the alcove, no matter how small he tried to make himself.

The ranger’s hope was shattered when he saw Allaura turn away from the door after she had searched the room acroos from the alcove.

Allaura walked straight up to the table and bent down, peering under it. Instantly her rage exploded. She grabbed the table, jerked it toward her and then flung it aside, sending the stone statue rolling several feet before it came to rest on its side. “Get out!” the woman screamed.

With a heavy sigh, Aragorn moved out of the alcove and stood up, facing an enraged Allaura. He looked at her but didn’t speak.

“How did you get free?” Allaura’s voice was low. She was trying so hard to keep her rage in check that she was shaking.

It was pretty clear that Allaura didn’t know what had happened in the dungeon. That in itself wasn’t surprising. With the guards taken care of, there was probably no one left to tell her, though he had no idea how many people might be in this very large fortress.

Aragorn wasn’t sure whether to answer or not. He didn’t want to risk having Treco’s escape thwarted, though he was fairly sure the dragon was long gone by now. Yet lying to Allarua would not go well, that he was sure of.

The man’s eyebrows rose in surprise with Allaura’s next words. “Where is he?”

Thinking she must have figured out that Treco had to have been involved in his escape, Aragorn made his decision to confirm it, so he said, “I imagine he is far away by now.”

“He could not have gotten that far. He was not in such good shape.”

“A dragon is blessed with great strength, and he was not starved or left without water. He could fly a long way in a short time.”

“Dragon?” Allaura said. Then her face clouded even more. “The dragon is gone?”

It was then that Aragorn realized who Allaura had been talking about. Legolas. The elf must have somehow gotten away from this woman’s clutches. No wonder she was so angry. But where could Legolas be? He had no way of knowing, of course, but the very fact that the elf was free made Aragorn smile.

The ranger’s thoughts were abruptly wrenched away, when a sharp pain suddenly spread across his left cheek. He realized with a shock that he had just been slapped. Startled gray eyes looked into Allaura’s very dark and very angry ones.

Through clenched teeth, she repeated, “Where is he?”

“If I knew, do you think I’d be here with you?” For a second, Aragorn though that Allaura was going to hit him again. He was prepared to block the move, if she tried it.

Allaura returned the intense stare of the ranger and saw that he truly didn’t know where the elf was. It made sense that the two of them would be together and even if the elf was under the influence of the blue stone, the ranger would have taken him away to try and ‘cure’ him of his obsession.

The woman took a deep breath. She was well aware that it was the necklace she wanted - needed - far more than she wanted or needed the elf. However, she wasn’t prepared to give the immortal Firstborn up just yet. She was determined to get him and the necklace back.

Allaura almost laughed, because, looking at the ranger right now, she suddenly realized that she still very much wanted to keep him, too.

TBC

Chapter Twenty

It didn’t take long for Aragorn’s eyes to shift downward to Allaura’s throat. It wasn’t the fact that he would like to place both of his hands around that throat and... No, it was the fact that the woman’s flawless, milky white skin below it was devoid of adornment. "Where’s your necklace?" he asked in a level tone.

Immediately Allaura’s hand went to her throat, and Aragorn wasn’t sure what he saw when he looked into her dark eyes. Was it fear or anger he was witnessing? Both, he decided.

Allarua’s tried to dismiss the necklace’s absence as being in any way important. "I do not need it," she lied. The expression on the man’s face told her he didn’t believe her.

A wide smile spread across Aragorn’s face. He grabbed the woman by both arms right above her elbows. "Then this will not hold you. Correct?" he asked sarcastically. His hands tightened until the area of her skin around his fingers was bloodless.

Her eyes narrowed. "You had best not provoke me, ranger. I promise it will not go well with you, if you do not let me go."

The man’s grip did not lessen. "You know this house well, so where would Legolas likely be hiding?" He, of course, knew nothing of the elf’s obsession, but he thought that perhaps Allaura would know of a good hiding place. The elf would have had to stumble into it, not knowing his way around, but Legolas was resourceful, and Aragorn knew his friend would find a suitable place to avoid detection until he could get down to the dungeon to try and free him.

Despite the reversal of their roles as captor and captive, Allaura had no intention of helping this man find the elf and take him away. "And what would be my reward for finding him?"

"I will keep you from facing the dragon."

Allaura burst out laughing. "You just said he was probably a long way away by now. Besides, even if he was still here, no dragon is going to help a human or even an elf. He would as likely kill you as look at you. What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" the ranger sneered. She had no idea the connection he and Legolas had with Treco, and, for now, he wasn’t going to tell her.

He didn’t get the chance to answer her question, even had he intended to, because just then a noise was heard near the end of the hall. Without releasing his hold on Allaura, Aragorn looked toward the sound. What he saw surprised him.

A man was coming down the hall aided by a crutch. His right foot was wrapped in black satin fabric. He had clearly torn off a piece of Allaura’s bed linen and used it as a bandage. Aragorn spared himself a second to wonder how Allaura would react to that. Badly he hoped.

It suddenly dawned on Aragorn who this man must be. He looked at Allaura. "Your husband, I presume?" His question was met with a scowl from the woman he held. ‘So, she isn’t happy to see him,’ he thought. ‘This could prove helpful.’

When Ricard came within ten feet of him and Allaura, Aragorn said, "You can stop right there." His presumption might be way off the mark, and he wasn’t willing to take the chance of trusting this man until he knew more about him and his relationship with Allaura. Too much was at stake to make that mistake.

As Aragorn looked at the man, he found himself leaning toward sympathy for him. He was way too thin and haggard looking. Allaura must have been using him for years, probably since they first married. He wondered how the man could make it down the hall on his own, even with a crutch.

Allaura glared at Ricard. "Do something!" she yelled at him. "Hit him!"

"How, my dear? I am ten feet away. Should I throw my crutch at him?" Ricard asked with his own share of sarcasm. Seeing that his wife wasn’t the one in control had given Ricard a bit of courage.

If the man’s words were an act, it was a good one, Aragorn thought. The look in Ricard’s eyes appeared to be none too upset at the situation in front of him. In his years among his own kind, Aragorn had never known any man or woman who could completely hide their true feelings. A face may express one thing, but the eyes never lied. Only elves could mask their emotions, but even for the Firstborn, it was not always an easy thing to do.

Ricard regarded his wife. "You were happy to leave me in pain, not only just now but all the times you used that necklace on me." His tone was bitter. "Why should I help you now?"

"Because I will bury you, Ricard, literally, once I get free of this ranger." The words were spoken with a venomous threat that was all too believable.

"It looks like you have a choice, here, Ricard," Aragorn told the man. "You can help me or help Allaura. Which will it be?"

Ricard avoided looking at his wife. He knew the threatening look that she likely had on her face. He had seen it all too often in his years with her. "I do not know how much help I can be to you with my broken foot, but I will do my best. And I promise you, I will not help her."

"Good," Aragorn smiled. "Tell me where we can put her while I search for Legolas."

"Legolas is the elf."

"Yes."

"He is the one who broke my foot."

That piece of news was a bit of a surprise to Aragorn. His friend must have believed that Ricard was working with Allaura. Perhaps he should rethink giving this man any kind of trust. Elves had an uncanny intuition when it came to discerning evil. He decided to ask. "Why did he do that?"

"It was to my shame that he had to do it. I..." Ricard took a deep breath before continuing. "I was holding him from behind. I gave in to Allaura’s demands. I hate to admit that I am - was - afraid of her. You cannot imagine what she has done to me over the years."

‘Yes I can, though she only did it to me once. I can see in you the result of years of it,’ Aragorn said to himself. Even though he knew Ricard was well aware of his own condition, the ranger didn’t think it would be very nice to say so to the man’s face, so he refrained from voicing his thought.

"You deserved it, you worm," Allaura spat out. "I should have killed you right after we married."

Ricard shook his head. "Lovely, isn’t she?" He looked his wife straight in the eye. "You should have done jus that, my dear, because now I will gladly help these people bring you down."

Allaura screamed and tried to lunge at Ricard, curving her fingers into claws ready to scratch out her husband’s eyes. However, Aragorn’s grip was too strong to be broken.

Even with Ricard’s declaration and Allarua’s reaction, there was still reason for caution, but Aragorn had decided that Ricard would be a valuable asset to him. He noted the smile on the other man’s face. "Where do we put her?" Aragorn reminded.

"I would not trust her out of our sight here in this house, no matter how secure the place we may leave her," Ricard said. "There are four guards, who would help free her, if they found her locked up."

"Not to worry about them," Aragorn told Ricard. "I left them unconscious in the chamber with Treco. I’m sure he took care of them before he left."

Ricard stopped and looked at the ranger. "The guards are dead?"

"I would imagine. I knocked them all out and left them with Treco after I freed him. He wasn’t too pleased with them, so..." He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, sure that both Ricard and Allaura could supply their own scenario.

Ricard stared at the ranger. "How in the world did you free the dragon? And yourself for that matte?" He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that before now.

"A hole in the ceiling, but that’s a tale for another time," Aragorn replied. That was far down on the list of things to do.

Ricard looked at his wife. So not only had the elf eluded her, and the ranger now held her captive, but her captured dragon was now gone, as well. He gave her a wide smile.

Allaura actually snarled, trying again to jerk free of Aragorn‘s hold to attack her husband.

Ignoring her, Aragorn asked, "Where do you suggest we go?"

