Escape From Mordor
Rating: PG-13

Feedback: 
cassia_a@hotmail.com and siobhancl2@aol.com


Spoilers: 
Maybe little ones for previous stories in our series and other LOTR stuff 
possibly.

Disclaimer:  
We own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. 
Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to us. We 
have no permission to use these characters and are receiving no money for this 
story. This story was written for enjoyment only.  Please do not use our 
original characters or situations without asking first.  Thank you.  

Summary:
Legolas has been sold into slavery in Mordor, but after everything he has been 
through, his wounded spirit no longer has the strength to endure.  
By venturing into the heart of Sauron’s realm, Aragorn puts at risk the thus far 
carefully guarded and deadly secret of his identity.  But if Aragorn does not 
find Legolas soon, the prince will die; one way or another.  Yet even when he is 
found... can the two friends, alone against all of Mordor, ever manage to escape 
the death trap of the dark lands?  

Series:
Yes, part of the Oliphant-sized Mellon Chronicles. :o)

Other stories in the series are:
Captive of Darkness
Hope
Father’s Love
Never Alone
First Meetings 
Change of Heart, Change of Mind 
Exile
Return
Mistaken Identity
Vilya
Black Breath
Sickness
The Seventh Stone
Betrayal
Legolas’ No Good, Rotten Day
Priceless Treasure
The Stars of Harad
Dark Visions
&
Traitor

Also part of this series and already written, but chronologically taking place 
after this story:

And So The End

This story will make more sense if you have read those first, especially as this 
is the later half of a story arc begun in Traitor.

 

Warnings: 
*Severe* character torture and angst.  
Come on, Mordor, slaves, orcs... what do you expect?  :o)

 

Additional Disclaimers: 

You really do all know where we stand on Aragorn’s relationship with Elrond and 
the twins, right?  If you’ve followed the stories this far, you must, and if 
not, check the disclaimers on the earlier stories. :o)

In the books, Aragorn *has* actually been to Mordor before, and Legolas’ history 
is one big blank so we can play *grin*.  Since much of the Mordor geography 
known to us comes from Frodo and Sam’s journeys in the book, you will run into 
familiar places.  I don’t see this as a conflict with the movies or books, but I 
thought I should mention it up front and say that if anyone else does find it 
troublesome, please excuse our use of artistic license in these instances and do 
not flame or disparage us for it, thanks.  

This story is a simple story.  That sounds like an odd thing to say, but I just 
wanted to let people know that right up front.  Our last story (Traitor) was 
very complex, this one is not.  It’s a survival story pure and simple.  It is 
also quite dark at times, although we try to keep it balanced... but we are 
writing about *Mordor*, so parts of it are still quite dark.  You have been 
warned.  Also, if Legolas seems slightly OOC at times, realize that he’s not 
entirely himself at first, after all, the poor elf’s been through hell.  

 

      Any spelling, date, cannon or character errors are the fault of the 
authors only and are completely by accident.  We are not an expert on 
Middle Earth and have never claimed to be.  So please forgive any 
omissions that you might find.  Also please forgive the inevitable typos, 
spelling errors, etc. and enjoy the story anyway. 


Oh, and also, hehe, you can note that although we had Legolas being carted 
around on ships, they were all on rivers and the only times he may have even 
been remotely near enough to the sea for there to have been any gulls or 
anything else, he was too drugged to even know what was happening.  We tried 
very hard to make sure that bit stayed cannon.  :o) 

 

Well this was a relatively moderate sized header for us lately!  (*snorts* yeah 
right, it’s still almost three pages long)
Works well I suppose since this is a relatively short story for us (LOL remember 
*for US* is the operative word there since most of our stories turn out to be 
monster-length!). :o)

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

- Escape From Mordor-

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART ONE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in this darkness

There’s a light I cannot find,

Maybe it’s too far away...

Or maybe I’m just blind.

Maybe I’m just blind...

 

--Three Doors Down

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Darkness.  Light.  Darkness.  Sounds.  Shapes.  Colors.  Pain.  

The world seemed two-dimensional and strange.  The only thing that was constant 
was the pain.  

A small, dark room swayed oddly.  Miserable people in chains were packed 
together so close one could barely breathe.  

Darkness...

Hot, scorching mid-day sun and the sneering faces of men and orcs.  Dozens of 
slaves were being bought and sold.  He was one of them.  

The lone elf attracted a lot of attention and the orc captain who bought him had 
paid a pretty price to the Corsairs who were selling.  

Groggy and fighting the half-drugged unconsciousness he had long been kept 
under, Legolas’ mind and memories were clouded and hazy at best, but some things 
he remembered with vivid clarity.  

The orcs’ hands on his arms and shoulders as they slapped him into even heavier 
sets of chains; their whips cruelly kissing his reeling body as they forced all 
their newly purchased slaves to run for hours.  Dropping in exhaustion only to 
be kicked and clubbed, his face was rubbed in the dirt and his parched mouth 
filled with choking dust.  

The orcs kept the elf apart from the other slaves.  He was not for the slave 
farms they said, not to be wasted chipping rock or working furnaces; he was 
theirs.  Their toy.  That’s why they bought him.  

Legolas’ head began to clear as the dark haze of drugged senselessness wore 
slowly from his body, but even as it did, he half-wished it would not.  At least 
when he was drugged some part of his mind could pretend that this was a 
nightmare only, in which he was living, and someday he would wake from it... but 
as clarity returned he became very aware that from this dream, there was no 
waking.  No hope of escape.  No hope of anything.  

The dark creatures often pressed their captives hard, but seemed in no great 
hurry themselves.  Today they had made camp at noon and did not appear 
interested in moving on again for reasons that the slaves could not guess and 
did not care about anyway.  Usually orcs traveled almost exclusively at night, 
but in Mordor day and night were often blended into one unending, gruesome 
twilight and the orcs journeyed at will.

The reprieve from travel was all well and good, until the orcs became bored.  
They quickly decided that most of the slaves were no fun.  They shrank in horror 
and started crying and shivering if the fell creatures even looked at them.  
There was some sport in that, but it grew tiring quickly.  The elf on the other 
hand... he was a different matter.  He did not cringe from them, no matter how 
much he may have wanted to do so, and his steely grey-blue eyes refused to show 
emotion.  That however, did not last very long.  

Legolas had tried not to cry out, just on principle, but he was too run down to 
be very stubborn and before long the orcs using him as a punching bag were 
wringing frequent sounds of pain from his hurting body.  They beat him for no 
reason other than sport and delighted in finding new and inventive ways to hurt 
him, telling him to get used to it, for he could expect this sort of thing 
regularly now that he was theirs.  

Curling over his burning ribs as much as his bonds allowed, the elf shuddered as 
the big orc captain grabbed his shoulder.  The creature’s clawed fingers dug 
sharply into the not yet fully healed welts left from Denethor’s questioning, 
which now seemed a life-age ago.  Legolas’ body was healing much slower than was 
normal for an elf, but under the circumstances that was not too surprising.  

The orc rammed his fist into the helpless elf’s stomach, eliciting a cry of 
breathless pain as his fingers tightened on the slave’s shoulder, squeezing the 
joint so tightly that the clawed fingers left deep bruises in the soft flesh, 
nearly dislocating the bones.  Running his other hand through the elf’s hair 
before tangling in it and tilting the captive’s head sharply to the side the 
hideous creature leaned close and whispered darkly in Legolas’ ear.  It 
delighted the orc to tell the slave in gruesome detail exactly what they had in 
store for his future, and what it meant to be theirs.  

Legolas’ ragged breathing accelerated.  He shuddered helplessly, blood running 
down his chin, unable to even hide the utter terror the horrible, twisted words 
evoked.  If there was a living hell on earth, he had found it.  

The orcs laughed at his obvious distress and the one holding his hair knocked 
his head hard against the stone wall next to him.  

Darkness came again as consciousness faded and the elf prince welcomed its 
embrace.

The next thing Legolas was aware of was that murky evening had finally fallen 
and with it blessed release from the torment of his captors who were now nowhere 
to be seen.  The elf leaned forward heavily, allowing his wrists to hold up his 
weight.  While he was senseless they had apparently switched him back into the 
cliff-mounted manacles they seemed to favor when camped, but they had not 
carried through on any of their worst threats, not yet.  He knew however, that 
it was only a matter of time.  

The cool night air brushed his face gently; caressing the hot bruises and 
bringing him slowly back to the moment, and the pain.  He only hoped that 
somehow the orcs would tire of him quickly and end his life soon.  He could take 
no more of their sick games and vicious abuse.  The malevolent hatred they bore 
him made life positively unlivable and the elf’s spirit was withdrawing from the 
weary, hopeless world he was trapped inside.  He had simply been through too 
much in too short a time.  

The Corsairs had given Legolas precious little chance to recover from the 
painful interrogation he had gone through at the hands of Denethor and Castamir 
before their own rough treatment began to drain his strength anew.  In the 
condition he had already been in, there was not much left to drain; and now the 
orcs were bent on teaching him new and even more horrible definitions of the 
word pain...  

The soft sounds of footsteps alerted the prince that someone was coming and he 
let his head fall forward, unwilling to watch as the black creatures returned.  
He could not endure much more.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 
~~~~~~~~~

Into this night I wander, it’s morning that I dread;

Another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread...

 

--Sarah Mclachlan

~~~~~~~~~

 

Stealthily, Aragorn crept into the quiet valley.  Jagged crags and rocky 
fissures loomed dark and foreboding in the inky starlessness of night in Mordor. 
The heavy, sulfuric air did not lighten when night fell and the moon did not 
appear, although the landscape grew darker.  A red, sickly glow that seemed to 
hover on the horizon was the only light by which to see.  

This was the one place on Middle Earth that Aragorn had never been and if he had 
had any choice, he would certainly never have come.  But somewhere in this foul 
land he knew that his friend Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, was being held 
captive.  That was an intolerable thought.  

Aragorn had left Pelagir behind and followed the Poros River into Mordor, all 
the way to the loathsome slave farms surrounding the inland sea of Nurnen.  
There was no doubt that this was where the Corsair ship had docked and off 
loaded its cargo, selling the unfortunates in its hold to the motley collection 
of orcs and evil-looking humans who ran this corner of the Dark Lord’s lands.  
The ship itself, now empty of all but the crew, had still been in the harbor.  
The hardest part had been finding out to what group the elf had been sold after 
arriving here, and where they had gone.  

Aragorn had known better than to tangle with orcs or Sauron’s corrupted human 
thralls.  The Corsairs who had done the selling however, were another matter.  
The slavers had finally divulged what they knew, but it had taken some 
*creative* convincing.  He winced as he thought about the heavyset slave seller 
he had threatened.  In all honesty he would have followed through on all his 
threats if the man had not confessed to having sold Legolas to an orc group that 
was headed north, towards the rock quarries and smelting furnaces closer to 
Barad-Dûr.  An elf was a very rare slave indeed and he had unwisely bragged 
about the price the prince had fetched.  It had taken all of Aragorn’s restraint 
not to kill the man outright, but the slaver would definitely think twice about 
ever selling another firstborn in his markets. 

After finding out their direction, it hadn’t taken the ranger long to track the 
orcs who had apparently bought Legolas, as well as most of the Corsair’s other 
Gondorian prisoners.  The fell creatures had tarried a small while after making 
their purchases apparently, for according to the signs he followed, they only 
had a day or two’s head start on him at the most.  

Silently, Aragorn shifted the weight of his weapons on his back.  In addition to 
his own bow and quiver he carried a second parcel.  One he considered very dear. 
Legolas’ bow, quiver and knives.  He had liberated them out of the clutches of 
the same slave traders from which he had wrung Legolas’ whereabouts.  Valar 
willing, he would soon be able to return them to his friend once more.  

The ranger traveled through the barren wastelands silently and alone, easily 
tracking the orc horde that journeyed north.  They made no effort to hide their 
path and seemed in no great hurry.  So it was that this evening, Aragorn finally 
managed to overtake the host.  When they stopped for the night he waited until 
the orcs left, leaving one of their own to stand sentry.  They had no reason to 
fear enemies in this land.  No one dared oppose them under the eye of their 
lord, so their guard was lax.

With the element of surprise on his side, Aragorn’s blade cut easily through the 
dark creature that had remained behind in camp, watching over their lone 
prisoner and the pickets that held the other newly culled slaves. 

Quickly Aragorn dragged the dead body out of camp, moving it behind a rocky 
shoal and shoving the corpse under a shallow, natural shelf formed by the stone. 
He was hoping the orcs would think nothing of their companion being missing, and 
perhaps even entertain the thought that the guard had wandered off for a moment 
to take care of some bodily need.  Besides, Aragorn was banking on the fact that 
the slave drivers were overly confident and would never expect anyone to ever 
attempt to free slaves inside the fences of Mordor.  Most orcs were not known 
for their great attention to detail, but the ranger still wanted to put as much 
land between the campsite and he and Legolas as quickly as he could after he 
rescued the elf.

Running silently back towards the camp after disposing of the body, he 
approached cautiously.  The human slaves on the picket lines cringed in the 
nearly spent dusk, afraid of the man who had just attacked their guard, and yet 
glad to see an end to one of the dark creatures.  They did not speak for fear of 
drawing more of Sauron’s minions back early from their midnight errands.

The encampment was butted up against a black, looming cliff that cut across the 
valley through which they traveled, hedging them in on their left and making any 
escape impossible.  There were only two ways to run, south, back to the slave 
farms, and north to Barad-Dûr, where they were being taken anyway.  Out on the 
wasted plains to their right, the orcs roamed, making sure that Mordor was safe 
and scouring for wood for the fires.  Hopelessness was etched into every face 
that turned towards Aragorn.

Pity rose in the ranger’s heart but as much as he wanted to help them, they were 
not his immediate goal.  His eyes fastened onto the sight of the prisoner the 
orcs had singled out, the one slave they had incurred that they were keeping for 
themselves, for their own twisted pleasures.  His long strides took him quickly 
to the captive’s side. 

