Note: This story is heavily influenced by Vicoma Vita, it has an extremely similar beginning and premise. However I am taking a different approach to the original idea and hope that you all will enjoy it.

The Prisoner Who Became the Bard

Chapter 1

Freedom

The stone was cold and hard. I could smell the dried blood caking my arms as I awoke. I scratched off a few flakes as my wounds began to itch. Scratching didn't help much with several missing fingernails, it would sting quite a bit so I avoid scratching as much as possible. I blinked, my eyes attempted to adjust to the all consuming darkness, it had became my ever present companion in this place. The lice that had infested my hair itched terribly, I would scratch at them feeling the random short spots where chunks of my hair had been torn out. Goose bumps crept on my skin as the cold, motionless air crept into my flesh. There was so little flesh left on me that I was now simply bones, bones wrapped in leather.

I refused to allow myself the hope of escape, I knew I would die here, but I was ok with that. Death seemed trivial now, in my past life I had often feared death, and what would await me. Now it seemed like it was only a matter of time. Whether by starvation, torture, or execution I knew I had little time left. In a way death was the one thing I looked forward too, well not the only thing. One thing was for sure, I would not break. I don't know how long I have been here but there was nothing new they could do to me. They have tortured me physically, emotionally, and mentally and I have not bent. This could all be a fever dream or reality but that doesn't matter anymore, what does matter is protecting the story. I could not allow them to know the truth, things must happen as they were meant to happen, so I told them half truths. While they can take my flesh, my hope, and my pride, they cannot take away my stories.

To my faceless guard I told the truth of another story. His sword tapped gently on my door. It was an unpleasant scrapping noise, but one that I enjoy hearing.

"You awake yet?" He whispered, not wanting anyone to know his secret. If the master were to find out about it he knew he would be tortured for information but he needed to know more of the story.

"Yes I'm awake." The lack of water made my voice constantly hoarse and unable to sooth itself from the echoing screams and laughter. It has reached the point where I will start laughing amidst the torture. It worries me, am I becoming one of them? That's how they were originally made, from torturing Elves.

"Tell me more of the dwarf and the wolf girl." His voice was a growl, evidence of his nature even without seeing his face. I knew I should hate him. His kind have been torturing me at his master's command, yet I couldn't bring myself to hate anymore. Now all I felt was emptiness.

"Alright I'll tell you more of the story. Lets see, where were we?" I inquired.

"You said the eldest stag was coming in on ships." Aw the Battle of Blackwater.

"Yes that's right, well in preparation Tyrion had heard about a group of alchemists that were working on fire water. Do you know what fire water is?" I asked, I was never sure what he did and didn't know. It made telling the story hard, but interesting.

"No, the master is working on a powder that becomes a large fire. Is it like that?" His voice while rough like grinding rocks, held excitement as he whispered. I was always surprised by how invested he was. In the story you never hear of what Orcs and Uruks are interested in beyond blood and warfare. I suppose he is to blame for my waning hatred.

"It's similar but not the same. Fire water is water that when it catches fire can not be put out like regular fire. Water will not stop it, it needs to be smothered with dirt or something similar." I paused to try and wet my lips, a fruitless attempt.

"Well Tyrion had been working with the alchemists to make more fire water to use when the ships arrived. But soon the battle was upon them." Slight footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. My whispering voice stopped in anticipation. Someone coming this way, so soon, it could only be one of two things. As they drew nearer I recognized those steps and sighed in relief. The gait was hobbled and awkward, so similar to the dwarf I so adored. It was my goblin, he healed me when the torture was done. His footsteps stopped right outside the door.

"The master wan's her upstairs." The goblins voice was crackly like dried paper about to dissolve unto the wind, but I have known him to be relatively good company. Whenever he would visit I would ask him questions, mostly about his home and family in the mountains. He loved to talk of home and I enjoyed the little comfort he brought me with his harsh smelling salves and disgusting potions.

His name was Xugag, he seemed old but that might be due to the blindness in his left eye and the heavy limp in his left leg. I asked him about it once and he said he got on the wrong side of an angry Warg so the master moved him to the craft he mastered at home, healing. It seemed odd that Orcs would have healers, I'd never heard of it before.

"What for?" My guard asked. It seemed unusual that he would want me upstairs if he simply wanted to see me. He comes to my tortures often enough to know where to find me if he wants me.

"Says he wan's her to show of'." Show off? To who? The image of a knight on a white horse breezed through my mind. I laughed heartily. My laugh caused a pause in their discussion.