*~*~*~*

The land rolled away far below Treco, as he soared out over the valley and across the surrounding ridges. He felt sheer joy, as the fresh air blew into his face and flowed over his body. The dragon couldn’t resist a wide grin at the pure luxury of it. This was where a dragon was meant to be.

Treco felt more and more comfortable the farther away from Ravenlore he got. As he passed the last ridge surrounding that witch’s valley, he knew there was no chance that she could bring him down the way she had before. Whatever magic she possessed couldn’t reach this far.

He wasn’t all that hungry, he realized, but he was thirsty. Spotting a river in the distance, the dragon swooped low into the next valley and headed for it.

The huge creature found that a broad bend in the river created a rock-strewn beach that was big enough for him to land. He flew over the area in large circles several times, making sure there was no one around. He didn’t think he had anything to fear, however, he didn’t want to be surprised.

Satisfied that he was completely alone, Treco landed on the open river bank. He folded his wings and walked to the water’s edge. He took another quick look upstream and down, then lowered his head and drank.

After he had taken his fill, Treco backed away from the swift-flowing current and turned to face the forest a good thirty yards behind him.

For some reason he couldn’t begin to fathom, the sight of the forest made him think of the elf and that led to thoughts of the ranger. He shook his head. He did not want to think about either of them. They had been left behind, and that was where he wanted them to remain.

Turning his head away from the forest, he looked across the river. Of course, there were more trees on that side, too.

Treco closed his eyes, and there on the backs of his eyelids, he saw both of those infuriating creatures, and they were grinning at him, as if they knew something he didn’t. The dragon roared in frustration. They meant nothing to him! So why could he not get them out of his mind?

Treco walked back to the river and drank more water. Maybe he could drown them out of his thoughts. It took only a moment for him to realize that that wasn’t going to work.

As he often did when he was upset or angry about something, Treco raised his head and shot a flame up toward the sky. That didn’t help matters any, either.

Determined to ignore the feelings that were stirring within him, he lifted into the air, intent on flying home with no more thought of the elf and the ranger.

Treco cursed himself mightily when he found that he wasn’t flying toward home at all but back toward Ravenlore.

*~*~*~*

"We can put her in one of the vaults in the dungeon," Ricad said. "However, I don’t have the keys to the doors down there."

Aragorn smiled. "I do. I relieved the guards of them. That’s how I was able to get up here."

"Very good," Ricard said and turned to head down the hall.

Aragorn swung Allaura around so that he was holding her arms from behind. His grip was just as tight as ever. He couldn’t afford to let her get free with a sudden, surprise move.

Ricard headed down the hall, down several flights of stairs and then opened the door to the spiral stairs that would take them down to the dungeon. What better place to put Allaura while they looked for Legolas?

"Can you make it down these steps?" Aragorn inquired of Ricard. He didn’t know if the other man maneuver well enough on one foot and a crutch.

Ricard nodded. "It will be a bit difficult, but I will manage. Just let me go first, so if I stumble, I won’t fall on you."

The going was slow, partly because of Ricard and partly because Allaura tried more than once to get free of Aragorn, and he was forced to stop and shake her until she calmed down enough to continue. Finally, though, all three of them made it safely to the bottom.

As they progressed down the passageway, they found the same thing that Legolas had earlier: all the doors were open.

Aragorn had left from the chamber above where Treco was kept, so he hadn’t needed to go through these doors but figured the guards had left them this way in their haste to find out if he had climbed up through the hole in the ceiling of his vault.

When they came to the first vault door, Aragorn stopped. "This looks like a good place to put her."

Ricard reached the two and also stopped. "Yes, I quite agree."

Holding Allaura extra tightly, Aragorn released one hand long enough to reach into a pocket and pull out the four keys. He handed them to Ricard. "I don’t know which goes to these vaults."

Apparently Ricard also didn’t know which key went to which door, but leaning on his crutch, he took them and tried the first one in the lock. It didn’t turn. The second one didn’t either, but the third one did.

The man unlocked the door and moved out of the way, as he swung it open. With a grin on his face, he swept his left arm toward the dark room. "Your new home, my dear."

Allaura fought against Aragorn, when the ranger advanced to the doorway. She grabbed the doorframe and pushed backward, hoping to break his grip. The result was the same as every other time she had tried something: it didn’t work.

Aragorn shoved her inside. He took hold of the door and quickly closed it, but just before it clanged shut, Allaura yelled, "You cannot leave me here in the dark like this."

"You had no qualms about leaving Legolas and me in the dark." With that Aragorn pulled the door shut and locked it. He handed the key to Ricard.

As Aragorn and Ricard turned to leave, they heard the metal door being pounded on, accompanied by screams of rage. Neither of them felt even the tiniest bit of guilt - or sympathy.

"While we are down here, I would like to see this hole you got out of, if you do not mind." Ricard was trying to figure out how a hole could have gotten in the thick stone ceiling.

With the guards probably dead and Allaura locked up, Aragorn believed that Legolas was safe from any danger, and since the vault he had escaped from was nearby, the ranger decided it would do no harm to satisfy Ricard’s curiosity.

Walking a few feet down the passageway, he stopped at another metal door. "This is where we were held."

The ranger pushed on the partly open door and looked in. He noted that not only was the torch still lit, but light also filtered in from the huge chamber above.

Shocked by the pile of rocks in the center of the room and the large hole above it, Ricard asked, "How did that happen?"

"Treco had a fit and stomped on the floor of his chamber. Impressive, isn't it?"

"Quite," was all Ricard could say, still staring at the ruined vault.

It was then that Aragorn's eye caught a figure sitting in a far corner. "Legolas!" Aragorn shouted. He ran forward, fully expecting his friend to rise and greet him with as much joy as he himself felt.

The elf didn’t move, didn’t glance up or show any sign at all that he recognized the fact that his friend was there and calling his name.

"Legolas." Aragorn reached the elf and grabbed him by the shoulders, hoping to get his attention that way.

There was still no reaction from Legolas. His head was down, but Aragorn saw that his eyes were open. When he followed where it was the elf was looking, he froze. Legolas was staring at Allaura’s necklace.

Aragorn frowned and put his hand over the blue stone. "Legolas, it’s me, Estel."

The elf did react then. He growled at the ranger, jerked the man’s hand free of the necklace and shoved him backward.

Falling back onto the floor, Aragorn’s face registered pure shock.

"He’s enraptured by the stone," came a voice behind Aragorn.

The ranger got up and approached Legolas once more, intending again to try and get through to the elf, but Ricard put a hand on the man’s shoulder. "He will fight you for the stone, if you try to take it from him. He is under its spell."

Turning a troubled face toward Ricard, Aragorn asked, "What can we do to help him?"

"I do not know if anything can be done for him." He looked at the elf sadly and then at the ranger's stricken face. "It may be too late."

TBC

Chapter Twenty One

A stunned Aragorn repeated the last two words that Ricard had just spoken. "Too late?"

It was only now that Ricard truly understood how deep the friendship between this man and the elf went. Even when the ranger had said earlier that Legolas was his brother, what that meant hadn’t really sunk in. Ricard never had anyone this close to him, not even members of his own family. In the beginning he had believed that Allaura filled that role, but that had proven to be a sham. "I am sorry," he said with genuine feeling, the sympathetic look still on his face.

A few seconds of silence passed with no word from Aragorn. Ricard could no longer stand to see the plaintive look in the ranger’s gray eyes, so he tried to offer some hope. "I cannot be sure. This has never happened before. I could very well be wrong." He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. He didn’t know what else to say.

"You are," Aragorn stated with as much conviction as he felt in his heart. "Legolas is one of the strongest-willed people I have ever known, and I have known many. He will break free of this."

To himself, Ricard said, ‘I hope you are right.’

Looking up at the other man, Aragorn asked, "What is it that has affected him so much more than it did me or certainly you, who has fallen prey to this bizarre stone for years?"

Ricard had wondered that himself. Having finally come to a conclusion, he was going to do his best to explain what he thought had happened.

With a sigh, he began. "The stone has the power to muddle our minds so that we, when exposed to it, gave in to Allaura’s will. To be honest, I think we would have succumbed to anyone who had the necklace. Then, for a time, it made us forget." Ricard shook his head.

"As for Legolas, his reaction is probably due to the fact that elves are so sensitive and in tune with their surroundings, not to mention their ability to discern what mortals cannot. I believe that he is able to look beyond the mere surface of the stone, which is all we could do. I think he sees into the stone’s inner core, and it in turn penetrates deep into his very soul."

The idea that anything evil could reach the soul of his friend was chilling to the ranger. He had always thought that the innermost part of any elf was sacrosanct and nothing and no one short of Ilúvatar himself could reach it. That this might not be true and that Legolas’s soul was being violated by a power none of them could truly comprehend nearly brought Aragorn to tears, as he watched Legolas stare transfixed at the necklace.

Very slowly, Aragorn approached Legolas. Before getting too close, he bent down and sank to his knees. He didn’t want to tower over the sitting elf, who already felt threatened enough. The man tentatively reached out a hand and placed it gently on the elf‘s left arm. "Legolas, it’s me, Estel. Please look at me." His voice was soft, and he spoke in Sindarin, trying to put Legolas as much at ease as he could.

There was no response from the elf, who continued to stare at the necklace, seemingly oblivious to all that surrounded him.

"Please, mellon nin. You must hear and acknowledge me."

