DISCLAIMER: All LOTR shaznack owned by Tolkien, not me. Rated 'R' for suicide/rape plot devices and angsty stuffs. Language is.. tempered, don't worry about this. `` means elvish, --- signals a song or something, [words] mean thinking. Read and REVIEW. Thanks... and don't forget to Enjoy.
A/N: Sorry about chapter 4... I know it was... bad. I found an evlish site, and I am roughly translating words.. if you know all the grammatical structures of the language, don't flame me because I'm stupid. Just trying to be authentic... I will translate all that I can, so sorry if half of it is in english. Enjoy!
_______________________________________________________________________________
"One... Ah!"
"Ok, watch me closely... One. Two. Three. Four. Now you try."
"One.. T-two.. Three--Alas!"
"Try again," said the teacher with a laugh.
"One.. Two.. Three.. Four.. Hey! I did it, I really did, Merry!"
"We did, Pippin. We," Merry said with a laugh an a hint of sarcasm.
"Good work you two," Torrent said with a laugh. She had been trying to teach them small steps and skills with a sword all morning. It took them a bit longer to learn a the more she taught them, but they responded quickly. Using Elesen as her partner, she had to stop and teach him a thing or two, for he was not extremely skilled with a sword. Most of the time Elesen would just parry, but he did not mind, for he was gaining knowledge also. A very merry figure sat and watched them from a room above the courtyard. Laughing at the two hobbits and at a semi-frustrated elf was quite amusing. [All of this reminds me of when Boromir tried to teach them near Caradhras so long ago...] Legolas sighed wistfully in rememberance of his late friend, and then...
"Ah!" The clatter of a sword against a stone floor was heard, and the sprawled-back form of Elesen was seen on the floor. Held at sword-point, a sardonic-faced Elesen rebuttled against his current position. "That's not fair. Twice have you held me like this before."
"Do not leave yourself open, Elesen," Torrent said with a laugh, "And do try to pay more attention to your footing, rather than your opponent's movemoents."
"All right, all right..." Merry and Pippin laughed as Elesen was offered a hand and pulled up by his opponent. Metal against metal was heard again, and the clanking sound rang throughout the halls of the early morning. Again and again, the four practiced and enhanced their abilities in hopes of being useful in battle. Finally, during a break around noon time, a lone figure walked over to the courtyard where they were, and stood in the shadows. Glancing towards her right, Torrent thought she saw something, but went back to listening to Merry and Pippin chat idly about how Boromir had once taught them. Even though the elf was intently listening to the two hobbits, her sight failed her and slid to the right, still thinking she saw someone standing there. She became curious as to who, if anyone, hid in the shadows. Torrent departed from them without saying anything, for she could find no real reason to leave them. When she came close to where she thought the figure had once stood, a voice sounded from the shadows. ``Our game is not yet over...``
Confused, she didn't adhere to the person standing behind her. Strong hands gripped her around her waist and clamped over her mouth. She was then dragged off, while kicking at her captive, and trying to yell through the hand that held her mouth shut. Before he had successfully dragged her off, she managed to get in a few good hits near his stomach and ribs, but afterwards, all that chance gave her was a sharp knock in the man's leg every now and then. When darkness of what seemed like a black night subsided, Torrent found herself in a dimly-light room with a chair in the center. Thrown against it, she was soon bound to the wooden piece of furniture, with her hands behind her and her feet tied onto the chairs legs. The rope seemed skillfully tied: it was not too tight so that it could cut off circulation, but still held her fast to the chair. It was an elven rope, she could tell, by it's texture: somewhat soft; smooth almost. In the bottom of her stomach, a blackness seemed to rise, and evil preminitions began to take over her. Torrent was promptly blinfolded and gagged before she was even halfway tied to the chair, so this did not help her in seeing her captive.
Sitting, waiting. Silence. At length her captive spoke. ``You struggle too much, I dare say.`` He removed the gag, freeing her of the impairment of her speech.
``Who are you? Where am I?!`` she yelled angrilly at her captive, who merely laughed.
``You should know,`` muttered he. ``I have questions, and I'm quite sure that you have...`` the man paused, and she felt him wrap his arms about her neck from behind her. ``...Answers,`` he breathed into her elven ear. Torrent was dumbfounded. What information did she know? She was a 'tag-a-long' for the quest, and wasn't truly informed or propmted about it whence she joined them, so she'd be a loss for interrogation. Who did she know that mattered? No one. The question that plagued her mind like hoards of locusts was the identity of the man. Who was he?
