Disclaimer: Full disclaimer on first page.
Sorry for the long time to update, but with school and everything I'm going to have trouble updating. The same goes for my other story, sorry all!
Warning, mild violence and torture! Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure.
Chapter Ten
"That is it?" Aragorn said, surprised. He had expected something of rare beauty, or marvelous powers. The Mornelithe was beautiful, as the jewel caught and held the moon light that shone from the entrance, but not what the ranger had expected the elves to go through so much trouble for.
"Don't scoff. I'll show you why it is valuable." Teysrol said, and suddenly passed the jewel to the ranger.
Aragorn took it, and nothing happened. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, and realized it felt warm, though it should not have been. It must have been made of mithril or something like it, since it was incredibly strong and yet slightly flexible. The surface was smooth, except for a small rune in the middle. He had seen that rune on a ring that each of the elves held. He looked questioningly at Teysrol, but the elf just smiled. Then the ranger started in surprise, as a strange feeling came over him.
First came warmth, then came new energy, new strength. It rose in him like a tide, rather than a flood, filling him within and without, folding him in what seemed to be relaxing peacefulness. He slumped against the alcove's wall, and watched with content surprise and amusement as Legolas and his brothers' faces showed shock. Teysrol and his siblings smirked and watched with amusement.
Shaking his head and raising himself back up, he felt rejuvenated and refreshed, ready to go. Looking at the jewel, he realized how valuable this would be if you were going upon a long journey. Handing it back to Teysrol, he found out, to his surprise, that the wound on his leg was also healed.
Not healed all of the way, but healed enough that it did not pain him as greatly and he could support his weight upon it.
"Now I hope you think before you scoff at it. It would prove an invaluable asset to any journey, to heal hurts to the point where you could tolerate it and to slough off weariness." Savarre stated with a slight smile.
"Now what are the chances that the one thief that tries to rob me in that city just happens to have the one thing we had sought for so long?" Teysrol mused, thinking on how odd that seemed. Anything odd aroused his suspicions, and he was confused as to how it could have suddenly appeared in his hands. It was obviously the real thing, it was impossible to counterfeit the Mornelithe.
Teysrol put the jewel in a safe belt pouch, and the rest of the night was spent in watchful silence. The wargs had retreated out of sight, but their howls could be heard, and sometimes the gleam of eyes could be seen.
~*~*~*
Early that morning they left the alcove in an effort to put as much distance between themselves and the remaining warg pack as possible.
Their hopes were in vain. Sometime around midmorning howls could be heard and accompanying them were shouts and jeers from what could only be orcs.
Trying to evade the orcs in the rocky valley between two monstrous cliffs was like trying to dodge one rain drop in a downpour. The orcs poured into the area and surrounded them, leering at the six elves and single ranger.
Outnumbered more than they had ever been on this ill fated trip, their hopes of escaping were slim, especially to the elves. The first orcs were elves once, captured and tortured by the Dark Lord Morgoth, and those first orcs and all that followed them harbored a burning hatred of elves, who reminded them of what they used to be.
The orcs charged in, with orders being shouted out in the Black Speech that grated harshly upon the elves' ears, causing them to wince. From the eager gleam on their faces, the orcs had been ordered to take them alive.
"Valar help us," Savarre muttered under his breath, as the orcs closed in. Whipping his twin swords out, he proceeded to carve a path through the foul creatures.
Legolas twirled and danced lightly around the clumsy orcs, unable to use his bow but making due with his knives. To his right, Aragorn fought like a mad thing, and enjoying every minute of it. On his left, Elladan and Elrohir fought back to back.
Sirithiliel and Teysrol did the same, and Savarre moved to join them. Legolas lost sight of them as a foul breathed orc leaped at him. He ducked and lashed out, praying they would find a way out.
Teysrol let out a shrill whistle that echoed around the surrounding cliffs, before continuing his attacks. Wargs circled outside of the orcs, waiting to leap in.
One orc slashed with the flat of his blade, trying to hit Legolas. It would have hit him too, but Legolas jerked as something hit him hard in the back, and he hit the ground, tucking arms and head in to avoid any accidents. The blow whistled over his head. Flipping around back to his feet, he saw one of those immense black wolves that bonded to the elves, and realized it had knocked him to the ground, successfully making the elf dodge the blow.
Aragorn saw the three wolves of Teysrol and the others leap in, and saw as one knocked Legolas out of the way of an orc's blow. Swinging his own blade around into a slashing cut, Aragorn watched as Legolas grabbed his knives and plunged back into the fray. He whirled as another orc thought to strike him.
