After a disastrous incident in the mountains Elrond's past experience allows him to help Thranduil and Legolas cope with the aftermath.
Categories: Fiction Characters:
Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, Gandalf, Glorfindel, Legolas, Thranduil
The Greenwood Chronicles
April 30, 2017 Updated:
June 05, 2017
1. Rockslide by Starfox
2. Desperation by Starfox
3. Rescue by Starfox
4. Fight for Life by Starfox
The sun shone warmly on the damp earth which was steaming with humidity. It was the first clear day after countless days of rain. The sunlight glistened on the white peaks of the Hithaeglir and made the water droplets in the trees shine like tiny diamonds.
The elves that had left the high pass behind and slowly made their way down to the foothills of the Hithaeglir enjoyed this show of nature. They enjoyed even more being dry for the first time in many days. The rain had steadily drenched them for several days.
Tinwion rode forwards, drawing his horse next to Legolas'. "Thank the Valar that it stopped raining. I felt like a prune, all shriveled and wrinkled."
Legolas laughed. "Indeed. It seemed like the downpour would never end." He patted his horse affectionately. "I really had doubts if I would survive Baranon's bad mood." His stallion snorted and he laughed once more, addressing his steed. "You really were insufferable, my friend."
"You should have taken Thúlon," Tinwion said, ignoring Baranon's offended snort.
"My father asked me to breed him to some mares, so he had better things to do," Legolas explained. "Unfortunately he also is slowly getting past his prime." He knew that at some point in the future he would have to say goodbye to his longtime friend.
Tinwion noted his pensive mood, so he only clasped his shoulder in sympathy.
They continued on their way, basking in the warming rays of the sun. Legolas sighed in contentment. It would only be two more days until they reached Imladris. His last visit there had been years ago. After the battle of the five armies it had taken a long time to recover from their losses, reorganize their forces, integrate new members in the patrols and once more strengthen their defenses. Now, two years later, Thranduil finally felt confident that they had put the worst behind them and sent Legolas to Imladris for some much needed rest.
They had already left the high pass behind them and the path slowly wound down from the mountain. The elves were looking forward to the calm serenity of Imladris. Legolas let his thoughts drift, remembering the last months at home. It had been nearly constant work and his father had been right in his assessment. He was weary and needed some rest.
Suddenly a low rumble caught his attention. He looked up at the mountainside and saw a fast moving dust-cloud. It took a moment for him to comprehend what it was he was seeing. Obviously the constant rain had loosened the rock and now a part of the mountainside had come loose, heading straight in their direction.
"Ride," he shouted, slapping Tinwion's horse on the rump. He turned Baranon around, checking the positions of the other warriors. "This way," he pointed ahead, urging his escort to make their way to safety. They thundered past him and his horse, desperately trying to escape.
He urged Baranon forward, but a quick check showed him that they would never make it if they continued in the direction the others had gone. The rockslide was too near already so he turned his horse right, down the mountainside, diagonally to the rockslide. It was a slim chance but it was a chance. Baranon gave his best to keep his footing, thundering down the steep mountainside. They made it to the edge of the rockslide before it hit them. Small stones pelted down on them, larger stones hit Baranon's legs. The stallion whinnied panicked and finally he lost his footing, falling on his side. Legolas was thrown clear as his stallion fell, otherwise he would have been crushed beneath his steed. He hit the ground with brutal force, feeling a terrible pain in his left arm. Stones and pebbles rained down on him, a few rocks rolled past him, then all went silent.
Legolas slowly pushed himself up, barely noticing the debris that rolled off of him. His left arm was hurting fiercely, he ached all over but these were minor hurts in comparison to his arm. He examined it and discovered to his dismay that it was broken. The bones had shifted so that it would need to be set. He struggled to his feet, wavering for a moment until he managed to gain his footing. He lifted a hand to his hurting head. There was a bleeding gash at his temple. Obviously he had hit a stone in his fall. It seemed like a wonder that he hadn't sustained more serious injuries and that his bow and quiver had survived the fall undamaged.
After he got his bearings he slowly turned in a circle, searching for his horse. "Baranon," he called hoarsely.
A whinny answered him and his stallion came limping around a big boulder. His right leg was covered in blood and he moved very carefully.
"You are hurt," Legolas exclaimed. He hurried over to his horse and bent down to examine the leg. "Let me see," he muttered.
Baranon lifted his leg and Legolas examined the bleeding wound. Luckily the leg wasn't broken but had only been deeply cut by some stone. Baranon wouldn't be able to carry him but he would recover with time. Legolas marveled that the stallion had survived the brutal fall with only a slight injury.
He tended to the wound as best as he could then he patted his stallion reassuringly. Finally he straightened and started to take in his surroundings, trying to decide on the best course of action.
They were cut off from his warriors and he suspected that they would concentrate their search at the site of the rockslide. If they all had made it out. He was fairly certain the elves in the lead made it to safety but he wasn't so sure about the rest. So it could very well be that they had their hands full with rescuing and tending to the warriors who were hurt or caught in the rockslide.
There was no other choice, he was on his own for now and would have to try to make his way either to his warriors or to Imladris.
"Come, my friend," he addressed Baranon, "let's try to get from this mountain." He started to move in the direction they had been going before.
His stallion snorted softly and followed him slowly, his limp heavily pronounced. Their progress was slow. Legolas had to consider Baranon's injury and he still felt dizzy, his whole body aching. There was no way that they could move fast.
Their luck ran out after maybe half an hour of walking. Legolas suddenly heard noises in the distance. Gazing in that direction, he couldn't suppress a sound of dismay. Still a fair distance away, but unmistakably approaching, he discovered a group of orcs. Obviously the rockslide had chased them out of their caves and driven them into the open.
