Disclaimer: All I own is the she-elf, and you will discover her name
here! I got it from the Barrow-Downs, and I know it's just random, but I
thought it was cute. So there you go. Other than that, I own nothing and
am, sadly, making no money, which would be really cool if I was. So don't
sue, because I won't be able to pay you.
A/N: I'm back! Sorry if I took a while to update for some, but I do have a life to live, though I do complain about having no life, and also I have to come up with what to write, so, please, don't get at me for updating late, unless it takes me like over a week or something. Also, this chapter, some of you may not particularly like the first little bit. But just get past it, and be happy little sadists with me again.
* * *
Where there once was light, darkness had invaded, and where darkness had been, the shadow had grown darker and longer. Legolas felt his bruised cheek touching the cold stone floor, his golden hair splayed out around his head. He felt his entire body ache, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down, and remain there, and never get up. But then, he didn't want to lie in his current position, on his bare stomach, making breathing difficult, which was something he could not tolerate now.
He put out his hand to raise himself from the floor, but it gave out beneath him and he cried out slightly at the unexpected jolt of pain. For a moment he puzzled over how his hand had become broken, and it all came screaming back to him.
Saruman, rising, rising, falling, falling, ai, Elbereth, falling, rising again, so high, then falling, falling too fast, can't stand, don't want to, there's another . . .
No, forget it all, don't try to remember, just forget it . . .
But the she-elf . . .
With difficulty, Legolas dragged himself to sit against the wall. The throbbing where his ribs had cracked seemed to have grown. He looked regretfully down at his shoulders, seeing both of them had become dislocated. It has to be done, he told himself, as much as he didn't want to do what he was about to do.
He lugged himself painfully to his feet, leaning heavily against the jagged wall. His shoulders had come forward because of the rope suspending his arms up and behind his head. He wedged his left hand unhappily on the ground, pressing it against the wall. Shutting his eyes tight, he took a deep breath.
Just get it over with.
With his right hand, he shoved hard on his left shoulder until it fell into place with a loud resounding pop. But the sound was drowned out by a shrill, icy cry, that Legolas realized, came from his own lips. His shoulder burned fiercely, and Legolas staggered, desperately clinging to the wall, trying to stop from falling to the ground. Black spots danced in his vision, taunting him.
Once again, now . . .
Legolas groaned. It had hurt more than he had expected. But it had to be done.
He placed his right hand now on the ground, and readied his left on the shoulder joint. A soft whimper of dread escaped his tightly clamped mouth, and before he could think otherwise, he quickly thrust his right shoulder back. However, he could not restrain himself from crying out long and terribly. Finally, he slumped to the ground, exhausted.
Why do you put yourself through more pain when there is already too much to bear?
It had to be done.
How stupid can you be?
What, so now his own thoughts were mocking him? Legolas smiled a bit. I must be going crazy, he thought. He laughed.
Oh, to laugh again!
To laugh under the stars, to sing to the trees, to run under the sun! To be free and careless, to be surrounded by those who love you!
Legolas didn't stop laughing. He didn't want to. He didn't want to fall to misery again. But tears welled in his eyes, and began to drip, in little creeks, growing to rivers, becoming swimming waterfalls.
Would he ever see the great forests of Mirkwood again? Would he live to gaze again at the sun? He let his head fall back against the stone, ignoring the sharp pain.
His laughter dulled. The tears grew. The shadow lengthened. The light faded.
For there was no more hope.
And you've only been here a couple days.
Legolas drew in a deep breath. His body was slowly sliding to the ground, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
You're making a fool of yourself, you know.
"What are you laughing about?"
A voice drifted to Legolas from outside his chamber. Immediately he straightened at the feminine voice, remembering suddenly the she-elf.
He turned and looked out his barred door. The chains that had once suspended his own arms painfully above his head now clung loosely to tiny, perfect wrists, only barely tight enough to prevent the small hands from slipping through. The she-elf seemed to glow in the darkness, a beacon of hope and beauty amidst such pain and despair. Even though her back faced him, Legolas knew she was beautiful.