As before, this plea went unanswered, but Aragorn was not about to give up. "Legolas," he called a bit louder, though still with a gentle tone. He squeezed the elf’s arm.

This time there was a reaction. Without looking up, Legolas said in a voice that barely sounded like his, "If you touch me again, human, I will kill you."

Aragorn jerked his hand back. He could feel the goose bumps forming on his skin. He didn’t think a demon spawned by Morgoth himself could have sounded more sinister or threatening.

The worst part of it was that Aragorn believed him. Never in all their years together would he have thought such a thing was possible. In fact, he would have staked his life on the absolute knowledge that the elf would never deliberately hurt him.

Legolas’s words of warning had now turned the ranger’s world upside down, and he sagged back on his heels, as if his body had suddenly deflated.

Even though Ricard was not all that secure on his uninjured foot, despite having the crutch, he leaned over and put a comforting hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. He managed to keep from saying once more that he was sorry. He knew that no matter how heartfelt the sentiment would be, the ranger didn’t want to hear it.

He was right. Aragorn suddenly straightened himself up and squared his shoulders, though he remained on his knees.

A thought had come to him. Before, he had been convinced that Legolas was so completely lost, he wasn’t aware of anything outside of the stone’s influence. But if that was true, Legolas wouldn’t have felt his touch or spoken to him. So now Aragorn realized that a part of the elf’s mind must not be concentrating on the stone. Instead, it must be trained outward, a guard of sorts, to warn the elf of anyone trying to take the stone away from him.

Aragorn realized that there was still a chance that he could reach the part of Legolas’s mind that remained free.

With a renewed sense of purpose, the ranger tried again to contact his elven friend. "Legolas, please look at me."

The appeal went unanswered. It seemed that the only time the elf reacted was when he was physically touched.

Coming to a difficult decision, Aragorn reached out and once again put his hand on Legolas’s arm. It was a dangerous move, considering the threat Legolas had made. ‘At least he can’t fight me while staring at that accursed stone,’ the man thought, perhaps foolishly, but he would soon know one way or another.

Almost before Aragorn could register it, a fist came flying toward his face. He just barely managed to lean out of the way and take only a glancing blow.

As he fell to the side, Aragorn grabbed at the necklace. He missed the pendant, which was still in Legolas’s right hand, but the man’s fingers closed in around the dangling chain. He jerked it as hard as he could, using his momentum to aid him. Aragorn was half expecting the chain to break and was surprised when the whole necklace came away in his hand.

Thinking quickly, the ranger stuffed the necklace in an inner pocket of his tunic. That’s all he had time to do, as Legolas’s body suddenly slammed into him and drove him to the floor.

Landing on top of the man, Legolas curled his fingers around both sides of the opening in the front of Aragorn’s leather tunic and began to pull it apart. When the opening widened, Legolas slipped his hand inside, attempting to reach his now hidden prize.

The look of unbridled fury on the elf’s face almost distracted Aragorn, but just as Legolas’s hand reached the top edge of the pocket, the ranger grabbed the wood elf’s wrist and yanked it free.

"No!" Legolas screamed. "It is mine!"

"It is evil, and you are better off without it. Legolas, listen to me. Allaura has used it to bewitch you, but you’re stronger than she is and stronger than it is."

"Give it to me," Legolas demanded, completely ignoring the ranger’s words.

The archer struggled, squirming his body from side to side, hoping to dislodge the man’s hold on his wrist. When that didn’t work, he began tugging on Aragorn’s arm with his free hand. All that did was make the ranger’s grip tighten. However, the human’s strength did not match that of the elf, and Legolas broke Aragorn’s hold.

He again reached inside the tunic and tried to get his hand inside the pocket.

"No you don’t," the ranger said, as he jerked Legolas’s hand free once more.

In total frustration and fury, Legolas let out a scream that made Aragorn cringe.

Legolas’s strength was greater than that of the human, and on the third attempt to reach the necklace, he succeeded. He pulled the necklace free of Aragorn’s tunic and gripped it in his hand.

Then Legolas went after Aragorn. The elf quickly wrapped the chain around his wrist and then grabbed the man’s neck and began to squeeze.

Suddenly the elf’s body went limp and fell against Aragorn.

At first Aragorn had no idea what had just happened. He thought maybe the elf had been overcome by the intensity of his struggle. The truth was far simpler.

When Aragorn looked up past the golden head resting against his shoulder, he saw Ricard teetering on his one good foot, the crutch held in the air. The man had hit Legolas on the head. Despite the fact that his best friend had just been knocked unconscious, Aragorn smiled. He coughed a couple of times and rubbed his neck. He was sure that if Ricard hadn’t hit Legolas, the wood elf would have choked him to death.

Aragorn eased Legolas onto the floor next to him. He got up on his knees again and bent down. The first thing he did was unwind the necklace from around Legolas’s wrist and put it in another of his tunic pockets.

Next he ran his fingers over the elf’s head to locate the bump he knew would be forming there.

"I am sorry," Ricard said apologetically, a trace of concern on his face. "I did not know what else to do to stop him from choking you. I hope I did not hit him too hard."

"Don’t worry. This elf also has the hardest head of anyone I’ve ever known." Though he was making a small parody of the comment he had made earlier about Legolas’s strong will, his tone was grim.

Not knowing the humorous give and take that existed between the elf and the ranger, Ricard wasn’t quite sure how to take that remark, so he just said, "Good".

Once Aragorn located the lump on the right side of his friend’s head, he explored its size and then pulled his fingers away. There was no blood on them. "It isn’t too bad. You didn’t even break the skin. He’ll be all right."

However, it wasn’t the bump that worried Aragorn. It was the possible condition of the elf’s mind, when he woke up, that put a frown on the man’s face. He was sure it would be too optimistic to think that Legolas would wake clear headed and in control of his own thoughts, but Aragorn was willing to hold out a tiny bit of hope that that would be the case.

Ricard spoke up and pretty much dashed the ranger’s hope. "He will not wake up as himself." There wasn’t even the smallest bit of doubt in his tone.

Aragorn hung his head. "I didn’t really think so." He then looked up at Ricard. "But how can are you be so sure?"

"If his soul has not been irreparably damaged, it will take time and great effort to bring him back. The stone‘s hold on him will not break easily. And he will not be happy to wake up and find he no longer has it in his possession."

Aragorn was willing to deal with that, as long as Legolas woke up knowing him as his best friend and not just as someone trying to take the blue stone from him.

Even now in unconsciousness, a frown marred Legolas’s normally fair face, reflecting the turmoil within.

Aragorn’s face also reflected his own inner turmoil. "Since this has never happened before, do you have any idea what we must do?"

A shake of Ricard’s head answered Aragorn’s question before his words did. "No, not really. All we can do is wait and see how..." He took a deep breath before saying the next word. "...bad it will be. I guess we go from there and do the best we can."

"Thank you," Aragorn said. He hadn’t missed Ricard’s use of the word ‘we’.

"For what?."

"You kept him from killing me and getting control of the necklace again. Also, you care. I appreciate that, and so will Legolas, once we get him back." He truly was grateful for the other man’s help.

Ricard smiled. Maybe he could help these two friends and in some small way make up for what his wife had done to them.

It wasn’t very long before Legolas groaned and began to stir. Ricard was surprised and relieved at how soon the elf recovered. He thought with the force of the blow he had delivered, Legolas would be out far longer.

Knowing the inborn ability of elves to heal quickly, Aragorn wasn’t surprised at all. He had no idea how Legolas was going to react, so he held his breath expectantly, as the elf opened his eyes.

Legolas stared up at the face of the ranger directly above him. For a moment, the blue-gray eyes of the elf were unreadable.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Two

“You are going to pay for this!” The words reverberated around the stone vault. “Do you hear me, Ricard? When I get out of here, and I will get out, you are going to pay dearly for what you have done!” The woman pounded on the metal door, as she yelled the threat at him.

Utter darkness surrounded her, but Allaura paid no attention to it. She was not afraid of the dark. Perhaps it had inhabited her soul for so long that it held no power to instill fear in her. All she could think of was her traitorous husband.

When there was no answer from Ricard and no further sound outside in the passageway that she could detect, Allaura turned and faced the blackness that matched her mood.

“He thinks that he and that ranger can rescue the elf and escape from me. Well, he is sadly mistaken,” the woman muttered aloud. “He thinks he has suffered thus far? He does not yet have a clue what real pain is.”

Furious, Allaura took several deep breaths to calm down. She needed to think, and the only way to do that rationally was to be calm and clear-headed.

Once she was under control, Allaura began to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess she found herself in, thanks to Ricard, her simmering hatred reminded her.

She paced, unaware that her hands, which were down by her sides, were balled into tight fists. It seemed that her body wasn’t as calm as she believed. Her mind, however, was quickly clearing, and it didn’t take long for the answer to come to her.

After they were married, Ricard had been anxious to show Allaura every part of Ravenlore top to bottom, and that had included the dungeon.

He told her of a time when he was twelve, and he had come down here to the dungeon to explore, something his father had strictly forbidden him to do. But since the family held no prisoners, the doors on the lower levels were never kept locked.

Ricard had wandered in and out of the various vaults and then, pretending to be a captive, he had slammed the door to one of the cells closed behind him.

The boy had nearly panicked when he tried to open the door and found that it had somehow locked itself.

