See Ch. 1 for disclaimer

Ch. 10 - The Rescue

Aldeon silently made his way around the perimeters of the Men camp, his eyes steadily searching for any sign of his captive brother. Much of the camp was bathed in darkness, broken only by the occasional fire around which the humans huddled closely in sleep. A few remained awake, warming their hands over the blaze, chatting intermittently amongst themselves.

The guards that were patrolling the peripheral areas of the camp were disposed of quickly and silently. Having completed the initial surveillance without catching sight of the captive prince, Aldeon gave the signal to continue their search within the confines of the camp itself. The three elves flitted stealthily from shadow to shadow, unnoticed by the wakeful few who remained totally oblivious not only to the three intruders, but also to the elvish warriors who were now hidden among the trees that surrounded their camp, bows readied to deliver death.

Though his heart pounded furiously, Aldeon forced himself to move slowly and with the utmost caution, his eyes sweeping methodically into each corner of the camp, looking always for the telltale sign of his brother's golden head. Each passing moment seemed an eternity and Aldeon found himself forcing back fears that perhaps his brother was not among these Men after all. Just as his heart was nearing complete despair, a glint of gold caught his sharp eyes, causing his breath to hitch painfully. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows and signalled to the other two.

At the first sight of his brother, Aldeon had to bite down hard to prevent the cry that threatened to escape from his throat. Fear and joy washed through him in dizzying waves, and it took all his efforts not to rush forward to sweep that huddled figure into his arms. He had at last found his brother!

Legolas sat hunched against the trunk of a tree, his hands and feet bound tightly. A rope had been threaded through his bound hands and looped to an overhanging branch, pulling his arms above his head. His head slumped forward limply, his face hidden by the fall of tangled golden hair. Nearby, two humans huddled around a small fire, glancing at the bound elf from time to time. One held his sword loosely in his grip, the other had his on the ground within easy reach.

The three elves moved in closer and Aldeon reached down and drew the dagger from his boot. The other two followed suit. Drawing in a sharp breath, Aldeon threw the dagger, and the sharp missile caught one of the Men deep in the throat. Almost simultaneously, another dagger glinted through the night air, catching the second Man in the chest. Both fell over without a sound. Even before their bodies hit the ground, Aldeon sprang forward, followed closely by the other two warriors.

With a flash of his knife, Aldeon cut the rope that held his brother to the tree and scooped the limp form into his arms in one fluid movement. While the other warrior quickly sliced through the bonds that held the young prince's hands and feet, Aldeon allowed himself one brief look at the bruised face, to ensure that it was indeed Legolas that he now held in his arms. Then they ran for the trees. A cry rang out behind them. The alarm had been raised.

Aldeon let out a shrill whistle of his own as he sprinted forward. The other two warriors flanked him closely, sweeping their knives in deathly arcs, driving back the Men who seemed to be swarming upon them from all sides. Then the air was suddenly filled with the whizzing of arrows and cries of human pain and death as these lethal projectiles found their targets.

Even before they reached the relative safety of the trees, elves were dropping onto the ground from their arboreal perches, weapons drawn to inflict what damage they could upon the Easterlings. Aldeon dodged amongst them, intent only upon getting his precious burden as far away as possible from the Men camp. Only upon reaching the wooded grounds did he slow down a little so as to avoid the danger of snagging branches and upraised roots. The other two elves followed closely, their weapons at ready to bring down any perceived or real threats to the two princes.

It was not until they were deep into the woods did they at last slow down. With adrenaline ebbing from his body now that the imminent danger had abated, Aldeon found himself gasping painfully for breath and his muscles burned from the recent exertion, compounded by the exhaustion of the desperate pursuit of the past days. Caught by an unseen root, he nearly stumbled and one of the warriors reached out with a supporting hand.

"Allow me to take the young prince for a while, my lord," the elf offered.

"No!" Aldeon drew back, tightening his hold protectively over his brother. It was absurd, he knew, for the other wished no more than to help, but Aldeon was loath to let anyone take his brother from him at the moment, regardless of his intentions. He had feared for so long that he would never again hold Legolas in his arms that even now, if not for the blessed warmth of the limp body against him, he would still be in doubt of the reality of the rescue and its success. "No, I can carry him."

"Is he hurt? His eyes are closed," the other pointed out tentatively.