A sudden pain-filled cry cut through the air, and the fight slowed as a large orc hauled a semi-conscious Elrohir to his feet and threateningly placed a dagger at his throat, pulling his dark hair so that the elf's throat was vulnerable. The warning was clear: "put down your weapons and surrender, or the elf dies."
Legolas, Elladan and Aragorn froze, and Teysrol and the other two renegade elves followed reluctantly. Orcs came up and immediately grabbed their weapons, and bound their hands.
They did not even try to fight back. If they did, Elrohir would more than likely be dead. With a whistle, Teysrol called their three wolves off, and sent them fleeing into the mountains, before the orcs could grab them, with a score of wargs following quickly after, snarling.
The orcs laughed and jeered at their unarmed prisoners. The orc released Elrohir and the Rivendell elf was bound and thrown beside Legolas and Aragorn. He shook the dizziness off, and assured them he was fine, just a nasty bump on the head.
Teysrol snarled at the orcs, and they sneered back. His eyes flashed with black fury, and he was tense with barely restrained rage. His sister was more controlled, but barely. Savarre was not as constrained, and he strained against his bonds, trying to reach the hated orcs.
Legolas icily glared at any who made eye contact with him, and Elladan growled under his breath. Aragorn and Elrohir seemed to be the calmest of all, just warily watching any possible escape route.
The battle had lasted much of the afternoon, and the orcs were anxious for some fun with the prey that caused them many deaths of their comrades. With toothy grins, they grabbed Savarre, since he was closest, hauling him to his feet and into the center of their hastily made camp.
Orcs slavered in anticipation, and two large orcs gripped Savarre's shoulders tightly. He winced at the pressure and steeled himself for what he knew was to come.
Teysrol and Sirithiliel watched in stunned horror as whips were brought out amidst gleeful snarls and shouts in their foul language. They had lost their mother to bandits at a young age, and a father and brother to orcs. They were shaken at the thought of their next eldest brother being slain by the foul creatures as well.
With a crack the first whip lashed down and Savarre's breath hissed from between his teeth.
The orcs used the whips and flogged Savarre, who retained his silence through out the ordeal. When they tired of them they brought out new toys: knives and all sorts of instruments of cruel torture, and Savarre finally lost his resolve half way through, his screams punctuating the laughs and shouts of the orcs.
Tears of helpless rage made tracks down Teysrol's cheeks, and he struggled furiously, silent sobs racking his body. Sirithiliel was still, still and quiet. She stared at the scene in front of her, not really seeing it. If Teysrol's muttered curses amused the orcs that restrained him, her silence made them nervous, and they watched her with wary caution.
Elladan and Elrohir felt immense pity and sympathy for them, not able to bear the thought of one of them being tortured before the other's eyes. Aragorn felt the same, unable to think of Elladan or Elrohir or Legolas having that happen to them while he was forced to watch.
Savarre had ceased making any sound, and now slumped between the two orcs, blood pouring from a dozen of wounds, welts from the lashes crisscrossing over his back, overlapping the purpling bruises. But the foul creatures were not done yet.
Hot irons were brought from the fire, and with malicious pleasure the first was pressed against Savarre's shoulder. He jerked up with a blood chilling cry of agony, the smell of burning flesh permeating the camp.
Teysrol winced at the sound, closing his eyes tightly, unable to look. Legolas looked nauseas, and Aragorn wished he could stop up his ears.
It continued on, the hot iron being applied, then he was flogged, fists and feet bruising him, while knives and other weapons carved arcane symbols in his heated flesh. He screamed and screamed, his shrieks driving Teysrol to the brink of insanity.
The burning did what the other tortures did not to Sirithiliel, and her self control snapped. Her eyes burned with a strange light, as if she was not entirely there anymore, the fire's dancing light heightened the black fury, the potent rage that burned savagely within her. She strained against the orcs that moved to hold her down, and she writhed and twisted in their grips, tears that would not be shed -yet- blurring her eyes. Hissing curses that made Legolas and Aragorn, who were nearest, shudder, she sobbed brokenly.
With a strangled cry, Teysrol tried to get to his brother, who was whimpering in the orcs' hold. A fist to the stomach left him breathless, but he did not cease his struggles.
