Chapter 5
Pain in the darkness
The air felt still against the skin of the Rangers as the rode towards the Paths that men would never talk about. Some of the horses began to wine and rear as loomed ahead stood the Dark Door in the Paths. A sense of dread fell over the company as they passed the ancient stones the horses refused the way pulling on the rein to escape as each rider lead his horse. Gilmi felt chilled to the bone for fear and dread seeped form the ground around for each mans heart quailed under the terror of the ghosts of men.
Gandalf once grey now white had left them promising he would return. Upon Shadowfax he had taken Pippin with him. Now Merry rode with the men from Rohan Sam too under the protection of Thèoden, Éomer and Eówyen behind them somewhere behind them in Gondor. The company remounted, and it was only their love for horses that allowed the steeds to carry them and be allowed to pass through the Paths. Gilmi sat behind clinging to the cloak of Aragorn upon Roheryn. Despite his travels on horseback towards Helms Deep and chasing after Merry and Pippin the dwarf was far from comfortable in the saddle. The company stopped, for ahead stood the Dark Door and behind that the Paths of the Dead.
"None who but wishes to go forth should join me" Aragorn turned to the company once again making it clear to them they did not have to go, for this now was the path of the future king.
"We will follow you to the end, my friend" Halbarad said bringing his horse alongside Aragorn, behind him he could see the glint of blond hair of Elladan and Elrohir the sons of Elrond they showed no fear for the ghosts of men had no quarry with them. He smiled at the Rangers alongside him for they were indeed brave he turned his horse into the mists that hung over the Door. Amongst his thoughts of the road ahead Aragorn could remember wishing he rode upon an elven horse for they would not turn back and panic in the mists for the elves were great horsemen. This did not stop him from entering into the dark tomb of the ghost of men and in the darkness that did not retreat from the flaming torches he found himself thinking of Legolas deep in Mordor Slightly he prayed to the Valar that he was unharmed and they would meet again in the mortal life. He couldn't be more wrong.
Like licking tongues of fire his wounds bleed. So far his unconscious body had felt the sting of whips, knives, teeth, steel capped boots and claws. Let he did not wake much to the dismay of his captors. Let in the darkness of his mind he could feel his sense rouse into life. The pain began to grow in intensity and wake him into a world of torture and pain one of which his kin were unused to.
Aragorn lead his horse through the darkness, Gilmi still sat its back holding onto the saddle as if his life had dependant on it. The other men behind traveled in a tight knot Elladan behind them boring a flaming torch. Upon the horses back Gilmi could see the change on Aragorn's face over the last twenty minuets it had changed form his normal stern face into something struggling with an inner tumor. He glanced behind him to Halbarad sensing the ranger felt uncomfortable in the underground trail. Turning back to Aragorn Gilmi blinked hard for the pain stricken face had gone. And had been replaced with the stern face he had seen since he had met the Ranger.
He could not feel his toes or finger tips. They were numb and cold, it hurt to breathe in and the sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of the attack with the Nazgúl he had earlier. Slowly his senses sharpened, the smell of orc overwhelmed him it was only when he heard the giggles and mutterings in Black speech did he feel a sense of lost hope. For was now in another's lair. From the darkness of Shelob to the pain and torture of the orcs. He tried to shut out the pain and laughter from his captors, but his instincts refused, for he was a mission - to destroy the Ring. He was close now he just couldn't give in after all he had gone through. He reused to believe that Gandalf had given up his life for nothing if he were to fail. If - he would not allow it.
A strong kick in his mid section bought his eyes sharply into focus. There are were so many surrounding him each bore a horrid grin and barred sharp yellow teeth threateningly over his pale skin. Another struck his unprotected back. His back arched in pain but nothing escaped his lips for he would not allow the orcs such pleasure in seeing and hearing him cry for elves were stubborn and pride creatures. The onslaught of attacks continued though most of them he did not notice for his sense were begging to fall into shadows once again.
"Aragorn!"
