Aha! See, I've started getting back into the swing of things, and got a new chapter out in blinding time! Huzzah! Cheers all around! I broke a few hearts last chapter. I broke my own. But it was…necessary. Cerena needed a growing moment, a catalyst for her. This will change her, but we'll just have to see if it's for the better or not.

Chapter 21 – There's A Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Consciousness came back to her slowly and fitfully. But when she finally opened her eyes she was disoriented for several long moments. She could hear the sound of wolves walking, their claws scraping against rocks and their yips of lupine conversation amongst each other. Her head beat a tattoo of agony with each heartbeat, and she groaned softly, reaching up to touch her swollen face. Wait, why was her face swollen? What had made her nose so sore-

And she remembered.

Her inexcusable behavior. Her flight from Stargush. Oh God…..Stargush. She felt hot tears on her face at the remembrance of him. The sight of his face as he died trying to protect her. Trying to save her even though she'd been nothing but a spoiled bitch.

"Our guest is awake,"

She looked up to see Akashagon peeking at her through a flap in a tent. No…not a tent. She was in the back of a covered wagon, lying on a thick blanket to protect her from the bumps of the moving vehicle.

"I…wanna go home," Cerena whimpered. She wanted to go back to the Valley. She wanted to curl up next to Stargush. She wanted to see little Visht.

"I have other plans for you," Akashagon said. He did not like the tears that stained her face. Not from any sympathy on his part, but because he found them distasteful in orc-kind. The fact that Orcs could shed tears at all was a sore spot with him. A weakness.

"What…are you going to do…with me…?" Cerena asked fearfully. Akashagon grinned widely.

"I'm going to get the information I want from you," he said cheerfully. Cerena felt her stomach drop at the revelation.

"Durbûrz will not let this go. He will hunt you down," she said lowly. Akashagon's grin turned positively feral.

"I'd like to see him try," he snarled.

They stopped after several hours, and Cerena could hear the sound of running water. Cerena's tears had dried after the first hour, and she had no more to cry. She felt numb with grief and fear. She did not know what to do, and that was frightening her as much or more than the thought of accidentally revealing too much so early in the game. Akashagon appeared at the wagon flap again after a few moments.

"Come, we are resting," he said, his voice brooking no room for argument. He held out his hand towards her, and she looked at it blankly. "I do not have the patience for your bullshit, you little slut. Get the fuck over here before I strip you down and stripe those pretty little thighs for all to see!"

She moved immediately but sluggishly, crawling towards his hand and reaching out tentatively. He reached forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the wagon. She stumbled over the edge, falling at his feet with a gasp. He let go of her hand and leaned down, grabbing a fistful of curly hair and tilting her head towards him.

"Good girl…you're learning your place already," he said, condescension heavy in his voice. Then he let go of her hair, standing straight and looking over into the camp. "Kiyuta! Take the girl to the river and see to it she is clean."

An orcess stepped forward and bowed, reaching down to pull Cerena to her feet. The orcess was tall and slender with lean muscle, clad in the armor of Akashagon's soldiers. She walked with the quiet grace of a predator, suave and deadly. Her skin was smooth and grey, unblemished save for a small scar in her right eyebrow, and two longer ones on her left cheek. Her right ear was pierced from lobe to tip, and her left ear held a single sapphire.

As they passed, another guard handed Kiyuta a bundle, which she tucked under her arm. Cerena was led down to a shallow creek which ran clear.

"Take off those clothes and bathe. I'll take a look at your nose when you are done," Kiyuta said, sitting on a rock nearby. Cerena stood in place for a moment, watching the other orcess.

"Are you…going to just stay there?" she asked. Kiyuta gave her an annoyed look.

"I had heard you were a bit peculiar…but that's ridiculous. You don't have anything I don't have. And believe me, your tits and cunt can't be that impressive," she said tartly. Cerena's face flushed with shame and mortification. It was one thing to be topless in the hot springs with an orcess she knew and trusted. It was another thing to be completely unclothed in front of this stranger. She removed her boots and tunic dutifully, slipping out of her leggings before undoing the breast band that kept her from jiggling all over the place. Orcish panties were simple things, a strip of fabric tied at the hips. Hers was lace with satin ribbons, gifts from Stargush that he liked to see her in. She tried to blink back the feeling of tears as she stepped to the shore, kneeling in the knee deep water.

