Booyah! It's vacation! So excited for some sunshine! I feel sorry for my OC right now and Talion, because where they are now, there is no sunshine. Gosh, I now feel awful! Hugs for them both, because this chapter was not easy. I've actually been a little afraid of writing this chapter because I start crying every time, which is probably why I took so long. There is so much angst!
Plus, there was all that geography studying of Mordor. I'm still having trouble understanding which battle fort is which.
(Elanor)
The first thing I remembered when waking up was my mother's song.
She would sing it, almost to herself, whenever she did chores, but I especially remember her melodic tune when she gently ran the brush through my hair in long, fluid strokes before braiding it. Since my hair was long and fine like hers, she had my long braid sweep over my right shoulder while her tender fingers brushed the back of my neck in the way that lets me know that I am safe.
The brush was my grandmother's, made of silver forged from the blacksmith shops of Minas Tirith. It was one of the few things my mother, Ioreth, had left of her mother, a moment that the two have shared together in Mother's youth. That moment had then been passed on to me. Not in the city, not in any manor, but in the fortress of a great wall. The Morranon Wall.
The next thought that came in my sluggish mind was that the brush was lost. The braid Mother put in my hair tickled my cheek as I slowly regained consciousness. My face contorting as the throbbing set in next, first in my head...then in my body...my arm felt heavy as I lifted a hand to my head, groaning softly. My body ached, as if it had been recently pounded from both sides before meeting a very uncomfortable landing. More like a crash-landing, like the time when I fell off the midsection on the wall and broke my leg years ago.
I wriggled my fingers and toes, shifting my limbs to test. Sore, but not broken. I was fortunate.
There was a sweeping noise like shifting gravel. My eyes shot open in alarm. Shifting my vision, it was the first time I realized I lay sprawled halfway beneath a tipped-over wheelbarrow See the familiar edge of the handle, I then remembered where I hit my head and winced. Did my landing impact really flip the whole thing over?
Remaining still, I listened for any sign of movements, holding my breath despite my pounding heart. Loose hair strands escaped my braid and stuck to my dirtied face; they could never stay in place.
The air was still, the night sky above me starless and polluted with heavy smoke. The Black Gate loomed above me in hindsight like a rising tide, looking scarier than I ever imagined it on the outside. The Towers of the Teeth, Carchost and Narchost, looked like the spiked horns of a Balrog.
I knew what was built on the inside. It was the place I called my home as well as my personal prison, but never a cage. It was my playground and my sanctuary, but something I knew my whole life and no longer found particularly interesting. It was beautiful and boring...but why do I now feel so haunted? Why does the gate now look like something I should be running far away from, like its barricades would unsheathe its set of teeth and eat me whole like some dark, evil beast of Cirirth Gorgor?
Slowly sitting up and scooting out from beneath the barrow, wincing as my back protested and my head swam painfully from the spot where I hit, I groaned and pulled my sore legs up, wrapping my arms around them before placing my head between my knees. Taking deep, gulping breaths, I tried to force my nausea down. The smell in the air didn't help, weighing heavily with the odor of smoke, ash, and decay. And...blood?
Uneasiness stirred as I slowly lifted my head with opened eyes, turning it slightly to my right...and doubled backward with a loud gasp, a squeak replacing a muted scream when my gaze fell upon the body of a ranger. A ranger from the Black Gate. Was he someone I knew? I couldn't know, because in place of any face or hair was a bloody stump, flesh bits still ripped at the sides from a messy kill. His head...gone! Oh, Eru!
Hyperventilating, I scrambled backward until my back hit the barrow's wheel, barely containing a scream. My strength returned like a flood as my hand gripped the edge of the barrow's cart while shakily rising to my feet. My legs felt weak and wobbly like jelly. While standing, I got a better view of the field, the landscape running alongside the Morannon Wall, and immediately wished I didn't.
There were bodies scattered everywhere. The bodies of rangers. Mutilated and butchered. I was the only living being standing among the dead.
My hand flew to my mouth. I began to double over, tears of shock springing from my wide, horrified eyes. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't process it. Everyone was dead. Everyone I knew and grew up around was laying like bloody, broken dolls before me, scattered and left unmourned. Nobody was alive. Everybody was gone. Everybody.
Was my family among them? The thought made me sick. Literally sick.
Bile began to rise from the pit of my stomach. Hand still covering my mouth and my need to gag strong, I finally tore my gaze away when scurrying blindly off to the side until my raised arm pressed heavily against the wall. Leaning against its stone-metal barriers, I collapsed on my knees and leaned over, vomiting all over the gravel.
When there was nothing left to hurl, I wretched with heavy sobs, my arms wrapped around my torso and hot tears running down my cheeks as I kept gasping for air. The need to scream was strong, but for some reason, I couldn't. My stomach clenched with a stabbing pain, my grief and my terror strong and surreal, but perhaps it was denial overtook my mind. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
I already remembered what happened before now. As I wept, reluctant memories flashed in my mind as well as the voices.
They had attacked, late in the night, while I had been sleeping.
I woke up with a start from a loud clap of thunder and flashes of lightning, accompanied with the distant sound of loud screams coming from outside my bedchamber. Outside of the fortress of Narchost. Throwing back my covers, I leapt out of my bed and ran to the window, barefoot in my night dress, my braid matted from the pillow.
Through the glass window pane, it was still dark out, raining heavily. I couldn't see anything, not even the ground from bellow the Wall, but I could hear the screams echoing as clear as day, some of them sounding like the screeches and snarls of wild dogs. More like wild wargs than dogs.
Orcs! the first thought in my head screamed. Chills crawling through my bones, my heart sped up in alarm as I dashed to the open doorway leading to the hallway. I stopped at the edge, hands gripping the sides as I peered into the stone-tiled hallway, looking to my right...until there was a gurgling scream. My head whipping left, a choked gasp escaped me when seeing the body of a man crumple, impaled through the chest. Standing in his place appeared the mangled, armored form of an orc.
When it looked up, lightning flashing from the outside to light up the inside, the orc snarled at me with rotten teeth and charged.
Wide-eyed, I immediately withdrew and slammed the door, bolting the lock before feeling the body slam against the wood. After the door shook under the tremendous impact, the orc's growls sounding on the other side, I kept my weight against the door to lessen the force...until the tip of blackened pike cracked through the wood, causing me to scream in fright and retreat backward.
As the orc kept pounding against the door, screeching, "Where are ye, li'l bird? I'll have yer pretty li'l scalp!", I scrambled to the other side of the small room to my cabinet. Pulling open the drawer, my hands scrambled through feathers, papers, marbles-my fingers closed around the hilt of a dagger.
It was a letter opener, really. A gift from my thirteenth birthday, Gondorian-made with the crest of the White Tree at the base of the hilt. Both a tool and a weapon...though not a large enough weapon, in my opinion.
