Chapter Ten

Legolas had been intensely concentrating on what was happening to Pickett. It wasn’t that he was overly concerned for the troll. It was mainly to keep his mind off of what was obviously in store for him and Aragorn.

When Pickett left the clearing, Legolas found himself watching the other trolls with just as much intensity. He didn’t like the curl- lipped, teeth-revealing sneers that the trolls had on their faces. It was worse than any look he had ever seen on the hideous faces of orcs.
The trolls’ anticipation of what was planned for the two captives was so evident, it sent chills down the elf’s spine.

Fighting the Shadow that was overtaking his home, not to mention the misadventures, like this one, he and Aragorn had been involved in often led to numerous injuries. Being shot, being stabbed with sword and knife, being poisoned and suffering all manner of tortures were all too familiar to Legolas. Yet of all the painful things he had endured in his long life, being burned was the one he truly feared above all else.

An elf’s rapid ability to heal prevented all but the most grievous flesh-destroying wounds from leaving any kind of scar on the fair skin of the Firstborn. Legolas’s own flesh bore only one scar, and it had been caused by a deep burn, when he was, by human reckoning, still in his teen years.

All the while he had watched Pickett’s ordeal, Legolas had been steeling his nerve against the prospect of being burned again. Legolas’s will was strong, but he could not totally hide his feeling of dread.

When Aragorn saw the elf shudder while staring at the fire almost mesmerized, he remembered the first time he had seen the scar on the inside of Legolas’s right leg just above his ankle. His natural curiosity had made him ask how his friend had received the almost unheard of scar, but Legolas had refused to talk about it, even to his sympathetic friend. Aragorn knew that whatever had happened to cause the scar, it was that incident Legolas was thinking of now.

Aragorn was unable to move any closer to Legolas, so he used his voice to try and comfort the elf. “It will be all right, Legolas.” To himself he said, ‘Though at the moment, I don’t know how.’

“I would rather be in a small, dark cave right now,” the archer whispered back, though he continued to stare at the roaring campfire.

That statement alone told the ranger the intense level of the current emotion running through the wood-elf’s mind. He was forced to admit that the fear running through his own mind was very near to matching what Legolas was feeling.

Hatch made a ‘come here’ motion with his arm, and the trolls holding the prisoners moved them forward. When they reached him, he grinned and pointed to Aragorn. “Take him first.”

Aragorn, despite the fact that he stood straight with his shoulders squared, couldn’t hide the apprehension in his eyes. Yet, he was determined that his knees were not going to buckle, as he faced the end of the path that led to the blazing campfire.

The troll holding Aragorn let go and placed his hands on the ranger’s back. Then the creature gave him a hard shove, almost overbalancing him.

Aragorn had to do a double shuffle to stay upright. No sooner had he regained his balance than the first troll in line on the left-side struck him on the shoulder, spinning him around.

Aragorn was kicked to the opposite line and then struck again and again. After each blow, he was moved forward to the next troll. Aragorn tried to fend off the blows, but he continued stumbling until he was finally brought to his knees.

Before Aragorn could rise, two trolls began pummeling him with their huge fists. Each strike sent a new wave of pain spreading through his whole body.

Hatch shouted, “Better git up. They won’t stop, if ya don‘t.” Then he laughed uproariously, followed by the other trolls, who were watching and waiting for with turn at the man.

Desperate to rise, Aragorn tried to gain his feet, but the blows only served to knock him back to the ground.

One particularly vicious kick to the head sent stars swirling around the edges of Aragorn’s vision, and he could do no more than lay in a heap.

Blows continued to rain down, but Aragorn couldn’t find the strength to fight them off long enough to rise, so he remained where he was. He silently prayed to the Valar and felt no disgrace in begging for their intervention.

Turning his head aside to avoid a fist he could just see out of the corner of his eye coming at him, Aragorn caught sight of the look of horror on Legolas’s face and added a prayer that the elf would be spared this punishment.

Seeing Aragorn barely conscious under the physical assault, Legolas began to struggle, trying desperately to break loose from the troll that held him. It soon became clear that he did not possess the strength to defeat the troll, using force.

To counter the elf’s attempts to break free, the troll simply tightened his hold.

Legolas froze in place until he felt the creature relax slightly, evidently thinking the elf had stopped trying to escape.

Legolas grabbed the only opportunity he thought he might have. He raised both of his legs, hanging all of his weight on the troll’s arms. Then the elf stomped down with both feet on the huge left foot of the creature. When the troll looked down, Legolas jerked one arm free and elbowed him under the chin.

Shocked, the troll rubbed his chin and stared down at his now aching foot.

Legolas easily broke free and ran to Aragorn’s side. At least that was where he was headed. Before he could get there, however, Hatch stuck his foot out and tripped the elf, sending him flying.

As it happened, the archer ended up exactly where he wanted to be but not how he wanted to be. Instead of dropping to his knees so he could offer aid to Aragorn, his head struck the hard-packed earth. The impact did not render him unconscious, but he was definitely stunned.

Enraged that the elf had escaped his guard, Hatch yelled at the trolls nearest the two captives to get them up.

