No Way Out

XII



oOoOoOo



Legolas stayed in his corner far into the late morning, the cell now regenerated with inmates pacing amongst one another. Haldir had struck a real nerve and was completely oblivious about it. And why should he be aware? The young Wood Elf thought to himself. The words meant so much more than he realized. Legolas had been raised in dark times, and had seen far more than Haldir could ever imagine. Pessimistic act, indeed! Lorien was well hidden and protected. The Greenwood was not so fortunate- and though the Silvan Elves were renowned for their battle skills, the increasing number of attacks were beginning to push them back, blackening those parts of their once beautiful land. Dul-Guldor was becoming active again, and the Wood Elves knew it. Though Lord Thranduil assured his peoples’ safety, everyone was becoming increasingly aware that more and more soldiers were being sent out into the forest to hold back the evil creatures that threatened their homes every day, and not all were returning. Outsiders were now calling the forest Mirkwood, and few dared to enter the dark wood.



They fought so hard to cleanse the once thriving forest of the foul creatures of Morgoth. They had hoped so hard, had faith in Iluvatar, that they could defeat their enemies and take back what was theirs… but they were driven back, little by little each day. They lost many comrades and loved ones, and no matter how much they fought, and hoped, and believed, it soon became clear that it was all in vain. Still, they continued to fight back, strong was their will to survive and see their home flourish once again.



So where was his will? This place had beaten it out of him, he supposed. He just could not keep doing this- killing to survive, it was so immoral! Men were not soulless orcs, cruel though they were.



He had to admit to himself though, Haldir spoke of many wonderful possibilities, if only they could escape. But it became increasingly obvious to the Prince that they had to get out. They were dying, and they both knew it. Haldir had been cold to the touch when he had leaned against him. But the Marchwarden was so certain they could make it out. Perhaps they could, but Legolas still had his hesitations.



He had seen gruesome things in this place he never cared to be witness to… some nights half-dead men would be dragged into the cell, bloodied and beaten. One, he remembered, had not made it through the night, his wounds so severe he had bled to death. It could easily happen to them as well if even the slightest thing went wrong in their escape plan. They would pay greatly for their misconduct if caught, and would most likely be beaten half to death. He could not bear the thought of seeing Haldir hurt. And, Legolas realized, no matter how wounded and angered he was by Haldir’s earlier words, he was terrified of losing the other Elf, and that, perhaps, was the reason for his hesitance to go through with what they were about to do.



Haldir had used his time wisely. He ate the rest of his bread and had a little water to soothe his parched throat, then tore off another strip of material and tied it around his lower leg, strapping the water skin to him. He then closed his eyes and began meditating, picturing in his mind once again their escape and subsequent restorative period. Naked they would swim in the calming waters of the Nimrodel; soundly they would sleep beneath the canopy of the voluptuous willows that border the rivers’ banks and sweetly did they make-



Haldir’s eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps approaching the cell. Grabbing Legolas’ water skin he stood and raced to where the Prince still sat and faster than the eye could see repeated the process of tying the water skin to the younger elf’s leg just before the door opened with a clang.



Legolas had no time to ask the elder elf what he was doing, but kept still as his ears picked up on the same noise approaching them. Not moments later Haradrim soldiers jerked open the barred door and marched in, weapons held firm.



Eyes immediately rested on the two Immortal beings, the guards taking note of their appearances that were far duller than they had been mere days ago. Yet despite it all, they were still flawless compared to the battered men with whom they shared the prison hold. They were approached, and though defiance shone in Legolas’ eyes, a warning look from Haldir stilled him. Legolas forced himself to comply with the guards rousing, standing obediently, biting back a grunt as he was poked in the side with some blunt instrument- what it was, he did not see. Then, like cattle, they were herded out of the cell, and down the hall.



Haldir sighed in relief as they were both grabbed and bound and sent walking down the dark corridors once again. They were pushed and jabbed down the now-familiar dark hallways until they reached a cell. Legolas went in first and Haldir made to go in afterwards, but a strong hand on his upper arm, almost wrenching his bound limb from its socket, stilled him. Thinking of nothing else but to stay with Legolas, Haldir struggled to get away from the Harad and into the cage but a sharp blow to the head stopped all commotion the Elf was making.



He was quickly escorted away, panicked eyes upon Legolas.