"I'll make do with yer hide!" the orc shouted from the doorway. Another blade protruded with a loud crack. "C'mere!"
"I would like to see you try!" I shouted, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. I was standing in position, in my nightgown, holding a blade only slightly bigger than my own hand. When the door kept shaking harder than ever, more blades pounded through the woods, the sounds of at least two or three more orcs on the other side, I screamed, "HELP!"
Once those orcs broke down the door, I was dead. Where was everyone? How many orcs were there? Where was my family?
(Talion)
On the Morannon in the heavy rainstorm, the air smelling thickly of water and blood, Talion clashed swords with a Uruk. "I'll have your guts!" the creature growled in his face. Blood boiling, Talion managed to push it back and gutted the Uruk with his sword, blood and bone breaking under his thrust, killing the monster instantly.
"Dirhael!" he yelled, blinking in the heavy rain as the body of the orc fell.
His son was on the other side of the Moranan, slashing swords with two other Uruks, easily dispatching them. He chopped off the head of one, shouting back, "I'm alright!", before thrusting his blade up through the head. Talion nodded. He taught him well.
As many more orcs kept coming, Talion and Dirhael kept fighting at charging Uruks, the only rangers, captain and apprentice, now standing. "My blade shall rest in your throats, filth!" shouted Dirhael, as he chopped down another Uruk.
"Dirhael," yelled Talion, feeling wiped from all the fighting, "remember your training!"
"Father, they charge faster than I can strike!"
"Stand fast, Dirhael!"
"Their deaths are far from swift, Father!" Dirhael yelled back in frustration, as he pushed back another orc with his foot after stabbing it.
"Remember, son, lunge deep and cut deeper!" As a demonstration, Talion's strokes on another beefy Uruk went in a semicircle, knocking the vermin off his feet, before stabbing the sword downward into its throat on the ground like impaling meat.
Talion butchered another one, but when he turned, he saw his son get knocked down by a larger Uruk. His world turned red.
"Dirhael!" he screamed, and charged forward with an enraged roar. Hearing his cry, the Uruk turned around, away from the lad, as Talion jumped in sight and clashed swords with it, but the enemy snuck out another blade and stabbed forward. Earning a scratch near his ribs, Talion grunted, but then Dirhael stabbed the foe deeply into its side from the ground. Just for good measure, Talion slashed the Uruk from the groin up across its face, completely slicing it in half and spilling black blood everywhere on the watery ground.
When it fell, Talion winced and clutched his wounded side, while Dirhael jumped to his feet in panic, screaming,"Father!"
"Are you alright, son?" gasped Talion, reaching for him.
"I'm fine. You're hurt!"
"It's nothing. It's just a scratch." Shaking off the pain, Talion straightened up and gripped his sword, gesturing to Dirhael. "Come on. Stay close to me."
Back to back, father and son battled other oncoming Uruks. When all the vermin were down, they ran to the door of Narchost, out of breath, their swords still readied. Bodies lay everywhere, of humans and orcs alike. They were the last two standing.
"These orcs are much stronger than any we've ever seen," panted Dirhael. His long hair was completely drenched, limp around his young pale face, eyes weary with fear and anger, but completely alert.
Talion shook his head. "They're not orcs, they're Uruks. They're far worse and there's too many." Talion looked at him, making a decision, and carefully opened the door a crack into the monolith. "Go find your mother and sister." Dirhael opened his mouth to protest, but Talion repeated firmly, "Go find your mother and sister. Find them, and keep them safe."
"But what about you?" asked Dirhael, looking concerned. "You just said there's too many..."
"Don't worry about me. You focus on getting yourself, your mother, and sister out of here. I'll be right behind you." Talion gave him a small smile and reached out to caress his son's face tenderly, sending a silent message to him, before saying softly, "Go."
After hesitating, Dirhael set his jaw firm and nodded in understanding, eyes shining. Talion then pushed his son gently inside and closed the door quietly. Heart heavy, he leaned against the door and sighed heavily, feeling the rain soak through his hair and cloak. He thought of all the men that had fallen around him, their deaths brutal and bloody, and shut his eyes in pain.
Please, he prayed in his mind. Please, keep them safe. I ask for nothing else. If I should fall, let them live. They are everything. Keep them safe.
In his heart, he felt that it may be the last time he saw his son, already fighting bravely like a real warrior. Talion never thought he would be more proud of him. But he was.
He heard more Uruks coming. Face hardening and eyes narrowing dangerously through the rain, he gritted his teeth and charged forward at the incoming monsters, ready to plunge his bade into more orc meat.
(Elanor)
I was behind the side of my bed, sitting with my back to the wall, holding the knife to my chest in a tight grip. Tears blurred my eyes as my breathing heightened, hearing the cracks on the door grow louder.
"Come out, li'l mite! We won't bite...MUCH!" The orcs laughed at their rhyme and hooted as they came close to breaking down the door. A sob escaped me, but I braced myself. The room was small with two beds (one of them formerly my brother's, before he moved out to join the young Ranger training groups), a cabinet, a desk shelving some books, a wardrobe, and a small table with a mirror. The window framed in between the beds, its diamond-shaped glass drenched with rain like shedding tears. Unfortunately, there were also bars outside of that window. Courtesy from my grandfather, who had enough of my escapades.
I silently cursed him again, as I had the last time he ordered this restriction. It quite literally felt like I was in a cell, imprisoned for the need of getting out. The Black Gate was, after all, a sanctum for prisoners, not just a stronghold between Mordor and and everywhere else, or an iron doorway sealed through the mountain pass of Cirith Gorgor. Now, because of this stupid new rule, I was trapped and had nowhere to escape.
Suddenly, the orcs let out more snarls and crashing stopped, replaced by the clashing sounds of blades, mixed with the shrieks of those monsters. I curled up in a ball, tucking my head to my chest with the knife's hilt pressed to my head, trembling as I waited.
There were multiple thumps, grunts, and more shrieks...then silence. Lifting my head, I held my breath, listening, my heart pounding.
The knob started jerking stiffly, restarting my terror and tightening my grip on the knife, thinking it was another Uruk. Then Dirhael's voice called out, "El, it's me! Are you in there? Let me in!" He knocked on the door hard.
My mind dizzy with relief, I jumped unsteadily to my feet and went to the door, which was so battered with wooden cracks that it was a wonder it hadn't snapped in half yet. As soon as I unbolted the door, Dirhael burst through and I found myself crashing into his embrace.
"Rae!" I cried. He tightened his arms around me, his sword gripped one hand while his other dug into my hair. My face buried in his chest, where I can hear his heart pounding intensely as he tried to catch his breath from the fight. I couldn't stop shaking, more from terror than from the cold.
