A/N: Oh, crap I forgot a disclaimer last time! Here it is, don't sue!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my own delusional mind. And that counts for the last chapter too!
Guess what? I bought a really big Legolas poster, with this big close up, and it's hanging over my bed. And they sold Tolkien's house for $1.6 million, or something like that, unless I've forgotten. Man, I need more money . . . wouldn't it be cool to own his house?
Here's chapter 11! It's a bit longer than the others. Remember, I love reviews so much, so be kind and leave one!
Happy Easter to all!
* * *
Dawn rose happily in the east; gold filtered in through the canopy of gently wavering leaves, fresh morning dew glittered on the green, green grass. Birds twittered their blessings as the sun rose over the horizon, ruffling their feathers in delight. The air was new and fresh, with that morning chill to it, even through the warm sunlight.
Amidst the happy chirping, there rang a sound not of the forest. For beneath the mingling branches of the great malorn trees trod the elves of Lothlorien, though soundless and trackless were their steps. And they sang; sang mournful, yet always hopeful, melodious harmonies with each other, and to them, they could hear the trees praying with them. They prayed for good travels, for good luck, and for a certain prince who for the time being was beyond their reach.
Haldir watched as the three elven boats were guided through the deep waters of the River Anduin. His voice intertwined with the others, perhaps even stronger than it should have been, but he sang unconsciously; he mind was on other things.
The Fellowship was less now. As Celeborn had spoken, there were nine.and now there were seven. It was a grievous loss for the Fellowship; of course, Mithrandir had been their leader and guide, and now he had fallen. And Legolas . . .he thought of the prince's accuracy with the bow, and his great skill in battle. It had been a loss that all seemed to underestimate; for his heart was true, and he knew that he would have followed Frodo into the very depths of Mount Doom.
He could see Galadriel waving now, her pale lips gracing all with a gentle smile. He wondered what she was thinking. Were the same things running through her mind? How could she appear so perfect and untroubled, even in these times of rising darkness and turmoil?
The last notes of the song died away. It had been elvish, and he knew that the Fellowship had not understood them. But Aragorn had. He had heard their wishes, their prayers . . .and Haldir was almost sure he had seen him try to join the song. But in the common tongue, it held just as much meaning.
Where winds blow high
And ocean crashes
Where rain pours down
And thunder clashes
To the end of this world
I will follow your trail
Till the last tree blossoms
And last ships sail
Here and there
Your footsteps scatter
But where they lead
It does not matter
For I will find you
No matter how far
No matter how distant
Your footsteps are
May the road be good
The battles be won
We will meet again
Ere this life is done
The boats had soon rowed out of sight. For a while, the elves stood silent, unsure of what to do. But gradually they left, retreating to their families and their homes. Haldir too turned away. There was much to ponder ere dusk would come.
"Haldir." The voice of Galadriel came from behind him, and he turned in surprise. "Come with me." And that was all she said, as she moved gracefully in front of him, but he followed.
They passed by many places, through many sites a traveler would have stopped to look upon in wonder; but Haldir felt desperation about him, and stepped swiftly after the Lady.
It was not long, for quick and graceful they had traveled, ere they reached Galadriel's glade. She poured water into her mirror. "Come," she spoke. "Look, tell me what you see."
Haldir peered into the mirror. It was a moment before colour and images began to fade into the water.
There were elves, and not of Lothlorien. They traveled light, but armed. They passed through dense forest, and they seemed nervous, though they showed it not readily.
"They are emissaries, of Mirkwood. Thranduil is with them," Haldir said.
Galadriel nodded. Her voice was grave. "They have been summoned. And not here, not by us."
Haldir peered up from the mirror. Galadriel's voice was grave, and her face held no more that kind smile. "Why are they coming?" He could guess well enough, but it was not an answer he wanted to hear.
"You know, Haldir. Saruman has called them, but they know not why, and they trust not his words. But I believe that the most likely reason is on account of Legolas."
