Hey there guys! Next chapter up and ready for you all to read! I hope you enjoy reading this!

Review responses;

Child of Dreams – Yes. . .but don't worry, she'll be alright

Memo (Guest) – I hope this is quick enough for you and you haven't been waiting too long xx


Escape and Recovery

Three years. Three years have gone by since I was first captured by the orcs and as the days went by, I would start to lose hope of ever feeling the heat of the sun, the green grass or the sweet music of Rivendell. But all I have is the heat of fire, the colour of stone or dirt and the harsh drums and sounds of orc music. More than once I have come close to giving up and fading away, at least then I wouldn't have to go through the torture of the orcs. But again, the thought of leaving Thorin comes to mind, and even though I'm not sure of his true feelings for me. . .I can't just leave him. . .not now.

During my imprisonment in Gundabad, I have been tortured by the orcs, whether it's for any information on Thorin's whereabouts or just out of the amusement of the orcs. I was also treated as a slave, either by doing chores, doing their bidding or fighting for their entertainment. When they see me being weak from injuries, they would put me against orcs in battle and taunt me. One of the worse days was when one of their wargs got loose and attacked me, luckily I managed to escape with three deep scratches on my face. Thankfully, none of my wounds ever got infected as I would be, hesitantly, bandaged up, by Azog's orders – who intends to keep me alive.

As for the Pale Orc, he never stays for too long at a time, always coming and going. However, his spawn, Bolg, is constant presence within this fortress. I never thought I'd say this, but I fear Bolg more than I do Azog. His whole appearance is more rough and nasty. Although, he never deals with me personally, which I'm secretly thankful for.

While here, I have been able to pick up on the language of the black speech and, while not able to understand it fluently, I can make out some things that were said. Whether they knew this or not, I didn't know, nor did I care. Many times in the past three years I have tried to escape, without any success. Instead of feeling the sweet taste of freedom, and I got was the painful whips from the orcs.

My one last attempt at freedom finally comes when I was doing more chores for the orcs just a few days past. As I was cleaning, I spotted a dagger just lying around, no one bothering with it at all. So, I took my chance, when no one was looking, I grabbed it and hid it within the rags of clothing I now wear. After successfully getting the dagger back to my cell, I hide it away while working up a plan to escape. I already know the route I plan to take once I'm out. . .it's just getting out that's the problem.

After spending hours and hours planning, strategising and keeping up my strength by eating the awful food I am given, I believe I am ready to put my plan into motion. This whole fortress is full of nooks and crannies that I can squeeze myself into in case I need to hide. My plan is to climb out of one of the many windows in the halls and climb down. True, I could fall to my death, but I would die trying to escape than dying at the hand of orcs. If only I had the courage to do this months and months ago. . .but, it can't be helped now.

Long knowing the rota of the orcs, I know that an orc will be along any moment to deliver my lunch, just one. I can kill him and make my escape. As I hear the orc approaching, I lay on the ground, the dagger behind my back and hold my breath, putting on a ruse of my death so he would come inside instead of sliding my lunch under.

After hearing the slat of the door open, there's a hurried scrabble as the orc unlocks the door and stalks inside.

"Elf. Get up." The orc grunts in his black speech.

He then nudges me with my foot, expecting me to wake, then delivering a kick to my side. Inside my mouth, I bite my tongue hard in order to keep myself from crying out, forcing my body to remain limp and relaxed. Seeing I'm not waking, I hear him spin on his feet in order to leave. That's when I snap my eyes open and jump up, covering his mouth with my hand and using the other to drive the dagger into his neck, black blood spurting out, causing me to be covered in it. Once I know he is dead, I drop his body to the ground, grab the keys and leave. Locking the door behind me, I make my way down the corridor quietly, not willing to allow myself to get caught escaping again, and especially after killing one of the orcs. . .that would certainly mean my death.

Coming to a junction, I instantly stop and hide away in a nearby alcove as I hear orcs coming down from the right. Pressing myself further into the shadows, I wait for the orcs to go past before slowly walking out. Checking the two hallways, down the right hall are other doors leading to different rooms and where I know other orcs are going to be and to the left, my heart soars as I see a window at the end of the corridor, which thankfully, is short.

Making sure there are no orcs around, I hurry towards the window and lean out, freezing as I look down. I clearly underestimated just how high this floor actually is. Hearing the clanking of orcs coming this way, I place the handle of the dagger in between my teeth, squeeze out of the tight window and drop down, gripping onto the wall to stop my fall.

Leaning my forehead against the bricks, I take some time to ease my rapidly beating heart before looking down again. Thankfully, I chose a side of the fortress that didn't have any guard placed on the ground. It seems my luck is holding out as I carefully climb down, losing my footing every now and then, but since I spent most of my life climbing things, I soon navigate the wall and my feet hit solid ground. Leaning forward, I place my hands on my knees as I take in a quick breath of relief at escaping the fortress. Now, I have to escape the area.

Taking my chance while it is quiet, I keep myself hidden in the shadows as I sneak around. My luck seems to be holding out as I don't see any guards around and begin to run, heading South. That's when I hear it, the shouting coming from inside the fortress. The orcs have discovered my escape. I continue running, heading South along the Misty Mountain and keep running until I eventually collapse, falling to my hands and knees as I breath heavily. Looking behind, I see nothing. No orcs. . .no wargs. . .nothing following. I did it. . .I actually did it! I'm free!

