Pain. Nothing but pain. His insides burned from the potion, and his
shoulder's throbbed from the strain placed on them. He could feel warm
blood flowing down his arms from the cuts the manacles tore in his wrists.
And always there was the pain in his back. He no longer felt the individual
blows of the whip, so great was the agony that tore through his nerves.
He wanted to cry out to them to stop, to leave him be. But the mask prevented it, squeezing his jaw tightly, painfully digging into the already bruised skin. He wanted just a moment's respite. A second in which the agony was dulled to mere pain, but instead the pain kept increasing.
He was aware of motion around him, but didn't notice what was going on until his feet hit the ground. The blow sent pain all the way up his legs, and caused tears to form in his eyes. As the chain that was holding him up was lowered, he fell to the ground, unable to support himself. His wounds cried in protest, but there was nothing he could do.
'Let this be the end,' he prayed, 'Let them kill me.'
"Elessar," a familiar voice whispered, "Elessar." He felt hands at his head, and the mask came free. Then the hands were at his wrists, and Elessar gave an involuntary gasp of pain as they pressed against the bruises and cuts.
"I'm sorry," the voice said.
"Sal," Elessar murmured, in a voice filled with pain and shock.
"Ssh, don't try to speak." The hands came to his throat and released the collar from his bruised throat. The relief was enough to make him smile, despite the pain that still filled his entire body. It seemed he'd got his wish. A brief respite. He knew it wouldn't last long, couldn't last long, but he would enjoy it while it happened.
He opened his eyes and looked through the tears and haze of pain. Sal was pulling someone else down from chains. Parlond. Then Sal was back at his side.
"We have to get out of here," Sal said, "Can you stand?" Elessar shook his head feebly. He wanted to tell Sal to get out, to leave him, but he couldn't find the strength.
Sal's arm came around his waist, pressing against the wounds the whip had left. Pain flared again, and Elessar cried out. Sal apologised, but the arm remained, as Sal lifted him to his feet, bringing Elessar's own arm across his shoulders. His feet couldn't bear the touch of the ground, but he tried to hide the pain. Sal would be worried about him enough as it was. There was no sense in making things worse.
Parlond came to the other side of Elessar, and helped Sal bring him from the room. Elessar's feet brushed the floor but to his intense relief hardly any weight was put on them. The other two were taking most of his weight for him. His back was agony from the touch of their arms, but there was no other way. He knew he would never convince Sal to leave him behind.
They moved slowly along a corridor, Elessar almost carried by the other two men. He hated feeling so helpless, but he could hardly feel any other way. He was helpless. At least it was Sal he depended on, not some stranger. Elessar kept his eyes closed against the pain and let himself be led along. Then he felt Sal move away from his side.
He forced himself to open his eyes and see why. An orc. Sal was already pinning the orc to the wall, fortune across the creature's throat.
"Where are the things you took from us?" Sal demanded, "And how can we get out of this place?" Elessar had never heard such fierceness in his friend's voice before.
"You will tell me," Sal continued, "or you will feel a hundred fold every pain you have dealt upon my friend!" The orc babbled out instructions and directions. Elessar's pain-fogged mind couldn't follow them, but apparently Sal could.
"Thank you," Sal said once the orc was finished, and promptly cut the creature's throat. The calm anger Sal was displaying wasn't like him at all.
Sal came back to Elessar's side and took up his weight again. Elessar leaned on him gladly as Sal guided the three along the corridor. It was surprising that no one had tried to stop them yet, but he knew he shouldn't be ungrateful for this mercy. The journey through the corridors of this place was agonising torture, and seemed to take hours. He was conscious of nothing other than the pain in his back and feet when they reached the room they had been heading for.
Their packs were leaning against the wall of a storage room. Though they had been moved, it didn't look like anyone had gone through them. Even Anduril was there, instead of being taken as a trophy. Elessar was lowered to the floor, and he sat there gladly, letting Sal go through their things, checking they had everything.
He closed his eyes and wished he could sleep, let himself slip away from this world of pain for a little while. But they couldn't linger. Sal came back to him, holding some clothes. Elessar became aware of his nakedness, which had been forgotten in his pain. He ought to feel embarrassed, but there were other more urgent things on his mind. Like the burning pain in his back as the fabric of the shirt brushed against his wounds. Sal had to lift him to get the trousers on, and Elessar was unable to support his weight or help in any way.
There was an extra pair of boots in one of the packs, but they wouldn't go over his sore and swollen feet. Instead, Sal tore a blanket into strips, and wrapped the pieces around them, both bandaging and protecting them. Then Sal brought him Anduril. Though he knew he couldn't possible use it, it felt good to have his sword hanging at his side. At last they were ready.
