Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or locations sigh. Mel is mine though.

~ Chapter 14 – Defenseless ~

Mel's POV

First there was light. Seconds later memory started creeping back but a stab of pain removed all further thought from my head. I remembered the orc's fist crashing into my face and that, combined with the blow from behind I had received earlier had rendered my head a tender throbbing mess. Blood still trickled from my nose and I could feel its wetness on my lips and in my mouth yet my tongue and throat were too numb to feel its taste.

The sky was dark and it wasn't the sky at all, it occurred to me when my eyes adjusted to seeing again and stopped watering. It was the ceiling of a cave, no doubt the temporary lair of the orcs. I had been too horrified by the interrogation to notice the surroundings before.

'Mel, are you all right?' Legolas' voice was coming from a distance. It was music to my ears and I would have laughed if I could muster up the courage.

I opened my mouth to speak but could not form words. Even trying to move my lips meant unbearable pain and the ferocity of it made me instantly forget what I was going to say. It was just the thanks to the heavens above that Legolas was still alive that lingered in my mind

'Do not try to speak' Legolas urged and I hung onto the sound of his voice for dear life. 'Take deep breaths and close your eyes. That should clear you head before long.'

From the hoarseness of his voice it was evident that all was not well with him too.

Heeding his advice, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as deeply as I could without causing another onslaught of pain. The quasi-darkness behind my burning eyelids was welcome and indeed the pain seemed to lessen minimally as did the dizziness and nausea. Waves of raging thirst welled up inside and I frantically licked my lips of the blood that had oozed from my nose just to feel the touch of some fluid inside my parched mouth. But my body could not be fooled. I was terribly cold and my whole body shuddered. Cold… so cold. Like the Ring. My heart beat next to it and unexpected relief flooded me. They had not taken It! Had they not seen it? Did they not covet it? How could they not? Didn't they know?…

Realization struck me. They didn't! They had no inkling that the One Ring of Power dangled innocently at my neck. Seconds later, my heart sank as my racing mind came to the only plausible conclusion: whoever was after the Ring was not yet here. It was probably hovering in the sky astride its monstrous bird only to return and claim what it's master coveted. The orcs were only foot soldiers, doing the dirty work. The thought of having to face one of the foul wraiths that had haunted my dreams sent uncontrollable shivers down my spine. But one thing was beyond doubt: sooner, rather than later, they were going to take the Ring. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Why did Gandalf have to give me the Ring? If he had kept it for just a few more days…He knew I could not protect it any more that I could protect myself. Yet it was my own stupidity and recklessness that had landed me in this situation and now there was no way to deal with it. I was entirely at the mercy of the Enemy with nothing to stop them from taking what they wanted. Dark thoughts whirled in my head while the rage I felt never subsided and tears of sorrow and shame streamed down my face.

Cry all you want, feel sorry for yourself because you're so weak. It's disgusting!

I was exposed and I knew it, weakness borne of vulnerability and fear.

You feel sorry for yourself because you think there is nothing you can do.

Of course I couldn't do anything – I couldn't fight, I was alone, Legolas was tied beside me with no hope of being released.

You lament because you are going to lose the Ring, yet you are not prepared to do anything about it.

I couldn't think of any possibilities.

There is always a way. Only you have to think further than your nose. Do not be afraid.

Afraid? I was terrified…Where were Aragorn and Gandalf when we needed them?

They've abandoned you. Who in their right mind do you think would walk in the middle of an orc company?

They will not forsake Legolas…or even me.

They don't know Legolas is alive. As for you, you mean nothing to them. You've seen that time and again. They are using you.

But they will want to save the Ring.

Forget about them, you have only yourself to rely on, as always. You have the biggest advantage of them all, yet you refuse to see it.

It was almost amusing, the thought of having an advantage…

You have the Ring, you fool!

I had the Ring, yes, but for how much longer?

For as long as you want It…..

But I don't want the Ring. It means nothing to me.

Of course you don't want it. But you want to save it from the clutches of the enemy, don't you?

Yes.

Then use IT to escape. Put it on and disappear!

Of course, that was it! If nobody could see me, then I could try to get hold of a knife or some other weapon, untie Legolas and myself and try to escape.

'Mel!' Legolas' voice shattered my concentration and for the briefest of moments I felt a dash of irritation. After all, I was doing this for both our sakes.