Letting out a breathless laugh, I shakily get to my feet, forcing myself to keep moving, otherwise I won't be free for long.


For the next month, I keep moving, not stopping to rest for long, the fear of recapture in the forefront of my mind which pushes me to walk on. Only once, do I fear a capture as I hear growls and howls of wargs ahead. Hiding among and outcropping of rocks, I peek out in time to see Azog and his orcs returning to Gundabad. Breathing a sigh of relief as he leaves, I continue on, making my way down the mountain.

That's when the first snow of winter falls. If I aim to get somewhere safe, it had better be soon before the weather gets any worse. Trudging along, my strength soon wanes as I collapse to the ground. I try three times to force myself onto my knees at least, but my body gives out on me. The wounds, fatigue and lack of food and water finally taking its toll.

"This is it. . ." I think to myself as I lay on the snow covered ground. "This is to be my end. . .I'm sorry Thorin. . .I tried. . ."

Closing my eyes, I wait for death to take me, but instead, I hear sound from ahead. The stomping of hooves. Looking up, I see a rider trotting along ahead, not having noticed me lying here.

"Help. . ." I croak out, but the rider doesn't hear.

Clenching my fingers around a rock, I use the last of my strength to toss it towards horse and rider, luckily missing both, but given them a fright, the horse whinnying and rearing up. The rider looks up in time to see another rock heading towards them, but they dodge out of the way. The sound of a sword being taking out of it's sheathe is heard and then the feet hitting the ground as they dismount.

As the rider gets closer, I reach for the dagger I still hold, gripping it in my hands, my only means of defence. I realise I don't need it however, when the ride comes in full view. A tall man, with a grey cloak, pointed hat and long grey beard.

"Gandalf. . ." I say in relief.

"Caladwen! Oh my goodness!" Gandalf exclaims as he rushes towards me, having noticed who I am.

He kneels beside me and gently takes me into his arms, causing me to cry out slightly in pain.

"My dear, what on Earth happened to you?"

"Orcs. . .captured. . .Gundabad. . ." I manage to gasp out, my voice hoarse and crackly from being so dry.

He takes out his waterskin and places it to my lips, allowing me to have a drink of the wonderful water he carries. Once I've had my fill, he gently lifts me, carrying me to his horse.

"Come, let us get you to Rivendell. Lord Elrond will be able to heal you."

Placing me on his horse in front of him, I now know I am safe and so, I feel myself drift off to sleep.


The past sixty years have been some of the hardest years of my life, especially the first few years of my recovery. When Gandalf had brought me to Rivendell, I had closed myself off to everyone, keeping to myself and not talking to anyone, apart from Lord Elrond, who was healing me, and only then I spoke when spoken too.

Elrond and the other elves were patient with me, however, allowing me to have the time and space I so needed. The elves made sure to try to include me in their daily lives, which I would forever appreciate. Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were always the first to make me feel welcomed and at home during my recovery. They showed me around their beautiful home, which included the training area, a spot I couldn't wait to visit once my strength returned, which it did a few years later.

When I had taken up a sword again, Elladan and Elrohir were there to train me and I soon returned to the standard I was at before my capture.

During my stay, I continued to get stronger, physically and mentally. My ordeal soon became nothing more than a memory, the reminder being the scars, which much like the dwarves, I wore with pride. A testament of my survival.

It was thirty years after my freedom, that I felt confident enough to travel once again. So, I left alone and did just that, making sure to keep well away from the Blue Mountains, where I knew Thorin dwelt and the Misty Mountains where the orcs were in Gundabad.

I soon came upon the Dunedain, where I met the Chieftain Arador and became reacquainted with his son Arathorn, who I watched grow up in Rivendell. Arador had kindly invited me to spend some time with them in his camp, to which I happily accepted.

I spent the next twenty years with the Dunedain, and I was there when Arador was killed by Hill Trolls, when Arathorn met and married Gilrean, and at the birth of their adorable son, Aragorn, who captured my heart more than I could ever have imagined. At his birth, Gilrean and Arathorn had asked me that if anything were to happen to them, I take him and raise him as my own, a request I accepted with honour. I was also there during the heart breaking moment Arathorn was killed, when Aragorn was just two years of age.

After Arathorn's death, it was decided that, like his father before him, Aragorn would be raised within the walls of Rivendell, where he would be safe from anyone wishing to eradicate the last of Isildur's heir. Elladan, Elrohir and I escorted Gilrean and her infant son to Rivendell, where upon Aragorn became Estel, a name meaning Hope, his heritage being kept from him until the time was right, when he would leave and join the Dunedain once more.

For the next eight years, Estel grew into a happy and bright boy, looking more and more like his father every day. The twins and I agreed that his training would begin on his tenth birthday, but until that time, we just played with him and helped him with his studies.

During that time, Estel had begun healing my heart in more ways than one. I no longer felt the torture from Azog, nor the ache in my heart left by Thorin. I never thought I would ever feel that flutter again, until that fateful summer day in the year twenty nine forty one, when Rivendell would play host to thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a certain meddling wizard.


Well, there we have it. The next chapter is the start of the Hobbit, which has been a LONG time coming and I can't WAIT to get on with it! For those that have read my original True Love Conquers All story, just know that some things are going to be very different to what that was, but I still hope you enjoy it!