In desperation, Ricard had taken a small metal punch he had on him after a class in leather working, inserted it in the lock and began manipulating it all around the inside. After trying and failing a number of times, he finally got the lock to pop open.

Ricard never told anyone what he had done, so it was easy for him to sneak off and play in the dungeons, never fearing that he would be trapped again. He had never been caught, so no one else, to his knowledge, learned the secret of the lock trick.

No one that is, until the day Ricad related the story to his new wife. He had reassured her that the doors to the dungeons would be kept locked so that their future children wouldn’t get trapped the way he had been.

The man had not known then that having children was out of the question for Allaura, though she never told him that until he was firmly in her control. She had no time for sniveling little brats that would be constantly under foot and demanding her attention. It was a fact she delighted in telling Ricard on one occasion, when he was feeling particularly rebellious. She had smiled wickedly to see the crestfallen look in his eyes.

Turning her thoughts back to the situation at hand, she grimaced. How could she have forgotten about the secret to unlocking the door?

Allalura’s grimace turned to a smile. Evidently Ricard had also forgotten about the secret way to open the locks, or he never would have told the ranger to put her down here.

Manipulating the lock in the dark would not be too difficult. After all, you couldn’t look into the lock while working the tiny tumblers no matter how much light was available. It was all done by feel.

Pulling a long, straight hair pin out of her hair, Allaura inserted it into the lock and began the task of freeing herself. Once that was done, she would plan how best to rid herself of Ricard and the ranger, who she no longer cared to keep. In her mind, she considered him a traitor, too, even though he had never been loyal to her to begin with.

Then she would find the elf and get the necklace from him. Whether or not he would be worth keeping after that, she would have to determine, when she found him.

*~*~*~*

Treco stood just on the edge of the tree line, staring out across the manicured lawn toward Ravenlore. He knew that anyone looking out of any of the windows on this side of the house could easily see him. However, he didn’t think he had much of a choice. The trees in the woods surrounding the stone structure were too close together to provide him with a landing site.

It also didn’t help any that everything around him was green, and he was a brilliant red. He stuck out too plainly, and that didn’t sit well with him.

It wasn’t for the first time that he cursed the human and the elf, who he held directly responsible for his being here. They were the ones that caused him to have this inconvenient and most prickly conscience. He was quite sure he hadn’t had one before he met them. He didn’t stop to think that maybe it just hadn’t had the right reason to make itself known.

The dragon snorted, and black smoke rolled out of his nostrils.

Treco shook his head. He was not going to stay out here and expose himself to that evil witch’s magic. But where to hide that was close? He had already been forced to discount the forest.

Looking back at Ravenlore, Treco realized that there was only one place where he could be close to whatever might happen at the house and yet remain hidden from curious inhabitants. “Of course.” The dragon almost laughed, as he lifted into the air.

A minute later he landed on the roof. As long as he stayed on the same side as the sun, he wouldn’t cast a shadow onto the ground that could be seen from a window. And if he was still, he wouldn’t make any noise that could be detected by anyone on the top floor.

Pleased with himself, the huge creature settled down to wait. Just what he was waiting for, he had no idea, but wait he would. He was sure that when the time came to move, he would know it.

His wings folded, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun, soaking up its warming rays. Even to a casual observer, he looked oblivious to the world. What no one could see was that his ears were on high alert.

*~*~*~*

Aragorn stared into the blue-gray eyes of his life-long friend. He tried desperately to determine the state of Legolas’s mind now that the elf was conscious. The man dreaded the thought that he might have to further harm the elven archer to save himself. That was not the way it normally worked, he thought. The two friends went to great lengths to save the other from harm. But the ranger knew he couldn’t help Legolas, if he himself became injured.

Ricard also watched the elf closely, ready to use his crutch again, if the elf showed even the slightest sign of impending violence and the need arose for action. Like the ranger, he didn’t want to hurt this Firstborn, but if he couldn’t be controlled any other way...

Legolas was looking as intently at Aragorn, as the man was looking at him. Then one word left his lips. “Estel?”

When he heard his elven name, the ranger almost collapsed from sheer relief. Legolas recognized him and knew who he was!

“Yes, mellon nin. It’s me.” The smile that spread across the man’s face was short-lived.

“I need the necklace,” was all the elf said, but those words brought on incredible sorrow. Aragorn noted that Legolas hadn’t used the word ‘want’; he had said ‘need’.

“No, Legolas, you don’t need it. It’s evil and will only enslave you and lead to your destruction.”

The elf sat up slowly and rubbed his head. “I...I have to have it, Estel. You do not understand. It is part of me now. Please, I must have it back.”

Aragorn almost cried. Part of him? That couldn’t be, could it? It could, he concluded. So the evil power of the blue stone had indeed entered the elf’s soul, just as Ricard had said. He looked up at the man, standing behind him and leaning on his crutch.

Ricard confirmed what Aragorn feared. “It is as I thought. The stone has done more than take hold of him. It has ingrained itself in his very being. It is now, as he said, a part of him.”

Turning back to the elven warrior, Aragorn laid a slightly shaking hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You must fight it, Legolas, You must break the stone’s hold on you.”

Legolas shook his head. “I cannot.” There was defeat in the elf’s eyes, and his voice was soft, as he begged. “Please, Estel, give it to me.”

“I cannot,” the ranger said, echoing the elf’s own words. “We’ll work together, as we always have, and we’ll get through this, Legolas. Please believe that we can do it.”

Legolas merely stared at Aragorn, and it was obvious he didn’t believe the man’s words.

Aragorn would actually prefer to see Legolas angry and ready to fight. That was easier to take than the hopeless resignation he now saw in the elf’s eyes.

Suddenly, in a lightning fast move, Legolas reached out and rammed his hand into Aragorn’s tunic and into the pocket where the necklace had been before.

Aragorn didn’t move, letting the elf discover for himself that the stone he sought was no longer there.

Legolas stared at his empty hand and moaned pitifully. “Where is it?”

Sadly, the ranger said, “I’ve hidden it, Legolas. I won’t let it take you again.”

The eyes of the two friends met and held each other. “You just do not understand, Estel. Keeping me from the necklace will not free me, as you think. It will only cause me pain.”

Aragorn didn’t think he could feel any worse, but he was not going to give up on this beloved friend he had known since childhood. He never would, just as Legolas had never given up on him, no matter the circumstance. But to be honest, Aragorn didn’t understand. No one not under the influence of an addiction or an overwhelming obsession ever could. Yet, the ranger’s mind was set, and he refused to change it.

Then Legolas said the worst thing of all. “I will die without it.” The words were simple and spoken softly, but a dagger to the heart couldn’t have wounded Aragorn more.

In one graceful motion, Legolas stood up. Without warning, he jumped on the pile of rocks in the center of the room. Leaping up to grab the edge of the hole in the ceiling, he swung himself up through the open space and disappeared.

Aragorn yelled the elf’s name over and over until Ricard put his hand on the man’s arm. “He will not answer you, and neither one of us can reach the upper chamber, even from the top of these rocks the way he just did.”

“I won’t lose him,” Aragorn stated flatly. “I have to find him again. I know you can’t move fast enough.” He smiled at the other man sadly. “Thank you for you help, Ricard, but I must go from here alone.”

Ricard nodded. “Go. I will make my way upstairs slowly but surely. I will aid you and Legolas more, if I am able.”

In a flash, Aragorn was out the door and running down the passageway. He knew that the upper level tunnel was the one that Treco had escaped from, and it led directly outside. He would have to find another way out.

Ricard sighed, silently wishing the ranger good luck. He then made his way out of the ruined vault and started down the passageway, hoping to catch up to the other man in time to help him deal with the elf.

The vault door he was passing suddenly flew open, and Allaura walked out in front of him. Seeing his wife surprised him so much, he froze.

Allaura was likewise surprised, but she recovered quickly. “There you are, you rat.”

“Allaura. How...?” Ricard didn’t finish the question, because he instantly knew exactly how she had escaped. “You picked the lock.”

“Yes, my dear, I did. I thank you so much for telling me about your youthful adventure.” Her smile chilled the man’s blood.

They stared at each other, and then Allaura lunged at her husband, reaching for his throat. He managed to put his hand up just in time and instead of being choked, he was forcefully pushed backward. His head hit the stone wall, and Ricard fell in a heap.

A smear of blood on the stone indicated the force with which Ricard’s head had hit. To her consternation, she saw that he was breathing. It would be so easy to take his crutch and beat him to death with it, ridding herself of his presence and making him pay for his betrayal.

She shook her head, knowing that time was of the essence, and she couldn’t waste a second of it right now. Of utmost importance was finding the elf and getting her necklace back. Then she would return and deal with her husband. Looking at him now, Allaura didn’t think he would be going anywhere.

Turning down the passageway, Allaura began her search for the elf and her necklace.

*~*~*~*

As he ran, Aragorn couldn’t help but ask himself if Legolas would head for the forest. Could the elf even hear his beloved trees any longer? Could they offer him solace and help him forget the blue stone? How sad that he even had to ask such questions about a wood-elf.

Without even slowing down, Legolas ran across the huge chamber that had held Treco. He barely glanced at the four guards lying sprawled out on the floor near the double doors. He didn’t stop to see if they were alive or not. They weren’t moving, and that’s all he cared about.