"Huh. I may have been wrong."

Cerena jumped at the proximity of the voice. She looked up to see the orcess eyeing her appreciatively. Kiyuta stepped forward with a bit of fabric in her hands and a small bar of plain soap. Cerena's face was flushed darker, feeling incredibly awkward under the strange, hungry look in those bright red eyes.

"If Akashagon hadn't already laid claim to you I would blow your mind," Kiyuta rumbled lowly, her black tongue darting out to wet her lips. Cerena, embarrassed and frustrated, merely lowered her gaze to the pebbles beneath her and held out her hand for the washcloth and soap. Kiyuta placed the bar of soap in Cerena's hand, laying the cloth over it and leaning forward. "But if he decides he doesn't want you, I would bury my tongue in that sweet little quim."

Cerena shuddered in revulsion but did not speak. Kiyuta sighed softly and stepped away, leaving Cerena to her ablutions. The soap was plain, but it did have a soft, fresh fragrance. It smelled a little like summer grass after a fresh clipping. She washed quickly, not liking the way the orcess was watching her intently. She washed her face carefully, mindful of her sore nose, but happy to get the crusted, dried blood off of her skin. When she was finished she wrung out the cloth thoroughly, wrapping the small bar of soap back within and standing from the water. She began to approach her discarded clothes, but Kiyuta stood from her place on the rock.

"Leave them. You have been provided with new clothes," Kiyuta told her, holding the bundle she had been given before they went to the river. The clothes were simple, a loose, cream colored peasant top and a simple brown, knee-length skirt. But there was no kind of underclothes.

"What about my underthings?" Cerena asked softly. She felt the tips of Kiyuta's claws trail gently across her cheek and up the tip of her ear.

"You are such a sweet little thing, aren't you? Lord Akashagon will want access to all those pretty little treasures you have. The fewer layers you have between you and him are for the best," she said lowly. When Cerena had slipped on the simple clothes, still feeling rather naked, the orcess peered closely at her face, gingerly touching her nose and cheeks. "It's not broken. Just bruised. You'll be sore and bruised for a few days."

When that was done Cerena was led back to where the others had camped, stumbling and wincing the whole way as rocks and sticks dug into her bare feet. When prompted about shoes, Kiyuta merely smiled and told her that shoes would tempt her to run. And there was no running from Lord Akashagon.

Said Lord was leaning against a tree, waiting for her to return. He saw her in the thin outfit and grinned widely, showing his teeth.

"I could just fuck you right now," he admired. Cerena wrapped her arms around herself. "I am not an unfair Master. I can be quite good to you whilst I have you, sweet little one," he said, standing straight and approaching her. She stiffened at the proximity as he neared her, poised like a cat ready to flee. "Or I can slowly peel the skin off of the backs of your thighs with a whip. It is your choice." He reached out and touched her face gently, fingers going to her chin to tilt her face up. She was still looking down, her shapely mouth drawn tight with stress and fear. "If only you'll tell me what I want to know," he crooned. Cerena, in a flash of defiance, raised her eyes to look straight at him.

"Fuck you," she growled lowly. He tapped the side of her face almost lovingly.

"I will break your spirit in twain. You will beg me for death," he warned.

She spit in his face.

He turned slightly and wiped the spittle from his cheek with a grimace. But his retribution was swift and brutal: he punched her in the face with a staggering blow. Cerena felt the crunch of her nose breaking, and blood exploded from her newly cleaned nose. She screamed in pain and crumbled, holding her face.

"Now it's broken," she heard Kiyuta say as an aside.

"Tie her behind a wolf. She has much too much energy, it seems. Let her run it off," Akashagon ordered. Cerena was dragged to her feet, blinded by tears, and her wrists tied tightly together. Then she was tugged over to one of the wolves they were riding and her lead was attached to its saddle. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gasp for breath through her mouth, sobbing openly as she looked around at his soldiers. There was no pity for her in any of their faces. She closed her eyes for a moment, praying feverishly.

O Valar, be with me.