Legolas watched the orcs with dread. They shouted something in their crude language and started to run in their direction. He turned to Baranon. "Go," he shouted.
Baranon made no move to depart. He snorted and stamped a hoof impatiently in a silent request for Legolas to mount.
"Please," Legolas begged desperately. "You are injured, you can't bear me. You would only die needlessly. Find the others. If you can't find them, go to Imladris, try to get help."
The stallion stood indecisively for a moment, then he whinnied softly at his master, turned and trotted away in the direction they had come from. Legolas only hoped he would find a way to escape the orcs. Baranon slowly picked up speed until he fell into a light canter.
Legolas watched him leave. "Be well, my friend," he murmured. To his dismay two orcs broke from the main group and pursued his stallion. He hoped that they wouldn't catch him, despite his injury.
For a moment his hand went to the leaf shaped pendant he was carrying as he considered his options. Dol Guldur was far away, so there was no danger in ending up there and hopefully at least some of his warriors had survived the rockslide. The outlook was grim, but not hopeless. He tucked the necklace securely back beneath his shirt before he turned and faced his opponents.
Normally, a band of 16 orcs would have been manageable but with his broken hand his bow was useless and he could only use one of his knives - and that only in close combat. His chances of surviving this encounter were slim. Grimly, he discarded his bow and drew one of his knives.
It didn't take long for the orc horde to reach him. The battle was fierce and at first he managed to hold his own, but soon his injury put him at a serious disadvantage. One orc managed to get past his defenses and dealt him a deep stab wound to his left side. He hissed through clenched teeth and managed to evade another blade as one of his opponents lunged at him. But that was how far luck would help him. Another orc attacked and hit him in his thigh. It was another deep wound and Legolas felt himself falter.
Then suddenly there was a blinding pain in his head as he was hit with the blunt edge of a scimitar from an orc that had managed to get behind him. His vision went black and he toppled unconscious to the floor.
This chapter contains torture and violence. The orcs are not nice creatures after all.
Awakening was not a pleasant experience. His head hurt fiercely, his body throbbed, especially his left side and thigh. As his muddled mind cleared a bit he noticed that his hands were tied behind his back, with no regard or care for his broken arm. With the pain came the memory. He recalled the rock fall and the ensuing events. He knew that he was in a desperate situation. Nobody knew what had happened to him and there was no guarantee that Baranon had managed to escape for good and would find somebody in time. The orcs would show him no mercy, of that he was sure.
Heavy steps neared him and an iron shod boot kicked him fiercely in the side. His eyes shot open and he suppressed a gasp of pain. His captors didn't stop with that, instead more kicks rained down on him, hitting him in his back, his sides and his ribs. He suppressed a moan of pain, not willing to give the orcs the satisfaction.
After a while they stopped and one of the ugly creatures stepped in front of him. He bent down and stared at him. His face bore ugly scars and he emanated a smell that made Legolas nearly gag. His eyes appraised his captive and he smiled cruelly. Legolas fought the urge to draw back and glared back defiantly. Without warning, the orc grabbed his hair, pulled his head up and punched him in the face. "So the elf is awake," he said in crude Westron. "Time to play with him, then. You killed several of my men."
He knew he shouldn't provoke the orcs but he also knew that they would hurt him, no matter what he did. So he couldn't stop himself. "A pity that you weren't amidst them," he snarled back.
The beast roared in anger and his reward for provoking the foul creature were more punches and kicks. The orc grabbed him, claws digging deeply into his skin, and hauled him over to a tree. He pulled him up roughly and slashed his bonds with a knife, only to grab his hands and pull them up over his head. The bones in Legolas' broken arm were jarred and he hissed in pain. The orc tied his hands above his head to a tree branch, pulling him up so high that he could barely stand. The other orcs crowded around them, jeering and snarling. He looked around the camp, noting that the orcs had chosen a clearing. It was late in the day and a fire was burning a short distance away. To his relief there was no sign of Baranon, alive or dead.
The one who seemed to be the leader grabbed him by the throat, staring into his face, eyes glinting menacingly. "Time to have some fun." He tore Legolas' shirt and tunic apart, baring his back, then he went over to a space near the fire, bent down and picked something up. As he came near again, Legolas saw that he carried a whip. He wasn't unfamiliar with the things the orcs did to their prisoners. More than one warrior of Mirkwood had been captured by orcs. Some times they were lucky and could rescue them, more times than that they could only recover the remains. He knew that the orcs liked to inflict pain in their prisoners, so he braced himself.
He would never forget the whistling noise the whip made as it sliced the air. The first lash hit him and he hissed as sharp pinpricks of pain coursed through his body. Not wanting to give them the satisfaction, he gritted his teeth to prevent himself from showing pain or crying out. The next lashes fell fast and hard and his back felt like it was on fire. He couldn't prevent himself from flinching away, causing the orc to cackle in glee. The lashing went on, the strokes hitting his back and sides with brutal force. His whole back was covered with red, angry welts. As it went on, the whip broke his skin, causing blood to well up and slowly run down his back. Despite the pain, he endured silently while the brutal lashing went on for several minutes. By the time the orc finished, Legolas' back was bleeding profusely and he was hanging from the ropes keeping him upright. His broken arm was pure agony, rivaling with the pain of the weals on his back.
The orc threw the whip down and grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head up. "Not so feisty anymore, are you?" His face was mere inches from Legolas' and he could see the sharp, blackened teeth. The archer thought he would pass out from the stench. The creature punched him in the face, causing his head to snap back. Suddenly it lifted a knife and cut the rope binding him to the tree, causing him to crumble to the floor and land hard on his back. He couldn't suppress a cry of pain and the orc laughed cruelly. "Tie him up," he ordered his minions, "we will have more fun with him later."