This lone being had been separated from the others, his arms stretched far above 
his head and placed in manacles that had been driven into the rock face at his 
back.  His booted feet barely touched the floor of the rocky valley and his head 
hung forward, his unbound hair obscuring the view of his bruised face.  His 
breathing was shallow and consciousness came and went.  His captors had already 
had fun with him earlier in the evening, that much was obvious.  As night drew 
on however they must have had other duties to be about and left him for later.

To Legolas it felt as though breathing itself was too great a burden.  The evil 
of Mordor weighed down his spirit and the brutality of his tormentors had nearly 
driven it from his body altogether.  He had lost hope and it seemed that his 
world had narrowed down to all that was contrary to his kind.  If Alcarin had 
wished to send him to the worst fate possibly conceivable, he had succeeded.  If 
his life had been miserable before, in Gondor, it had been nothing short of hell 
since the Corsairs had pressed him into servitude.  

Legolas drew another ragged, labored breath.  That part had been hard.  The last 
Corsair he had had dealings with, way back in Dorolyn... it did not bear 
remembering.  Fortunately the elf had been unconscious a good deal of the time 
and remembered very little before the pirates sold him into slavery to the orcs. 
However, the little he did remember merely served to deepen his despair.  His 
Corsair captors told him that the battle he had been taken in was lost and the 
Gondorian captains had been executed.  He had no way to know that the men were 
lying.  Only a thin thread of hope that had been stretched too far kept him 
hoping that Aragorn had survived and waiting for the rescue that he feared would 
never come.

While it was true that elves were immortal it was also less widely known that 
when sorrow had so consumed their hearts that no hope for the future was left, 
the fair beings could simply give up their life of their own free will and it 
was this that Legolas, heir of Thranduil was considering at this very moment.  
For the first time since he was quite a bit younger, the elf found that he did 
not wish to continue on in Middle Earth.  Every breath had become a weariness 
and he ached for rest he could not find.  

The gentle touch of hands on his face caused the prince to flinch and move away 
from whomever it was that had approached him.  He could not handle much more 
before his heart gave way.  He was already on the brink; the slightest push 
would tip the scales.  

“No.”  The whisper was involuntary and the elf hated the fact that he had spoken 
at all, but there was nothing left in him.  No strength left to be proud or 
stubborn, and he was terrified of not knowing when the orcs would demand of him 
that which he would rather die than give.  

“Legolas.”  Aragorn’s voice was soft and wavered slightly as he tenderly tipped 
the elf’s head up, brushing back the dirty, disheveled hair, exposing the proud, 
bruised cheeks and pain-glazed eyes.  “It is I, Estel.  The orcs are out on 
patrols and we need to leave now.  Can you walk my friend?”  The ranger drew his 
breath in with a soft hiss as Legolas gazed back at him with glazed, 
uncomprehending eyes; the orcs or Corsairs must have been exceedingly cruel and 
it shot a white hot blade of anger through his heart.

“Aragorn?”  The elf frowned, trying to concentrate on the human, trying to 
decide whether the man in front of him was real or just a dream created by the 
dying desire within him to continue holding onto life.  A small rush of hope 
shot through his defeated heart.  Aragorn had not perished as he was told, he 
knew it could not have been true!

The human reached above the elf’s head, trying to jerk the manacles from the 
rock face, his breath warm on the prince’s face as he turned and whispered into 
Legolas’ ear, “Yes, and I am going to get you out of here, before the orcs 
return.”

“Can’t.”  Legolas whispered breathlessly as the reality of his situation crushed 
back down on him, seeming now all the more heavy and dark for having had a 
momentary touch of hope.  “These plains are crawling with orcs, I already 
tried... we wouldn’t get far.” The fair being’s voice was raspy from thirst and 
long days of making no sounds save those of pain.  

“The big one has keys... no other way.”  Legolas was glad to see his friend, 
relieved that Aragorn was alive... yet a heart that had no spark left to it 
could not be thrust back to life so quickly and the elf held little hope of his 
own escape; he knew all too well the myriad of problems confronting such a 
venture.  He would not see Aragorn throw his own life away attempting the 
untenable.  

“There’s always another way, there has to be.”  Unable to pull the chains free, 
Aragorn retrieved a small dagger from his boot and tried to pick the locks, but 
the blade was too large to fit into the narrow keyhole.  Besides, these manacles 
were orc-make so their fasteners almost always resisted attempts to be opened 
with ought but the key designed for them.  

Legolas was trying to get his attention, but Aragorn began chipping at the rock 
face, desperate to release his friend before they both ran out of time.

“Aragorn.”  Legolas shook his head slowly, glancing at his friend out of the 
corner of his eyes, “Aragorn!”

When the ranger stilled his frantic movements and stepped back in front of the 
elf, he heard what had alerted the prince. 

The orcs were returning.  They were still a ways off, but even Aragorn’s 
heightened human hearing could detect them, so they were already too close for 
comfort.  

“I have to get you out of here!”  Aragorn desperately tried to pry the rocks 
away from the huge metal bolt that held Legolas’ manacles so firmly in place.  
Stepping lightly up onto a natural ledge to give himself a better advantage, he 
wedged his blade into the hard rock, trying to pry it free.  They had only 
minutes before the orcs came into view of the camp. Their coarse joking and 
talking already echoed eerily through the small canyon.

“No.  NO!” Legolas struggled against the chains that held him, “Aragorn you 
can't let them take me with them again.  They are not going to turn me over to 
Sauron’s slave masters; they intend to keep for their own.  Please.  Don’t let 
them.”

Jumping lightly down in front of the prince, Aragorn took the elf’s face in his 
hands and drew close to the fair being.  “Do not worry, I will not leave you.  
We’ll get another chance to get you free.  I will get you out of here, I swear 
it, but you have to promise me you will be strong and hold on for me.”

A hard knot formed in his throat as the elf slowly shook his head.  As much as 
he wanted to do as his friend asked, he knew it was beyond his power.  “I 
cannot.  I cannot anymore.  Please, end it now.”  Legolas asked him softly.

“I’m trying, it wont budge.” the ranger choked on the words, “I’ll get you free 
I promise.  I just need more time.”  He attacked the rock once more with a 
vengeance, pulling on the chains and digging into the stone with his dagger.  If 
Legolas asked him to stay then he would face all the orcs in Mordor if necessary 
rather than leave the elf alone.  He had never seen Legolas this hopeless and 
frightened, it burned his heart.  

“It is not possible, there are too many and we are in their lands, their 
stronghold.  Mordor,” he uttered the word like a curse.  “Do not leave me to 
them; do not let them find me alive when they return.” The prince’s hoarse voice 
was earnest.

“What are you asking me?”  Aragorn looked swiftly over his shoulder; the 
shuffling gait of the orcs could be clearly heard.  A cold knot formed in his 
stomach as the ranger glanced back at his friend and noticed for the first time 
that the elf’s light was very dim... no, it wasn’t just dim.  It was gone.  He 
could see in Legolas’ eyes that the prince had already given up and a swell of 
heartache made his throat burn.  “No, my friend, don’t worry, if you ask it I 
will stay and fight them, I swear I’ll not leave you.”

“I’m not asking you to stay with me Aragorn, I’m asking you to end it.”

Legolas’ tone was frighteningly calm and yet heartbreakingly pleading.  “End 
this nightmare for me now, before it becomes more than I can bear.  Please 
Estel.”

Realizing finally what the elf really meant the ranger shook his head in denial. 
“No... Legolas, you cannot ask me to-”

“But I do! Please Estel, give me this last gift.  Let it be by your hand, not by 
theirs once I am broken.  If you have ever loved me, end this.”

“I intend to, but not that way.”  Tears welled unbidden in Aragorn’s eyes.  
Frustration at his own helplessness and the fear of losing his friend were 
overwhelming.  His voice trembled slightly.  He could not do this.  He could not 
take the life of his best friend, his heart would break...

“No.  Now mellon-nín.  Now.  Before they return.  Use your bow.”  The elf’s eyes 
were locked desperately on the ranger’s, “I am ready, but I cannot endure with 
them any longer.  It is time for me to go, my spirit has become too weary, I 
cannot abide here anymore.  Please help me.  Free me.  Do not leave me here with 
them.  Do not leave me at their mercy again.  They are orcs; you know what they 
will do to me as an elf.  If you have ever been my friend you will do this for 
me.  Please, do not make me beg you.”  Tears fell quietly from the elf’s huge 
eyes.  Aragorn knew he was already begging.

The ranger simply shook his head as the elf implored him to end his life.  How 
could he refuse such a plea?  And yet how could he honor it?  Aragorn couldn’t 
breathe.  He had told Legolas not so very long ago that he had never seen the 
elf take a hurt that went beyond his body to wound his spirit, but when he 
looked in the prince’s eyes now, pain and hopelessness was all that was there.  
Was it possible?  Was his friend really so far gone that life could not hold joy 
for him anymore?  He had heard Elladan and Elrohir speak of their mother and how 
that had happened to her... Oh Valar, no, not Legolas... not by his hand... if 
it was mercy it was a cruel one.

“Listen to me, there is no other way.  Do it now!!  They return!”  Legolas’ 
silently mouthed the word ‘please’, terror springing fresh into his despairing, 
hurting eyes.  He feared what this night might bring a hundred times more than 
he feared the unknown realm of death.

Aragorn gazed into the deep blue eyes and noted the dark weariness that 
threatened his friend’s life.  He had seen the elf through many life threatening 
injuries, but at this moment, seeing Legolas’ eyes totally devoid of any spark 
of life or hope, he had never been more afraid of losing the prince.  He knew 
elves would give up life if sorrow overwhelmed them and he could tell that 
Legolas had given in and was on the brink.  The abuse at the hands of the 
Gondorians and then the Corsairs, not to mention what horrors the Orcs had in 
store for him were too much and his friend was going to leave this world with or 
without his help.  The only question was how much pain the elf had to suffer 
through before he found that escape.  

“Please...” Legolas’ hopeless eyes begged for a merciful release.  

Stepping back, the human blinked away the tears falling freely down his cheeks. 
Unslinging his bow he quickly strung an arrow, aiming for Legolas’ heart.  He 
knew that if this arrow flew, he would kill part of himself as well.  He would 
forever have blood on his hands that a river of tears could never wash away.  
“Legolas...” he breathed, his voice hitching, agonized.

“Please!” Legolas mouthed the word again, his gaze silently imploring his friend 
to not force him to continue to beg, but to let him go with some dignity left.  

Aragorn closed his eyes and drew the bowstring back, his heart tearing in two 
with the motion.  “Forgive me...”


_________________________________________________________
 

~*PART TWO*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

When passion’s lost

And all the trust is gone

Way too far, for way too long...



Only in a world so cold.

Only in a world this cold...

Hold the hand of your best friend,

Look into their eyes, and watch them drift away.

 