The wolves started forward, and she was jerked from her thoughts. Soon they were at a gallop, with her running behind them. Her lungs were burning as she ran, desperately trying to keep the pace and stay upright. She finally fell, but the wolf did not stop and she was dragged for several yards before she could get her feet back under her. The front of her simple skirt was ripped and her knees were skinned badly, her feet were cut in several places and she was sure she had broken one of her toes as she scrambled back to her feet.

She prayed as she ran, begging for strength from the beings that had brought her to this world. But she could not feel their presence with her. She felt alone. Alone and bereft of all hope. Stargush was dead by her own stupidity. She was in danger of torture and pain if she did not tell her captor what he wanted to hear, but if she did then the entire world was in danger.

She kept up with the wolf for half an hour, quite proud of her progress, before her body simply would not continue anymore. The effort of it made her vomit and then she tripped. She could not get her feet under her and was dragged for several minutes. Finally, mercifully, the wolf stopped. She was gasping and covered in blood and dirt. She lay with her face in the dust, mouth open and gasping for breath. Everything hurt.

Her legs had locked up from the effort and her wrists were bleeding where her bonds had cut into the skin when she had fallen. Her shins and the side of her left calf were shredded and bleeding, and the bottoms of her feet were covered in lacerations and packed with dirt.

She saw boots enter her field of vision, and there was a hand on the front of her shirt, lifting her up as she hung weakly in the grasp. Akashagon was grinning at her.

"So…how are you feeling?" he asked conversationally. She could only breathe raggedly, feeling sweat dripping down her face and neck. "No smart remarks? Pity. I was rather amused by that viperous tongue," he laughed lightly. He turned to one of the soldiers. "Put her back in the wagon. We need to make good time against Durbûrz' soldiers and I can't do that dragging this fat whore around," he growled. She was picked up unceremoniously and chucked back into the wagon. She laid there in the darkness of the canvass, curling up and moaning as her legs cramped. They had left the binding around her wrists and she watched as blood oozed lazily from a particularly nasty cut.

"I will be strong," she murmured. "I will not break. I will make it up to you, Stargush. I promise."

She fell into unconsciousness.

Durbûrz sat with a sheath-belt across his knees, the smaller blade looking out of place across strong thighs. It was a feminine blade, light enough to wield by a beginner but sharp enough to do damage. It had been a gift for Cerena from Stargush as she made progress on her practice. Now Cerena was without it, taken by a foreign Lord for nefarious purposes, and Stargush's body had been given to the pyre, his ashes retired with honor. The cloak of his station was kept and preserved should Cerena be retrieved, for it was hers by right. Cerena's sword…

He stood, finally, feeling strangely empty as he walked from the throne room with the belt held reverently. One of the guards of the throne-room looked at his partner across the doorway. They King had been so silent in the days since the Seer had disappeared. Most attributed it to the grievous loss of one of his Royal Guards, but those deeper in the palace knew that it was an almost melancholy silence, because he missed her.

Durbûrz walked to his private quarters, glad that Lady Gaathgothlaab had stayed a bit longer to help with Visht. Every other visitor had been sent from his Kingdom in his initial rage, threatening their lives and damning the consquences. He had not wanted to see their faces after what had happened. He had been able to spare a group for tracking, but he had not heard back from them yet.

He entered his bedroom and crossed the room, stopping at the opposite wall. Two swords hung side by side, one large and masculine, the other shorter and feminine. Much like the one he held in his hand. The large one had been his, a gift from Zira near the beginning of their relationship. In fact it was how he knew she wished to be pursued…The other was Zira's, recovered from her body when she was slain. Cerena's had been found in the hallway with Stargush's cooling corpse, obviously disarming her so that she could not fight. He hung Cerena's sword next to Zira's, taking a moment to touch the hilt of his dead wife's blade before standing back. Should Cerena return he would return the blade to her. If not, he would leave it as a testament to her place in his family, a silent honor that no one would know but him.

He sighed and turned away.

It was two weeks of riding hard before they slowed their frantic pace, sure of their lead over any of Durbûrz' soldiers who might have followed. Her torment had lasted from the dawning to the setting of the sun. Akashagon was fond of coming into the back of the wagon with her, using her body for his pleasure and then interrogating her with the use of his thick leather belt. Yet her mouth stayed firmly shut. He had broken all the fingers in her left hand, and still she kept silent about the Ring.

