A/N: Thanks to all of you reading this and I'm glad that you are enjoying it. It's a little frustrating to write it because I have to rewrite this whole thing from scratch. What makes THAT frustrating is that I have a completed story, but it's written in a sort of script form, and I basically have to totally redo it. BUT...enough of my whining. You are hear to read a story, not to listen to my whining :-D. To address a comment concerning the spelling of the word 'Eldar', yes, I did mean to spell it that way. It's more of a title than explanation of age. If I'm not mistaken, Tolkien also used this spelling. Thanks for the question, it just lets me know you guys are actually reading and noticing little things. I love that. Steph, and Ana, it seems like you guys have been there since the beginning and you are so sweet...love y'all. Everyone else that has been so sweet to me, 'Thanks' to you as well. BTW, If there's anyone out there who is pretty good at translating English to Elvish, let me know if you'd be interested in being my "translator", there are some lines for this story that I would love to have written in Elvish (just because it sounds so cool :-D ). Email me or just put it up in the review page if you're interested. Thanks!
"You must be strong, my daughter".
Kalen raised her head, attempting to locate the origin of the mysterious voice. It had been so soft and soothing as it drifted into her ears, lulling her into a calm. She could see the figure of a woman in the background behind the Uruk, and wondered why the Orcs had taken no notice of her. Was she a hallucination, an apparition conjured up by an afflicted mind? Though one of her eyes had swollen shut, the other appeared to view the Elven woman perfectly. Perhaps, a little too perfectly. The long, dark brown tresses that cascaded down the shoulders clad in emerald, and the pale blue eyes held a familiarity in them that both frightened and bewildered Kalen.
"I am with you, dear one. It is not your fate that you should die here".
Die? Death, it seemed, was ever elusive, allowing Morgluk his time to taunt and torment his captive. Dropping her head, she sighed. She was alone, and the woman was merely illusion. The warm sensation running down the length of her forearms caused her to look up. She had been sitting on the ground, but only able by the rope that bound her hands and kept them raised above her head. A slight chuckle escaped as she watched the blood trailing down her arms. This was reality. This blood; her blood, was real, and the woman was nothing more than a fantastical illusion created by the damage Morgluk had inflicted to her head.
The powerful Uruk was releasing his bloodthirsty scream into her face, and her barely conscious state allowed her to seem unmoved by fear. Consciousness came and went, but always the woman was there, smiling sweetly and reassuringly as Calanagariel had so many times before; the way of a mother to a hurting child.
"Mother"?
The mumbled word fell from Kalen's lips, and the woman began to move towards her, gliding over the rocky ground. It was as if she floated on air, and her pale eyes sparkled in the darkness.
"Shh. You must listen, for I have only a short time. You will fight for life, my child, and you will win. I am with you always, and in time, all your questions will have answers".
Kalen closed her eyes as the woman placed a hand on her wounded cheek. The dragging and beating had left their permanent reminders on her face, and her clothing was tattered and torn. Her legs were throbbing and she glanced down to see her bloodied flesh through the torn leggings. It was a miracle that she had survived, and she knew that Morgluk had been pleased by this revelation. Kalen closed her eyes once more. Though the touch of this woman's hand gave her a sense of security, she knew that in the hands of Morgluk, she was still in the greatest of danger.
'Kiara'. The name flashed in her thoughts, appearing out of nowhere and trailing off into echoes. The phantom voice in her head belonged to this woman, this vision of her mother, and she knew it instinctively to be her name.
When the woman's presence could no longer be felt, Kalen opened her eyes. The beautiful maiden was no longer there, and only the raging Uruk remained. Morgluk grinned, showing his sharpened fangs.
"Let us see how well those swords cut Elf flesh".