-- Mudvayne
~~~~~~~~~

 

Aragorn’s mind was numb and reeling as he opened his eyes again and sighted in 
the arrow.  The bow felt strange against his fingers.  He couldn’t leave 
Legolas, and he couldn’t free him, this was mercy some voice deep in his mind 
was stoically repeating.  It was what Legolas wanted, the only kind thing he 
could possibly do for his friend now.  But the ranger’s hands shook as he 
stretched the bow back, his heart and mind screaming at him that there had to be 
another way, overriding the logic that spoke so calmly and begged him through 
the eyes of his friend.  

Legolas was right, Aragorn knew perfectly well what the orcs would do the fair 
being and it was worse than anything that had ever been done to him, more than 
he could have ever survived.  Aragorn remembered the horror stories his brothers 
had told him about finding their mother Celebrían after the orcs had captured 
her... he knew he couldn’t leave the elf prince to the orcs’ mercy for they were 
totally bereft of it.

And yet...

Legolas closed his eyes and whispered softly in elvish, “Thank you mellon-nín 
may the Valar see you safely home.  If there is any grace in this world or the 
next then we may meet again some day, if only briefly.  If Mandos permits, I 
will wait for you.”

A sob broke from Aragorn’s lips and he dropped the bow to his side, his will 
collapsing and the arrow clattering to the floor of the valley.  The orcs were 
nearing the bend in the canyon - he could hear them.  Rushing forward he held 
the elf’s face in his hands and gently kissed Legolas’ forehead, wrapping his 
arms around the elf and holding him for a moment, resting his head against the 
fair being’s temple.

“Forgive me.  Forgive me Legolas, I cannot do it.  I cannot.” He whispered in 
the prince’s ear. The soft sigh of defeat from the elf tore at the ranger’s 
heart. 

“I will not let them hurt you, I swear by all that is good in Middle Earth. I 
will be in the rocks above you and I will come back and free you this very 
night,” Aragorn promised desperately. 

Legolas was shaking softly; quiet sobs breaking from deep in his chest.  He 
loved his friend, but Aragorn did not understand that this was not mercy to keep 
him alive now... not like this... not with the orcs’ threats hovering over him 
like a hammer about to fall.  Not when his weary heart craved only eternal 
peace. 

“Do not leave me.”  Aragorn’s hands bracketed the elf’s face, his eyes begging 
the weary blue ones to trust him one last time.  “Stay.  For me, please Legolas. 
 For all the years that we have been friends.  I swear that if they are going to 
hurt you and I cannot stop them, I-I will end it for you then.  But please, 
promise me that if it does not come to that, then you will not let go, that you 
will stay until I can get you free.”

When Legolas nodded his head the ranger turned swiftly away, grabbing his arrow 
from the ground where it had fallen and fleeing into the night just as the orcs 
came into sight of the camp.  The elf could hear the quiet sounds the human made 
as he climbed the rock wall at his back.  A soft sprinkling of dust fell onto 
the elf’s head and he looked above him into the dark.

“I’m here.”  Aragorn’s whispered words were picked up by the keen elven hearing, 
“I’m right here.”

With a small nod Legolas let his head hang forward once more as he sagged 
against his bonds.  For Aragorn, for the sake of their friendship and the 
emotional devastation he knew his death would cause the human, he would wait... 
but not for long.

The orcs spilled back into camp and soon had a roaring fire going in the midst 
of their dark masses.  The absence of the orc guard had been casually thrown 
aside as the evil creatures coarsely joked about where he might have wandered 
off to and why.  The expectation that the guard would return at any moment was 
easily forgotten as the soldiers began to settle in for the night.

Legolas had not glanced up once since they returned and Aragorn was getting 
worried that elf’s despair might overwhelm him yet, promise or no.  The ranger 
leaned out over the cliff and glanced down cautiously just as a large orc made 
his way towards the prisoner.

“How are we my pretty?”  The orc purred as he stepped close to the elf, pressing 
his face against the prince’s, his hot breath a stench to Legolas who tried to 
turn away.

A thick, black, hand caught the elf’s face and held him still as the orc taunted 
him, “Didn’t think we’d forgotten you did you now?”  He pulled a long handled 
knife from a sheath on his side and ran the cool, pointed blade down the side of 
the prince’s face, slipping it beneath his tunic and popping the first button 
off the green suede vest.  

“Not a chance of that... not a chance.”  He slid the knife down and popped the 
second button off.  “We have so much to do pretty one, so many screams to hear 
from that lovely throat of yours,” the orc hissed, his hand tightening against 
the elf’s neck.  

Legolas’ breath was coming in fast, ragged gulps and he pulled against the 
manacles, trying to twist away.  The blade dug sharply into his breast bone, 
pinning him in place and stopping his movements, drawing a small cry from the 
fair being, much to his captor’s delight.

Legolas desperately wanted to escape and was silently praying that Ilúvatar 
would give Aragorn the courage he needed to follow through on his promise.  
Above him, the ranger raised up on one knee, his bow strung as he watched the 
orc tormenting the elf below him.  His anger rose and wrapped through his 
thinking, shutting off all else.  Legolas had been through too much to have to 
put up with the dark creature’s stupidity.  

Pulling back on the drawstring the ranger stilled his breath, the head of the 
arrow moved from targeting the elf to the orc.  He couldn’t kill the prince, no 
matter how much Legolas wanted him to, there was nothing inside of him that 
would allow him to do so unless the elf were being tormented to death with no 
other way to save him, and they had not yet reached that point as far as the 
ranger was concerned.  Not while he still had a breath left in him to stand 
against these foul creatures. 

Breathing in deeply and steeling himself for a fight, the ranger’s fingers 
lightened up on the string, readying to loose the projectile despite the deadly 
consequences that would unleash, when an orc from near the fire shouted at 
Legolas’ guard.

“Prangtz, damn it! I told you to guard that thing not talk to it!  It’s not for 
you!  I want it alive when get back.”

Prangtz quickly pulled his knife away and turned around, trying to affect an air 
of innocence if such could ever describe an orc, “Oh come on Graghnak, we was 
just having a bit of fun with it.  It squirms so when you get close.”

The large orc that Aragorn now assumed was in command took a step towards 
Legolas’ guard and pointed his sword at the creature’s dark heart, “You leave it 
alone or I’ll have your head.” He growled at Prangtz. 

“Keeps all the good stuff for himself.”  The guard muttered darkly staring back 
at his commander before eyeing the prisoner with an evil glare, “We’ll have fun 
with you later little elf don’t you worry about that.”  With a snort of 
frustration the orc settled himself on the ground facing the fire.

Convinced his soldier was now obeying him, Graghnak jabbed the point of his 
scimitar at the orc once more before turning away.

With a sigh of relief, Aragorn released the tension on his bow and settled back 
into the shadows, his eyes never leaving the elf below him.  Soft words spoken 
in elvish drifted up to him on the slight winds that blew through the ravine 
they were camped in, “Mellon-nín if you are there, do not forget your promise to 
me.”

“I am and I won’t.” The ranger answered so softly he was not even sure that the 
elf had heard him.

“It is well.” Legolas whispered.

Interrupting the nearly silent conversation the orc that guarded Legolas turned 
abruptly slinging a small stone at the elf and yelling. “Shut up!  No one is 
talking to you.”  The black beady eyes of the evil creature narrowed when the 
prince glanced wearily up at him. “Stupid elf, you won’t be talking so much when 
we cut your tongue from your head and feed it to the crows, now will you?”

Closing his eyes wearily, Legolas dropped his head back down, resting his temple 
against his painfully stretched arms.

The jingle of keys caught Aragorn’s attention as he watched the scene play out 
beneath him.  The large orc that had been chosen to guard the prisoner lay down 
on the rocky ground; a rusted ring of keys hanging from his belt scraped across 
the dirt as he stretched out.

The ranger quietly slung his bow over his back and leaned forward intently, a 
plan emerging in his mind.  He glanced down at Legolas but the elf did not 
respond.  The camp was quieting for the evening and the orcs had begun to bed 
down.  Now they just had to wait.

The orcs were singularly un-restful creatures, grumbling and turning fitfully in 
their sleep, waking only to sink back into dreams again.  Each time Aragorn 
thought they might really all be asleep, another one rolled over with half 
lidded eyes before falling back to sleep.  It was maddening.  Still, Aragorn 
crouched patiently in the shadows of his hiding place, watching them and waiting 
for the opportune moment as the watches of the night crept on.  Finally, many 
hours later a kind of peace seemed to settle over the camp and the restless orcs 
stirred no more.

Scooping up a small handful of dirt Aragorn dropped the debris onto the elf’s 
head, trying to catch Legolas’ attention.

Legolas shuddered slightly, shaking the dust out of his hair and glancing 
upwards with a small frown. Communicating in silence with the elf, the ranger 
pointed at the guard sleeping near Legolas’ feet, making the sign of an ‘o’ and 
indicating the key ring.  Understanding broke through the elf’s mind quickly and 
he nodded in agreement, placing more weight on his booted toes and standing up 
under his bonds, he waited in anticipation for his friend’s approach as the 
ranger slipped from view.

It seemed like an eternity before Aragorn crept into the darkened, sleeping 
camp.  He had waited until none of the captors stirred.  The sounds of their 
sleep filled the camp with guttural snores and grunts.  The ranger crouched just 
beyond the circle of light that the fire threw about the orcs.  Legolas’ eyes 
were fixed on the sight of the human who glanced over the sleeping hulks, 
looking for anyone who was still awake.  It seemed that all of the evil 
creatures slept, including the one the human stalked quietly up beside.  What 
appeared as an unusual lapse in attention was nothing more than the orcs over 
confidence, deep within the borders of their own land.  Here they feared no 
attack, nor any resistance from the heavily bound and hopeless slaves.  It was a 
fatal error for them.  

Slipping his sharp blade from its sheath on the back of his belt, the ranger 
leaned over the one named Prangtz, bringing the knife up under the snoring orc’s 
chin.  With a quick deft move he slit the orc’s throat.  The sleeping beast 
never even knew that he was dead. Rolling the carcass over onto its stomach, the 
ranger relieved the guard of his key ring and ran quickly back to Legolas’ side, 
cautioning the elf to silence.

They could suffer no mistakes.

Suddenly the ranger felt incredibly clumsy as he climbed back onto the rock 
shelf behind Legolas and fumbled with the keys trying first one then another, 
urgency hampering rather than helping his attempt.

Movement on the far side of camp startled Aragorn and he pressed himself into 
the shadows behind Legolas, hiding behind the elf as an orc stood slowly from 
its sleeping place and glanced around the camp.  The prince immediately dropped 
his gaze back to the floor in front of him, peeking out through the strands of 
hair that fell into his eyes.  They both held their breath as the orc watched 
the prisoner for a few moments.  Satisfying himself that all was well the 
creature walked off towards the shadowed perimeter.

“Don’t move.” Aragorn whispered softly to the elf, his dark clothes blending 
with the shades of night and the rock wall behind them.  “It will be back.”

Legolas nodded imperceptibly, his body tensed and aching from the position he 
had been stretched out in for so long.

Noting his friend’s tensions and distress, Aragorn whispered in the elf’s ear, 
“Stand on my boots.”  The ranger pulled the prince back a few inches.

“What?” 

“My boots.” Aragorn kicked the toes of his boots underneath the heels of 
Legolas’ soft leather shoes, scooting forward until the elf’s body rested 
against him. “Now stand up and let some of that pressure off your arms.”

Legolas was surprised to find that he could actually stand when he balanced on 
top of the ranger’s shoes and he sighed quietly as the pull on his hurting arms 
was lessened.

They both tensed as the orc returned, melting into view from the edges of the 
camp.  It flopped to the ground and was asleep in moments but Aragorn remained 
where he was for a bit longer, unwilling to chance that the orc was not resting 
deeply enough quite yet.  Morning was nearly upon them and with it came an 
urgency that he could not ignore any longer.

“All right. I’m going to try again.”  Aragorn brushed the blonde hair out of his 
eyes and whispered in Legolas’ ear.  The elf nodded and stepped forward, 
groaning involuntarily as the brunt of his weight was again suspended by his 
wrists and arms.  

“I only have two more keys to try. I will be quick.”  The ranger reassured his 
friend as he tackled the awkward position, shoving a dirty, rusted key into the 
opening.

To his surprise the key turned and the manacles popped open, falling away and 
banging noisily against the cliff face.  Aragorn cringed at the loud metallic 
sound but had no time to worry about it as Legolas fell forward, trying to 
stifle a small cry as his freed arms were released.  The blood rushing back into 
his stiff limbs was painful but the ranger could give him no respite, not yet. 
Wrapping his arms around the elf and pulling him gently, but forcefully up from 
the ground Aragorn half dragged the prince from the camp.  They had made more 
noise than he was comfortable with and he eyed the sleeping horde warily as they 
shifted and grunted in their sleep.

Something had woken him, someone stirred.  Graghnak lay perfectly still where he 
was, listening to the night sounds.  He normally slept soundly in Mordor, there 
was no reason to fear here... but something had woken him.  His gaze swept 
lazily to the line of picketed slaves where they huddled together, uncomfortably 
trying to catch what little sleep they could.

Turning to look over his shoulder the commander of the orc troop glanced to the 
far side of the camp and spied the empty manacles.  The sun was nearly up and 
its first filtered rays were brushing the canyon walls, gleaming dully off of 
the open metal bonds.

“Get up!” The orc yelled at his men, causing the slaves to flinch and draw 
closer together. “NOW! Get up!  The cursed elf is gone!”

The soldiers woke, groggily peering at each other through sleep fogged eyes as 
they fought their way sleepily to their feet, glancing about the camp for the 
source of their commander’s displeasure.

Only one orc did not rise.

Within moments the camp was in a frenzy.  Aragorn could hear the orcs behind 
them yelling and stirring one another on as they separated into two groups, one 
heading north and one south, trying to track where their escaped prisoner had 
fled to.  He could hear them hollering at the other slaves, demanding to know 
what had happened, but the poor wretches claimed ignorance.  Aragorn felt a stab 
of guilt that he had been unable to free all of them, but right now it was all 
he could do to try to assure that he and Legolas survived this.  There was 
little place to hide in the shallow canyon and it was painfully apparent that 
Legolas could not keep pace with the fleet-footed ranger.  Aragorn surmised that 
the elf had been beaten more severely than he first thought as the prince 
stumbled, catching himself on his fingertips without breaking stride.

Legolas simply nodded at Aragorn’s concerned look, unwilling to spare the breath 
it would take to reply to the worry that was unconcealed in the silver eyes.

Hearing their pursuers only heightened the elf’s fear as they ran and he began 
to pant from the exertion and the toll that the abuse had taken on his body.  He 
