Chapter 7

Several times in the following days, James or John would come down with a small knife – never the same one – and cut Legolas’s hand on the palm. Then a tiny glass bottle would be held to the wound until the blood stopped dripping out. When a bottle was full, it would be carefully corked and stored. Legolas wondered when they would have enough. Would they bleed him dry?

The Lady Emilisa was now in open water. The only reason Legolas knew this was that sailors coming down to get food talked about it. The elf was no longer allowed out of his cell. “Paling him down,” they called it. It was true; he had gotten much tanner than normal during his time in the Caribbean, and the tips of his ears looked almost fake against the rest of his skin. He longed to see the sun again, to have her warm beams spill across his face. But as far as the elf could see, it was not to happen soon.

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A fortnight after Legolas had first found out about why he was kept captive, he heard the anchor of the ship drop for the first time. It could only mean one thing: they had come to a port. Governor Swann would begin selling the blood, but what of Legolas himself? Surely there was a reason for making him pale again. Would he be taken ashore or left behind? Was there any possibility of escape? This last question he could answer: no. If he did manage to get away, Alaina would be killed and his whole reason for giving in ruined. He would never be able to forgive himself if he did that, and he would have not a single friend – in this world anyway. It hurt to think of Arda, of Middle Earth, of Mirkwood. Of Uherenye, Gimli, Aragorn, the merry hobbits, his father. He thought of them anyway. Perhaps if he got away he could join Jack – no. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t. Loyalty was a trait he had always had, and he was not about to give it up. *Eru, what’s an elf to do?* But was Eru even here, in this world? Yes, of course He was, Legolas told himself. As much as He was in Arda. There was nothing else besides the home of Eru and Eä, so this must be another place in Eä. Was there a Straight Path here also? And if there was one, did it lead to the same Valinor? The Valinor where sits Manwë upon Taniquetil? He felt his head might burst with questions, but this was prevented by an interruption.

James and John were back again, both surrounded by cheerful and pompous airs. They were both grinning broadly, showing their slightly decayed teeth. John chuckled and jingled his keys as he stepped forward to unlock Legolas’s cell, and from the sounds that the elf’s keen ears picked up, James was acting likewise at the other cell.

As Legolas was shoved up to the deck after Alaina, he perceived that it was the last hour or so of darkness. But why then was there so much noise coming from what must be the town or city? Surely most if not all of the people of a respectable place would be asleep at this hour. And then a wave of sound and smell hit him as the town came into view, and Legolas knew exactly where he was – and it was NOT a respectable place. “Oh EruÂ… not this place again,” the elf muttered, recalling his previous visit to Tortuga. John gave him a warning shove in the back.

“We’re leaving the maid on deck with James,” the sailor said in a low voice. “One toe out of line, you know what happens.”

Legolas nodded miserably and allowed himself to be lowered to the pier. The Lady Emilisa was shallow on the draft and the water on the shores of Tortuga fairly deep, so there was no need for rowboats. At this point, Governor Swann allowed John to unshackle Legolas’s ankles. The group began to walk towards what Legolas knew to be one of the main streets of the infamous town. A moment later, the prince realized that Governor Swann had fallen into step with him.

“Listen up, boy. We’re here to sell your blood and you are the one marketing it. So you had better stand up straight and look every bit the immortal brat of an Elven prince you are, or you’re just not worth anything to use anymore – and neither is your friend. Got that?”

Legolas felt his throat tightening up uncomfortably as he struggled to nod. The Governor stopped walking and pulled Legolas to a halt with a tug on the chains that bound the elf’s wrists. Legolas turned his head away, staring off into the distance. Suddenly he felt one of Governor Swann’s hands against his neck. It was an old, weathered, wrinkly hand, one that should have belonged to a cheery grandfather instead of an evil, plotting government official who was threatening murder. The hand fully covered the front of Legolas’s throat, putting pressure on his windpipe and forcing his head around. There was a nasty look in the Governor’s eyes.

“You are far too proud,” he growled, digging the heel of his palm into the hollow at the base of his prisoner’s throat just enough to make it slightly difficult for the elf to breathe. “When I speak to you, you will answer out loud and you will refer to me as ‘sir.” Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Legolas choked out, hatred gleaming in his eyes.

“Good,” Governor Swann said, and pushed Legolas away. “Let’s get going again.”

