Title: The Different One
Author: TexStarr
Rating: PG (for now)
Summary: The Elf had been working as a slave of Sauruman for four years, and no torture would steal away his spirit. But when magic becomes involved, he is offered only one option. Will he take it? Or meet his doom?
Please Review!
Ch. 1: The Beginning
I have only vague recollections of what it means to be free. For many years now, I have been a slave of the Dark Lands. I am chilled to the bone, though the searing heat burns my flesh and scorches my once soft and beautiful hair. I have fear not this place, no matter how I am pressured to do so. The blackness surrounds me always, the only light emitting from the fires used to create dark weapons of war. My sorrow is for the trees, for they are felled before my eyes. Deliberately, they allow me out of the cracks just when the trees fall. They enjoy torture. It is what they live for. Jerking me up by my hair and holding my face with their clawed hands toward the trees. The once mighty and majestic trees. I care not of the marks they cruelly leave on my arms, face and back. I only wish to survive.
If I do not work hard enough for their liking, I am whipped. I simply don't feel it anymore. It has happened many times. They can torture me as they will, but I shall never become one of them. I now have a time to rest, but not for long. I shall play my flute. The one reminder that I was once a proud, free elf of Mirkwood. A sad tune is all that comes from the flute I carved in the beautiful home, amongst my own kind.
"Stop that music! Where is it coming from?" Shouted one of the orcs, in the black speech of that land.
"From the elf." Answered another.
"Take that away from him. How could it have been overlooked?"
"Not my flute! It is but the one thing that reminds me of home!" I yelled at the orc over the din.
"You are lucky I don't take your life, elf." The foul creature answered. He took the flute from my work-weakened hands, and hit it over his knee. He cried in pain, and dropped the flute back into my lap.
"This is no ordinary flute. This is a flute of Mirkwood. It shall never be destroyed!" I yelled.
"We'll see about that. I have no time for such trivial matters. I had better not see that flute again. Back to work with you, elf!"
I cringed inwardly at the harsh words, but I said nothing. Slowly I uncurled my long legs, and stood up, limping my way over to the stone platform where swords were being made, but my mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until I felt the whips crack at my back did I snap out of my haze. I returned to work, for I did not want to feel the whips again.
"How are things going?" Asked Sauruman.
"All goes well, milord." Answered the orc in front of him. "Except the elf, who chose today to play music in our presence. He shows no sign of becoming one of us, milord."
"I knew not of this elf. Why has no one me told of him?"
"Long has it been since you walked among us, milord. He has been working down there for at least four years, milord."
"You have tortured him?"
"Yes, milord.
"He may be the one who can bring me what I want. You say he has great spirit, do you not?"
"Yes, milord."
"Well let us see if we can darken it. Bring this elf to me!"
"Yes milord!" The orc cried and ran out of the room.
I slammed the hammer to the sword making an ugly metallic sound. Pausing, I wiped the sweat from my brow with my forearm. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind by rough hands, and lifted up onto the shoulder of an orc.
"Come elf. Sauruman wishes to see you." The orc carrying me said with disgust.
This is my chance to escape. To flee for my very life. They are taking me above to the tower. If I were not so weak, I might have been able to accomplish this. But the years of hard labour were taking their toll on me. One thought, though, was fresh on my mind. What would Sauruman the White want to see me for?
Author: TexStarr
Rating: PG (for now)
Summary: The Elf had been working as a slave of Sauruman for four years, and no torture would steal away his spirit. But when magic becomes involved, he is offered only one option. Will he take it? Or meet his doom?
Please Review!
Ch. 1: The Beginning
I have only vague recollections of what it means to be free. For many years now, I have been a slave of the Dark Lands. I am chilled to the bone, though the searing heat burns my flesh and scorches my once soft and beautiful hair. I have fear not this place, no matter how I am pressured to do so. The blackness surrounds me always, the only light emitting from the fires used to create dark weapons of war. My sorrow is for the trees, for they are felled before my eyes. Deliberately, they allow me out of the cracks just when the trees fall. They enjoy torture. It is what they live for. Jerking me up by my hair and holding my face with their clawed hands toward the trees. The once mighty and majestic trees. I care not of the marks they cruelly leave on my arms, face and back. I only wish to survive.
If I do not work hard enough for their liking, I am whipped. I simply don't feel it anymore. It has happened many times. They can torture me as they will, but I shall never become one of them. I now have a time to rest, but not for long. I shall play my flute. The one reminder that I was once a proud, free elf of Mirkwood. A sad tune is all that comes from the flute I carved in the beautiful home, amongst my own kind.
"Stop that music! Where is it coming from?" Shouted one of the orcs, in the black speech of that land.
"From the elf." Answered another.
"Take that away from him. How could it have been overlooked?"
"Not my flute! It is but the one thing that reminds me of home!" I yelled at the orc over the din.
"You are lucky I don't take your life, elf." The foul creature answered. He took the flute from my work-weakened hands, and hit it over his knee. He cried in pain, and dropped the flute back into my lap.
"This is no ordinary flute. This is a flute of Mirkwood. It shall never be destroyed!" I yelled.
"We'll see about that. I have no time for such trivial matters. I had better not see that flute again. Back to work with you, elf!"
I cringed inwardly at the harsh words, but I said nothing. Slowly I uncurled my long legs, and stood up, limping my way over to the stone platform where swords were being made, but my mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until I felt the whips crack at my back did I snap out of my haze. I returned to work, for I did not want to feel the whips again.
"How are things going?" Asked Sauruman.
"All goes well, milord." Answered the orc in front of him. "Except the elf, who chose today to play music in our presence. He shows no sign of becoming one of us, milord."
"I knew not of this elf. Why has no one me told of him?"
"Long has it been since you walked among us, milord. He has been working down there for at least four years, milord."
"You have tortured him?"
"Yes, milord.
"He may be the one who can bring me what I want. You say he has great spirit, do you not?"
"Yes, milord."
"Well let us see if we can darken it. Bring this elf to me!"
"Yes milord!" The orc cried and ran out of the room.
I slammed the hammer to the sword making an ugly metallic sound. Pausing, I wiped the sweat from my brow with my forearm. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind by rough hands, and lifted up onto the shoulder of an orc.
"Come elf. Sauruman wishes to see you." The orc carrying me said with disgust.
This is my chance to escape. To flee for my very life. They are taking me above to the tower. If I were not so weak, I might have been able to accomplish this. But the years of hard labour were taking their toll on me. One thought, though, was fresh on my mind. What would Sauruman the White want to see me for?