A Friend is Forever
It is quite dark, cold, and dirty dungeon of Mordor. I was once a creature about the opposite of this place, my home. I was fair and graceful, delicate and nimble. But not anymore. I am destined to rot away in this dungeon for all eternity. And I will be there for all eternity as well.
I am Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood, and I am trapped alone in this dungeon, weak with hunger, for the orcs feed my only once a week, and even then it is only a small bit of food. I cannot move, for my hands and feet are chained to the wall. There is a ring of blood where the chains pierce my skin.
I suppose I deserve this punishment. All along the way, I could feel the darkness descending upon us. I should have told the others. From the moment Boromir died, I knew the Fellowship was broken forever. Merry and Pippin kidnapped, Gandalf and Boromir dead, and of course our Ringbearer and his servant running off to Mordor on their own.
When we finally found Gandalf, I suppose I thought there was hope left. Now I see there is none. None at all. I will die of grief here in this cold dungeon. There will be no one here to save me.
Saruman enjoys coming in here to torture me every once and a while. I used to be ready to fight him, try to escape, no fear inside. But as the endless hours of uncontrollable pain, with no bow or sword to fight with, I have lost the will to fight. Now I cower at his shadow. But I do not show it. I am afraid, but he will never know that. The longer the agony of the torture goes on for, the more I forget of my grief. I often wonder whatever happened to Gimli, my good dwarf friend. Or Aragorn, our fearless leader in times of need. Or those poor, brave hobbits.
Here he comes again. The door creaks open, and slams shut. I hear the growls and roars of the orc guards, bowing to their master and praising him in their own tongue. He comes, his bright, white robe standing out among the all the black and darkness, much the same as my blond hair and pale skin often did. He glared at me, and I did the same.
"Well, if it isn't my miserable little captive. Enjoying your stay here in my palace?" He laughed. I did not respond. Although this sort of behavior would just encourage him, I have my pride even after all these years of imprisonment. "You will not speak again, elf? I'll make you scream." With a wave of his staff, the torture began once again.
It was like a thousand knives hitting every part of my body at once. I couldn't breath, and I wanted to yell and cry. I wanted to run and run, giving up all. But I would not. Could not. I would not show him fear, hatred or any signs that I was in any pain at all. This was only the beginning. He only wanted to make me weak, so he could undo the chains and let his real fun begin.
Saruman cackled, as he watched me gasp and struggle for breath. He undid the chains, and I collapsed upon the floor. He waved his staff, and sent me flying to the roof. I hit the roof with a crash, and cringed. I felt blood surge out of my back, dribbling down my leggings, which were already stained with blood from previous beatings. I dropped to the floor, and got the wind knocked out of my lungs. He gave me a moment, than sent me headfirst into the corner. My once beautiful blond hair was now stained with blood. I was than punched at 60 miles per hour across a ten-foot space into the other wall. I lingered there, where I shook uncontrollably. He was shocking me. I felt like I had entered a fireplace. I was burning, but not slowly. The more I shook, the more shock I felt, until I finally dropped onto the floor.
I had not screamed once.
"Name your master, elven slave of the Dark Lord!"
At that moment I would have spoken his name, if it weren't for a sudden wail. Was it my own? No it wasn't. It was an orc wail. An orc had just died. I hadn't heard that sound since before I was captured. Saruman truned his back to me. Into the cell ran Aragron, Gimli, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin and Frodo. It's been long since I had smiled, but I smiled than. Saruman's power alone could not hold back the brute force of a dwarf, the cunning of a man, the power of a wizard, or the surprising bit of persistence of a team of four hobbits. The rest of it was quite hazy. I was still dazed from the torture.
The hobbits picked me up, while Gimli and Aragorn took care of the orcs outside my cell. Gandalf and Saruman began to settle the fight they've had since Saruman first turned on us.
"Come on Mr. Legolas, sir." Said Sam. I missed his voice as well as his face. The same with the rest of them. "Let's get you out of here."
The hobbits carried me out of the cell. Gimli and Aragorn had quickly taken care of the small number of orcs there were out there. Gandalf quickly joined us when we escaped out of the dungeon. He was not a match of Saruman, but could escape his clutches.
I braved a weak smile when Gimli looked at me. I could not speak, but Gimli got the message. I had missed him terribly. Perhaps there can be a friendship between elves and dwarves. In turn the others got their own message. Everyone one of us had a bond that could not be broken. It wasn't a physical one, or a magic one. It just was.
The torture and agony of those years in the dungeons seemed to be forever to me, but it was only of strand in the great web of eternity. Only one thing can last forever.
Friendship is forever.