The elf sprinted down the huge tunnel and out of the house. Normally, he would have breathed deeply of the fresh air and savored the feel of the sun on his face much as the hidden dragon was doing far above him. Then he would have headed straight for the trees.

He cared not for any of it. All he wanted was the necklace. He had a plan for getting it back, and he didn’t even feel guilty for the way he was going to go about accomplishing that.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Three

Aragorn had decided to go outside and see if Legolas had indeed tried to reach the trees. Hoping to catch the swift elf before he disappeared into the forest, Aragorn increased his pace through the halls of Ravenlore.

Aragorn needn’t have worried for Legolas had stopped and stood still, training his senses back toward the house, though he kept his back to it. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be joined by the one he waited for.

Treco could not hear the elf’s silent movements. However, he did hear the ranger, when the man ran out of a small door at the rear of the house. He opened his eyes and looked down with interest at the scene that was about to unfold before him.

Soon finding himself outside, Aragorn saw Legolas several yards off to his right, and he wasted no time getting to his friend.

There was no outward sign from the elf that he had been heard, but Aragorn knew his footsteps were clearly being tracked by the elf’s keen hearing, but that was all right, since he wasn’t trying to be stealthy.

The ranger wasted no time before saying, "Legolas, please let me help you."

The elf turned slowly and looked at Aragorn. He was willing to give the man one last chance - but only one. "If you truly want to help me, then you know what you must do."

"I know what you think I must do, but I cannot do it. Besides, I told you I hid the necklace. It’s still in the dungeon."

Legolas’s eyes narrowed. "Liar." The word was almost a snarl.

That one accusatory word hurt Aragorn to the core. Yet he knew that hurt feelings meant nothing in the face of what had befallen his friend. He also had to remind himself that it was the power of the obsession speaking, not the elf that had been his closest friend for most of his life.

"Please, Legolas..." Words suddenly failed the man. He didn’t know how many times he could keep begging the elf to listen to him. To his surprise, it worked.

Legolas’s expression softened, and a look of helplessness crossed his face. He lowered his head. "I am sorry, Estel. I do not mean to hurt you. I know that the stone is evil and that I am helpless in its power." Legolas looked up, and his eye’s met the ranger’s. "I want - need - your help."

With a huge smile of relief, Aragorn said, "I will always help you however I can, mellon nin. You know that."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I do know that."

Aragorn was so happy that Legolas was finally willing to accept his aid, he could hardly contain his emotions, and his body almost went limp from sheer relief. His smile widening, Aragorn stepped close and wrapped his arms around the elf.

Suddenly, Aragorn felt a hand inside his tunic. He didn’t understand what was happening at first. Then he felt the necklace being pulled out of his pocket.

He quickly disentangled himself from Legolas, and once again grabbed the elf’s wrist to keep him from extracting the necklace. Pulling Legolas’s hand free, Aragorn grabbed the elf’s shoulder with his free hand. There was anger in the ranger’s eyes now. "You only pretended to accept my help. It was just a trick to get your hands on the necklace. Now who’s the liar?"

Legolas stared evenly at Aragorn. "You are an intelligent human and a wily ranger, and I knew you would never leave it behind for me to double back and find. You had to have it on you, so you lied first." He sounded like a petulant child. "I wanted it back."

"And you would even trick a friend to get it."

With a cold voice, Legolas said, "Lying to you is easy, because you want so much to believe that I would not do so. You should know by now that I will do anything to get the necklace back."

"So you’ve demonstrated. You’ve tried to punch me, then choke me and now you’ve tricked me. Does our friendship mean nothing to you?" The feelings that were warring inside of Aragron right now were blinding him to the facts of Legolas’s mental condition, something he had just reminded himself of.

"You still do not understand, and I am no longer interested in trying to make you," came the terse reply.

Legolas’s betrayal and the fact that Aragorn had been so easily tricked both angered and pained the man beyond reasoning. The greater pain, though, was that Legolas was not interested in being saved.

"The time for talk has ended," the elf declared. "Give me the necklace." With those words, the elf jerked free of Aragorn’s grip.

Sudden though the elf’s move had been, the ranger’s muscles tensed in preparation for the fight he was sure was coming. However, he wasn’t quite ready when Legolas suddenly launched himself at the man, sending them both to the ground, Legolas on top.

Once again the wood-elf reached into the ranger’s tunic , now knowing exactly in which pocket his prize was to be found.

The struggle was intense, as the elf fought to retrieve what he believed was his, and the ranger fought just as hard to retain possession of the object of their battle.

First one and then the other seemed to gain the upper hand, effectively neutralizing a lasting advantage to either.

From his vantage point on the roof, Treco stared at the two beings below him. He was shocked, to say the least. Why were the human and the elf fighting each other?

It didn’t take him long to figure out that Allaura was involved somehow. What had that evil witch done to turn these two close friends into battling enemies?

The dragon’s suspicion was confirmed in his mind, when he heard a door slam and looked to find Allaura walking toward the two beings rolling in the grass.

The dragon had resolved to wait and find out the outcome of the encounter between the elf and the human before revealing himself, but at the sight of the hated woman, he changed his mind.

Just as Allaura reached Legolas and Aragorn, Treco lifted off from the roof and landed beside the three.

Incredibly, neither elf nor ranger had noticed Allaura, even when she yelled at them to stop, however, there was no way they could not notice the arrival of a huge red dragon in their midst.

The two separated and rolled apart, getting to their feet quickly before the other could take advantage. And once standing, each kept a wary eye on the other. It wasn’t surprising that most of their attention was aimed at Allaura and the red dragon.

Aragorn recovered first. "Treco. I thought you were going to leave and return to your home."

"So did I," the dragon replied glumly. "But it seems I have unfinished business here."

Allaura didn’t like the look of hatred in the huge creature’s yellow eyes, as he turned them squarely in her direction. However, she had no intention of letting him know that, so she masked her fear of him with a scowl.

Treco looked as if he was about ready to tear her limb from limb or better yet flame her. He had tried the latter choice once before, and it hadn’t worked. Maybe, she thought, he wouldn’t realize that it was the necklace that had protected her then and not any magic of her own. Just to reinforce the notion that she could not be harmed by anything he tried, she said threateningly, "You cannot kill me, dragon, so do not even try. It will gain you only pain, I assure you." The words were accompanied by a look that, if possible, would have killed the creature where he stood.

Allaura then turned her attention to Legolas and Aragorn. "Well, it seems the only one missing is my dear husband." When she saw Aragorn look toward the house, she smiled. "Do not worry, ranger, Ricard will not be coming to your aid this time."

"You killed him?" Aragorn asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"Not yet, but that will change shortly. Right now, I want the necklace."

She was looking directly at Aragorn, as she spoke, because it was obvious to her that the elf didn’t have it, or he would be staring into the stone’s depths and completely oblivious to everything else. "I want it now, ranger."

Aragorn was getting very tired of hearing that. He wanted nothing more than to take that accursed necklace and stomp it into oblivion. If only he could.

The ranger glanced at Legolas and saw the rage in his blue-gray eyes. It looked to be a reaction to the fact that someone else was claiming his property. He wondered briefly if the archer would attack her just to eliminate the competition.

Allaura must have also seen the look for she suddenly said, "Grab the ranger, elf, and I will share the necklace with you. We can live here together forever and each get what we want."

A stab of fear ran through Aragorn’s heart. What if she was able to sway Legolas to her side? He stopped that thought, because he was the one that had the necklace, not her. But he knew he couldn’t counter her offer, because Legolas was well aware that Aragorn would never let him have it. There had to be a way to resolve this, but he was at a loss as to how.

Did he dare take the necklace out in front of both of them? He concluded that it hardly seemed to matter, since they both knew he had it in his possession. He could fight off Allaura, but not Legolas with his superior elven strength.

Aragorn reached into his pocket and pulled the necklace out. It was time to get this whole mess settled once and for all.

Both Legolas and Allaura, who were both about the same distance from the ranger, grabbed for the chain now dangling from Aragorn’s hand.

The archer, with his longer arms, managed to get it between two of his fingers. He pulled on the chain, hoping to get it loose from Aragorn’s hand and then secure it in his hand before Allaura could do anything to get it away from him.

Feeling the pull, Aragorn jerked hard to dislodge the chain from the elf’s grasp. When he did so, the weight of the pendant pulled it out of his own hand.

The three stood mesmerized, watching the necklace sail through the air, casting off sparkles of gold, as it moved in the sunlight.

Then, in an instant, Treco was there, mouth open, and the necklace flew into it. The dragon gulped. A look of utter surprise appeared on his face. "Did I just swallow that?" he asked in disbelief.

Allaura and Legolas both screamed.

It was Allaura, though, who reacted the most violently. She ran at the dragon with her fists in the air. "Give it back to me!" The ridiculousness of the request didn’t dawn on her. "Give it back," she wailed again.

Legolas’s reaction was jus the opposite. He sank down onto the ground, his legs folding up under him. Shoulders slumped, he hung his head and covered his face with his hands. Every line of his body reflected his despair and defeat. It contrasted starkly with Allaura’s rage.

The woman advanced on the dragon, as if she intended on beating the necklace out of him.

Treco backed up, though certainly not from fear. He turned slightly, so that Allaura would have to come at him from a different direction. It wasn’t clear yet exactly what he was doing.

Aragorn stared at the two individuals. He knew he should be trying to comfort Legolas, but he had to know what was going to happen next.

"Give it back!" Allaura screamed for the third time.