"It's alright, El, it's alright," he whispered as he hugged me. I found comfort in my big brother, being a good taller than me and much broader, but also with a soothing tone that helped keep my nightmares at bay. It did little good at this point, our garrison suddenly overcome with bloodthirsty orcs (my mind could hardly wrap around the idea), but it helped a little that I was no longer alone.
Dirahel then pulled back and took my shoulders, bending slightly to meet my eyes. He looked all soaked from the rain outside, his hair drenched, a bloody scratch on his forehead and his arms and chests covered in black stains of muck. His expression was serious but frantic; one year as an apprentice, and he had already grown a lot, I had noticed. "Elanor, we have to get out here now! There's too many Uruks and they have already killed most of the garrison!"
"Uruks?"
"Like orcs, only bigger. Worse in every way."
"I know what they are, brother! Where is Mother and Father?" I demanded, my voice wavering. I was one hairbreadth away from breaking down in panic. Oh, how I envied Dirahel's self-control sometimes! Then again, he was the elder and I was scared to death, still not quite knowing what was going on or what was happening on the outside.
"Father and I were fighting on the bridge. He sent me to find you and Mother. So far, I've only found you."
"You just left Father?!" I burst out, mixed with anger and panic.
"He gave me an order, Ellie!" snapped Dirhael, hand wrapped around the back of my neck. "He is also my Captain, and this is an order I am willing to obey if it will get us all out alive!" He pushed me toward the wardrobe, before moving to guard the door. "Get dressed! Hurry! We have to leave the Black Gate before they swarm the exits!"
"What if they already did?" I said, while pulling out my trousers, green knee-length dress, and boots. I hastily pulled off my nightgown with Dirhael's back to me and started slipping them all on."My arrows are in the weaponry and Mother could be anywhere! We have to find her, Rae!" My tone became desperate and small.
"I know, I know!" Dirhael growled, running a hand through his soaked hair in frustration. "I am mostly thinking about this as I go. Just hurry up! I think I hear more coming!"
"Oh, Arda!" I whimpered, hopping while slipping on my boots. One time I had said aloud that I wondered what it would be like to see an orc-or in this case, a Uruk-in a real battle. I did see one once…outside the Gate….but that was years ago.
Now, as Dirhael grabbed my hand and had readied Acharn for any oncoming enemies while we started running through the hallways of the tower, I desperately wished I had never asked.
(Talion)
In the main hall of Narchost, Ioreth was going to scream after she watched a Uruk fall dead in front of her from a stab wound, but it was Talion who appeared and covered her mouth. "Sh, sh, we must must hide now or we are both dead," he whispered in her ear. "Come on." They bent down low, allowing themselves to move with the shadows as the noises of Uruks kept erupting. When the noises dimmed slightly, Talion and Ioreth managed to reach the side of an overturned table, one of many, that blocked them from any escalating eyes.
They let out their breath, Ioreth started breathing heavily against the table, her eyes wide with fear. Talion reached up and cupped her face, turning her gaze towards his. He looked her over for wounds, for the filthy Uruk had been about to attack her before Talion slaughtered it, but found on a scratch on her arm.
"Ioreth?" he said quietly. "Ioreth...look at me. I'm right here, my love. Right here. We are going to get out of here."
Ioreth blinked, her gaze focusing on his, but they held no less sorrow. "My father?" she said hoarsely.
Talion hesitated, but then he shook his head. Ioreth placed a hand over her mouth and let out a small sob, her shoulders shaking. He gently pulled her towards him and let her head rest on his shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped securely around her. She made no noise as he held her, but gave her a few moments to recollect herself. There was no time for grief; their focus had to be their survival. The Rangers' Garrison was no more. With the amount of people dead, the Black Gate was already lost.
"We should have left when we had the chance," whispered Ioreth, her voice shaking with tears.
"Even then, we couldn't have prevented your father's fate," said Talion, placing his forehead in her hair. "You know what his choice would have been. He was as impenetrable as the stone and iron wall he guarded. A true soldier of Gondor."
Ioreth sniffed and nodded in his shoulder, taking a deep breath. Then she stiffened and pulled back, looking at him with wide brown eyes."Talion," she whispered frantically. "Dirhael and Elanor...where are our children?"
Talion paled. "Dirhael never found you?" he breathed. Though he knew Dirhael knew how to defend himself (he had taught that lad better than he remembered), the occurring thought of his son being injured or dead sent a stab of panic in his body. Elanor had been sent to bed a couple hours before the night invasion. Did the Uruks reach her room? Did they...He felt very sick at the possibility and could only hope that that his daughter had woken up in time to realize what was happening and attempt to protect herself. Because if not, he hoped that was the first place Dirahel went to after Talion sent him off to find the mother and daughter. His Elanor...
Ioreth shook her head fearfully."I was trapped in the kitchens. I barely made it out when...Oh, Talion, we have to find them-" She was cut off suddenly by the sound of Uruks entering the great fortress. Looking at Ioreth, Talion put a finger to his lips before inching slightly upward to peer over the table, holding his sword ready. They tossed over tables and kicked barrels. There were four or five of them, berating each other and flickering their yellow eyes in all directions.
"Don't move. I will clear a path," he whispered to Ioreth, still glaring at the Uruks. "I'm outnumbered. Stealth is my only advantage."
"Be careful, my love."
Talion glanced at her, his expression softening at the sight of her. He then leaned forward and kissed her lips, cupping her face and brushing away her tears as he tasted her warmth and desperation, but also the strength and love that she returned. Letting their kiss last a few moments, they paused and leaned their foreheads against each other. Talion's eyes found hers, seeing into each other's very soul. "Always," he breathed. He gave her a peck on the nose, earning a slight smile from her, and that reassured him more. "Stay here."
Talion twisted around in his crouch and started crawling along the sides of the tables, readying his sword as he neared the first orc.
In less than ten minutes, Talion had already tore into the last Uruks' throat, one that had been digging into the body of another Ranger, buying a bloody silence. Letting the creature drop to the ground like trash, he thought about how many others surrounded the monolith. Perhaps a hundred, if not more...but if they were all careful and clever, he believed that they can-
He heard Ioreth scream. Turning around, his heart froze when he saw his wife trapped in the hands of a tall, armored Numenorean, his huge blade at her throat. "Put the sword down, Ranger!" he ordered. Ioreth gasped when the blade drew blood at her neck. "Now!"
Jaw clenching, Talion obeyed without question. When he dropped the sword, something large and hard hit him heavily from behind, causing searing pain between his shoulder as he fell to his knees. As the blows kept coming, kicking him over in the ribs and face repeatedly, Ioreth cried out for him, "Talion, no!"