The Ranger snapped up his head. He had not been watching where he had been going. He felt something coarse against his face, his world strangely lopsided and a strain on his right arm. He blinked hard before realizing what had happened. Something had distracted him but his horse however refused to follow he stood anchored to the ground his reins pulling tightly against the bit in his mouth, Gilmi sat upon his back clearly concerned for his friends sanity for he had just strayed from the track following the glitter of something in the shadows and had swiftly fallen to the ground as of struck. The Ranger was clearly discrete. Halbarad walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What is it, what did you see my friend?" Attempting to pull himself feel of his confusion Aragorn tried to answer, but found no words. He felt as if he had just left down his country.
"I am sorry" he muttered trying to clear his mind of what he had really seen. Halbarad frowned.
"You have nothing to be sorry of" he turned to the company, "lets us move onwards" he glanced at Aragorn still disconnected from reality and took the lead ahead of the him, his dwarf friend still sitting upon his horses back now slightly shaken and he had a right too.
Sadly Legolas did find his sense slipping away into unconscious again they stayed awake though dimmed. The orcs around him poked and punched at him, new and old wounds merging together into one large unbearable ball of pain that did not ease. He felt something claw at his fingers on his right hand. Opening his eyes into slits he saw a partially ugly orc run his claws down the length on his elven fingers as if trying to recall his fingers his ancestors had once. For orcs were once elves before Sauron tortured and turned them. A great bitterness and anger swept over the orc suddenly and before Legolas could react he had taken the elf' fingers into his mouth and began to chew.
His screams subsided into broken sobs as the orcs laughed and increased the violence of their attack. For they were going to pick him apart before he died, that Legolas was sure of. Behind the band leaning against a wall the largest and the leading orc watched his fighters play, they knew the rules, they could play but he would have the kill.
A dim light appeared through the darkness, some of the men let out a small cheer. Aragorn felt a change take over his horse underneath him, the beast felt relieved that they were now out of the mists.
"Thank god" Gilmi muttered behind him.
"There is worse to come my friend" Aragorn stated patting his horse on the neck his eyes fixed on the mountain ahead.
"I don't fear orcs"
Aragorn smiled.
"There is more then just orcs in Mordor, my friend" he heard himself, the same words Boromir had spoken in the council of Elrond after it had been reviled that the journey was too destroy the Ring in Mordor. "Rest in peace my friend for the White city still stands" Aragorn whispered into the wind.
"We should rest"
The following morning bought now sunlight to the company just the shadows of Mordor loomed over head. However a light did seem to pierce the darkness in a form of a horse - Shadowfax! Gandalf had returned.
In the darkness of the tower of Barad- dûr the onslaught had not stopped. Some of the wounds had escaped the beatings had crusted over in an attempt to heal, most however remained bleeding freely.
From his crumpled and weakened position on the stone floor Legolas saw a smaller massager orc entered the room and spoke with the larger leader orc who remained watching the beatings from a far. Quickly the messenger left, Legolas watched the huge leader orc pick himself off the floor and stand over the others crying out in Black speech. Legolas cringed. The band of orcs froze some their fists raised high to attack. They feel silent under the leader's commands and did as he wished. They parted allowing him through; in a clawed hand Legolas saw one of his elven knives shine as it approached his face, a look of greed and immense happiness visible in the eyes of the orc in front. The other orcs stood nearby holding their breath, waiting for their leader to attack his prize.
The leader orc was much larger and uglier then any another other Legolas had fought over his many battles with them. But now he was too tried to fight, even if he had the strength to move he would not be able to over power his captors and escape. Drawing near Legolas cursed his elven eyes for he could see more then the orcish features but see into his mind and he could have sworn he saw the helpless face of an elf staring back at him.