When Treco judged he was in position, he stopped. "You will never get anything from me but this!" A searing white-hot flame suddenly roared from his open mouth.

Aragorn watched in fascination, as Allaura was engulfed in the fire. Treco had told him that he had tried once before to flame her, but it hadn’t worked, so the ranger was curious to see what would happen this time. He half expected to see a raging woman standing in front of the dragon and continuing to demand the necklace, when the flame died out. What he did see almost caused him to collapse on the ground next to Legolas.

At first, the ranger, still wide-eyed, thought Allaura had disappeared. He began to walk forward, and when he reached the place where Allaura had been standing, he stopped and stared.

Sitting upright on a burned patchof grass was a small black statue, arms raised in the air, mouth wide open but whether in rage or pain no one would ever know. Yet instead of being a representation of the beautiful woman Allaura truly had been, the statue showed her to be twisted and grotesque.

"It’s just like the statues in the hall upstairs," Aragon remaked to Treco, knowing the dragon had never seen them.

"There are statues like this in the house?" the dragon asked.

"Yes. The hall on the top floor is lined with them. They are each different but yet very similar."

"Those were real people," announced a voice from behind Aragorn.

The ranger turned to see Ricard limping up on his crutch to join them. ‘That’s why she needed a dragon," the man began to explain, giving the huge red creature a sympathetic look. "I do not know exactly how she managed it before I met her, but she brought all those statues upstairs with her. I do know that whenever one of her victims was no longer useful to her, she had that done to them. I know, because she threatened me often enough." His voice lowered when he said, "I would have been one of them before very long."

"Well, it looks like she finally got what she deserved." Aragorn couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad for Ricard. "I’m sorry it ended this way."

"I am not," Ricard declared firmly. "My dream of happiness with her died a long time ago. She did nothing but torture innocent souls, you and Legolas included."

"What will you do with those other statues?"

"There is a cemetery in the woods over there." He indicated the line of trees across the lawn. "Family members have been buried there since Ravenlore was built centuries ago. There is also a section for those that served the family. I will bury each of Allaura’s victims in the servants section. It is the least I can do for what my wife did to them, even before I met her."

"What will you do with her?" Aragorn asked, pointing to the black object on the ground and finding it hard to refer to the grotesque black stature as being feminine.

"As for Allaura, I will bury the statue of her face down in a deep hole far from here where no one will ever find her." The idea made Ricard smile.

Aragorn nodded, not surprised at all at the other man’s feelings. He felt the same way.

All during the conversation with Treco and Ricard, Aragorn had been making quick surreptitious glances over Ricard’s shoulder at Legolas.

The glances were not missed by the other man.

Understanding, Ricard turned and looked at the elf. "What will happen to him now that the necklace is...uh...no longer available?" He had witnessed what had happened to it.

Aragorn then turned and looked back at Legolas, who had not moved and seemingly hadn’t seen Allaura’s demise. "I have no idea." It was a hard admission to make but an honest one.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Four

"What will become of you now?" Aragorn asked of Ricard. He had come to think of the other man as a friend, and he was concerned about his future.

"Ravenlore is my home, so I will stay here. I am sure, now that Allaura is gone, that I will be able to regain my strength. And I have all the time I will need to accomplish that."

"You don’t mind living here alone?" Aragorn inquired.

"I will not be alone. The four men, who Allaura turned into her personal guards, will keep me company. Now that they do not have her to fear, I am sure we can all go back to the somewhat normal life we used to have, though it will be much quieter around here." The words may have been humorous, but Ricard couldn’t help but gaze sympathetically toward the house for what Allaura had done to those men. He shook off the feeling and continued. "They worked for me as servants and lawn keepers before she came along, so I hope they will do so again. They have no place else to go, but I will not hold them here, if they choose to leave. I would not blame them, if they did."

Satisfied now that Ricard would indeed be all right, Aragorn turned and looked at Treco with a gleam in his eye. "So you didn’t kill them." He was almost amused that the dragon had shown consideration for people, who had helped to keep him a prisoner. It was most undragon-like behavior.

Treco snorted. "They were no threat to me, thanks to you, so I saw no reason to waste my breath on them." He laughed at his own joke. All he got from the two humans were two identical smiles of indulgence.

"You can both stay here until Legolas gets better, if you would like," Ricard offered, turning the subject to the elf.

"Thank you," Aragorn said gratefully, "but I don’t think that’s a good idea, considering what happened to him here."

"You are probably right." Ricard conceded. He was not offended by the ranger’s remark. After all, it was true that the elf was in the condition he was because of what Allaura had done to him here at Ravenlore. "So where will the two of you go?"

At this point, Treco cleared his throat. When the two men looked at him, he said, "I can fly you wherever you wish to go." His eyes darkened a bit, when he added, "As long as it is not near people - of any race," he added that last, thinking that the ranger would probably want to go someplace full of humans or perhaps one full of elves. He wasn’t too happy to be caught in the snare of caring for the elf and the ranger, as it was, so he sure didn’t want to go anywhere near any of their people. The turmoil, not to mention the danger, that would result was more than he was willing to deal with.

“Thank you, Treco,” Aragorn said. “That’s very kind of you.” Aragorn was genuinely moved and certainly shocked by the offer. How many times in the history of Middle-earth had a dragon ever offered to fly someone somewhere. The answer was clearly none. Flying on the back of a dragon was something that he would remember for the rest of his life. The ranger hated to turn the offer down, but he had something else in mind for him and Legolas.

There was also another reason he had to shake his head. “As long as you have the necklace, even hidden as it is,” he said with a grin, “I don’t think Legolas should be near you. No offence.”

"None taken, since it is not me you object to." Treco gave a silly grin to the ranger. "By the way, I am keeping the necklace."

Aragorn shrugged. "That’s fine with me, but it now belongs to Ricard." Turning to the other man, he raised his eyebrows in question.

Ricard made a distasteful expression. "Keep it. I certainly do not want that thing around."

It was a look of curiosity that crossed Aragorn’s face. "Why would you want to keep it?" he asked of the dragon.

"It is a beautiful jewel, and dragons delight in jewels, as you are no doubt aware."

"But you saw what it did to Legolas, even to us," Aragorn pointed to himself and Ricard.

With a slightly haughty tone, Treco responded. "I am neither mortal nor elven. The stone will not affect me. I can enjoy its beauty without falling victim to its power."

Aragorn was tempted to ask if he was sure, but he knew the arrogance of the dragon would only get him a curt reply for his effort, so he kept the question to himself.

Treco couldn’t avoid looking over toward Legolas. "Are you sure I cannot fly the two of you anywhere? The elf needs help."

Treco knew the ranger was resourceful, having been on the receiving end of the man’s healing abilities, but Treco wasn’t sure that this man, or anyone, could pull the elf out of his current despair.

Aragorn nodded. "I’m sure," he answered with certainty, again taken with the dragon‘s concern.

"Then I shall be on my way." Treco moved several yards from the two men. When he felt that he was far enough away to keep the wind that would be created by his wings from knocking them down, he said, "What you and the elf did surprised me."

"What we did?"

"Made me care," was Treco’s simple reply. Before the ranger could say anything to that, the dragon turned and dipped his head in farewell and began to flap his wings, whipping the air around him.

The ranger lifted his hand in his own farewell. "Until we meet again," he called out.

"Not likely," the dragon muttered, not knowing for sure, if he was overheard over the noise his takeoff was making.

Aragorn and Ricard watched Treco soar up into the sky and then disappear over the treetops to the north.

The ranger sighed, feeling like he had just said goodbye to a friend he would never see again. He glanced at Ricard and felt certain he would soon feel the same way about the other man.

The ranger walked over to where Legolas still sat cross-legged on the ground. He bent down and gently pulled the elf’s hands away from his face. "Legolas, listen to me." When the wood-elf didn’t respond, the man took his friend’s chin in his hand and turned his head up.

It wasn’t until Aragorn saw recognition dawn in Legolas’s eyes that he began to speak. "Allaura is dead, Legolas, and the necklace is gone. It’s time that we started your recovery."

Ricard smiled at the word ‘we’. It was clear the elf would not be alone in the ordeal that lay ahead, and he had no doubt that it would indeed be an ordeal.

He looked toward the sun, which was just beginning to drop into the West. "Why don’t the two of you stay here for tonight and get an early start in the morning?"

Aragorn considered the offer then decided against it. "I think it’s best that we spend the night in the forest. The sooner Legolas gets into the trees, the better I think it will be."

Ricard nodded. "Of course. I understand. Well, at least let me supply you with some food and blankets. It is the least I can do."

It was more in an effort to make Ricard feel that he was helping to repay a debt he felt he owed rather than a need for food that prompted the ranger to say, "That sounds good, Ricard. I’ll stay here with Legolas. I can‘t leave him alone." He still couldn’t be absolutely sure that the archer wouldn’t run off, if left alone.

Aragorn felt bad that he hadn’t volunteered to help Ricard, but he assumed the guards, or rather the servants, would help, since it would be a while before the man’s foot could heal enough to set his crutch aside.

*~*~*~*

A half hour later, Ricard emerged from the house. Two of the former guards followed him, one carrying a small pack and a larger bulging one while the other servant carried two full water skins.

Aragorn pulled Legolas up and was pleased to note that he elf did not resist but came to his feet and stood calmly. A glance by the ranger revealed the fact that Legolas was aware, at least in a vague way, of what was going on around him.