Two orcs grabbed him, pulled his hands behind his back roughly and bound him again. They kicked him a few times then they left to join their comrades eating their meal.
Legolas rolled onto his side, breathing through the pain. His back hurt fiercely and his wounds throbbed, a clear signal that the weapons had been poisoned. His situation was more than dire. He knew the orcs wouldn't stop with the whipping. Who knew what their cruel minds would come up with. He heard the orcs speaking in black speech and it hurt to hear this foul language. After a while, heavy footsteps came near again and he tensed in anticipation.
Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris, had decided to join Glorfindel and his warriors on a patrol to the Hithaeglir. They regularly went on patrols in an attempt to keep the orc population at a manageable level. This time they wanted to check out a few known hiding spots. They also expected to meet Legolas and his escort on their way to Imladris. They would join them and accompany them the last leg of the journey. The twins were looking forward to meeting their friend once more. It had been years since they had last seen each other.
They made good progress as they followed the path winding its way through the foothills, the weather was nice and so they were in a good mood as they slowly made their way up the mountain. Glorfindel, who took the lead, suddenly stiffened and listened. The others watched him tensely.
"Hoofbeats," he explained, "they are fast approaching, someone is in a hurry."
They watched the path in anticipation, waiting for the rider to approach.
The noise was now clearly discernible and it didn't take long for a rider to appear on the path in front of them, drawing near fast. They all could see that he was wearing the colors of Mirkwood and they looked at each other warily, knowing that it didn't bode well for a single rider to head for Imladris in a rush.
Elrohir finally recognized him. "Amarthon," he murmured. The warrior had accompanied Legolas on his last visit to Imladris.
Amarthon stopped his horse in front of them. He looked deeply troubled. "Lord Glorfindel, Lords Elladan and Elrohir," he greeted. "It is good to see you again. In fact it is a most lucky circumstance that you are here." He pointed at the path behind him. "We were surprised by a rockfall yesterday and we need help."
Apprehensive murmurs from the Imladrian elves followed his announcement and Glorfindel immediately took charge. "What do you need?" he inquired.
"We have a few warriors with minor injuries, three are seriously injured and we lost two horses." He took a deep breath. "Our prince was the first to notice the rockslide. He saw to it that everybody made it to safety..." Amarthon gestured helplessly with his hands. "We lost track of him," he whispered. "We don't know if he was buried beneath the stones or made his escape in another direction."
Glorfindel and the twins exchanged dismayed and alarmed gazes.
"Show us the place," Glorfindel ordered.
Amarthon turned his horse around and started to lead the group to where the other Mirkwood warriors tended their injured and searched desperately for their prince.
The footsteps halted next to him and someone gripped his hair and pulled his head up. Once more Legolas saw the ugly face of the leader. The malice in the orc's eyes made him shudder inwardly. He tried to hide his apprehension, putting up a front of defiance.
The orc was playing with a knife, running his misshapen fingers along its edge. He stared at his captive considering, obviously thinking about what to do next. "Well, elf, time for some more fun," he growled. His gaze wandered over his captive. "Looks like we missed your right side." He bent down and slowly ran his hand along Legolas' chest and ribs. The elf had to suppress a shudder at the touch. Suddenly the knife drove down, piercing Legolas' right side, the orc pressing down hard on it. Legolas gasped in shock, trying instinctively to pull back but he was pinned to the floor. Fiery pain flooded him as the knife was driven deep into his flesh. The hand holding it was not giving an inch, the orc laughing cruelly as he watched the elf struggle. He pulled the knife back a bit and shoved it back in, twisting it in the wound to cause more pain.
By now Legolas was panting, dark spots dancing in front of his vision. He couldn't suppress a moan as the knife was twisted in his wound. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the orc pulled the knife back, standing over his captive and admiring his handiwork as blood poured from the wound. His minions cackled gleefully, finding pleasure in the suffering their leader caused the elf. He kicked Legolas in the ribs a few times for good measure, then he looked around, considering what to do next.
As the elves reached the scene of the rockslide, Glorfindel could see the extent of rubble. The whole pace was blocked with a wall of smaller and bigger stones, big boulders and rubble. The Mirkwood warriors had set up camp a short distance away. Four warriors cared for the injured, while five more were working at the scene, searching for Legolas and trying to clear the rubble so far that a passage was possible. There was an air of desperation about them.
Tinwion, who was working with the other elves on clearing the path, turned around as they approached and came to greet them.
"My Lords, I don't know what fortunate occurrence brought you here, but we need every help we can get."
Glorfindel wasted no time. "Amarthon told us what happened." He turned to his warriors and motioned for them to dismount and make themselves useful. Then he returned his attention back to Tinwion. "Amarthon said that Legolas is missing?"
Tinwion swallowed visibly. "Yes. He was the first to notice what happened and stayed back to make sure we all made for safety. We didn't see what happened to him but he didn't make it to this side." The look he gave Glorfindel was full of horror and dread. "We fear for him. Please help us searching."
Elrohir dismounted and went to the rubble, surveying the extent of the rockslide. "How much time was left before it hit the path?" he asked.
Tinwion thought for a moment. "It all happened pretty fast, enough time for Legolas to call a warning and to spur us on. Maybe ten to fifteen seconds."
Elladan joined his brother. "What do you think?"
"Legolas is smart. We should consider that he went in another direction. Let's take a few warriors and try to bypass this part of the path. Maybe he went down the mountain, trying to outrun the rockslide."