``Aren't you going to question me, sire?``
``Oh ho! With a title like that, it would seem you know me---``
``Or it is a term of endearment meant to be taken sourly, sir.``
``If I were you,`` the man paused again. Flick: the sound of a dagger being clicked open, as it pressed against her throat. ``...I would do my best to keep my insubordinate little mouth shut.`` Torrent licked her lips, as if she was trying to hold back a quip remark that could get her killed. She was. ``Now...`` he began again. ``Ready for me to go on?``
``Please. Do.``
``Why is it exactly that you have come here? What is your reason?``
``Fate, it would seem.``
``And...?``
``To find a nirvana in this void of my life.``
``And would fixing a void include another?``
``Must you speak in riddles?``
``Be silent!`` said the man with anger in his voice as he pressed the dagger harder onto her throat. Nuzzling his head into her hair, he spoke again. ``Now, answer it. Does fixing that void involve another?``
``It could...`` Blood dripped from a slender cut on her throat, that would go only noticed as a mere scratch. ``Yet, it does not require another. That is my wish, or the others, for that matter. If it must be, and if it may be... So be it.``
``Who speaks in riddles now?``
``...``
``You are wise to keep your mouth shut.`` The dagger goes 'click': shut, and the arms about her neck are removed, along with the pressing knife. Steps are heard, most likely those of boots, and the captor of Torrent is pacing. Stopping infront of her, and being silent for quite some time, the silence is broken by the sound of skin against skin. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, and her hand longs to return the physical threat. Throbbing with heated fury, the Ring once again ignites.
\\ Fight it... \\
[...]
A weight is felt upon her lap, as her captor eases down onto it, straddling himself upon her and places to strong, menacing hands on her shoulders. He whispers into her ear, with an almost sullen voice. A large portion of feeling: hatred and resentment, block out the sorry tones in the voice. ``All elves are the same... Strong-willed... Stubborn... Promiscuous. Always are they lead in the wrong direction. Yet, all they need, is one foul sweep of a human hand, and they can be set in their place.``
``...``
``But no one does this good deed... For elves posess magic. Not the kind a wizard would have, oh no. They posess it in their skin... hair, and eyes... voice. How could one break something so gentle-looking? It would be like killing a small child, almost. There are types that can abuse these beautiful creatures, and I am one. I will set you in your place, if you step out of line, Torrent of the Wind.`` Again, he stops, letting the full feeling of his words to slide into her, and slowly corrupt her mind. His hands grip her shoulders hard then loosen; slipping down her arms and landing freely upon his own legs. ``So you'd best stay away and watch yourself. I can see you. And I know where you will go...`` The madman stands and leaves her there, wherever that happens to be. Alone. Un-attended.
What seems like hours pass by, and someone finally finds her. Her head was now bowed, and she lay asleep, as if drugged by the rooms miasma. Her binds were quickly untied, but with the utmost care, and fell to the floor, laying undisturbed. Softly shaken, trying to be woken by a friend, she stirs, but falls back into sleep. Carefully, her limp form is lifted off the chair and borne away by strong arms o another.
An hour or so later, she comes to, and looks about the room. It is her own, and a lone figure sits on the railing of the sun-soaked terrace of mid-afternoon. ``Ya naa lle?`` (Who are you?)
``Mankoi lle irma sint?`` (Why do you want to know?)
``Ten'.`` (Because.)
``Tereva. Amin Legolas, ri' demad'lle?`` (Fine. I am Legolas, or have you forgotten me?)
``Diol Tel'Seldarine...`` (Thank the Gods..)
``Mani marte?`` (What's the matter/ what happened?)
``Now-amin lle manke na-amin Sereg'Wethrin.`` (I thought you were my assassin.)
``Mani?`` (What?)
``Lle'ten amin.`` (You heard me.)
``Mankoi e'tanya sambe?`` (Why were you in that room?)
``Glak-lle.`` (I was captured.)
``Ed'ya, melamin? Iire?`` (By who my love? When?)
``Amin n'sinta. Ale'amrun.`` (I don't know. After morning.)
``Amin elea... Lle tereva?`` (I see... Are you ok?)
``Uma, Lle tereva.`` (Yes, I am fine.)
``Tanya quel.`` (That is good.) Legolas walks over to her bedside. She was laid upon the sheets, not covered with them, for it was a humid and warm day. She had drawn up her knees and rested her head upon them. `` Amin hiraetha,`` (I'm sorry,) said Legolas.
``Diola lle...`` (Thank you...) Legolas leaned forward and kissed her brow.
