Summary- Aragorn, Legolas and the twins travel to the prince's home, but run into trouble along the way. Now Aragorn and Legolas have been captured and Mirkwood is in danger…

Disclaimer- I will never own Lord of the Rings, Legolas, Aragorn, the twins…I better stop before I get depressed. Anyway, no income is being received for this.


" Aragorn!"

Legolas struggled wildly against the black clawed hands holding him.

The orcs restraining the elf merely laughed cruelly and tightened their already painful hold.

Legolas gasped and bit his lip as pain from his wounded arm seared across him in bright waves. He gasped again as one of is captors deliberately dug a twisted claw into the open gash.

He couldn't cry out…couldn't let them know his pain… they would only feed on it; relish it…

A cry of anguish echoed in the dim cave.

He couldn't see the one whom the orcs tormented, but he didn't have to. The wood elf knew that voice very well.

An answering cry ripped from the prince's throat as he strained against the jeering orcs.



1 week earlier


A drop of water splashed on Legolas' cheek, waking him from a deep sleep.

The Mirkwood prince groaned and rolled over onto his side, throwing an arm over his face. Rain. Just what he wanted. Nothing was more uncomfortable than sleeping outside in rain.

Another drop tickled his pointed ear.


Two more drops slid into his golden hair.

He wasn't outside.

With a most un-elflike yelp he tried to roll clear of the enemy he now sensed poised above him…

Too late.

There was a splash.

Legolas glared upwards at his friend from his soaked bedding. The man's face was twitching with the effort of concealing his mirth.

In his hands rested the basin Legolas normally used for washing up. It was large, holding over three gallons of water when filled.

It had been full when Legolas went to sleep.

Now it was quite empty.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, adopted son of Elrond, chief of the Dunedein, heir of Isildur stood over his wet friend, a grin like an addled duck spread across his features.

" So much," The human said in a tone strangled by suppressed laughter, " for the legendary reflexes of the elves."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Legolas clobbered him with the drenched pillow. " Out!"

Aragorn scrambled back from the bed, laughing heartily.

"Fiend!" Legolas kicked off his sodden covers and swung his feet over the side of his bed, intending to give chase. Unfortunately, Aragorn had already made it to the door. "Coward!" Legolas shouted at the ranger's back, laughter beginning to twinkle in his eyes.

The young ranger pushed his head back into the room "Lego-lost."

The soaking pillow caught Isildur's heir full in the face with a damp sounding 'squish'.

" Little ORC!" Legolas leapt from his bed towards his friend even as Aragorn beat a hasty retreat.

Laughter floated through the rooms of the last homely house, alerting all who dwelt there of the famous pair's awakening.

Legolas gained ground quickly on his friend, partly due to the fact that Aragorn was laughing so hard he was coming up short on breath. The elf leapt into a spectacular flying tackle, catching Aragorn around the knees and sending them both sliding down the hall.

"Mercy," Aragorn gasped between his chuckles. He lay, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath.

"Oh, no." Legolas' blue eyes had a decidedly vengeful gleam in their depths. "Mercy is an unknown concept to the elves, especially when their honor has been slighted. And," he held up a hand and curled it into a menacing claw-like position. "When they know the enemy's one, true weakness."

Aragorn stared at his friend, horrified. " You wouldn't!" He couldn't comprehend the elven prince doing something so …diabolical.

" Oh," the fair elf's evil grin widened. " Oh but I would."

The young human desperately tried to roll away, but the hand was to quick. It caught below the ranger's ribs and…tickled.

" Stop…stop…stop!" Aragorn gasped as he tried to squirm away from the tickling hands.

" Never!" Legolas cried gleefully as he increased his attack.

A loud cough startled both of them.

Slowly, two pairs of eyes, one blue, one silver turned upwards.

Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris looked down at them expressionlessly. Behind him stood his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir. If Elrond's face was impassive, the twins were struggling for the same serenity. Legolas could see their lips twitch as they fought to remain serious.

"My lord Elrond," Legolas smiled weakly up at the Lord of Rivendell. "What a surprise."

Aragorn swallowed hard, his face turning a very bright red.

Quickly, Legolas pushed himself to his feet, drawing his friend up at the same time.

" Ada," the young human managed. " Good morning."

Elrond's eyebrow nearly disappeared into this hairline as he gazed at the two young ones before him. "Good morning, Estel." He nodded at the Mirkwood prince. "Legolas." He grey eyes surveyed them coolly, and for a brief second, Legolas swore he saw a muscle at the corner of the older elf's mouth quiver. " I must admit," he continued, "I am surprised to see you both awake and so…active this early." (Elrohir turned a snort of laughter into a hacking cough.) "Especially considering what time you returned last night." His gaze flickered over Legolas' still dripping form, then fastened on his youngest son. "Perhaps I should not be so surprised after all."

Without another word he turned and walked down the hall, a grin spreading over his features.

As soon as their father was out of sight, the twins relaxed their control.

Many minutes later, (wiping their streaming eyes and picking themselves up off the floor) they reestablished it.

"How nice," Aragorn kept his voice bland. "We have provided my brothers ample entertainment." He sighed deeply and pulled Elrohir to his feet.

"Wonderful to be appreciated," Legolas added sarcastically, watching Elladan wipe away his tears of mirth.

"So…hee hee…what happened to you two last night?" Elrohir finally managed.

"Yes," Elladan pulled himself together with an effort. "Why did you get back so late?"

Legolas muttered something unintelligible and became very interested in the tiles underneath his bare feet.

"We got back so late," Aragorn grinned, "Because the esteemed crowned prince of Mirkwood got lost."

Twin expressions of disbelief flitted across the young elf lords faces, quickly replaced by more mirth.

"Lost?" Elrohir tried to continue but choked on his snickers.

Elladan took up the unfinished thought. "How did you manage to get lost?"

"I was not lost," Legolas grumbled. " I simply did not know the way back."

Aragorn casually flipped his hair behind his ear. "He did not know the way back, yet he chose to comment on my obviously inferior methods of tracking and sense of direction."

"So," Elrohir picked up the tale as if he had been present. " You let the heir to the Mirkwood throne choose the path back to Imladris…"

" In order to display his obviously superior methods of tracking and impeccable sense of direction…" Elladan continued.

"While you stood back and laughed into your sleeve," they finished together, now wearing identical evil grins.

"That would be accurate," the ranger said with a grin. He cast a glance at his friend and the grin widened. "Why Legolas," he commented, as a well practiced look of innocence slid across his features. "I did not know elven ears could turn that color…"

Shouts of laughter mixed with some rather imaginative dwarven curses echoed through the halls of Lord Elrond's home.


The laughter echoed through the passages of Legolas' mind, transcending the feverish pain that spread through his body.

His eyelids flickered rapidly. Why had the memory of that laughter come back to him now? Why here?

This was not a place for laughter…at least, not good laughter. There was laughter, but it was cruel, evil, and twisted.

A shudder coursed through his body. Was it cold or the fever that shook him? He could no longer tell the difference.

A cold voice hissed nearby; the black speech that flowed from it's tongue caused Legolas to shudder anew. "Aragorn," he whispered softly, not even realizing that his lips were moving.

It was a soft plea. The loudest cry for help his captors could wring from him.

Where was his friend?


Ada- Father(daddy)