Libera Me
by JSDigne
Disclaimer: I own Lúcan, Drishnak, and Earína. Everyone else is copyright to J.R.R Tolkien.
Though I wish they were mine (for dodgy and obvious reasons) they are not.
This is my own version of all the torture stories. It differs in its own way, but the plot is clichèd. (Who says that's always bad?) I don't think it's the best thing I've ever written, or anything exceptional, but I enjoyed writing it.
** Indicating Flashbacks
Chapter One
Drishnak passed through the darkened hallway to make sure the prisoner wasn't dead. "Kazul!" He cursed, meeting resistance from the oaken door meant to seal 'It' away. The Orc yanked on the rusting handle, and it finally flew open.
Dim rays of lantern light fell upon the once fair face of the prisoner. He met this sudden change with a whimper of fear, for the room had been without the slightest sliver of light for days. Darkness meant peace for the prisoner. Whenever light came, she was with it.
But he had no need to fear -for now- ; it was only Drishnak, a lowly Orc lackey who served the one he feared most; depending on this servitude to put him in the favor of his mistress, and keep him alive. Drisknak stared at the broken being in the cell for a moment before turning to leave, satisfied that 'It' was indeed alive from the way the chest raggedly rose and fell. It had taken him a moment, because this and the strangled whimper were the only signs of life 'It' gave off. Drishnak was no doctor, but he knew enough from the battlefield to expect it not to be alive today. In his opinion, it shouldn't have been. But he met this surprise warmly, for the mistress would be greatly displeased with it's death. As Drishnak left, this was the only thing he felt. Nowhere down in the deep crypts of his black heart was pity or sympathy for the prisoner. Only joy, because it's life meant his.
A muffled moan escaped from the prisoner's throat. Just when Drishnak had burst in, he had finally managed to drift asleep, as had the pain that was a constant with him. His entire world knew only that pain, because it was with him at all times, night and day, time and tome again. He cherished it in a twisted way, loved it because it was all he had. She had stripped him of everything else, all the things in life he had taken for granted, his pride, his dignity, his will to live. All at the same time he despised it, because the pain came from her, and she was the reason he had nothing.
Nonetheless, as Drishnak had awoken him, all his aches and sores had erupted to the front of his mind and attention, encompassing his entire being. The prisoner felt like one raw nerve, his body a cavern of searing flame - all this pain and suffering! He moaned again and leaned on the bonds. She had shackled his wrists and chained them to the wall above him. The chains were too short and gave not enough leverage for him to slump on the ground, if he could even manage it. So he lay hanging there in misery, every little move he made heightening the sufferings he endured. This was torture. He couldn't sleep for the pain from his beatings, and being awake was no better.
The prisoner guessed he had been at peace -yes, he looked upon it as peace - for a week. He had treasured the time, because the days before had been worse than dying a thousand deaths.
&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%
**An Orc chieftain kicked him to his knees and yanked his head back by his hair. "Get on your knees in front of the Lady!" The Orc barked in a gruff voice, obviously having trouble speaking in another tongue than his own.
"Hello, my little prince." The woman stroked her captive's jaw line delicately, almost as if affectionate. "I'm so glad to have you!" Her tone quickly strayed toward malice, along with her hand. She slapped him sharply across the cheek.
He replied with a defiant glare, ignoring the stinging sensation on his face. He wouldn't have left it at that, had the gag in his mouth not prevented speech. Who was this woman, and why did she have him here? He couldn't see her face because it was hidden in shadows by a hood.
She scowled darkly, further maddened by his silent retort. "Such fierceness doesn't suit your pretty face, my darling. But don't you worry. I'll soon remove it. You'll pay, dear one, for what you did to my brother, and what you did to me!" The woman drew a dagger and slit a long gash across his cheek, drawing an angry red line of blood. Her hood was thrown back in the motion, revealing a delicate Elvish face, though drawn as if in pain.
A series of emotions and thoughts hit him all at once, stunning him. Earína. He had killed her brother out of self defense- Lúcan had come upon him one day while he was walking, infuriated, screaming about something…He had had no choice. It was either kill Lúcan or be killed. Now Lúcan's sister held him captive. He hissed from the pain the dagger had wrought on him and turned his face away. A sickening feeling arose in his throat, for suddenly, he felt extremely vunerable and terrified for his life.
She laughed with glee at the fear and regret in his eyes, relishing the way he was at her mercy. Now she could finally exact vengeance upon him. "Yes, that's right. Lúcan has come back to haunt you. Through me. You'll pay. Oh, how you'll pay, Legolas."**
by JSDigne
Disclaimer: I own Lúcan, Drishnak, and Earína. Everyone else is copyright to J.R.R Tolkien.
