No Way Out

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CH I


He was scarcely aware of the prickly bed of straw he lay upon as the world around him slowly began to come into focus. His head was throbbing and his eyes pinched tightly shut for a moment as he willed the sudden nausea away from his stomach. The chamber was dark, but his enhanced Elven vision, as well as the natural aura about his body, allowed him to acknowledge the other figures around him, though none paid heed to him, going about their business, entrapped in the large cell along with him. None, at least, save a silver-haired Eldar leaning against the cement wall, arms crossed, as he gazed at him from afar. It was the same Elf with whom he had been in the ring, he quickly realized, and with no little effort, the young warrior propped himself up on his elbows, again wincing as the room seemed to spin once more.

Haldir regarded the one he had harmed vigilantly. Unsure of the other’s feelings towards him, he watched as the young one slept, knowing he would live but would be in much pain when he woke. Having no doubt seen many in similar states, those around him ignored the blonde. Yet Haldir, having only had one fight thus far, did not attain the toughness this place would soon equip him with to handle these situations. That, and it was not in an Elf’s nature to ignore one of their kin when in need.

After several short moments, the Elfling's eyes slowly opened, and as he returned his attention to the other, their eyes met, before the elder warrior disentangled his limbs and left the musky corner of the damp wall, slowly approaching him. The silver-headed figure’s gaze never broke away from the other’s as he came ever closer, and stopped only a step away from the straw mound. The youngster tensed in anticipation, for he did not know this strange Elf, and had only first encountered him in the pit.

“Come no closer!”

He watched with some concern as bright blue eyes opened from their healing sleep and unsteadily focussed on their surroundings. He noted the sluggish way the other moved into a partially sitting posture while they regarded each other warily. The blue eyes lost their centre again, and Haldir moved forward out of concern, hoping he had not injured the other beyond repair.

“I mean no harm,” he said softly, his hands held out in a sign of peace. “I only wish to help.”

“I believe you’ve helped me enough, already.” The boy spat angrily, before struggling to his feet on trembling limbs, his hands bracing himself against the cold rock. The effort it took him to simply rise to his feet surprised him, and he could not help but wince as his aching muscles cried in protest as he pushed himself to the limit. His pitiful attempt, however, was greatly in vain, and his legs quickly buckled under the pressure, before he found himself again on the cold floor.

Haldir called out in shock and worry when the other’s legs folded up under him and the young one fell to the floor. Reacting too late, Haldir held his hands out to help his former opponent, whom he had supposedly killed, but there was little he could do. The floor had already broken the other’s fall, but Haldir was still worried and panicked that he had hurt one of his own kind more than was necessary.

“Is there anything I can do? I did not intend to hurt you beyond what you could handle. But the man keeping us said to make it look good…” Haldir said, not sure how to rectify the situation, but extended his hands to the other’s arms and pulled him gently into a sitting position.

The young Elf sighed as he allowed the physical contact between them, his cheeks taking on a pink tinge with the slightest hint of embarrassment in regards to his vulnerable state. As soon as he was settled, he brought up a hand to slowly massage his throbbing temples.

“You did not ‘hurt me beyond what I could handle’,” he replied stubbornly, both his pride and upbringing not allowing himself to appear so weak in the eyes of another. “I was merely unprepared for your attack. You took me by surprise. And no, you can do nothing for me unless you have any clues as to how to escape this dreadful place.”

Haldir looked upon the young one slightly disapprovingly. “I have trained many in the ways of combat, and have helped some cope with injury. I know when someone is putting on a hard face to not look weak. You do not need to worry. I could have killed you had I wished to do so.” There was no arrogance in Haldir’s tone; it was a fact, and not something he was sure he should be proud of.

“As for how to escape this horrid dungeon, I am as of yet unsure. I have been here only a few hours. Since our fight, actually. Before that, I was in some kind of holding cell where I was given instructions and tortured until I agreed to do their will. I have not been able to analyse this room thoroughly. Do you not know of a way out?”

“Nay,” the golden-haired Elf replied grimly, gazing down at his scraped knees. “I, too, have been here only for a short time, and have also... endured their hospitality. They kept me in isolation for at least two days, not even bothering to give me the smallest morsel of food. Before coming here, I was patrolling the outskirts of our borders with a small hunting party when we were attacked. I know not what happened to my companions, for I was struck by a dart of the Haradrim, and lost consciousness.”

Haldir listened to the young one’s story, sympathy coming over his face. “Mine is a similar tale. I was at the head of the caravan, leading my Lord and Lady home after their visit to Imladris. I sensed something was wrong just as we came out of the Misty Mountains. The men attacked almost instantly. Our warriors surrounded our leaders and left as quickly as their horses could carry them. I myself came closer to the men, hoping to use myself as bait so they would not realise the Lord and Lady were being ridden to safety. I am not sure how, but I was soon caught. Perhaps their number was greater than I originally thought. Or I underestimated their fighting abilities…. It hardly matters now. All I know is that I woke up chained and naked in a cell. I have no idea if the others made it to safety or not. Yet something tells me they are safe and well,” Haldir finished with a hopeful smile. “Maybe your peers are too.”

