No Way Out

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CH VIII

He cringed in horror as they descended on him like a hawk swooping out of the sky with outstretched talons after its prey, their many forms closing in around him with no escape. The bodies were a blur to him as his head swung rapidly around as he tried to flee the mass of hands that swarmed around him from all directions. They were all around him, grabbing and stroking in forbidden places he would allow none to touch, and the invading pressure on his crotch turned into a painful squeeze as he struggled against it with an anguished cry.

Legolas gasped as his eyes, clearing from Elven reverie, darted frantically around him while his chest heaved for oxygen. He could feel his heart beat rapidly in his breast, its rhythmic pounding drowning out the echoing silence of the chamber, broken only by the occasional cough of one of the inmates.

As the recognition of reality slowly wormed back into his mind, the comprehension that he had been dreaming slowly dawned upon him. His breathing gradually slowed and he became aware of the warmth pressed up against him. There beside him sat the Lorien Marchwarden.

“Shhhh, I am here… do not fear… I am here… no one else, just me, Haldir… I will look after you,” the Marchwarden whispered into Legolas’ ear. He wanted so much to wrap the Prince safely in his arms, to keep out all the hurts of the world and live in a realm where only he and Legolas existed. However, after what the Silvan had just endured, Haldir’s closeness would more likely be taken as an act of aggression rather than one of comfort. Thus he was content to sit on his knees to the side of Legolas, leaning forward and whisper consoling words into the Prince’s ear, his hand gently clasping one of Legolas’, the other softly stroking the sweat-dampened locks away from the fair face.

“You have nothing to fear… I am here…” he continued, saying it over and over again to remind himself as much as it was for Legolas.

The Wood Elf released a muffled sigh as he leant his head on the Marchwarden’s shoulder, his breathing no longer hitched in panic.

“Ai, Haldir… I am sorry. I did not- it was nothing more than a dream…” His eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he unconsciously twisted his leggings in his fists. The ordeal from the previous night racked in his brain, and his features took on a look of anguish as the memories flooded in his mind, replaying before his closed eyes over again.

“Yes… just a dream, and if I could save you from them, I would… Alas, this is something you must work through by yourself. But when you wake, I shall be here still…” Haldir said, encircling Legolas’ shoulders with his arms and holding the other tight. “Everything will be alright… trust me it will…”

Legolas was surprised at himself, then. Given what he had endured not one day ago, he should have been afraid, terrified of the arms that enclosed around him. Yet instead he found himself leaning into the bare chest, his face nuzzling in the crook of the other Elf’s neck as he breathed in his scent, one that smelt of ginger and air on a fresh autumn’s day. His hands released the fabric of his britches and slowly rose to rest upon Haldir’s breast as his heart beat steadily beneath them.

“I trust you,” the flaxen-haired Elf murmured, “with every fibre of my being, I trust you.”

Haldir sighed inwardly at those words, deep down still fearful that his harsh words yesterday had put a rift in their friendship, one that would not be repaired so easily. His arms tightened around the Prince and squashed the smaller frame to his. His hands stroking the Silvan’s skin, the light touch a dramatic contrast to the tight hug.

On instinct, having saved his brothers from many a nightmare in his younger days, he mimicked his actions and pressed a kiss to Legolas’ forehead. It was meant to last only a moment, but Haldir froze mid-action, realising too late exactly what he was doing. For one, Legolas was hardly a family member, and in his current frame of mind, would undoubtedly misread the Marchwarden's intentions.

Pulling away quickly, Haldir made to apologise and explain himself, but found he could not. Legolas’ large blue eyes pinned him to the spot, the soft pink lips slightly parted drew his attention and Haldir wet his own lips in anticipation… saying nothing, just staring.

He was uncertain how to react. Part of him wanted to flee the Marchwarden’s side, still mindful of the dreaded things that had happened to him the night before. Haldir had been harsh with him afterwards, his biting words ripping Legolas’ soul in two… but then the larger, more logical part of him screamed inside his head that this was what he wanted. Haldir had protected him, had rescued him from what could have been his demise. He had comforted him in the end when he had felt the most alone and vulnerable.

There was no denying how he felt about Haldir, now, even after their argument. It was hard to accept, but some small part of Legolas knew the Lorien Elf had only said those things to knock some sense into him, because he cared about what happened to him.

Staring up into those trapped blue eyes, Legolas felt the sudden urge to press up against those full red lips, to taste the delicious essence of Haldir… though he feared what would happen after that. If he were to bond with this Elf, if he returned his feelings at least, he would belong to Haldir forever. He made Legolas feel whole, as if he suddenly realized he had been missing something in his life. He could not, however, abandon his home, nor his family or the responsibilities his father's realm demanded of him, this he knew. He was afraid, and he was unsure which path to follow.

