Deadly Arrows
Rating: R for torture. If you have problems with medieval torture devices, or vague suggestions toward them, I suggest you do not read this.
Disclaimer: I disclaim. Most of the characters are not mine, though there are some inserts. Another note: the evil plot-bunny that bit me isn't mine either. That was borrowed (with permission) from Julia.
Summary: Aragorn is captured by the half wraith, Nirkanta. Many elves are searching for him, but some them never return. A new weapon is being devised... one that will change the lives of Elves forever.
A/N: Maybe the torture is unrealistic (as someone had pointed out). I really do not care. As long as I inflict lots of damage on Estel I'm happy. This story was written for my entertainment… mostly.
(As of 3/11/07) -- I do apologize for the slow posting. Goodness -- It's been what? Easily over a year, if not even more? Well, I've gone through and edited a few things, and added a sentence here or there in these first two chapters, and actually posted a third despite everything that's gone on in real life. Apologies again.
Silvery moonlight shone on a dark pool of blood. A man laid in the thick substance, his eyes closed. Dark lashes contrasted with his pale face. One could have easily mistaken him for dead, if not for the slow, rhythmic movement of his chest. The tip of a pink tongue stuck out to moisten the man's lips. At every creak and moan of the night the figure flinched, terrified.
His captor had promised to break him; it was succeeding. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was nearly broken. A sense of neglect also rose in him. As the days progressed, with every spike, the feeling increased. "El…" he moaned, his thoughts on his brothers. Kanta had assured him that she had disposed of the useless elves and no one knew they were missing. At the time, he had glared at her, the words having no effect on him. However, now he was not as sure. As time drew on, and he lost count of how long he had been in her reign, despair crept over him... despair and fear.
Out of seemingly no-where, a voice spoke to him. "Have a nice rest?"
Aragorn felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knew who it was without even raising his head, for that voice never seemed to haunt him -- he heard it in both his waking hours, and even in sleep he could not find refuge from the cold, sneering tone. "Kanta."
"Glad you remember my name." Nirkanta smirked, waving her hand. A large orc appeared beside her, a look of glee on his malicious, gloating face. "I'm sure you remember Seul."
The ranger made no notion that he even saw the orc. His eyes were fixed on the female's feet; from past experience, he knew that speaking would end up in more pain, and he suffered enough to begin with without adding to it.
The half wraith hissed in pleasure. The young one was learning, finally. She had expected him to give in days ago, but this one was unusually strong for his kind. Perhaps that was why... "You are learning."
"You're wasting your time, Kanta. You will never get any information out of me." Aragorn snarled, his emotions getting the better of him and causing him to speak out. He turned his head to stare at the cloaked figure before him, his movements slowed by his burning back; if he made any sharp movements, his back would spring aflame anew.
Kanta's ebony eyes glittered dangerously under her black hood. "We will see," she hissed, striding closer to him. Bending down, she studied his raw back. Maliciously, she ran a long, cold finger through the mass of cuts and burns. Aragorn stiffened, biting his lip.
"Seul!" She snapped.
"Yes mistress?" The orc shuffled over, a bit apprehensive. Though he may be her second in command, he knew that his life was at her mercy; with a word, all that he knew could be taken away.
"Bring me my tools."
He grunted, and started for the door. "Gripnak! The box." His orders were followed immediately; a few seconds later, another orc appeared at the door, a rattling box in his hand. Seul took the box and returned to his mistress.
"Place him on the table." Kanta commanded after the box had been handed to her. An evil grin appeared on her shadowed face as she stroked the container.
More orcs shuffled in lifted the human, who was using all of his energy not to whimper in pain. After the orcs had settled the ranger on a stone table, the mistress approached. "You will obey me," she noted, her voice oozing with conviction.
Aragorn gave the cloaked figure a hard look. "Never. I will not fall under your command; I will never serve you!"
"We will see," she said again, opening the box. She produced a long, cruel metal spike. "I trust you remember this." Kanta highly doubted that the ranger could forget; her toy inflicted a lot of pain. Without waiting for a reply, she thrust a spike into his healing back, and pulled it back out. Six times she reopened his skin. From a smaller container inside the first, she pulled out a handful of white crystals, which she sprinkled over the freshly opened wounds. At this, Aragorn couldn't help but moan. The crystals stung, but he knew what was next, and that part hurt even more than having his back punctured and salted. With a small laugh, Kanta inserted a spike in every hole she had created.
Gripnak approached, a torch in his hand. Kanta snatched it and held it inches away from the nails. The iron heated quickly, and the heat traveled down the nail and into his flesh. She repeated the process with the rest of the spikes, watching in amusement as Aragorn started to wither in pain. The ranger had been firmly tied down; the ropes did not allow him to curl up, as he so longed to do.
When she finally got bored of watching him shrivel each time she lighted the nails, she motioned for her minions to approach. "Keep him in this state." Kanta instructed, handing the torch to Seul. "I have matters to attend to.'
"Yes, mistress." He nodded. As their mistress moved away, the orcs moved in, ready to have their fun.
"Seul?"
He glanced back at where his mistress was standing by the doorway.
"Keep him alive." With that, she departed, closing the door behind her.