"An' what, you suppos' to carry her?" I heard the goblin give a scoff.

"What you say'in I can't?" The guard gave a laugh.

"You'd have her head bangin on the walls each step up. I'll carry her, I don' think the master wants her dead." My mind raced, was I really going outside of this cell? Somewhere new?

"Fine you can carry her, the mas'er wan's her patch'd up a bit firs'. Makes no sense to bring 'er up to die of fester'in." No more was said as the clinking of the keys filled the silence.

The door creaked open allowing Xugag to enter. I could never say his name, it was to harsh and my throat was often to sore. Yet on occasion he would teach me a few words in Black Speech. He stepped in, his white as death skin had frightened me at first but now I found it a comfort. Sometimes when I'm really badly injured I swear I can see him glowing. His good eye spotted me leaning against the wall to the right of the door. The black, rancid smelling bag was set down next to me with great care. He kept all of the strange herbs and concoctions he would use to mend my wounds in there. His hands were cold, like a fish, but I preferred it to the fiery hands of my torturer. He grasped my arm pulling it up to smear salve on the new engravings imbedded into my skin. I had asked him what the carvings that littered my body said once, he had frowned and stated that it was the name of my torturer in the different dialects of the Orcs.

My wounds were relatively benign compared to some in the past, so it was quick work before Xugag called in the guard. I hadn't left this room in so long. The thrill of leaving had my heart racing. I knew I was probably being taken to my death, but I would be leaving this cell, and that was enough. For the first time I saw my guard. It took me some time to realize the same Uruk guarded my cell. I often wondered if he slept there. I never heard him leave, not even to take a piss. Now that I had a good look at him I know that he is an Uruk, he always sounded different from my goblin and torturer and he said he was born here but I've never had a look at him. He was huge for one thing, but that could be due to me sitting on the floor. Xugag looked like a child compared to him, but as far as I can tell Xugag is shorter than me. I've just never been able to stand when he comes to visit.

My guard looked at me for the first time as well. I couldn't tell if he felt anything, the only noticeable change were his eyebrows drawing together. He scooped me up bridal style and in such a way that caused me to give out a cry in pain. I don't know what he thought of this but he didn't say anything as he followed Xugag out of the belly of Hell. I'm not sure how much time passed, but the rhythmic pain his steps caused me began to sooth me into a doze. I found myself staring at his face. Since he was an Uruk he wasn't nearly as ugly as the Orcs or Goblins. Due to his master's breeding he had more mannish features. His brow was still deeper than any normal humans, and his extended jaw that showed his yellowing fangs was disturbing but still a more familiar sight than my torturer's face of Xugag's more insect like features. While his skin had the tough texture of an Orcs the color was closer to a humans, however it was more of a burnt brown than any human's skin I have ever seen.

I had been telling him stories for who knows how long and only now, when I was being taken to my doom would I see him. I felt sad knowing that he would never know the end, but I also didn't know the end, hell I haven't even read the books. It made me sad to realize that the story would die with me. My guard would probably die in battle or the flood so no one would ever hear it again. They would also never know what I did to protect them, but I was ok with that. It was better that I die unknown than live and be hated for bringing about the destruction of their world.

I stirred from my doze as we stopped so Xugag could open a door. Light entered the dark and I found myself hissing and turning my eyes away. The guards armor smelled awful, like smoke and spoiled meat but at the moment it was better than the blinding light. We began moving again as Xugag led us up more stairs. There were windows here, and it took me some time to adjust so I could see the outdoors for the first time. The trees and grass that I remember seeing before I was thrown into the belly were now gone, replaced by ash and smoke. Towers as tall as the trees and made by the same wood stood in their place, but they served a very different purpose. Orcs and Uruks could be seen walking about. Small dark figures, in a large ashen plain. I stared for a while, I quickly realized that the sun was bolted out by thick black clouds yet the shadow of the sun had still blinded me. We went higher and higher into the tower, until I swear we were almost touching the clouds. Xugag opened a hatch above us.

"Now the master wan's her for 'omthin so do as he says and try not to get him mad, you'll regret it." Xugag climbed down the ladder and gave my arm a slight pat before heading back down the stairs. I wondered if he would even remember me? The guard shifted me to one arm as he used the other to climb the ladder. His strength was impressive, but I have lost a lot of weight since I got here so I probably weighed only slightly heavier than paper. When he hoisted us outside the light had me squinting again and I began to shiver as the wind grazed my naked skeletal form. I didn't let that bother me, I had stopped seeing my body or its reactions as my own a long time ago, but this, the smell, and sound of outside, that was mine. Even if it was all ash and fire, it was mine. We arose atop the tower, the spikes looming over us like ever watching guardians.