Sprawled on the ground, bloodied from the blows, Talion coughed as he tried to catch his breath, struggling to prop himself up. His sides were on fire, including the wound near his hip that opened wider, and his vision was foggy. He managed to look up and get a brief glimpse at his attacker, finding it to be a tall, vicious humanoid in battle armor, armed with an iron mace. The foot collided into his wound, causing a few ribs to crack and Talion to choke on an agonized cry as he fell back down.
He gritted his teeth and groaned. No matter how much this monster beat him, Talion will not scream. Not with Ioreth watching.
Ioreth...
With trembling arms and troubled breathing, he struggled to get back up. His eyes were fixed on Ioreth, whose arms were trapped in the giant's massive clutches, her face streaked with tears as her eyes watched him with horror. Face scrunched with anguish, his teeth stained with blood, he slowly started to drag himself towards her, his breathing ragged.
Bemused by the Ranger's resistance, the monstrous being raised his mace for a killing, but Ioreth's tall, back-bladed captor blocked the weapon with a curled, double-edged sword. "The Black Hand wants him alive."
With one arm free, Ioreth started to reach out to her husband. "Talion..." she sobbed. The sound of her voice wrenched his heart, making him forget his physical wounds.
"Ioreth," croaked Talion, reaching desperately for his wife with a trembling hand. Their fingers barely brushed when she was snatched away and Talion was kicked to the ground, the breath knocked out of him entirely. He was absolutely certain that some ribs were broken.
"No! No, let me go! Talion!" screamed Ioreth, as she was tossed over to a huge Uruk and swung over the shoulder of the beast.
The monstrous man swung his lance down...and stabbed Talion's hand. Talion screamed in agony as he watched the blood lace his palm from the punctured wound.
"No!"
Like a trigger, Talion's head lifted instantly at the voice, which did not belong to Ioreth. Behind the leg of the giant armored humanoid, he spotted two figures, one taller than the other, standing at the large narrow passage to the fortress halls. When lightning flashed, the shadowy figures lit up, revealing Dirhael and Elanor, whose horror reflected his own as they stared at the scene in front of them. His heart went to his throat at the sight of them, especially Elanor, who shocked eyes filled with frightened tears.
"Grab the Ranger's spawn!" ordered the towering figure the other nearby Uruks, while Ioreth screamed, "NO! Leave them alone!"
His mind screamed with his wife. Fear for his children's lives reactivated some of his strength. He found their wide eyes shining in the darkness, hazel and blue. Helpless to do anything else to protect them, there was only one thing he could do….
"Dirhael, Elanor...go...RUN!" rasped Talion, bellowing the last word before collapsing back on the ground from exhausting pain, his hand burning like wildfire. In his half-conscious state, he watched Dirahel break out of his shock and grab Elanor's arm, before they whipped around and disappeared into the corridors, the Uruks trailing after them. Dirhael was armed...he will fight, protect his sister...they had to escape...they had to...
Go, my children, thought Talion weakly, still looking where they were last seen, their beautiful but terrified eyes becoming a memory burned into his soul. Ioreth's two greatest gifts to him, in this life and the next. Remember that we love you...
He barely heard the low, menacing voice of his attacker growl, "He will live."
It was the last thing he heard before he was struck and knocked out.
(Elanor)
The sight before me had been one of my worst nightmares coming true: my parents held captive by two huge humanoid monsters in demonic armor. Worst than my worst nightmares, for it was very real and unimaginable.
I felt my blood run cold when we had reached the main hall of the fortress, hoping to find the coast clear, or at least both our mother and father gathering there. Father was one of the Black Gate's best fighting Rangers; it would take more than a battle charge of oversized orcs to take him down. Then again, as Dirhael described to me as we scurried quietly through the passages, our bodies pressed against the wall in the attempts to use the shadows as our veil, practically all of the Rangers of the Morannon were slain. Wiped out in the past hour, the stormy night outside full of darkness and mist that seemed to gleam red from the blood of the fallen.
There was no way of knowing who was still standing. This terrified the soul out of me, but I kept hold of my brother's hand tightly as slowly and quietly crept around the corners of Narchost's interior, familiar with the winding passages like the back of our hands.
A Uruk or two came roaming through the dark halls, but Dirhael would draw his sword and lunge the blade deep into their throats. My stomach turned at the sight, but I didn't complain. Better them than us.
"No one will hear them scream that way," he had told me, wiping the black blood off of the blade. I noted that to myself, the next time I found a blade large enough to be proper weapon, unlike the pathetic little letter opener I still clutched near my hip, I would take his advice and give it go. I never killed before, not even for hunting with my bow and arrows, though it was obvious that that would soon all change when I didn't have choice. Speaking of my bow and arrows, which were still stacked in the room for weaponry, I doubted that there was chance that I could run over and fetched them without getting pounced by a Uruk first. If only my parents would have let me keep them in my room...
As Dirhael and I had run down the winding stairs of the monolith, breathless with fear and the restraint to keep ourselves from yelling for Mother, Father, Grandfather, anyone...we reached the bottom, about to dart straight into the great center hall...only to freeze when lightning flashed through the high windows and revealed that the room wasn't empty.
I heard my father's agonized scream and the roots of my hair rose in horror.
There was barely any time to get a proper look at these two deformed monsters standing in the center of the wreckage, but the taller gray one, who had a lipless mouth etched into a permanent growl, metal armor, and several long blades sticking into his back, tossed my mother over to a huge, bulky Uruk while the other humanoid with heavier bronze armor and a face pale as chalk had my father sprawled at his feet, soaked, bloodied and beaten. To my horror, the attacker's spear impaled right through father's hand before yanking back out, all stained red with blood.
"No!" I cried out impulsively, my voice echoing in the tower like a wraith.
Instantly, they all looked up, both of the monsters and my parents, while Dirhael and I stared back with wide eyes and gaping mouths, our faces pale as the snow of winter's frost.
Father lifted his head after my cry echoed and met my gaze. Wet black hair drooped limply around his bleeding face, his body visibly shaking with the effort of propping on one arm. Blood puddled the ground where his wounded hand lay limp. The sight of my proud, invincible father lying bloodied and beaten close to death on the ground was so pitiful that my mind became very numb with shock and heartbreak. His hazel eyes were so full of anguish and terror that my own eyes filled with tears, though I still couldn't speak or move.
It was a sight I had never witnessed, and had hoped I never would. Not in a million lifetimes.
Papa...
"Grab the Ranger's spawn!" roared the taller, back-bladed monster.
"No! Leave them alone!" screamed Mother, struggling and beating her fists helpless on the Uruk while swung over his shoulder. From the shadows, shapes of Uruks came charging out with unsheathed weapons, barking like dogs owned my their master.