"Are you alright?"
It was the first time in so long he heard genuine concern.
"Yes, I'm fine now." Now he composed himself. Even though he knew the elf couldn't see him, he erased all signs of his weeping from his fair face. "What is your name?"
"I am called Nifien. And what of you, what do they call you?" Her voice was smooth and musical, but held a submerged danger beneath.
Legolas sighed. "Legolas." There was nothing fair about his voice, he thought, as he heard his name be spoken hoarsely through terrible thirst.
Nifien frowned. How did the prince of Mirkwood come to be here? "Ah, I know that name. And what is your story?"
"A series of unfortunate events, that is all." There was a slight edge in Legolas' voice, hinting he didn't want to talk about it. "And yours?"
"I was wandering alone, much as I often do, when I was ambushed by a large party of orcs." A silence fell between the two elves. Nifien could hear Legolas' staggered, difficult breathing. She had heard the pop when he had pushed his shoulders back into place, and after, his mad laughter along with his weeping. All was not well with this elf.
Nifien twisted her head around, trying to get a good view of the elf. He was lying on the ground, hair scattered carelessly about his head. His face was fair beyond all that she had seen, but his eyes were dim, lost in anguish, and he seemed to sink into the shadows clouding the corners of the chamber that held him. He stared with empty eyes at the lofty ceiling, and she knew that he had fallen asleep.
What terrible things had been done to him, she could not guess, but it broke her gentle heart to see his fair body stained with blood and bruises. His skin seemed to stretch tightly over his ribcage, his slim figure seeming incredibly small. Are they starving him, she wondered? How could Saruman do this to this beautiful creature? Was he really such a horrible, heartless being? She could feel herself begin to weep, but she held herself back. Her strength had yet to be broken.
She wouldn't let them hurt the prince of Mirkwood any more.
* * *
"Haldir, what are you doing this far from Lorien?" Thranduil asked the guardian, glad to finally see a familiar face. Thranduil's company were milling about with Haldir's soldiers, revisiting old friends.
"The Lady has sent me. You are summoned to Isenguard, are you not?"
"Aye, that is true, but for what reason, we do not know." Thranduil's smile faded. He was always marvelled by Galadriel's mystical gifts to see things.
Darkness seemed to come over Haldir's face. "We came here to intercept you. The Lady wishes to meet with you ere you meet with Saruman."
Thranduil looked eagerly at Haldir. "Do you know why Saruman has summoned us?"
Haldir hesitated. "Aye, that I do, my lord." Thranduil waited fervently. "My lord, it is on account of your youngest, prince Legolas."
Thranduil frowned.
"He has been taken captive my lord."
All about them seemed to grow silent, as each heard Haldir speak. Thranduil visibly tensed, and he stood still, as if awaiting something more. Even the birds seemed to silence their happy songs at the news that the prince of Mirkwood was a prisoner.
"Please, my lord, come and speak with Galadriel ere you meet Saruman," Haldir begged, hoping not to have aroused great anger within Thranduil.
Thranduil nodded slightly, overcome with disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not Legolas, not the most beloved of his sons!
He walked just behind Haldir, following his lead, but not trusting himself to speak, fearing he would shatter; fearing his mind and heart would break into a thousand pieces.
Then a thought entered his mind.
What if Legolas had already done so?
His pace quickened noticeably, and the others followed suit.
* * *
Legolas was wandering through the majestic halls of his own palace, in the northern reaches of Mirkwood. He wondered at the great tapestries and wall hangings, waving friendly greetings to other elves he knew.
He came to the throne room, and opened the doors. His father turned to look at him, at first questioningly, and then in disgust.
"Get out," the king threatened. Legolas stared in confusion, and tried to move, but his feet would not move. "GET OUT!" Thranduil yelled. When Legolas did not move, Thranduil approached Legolas and shoved him roughly out the doors. Then he knelt down next to his youngest son, and whispered angrily in his ear, his voice quivering in fury: "I . . .hate . . .you . . ." Legolas continued to stare in disbelief at his father.
