Pictor Ignotus
Chapter Twenty One-- Shelob's Home Away From Home
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"Hi there, sweetheart."
Iorwen's attention instantly ripped away from her plastic horse, Jambalaya, to the man standing in her doorway. Hopping up, the eager and imaginative 6-yr-old wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she called daddy, overjoyed to see her overworked father back from police work. "Daddy!! Daddy!" she chanted, hopping up and down.
He slowly bent down to her level before saying expectantly with a gleam in his eye. "How much do you love me?"
Without hesitation, Iorwen threw her arms wide, stretching her fingertips as far as they would go. If it were possible, the child would have dislocated her arms just to gain a millimeter more on each side. Her arms would never be long enough to show the love she held.
"This much, daddy!" She said proudly, still trying in vain to stretch her arms further.
"And you know how much I love you?"
"How much daddy?"
"This much!" Throwing open his arms, Russ enveloped his daughter in a massive hug. Giggling, Iorwen extracted herself before running back to her tiny desk near the large windows surrounding her room to grab something.
"Look! Look what I made, dad!"
Glowing in pride, she lifted up a folded piece of paper made into a pop-up book. On it was pictured a scene from one of her favorite books. A blue-tinged horse standing next to a river with his head low was copied almost exactly how it appeared in the book. Her father simply smiled at Iorwen and took the book from her before giving it a closer look. The pride in his eyes was enough to tell her he thought it was wonderful. "You've got quite the eye for art, little one," he stated, looking back at the picture, "you're going to be just like your mother."
Iorwen couldn't help but glow when she heard that. For years she'd been admiring the paintings her mother did. In their kitchen, her mother had painted a mural of a vast valley of green. On the cabinets she'd painted what appeared to be glass panels revealing their inner contents. Behind painted panels of glass, old antique glass ware, china, and pots were pictured on each cabinet, giving character to the small kitchen that was already full of it. Her mother showed Iorwen where she'd painted a mouse climbing into a short green glass, his tail high in the air like a fishing rod. In another, one of the mice was hiding behind a large crock pot. In yet another, one mouse simply sat in a corner, nibbling on a piece of cheese, looking innocently at an ornate teapot next to him. Iorwen only hoped she could one day become as magnificent an artist as her mother.
Her father rubbed one of his large, calloused thumbs along her cheek, a smile playing on his lips that made her heart swell. She watched as the smile caused wrinkles to crease by his eyes and a dimple to appear on one of his cheeks. Stormy blue eyes stared into stormy blue eyes as he whispered, "You're my little angel, Iorwen. My little angel…"
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Iorwen's eyes burst open; her body snapping up like a whip as a strangled gasp exited her lips. Panting and crying, she curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Placing her head on her arms, she closed her eyes and tried to stop the downpour of tears that her dream had caused.
She'd completely forgotten that memory. She'd shoved it somewhere far away; into a place she never returned to or touched. It hurt too much. Far too much. So much that it almost didn't even make sense. What did she have to cry about? What right did she have? There were so many other people suffering so much worse. What gave her the claim to her hurt?
Angry with herself for being so weak, Iorwen quickly swiped away the tears starting to dry on her cheeks and sniffed loudly. Trying to forget her starkly vivid dream, the aching girl stood and stretched before looking around. At first, she had absolutely no idea where she was. Then reality came rushing back on her like a freight train and she almost started crying again when she realized where she was. Then another even more terrifying thought hit her.
"Legolas?" Calling out tentatively, Iorwen looked around at her feet, searching for the elf prince who had turned her world into an absolute nuthouse.
Now where's that damned elf gone to? Scowling, she turned away from the small campsite and made her way unsteadily down the way she'd seen Legolas head off to earlier. She didn't see any signs of him. Nor did she see any of him having returned to the campsite. Lord knows, it probably wasn't an easy task to find food out here, but was it really necessary to be gone for as long as her dreams had allowed her to sleep? I couldn't have slept for under 30 minutes.