“Haldir!” The door was slammed shut before the young Prince had a chance to reach out for the other Elf. His heart wrenched tightly as the Marchwarden was pulled away, and though he tried not to jump to any conclusions, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach took hold of him. “Oh no,” Legolas moaned, “Haldir!”



Haldir went where he was ordered to, though he was forever looking behind him wistfully, searching for a chance to get back to Legolas. But the guards were relentless with their pace and fortification. Eventually they came to another cage and Haldir sighed in relief as he was shoved inside.



Grateful he was not taken elsewhere Haldir began psyching himself up for their escape.



“Hey, don’t kill anyone this time,” one of the guards ordered, jabbing Haldir in the side of his torso with the blunt end of his spear through the bars. Haldir sniffed in response and with squinted eyes looked across the ground to the other cage, but could not see inside it, his eyes not as sharp as they once were.



He did not have to wait long until the cage doors were pulled upwards. With a grin on his face he leapt from his small, temporary prison and happily charged across the ground. Haldir watched as the golden haired elf also left his cage but the Marchwarden came to an abrupt halt when he was close enough to see it was not Legolas whom had emerged from the other side.



The Woodland Elf could only imagine what was happening out in the pit. The cage was at an angle which prevented him from seeing the inner circle, though he could hear the men’s cheers from the stands as an opponent walked into its large opening.



While the Prince’s head screamed common sense to him, his heart throbbed with worry. Haldir’s chances were lesser now in his weakened state, they were losing abilities that Elves normally attained; their vision was weaker, the cold affected them as easily as it would any mortal, and their ethereal bodies that once glowed with Elven aura were now pale.



But Haldir was a seasoned warrior, perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he had made that perfectly clear. And Legolas, though he was loath to admit it, doubted he could have survived this long without him. The Marchwarden could be cruelly firm at times- but then, so could the Woodland King. And like his father, Legolas knew Haldir was only difficult with him for his own good. The Galadrim, dear as he was to Legolas, was still by far his Elder, and the Elf certainly deserved his respect. A fair and proud Elf, strong as the sun, and very clever. Though a bit egotistical at times, Legolas thought to himself on a latter note.



But it was Haldir’s humour- that, and his faith that kept them going. The Marchwarden could be surprisingly light-hearted at times, and Legolas found himself wondering at his unpredictable moods. It kept their hopes up- or at times, at least it helped lift their spirits.

Right then it seemed they needed all the hope in the world to get out of that prison, and Haldir seemed to be the only one who had any. Surely that wasn’t enough to get them out, but Legolas’ own spirits had shattered when he had been ripped away from his home and imprisoned and beaten in the dark earth- away from the fresh air, rich grass, and towering trees. If only… Oh, if only Haldir’s plan would work! He would do anything to walk on the forest paths again, and feel Anor’s warm rays shower him in their brightness as the spice of forest air swept through the foliage. But in order for the plan to work, Legolas knew it could only be achieved if he held out hope as the Marchwarden did. Haldir needed his support in order for it to work, and deep down in his heart the Prince knew there wasn’t much time left for them.



Haldir’s pace considerably slowed upon approaching the unrecognisable figure, confusion written all over his face. From the colour of his opponent’s hair and various facial features, not to mention the running technique used, he was able to surmise that this Elf was also from Thranduil’s realm… but where was Legolas?



Panic setting in that something had gone terribly wrong, Haldir did nothing to stop the blow that was aimed right at his head. Reeling, he turned just in time for a knee to land in his gut before he was shoved onto the ground.



Realising this Elf meant business, Haldir rolled out of the way of the on-coming stomping foot and onto his feet again. Trying to think while the onslaught kept coming was doing Haldir no good and he was continuously being pushed back towards the side of the ring. That in itself was odd since the ring was so big he had never come anywhere near it before, except in his dreams. But no, looking again, the playing field was no longer the same. The same old sand coloured rocks outlined battle. Spectators sat on the exact same steps as before. But there were half as many rows as before. He had never been here before…



Everything was the same, except the size, though only just. Designed to fool any half-weary prisoner. Haldir, despite his lot in this place, almost smirked at the cleverness of it.



Legolas just had to be in a different arena.



Looking upon the other Elf with enlightened eyes, Haldir began fighting back, not just blocking. First chance he had, Haldir tripped the other first-born so he landed on his hands and knees. Stepping onto his ‘enemy’s’ back, Haldir waited until the other surged upwards, jumping off at the right moment so he could grab a hold of the edge of the ring’s barrier. Pulling himself up quickly, Haldir paused for a moment, wondering if he should aid his fellow first-born or not, but a scream some distance away, just over the rise of the seats gained his attention and Haldir set off at once.