Aldeon felt his heart lurched and immediately cursed himself for failing to check his brother for injuries until being so reminded. He stopped and crouched down onto the ground, cradling the limp form over his upraised knee. With a shaky hand, he reached for his brother's throat and closed his eyes in momentary relief when he felt the light pulse racing under his sensitive fingers. He ran his eyes over Legolas' inert body, grimacing as he took in the tattered undertunic, marked by streaks and patches of what could only be blood. He could also sense the unnatural heat that was radiating from his brother, deepening his growing concerns and fears.

"He is not well, but we cannot attend to his hurts here. We must head back to where we will meet the others," Aldeon said. Once more, he gathered his arms around his brother and straightened. Stoically, he made his way forward, forcing himself not to think of Legolas' injuries, or of the battle that was now being waged by Feren on the Men who had taken their young brother prisoner. Legolas was alive and safe in his arms and for the moment, that was enough.

The trek through the woods seemed to take an eternity though in reality they reached, in just over an hour, the small clearing where they had gathered and waited the previous day before launching their attack and rescue. Somehow, Aldeon managed to maintain his hold on Legolas as he trudged forward, but upon reaching the clearing, he fairly sagged to the ground in exhaustion, hugging his brother close even as he slumped back against the nearest tree. One of the other elves immediately sought out the packs on the horses and brought them forward along with a skin of water.

"My lord," he held out the water to Aldeon.

"Thank you." Aldeon nodded appreciatively. Ignoring his own burning thirst, he painstakingly trickled a few drops into Legolas' mouth, massaging gently the unresponsive throat until the water was swallowed reflexively. He continued patiently until he was satisfied that his brother had taken enough of the precious liquid before taking a long cool drink himself.

There was a slight stirring in his arms and Aldeon looked down quickly.

"Legolas?" he called out hopefully, pushing back a strand of hair, stained with blood and dirt, from his brother's bruised face. "Legolas, it is Aldeon. Can you hear me?"

The fine brows drew together painfully and a small moan escaped from the split lips. The thick lashes fluttered, followed by another moan. Aldeon placed a gentle hand on his brother's face, and lightly stroke the skin where it was not discoloured by bruises. "Legolas, awaken, please."

As if Aldeon's words had somehow found their way through his muddled senses, Legolas opened his eyes a fraction, and gazed without recognition at the face above him.

"Legolas? It is Aldeon," the older elf prompted gently.

A tremour shook Legolas' body. "Aldeon?"

"Yes, little one, I am here. You are safe now." Unconsciously, Aldeon tightened his hold on the younger elf.

Legolas cried out weakly. "Hurts."

"I am sorry, Legolas. Tell me where you hurt," Aldeon said quickly.

His brother's eyes closed once more as he let out another moan. "Hurts."

Aldeon began to ease his brother onto the ground so that he could check for injuries. Instantly, Legolas' eyes flew open and his hand grasped his brother's tunic in a near death-grip. "No, do not leave me! Please do not leave me!"

"I need to check your injuries, Legolas. I am not leaving you," Aldeon said soothingly.

His brother's grip tightened on his tunic as he trembled uncontrollably. "No, do not leave me."

There was so much desperation and fear in the weak voice that Aldeon ceased all movement to ease the young elf to the ground. "It is all right, I am not leaving. I am right here, Legolas. I will not leave you. You are safe. You are safe, little one."

In spite of his soothing words, Legolas continued to shake and refused to release his hold on his brother's tunic. As gently as he could, Aldeon pulled him closer into his arms, hoping to warm the other with his own body heat.

"My lord."

Aldeon looked up and saw one of the warriors holding out a cloak. "For the young prince."

Aldeon nodded gratefully as the other elf tucked the warm wool around his brother's trembling body. "Thank you."

"Should I start a fire, my lord?"

"Yes, we will need hot water to tend to his wounds."

The other elf nodded. I will get ready the bandages and herbs." Glancing briefly at Legolas, he added, in a quieter voice. "Perhaps a sleeping draught as well for the young prince?"

Aldeon nodded, grateful for the other's thoughtfulness and concern. He turned his attention once again to his brother. Legolas' eyes had closed again, but tremours continued to run through his body, and one hand maintained its grip on his older brother's tunic. Aldeon shifted slightly and instantly, Legolas' eyes flew open.

"No, do not leave!"

Aldeon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I am not leaving. I am right here. You are safe, Legolas. I will not let anyone else harm you, I promise."