"What could Saruman want of them?" Haldir asked angrily, more to himself, yet still desiring an answer.
Galadriel shook her head sadly. "I do not know, Haldir. But you must meet with them ere they reach Isenguard. Go out with several of your soldiers. Escort them here."
Haldir nodded. Galadriel turned away, with nothing more need to be said. Haldir took his leave to gather his soldiers. He hummed softly to himself.
We will meet again
Ere this life is done.
* * *
He wished dearly there were some other noise, so he didn't have to listen to his own harsh, laboured breathing. By now, his strained shoulders had become dislocated, but there was no relent as the chains tugged harder, his slim body slumped, the will in his legs gone. He knew doubtlessly the chain had cracked several of his ribs, and he found he couldn't breathe properly, no matter how he tried to calm his breath.
Legolas shut his eyes.
He could hardly restrain himself from shouting when lash after lash and blow upon blow had crashed into his body. His tunic was torn to shreds, torn from him; but it didn't matter; it was useless now: stained with blood and sweat and darkness.
They had kept him awake for so long, unable to fall to merciful unconsciousness. But his memory was foggy; he couldn't remember how long they had beaten him, nor if anything else had taken place. Perhaps it was better that way.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
They're coming again
There was still that lingering sound in the background, but he still could not make it out clear enough. Maybe it was just his ears ringing.
But it wasn't.
It came again, but ear-splitting, blood curdling, terrified.louder.
A scream.
There's another . . .
"My dear elfling . . ." Legolas cringed at that voice, and whimpered inwardly. His thoughts were cut off. "What have they done to you?" False sympathy . . .all false. Legolas didn't have the strength to deal with this right now.
Saruman came, sneering, before Legolas. He looked him up and down, scanning the severely bruised and bloody body. He gazed over the elf's dislocated shoulders.
"Are you tired of these chains yet?"
Legolas did not answer. He did not trust himself to speak.
"You seem troubled, little prince . . ." Saruman paced in front of his prisoner. "Tell me, what ails you?"
As if he does not know
Still Legolas held his tongue, but realized he was shaking. Perhaps from anger, or from his physical weakness. His breath too had grown shorter, which was brutally unneeded.
"Or did they steal your tongue as well?"
Would they . . .?
"Perhaps the elf needs some encouragement to speak." Saruman slowly approached Legolas, his deep eyes glittering in the faint torchlight. "Now, talk to me, little elf . . ." Saruman jabbed his finger into one of Legolas' dark bruises, where one of his ribs was cracked. A muffled sound escaped the elf's tightly clamped lips. He struggled, as the wizard pushed with more strength, his long fingernail driving into the skin.
Saruman relented, and the relief on Legolas' face could not be masked. The wizard tilted his head to the side, like a raven, trying to understand. He walked behind Legolas.
"Still silent, princeling?" Rich malice dripped from every word the wizard spoke, sending a shudder down Legolas' spine. "Why don't you talk?" He jabbed Legolas again, but this time, he dug his finger into one of the cuts across his back. His eyes widened, and he bit his lip, drawing blood, trying to refrain from crying out as the wizard shoved his finger deeper and deeper into his flesh. But he failed, and a short cry flew from his mouth.
Saruman relented.
He was satisfied.
Legolas struggled against the pain, even as Saruman withdrew his bloodied finger. He could not prevent it. The light clinking of metal above him made Legolas turn his distressed face upwards.
He fell forward . . .to the ground.
The chains were gone.
What . . .
Saruman grabbed Legolas roughly by the wrist, dragging him upwards. His breath came in short, harsh quantities as his dislocated shoulders strained. As soon as Legolas was on his feet, he felt two grimy hands pull his own hands behind his back.
They're back
Rope bound his wrists together, none too gently. He was tugged to a suspended rope, dangling, seemingly from mid-air. The orcs tied the hanging rope to Legolas' bound hands. He looked hatefully at Saruman, though beneath the flame in those shining orbs was a question.