"I thought you loved me . . ."
"Leave. Leave now, and don't let me ever see you again." His father raised his hand, and it began to descend to slap Legolas across the face.
Legolas sat bolt upright, his breath heaving. It was just a dream, just a dream. But here, where all there was was darkness, all that was cruel seemed too real; unbearably real.
My father doesn't hate me; it was just a dream, just a dream . . .
He hugged his knees close to him, and rocked back and forth, like how his father had rocked him on his knee when was so young.
It was just a dream, just a stupid dream . . .
But a tear fell to the floor.
All that was dark and all that was cruel seemed utterly real . . .
Even if it really was just a dream.
* * *
So, there you have it. Another chapter done. What help will Nifien prove to be, or will she just cause more trouble? What awaits Legolas? What does Saruman want? Questions, questions, questions, all to be answered sometime!
SUHET: Sadists Union of Hot Elf Torment. Join today! Bumper stickers included! lol
My thanks to little-lost-one, devilburns, torture_the_elf, and skye!
Princess-yumin: One of the main reasons I brought in the she-elf was to beat on Saruman. More ugly wizard spitting to come! And don't be ashamed to ramble in reviews! Ever read one of mine? Ach! I ramble on for ages! And also, I believe the physiological effects of torture and stuff is way more severe and dangerous. Physical effects, you can black out, or, you know, die, but emotional effects are much, much harder to ignore. And lots of the times, people can't see them and can't help.
Merrylyn: Just wait till you see the results of him knowing the truth about orcs! MWAHA! So long as I don't forget about it . . .
Erhothwen: It's dangerous for elves to be hot, isn't it, you know, with us sadists around and stuff?
Kate: You don't know my sister. Once she strangled me when I took the computer from me. And I'm really sorry I don't post sooner, but I have places to go, people to visit, homework to do, a life to live. I would, but you know, there are things that happen. And if you think your Legolas muse is rabid, HAH! Meet me.
Namarie, all. I am now overly happy, because my friend has given me elven runes. I just have to figure out if they're real or not. Hm. Until next time, namarie.
~Searcher of Souls~
A/N: I'm back! Sorry if I took a while to update for some, but I do have a life to live, though I do complain about having no life, and also I have to come up with what to write, so, please, don't get at me for updating late, unless it takes me like over a week or something. Also, this chapter, some of you may not particularly like the first little bit. But just get past it, and be happy little sadists with me again.
* * *
Where there once was light, darkness had invaded, and where darkness had been, the shadow had grown darker and longer. Legolas felt his bruised cheek touching the cold stone floor, his golden hair splayed out around his head. He felt his entire body ache, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down, and remain there, and never get up. But then, he didn't want to lie in his current position, on his bare stomach, making breathing difficult, which was something he could not tolerate now.
He put out his hand to raise himself from the floor, but it gave out beneath him and he cried out slightly at the unexpected jolt of pain. For a moment he puzzled over how his hand had become broken, and it all came screaming back to him.
Saruman, rising, rising, falling, falling, ai, Elbereth, falling, rising again, so high, then falling, falling too fast, can't stand, don't want to, there's another . . .
No, forget it all, don't try to remember, just forget it . . .
But the she-elf . . .
With difficulty, Legolas dragged himself to sit against the wall. The throbbing where his ribs had cracked seemed to have grown. He looked regretfully down at his shoulders, seeing both of them had become dislocated. It has to be done, he told himself, as much as he didn't want to do what he was about to do.
He lugged himself painfully to his feet, leaning heavily against the jagged wall. His shoulders had come forward because of the rope suspending his arms up and behind his head. He wedged his left hand unhappily on the ground, pressing it against the wall. Shutting his eyes tight, he took a deep breath.
Just get it over with.
With his right hand, he shoved hard on his left shoulder until it fell into place with a loud resounding pop. But the sound was drowned out by a shrill, icy cry, that Legolas realized, came from his own lips. His shoulder burned fiercely, and Legolas staggered, desperately clinging to the wall, trying to stop from falling to the ground. Black spots danced in his vision, taunting him.
