Chapter 1: In which Alisada becomes fed up with her current living situation and talks to a prisoner
Author's note: This came to me out of the blue one night and it was too good not to write down. It is slightly AU, so bare with me.
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"Alisada, wake up!"
I jolt awake in bed, it is morning. I turn to see my "Uncle", Lord Swagathor looking in at me through the doorway. He is a tall man, with tan skin and dark curly hair. He hasn't managed to grow a full on beard yet, but he has a rather pointy goatee. He is already dressed in his wizard's clothes—dark brown tunic, a swooping black cape and spangled boots.
"I cannot believe you are still asleep. I need your help in the dungeons today. We have a new prisoner that will not break. I expect to see you downstairs in ten minutes"
And then he leaves.
I sigh, then get out of bed. I hate doing my Uncle's (he insists that I call him my uncle, even though we are not related….I think he thinks it makes him sound eviler) bidding, especially when it comes to the prisoners. I hate gaining their trust and then exposing them. It's a sick little game he likes to play—one of the few things he does that is actually evil. If only I could run away, but where would I go? This is the only home I have. If Swagathor hadn't captured me after my parents abandoned me in Fangorn forest, I don't know where I would be. I think it was the only thing that that was left for them to do, honestly. I was not a very good princess back at home and being an evil wizard's captive basically guaranteed me a good marriage. That is, if a prince or a hero rescues me.
I have begun to lose hope though, I was captured almost ten years ago and not once has a prince or a hero or a king come to rescue me. I just don't think the appeal is right. First of all, who has heard of the evil wizard Swagathor? No one. Absolutely no one. It would be different if I was Saruman's captive princess, for example. He's practically a celebrity in the Evil Wizard Department. But he probably doesn't have time for a princess, and even if he did he wouldn't be interested in the trivial concerns of princes and princesses and being rescued. He would probably just feed me to his orcs and be done with it.
Lord Swagathor has tried very hard to break into the Evil Wizard circle here in Middle Earth. He has a top of the line dungeon, a herd of his very own in residence orcs and a very evil looking tower that highly resembles Isengard expertly named The Tower of Terror. The thing is though, he's just not a very good wizard. I applaud him for trying, but his acts of evilness have been lacking well…..evil. First of all, his prisoners keep escaping (mostly because he believes that every dungeon must have a secret escape route, which they all find very easily), and then there are his in residence orcs. They are not very evil, compared to the orcs of Mordor or Saruman's Urkui. They prefer knitting over pillaging and are quite lazy. The evilest thing they have done so far is make the kitchen a mess—which I have to clean out every day.
I sigh and stand up from my bed, walk over to my wardrobe and pull on a midnight blue dress that is studded with sapphires and has a horrible clashing embroidery of a tortoise courting a flamingo. I don't know where Swagathor gets his clothes…..they are quite hideous. I pull my long black hair into a bun that hangs at the nap of my neck. I slip on my black leather boots, pull on my black cloak ( Swagathor requires all residence to wear swooping black cloaks) and then head downstairs quickly. I cannot risk being late. Last time I was late he threatened to turn me into a troll, and when he tried he accidently gave me the ability to see in the dark. A sometimes useful gift, but since his magic is so unpredictable I would rather not be late. The next time his spell might actually work.
I see him waiting for me at the foot of the staircase.
"Good morning, Lord Swagathor."
"You are late."
That is his typical greeting. He turns towards the dungeons.
"Come"
And starts walking down. I follow behind him, my cloak billowing. The dungeon is very dark, with only the oil lamps for light. It gives off the perfect illusion of an evil dungeon, even though I know for a fact Swagathor had to bewitch the windows to not let light in, and that the oil lamps flickered ominously only because the spell he cast on them was wearing off. Swagathor stops in front of one of the cells and hands me a tray. On it is a few chunks of bread and cheese, a bowl of hot water and some rags.
"He is getting weaker. You must get him to eat and clean him up or else he is useless to us." He says dramatically, his brown eyes flashing evilly.
He opens the door for me and motions for me to go inside. "I will leave the door open for you, there is no chance of him escaping and remember to stick to the script." he says, and then pushes me inside.
It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust, and then I see a lone figure sitting in the very far corner of the cell. As I approach I notice that his hands are bound behind him, and his feet are shackled to the floor. A thick clothe covers his mouth, gagging him. His head rests against the wall and his eyes are closed. Blood is caked around the gag and on his forehead. I see many bruises and abrasions. Poor man, I wonder what ill fate caused him to run into Lord Swagathor. Probably fell into one of his traps down by the river. I cannot tell if he is asleep or not. As I approach him slowly, his eyes snap open and he looks at me with steely grey eyes.
"Hello" I say softly, hoping he understands common tongue. He remains motionless, but keeps his eyes on me. I kneel down next to him, this startles him and he tries to move away from me but cannot. His bounds make it impossible for him to move at all.
"Its alright. I just brought you some food" I tell him, and then I undo the gag and untie his wrists. He remains motionless for a few seconds, then pulls his hands in front of him and winces softly. I see bloody rope marks on his wrists.
"Here" I tell him, wetting the rag and handing it to him "clean yourself up, you cannot risk getting an infection".
These are word for word lines that I have memorized from Swagathor's Prisoner script. They sound dumb, even to my ears.
He takes the rag and wipes his face and hands. When he is done I take the rag and give him a chunk of bread.
"Eat." I tell him. He takes the bread in one hand but does not eat it. He stares at me, his eyes narrowing.
"Why are you helping me?" he whispers softly.
"Because it is my duty. I am a servant of Swagathor."
His eyes narrow, "Who?"
"The mighty and evil Lord Swagathor. You have been unfortunate enough to fall into his dungeons, here at the dreaded Tower of Terror. He is in allegiance with the almighty evil wizard, Lord Saruman." I recite to him.
His eyes flash with fear at the mention of Saruman, he throws the bread to the ground. "Then why should I trust you?"
"Because I am the only thing you can trust in this place."
He glares at me "Get out. I am will not make alliances with the enemy."
I hesitate for only a second, then I reach for the shackles hanging from the ceiling. In a quick flawless motion I clip them on his wrists (as the script dictates).
"The you have chosen to remain friendless." I tell him coldly then I leave, slamming the door shut behind me, again as the script dictated.
As I leave, I roll my eyes. "Tower of Terror" indeed. Did Swagathor still allow the orcs to write his Dungeon Scripts? If this guy is as smart as he looks, he will see right through this and be gone by nightfall. Too bad he's not a knight, or a prince. I could have used a good rescue attempt.
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