Chapter Sixteen

No sooner had Legolas and Aragorn managed to gain their feet, than Pickett slammed them both against the rear wall by putting a huge palm flat onto each of their chests. They were no more than toys to the powerful troll.

The forceful move by Pickett was particularly painful for Legolas. His chest was already sore from having been struck with great force during the two friends’ flight for freedom by the same arm that now pinned him fast against the wall. In addition to that, his not-quite-healed back, not to mention his swollen shoulder, didn’t get off easily, either, as they was pressed against the rough wood.

Aragorn’s aching back protested the maneuver, as well. The man felt the force so strongly that he had a hard time catching his breath. He just hoped his breast bone wouldn’t crack under the pressure.

When Pickett leaned forward, it was with his entire body resting on the balls of his feet, and the pressure increased. The troll didn’t seem to realize that he was forcing the air out of the captives, as his weight moved against them. He looked from one to the other before saying, “I won’t take no more trouble from you two. We want our fun, but we don’t need both of you. I can kill one and have fun with the other one.”

Pickett’s foul breath was so strong that Legolas had to turn his head to the side. The stench coming out of the troll’s mouth almost made the sensitive elf pass out.

It wasn’t the first time that Pickett’s threat had been made against them, and it wasn’t that Legolas and Aragorn hadn’t believed those words before. This time, however, they both knew that Pickett was about out of patience with them. Their attempts to escape had finally driven this new leader to feel desperate, and a desperate troll was a very dangerous troll.

On the other side of the coin was the fact that it was not in the nature of either the archer or the ranger to give up, no matter how dire the situation might be. They would escape or die trying.

Pickett narrowed his eyes. “You two understand?”

Neither captive answered, so Pickett pressed a little harder. He was not in the mood to keep asking.

Finally, Aragorn nodded.

Unfortunately, Pickett didn’t see the nod in the darkness of the hut. “Understand?” the troll leader growled.

White spots had begun to appear in front of Legolas’s eyes. He couldn’t have answered the troll, if he tried. The heavy hand on his chest wasn’t allowing him to inhale, and he feared he was about to pass out.

Feeling desperate to keep Pickett from doing any more damage to them, Aragorn wheezed, “Yes.” He was close to passing out himself.

When Pickett backed away, the pressure on the two friends’ chests was mercifully released. They immediately began sucking in air and coughing until their lungs were functioning sufficiently. It offered enough strength to their bodies so that they were able to stay upright, despite wobbly legs.

Aragorn, who had been bent over while catching his breath, straightened up and promptly found the troll’s hand grabbing the front of his tunic.

The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air. He didn’t even have time to think about what was happening, when he came down on the pile of bones on the right side of the hut. He groaned, as a large bone poked him in the back of his thigh. The ranger slid forward, when the pile partially collapsed from the impact of his weight.

Legolas landed beside his friend, further rattling the bones, as the elf’s body hit them, and then rolled to the floor away from Aragorn.

“Don’t neither of you move,” came Pickett’s threatening voice.

The troll leader walked to the door and yelled out, calling for a troll whose name the two friends did not recognize.

When the called-for troll arrived, Pickett pointed at a spot right outside the doorway. “Sit here, facing this way. You’re to guard them captives. If they git away, you’ll meet the same end as Hatch, only you won’t be dead first.”

The implication of those words were not lost on the other creature. He didn’t like the idea of sitting in front of Pickett’s hut all night, but he was not about to say so.

“What do I do if they try to git away again?“

Pickett just stared at the troll. Then he said, “You wake me up, stupid!”

The other troll simply nodded and sat cross-legged where Pickett had told him to. Even sitting down, the bulk of the troll’s body filled the doorway, effectively blocking the doorway.

Pickett walked over to his bed and lay down on it, evidently ready to get some sleep. His burns still hurt, and he was tired.