Glorfindel looked down the mountain thoughtfully. "It's steep, but maybe a horse could manage. At least it would have been a chance." He suddenly sprang into action, turning and going back to his horse. "We will leave most warriors to help you, while we go and search for him." He turned to his warriors. "Istaon, Latharo, you are with us. The rest, do what Tinwion tells you to do."
Tinwion nodded gratefully. "I pray to the Valar that he isn't beneath this rubble. May you succeed in your search. Please send word immediately."
"Of course," Glorfindel assured him. The five elves turned their horses around and made their way back the path, searching for a good spot to go down the mountain.
By now Legolas was certain that he would die at the hands of the orcs. It had been at least a day since they had captured him and it seemed that there was no hope left. His strength was leaving him rapidly and he felt the poison spreading in his body. The blood from the stab wound slowly drenched the ground. He thought about his father and felt deep sorrow. There was a good chance that Thranduil would never know what had happened to him and the uncertainty would haunt his father. He hoped that he would think that Legolas had perished in the rockslide and would never discover the truth. He also hoped that he would endure, for their people's sake. Mirkwood needed its king.
The orcs had left him alone for a few hours after another beating but now it seemed they were bored again.
Heavy footsteps neared him and suddenly sharp claws gripped his shoulders and he was dragged over to the fire. The orc dropped him there, not caring that he fell onto his injured side. He gritted his teeth, trying not to let them see his pain because he knew that would only encourage them further.
The orcs talked in black speech with each other for a moment, then the leader bent over him. "My men want their fun with you too, Narthzug came up with a most interesting idea." He grinned maliciously, exposing his blackened teeth. Legolas tried not to gag at the stench.
The orc the leader had indicated bared his teeth at Legolas, then he bent down and put the blade of a knife into the fire.
Legolas had a dark suspicion what they intended. He felt dread rising and didn't know how much longer he would be able to endure their torture with some dignity. He didn't want to show them fear, knowing they would show him no mercy and only relish in his pain and terror.
After a few minutes Narthzug took the knife by the hilt, pulling it out of the flames. The blade had been heated to a glowing red. The orc stepped over to him and knelt down beside him. Three others held him down firmly. Despite his bound hands he tried to struggle, but one orc dealt him a blow to his head, temporarily stunning him. Narthzug grinned at him and said something in black speech. Finally he lowered the knife and pressed the side of the hot blade firmly against his ribcage.
At first Legolas felt only a slight warmth, but after a moment the pain erupted, the hot blade searing his skin. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air and the pain lanced through him, leaving him breathless. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he couldn't draw breath for the pain paralyzed him. His whole body seemed to be on fire.
The orcs laughed cruelly and Narthzug once again said something in their crude language.
The leader laughed approvingly and turned to Legolas. "Don't think that was all, elf," he growled. Narthzug just made a very good suggestion. He barked something that seemed to be an order and two orcs pulled Legolas' boots off. "We don't want you to be able to escape somehow, don't we?" He touched the burned skin and pressed down cruelly, leaving Legolas gasping with pain.
By now Legolas only wished that it would end soon. The agony was pulsing through him, making his wounds throb. He wished for the darkness to claim him, to send him into oblivion.
The orcs didn't do him the favor. After the knife was reheated, two orcs grabbed his right leg and Narthzug pressed the blade to the sole of his foot. The pain was even worse than the first time they burned him, the nerves in his sole increasing the torture. The orcs laughed maliciously at the elf that writhed in agony on the ground. Later he wouldn't remember if he screamed, he only remembered the fire that seemed to alight his body. He barely noticed as they moved to his left foot, causing the same damage as before. Finally, the pain was getting too much and a black abyss rose up to swallow him.
The search party had to backtrack a bit but now they were on a path a bit further down the mountain. They kept their eyes open, searching for the smallest signs of recent passage. Suddenly something further down caught Elrohir's attention. He could hear a noise, an uneven thumping. His sight was blocked by trees, so he couldn't see where the noise emanated. He motioned to Glorfindel and went down the mountain to examine more closely.
Glorfindel and Elladan exchanged glances and followed him.
Elrohir carefully made his way down to the path below. The trail led through a copse of trees, and there, limping heavily, trotting slowly along the way, was a brown horse. The horse stopped as it noticed him and horse and elf stared at each other for a moment. Noise behind him alerted Elrohir to the arrival of Glorfindel and Elladan.
Glorfindel stepped in front of Elrohir and approached the stallion slowly. "That is Baranon," he murmured, "the horse Elrond gifted to Legolas." He stopped in front of the animal. "You have grown, my friend."
Baranon nickered softly and pawed the ground with his hoof. He threw his head back and snorted, his demeanor suddenly changing to urgency.
"He is hurt," Elladan observed, noticing the wound on the right leg of the stallion. "What is he doing here on his own? Where is Legolas?"
At the name of his master the stallion grew agitated and turned around, clearly expecting them to follow him. Glorfindel observed him thoughtfully. "Seems that they at least escaped the rockslide. Maybe Legolas was injured? Let's track his path back. Then we should be able to find Legolas." He turned and whistled and shortly after Istaon and Latharo appeared with the horses.
"Istaon, take Baranon and bring him to the camp," Glorfindel ordered, pointing at the stallion. At Baranon's indignant snort he turned to the horse. "You are injured, you would only slow us down. We will find your master."
The stallion snorted again but he went over to Istaon obediently. The warrior patted him lightly and led him along the path, searching for a way the injured horse could manage easily.
The other mounted their horses and followed Baranon's trail, which was easily to see for most of the time. Only occasionally had one of them to dismount to search more intently for traces of the stallion's passage. They finally came to a place where he had descended the mountain, following his path further up again and wondering about the odd changes in direction his tracks indicated.