had been starved, beaten, kept in bonds and passed from one captivity to another 
for almost two months now.  The evil effect of Mordor itself and the terrible 
beating the orcs had given him again only yesterday had already claimed whatever 
strength he had left.  The elf’s body was failing him and although he cursed his 
weakness, he could not fight it this time.  

Legolas' condition was not lost on the ranger and he began to frantically seek a 
place to hide. To their right, small scrub brushes grew from the side of the 
rock face, springing up in the dry dusty canyon.  Their brambly, tangled 
branches partially covered an overhanging lip of rock, creating a deep crevice 
that was a few feet high off the floor of the valley – enough for a human and an 
elf to squeeze into, or at least so the ranger hoped. 

Grabbing Legolas by the sleeve, Aragorn dragged the elf to the side of the gully 
and fell down near the lip, pulling the prince with him.  He rolled to the back 
wall of the small overhang and drug the protesting elf in with him, covering 
Legolas’ mouth with one hand and throwing his cloak over both of them, hoping 
the color would not vary too greatly from their surroundings.  Orcs were not 
known to be overly observant and he was counting on that to help keep them 
hidden.

In seconds a horde of orcs rushed past, running up the canyon brandishing 
weapons and yelling as they ran headlong after their supposed prey.

Aragorn had wrapped his arms around the elf, pulling Legolas closely next to 
him, trying to shield the blonde hair from eyesight with the sleeves of his 
coat.

When the dust settled, he relaxed his grip on the prince and leaned his back 
against the cool wall behind him.  Legolas sighed deeply and closed his eyes, 
slowly relaxing as his head rested lightly on Aragorn’s outstretched arm beneath 
him.

 “They will be back.” The elf whispered softly, “They will realize that we did 
not get as far as they will run.”  Opening his eyes slowly he gazed into the 
silver ones a few inches from his own.

“I know.  We’ll stay right here until they’ve all passed by and we can leave 
after they’re gone.”

Legolas gasped slightly in surprise and mild pain as the ranger pulled him 
forward and held him tightly for a moment.

“Estel?”

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again, do you hear me?” The ranger whispered 
hoarsely into the elf’s ear, “I don’t think my heart could handle that a second 
time.”

The elf nodded against the human, “I promise.” He replied wearily, smiling 
softly and not even trying to move away from his friend.  His body was tired and 
his mind worn out.  He had hardly slept since finding himself in the slave 
farms, and little enough before that.  The over-exhaustion was beginning to show 
in the sluggishness he felt pulling at him.

Aragorn moved back as best he could.  The ledge above their head was only inches 
from his face when he glanced up and the crevice itself couldn’t have been more 
than five feet deep. Stretching out he tried to make himself comfortable.  He 
was startled to find that in the few moments of inattention, Legolas had fallen 
asleep.  Using the ranger’s arm for a pillow, he lay on his side facing the 
human.  Aragorn stopped moving and relaxed, a small smile on his face.  

Legolas slept with eyes closed, attesting to his drawn state, but a faint hint 
of luminescence had crept back into his pale features, making him look more like 
himself.  

Aragorn’s heart was no longer racing and the adrenaline in his system was fading 
as they lay in the darkened recess, waiting. The relief that washed through him 
made him breathe in deeply, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over 
his eye lids.  He never wanted to go through that again.  He never wanted to 
have to see that kind of utter hopelessness in his friend’s eyes, nor hear the 
proud prince beg for death by a familiar hand rather than face the indescribable 
horror that the orcs had planned for him.  That image was one that would not 
leave him and he knew it was going to haunt his dreams for many days to come.  
The ranger shuddered slightly, the fingers of his free hand drifting over to 
rest lightly upon Legolas’ arm.  As the elf slept, he began planning their route 
of escape.

Hours later, the orcs dragged back past the refugees’ hiding place, their coarse 
mutterings and talkings waking both ranger and elf.  Legolas tensed and glanced 
over his shoulder.  The feet of the orcs stirred up the dry dust and it was hard 
to see if the whole contingent had returned this way or not.

As the sounds of the troop receded Aragorn gently pressed the elf out in front 
of him, slowly pulling himself to a standing position once he was freed of their 
rocky hideaway.  

“We head north for the Undun.  We will never make it back to the Poros without 
being caught, there are too many of Sauron’s forces near the slave farms.”  
Aragorn leaned out, trying to glance around the bend in the path where the orcs 
had gone.  “Let us be off.”

The sun was descending over the hills and soon the valley of Nurn would be cast 
into shadows.  Although in truth that was simply a darker version of what Mordor 
called day, as the sky was always cast over with the soot and fumes that 
collected across the deep basin, making the air a foul stench in the nostrils. 

Aragorn doubted the orcs would move the slaves that night as they had spent the 
better part of the day chasing down the one they had lost.

The two companions walked slowly up the valley, heading towards the opening 
where the hills on either side flattened out.  Aragorn was focused on the ranges 
beyond the canyon; he could just barely make out more rocky mountains beyond the 
rift’s opening when Legolas tensed beside him, drawing his breath in with a 
small gasp and grabbing the ranger’s sleeve.

His attention redirected, the human stopped and stood dead still in his tracks. 
At the mouth of the rift a troop of orcs had just stepped into the path, having 
rounded the blind corner and stopped their forward march, as surprised to find 
their quarry as the elf and the ranger were to be seen.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas, pulling the elf back with him, shouting to the prince 
to run.  Unfortunately, the dark creatures were swifter than their prey.  They 
were only fifty feet behind the two escapees and the hair on the back of the 
ranger’s neck stood on end when one of the evil beings lifted a horn to his lips 
and blew a sounding tone on the instrument.  The sound sent shivers skittering 
down the human's spine.

The prisoners had been found.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART THREE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

I can’t last here for too long
I feel this current it’s so strong
It gets me further down the line
It gets me closer to the line..

And all these little things in life, they all create this haze
There’s too many things to get done, and I’m running out of days

 

-- Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~~

 

 
Having heard the trumpet blast, the orcs that had passed by the hiding prisoners 
earlier turned and headed back they way they had come.  Graghnak led the way, an 
evil, satisfied grin on his face.  He had no love for any of the creatures that 
served in his troop but it did not please him to have to report the unnecessary 
demise of them either.  Prangtz had been an idiot, but someone was going to pay 
for his death.  Their master did not take news of escapees and lapses of 
attention lightly.

The valley they were in was now quickly becoming blocked off from before and 
behind, leaving the two friends no choice but to turn aside and take their 
chances with the hills.  Aragorn and Legolas scrambled up the steep incline next 
to them, their boots sliding and scrabbling on the loose, dry earth as they 
sought for purchase.  Desperation hastened their frantic movements as they half 
ran, half climbed towards a low plateau above.  Neither of them wanted to be 
caught.

Legolas felt his heart pounding in his chest so hard it made him dizzy.  The mix 
of physical exertion and fear shot through his injured body, making him tremble 
lightly.  His injured ribs screamed as he scrambled up the steep grade, shooting 
sharp knives of pain into his consciousness, but he paid them no mind.  He would 
run until he died if it kept him away from being recaptured by the orcs.

Aragorn felt the heavy air stick and choke in his throat, mixing with the dust 
their wild assent was kicking up.  Fearful adrenaline drove him up the hill, 
sometimes almost climbing more than running.  They could not be captured; he had 
been a captive of orcs before and the memory was very dark.  Yet even more 
important to him, he could not let Legolas be put back in their hands.  

The ranger whipped around as quickly as he could without losing his footing when 
he heard a heavy thud and the scrabble of rocks behind him.  Legolas, far more 
unsteady than any elf usually was, had lost his purchase on the shifting shale 
and fallen hard, sliding backwards a few paces.  

The elf barely kept from crying out when his stomach and chest slammed against 
the ground, cushioned only a little by having caught himself on his hands.  The 
fall knocked the air out of his lungs and for a moment he couldn’t move or 
think.  

Aragorn scrambled and slid down the hill back to where his friend had fallen.  
The orcs they had nearly run into were now in active pursuit, closing in on them 
at an alarming rate, and the rest of their company that had been alerted were no 
doubt not far behind.  He knew Legolas was hurting, but he didn’t even have time 
to ask if the elf was all right as he grabbed his friend, pulling him up.  He 
winced slightly as he grasped Legolas’ hands, seeing the blood on the prince’s 
palms, torn by his fall.  Wrapping Legolas’ arm around his shoulders so he could 
support the elf’s weight, the ranger dragged the prince swiftly up the hill 
again.  

Legolas winced at the abrupt movements, inhaling sharply, but motion was quickly 
coming back to him and Aragorn released his friend as soon as he felt the elf 
moving under his own power again.  

The orcs’ horn was blowing again as the two hunted beings reached the plateau.  
Ahead of them loomed another hill and to their right was a steep drop back into 
the valley they had just come from.  Down there they could see the dark shapes 
of more than two dozen orcs rushing to join the ones already on their heels.  
This land seemed infested with the foul beasts!  

Turning towards the left, which was their only option, Aragorn suddenly found 
himself thrown backward, the dark, heavy form of an orc appearing from almost 
nowhere as it jumped on him.  

“Strider!” Legolas shouted in alarm as Aragorn went down beneath the foul beast. 
 
Reacting quickly Aragorn tucked his feet up even as he fell, getting his knees 
between he and his attacker so that when they hit the earth he pushed upward and 
kicked the orc off, over his head.  

The dark creature grabbed the shoulders of the ranger’s coat as he went over, 
dragging Aragorn around with him so that the two of them ended up rolling across 
the slanting ground.  Tumbling to the right they rolled towards the steeper drop 
back to where they had just come from.  

Legolas ran after them, realizing with frustration that he had no weapons, 
nothing to fight with.  

The force of their struggle carried Aragorn and the orc off the edge of the 
plateau.  The small cliff was not entirely sheer and the two combatants landed 
on the edge, clinging on and struggling with one another at the same time.  

Aragorn felt the orc’s weight dragging him towards the drop and he struck at the 
fell beast with one hand as he fought to keep his grip on the rocky ledge with 
the other, his feet swinging free.  It was not a very far drop to the ground, 
maybe twenty feet at the most, but it was not the fall that worried Aragorn, it 
was the scores of angry orcs at the bottom.  

The ranger felt his fingers slipping as the loose rocks shifted under his 
tenuous grip, the weight of the orc still clinging to him dragged him steadily 
down like an anchor.  Just as his hand began to pull free he felt it caught in a 
strong, familiar grip.  His eyes shot up to lock with Legolas’ as the elf prince 
leaned down over the edge to grasp his arm and keeping him from falling.  

“Aragorn, I swear, you should *not* go near anything that drops off,” Legolas 
actually found enough breath to say, even if he didn’t have the strength to 
smile.  It was true.  If Legolas had bad luck with caves, then Aragorn’s 
misfortune seemed to run towards cliffs.  The strain of holding his friend shown 
in the tension on his face as the elf focused on pulling the ranger back up.  
Settling himself firmly against the rocks that lined the lip of the cliff, 
Legolas grasped the ranger’s coat sleeve with his other hand trying to find the 
leverage he needed.

The orc holding onto Aragorn dug its fist into the ranger’s stomach, kicking the 
back of the man’s knees, in an attempt to dislodge the human.  Aragorn jerked 
and his arm slid in Legolas’ grasp as he slipped further down over the edge.  

Legolas bit back a gasp as the combined weight of Aragorn and the orc pulled 
full upon his injured body; but his hands just tightened in Aragorn’s sleeve.  
He was trying to pull his friend up, but the ongoing struggle and his own 
weakened body was preventing him.   

“Lose the orc!” the elf grit out through his teeth as he felt his hands 
beginning to tremble.  “I can’t hold you both!”

Desperation flooded Aragorn’s mind as he struck and kicked at the creature 
clinging to him with his legs.  If they didn’t move soon it was going to be too 
late anyway, they were running out of time before their pursuers caught up with 
them.  

As if in answer to his worried thoughts a dark shape loomed up over Legolas’ 
head, casting a shadow upon them.  

“Legolas!” Aragorn’s warning did little good.  What could the elf do without 
dropping his friend?

The prince cried out as the orc behind him clubbed him between the shoulder 
blades, knocking him forward and Aragorn felt himself slide further down the 
drop.  Legolas kicked backward, knocking the creature back a pace.  The fact 
that the brute had not drawn a weapon on his disadvantaged adversary showed that 
the orcs were interested in retaking their captives alive.  

“Strider!”  The elf’s long fingers remained firmly enmeshed in his friend’s 
sleeve, holding bruisingly tight to Aragorn’s forearm and wrist, but he could 
feel his friend slipping even as the shadow of the orc fell on him again, 
causing fear to pump wildly through his veins.  

Aragorn kicked viciously at the orc he was tangled with.  “Let go Legolas, let 
go!”  The elf had no chance if he kept holding onto his friend.  

Legolas did not waste energy refusing, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped 
tighter, trying even harder to pull his friend up.  The orc came again and 
Legolas twisted away as much as he could while still holding Aragorn, lashing 
backward with his elbow to catch the creature in the chin.  

The angry orc grabbed the elf’s shoulder, trying to drag Legolas backward, away 
from Aragorn.  A vicious punch to the elf’s already burning stomach made Legolas 
cry out in pain as his fingers loosened involuntarily.  

Aragorn slid down sharply, starting to fall until Legolas’ hands tightened 
quickly around his wrist once more, catching him at the last moment and jerking 
him to a halt.  The jolt was enough to shake the orc clinging to him, and one 
good kick finally sent the creature tumbling down into the midst of his 
companions who were watching the battle from the ground.  There were far less 
down there now then there had been a few moments ago and Aragorn knew that they 
must be on their way here.  

Rid of the orc’s weight, Aragorn used his free arm to claw at the cliff edge, 
straining to swing his legs back up over the lip.  The orc fighting with Legolas 
inadvertently helped them by dragging the elf backward a pace or two, which gave 
the ranger just the tug he needed to swing his knee up onto the ledge.  

Quickly scrambling all the way up Aragorn released Legolas’ hand and the elf was 
free to turn his full attention on the orc harassing him.  The prince was ill 
prepared for a fight, but the orc still never knew what hit him as the 
previously helpless elf spun quickly to nail the beast in the jaw.  

