"Father?" Savina called softly, making her way into room. She was trying to be quiet so as not to disturb him, but her long black skirt got tangled around her legs and she nearly fell onto her face. She caught her balance, realizing how used to pants she had become, and peered around the room, "Father?"
"I am here," came a wheezy voice from a chair in front of the window.
Savina made her way to the window and looked down into the dark courtyard where she could just make out the preparations being carried out by torchlight. She put her hand on the Dark Lord's frail shoulder and knelt next to his chair, "the celebration will start in less than two hours."
"Two hours," Caburnat's wasted face turned toward her and stretched into a grotesque smile, then he shut his eyes and leaned his head back, a content smile on his face, "tell me about it."
Savina sighed and was silent for a moment, then she spoke in a wistful voice, "there will be a fire, larger and hotter than any mortal hand could make."
Before she could continue, the Dark Lord raised his head sharply and looked at her, "what are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, Savina raised her eyes to the glowing blaze that was Mount Doom, not far away.
Caburnat followed her gaze, then his eyes narrowed in glee and he gave a high-pitched cackle of a laugh, "of course, of course…"
Savina's stomach lurched, but she continued in a dream-like voice, "there will be sacrifices," she glanced at her father, "the ring bearer will be the first, then his friends, but not before we force them to fight each other."
Cackling madly, he rubbed his thin hands together gleefully and kicked his feet, "I like that idea, make the nasty little bastard kill off his friends before we toss him into Mount Doom."
Ignoring his comments, Savina was about to continue, but a knock at the door cut her off. She rose to her feet and spun around, "enter."
General Naheka pushed the door open and bowed swiftly, "the wagons are ready and the horses are hitched to them."
"Thank you, General," Savina held out her hand, "my Lord, General Naheka will escort you to your carriage."
He took her hand and grunted as she helped him to his feet, then shuffled toward Naheka, "where will you be?"
Savina patted his shoulder, "I'm supervising the removal of the prisoners. I will ride in the same wagon as them, to make sure they do not escape, then I will rejoin you at Mount Doom."
Caburnat grunted in approval and clutched the HighLord's arm tightly, he paused and looked at Savina with a piercingly dark look, "you have served me well, daughter."
Before she really thought about it, she replied, "I will serve you more than you would ever realize, my Father."
He was silent, studying her with a smile.
Savina bowed slightly, "I must go." The Dark Lord nodded and Savina dashed down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs she met Olivia, who was carrying Raliayatau in its sheath, her black cloak, and one of her daggers. Savina took the sword and strapped it onto her belt, feeling her confidence spread as she felt the comforting weight at her hip. She too the dagger and slipped it into her boot, then paused to admire it, it was a beautiful dagger, carved for her on her thirteenth birthday by the very man whose body was wasting away upstairs. Realizing she was wasting precious time, she straightened up and allowed Olivia to help her get her cloak on and tie it around her throat. "Thank you, Olivia," she gasped breathlessly, "you've been a good friend to me."
Olivia finished tying the cloak and smiled her self-deprecating smile, "I tried to kill you."
Savina touched the pretty girl's cheek gently, "I may not make it through this, but I have every confidence that you will, and I would have you tell everyone you saw that you were a hero."
Olivia's cheeks flushed, "it is you who will be the hero tonight."
"Maybe," Savina shrugged, "more likely I will fail and my grave will be spit upon." She laughed bitterly, "but everyone must do their part and I will do mine." She pulled open the door and called over her shoulder, "ride in the carriage with the Dark Lord, I will rejoin you at Mount Doom." With that, she was gone.
Olivia watched her go, then remembered something and smacked her forehead, "wait! Savina! I forgot…" realizing she wasn't going to catch her, she pulled the small stone comb she had found on the floor in Savina's room and stared at it morosely, "I forgot to give you back your comb." Thinking it might have sentimental value to Savina, Olivia pocketed it, planning to give it to her when there was time.
Savina ran to the dungeon as quickly as her feet would carry her, her cloak billowing out behind her and her skirt fluttering around her, revealing to the careful observer that she was wearing black pants underneath her dress. She reached the dungeon, huffing and puffing, and nearly ran into a young man with brilliant red hair.
He pressed himself against the wall, looking embarrassed, "sorry, Lady."
She glanced at him suspiciously, "who are you and what are you doing down here?"
"My name is Trey, my father is the Dungeon Master, I thought maybe I could ride with him to…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed and frightened.
"Fine," Savina pushed past him, "just stay out of the way."
She strode past the cells, which had been emptied, straight to the last cell and stood before it, her hands on her hips.
The Dungeon Master was inside the cell, fixing handcuffs onto each of the prisoners. He had just clamped the last pair onto Legolas' slender wrists when Savina jerked the door open and motioned to the prisoners, "walk single file, one move and you die."
Aragorn, who came first, stopped in the doorway of the cell and studied her with her dark eyes, wondering if she had truly turned to darkness.