Legolas was released from his cage and charged into the pit, fully prepared for the confrontation at hand- or so he thought. Haldir and he had gone over this many times. They would feign a fight, and when just the right moment arose, they would launch up over the stands, and through the crowded seats, with the hope that their Elven speed and cunning could keep them out of the spectators’ reach. He was ready. He would do this for Haldir, and he would do it for himself. He could no longer deny the fact that they would die here lest they take drastic measures.



But he skidded to an abrupt halt when he entered the ring to confront his opponent- not Haldir, but a Man, and not just any Man. Legolas fought against the constriction in his chest as he stared into the dark eyes of one of the captives whom had nearly robbed him of his innocence, and like a frightened deer he felt himself unable to move. He was frozen in place, completely helpless, totally oblivious to the resounding cheers around him.



He was struck down by a blow that had been delivered so quickly it was unavoidable, and a grunt left the Prince’s lungs as the force from the strike threw him back. But the punch had been enough to rouse Legolas, and with a shake of his head he dodged another punch aimed his way. Whirling around on the fighter, the wood elf slammed the palm of his hand into the man’s face, his head snapping back with an audible crack as rivulets of blood began to stream from his nose, and before he could react, Legolas swung a foot around and tripped him onto his back. The Edan was quick to recover, however, ignoring his injury, he forced himself up and tackled the elf to the ground.



“That was impressive,” growled the Edan as he pinned the struggling Eldar under his bodyweight, “but you’ve no chance in here, Elf.”



“I beg to differ!” Legolas managed to squeeze a leg between their two bodies, and with as much force as he could muster, drove a well aimed kick into the crotch of his enemy, throwing the body off his person. Legolas quickly gained his feet, standing defensively as he watched the man stagger from his position on the floor and regain his momentum.



“Your friend isn’t here to protect you now,” the captive growled, baring unkempt, crooked teeth. He jolted forward, faking an attack, and he chuckled as Legolas took a step back. “Perhaps when I’m finished with you here, I’ll finish what I started in the bathing chambers. I daresay our audience would enjoy seeing such a spectacle…”



Even as the man said it, Legolas could clearly see the crowded seats of Haradrim, their hands shamelessly buried between their legs as they casually observed the bloody fight, taking pleasure in the whole sadism of it all. The mere thought made the Prince want to keel over and vomit.



“Yes, I think I’ll take you right here on the ground for all to see. You will scream for mercy by the time I finish with you.”



“You will not touch me!” Legolas cried out just as he plunged at the man with a clenched fist.



Haldir ran up the stairs, knocking a few spectators and soldiers out of the way as he went. Upon reaching the summit he immediately ran down more stairs, surprising the people watching the current fight. Yet this was not Legolas either… it was another two Elves, certainly, but neither were his friend. Half way down now, Haldir began running around the circumference of the ring, climbing stairs when he could, avoiding soldiers and audience members whenever possible.



Reaching the crescendo some way away to the right of where he first entered this stadium, he began descending more steps and sighed in relief as Legolas came into view. But his breath hitched as he saw Legolas was now pinned down on the ground, his arms stretched out in front of him while a Man was outstretched on his back. Gathering all his strength Haldir ran and jumped over the edge of the ring and rushed towards the elf and man supposedly fighting.



He charged full-force into the man, making no particular stylish moves as he ploughed into the man, shoving him off Legolas. Despite wanting to kick the man to death, Haldir decided against it, needing to save his energy, or what was left of it, for their escape.



Turning back to Legolas his gaze was immediately attracted to his bare buttocks, and not in the horrible sense that his friend had almost been raped again, but in a way that a person in love might look upon their soul mate’s body…



However, large blue eyes looking at him quickly gained his attention and he gave Legolas a cheeky half smile. Coming back to the Prince, with one arm he pulled the smaller Elf up, onto his feet and the other grasped the top of his leggings and pulled them over his firm, round cheeks.



“Quickly, there is still time,” Haldir said, and began running at the wall again.



Not sparing a moment, the panting wood elf launched after the Marchwarden and followed his exact lead. Dust rose from the ground as their pounding feet raced them towards the high walls, and like graceful stags Haldir and Legolas leapt atop it.



