Chapter 14 - For the Sake of One
The ‘storm’ was worse than Aragorn had expected. Eomer and had arrived just that morning, and to Aragorn’s surprise had brought Gimli with him. The dwarf had intended on surprising Aragorn and then Legolas with his unexpected visit. The surprise had worked.
Faramir and Eowyn had arrived yesterday. Even though Aragorn had written that there was nothing to be done in Minas Tirith the couple has insisted on coming anyway. Their company and strong will had been most welcome.
Right now he sat in the small counsel room surrounded by the four of them plus Arwen and Angrod and he didn’t have a single answer to any of their questions. All Aragorn could tell them was that he trusted Alcandir would do his job and bring Legolas home. But that he didn’t know when this would occur was most difficult for the diverse group to accept.
It was such an unusual group and that they had all become such close friends was even more unusual. It was expected that these leaders of such great realms and colonies would be natural allies. It was expected that these noble men and women would send great armies to protect each other’s people. But here Aragorn stood in a room filled with Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, Lords, Ladies and War Heroes, and each of them was willing to risk their own lives for the sake of one. It was truly astounding.
Having to deny them this was not the easiest job. Granted, Aragorn couldn’t outright forbid any of them to go after their friend. So, it was, he pleaded and bargained with them in order to keep them away from the Southern lands.
The room had fallen silent. Aragorn sat with his head in his hands, slowly rubbing his temples with his fingers. He’d had a headache from the moment that Angrod had burst into this very room with news of Legolas’ abduction. Stress and worry was wearing on him and as he looked around the room he could see the distinct signs that they were also affecting his friends.
Eomer and Gimli looked as though they had not slept at all on their journey to the White City. Both had red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair. Both were covered in dust and wore torn clothing. Aragorn didn’t know why they had hastened their journey, perhaps they had a feeling that something was amiss.
Eomer knew exactly who Alcandir was and when he was first told of the arrangement to have the bounty hunter retrieve Legolas he thought Aragorn mad. "Aragorn, I think you have erred in your decision. Alcandir is well known for causing problems and getting himself into trouble."
With a great sigh which showed his fatigue Aragorn responded with little conviction. "Eomer King, I know that Alcandir has a history for being overly aggressive. But, tell me, has he ever failed to bring in the one he sought?"
Eomer looked thoughtful for a moment then lifted his eyes to meet Aragorn’s. The edges of his mouth lifted ever so slightly and he nodded his head. "No he has not."
Gimli, however wasn’t quite as easy to convince and Aragorn was tempted to lock him in the dungeons to keep him from doing anything irrational. The dwarf puffed up his chest and dared anyone to stop him from going after his good friend. It was only after Aragorn explained the harm that might befall Legolas if they went into Harad, that Gimli resolved to wait for word.
Faramir and Eowyn both sat in silent contemplation trying to piece together this mystery, leaning on each other for strength and support. Aragorn trusted Faramir more than any of his advisors. There were many a night that the two would sit up and discuss the future of Gondor and the progress of rebuilding this great kingdom. Several times Legolas had been right there with them and Faramir had developed a great friendship and admiration for the elf prince. In return, Legolas had done the same with Faramir.
Angrod looked like he was ready to charge out the door and take on all of Harad by himself to get his Prince home. His anger and frustration had been a source of anxiety for Aragorn, partly because he never looked forward to telling the dark elf that there had been no word from Alcandir, but mostly because he felt exactly the same as Angrod.
Arwen sat quietly in the corner watching and listening. She had not been sleeping, mainly because she had sat up at night with Aragorn as he paced about their sleeping quarters. She was the glue that was holding him together, she was the one that reminded him to think before he acted. If it weren’t for her Aragorn would probably be in Harad with an army of men and Legolas would be dead because of his irrational behavior.
Even though Aragorn continually told his friends that he believed in his decision, deep down he wondered if he was right. Not that he didn’t trust Alcandir, but he had to take into consideration that the man was rash and hotheaded at times. Aragorn desperately wanted to be in Harad ensuring, for himself, that Legolas was brought home safely.
