Disclaimer: No profit was made, only enjoyment bourn. No offense intended, please enjoy.
Warnings: Hard Pg-13, torture involved. If you don't like, then don't continue on. Thanks!
AN: Yes, this is a repost, so I hope I get more readers this time. I apologize for the last go around, but I've learned and hopefully it's worth it. Now on with the show.
TEARS
INTRODUCTION
He cringed. It seemed to be all he was capable of doing anymore. Yet he knew it only made it worse. Not only did it make the blows harsher and more punishing, it brought enjoyment to his captors. Once again he pulled deeper into himself, blocking his mind from the onslaught that his body was receiving. It was from here, from this place of disembodiment, that he realized how pitiful and helpless he had become. Once a strong and valiant warrior, he saw himself as a broken and beaten toy. Crumpled onto the cold, stone floor, the remnants of his clothing now torn and soiled from both the grime and blood. His own blood. The life force which these torturers, who now towered once again above him, spilled without mercy. He cringed now, again, as he anticipated the brutality which he knew was to come. His stubborn nature long gone, he now wished he could be wrong for once, but he wasn't.
He witnessed, more than felt, his body being forcefully lifted and thrown against the wall, where the already bloody and rusted chains awaited to bind his emaciated and torn flesh. There he hung, with the chains being his only support, facing his enemy. The lashing of leather, strikes of chain, and piercing of smoldering metal all blended into one immense wave of agony, continuously washing over his body and mind. He felt himself being pulled under. His last thought, though grim, brought what little justification was possible. He had yet to relinquish his last bit of humanity. They could beat his body and torture his mind, and take everything away from him, but never, NEVER, would they take his tears. For tears were sacred to him, only to be shed in the most happiest or desperate of occasions. He had yet to reach that desperation. After what seemed like hours, he returned to the restless darkness that was unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 1
He felt the droplets fall onto his cheeks. He hadn't expected this, and it put him in a foul mood. As Aragorn made his way towards Rivendell, in the rain, he couldn't help but worry. He had originally set out for a visit to Mirkwood, while Arwen had been visiting her father back in Rivendell. But on the way, he had met a party of elves, and the news they brought was not good. Not good at all.
A scout rode up besides him. "Sire, we have sited…"
"I know. Let them come, they're heading from Mirkwood." He didn't know the reason for this greeting party. It usually wasn't the tradition for elves to come meet travelers. But then again, times had changed. Maybe they were sending an envoy because he was king. No, he laughed at himself, now I am sounding like a pompous ruler. Maybe Arwen was right.
It had been her idea for this vacation, or "dignitary function outside Gondor" as she put it. She practically ordered him to get out of the castle. Not one to argue over such an issue with his wife, he agreed, but only if she too went on a vacation. He met no argument. They agreed to set out the next week, for both had duties that demanded their attention for a bit longer. Then, both with their own parties of soldiers for protection, they had headed out. She for Rivendell, he for Mirkwood. He now found himself slowly riding in a golden field, awaiting the now speedily approaching mounted elves.
"Welcome, Sir Aragorn." He remained mounted, but bowed in that oh so elvish way.
"Is there news? Is there a reason to this meeting?" Aragorn was immediately suspicious, for this was not a common practice. " Is there a problem?"
"I apologize for the manner in which I must bring this to your attention, but when we heard of your approach, we felt it necessary."
He simply waited.
" It seems that while defending our boarders against a mysterious foe, which we have yet to figure out, Prince Legolas was taken."
Stunned, Aragorn sat back into his saddle. " Taken how?"
The elf actually looked uncomfortable. This was a serious matter. " Sire, we have been under attack for many months now, but as I said earlier, we have yet to identify the sources or meaning for these attacks. Many of our outer colonies have fallen victim, but none of their inhabitants taken or killed. Until now." He looked down, not able to meet the king's piercing stare. He must have been a young elf, for his lack of pride allowed such submissive behavior, but as always, it was hard to tell his age. "There have been threats that only one was to be taken, a special one, but until the prince was taken, we didn't know that he was the target of these attacks."
Why him? Aragorn continued to torture himself over this as he rode. Now that his friend was missing, most likely in a great deal of danger, he could only head for Rivendell, hoping for more information than the young elf had been able to give.
His soldiers, noticing his discomfort, kept silent. They knew not to interrupt their leader's thoughts. They continued to ride in the downpour, the men miserable from the rain, the king miserable from his worry.