A racking fit of coughs, however, interrupted the awkward silence resonating between the two Elves, and their attention was quickly drawn to the side as they watched a bony man on a thin bed of straw twist over to his side as his shoulders spasmed with each hack of his lungs. Blood and mucus were being brought up with each cough, and he was entirely too pale. His cheeks were also flushed, his body in a cold sweat. The other men, the two Elves noticed, kept their distance from him.

“What is wrong with that man?” Legolas asked curiously. Illness was foreign to the race of the Firstborn, and the Prince had only seen such fits of coughing when one inhaled water, or smoke like Mithrandir when he took to nursing his pipe.

Haldir was thankful for the distraction. For a moment, it seemed Legolas was going to initiate a kiss between them, and while Haldir would have happily responded, he personally felt it was too soon for the prince engage in such activities since the attack.

Looking at the man, the Marchwarden could not help but feel some pity, and surprisingly, envy. Shaking his head to clear it of such dark thoughts, Haldir’s want to exist surged when he heard Legolas speak.

“He has not much time left for this world… he shall pass soon. May he know peace there…” Haldir reverently said, quietly honouring the man for lasting as long as he had. Looking back at Legolas, Haldir gave a small supportive smile, and one last quick hug before pulling back, resting against the wall.

“Are we to eat today?” Haldir asked wearily, hoping Legolas would have a better sense of the passage of time while in the dungeon than he did.

For a moment Legolas stared at the ground with a concentrated scowl on his face, silently counting the days on each of his fingers. In this dark place, however, with no windows or any trace of the outside world, it was difficult to tell how many times Anor had fallen and risen from the sky.

“I believe so. But even if not,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “we still have our rations from several days ago.”

“This is true, but I do not know if I would eat it even if we were not to be fed until tomorrow. For one, it has been in a pile of straw since we first received it and goodness knows what types of creatures are crawling around in here! I have already seen at least one rat! And with the moisture in the air in here, I am sure mould would grow at a faster rate than usual,” Haldir sighed.

“I-” he began, but cut himself off, commotion outside the cell door drawing his attention. The door swung open and a few soldiers observed the scene inside before moving forward and taking four prisoners with them as they walked out again.

Haldir slowly released the breath he did not realise he had been holding, his relieved eyes swinging to Legolas.

“Where are they taking them, do you think?” Legolas asked, his voice barely audible as he stared after the soldiers. “Another match?”

“Most likely,” Haldir replied, his eyes flicking back to the door. “I suspect we shall be called up again today. It has been a while since our last match.” Haldir didn’t want to be the one whom spoke ill of their activities this day, but there was no point in denying the possibility.

His words hung heavily between them.

“I noticed during our match,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “that when you punch, you aim your fist to land on your target, but go no further.” Haldir recalled, slowly moving his fist towards Legolas’ face and barely tapping the cheek. “To attack successfully, you should aim for your fist to go past the point of contact, that way, whatever you hit, shall bear the full force of your strength, rather than the tailing end of it, which would not do as much damage.”

“You are quite perceptive, Haldir,” Legolas replied, mimicking his actions. “The bow has always been my strong point. I am also quite skilled with short knives… but physical combat has always been my eldest brother’s specialty… Like this?” He asked, his fist ghosting against the elder Elf’s cheek as he had done moments ago.

“Almost,” Haldir said, gently grasping Legolas’ arm. “See how your elbow is almost straight? That means your arm is losing power as it will soon reach its full extension. It would be better if, on the point of contact, your arm was bent at a 45-degree angle,” Haldir bent Legolas’ arm to the desired position and held it in place. “This way you will not damage yourself as much as your arm shall have some lee-way if you hit a solidly built surface, as it would if it was straight, and you shall injure your opponent even more. This does mean you shall be a little closer to them when fighting, which does create a greater risk, however, when done successfully, you should be able to knock them out with one punch. Or at least make their head spin long enough for you to aim a few more blows until they are unable to fight back.”

“Would you like to take a few practice swings at me?” Haldir jested with a small chuckle, releasing Legolas’ arm, albeit reluctantly.

Legolas smirked; a devious glint shining in his eyes before playfully throwing a fist he knew would be effortlessly caught. His position, however, gave him the advantage to knock Haldir onto his back with the Prince landing atop him. He chuckled then, as the Lorien Elf overpowered him, rolling him over onto his own back.

Haldir laughed softly, feeling like he was back home and wrestling with his brothers once more. However, none of his siblings were as beautiful as the creature below him now.

He couldn’t help it… he really couldn’t. Gazing into those soft blue eyes, Haldir made to lean forwards and kiss Legolas. However, the Marchwarden could feel the Prince begin to tremble beneath him, all playfulness quickly draining from the Prince's face, and so Haldir backed away swiftly, giving the Silvan some room.