Cerena had been given only water, and only in small amounts. There was not much food to spare anyway, and what they had went to the soldiers. They had hunted several times when they could spare the time, and she sat tied to the wagon, stomach gnawing with hunger, mouth drooling from the smell of roasted meat, and body aching from her abuse. Akashagon would offer her some of the roasted meat if only she would speak, but she had not spoken words since her disrespect to Akashagon, and he was starting to get annoyed with her silence. The only time he could get her to make a sound was when she was screaming beneath him, or crying from the weals from his belt.

She was dragged by her wrist bindings out of the wagon, tripping and falling on still-sore legs. Her feet were infected, she knew; weeping sores that were trying to expel the dirt and fragments of stone from her flesh. There were a few places on her legs that were getting infected, too.

"Tie her up," Akashagon growled. The binds on her wrist were cut and she cried out as the rope was torn from a scab it had healed to and wrenched her broken hand. Then fresh ropes were used to tie her between two trees, spreading her arms wide. Akashagon took a knife to her clothes, slicing the back of her shirt open and slitting her skirt. The ruined fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her bottom half revealed to the group. She stared ahead as a few of them whistled rudely. Akashagon walked around in front of her, a flogger in his hand.

"You have such pretty brown flesh," he said, running the tongues of the flogger up her arm. "I want to see it striped black," he purred. His boots crunched on the leaves, and Cerena's toes moved in the leaves nervously as she tried to turn her head to see him. She heard him move and then pain blossomed across her shoulder. The suddenness of it made her cry out in surprise. "Such a pretty sound," he laughed. He laid several stripes across her shoulders, making her scream as the leather tongues left raised welts on her skin. He moved back a step, swinging the flogger hard and striking her bottom. She brought her leg up and kicked out, as if trying to escape the blows. Her shoulders were straining against her bonds, the muscles in her back taut as the flogger left its marks. She was pulling harder on her right arm, trying to lessen the pressure on her left hand.

One of his strikes went wide, curling around her hip as the leather piece bit into the sensitive skin of the apex of her thighs. Her scream was high-pitched and desperate, stinging the ears of every orc in the clearing.

"Well, well!" Akashagon exclaimed. "I think we've found a tender spot…" he trailed off. Cerena's eyes were wide and wild as she jerked against the ropes tying her arms and her feet slipped against the leaves in an effort to find good purchase.

"Please….please…." Cerena begged.

"Dear, sweet child. I will give you mercy. I will cut you down and tend to your wounds. I will lavish you with attention if only you will tell me what I want to know," he said gently. Cerena was shaking her head, body jerking with her sobs.

"I can't….I can't….you d-don't underst-stand!" she sobbed.

"I understand that you are being obstinate and foolish. I understand that you are not giving me what I want. I understand that I have every intention of beating you bloody!" he snarled, bringing down the flogger again and again. The welts eventually split under the force of the leather, opening lashes on her back that bled lazily. The leather was picking up the blood and smearing it across her skin. She was wailing in agony, her face sweating from the exertion and pain. She could not find the effort to talk, only to gasp for the breath to scream. He moved to her bottom, concentration on one spot on each of the fleshy cheeks, splitting the skin right at the place her hips bent.

Then he stepped to the front of her again, lifting up her sweat slicked face to look at him.

"I said I would break you. And I will. I will break your body and spirit," he said, before swinging the flogger up and catching her in the pelvis again. And again her screams went high, breaking as her voice began to go from the strain. She pressed her knees together to protect the sensitive area. So instead he brought the flogger down on the tops of her thighs.

She could only scream.

They didn't normally come this far, but they had been tracking a troll's path of destruction for three days now, and were sure they were near its den. They were often on patrol, not wanting to face what waited for them at home.

Elladan and Elrohir had not bonded with their half-sister with the same exuberance Arwen had. They could not abide the sight of her because of her eyes. When they looked into her eyes they saw their mother. They saw the day they had put her on the ship, limp like a wilted flower, her silver hair stuck to her face with sweat and her eyes lifeless in her face.

Elladan was chewing a bit of way-bread as he and his brother rested when he heard it. A high-pitched scream, obviously female, split the air. Elrohir was on his feet immediately, head tilted up like a meerkat as he listened.

