Caught (a legolas fanfiction)

Journal

Chapter 12

"Legolas!" Thranduil yelled in surprise. He flew to his son, landing ungracefully on his knees by his side. He carefully rolled his son over, and Legolas cried out as the wounds on his back reopened.

"Oh, ion-nin..." Thranduil murmured, running a hand over the pale face before him. "Oh, Legolas..."

Aragorn and Gimli appeared beside him, and they too kneeled by the elf. They each took a pale hand.

"Legolas, mellon-nin," Aragorn said softly. "Can you hear me?"

Legolas did not reply, but one watery blue eye opened halfway. He closed it once more as the liquid began to make its way slowly down his cheeks.

"Don't cry, laddie," Gimli said, and he frowned as he wiped the tears away with a grubby hand. Legolas didn't even give the tiniest hint of a smile at the nickname. "You're safe now."

A violent shudder wracked Legolas's frame, and he changed from crying silently to sobbing openly. Gimli didn't really know how to react. The Legolas he had known had always been strong, stubborn, and controlled. Thranduil, however, knew what he was doing.

The elvenking pulled his son into an embrace, careful to avoid his injuries, which wasn't easy. Legolas clutched at his father's clothes, looking for support, and Thranduil whispered soothing words in his ear as he cried his heart out.

The sound shattered Aragorn's heart even further. They had been captured together many times, and nothing close to this sort of a breakdown from the elf had ever occurred. He put his hand upon his friend's left shoulder and rubbed comforting circles in it, trying to stop the shudders that kept running through it.

"Oh, what did he do to you, ion-nin...?" Thranduil whispered, feeling his own tears prickling at his eyes. "What happened?"

Legolas suddenly went rigid, and he began to clutch even harder at his father's robes, crying even more vehemently. Thranduil held him close.

It was almost half an hour later when Legolas's sobs faded into small hiccups that eventually stopped as well. He went limp in his father's arms, and Thranduil brushed a few strands off the sweaty, tear-streaked face.

He lay his son down so that his head was upon his lap.

"Aragorn, Gloinion," he said quietly to avoid waking Legolas as he ran his hands through his hair, gently untangling it. "You should search the place. Get anything within it. We can bring anything useful or of value back to Mirkwood, and the healers can use it to see what it was he was forced to drink."

The two nodded, and they entered the fortress. Inside, they reached a long hallway. They tried o avoid looking at the bloodstains from where Legolas had been dragged outside, but there seemed to be only one other path, which they followed.

It lead to a large, ornate bedroom. There was a king-sized bed and a thick carpet, which the mud from their boots leaked into.

"You check those," said Aragorn to Gimli, pointing to a series of bookshelves on the left wall. He himself went to look at a set of drawers, which he opened with a loud creak.

There were many tunics inside. They were all made of thick, soft fabric, and they came in a variety of bright colors, mostly red and blue. He sifted through them, before promptly dropping them on the ground in disgust as he realized that they belonged to the man.

He left them on the floor as he went over to Gimli.

"Have you found anything?" he asked, and Gimli shook his head.

"Only healing and sorcery books," he said. "That's all...Hey, wait, what's this?"

Between two large books, there was a small spine that indicated that there was a much smaller one stuffed between them. The dwarf took the small book out and opened to the first page carefully, for the pages were old and worn.

"June 15, 3016," it read. "Today father told me about the curse that comes with my eyes. I was very angry and upset at first, but I have accepted it now. I have decided that I will finish this whole thing by the time I reach twenty-five years, so that I may return and continue my life and still have much of it ahead of me. That gives me seven years. I believe this is plenty of time to find one elf, especially the famous Prince of Mirkwood. Then it all comes down to disposing of him."

Gimli slowly lifted his head, uncertainty in his eyes. He handed the book to Aragorn, who read the passage as well, his eyes widening throughout. When he finally looked up, they shared a look of horror.

"His journal," Aragorn said. The answers to all of their questions was in their hands.

They were in a trancelike state as they left the room and went back down the other hallway, the one marked by elven bloodstains. They found only one room at the end of there, as well.

It was dreadfully dark within. Aragorn felt along the wall with his hands. He soon came to a torch holder, which had a few sticks and a flint within. He groped with the flint for a few minutes before he was rewarded with a small flame. He let the twigs ignite, and soon there was enough light to take in the scene around him.

It was a damp, cold room with walls made completely of stone. The far wall had a shelf running along it, upon which was placed a variety of items used in healing.

The worst thing, however, was the blood spattered all over the floor and walls. It had a silvery tinge, and Aragorn suddenly felt sick. The room was covered in Legolas's blood.

Trying to avoid the dried puddles of red, he quickly gathered everything on the shelves into his arms and he hastily left the room, and Gimli followed him. They entered the sunlight again together, leaving the place behind them forever.

A/N: Woohoo! Three days in a row with updates! I feel proud. :D. Elladan and Elrohir make an appearance in the next chapter! Yay! I can't wait (well, yes I can, but that's a figure of speech, guys).