Once again, now . . .
Legolas groaned. It had hurt more than he had expected. But it had to be done.
He placed his right hand now on the ground, and readied his left on the shoulder joint. A soft whimper of dread escaped his tightly clamped mouth, and before he could think otherwise, he quickly thrust his right shoulder back. However, he could not restrain himself from crying out long and terribly. Finally, he slumped to the ground, exhausted.
Why do you put yourself through more pain when there is already too much to bear?
It had to be done.
How stupid can you be?
What, so now his own thoughts were mocking him? Legolas smiled a bit. I must be going crazy, he thought. He laughed.
Oh, to laugh again!
To laugh under the stars, to sing to the trees, to run under the sun! To be free and careless, to be surrounded by those who love you!
Legolas didn't stop laughing. He didn't want to. He didn't want to fall to misery again. But tears welled in his eyes, and began to drip, in little creeks, growing to rivers, becoming swimming waterfalls.
Would he ever see the great forests of Mirkwood again? Would he live to gaze again at the sun? He let his head fall back against the stone, ignoring the sharp pain.
His laughter dulled. The tears grew. The shadow lengthened. The light faded.
For there was no more hope.
And you've only been here a couple days.
Legolas drew in a deep breath. His body was slowly sliding to the ground, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
You're making a fool of yourself, you know.
"What are you laughing about?"
A voice drifted to Legolas from outside his chamber. Immediately he straightened at the feminine voice, remembering suddenly the she-elf.
He turned and looked out his barred door. The chains that had once suspended his own arms painfully above his head now clung loosely to tiny, perfect wrists, only barely tight enough to prevent the small hands from slipping through. The she-elf seemed to glow in the darkness, a beacon of hope and beauty amidst such pain and despair. Even though her back faced him, Legolas knew she was beautiful.
"Are you alright?"
It was the first time in so long he heard genuine concern.
"Yes, I'm fine now." Now he composed himself. Even though he knew the elf couldn't see him, he erased all signs of his weeping from his fair face. "What is your name?"
"I am called Nifien. And what of you, what do they call you?" Her voice was smooth and musical, but held a submerged danger beneath.
Legolas sighed. "Legolas." There was nothing fair about his voice, he thought, as he heard his name be spoken hoarsely through terrible thirst.
Nifien frowned. How did the prince of Mirkwood come to be here? "Ah, I know that name. And what is your story?"
"A series of unfortunate events, that is all." There was a slight edge in Legolas' voice, hinting he didn't want to talk about it. "And yours?"
"I was wandering alone, much as I often do, when I was ambushed by a large party of orcs." A silence fell between the two elves. Nifien could hear Legolas' staggered, difficult breathing. She had heard the pop when he had pushed his shoulders back into place, and after, his mad laughter along with his weeping. All was not well with this elf.
Nifien twisted her head around, trying to get a good view of the elf. He was lying on the ground, hair scattered carelessly about his head. His face was fair beyond all that she had seen, but his eyes were dim, lost in anguish, and he seemed to sink into the shadows clouding the corners of the chamber that held him. He stared with empty eyes at the lofty ceiling, and she knew that he had fallen asleep.
What terrible things had been done to him, she could not guess, but it broke her gentle heart to see his fair body stained with blood and bruises. His skin seemed to stretch tightly over his ribcage, his slim figure seeming incredibly small. Are they starving him, she wondered? How could Saruman do this to this beautiful creature? Was he really such a horrible, heartless being? She could feel herself begin to weep, but she held herself back. Her strength had yet to be broken.
She wouldn't let them hurt the prince of Mirkwood any more.
* * *
"Haldir, what are you doing this far from Lorien?" Thranduil asked the guardian, glad to finally see a familiar face. Thranduil's company were milling about with Haldir's soldiers, revisiting old friends.
"The Lady has sent me. You are summoned to Isenguard, are you not?"
