SHADOW IN THE TREES
By : mirkwood-elf-2931 & Thala
CHAPTER 10
They journeyed quickly from the forest of Mirkwood, stumbling and falling
in their haste to their destination.
Thalawen being strapped to the back of one of the beasts, was in for a bone
jarring ride. She made the mistake of falling asleep once while the Uruk-hai
were running and banged her forehead on the back of his thick skull. He felt
nothing, but she did.
"Why are we running? Why can't we just walk? You know, you wouldn't be so tired
if you'd all just take your time. You would even have time to bathe, though I
doubt your stench bothers you much, being as you've most likely had it your
whole life."
On and on Thalawen prattled, knowing she was being a nuisance, but they stole
her, therefore, they had to put up with her. And she endlessly wished to the
Valar she had some of Arwen's perfume. The smell was enough to gag her.
They rarely stopped to rest, never staying in one place too long. The group
hadn't slept for the past three days. But when a stop was made, it was short
and only to torture Thalawen. The whippings weren't as frequent. Lately, they'd
become rather fond of forming a line and making her walk the length of it,
beating her as she passed. If she made it to the end, they would stop, but if
she didn't the beating would become more severe. She had never been able to
make it to the end.
"Where are we going?" Her question went unanswered, but she could hear the Orc
beneath her growl under his breath. She gave a lazy sigh of boredom. "Are we
there yet?" She'd finally gone too far.
"Shut up! Just shut up you annoying little girl! I am tired of your voice! Your
talk is endless and about nothing. Now be quiet!" Said the beast in a rage.
Thalawen gave a spurned sniff of her nose, but sorely wished she hadn't. She
was quiet for a time. But it didn't last long. "I am not a little girl," She
said in a sulky voice. "I'm older than you are. You're just a little boy
compared to me." If she'd been facing him, she would have stuck her tongue out
at him.
He gave a roar of rage.
She said no more, but smiled to herself for her brilliant work. But her smile
soon faded, for looming before them was the tower of Isengard.
They would reach Orthanc soon, but for what reason?
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Landailyn recognized the angelic face immediately. Lady Galadriel stood alone
in the middle of a wide shining stairway, watching them as Haldir led the two
she-Elves to the top of the winding steps that circled one of the large
legendary trees.
"Grandmother," Arwen greeted happily, stepping up, the lady pulling her into a
hug.
"Arwen, so you have stopped here to rest." Of course she knew that something
was wrong. They were out there on their own for a reason, but what it was she
could not truly see. Just that pain and sadness were in the eyes and hearts of
these two and knew they would most likely tell her everything soon. "And I see
you have brought a friend."
"My lady," Landailyn bowed her head.
"Landailyn," She needed no introduction. She had met this girl once, many years
before.
Soon after, another joined the group.
"Grandfather!" Arwen went to also grace him with a hug.
"Arwen!" He exclaimed. "And...Landailyn?!" He was even more surprised at her
presence.
She smiled and bowed again. "Lord Celeborn,"
He looked at his lady questioningly, but it seemed this time she had no answer
for him. "What predicament has brought the both of you to pass through here?"
Her deep ageless voice floated in the chilled afternoon air.
Arwen looked down, obviously heavyhearted by what her answer would have to be.
"It is Thalawen. She has been captured by Orcs, we are on our way to Isengard
to rescue her, we believe that is where she is being taken."
"Isengard?" Asked Celeborn. "Saruman, he..."
"He has turned against us, Grandfather." Arwen explained quickly. "Gandalf told
my father this, before the Council, before the Fellowship set out. He sent an
army to attack Mirkwood over a week ago and it was then that they took Thala."
The lord and lady of Lothlorien looked much saddened by the news as well.
Though they had never met Thalawen, they knew Arwen loved her much and that
Elrond had adopted her as his own.
The two she-Elves went on to explain the strange new Orcs to them. And when
finished, Celeborn and Galadriel were actually puzzled by the information. They
had never heard of or seen such creatures.
"Well," Began Celeborn, after much discussion and it had grown late. "I believe
you both should get your rest. You shall leave early I suspect?"
"Yes," Said Arwen. "We are trying to make as much haste as possible, for the
enemy is already too far ahead."
After retrieving needed items from their steeds, they were shown a place to bed
down and there the two dreamed peacefully.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
The shackles surrounding her wrists made her cling against the stone and mortar
wall. It was cold and damp. A steady drip, drip was in the distance of her
hearing, far away.
As Thalawen slowly regained consciousness she realized she was hanging, her
toes barely skimming the frigid and dirt covered floor. Her feet were bare, her
legs were bare. All that was covering her was a thin, tattered skirt of sopping
wet leather and a ragged damp chemise. The smell of the material was rotten and
rather like the animal it came from.
The pain in her shoulders was excruciating and almost too much to bear. It was
so cold. Gooseflesh popped up over her body.
She groaned as she tried to lift her heavy lids to take in the room where she
was being held captive. Her hair hung wet and sticky over her face and her eyes
were blurry, but as she saw a light they came slowly into focus.
Someone was coming near. Where was she?