Parlond and Sal had split the baggage between them, and had to support Elessar as well. Elessar knew he was a burden. Without him, they would probably be out by now, somewhere safe.
"Leave me," Elessar murmured.
"No, Your Majesty." Elessar almost smiled at Parlond's reply. He had known he would make the guard say more than just 'yes, your majesty', but he hadn't expected he would start disobeying orders so soon. It had been months before Sal had started doing that.
***
Night was falling swiftly. Elessar sat back against a tree. The pressure hurting him back, but he needed to relax his strained muscles. They had emerged through a cave a few hours ago. The complex of tunnels was completely hidden. Even they couldn't see it, and they knew it was there. How long had those orcs been making it? How had none of the Rangers noticed?
Their horses had fled from the battle, but Sal had brought them back, and they had ridden until dusk. The strides of the horse jolted his back and aggravated his wounds, but at least it was better than walking. Now they were resting.
He looked across at where Sal was standing, a dark shadow in the growing night. He had been unusually silent. Perhaps out of worry, or perhaps because of some terrible thing that had happened to him. Elessar wanted to go and ask him if he was alright, but he couldn't stand without help, and he didn't want to bring Parlond into something Sal considered personal.
"Sal?" Elessar called. Sal gave him a glance, and then stepped into the darkness away from their small camp. "What's wrong with him?" he murmured to himself.
"He betrayed you," Parlond replied.
"Nonesense," Elessar said, thinking Parlond was referring to the tales Elessar himself had helped spread after Sal's exile.
"I saw him come into that room. He wasn't a prisoner. He was walking among the orcs as though he was a guest."
"You are mistaken." Elessar was angry that anyone would make such an accusation, but was too exhausted to do anything about it.
"I know what I saw," Parlond protested, "Sal has betrayed you."
"It is because of him that we are free."
"And does it not seem suspicious that our escape was so easy? He is obviously part of some plot."
"You do not know your place, guard!" Elessar snapped, furious, and Parlond subsided. Fury filled him that his good, noble friend could be considered a traitor. He knew his own actions must have some part in that belief, and that just made him angrier.
In the shadows just away from the camp, Sal stood listening to every word. His face showed no emotion, but inwardly he was crying. Elessar would refuse to believe any ill of him, and continue to do so despite the evidence, until the moment when fortune would be buried in his heart with Sal's hand on the hilt.
***
Author's note: Confused? Good. And before you start going on about my evilness, at least I got them out of there. Reasons will be made clear later.
He wanted to cry out to them to stop, to leave him be. But the mask prevented it, squeezing his jaw tightly, painfully digging into the already bruised skin. He wanted just a moment's respite. A second in which the agony was dulled to mere pain, but instead the pain kept increasing.
He was aware of motion around him, but didn't notice what was going on until his feet hit the ground. The blow sent pain all the way up his legs, and caused tears to form in his eyes. As the chain that was holding him up was lowered, he fell to the ground, unable to support himself. His wounds cried in protest, but there was nothing he could do.
'Let this be the end,' he prayed, 'Let them kill me.'
"Elessar," a familiar voice whispered, "Elessar." He felt hands at his head, and the mask came free. Then the hands were at his wrists, and Elessar gave an involuntary gasp of pain as they pressed against the bruises and cuts.
"I'm sorry," the voice said.
"Sal," Elessar murmured, in a voice filled with pain and shock.
"Ssh, don't try to speak." The hands came to his throat and released the collar from his bruised throat. The relief was enough to make him smile, despite the pain that still filled his entire body. It seemed he'd got his wish. A brief respite. He knew it wouldn't last long, couldn't last long, but he would enjoy it while it happened.
He opened his eyes and looked through the tears and haze of pain. Sal was pulling someone else down from chains. Parlond. Then Sal was back at his side.
"We have to get out of here," Sal said, "Can you stand?" Elessar shook his head feebly. He wanted to tell Sal to get out, to leave him, but he couldn't find the strength.
Sal's arm came around his waist, pressing against the wounds the whip had left. Pain flared again, and Elessar cried out. Sal apologised, but the arm remained, as Sal lifted him to his feet, bringing Elessar's own arm across his shoulders. His feet couldn't bear the touch of the ground, but he tried to hide the pain. Sal would be worried about him enough as it was. There was no sense in making things worse.
Parlond came to the other side of Elessar, and helped Sal bring him from the room. Elessar's feet brushed the floor but to his intense relief hardly any weight was put on them. The other two were taking most of his weight for him. His back was agony from the touch of their arms, but there was no other way. He knew he would never convince Sal to leave him behind.