One orc went up to the semi-conscious Savarre and drew out a whip that had pieces of jagged glass imbedded on it. With a crack, he brought the first stroke across the helpless elf's shoulders, delighting in the cry it elicited. Flesh tore and blood seeped into his already torn tunic, darkening its forest green color to a darker shade. That seemed to be the last straw for Sirithiliel or Teysrol. The self-restrain that had kept them from leaping at the orcs' throats snapped, and Sirithiliel snarled and turned upon one of the orcs standing guard. With savage fury, she gave a high kick that crushed the orc's throat. With a gurgling cry, he stumbled back, clutching his throat. He struggled to breathe, turning an unhealthy shade as he was unable to get air through his crushed windpipe. He choked and gagged, and collapsed, suffocating.
Orcs directed their attention from the entertainment towards her, and some went over to force her to the ground like Teysrol. She was forced to her knees, and physically restrained there.
Aragorn took the momentary distraction to hook an orc's dagger with his foot, slipping it out of the creature's belt and bringing it towards him.
~*~*~*
Savarre's world was a haze of pain, the orcs around him mere blurs. He cried out repeatedly, though he tried to stop. He did not want to give the filthy orcs satisfaction, but could not help himself.
Burning....it burned. White-hot agony flared through his body, and every nerve was afire. He shuddered and screamed as another whip descended.
He felt himself slipping, loosing his footing on consciousness, the world turning dark and filled with soothing peace. Indeed, he felt his grip on the world sliding away as his life's blood poured from his wounds.
Fiery pain blossomed on his shoulder as the hot iron was pressed against it, and he could not stifle the cry of pain. His body seared with tremendous agony, and he welcomed the dark abyss that was dragging him in.
Another whip descended upon him, cutting across the burn from the iron, and he moaned with suppressed pain. He vaguely heard the orcs now, their laughter and shouts seemingly miles away. As the darkness claimed him, he thought of his brother and sister, and sent a silent prayer to the Valar that they could finish what they had started. He felt light-headed, and his pains disappeared as he collapsed lower in the orcs' hands. The world darkened, and he felt a peacefulness that he did not expect to feel at a time like this.
~*~*~*
Teysrol and Sirithiliel froze as the lead orc held up a hand to halt the proceedings. With a frown, the hideous creature bent down and placed his fingers against the elf's throat, just below the jaw.
With a snarl, he stood and motioned for the orcs to drop the elf. They did, and the orc kicked the prone form.
"He's dead. No use in that one." He said, kicking the fallen elf once more.
Some orcs turned and jeered at Sirithiliel and Teysrol. The resemblance between the three siblings was strong enough that at a quick glance you could mistake one for another. The orcs laughed at their stunned faces.
Sirithiliel stared silently for a moment, her eyes wide, before she stiffened, and sent a glare at the lead orc so intense and filled with such deadly promise that it actually averted its eyes and stepped carefully away from her.
Teysrol stared as well, before snarling in incomprehensible rage and grief and attacked the orcs around him. They rushed forwards to shove him down, and he fought them tooth and nail.
Aragorn silently rubbed his bound hands upon the dagger he stole from the careless orc, splitting his bonds and cutting through Legolas's. Elladan and Elrohir were freed after, and they waited for the most opportune moment to strike out and retrieve their weapons.
Sirithiliel joined her brother's struggles, and together they distracted the orcs long enough for Aragorn to slip over and slay the orc guarding their weapons. Once he had his sword in his hands, Aragorn felt ready to take the creatures on. The memories of Savarre's torture would be haunting his nightmares for days to come, and he knew Legolas and his brothers would suffer as well. He did not know about Teysrol or Sirithiliel, as they could very well kill themselves in fighting the orcs.
Grabbing their weapons he fought his way to them and tossed them to their owners. Turning, he cut down one orc and eviscerated another.
Elladan fought side by side with his brother, and they spoke to one another while they fought, trying to find a way out. Legolas twirled by, and shouted at them to look towards the cliff wall on the right, below the ridge. As their next strikes brought them around, they discovered a dark crevasse where Legolas had said to look. Aragorn was already near it, with Legolas moving over to him.
Teysrol and Sirithiliel had abandoned all hopes of surviving a fight with the orcs, so ducked into the cave after the twins reached it.
The cave was black, and even the keen eyes of the elves could not see in it. Orcs crowded outside the cave, laughing, but did not pursue.
A sudden rumble alerted them to why the orcs had not followed, and they realized too late when the cave entrance suddenly collapsed. Backing away, they shielded their eyes from the cloud of dust that rose up.
As they retreated farther another rumble started up after the first. Apparently, the collapse of the entrance had triggered another avalanche, and part of the ceiling fell, landing among the small group.