Father struggled to keep himself propped, his breathing ragged. "Dirhael, Elanor..." he rasped, his mouth filled with red and agonized eyes fixed directly on me and my brother, "...go...RUN!" Then his strength gave away and he fell back down with a heavy groan.
Dirahel was the first to react. Breaking free from his shock, he instantly grabbed my arm and whipped us both around in the next passage to the left. He pulled me so hard that my arm nearly yanked out of its socket, but my legs instantly started working as we both charged blindly through the runways of the Morannon structure, tailgated by a group of hungry Uruks.
My mind was still too filled with the images of my mother and father. I wanted to cry and scream for them. The thought of those vermin touching my mother and beating up my father filled me up with rage and terror. If only I were taller and stronger like a man...maybe even more...I would crush those villains under my boot and scape their guts against the wall. They would have paid for their treachery in my wrath.
But I wasn't. I was small, weak, and scared to death. Dirhael was my protector. Father was my protector, too, but look where he was now! I should protect myself! Why can't I, a mere girl raised in the Black Gate with barely the skill of a bow, the talent for sneaking, and the delight in exploration? Which one of those applied to the skills of a warrior? None!
When we made another sharp turn that lead to the other side of Narchost, hoping to reach the next exit of the Wall through a tunnel in the Ash Mountains, Dirhael and I halted with a gasp.
Barely concealed in the rain of the next crossing, a cloaked figure stood in our path. This was no Uruk, but another humanoid, though not quite as tall as the other two, nor as strong. In fact, he was as lithe as an elf with the appearance of a Ranger, but darker and full of malice.
Golden eyes glowed from beneath the cowl, quiet and luring like the cunning of a serpent, staring at us almost with curiosity...a sickly, sadistic curiosity. His mouth slowly curled into a menacing smile. He lifted his hand and slowly beckoned at us.
"Back! Back!" cried Dirhael, pushing me backward while his sword toward the demonic figure, before we ran back inside the fortress.
"There is nowhere to run," the cloaked man soft voice called out, his voice echoing in our ears as we turned the corner of the passages and charged back through the tower.
The Uruks came in our direction, about to attack, but Dirhael shoved me sideways before swinging his sword, clashing with the creatures' blows. I watched in horror and awe as my big brother took down both of those Uruks with a swing, thrust, stab, swing, thrust, stab...black blood sprinkling my face...when Dirahel swept his blade in a wide arc, it sliced cleanly through the Uruk's neck, its head flying off like a kickball. Almost instantly after the Uruks were dead, Dirhael was dirtied and panting for breath, his teeth bared and his face dirtied with orc blood, but it was the unfeeling gaze in his eyes that made me shiver.
When Dirhael found me leaning against the wall, the light relit in his eyes and he was my brother again. "Come on!" He reached for me and pulled me after him.
We kept running, hearing more footsteps charging in our direction as we ran up more stairs that lead further away from the exits, but we didn't have a choice. Eventually, we made another turn in another passage, found an open door, and made for it. While entering, we looked around and my stomach filled with dread at the small space in the room, the shelves containing bottles while sided with huge barrels.
"We're in the wine cellar!" I exclaimed.
"Aye, no kidding!" retorted Dirhael, though he turned around at the sound of incoming orcs and instantly slammed the door, bolting the lock. The he ran to a nearby wine barrel and started heaving it. I went over to help him, knowing he was trying to further barricade the door. The barrel was very heavy, the contents inside sloshing around while we rolled it across the room and finally jammed it against the locked door.
The cellar had no windows or doorways. It was basically one small, square-like room filled with shelves of wine and aged barrels of ale. It reeked of it, filling my lungs with its bad alcoholic scent. The only other opening in this chamber was the trap door in the corner, used for storing more supplies such as barrels, crates, and grain sacks.
We repeated the process until there were four barrels piled against our only way out and the enemies' only way in. "How is this going to help us?" I panted, while he and I shoved in the last barrel with a grunt. "This will not hold them forever!"
"It will buy us some time," said Dirhael, wiping the sweat from his brow, flicking away his hair strands.
"Time for what? There's no way out!"
"Is there?"
Confused, I watched as he crossed the room and stopped near the trap door. Dirhael put aside his sword so that he could place both hands on the metal latch. With some effort, he yanked open the trap door with a loud rusty creak before regathering his weapon.
At the same moment, the cellar's door started rattling from the hard impact of incoming intruders, which I leapt away from instantly. The sound of the Uruk's promising threats were heard from the other side, making my bones shake.
"El, follow me!" said Dirhael, starting to climb the ladder. "Quickly!"
"There's still no way out down there, Rae!" I complained, though I obeyed and started climbing down after him. The room was pitch black and it smelled heavily of mixed agriculture and dirt. I then hopped off the last few steps and landed lightly on the hard floor. "They will know we're down here and come for us!"
"Not exactly," he said, pacing the dark room with observation. "Do you remember the channels built within the Wall to transport the Ranger troops' supplies at ground level?"
"Of course. I tried one before to sneak out a few times years ago, but I ended up slipping and breaking my leg from the speed and impact landing. You remember," I said, slowly starting to realize my brother's plan. Father placed a guard on each one ever since, and I started climbing up and down the Wall instead.
"Well, you weren't the only one who thought of that idea." His mouth twitch with bleak amusement before crossing the chamber and shoved a crate out of the way. "When I was younger, this would be my escape route, when the wine cellar was unguarded and unlocked. Unfortunately, it's structured on the side of Mordor and the landing will be very uncomfortable, dangerous even, but it leads directly out of the Wall and onto the ground."
On the bottom wall of the chamber was a small square tunnel tilted into a steep downslope, the entrance blocked by a metal-barred door latch. I then remembered this channel, having seen sacks, flasks, and other packages flying out from the pothole in the fort from the outside.
Right now, though, I couldn't help but think about how small-spaced it was. It brought up a wave of claustrophobia. Many times I wished this cursed Wall wasn't so damn heavily fortified, both inside and out. But clearly not as impenetrable as we thought. For a moment it made me wonder how the Uruks got in and took the garrison by surprise. It had to have taken something very powerful and very familiar with the Black Gate's defenses to have barged in.
There was a crashing sound from above and a beastly shriek of displeasure. They were close to breaking through and we were trapped with only a tiny channel for a unlikely escape or a fight to the death like cornered prey.
"It's the only way out," insisted Dirhael, reading the doubt and fear I felt in my expression.
Heart pounding, I shook my head. "No, it's too small," I told him. There was absolutely no way Dirahel and I would fit in there together. Dirhael alone wouldn't even have a chance, being too big and wide in the shoulders. Clutching my little letter opener tighter, hearing the orcs above us, I attempted to replace my panic with defiance.
"We have to fight, brother. There's no other-Hey!" I yelped when Dirhael grabbed me and pulled me over until we both knelt next to the channel entrance.