Feeling a little nervous, she made her way down to a small patch of flat land that overlooked the swamps below. As she came to stand in the middle of it, she used the moonlight to her advantage and scanned her surroundings. Upon looking down, she started and jumped back a few feet.
All around her were footprints.
Most of them were no bigger than a 11-year-olds' shoe size. From what she could tell, there had to have been at least 5 of them. The prints were far too numerous to have only been a few. In the midst of the collage of footprints, Iorwen spotted one that quickly caught her attention. It had followed her path into the clearing, that much she could tell. The foot print was also a good 3 sizes bigger than hers. Glancing around, she tried to follow its path along the ground until she came to a dead end. The prints stopped and then trailed off as a large scrape on the ground. It kind of looked like someone had taken their foot and started dragging it along sideways so as to make a thick line. Furrowing her brow, Iorwen stood next to the dragging line and attempted her theory, dragging her foot sideways in a like manner. Bending down, she quickly assessed that the markings were very similar.
Heart beating a little faster than it normally did, Iorwen stood up and cast a wary eye on the path the feet markings took. It continued on until the clearing stopped and all that was left was rock. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but Iorwen knew something was wrong.
Instinct told her to stay right where she was. Worry and concern said otherwise…
If Legolas had been here, then all signs pointing to an unintended departure. But what if she was simply overreacting and Legolas was actually just having a hard time finding his way back? Caught in the middle, Iorwen glanced at the path of the footprints and the path leading back to the campsite. Making the decision in her mind, she quickly turned and headed back for the camp. If he wasn't back in thirty minutes she would follow the path as best she could. She wasn't about to make a rash decision that might cause her to lose contact with the elf and get her own self lost in Emyn Muil.
Back in the campsite, Iorwen could only curl up into the corner of two rocks and wait. Her eyes looking about her expectantly and her heart hammering dully from the lack of certainty she felt. After five minutes she was concerned but not too upset. After ten minutes, she was upset but not too worried. After fifteen minutes she was worried, but not too scared. After twenty minutes she was scared, but not too disturbed. After twenty five minutes, she was disturbed, but not too hysterical. At thirty minutes, she was bordering on hysteria and had nearly chewed her fingernails down to the skin. Standing up abruptly, she finally decided her time was up and returned to the clearing. But she found something much more terrifying that Legolas' startling disappearance.
The footprints were gone.
All of them; simply wiped away. Now shaking with unbridled fear, Iorwen turned and glanced back at the campsite. She was sorely tempted to simply curl up in a ball and wait for morning to come to look for the elf prince, but deep down she knew that was a positively wretched, cowardly, hideous thing to do. Without another moment of hesitation, she turned to where she previously remembered the footprints being and set off along the pathetic, hardly recognizable trail. There was very little that showed her where to go. She watched for the small signs: rocks pushed out of the way by feet, tramped down tufts of grass that barely had a chance, and--occasionally--a smear of something oily and positively rank on the face of the rocks about the trail. It was mostly the smell that showed her where to go. That, and a rather unnerving sense that kept tugging her onward. Legolas' handsome Elvin face kept springing into her mind as she stumbled along the rocks clumsily. It was this image that made her even more determined to continue on. That warm yet icy gaze he'd laid on her a number of occasions kept beckoning her further. Each time it had made her skin tremble and her breathing hitch. She was certain he didn't realize the affect that look had on her. He usually did it when he was confused about something she'd said or done.
She was still picturing him in her mind when the trail suddenly ended. She wasn't sure how she knew it had, but one glance down and her mind quickly confirmed her original thought. Leading deep into mass of rock and dirt, a tunnel--almost undoubtedly made by sentient hands--broke the surface and twisted into the terrifying unknown. Its entrance was so unfathomably dark and treacherous, Iorwen almost thought for a moment that she must have gone blind. If it had not been for the moon's reassuring light, she would have believed it to be true. I have to go in. It's all for Legolas. I wouldn't do this if I didn't truly believe he was somewhere down in that black hole. You owe me so much, elf boy.