The orc stumbled back and Aragorn, having gained his feet, rammed into it with 
his shoulder, pushing it off the ledge from which he himself had recently been 
dangling.  

The creature fell with a cry, but neither elf nor ranger waited to see it hit 
the ground, they were already moving again, running back towards their only 
possible hope of escape.  

Suddenly six or seven orcs spilled into their path.  A moment later half a dozen 
more came scrambling down the hill to their right while nearly twice that many 
gained the plateau from the valley below.  

The area was positively teeming with orcs in a matter of moments and all routes 
of escape were cut off as Aragorn and Legolas were pressed back to back, slowly 
circling.  The ranger passed his knife off to the elf and quickly unslung his 
bow, stringing an arrow and loosing a volley into the dark press around them.  
Yet more orcs were arriving by the moment, twenty, thirty... the sheer number of 
the enemy was overpowering and no matter how hard they fought, the pair was 
overcome by the press of orc bodies.  

Graghnak struck out at the ranger, catching Aragorn’s bow and slapping it aside. 
He crushed the weapon underfoot, snapping it in half.  The orc grabbed for the 
human, who ducked his clumsy move and pulled a sword, backing the orcs up a few 
paces and widening the circle that surrounded them. 

“Put that down and I won't kill you right here.”  Graghnak growled at the 
ranger.

Aragorn didn’t respond.  It wouldn’t matter what they did now, they were both 
dead and he knew it; there was no way out of this, but he planned on taking as 
many of the foul beasts out with him as he could.  Lunging, he impaled a slower 
orc on the sharp blade before spinning out of reach and smashing his fist into 
the hard jaw of another sending the orc sprawling.

He could hear Legolas fighting as well but the battle with the elf was 
short-lived and the injured prince was soon over powered.  He did not posses the 
strength of his human counterpart right now and what little he had had been 
spent in the previous struggle.  It frustrated him to no end when his arms were 
painfully pinned behind him and Aragorn’s elven blade, which the orcs had taken 
from him, slid roughly under his chin.

“Stop now or I’ll let them kill the elf.” Graghnak pointed to a place behind 
Aragorn.  The ranger was standing over a slain orc and had nearly decapitated 
another when the command rang out.

Breathing heavily but unwilling to drop his gaze from the large orc commander 
that stepped in front of him, Aragorn called to Legolas in elvish, “Legolas is 
it true?” he asked raggedly, his sword wavering slightly in front of him.  

Graghnak smiled evilly, he was having fun hunting these two down, they hadn’t 
had this much excitement in a long time.  He would make sure they paid for the 
blood they had spilt, but the human amused him.

“I’m sorry Estel.  Don’t let them take us, kill as many as you can.”  The elf 
answered, he groaned softly as his arms were twisted tighter behind his back in 
response to the length of his answer.  Aragorn could not become a prisoner in 
Mordor.  If the orcs did not kill them both right away... if Sauron’s eye ever 
turned to rest on the human who had so long been hidden from him and he saw the 
truth of who the ranger really was... Aragorn’s fate would be far worse than 
even that which would be contrived for an elf.  

Aragorn chanced a quick glance over his shoulder.  His own blade was held firmly 
to the elf’s neck.  A thin trace of blood edged it and the orc that held the 
fair being turned Legolas’ arms a bit harder, just for fun as the ranger eyed 
his friend.

Slowly standing down from his defensive position, the ranger dropped his sword. 
He couldn’t watch them slit the elf’s throat. 

Moving swiftly for such a large creature, Graghnak stepped forward and slammed 
his fist into the side of the man’s head, knocking Aragorn to the ground.  The 
ranger barely caught himself on his hands as he fell hard to his knees, 
temporarily stunned senseless.  He winced as his arms were held in a vice-like 
grip behind him.  He was hauled to his feet and manhandled back to the orc camp.

Legolas felt terror so dark and deep that it chilled his bones coursing through 
him.  This was the worst thing that could have happened, the *worst*.  Now not 
only he, but Aragorn as well would be subjected to the orcs’ cruelties.  He 
wished he would have died rather than get his friend into this kind of trouble. 
Aragorn should have either killed him or left him.  Now they were both lost.  

The orcs holding Legolas cuffed him repeatedly as they dragged him along, 
snarling at him about running away again.  The elf fell frequently under their 
abuse, but it hardly seemed to matter to them since they were more dragging than 
guiding him anyway.  

When blood started trickling from the corner of the prince’s mouth, Graghnak 
gave a silent signal for his underlings to lay off.  The elf looked spent and 
the orc captain was not ready to have the pretty little trinket die just yet.  
Oh he would be more than properly punished for this, but not yet, not until he 
was strong enough to survive it.  

The human however... that was another matter.  He had trespassed in their lands, 
stolen one of their slaves and probably killed one of their own.  He was going 
to need some very immediate attention.

When they re-entered camp, the body of the guard the ranger had slain still lay 
where it had died in its sleep.  Graghnak walked over to the dead orc, kicking 
the corpse with disdain.

“You did this?” He growled looking back at the pair.  When neither answered, the 
commander grabbed the human from his underlings and dragged the ranger back into 
the center of camp, throwing the man roughly to the ground.  Before Aragorn 
could rise another orc grabbed him by the back of the neck, holding him in 
place, bent over in a kneeling position, his face only inches from the rocky 
floor.

The ranger’s left arm was jerked roughly out to the side and he felt the cold 
bite of a manacle fasten around his wrist. He stopped struggling when the toe of 
Graghnak’s boot caught him sharply in the ribs.

“Lie still or I’ll make you wish you had.” The dark creature growled as he 
pulled Aragorn’s arm farther away from his body, the metal cuff digging into the 
soft skin.  He couldn’t turn his head but the ranger could hear Legolas cry out 
softly and the sound of another manacle being secured.  He only assumed that 
Legolas had been bound in much the same way as he was.  The rattle of a chain 
length caught his attention and he flinched involuntarily, thinking the metal 
links had been brought out to punish them with.

When his wrist was released by the large orc that had recaptured him, Aragorn 
tired to pull his arm back in close to his side, but the sudden movement brought 
a cry of pain from the elf.  With mounting fear the ranger realized they had 
been chained together.  Struggling underneath the bulk of the weight of the orc 
that pressed him down, he desperately tried to get away.  

The struggle was useless.

Graghnak noticed the difficulty his underling was having in constraining the 
human and he smiled darkly.  Motioning to the elf, he ordered the fair being 
held down and laughed as he was quickly obeyed.  Legolas was pressed flat to the 
earth as a large orc kneeled on his back, digging his bony kneecap into the 
middle of the prince’s back.

“The new one needs a lesson you maggots, needs to learn how to mind!” Graghnak 
grinned evilly.  “Teach him!” he hissed.  

“Strider, be still!”  Legolas could see what the orcs intended and he feared for 
his friend.

Held down as he was and unable to breathe properly, the ranger was panicking as 
the orcs crowded around him.

“Legolas!”  His muffled cry was cut off as the orcs that converged on him began 
to follow through on their captain’s commands and tried to subdue the human by 
beating and kicking him.  

The elf watched in horror as the ranger was completely blocked from his sight.  
There was nothing he could do and when he writhed underneath his captor, the orc 
simply kneeled on him harder, pressing the air from his lungs.  

From amid the teeming tangle of orc bodies Legolas heard Aragorn cry out in pain 
as the dark creatures battered him without restraint.  

“Stop!  Stop it!  Strider!”  Tears ran down Legolas’ face as he was restrained, 
unable to aid his friend.  Aragorn’s left hand reached out towards Legolas, 
frantically.  The elf stretched his right arm out until his fingers barely 
touched the human’s.  Aragorn desperately latched onto Legolas, unwilling to 
release him.  His soft cries muffled by the laughing orcs that surrounded him. 

The orc perched on the prince laughed and taunted Legolas, pointing out that the 
two prisoners were trying to help one another.  Graghnak looked over the huddle 
of his minions beating on the man and laughed with dark mirth.

“Let them,” He said as he noted the way the two beings held on to one another, 
the chain that bound them together pooling beneath their clasped hands.  “It 
won’t do them no good.”

Noting the fun that their companions were having without them the orcs guarding 
the slaves left their posts and wandered over.  Purtang, a relatively young orc 
that had just joined Graghnak’s clan stumbled forward gleefully having retrieved 
a large tree limb that was destined for the fire ring.

As he approached the orcs that pinned the human down he tripped over the feet of 
the one that held Aragorn’s neck in a viselike grip.  The older orc turned, 
enraged, and Purtang fell back, dropping the log he held.  The thick wood 
impacted the back of Aragorn’s skull, smashing his face into the ground 
underneath him and he lost consciousness, slumping sideways.

The hand that had gripped the elf’s so tightly went lax and fell from his 
fingers.

“STRIDER!”  Legolas screamed his friend’s name; fear flooding his heart with 
adrenaline he had no way to release.  “Strider!” 

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FOUR*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~~
Please come now, I think I’m falling
Holding onto all I think is safe
Seems I’ve found the road to nowhere, 
And I’m trying to escape.

I yelled back when I heard thunder,
But I’m down to one last breath
And with it let me say...

Hold me now, I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking
Maybe six feet ain’t so far down...

--Creed
~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

The orcs surrounding the human began fighting amongst themselves, angry that 
their fun and games had come to such a quick end.  Purtang was shoved roughly 
back into a knot of the dark creatures as the older orc pushed Aragorn away from 
him and followed the underling.  In moments the tangle of orcs had erupted into 
an all out brawl, their prisoners mostly forgotten.

Legolas’ guard left the elf unattended and rushed into the melee.  It was not 
often that they got a good fight going amongst themselves and he wasn’t about to 
be left out.

Legolas pressed himself up on his hands and knees, breathing in deeply and 
filling lungs that had been starved for air.  He glanced to where Aragorn lay 
only a few feet away.  The man was unconscious, lying on his side.  Blood pooled 
down from a cut to his head and he was covered in dirt from the press of the 
orcs.  His clothes were torn and the skin that the elf could see was scratched 
and bleeding. Amazingly it appeared that the orcs had only taken to beating the 
young human with their fists and boots, not one of them had produced a whip to 
help subdue him.  That much was a mercy.  

Dragging himself over to the prone ranger, the elf carefully rolled Aragorn onto 
his back and pulled the human into his lap, holding the man’s head gently 
against his chest as he rocked them both back and forth.  The chain that held 
them bound together made movement difficult but the elf would not let that stop 
him.  He needed the contact as badly as his friend did.  He was shaking and 
unable to control the trembling that wracked his body.  The adrenaline in his 
system had had no outlet and tears streamed down his face as he tried to deal 
with the relief that his friend was alive and the guilt that he had been able to 
do nothing to help him.

Graghnak watched his men for a few moments and sighed deeply, shaking his head. 
They were always provoking one another and this had been brewing for some time. 
He simply watched them beat on each another until Gortag, his second in command, 
walked up to him.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?”  The smaller orc eyed his commander through slitted 
gaze.

“Why?  They have been waiting for this, let them fight.  Maybe it will cull out 
some of the trouble makers.”

Gortag’s harsh laugh caused the captain to smile darkly.

“And what of them?”  The orc turned and glanced at Legolas and Aragorn.

Graghnak looked back at the two prisoners dispassionately.  “What of them?” He 
shrugged, catching an orc that stumbled in their direction and shoving the 
creature back into the fray with a laugh.

“They might try to get away again.” Gortag cautioned.

“The elf is almost dead; you can see it in his eyes.  With the weight of that 
human holding him down, he’s not going anywhere tonight.”  The manacles they had 
been using on the elf had gotten damaged somehow when he escaped and were now 
useless.  Probably the work of that meddling human.

“Then I’ll put them in collars.” Graghnak’s second-in-command was not 
comfortable with the idea of leaving the two troublemakers not completely 
secured.

Graghnak growled.  It was a good idea, unfortunately it wouldn’t work.  “We 
don’t have any more.  Our allotment of slaves was too great this time and that 
fool Rasbag didn’t bring enough.  We’ll keep a sharp eye out and they’ll be all 
right for the moment; we have nothing to worry from that little elf or his human 
friend, do we?”  Graghnak turned and kicked at the fair being that was watching 
them closely, but Legolas stared back into the foul creature’s face 
unflinchingly, his hands protectively covering the human he held.  His desire to 
live had returned to him a little, if not fully, now that Aragorn was near and 
they were together.  He knew he could not give up with his friend depending on 
him and they would have another chance to escape, of this he was sure.  He would 
not let them torment and kill the human; Aragorn’s body could not withstand the 
orcs’ torture as well as that of an elf.

“What are you looking at?”  Gortag growled at the elf.

“I am looking at a dead orc, spawn of Mordor.”  The elf spat back at his captors 
in elvish.  He knew full well the orcs couldn’t understand him, but the tone and 
the defiance were easy to read.

“Why you...” The orc stepped forward but was stopped by Graghnak.

“Leave him.  We’ll teach him how to talk to his betters later, right now we best 
break this fight up, I see we’ve already lost Toks and Gretnayz.”  Pulling a 
whip off his belt the commander and his second waded into the sea of orcs 
beating them off one another and calling for an end to the brawling.  In moments 
the camp had stilled and the orcs sat in small groups muttering curses at each 
other under their breaths and tending their own wounds, laughing about what had 
just happened.

A thick, black, heady mead was brought out and passed around.  Soon the orcs 
were toasting themselves long into the night until most of them began to doze, 
intoxicated and worn out.  

The sentries were set and a scowling orc waddled over and dropped down near 
where Legolas sat holding Aragorn.  “Don’t even think about trying anything elf 
or I’ll send you to join the other maggot!” he growled before settling his chin 
forward to rest on the handle of his axe which he leaned against the ground.  

After about a half hour however, the guards’ eyes closed and his head fell 
forward on his breast.  The other sentries were not far behind.  

Legolas could hardly believe the dark creatures were so foolish, but then orcs 
had never been renown for their cleverness.  Plus, the fact that he had run 
twice now, and both times they had recaptured him without much trouble seemed to 
bolster their confidence.  Still the sentries nodded only fitfully, and any 
sudden movements would awaken them.  Legolas knew that if he gave even the 
slightest sign of causing trouble the orcs would beat him senseless if that kept 
him still enough for them to safely sleep off the rest of their grog.  Drunk 