"Which way?" Elladan asked. His brother was the best at tracking sound, and he at physical tracking.

"This way," Elrohir said, scaling the nearest tree and taking flight across its branches. It took them several minutes to come across the origin of the sound, and they were hard-pressed to stay in the tree long enough to observe.

It was more of those High Orcs, but it was not the same group that had come through their father's woods before. Several of the soldiers were either reclining against their large wolves or on the ground, watching as what was clearly their leader whipped a female captive. Elrohir winced as he saw the multi-tailed whip brought up between the girl's legs, and her scream made his heart burn for her pain. But he felt the saliva in his mouth dry up when the girl turned her head, revealing half of her face to them who stood at her back.

"It's the orc-girl that writes to Arwen," Elrohir said in a low voice. His brother's face hardened.

"Then leave her. Whatever mischief she's brought to herself is her own problem," he said, turning his face away from the torture. But Elrohir could not harden his heart to the desperate screams.

"She is an innocent, regardless of her race…" he argued weakly.

"She spread such terrible things about mother!" Elladan whispered.

"But it was true. We just didn't know it. And now the proof of it lives at Imladris and calls Arwen 'sister,'" Elrohir countered.

"Do as you wish!" Elladan hissed, and turned away.

"Brother, please," Elrohir begged, so quiet he was almost drowned out by a scream. Elladan stopped. He could not ignore his brother's quiet plea.

"So how do we do this, then?" he asked, no more questions or comments. "There are too many to fight."

"If we can, we will wait until nightfall and steal her away. Our expertise is in stealth here, not strength of arms. Unfortunately, she will have to bear this pain a while longer," Elrohir said softly. The two brothers watched from the trees, silent sentinels to her pain.

Finally the orc-leader stopped her torture, standing behind her with the flogger dripping with blood.

"We will rest for the night. Perhaps your new marks will teach you something," the orc growled to her. There was no response but the shuddering sobs.

The orcs quickly made a camp, digging a strange pit for their fire. If Elladan hadn't wished horrible death on all of the creatures, he would have been impressed with it. The depth of the fire prevented it from being seen from afar, but another small hole to the side allowed them to feed it, and they would be able to feel its warmth if they were close. The orcs were quiet as they shared a road meal, taking nothing to Cerena, who still hung between the two trees. Suddenly an inspiration came to Elladan.

"Follow my lead. You go to her and I will distract them," he said suddenly.

"What?" Elrohir said.

"Just stay hidden," he said, before springing back away from the camp a bit and dropping from his tree. Elrohir felt his heart freeze in fear. But nevertheless he moved a bit farther, closer to where Cerena was tied.

"Ho, visitors!" he heard his brother call.

Akashagon and his orcs were at arms immediately as the lone elf approached their camp. Akashagon had his sword out, looking at the stranger.

"And what does one elf want with my camp?" he asked. The elf seemed surprised at his question.

"You are on lands that border Lord Elrond's lands. I was on patrol when I heard a disturbance," he said earnestly. He acted surprised to see Cerena strung between two trees. "I say! What has happened, here?" he asked. Akashagon sneered.

"She is a slave of mine, disobedient and willful. Even an elf should agree that a servant should be meek," he growled. The elf seemed to genuinely think about it.

"We do not keep slaves, per se, but I do believe a servant should be seen and not heard," he said. Akashagon grinned.

"An elf with some sense, then…" he drawled. Then he tilted his head. "Are there any others with you?" The elf seemed embarrassed.

"Alas, no. I normally travel with my brother, but he was injured just before we were to go. I was not traveling far, so I came by myself," he said. "I noticed that you are of the High Orc variety, the same that Lord Elrond treated with not so long ago," he added. Akashagon made a small sound.

"Yes, yes. Lord Elrond. I was not with that group, but I have heard he is a good sort, for an elf, that is," he said, and laughed as if at a joke. "No offense, of course,"

"None taken. Well, I suppose I should get going. My brother becomes quite worried if I stay on watch too long," he said nervously.

Elladan's heart was beating fast as adrenaline flooded his system. He could see his brother hauling the girl up into the tree at that moment, and made every effort not to attract attention by looking too long.

"Not so fast, elf," the Orc said. Elladan thought he was going to vomit from nerves. Fighting orcs he could handle. This…this…acting was outside his normal repertoire.