Aragorn tried to sit up. It wasn’t easy on the shifting pile of bones. At the first sound they made, he stopped, afraid that Pickett would react unpleasantly. There was no reaction at all from the troll leader. He had dismissed them from his mind, because he felt the captives could not escape. He was right.

Another attempt to sit upright was met with success, as the ranger slid down the pile and hit the filthy floor on his behind. He rubbed the sore spot on his thigh where the bone he had landed on made what he was sure was a large bruise.

More bone shifting on his right alerted him to the fact that Legolas was also moving. That in itself brought the man relief. Crawling on hands and knees around the bones, Aragorn made it to where the elf still lay on the edge of the pile. “Legolas.”

The archer answered with a low groan that the man knew meant his friend was probably woozy and certainly hurting more than might be evident. Otherwise, the proud elf wouldn’t have uttered a sound.

“Let me help you,” Aragorn said, as he reached out and placed his arm under the elf‘s shoulders and gently pulled him up. “Several bones have stuck to your clothing, but luckily, none seems to have punctured you.”

“That is encouraging,” the elf replied dryly. Then he looked into Aragorn’s eyes. “Are there any punctures in you?”

“There’s a tear in my leggings but not in my flesh.”

Legolas grinned. “I always said you have a tough hide.”

“This time that perceived failing has worked in my favor.”

“So it seems.” Legolas took a deep breath and then put his hand over his chest.

Noticing the move, the ranger pulled the elf’s hand away and began opening his tunic. “You are injured worse than you let on.” It was a flat statement of fact. He didn’t bother asking permission to check the elf, because he knew exactly what the answer would be.

Legolas didn’t really protest, because he knew from experience the healer in Aragorn would only argue. However, the elf just couldn’t let the man’s attempt go completely unchallenged. “You know you cannot see anything in the dark.”

“Well, I can feel and...” He didn’t finish before Legolas hissed in reaction to Aragorn pressing gently against his chest.

“I knew it,” the man said, almost triumphantly.

“You seem pleased with yourself.”

Aragorn had the good grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry that you’re injured, Legolas. I truly am, but I can’t deny I like being right.”

The elf nodded. “I have always known that about you. you are very competitive.”

“I had to be to survive my childhood with Elladan and Elrohir for brothers.” A wistful look crossed the ranger’s face at the many memories that flooded into his mind.

Before he could comment, Legolas had to bite his lip and then hold is breath to keep from hissing yet again, when Aragorn leaned forward and did more probing.

After a few moments, the man sat up straight and sighed. “No broken ribs, thank goodness. But several are badly bruised.”

That statement was a piece of good news for both of them. It meant that Legolas wasn’t going to damage his ribs or risk puncturing a lung by moving. It was just going to be painful, something the elf had endured more times than he cared to remember.

The subject of injuries was soon sidelined when, out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn spotted the troll who had been appointed to be their guard. The man frowned, as he took a closer look.

“Did you notice that troll sitting by the door?”

Legolas stared at the creature before saying, “Not until now.” It was an admission he hated to make. He was usually much more observant, and he didn‘t consider being injured an excuse for missing something as large as a troll in the doorway.

“I guess Pickett doesn’t trust us to stay put,” Aragorn quipped, though the meaning was no joke.

The troll at the door was well aware that the captives were talking to each other, but Pickett hadn’t told him they were not to speak, so he ignored them.

All he was concerned about was keeping them from trying to escape, and so far, they hadn’t made any moves toward the door he guarded.

His most important train of thought was his own comfort, or rather discomfort. Sitting on the ground all night while not only watching two puny beings but also having to watch Pickett getting a good night’s sleep was making the troll angry. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. There was, however, something that could stop his anger from growing any worse.

Suddenly, a large arm encircled the creature’s neck at the same time that a hand rested along his jaw. His head was jerked to the side, accompanied by a loud crack. The troll’s body went limp. Then in a move so quick it belied a troll’ size, the guard was dragged away from the door and out of sight.