"You're not listening!" he snapped. He pulled open the caged door latch. After moving his hand around the corners of the pitch-black tunnel, he turned to face me urgently. He did not waver when he said, "Elanor, this may be your only chance of escape."
'Your chance,' not 'our.' The truth hit me with full force. I felt all the blood drain from my face, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't actually be implying...He can't be serious...
"No!" I gasped quietly, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. I felt sick.
Dirhael tightened his mouth, finding it difficult to look me in the eye with the quiet fear and anguish that appeared in his hazel gaze. Our father's eyes, from back in the main hall. "The channel is small and narrow, but Ellie, you're a tiny girl. You should be able to slide right through. The impact from the landing will be unpredictable, but I think I recall a wagon of seed sacks placed beneath the exit of this one. It should save you from broken bones..."
"Stop! Stop!" I shouted, scooting away in horror. "I will not leave you, Dirhael! Are you mad? I will not flee like a coward in the night while you, Father, and Mother-"
"Would you have their sacrifice be for nothing?!" he shouted back, both angry and desperate. "I can't get out, but you can! You have to!"
"I would rather fight!"
"You cannot fight!" he argued. "Not with that knife!"
"I can try!" I held up my letter opener, my jaw trembling. "Even if I have to use my own nails, I will tear their filthy eyes out if I must!"
"Elanor, stop this!" He grabbed my wrist. "You're being a fool!"
I yanked my arm forcibly away. "I'm not the one playing a martyr!"
"No, you are the one talking about suicide! About diving into a fight we cannot win!"
"It is not suicide to choose fighting side by side with my family," I pleaded, barely feeling the tears running down my face. "Please, Rae! You are all I have now...but if Mother and Father are still alive, there may be a chance that we can save them!" I knew this was wishful thinking, but I could not accept that my parents were dead and clung to the hope that I could escape with my family by my side. I would not abandon them. "Please, brother..."
Dirahel stared up at me in his kneeling position, conflict battling across his features while I stood in front of him, trembling, and the noise above grew louder. I thought he was going to refuse, to argue, and prepared for it...but finally he closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright, El! Get into position, but leave most of the fighting to me, alright?"
His tone sounded soft and tight, making me feel uneasy, but I really believed he relented. Thankful that he understood, I nodded and then turned around to face the ladder, ready for the Uruks to break through the entrance from above and start dropping down-
Clunk!
Something heavy and rock-hard rammed into the back of my skull, causing purple stars to burst in my eyes before going dark. My legs started to crumple, but the strong arms of my brother caught me before I fell over. Barely conscious, the stabbing pain in my skull overwhelmed my senses, a moan escaped my throat as I shifted weakly against my brother...
"Sh, sh, sh," Dirhael hushed, while placing his other arm under my legs and lifted me. As he carried me, my head fell limply against his shoulder. He then knelt down, lowering me upright in his lap, and wrapped his arms around me until warmth seeped in. His cheek placed on top of my head, he sounded all choked up with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ellie. I hate it...I hate doing this, but you didn't give me a choice."
The slightest stir of mixed feelings touch my nerve: shock, betrayal, and fear. "Dir..." I tried to speak, but my tongue was too numb from the fuzzy flare in my head that threatened to pull me into unconsciousness. Why...why...he never hit me...not like this...like a coward, he always called it...but why would he... "Rae..." I tried again.
He kissed the top of my head before leaning lifting my face to meet his. Through my fuzzy vision, I saw heavy tears in his eyes. "It's unlikely we'll see each other again in this life, little sister," he said softly, "and I wish we didn't part like this...but please don't hate me after this."
He forced a trembling smile, hazel eyes shining in the darkness. He looked grown up. My strong, loving big brother, who was so close to being a Ranger. He stroked my braid and brushed the loose strands out of my face, cupping my cheek desperately."You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Elanor," his voice cracked. "You really are. I have enjoyed you immensely as my kind, funny, and adventurous little sister. I have never been more thankful for such a gift. Never lose sight of that, Ellie."
"Rae..." A tear escaped my eye at I stared through heavy eyelids, my voice small and shaking now. My heart hurt far more than my head now, and I felt so helpless to do anything but slur. "Please..."
He wiped away my tears and leaned over to kiss my forehead, his stubble tickling my skin. After a long moment, he hugged me to him tightly, his body shaking. From his grief or his fear...maybe both. "Forgive me," he whispered in my ear. "I love you, little sister. So much. Na lu e-govaned vin." He kissed the side of my face, something wet hitting my cheek.
A whimper escaped my numb mouth. Sindarin, like from our classes. It meant: Until next we meet.
"No, Rae..." I moaned sluggishly, struggling feebly when he picked me again. I tried hitting him, but my head hurt so much that they didn't put much force. A crashing sound came from above, and Dirhael quickly lifted me feet first into the channel. I kept trying and failing to struggle when my booted feet dipped into the the dark shaft. The opening was just about wide enough for my hips to easily slip through. "Rae!" My voice was growing stronger with tearful panic.
Dirhael just kept forcing my body through the channel, his breathing quickening raggedly the further I was lowered in. "Get as far from this place as you can! Go North, like you always wanted," he rasped, brokenly. His grip tightened on my arms as he held me over the slope. When I managed to lift my head, his face looked down at me for a long moment, shining eyes full of anguish and love as though he were drinking me in for the last time. His gaze that would haunt me until the end of my days. "I love you, Elanor!"
He then let go and pushed me downward at full speed, my hands still extended over my head as our fingers brushed, slipping away.
"Dirhael!" I screamed, my voice echoing in the tunnel as his face shrunk from view above, staring after me until darkness swallowed it.
I don't remember how I landed, except how much it hurt before I blacked out.
(Talion)
In the heavy rain, where the mist was so thick that it was impossible to know where they were taken, Talion had awoken with the ground made of artificial stone. The Morannon? His head stabbed with pain from the knockout, but was very aware that he was half-dangling on his knees from the grip of the man who had beaten him unconscious. When Talion looked up, he practically doubled in horror when he found Ioreth being held to her knees in front of him by the huge Uruk commander, staring back at him with her expression full of despair. To his left, also kneeling in the clutches of the back-bladed Numenorean, was Dirhael, who was struggling to keep his face stoic but was failing when terror started breaking through at the sight of his father, a trail of blood running down the side of his face from where he was hit.
There was no sign of Elanor.
Talion was not sure whether he should be relieved or even more terrified. He didn't know whether his little girl was dead or still running about, alone and scared. He tried to meet Dirhael's gaze, but all he found there was a switch between anxiety and grief. Dirhael met his eyes and managed to gasp wretchedly, "I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry...I couldn't..."