Elrohir grabbed Legolas and wrenched him out of the way, while Elladan and Sirithiliel leaped back. Legolas tried to find the other two of their group through the second dust cloud. He dodged a falling rock that brought a quarter of the ceiling with it -
Just in time to see both of them falling beneath one of the inner walls, going down under a cascade of stone that buried them in an instant. Legolas leaped forwards, out of Elrohir's grasp, and tried to get at the rubble.
Elladan grabbed him, and Legolas could not comprehend why, until the rumble continued and the floor below the rubble, weakened from the pounding it had taken from the falling stone, suddenly fell downwards as the floor collapsed beneath the unaccustomed weight into a tunnel below. With a cry, the remaining elves ran forwards to try and see where they had fallen, but it was too far down for them to see.
~*~*~*
Aragorn fell through the floor without even being able to catch his breath after he was buried below the pile of rock. He was bruised, his shoulder felt sprained, and now he was falling who-knows-how-far down a hole.
He hit the ground hard, hissing with pain as he landed on his half healed leg, and felt as well as heard the impact of rocks falling nearby.
Someone grabbed him and pulled him in towards the wall, away from the falling rocks. The stones stopped dropping, and the person beside him groaned in a mixture of relief and pain. Sure he had some broken bones, Aragorn moved slowly so as not to aggravate them. He turned to look to see who was beside him, but the dark made it hard. It was dark enough that Aragorn's hand did not appear before his eyes if he held it up in front of them.
"Are you hurt?" A voice asked, filled with pain and weariness. Aragorn recognized Teysrol then, since he knew Legolas's and his brothers' voices.
"Aye," Aragorn said, panting slightly. A silvery glow lit the darkness, and Aragorn saw Teysrol's face illuminated softly. With an audible sigh of relief, Teysrol's bruises faded and his broken bones set themselves and healed to the point where they were only sprained.
Passing the glowing jewel to Aragorn, Teysrol stood and began exploring the tunnel they had landed in.
~*~*~*
Tivadar could have smiled in pleasure. His plan was working out perfectly. The little thief had managed to get the Mornelithe to Teysrol, just as he hoped he would.
Now that the elves possessed the jewel, Tivadar could begin the second step of his plan.
Tivadar had held the jewel for as long as he could remember. He had been with Tremane, the father of Teysrol, Sirithiliel, and Savarre, when the jewel was being taken to its hiding place and had confiscated the jewel shortly after it was hidden. He had enjoyed Rilian's frustration in trying to find it, and had paid the young thief in Quindiniar to get it to them.
Yes, the second point of his plan could be put into motion now.
~*~*~*
Sirithiliel paced restlessly, trying to figure out a way to get down the hole and to her brother. Legolas and the twin sons of Elrond were thinking similar thoughts.
The only light they had was a faint gleam that came from the blocked up cave mouth, and that was only enough to see the dim out lines of each other by.
They were broken out of their reveries when a faint cry echoed up from the hole. Rushing to the edges, being careful to stay a prudent way from the edge, they listened closely.
"Can you hear me? Hello!" The voice was unmistakably Aragorn's. It was wavering and no louder than a whisper, but it was there.
"Yes! We can hear you! Are you all right?" Elladan called back. Elrohir sighed with relief, while Sirithiliel shifted anxiously.
"Yes! Teysrol has that jewel of his!" Aragorn's voice echoed back. Sirithiliel relaxed visibly at the words. So they were fine.
"How do we get out?" Teysrol's voice rang up from below. Elladan thought hard, trying to think. Legolas shifted slightly, brow furrowed in thought.
~*~*~*
Tivadar watched the group of men in the mountains. They muttered to each other, and were obviously angry about something. He knew they were the sort who disliked elves, he could tell just by listening to their speech.
He needed these men, and hoped they would accept his offer. Pulling his cloak's hood up over his head to hide his elven features, the elf walked slowly and purposefully towards them.
"Hold! Who are you?" One man called from his look out post. Tivadar obediently stopped, standing still as the men reassuringly touched their weapons.
"Tivadar, come to offer you a chance for repayment against the elves that you met earlier." Tivadar said, not giving any information on how he had found out they had met the elves.
"And how do you know we met elves earlier?" One man said, obviously their leader. He cast a suspicious glare upon Tivadar, who bore it calmly.
"I know things. That is not important. What is important is that I know where the elves and ranger are, and I need help in getting my own revenge." He said with such vehemence that the man looked at him in surprise.
Tivadar was speaking the truth, and he saw he had convinced the men. He thought he was going to have to use some fancy words and persuasion to get the men to agree. So much for the better.