“I am sorry, I do not know what came over me,” he mumbled, not bringing himself to make eye contact with Legolas and crawled back to his original place against the wall.

“Nay, it is alright,” Legolas replied hurriedly, his cheeks flushing as he lifted himself off the floor, brushing off small bits of debris before shifting into a crouch, his own gaze wandering ashamedly around the floor. “I merely- I am sorry,” he sighed. He felt a combination of both frustration and helplessness, and his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “For a moment I felt… as though I was back there, again, and- forgive me, Haldir. I cannot help this weakness.”

“Oh no!” Haldir exclaimed and quickly gathered Legolas into a tight hug once more. “Do not think of it as a weakness. They troubled you yesterday, shook you up, there is no shame in admitting that. Should their plan have succeeded you would have long passed from this world. It is only natural for you or anyone else in your situation to feel the resounding effects of their attack.”

Haldir changed his position so he cradled Legolas’ face between his hands, their eyes gazing deeply into the others.

“I do not think you weak. To admit they disturbed you more than a little takes great courage. Especially for a son of Thranduil,” Haldir lightly joked.

“But- but yesterday you said I was being childish, ‘an immature brat’ you called me…” Legolas’ breath suddenly hitched and he swallowed hard in an attempt to better control it, recalling the words that had so wounded him the night before. Looking away, he continued, “You also said that you would not save me if this were to occur again if this was how I was to treat a second chance…”

Gently directing Legolas’ head back to face his, Haldir implored, “I did not mean it like that. Perhaps at the time you were somewhat overcome, expecting to fade despite them not carrying out their true wishes. You received a second chance thanks to the guards and myself, yet you turned from me, *me*, after doing everything within my power to help you! Turning your back on all I had done to save you for your own selfish needs to console yourself, thinking I know *nothing* of the anguish you feel! You were given another opportunity to continue your life, yet you doomed it from the very beginning, wanting and expecting to fade. If you carry that kind of attitude with you from the start, then you shall not live, though you may exist.

“That is all I meant, I swear. Besides, you cannot deny you needed to be roused. To comfort you from the moment they left you alone until now would have done more harm than good. You have been through a horrible ordeal, most especially as one of the first born, but to coddle you and keep you from evil would not help you heal… it would turn you to a mere babe, needing someone to look after you from morn to night. You have to toughen up and fight back. Prove to them that you cannot allow them to win, no matter what they do to you,” Haldir spoke almost pleadingly.

“Do not give up,” he said after a short pause, his hands tightening slightly around Legolas’ face to punctuate his words as he did so.

Legolas stared intently at the Marchwarden, momentarily unable to form words. “I didn’t realize you cared for me so…” he murmured at last. Then in an action imploring forgiveness, the Prince reached out his arms to embrace Haldir as he nuzzled against the silver strands of hair. “I am sorry, Haldir. I was a fool.”

Only after several long moments had passed by did Legolas release his hold as he gazed into the other Elf’s eyes. “I suppose I was a bit overdramatic, wasn’t I?” he jested with a slight smirk.

Haldir eagerly grasped Legolas to him, almost crushing the younger Elf in relief when he was all but forgiven. “It is alright. I am just thankful you shall not fade, for if you did, I would surely follow soon after. You are all I have in here. I am not likely to let you go without a fight,” he said with a small encouraging smile.

For what wasn’t the first time that day, a soft pink hue tinged Legolas’ cheeks as he smiled back fondly at the Marchwarden.

His smile quickly fell, however, as approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the chamber door. With a bang it was flung open, and as two soldiers remained at the open entrance, four more marched in, weapons held firmly as they herded three of the four men whom had been taken out previously back into the cell, looking battered and haggard.

An impending feeling of dread ensnared Legolas, then, as the guards approached Haldir and himself, prodding them to their feet and pushing them out the door along with two other captives. They swiftly marched down the corridors; the Elves’ keen eyes secretly seeking out an escape route they had not discovered before.

“Oh no,” Legolas moaned, his mind already jumping to the worst possible conclusion. “Haldir… where are they taking us? Do they seriously expect us to fight one another again, so soon?”

“I do not know my Prince, but never before have I seen them take four prisoners other than a few hours ago and now. I know nothing more than you,” Haldir whispered, not wanting another whack to the head from a spear right before a fight, if that was indeed where they were headed. “Be sure to look at the perimeter of the ring, perhaps we can jump it and escape… provided the stands are not full of spectators, or we choose somewhere less populated. If we are expected to fight again, that is.”

Coming to stop at the cage Haldir was beginning to know intimately, the Elves were pushed inside. Haldir looked at the guards, to Legolas and back to the guards in confusion, not sure what to expect. The soldiers marched off with the other prisoners.