The powerful group of friends had reluctantly decided to allow Alcandir time to do his job. In the meantime, Aragorn had to sit back, practice patience and continue to hold back the storm that was currently raging in his small counsel room.
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Legolas wasn’t sure what day it was, actually, he wasn’t sure if it was even day at all. There was no light entering the cell in which he was imprisoned. The only way to determine whether it was day or night was by the temperature. At times the cell would cool down, although only slightly, giving Legolas the impression that nighttime had fallen.
The heat was so intense that it actually affected the elf. He couldn’t imagine how any human survived more than a couple of hours in one of these rooms. He was sweating and lightheaded and there were times when he was so overcome with nausea that he was sure, had he eaten anything, he would have expelled it long ago. That thought alone only served to remind Legolas that he hadn’t eaten since before he was taken.
The lack of food was taking its tole on the elf as well. Legolas could not ever remember a time when he had felt so weak. Even if the cell were big enough to move around in, Legolas did not have the energy to do more than sit in the corner and try to will his body to cool itself down.
When he had first been returned to the cell, Legolas had spent some time feeling his way around, looking for any sign of weakness in the structure. Kalen had obviously worked quite hard on perfecting the confines because Legolas could not find so much as a splinter in the wood.
Legolas had also had to calm his mind down with regards to the darkness and closeness of the cell. He spent many hours thinking about the woods of Ithilien and Mirkwood. Mirkwood had begun to return to its old glory and light now flooded the forest. He had never really taken to calling his home Mirkwood and it was nice that others could now see the beauty of the great forest.
Silence was the only companion the elf had and the lack of noise was deafening. There were no trees to speak with, the earth lacked life and Legolas continued to fight the darkness that was encroaching on his mind. He sang songs from his childhood, songs about towering branches and ethereal guidance, but little comfort was found in his melodic words. He missed the trees and the stars greatly.
A rattling at the door pulled the elf prince back to reality and he closed his eyes in preparation for the opening of the cell door. There was a loud bang and a dim light flooded the tiny room. Legolas blinked his eyes rapidly in order to adjust. As his vision slowly began to come into focus, he saw the face of Nolir leering in the doorway.
"You are still alive elf?" He questioned.
Legolas didn’t respond, he didn’t have the energy, nor did he want to show this man how weak he was.
A smug smile lit up the Haradrim’s face and he waved his hand in a motion for the elf to come out of the cell. "Kalen wishes to speak with you."
Legolas moved, ever so slowly, to his knees and crawled out of the door. He lifted his right knee up and let his foot fall to the ground so that he could push his body into a standing position. His legs ached from lack of use and his head was pounding.
Nolir, getting impatient reached out and grabbed Legolas under the arm and yanked him to his feet. "Come on elf, we do not have all night." Legolas’ head swam from the quick movement and he thought, for a moment, that he would pass out. He took several deep breaths as he was pulled through the courtyard by the repulsive man.
The two contrasted sharply with each other. Where Legolas was fair and full of light, Nolir was appalling and cheerless. There was an intense hatred in Nolir’s eyes when he looked at the elf and it could be seen by all.
Nolir practically dragged Legolas up the stairs and into the palace. They didn’t stop at Kalen’s private chambers like Legolas had expected but continued past the large ornate doors and walked further into the palace. Winding hallways and abrupt turns kept the elf’s mind occupied as he tried to map out where he was in the palace and it was with great surprise when they reached the end of the hall and stopped before an unadorned wall.
Nolir stood before the wall momentarily before reaching out his hand and pushing to reveal a doorway. He then shoved Legolas inside the hidden room and with a growl turned and left the way they had come, the door closing quietly behind him.
The elf turned about slowly and took in his surroundings noting that the room was near empty. There was a small, old desk to one side and a table in the center. There was no decor on the walls other than six short posts to hold torches, half of which were unused making the room somewhat dark and tenebrous. A single door allowed entrance into the room and there were no windows. The room was cooler than the others Legolas had been in the palace, allowing for the assumption that it was centrally located within the spacious building.