His heart plummeted. There was nothing reassuring in his son's expression and Talion wanted to break down. But he wouldn't. He had to stay strong for his son. For Ioreth. He managed to meet her gaze and tried to show it to her, tried to will his thoughts to her, that everything was going to be alright, even when it was false...
Out of the mist, a black figure walked before the circle, his gray face dead as though uninterested in the scene before him. The back-bladed monster who continued holding a struggling Dirhael said to the cowled Numenorean in a smooth voice, "You are so certain this will complete the ritual?"
"We should have gone after the girl! Without her, there is no guarantee!" growled Talion's captor, who yanked the injured Ranger's arm painfully. Talion gasped, but not from the pain. His daughter was still out there. He looked at Dirhael as if pleading for confirmation, but his son kept his head turned, giving nothing away.
The hooded man only glanced over briefly, before walking over and seizing Dirhael's chin, who bared his teeth up at the creature. The black Numenorean tilted his head. "No...we only needed one," he whispered. "It is known."
"Take your hands off him!" snarled Talion, struggling against his captor's hold as his hatred burned for the man touching his son.
What he received next was a blow to the side by the mace, causing Talion to cry out from the fire that doubled from his already broken ribs. Then another. And another. He faintly heard Ioreth and Dirhael crying out for him, pleading for this cruel act to stop. The hooded man just stepped away, looking bored as he paced around in the rain.
Talion keeled over further as the armed humanoid continued beating him across the stomach with his mace. He was so battered that his breaths came out shallow and cut off, his body going into the shock with amount of wounds and beating he received.
"Enough," said the hooded man in soft, menacing whisper that cut through the air like a sword.
When it finally stopped, Talion hung limp, but was forced back up onto his knees. His wounds grounded into his body, tearing into his sides and weakening him dangerously. When Talion lifted his head, he saw Ioreth leaning over in sobs, her head bowed, while Dirhael just looked on after having screamed his heart out, silent tears running from his eyes, even when covered with rain drops. Talion had never seen him look so broken.
The hooded man then walked back to the circle, unsheathing a long silver sword that gleamed dangerously in the rain. With a simple gesture of the blade, Talion watched in horror as the back-bladed Numenorean forced Dirhael forward on the ground, before pulling him back to extend his chest.
No! Talion struggled helplessly. Every fiber of his being screamed, No! Not him! Please, no! Not him! My son! My son! Kill me! Kill me instead! Just not him!
Now the terror showed clear as day on Dirhael's face as he looked up at Talion. "Father..." His voice cracked in fear, sounding like a child. His captor smirked in amusement at their torture.
Talion wanted to shout, to shriek, to tear apart that lipless smirk on his son's captor with his bare hands. He wanted to throw himself on top of his son and block him from the sword coming in his direction to seal his fate. But helpless to do either of these things, it was everything Talion could do to keep himself together as he kept his eyes on the face of his son, who never looked so much like the little boy he raised since the moment he was born.
Not him! Not him! He's just a boy! Not my son! Please, no!
"Dirahel, look at me," he said, his voice rough and cracked as he struggled to not break. He was there for Dirhael in his first moments, so he will be there for his last. When Dirhael kept his gaze on his father, Talion nodded encouragingly, even though his eyes filled with hot tears."I'm right here, son. I'm right here!"
Though still terrified, Dirhael's face calmed slightly as he took in his father's strength, their gaze never breaking away even as the blade neared. "I love you, Father," he said with a small voice, tearing right through Talion's heart deeper than the sharpest blade.
What happened next would forever burn into Talion's memory and shatter something in his soul forever.
"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu," spoke the hooded black Numenorean. "Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..."* The Ranger watched as the blade drew across the ground and tore deeply across his son's chest, the tearing sound mixing with Dirhael's gag, blood instantly spilling on the ground from the huge gap in his entire chest. Watching their son be gutted before their eyes, Ioreth let out a strangled scream that echoed through the skies, while Talion's strength finally shattered and the Ranger let out a broken cry that shook his already broken body. The back-bladed Numerorean then discarded Dirhael on the ground, the puddle of blood spreading rapidly into a pool beneath the lad's dying body.
Sobbing wretchedly, Talion sank further onto his knees and felt his body shake violently as he leaned over his precious boy who was bleeding out before his eyes. He watched as his son's breathing began to slow, but Dirhael weakly moved his hand a few inches in the direction of his father, his eyes shifting sightlessly upward in the rain. There was so much blood...
Talion longed to hold that hand, but still trapped and helpless, he sobbed softly, "Dirhael...I'm here, son...Dirhael..." He could still hear Ioreth's animalistic screams for her baby boy in the background.
Rain pattering his face like tears, Dirhael let out a slight wheeze at his father's voice and then breathed out his last word, "Ellie..." Then he went still, his eyes dulled and open. Feeling the loss of his child, Talion let out another long-lasting cry of pure anguish, for nothing could still the unending agony that tore through his mind, his sanity, his very soul, in that moment. He wanted it to end. He wanted to die. He wanted them to die.
It was when his captor yanked him back upright that Dirhael's body left his sight and his eyes found Ioreth. Her face was twisted in pure agony, her eyes red with tears in the rain. She was staring at him with such broken grief that Talion wished he could hold her and beg for her forgiveness. For failing their son. For being helpless while watching their firstborn child be brutally murdered in cold-blood...for the unthinkable had happened and while not knowing the fate of their daughter, Talion knew Ioreth lost the will to live.
As the monster who murdered his son started coming toward his wife, Talion shook his head in denial, his heart still twisted in his grief as the fear for losing his love bled out openly."Ioreth," he moaned, his voice still heavy with tears. He was pleading, with her, the monster, or the world, he did not know or care, but he knew that he was going to lose her, too. "Ioreth..."
Ioreth met his gaze, her beautiful face distorted with despair and defeat, but her tearful brown eyes reading her undying love for him. For him and their children. "We will be together, my love," she told him in her tears, full of promise. "Soon! Forever!"
We will see our son. Talion knew it would be so. They both did. Together.
The cowled monster then approached Ioreth and took her chin until she faced him, her sorrowful eyes showing the briefest of fear and hatred. Talion wanted to destroy this creature on the spot, never feeling so much hatred for such a thing as he did now. He watched as the hooded black Numorean repeated the his soft chanting,"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu. Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..." The blade was then drawn across his wife's exposed throat.
Talion let out another strangled sob of agony as he watched his beloved wife be discarded on the ground, rolled onto her back as blood poured out of her slit throat. She stared up at the raining sky as she bled out….her hand shifting upwards as though reaching for Talion, hearing his cries….and finally went still.
Talion then went limp, bowing over the ground as his heart gave out in utter defeat.
He was done.
His life was over.
His wife and son were gone.
His daughter was lost, most likely dead.
Footsteps approached him next.
He didn't even fight when his head was yanked upright, until he was facing his wife and son's murderer.