orcs were dangerous orcs.  

After a little while, he began to slowly inch farther away from the encampment, 
pulling Aragorn with him, until his back touched the blackened wall that he had 
been manacled to earlier that day.  Their guard stirred and glanced at him 
crossly, but Legolas just leaned his slumped shoulders against the stone wall 
and closed his eyes as if a more comfortable resting place was his only aim.  

The orc grunted and stopped scrutinizing them, his eyes soon glazing over once 
more.  Legolas bent over the ranger and whispered softly to the still 
unconscious man.

“Estel.”  The elf brushed the dark locks of tangled hair away from the bruised 
face, “Estel wake up.”  He spoke softly in elvish, not wanting to disturb their 
guards.  Gently he felt the ranger’s chest and arms for breaks or fractures, but 
it seemed that Aragorn had survived his beating only badly bruised, save for the 
cut on his head.  The crush of the orcs around him had actually saved the human 
from being more severely wounded than he was.  For that Legolas was glad.  

Legolas’ hair brushed across the ranger’s face; the gentle touch and the sounds 
of the elvish language bringing him slowly around.  Aragorn started slightly, 
breathing quickly and glancing about them, his eyes wide and his body 
immediately tensing as his mind remembered the last few moments of 
consciousness.

“No, it is well.  They have forgotten us for the night.  Shhh...”  Legolas 
gently stilled his friend’s movements. “Relax.  You were beaten badly but there 
are no broken bones.”  The elf redirected his gaze from the sleeping orcs that 
shifted in their slumber back down to the face of the human that he still held 
in his arms.  He smiled slightly, careful of his split lip and Aragorn noticed 
that the faint light the elf gave off naturally brightened just a degree.

Returning the smile, Aragorn relaxed against his friend and let his breathing 
calm down as he took in their surroundings. 

“We are not staked down?” The ranger asked quietly as he moved his chained 
wrist, trying to see the lock.  The metal clinked dully and he stopped moving.

“No.”  Legolas bent close near the ranger’s ear and spoke softly, his eyes 
watching the plain before them for any sign that their captors were awake, “I do 
not believe they thought you would recover.  They do not know how hard your head 
is my friend.”

Legolas was rewarded with another tenuous smile.

“They may have meant to do more, but these creatures cannot even keep mind 
together long enough to see to their own ends,” Legolas whispered with quiet 
disdain.  “Too much brawling and drink has taken care of that.  Our guard is 
sleeping off his portion of both.”

Slowly, and with help from the prince, Aragorn sat up and untangled the length 
of chain that connected them, moving quietly so that the elf was on his left.

“I suspect they thought you were much more seriously injured.” Legolas offered 
when Aragorn glanced back at the prince, one eyebrow raised in question upon 
seeing the sleeping camp.  

The ranger found it hard to believe the orcs hadn’t been more careful.  As 
though reading his thoughts Legolas continued, “Aragorn we are in Mordor, where 
would we go?”

“How about out of Mordor, and now!”  The ranger whispered back, “Whether 
intentionally or by accident, they will kill us before we reach Barad-Dûr, we 
cannot remain here any longer.”

“What do you suggest?”  Legolas glanced back at the area in front of them; it 
was strewn with the hulks of sleeping orcs.

Aragorn was eyeing the encampment intently.  He spied the slaves still picketed 
on the far side, trying to sleep in the awkward positions that their metal 
collars held them.  The orcs were asleep now, but they were everywhere, blocking 
all foreseeable means of escape.  Movement was risky, especially with the heavy, 
clinking chain that now connected them.  The ranger’s gaze continued to roam, 
seeking to light upon a source of inspiration for how they were going to get out 
of this.  

Near the fire the orcs had piled their cache of supplies.  He could just see by 
the light of the dying embers his knapsack and leaning against it were his sword 
and what looked like Legolas’ bow and quiver.

“Do you think you could handle your weapons at need?” Aragorn asked softly 
kneeling into a crouched position, his eyes still surveying the encampment.  He 
knew Legolas was weak, he wasn’t sure how weak.

“Perhaps, but they are long gone, the Corsairs took them.”  Legolas leaned 
against his friend for a moment, his weariness stealing back over him as his 
body began to ache once more now that the fear of losing his friend was over.

Aragorn turned quickly to the elf and knelt beside him, a little alarmed by the 
elf’s actions.  “Legolas what is it?”

“I am weary Aragorn.”  Tired blue eyes stared up into the silver ones.

“I know.”

“No, I am not sure you do.  This is no normal weariness, it is more.  We are in 
Mordor and the evil is heavy... so heavy.”  Legolas touched his heart lightly 
with the fingers of his free left hand.  He knew the human could not fully 
understand or appreciate the way the weight of the evil here hung upon the 
sensitive immortal heart; especially one that had been wounded.  

“And that my friend is why we are leaving tonight.”  Aragorn shifted in front of 
the elf and held the prince’s gaze, knowing that Legolas was nearing the limits 
of his strength.  It was a bad time to attempt a second escape, but Legolas’ 
health was not going to improve under the orcs captivity and they would likely 
never get another chance like this. 

“We are going to go to that pile of supplies and retrieve my knapsack and our 
weapons, I ransomed yours from the Corsairs, but the orcs took them with mine.  
Once we have them we shall set the slaves free,” Aragorn explained his plan.  

“The orcs will hear, we cannot!” Legolas gripped the man’s arms and held him 
tightly.  He hated his own momentary flash of cowardice, but as much as he 
wanted to help the others he feared being caught more.  He had suffered through 
it once and been spared the full brunt of it this time only because they had 
taken their rage out upon Aragorn and each other.  The same would not be true of 
a third time.  If the orcs beat him again, Legolas knew he would not survive.  

“Exactly.”  Aragorn smiled down into the worried face and braced his hands 
against Legolas’ shoulders.

“Has anyone told you lately that you are insane?” Legolas whispered fiercely.

“Not since Pelargir, no.” Aragorn laughed softly and explained himself, “Yes the 
orcs *will* hear my friend and that is good.  The camp will be in chaos, the 
fire has burned out and we can slip away in the darkness.  With everyone running 
in every direction our chances of being detected will be minimal and even if we 
are followed it will not be by half that horde, but only one or two.  Besides it 
will give the slaves a fair chance to escape as well, the only one I am able to 
offer them.  If everyone runs, there is a better chance that more will escape.  
I made a promise to do what I could for them and I’ll keep it.”

He smiled slightly as the elf caught on to his plan, nodding slowly and glancing 
around the ranger’s shoulders.  “You are right as usual Mellon-nín.”  He 
whispered softly.  “Forgive me.  I am not myself.”

Aragorn’s heart ached.  After what his friend had been through he had no reason 
to apologize for anything.  However, when he answered, his words were light and 
meant to make the elf smile.  “Obviously you are not, or you wouldn’t be 
admitting I was right.”

He lifted the chain between them and held it up where the elf could see it, “We 
have to go together and thanks to this it will not be easy.  I know you are 
tired my friend, but do this with me and I will see that we get out of here.”  
//Or die trying// the mental note was not added aloud.  

“I cannot use my weapons bound to you like I am.” Legolas stared hard at his 
friend.  These feelings of helplessness were not something the elf was used to 
or enjoyed as far as emotions went.  It seemed to him that he had been dogged by 
nothing but fear since they had entered Mordor’s borders.

“You can, I’ve been thinking about that and I will show you, but not tonight.  
I’ll carry your bow and you take your quiver.  Your knives are still in it you 
will not be defenseless,” the ranger promised.

Legolas still hesitated, his stomach tight.  He had never felt this uneasy about 
anything before and he cursed himself for it, but it seemed so hard to overcome 
the weary apprehension that was attempting to nail him to the spot.  
“Strider...”

Aragorn bit his lip.  Legolas was right; he was not acting like himself.  He 
couldn’t fault the elf, and yet he longed to have his confident friend back once 
more.  It hurt him to see the prince so lost.  

“Legolas... I know you are... wary, and that’s all right.  You would be crazy 
not to be, I am.  But we’ll make it out of this.  Somehow.”  The ranger could 
tell that the elf felt vulnerable and afraid, although he was careful not to use 
those words so as to avoid damaging his friend’s pride.  

Elves seemed to think they should be invulnerable to fear and second-guessing, 
and maybe they were more resistant, Aragorn didn’t know.  But those emotions 
were ones that the ranger had become used to as a human; ones that came and went 
frequently with the situations he had often found himself in throughout his 
life.  Lord Elrond had spent a lot of time when he was younger trying to 
convince him that there was nothing wrong with that, and it was your response to 
the fear that mattered.  It was odd to find himself on the other side of the 
argument this time, the one giving the encouragement, but he was not about to 
let the elf fall back into despair. 

“Now, are you ready?”

Legolas smiled wearily and nodded.  “So long as you have hope enough for both of 
us my friend.  Faerthoniel,” he whispered in elvish.  “Spirit kindler.”

Aragorn leaned forward and rested his forehead against the elf’s.  They sat that 
way for a few moments, resting in the cool night air.  He could feel the way the 
prince trembled slightly and knew that once they were free they would need to 
find safety, and fast.  

“You think I need any more names my friend?” he whispered.  

Legolas chuckled.  “No, you certainly do not.”

Pushing back from the elf, Aragorn smiled before twisting on his boot heels and 
standing quietly to his feet.  Next to him Legolas rose as well.  The prince’s 
sharp sight even in the darkness gave him the advantage as he stepped forward, 
intending to step over their guard who had sunk down until he was lying on his 
side.

The heavy-set orc moved in his sleep, turning towards the two friends who 
dropped quickly back to the ground.  The dark creature’s eyes opened, mere slits 
as he gazed unseeingly at the duo, his mind still fogged with sleep and not 
awake.  With a groan he stretched and turned back over falling into a deep sleep 
once more.

“That was too close.”  Aragorn let out a heavy sigh and stood to his feet again, 
resting his hands on his knees as Legolas stood shakily next to them.

“Shall we try again?” The elf whispered. 

With a nod Aragorn motioned for the prince to continue and they stepped lightly 
over their sleeping guard, threading their way quietly through the camp.

In moments they crouched by the mound of supplies.  Aragorn quickly retrieved 
his sword, strapping it on awkwardly as he tried to move around the chains and 
be fast, yet silent, about their escape.  Shifting his knapsack over his head 
and right shoulder he passed Legolas his weapons.  The prince threw the strap 
over his neck and eased into the harness while Aragorn picked up the elf’s bow 
and slung it over his back.

As they stood to leave, the ranger snagged a flask of water and shoved it into 
his pack.  He had no idea of the lay of the land and was not even sure Mordor 
had drinkable water.

Nearing the slaves, Aragorn held his right hand out to the elf.  Legolas placed 
one of his perfectly balanced knives in the upturned palm.  The ranger grasped 
the picket line that the slaves were all connected to and quickly cut the thick 
rope.  The bright eyes of the human nearest Aragorn gazed at him in fright and 
the people did not move when the rope that held them fast together slipped from 
the rings at their necks and dropped to the floor of the canyon.

“Go.” Aragorn whispered to the bearded man that crouched in front of him, 
watching the ranger intently.  When they did move, Aragorn stood to his feet, 
pulling Legolas up with him and running lightly away before calling back: “Run!”

An orc near the slaves stirred and rolled over.  One of the captive females 
screamed and leapt to her feet.  Pulling a teenaged child with her, they ran 
into the night, calling to the others.

In moments the camp was in chaos as the slaves went fleeing into the dark in 
every direction, stumbling over and into their captors and waking the orcs.  The 
dark creatures, sluggish from the alcohol they had imbibed, responded slowly at 
first, trying to understand what all the commotion was.

Gortag however had woken quickly and saw the ranger and the elf fleeing 
northward.  He called out to Graghnak, waking his captain.  The orc captain, 
seeing the slaves disappearing into the night began kicking his underlings, 
waking them quickly.  The snap of his whip could be heard as it licked the backs 
of the sleeping orcs.

The sharp crack of leather thongs spurred Aragorn and Legolas on.  The shouts of 
Graghnak echoed through the canyon spiking fear through the two escapees.

“Find the elf and that human, I want them brought back alive so they can know 
what it means to cross me!  Find them!”  He yelled kicking at a pack of orcs and 
pointing in the direction the prisoners had escaped to. “FIND THEM!!”  He threw 
a bow at one of his men to urge them on faster; his anger peaked as he spun 
around taking in the empty, disheveled camp.  This had never happened under his 
watch before and he would not tolerate a slave break-out.  

Gortag stood to his left and he growled at an underling.  With a sharp nod the 
orc ran off into the dark, chasing after the pack that was hunting the ranger 
and the elf.  The orc knew it would go badly for them if they returned empty 
handed.

Arrows whistled past Legolas’ head, flying blindly in the dark.  The elf ducked 
and shied to his right, stepping into Aragorn and causing them both to stumble 
off balance.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas and righted the elf, pushing him forward and ducking as 
a second volley rained down about them.

“We have to get out of sight!”  Legolas shouted at his friend.

Only sparing time to nod, the ranger increased his speed, forcing the elf to 
keep up with him as he frantically took in the darkened landscape about them.  
The stars could not penetrate the thick haze that hung over Mordor and with the 
new moon all he had to guide them by was Legolas’ faint brightness.

Aragorn swerved midstep, dragging Legolas with him as he headed for a low dark 
ridge that rose on their left.  The face of the cliff was pocked with holes and 
caves their yawning openings a deep black against the night.  Without thinking 
the ranger ran for a large opening in the rocky wall.  They needed to lose their 
pursuers and he had an idea...

...an idea that did not sit well with his companion.  Seeing where the ranger 
intended to lead them, Legolas stopped running and yanked backwards hard on the 
short chain that connected their manacled wrists.

Aragorn nearly stumbled as his forward motion was stopped so abruptly and he 
swung around to see what had become of the prince.  The look on the elf’s face 
was nothing less than complete belligerence.

“Legolas come on!”  Aragorn glanced nervously behind them, he could hear the 
orcs closing in it would be mere seconds before they rounded the corner and came 
in full view of the two prisoners.  He knew this time they would never live 
through their punishment for escaping. “We can hide in the caves.  We can loose 
them there.  This land is too flat and there is nowhere to hide.  It’s our only 
chance!”

“We are in Mordor!”  The elf nearly shouted, “Do you have any idea what may live 
in a cave in Mordor?”

“I know that our pursers don’t.”  Aragorn jerked hard on the link that bound 
them together, dragging the unwilling prince forward a few steps.  “Now come 
on!”  He was nearly frantic.  “Legolas, what do you fear more?  The cave or the 
