Chapter Seven

Aragorn’s grip on Legolas tightened, as the elf’s legs tried to buckle under him. Each time they tired to betray him, he steadfastly forced them to keep the rest of him upright. It was a struggle he wasn’t sure he could win.

Being as close as he was to Legolas, Aragorn could feel the strength draining from his friend’s body. The farther they traveled, the weaker the elf became. Aragorn could also feel the archer stiffen in response to that weakness, pushing his resolve as hard as he could. ‘This can’t go on much longer,’ the ranger worriedly thought to himself. Elven determination alone was not going to sustain Legolas beyond his body’s ability to function the way he wanted it to.

While this struggle went on, the group finally reached the bottom of the high ground, which now leveled out onto the valley floor. It was a welcome relief to all of the travelers.

It was even more of a relief to both elf and ranger, when Grath called a halt. “We’ll stop here for mid-day meal,” he announced. “But don’t get too comfortable. We won’t be staying long.” That last statement was aimed mostly at the two captives, who immediately moved onto a grassy area a few feet away without even asking permission to do so.

Aragorn eased Legolas to the ground and then sat down beside him. “How are you doing?” he asked, sure he would hear the familiar answer but needing to ask anyway.

“Glad to be sitting,” the elf replied to the surprise of the ranger. True, Legolas hadn’t admitted he was tired or hurting, both of which were all too obvious to Aragorn, but the elf also hadn’t lied and said he was fine.

Once the elf was settled, the first thing Aragorn did was pull the water skin off of his shoulder and unstopper it. He handed the top portion to Legolas to hold in his right hand and drink while Aragorn supported the heavier bottom part.

Legolas took several long swallows, savoring the cool liquid, as it slid down his throat and offered him a measure of refreshment. When he had taken his fill, he handed the top of the skin to Aragorn, who then drank from it.

The rest of the Easterlings had spread out around the pair but did not sit overly close, certainly nothing like what would be expected of men, who had prisoners to guard.

Grath not only didn’t seem concerned, but he was none too close himself. He had finally accepted the fact that the ranger wasn’t going to try escaping as long as the elf was too weak to have a chance of achieving success. After all, they had already tried gaining their freedom when both were healthy, and that had ended in recapture. He had confidence that his men could again handle any future attempt should one be made.

A few moments later, Donnis walked over and unceremoniously dropped several pieces of dried meat, from the same supply that they had all been eating for several days, into Aragorn’s lap. The man said nothing, just scowled before turning and going to find a spot far from the pair.

“I’m sure Donnis wouldn’t have brought us food on his own,” Aragorn said quietly. “Grath must have told him to bring it over.”

“He did,” Legolas replied. “I saw Grath hand him the meat and motion for him to give it to us. Donnis did not seem too happy.”

“I don’t think he likes us much.”

Legolas laughed. “He probably thinks I will conjure up some dark, elven magic and turn him into a frog.”

An evil look came into the ranger’s eyes. “Can you?”

“Estel! You know I cannot. Besides, if I could do that, I would have done it to all of them long before they shot me.” The elf grimaced, thinking of what he had already gone through at the Easterlings’ hands and what he was still going through now.

“Yes, I suppose you would have,” Aragorn sighed, as he handed two of the meat strips to the elf. “Still, that would have been something to see---a whole bunch of Easterling frogs croaking, hopping about and eating flies.”

“Estel, you can be very wicked sometimes.”

Aragorn smiled. Then changing the subject, he asked in a much more serious tone, “What did you make of that fortress we saw from above? It looks more than a little daunting.”

Legolas didn’t have to think about his answer. “That is where we are being taken, and it will not be pleasant for either of us.”

“You sense evil there?” the ranger inquired of the intuitive elf.

“Not the same kind of evil that permeates the Shadow. This feels more like something involving humans.”

“So you believe that it’s a place of men.”

“Yes. But that does not mean that it is any less troubling. Nor does it mean that another kind of evil does not reside there,” Legolas was quick to explain. “Not all evil is discernable, even by the Firstborn.”

“That’s comforting,” Aragorn said, grinning at the elf. He finished off his second piece of meat and followed it with another drink from the water skin.