After a while they came to a scene which filled them with dread. Suddenly they knew what must have happened. Dead orcs littered the path. Obviously Legolas and his horse had survived the rockfall only to run into a group of orcs later. It looked like Legolas had sent his horse away. Glorfindel had known Baranon only as a colt but if the stallion had developed as expected, he wouldn't have left his master willingly.
Grimly, Glorfindel examined the dead orcs, noting that they were all killed with a knife, not with arrows. That confirmed his suspicion that Legolas had been injured. Of course Legolas' bow could have been damaged in the rockslide.
Elrohir bent down and picked something up, closing his eyes for a moment. "Glorfindel," he called. As the older elf turned around, he held Legolas' bow up.
Glorfindel stood and went over to the twin. He took the weapon and examined it, noting that it was undamaged. He met Elrohir's eyes. "It looks like he was injured before he met the orcs, which would put him at a disadvantage."
There was grim determination in Elrohir's eyes. "We will find him."
They searched the bodies and the site thoroughly, dreading to find the body of their friend. To their relief they only found dead orcs, there was no sign of Legolas.
Finally Glorfindel found a spot where red blood stains had dried up. He crouched down and examined more closely. "Looks like they captured him." He looked up at Elladan and Elrohir and they exchanged dismayed glances. They all remembered too well finding the twins' mother after she had been captured and tortured by orcs. "We have to hurry, the orcs are dead for at least a day." They knew what could happen in a day in the hands of orcs.
With rising dread they followed the track leading away from the scene. The orcs hadn't bothered hiding their tracks and why would they? They didn't expect somebody to follow them.
Uzshak, the orc leader, was disappointed as the elf finally passed out. He let his men vent their frustrations by hitting and kicking him again. It had been fun to play with their captive but he didn't think the elf would regain consciousness enough to care what happened to him. The poison and his wounds had finally done their work. It was time to slowly end this.
"So boys, who wants to cut his ears off?" he asked, knowing that it would ensure the loyalty of his remaining men if he let them have some fun, too.
There was a scuffle as the others tried to decide who would have the pleasure of doing the next damage. Finally Ratsnik succeeded in beating the others into submission. He kicked the senseless elf in the side and as he didn't move he looked disappointed. "It would be more fun to hear him squeak." He picked his knife up from the ground, bent over the unconscious body and grabbed the elf's head. He gripped his hair, pulled his head up and was about to start cutting at his ear when suddenly he groaned and fell back, an arrow sticking out from his chest.
Uzshak stared disbelievingly at the other orc for a moment, then he whirled around to rally his men against their attackers. Before he could do any more, he felt a searing pain as an arrow cut through his throat.
Glorfindel, the twins and Latharo had dismounted as it seemed that the tracks were fresher and led to a location where the orcs could have camped. Leaving the horses in a sheltered spot they silently and warily made their way forward, listening intently to every noise.
They came around a slight bend in the path and could see the shine of a fire in the distance. Slowly they crept closer and before long they could hear loud jeering and snarling. Exchanging glances, they used the cover the undergrowth and trees offered and silently made their way closer to the orc camp. Finally they came to the edge of a clearing and crouched in the cover of a few bushes.
What they saw nearly caused Elrohir to attack the orcs on the spot. A group of orcs surrounded something next to the fire. As they watched, the orcs hit and kicked a figure on the ground. They couldn't see details but they could make out the blond hair of the captive and presumed that it was Legolas. Glorfindel barely managed to keep Elrohir back. "Wait. Let's first check how many we have to deal with and if there are any guards."
They silently counted the orcs, noting that all in all there were only eleven left, so it shouldn't be too hard to defeat them. They only had to be fast about it, since there was the possibility that they would kill Legolas when they noticed that they were attacked.
Elrohir and Elladan silently drew their bows and nocked arrows. Glorfindel and Latharo unsheathed their swords and crept closer to the group.
Finally the orcs had stopped hitting the archer and there seemed to be a scuffle. At last one of the orcs kicked him in the side, then the beast drew a knife and bent down over the motionless archer. He grabbed his head and pulled it up, about to place his knife against Legolas' ear.
Elrohir had enough. He loosed his arrow, hitting the orc in the chest, causing him to fall back with a choked cry. Another orc whirled around and started to bellow something, only to end up with an arrow through his throat.
Elladan and Elrohir shot more arrows in rapid succession, while Glorfindel and Latharo attacked from the side. The orcs were in chaos, trying to run and not noticing that it were only four elves that attacked them.
One of them tried to kill their captive, but by now Glorfindel and Latharo had made their way over to the fire. Glorfindel dispatched the orc with a stroke of his sword, nearly decapitating him.
Legolas remained motionless through all the mayhem. They didn't know if he was unconscious or already dead.
Glorfindel was the first to reach him. He knelt down beside Legolas and gasped as he took in the battered form. Swiftly he drew his knife and cut the ropes which were cutting cruelly into his flesh. By the time he could do a more thorough examination, Elrohir and Elladan had joined him, having killed the last of the orcs. Both gasped in shock as they saw what the orcs had done.
An eerie feeling of déjà vu came over them. They remembered the time only too well when they had found Celebrian, the twins' mother. She too had been abducted and tortured by orcs.
Glorfindel carefully removed what was left of Legolas' tunic and shirt, then he checked for broken bones, finding three fractured ribs and noticing his broken arm. His gaze fell onto the leaf pendant Legolas was wearing and he took and examined it, much to the twins' curiosity. Finally he lowered it, with a muttered "Thank the Valar". He didn't elaborate further, leaving the twins' curiosity unsatisfied. They also checked the numerous other injuries, noting that he already had a high fever. Glorfindel exchanged a dismayed look with the twins. "He needs your father as soon as possible. Let's treat the worst of it and then we'll take him to Imladris."
