Title: Dol Guldur
Prologue
"Ada, ada did you see that?" the golden haired elfling laughed, pointing to the small, brightly coloured butterfly perched on a daisy. The adult elf laughed with pure joy at his tiny son's antics and then ran forth, grabbing the shrieking bundle of elfling and spinning him around. "Let me down ada", the child demanded to cover up his giggles as his father stopped his silliness; "Did you see that? It was so pretty, or maybe it was a girl. Ada, how do you know whether a butterfly is a male or female? I think it impolite to call 'it' an 'it' if it's a".
The adult elf laughed again and pecked his son's smooth cheek, effectively cutting through the child's babbling. "Aye my precious tithen lass, I did see your butterfly'. The adult elf gently placed the tiny child upon the ground. "Off you go, little whirlwind, to your nanneth. I love you". And then the child was off, stopping only to hug his ada's knees and tell him that he 'loved you to'.
I once knew happiness…and joy and…dare I say it? Love. However that was a long time ago, mayhap another lifetime and the happy events above certainly happened in a different lifetime to the one I live in now, mayhap to an entirely different person. I know not, down in the bowels of this hellish place there is no happiness…or joy…or…love. Even light shuns this place, a place where horrible sins are committed, refusing to give hope even to those of us who need it most.
My world consists only of pain; the tiny and very happy little elfling no longer exists, killed alongside my innocence. My body is shattered, my hair the no longer the vibrant gold my adar loved so, the coppery strands had turned a pure, snowy white; when it wasn't matted with my own blood and gore, because of the horrors I have experienced in this hellish nightmare. The only thing keeping me alive is my hate for the creatures who take such pleasure in evil…and my love? For adar. My skin feels like a constant bruise, overlaid with the stripes from frequent lashings and seemingly encrusted with blood.
My sense of honour and fair play have disappeared to, gone away with my innocence and probably never coming back. I know soon my memories shall dissolve with it, shadowed by the pain. That is what I fear most, not the pain or the permanently engraved hate my captors held for me and I for them, but the erasing of my memories. The killing of myself.
There is no bright, happy innocent golden haired elfling chasing a butterfly in the forest with his ada, there is only me. Are you still proud of me Adar? Of what I have become down here?
It's bend or be broken, kill or be killed, crack or shatter. And I have adapted accordingly.
TBC