Summary: Sauron captured Aragorn, and Aragorn forever lost his oldest daughter- or did he? It's a battle against evil to discover who's good- and who's faking.
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe, for violence.
Disclaimer: There are a few OCs that belong to me and only me. The rest... it all belongs to the great Tolkien. Lucky devil. Yeah yeah… I am receiving absolutely no money for this story. I wrote it only for my own (and others') enjoyment and a lack of better things to be doing.
Additional Disclaimer: This story is the first installation to my stories affectionately called The Pegasus Scrolls. The contour of the story doesn't really follow the contour of the book, so please just bear with me. I'm not looking to be historically accurate, just enjoyable. If lack of authenticity bothers you, feel free to go back. Italics are thoughts and memories. You should be able to distinguish which is which.
No flamers please! I spent a lot of effort and time to produce this, and frankly I don't care if you think it's crap, so you'll just be wasting your own time.
Prologue: Where Once Was Light
A/N: VIOLENCE. THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE STORY. NOT GOOD FOR YOUNG KIDS. (Take a quick look at the PG-13 rating… *blinks and gestures towards the top of the page, knocking over the Christmas tree* Oops.) Reviews welcome!
"My love, are you awake?"
No, go away.
"Your daughter wishes to see you."
Daughter? No, not-
"Estel? Estel!" came the frantic reply. "Do not leave me!"
Why not? He screamed in his mind, trying to say something- anything. All he could feel was pain. The orcs had shown no mercy- Sauron himself had shown no mercy. He could barely remember anything. He could not see anything except the Dark Lord's face up close to his, the black walls of the tower, the...
He had become so wrapped up in the memories that he was sobbing uncontrollably, his hand clutching the blankets of his bed.
And his world snapped back to reality.
Legolas Greenleaf cradled the week-old infant in his arms, holding the baby to his chest to lull it to sleep, when he heard Aragorn screaming from the next room. Gently carrying the baby, he rushed into the king's room, where the fallen lord was crying in his sleep as a frightened child. His wife Arwen was clutching his hand in a death grip, willing herself not to burst into tears.
"Legolas, my friend, is there nothing we can do for him?" she asked brokenly, her husband still gripped in the hold of the Dark Lord. His gray eyes were glassy and terror-filled. His dark hair was strewn about his face, his parched lips moving, trying to save himself from torturous and agonizing death by denying his birthright completely.
I asked for your name.
I already told you-
Your real name, please.
Estel-
Liar!
Aragorn's eyes snapped open, immediately focusing on his distraught wife. "Arwen-" he managed, tears still running from his wet eyes, his breaths coming in great heaving gasps of terror.
"Shh, love, you are safe now," she said soothingly, brushing away the thick trail of tears gushing down his bruised cheeks.
Do whatever you desire of him, just do not kill or severely impair him.
"No!" he screamed over and over again, the fresh pain returning. He saw the orcs, their whips saturated with his blood; their iron shoes opening bloody gashes on his soft, exposed stomach.
His tears were flowing freely again. Arwen turned back to Legolas. "Is there any way to help him?"
Legolas took a deep, shuddery breath. "Nay, my lady, he must defeat this on his own."
"The stress will kill him!" Arwen exclaimed.
"Maybe- and maybe not- if he is strong," Legolas chose his words carefully. "Already there is hope."
"Where?" Arwen asked dully.
"He will fight, lady," Legolas said in a comforting voice. "I have seen your Aragorn in situations similar to this. He will fight. And he will win."
Arwen wished she could be as optimistic.
Aragorn's teary gray eyes were fixed on Arwen, trying to draw strength from his beloved's face.
But he remembered.
They had not broken him; they had not won. No amount of torture would make him submit to their wishes. Until-
Until they took her.
The sight of his four-year-old daughter in Sauron's arms made his blood boil in unleashed rage as he leapt at the Dark Lord. The result had been disastrous
"Leave the child alone!" Aragorn screamed a long string of filthy elvish curses.
"Such language," Sauron laughed. He took the king's bloodied jaw in his clawed hand and wrenched his head up, forcing him to look into his daughter's eyes. "My offer still stands, King of Gondor. You must surrender to Mordor's forces-"
"My answer still stands!" came the furious reply. "I will never give in to Mordor!"
The child struggled to speak against the filthy cloth stuffed in her mouth. Sauron dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Aragorn's neck, warm blood running from the wound. Sauron set the child down and his orcs dragged her into the next room. "I am sure your child will enjoy her stay with me," he said mockingly.
Sauron slammed his fist into Aragorn's cheek, sending the Ranger to the cold stone floor. Pain laced through his body and he lay still, almost unable to breathe. Sauron knelt beside him, drawing a dagger with curves of sharp metal in an arc, bending towards the hilt. The Ranger stared at the dagger, and his eyes grew wide with terror as he realized what the Dark Lord was going to do to him. The spikes would rip whatever flesh it touched as it was yanked out of the wound.
"Your eyes betray you," Sauron said. He drove the blade deep into the Ranger's shoulder until only the hilt protruded from his skin. Aragorn bit back a scream. Sauron smiled evilly and ripped the weapon out, the arcs ripping the king's flesh out with it. Immediately, the scream Aragorn had been suppressing burst from him, echoing loudly in the tower, yet no one could help him…
"Aragorn," someone said.
Aragorn did not respond, lost in his misery.
"Aragorn Elessar!" came the voice, harsher. A hand came down and slapped him across his sore face.
"Ow!" he screamed, sitting up in his bed. He glared at Arwen and Legolas. "What was that for?"
"You have had enough of wallowing in self-despair," Arwen said hotly, then softened.
"Ow," he said again, willing them not to hear the quiver in his voice, his weakness. Every breath he took was agonizing. "Ow," was all he could say. His eyes stung and a hot tear slipped down his cheek. The pain was causing spots to dance in front of his eyes. His distress made him sob again, his broken ribs sending sharp pains with every heaving breath.
His daughter. He had left her. He had left his daughter with, with the Dark Lord himself.
"Aragorn," Arwen slid down beside her husband. "Are you alright?"
Aragorn nodded, his sobs quieting to a hiccup.
"Where is Trinity?" she asked tenderly, brushing sweat-slicked black hair from his forehead. "Where is our daughter?"
"I- I had to leave her," he said. "He had her." Aragorn dropped his head onto his bloody, ripped chest. "Alas, she is gone. Sauron will have killed her by now."
Arwen bit back a scream of rage and the desire to throttle Aragorn. "You- you left her?" She raised a fist to strike him across his swollen face when Legolas grabbed her wrist.
"Do not blame him," Legolas said. "It was not his fault. He was in pain- you know he was dying. She is gone. Let yourself remember her in your memories."
"Should we rescue her?"
"Lady," Legolas said, with a small snort of indignation. "Sauron's stronghold in impenetrable. Sauron himself is almost invincible. Going to rescue your child- of whom we do not know is still living- would be folly. Enough of this. Your husband needs care, now that he has woken up. Get me my herbs from Arod's saddlebags."
Arwen rushed out of the room. Aragorn sat up straight, his eyes unfocused and full of despair. Legolas knew he would not be able to live down the incident for a long time.
A/N: Okay, the prologue's up! Didn't make much sense, did it? Wasn't supposed to. Poor Aragorn! Don't get me wrong, I luv Aragorn, I don't want to cause him *too* much pain. *grins evilly while trying to prop the tree back up* Chapter One deals with events and stuff that happened many years later...