Shutting her eyes tight for a moment, Iorwen reopened them to stare into the darkness of the tunnel before making her way into its depths. As soon as she touched the darkness, a feeling of dread and horror began to crawl up her spine. The air was thick and almost soupy feeling; a relization that made her skin positively crawl in disgust.
Shoving down her revulsion, Iorwen pushed herself further into the depths, wishing that she had a flashlight or even a single match to spare. And it seemed the Valar weren't completely against her, for within only a minute of this sentiment, a flickering red -orange light broke the darkness and ahead she spied a sconce holding a torch. A few yards down from it, another sconce was placed on the opposite wall and so continued down the tunnel. She nearly cried in relief at the sight of the life-giving light. Progressing much quicker now, Iorwen continued along the path until--without warning--a particularly foul draft of air clogged her senses and nearly made her gag. The sudden need to vomit seized her stomach and she nearly dry-heaved. Covering her mouth and shutting her eyes to blink back an onslaught of bitter tears, she tried her best to ignore the smell and carried on.
It wasn't long until she discovered the source of the smell.
Piled haphazardly along an extended wall, severed heads of what she was positively certain had to be orcs were left to rot. Some were nearly bleached white from age, others had only bits of sticky flesh clinging to them, and there were still others that were so fresh blood oozed onto the barren soil.
For a moment, Iorwen's head spun and her stomach simply couldn't take it. Placing one hand against the wall, she vomited the small amount of food laying dormant within her. She closed her eyes against the sight of the throw up so as to not become even sicker and do so again. Willing herself to go on, the dizzy human woman who hadn't seen such gore save for in the theatre, stumbled past the decaying heads as quickly as possible.
Three minutes later, another smell grabbed her by the nose, but this one wasn't nearly so bad. It smelled much more alive than the one previously. There was a distinct difference between living smells and dead smells she had decided and this smell was definitely not a dead, rotting smell.
Unable to pull her hand away from her nose and mouth, Iorwen rounded a sharp corner in the tunnel and spotted something that almost caused her to turn tail and run. Two orcs lay sleepily against the walls of the tunnel, their long droopy lips hanging open in sleep and drooling enough saliva to drown a fish. Gulping, Iorwen leaned back against the wall and shuddered. She would have to go around them, that much was certain. Mustering all the will power she possessed, Iorwen glanced around the corner of the tunnel and took a hesitant step forward…and instantly kicked a helmet that she hadn't noticed lying next to the wall.
Shamelessly, the crude helmet clattered and rolled twice before coming to an abrupt stop. Iorwen instantly whirled back against her hiding place along the wall and tried to turn off her breathing. For a few moments, all she could do was stay there, practically glued to the wall, her breaths so few and far between she was almost on the verge of passing out. After a minute of utter terror, she finally allowed herself to open her eyes and hesitantly glance around the wall. Relief seeped through her. Still asleep…
She leaned back against the wall momentarily before comprehension grabbed her. Whirling around, she stared down the tunnel again at where the guards were, or rather…the guard.
Dreading what she might see, Iorwen turned around slowly to stare into the feline-like, yellow eyes of one of the orc guards. "You gottin yerself lost, pretty?"
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Legolas opened his eyes painfully and stared out blearily from underneath weighted eyelids. At first, all his aching eyes could make out were misshapen shadows and then fairy-tale like images that made him blink. Somewhere in his mind, he could hear the rough chuckle of some coarse being interrupt his thoughts and practically scratch the chalkboard of his mind with long fingernails. "'ey, the elf's woken up."
A coarse hand snatched his chin and lifted it until he was staring uncertainly into the eyes of a rather massive orc with a nose so sharp it looked like it could impale a piece of paper. Leering at him, the foul creature gave a throaty chuckle before dropping his chin, causing Legolas' head to fall forward. He wasn't certain why, but all the strength in his entire body felt like it had been sucked out by a large hose. He couldn't quite remember what exactly it was that had led up to this rather unwelcome awakening, and he found that as he tried to search it out in his mind the answer became even more evasive.
