Chapter Two: Orthanc Tower
Warning: Confusing words. Maybe OOC of a lot of people. Bad-ass Legolas killing people left right and center. May contain traces of: a lot of blood, Sindarin, irregular updates, idiotic author notes, confusing plot lines. Major spoilers from The Two Towers on-wards.
Disclaimers see author's profile page.
Never disobey my orders.
Never hinder the movement of darkness.
Never directly harm your master.
Never halt your killing blade.
The four testaments ingrained my head as I first took on the sight of the dark lord in all its glory. I couldn't make the blood red words disappear, couldn't shave them off my mind no matter how much I strained. I couldn't even fight back, to move, to somehow block the commands using my limbs. I couldn't do anything. For the first time in more than a thousand years, I was helpless. The voice painfully reverberated in my skull, etching its words deeply into my brain, and I knew I would never be able to fight that command.
A touch of cold icy hand on my neck, I shivered involuntarily. The hand was strangely comforting, like the comfort ada would bring when we used to sit in mother's private gardens. The bright sun, the singing trees and the soft grass for company. It felt like a life time ago.
"Never forget."
Confusion. How could I forget when they are tied to me like steel puppet strings, shackling my limbs, controlling my every move. He is he master with the thread. I'm only the doll that goes wherever the string leads.
"Never forget who you are."
I could no longer decipher sentence from command. Every word that comes his mouth meant order. An order I must obey, or face the heated consequences. As if the brutal training was anything to go by. The day I was taken, captured because I ventured a little too close to the dark fortress.
I was too close…
"Who am I?"
Who am I really? Am I the Morning Star that pulls the elves of Mirkwood to hope, to light, away from the darkness that threatened to take my home? The brave prince that goes with each patrol to claim back Mirkwood inch by inch? The prince that swore to his father that he would use his arrows and knives to cleanse the forest of foul before making it Greenwood again? No matter how much I try, I could never find that prince anywhere inside me anymore.
The bright necklace that once symbolizes difference was now no more than a stolen relic.
Darkness has taken root inside me. And it does not want to leave.
"Who am I?"
Or am I the weapon that Sauron has so painstakingly crafted. Teaching. Shaping a mold until it was to his liking. Adding layer upon layer, pain after pain, until Legolas Thranduilion was buried deep under levels of Agarlas Sardothien, that no one, not even myself, can find Legolas again.
"Legolas and Agarlas, you are both. But you can only be one." A smile, warm…somehow. From him.
"Will you?..." Panic, uncertainty, desperation, fear. All mingling together into a tight coil. My heart nearly stops. Please, please don't force me. Please.
A soft chuckle, still warm, like the little torch of fire light that he would allow if he is pleased with me that day, to levitate the cell's darkness, just for one night. "That will be your choice. You may choose. I will not interfere."
I look up, and there is a light in his blood red eyes. The same eyes that I dreaded to see each morning. The same light that always appear in ada's eyes whenever I achieved something remarkable. A light of pride, but also resignation. As if sad that I grew further and further away.
A swish of cloaks and long midnight hair and he is on the other side of the hall. A pale hand already opening the thick wooden door. "Come Agarlas, we have procrastinated enough." He shot me a glare, red eyes narrowing.
For the first time in seemingly forever, I don't flinch at the mention of that name. I stood and ran to keep up with him before he shuts the door. Sauron never can and never will go back on his words, even if he knows he is going to fail.
I have a choice. I can choose.
Orthanc was the black impenetrable tower of Isengard built by the Dúnedain. By the Great Years and the War of the Ring it was possessed by the wizard Saruman. It stood in the center of the Ring of Isengard, great defensive walls fortified by the early Gondorians.
"We cannot let the Wild Men go past Westfold, they'd be too vulnerable. Pull them back."
"Yes, Lord"
The White Wizard Saruman pinched the bridge of his nose, once in a while the sharp nails on his crooked fingers would jab into his face. He welcomed the short pain, finding it refreshing and helps to focus his tired mind.
"If you are so tired and inefficient, maybe I should ask Him to find someone else. More worthy to rule his army."
Saruman whipped around at this, his ebony staff gripping tightly in his hands. The voice is soft, clear and wasn't an orc's, more like an elf's. But there is no way in Arda that an elf could sneak into Orthanc. There is no elven assassin. Well, there is one place that house one... Curses and spells already on his lips before he saw the shadow move. And a figure stepping out of the pool just confirmed his suspicions.
"Hello Saruman, a long time," A small smirk graced his lips. Thin pale fingers caressed the long black bow, tracing over its intricate designs that were often carved into place by Legolas himself . His posture was stiff, as if trying to appear nonchalant. The Wizard could practically see the shadows' anxious calls to their master, and the gleeful cackles some of them inserted in between cries of worries.
Sauron was once a Maia like himself, so he searched far and wide for books that would expand his knowledge and with knowledge, came power. It was no wonder if the lieutenant has this knowledge, even is he doesn't, there is still the magic that is unique to the elven kind to worry about.
"It has been quite some time since you last visited Isengard," He confirmed the statement and clutched his staff tighter. If the Dark Lord has sent his personal assassin to kill the wizard, Saruman would not go down without a fight.