Moments later the door reopened and Kalen strode into the room with Nolir on his heels. Legolas was amazed at the size of the Lord of Marek, which alone was enough for the man to intimidate those around him. That he also wore such bright colors made the man virtually impossible to miss. He stood out and that was possibly how he had come into such a position of power.
"Humans have never lasted more than a day in a sweatbox, are all elves so resilient?" Kalen was now standing directly in front of Legolas but refrained from looking the elf in the eye.
When he didn’t answer, Nolir threw a punch into Legolas’ lower back knocking the elf to his knees.
"You are no longer Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien, Legolas. You belong to me and it would save us both a lot of trouble if you would just accept that and cooperate."
"I.Belong.To.No one." Legolas growled as he rose to his feet once more.
This time Nolir, who had stepped around the elf, landed a fist to Legolas’ jaw. The elf’s head snapped back, the pounding therein intensifying. Slowly, Legolas turned his eyes back on Kalen and tried to still the dizzying sensation he was experiencing.
"Legolas, please." Kalen pleaded sarcastically. "Your help would be appreciated. More importantly, it will make things less painful for you and the others."
Legolas was growing impatient with having the other elves used against him. He bit his tongue and refrained from responding to the man’s threat. Nothing he said would help. The Lord of Marek was used to getting things his way and would use any means necessary to achieve his wants. There was no doubt in Legolas’ mind that he would harm, if not kill, one of the others if he didn’t cooperate.
"I have found a new job for you," Kalen continued. "I am intrigued by you and the others. How is it that you can spend two days in a sweatbox and still live? You were shot with an arrow upon your capture and yet you show no residual effects. The cut upon your cheek is nearly healed. I want to learn all there is of elves. All about your habits, traditions, beliefs, fears. I want you to teach me Legolas."
‘Surely he is jesting’ Legolas thought to himself. "You expect me to betray my people. No. I will tell you nothing." He couldn’t, in good conscience, do anything that would allow the others to be punished, but he was beginning to realize that no matter how he responded someone was going to suffer, whether it be himself or the other elves being held somewhere within the compound.
Kalen raised his wide opened eyes to Legolas, "I will give you only one chance to rethink your reply. I was not asking you to help. I was commanding you to help." Turning slowly on his portly legs Kalen continued to question the elf.
"How many elves remain in Middle Earth?" He paced back and forth as he questioned Legolas, not waiting for answers. "Are the elves still breeding?"
Questions continued to pour from the large man’s mouth causing Legolas to tense in irritation and discomfort and the level of interest Kalen had in his people.
Legolas lifted his chin and pushed back his shoulders, "You will learn nothing from me." His bold statement cutting the Lord of Marek off mid-question.
"You give me no other choice then." Kalen stepped away from Legolas and walked toward the door his face turning red in anger. "He is all yours Nolir. But do not kill him yet, I have a feeling that the Prince will be changing his mind." The sound of the door closing echoed throughout the near empty room and Legolas turned to face the approaching Captain of Marek.
He watched closely has Nolir pulled a dagger from its scabbard on his belt, a sickly smile on his face. Nolir sidestepped around the elf, his eyes never leaving his prey. Legolas watched the man moving around him, but didn’t move his body to follow. His head turned so that he could see the man of Harad over his shoulder.
He was prepared when Nolir finally lunged at him and easily twisted his upper body to avoid the strike. Swinging his arm around, Legolas’ closed fist connected solidly with Nolir’s mouth causing the man to stumble back, stunned by the strike. Spitting the blood from his mouth he quickly lunged at Legolas again. Once again the agile elf stepped out of the way of the oncoming attack.
Legolas could feel that his reflexes were slowed due to his weakened state and the unusual robes he wore hindered his movement. He knew that the fight would not end in his favor, but he was going to make the man earn every shot he took. It was cowardly to attack one unarmed and Legolas was greatly angered by the tactics that were employed.
