Escape from Mordor

- Escape From Mordor-

By: Cassia and Siobhan

Another Picture for this story by Cassia

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!”

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