orcs?  We must go!  I swear I am NOT going to stand here and have this argument 
with you again!  Trust me!  Come!”

“I cannot go in there.”  The elf’s eyes were wide and dark, the sheer terror of 
evil that weighted down his soul just from being in the twisted, forsaken land 
of their enemy was wreaking havoc on the prince.  Being injured, and faced with 
going into places he hated at the best of times made it almost too much.  It was 
true, he feared being recaptured by the orcs more than he had ever thought it 
was possible to fear anything... but going into that yawning dark hole before 
them and being buried alive by the pressing weight of Mordor’s evil terrified 
him almost the same.  As much as Aragorn loved his friend, he truly could not 
understand what Legolas was going through, nor appreciate the torment their 
situation caused.  A human never could.

Even though they were not as far north yet as Gorgoroth, the elf could feel the 
evil as though it were the very air he breathed.  It skittered down his spine in 
eerie patterns, he heard it on the haunting winds that blew through the wasted 
canyons and when he breathed in the foul air of Mordor it caught in his chest 
and choked him.  The terror of the place gripped the elf’s heart and he was 
afraid that the dark, whispering voices were right and he would never make it 
out alive.  The darkness clouded his heart and his mind, fogging his reason.  

The burden Legolas felt did not weigh so heavily on his human companion.  
Aragorn did not have the sensitivity of the elven race to feel the terrible 
oppression of evil that permeated in the land Sauron had claimed, yet even he 
was aware of a deep, vague dread that had constantly echoed in his heart from 
the moment he had crossed the westernmost mountain-fence of Mordor in search of 
his friend.  

From not very far away the brutish language of the orcs rang clearly in his 
ears, shattering the two friends’ impasse.  

They were out of time.  

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FIVE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

I will not pretend to feel the pain you’re going through,

I know I cannot comprehend the hurt you’ve known...

And I used to think it mattered if I understood

Now I just don’t know.

 

But if you need to cry go on and I, 

I will cry along with you.

 

--Steven Curtis Chapman

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Grabbing the elf by the shoulders Aragorn bodily forced the prince into the 
mouth of the cave.  The prince gasped in pain at the rough handling and 
struggled for the briefest of moments, making Aragorn’s hammering heart clench 
tightly in anguish.  They were out of time and had no choice; he was simply 
going to hope his friend could forgive him for this later, if they lived to see 
later.  

Once over the threshold, Legolas did not resist him.  The internal battle he 
faced silenced as a state of shock, a combination of his injuries and the 
ever-present evil, shut down his defense, turning him inward.  He stumbled after 
the human that led him, following Aragorn down through a dizzying maze of 
tunnels and caverns.

After they crossed through the first offshoot in the underground system Aragorn 
awkwardly stuffed his hand into the knapsack slung over his arm, pulling out a 
small hand full of Athelas, he spilled the dried leaves and flowers out 
sparingly at every turn they made.  He had no intention of dying in this 
forsaken place and doubted very highly that if they were followed any orc would 
ever notice the sparsely dropped trail, and even if they did, the wholesome sent 
of the plant would repulse them enough to leave it alone.  He hated to waste his 
small store of herbs, but it was the best thing he could think of at the moment. 
 

When they could no longer even hear the echo of the orcs’ voices or footsteps 
anywhere in the massive underground stillness, Aragorn allowed their frantic 
pace to slow.  Stumbling to a stop in the large cavern they found themselves 
entering, the ranger walked slowly to the far wall and leaned against it, 
bracing himself with his hands, trying to still his ragged breathing.  Legolas 
stood numbly beside him and waited.

When Aragorn finally glanced around them he noted that the cavern they stood in 
had been occupied before, long ago apparently.  The skeletons of two humans sat 
against the wall opposite them, barely visible in the faint light that Legolas 
cast.  A small cache of clothing and torches lay piled near the two corpses.

Slowly Aragorn turned around, causing Legolas to have to turn with him as well.

“That will be us.”  The elf whispered quietly.

The ranger walked towards the skeletons, dragging his friend unwillingly with 
him.  Crouching down near the abandoned supplies he rummaged through them, 
grabbing a few pieces of cloth that weren’t too soiled and collecting what 
kindling and small pieces of wood were left, stuffing them into his sack.  

Picking up a few of the discarded torches he tucked them under his right arm.  
Now, this close to the skeletons, Aragorn could see the large metal rings that 
sat about their necks, resting on the bones of their breastplates – they had 
been slaves.  In all probability they had escaped to this very cavern and then 
later died here trying to find their way out again.  

“Let's go.”  Aragorn stood to his feet and led Legolas back the way they had 
come, resisting a shiver.  “There was a good sized cavern a few turns back, 
we’ll be safe there.  I can’t hear the orcs anymore, I think they’ve given up.”

Legolas was staring at the dead slaves as the ranger walked them back out of the 
cave, his thoughts as dark as the tunnels about them.  The glow from the elf 
faded slightly and Aragorn stumbled, turning back to his friend in worry.

“Legolas what is it?”  He had noticed the unusual dimness of the elf’s natural 
light ever since had found him.  It had brightened a little when they escaped, 
but now it was fading once more.  

The prince shook his head mutely.  Everything had been too much for him lately 
and this, this being drug into the bowels of a cave in Mordor had been the final 
straw.

“All right.  It’s all right.”  Aragorn noted the lost look the elf laid on him 
and the ragged, shallow breathing of his friend.  They needed to get somewhere 
safe quickly and rest for a bit.  Removing a piece of flint from his knapsack he 
forcefully struck it against the edge of his sword, moving carefully to keep 
from jerking Legolas around while he lit one of the torches they had found. 

It was hard to console his friend with his left hand chained to Legolas’ as it 
was, so he very gently took the elf’s hand in his own and slowly led them back 
to the large, secluded cavern.  As much as he didn’t care for the thought of 
keeping company with a pair of skeletons, it was the best place to make a 
temporary camp.  

“Come on Legolas, we’ll be fine.  We just need to rest.”  Aragorn moved to the 
back of the cave, placing them at the farthest point from the two tunnels that 
led away to whatever unknown darkness lay beyond.

“I do not need to rest.”  Legolas was glancing around them warily, considering 
his options.  If he were not bound to the human as he was, the ranger would have 
had a very hard time getting the stubborn elf to remain here like this.  The elf 
couldn’t imagine staying in the cave; not here, not like this, not when even 
above ground he felt the suffocating presence of evil everywhere.  It was like 
being smothered.  

“Yes you do.”  Aragorn crossed his legs and sat down on the rocky ground, 
pulling the elf down with him, “And so do I.”  

Legolas glared hard at the ranger but the anger wasn’t directed at the human, it 
was frustration over the situation.  

Aragorn smiled softly at the elf.  

Legolas watched as the human set aside their weapons and allowed the ranger to 
take his quiver from him; gently pulling it over the elf’s head, careful of his 
bruised shoulders and laying it beside the elven bow.

“I’m going to make a fire, so bear with me.  I’ll need to move around you a 
bit.”  The human stared into the large blue eyes that watched him carefully as 
he moved into a crouched position and twisted on his boot heels until he faced 
Legolas.

He was very grateful that the length of chain that connected them was at least a 
foot in length, as it allowed him room to maneuver while Legolas rested.  
Aragorn smiled slightly to himself as he piled the sticks and kindling he had 
collected and once more removed his flint, striking it and setting the tinder on 
fire.  His companion was doing anything but resting.  The elf was tense as a 
bowstring and hadn’t spoken since Aragorn told him to rest.  The ranger was 
going to need to do something if he expected either one of them to get any sleep 
that night at all.

With the tiny fire sparking merrily, bathing the cavern in a warm golden glow 
Aragorn sat down cross legged, still facing his friend, and emptied the contents 
of his knapsack.  The small metal pot he carried with him fell out, ringing 
loudly in the cramped confines.  Legolas jumped, refocusing his attention on 
what the ranger was doing.

Aragorn pulled out the small sack of Athelas he had brought with him from Gondor 
and set it aside before unstopping the flask of water that they carried and 
pouring a small amount of it in the pot.

“We cannot waste the water it is all we have.”  Legolas voice was a mere 
whisper.

“I am not wasting it.”  Aragorn replied softly, preoccupied with what he was 
doing.

The region of Mordor lay in a valley about fifty feet below sea level and so the 
water in the pot boiled a lot faster and a lot hotter than it normally would 
have.  Aragorn, aware of this, carefully watched the water level as it quickly 
warmed.  Legolas was right about one thing, this was their only flask of water 
and they would need every drop of it if they could not find more.

When the water had reached its boiling point Aragorn removed it from the fire.  
Wrapping one of the old shirts he had taken from the previous cavern around his 
hand to keep from burning himself he set the pot down next to him and sprinkled 
a large handful of athelas into the water.

Legolas glanced slowly up to meet his gaze when the ranger turned back to the 
elf.

“We need to stay here tonight and perhaps tomorrow night as well.  Until the 
orcs have moved well on.  This will help make the air a bit more breathable.”

The elf did not respond and Aragorn’s heart went out to his friend.  The bruises 
on the prince’s cheeks were turning a deep purple and blood had caked in the 
corner of his mouth where his lip had split.  Dirty blonde hair spilled over the 
elf’s shoulders and fell in tangles about his face.  The slump of the proud 
shoulders belied more than Legolas was willing to say.

“You need to rest.”  Aragorn said softly.  His statement provoked no response.  
With a sigh the ranger glanced to the rocky floor, he ached more than he was 
willing to admit himself.  The beating they had taken had left him more wrung 
out than he had realized and his body was beginning to stiffen up painfully.   
He pushed the thoughts brusquely aside; it was Legolas’ loss of spirit that 
frightened him.

“Here.”  He spoke the word gently as he moved behind Legolas, causing the elf to 
have to cross his right arm across his chest to accommodate the ranger as 
Aragorn seated himself behind the prince.

Knowing his words weren’t reaching the elf any longer; Aragorn gently took hold 
of Legolas’ shoulders and drew the prince back, carefully forcing him to lie 
against the ranger’s chest.

Legolas shook his head a little but did not resist.

“Yes, my friend.  Relax.”  Aragorn whispered into the elf’s ear as he stirred 
the athelas with his free right hand, releasing more of the sweet scent into the 
air.  He threw another stick on the fire before turning his attention to Legolas 
once more.  He knew the prince had wounds that needed tending, but it was too 
difficult right now, chained as he was, and his own body was begging for rest.  
It was hard to move with their wrists manacled together so he simply let his 
left hand rest on the elf’s left shoulder, gently moving his fingers in soothing 
patterns.

Legolas’ right hand caught Aragorn’s fingers, stilling the ranger’s movements as 
he tightened his hold on the human with the feel of someone who was looking for 
a lifeline to keep from floundering.

“I’m right here.  We are safe.  They’ll never find us down here,” Aragorn 
assured softly.  

“We’ll never find our way out.”  Legolas voice was a mere whisper.

“Yes we will; I made sure of it.”  Aragorn gently placed his right hand over 
Legolas’ forehead, his fingers brushing the elf’s face and causing the prince to 
close his eyes as he slowly drew Legolas’ head back to rest in the hollow of his 
shoulder.  “Now just close your eyes and relax.” 

The elf was too tense under his touch so the ranger continued to speak quietly, 
slipping without thought into elvish.  “Keep your eyes closed, you can't see the 
cave ceiling then.” He explained himself, “Now breathe in deeply.”

Doing as he was told, Legolas’ overwrought senses were assaulted by the sweet 
clean smell of athelas and he relaxed unconsciously, shakily releasing his 
breath before taking another deep draught of the clean air into his lungs.

Aragorn smiled softly as he felt the tension slowly leave his friend.  “Imagine 
we are in that meadow, the one just to the north of Rivendell.”

“The one we had to spend the night in because you wouldn’t pay attention to me?” 
 Legolas questioned, his silent laughter could be felt against Aragorn’s chest.

The ranger rolled his eyes as he tossed another small twig on the fire. “Yes 
that one.  You will never let me live that down will you?”  He didn’t mind the 
teasing barb, he was simply glad the elf was speaking and beginning to calm 
down.

Legolas, his eyes still closed, smiled slightly as he shook his head, “No.”

“Well it wasn’t my fault there was a hole there.  You could *not* see it from 
the trail.”  Aragorn tried to defend himself; they had been over this before.

“I saw it and I warned you.” Legolas’ smile widened, “You were being arrogant 
and you thought you were the better tracker.”

“I am the better tracker.”

“You weren’t then.”

Aragorn gave the elf a small shove, eliciting a quiet laugh from the fair being. 
“Well you could have gotten me out instead of laughing at me and then I wouldn’t 
have been in quite such bad shape.  That was how I twisted my ankle!”

“Oh no.  You didn’t fall in a hole.  There was no hole there, remember?  You’re 
the better tracker and you insisted there was no hole.”  Legolas snickered at 
their gentle teasing. 

“You go ahead and laugh but the look on your face when Elladan blew your cover 
and told us that they had found you stuck in that same hole earlier that week 
was priceless.”

“I couldn’t believe he told.”  Legolas opened his eyes and tried to glance over 
his shoulder.  He tensed slightly when the walls of the cavern crushed back down 
on him.  Instantly Aragorn’s hand was covering his face once more.

“Close your eyes.”  He whispered in the elf’s ear, moving his face around the 
tangled blonde hair and laying his head against Legolas’, “Just remember the 
meadow.”

After a few moments of silence he spoke again, “Can you see it?”

“Yes.”  Legolas relaxed again, although his grip on the ranger’s hand had not 
lessened.

“Do you remember how the stars looked?  It was close to mid-summer and they were 
bright and huge and the night was lit by their presence.”  He stirred the 
athelas again, pushing the small pot back near the fire to keep it warm and 
throwing more of the dried weed into the water.

“Yes. I remember Eärendil being especially bright that evening.”  Legolas 
pressed against the ranger and stiffly stretched out on the rocky floor, his 
mind far away and his thoughts freed from the confines of their rocky prison as 
he crossed his ankles and relaxed. 

“I remember the bugs.”  Aragorn spoke quietly, causing Legolas to laugh again.

“You would remember something like that.”

“Well I thought there were only bugs that big in Mirkwood!”  Aragorn could feel 
the elf slowly giving into his body’s desire for sleep.

Taking a deep breath Legolas sighed and began to softly hum a tune Aragorn 
hadn’t heard in years, it was the slave’s lullaby that Cabed’s family had sung 
themselves to sleep with.

Memory surfaced and the ranger spoke quietly.  “I saw Kidrin in Gondor, below 