Soon to be his murderer as well.
But it didn't matter.
Nothing did…except knowing he will see his family soon.
He was already dead.
Shattered. Lifeless.
We will be together, my love...soon...forever...
Though he did not see the hated monster before him in the darkness, Talion numbly lifted his chin to expose his throat as the blade lifted in his direction last.
Just end it. Please….
"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu," whispered the hooded man in his Black Speech. "Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..."
Talion was looking towards the blackened, stormy skies when he felt a searing pain slice across his extended throat, cutting off his air with gurgling sound, but that was it. He felt terrified for what was to come next, but his wife's last words to him echoed in his mind.
He saw her face. Then his son's. Then his daughter's. All so beautiful, so perfect, and so cruelly taken away from him...but it will not be for long...no, nothing will ever keep him away from them...He felt his body weaken but he no longer felt afraid...all he longed for was the pain and emptiness to go away...for them to be safely in his arms again...
He will see them soon. Forever.
I'm coming, my love, he thought, feeling a hot tear escape his eye.
The black Numenorean then turned to the skies and spread his arms as if in welcome. "Come back to me, Elf Lord," he called out softly.
Talion's world just about darkened when he felt a wave of cold electrify a body.
Reality fell away and became bright with a white and blue light that blazed brightly like the sun. In the center revealed the the shape of bright, white phantom standing before him.
Luring him forward. Beckoning him. Becoming him.
Then darkness.
Still holding Ioreth in his arms, Talion finally laid her down next to Dirhael, the two lying side by side with their eyes now closed as though asleep. He dared not look at the wounds when he slowly stood up. He would bury them soon. He will put them to rest.
Then he will find his daughter. His little girl…He had to know what happened to her.
Standing there, silently observing the phantom shadows swirling around him, his skin tingled as he sense that he was not alone. The air stirred slightly with the newcomer's presence, sending more chills in his bones. It was so dark that there was no telling where he was. It did not feel like the Black Gate. The strangeness of it all unsettled him.
"What is this place?" whispered Talion, both to himself and the unseen newcomer.
His suspicions proved true when he turned around and nearly jumped when see the darkness dissolve into a bright white light. The bright light shaped into that of a person. A ghostly person. An elf, bearing armor, a bow and arrows, a circlet, and a face etched with deep scars.
Talion had heard of them in legends of Gondor, but had never believed them. Had never seen one for himself until now, though he never knew they glowed so brightly.
A wraith.
The elf wraith, still glowing brightly with a white light, moved his arm to point behind him. "See for yourself."
Hesitantly, Talion slowly walked forward, passing the wraith while the shadows around him finally began to clear. What he saw before him was the Black Gate, the sky filled with floating ashes and ember, the sky swirling with a mixture of gray and red. Talion leaned against the pillar of the tower in sorrow at the wreckage before him. He saw broken machinery, scattered bodies, and nearby structures that stood like remains of the past surrounding the fields of Cirith Gorgor.
"Mordor..." he breathed. He then turned around to face the wraith with dread.
"Now do you believe me, Ranger?" said the elf wraith grimly.
Heart pounding at full speed, Talion shook his head and walked swiftly across the tower, his breathing becoming anxious in his confusion. He stopped on the other side and stared at his hands. The wound in one of them was dried up; purple, like that of a corpse. "What has happened to me?" he said shakily.
Why am I feeling like this? Why am I not dead? I was killed! They slit my throat! How am I here?
The answer that came next nearly made him crumple. "You are banished from death," announced the wraith solemnly, causing Talion to stiffen. "Cast adrift between the worlds of light and dark. A curse binds us together within the walls of Arda."
Talion whipped around to face the cold-toned wraith. Everything in him wanted to deny this dead stranger's words. To drive him away, to distrust him.
But however suspicious he was of this mysterious elf, Talion could think of no other reason other than believing the elf's words. Did it have anything to do with the hooded Numenorean's ritual? A heavy flood of hatred for that murder blazed through Talion like venom. The truth of it was a cruel blow to him, a joke that continued to jab at his wounded heart and keep him further away from his family in the afterlife...but he had a feeling that this strange elf wraith was his only chance of fixing it. For he was not the only one trapped in the cruel life. They were bound together. He could feel it, from the cold rush of his blood seeping from the presence of this ghost.
Talion's gaze hardened when he looked the wraith in the eye, trying not to stare at the ugly scars on his transparent face. "If what you say is true," he whispered slowly, "then how do we break this curse?"
"We find the one who cast it upon us," answered the elf wraith darkly. "The Black Hand of Sauron."
The Black Hand. Talion turned around and slowly walked back to the edge that lead to the view of the Black Gate, his heart filling with ice as his tattered cloak fluttering the wind. The Morannon looked darker than ever, filled with the presence of evil. No longer the Wall he remembered as the Rangers' outpost.
The very thought of the hooded figure...the Black Hand of Sauron, he was called...continued to fuel a fire within Talion that he had never felt before. A fire that both burned him and filled him with coldest ice.
The Black hand and his two monstrous friends. They murdered his family. They had already killed him the moment he watched his son be butchered. His wife's throat be slit. Right before his eyes. His fists clenched tightly as his side until they shook. If his flesh drew blood, it would.
They did not even grant him the mercy of death, an escape from this world of agony! Because of them, he will never be at peace!
They took everything from me.
Not only did he long, more than anything, to join his family in the afterlife...but while his pain was still all too real and very much alive, becoming his strength and rage...while he still walked on this earth for impossible reasons...
He wanted revenge.
Black Speech Translation:
*A sacrifice of blood and bone. A bridge for you to follow. You will emerge a shadow.
Here would be the main title.
I honestly did not expect this chapter to be this long, but I hope it makes up for my delayed absence. I have to admit that I was a little terrified of writing this chapter because it's the most heartbreaking scene in the whole game, when Talion and his family are murdered in a sacrifice ritual. So cold-blooded and cruel. I was forced to watch the scene a few times to describe its display and I can never get used to it.
I wanted to make Dirhael a protective older brother who pretty much gave his life to his baby sister, Elanor. He never got to be a real Ranger, which was sad, but I wanted to give him a heroic moment before he died. Elanor is the heroine of the fanfic, though she's just a little teenage girl with not many fighting skills and very little experience of the world, which doesn't promise much considering the place she lived in her whole life, but think of it as character development and a young child who is being forced to grow up in a harsh environment. She will be forced to learn things that will save her life in Mordor, but at the same time will remain very human and compassionate, which would help both herself and her father. Possibly more characters:) I'm looking forward to getting there.
Enter Talion and Celebrimbor. She and her father will find each other soon enough, but wait until she meets the elven wraith. Heh heh!
Until next time:) Thank you so much for the follows and reviews!