One of the servants looked straight at Aragorn with an expression that spoke of great shame. He could not express himself in any other manner.

The ranger read the silent man’s apology and nodded. "It is well."

The smile that spread across the servant’s face told Aragorn that the meaning of his remark had been understood but still he said to Ricard, "Tell them all there are no hard feelings."

"I will," The man replied, a happy look on his own face. He truly cared for these men, who had served his family, even before he was born. He regretted that he had not been able to protect them from his wife, but the hard truth was that he had not even been able to protect himself.

Ricard took the two packs and handed the larger one to Aragorn, who in turn slipped it over Legolas’s left shoulder. The elf accepted it without comment. Ricard opened the smaller pack, which caused a frown to appear on Aragorn’s face.

Noting the ranger’s puzzled expression, Ricard said, "I am not about to hand out something to eat," he laughed, "though there is food in here." After adjusting his weight on the crutch, so he was balanced, Ricard reached in and pulled out two daggers.

Aragorn immediately recognized both of the weapons. One was his and one belonged to Legolas. They were the blades that they normally kept in their boots.

"These were found hidden among Grath’s things. I saw that the blades were clearly elven made and knew that they were not his nor any of his men’s. They had to be yours."

Aragorn grinned broadly, as he took the two knives in his hands and looked down at them fondly. He held one up for Legolas to see.

The elf nodded but did not reach for his knife. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, but he was aware enough to realize it wasn’t a good idea to have a knife within easy reach. He knew he wouldn’t hurt Aragorn or Ricard, but he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hurt himself. The thought made him shiver.

A worried look crossed Aragorn’s face, as he saw the elf’s body shudder and a darkness appear in his friend’s eyes. The man understood their meaning and lowered the knife, slipping it in his right boot. His own knife soon rested beside it. "Thank you, Ricard. These are most welcome friends, and it’s good to be reunited with them."

"I have a couple more in here." The man reached in again and pulled out two long, white handled knives. "These are truly beautiful."

Legolas’s eyes went wide at the sight of his two beloved knives. This time he couldn’t resist. He reached for them and gently took them from Ricard’s hands. He looked up at Aragorn and gave him a small smile.

The ranger nodded with a grin on his lips. If only they could have saved his bow and the intricately stitched leather quiver that held Legolas’s hand-made arrows. He would also like to have his sword back. He let out a heavy sigh.

Legolas handed the knives to Aragorn and watched as the man put both of them in his belt.

"I am sorry there wasn’t anything else. I doubt a man like Grath would have destroyed a sword or a bow, but Allaura may have, after she killed him, and his men were taken care of."

Turning, Aragorn reassured Ricard. "No matter. These will do until my sword and Legolas’s bow can be replaced." Smiling, the ranger then said, "Thank you again, Ricard. I hope that we will see you again in the future."

They both knew that that would most likely never happen, though each hoped that somehow it would come to pass.

Ricard watched as the elf and the ranger walked away from Ravenlore. He was still watching when they disappeared from sight among the trees.

Then he turned toward the house, a contented sigh escaping, as he thought about how nice life was going to be without Allaura. He didn’t even glance back at the black stature of his wife that he was intending to bury the next day. With it would go the earrings that matched the necklace. Everything else of hers would be burned.

*~*~*~*

Legolas and Aragorn traveled until the sun had disappeared below the horizon, though there was still enough of light to travel by.

Night creatures were just beginning to stir, some taking wing, some scurrying along the forest floor and some crawling, as they prepared to hunt for prey and other forms of food for their sustenance.

The two friends continued on until they reached the bank of the river. With a mutual agreement, they decided to camp just inside the tree line to avoid exposure to any unfriendly eyes that may be turned their way.

Legolas had followed Aragorn’s lead all the way from Ravenlore, but his movements had been slow and now bordered on lethargic.

"You’re tired, Legolas. Why don’t you rest while I set up camp." The man tried to sound casual.

The elf shook his head. "I will help." His heart wasn’t really in it, but deep within him he still had enough pride not to let the ranger do all the work while he did nothing.

Getting the two water skins, Aragorn handed them to Legolas. "We haven’t used much, but you know as well as I do that we need to refill whenever we get the chance. We might need all of this before we’re able to get more."

Legolas took the water skins and walked to the river’s edge. Once out from under the trees, there was more light to see by. The elf kneeled down and filled both of the skins. His movements were slow and deliberate.

The ranger worked as quickly as he could while still keeping an eye on the elf. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could trust the elven archer to be on his own without close supervision.

Aragorn started the fire, unpacked the food for the evening meal and set out the blankets. It hadn’t taken all that long, but Aragorn noted that Legolas was still kneeling by the river.

Waling over to the elf, Aragorn knelt down beside his friend.

Legolas was not moving, one water skins was lying on the sandy ground beside him, and the other was still in his hand, though the stopper was back in place.

Softly, Aragorn asked, "Legolas, what are you thinking about?"

A bitter laugh erupted from the elf’s lips. "You know very well what I am thinking about."

"The necklace."

"It is long gone, and I will never see it again. I know this, yet it still calls to me." The elf’s voice was wistful. "I cannot break its hold on my mind."

"That’s why we’re here in the forest, Legolas," the ranger said gently. "Do the trees not speak to you?"

For a long time, the elf didn’t answer. When he spoke at last, his tone was soft, and reminded Aragorn of an elven lament. "I cannot hear them, Estel. I am not even aware of the Song of Ilúvatar. I live, so the Song is there, but I do not hear it. I only hear the blue stone." He looked at Aragorn with the most pitiful look the man had ever seen in Legolas’s eyes. "I...I do not even desire to hear it."

That statement frightened Aragorn more than anything else Legolas could have said. "I can’t believe that," the man blurted out. No matter how strong the stone’s pull was, surely no elf, especially this wood-elf, could ever mean such a thing.

"That is because you do not understand, Estel. You never have." the blond archer said harshly. "I have tried to tell you that the power of the stone has made its way into my very soul. It has infused my entire being. I cannot just get over it, because you want me to."

"Don’t you dare say that you’ll die without it, Legolas. I refuse to accept that." He put his hand on the elf’s shoulder. "I may not understand the stone’s hold on you, mellon nin, but I know your heart. Stop thinking about the necklace and think about what surrounds you. Give yourself over to the call of Nature, the moon, the stars. Their voices are far stronger and far older than this stone. Listen to them."

In a sudden move that took the ranger totally by surprise, Legolas slammed the water skin he still held down into the water, not avoiding nor caring about the splash that wet his knees and face. He rose then and stared down at the human. "Do you not think I would do that, if I could?" he fairly shouted before walking away.

Aragorn closed his eyes, as he came to his feet. He hated to think of hurting his sensitive friend, but he knew deep down that being too gentle would do more harm than good. Still it was going to be very hard to be as rough as he would need to be. And the hardest part was not knowing if anything he did or said was even going to work.

Looking at the elf’s retreating back, he called out, "We will figure this out together, Legolas. I won’t leave you until you are free."

Legolas showed no reaction to those words but simply continued walking toward the camp.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Five

With a deep sigh born of frustration and sadness, Aragorn stood up and followed Legolas back from the stream to their small camp. When he got there, the elf was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring down at his hands, as his fingers twisted in agitation.

Aragorn sat down next to his friend but did not speak. At the moment, he thought that Legolas needed a little time of peace and quiet to calm himself, not to be told yet again that he didn’t need the necklace or that the two of them could fight the stone’s pull on him. However, that didn’t mean that Aragorn wasn’t itching to say exactly that and keep on saying it until the words sank into the elf’s head.

It didn’t take long before he also wanted to grab Legolas’s hands to still the repetitive finger-twisting that was starting to get on the ranger’s nerves. Instead, Aragorn forced himself to keep still. He needed some quiet time, as well.

As Aragorn sat and thought about the situation, it broke his heart to see the strong-willed elf in such a state. In the past, he had seen Legolas brought low from injury and from sorrow, but even in those dark times, the elf had never been like this.

Basically, Legolas looked the same on the outside. He was a little worse for wear from his recent experiences, but then, who wouldn’t after being captured, shot twice, forced to travel under cruel guard while still injured and then held in a dungeon? He could only imagine the vision he himself must be presenting. He almost laughed, nothing new there.

The man’s thoughts returned to the elf. It was Legolas’s eyes that made Aragorn shudder. They were.... He couldn’t even put into words how they looked, though haunted was about as close as he could come to describing what he saw there. Even someone who didn’t know the archer could see that something was definitely wrong with him.

At long last, Legolas broke the silence. “You really do not understand, Estel, and I cannot explain it any more clearly than I have already.” His voice was soft and sounded resigned to defeat.

“I’m trying to understand, Legolas. Believe me I am. I know it’s not the same, but I can remember that when the necklace touched my skin, it not only burned but seemed to enter my mind. It made me...,” he paused at the distasteful memory. Taking a deep breath, he resumed. “It made me want to do whatever Allaura asked of me. The last thing I recall is kissing her, and I don’t mean lightly on the cheek. It was pure desire on my part. I wanted her right then more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Yet, now I know that if I’d been in control of my emotions, I never would have even touched her. She was beautiful, but she revolted me.”

The man paused again, as he glanced sideways at the elf, trying to determine if what he was saying was being accepted. The expression on Legolas’s face had not changed, though the ranger now also saw sympathy in his friend’s eyes.