Soon they reached what could have passed as Tortuga’s version of a marketplace, with drunks laying on the sides of the street and the occasional ale vendor who’d had a bit too much of his own product. A few chickens pecked around here and there and rotten vegetables from the previous day lay squashed on the stones of the street or cast off on currently abandoned stalls. Loud music and garbled singing – and, of course, the sounds of fistfights in progress – could be heard coming from a tavern.

“Here is good,” announced Governor Swann, gesturing to an area close to the tavern’s door. He had John and another sailor haul over a large wooden crate and prodded Legolas up on top of it. A few people passed by, hardly sparing a glance for the group. Then, as if by magic, the tavern began to empty out. Once all the revelers were gone, the owner would probably sleep a few precious hours before reopening his establishment again.

The first drunkards stumbled by in oblivion, some sporting large, fresh bruises on their faces. But one man stopped, mouth hanging open in a stupid manner, and started a few seconds before yelling, “Wasee doin’ u’there?” He pointed a dirty finger at Legolas, then waited for someone to enlighten him.

Governor Swann was silent for several moments, giving others in the street time to focus on what was going on. Finally, he said, “My fine people, what you see here before you is no less than a genuine elf!” The crowd gasped in awe like a group of small children. “Behold his pointed ears, the very symbols of his legendary immortality!” To Governor beckoned to the crowd to look while Legolas wondered what ear shape had to do with immortality. “You there, come and tell everyone how real these ears are!” A relatively short man wove his way towards Legolas and tugged hard on the tip of the elf’s ear. Legolas winced. “By George but ‘e is real!” exclaimed the man, to drunken roars of approval from the crowd.

A sly smile flitted across Legolas’s captor’s face. “What if I told you that you could all share in the elf’s longevity, and for the tiniest of prices?” This got the crowd even more hyped up. There were shouts of “how?” from every direction. Governor Swann produced a tiny bottle from his pocket. The sun, now just barely up, glimmered off its surface and showed the red blood inside. “All you must do,” he said, “is consume a single vial of the elf’s blood. Just that, and you will be immune to all sickness, all usually mortal wounds, even old ageÂ… forever. And I, good people, am the only one who can provide you with such a thing.”

Legolas frowned inwardly as the crowd began to buy up the stock of vials. The stock of his blood. *That’s not how it works, even if Elvish blood did grant immortality it is to no physical plague. How can the Governor not expect to get found out?*

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By late afternoon, the Governor and his assistants had sold not only every bottle of blood they had collected, but also every knife they had ever cut Legolas with. This latter group of items had been marketed as “good luck charms.” Governor Swann and most of the others were now enjoying a hearty meal in the tavern, but a single sailor had been left to guard Legolas. Somehow a stock had been gotten hold of, and the guard was now charging a small fee for passers-by to throw rotten food at Legolas or touch him to see that he was real. The prince felt humiliated, exhausted, and hopeless. He had no control over what happened to himself; drunk women tried to kiss him and their drunker male acquaintances threw stones at him, but he could do nothing to prevent it. It was just beginning to get dark when Legolas thought he saw a familiar face. He glanced towards the guard, who was not paying much attention, and hissed, “Gibbs!” The pirate heard his name, but did not at first seem to realize where it was coming from. Legolas tried again. This time, Gibbs looked puzzled but headed towards the prisoner. Unfortunately, the guard noticed him at least. Reluctantly, Captain Jack Sparrow’s First Mate handed over a coin and proceeded onwards.

“How the blazes do you know my n – Will Turner?!” Gibbs asked quietly as he approached Legolas, somehow managing to recognize the “blacksmith” even with his pale golden locks. “What’re you doing here, boy? And like this!”

“Long story,” Legolas whispered. “But Gibbs, I really need your help right now. Jack’s too if he’s with you. Governor Swann, he’s evil and – ”

“Took you long enough t’ figure that one out,” Gibbs interrupted.”

“This is serious,” Legolas said slightly angrily. “Listen, he’s got this girl on the ship, a friend of mine, and me here, and you’ve got to get us out. I could probably escape myself, but then they’d kill her, you see, I can’t let that happen. Just please, Gibbs, see if you can get her away. I don’t care what you say to Jack, just do it. She’s their leverage against me. If you get her but not me it’s okay.”

Gibbs took a moment to ponder this over, then replied, “All right, I’ll see what we can do. Where be the ship?”

Legolas felt only a small bit of relief from the knowledge that he was going to get help. “Second dock. The Lady Emilisa,” he said. “And Gibbs… thank you. And good luck.” The pirate grunted a response and gave Legolas a faux slap in the face for appearances, then melted into the crowd.