The twins nodded and they gently lifted the archer and carried him to a place a bit apart from the orc camp. Latharo had already called the horses, now he built a new fire and put a few blankets on the ground so that they could lay Legolas down on something soft.
Elrohir heated water in a bowl, then he took a piece of cloth and gently cleaned Legolas' back, while Glorfindel examined the stab wounds. "There is poison in his wounds," he finally stated grimly.
Elladan, who was mixing a herbal paste, grimaced. "We only have our field packs, we don't have any antidotes with us. Let's hope he'll endure until we can bring him to father."
They tended to his wounds as best as they could, cleaning and dressing them for now, leaving the real work for later, when they could tend them properly. Elladan set the broken arm and splinted it.
Glorfindel, who had continued to search the archer for more injuries, suddenly hissed angrily. At the twins' curious looks, he pointed at his feet. As they checked, they saw the deep burns on his soles. Elrohir closed his eyes for a moment. He felt sick. What Legolas must have endured during his time of captivity was beyond his comprehension. They knew how cruel the orcs were but to bear once more witness to it left him deeply shaken.
Glorfindel checked Legolas' pulse and frowned worriedly. He put a hand on the archer's brow and closed his eyes for a moment, obviously concentrating. A faint light emanated from him. As he withdrew his hand, the younger elf's breaths seemed to be a bit deeper. Glorfindel carefully wrapped him in a blanket, then he lifted the injured elf into his arms.
The balrog slayer stood slowly and called his horse. "Come, let's waste no time. We need to bring him to Imladris so that we can properly care for him."
He passed Legolas over to Elrohir, then he mounted his horse and gestured to the twins to lift Legolas up to him. After the younger elf was settled securely in front of him, the twins and Latharo mounted too and the small group set out. Glorfindel could feel the heat of the younger elf's fever through the blanket and he silently prayed to the Valar that the archer would survive this ordeal. Legolas sat slumped against him, his head resting against his shoulder. Only the firm grip Glorfindel had on him was holding him upright.
As they came to the location where they had found Baranon, Latharo parted from them. He would inform the other elves that they had found Legolas, so that they could stop the search and come to Imladris. Since they had the injured elves and Baranon with them, they would travel slow.
Glorfindel and the twins for their part traveled nearly without rest, intent on getting to Imladris as fast as possible and getting Legolas the help he needed. They only made short stops, giving the horses the chance to rest. Finally, in the afternoon of the next day they passed into the valley of Imladris. As they neared their target, Elrohir rode ahead to alert Elrond of their coming.
Fight for Life by Starfox
Elrond, Lord of Imladris, was deep in conversation with Gandalf, who had unexpectedly turned up the day before. The Istar had brought many news and so they had a lot to talk about.
Suddenly the door was pushed open without knocking. Elrond turned towards it to reprimand whoever dared to intrude so rudely when he caught sight of his son.
Elrohir halted after a few steps in the room. "Adar, Mithrandir, forgive me for intruding." He turned to his father. "Adar, we need to prepare the healing halls immediately. We found Legolas in the foothills of the Hithaeglir." He took a deep breath. "He has been tortured by orcs."
Elrond and Gandalf exchanged alarmed looks. Elrond rose to his feet immediately and strode over to his son.
"It's bad," Elrohir said softly.
Gandalf also got up. "Go," he said. "I'll see you later."
Elrond inclined his head, then he and Elrohir hurried out of the room.
Half an hour after Elrohir's arrival the rescue party reached Imladris and rode into the courtyard.
Elladan slid off his horse and went over to Glorfindel. Positioning himself next to the horse, he raised his arms, ready to relieve the seneschal of his burden.
Glorfindel passed the limp form carefully down to Elladan before he dismounted. He fell in step next to Elladan who carried Legolas toward the house. The blanket had fallen open, exposing the archer to the gazes of the elves present.
Elrond awaited them on the stairs, an anxious Elrohir at his side. He watched them approach and gasped as he saw the blood stained bandages that covered Legolas' torso, the torn and blood stained leggings, the translucent skin and the bruises all over his body. Although he had expected the worst after Elrohir's report, the reality was even more disturbing than he had imagined.
"He lives," Glorfindel said, while still keeping up with Elladan. "Although it doesn't look good."
Elrond preceded them as they hurriedly made their way to the healing rooms. He opened the doors and motioned his son through to one of the private rooms, leading off from the main room.
Elladan gently laid Legolas down on an examination table and Elrond felt himself thrown back into the past, as another hurt and broken body had been brought to Imladris. Celebrian, his wife, had fallen into the hands of orcs and been tortured. Although he could heal her wounds, her spirit had been wounded too severely, so she decided to depart over the sea and seek healing in Valinor.
Carefully he started to examine the prince, removing the bandages that covered his torso and exposing the injuries beneath. He closed his eyes for a moment as he discovered the whip marks, stab wounds, broken ribs and the burned skin. It was obvious that Legolas had been tortured. He started to clean the wounds with warm water, ordering Elladan to prepare an ointment for the burns. The stab wounds were clearly poisoned, the skin around them was discolored and fine dark lines spread out from them. One of them was especially nasty. It looked as if the knife had been twisted deliberately to maximize the damage. To make matters worse, the younger elf was burning up with fever. Elrond's gaze fell on the necklace Legolas was wearing and he reached for it.
Glorfindel hat seen the movement and knew what Elrond wanted to know. "No, he didn't take it, I checked."
The healer took a deep breath. "At least we don't have to deal with that but it's worse enough. It is a wonder he survived the trip to Imladris."