What are you doing
The orcs scurried away excitedly, invisible in the darkness, yet still uncomfortably close.
Why am I here
Legolas started in surprise as his feet lifted from the ground. His arms twisted behind his back, and he tossed back his head, trying to stop himself from shouting as his shoulders suffered. Finally, he looked down again, and it struck him how high the ceiling of the dungeons rose. He could just make out the glowing white form of Saruman below.
All sound ceased, and Legolas almost held his breath, shutting his eyes in fear.
He fell.
* * *
MWAHA! You'll see what happens in the NEXT chapter. And I did write the song they're singing. I keep getting new ideas. Please be kind and review! I love reviews more than anything else! Except the reviewERs! Thank you Legolasluver!
merrylyn: Thank you, I intend on making Haldir a really important character.
Torture-the-elf: Ach, kill him. Well, what fun is it if I kill him? Then I can't write! Besides, he's already died, remember?
Erhothwen: HAH! I figured it out! Now I remember! I was thinking of Gollum and if he had any friends. I had forgotten, but you reminded me! SMEAGOL AND E.T.!!!!!!!! It works out perfectly!
Kate: I know how you feel, trust me.
Princess-yumin: O.o This may sound strange, but that is such a huge compliment, that you couldn't read it! OMG, thank you so much! I've never been that great at torture scenes and such, but thank you! And, yes, I should make him throw a big loogie in Saruman's face. That'd be cool. And that's a really cool interpretation of "light clinking in the darkness". I never thought of it that way, but it works. Cool thoughts! And yes, the blindfolding would have been so cool. And, I'm sorry for making you hysterical. Maybe I'll just harden you up, eh?
Forest Elfin: Oh, trust me, SO not afraid to push the limits. I have a really, really sweet idea for one of the more severe torture scenes. Mwahahahahaha.
Imire: Don't worry, rain is coming, rain is coming. He'll be hot, miserable, and hopeless at the same time. You'll have to wait for that, though.
* * *
~Searcher of Souls~
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my own delusional mind. And that counts for the last chapter too!
Guess what? I bought a really big Legolas poster, with this big close up, and it's hanging over my bed. And they sold Tolkien's house for $1.6 million, or something like that, unless I've forgotten. Man, I need more money . . . wouldn't it be cool to own his house?
Here's chapter 11! It's a bit longer than the others. Remember, I love reviews so much, so be kind and leave one!
Happy Easter to all!
* * *
Dawn rose happily in the east; gold filtered in through the canopy of gently wavering leaves, fresh morning dew glittered on the green, green grass. Birds twittered their blessings as the sun rose over the horizon, ruffling their feathers in delight. The air was new and fresh, with that morning chill to it, even through the warm sunlight.
Amidst the happy chirping, there rang a sound not of the forest. For beneath the mingling branches of the great malorn trees trod the elves of Lothlorien, though soundless and trackless were their steps. And they sang; sang mournful, yet always hopeful, melodious harmonies with each other, and to them, they could hear the trees praying with them. They prayed for good travels, for good luck, and for a certain prince who for the time being was beyond their reach.
Haldir watched as the three elven boats were guided through the deep waters of the River Anduin. His voice intertwined with the others, perhaps even stronger than it should have been, but he sang unconsciously; he mind was on other things.
The Fellowship was less now. As Celeborn had spoken, there were nine.and now there were seven. It was a grievous loss for the Fellowship; of course, Mithrandir had been their leader and guide, and now he had fallen. And Legolas . . .he thought of the prince's accuracy with the bow, and his great skill in battle. It had been a loss that all seemed to underestimate; for his heart was true, and he knew that he would have followed Frodo into the very depths of Mount Doom.
He could see Galadriel waving now, her pale lips gracing all with a gentle smile. He wondered what she was thinking. Were the same things running through her mind? How could she appear so perfect and untroubled, even in these times of rising darkness and turmoil?