“Perhaps,” The young Silvan sighed less than enthusiastically, “though by the look in their eyes… I-- I have my doubts. I have very little experience with Man, my father does not care for their presence in our realm, and I know not how to interpret their actions. They are unpredictable to me, especially these Haradrim men. I was not aware they kept prizefighters.”

“If they did not escape, then I am sure we will meet them sometime soon in here. In the meantime, we can ask around, see if the men in here know of a way out. By the way, I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien. May I inquire as to your name?” Haldir asked, curious as to why the blonde made it sound as though his father were Lord of their homelands.

A brief moment of hesitation flashed in the golden-haired Elf’s eyes, but glancing about him to make certain no one was eavesdropping, he replied in a softly-spoken voice, “I am Legolas of Mirkwood.”

Haldir barely kept the gasp in. Dropping his voice down low, he asked, “Prince Legolas? Son of King Thranduil?” his eyes popping at the possibility.

The grimace that passed the prince’s face did not go by unnoticed, but no comment was made as a single short nod answered the Lorien Elf’s inquiry. “The very same.”

“But… the King, your father, it is widely known he is fiercely protective of you. He will try to find you, won’t he? That is to say, we should keep looking to try and free ourselves, but if we don’t, if we cannot find a way out…” Haldir let the sentence fade away, the implications speaking volumes.

“It seems plausible,” Legolas replied passively, “though I pity these men should my father get his hands on them. He is not a very forgiving person. In any case, him finding us seems highly unlikely. Unless, of course, one of my party did manage to escape back to our dwelling with gathered information on the apparent enemy.”

“Well, for the moment it seems prudent that we should assume no help is forthcoming and it is up to us to escape. I have not yet had a chance to speak to the others in this cell. If you wish to rest, I can gather information,” Haldir offered, wanting to be rid of this depressing place as soon as Elvenly possible.

“I am not incapable of lending my own services merely because I have been injured,” Legolas retorted with the slightest hints of insult in his voice. “I will help you.”

For the second time, the young Elf struggled onto shaky legs, using the wall to support him, though the reflection of pain was quite evident in his crystalline eyes.

Haldir frowned, watching Legolas gain his feet once more, albeit unsteadily. It was obvious the young one did not wish to appear weak in the eyes of those whom he may eventually do combat with, pride often getting the better of many.

“Well, I shall ask those over to the left, you to the right, we shall continue around the room until we meet somewhere in the middle and talk of what we have learnt. Unless you would like us to ask them together?” Haldir suggested, worried that Legolas would not be able to remember all vital information until they conversed next time due to the knocking Haldir himself had given the young Woodland Elf.

“Nay,” said Legolas, “it would be more prudent for us to remain inconspicuous, which will not appear so if we remain side by side.” He then headed in the direction Haldir had motioned.

Haldir tried to engage another in conversation. But all the man did was rock backwards and forwards, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, haunted eyes staring into the vast darkness of their cell.

The Sinda prince approached one of the inmates with slow precision, and proceeded to speak in the common language. “I beg your pardon, but--” Before he could complete a full sentence, however, the Edan he had addressed spun around with a deep snarl etching his features. Before the prince could react, a harsh blow struck him in the face, landing him hard against the stone floor, and he groaned as blood began to ooze from his nostrils.

Deciding to move on, Haldir was then stopped as he heard the sickening dull thud of flesh hitting flesh, and the muted moan that accompanied it. Turning around he was horrified to see Legolas sprawled on the ground, blood running over his face.

“You aren’t having a good day, are you my prince?” Haldir half joked quietly as he once again pulled Legolas into a sitting position. “What on Arda did you say to him?”

The younger Elf scowled sharply at his companion in annoyance. “I said nothing that would warrant offence,” he spat, his words coming out muffled as his fingers stemmed the bleeding of his nose. “I barely had time to say a word before I was struck down.”

“Perhaps we should leave them alone for a few days… let them become accustomed to having Elves share their space…. Here, you rest against the wall,” Haldir said, half leading, half dragging Legolas to sit up against the stone, and I shall look around for any possible exits or weaknesses in the construction of this room.”

Legolas released an irritated sigh, but spared the Marchwarden the protests that fought to escape his lips. He was completely exhausted, and had not the strength to argue anymore. So he merely sat there in silence as the silver-headed warrior carefully examined the stronghold.

Haldir patted Legolas’ shoulder in support as he carefully examined the dungeon. Looking around, he estimated that the foundations were solidly built, and that little more than a lightning bolt would shift any of the rock. The door to the room was small, but also strongly fortified. Cris-crossed iron bars, the large bolt firmly secured into place and held there with some sort of locking device made up the door and the only way out. Haldir sighed at the bleakness of the situation and moved back to Legolas.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head in weariness. Elves needed light to live. If they stayed much longer in this darkness, they would surely fade…

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