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 Disclaimer: Any characters or places that sound familiar are not mine.

 

 “Give it up!” Dark eyes glimmered in satisfaction and uncontained malice. Merzak stretched his arm forward, inviting the young man to hand him the box. “Come on, ranger, you know there is no point in fighting.”

 “Never!” Aragorn stated in denial and took a step backwards. He forced his voice to sound steady although his heart was clenched in fear. His silver glare never left Merzak’s face.

“Never?” Two black eyebrows were raised in question. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

The ranger paled slightly and closed his eyes. He opened them and blinked, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. But the nightmare was real.

“You know I have no interest in you,” the man continued calmly. “All I want is the Elf. Now give me the box, and I will let you go.”

All I want is the Elf.

 Merzak suddenly stared in front of himself, but it seemed to Aragorn that the dark gaze was passing through him. No, the man didn’t seem to notice his surroundings; he didn’t see the pale, but resolute ranger, staring at him with grim determination. He was looking at something else, something beyond.

He was looking at a fair face, decorated by two emerald-green eyes, surrounded by wavy auburn hair. The little girl giggled happily and threw herself into her mother’s arms. The young woman smiled, embraced the child, and relaxed on the soft grass.

Aragorn was suddenly surprised and confused to see tears in the dark eyes. He didn’t know what was happening, but his grip on the box tightened instinctively.

The view suddenly changed. The skies seemed to darken as green-fletched arrows flew from the forest. Woman and child collapsed into a pond of blood. Merzak wanted to scream, but his throat felt as if it was paralyzed. Suddenly a fire appeared from somewhere and everything was consumed by the crimson flames.

The Elves of Mirkwood had taken his family away from him. They had taken his life away from him. By order of their Prince.

Mirkwood will pay for this.

“Mirkwood will pay for this,” he repeated aloud. “As well as everyone who stands on their side. You have a choice, ranger. Give me the box, or die.”

“Never!” The answer was firmer this time.

Merzak sighed as if he was bored of all this arguing. “Why are you doing this?” He asked.

“Because he is my friend.”

“Your friend?” His voice sounded amused. “Now, this is interesting. And are you sure he is worth dying for?”

The fire in the silver orbs was enough of an answer. Yes.

“Very well then. The friend of a dishonorable murderer is a murderer as well. I will have no regrets when I kill you.”

“Legolas is no murderer,” the ranger’s voice was soft and menacing.

“No? So it is not a murder to kill a helpless woman and her child? But you do not care, do you? Go if you think you can! But even if you escape me, I doubt that you will reach him on time.”

“On time?” Aragorn’s eyes widened and he was unable to hide his shock.

“Yes, on time,” the man grinned. “This Elf of yours has no more than a day to live.”

Aragorn glanced at the box. The key to his friend’s life.  “A day be it.” He suddenly turned back and ran towards the forest. He could clearly hear Merzak unsheathe his sword. He would face the man if necessary, but there was not a moment to spare, so he preferred to escape without a fight.

Suddenly five dark shapes appeared before him. He took a step back and his grip on the sword tightened slightly. Orcs. He should have known.

He should have known that Merzak would never let him escape. This man hated Legolas too much to give the elf even the slightest chance to live. The people of the Gray Mountains were so determined to destroy Mirkwood, that they have formed a dubious alliance with the orcs. This union of men and orcs made him feel sick.

Aragorn turned back to face Merzak. He would fight the orcs, but somehow he doubted they were only five. “You are wrong,” he stated firmly. “Legolas is not guilty. I am sure that if you give me time, I will find a way to prove it to you.”

The dark glare was so strong, that it seemed to the ranger that it would burn holes in him. “I just wonder if you are as bad as him, or he had managed to fool you as well,” he whispered dangerously. “But whatever it is, you do not deserve my mercy!”

Aragorn tried not to flinch at this obvious hatred directed at him. “What makes you think Legolas has something to do with the murder of your family?” He challenged.