The Uruk motioned to his guard for Kalen's swords. When they were placed in his hands, he turned to her, allowing them to fall to his sides. The shining silver swords appeared tiny in the giant fists of the Uruk, his dominance over her was symbolized in those swords and their inferiority in his hands. Morgluk bent down on one knee and leaned forward, snorting and sniffing at her as though he had picked up an unexpected scent. His hot, putrid breath warmed her neck and blew strands of her hair about.
"You are, as you see Morgluk, a monstrosity. You are not Elf, and you are not Man, but instead, both combined".
He was only inches from her, and she smiled faintly, throwing all of the contempt she could muster into his face. What gave him, this perversion of nature, the right to make such judgements of her as if she should feel dishonor for being what she was? Kalen felt the slight twinge of recognition in her chest. What made her any better than Morgluk? Had she not done the same thing to Gimli and to Legolas only days earlier?
She could feel the shame seeping into her heart and she silently damned the mortal blood that flowed in her veins. It had cursed her to feel every emotion that 'real' elves were blessedly less susceptible to and multiply its strength. Morgluk was right, she was a monstrosity, neither elf nor man.
"Your human side shows itself. If you like to play human games of bravery, let us see how you like this game, my brave hybrid".
Morgluk lifted her swords, raising them high into the air. His intent to sink them into her flesh becoming apparent in the angry growls that escaped through his clenched teeth.
Kalen closed her eyes, hoping that death would be swift and waiting for the sound of the swords as they fell. The sound that she had anticipated did not come, instead, a whizzing noise echoed in the darkness, followed by an angry scream. She opened her eyes to see Morgluk yelping in pain and gripping the arrow that had found its mark in his throat.
Morgluk dropped Kalen's swords and ripped the arrow from his neck. Thick brown blood oozed from his wound and he whirled around to identify his attackers. He saw the Elf and the Dwarf emerge from the shadows and roared as he watched them begin to battle the remaining Orcs.
Gimli was giving his mighty axe another bloody workout, swinging at any beast that got in his way. Legolas had been stringing his arrows so quickly and so efficiently that the unfortunate orcs began to look like pincushions. Though there were only a few, the Uruks were fierce fighters, proving themselves worthy opponents for both Legolas and Gimli.
When his last arrow had been spent, Legolas dropped his bow to the ground and began to wield his knives. His skill was fueled by a brave determination, and soon only Morgluk remained.
"What luck! Not only will I kill the half breed, I will kill an Elf and a Dwarf as well".
"I do not think so, fell beast. You will not live to see the morrow" Gimli growled.
"I will relish the taste of your flesh in my mouth, when I devour your corpses".
Morgluk snorted and lunged at Legolas, his knife aimed for the Elf's heart. Legolas jumped to the side, narrowly escaping the blade, and whirled around. The white handles of his knives were tightly gripped in his hands and he plunged them backwards, sinking the sharpened tips into the Uruk's back and then pulled them out. Morgluk howled and fell to his knees. With the coldness of an assassin, the Elf flipped the knives in his hand, bringing them forward and then brought them toward each other. Morgluk's neck in between them, they met with a furious clinking sound, and the Uruk's head fell in front of his decapitated body. At last, all of the Orcs were now dead.
The battle with the Uruks was over, but a new battle had begun. Kalen was severely wounded, and her needs for healing exceeded what Legolas and Gimli could provide. She would need skilled healers who could work quickly.
Legolas held her up as Gimli severed the rope that had bound her hands. Her body was limp in his arms and he held her near to him. She was barely clinging to consciousness, but had mustered enough strength to raise her head and look at him. She smiled and sighed with relief.
"First my mother, and now my friends. Legolas, are you but a mirage as well"?
Legolas smiled faintly and gave her a slight squeeze. She winced in pain at his embrace and his smile faded.
"I am here. Forgive me for not being there when it really mattered" he said and lowered his head as Gimli placed a sympathetic hand on the shoulder of his flaxen haired companion.
Kalen closed her eyes and began to lose consciousness, muttering a few words before falling into her deep slumber.
"But you were".
