Hello! Please enjoy this next update (or don't, depending on whether or not you want Legolas to be happy). Quick warning: graphic depictions of violence ahead!

Also I drew the picture for this chapter (and wrote the poem at the start) so sorry if they're not great. Enjoy:

I can feel the familiar feeling,
A terror too deep to escape,
That leaves my whole body reeling,
'Cause by now it's already too late.

My senses drowned in fear long suppressed,
A dark I can't elude,
Old wounds reopened and left undressed,
And old fears renewed.

~ ghostofwolves

The first thing that Legolas knew when he woke was that he hurt. His head pounded unbearably and his whole body was terribly bruised and scraped. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes as a familiar terror swept over him, but forced himself to push back the rising emotions and show no signs of them on the outside. He didn't know who may be watching.

Still, despite all efforts, he couldn't help flinching when a horrendously familiar voice spoke softly, right in his ear.

"Awake already, my pretty? Remarkable, your strength. But I shouldn't be surprised, should I? It was the same last time. And it will be the same again."

The young elf jerked back as much as the tight bonds around him would allow, which wasn't far given that they trapped him securely against the trunk of a tree, his scarred and injured back digging painfully into the rough bark. Legolas gritted his teeth; he wouldn't give these people the satisfaction of knowing just how much they were already hurting him. No doubt there was a lot more pain coming, and now that he knew who his captor was, he dreaded the upcoming cruelty even more than he had before.

Instead of looking up into the face of his nightmares, the young elf brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his arms, which now rested on his bent legs. Swallowing the questions which surged towards him was difficult around the seemingly immovable lump in his throat. His breathing was ragged and shallow, partly from fear and party from pain. Deep inside, the child knew that these elves wouldn't kill him, which, he decided, only made it worse.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas held back the tears, closing his eyes. He was wrong: it would not be the same again. Everything had changed. Everything! He wasn't in the same, cold cell, wasn't blaming himself as much for his mother's death and yet... Aragorn's death was his fault. Something had made him freeze, something more than just fear. And because of it, Aragorn had taken the arrow for him. Because of it, Aragorn had died.

But would Aragorn want him to give in? To despair? To let his father win? No.

Legolas drew a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes once more, the strong defiance and determination in the blue irises made his captor take a tiny, almost imperceptible step back. It wasn't the same. He wasn't a murderer. And he wasn't going to let Thranduil get to him. He wasn't going to let Thranduil win.

Anger swelled behind the startling blue of the elfling's eyes, and he snarled viciously into his father's face. He said no words, but the message was clear.

I'm not giving in to you. This time, you're going to have to work for it.

The King stood tall, gazing down at his son, bound to a tree and looking half-dead already, and yet this was the most life he had ever seen in Legolas. It was life. Life was resistance. And he would not tolerate resistance.

Smiling coldly down at the child, he spoke sarcastically. "What a warm welcome. I'm glad you've missed me."

Legolas growled back, curling his lip.  "Auta miqula orqu!"

"What did you say?" Again, Thranduil's voice was calm, cold, commanding. A voice that would make any of Mirkwood's inhabitants cower in fear, that would have made Legolas cower in fear until recently.

"I said, utinu en lokirim, go kiss an orc."

"Well, murderer, you seem in... high spirits. Killed another one, have you?" taunted the King.

"I have killed nobody. Get away from me."

Thranduil was startled. Just over a month, and that mortal has already ruined his elfling. It would be so tedious to beat all those lessons into him again. Still, he was immortal. He had time.

Thranduil had had enough of words. All he wanted to hear now was his son's tortured screams as he was punished for his defiance. He wanted to hear Legolas plead. No, he wanted to hear Legolas beg. Just like good old times.

The King jerked his head to the guards. He knew they were all fiercely loyal to their Captain, Agardir. And he also knew that Agardir was fiercely loyal to him. These guards were hand-picked, cold and heartless. They wouldn't lift a finger against their King, but they would most likely enjoy what he had in store for Legolas.

Thranduil smirked at his son as he was bound securely with thick ropes from his ankles and wrists to the tree, and the other bonds were cut. Oh yes, the scout who had found him this prize would be rewarded. Handsomely.

As the Elvenking snapped a thin switch from a nearby tree, he saw Legolas' mask of defiance crack, just for a moment. Then it was gone, and the cold indifference had once more covered the spark of fear he had seen in the child's eye.

Good. Maybe he hasn't forgotten everything, after all.

Thranduil decided against removing the tunic, if it could be called a tunic. It was just rags, anyway, utterly destroyed by past whippings. Thick scars could be clearly seen through the tears in the thin material.

Signalling to Agardir, Thranduil smiled coldly as he handed over the switch. "Make him pay for making you take the force of my anger, not him." Thranduil had known that Agardir was angry about it, and this was the perfect opportunity for him to do Thranduil's bidding and vent his rage.

Agardir looked more than ready to take the whip to Legolas when Thranduil stopped him with a quick warning. "Just don't kill him. I need him alive for when we go back to Mirkwood. Death is too good for him."

The Captain nodded, and, although looking slightly disgruntled, followed his King's command. As always.

Legolas tensed as the first stroke of the whip met his back, holding in a cry of pain as the thin end struck his injured side. This was the same elf who had delivered that injury, he realised. Only this time, there was no Îdhír or Tinu to save him. He was on his own.

Another sharp crack heralded the arrival of the next blow, and Legolas fell to his knees at the force of it, hands now bound together above his head. Pain ran down the stroke like fire, and he felt a trickle of warmth running freely from the base of it. Blood.

He had endured worse, but that didn't make it any easier. And a taste of freedom hadn't exactly helped.

Another blow fell, and Legolas gritted his teeth. He wouldn't cry out. He wouldn't. He knew that was what Thranduil wanted from him, and so that was what he wouldn't give.

Agardir beat the child until he could lift the whip no longer, and his anger was poured into every stroke, every blow that fell upon the elfling's back. The switch was red, and Legolas was so pale he looked like a corpse. But Thranduil hadn't finished yet.

Picking up the switch to use for himself, Thranduil stood. Approaching Legolas, he took in the sight before him.

The elfling's back was red, not one patch left uncovered, and marred with fresh whip-marks, deep slashes amid old scars. But he hadn't cried out once, and until he did, Thranduil wasn't finished.

Legolas was breathing heavily, hanging from his bonds, on his knees with his hands together above his head and thick ropes binding him to the tree. His head was hanging down, and he did not seem able to lift it. He was almost spent, that much was clear. And yet still he had not cried out, and Thranduil was angry.

Lifting the switch, he brought it down on Legolas' back. The elfling, who had been trying to hold onto the moment of peace, started, his head jerking up, eyes staring wistfully into the empty forest before him. "Rhachon le." He muttered tiredly, yet angrily still.

Again, and again, Thranduil brought down the switch. Eventually, Legolas could take no more, and his desperate cry echoed loudly through the forest.

"ARAGORN!"

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this :)

It means a lot to me when you vote and comment, I want to know who's reading! Thank you all so much.

Next Chapter: Aragorn goes in search of Legolas

Elvish:
Auta miqula orqu: go kiss an orc
Utinu en lokirim: son of snakes (dishonest person)
Rhachon le: curse you

Oh, don't forget to vote :P