"You reckon his Mightiness will reward us for getting' the elf, captain?" someone's whiny voice called out and the captain--who was apparently the nosy (quite literally) orc in front of him--answered gruffly.
"It ain't none of yer business knowin' whether or not his Lordship'll reward us, lard gut! An' if he does reward somebody --it's gonna be me, and certainly not the likes of a buncha maggots like yous." Thoroughly agitated, the captain spat on the ground and nudged Legolas' leg with a spiked boot. "And 'sides, his Mightiness ain't gonna be none too pleased when he finds out you lot suffered three causalities from one unarmed pointy-ear."
"Beggin' ya pardon, cap'ain Hoshnak. But won't that be on yer head and not ours?"
The captain, enraged by the speaker's statement, glared at the hapless orc who was a skinny, malnourished looking soldier holding a bow in his hands that looked like as though it had seen better days. "You fools are gonna back me up, of that I'll make sure. Udderrwise I'll take that bow o' yours, Rugart, and string it with yer own guts!"
Rugart sank back against the wall, cowering slightly at his captain's threat. Pleased with his intimidation skills, the captain turned away from Rugart and sized up another orc that was being bandaged by what Legolas could only assume was a "medic" orc. "Erourk, you finished with Vork yet?" he barked impatiently. Erourk, the medic orc, glanced up and quickly tied off the bandage he'd been working on.
"All done, captain." He said quietly, a low growl revealing his own impatience with the captain.
Vork, Erourk's patient, quickly stood up and placed a gnarled hand on the bandage that wrapped all the way around his skull from his under his chin to the top of head. He gingerly touched a particularly sensitive part near his ear and growled menacingly at Legolas when it proved painful. "Damned pointy-ear!" he snarled, before turning to the captain, "why not jerst lemme kill 'im 'ere? His mightiness'll never know."
"Yer not to kill the prisoner, Vork. I don't care if he injured your head and your dignity. It was you who was so bent on chargin' the pointy-ear in da first place."
Vork only glared balefully at Hoshnak before turning away. Giving Vork one last glance, Captain Hoshnak turned to the rest of his company. "Up ya get, ya lazy maggots. I's time ter get a move on."
Grumbling, the company of orcs slowly picked themselves up and prepared themselves to continue their journey. The clamoring of weapons and armor overrode the sudden disturbance at the back of the company. Though not for long.
"What's goin' on back there?" Hoshnak barked at the company. The orcs only made way as two other orcs dragging something rather large and cumbersome filed up in front of Hoshnak. Legolas breathing stopped when he realized what exactly it was they were carrying. His memories came back full force and Legolas could only stare in utter helplessness as the two orcs hauled Iorwen to her feet with little to no mercy. Her eyes were almost completely closed, but Legolas could easily tell that she was awake. She was in the exact same state he'd been in only a little while earlier. It looked like as though she too had been knocked in the back of the head.
"What's this?" Hoshnak chuckled, grabbing Iorwen by the hair and lifting her head up, "another stray? His Mightiness'll be most pleased."
Legolas could easily see that Hoshnak was a good deal more intelligent than the soldiers he ruled. The way he talked and moved was evidence enough. He was more cunning, and Legolas wasn't happy about it.
Allowing a smirk to tweak his thin black lips, Hoshnak looked back at Legolas who could only glare at him in utter loathing. "Put da girl in front of the elf."
Legolas quickly discovered Hoshnak's reasoning behind this odd decision. As they started off, Iorwen's legs that were already like jelly in the first place started to give out from the stress and dizziness her head-bashing had caused. When Legolas tried to catch her on her first stumble, Hoshnak quickly snatched his bonded arms and threw him back. Legolas could only watch as the orc leading Iorwen roughly grabbed her by her upper arm and practically dragged her along the tunnel. Gritting his teeth in anger, Legolas tried to walk closer to her so that he could more easily help, but every time Legolas tried to assist the tiring human Hoshnak would either kick him behind his knees or shove him backwards. Finally it became too much for the elf to bear and he lunged at the orc, fully intent on breaking his head against the tunnel wall. He managed to tackle Hoshnak, but he'd only landed one punch on his pointy nose when he was suddenly pulled off him by clutching fingers. One of the orcs punched him squarely in the jaw. Another kicked him in the stomach with the spiked boots he was wearing. Legolas kicked that one that had punched him and sent the orc flying about five feet but no sooner had he accomplished this small victory than blackness took over his mind and he was floating between consciousness and sleep.
