Disclaimer: I only own Nifien, though I am currently plotting to get a
hold of Legolas sometime or other.
A/N: Yay, I updated FAST! Now you can all be happy! But school starts again tomorrow, so updates won't be so quick again. But I'll still update! PROMISES!
* * *
Galadriel stared meaningfully at Thranduil. "Do you have any idea of what Saruman could want with Legolas?" She hated seeing the powerful elf lord so despaired, and she hated having to press him for information, but she had to. "Anything he could want with you?"
Thranduil shook his head. "No, and for the thousandth time, no! What he wants is as much a mystery to me as it is to the rest of you."
Haldir roused himself from his thoughtful silence. "Tell me, my lord, what exactly did Saruman's message say?"
"The messenger was an orc. We killed him when we were done with him. He said Saruman had something of great value to me, and that I would be wanting it back." He sighed. "Great value indeed, that is an understatement. I would give anything to give Legolas back the life he deserves."
"Even your kingdom? Even your own life?"
They all turned to look at Haldir. Somehow, he didn't just think Saruman wanted some trinket. It was something bigger than that. And somehow Saruman must have known that Thranduil's biggest weakness was for his son, and not for jewels or gold.
"What are you talking about?" Suspicion lurked in Thranduil's eyes, but Haldir knew it came with good reason.
"Saruman is not merely summoning you to give you your son. He will want something for his return. Something that is not merely a trinket, for he no longer has interest in riches. His thoughts are meddled in the affairs of power."
Grudgingly they were to admit it, though it was clear that Haldir's thoughts made sense.
"Aye, I see what you speak of." Thranduil shook his head sadly. "And I will be prepared to do all that I can."
"Do not be too hasty in your decisions, Lord Thranduil. For with one victory may come many failures."
So with Galadriel's last words of wisdom, Thranduil departed from their council meeting to prepare for his meeting with the White Wizard.
When at last he came to where his soldiers rested, he heard a voice call out behind him.
"My lord!"
Thranduil turned to see Haldir running towards him. "Haldir, what is it you want?"
Haldir looked determinedly into the elf lord's eyes. "I am coming with you. I promised Aragorn I would do all I could to help Legolas, and I intend to be as much aid in the act as possible."
Thranduil thought, his mind playing with the idea. "Very well, Haldir. You have been severely helpful thus far, let us see if you have more wisdom within you." Thranduil turned to the Mirkwood elves. "We leave now, as soon as we have all we need. We travel swift. Time is a fickle thing. For some it passes slowly, for some it rushes too quickly. Let us use as little of it as possible."
Within the hour, Thranduil departed from the Golden Wood, accompanied by several elves of Mirkwood and the Guardian of Lorien. They ran as fast as they might, tirelessly, for he who awaited them knew not of the love of his friends and father, and to what end it would carry him.
* * *
Legolas slowly drifted back into reality from the world of dreams. He awoke to a rude awakening, in the darkness, from the darkness. Though he much preferred the shadows of sleep.
Why is it always so dark?
No sunlight ever found its way into the dungeons. No wind blew about the cells and chambers. He would pay dearly for even a minute under the trees of his home.
But you will never escape here.
I do not need to be told!
So you know already, hm? Why do you still live then?
What . . .?
Do you really think you could stand this place for eternity? Why not die now, and suffer no more?
Because I have a purpose that has not yet been fulfilled.
"You didn't sleep much." Nifien's voice shattered Legolas' conflicting thoughts.
"Have barely slept at all since I first came here."
"So it's a start then?"
Legolas couldn't help but smile at Nifien's perky voice. "Aye." How she could keep high spirits in a place like this evaded him. But then, circumstances had not been friendly for himself.
"Do you feel any better, now that you have rested a little?"
Legolas thought for a moment. "Well, no, not particularly."
"Oh."
And it was true. Bluntly true. Every attempt to heal his body was overcome by new attempts from his tormenter. No matter how he rested, he knew he wouldn't feel any better. For something would happen, he knew, that would only worsen things.
Legolas remained lying on the ground. There was no point to moving and trying to get comfortable. That was impossible. So he merely lay with his bare, scourged skin on the cold, stone floor.
He closed his eyes, and returned to his thoughts.
I guess, to end it now . . .that would make sense.
Aye, that it would. Before it got any worse.
But, what about what Manwë said?
What, about your purpose? What kind of glorious purpose do you think you serve? You, locked in a cell, with no way out, no way to escape. What kind of purpose do you think you could fulfill?
And Legolas was silent, for he did not know.
"Have the elves gotten to know each other?"