The last notes of the song died away. It had been elvish, and he knew that the Fellowship had not understood them. But Aragorn had. He had heard their wishes, their prayers . . .and Haldir was almost sure he had seen him try to join the song. But in the common tongue, it held just as much meaning.
Where winds blow high
And ocean crashes
Where rain pours down
And thunder clashes
To the end of this world
I will follow your trail
Till the last tree blossoms
And last ships sail
Here and there
Your footsteps scatter
But where they lead
It does not matter
For I will find you
No matter how far
No matter how distant
Your footsteps are
May the road be good
The battles be won
We will meet again
Ere this life is done
The boats had soon rowed out of sight. For a while, the elves stood silent, unsure of what to do. But gradually they left, retreating to their families and their homes. Haldir too turned away. There was much to ponder ere dusk would come.
"Haldir." The voice of Galadriel came from behind him, and he turned in surprise. "Come with me." And that was all she said, as she moved gracefully in front of him, but he followed.
They passed by many places, through many sites a traveler would have stopped to look upon in wonder; but Haldir felt desperation about him, and stepped swiftly after the Lady.
It was not long, for quick and graceful they had traveled, ere they reached Galadriel's glade. She poured water into her mirror. "Come," she spoke. "Look, tell me what you see."
Haldir peered into the mirror. It was a moment before colour and images began to fade into the water.
There were elves, and not of Lothlorien. They traveled light, but armed. They passed through dense forest, and they seemed nervous, though they showed it not readily.
"They are emissaries, of Mirkwood. Thranduil is with them," Haldir said.
Galadriel nodded. Her voice was grave. "They have been summoned. And not here, not by us."
Haldir peered up from the mirror. Galadriel's voice was grave, and her face held no more that kind smile. "Why are they coming?" He could guess well enough, but it was not an answer he wanted to hear.
"You know, Haldir. Saruman has called them, but they know not why, and they trust not his words. But I believe that the most likely reason is on account of Legolas."
"What could Saruman want of them?" Haldir asked angrily, more to himself, yet still desiring an answer.
Galadriel shook her head sadly. "I do not know, Haldir. But you must meet with them ere they reach Isenguard. Go out with several of your soldiers. Escort them here."
Haldir nodded. Galadriel turned away, with nothing more need to be said. Haldir took his leave to gather his soldiers. He hummed softly to himself.
We will meet again
Ere this life is done.
* * *
He wished dearly there were some other noise, so he didn't have to listen to his own harsh, laboured breathing. By now, his strained shoulders had become dislocated, but there was no relent as the chains tugged harder, his slim body slumped, the will in his legs gone. He knew doubtlessly the chain had cracked several of his ribs, and he found he couldn't breathe properly, no matter how he tried to calm his breath.
Legolas shut his eyes.
He could hardly restrain himself from shouting when lash after lash and blow upon blow had crashed into his body. His tunic was torn to shreds, torn from him; but it didn't matter; it was useless now: stained with blood and sweat and darkness.
They had kept him awake for so long, unable to fall to merciful unconsciousness. But his memory was foggy; he couldn't remember how long they had beaten him, nor if anything else had taken place. Perhaps it was better that way.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
They're coming again
There was still that lingering sound in the background, but he still could not make it out clear enough. Maybe it was just his ears ringing.
But it wasn't.
It came again, but ear-splitting, blood curdling, terrified.louder.
A scream.
There's another . . .
"My dear elfling . . ." Legolas cringed at that voice, and whimpered inwardly. His thoughts were cut off. "What have they done to you?" False sympathy . . .all false. Legolas didn't have the strength to deal with this right now.
Saruman came, sneering, before Legolas. He looked him up and down, scanning the severely bruised and bloody body. He gazed over the elf's dislocated shoulders.
"Are you tired of these chains yet?"
Legolas did not answer. He did not trust himself to speak.
"You seem troubled, little prince . . ." Saruman paced in front of his prisoner. "Tell me, what ails you?"