Legolas once again parried to avoid Nolir but the man countered quickly this time and kicked at Legolas’ left knee. The force of the impact pushed the knee inward, with a sickening pop, sending Legolas sprawling to the floor landing on his stomach with a soft grunt.
Nolir was not slowed by lack of sustenance or exposure to extreme temperatures and as Legolas rolled to his back to once again face his attacker Nolir plunged the dagger into Legolas’ chest. The dagger protruded from just below the collar bone on his right side and blood spilled from the wound. Pausing only momentarily of gawk at the flow of blood, the man bent over the elf and jerked the weapon free.
Legolas gasped as the dagger was removed and attempted to lift himself from the floor. Nolir stood twirling the weapon in his hand watching the elf struggle. He didn’t say anything, just loomed overhead and observed the elf’s plight. He then stepped around behind the Legolas and slashed the knife across the elf’s lower back causing Legolas to arch away from the source of the pain.
As he arched his back, his head rose up presenting the perfect target for Nolir. Unable to avoid such an open invitation, the man spun around and kicked out his leg, the top of his foot connecting with the side of Legolas’ head sending the elf, once again, crashing to the floor.
Legolas fought to remain conscious as Nolir stepped over to him and looked down on his fallen prey. He felt long, thick fingers become entwined in his hair and cursed himself, yet again, for his weakness. Nolir pulled on the gold tresses, lifting Legolas’ head from the floor, and looked into the elf’s cloudy eyes with a smile. Using his free hand to caress Legolas’ bloody cheek, the guard then traced his rough forefinger over the elf prince’s features, seemingly entranced by the sight of blood on the pale face.
Keeping his hand firmly twisted in Legolas’ hair, Nolir rolled the elf onto his back and slid his arm’s beneath his captive. Legolas was lifted from the ground, then hoisted over the man’s shoulder. The elf’s vision swam in and out of focus as the guard carried him back out of the room. He gasped for air as they left the palace and crossed the courtyard. Nolir’s arm gripped onto Legolas’ injured knee, to keep him in place on his shoulder, and the pain caused the nausea to well up once again.
Legolas was roughly dumped back into the sweatbox and the door was slammed shut, locking him once again in darkness. He fought to control his breathing and pushed himself up so that he could lean back into the corner he had become so familiar with since arriving in Marek. He slid the robe off of his shoulders to bare his torso and new wounds.
For once, he was thankful for the confining robes that he was forced to wear as he began to tear long strips from the edge for makeshift bandages. With some effort, Legolas bound the knife wound in his shoulder, winding the strips over his shoulder and chest. He took one last strip and pressed it to his head as he reached down with his other hand and massaged the top his knee. He could feel the swelling that had already begun and hissed as he stretched his leg out in order to straighten the damaged joint. His back wound would have to go unattended, its location too difficult for the elf to reach in such a close confines.
Darkness began to deepen as Legolas felt his consciousness fleeing and he welcomed the sensation. Yet once again, he was jerked back to reality by a rattling at his cell door. ‘Back so soon?’ He didn’t think he could take another ‘talk’ with Kalen so quickly.
The cell door was flung open and Legolas fought his waning vision to see who had come for him this time. To his surprise another was tossed into the cell landing directly on his injured knee. Legolas shut his eyes and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He sat this way for a moment, willing the pain away and calming his mind.
Opening his eyes once again, Legolas could just make out the long dark hair covering the other’s face as the door was once again slammed shut and darkness engulfed the cell.
Quiet sobs echoed through the tiny confine and Legolas could feel the other body shaking. He reached out and pushed his new cell mate off of his injured knee sucking in his breath and holding it as he fought off the pain.
"Who is there?" The other asked in a strained voice.
"Lómëdil, is that you?" Legolas asked, shock filling his voice.
"Lord Legolas? Oh, My Lord." Lómëdil gasped and reached out to Legolas.
Legolas grabbed the elf and pulled him up, his back resting against Legolas’ chest. Lómëdil was shaking uncontrollably as sobs wracked his body. "They killed her My Lord. They killed her."