Now the fun can begin.
Sorry for the long time to update, but with school and everything I'm going to have trouble updating. The same goes for my other story, sorry all!
Warning, mild violence and torture! Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure.
Chapter Ten
"That is it?" Aragorn said, surprised. He had expected something of rare beauty, or marvelous powers. The Mornelithe was beautiful, as the jewel caught and held the moon light that shone from the entrance, but not what the ranger had expected the elves to go through so much trouble for.
"Don't scoff. I'll show you why it is valuable." Teysrol said, and suddenly passed the jewel to the ranger.
Aragorn took it, and nothing happened. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, and realized it felt warm, though it should not have been. It must have been made of mithril or something like it, since it was incredibly strong and yet slightly flexible. The surface was smooth, except for a small rune in the middle. He had seen that rune on a ring that each of the elves held. He looked questioningly at Teysrol, but the elf just smiled. Then the ranger started in surprise, as a strange feeling came over him.
First came warmth, then came new energy, new strength. It rose in him like a tide, rather than a flood, filling him within and without, folding him in what seemed to be relaxing peacefulness. He slumped against the alcove's wall, and watched with content surprise and amusement as Legolas and his brothers' faces showed shock. Teysrol and his siblings smirked and watched with amusement.
Shaking his head and raising himself back up, he felt rejuvenated and refreshed, ready to go. Looking at the jewel, he realized how valuable this would be if you were going upon a long journey. Handing it back to Teysrol, he found out, to his surprise, that the wound on his leg was also healed.
Not healed all of the way, but healed enough that it did not pain him as greatly and he could support his weight upon it.
"Now I hope you think before you scoff at it. It would prove an invaluable asset to any journey, to heal hurts to the point where you could tolerate it and to slough off weariness." Savarre stated with a slight smile.
"Now what are the chances that the one thief that tries to rob me in that city just happens to have the one thing we had sought for so long?" Teysrol mused, thinking on how odd that seemed. Anything odd aroused his suspicions, and he was confused as to how it could have suddenly appeared in his hands. It was obviously the real thing, it was impossible to counterfeit the Mornelithe.
Teysrol put the jewel in a safe belt pouch, and the rest of the night was spent in watchful silence. The wargs had retreated out of sight, but their howls could be heard, and sometimes the gleam of eyes could be seen.
~*~*~*
Early that morning they left the alcove in an effort to put as much distance between themselves and the remaining warg pack as possible.
Their hopes were in vain. Sometime around midmorning howls could be heard and accompanying them were shouts and jeers from what could only be orcs.
Trying to evade the orcs in the rocky valley between two monstrous cliffs was like trying to dodge one rain drop in a downpour. The orcs poured into the area and surrounded them, leering at the six elves and single ranger.
Outnumbered more than they had ever been on this ill fated trip, their hopes of escaping were slim, especially to the elves. The first orcs were elves once, captured and tortured by the Dark Lord Morgoth, and those first orcs and all that followed them harbored a burning hatred of elves, who reminded them of what they used to be.
The orcs charged in, with orders being shouted out in the Black Speech that grated harshly upon the elves' ears, causing them to wince. From the eager gleam on their faces, the orcs had been ordered to take them alive.
"Valar help us," Savarre muttered under his breath, as the orcs closed in. Whipping his twin swords out, he proceeded to carve a path through the foul creatures.
Legolas twirled and danced lightly around the clumsy orcs, unable to use his bow but making due with his knives. To his right, Aragorn fought like a mad thing, and enjoying every minute of it. On his left, Elladan and Elrohir fought back to back.
Sirithiliel and Teysrol did the same, and Savarre moved to join them. Legolas lost sight of them as a foul breathed orc leaped at him. He ducked and lashed out, praying they would find a way out.
Teysrol let out a shrill whistle that echoed around the surrounding cliffs, before continuing his attacks. Wargs circled outside of the orcs, waiting to leap in.
One orc slashed with the flat of his blade, trying to hit Legolas. It would have hit him too, but Legolas jerked as something hit him hard in the back, and he hit the ground, tucking arms and head in to avoid any accidents. The blow whistled over his head. Flipping around back to his feet, he saw one of those immense black wolves that bonded to the elves, and realized it had knocked him to the ground, successfully making the elf dodge the blow.
Aragorn saw the three wolves of Teysrol and the others leap in, and saw as one knocked Legolas out of the way of an orc's blow. Swinging his own blade around into a slashing cut, Aragorn watched as Legolas grabbed his knives and plunged back into the fray. He whirled as another orc thought to strike him.