Lithiant.  He was with the slaves we freed there.  He says the Simbani are well 
and they send their greetings.”

Legolas stopped humming and listened to the sound of the ranger’s voice as it 
thrummed against his back.  

“I meant to ask you how it went for the Gondorian army after I was taken, but it 
slipped my mind.” The elf quietly answered.

With a small snort of amusement Aragorn nodded, “Wonder why.”  When the prince 
laughed lightly he continued.  “It went well.  We found the traitor.”

Legolas grew very still and quiet as he thought back on the past half a year he 
had been away from home.

“It wasn’t you who killed those two young soldiers Legolas.  Denethor, Castamir 
and all the others know it now.  It may not be much of a comfort, but at least 
they know the truth.  They know that you were set up.  You have been cleared of 
all the charges the Gondorian army levied against you.”  Aragorn tried to see 
the elf’s face but was unable to; the silence that stretched between them was 
difficult to wait out.

“They should have not have died like they did.”  Legolas’ voice was very quiet 
when he spoke.  “Alcarin was kind to me.  His betrayal was painful.  I still 
don’t understand it.”

“He used you to throw suspicion off of himself, I’m sorry my friend.  You met 
them on the road to visit me at just the wrong time and he used it to his 
advantage.  Stealing those weapons and killing those boys had always been part 
of his plan.  His father was Corsair, his mother Gondorian but she died when he 
was young and the bigotry between the two races killed whatever conscience he 
had when his father died fighting for Gondor and yet was branded a traitor by 
the very people he died defending.”

Legolas nodded slightly but did not reply so Aragorn continued speaking, “When I 
could not find you I feared the worst but hoped you had merely escaped.  I left 
Tarcil to hunt for any traces of you while I convinced Lord Ecthelion to let me 
take a contingent down against the Corsairs.  I am so sorry I could not come 
sooner.  Ecthelion conceded, sending me back with more than enough troops and we 
destroyed their shipyard and all their soldiers and took their supplies.  I 
found the second slaver’s vessel among the warships and we freed the slaves.  It 
was there that I met up with Kidrin; the slavers had taken him a few weeks 
earlier.  He was the one that told me he had seen the slavers take you aboard 
the first ship and pointed me in the right direction.  I never would have known 
if it weren’t for him.”  Aragorn tightened his hold on the elf in his arms.  “I 
was just glad to see him and hear of you.”

“It is good that it went well for Gondor.”  Legolas sighed deeply letting the 
past and its pain slip from his thoughts.  He hadn’t realized that he had nearly 
been lost for good and quickly changed the subject.  “I am glad you found 
Kidrin, how is he?”

Aragorn smiled to himself, “Tall! You would not believe how he has grown.”

“Humans do that.”

“Do what?”  The human questioned softly.

“Grow up.”  Legolas smiled sadly, an expression his friend could not see.  As 
Aragorn thought on what he said the elf began to quietly hum once more, the 
familiar soothing song filling the cavern.

The ranger smiled softly, feeling his own aching body begging for rest.  

Yes, humans do grow up, he thought, thinking back on the life he had lived with 
men for the past fifteen years and all he had learned.  He was simply content 
that he was now in the company of an elf once more, even if their circumstances 
were not what he would have wished.  

Shifting slowly, Aragorn repositioned himself behind the prince and rested back 
against the rocky wall behind him.  Throwing a few more scraps of wood on the 
fire and mounting the small flames higher he relaxed, content it would last for 
a few hours of sleep.

Gently brushing Legolas’ hair out of his face, Aragorn rested his head back 
against the elf’s.  He could still feel the prince humming softly but the tune 
was becoming more faint as Legolas fell asleep.  “It will work out all right 
Legolas.  You’ll see, we really will see those stars again.  I promise you.”

The soft humming ceased as the human and the elf fell asleep, exhausted from the 
abuse and the stress of the previous day.  Next to them the athelas boiled 
merrily away, filling the cavern with the sweet smell of a land far away to the 
north that haunted their dreams.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aragorn watched the orc patrol party march out of sight from his hiding place 
behind the large boulder he and Legolas were crouching next to.  He slid as far 
around the rock as he could, his back pressed against the warm black chunk of 
stone.

They had passed into the barren lands of Gorgoroth a few days ago, nearing the 
northwestern edge of Mordor.  The black walls of the Ephel Dùath, the 
mountain-fence that surrounded the dark lands, rose steadily into the sooty sky 
on their left. The landscape was dreary and desolate and places to hide from the 
increasing amounts of orc parties that moved through dry hills and shale valleys 
were becoming scarce.  Stretching his neck, the ranger peered in the direction 
of the sound of the fading orcs voices, content they had not been spotted.  The 
ranger’s arm was jerked slightly as Legolas flopped back against the rock with a 
sigh.

“What’s wrong?”  Aragorn immediately redirected his attention.  Legolas’ 
flagging spirit still bothered the human.

“What’s wrong?!” the elf repeated what the man had said.  Holding up the chain 
that linked them together.  “This is what’s wrong and...and this!” Legolas swept 
his free hand about them.  “Hiding behind rocks in Mordor from orc patrols.  If 
I had free use of my hands I would have slain them all.  I am tired of this 
hiding and sneaking about, tired of Mordor and tired of being your shadow.” He 
gave the chain a good yank, his frustration getting the best of him.  He wasn’t 
mad at the human he was mad at their circumstances, but his friend was getting 
the brunt of it.

Aragorn shifted, crossing his legs under him and seating himself so he faced the 
elf, his left hand rested lightly on his knee near the prince’s thigh.  Legolas 
wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry...” the elf muttered after a few moments but was silenced as his 
right hand was gently covered by the ranger’s.

“Don’t be.”  Aragorn glanced around them, “You’re right.  This is wrong and we 
are going to get out of here, soon.”  

“You have been saying that for a week or more.  Your definition of ‘soon’ is 
questionable Aragorn, unless you have started keeping elf-time.”  Some of the 
real irritation had bled out of the elf’s voice, leaving only the dry humor 
behind.  

When the elf rolled his eyes and glanced at the man out of the corner of them 
the ranger couldn’t help laughing before quickly continuing, “Look we can't be 
far from the gates...”

“And you expect to walk right through them.  Or better yet ask nicely to be let 
out?”

“You’re annoying when you’re sarcastic, has anyone ever told you that?”  Aragorn 
couldn’t stifle the smile that threatened to spread across his face as his 
friend lay a dark, mirthless gaze on the human.  Holding up his right hand in a 
gesture of peace he continued, “No I do not suggest we ask to be let out, but 
they must open those gates eventually.  Dagorlad lays just beyond them, the orcs 
never pass through there I have been told.  We can easily loose them in the 
wastelands, its nearly all swamp now anyway and the woods are not far beyond 
that.  They will not follow us.”

Legolas nodded in agreement.  He was not sure he felt up to the challenge but 
neither did he want to die in the evil land they were crossing.  His eyes 
drifted to the smoky canopy that sealed them in the rocky valley.  He realized 
Aragorn was still talking and glanced back at the ranger who was now holding the 
elf’s bow in his hands.

“So?  Do you want to me show you?” Aragorn smiled impishly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you said.”  Legolas frowned slightly, asking the 
man to repeat himself, which Aragorn did with easy patience, his eagerness 
shining through the silver eyes that watched the prince closely.

“I know how you can shoot your bow even though we are chained together, I’ve 
been thinking about it.  Do you want me to show you?”  Aragorn was watching his 
friend carefully.  He passed the elven weapon off to Legolas and raised his 
eyebrow in question, he really hoped this worked.  He had tried everything he 
could to raise the elf’s spirits, this was his last idea, but it was also his 
best.  He held his breath hoping the prince wouldn’t say no.

With a small nod the elf slowly began to mirror the smile the human favored him 
with.  He pushed the sweaty blonde locks that fell into his eyes away from his 
face.  Normally unaware of the temperatures around him, the elf was more 
susceptible to the heat here in Mordor because of the evil that clung to him 
like the sulfur clouds that hugged the edges of the valley cliffs.

The promise of being able to use his weapons once more had brought back a spark 
to his eyes and it pleased Aragorn’s heart, but the elf’s susceptibility to 
their surroundings was not lost on the ranger and he tugged the prince back into 
a seated position, passing the flask of water to the fair being.

Legolas was confused and shook his head, “I am not thirsty.”

“Your body is.”  Aragorn pushed the gourd towards the elf again overriding his 
companion’s denials.  “Yes, Legolas, you need to drink.  You have barely eaten 
or taken any sustenance, I know you think you can push yourself as you have many 
times in past, but trust me on this, your body cannot handle it now.  Drink or 
we’ll not move an inch from this place.”

The elf glared at the human, finally accepting the flask muttering to himself, 
“That’s probably how those two slaves in the cave died, one of them was a 
stubborn ranger.”

“Yes, well the other would have been a bullheaded elf then.” Aragorn returned 
the glare the blue eyes held as Legolas tipped the flask to his lips, 
inadvertently causing the ranger to have to move closer to him as he drank 
deeply.

The water was tepid but cool to Legolas’ parched throat and he felt the liquid 
all the way down to his stomach, sighing slightly as the coolness refreshed him.

“Told you.” Aragorn leaned nearer and whispered playfully.

Responding with lighting speed to the jibe, the elf pushed the ranger back, 
forgetting momentarily that they were attached by the chain.

Aragorn rocked backwards, pulling Legolas into himself and bursting out 
laughing.  “You forgot!”  He taunted, holding up the links.

“I did no such thing.” Legolas tried to stifle his own smile and stand awkwardly 
to his feet, attempting to maintain his dignity while pulling the laughing 
ranger up with him, “Quiet your voice or the orcs will hear you!” He cautioned, 
dramatically glancing off to their right where the patrol had passed.

His warning only caused the ranger to laugh harder as he was halfway pulled to 
his feet by the elf.  “If that were the case, they would have heard you whining 
about Mordor long before they ever heard me.  Admit it; you forgot we are 
chained together.”

“I will not.”  Legolas bent down to retrieve his bow.  Straightening up he 
couldn’t help smiling at the ranger who was watching him, “Are you going to show 
me your brilliant idea about how to fire this thing while hampered by you or 
not?”

Trying to unsuccessfully catch his breath and stop laughing Aragorn glanced 
around them before pointing to a small, dead scrub brush that was growing from a 
crack in large boulder about a hundred yards to their left, “There that’s a good 
place.”  He led them towards the makeshift practice range.

As Aragorn stepped passed him, Legolas shoved his bow between the man’s feet, 
tangling them up and tripping him hard.  Aragorn gasped in surprise but did not 
hit the ground as strong hands gripped his elbow and quickly righted him, 
holding him in place until he got his feet underneath him.

He turned a surprised glance at Legolas who was trying hard to conceal a smile, 
“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to trip you.”  The elf lied.

Giving his friend a playful shove the human laughed, simply glad that the elf’s 
spirits were rising.  “I’ll get you for that.”  He threatened as they stopped 
fifty yards from the intended target.

Suddenly turning serious Legolas handed his bow to Aragorn, “How do you suggest 
that I shoot with my hand tied so to yours?  You have seen me shoot Estel, I 
can't defend us restrained like this.”  He rattled the offensive chain, 
earnestly holding his friend’s gaze.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about.”  Aragorn handed the bow back to the elf, 
pressing the smooth wood into the prince’s left hand.  “Shoot the bow; take the 
far left branch off that dead bush, the one that sticks out at an odd angle.”  
When the elf continued to look at him questioningly he continued, “Pretend I’m 
not here, do everything like you normally would.”  He nodded in encouragement 
when Legolas raised the weapon and concentrated on the small, stunted tree.

Blocking out all else, the elf narrowed his vision, breathing in rhythm to his 
heartbeat.  Reaching swiftly over his shoulder, the clinking of chain startled 
him and he flinched slightly before grabbing an arrow from his quiver and 
stringing it on the bow.  The notch fit smoothly against the string and in 
moments he let the projectile fly, momentarily forgetting he was impaired by his 
human companion when the arrow nicked the branch, clipping it from the dry scrub 
brush.

Legolas turned towards the ranger in surprise as Aragorn let out a quiet sound 
of victory.  

“I knew it would work.”  He smiled into the fair being’s face as the elf 
wordlessly asked for an explanation.

“Do it again in slow motion and I’ll show what I did.” Aragorn stepped slightly 
back behind the elf standing just adjacent to the elf’s right shoulder.

As Legolas reached back to the quiver Aragorn’s hand brushed the fletchings 
before the elf’s and quickly slipped one of the tips higher, making the wood 
shaft easy for the prince to grasp.  As Legolas gripped the arrow and slipped it 
onto the string the ranger moved forward with the elf’s motions, keeping the 
tension on the chain at a minimum.  He had seen the prince in action so many 
times that the elf’s movements were like dance steps to him and the ranger 
marked them out in his mind.  He watched Legolas intently once the arrow had 
been strung and noticed the way the elf’s right eye squeezed slightly shut just 
before he loosed the projectile.  True to form the elf concentrated, narrowed 
his right eye and released the arrow.  It was an almost imperceptible, nearly 
unconscious reaction that Aragorn was sure Legolas didn’t even realize he was 
doing. But it was enough to tip off the ranger of when to move and how as the 
elf fired the long bow.

“How did you know?”  Legolas turned incredulously towards the ranger, “How did 
you know when I’d release the arrow?  When to move?”

Aragorn pointed at the prince’s right eye, “You narrow your right eye just 
before you fire.”  He smiled softly, “I’ve been going over the way you shoot in 
my mind and I thought I remembered that.”

Nodding slowly Legolas smiled, “It worked.”

“I know.”

“Let's try it again.”  The elf asked excitedly.  It felt so good to go through 
the familiar motions again, like reclaiming a part of himself from the shadows. 
He was *not* helpless. 

Affecting an air of indifference and mocked agedness the ranger glanced at the 
prince, “Just like teaching the young ones.”  He spoke patiently, raising his 
eyebrows in a condescending manner. 

Legolas stared at the human for a few seconds, knowing it was a joke but not 
quite remembering why.  Then his memories swung suddenly back to a time far in 
the past when he had said those exact words to a much younger ranger than the 
one that now stood next to him.  Bursting out laughing the elf clapped Aragorn 
on the back. 

“Yes! Just like teaching the young ones.”  He smiled into the bright silver eyes 
that echoed his laughter, “So can we try it again?”

With a light laugh the ranger stepped behind the elf, “By all means, let’s try 
again.”  He moved in rhythm with the elf, shifting faster and faster as Legolas 
slowly gained his speed and confidence.  

//I may never know what it is about you and your bow my friend, but it worked 
then and it wor