As if he does not know
Still Legolas held his tongue, but realized he was shaking. Perhaps from anger, or from his physical weakness. His breath too had grown shorter, which was brutally unneeded.
"Or did they steal your tongue as well?"
Would they . . .?
"Perhaps the elf needs some encouragement to speak." Saruman slowly approached Legolas, his deep eyes glittering in the faint torchlight. "Now, talk to me, little elf . . ." Saruman jabbed his finger into one of Legolas' dark bruises, where one of his ribs was cracked. A muffled sound escaped the elf's tightly clamped lips. He struggled, as the wizard pushed with more strength, his long fingernail driving into the skin.
Saruman relented, and the relief on Legolas' face could not be masked. The wizard tilted his head to the side, like a raven, trying to understand. He walked behind Legolas.
"Still silent, princeling?" Rich malice dripped from every word the wizard spoke, sending a shudder down Legolas' spine. "Why don't you talk?" He jabbed Legolas again, but this time, he dug his finger into one of the cuts across his back. His eyes widened, and he bit his lip, drawing blood, trying to refrain from crying out as the wizard shoved his finger deeper and deeper into his flesh. But he failed, and a short cry flew from his mouth.
Saruman relented.
He was satisfied.
Legolas struggled against the pain, even as Saruman withdrew his bloodied finger. He could not prevent it. The light clinking of metal above him made Legolas turn his distressed face upwards.
He fell forward . . .to the ground.
The chains were gone.
What . . .
Saruman grabbed Legolas roughly by the wrist, dragging him upwards. His breath came in short, harsh quantities as his dislocated shoulders strained. As soon as Legolas was on his feet, he felt two grimy hands pull his own hands behind his back.
They're back
Rope bound his wrists together, none too gently. He was tugged to a suspended rope, dangling, seemingly from mid-air. The orcs tied the hanging rope to Legolas' bound hands. He looked hatefully at Saruman, though beneath the flame in those shining orbs was a question.
What are you doing
The orcs scurried away excitedly, invisible in the darkness, yet still uncomfortably close.
Why am I here
Legolas started in surprise as his feet lifted from the ground. His arms twisted behind his back, and he tossed back his head, trying to stop himself from shouting as his shoulders suffered. Finally, he looked down again, and it struck him how high the ceiling of the dungeons rose. He could just make out the glowing white form of Saruman below.
All sound ceased, and Legolas almost held his breath, shutting his eyes in fear.
He fell.
* * *
MWAHA! You'll see what happens in the NEXT chapter. And I did write the song they're singing. I keep getting new ideas. Please be kind and review! I love reviews more than anything else! Except the reviewERs! Thank you Legolasluver!
merrylyn: Thank you, I intend on making Haldir a really important character.
Torture-the-elf: Ach, kill him. Well, what fun is it if I kill him? Then I can't write! Besides, he's already died, remember?
Erhothwen: HAH! I figured it out! Now I remember! I was thinking of Gollum and if he had any friends. I had forgotten, but you reminded me! SMEAGOL AND E.T.!!!!!!!! It works out perfectly!
Kate: I know how you feel, trust me.
Princess-yumin: O.o This may sound strange, but that is such a huge compliment, that you couldn't read it! OMG, thank you so much! I've never been that great at torture scenes and such, but thank you! And, yes, I should make him throw a big loogie in Saruman's face. That'd be cool. And that's a really cool interpretation of "light clinking in the darkness". I never thought of it that way, but it works. Cool thoughts! And yes, the blindfolding would have been so cool. And, I'm sorry for making you hysterical. Maybe I'll just harden you up, eh?
Forest Elfin: Oh, trust me, SO not afraid to push the limits. I have a really, really sweet idea for one of the more severe torture scenes. Mwahahahahaha.
Imire: Don't worry, rain is coming, rain is coming. He'll be hot, miserable, and hopeless at the same time. You'll have to wait for that, though.
* * *
~Searcher of Souls~