His own knife flashed dangerously close to his face, thoughts rattled through his mind. What would he attack? His eyes? His face? His throat? Would it all be over just like that? The knife was in line with his elven eyes when the orc suddenly looked down at his bloody fingers. A clawed finger poked at a piece of dry blood allowing fresh blood to flow again. Pulling the red tipped claw away the orc brought it up to Legolas' face and slowly drew it across his face, marking it with his own bright red blood. Sniggering the other orcs watched, waiting.
Dipping his finger for more the leader orcs raised the red claw to his own mouth and began to lick the elven blood from the black claw. Legolas felt his inside turn with disgust. An image of Estel passed across his mind briefly.
How ironic - hope.
The knife flashed for the third time, only this time making its mark cutting off Legolas' left ear lobe. Warm blood splashed onto his check, the orcs round him hissed. The sound rose into a frenzy the leader orc smirked his evil face looming over head beat lower to taste the rich blood flowing from the elf' ear.
Legolas heard himself cry out to the heaven begging for all this to end, praying he would return into shadows of unconsciousness only this time he knew the pain would follow him into the darkness.
Again Aragorn flashed across his mind despite the constant hissing and the sensation of more then just his blood being sucked away he cried bitter tears. His heart ached for the hope he needed, without it he would fail and Middle- Earth would fall.
"Estel"
Gilmi felt a change in his friends body, it suddenly shook and felt lose under his hands. He began to fear he would fall form his cantering horse.
"Aragorn?" he asked tighten his grip on his friend cloak. Aragorn's weight shifted unstably with the movement of the horse he began to slip from the saddle and Gilmi was helpless to stop him.
"Aragorn!" he shouted as the man slipped onto the ground. Gandalf and Halbarad had heard him shout. Shadowfax turned the fasted and began to back tread his hoof prints. Halbarad stretched out and caught Gilmi on his runaway horse before turning to Gandalf who cradled the pale Ranger in his arms. The Northern Ranger looked down to his companion his forehead was damp with sweat his eyes firmly closed.
"We should not go on" he said to Gandalf.
"No, we must continue. We can not afford to stall"
"But Gandalf he is unwell!"
"I am aware master dwarf"
Gandalf had gathered the Ranger and raised him onto the back of Shadowfax, the grey horse winded but allowed his master to place the man upon him.
Carefully Gandalf mounted behind the unconscious Ranger and commanded the company onwards.
"We must travel faster, the hour is late" Shadowfax neighed and reared ready to go.
Under the steady beat of hooves Aragorn stirred, muttering into the wind.
"Legolas"
"Shh," The wizard gentle rubbed the mans shoulder "I know I feel it too. His light is failing."
The leader orc stood straight blood running from his stained lips. The band cheered and hissed in triumph, but fell silent upon the wailing of a horn in the distant. They gathered themselves quickly each picking up a sword and shield and headed towards the door the elf forgotten. The war was about to begin.
Once the last orc had fled through the door the leader orc looked down to his captive elf bleeding slowly to death the thought of tasting much men flesh was appealing the taste of elf was now stale and old.
"Men approach. We go to war" he spoke in a rough common tongue, returning his grip on the elven blade. "You not see them, you die here. Slowly" he played the blade over the bloody fingers of Legolas' right hand, the flat side flashing in torch light. Slowly as he had promised the orc drew the point across the elf's right wrist cutting the vein and like wise to his left wrist. An evil grin passed across his lips as stood watching the red blood seep from the many wounds onto the stone floor.
Crossing the room to the door the orc let the elven blade drop to the floor hissing words of evil: "Men die, elf too". Then he was gone. Realisation quickly dawned on Legolas even if he could make it out of the tower towards the mountain he would bleed to death anyway. either here or trying.
A face flickered across his minds eye, a face he had not envisioned for some time - his father. What would he say if he could see him now? He would be disappointed to know his son just laid there and let himself die. No he wouldn't allow it. He would fight this as long as he could for elves are stubborn creatures. "Stubborn elf" he could remember Gilmi saying. For days a smile broke upon his face. He would not allow death to claim him until he was ready. And now was not that time.
