Ch. 20: Prejudices
Notes from the author:
Thank all who have been faithful reviewers, I live off of your reviews. Seriously! I know that this story is kind of all over the place, and I openly admit that by this point, it probably should have been three separate stories, but oh well. I did not have the time or patience to separate them. Anyways, if there is anyone who has not checked out my web page, since about chapter fifteen, I finally got some sketches onto it, and there are more coming. I warn you though, I did not include any sketches of Haldir because none of them did him justice.
Cookies, again, to all who reviewed!!!
PS: I know that most of you out there don't like elf torture, but consider it a necessary evil. Pleeease don't get mad at me, I promise it is for a good cause. Eventually. *puppy dog eyes*
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Underground. Élharma hated underground. She felt as if the very walls were bearing down on her. As if the ceiling was pressing down on her shoulders, threatening to bury her in an early death.
The two elves and five men descended six flights of about ten stairs each. The stones were cold, with a chill that reached through her boot and into her very bones. She shivered. It was dark, and damp, and cold. She wished desperately for sunlight, for its cheer and warmth. But none was to be found in such an evil place.
Finally, they reached the lowermost landing, and the sight that stood before her was that of her worst nightmares. There were contraptions, evil contraptions, hanging from the walls, from the ceiling, set on the ground. It was a large, square room with a fire blazing in the very center. The stairs opened up to one corner, and from what Élharma could see, there was about three men hanging in shackles stretched upon the wall directly across the stairway. She flinched as the heavy metal door slammed with a clang behind them.
From behind the fire came a laugh. A harsh, crooked cackle, "So, I see that my queen has finally found her elves…" Out stepped a man, tall and broad was he, and upon his face was a sneer that rivaled that of queen Vidalan. He walked closer, menacing and scowling. His face was smoothly shaven, and his clothes were clean; a harsh contrast to the surroundings. Élharma quenched the innate urge to flinch, she looked him straight in the eye, boldly challenging.
"Interesting…" The man muttered, "You are here, out of sight from your precious stars, away from your homeland, isolated in my dungeon, yet you look as calm as the lake when the wind has been stilled." He grinned again, coming out of the contemplative state, "Of course, I will have the incredible honor," bowing mockingly, "to teach you otherwise."
He eyed Élharma with a smirk, "So, you are the elf-witch that I heard about."
"Stay away from her!" Lirahall yelled suddenly, straining against his bonds, "Touch her and you WILL die."
The man stepped back with mock fear, "Really? And risk breaking one of your perfectly manicured nails? I think not! Besides, I have something…. Fun…planned for you, so don't feel left out." He turned once again to Élharma, "Lets get started, shall we?"
She did not respond, only meeting his harsh gaze with her own.
"Impudence? In my court?" He suddenly yelled. Then, with a softer, more dangerously menacing voice, "I think our pretty little she elf here needs to learn a thing or two about impudence! Boys: Take him to the wall and make sure the shackles are nice and tight."
He grabbed the rope binding Élharma's hands and gave her a rough shove, "You are going to have your first lesson with fang."
She wondered what this 'fang' was, some kind of beast, perhaps? She could handle a beast, beasts die. She was a good fighter, one of the best, she could kill any beast.
Her spirits quickly dropped as she was lead to two post standing upright, about two and a half meters apart. They had shackles dangling down halfway from the top, and some kind of pulley system.
Great. A lashing post. Élharma thought with disgust.
Her hands were secured in the shackles and the chains drawn tight, in an up/outwards direction so that she was standing with her arms spread and her feet barely touching the floor. She felt something grab her tunic.
"What is this? Does she think that she can block fang's sting by clothing herself in thick fabrics?" He laughed and ripped the offending garment away, revealing her thin, silken undershirt.
Then, he did something most unexpected. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Consider yourself privileged: I will not bare you unclothed to the eyes of these men. I have two daughters of my own, in appearance the same age as you, and in their honor, I will not rob you of your dignity by laying naked your body."
The moment of pity was over, though, almost before it even began, as he stepped back and snarled, "This will teach you to be impudent with me! Thirty lashes for the elf bitch! Lets see if these high and mighty elves are as tough as they would like us all to think!"
There were cheers from the other guards. Élharma clenched her teeth. This was going to hurt, but she refused to allow this heathen the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
I am here, my daughter. I am with you.
Galadiriel?
Yes.
Please, help me.
We are coming. Do not give up your hope
I will try, my lady. I will try.
There was a pause before she heard the whistle of his great, braided whip sail through the air.
Galadiriel?
Yes?
Please hurry. Please.
From his vantage point upon the wall, Lirahall winced as the first of many bright red stripes laid bare the flesh of her back.
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Haldir had been sent to her bedchambers and left there, shackled spread- eagle in the center of her room. He thought it quite odd, for anyone to have shackles installed into their sleeping chamber, but this was a daughter of men, not to mention an insane one at that.
It was only an hour before the queen joined him in her room. Immediately upon entering, she scoffed, "You have information I want"
"I have nothing to say to you." He replied as kindly as he could, through gritted teeth
"Oh, but I think you most certainly do," Her voice mocking, "Tell me, HALDIR of LOTHLORIEN, does the lady Galadriel still reside in the golden wood?"
Haldir looked at her in shock, "This isn't about the prisoners from mordor, is it?"
She laughed, a cruel sound that was more of the cackle of a witch than a laugh, "Of course not, fool. These stupid men will believe anything I tell them."
For the first time, he noticed that she spoke with an accent. He decided, though, not to ask about it, and kept his silence.
She was standing close, almost touching him, now. Her eyes traveled his body hungrily, "I have always heard, through tale and lore, that elves are perfect, flawless. I think that I would like to discover the truth for myself…" She drew forth a dagger and with one swift motion rent his clothes, with the exception of his loincloths, from his body. She stepped back, examining her handiwork.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she otherwise showed no other emotion. Sheathing her dagger, she murmured, "The stories are true then. To be both perfect, and immortal, gifted with the choice to sail from this world at any time. It must be wonderful."
He regarded her darkly, "Yes…..?….."
Suddenly she frowned, coming from her reverie, "A heritage that should have been MINE!"
He understood now. He understood everything, "So, you are one of the survivors of the numenorians."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder casually, "And who else would I be?"
He did not answer that question, as it was obviously not intended to exude an answer.
Suddenly, Élharma's screams echoed through his head with such force that it almost rendered him unconscious. Sagging against his bonds, he thought desperately, 'What are they doing to her?'
There was a harsh, sadistic laugh from his captor, "Just what she deserves!"
Had he uttered his thoughts? Oh no.
The cruel, cunning scowl had returned to her features, "Oh yes. If you wont tell me where to find your precious *mocking* Lady Galadirel, she most certainly will! Especially under the thorough ministrations of my chief inquisitor. And once I find out the way into the golden wood, I will slay the elf witch and take Nenya from her dead fingers so that I, Vidalan will take her place with the Valar: a heritage that was rightfully mine in the first place!"
"Your treachery has stolen that right from you." He scoffed
"How dare you!" She screamed, "That is not yours to judge!"
"True," He replied calmly, "As it is not your place to judge those innocents that are locked in your dungeon."
He felt her hand hit his face with such force that it snapped his head back against his shoulder.
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All hope was not lost, though, for Cee, Korodan, and the rest of those that Haldir, Élharma and Lirahall had rescued were not content just to sit around…
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