They moved slowly along a corridor, Elessar almost carried by the other two men. He hated feeling so helpless, but he could hardly feel any other way. He was helpless. At least it was Sal he depended on, not some stranger. Elessar kept his eyes closed against the pain and let himself be led along. Then he felt Sal move away from his side.
He forced himself to open his eyes and see why. An orc. Sal was already pinning the orc to the wall, fortune across the creature's throat.
"Where are the things you took from us?" Sal demanded, "And how can we get out of this place?" Elessar had never heard such fierceness in his friend's voice before.
"You will tell me," Sal continued, "or you will feel a hundred fold every pain you have dealt upon my friend!" The orc babbled out instructions and directions. Elessar's pain-fogged mind couldn't follow them, but apparently Sal could.
"Thank you," Sal said once the orc was finished, and promptly cut the creature's throat. The calm anger Sal was displaying wasn't like him at all.
Sal came back to Elessar's side and took up his weight again. Elessar leaned on him gladly as Sal guided the three along the corridor. It was surprising that no one had tried to stop them yet, but he knew he shouldn't be ungrateful for this mercy. The journey through the corridors of this place was agonising torture, and seemed to take hours. He was conscious of nothing other than the pain in his back and feet when they reached the room they had been heading for.
Their packs were leaning against the wall of a storage room. Though they had been moved, it didn't look like anyone had gone through them. Even Anduril was there, instead of being taken as a trophy. Elessar was lowered to the floor, and he sat there gladly, letting Sal go through their things, checking they had everything.
He closed his eyes and wished he could sleep, let himself slip away from this world of pain for a little while. But they couldn't linger. Sal came back to him, holding some clothes. Elessar became aware of his nakedness, which had been forgotten in his pain. He ought to feel embarrassed, but there were other more urgent things on his mind. Like the burning pain in his back as the fabric of the shirt brushed against his wounds. Sal had to lift him to get the trousers on, and Elessar was unable to support his weight or help in any way.
There was an extra pair of boots in one of the packs, but they wouldn't go over his sore and swollen feet. Instead, Sal tore a blanket into strips, and wrapped the pieces around them, both bandaging and protecting them. Then Sal brought him Anduril. Though he knew he couldn't possible use it, it felt good to have his sword hanging at his side. At last they were ready.
Parlond and Sal had split the baggage between them, and had to support Elessar as well. Elessar knew he was a burden. Without him, they would probably be out by now, somewhere safe.
"Leave me," Elessar murmured.
"No, Your Majesty." Elessar almost smiled at Parlond's reply. He had known he would make the guard say more than just 'yes, your majesty', but he hadn't expected he would start disobeying orders so soon. It had been months before Sal had started doing that.
***
Night was falling swiftly. Elessar sat back against a tree. The pressure hurting him back, but he needed to relax his strained muscles. They had emerged through a cave a few hours ago. The complex of tunnels was completely hidden. Even they couldn't see it, and they knew it was there. How long had those orcs been making it? How had none of the Rangers noticed?
Their horses had fled from the battle, but Sal had brought them back, and they had ridden until dusk. The strides of the horse jolted his back and aggravated his wounds, but at least it was better than walking. Now they were resting.
He looked across at where Sal was standing, a dark shadow in the growing night. He had been unusually silent. Perhaps out of worry, or perhaps because of some terrible thing that had happened to him. Elessar wanted to go and ask him if he was alright, but he couldn't stand without help, and he didn't want to bring Parlond into something Sal considered personal.
"Sal?" Elessar called. Sal gave him a glance, and then stepped into the darkness away from their small camp. "What's wrong with him?" he murmured to himself.
"He betrayed you," Parlond replied.
"Nonesense," Elessar said, thinking Parlond was referring to the tales Elessar himself had helped spread after Sal's exile.
"I saw him come into that room. He wasn't a prisoner. He was walking among the orcs as though he was a guest."
"You are mistaken." Elessar was angry that anyone would make such an accusation, but was too exhausted to do anything about it.
"I know what I saw," Parlond protested, "Sal has betrayed you."
"It is because of him that we are free."
"And does it not seem suspicious that our escape was so easy? He is obviously part of some plot."
"You do not know your place, guard!" Elessar snapped, furious, and Parlond subsided. Fury filled him that his good, noble friend could be considered a traitor. He knew his own actions must have some part in that belief, and that just made him angrier.
In the shadows just away from the camp, Sal stood listening to every word. His face showed no emotion, but inwardly he was crying. Elessar would refuse to believe any ill of him, and continue to do so despite the evidence, until the moment when fortune would be buried in his heart with Sal's hand on the hilt.
***
Author's note: Confused? Good. And before you start going on about my evilness, at least I got them out of there. Reasons will be made clear later.