Fan Fiction ❯ Demons in the Dark ❯ Chapter 5

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Italics indicate memory or dreams.

Commonly used Sindarin words:

Ai: Oh!
pen-neth: young one
muindor: brother
gwador: sworn brother, not those by blood
Ada: dad
melethron: lover
a'maelamin: lover
ernil-nín: my prince
ion nín: my son

*~*~*

Consciousness returned slowly in stages, bringing with it first pain, then memory. For long moments after awareness returned, Legolas focused on slowly dragging air into his lungs. It seemed an unnatural act to the blonde archer, to have to think about breathing, but it felt as if a great weight had settled on his chest, making it difficult to draw air without thought.

The act of breathing once again established, Legolas slowly uncurled from the fetal position he had had adopted to protect his already aching figure. His long lithe body protested the movement, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out at the pain that radiated through him, the main source of which was the wound to his back. Coupled with the poison and the beating at the hands and feet of his captors, the injury had not healed, and had more than likely been compounded.

His long blonde hair lay in tangles across his face, blood crusting the ends from where he had hit his head and from the various other open wounds he had sustained. For once he didn't mind; it was one thing he had left to hide behind, one way to obscure himself from his tormenters. It also cast a pale light in front of his eyes, giving him something to focus on in his small, dark confines.

Legolas shifted a little, trying to ease the strain on a cracked rib and something bumped against his chest. The resultant gasp of surprise caused him to lose control over his breathing, that loss of focus sending him spiraling down into a panic attack as lack of air spread dark spots over his limited vision again. It felt to the Prince like the walls of his small prison were coming in on him, that he was going to suffocate, buried alive.

Hands made strong by centuries of the practice of archery and the craft that went with it scrabbled at the wiry chest, as if to tear it open to force air in another way. Darkness was close but he did not want to give in again. You're panicking, something inside him whispered. Try to calm yourself. Try to slow your breathing. Find something to focus on. Even as he tried to obey the voice, Legolas' fingers bumped something hanging on a chain around his neck, that same thing that had driven the breath from him, and he grasped at it, pulling the chain free.

Still gasping for breath, he held the chain up to his eyes, and he could barely make out the pale white light of his body reflected off a silver ring. Elladan's ring. He clutched at it, believing he could feel Elladan through the inanimate object, could hear his voice trying to soothe him, to help him recover himself.

Slowly, the Prince's breathing returned to something closer to normal, though the pain in his chest had increased exponentially and small shudders ran down his spine. His head swam and throbbed from the combination of fever and lack of air.

Legolas dropped his chin to his chest, closing his eyes and trying to force the panic farther back. Now that it had been let loose, it would be harder to keep it at bay. Slowly calming slightly, he lifted his chin and opened his eyes, just as the stone blocking the only way out was rolled aside.

Three orcs entered. "Stand him up," one growled as they entered, seeing the elf was conscious.

Legolas grunted as he was roughly hauled to his feet, and grimaced when his injured ankle was bounced around. He was held up by a huge hand under each arm, his one good foot solidly on the floor while the blonde tried to keep weight off the bound one

A hard blow to Legolas' stomach drove the air from his lungs again. Gasping for breath, he glared from beneath the curtain of hair hanging over his face. A punch to his face sent him staggering back despite the heavy grip on his arms. Another strike to his belly sent him reeling again, causing him to almost bite through his lip to avoid screaming out as he placed full weight and twisted on his injured ankle.

As the blows rained down on his head, chest, and belly, a cool presence grew in the palm of his hand. There he still clutched Elladan's ring in his fist. He let the knowledge of Elladan's love fill him and lend him strength to hope that he would find a way out.

Gaining some strength from that knowledge, the Prince drew a breath and started to sing softly.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
o menel palan-diriel,
le nallon sí di'nguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!

The two orcs holding Legolas up hissed in pain at the words; the beauty of the Elvish tongue stinging them much as the black tongue of Mordor caused physical pain to the First Born.

The words enraged the orcs, and the one not holding him increased the intensity and frequency of the blows, focusing on the elf's chest and stomach, trying to drive the breath from him.

Legolas heard and felt ribs crack, was aware of the increasing resistance to the orcs blows that indicated he was bleeding somewhere inside, but he remained focused on the song, the image of Elladan's face hanging before him in the dimly lit cave. Though gasping for breath he continued to sing, until finally, a savage blow to his temple took away the burden of consciousness.
Translation:

Oh Elbereth, Starkindler
From heaven gazing afar
To thee I cry now in the shadow of death!
O look towards me, Everwhite!

Note: Sam quotes this phrase in Book IV, chapter x. I figure he had to have picked it up somewhere, even if he doesn't realize where.