A sudden pain-filled cry cut through the air, and the fight slowed as a large orc hauled a semi-conscious Elrohir to his feet and threateningly placed a dagger at his throat, pulling his dark hair so that the elf's throat was vulnerable. The warning was clear: "put down your weapons and surrender, or the elf dies."
Legolas, Elladan and Aragorn froze, and Teysrol and the other two renegade elves followed reluctantly. Orcs came up and immediately grabbed their weapons, and bound their hands.
They did not even try to fight back. If they did, Elrohir would more than likely be dead. With a whistle, Teysrol called their three wolves off, and sent them fleeing into the mountains, before the orcs could grab them, with a score of wargs following quickly after, snarling.
The orcs laughed and jeered at their unarmed prisoners. The orc released Elrohir and the Rivendell elf was bound and thrown beside Legolas and Aragorn. He shook the dizziness off, and assured them he was fine, just a nasty bump on the head.
Teysrol snarled at the orcs, and they sneered back. His eyes flashed with black fury, and he was tense with barely restrained rage. His sister was more controlled, but barely. Savarre was not as constrained, and he strained against his bonds, trying to reach the hated orcs.
Legolas icily glared at any who made eye contact with him, and Elladan growled under his breath. Aragorn and Elrohir seemed to be the calmest of all, just warily watching any possible escape route.
The battle had lasted much of the afternoon, and the orcs were anxious for some fun with the prey that caused them many deaths of their comrades. With toothy grins, they grabbed Savarre, since he was closest, hauling him to his feet and into the center of their hastily made camp.
Orcs slavered in anticipation, and two large orcs gripped Savarre's shoulders tightly. He winced at the pressure and steeled himself for what he knew was to come.
Teysrol and Sirithiliel watched in stunned horror as whips were brought out amidst gleeful snarls and shouts in their foul language. They had lost their mother to bandits at a young age, and a father and brother to orcs. They were shaken at the thought of their next eldest brother being slain by the foul creatures as well.
With a crack the first whip lashed down and Savarre's breath hissed from between his teeth.
The orcs used the whips and flogged Savarre, who retained his silence through out the ordeal. When they tired of them they brought out new toys: knives and all sorts of instruments of cruel torture, and Savarre finally lost his resolve half way through, his screams punctuating the laughs and shouts of the orcs.
Tears of helpless rage made tracks down Teysrol's cheeks, and he struggled furiously, silent sobs racking his body. Sirithiliel was still, still and quiet. She stared at the scene in front of her, not really seeing it. If Teysrol's muttered curses amused the orcs that restrained him, her silence made them nervous, and they watched her with wary caution.
Elladan and Elrohir felt immense pity and sympathy for them, not able to bear the thought of one of them being tortured before the other's eyes. Aragorn felt the same, unable to think of Elladan or Elrohir or Legolas having that happen to them while he was forced to watch.
Savarre had ceased making any sound, and now slumped between the two orcs, blood pouring from a dozen of wounds, welts from the lashes crisscrossing over his back, overlapping the purpling bruises. But the foul creatures were not done yet.
Hot irons were brought from the fire, and with malicious pleasure the first was pressed against Savarre's shoulder. He jerked up with a blood chilling cry of agony, the smell of burning flesh permeating the camp.
Teysrol winced at the sound, closing his eyes tightly, unable to look. Legolas looked nauseas, and Aragorn wished he could stop up his ears.
It continued on, the hot iron being applied, then he was flogged, fists and feet bruising him, while knives and other weapons carved arcane symbols in his heated flesh. He screamed and screamed, his shrieks driving Teysrol to the brink of insanity.
The burning did what the other tortures did not to Sirithiliel, and her self control snapped. Her eyes burned with a strange light, as if she was not entirely there anymore, the fire's dancing light heightened the black fury, the potent rage that burned savagely within her. She strained against the orcs that moved to hold her down, and she writhed and twisted in their grips, tears that would not be shed -yet- blurring her eyes. Hissing curses that made Legolas and Aragorn, who were nearest, shudder, she sobbed brokenly.
With a strangled cry, Teysrol tried to get to his brother, who was whimpering in the orcs' hold. A fist to the stomach left him breathless, but he did not cease his struggles.
