The Jewel of Mirkwood

Chapter 28

Legolas sat stiff and still in the corner of the room his eyes trained on the door even as the piece wood held in his hand began to waver with his nervousness and fatigue. After waking in fear from his unconscious nightmare Legolas had instantly set about tearing the leg off the washstand. With his bear hands he had wrenched and pulled at the wooden leg until his hands had bled at being stripped of their skin and red blisters began popping on the surface of his fingers. It had broken eventually snapped to a jagged point, which Legolas now held firmly aimed at the door. All night he’d sat staring at the door fearing and dreading the moment when Keeldon returned to finish what he had started. This time however Legolas was prepared, he would not be a victim he would fight, as Filgree would have urged him to. With all his strength and with his last breath he would beat the man to death before submitting to anything Keeldon had in mind. He was a warrior and a prince, he didn’t belong to anyone and he sure would not go to Mandos Halls without fighting all the way. Filgree’s voice echoed in his mind like a spirit of the dead reawakening a will to escape deep inside of him. The tutor’s words were like fuel to a fire making Legolas’ anger grow with each moment with his tutor he remembered. Legolas took a moment to wonder if this was what the warriors felt like before they were sent to war and he wondered if Glorfindel had ever felt like this when he was fighting the legendary balrog? The blond seneschal’s face was just a flash in Legolas’ memory but the desire to see the elf again only served to fan his rage further.

On several occasions during the night Legolas had heard voices and footsteps pass by his door but while he’d prepared himself time and time again for Keeldon to come inside all of the footsteps had passed the room by much to his relief. Sniffling a little Legolas wiped his nose on the sleave of his robe and winced at the pain it caused across his cheeks. The blood from his nose had stoped flowing during the night but with each sniffle came the pain of wiping the obviously broken organ. The fresh bruises were now purple and green against his pale skin. Having not slept his body had not had time to heal even the simplest of injuries and in the glow of the early morning light he was beginning to fear the true weight of his agony. A sunray streaked in through the corner of the window momentarily blinding the elf as he closed his eyes and turned his face towards the warmth, welcoming it’s rejuvenating strength.

The peace was short lived however as Legolas’ acute hearing picked up several pairs of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Legolas listened to them come down the hallway before stopping outside his room. Standing from the cold stone floor Legolas steadied himself for the fight as he heard the lock being undone and the bolt of the door sliding across. His heart beat like a frightened rabbit, his blood racing in his ears making it impossible to hear anything above his own pulse. Before the door had even begun to creak open Legolas was flying towards the entrance swinging the piece of wood much like he did with his practice swords back in Mirkwood. Of all the teachings Filgree had taught him none of it now mattered save for the wide swinging motion commonly used for hacking at the enemy.

The first guard into the room was hit full force with the swing of the table leg before Legolas spun on his heel and caught the second guard on the back swing sending both men flying to the floor. Moving as swiftly as he could Las cas continued to swing the table leg not caring what he caught if only that he was attacking and fighting something. It did not last long however his strength had almost depleted and his swings were hitting with less force. With each guard that came through the door, Legolas’ hope faded. Many hands came up to restrain him holding him firm even as he dropped the wooden leg and instead began fighting with his fists and his mouth, biting any flesh he came into contact with. Despite his efforts Legolas heard the snap of the leather strap being awkwardly clipped to the back of his choker and before he could do anything to prevent it a firm hard tug snapped his head backwards sending him sprawling to the floor, desperately clutching at the chocker which now bit cruelly into his throat.

“Lord Keeldon said you’d be trouble.” Legolas’ eyes were wild in desperate pleading as the guard tightly wrapped the strap around his arm and pulled Legolas up off the floor by it, essentially cutting off the elf’s air supply and rendering him immobile. “Strip him.” On the stern command two of the less injured guards came over to Legolas and tore the robes from his body stripping him to the bear skin, each of them landing the elf a blow to the stomach in repayment for their injuries sustained. The guard holding the strap did not relent on the tugging however and merely laughed as one of the guards spat blood from his split lip into the elf’s face. Legolas’ lips were beginning to turn blue and blackness swam at the edges of the elf’s vision before finally the guard released the tight hold of the strap, loosening the choker enough for the elf to gasp air into his lungs. “Now come down stairs Lord Keeldon wants you to meet his guests.” Fear greater than he had ever known gripped at Legolas’ senses yet he did not have the strength to fight it as the guard literally dragged him from the room on his hands and knees, not allowing the elf to stand despite the sharp edges of the stone. Legolas cried out in elvish for every painful step he was forced to take. The choker had cut into his throat and Legolas could feel the trails of blood dripping down his collar and chest from them. His nose too had begun bleeding again and his vision had still not cleared completely from having his air supply cut for so longill ill he was dragged through the hallways of the house, servants stopped their chores to watch from open doorways as he screamed and begged to be let free in both westron and elvish. Desperation had led to pitiful pleading and the tears once again began to flow down his cheeks unrestrained as he sobbed for his father and Filgree.

On the last hallway that led to the hall Legolas glimpsed through his tears a robed figure standing at the far end of the hallway. He did not have time to focus on who or what the figure was all he knew was that the figure was watching him in sympathy much as everyone else seemed to be doing. Legolas looked directly at the figure and pleaded with him to help him but a slap to the face silenced Legolas’ plea before the elf was being dragged in the opposite direction to the figure. Within a few moments Legolas was literally thrown onto the stone floor of the bright sun lit hall of the house. The elf was blinded by the light and cowered shaking as he attempted to shield his eyes. But it was not the sight that brought hope into his heart but the very familiar sound of elvish curses, which rang, joyfully in his ears from around the hall.

TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(A/N) I hate my elves going down without a fight. I don't believe it's in thier nature not to give it thier last best shot even if they are a niaeve, innocent little prince.......hence this chapter.