There was no time to do say or do anything else. A flurry of movement behind me and I became aware that orcs were marching towards us. Their stench reached my nostrils ahead of them. They held torches and the sight of their grisly faces made me wish they had left me blindfolded. My stomach heaved at the smell of decaying breath as one of them bent over me and pulled me up by my bonds. I saw a hundred flashes of light in front of my eyes and I came close to collapsing back, no doubt due to plummeting blood pressure. Two of them supported me, preventing my fall.

When the spell had passed, I noticed that they were hauling Legolas up as well. It was the first time I laid eyes on him since he had ridden away a week before.

Our eyes met for a split second over the heads of the much shorter orcs and he smiled thinly then winced at the sight of me. I could only imagine how I looked with fresh and encrusted blood adorning my face. He looked no better himself. Even in the half-light an ugly swelling marred his left cheek and dried blood caked in the corners of his mouth. His overcoat and wrist guards had been stripped from him and his shirt was hanging in bloody tatters. He had undoubtedly been wounded in the skirmish but he could still stand and struggle as the orcs shoved him and jeered.

Their leader took one look at me and growled.

'Get her cleaned up, you idiots. You don't want the Nazgul to see her like that. Fat lot of good that's going to do to us when he sees all this blood!'

A pail of grubby water was shoved before my nose.

'Clean yourself up!' Bursuk barked.

I grabbed the pail with both hands and before any of them could stop me, I took a long sip of the fetid liquid. It tasted horribly, laced with mud and sand as it was and I instantly felt like vomiting.

'I said clean yourself up, whore!'' Bursuk grabbed my hair and shoved my face into the pail.

'You can go to hell!' I spat at him, my head still excruciatingly sore. I thrust my tied hands forward and the pail of water flew in the air and landed with a wooden clink on the stone floor.

I gave Bursuk what I thought would be my best defiant look, because I knew that whatever fate awaited me was not going to be dealt out by this orc.

Legolas' eyes caught mine for an instant. He smiled at me and I felt strangely encouraged. In the next instant, three pairs of arms forced me to my knees and Bursuk's detestable sneer filled my vision.

'Now sit still or so help me I will bite your tongue out and watch you choke on your blood!'

I thought he was going to hit me again and I shut my eyes instinctively. Instead, he seized my chin and rubbed my face with a cloth, trying to scour it clean and in between pangs of pain I must have smiled because I understood its fear of being found out. As soon as he finished, I felt fresh blood starting to drip out of my nose and he cursed between his teeth.

'Just take them away!' he said in a sickened tone.

The Orcs shoved us towards the entrance of the small cave. A multitude of them were outside holding torches, glaring and jeering at us.

I heard Legolas utter what sounded like a curse in Elvish and he was instantly rewarded with a whip crack over his back. He whipped around and barred his teeth in a savage snarl that I had never thought him capable of and the orcs drew a few steps back in awe.

The incident could have escalated into something lethally unpleasant but all further commotion was drowned out by the flutter of wings that made me stiffen with fear. Irrationally, I wished for my spirit to fly out of my body and I was perfectly willing for it to wander restlessly rather than have to face this nightmare for a second longer.

The beast landed in front on me, its wings swirling a foul rush of air and choking dust all around us. I watched with petrified fascination the designs on the black reptilian skin. Once on the ground, it coiled its long neck with surprising grace and set its grey-beaked head in the gravel. I wanted to close my eyes to the sight that followed but I was enthralled. My eyes were riveted on the robed form that leapt from the saddle on the beast's back.

The wraith landed with a loud metal clatter. His feet were encased in steel-pointed boots, his unseen claw-like hands bore gauntlets of the same metal. I was not surprised to see him, he had haunted my dreams almost every night and he looked no different than my nightmarish visions.

The orcs drew back in deference forming a semi-circle around us and I was left facing the Lord of the Nazgul in all his might. Freezing cold spread all around and my body shuddered involuntarily, wrapped in its wintry embrace. The Nazgul Lord towered a good two heads above me. He seemed to slide, not walk, as he advanced towards me.