Glancing over to the master I realized who I was being brought to and I felt myself begin to hyperventilate as hope blossomed in my chest for the first time in what felt like a decade. I didn't recognize it as hope for the first few moments. Tears began to fill my eyes as my mind flooded with the thoughts hope began to give me. Yet, in less than a second a deep fear flooded my system. What if I were to die here? So close to freedom. In this state of awareness I found new strength as Saruman hasn't noticed our presence yet. I pulled down my guard, his face was surprised but his eyes were curious.

"What is your name?" He seemed to not expect the question.

"Worthag." He stated simply and quickly, his breath smelled terrible.

"Worthag, when the battle comes you must not go or stay. Leave here and flee, it will be your only chance. Otherwise there is only death. Should I not die tonight try to find me, and I will tell you more of the story. But you must flee, there is no future here or in battle." My voice was shaky and broken, but he understood me.

He pulled out of my grasp and looked down on me with his strange red eyes. I felt him grasp me tightly and I knew he understood, but now it was whether he would tell Saruman. As far as I know he could have been telling Saruman everything I have ever told him. I knew so little of him yet I needed to trust him. Would he betray me? I felt that he was a friend like Xugag was a friend, but was that only due to my encompassing loneliness and possible Stockholm Syndrome.

"Master." His voice was guttural and rough. My heart spiked in fear of his betrayal. Saruman stopped his speech to Gandalf and turned towards us. I hadn't even noticed his drolling voice in my emotional state. Gandalf had noticed us as soon as we emerged but said nothing. His eyes had strayed to us as he examined me. Saruman didn't notice Gandalf's drifting focus due to his investment in his speech.

"Aw, I see she has arrived. Your little spy Gandalf? Or perhaps the Elves? It would be very clever of them to send a human girl instead of one of their own." As usual Saruman voice was filled with arrogance. Worthag approached as his master's hand beckoned him forward.

"Saruman I knew that your mind has left you, but this, I did not expect this level of cruelty from you." Gandalf looked in very poor shape and I hoped he wasn't in too much pain. I smiled as I looked at him, how odd the ways our dreams are realized, I almost laughed.

"Cruelty is the price we pay for progress." Saruman's tone turned venomous at Gandalf's accusatory statement. He waved Worthag even closer.

"Give her to him, he must realize what measures are needed to be taken to save what is left." Worthag obeyed but I could feel his hands grip me painfully as he gently lowered me into Gandalf's arms. Gandalf immediately wrapped me in his cloak as best he could. I could feel his scrawny, hairy, old man legs rubbing against my scrawny, scared, healing legs.

"I leave her with you, her death is up to you now. Would you want her to live in this condition? That is up to you Gandalf. You will decide if her life is worth staying here, or moving forward." Saruman didn't wait for Gandalf to reply. He turned and left down the hatch, leaving us and Worthag in the cold wind. I turned my head to watch Worthag give us a long look before following his master. As the hatch was closed and locked I turned back to Gandalf who had also been watching him leave.

"Gandalf." I whispered, my voice only used to whispering and screaming at this point was very quiet. His eyes returned to me, I had his full attention. Gandalf looked very sad and worried.

"Yes my child what is it." I could hear his voice break in sorrow, and I could not bear it.

"Do not be sad Gandalf," I paused as I attempted to articulate my feelings.

"If I die I will be with you, and it will be the best death I could have hoped for since I came here." I had forgotten what I was originally going to say and simply wanted Gandalf to not be sad over me.

His eyes closed as he held me to his chest. I couldn't tell if he was crying but he was warm, warmer than I've been in so long, and I stole his warmth. My eyes began to drift closed as his gentle rocking made me grow tired. If he were to end my life out of pity I would not be angry, it would bring a peace that I have not experienced in an age, but I would not ask him for death. Though I had experienced horror, I did not wish to die, I knew what was to come and I wished to see it, but I was so very tired. The deep sleep would be as welcomed as the next day.

End

What do you guys think of my new story? I've decided to make this a series. It's been in my head for a while and I hope you guys like it So let me know what you think I would love to hear some feedback and thanks for reading guys!