One orc went up to the semi-conscious Savarre and drew out a whip that had pieces of jagged glass imbedded on it. With a crack, he brought the first stroke across the helpless elf's shoulders, delighting in the cry it elicited. Flesh tore and blood seeped into his already torn tunic, darkening its forest green color to a darker shade. That seemed to be the last straw for Sirithiliel or Teysrol. The self-restrain that had kept them from leaping at the orcs' throats snapped, and Sirithiliel snarled and turned upon one of the orcs standing guard. With savage fury, she gave a high kick that crushed the orc's throat. With a gurgling cry, he stumbled back, clutching his throat. He struggled to breathe, turning an unhealthy shade as he was unable to get air through his crushed windpipe. He choked and gagged, and collapsed, suffocating.
Orcs directed their attention from the entertainment towards her, and some went over to force her to the ground like Teysrol. She was forced to her knees, and physically restrained there.
Aragorn took the momentary distraction to hook an orc's dagger with his foot, slipping it out of the creature's belt and bringing it towards him.
~*~*~*
Savarre's world was a haze of pain, the orcs around him mere blurs. He cried out repeatedly, though he tried to stop. He did not want to give the filthy orcs satisfaction, but could not help himself.
Burning....it burned. White-hot agony flared through his body, and every nerve was afire. He shuddered and screamed as another whip descended.
He felt himself slipping, loosing his footing on consciousness, the world turning dark and filled with soothing peace. Indeed, he felt his grip on the world sliding away as his life's blood poured from his wounds.
Fiery pain blossomed on his shoulder as the hot iron was pressed against it, and he could not stifle the cry of pain. His body seared with tremendous agony, and he welcomed the dark abyss that was dragging him in.
Another whip descended upon him, cutting across the burn from the iron, and he moaned with suppressed pain. He vaguely heard the orcs now, their laughter and shouts seemingly miles away. As the darkness claimed him, he thought of his brother and sister, and sent a silent prayer to the Valar that they could finish what they had started. He felt light-headed, and his pains disappeared as he collapsed lower in the orcs' hands. The world darkened, and he felt a peacefulness that he did not expect to feel at a time like this.
~*~*~*
Teysrol and Sirithiliel froze as the lead orc held up a hand to halt the proceedings. With a frown, the hideous creature bent down and placed his fingers against the elf's throat, just below the jaw.
With a snarl, he stood and motioned for the orcs to drop the elf. They did, and the orc kicked the prone form.
"He's dead. No use in that one." He said, kicking the fallen elf once more.
Some orcs turned and jeered at Sirithiliel and Teysrol. The resemblance between the three siblings was strong enough that at a quick glance you could mistake one for another. The orcs laughed at their stunned faces.
Sirithiliel stared silently for a moment, her eyes wide, before she stiffened, and sent a glare at the lead orc so intense and filled with such deadly promise that it actually averted its eyes and stepped carefully away from her.
Teysrol stared as well, before snarling in incomprehensible rage and grief and attacked the orcs around him. They rushed forwards to shove him down, and he fought them tooth and nail.
Aragorn silently rubbed his bound hands upon the dagger he stole from the careless orc, splitting his bonds and cutting through Legolas's. Elladan and Elrohir were freed after, and they waited for the most opportune moment to strike out and retrieve their weapons.
Sirithiliel joined her brother's struggles, and together they distracted the orcs long enough for Aragorn to slip over and slay the orc guarding their weapons. Once he had his sword in his hands, Aragorn felt ready to take the creatures on. The memories of Savarre's torture would be haunting his nightmares for days to come, and he knew Legolas and his brothers would suffer as well. He did not know about Teysrol or Sirithiliel, as they could very well kill themselves in fighting the orcs.
Grabbing their weapons he fought his way to them and tossed them to their owners. Turning, he cut down one orc and eviscerated another.
Elladan fought side by side with his brother, and they spoke to one another while they fought, trying to find a way out. Legolas twirled by, and shouted at them to look towards the cliff wall on the right, below the ridge. As their next strikes brought them around, they discovered a dark crevasse where Legolas had said to look. Aragorn was already near it, with Legolas moving over to him.
Teysrol and Sirithiliel had abandoned all hopes of surviving a fight with the orcs, so ducked into the cave after the twins reached it.
The cave was black, and even the keen eyes of the elves could not see in it. Orcs crowded outside the cave, laughing, but did not pursue.
A sudden rumble alerted them to why the orcs had not followed, and they realized too late when the cave entrance suddenly collapsed. Backing away, they shielded their eyes from the cloud of dust that rose up.
As they retreated farther another rumble started up after the first. Apparently, the collapse of the entrance had triggered another avalanche, and part of the ceiling fell, landing among the small group.