"Aye, that is true, but for what reason, we do not know." Thranduil's smile faded. He was always marvelled by Galadriel's mystical gifts to see things.
Darkness seemed to come over Haldir's face. "We came here to intercept you. The Lady wishes to meet with you ere you meet with Saruman."
Thranduil looked eagerly at Haldir. "Do you know why Saruman has summoned us?"
Haldir hesitated. "Aye, that I do, my lord." Thranduil waited fervently. "My lord, it is on account of your youngest, prince Legolas."
Thranduil frowned.
"He has been taken captive my lord."
All about them seemed to grow silent, as each heard Haldir speak. Thranduil visibly tensed, and he stood still, as if awaiting something more. Even the birds seemed to silence their happy songs at the news that the prince of Mirkwood was a prisoner.
"Please, my lord, come and speak with Galadriel ere you meet Saruman," Haldir begged, hoping not to have aroused great anger within Thranduil.
Thranduil nodded slightly, overcome with disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not Legolas, not the most beloved of his sons!
He walked just behind Haldir, following his lead, but not trusting himself to speak, fearing he would shatter; fearing his mind and heart would break into a thousand pieces.
Then a thought entered his mind.
What if Legolas had already done so?
His pace quickened noticeably, and the others followed suit.
* * *
Legolas was wandering through the majestic halls of his own palace, in the northern reaches of Mirkwood. He wondered at the great tapestries and wall hangings, waving friendly greetings to other elves he knew.
He came to the throne room, and opened the doors. His father turned to look at him, at first questioningly, and then in disgust.
"Get out," the king threatened. Legolas stared in confusion, and tried to move, but his feet would not move. "GET OUT!" Thranduil yelled. When Legolas did not move, Thranduil approached Legolas and shoved him roughly out the doors. Then he knelt down next to his youngest son, and whispered angrily in his ear, his voice quivering in fury: "I . . .hate . . .you . . ." Legolas continued to stare in disbelief at his father.
"I thought you loved me . . ."
"Leave. Leave now, and don't let me ever see you again." His father raised his hand, and it began to descend to slap Legolas across the face.
Legolas sat bolt upright, his breath heaving. It was just a dream, just a dream. But here, where all there was was darkness, all that was cruel seemed too real; unbearably real.
My father doesn't hate me; it was just a dream, just a dream . . .
He hugged his knees close to him, and rocked back and forth, like how his father had rocked him on his knee when was so young.
It was just a dream, just a stupid dream . . .
But a tear fell to the floor.
All that was dark and all that was cruel seemed utterly real . . .
Even if it really was just a dream.
* * *
So, there you have it. Another chapter done. What help will Nifien prove to be, or will she just cause more trouble? What awaits Legolas? What does Saruman want? Questions, questions, questions, all to be answered sometime!
SUHET: Sadists Union of Hot Elf Torment. Join today! Bumper stickers included! lol
My thanks to little-lost-one, devilburns, torture_the_elf, and skye!
Princess-yumin: One of the main reasons I brought in the she-elf was to beat on Saruman. More ugly wizard spitting to come! And don't be ashamed to ramble in reviews! Ever read one of mine? Ach! I ramble on for ages! And also, I believe the physiological effects of torture and stuff is way more severe and dangerous. Physical effects, you can black out, or, you know, die, but emotional effects are much, much harder to ignore. And lots of the times, people can't see them and can't help.
Merrylyn: Just wait till you see the results of him knowing the truth about orcs! MWAHA! So long as I don't forget about it . . .
Erhothwen: It's dangerous for elves to be hot, isn't it, you know, with us sadists around and stuff?
Kate: You don't know my sister. Once she strangled me when I took the computer from me. And I'm really sorry I don't post sooner, but I have places to go, people to visit, homework to do, a life to live. I would, but you know, there are things that happen. And if you think your Legolas muse is rabid, HAH! Meet me.
Namarie, all. I am now overly happy, because my friend has given me elven runes. I just have to figure out if they're real or not. Hm. Until next time, namarie.
~Searcher of Souls~