Legolas only shrugged. He wished he could reassure his friend that whatever was in the fortress he would definitely be able to sense and thus give a warning about. However, he could not do what he was not able to do. Aragorn understood that, and, in the many years that the two had been friends, the man had never expected more or found fault with him for it, especially since it was far more often that Legolas’s intuition had worked well enough to save them.

It wasn’t until Grath stood up and motioned for everyone to get ready to leave once again, that Aragorn realized that the Easterling leader had not stopped them from talking to each other. They had even been unconsciously speaking in elvish and had been allowed to do that also. It was logical to assume that Grath figured they were talking about the fortress, and that he was not anxious to stop them from doing so.

The ranger didn’t know how right he was. Grath hoped the elf and the ranger were discussing the fortress and their soon to be imprisonment there. If it caused them even the slightest bit of apprehension, he was happy, because that was his intention. The one who had hired him would be pleased, if he delivered fearful prisoners, who would be far easier to control than defiant ones.

Having the elf wounded and weak, and the ranger’s attention diverted by concern over his friend was even better. That hadn’t been planned, since he hadn’t known the elf was going to be shot, but to Grath’s way of thinking, things were working out nicely. He was almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his pay off. It had been promised to be more substantial this time than any he had received in the past.

Aragorn waited until every one of the Easterlings were on their feet before he stood up himself and reached down to help Legolas up. The fact the elf gritted his teeth, when he rose, get not get past the ranger. He almost gritted his own teeth in frustration and anger that Legolas was once more forced to travel before he was ready. His fast elven healing ability did not work as well on an exhausted body.

The ranger’s expression of worry and simmering anger did not go unnoticed by the elf. “I will make it to the fortress, Estel. Do not trouble your heart for my sake.” He knew as he said them that the words would fall on deaf ears, and they did.

The man nodded, but his expression did not change. Aragorn was not foolish enough to think he could go full boar into the fortress and demand that Legolas get the aid and rest he needed much as he may want to do just that. They were prisoners and would be treated as such, no matter their condition. Even as that thought entered the ranger’s head, he knew he would do whatever it took to help and protect Legolas as best he could.

As for escaping, that prospect would have to be studied to some degree and a plan figured out, most certainly with Legolas’s help, but for sure he was not going to just sit around and ‘be a captive’. No matter who was responsible for them being captured or what that person wanted with them, he knew neither one of them would bend to that person’s will. Escape was the goal and escape would be forthcoming.

All these thoughts went through the ranger’s mind, as they walked toward the fortress. In theory and in practice, it never hurt to start thinking about a plan, as soon as it became apparent that one was going to be needed.

*~*~*~*

It was late afternoon when the group came out of the trees that covered most of the valley and made their way onto the expanse of green that surrounded the fortress almost a half mile away. Even at that distance, the structure was imposing. It rose well over a hundred feet in the air, not including the turrets that were placed at regular intervals all around the top. The building, at its base, was over twice as wide as it was high.

The stone that it was constructed of was a natural dark gray, almost black. The place had an ancient feel to it despite the fact it was so well cared for it looked almost new. The grounds around it were equally immaculate.

Aragorn let out a low whistle, a touch of awe reflected in his eyes. He was too wary to really like the place, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Legolas, forcing himself not to lean on the ranger for support, shook his head. This close the foreboding he had felt when he first saw the structure increased tenfold. It prickled in his mind much too much to allow any kind of admiration to slip through. It also made him rethink his earlier idea. There was evil here, and it was definitely more than man-made.

So fearful was he for Aragorn and himself, that if he had been able to, Legolas would have turned and run the other way, dragging the ranger with him. As it was, all he could do was stand next to his friend and stare apprehensively.

Grath, on the other hand, grinned broadly. Seeing the elf’s unguarded fear was pleasing. It was short-lived, as he motioned for all of them to follow him, and he started toward the fortress.

He worked hard to mask his own fear. It wouldn’t do to show any kind of weakness in the presence of the one who lived here. It wouldn’t do at all. Bluff and bluster had been his trademark when his greed for a high reward brought him to this place, and it would have to serve him again now.

A shiver went through the elf when they neared the the massive front doors made of thick oak and re-enforced with iron bars and bolts.

Grath did not approach the doors but instead turned to the right, intending to follow the designated path that led all the way around the stone building.