“You came for me…” For a brief moment the two Eldar shared an intense look that said more than words could ever articulate. But the attention of the Haradrim spectators pushed them on. This was clearly not what they were accustomed to seeing if their facial expressions were any indication. The Elves ran along the large ring towards an area of the stands where several rows of benches were unoccupied- it was the easiest escape route at the moment from what their eyes could see, and they took the chance and dodged for it.



Haldir ran up the stairs and around the brim of various rings that were all connected to each other. Running round in circles they crossed a minimum of five rings before they were able to see the edge of the entire stadium. Running in circular patterns, often up and down various steps to avoid guards and spectators alike, they continued running, never taking their eyes from their view of freedom. Beyond the stadium were houses and other buildings all around for three leagues at least. Hoping he was running in a vaguely northern direction, which would only be known once the sun began to set, Haldir continued on, hearing Legolas not far behind him.



Upon reaching the last wall Haldir sprinted around the outside and stopped for a second, to see any safe way down. None were there that he could see and guards were beginning to catch up. Taking a leap of faith Haldir jumped from the ledge and landed on his feet, rolling over so neither of his legs would snap from the force of gravity.



Standing once more, relatively undamaged, though his right knee had known better days, he looked up to Legolas, whom was still on the wall.



“Hurry!” Haldir shouted and waved his arms, indicating for the Prince to jump.



Legolas’ feet skidded on the high stone wall as he came to a halt just upon the edge. He hesitated for a moment, mentally estimating how many feet he was above ground. But the Elf’s keen ears heard the Haradrim gaining on them- shouts were being raised amongst the stands, and heavy footfalls grew closer, the guards large stature’s causing bits of stone and brick to crumble beneath them.



Taking a steadying breath and furrowing his brow, the Woodland Prince braced himself, and sprinting first off one foot, then the other, Legolas dove into the air, golden hair trailing behind him like a banner in the wind. However, moments before reaching the ground his body seized, his face contorting in agony, and he slammed hard into the ground, dust rising into the air creating a murky cloud that did not settle for several moments. When it finally cleared it revealed the young Elf laying unmoving, a feathered tip of an arrow protruding from his right thigh.



Haldir’s breath caught in his throat as Legolas thumped into the ground, an arrow poking through his leg. Cursing their fate, Haldir quickly ran to Legolas, and in the same breath, thanked the Valar when he saw the arrow had passed right through the limb. Wasting no time, he snapped the shaft in half and removed the two pieces. As quickly as possible he tore another strip of material from his leggings and wrapped it around the Prince’s upper thigh to reduce the rate of blood loss.



Pulling on Legolas’ right arm, Haldir brought the younger Elf to a half standing, half leaning position and began leading the Silvan away from the stadium, the sound of footfalls now barely ten metres away. Needing to hurry, Haldir ran down the nearest deserted passage between two buildings, hoping to hide in the shadows for a few moments. However the men were quicker than he expected and they were charging up the alleyway just as he and Legolas were reaching the half way point.



“Halt scum!” someone from behind yelled, but Haldir continued on, half dragging Legolas with him as he went. But a couple of metres before the end, guards came from around the corner, spears at the ready.



Looking around, Haldir saw the other soldiers coming up behind, pointed spikes ready to impale them, from both the rear and in front.



Through the haze of his half conscious mind, Legolas could barely register what was happening. He could hear raised voices, but his vision was blurred from the fall when he had struck his head against the dusty earth, and he could not fully distinguish the surroundings of the Harad village, nor the guards around them. However, he was aware that they had stopped, Legolas leaning on to the other Elf to support himself, his body in utter anguish from his failed jump and wounded leg.



He suddenly felt rough hands on him as he was ripped away from Haldir’s arms, a pained grunt escaping clenched teeth as he was forced to put support on his injured limb.



Haldir tried to maintain contact with Legolas, but the Prince was wrenched from his arms and spikes were placed between the two friends. Haldir was pushed against the wall, pointed tips directed all over his body, a few scratching at his skin.



He could hear Legolas’ pained grunts over to his right but they were getting fainter as the Silvan elf was being taken away. Haldir wanted to help his friend… it was his fault Legolas had been hurt, his fault they had pushed for an escape so soon, his fault that Legolas could be dead, rather than injured, but a quick and decisive blow to the head soon pushed all matters from his mind, even consciousness.



OoOoOoO



Still more to come!

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