Legolas' body relaxed fractionally and he once more closed his eyes. Aldeon brushed his lips lightly across his brother's forehead, feeling the heated skin under his lips. With growing apprehension, he wondered what trauma and hurt had befallen his young brother to cause such fear to grip him. Aldeon felt anger searing in him again and wished, not for the first time, that he too could personally wreak his vengeance upon the Men who had so harmed his brother, as Feren was no doubt doing now. He could only hope that Feren would carry through with his promise that no mercy would be shown to those despicable creatures that had held his brother prisoner.

Aldeon gently eased his brother onto the cloak that was spread upon the ground. Legolas had at last fallen into a deep sleep, brought on by the tea that Aldeon had managed to coax down his throat. He looked down at his sleeping brother, grimacing as the early morning light began to reveal more and more the extent of Legolas' injuries. Pursing his lips in grim resolve, he reached down and began to cut away his brother's bloodied and tattered undertunic, hissing in sympathetic pain as the colourful bruises came into view. More distressing, however, was the wound inflicted by the orc arrow so many weeks ago. It had reopened and had bled freely, as evidenced by the stained tunic and leggings. Even now, traces of blood seeped still from the jagged edges of the reddened and raw wound. With infinite gentleness, he bathed and dressed the festering wound with what herbs that were available. It was a temporary measure, and Aldeon hoped that it was sufficient until he could get his brother into Kala's experienced care.

Suddenly, he became aware of the other two warriors standing protectively above him, weapons drawn. His keen ears picked up what the other two must have already heard, the sounds of ones approaching. He straightened, his hands gripping his knives.

"My lord, look after the young prince. We will hold them off, should they be foes," one of the warriors said.

Aldeon nodded. "Hopefully, it will be Lord Feren and the returning troops."

As it turned out, the ones approaching were the returning troops. As the warriors began to filter out among the trees, Aldeon released the breath that he had not realized he had been holding. Instinctively, his eyes searched for Feren, and came upon his brother's equally searching gaze almost immediately. In a flash, Feren was at his side and the two brothers embraced briefly.

"You are well, Feren?" Aldeon asked.

"Yes, how is he?" Feren had already dropped to his knees by Legolas' inert form.

"He has many injuries. I was just tending to them. How went the battle?"

Feren reached out and touched the bruised cheek. "He has fever."

"His wound has reopened. How fared our warriors? Did we suffer losses?"

Feren looked up, frowning. "We lost two of our warriors, and Manveru as well. There are scores of injuries, but none, I believe, are life threatening."

"And the Men?"

"A few escaped. That was my intention. I want them to return to whoever is at the root of this evil scheme with the message that Mirkwood stands for no transgression such as this. For what they have done, they will pay for with blood and death. I also sent a warning that they may see Mirkwood warriors battering at the door of their stronghold should we choose to seek such vengeance."

Aldeon nodded. "You did well. Adar will approve of such strong warnings. It will not surprise me at all if Adar does decide on such a course of action. A messenger should be sent immediately to Adar with the news that Legolas is now safe. I cannot imagine how he has fared these few days."

"No better than us, I imagine. I will dispatch a warrior with the message," Feren said, straightening with unmasked weariness. "I will be back as soon as I can to help you tend to Legolas."

Aldeon turned his attention back to his youngest brother. Gently, he rolled the unresponsive form to his side in an effort to remove the remaining tatters of the tunic. At the first sight of his brother's back, all breath left him.

"Dear Elbereth, what did they do to you?" he gasped, feeling the nameless pain constrict his throat, and breathing became an all but impossible task. He closed his eyes momentarily, unable to take in the further sight of the torn and lacerated back where welt laid upon welt, bruised and bloody against the once flawless skin. He nearly wept then.

From beside him was a similar breathless gasp and he glanced over to see the same stricken look on Feren's face that must surely mirror the one on his own.

"I had not known the extent of the injuries to his back," Aldeon said almost apologetically, thinking with guilt how Legolas had moaned and shook in his arms earlier. He could not imagine the pain that he had so unwittingly inflicted upon his brother.

"I am only thankful I had the opportunity to personally deliver death to the Easterlings," Feren said through clenched teeth. "I only regret that their death was swift and that they did not feel the same pain that they had put my brother through." He took in a ragged breath, ruthlessly reining in his seething anger. "Come, Aldeon, we need to clean and dress his back before he wakes. And then, we will take our brother home to Adar."

TBC