He drew closer until I could no longer hide my eyes from the emptiness inside his hood. Yet I was able to distinguish the faintest gleam of red where his eyes should have been. They seemed to be devouring the very flesh off my bones, baring my soul and I half expected him to reach out and tear my chest open and rip out my heart while it was still beating, so cruel and unforgiving was that stare. Still, I was aware of many things at the same time: of the tomb-like silence enfolding us, of my stomach muscles knotted painfully in expectation of a strike, of the freezing chill that shrouded the Wraith Lord, of Legolas, who had been forced to kneel beside me, but most of all, of the Ring's searing bite against my chest. It crossed my mind that I would probably not live long enough to see its mark etched on my skin. A thought formed in my mind at a subliminal level and I lacked the strength to suppress: it did not even matter how soon they killed me, if they took the Ring.

'The Messenger,' the Nazgul hissed, and although I had trouble making out the words, his mind seemed to be able to reach mine and I understood his meaning easily enough.

'The Messenger is a woman!' he cackled and my blood turned cold.

Why was he prolonging this agony? Why not just get it over and done with?

Then Legolas' clear voice rang out powerfully, defiantly and unafraid.

'The Messenger is a woman indeed. And if the prophecy is right, it is not the hand of a man that will smite you. Yet it could easily be the hand of a woman like her.'

The wraith whipped his head in Legolas' direction and he did not need any features for his wrath to explode. His blood-curdling shriek made us all cower.

All except Legolas…

'Do not dare speak to me, wood elf, unless you wish for your torment to last for all eternity.'

Legolas said nothing, his eyes aflame with hatred and pride. He spat at the Wraith Lord's feet and promptly one of the orcs raised his mace to slice his head open. A curt gesture by the Nazgul's hand stopped the orc in his tracks.

'Your spiteful words have sealed your doom, prince of Mirkwood. Perhaps it is best to use elvish royalty to start teaching the peoples of Middle Earth a lesson they should soon learn: that the mighty Lord Sauron is back and there is only one Master now. And your torment shall be their first taste of the treatment to be received should they be foolish enough to disobey. Take him away!'

'No, please, no…!' my voice sounded desperate and shrill, all defiance forgotten.

The Nazgul turned his attention to me once more.

'You, Messenger, are in no position to bargain. No sorcery is going to save your lover now. Except perhaps after you have served Lord Sauron faithfully for many years, He shall grant your wish and allow your elf to be slain and bring his torment to an end.'

Sorcery? Did these creatures think I was some kind of a witch?

My mind raced at frenetic speed, looking for a way to rig this situation to our advantage, to at least gain more time, like Legolas had tried to do just now. There had to be a reason why Legolas had diced with his own life in order to buy us a few precious minutes.

'Now,' the Nazgul Lord screeched 'give me the Ring!' He put forth his steel-gloved hand, in the same nerve-racking gesture I had seen in my nightmare. Only there was no one to shake me awake this time.

'No! I will not!' I said, bringing my hands up to my chest as if I could really protect the Ring if the Nazgul wanted to tear it away from me.

If the wraith was taken aback by my brazen attitude, he recovered quickly because he opened his giant claw-like fingers and clasped both my hands in his fist.

'I will not!' I repeated stubbornly, trying to ignore the unnatural chill that was beginning to seep into my hands, advancing fast along my arms.

'I will not deliver the Ring to anyone but Sauron himself!' I added quickly.

'Do not presume to barter with me, woman.' The wraith exhaled venom with every word he spat at me. 'I will tear your eyes out and leave you for carrion, Messenger or not.'

He meant it, no doubt, but I had gone too far to back out now. Was this what a lawyer did, negotiate and argue?

'I don't think you will,' I said, trying to appear calm yet sure he felt the extent of my fear and doubt. 'I think you will let me do what I just said.'

'You presume again.' The Nazgul said, yet his hand seemed to release its crushing grip somewhat. He seemed to be hesitating, weighing my words. I moved in for the kill.

'And you presume that I would not tell Sauron how you wanted to take the Ring for your own? If so, then you will not touch me or the Ring again!'

There was no time to consider just how risky and stupid that remark was because a lot of things happened at once: I heard the snarl of the wraith as he finally lost patience with me and his other hand sprang into a life of its own to wrap itself around my neck. I was aware of the ground heaving under my feet and being lifted into the air by a force far beyond anything I had known and it occurred to me that must have been my own neck being snapped and my last conscious thought was a blinding explosion of white light before sight and sound diminished into nothingness.

TBC

Thanks to:

Dy: Well, is this to your liking?

Samus: Thanks for hanging around, hope you like what comes next!