The first time he had been summoned there, Grath had been told to always bring his prisoners to a small door at the back. That’s where he was headed now.

Aragorn had let go of Legolas before they reached this point, so he didn’t feel the elf’s tremor. It would not have surprised him, though. He had more than one shiver of his own, being this close to the stone structure.

Just as Grath made his turn, the huge front doors swung silently open in a mute invitation. A large marble entrance hall was revealed in the gold and orange glow of the setting sun.

Hearing nothing but seeing the movement, Grath turned back in surprise. It appeared that they were being beckoned to enter the building through the main entrance.

The Easterling leader took a deep breath and then waved his men and the two captives to enter. All of Grath’s men seemed surprised at the mysterious way they were greeted, or rather by the total lack of a greeting by anyone, human or otherwise. They clearly were not used to being ushered in in this fashion.

Crossing the threshold, Aragorn leaned toward Legolas and whispered, “Why do they let prisoners enter by the front door?”

“Prisoners do not,” came a soft feminine voice. “But guests do.”

All turned to see a tall woman, appearing to be around thirty years of age, walking toward them. She was dressed all in black. Her satin gown reached almost to the floor, stopping just short enough to reveal matching black satin slippers. Her straight hair, black as a raven’s wing, hung to her tiny waist. In contrast, her skin was porcelain white, almost translucent and more pale than any elven maiden’s.

Yet it was her eyes that were her most striking feature, drawing the attention of both elf and ranger. They were dark, though whether black or darkest brown, neither could tell. Her gaze was penetrating and more than a little disturbing. They revealed a high intelligence. She tried to give Legolas and Aragorn a warm smile, but those dark eyes never reflected that warmth. It did reveal perfect white teeth.

The woman saw Legolas’s left arm in a sling and his obvious difficulty walking. He looked weary beyond measure. A look of concern crossed her face. “The elf is injured. He is unwell.” She snapped a stern glare at Grath but did not question him. Yet it was obvious she wanted an answer from hin as to what had happened to the elf.

“My lady,” Grath began, his resolve to bluff and bluster vanishing like smoke in a strong breeze. “We...”

Her dark eyes never left his. Thinking perhaps he had been injured in an accident, she said, “Tell me you did not harm him.”

“Well... They tired to escape. We had no choice. We had...to shoot him.”

The woman’s jaw clenched tight, and a look of anger crossed her face. “You shot him?”

Grath took a deep breath and tried to continue with a little more confidence. “We were told to bring the two of them here no matter what. We had to stop them getting away. The elf had almost reached the trees and once...”

“Hush,” the woman commanded. “You must have misunderstood your instructions. Neither of them was meant to be harmed, certainly not shot.”

Grath looked like he wanted to argue that point but wasn’t sure he should do so with this intimidating woman. He prudently kept his mouth shut.

“I am sure you were not told to shoot this elf or anyone else,” the woman reiterated firmly. Her voice was softer, but her tone held a coldness and possibly even a veiled threat that made Grath very uncomfortable.

Without waiting for a rebuttal, she turned to Legolas, who was all but swaying on his feet. “Come. You must lie down. I have people who will take care of you.”

“I am a healer,” Aragorn quickly informed the woman. He didn’t like the idea of anyone in this place doing anything to Legolas. “I have herbs in my pack I can use to help him.”

The woman remained silent. A small crease appeared betwen her eyebrows. She appeared to be thinking over what Aragorn had said, clearly not sure whether to let the man have his way or insist that her people do whatever needed to be done for the elf.

While the woman pondered, Legolas looked closely at her. His eyes were slightly narrowed. He couldn’t figure out what was going on here. Someone had hired Grath and his men to bring him and Aragorn here by any means necessary. He doubted that the Easterling had gotten that wrong.

He looked at Aragorn and found the same confusion in his friend’s eyes.

The woman suddenly squared her shoulders. She seemed to have made up her mind about what to do. “Come,” she repeated.

Legolas’s body felt too bad and his mind was becoming too numb for him to want to continue worrying about this whole situation. The woman had said he needed to lie down, and that was all he wanted right then. Putting his trust in Aragorn to watch out for both of them, the elf simply nodded and began following the woman, as she turned and started walking away.

No one saw the feral smile on her face.

TBC