He didn't stay unconscious for very long however. Only minutes later, he was shaken awake and again forced to march behind Iorwen who was finally starting to walk a little straighter. She tried several times to look back at him but every time she did, the orc beside her would slap her hard on the cheek and she would stumble then regain her footing. It was seeing things like this that made Legolas want to rip the company of orcs apart with his teeth. And he vowed he would kill that captain before he got out of this hell hole. Of that he would make sure. Never before had an orc caused such loathing in his soul. Except maybe that one orc that had told him of Aragorn's fall into the river. That was certainly a short-lived hate compared to this one though.
Legolas wasn't entirely sure how long they walked along the seemingly endless tunnel. The soreness in his limbs and neck, coupled with the bruises forming on his jaw, as well as the rips he could feel in his stomach from the spiked boot; all of these together made him some type of zombie. He had no idea how he managed to keep walking. Some buried determination kept him on his feet and forced the mechanical marching that led him further into the depths of purgatory. The loss of blood from his stomach was causing his eyes to dim and his head to spin, but somehow he managed to make it to the cell that the orc shoved him and Iorwen into. He even managed to watch for a minute as they closed the crude small round door on the earthen cavern coupling as a cell and think to himself how glad he was to see nothing but darkness.
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Iorwen POV
There was very little at this point that could possibly wake me from my bodily-induced coma, but the flooding of flickering firelight that covered my vision was one of those things. I watched in half-consciousness as short creatures with spiny backs crawled down into the room I was in and pick up something lying very much so motionless on the ground. They dragged it out. And as the door closed; so did my eyes.
I awoke several hours later from a headache that was so painful it felt like someone was banging a rock against my skull. Sitting upright, I blinked in the impenetrable darkness and wondered inwardly for a moment if I was dead. After a quick pinch to my forearm, I instantly realized this wasn't true and I was actually just in that damned tunnel I'd had such a bad feeling about. I had found Legolas. And for that I was eternally grateful. But I'd had to watch as they'd beaten him for attacking that accursed fat orc. I gulped down a wave of sadness as I remembered the look on Legolas' face just before they whacked him in the back of the head with the butt of a short sword.
"Fucking orcs," I quietly cursed, rubbing my arm where I knew a bruise would be forming. Every time I'd tripped, that stupid creature had grabbed the same place on my arm and hauled me up again over and over again; just as harshly if not more so than the time before.
Too weary to even stand, I scanned my surroundings, looking for the one person I needed to see. Legolas wasn't anywhere in the cell. I didn't have to search the room to know that. I couldn't sense his presence like I normally could. He wasn't anywhere near the room. He was gone.
Vaguely, I could remember some point at which the door had opened and some of the orcs had come in. They must have taken him, I thought in despair.
I must have sat there for hours, simply wishing Legolas would return. At one point however, a small glimmer of joy was gifted to me when a torch--just like the ones that had led me into the cavern--was placed outside the door and a small amount of light was driven into the cell. I could hear an orc shuffling about outside, apparently getting comfortable against the wall for guard duty. This is like Shelob's home away from home, I thought to myself in grim humor.
Stress and utter exhaustion took me over yet again about an hour later and I finally gave into the throes of sleep, my last thought lingering on the well-being of a certain elvish prince ling.
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:Well, that took me longer than expected, but school--now that it's back--has not exactly been friendly to me. It was very easy for me to write about the exhaustion and stress overtaking Iorwen because I pretty much feel the same way. Anyway! Thanks to those of you who keep reading and reviewing. I hope ya'll liked the slightly longer chapter!
-MusicalCharlatan