Elrohir grabbed Legolas and wrenched him out of the way, while Elladan and Sirithiliel leaped back. Legolas tried to find the other two of their group through the second dust cloud. He dodged a falling rock that brought a quarter of the ceiling with it -
Just in time to see both of them falling beneath one of the inner walls, going down under a cascade of stone that buried them in an instant. Legolas leaped forwards, out of Elrohir's grasp, and tried to get at the rubble.
Elladan grabbed him, and Legolas could not comprehend why, until the rumble continued and the floor below the rubble, weakened from the pounding it had taken from the falling stone, suddenly fell downwards as the floor collapsed beneath the unaccustomed weight into a tunnel below. With a cry, the remaining elves ran forwards to try and see where they had fallen, but it was too far down for them to see.
~*~*~*
Aragorn fell through the floor without even being able to catch his breath after he was buried below the pile of rock. He was bruised, his shoulder felt sprained, and now he was falling who-knows-how-far down a hole.
He hit the ground hard, hissing with pain as he landed on his half healed leg, and felt as well as heard the impact of rocks falling nearby.
Someone grabbed him and pulled him in towards the wall, away from the falling rocks. The stones stopped dropping, and the person beside him groaned in a mixture of relief and pain. Sure he had some broken bones, Aragorn moved slowly so as not to aggravate them. He turned to look to see who was beside him, but the dark made it hard. It was dark enough that Aragorn's hand did not appear before his eyes if he held it up in front of them.
"Are you hurt?" A voice asked, filled with pain and weariness. Aragorn recognized Teysrol then, since he knew Legolas's and his brothers' voices.
"Aye," Aragorn said, panting slightly. A silvery glow lit the darkness, and Aragorn saw Teysrol's face illuminated softly. With an audible sigh of relief, Teysrol's bruises faded and his broken bones set themselves and healed to the point where they were only sprained.
Passing the glowing jewel to Aragorn, Teysrol stood and began exploring the tunnel they had landed in.
~*~*~*
Tivadar could have smiled in pleasure. His plan was working out perfectly. The little thief had managed to get the Mornelithe to Teysrol, just as he hoped he would.
Now that the elves possessed the jewel, Tivadar could begin the second step of his plan.
Tivadar had held the jewel for as long as he could remember. He had been with Tremane, the father of Teysrol, Sirithiliel, and Savarre, when the jewel was being taken to its hiding place and had confiscated the jewel shortly after it was hidden. He had enjoyed Rilian's frustration in trying to find it, and had paid the young thief in Quindiniar to get it to them.
Yes, the second point of his plan could be put into motion now.
~*~*~*
Sirithiliel paced restlessly, trying to figure out a way to get down the hole and to her brother. Legolas and the twin sons of Elrond were thinking similar thoughts.
The only light they had was a faint gleam that came from the blocked up cave mouth, and that was only enough to see the dim out lines of each other by.
They were broken out of their reveries when a faint cry echoed up from the hole. Rushing to the edges, being careful to stay a prudent way from the edge, they listened closely.
"Can you hear me? Hello!" The voice was unmistakably Aragorn's. It was wavering and no louder than a whisper, but it was there.
"Yes! We can hear you! Are you all right?" Elladan called back. Elrohir sighed with relief, while Sirithiliel shifted anxiously.
"Yes! Teysrol has that jewel of his!" Aragorn's voice echoed back. Sirithiliel relaxed visibly at the words. So they were fine.
"How do we get out?" Teysrol's voice rang up from below. Elladan thought hard, trying to think. Legolas shifted slightly, brow furrowed in thought.
~*~*~*
Tivadar watched the group of men in the mountains. They muttered to each other, and were obviously angry about something. He knew they were the sort who disliked elves, he could tell just by listening to their speech.
He needed these men, and hoped they would accept his offer. Pulling his cloak's hood up over his head to hide his elven features, the elf walked slowly and purposefully towards them.
"Hold! Who are you?" One man called from his look out post. Tivadar obediently stopped, standing still as the men reassuringly touched their weapons.
"Tivadar, come to offer you a chance for repayment against the elves that you met earlier." Tivadar said, not giving any information on how he had found out they had met the elves.
"And how do you know we met elves earlier?" One man said, obviously their leader. He cast a suspicious glare upon Tivadar, who bore it calmly.
"I know things. That is not important. What is important is that I know where the elves and ranger are, and I need help in getting my own revenge." He said with such vehemence that the man looked at him in surprise.
Tivadar was speaking the truth, and he saw he had convinced the men. He thought he was going to have to use some fancy words and persuasion to get the men to agree. So much for the better.
Now the fun can begin.