Charging towards the Black gates Gandalf spoke into the winds; "Fight Legolas, please"
The air felt still against the skin of the Rangers as the rode towards the Paths that men would never talk about. Some of the horses began to wine and rear as loomed ahead stood the Dark Door in the Paths. A sense of dread fell over the company as they passed the ancient stones the horses refused the way pulling on the rein to escape as each rider lead his horse. Gilmi felt chilled to the bone for fear and dread seeped form the ground around for each mans heart quailed under the terror of the ghosts of men.
Gandalf once grey now white had left them promising he would return. Upon Shadowfax he had taken Pippin with him. Now Merry rode with the men from Rohan Sam too under the protection of Thèoden, Éomer and Eówyen behind them somewhere behind them in Gondor. The company remounted, and it was only their love for horses that allowed the steeds to carry them and be allowed to pass through the Paths. Gilmi sat behind clinging to the cloak of Aragorn upon Roheryn. Despite his travels on horseback towards Helms Deep and chasing after Merry and Pippin the dwarf was far from comfortable in the saddle. The company stopped, for ahead stood the Dark Door and behind that the Paths of the Dead.
"None who but wishes to go forth should join me" Aragorn turned to the company once again making it clear to them they did not have to go, for this now was the path of the future king.
"We will follow you to the end, my friend" Halbarad said bringing his horse alongside Aragorn, behind him he could see the glint of blond hair of Elladan and Elrohir the sons of Elrond they showed no fear for the ghosts of men had no quarry with them. He smiled at the Rangers alongside him for they were indeed brave he turned his horse into the mists that hung over the Door. Amongst his thoughts of the road ahead Aragorn could remember wishing he rode upon an elven horse for they would not turn back and panic in the mists for the elves were great horsemen. This did not stop him from entering into the dark tomb of the ghost of men and in the darkness that did not retreat from the flaming torches he found himself thinking of Legolas deep in Mordor Slightly he prayed to the Valar that he was unharmed and they would meet again in the mortal life. He couldn't be more wrong.
Like licking tongues of fire his wounds bleed. So far his unconscious body had felt the sting of whips, knives, teeth, steel capped boots and claws. Let he did not wake much to the dismay of his captors. Let in the darkness of his mind he could feel his sense rouse into life. The pain began to grow in intensity and wake him into a world of torture and pain one of which his kin were unused to.
Aragorn lead his horse through the darkness, Gilmi still sat its back holding onto the saddle as if his life had dependant on it. The other men behind traveled in a tight knot Elladan behind them boring a flaming torch. Upon the horses back Gilmi could see the change on Aragorn's face over the last twenty minuets it had changed form his normal stern face into something struggling with an inner tumor. He glanced behind him to Halbarad sensing the ranger felt uncomfortable in the underground trail. Turning back to Aragorn Gilmi blinked hard for the pain stricken face had gone. And had been replaced with the stern face he had seen since he had met the Ranger.
He could not feel his toes or finger tips. They were numb and cold, it hurt to breathe in and the sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of the attack with the Nazgúl he had earlier. Slowly his senses sharpened, the smell of orc overwhelmed him it was only when he heard the giggles and mutterings in Black speech did he feel a sense of lost hope. For was now in another's lair. From the darkness of Shelob to the pain and torture of the orcs. He tried to shut out the pain and laughter from his captors, but his instincts refused, for he was a mission - to destroy the Ring. He was close now he just couldn't give in after all he had gone through. He reused to believe that Gandalf had given up his life for nothing if he were to fail. If - he would not allow it.
A strong kick in his mid section bought his eyes sharply into focus. There are were so many surrounding him each bore a horrid grin and barred sharp yellow teeth threateningly over his pale skin. Another struck his unprotected back. His back arched in pain but nothing escaped his lips for he would not allow the orcs such pleasure in seeing and hearing him cry for elves were stubborn and pride creatures. The onslaught of attacks continued though most of them he did not notice for his sense were begging to fall into shadows once again.
"Aragorn!"