Elladan returned with the ointment and he and his father started to apply the salve to the burned skin. Elrond also added pain dulling herbs to the burns and the bloody welts on the stricken elf's back. Then they turned to the stab wounds, cleaning, stitching and bandaging them and the broken ribs. After that Elrond undid the splint on Legolas' broken arm and examined it. Elladan had done a fine job setting it, so Elrond just resplinted it so that the bones could heal.
Glorfindel had tended to the wound in Legolas' thigh, now he was removing the bandages around his feet. "They burned his soles to prevent him from escaping," he explained through clenched teeth. The rage he felt was unmistakable, Elrond could nearly feel it bodily. It seemed to roll off of him in big waves.
The Lord of Imladris examined the burns and couldn't suppress a gasp. They were deep and angry looking. It must have caused considerable pain when they were inflicted.
"I would like to revive them and kill them again, slowly and painfully," Glorfindel hissed.
"This will take a while to heal," Elrond commented quietly. He took a deep breath. All in all Legolas was in dire condition. The poison coursing through his veins caused havoc on his body. It had had ample time to spread and Elrond didn't know if the antidotes he could try would be sufficient to stop it in time. Legolas was very weak and the fever was sapping the last of his strength.
Sighing, he started to clean the burns on Legolas' feet and applied an ointment to them as well, bandaging them after he finished.
He took a cup from Elrohir, who had prepared the antidote while the others tended to the prince. Carefully Glorfindel lifted Legolas a bit and Elrond put the cup against his lips, slowly feeding him the antidote.
Finally they had done all they could for the time being and dressed Legolas in loose fitting pants, leaving his upper body bare, since they would have to redress the wounds regularly. Glorfindel gently lifted the younger elf from the table and carried him to a bed. They carefully settled him, covering him with warm blankets and putting a pillow beneath his broken arm.
Elrond looked at his sons and his friend. "I know you want to stay but you had an exhausting journey. Try to get some sleep, you need rest. I'll watch over him." Sensing their reluctance, he added, "You can come back in the morning."
Elladan and Elrohir gave their friend one last look, then they slowly departed. The seneschal stepped closer to the bed and laid one hand on the younger elf's forehead. Frowning, he cast a worried look at Elrond.
Elrond nodded reassuringly. "If his condition changes, I'll get you."
The balrog slayer inclined his head, then he too, departed.
Elrond sighed and sat down in a chair next to the bed. It would be a long night, of that he was sure.
During the night Legolas' fever had risen even more. The younger elf had fever dreams, he was restlessly tossing around and murmuring incoherently. The raging fever sapped his last strength and by morning, he was so weak that Elrond feared for his live.
More than once did the Lord of Imladris use his not inconsiderable power to strengthen him but even that didn't seem to be enough and it exhausted the healer. At the moment he wiped Legolas' face with a cool cloth. The archer had quieted down a bit, laying limply and exhausted beneath the covers. Elrond put a hand against his cheek to check his temperature and Legolas turned into the touch, whispering weakly, "Ada."
Elrond clenched his teeth. He wished desperately that Thranduil could be there. Seeing Legolas so ill and knowing that there was a great possibility that he could die, without his father being able to be there for him, was hard.
Trying to comfort the prince he silently stroked his forehead. Legolas slipped deeper into fitful slumber, relaxing a bit beneath the calming hands.
A knock sounded at the door. Elrond went to answer it and found Gandalf standing before him. "Mithrandir," he greeted softly.
The wizard gave him an inquiring gaze, then his attention turned to the bed and its sole occupant. "How is he?" he asked gruffly.
Elrond sighed. There was no need to soften the truth with Gandalf. "Not good." He turned and went over to the bed. "He still has a high fever and his strength is all but spent. When his fever doesn't break soon, he will die." He looked at Gandalf, anguish in his eyes. "He called for his father during the night. I wish Thranduil could be here. What am I to do? Even if I write Thranduil, by the time the message reaches him, Legolas' fate will be decided, one way or the other. But then, how can I NOT notify him? If Legolas survives this, he will need his father's support."
Gandalf could see the shadow of memory in Elrond's eyes. He knew that the healer was remembering the time after Celebrian had been rescued from the orcs. It had not been easy for Elrond and his children.
"Hmm," he made noncommittally. An idea was forming in his head. He kept his silence about that and gazed at the sick elf. Legolas was ashen, his skin nearly translucent, except for the fever spots on his cheeks and the bruises that marred his skin. Gandalf put one hand on his brow, the other on his chest, and used his powers to transfer some of his strength to the prince. He supposed that Glorfindel and Elrond had already done the same. Legolas had been lucky that he had been found by the balrog slayer and the sons of Elrond, otherwise he wouldn't have made it to Imladris.
Elrond had moved to a table and was mixing herbs with water. He neared the bed and sat down beside the sick elf. "Help me raise him," he requested from Gandalf.
The Istar gently took Legolas by the shoulders and slipped an arm behind his back. He lifted the prince from the pillows, letting his head rest against his shoulder. Elrond slowly fed him the fever-reducing medicine, praying to the Valar that it would take effect soon.
After the cup was empty, they carefully resettled Legolas back on the mattress, rearranging his body so that he didn't rest on one of his wounds. Elrond once again felt his forehead, noting with dismay that the fever was still as high as during the night. He sighed deeply.
Gandalf saw the worry on the elven lord's face. "Legolas is strong. And stubborn," he added after a moment. "Don't give up on him yet. He might surprise us all." He stood, looking down at the elf with a fond gaze. "I'll come back later, I have to talk to a friend now." Ignoring Elrond's quizzical look, he left.