Merzak laughed darkly, “What makes me think he is a murderer? Nothing makes me think! I know it! I saw it with my eyes!” The ranger was staring at him unbelievingly, so he continued. “Do you think Elves ever lie?”

Aragorn was somewhat surprised by the question. “It is not impossible, and it has happened before. But all Elves I know are very bad liars. They are pure goodness.”

“Pure goodness!” Merzak snorted. “Well, then if an Elf told you something, you would believe it, wouldn’t you?”

Aragorn nodded hesitantly, not sure where this was going.

“I also believed an elf,” Merzak continued. “The one who killed my family. I saw him with my own eyes! He killed them! He shot them, and then slit their throats to make sure they were dead. I fought him, and he left me alive, I still don’t know why. Maybe this was a part of the cruelty.”

The ranger was stunned. “This is not possible!” An elf would never do such a thing.

“I am just telling you what I saw,” Merzak continued coldly. “Naturally, in the course of our fight, I confronted him and demanded an explanation. Do you know what he answered?” Dark eyes narrowed with hate. “He told me that he was only following orders. That his prince had sent him to kill them. The elf was from Mirkwood.”

“This is not true,” Aragorn’s voice was low and defiant. “You are lying!”

“I don’t know what you have seen and what has made you trust Elves that much,” Merzak sighed, looking bored once again. “I only know this: I am not lying. I give you a last chance, ranger. Help me have my revenge! Leave the treacherous Elves and come back to your own people! You only need to give me the box and leave him die. You don’t even need to kill him yourself. Give me the box, and I will let you go unharmed!”

Instead of an answer, Aragorn turned back and ran towards the orcs. He raised his sword to block a blow, aimed at his head, then ducked and trusted the blade into his attacker’s stomach. Then he turned around and swung his weapon, taking a few steps back as an orc head rolled in front of his feet. Two down. Three more left.

“Give up, ranger, you cannot escape me,” Merzak stated calmly, no trace of doubt in his voice.

Aragorn tried to ignore him and concentrate on the fight. Two orcs charged at him at the same time. His sword slashed and cut through an orc’s throat, sprinkling him with dark blood. Then the blade flew forward and sank into his other assailant’s chest.

One left. Only one more. He turned to face the last remaining orc and gasped at what he saw. Two left. No, three! No… four? No! The orcs seemed to be multiplying.

Aragorn looked at Merzak, hoping that the man couldn’t see the fear in his eyes.

“You didn’t think I would have let you escape, did you?” The man grinned. “Give me the box before they have taken it from you. I will have it in either case.”

Aragorn didn’t even hear him. Two orcs lunged at him, but before he could block any of their blows, he felt a blade cut through his right arm, almost making him drop his sword. Normally he would have moved the weapon to his left hand, but now it was busy holding the box. And he would never risk losing the precious wooden object. So the only thing he could do was raise his sword with his injured right arm and hope he would be able to meet his assailants.

He wasn’t.

Sharp pain flared through his side, and he fell to his knees with a pained gasp.  He tried to rise, but someone stepped on his back and pushed him down.

“I give you one last chance,” Merzak’s voice sounded in his ears like drums. The man continued speaking, but Aragorn could no longer discern the words. It seemed that Merzak was asking him something, but he didn’t know what, and he had no strength to reply. The pain in his side was intensifying. It felt like burning, making him feel nauseous. There was something unusual about the burning sensation. He could think of only one possible explanation. Poisoned blade.

He tried to tighten his grip on the box, but his fingers refused to move. He tried to rise once again, but the ground was swimming in front of his vision. He had to stand up! He had to reach Legolas! But every breath he took hurt so much, so much… Suddenly a heavy boot landed on his back, forcing all air out of his lungs.

Merzak was saying something, but Aragorn didn’t know what. He had the feeling that there was a thunderstorm in his ears.

The last thing he felt was someone jerk the box out of his limp hand.

 

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