The Ranger snapped up his head. He had not been watching where he had been going. He felt something coarse against his face, his world strangely lopsided and a strain on his right arm. He blinked hard before realizing what had happened. Something had distracted him but his horse however refused to follow he stood anchored to the ground his reins pulling tightly against the bit in his mouth, Gilmi sat upon his back clearly concerned for his friends sanity for he had just strayed from the track following the glitter of something in the shadows and had swiftly fallen to the ground as of struck. The Ranger was clearly discrete. Halbarad walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What is it, what did you see my friend?" Attempting to pull himself feel of his confusion Aragorn tried to answer, but found no words. He felt as if he had just left down his country.
"I am sorry" he muttered trying to clear his mind of what he had really seen. Halbarad frowned.
"You have nothing to be sorry of" he turned to the company, "lets us move onwards" he glanced at Aragorn still disconnected from reality and took the lead ahead of the him, his dwarf friend still sitting upon his horses back now slightly shaken and he had a right too.
Sadly Legolas did find his sense slipping away into unconscious again they stayed awake though dimmed. The orcs around him poked and punched at him, new and old wounds merging together into one large unbearable ball of pain that did not ease. He felt something claw at his fingers on his right hand. Opening his eyes into slits he saw a partially ugly orc run his claws down the length on his elven fingers as if trying to recall his fingers his ancestors had once. For orcs were once elves before Sauron tortured and turned them. A great bitterness and anger swept over the orc suddenly and before Legolas could react he had taken the elf' fingers into his mouth and began to chew.
His screams subsided into broken sobs as the orcs laughed and increased the violence of their attack. For they were going to pick him apart before he died, that Legolas was sure of. Behind the band leaning against a wall the largest and the leading orc watched his fighters play, they knew the rules, they could play but he would have the kill.
A dim light appeared through the darkness, some of the men let out a small cheer. Aragorn felt a change take over his horse underneath him, the beast felt relieved that they were now out of the mists.
"Thank god" Gilmi muttered behind him.
"There is worse to come my friend" Aragorn stated patting his horse on the neck his eyes fixed on the mountain ahead.
"I don't fear orcs"
Aragorn smiled.
"There is more then just orcs in Mordor, my friend" he heard himself, the same words Boromir had spoken in the council of Elrond after it had been reviled that the journey was too destroy the Ring in Mordor. "Rest in peace my friend for the White city still stands" Aragorn whispered into the wind.
"We should rest"
The following morning bought now sunlight to the company just the shadows of Mordor loomed over head. However a light did seem to pierce the darkness in a form of a horse - Shadowfax! Gandalf had returned.
In the darkness of the tower of Barad- dûr the onslaught had not stopped. Some of the wounds had escaped the beatings had crusted over in an attempt to heal, most however remained bleeding freely.
From his crumpled and weakened position on the stone floor Legolas saw a smaller massager orc entered the room and spoke with the larger leader orc who remained watching the beatings from a far. Quickly the messenger left, Legolas watched the huge leader orc pick himself off the floor and stand over the others crying out in Black speech. Legolas cringed. The band of orcs froze some their fists raised high to attack. They feel silent under the leader's commands and did as he wished. They parted allowing him through; in a clawed hand Legolas saw one of his elven knives shine as it approached his face, a look of greed and immense happiness visible in the eyes of the orc in front. The other orcs stood nearby holding their breath, waiting for their leader to attack his prize.
The leader orc was much larger and uglier then any another other Legolas had fought over his many battles with them. But now he was too tried to fight, even if he had the strength to move he would not be able to over power his captors and escape. Drawing near Legolas cursed his elven eyes for he could see more then the orcish features but see into his mind and he could have sworn he saw the helpless face of an elf staring back at him.
His own knife flashed dangerously close to his face, thoughts rattled through his mind. What would he attack? His eyes? His face? His throat? Would it all be over just like that? The knife was in line with his elven eyes when the orc suddenly looked down at his bloody fingers. A clawed finger poked at a piece of dry blood allowing fresh blood to flow again. Pulling the red tipped claw away the orc brought it up to Legolas' face and slowly drew it across his face, marking it with his own bright red blood. Sniggering the other orcs watched, waiting.
