Pain and Grief

Another shot of pain spread through his body as the whip connected once again with his abused back. The broken form that hung in chains let out a cry of agony, a twisted shriek that told the world his suffering for what it was. A last blow to his bare back and his tormentors stopped. He heard the footsteps leaving the room and the heard the door slam shut with a resounding clang. He tried to call out, to call his tormentors back if only so he was not alone. But that only came out as a whisper-his throat too dry for him to speak. Another door somewhere up the corridor slammed shut and he heard no more. In this dark cell he could not hear norsee anything. Indeed the only sounds he heard in this dark hole were when his tormentors came. Then he heard his own screams, the clanking of his chains, the swish of the whip and the laughing of those who had placed themselves above him.

Once things had been different, once he had been strong. He had been a prince of elves once, one of the more beautiful males of his kind. He had been adored by Mirkwood's people and adored more so by his father, King Thranduil, He had had friends-The sons of Elrond.

But they were all fading from his memory…

How long he had been here he knew not. Years had passed. By now his Father would have given up looking, as would the twins and Estel. He would be dead to them. They would have mourned him and gotten on with their lives. He was nothing to them now save a figure they once loved, who was their friend or son.

But he was not dead…

He lived.

Why then did no one come to save him? Did they really not care for him? Had they never loved him?

Were they glad he was gone?

All those he had loved had abandoned him to pain and misery for the rest of his immortal life.

Unless he chose to end it by giving into grief, a better prospect than living in this hell for eternity.

He closed his eyes and exhaled…but he couldn't give in…

For all he wanted to give in, a slender hope remained, maybe they were looking for him. Just maybe that could be true…

He couldn't give in now…not just yet. He could hope that maybe someone was searching for him, somewhere.

"Elbereth, hear my prayer. If anyone cares for me, guide those people to me. Please" he whispered his voice cracking from lack of water. "Please"

And if they do not, let me die…

At first for so long he had not screamed in pain, holding strong. But as the years passed and no one came, he slowly fell into despair

Now he was broken…

A fresh wave of pain spread across his body. Perhaps they were no more, maybe they too where all gone, Possibilities welled up in his head. He needed someone. Anyone now to comfort him…

"Ada…" he croaked tears welling in his eyes as he called for the one who would never come…

No one would come. Not ever, he was alone.

Tears fell faster as he realised there really was no hope anymore. They were gone, all gone…

He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep, shutting his eyes from the world, not wanting them open to the world.

In his sleep grief finally overcame him…

His tormentors did not return. They were slain that very night by many warriors from Mirkwood and Rivendell. Thranduil had never given up in his search, he had come for his son, to rescue him and take him home. But he would not find what he wished

The rescue had come too late for Legolas…

The End