“You told me that after you came back and was finally able to remember most of what had happened. I am glad you did not have to go through what I am going through now.”

“And I’m sorry that you do,” Aragorn replied, his own eyes full of sympathy for the sensitive elf.

When the man opened his mouth to say more, Legolas reached over and put his hand on Aragorn’s arm. “Do not say it, Estel. I know you think you can help, but you cannot.”

‘We’ll see about that,’ Aragorn said determinedly to himself. Then he got up and held his hand down to Legolas. “Come with me.”

Legolas stared at the ranger’s hand for a moment before taking it and allowing his friend to pull him to his feet.

Aragorn led the two of them away from the camp. He couldn’t hear Legolas’s footsteps behind him but knew the elf was following. He was pleased that his friend was willing to find out where he was being taken, but he was not pleased that Legolas showed no apparent curiosity about it. ‘I’ll take what I can get,’ he told himself.

When Aragorn halted, Legolas looked around him and then at the ranger, allowing his silent expression to ask the question of why they had stopped.

Aragorn put his hand on the large oak tree they stood beneath. He frowned when Legolas didn’t seem to know what the man’s gesture was trying to tell him.

“Climb up there,” Aragorn said, as he titled his head up and looked into the branches of the old oak.

Finally understanding, Legolas shook his head. “I know what you are trying to do, but it will not work. The tree cannot help me, because I cannot hear it.”

“You haven’t yet sat in it and asked it to talk to you. I think you may be surprised at what ;you might be able to hear.”

The ranger was almost holding his breath. He didn’t know what he would do, if Legolas refused or worse yet, walked away.

With a deep sigh that
spoke volumes, mostly that he would humor the man, who he was sure wasn’t going to give up until Legolas did as he was bid, the elf leapt into the tree and made his way to a branch about half way up.

The man below gave a deep sigh of his own, as he climbed the tree much more slowly and with much more effort. It wasn’t for the first time, or even the hundredth, that he wished he possessed even half the abilities of an elf.

Eyeing the branch Legolas was on, Aragorn stopped on one a bit lower and a bit sturdier. He didn’t want to risk breaking the smaller branch the elf was on and end up falling and breaking his neck.

With a touch of sarcasm, Legolas said, “Let me guess. I am supposed to grasp the tree and listen to it.”

Aragorn bit his lip to keep from returning the elf’s sarcasm, and instead told his friend, “No. I think you should talk to it first, and then listen to its answers. It knows you are in distress.”

“And say what?”

“Legolas, you’ve been talking to trees your whole life. Just talk to this one the way you would if...”

“If I was not mad?”

“You're not mad, and that's not what I was going to say.” Aragorn couldn’t help letting a bit of anger enter his voice. Realizing that losing his patience wasn’t going to help any, he softened his tone. “I was simply going to say talk to it the way you would if you were at home in Mirkwood. This tree is old, and probably hasn’t seen many elves, especially in recent times. I’m sure it would love to communicate with you.”

More to appease the man than thinking it would actually work, Legolas moved on the branch until his back was against the tree’s trunk, He crossed one leg over the other and stretched them out in front of him. He put both hands down below his body and pressed the palms against the rough bark. Leaning his head back until it, too, rested against the tree trunk, the elf closed his eyes and began his attempt to silently communicate with the oak.

To Legolas’s utter surprise, he heard the lament the tree began at the state the elf was in. It seemed to understand the distress this silvan elf was enduring, though it could not, of course, know the reason behind such distress.

‘Do not weep for me,’ the elf silently told the oak. ‘I am but one elf, who is no longer worthy of your concern.’

The tree did not agree and before long, all the trees in the area were imparting their own concerns for him.

‘You are Eldar, a noble elf of royal blood. You are more than worth our concern.’

Legolas had always communicated with trees through feelings and senses, not having to think rationally about the messages, just knowing them in his heart. But to his surprise, he now heard...words. They were silent and filled his being, but they were most definitely words.

In his mind, Legolas replied, ’Nay, old one. I have been tainted by evil. My heart and my soul are no longer my own. You cannot save me any more that my friend can.’

The tree had not forgotten about the human that sat near the elf in its branches, but he was not the concern right then. ‘If one of the Firstborn is not worth saving, then who is?'

The blond archer could not answer that question. In utter despair, Legolas said, ‘Perhaps no one is.’

‘You are wrong, young elf. Your heart is burdened, and you feel that all is hopeless, but you can learn to believe in yourself again. We will help.’

Before Legolas could say more, all of the trees that his keen senses were able to detect, began a song of hope and renewed joy. It soon echoed throughout the forest.

‘Hear us,’ the oak tree spoke into the elf‘s mind. ‘Hear our song. Block out all else that distracts you. Let our song flow through you. For you know that we are here to help you regain the joy of the Firstborn.’

Legolas listened. It took an effort on his part, but he forced his consciousness to concentrate only on what the trees were saying.

From the branch below, Aragorn watched Legolas’s face. After a while, he saw the elf’s expression take on a more relaxed look. Although it was still far from the peace the ranger had seen on his friends’ face in happier times, when the elf was one with the trees, it nonetheless eased the anxiety in Aragorn’s heart and offered him hope.

The two beings stayed in the great oak for several hours. Aragorn didn’t want to get down and disturb what he was sure the tree was doing to help Legolas. But the time finally came when he couldn’t stay on that branch one more second. The whole lower half of his body, especially his behind, had gone numb, which was not a good thing and would definitely hamper his descent, but he couldn’t stand the inactivity and longer. He had to move.

As quietly as he could, Aragorn twisted, stretched and rubbed his legs to get the circulation moving again, and when he finally got the painful signal that they were awake, he carefully began to move off of the branch.

“Do you need me to help you?”

The elf’s soft voice startled the man so much, he almost slipped off the branch he stood on.

Legolas was beside him before the ranger could even take a breath. He welcomed the elf’s firm grip on his arm. “Thank you,” he offered in gratitude.

A blink of the man’s eyes later, and Legolas was standing on the branch below him, reaching up two helping hands. Aragorn was not so proud that he wouldn’t accept the elf’s help, and between them, they reached the ground safely.

Forgetting all about his near fall, Aragorn asked anxiously, “Did you hear the tree?”

The archer nodded. “I heard them all,” he replied, sweeping his hand around him at all the trees that surrounded them. “This one in particular had much to say to me.”

Aragorn grabbed Legolas’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear you say that, Legolas. I was sure the trees could - and would - help you.”

“You knew more than I did, but you were right.” A slight frown then crossed the elf’s face. “But, Estel, do not rejoice just yet. I am not cured of the stone’s power over me. It is but one small step.”

“But it’s a step in the right direction, mellon nin. That’s the hope you must cling to. And this is just the beginning. When night falls, you will have the stars to help you, as well.”

That statement brought a genuine smile to the elf’s lips rather than one of the sad little half smiles that was all he had been capable of giving until now.

It was the first of many such smiles, as the two friends slowly made their way to their camp.

“The tree spoke to me in words, Estel, just as you are speaking to me now. That has never happened before” Legolas’s voice was still full of wonder.

“It did?” Aragorn was amazed, since Legolas had described to him in the past how he heard the trees speak through feelings and senses.

An idea dawned on Legolas. “I believe the Valar made that possible.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment. We all know you are worth any effort to save.”

“That is what the tree told me.”

“Smart tree. Looks like I picked the right one,” Aragorn normally would have been a bit smug in making that statement, but right then, he was just happy that things had worked out the way he had hoped.

“Smart ranger,” Legolas remarked, trying to ease his friend's concerns by using a touch of his old humor.

*~*~*~*

There was much work yet to be done to bring Legolas back to himself, but Aragorn was hopeful that by the time they reached Rivendell, their destination, Legolas would need very little, if any, further help.

Each day Legolas, usually alone, ventured into one of the trees along the path the two friends traveled. Each night, except when it was cloudy, Legolas lay under the stars and looked up at them, as they wheeled above him in the heavens. And each day the pull of the stone lessened just a little bit more.So it was that gradually, as Legolas spent more and more time communing with Nature, he came to agree with his human friend. The trees, the stars and all the natural world around him was what would bring him back from the depths of his obsession with the blue stone. And the steadfast support of a certain ranger played a large part in the elf‘s recovery, because through it all, Aragorn was there. Sometimes he talked; sometimes he was silent, but no matter what form his presence took, he was always there by Legolas's side.

When the two finally looked upon the valley of Imladris several weeks later, Legolas stopped and looked at Aragorn. “I hear it, Estel.“

Thinking Legolas meant the roaring of the numerous waterfalls that graced Rivendell, the ranger said, “Yes. The sound of a waterfall always reminds me of home.”

“No, Estel, not the waterfalls. I hear the Song of Ilúvatar. In here,” Legolas said, as he rested his hand over his heart. There was a look of peace and unmistakable joy on his fair face, and his eyes looked brighter than they had since the elf had first looked upon that accursed necklace.

“You are whole again, mellon nin” Aragorn replied, more grateful than words could express that it had finally happened. Aragorn put a hand on the elf’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. “And you are home.” He knew that Legolas had always considered Rivendell his second home and the elves here his second family.

As the two friends made their way toward the Last Homely House, the trees of the fabled elven realm welcomed the wood-elf, and with peace in his heart, the wood-elf responded.

The End

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