"Aye?" he asked, proud that his voice did not crack.

"Would you care to join us for repast? We don't have much to spare, but what we have would gladly be shared with an elven cousin," he said. Elladan laughed nervously.

"I fear I will have to travel through the night to make good time. I must be going," he said. The orc watched him with sharp red eyes. Then he heard one of the guards exclaim.

"The girl!"

Elladan was up the nearest tree before they could turn back to him.

"You tree-fucking fairy! I will goddamn murder you!" the orc screamed. But the trees did not betray Elladan's position, and this orc was not as good as tracking in the trees as the others were. He could barely detect the sound of his brother fleeing, and took that as a good sign. "I will hunt you down!" An arrow whizzed through the trees, missing him, and he heard an order barked out by the orc captain. "No arrows! You might hit the girl!"

They fled from the camp as quickly as possible, hearing the orcs scattering and the wolves howling. Elladan crossed over to where his brother was running. He could hear the girl groaning as she was jostled, but they dare not slow down. It could surely only be the Valar themselves watching over the girl that had prevented the wolves from seeing his brother.

"We must run back to the borders, brother. If we can make it to the border guard we will be safe," he said, just loud enough to be heard.

"Aye, but that's a whole day of running!"Elrohir returned.

"Then let our feet talk and our mouths breathe!" Elladan said. He saw the girl go limp in his brother's grasp and assumed that she must have passed from consciousness.

So they ran.

When Cerena woke again she was lying on someone's bedroll, wrapped in bandages and warm in a borrowed cloak that smelled of leaves and campfire smoke. For a moment she panicked, trying to push herself up, but there was hands on her forearms.

"Do not struggle, you will reopen your wounds!" came a soft, concerned voice. She turned her head and saw one of the Elrondion twins. She whimpered.

"Please…" she whispered, her throat raw and dry. He carefully dribbled water onto her lips. She licked them desperately, tilting her head as far as she could to get to the cool, clear water. For several moments he did this before lowering the drinking skin. "Why…?" she finally asked.

"I could not find it in my heart to leave you behind…" the elf said simply. He watched her blink slowly, finally feeling her body's pains again. Tears came to her starkly yellow eyes. "Cry not," he said gently. "You are severely dehydrated. Your tears will only exacerbate the problem…"

"S…safe…?" Cerena finally asked. The elf smirked and she saw a spark of the creature she had met before.

"We are in my father's borders now. To get to you they would have to pass through at least three rings of border guards. We are only a half a day's move from the House," he said. She closed her eyes for a moment, before she began trying to inch her hand forward. Finally she managed to move her hand to where the elf's hand was resting on his thigh as he knelt next to her. She touched his hand with a tentative gentleness.

"Tha-thank y-you," she stuttered. He looked at her intently for a few moments, before turning his head away.

"You should not have to thank me for doing the right thing," he said, feeling a little ashamed. But she was quiet, and when he turned back he saw her eyes closed, and she was not conscious. He gently moved her hand back to her side, looking at the curve of her face as he did. Arwen had mentioned that she was very young by any race's standards. He had not taken the time to look at her face properly before, and now that he did he could see the youth in her face.

"Barely more than a child yourself…" he sighed guiltily.

His father would be ready to receive her when they arrived. He had sent someone ahead of them to announce that she had been found, her condition, and the estimated time that the twins would have her in Imladris proper. His father still spoke fondly of the girl, and would likely tend her wounds himself. When she was in better health they would see what had transpired to get her in such poor graces with those other High Orcs.

Hopefully she hadn't done anything too stupid.

Don't bet on it, Elrohir. Also, for some reason my hands kept wanting to type Aladdin instead of Elladan. The 'strange fire pit' the High orcs built is called a Dakota fire pit. Basically you dig two holes and connect them with a small tunnel. Build the fire in one, and use the other to put the fuel in so it doesn't burn too high. Then you have fire, but it's not visible from a distance. It's a stealth fire. Yea.

Cerena's capture was not long, but it was arduous and painful. It is a lesson she won't soon forget. She will be back in Rivendell for a bit recovering, and we'll see where life takes her from there. :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you did, feel free to review. Or barring that, a lovely follow or favorite would be nice. :D

Peace!