The light was getting brighter and the footsteps along with it were echoing off
the narrow passage that she could see through the barred window of her cell
door. She blinked her eyes, or more as though her lids fell and wouldn't open
again. It felt as if she'd been sleeping instead of blinking.
When she was able to open them again a tall, willowy form had appeared in the
room. He held a long black staff with a white glass sphere atop it. "Ah, I see
you have finally awoken, my fair faced maiden. How extremely pleasant," said
the man before her.
He was now only a few inches from her face, narrowing his eyes in inspection of
her own. He raised his hand to her face and brushed the hair from it, then
pried her eyes open with thumb and forefinger.
Her pupils were dilated from exhaustion and her mouth hung slack. He slapped
her cheek sharply and saw the clouds move sluggishly from the dark green eyes
and focus. "Do you really not remember me, young Elf?" This was said with a
voice full of disappointment.
She took in the man before her. He was dressed in flowing white robes, the
cloth different textures and frayed from use where it was embroidered. His white
hair seemed to be illuminated and hung past his chest. His dark beady eyes were
cold and hard. But it was not his appearance that had her skin crawling. It was
his voice. That horrible voice from a dark dream long-past.
Shudders began to wrack her body in great clashing waves.
Almost at once the dungeon was gone and she was back in a forest where fear was
all that was in her mind and her heart pounded so hard it would burst in her
chest. Her breath wheezed in and out as she tried to suck in air in that
panic-stricken moment. She couldn't seem to fill her lungs.
"The voice," she said so quietly even she could barely tell what she'd said.
"You're the voice from my dream." This was said on a gasp, a vain attempt to
take in breath. The dream had been all too real, but to hear the actual voice
was practically unbearable. A sudden urge to escape made her close her eyes
tightly.
She wished with all her being that she were back in Rivendell with Arwen,
playing in the River Bruinen. But in that moment of absolute fear, she
remembered who and what she was. I am Thalawen Whitestar, daughter of
Thalthan, and warrior and adopted daughter of Lord Elrond. I am Thalawen…
This was repeated over and over in her brain. She once again knew who she
was. Steadying her breath she calmly opened her eyes. The shudders had
disappeared with the fear and she was Thalawen again.
"You're weak no more," stated the white one. As he said this the door to the
cell creaked open and in shuffled three Orcs. One looking just as nasty as the
others. "This will take some time, my dear Thalawen. But no longer than it has
to." He turned around and walked toward the door. When he reached it he turned
to face her. A smile played on the thin line of his lips. "Let the torture
begin." With that he was gone.
With defiance in her eyes, Thalawen spit at the Orcs. "Filthy creatures!
Slither back into the darkness where you belong!" She called them as many dirty
names as she knew while they stood there, grinning and knowing what was to
come.
"You're going to wish you'd never said that to us, pretty she-Elf," one of them
said as he stepped closer. He was within reach of her. She kicked out her legs
and caught him round the neck. Tightening her thighs and twisting her body to
the right, she broke his neck with a loud popping and crunching of bone.
Letting go, he slumped to the floor. The other two stepped over his lifeless
body as if his death meant nothing to them. When she kicked out this time, her
legs were caught and pushed back against the wall, and chained. She was now
completely bound, unable to move.
Around the cell there were pieces and pipes of metal and steel. The torches on
the walls had been lit and the Orcs were now heating the pipes over the flames.
When they came back the rods were smoking and the ends had an orange tint to
them.
Now the struggle in her mind would begin and she would hold out against the
voice for as long as she could. She only hoped she'd die before she turned
against the ones she loved.
Thalawen's long body was stretched against the wall and her shoulders throbbed
with a dull ache from hanging for hours on end. Taking the metal pieces, the
Orcs began branding various and most painful places on her body. Her stomach
first, then her sides and legs. But no sound would escaper her firmly closed
lips.
Finally sticking it between the wall and her back, touching between her
shoulder blades and leaving it there while it scalded the skin and made it
bubble from the heat. It was then that her screams filled the cell. It was then
her mind left her body, left to a dark place where nothing could hurt her, but
it only lasted for a short time, for the torture slowly, but steadily, got much
worse.
Outside the prisoner's cell, walking back and forth in front of the door, was Golnakh.
The Orc had been standing there while the Elf inside was being tortured.
Throughout the whole time he'd only heard her scream on the very first day.
After that it seemed her voice had left her and all that would come out of her
open mouth were pitiful whimpers.
It had been two days since they last hurt her. He peaked through the barred
window and looked at how she'd changed and what she was becoming in the dark
depths of the dungeon, where not even the light could reach her.
It would have been a horrible sight for anyone else, the way her once
beautiful, porcelain skin was transforming into decayed flesh where the wounds
from the torture would not heal. Her eyes, when she could open them, were
lamp-like, glowing neon green in the dark.
When she wasn't being beaten or passed out, he would hear her beautiful voice
echo off the dungeon walls. In the beginning it was a strong sound, full of
life determined to hang on to what it once was. Now it had deteriorated to
feeble and shaky, with many breaks in the song for her to gasp for breath.
Her turn from everything good would happen soon. He could see it on the
she-Elf's face, hear it in her pathetic song. He could only congratulate his
master on a job very well done indeed.
TBC …