Squinting his eyes across the harsh light pouring in from the battleground, Haldir could barely make out the other men being placed in the cell on the other side some minutes later.

“I think we are expected to fight as a team against two men… this should be over fairly shortly,” Haldir surmised and began relaxing and tensing his muscles, readying his body to fight once more.

“Kill them both?” Legolas asked, his voice quavering slightly at the prospect of taking not one, but two lives, “or are we to simply defeat them in combat?”

Haldir stilled, closing his eyes and sighing in pain, the face of the man he killed emerging from the darkness. “Right now, I cannot say. Simple defeat will suffice, but should your conscience demand otherwise, just remember, you are doing them a far greater service if you relieve them of this world,” Haldir said to console Legolas, but if he was convincing or not, he could not tell. For how can one assure another if they did not believe their own words?

To the surprise of the Marchwarden, a slim yet powerful hand slipped into his own and squeezed reassuringly. Legolas had not missed the brief flash of grief upon the other Elf’s face, and he knew no other way to comfort him. He was nervous, himself. The last time he had been in this ring he had fought Haldir, sustaining a rather nasty bump to the head, and a hand strayed to rub that very spot subconsciously. This time would be different, though. He and Haldir would fight side by side, and they would be together.

The young Prince gazed up into the stands as roaring cheers drowned out all other noise within the arena. The people, however, were not his main focus. After being so long in the underground darkness, the bright open sky was nearly blinding, but he was thankful for its beaming sunlight and glowing warmth nonetheless. It was a small comfort, but one that was greatly welcomed.

Haldir smiled thankfully at Legolas, but blanched as the Prince rubbed his head, a flash of guilt stabbing the Marchwarden’s heart. “Try not to get too close to me on the right side. If ever I need to dodge I tend to go to the right, and I fear I shall take you out with me should you be there. Unless of course the danger is coming from that side, in which I shall go for the left, however, I doubt that shall occur in here. From what I have seen, mortals tend to fight with a preference of their right hand and side of body, not both, as we are taught. Is there anything I should know about your style to be mindful of?” Haldir asked, not knowing what to say, but he could not stand the uncomfortable silence.

“None that I can think of… other than not positioning my arm properly when I strike,” Legolas smirked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

Haldir’s lips twitched in one corner, but the Marchwarden did not react as Legolas might have liked, the rising tension and anticipation around the ring taking up most of his concentration. “The men we are fighting, I assume they were the ones also taken from the cell at the same time as us… usually I would suggest for us to take one on each, but given our deficient states of strength, perhaps it would better to work in tandem for as long as we can. If you become separated and find yourself in trouble, then by all means, call for my assistance. There is no need to let your ego rule here. Especially in front of these *men*,” Haldir spat the last word, hoping that if Legolas looked weak in their eyes, they would not choose him to fight as much in the future.

Haldir saw Legolas begin to respond, however, the clanging of a gong stopped all movement for a split second before the men outside cheered. Haldir gave the prince’s hand one last squeeze before releasing the limb. “Here we go,” he whispered, the cage door raising, already their competitors running towards them to do battle.

To Be Continued…


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A/N: This has nothing to do with this particular fic, but for those of you who have read my fic, 'A Healing Touch', it has recently been nominated for the MPA Awards and I would like to ask for you all to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE vote for it on the 5th of June when voting begins. I would be very much obliged.

Here's the link to the site:

http://www.elvenlords.net/MPA/MPA2005library.htm

Thank you ever so much, and good luck to those who also been nominated.

-Ash

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A/N: Sorry for the long- (and I do mean long) -wait, guys. Our poor Mawgy's been really busy with uni, work just piled up before her.


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REVIEWS:


Naira: Thank you :D Always glad to hear our work is appreciated.

Yanic: Yeah... we really try to stick with canon here... I'm very picky about that. Just ask Mawgy :P

Holly: YAY!!! Elf torture... gotta love it. Why do you suppose we love harming creatures so beautiful? ;)

Ertia: (and Sam and Pippin) So sorry, guys. Like I said, Mawgy's hardly had any time to herself, at all! Let alone had time to write. Got this chapter out as fast as we could, see? We even skipped the betaing. *Huggles Ertia and Hobbits* So sorry... NO, YOU CAN'T HAVE OUR COPIES OF ROTK! NOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Jilly: JILLY!!! :D OMG, How are you? As always, your compliments are most appreciative :) Glad you're still enjoying it.

Lioncourt: Yes, we both agreed that Haldir should be somewhat of a hero in this... he did seem a bit insensitive in the last chapter, but I think this one made up for that :)

bri: Thank you very much! Yes, poor Legolas... we love him, God only knows why we love to torture him! :D


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