Though I wish they were mine (for dodgy and obvious reasons) they are not.
This is my own version of all the torture stories. It differs in its own way, but the plot is clichèd. (Who says that's always bad?) I don't think it's the best thing I've ever written, or anything exceptional, but I enjoyed writing it.
** Indicating Flashbacks
Chapter One
Drishnak passed through the darkened hallway to make sure the prisoner wasn't dead. "Kazul!" He cursed, meeting resistance from the oaken door meant to seal 'It' away. The Orc yanked on the rusting handle, and it finally flew open.
Dim rays of lantern light fell upon the once fair face of the prisoner. He met this sudden change with a whimper of fear, for the room had been without the slightest sliver of light for days. Darkness meant peace for the prisoner. Whenever light came, she was with it.
But he had no need to fear -for now- ; it was only Drishnak, a lowly Orc lackey who served the one he feared most; depending on this servitude to put him in the favor of his mistress, and keep him alive. Drisknak stared at the broken being in the cell for a moment before turning to leave, satisfied that 'It' was indeed alive from the way the chest raggedly rose and fell. It had taken him a moment, because this and the strangled whimper were the only signs of life 'It' gave off. Drishnak was no doctor, but he knew enough from the battlefield to expect it not to be alive today. In his opinion, it shouldn't have been. But he met this surprise warmly, for the mistress would be greatly displeased with it's death. As Drishnak left, this was the only thing he felt. Nowhere down in the deep crypts of his black heart was pity or sympathy for the prisoner. Only joy, because it's life meant his.
A muffled moan escaped from the prisoner's throat. Just when Drishnak had burst in, he had finally managed to drift asleep, as had the pain that was a constant with him. His entire world knew only that pain, because it was with him at all times, night and day, time and tome again. He cherished it in a twisted way, loved it because it was all he had. She had stripped him of everything else, all the things in life he had taken for granted, his pride, his dignity, his will to live. All at the same time he despised it, because the pain came from her, and she was the reason he had nothing.
Nonetheless, as Drishnak had awoken him, all his aches and sores had erupted to the front of his mind and attention, encompassing his entire being. The prisoner felt like one raw nerve, his body a cavern of searing flame - all this pain and suffering! He moaned again and leaned on the bonds. She had shackled his wrists and chained them to the wall above him. The chains were too short and gave not enough leverage for him to slump on the ground, if he could even manage it. So he lay hanging there in misery, every little move he made heightening the sufferings he endured. This was torture. He couldn't sleep for the pain from his beatings, and being awake was no better.
The prisoner guessed he had been at peace -yes, he looked upon it as peace - for a week. He had treasured the time, because the days before had been worse than dying a thousand deaths.
&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%&%
**An Orc chieftain kicked him to his knees and yanked his head back by his hair. "Get on your knees in front of the Lady!" The Orc barked in a gruff voice, obviously having trouble speaking in another tongue than his own.
"Hello, my little prince." The woman stroked her captive's jaw line delicately, almost as if affectionate. "I'm so glad to have you!" Her tone quickly strayed toward malice, along with her hand. She slapped him sharply across the cheek.
He replied with a defiant glare, ignoring the stinging sensation on his face. He wouldn't have left it at that, had the gag in his mouth not prevented speech. Who was this woman, and why did she have him here? He couldn't see her face because it was hidden in shadows by a hood.
She scowled darkly, further maddened by his silent retort. "Such fierceness doesn't suit your pretty face, my darling. But don't you worry. I'll soon remove it. You'll pay, dear one, for what you did to my brother, and what you did to me!" The woman drew a dagger and slit a long gash across his cheek, drawing an angry red line of blood. Her hood was thrown back in the motion, revealing a delicate Elvish face, though drawn as if in pain.
A series of emotions and thoughts hit him all at once, stunning him. Earína. He had killed her brother out of self defense- Lúcan had come upon him one day while he was walking, infuriated, screaming about something…He had had no choice. It was either kill Lúcan or be killed. Now Lúcan's sister held him captive. He hissed from the pain the dagger had wrought on him and turned his face away. A sickening feeling arose in his throat, for suddenly, he felt extremely vunerable and terrified for his life.
She laughed with glee at the fear and regret in his eyes, relishing the way he was at her mercy. Now she could finally exact vengeance upon him. "Yes, that's right. Lúcan has come back to haunt you. Through me. You'll pay. Oh, how you'll pay, Legolas."**