Jerked to their feet, Legolas and Aragorn were both too woozy to offer even token resistance.

Hatch was furious that his plans for the captives had been thwarted yet again. Neither of them would be able to provide the anticipated entertainment, since neither could even walk on their own, much less make it down the line of trolls waiting to pummel them.

Hatch kicked the ground, sending a puff of dust upward from the force. These beings were too puny to endure either of the tortures he had planned for them. First had been the whippings and now this. He kicked the dirt again.

The elf and the ranger soon found themselves being dragged across the clearing. Each was then tied with ropes between two trees. The distance between the trunks was far enough apart to force the arms of the captives to be stretched straight out, putting painful pressure on their wrists, arms and across their shoulders.

Legolas had a deep, slightly slanted cut on the left side of his forehead just below the hairline. Blood was trickling down into his eye. He dipped his head to wipe the red fluid on his tunic, but more soon followed. It wasn’t long before the blood had thickened to the point that it effectively clouded that eye and made it almost useless.

Every inch of the human’s body was aching from the pounding he had received. He also suffered from double vision. It looked like two Hatchs were moving toward him, and the thought struck him that he didn’t know which one to glare at. Aragorn blinked several times and then tried staring at the creature but his vision still wouldn’t focus. He wasn’t sure if he was looking at Hatch’s eyes or his chin.

Hatch reached Aragorn and stood looming high above him. He slapped the ranger across the face and turned away.

‘Thanks, I wasn’t dizzy enough already,’ Aragorn said sarcastically under his breath.

The troll leader was now aiming his fury at Legolas. It was the elf who had broken the guard’s grip and gotten loose. The fact that Legolas had run to his friend and not away from the clearing didn’t matter to him. Getting free was getting free, and that exposed the weakness of the guard, which did not sit well with Hatch.

When Legolas refused to look up at him, Hatch wrapped one hand around the elf’s jaw and forced his head up. “You are gonna pay for what you done.”

With that remark made, Hatch grabbed the rope around Legolas’s left wrist and jerked it as hard as he could.

The tension was already as tight as it would go, so the only give was the elf’s shoulder. And it did. He grimaced, as the end of the bone separated from the socket, causing an agony so sharp that had he not known better, the elf would have thought he had been thrown into the fire, shoulder first. Despite the pain, he steadfastly refused to cry out.

Not satisfied, Hatch reached over to Legolas’s right and grabbed hold of the rope on that side.

The troll yanked on the rope playfully. It was enough to elicite a silent grimace from Legolas, not only because it pulled on his dislocated left shoulder but also because of the anticipation of intense pain. Hatch thought this was fun and demonstrated his pleasure with a huge laugh.

“Legolas,” Aragorn called in Sindarin, “hang in there. I’ll get his attention away from you.”

Knowing there was only one place Hatch‘s attention would be directed if that happened, Legolas shook his head. “No, Estel,” the elf ground out between clenched teeth, “do not provoke him to turn against you.”

Aragorn didn’t listen. “Leave him alone, you coward!” he shouted at the troll leader. To his chagrin, Hatch just looked at him and grinned. “Yer next.”

Still looking at the ranger, Hatch yanked on Legolas’s rope again. This time the force was a little stronger, though it wasn’t enough to dislocate the elf’s right shoulder.

Hatch laughed again. “I was gonna burn both of you, but this’ll be more fun. I’ll ruin your arms and then your legs. Then we can listen to you scream.”

It seemed to Legolas that Hatch was going to incapacitate both of them before long, so neither one of them could escape even if they were untied and left to themselves.

The elf decided he had to act while he still had one good arm and two good legs to work with. Even better was the fact that Aragorn hadn’t been touched as yet. Delay now would result in their slow and painful deaths. There would be no more games of entertainment beyond this day. That he was as positive of as anything.

Legolas took a deep breath and wrapped the fingers of both hands around the ropes holding him. As his body lifted off of the ground, the pain in his left shoulder was so intense he feared he might pass out, but the elf had already steeled himself against it, concentrating instead on doing what needed to be done.

Earlier he had used his feet to stomp on the foot of his troll guard. Now, as he swung his legs up, he held them together and straightened them out. As they moved upward, he locked his knees, turning the limbs into a battering ram.

Pulling his toes toward him, he extended his heels and smashed them into Hatch’s face. One ploughed through the creature’s right eye, while the other slammed into his nose, forcing it up into his brain. All this had happened in less than a second. Now, blood spurted out like a fountain, covering the front of Legolas‘s clothes, as well as his own.

The troll shook violently for several seconds before toppling over backwards like a felled tree.

Hatch was dead before his huge body hit the ground.

Aragorn had seen the elf execute this maneuver before, but it still took him by surprise. He stared down at the dead troll leader.

The other trolls were in even more shock. Every pair of eyes was on Hatch. For several moments, the clearing resembled a still-life painting.

Once he had recovered somewhat, Aragorn looked at the elf. “Legolas, I know you did what you had to do, but how do we get loose from here? Tied up like this, I can’t reach my knife. You just killed their leader, and once those creatures get their wits back, they’ll be coming after us with a vengeance.”

TBC