"What are you looking at?" She snapped, shoving him, "get moving." She turned to the red-haired young man, who was still pressed against the wall, "make yourself useful and gather their weapons."
Trey blinked, "their weapons?"
"Don't question me," she snapped, "they're there, on the shelf. Bring all of them." She noticed from a glance that two small swords, belonging to the hobbits, had been added to the pile on the shelf.
The Dungeon Master followed his son carefully with his dark eyes, watching his every movement.
Savina turned to him, "Dungeon Master," she barked, making him snap to attention, "go to the kitchen and retrieve two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, and load them in the cart with this lot, they will all be executed together."
The Dungeon Master obeyed promptly, following his son out of the entrance of the dungeon and helping him carry some of the weapons.
When they were gone, Savina turned her cold gaze upon what remained of the Fellowship of the Ring.
Silence.
They stared at her with set, emotionless faces, mouths set in straight lines and eyes dark with the pain of betrayal.
Savina was tempted to tell them she was on their side, tempted to tell them she was acting on some half-baked plan that she was making up as she went along. But she couldn't, not even Legolas' fleeting, hopeful glance could change her mind. She was in this alone, not even Olivia knew the plan in its entirety, Savina had refused to tell her.
Shaking herself, she pointed to the entrance, "get moving, there's a wagon outside the door. One toe out of line…" She drew her sword and shook it in Sam's plump face to reinforce her point.
Ignoring Aragorn intense, calculating stare and the tears of pain in Legolas' eyes, Savina stalked to the front of the line and opened the door to let them through.
~*~
Legolas huddled in the wagon, the chill of the night piercing through his worn clothing and chilling him. But he hardly felt it; the chill ran deeper, into his heart. He had thought, at first, that maybe Savina was only pretending to be evil, but his hopes had fallen when he's seen the cold look in her eyes and heard the steel in her voice.
He sighed as the wagon bumped, knocking his arm against Aragorn. Lifting his tired head, he could see Savina's silver hair glinting in the moonlight from where she sat next to the Dungeon Master, who was driving the wagon.
She was beautiful in the moonlight, but her beauty brought no comfort to Legolas, it only sank him deeper into his own despair. He tried hard to convince himself he'd never loved her. He hadn't thought her extraordinarily beautiful when he'd first seen her. His loneliness had caused him to subconsciously convince himself that he loved her, hoping that she would return his fabricated love and fill his empty heart with some emotion. Then, through their travels and trials, he'd grown to truly love her, despite her faults. Now she was the right hand of the darkest evil imaginable.
What a mess.
He cursed himself for getting himself into such a predicament. He had always thought he was a little smarter than that…apparently not.
Legolas tore his eyes from Savina and instead gazed around at his companions, all huddled on the filthy bed of the wagon.
The four hobbits were huddled together, their small faces smeared with filth and matching looks of dread. Legolas' gazed lingered on Merry and Pippin, who he had vowed to save fro the bowels of hell, Merry and Pippin, who he had failed. His eyes fell on Frodo and Sam, who had given so much and borne their burdens so bravely. Gandalf was right, hobbits were extraordinary creatures.
Gimli was sitting at the back, his short legs out before him and his eyes dull and exhausted. Every now and then, his eyes cleared and flashed toward the pile of weapons sitting at the very back of the wagon, next to the red-haired young man.
Aragorn sat between Legolas and the hobbits, his elbows resting on his knees and his face amazingly calm. His gaze was fixed on Savina and Legolas realized that he still nursed the idea that perhaps Savina had not turned on them.
Legolas wondered at this, could it be possible? Had she fooled them all? He felt the pain of betrayal burning in his chest and wondered if he had judged too quickly and taken her attitude too personally.
His world was caving in. Everything had gone wrong. He was filthy and smelly and starving and betrayed by the one he had foolishly fallen in love with. He'd failed his quest and because of that, all hell was going to break loose. He'd heard rumors that they were going to be thrown into Mount Doom. What a laugh, as if death weren't a welcome option.
Legolas felt shame burning on his face even as he thought of it. There was nothing honorable about wanting to give up and die. He was acting like a coward and a traitor. His heart sank even lower…perhaps he'd only been fooling himself all those years; perhaps he was nothing but a weakling after all.
The wagon lurched to a stop, nearly toppling Legolas backward.
Savina jumped down from the seat at the front and opened the back of the wagon, "we're here."
Legolas stared up at the famed Mount Doom, where the ring that had caused all of this trouble had been forged. It rose tall and dark into the black sky, flames bursting from the top and smoke blotting out the stars, making the dark night even darker.
"We're entering Mount Doom through a tunnel," Savina said shortly, "it is not far." Her glance passed over Legolas as if she didn't even see him and rested on the Dungeon Master and his red-haired son, "bring the weapons."
Legolas started to wonder, not for the first time, why their weapons were being brought, but he had the sickening feeling he didn't want to know. Before he could ponder it, he was jerked out of the wagon by the Dungeon Master and shoved into line behind Frodo.
He stared up at Mount Doom, his very soul shaking within him.
It was the beginning of the end.