Dipping his finger for more the leader orcs raised the red claw to his own mouth and began to lick the elven blood from the black claw. Legolas felt his inside turn with disgust. An image of Estel passed across his mind briefly.
How ironic - hope.
The knife flashed for the third time, only this time making its mark cutting off Legolas' left ear lobe. Warm blood splashed onto his check, the orcs round him hissed. The sound rose into a frenzy the leader orc smirked his evil face looming over head beat lower to taste the rich blood flowing from the elf' ear.
Legolas heard himself cry out to the heaven begging for all this to end, praying he would return into shadows of unconsciousness only this time he knew the pain would follow him into the darkness.
Again Aragorn flashed across his mind despite the constant hissing and the sensation of more then just his blood being sucked away he cried bitter tears. His heart ached for the hope he needed, without it he would fail and Middle- Earth would fall.
"Estel"
Gilmi felt a change in his friends body, it suddenly shook and felt lose under his hands. He began to fear he would fall form his cantering horse.
"Aragorn?" he asked tighten his grip on his friend cloak. Aragorn's weight shifted unstably with the movement of the horse he began to slip from the saddle and Gilmi was helpless to stop him.
"Aragorn!" he shouted as the man slipped onto the ground. Gandalf and Halbarad had heard him shout. Shadowfax turned the fasted and began to back tread his hoof prints. Halbarad stretched out and caught Gilmi on his runaway horse before turning to Gandalf who cradled the pale Ranger in his arms. The Northern Ranger looked down to his companion his forehead was damp with sweat his eyes firmly closed.
"We should not go on" he said to Gandalf.
"No, we must continue. We can not afford to stall"
"But Gandalf he is unwell!"
"I am aware master dwarf"
Gandalf had gathered the Ranger and raised him onto the back of Shadowfax, the grey horse winded but allowed his master to place the man upon him.
Carefully Gandalf mounted behind the unconscious Ranger and commanded the company onwards.
"We must travel faster, the hour is late" Shadowfax neighed and reared ready to go.
Under the steady beat of hooves Aragorn stirred, muttering into the wind.
"Legolas"
"Shh," The wizard gentle rubbed the mans shoulder "I know I feel it too. His light is failing."
The leader orc stood straight blood running from his stained lips. The band cheered and hissed in triumph, but fell silent upon the wailing of a horn in the distant. They gathered themselves quickly each picking up a sword and shield and headed towards the door the elf forgotten. The war was about to begin.
Once the last orc had fled through the door the leader orc looked down to his captive elf bleeding slowly to death the thought of tasting much men flesh was appealing the taste of elf was now stale and old.
"Men approach. We go to war" he spoke in a rough common tongue, returning his grip on the elven blade. "You not see them, you die here. Slowly" he played the blade over the bloody fingers of Legolas' right hand, the flat side flashing in torch light. Slowly as he had promised the orc drew the point across the elf's right wrist cutting the vein and like wise to his left wrist. An evil grin passed across his lips as stood watching the red blood seep from the many wounds onto the stone floor.
Crossing the room to the door the orc let the elven blade drop to the floor hissing words of evil: "Men die, elf too". Then he was gone. Realisation quickly dawned on Legolas even if he could make it out of the tower towards the mountain he would bleed to death anyway. either here or trying.
A face flickered across his minds eye, a face he had not envisioned for some time - his father. What would he say if he could see him now? He would be disappointed to know his son just laid there and let himself die. No he wouldn't allow it. He would fight this as long as he could for elves are stubborn creatures. "Stubborn elf" he could remember Gilmi saying. For days a smile broke upon his face. He would not allow death to claim him until he was ready. And now was not that time.
Charging towards the Black gates Gandalf spoke into the winds; "Fight Legolas, please"