Note: I'll be away until November and won't have internet access while I'm gone. Hopefully this part will keep you occupied until then. LOL!!

Round Robin
Part 9
By Saber

Aragorn decided that the only thing worse then being chained hand and foot in a hay cart with a dislocated shoulder...was being WET, chained hand and foot in a hay cart, with a dislocated shoulder.

The rain had retuned, and with absolutely no cover, the hundreds of cold droplets quickly had him and Legolas soaked to the skin. Gray eyes blinked against the pelting water that made his already blurred vision even worse. He tried to shift his uncomfortable position enough to get a better view of Legolas, but the fiery pain shooting through his shoulder at the simple motion made him grit his teeth and seriously rethink the idea.

Aragorn could feel his friend shivering violently next to him and his already potent concern skyrocketed. The ranger couldn't tell just how badly Legolas was injured, but if his heavy breathing and slurred speech were any clue, it was serious.

He cursed violently in dwarvish under his breath. This rescue wasn't exactly going how he had planned...

The ranger closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and tried his best to ignore the pelting rain along with the pain of his injuries; Legolas' ragged breathing filling his ears.

Despite his friend's previous warnings against chastising himself, Aragorn could not help the self-condemning thoughts that raced unchecked about his mind. 'I was a fool to come alone. And now Legolas will pay the price for my mistake.'

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp blow across his face that jerked his head into the rough wood of the hay cart. Wincing, he opened his eyes to see the face of one of his captors; the female who had given him the biggest headache of his life. She sneered at him, "It's time to take care of that shoulder of yours. I'm sure it must be bothering you, all tied up like that..."

Aragorn said nothing. He did not trust himself not to say something that would result in even more pain on his part.

The female pulled a key from a leather pouch hanging at her side and undid the shackles on his wrists. Before he could even sit up she pulled up her sleeve to show him the dagger strapped to her arm. "If you try anything, not only will you pay for it...but so will your elf friend." She nodded towards Legolas.

When Aragorn nodded his understanding she grabbed his arm and dragged him from the cart. He bit back a whimper as his leg gave out beneath him, dropping him to the ground. The woman impatiently tugged at his arm, which of course with Aragorn's luck was the dislocated one. "Get up," she growled, "I will not carry you."

Clenching his jaw, the ranger struggled to his feet. By the time he had limped his way to the smoldering fire where the other two slavers were sitting, he was gasping at the exertion on his injured body.

Syrill was grinning wickedly at him. "I've been looking forward to this, boy."

The woman pushed him to the ground and Aragorn gratefully collapsed to the muddy earth. Syrill rose and walked to his side, his grin only widening as he took in how the young man cradled his injured arm. Wasting no time, he motioned Varan to hold Aragorn still while he took his arm and began to maneuver it around.

Aragorn bit his lip and squeezed his eyes closed as the white-hot fire in his shoulder erupted to a raging volcano of agony. And as the minutes crawled by, he began to realize that these people had absolutely no idea how to properly reset a dislocated shoulder.

He could not contain a sharp cry of pain as Syrill twisted his arm too far to the right, his body arching against the abuse. It only served to earn him a round of laughter and a cuff upside the head.

After what seemed like a lifetime, there was a sharp pop as his shoulder slid back into its socket. Aragorn tried to keep quiet--he didn't want to give them the pleasure of hearing his agony--but the pain was too great and a scream broke past his lips before he fell limply to the mud.

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Elladan stiffened as a scream broke through the night. He pushed back the hood of his cloak and turned to his twin, his unspoken question hanging in the air between.

Elrohir brushed his soaking black hair out of his vision amidst the trails of water streaking down his face as he turned blue eyes wide with horror towards the direction of the tortured sound, "Estel..."

Face darkening with barely contained fury, Elladan broke into a dead run, hearing the sounds of his twin racing close behind. He swore to himself that if the slavers had hurt his little brother in any way, they were going to pay.

TBC...