It was a well known fact that Sauron's trusted lieutenant is an elf. But why is an elf doing sauron's bidding was anybody's guesses. It was impossible for a creature with so much light to have survived to be trained in the dark depths of Mordor.
"I have news, something that you unfortunately, over looked." He clutched his staff even tighter, if that was possible. "The White Wizard approaches to Rohan, to fill the place in which you abandoned Saruman." The last helf an edge of bite, as if scolding and hating the traitorous wizard for abandoning his post that was given by the Valar themselves, along with his power.
As if sensing their master's bitter tone, coiled around the 'elf' possessively, ready to attack whomever that caused their Master's annoyance. Saruman felt thousands of eyes fixed upon him. Sending shivers down his spine. Legolas just stood there, obviously enjoying the wizard's discomfort, a pale hand gently stroked the shadows, half comforting and half ordering them to calm down. To not attack the staff wielder, It is not his time yet.
He leans close, gathering up the shadows around himself like a cloak and a shroud, "Do not fail the Dark Lord, Saruman. Destroy Rohan. If not, I will destroy you!" He flicked his wrist and the shades went over his head like a cloak, and he was gone, leaving nothing behind save for a throwing dagger on the floor, so well hidden in the dark that if not for the best of the Dunedains, none can find it; and that suffocating coldness he received long ago in places foul as Orthanc that followed him wherever he goes.
Saruman hurried out the room and down the hall, not wanting to fell the wrath of either Sauron his lieutenant will no doubt bring the next time he visits.
"Work the fernaces day and night, burn down the Forest of Fangorn if you must, build me an army worthy of Mordor!"
"Please!" He screamed once again, but the guards outside had either left the room or were ignoring him. The darkness around Legolas was eating him alive. Evil surrounded him and bore into his flesh. The elf let out a whimper of defeat, and crawled over to the side of his cell, where a tiny stream of light came through an air hole. Legolas curled up and hugged his knees, then closed his eyes, trying to make the darkness and evil disappear.
I am in Mirkwood, and it is night. The elf told himself. The stars are hidden by clouds, that is why it is so dark.
No, a voice in his head said, it is dark because you are in an evil place. You are with evil itself. You are evil, Legolas.
"No!" The prince cried out. "Leave me alone! Please, just go away."
I will never go away, Legolas. I am in you. I am the darkness in you, trying to escape.
"NO!" Legolas screamed, and his eyes flew open. He grabbed and clawed madly at the door to his cell, and screamed until his throat went dry. Slowly, the darkness overtook him, and he fainted into a nightmare-filled reverie.
The forest are burning. He acknowledged this with tear filled eyes. He could rip a village into a million pieces without batting an eyelash, but he still felt the pain of the trees. Sauron had more than once told him to not answer the tree's pleas and questions. After a couple of decades, he could block out the voices, but if he gets even the slimest of chances to respond, he would do anything and everything to help.
He would not let his tears fall. He has learned long ago to contain them, keep them above ground. He learned those lessons the hard way, and nothing could make him experience it again. Where each tears counts as hours in the dark. Forgive me.
If the Hobbits are unsuccessful in convincing the Ents to participate in the oncoming war, then this atrocity by that traitor most definitely will. If the half-lings were as quick witted as he thought them to be, they will convince Treebeard to go South.
He is not going outside of the orders set forth when he first came before the Dark Lord. If he found a way to disobey them... He would probably be a pile of ashes by now.
With a quick glance back at the burning woods. He allowed himself a satisfied but melancholic smile, and disappeared through the darkness the trees kindly provided for him. The trees, no matter where, will always remember the prince of the elves that could hear and communicate them best, the last of the Royal bloodline. They will always protect the Prince, they will keep his secrets until he allowed them to be spilled.
To Rohan... Where the shadows and darkness reign free. To Rohan... Where the first step to destroy mankind will commence. To Rohan, to Gondor, to Elessar.
To another crossroad, where a single man's actions may result in victory, to doom to defeat.
No matter the choices set forth by disappointing men, he will never go back to the dark.
Do you still remember me? After all this time? Estel...
A/N: The game is finally starting! This chapter is not really one of my best chapters, but I hate not updating even more. And that is stretching it. Everything I write on here will be of use to the plot in some way or another, so please, bear with me.
About the first person part of the story, I suck at first person to a degree of nastiness that deserves to cast into the fire of Mount Doom. I find the first person perspective a bit morbid at times and very hard to write but is just so much more exciting.
English is not my first language, since I lived in China for 12 years. I apologize for any mistakes in grammar, punctuation and the tenses category.
Clearing something up: Legolas is not willingly going to be Sauron's lieutenant at all! He is just glad that he could not be Agarlas in the not-so-soon future that he complies and goes along with it. Bidding one's time I guess. The elf can slaughter a whole village in ten minutes with a pair of chopsticks, so yeah, Saruman will be scared. If the Dark Lord Sauron captured you and you are the hope and light and a dangerous asset, and you are an elf, I think what I've written is quite mild, it happened before he was brought to Sauron and the testament thing.
I need a beta. Reviews are welcome.
Why does whenever I write Dark Lord, I instantaneously think of Voldemort?
Updates will be soon be irregular.