A short time later, the door opened again and Elladan and Elrohir entered. They silently neared the bed, looking down at their friend and checking his appearance. "Good morning, Ada," Elladan greeted. "How was the night?"
Elrond sighed. "His fever is still very high. I just gave him medicine to lower it. Let's hope it works." He looked at his sons, noting that they too, looked worried. "Let's check his wounds and change the bandages," he suggested.
The twins nodded silently and they started to work. They treated the burns and whip marks again with salve and checked the other wounds for infection. At least in this aspect they were lucky, there was no sign of it.
After they had settled their patient again as comfortable as possible, Elladan put his hand on his father's arm. "You look tired, Ada. Go, get some rest. Elrohir and I will watch over him."
Before Elrond could answer there was a knock at the door. Erestor entered, taking in the scene in front of him and moving to stand in front of the healer. He gazed at Legolas for a moment before turning his attention back to Elrond. "The patrol has arrived, along with the warriors of Mirkwood. Since a few of them are injured, they are on their way to the healing rooms."
"Thank you, Erestor," Elrond said, before moving to the door. "I presume they want to know how their prince fares." He left, silently pulling the door closed behind him.
The injured Mirkwood warriors were already being tended to by the healers as Elrond entered the main room. Tinwion had sustained a large gash to his forearm and a healer was in the process of cleaning and bandaging the wound. As he noticed the Lord of Imladris, he abruptly stood and went over to Elrond, ignoring the protests of the healer.
"My Lord," he greeted, bowing to Elrond. "Thank you for your hospitality." He hesitated for a moment, then he asked: "Our prince, is he...?"
Elrond smiled reassuringly. "He is alive and well cared for. My sons are with him at the moment." He didn't mention Legolas' dire condition, deciding that there was time for that later.
Tinwion breathed a sigh of relief and sagged slightly. His exhaustion and worry were clearly visible now.
Elrond regarded his wound. "Why don't you let Labolon finish and I'll bring you to him?"
Tinwion smiled sheepishly at the healer but addressed Elrond. "Thank you, my Lord." He sat down and let the other elf continue to tend to his wound.
Finally Labolon finished and bandaged the wound. "Come back tomorrow and I'll check how it processes. My Lord," he inclined his head to Elrond, then he left them and turned his attention to another patient.
Tinwion stood, the barely suppressed anxiety clearly visible in his face.
"Come," Elrond said, turning in the direction of Legolas' room.
Tinwion followed him, eager to see how Legolas fared. He stepped into the room behind the Lord of Imladris and stopped abruptly a few steps before the bed in which his friend rested. He silently took Legolas' appearance in and turned worried eyes to Elrond.
"I'm sure Latharo already told you most of what happened," Elrond started. "He was captured and tortured by orcs," he explained. "Glorfindel and my sons met Baranon and followed his tracks, that way they managed to find him. He has been unconscious since they found him so we don't know exactly what happened."
Tinwion stepped closer to the bed. "We were supposed to protect him," he whispered. "Instead he made sure that we made it to safety."
Elrohir, who had watched silently, along with Elladan, put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Nobody could foresee what happened. Don't blame yourself for it."
The warrior took a deep, shuddering breath. "Will he be all right?"
"We are doing what we can," Elrond assured him.
"Our king needs to know," Tinwion murmured.
"We sent a bird with a message. Although it will take a few days to reach him."
Tinwion drew a hand over his face. He was obviously shaken.
"Come," Elladan said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's see to your warriors. We will take care of your prince." He steered the unresisting warrior to the door, throwing a concerned gaze back to his father and brother. They all were worried about what would happen if Legolas didn't recover.
After the door closed behind them, Elrond sighed deeply and sat down heavily in the chair at the bedside.
Elrohir wet a cloth and put it on Legolas' forehead. "The fever still hasn't abated," he said quietly. "Go to bed, Adar, I fear it will be a long day and night and we'll need you later."
Elrond pushed himself to his feet tiredly. "If his condition changes, call me." He left the room and made his way to the family wing and his rooms.
As he crossed the hall, he nearly collided with a young boy who rushed out of a corridor. "Estel," he chided, "look where you are going."
"Sorry, Ada," the youth replied sheepishly. "I missed you at breakfast. Where were you?"
Elrond put an arm around his shoulders while they walked slowly towards the family quarters. "I had a patient. Have you seen the patrol return and that we have visitors?"
"Yes," Estel nodded eagerly. "There were strange elves with them."
"One of them is very ill, so I had to take care of him."
"But elves don't get sick," Estel replied with unfailing logic.
Elrond sighed. Trust his foster son to find the fault in his explanation. "He was caught in a rockslide and then injured by orcs." He didn't want Estel to know too much yet, he was still quite young with his twelve years.
Obviously Estel was content with that answer. "And Elladan and Elrohir? I wanted to ask them if they want to go riding but I can't find them."
"Forgive us, Estel," Elrond apologized. We will be busy for the next few days. I'll ask Glorfindel to appoint one of his warriors to you, to start training you with the sword." He stalled Estel's shout of delight with a raised hand. "Only if you do well in your lessons with Erestor."
For a moment Estel pouted, but then his joy at the thought of starting his training won. "Of course, Ada, Erestor will have no reason to complain."
I hope so, my son," Elrond smiled.
They reached Estel's room and with one quick embrace to his foster father he disappeared into his room.
Elrond sighed. Now he just needed to explain to Gilraen why he thought her son ready to start his training. She possibly wouldn't like it but Estel was indeed old enough now. If they wanted to prepare him as best as they could, they would have to start some time.
He proceeded to his rooms and was finally able to lay down. It didn't take long for him to fall into elven dreams.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.