``Tanya farnuva,`` (That will suffice) said he, smiling back at her. The two grew silent again, as they stared at nothing in general. A slight smile grew on Torrent's face as she turned to look at Legolas, who sat staring ahead at the terrace.
A/N: Sorry about chapter 4... I know it was... bad. I found an evlish site, and I am roughly translating words.. if you know all the grammatical structures of the language, don't flame me because I'm stupid. Just trying to be authentic... I will translate all that I can, so sorry if half of it is in english. Enjoy!
_______________________________________________________________________________
"One... Ah!"
"Ok, watch me closely... One. Two. Three. Four. Now you try."
"One.. T-two.. Three--Alas!"
"Try again," said the teacher with a laugh.
"One.. Two.. Three.. Four.. Hey! I did it, I really did, Merry!"
"We did, Pippin. We," Merry said with a laugh an a hint of sarcasm.
"Good work you two," Torrent said with a laugh. She had been trying to teach them small steps and skills with a sword all morning. It took them a bit longer to learn a the more she taught them, but they responded quickly. Using Elesen as her partner, she had to stop and teach him a thing or two, for he was not extremely skilled with a sword. Most of the time Elesen would just parry, but he did not mind, for he was gaining knowledge also. A very merry figure sat and watched them from a room above the courtyard. Laughing at the two hobbits and at a semi-frustrated elf was quite amusing. [All of this reminds me of when Boromir tried to teach them near Caradhras so long ago...] Legolas sighed wistfully in rememberance of his late friend, and then...
"Ah!" The clatter of a sword against a stone floor was heard, and the sprawled-back form of Elesen was seen on the floor. Held at sword-point, a sardonic-faced Elesen rebuttled against his current position. "That's not fair. Twice have you held me like this before."
"Do not leave yourself open, Elesen," Torrent said with a laugh, "And do try to pay more attention to your footing, rather than your opponent's movemoents."
"All right, all right..." Merry and Pippin laughed as Elesen was offered a hand and pulled up by his opponent. Metal against metal was heard again, and the clanking sound rang throughout the halls of the early morning. Again and again, the four practiced and enhanced their abilities in hopes of being useful in battle. Finally, during a break around noon time, a lone figure walked over to the courtyard where they were, and stood in the shadows. Glancing towards her right, Torrent thought she saw something, but went back to listening to Merry and Pippin chat idly about how Boromir had once taught them. Even though the elf was intently listening to the two hobbits, her sight failed her and slid to the right, still thinking she saw someone standing there. She became curious as to who, if anyone, hid in the shadows. Torrent departed from them without saying anything, for she could find no real reason to leave them. When she came close to where she thought the figure had once stood, a voice sounded from the shadows. ``Our game is not yet over...``
Confused, she didn't adhere to the person standing behind her. Strong hands gripped her around her waist and clamped over her mouth. She was then dragged off, while kicking at her captive, and trying to yell through the hand that held her mouth shut. Before he had successfully dragged her off, she managed to get in a few good hits near his stomach and ribs, but afterwards, all that chance gave her was a sharp knock in the man's leg every now and then. When darkness of what seemed like a black night subsided, Torrent found herself in a dimly-light room with a chair in the center. Thrown against it, she was soon bound to the wooden piece of furniture, with her hands behind her and her feet tied onto the chairs legs. The rope seemed skillfully tied: it was not too tight so that it could cut off circulation, but still held her fast to the chair. It was an elven rope, she could tell, by it's texture: somewhat soft; smooth almost. In the bottom of her stomach, a blackness seemed to rise, and evil preminitions began to take over her. Torrent was promptly blinfolded and gagged before she was even halfway tied to the chair, so this did not help her in seeing her captive.
Sitting, waiting. Silence. At length her captive spoke. ``You struggle too much, I dare say.`` He removed the gag, freeing her of the impairment of her speech.
``Who are you? Where am I?!`` she yelled angrilly at her captive, who merely laughed.
``You should know,`` muttered he. ``I have questions, and I'm quite sure that you have...`` the man paused, and she felt him wrap his arms about her neck from behind her. ``...Answers,`` he breathed into her elven ear. Torrent was dumbfounded. What information did she know? She was a 'tag-a-long' for the quest, and wasn't truly informed or propmted about it whence she joined them, so she'd be a loss for interrogation. Who did she know that mattered? No one. The question that plagued her mind like hoards of locusts was the identity of the man. Who was he?
