Legolas
Legolas awoke again to feel a cold stone floor under him. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, taking a second to get accustomed to the darkness. When he did, he realized he was in what seemed like a cage. It wasn't big at all, only enough for him to lie down in. The king also noticed that there were metal chains tied to his wrists and ankles, and attached to the bars of the cage, limiting his movements. It wasn't tall enough for him to stand up in, but Legolas noticed that three other levels of cages towered above his, and another three underneath. Suddenly, he remembered all that had happened: The attack of the orcs, the arrow, and then the wight. Slowly, the king moved his hand to touch the place where the deep wound was. Nothing, it was totally sealed leaving not even the tiniest mark. Looking around, he shook this head. This was not a whight's barrow, it was a cage, probably forged by elves as for the sturdy bars. Reaching out, he shook the cage slightly, but it didn't move.
Suddenly he remembered Falco. Letting out a gasp of dismay he looked around, trying to spot the young elf between the many bars that formed the rows. After a second, his keen gaze saw a figure lying on the floor of one of the cages five rows away, and worked out that it was Falco. He was breathing, he just seemed deeply asleep.
Legolas sat down, his back resting against the metal as he felt guilty once more for not having searched longer for his son. He remembered dreadfully well the day when him and a few men had gone in search of the lost ones, and found his wife's dead body, brutally murdered by orcs. The king shook his head sadly. She had been so beautiful, so kind... she didn't deserve to die that way. Legolas felt guilt swell up inside him. Why hadn't he gone and defended them? Maybe then his family would have been together.
But when he had seen the corpse, him and the other elves supposed that the baby was also dead, and had returned to their hiding.But now the king regretted it deeply. Instead of being raised like a prince, Falco had been treated brutally as a slave, obliged to work day after day and beaten if he didn't do so. And in the meanwhile, he, Legolas Greenleaf, mourning their death instead of going to help him. And then, the worse. Captured by orcs and tortured with the cruellest methods to say something he didn't even know. One of the elf spies had heard the screams from the underground dungeons, and had reported that it was an elf inmediatly. When they had found him, Falco was hardly alive, starved to death and full of terrible wounds that Legolas didn't even want to imagine. And now they were both trapped in a cage, and what would happen next was unknown to the elven king. Why had he been so foolish, leaving his bow on the horse like that? If he had brought it, he could have fought back against the orcs, and everything would be well. Closing his eyes, he glanced at Falco one more time, and then fell into what elves call sleep, a strange limbo between dreams and real life.