Both Legolas and Aragorn blinked in total surprise. They couldn’t believe what they had seen, and yet their guard was gone and the doorway was empty.

“Did you just see that?” Aragorn asked, still doubting the vision he had just seen.

“I did, but I do not know what to make of it,” Legolas replied. The elf didn’t know whether to be happy or suspicious.

“Dare we grab the chance to leave? We might have the same thing happen to us.”

Logical as ever, Legolas said, “If we stay here, I am sure something far worse will be in store. I would rather die making another attempt to escape.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Aragorn agreed, as he made it to his feet and reached down to help Legolas to his feet.

Was this bid for freedom going to be the one that finally worked, or would it lead to yet another failure? Neither one knew, but they weren‘t about to sit around and debate the matter.

The two began to creep very slowly toward the door, hoping against hope that another troll would not suddenly appear before them. Legolas had no trouble moving soundlessly. Humans made more noise, but there was so much at stake that Aragorn was almost as silent.

Once they reached the doorway, Aragorn poked his head out and looked all around to make sure that no other trolls were around. He saw none. “It’s clear.”

Legolas took one last look at Pickett. If for some reason the troll leader had awoken, he wanted to be able to warn Aragorn to run. Silence at that point would hardly matter.

Pickett was sound asleep and gave no indication that the captives had been seen or heard.

Legolas was just turning his head back toward the door when he suddenly stopped. Something had caught his eye. Without a word, he began to make his way, almost on tiptoes, across the front wall to the corner on his left.

Aragorn was so busy looking at all areas of the camp that he didn’t notice Legolas wasn’t right behind him.

In less than a minute, Legolas had returned to stand behind the ranger, so when Aragorn turned and grinned at the elf, he didn’t know that Legolas had just arrived at his back. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

The two friends slipped through the doorway and made their way to the edge of the trees behind the hut. They hadn’t gone far before a large troll stepped out in front of them.

Aragorn shook his head in frustration. “Not again!” he declared angrily and then took a defensive stance. As futile as fighting this huge creature might be, he was prepared to do just that.

To the surprise of both elf and ranger, the troll held his hands up. “I won’t hurt you.”

Legolas recognized the troll. “Scron.” He asked simply, “Why?”

“I hate Pickett. I should be leader.”

Aragorn could think of only one reason that fit the situation. “So you think if we escape, Pickett will be seen as a weak leader, who can’t even keep captives in his own hut, and then you can challenge him and take over as the new leader.”

“I hate Pickett,” the troll repeated. Perhaps his limited brain power didn’t allow him to accurately follow exactly what the man had just said, but it was clear that that was the troll’s primitive reasoning.

“We hate him, too,” Aragorn offered in an attempt to stay on this troll’s good side.

The more time they spent out here talking, the more chance there was of being discovered by another troll or Pickett, if he woke up and found them missing, so Legolas decided to prod the creature. “You will let us go?”

“Yes. Go,” Scron told them. “I’ll take care of Pickett.”

Not willing to risk another moment, Legolas and Aragorn turned and ran farther into the forest.

Once they were out of sight of the clearing, Legolas stopped and handed Aragorn his sword.

The man stared at it, looking for all the world as if he had never laid eyes on such a weapon before in his life. “How? When?”

Legolas smiled. “Elven magic.”

“Right. And did it not occur to you to give me the sword before we ran into Scron?”

“I had no idea Scron was waiting for us. Besides, there was no time. Like now,” Legolas said, as he began moving away, the smile still firmly on his face.

It was then the man saw the longbow and quiver across the elf’s back. The ranger shook his head and grinned to himself. Only an elf could have pulled off a weapons rescue like that at the last second.

He sighed, as he trotted after his friend. The quiver was empty, so Aragorn hoped they wouldn’t find themselves in a situation that required the use of a bow. At least they had both of the elf’s long knives and his sword. And, if all went well, they would soon have their horses, too.

TBC