``Aren't you going to question me, sire?``
``Oh ho! With a title like that, it would seem you know me---``
``Or it is a term of endearment meant to be taken sourly, sir.``
``If I were you,`` the man paused again. Flick: the sound of a dagger being clicked open, as it pressed against her throat. ``...I would do my best to keep my insubordinate little mouth shut.`` Torrent licked her lips, as if she was trying to hold back a quip remark that could get her killed. She was. ``Now...`` he began again. ``Ready for me to go on?``
``Please. Do.``
``Why is it exactly that you have come here? What is your reason?``
``Fate, it would seem.``
``And...?``
``To find a nirvana in this void of my life.``
``And would fixing a void include another?``
``Must you speak in riddles?``
``Be silent!`` said the man with anger in his voice as he pressed the dagger harder onto her throat. Nuzzling his head into her hair, he spoke again. ``Now, answer it. Does fixing that void involve another?``
``It could...`` Blood dripped from a slender cut on her throat, that would go only noticed as a mere scratch. ``Yet, it does not require another. That is my wish, or the others, for that matter. If it must be, and if it may be... So be it.``
``Who speaks in riddles now?``
``...``
``You are wise to keep your mouth shut.`` The dagger goes 'click': shut, and the arms about her neck are removed, along with the pressing knife. Steps are heard, most likely those of boots, and the captor of Torrent is pacing. Stopping infront of her, and being silent for quite some time, the silence is broken by the sound of skin against skin. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, and her hand longs to return the physical threat. Throbbing with heated fury, the Ring once again ignites.
\\ Fight it... \\
[...]
A weight is felt upon her lap, as her captor eases down onto it, straddling himself upon her and places to strong, menacing hands on her shoulders. He whispers into her ear, with an almost sullen voice. A large portion of feeling: hatred and resentment, block out the sorry tones in the voice. ``All elves are the same... Strong-willed... Stubborn... Promiscuous. Always are they lead in the wrong direction. Yet, all they need, is one foul sweep of a human hand, and they can be set in their place.``
``...``
``But no one does this good deed... For elves posess magic. Not the kind a wizard would have, oh no. They posess it in their skin... hair, and eyes... voice. How could one break something so gentle-looking? It would be like killing a small child, almost. There are types that can abuse these beautiful creatures, and I am one. I will set you in your place, if you step out of line, Torrent of the Wind.`` Again, he stops, letting the full feeling of his words to slide into her, and slowly corrupt her mind. His hands grip her shoulders hard then loosen; slipping down her arms and landing freely upon his own legs. ``So you'd best stay away and watch yourself. I can see you. And I know where you will go...`` The madman stands and leaves her there, wherever that happens to be. Alone. Un-attended.
What seems like hours pass by, and someone finally finds her. Her head was now bowed, and she lay asleep, as if drugged by the rooms miasma. Her binds were quickly untied, but with the utmost care, and fell to the floor, laying undisturbed. Softly shaken, trying to be woken by a friend, she stirs, but falls back into sleep. Carefully, her limp form is lifted off the chair and borne away by strong arms o another.
An hour or so later, she comes to, and looks about the room. It is her own, and a lone figure sits on the railing of the sun-soaked terrace of mid-afternoon. ``Ya naa lle?`` (Who are you?)
``Mankoi lle irma sint?`` (Why do you want to know?)
``Ten'.`` (Because.)
``Tereva. Amin Legolas, ri' demad'lle?`` (Fine. I am Legolas, or have you forgotten me?)
``Diol Tel'Seldarine...`` (Thank the Gods..)
``Mani marte?`` (What's the matter/ what happened?)
``Now-amin lle manke na-amin Sereg'Wethrin.`` (I thought you were my assassin.)
``Mani?`` (What?)
``Lle'ten amin.`` (You heard me.)
``Mankoi e'tanya sambe?`` (Why were you in that room?)
``Glak-lle.`` (I was captured.)
``Ed'ya, melamin? Iire?`` (By who my love? When?)
``Amin n'sinta. Ale'amrun.`` (I don't know. After morning.)
``Amin elea... Lle tereva?`` (I see... Are you ok?)
``Uma, Lle tereva.`` (Yes, I am fine.)
``Tanya quel.`` (That is good.) Legolas walks over to her bedside. She was laid upon the sheets, not covered with them, for it was a humid and warm day. She had drawn up her knees and rested her head upon them. `` Amin hiraetha,`` (I'm sorry,) said Legolas.
``Diola lle...`` (Thank you...) Legolas leaned forward and kissed her brow.
``Tanya farnuva,`` (That will suffice) said he, smiling back at her. The two grew silent again, as they stared at nothing in general. A slight smile grew on Torrent's face as she turned to look at Legolas, who sat staring ahead at the terrace.