Both Legolas and Nifien started at the unexpected voice. Saruman came into their midst, standing in front of Nifien, but on such an angle so he could still see Legolas.
"Are your shoulders sore yet, my pretty little elf?"
Nifien spat into Saruman's face. "Not at all."
Saruman wiped away her spit. "Ah, so you are defiant. Now I know a little about you. But I still lack your name."
Nifien was silent.
"Well, if you do not know, perhaps Legolas does." Saruman walked past Nifien, and stood before the barred door of Legolas' cell. "Will you tell me the pretty elf's name, princeling?" He smiled down at Legolas' exhausted, scarred figure.
"No."
"You won't, will you? Perhaps I can encourage that name from your mouth, to be sputtered up amidst your own blood."
He was trying to scare Legolas. Trying to weaken him by toying with his mind. But it wouldn't work this time.
You cannot hurt me any more.
"Try it."
"Don't you touch him!" Nifien shouted. Saruman turned to face her.
"Will you tell me your name?"
Nifien was silent. She would give the wizard nothing, not even the smallest thing, that he wanted.
"Then Legolas will."
No I won't.
Saruman unlocked Legolas' chamber door. Even as Saruman stood over him, Legolas did not move.
A booted foot kicked Legolas powerfully in his ribcage. The air whooshed from his lungs, and he instinctively curled into a defensive ball. "Tell me now, little elf, or it shall only get worse."
"It'll get worse no matter what I do." His voice was hushed, and scorched with thirst.
Saruman kicked him again in the stomach. But no sound escaped Legolas' lips. There was the sound of a knife being drawn.
"Are you thirsty, little elf?"
Yes, yes, please, I am so thirsty.
"Taste your own blood." Saruman brought the knife down on Legolas' arm, only just puncturing the skin. "Will you speak?" The knife dug deeper. Legolas winced, but clamped his mouth shut. "Are you thirsty?" Deeper, deeper still. The cold steel blade dug past the skin, tearing through muscle, nudging the bone. Legolas squirmed, but did not say anything.
Saruman withdrew the knife, and Legolas breathed out in relief opening his eyes again.
"It will only get worse, little elf."
Of course it will.
Saruman seized Legolas by his injured arm and tossed him out of his chamber. He stumbled, but regained his footing, using a wall for balance. Saruman advanced on him, this time with his staff, and Legolas suddenly found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move.
The wizard walked past Legolas, leaving him there for a moment. But he returned. In the darkness, Legolas could see something in his hands, but he couldn't make it out. As he got closer, he perceived that it was long, and thin; and the end was glowing.
"Shall words be driven from your mouth, like people from a burning house?" Now Legolas knew what it was. "We shall see."
Saruman brought the glowing iron just above Legolas' face. "Do you fear fire, my little elf?" Suddenly, Legolas felt his arm where it had been cut erupt in sudden searing pain. He struggled, but found the only part of his body that was moving was his head, tossing side to side, golden hair flaying wildly about. He bit his lip, drawing blood, but refraining himself from crying out.
The iron was brought from his cut to his stomach. Saruman pressed it hard against his pale skin, but kept his eyes on Legolas' distressed face.
Legolas' vision began to blur, his eyelids began to droop. Saruman saw this and backhanded Legolas across the face. "You will not rest, little elf, ere you speak to me." But Legolas was silent.
He brought the glowing iron to Legolas' neck. The elf's eyes widened, and his head whipped about him, accidentally pressing his cheek against the iron. Then it was brought to his other cheek. Saruman pressed long and hard into his fair skin. He could see Legolas' turmoil, trying to keep from crying out. He would break sooner or later.
Suddenly, Saruman had his knife in his hand again. He smiled briefly at the dazed elf, and then plunged the steel blade into Legolas' already wounded arm.
An icy cry resounded in the hall, and as Saruman twisted the blade, lodged in the elf's arm, Legolas realized the scream came from his own lips.
You are so weak.
"So, you can speak." Saruman withdrew the blade slowly, slicing more and more of Legolas' arm as he did so. "You will have visitors soon, little elf. I hope you can speak clearly by then." But Legolas only barely heard him. Suddenly he was thrown onto the ground. He heard a scurry of footsteps that could only belong to orcs. Saruman left him, and the orcs delightedly leapt upon the forsaken elf, beating him with their boots and fists, cutting him with their armour. He heard himself cry out more than once, and he hated himself for it. But he could do nothing.
Nifien watched in horror as blow upon blow descended upon Legolas. That should have been me, she thought. But at the same time, she marvelled at his strength. It had taken so much to provoke even one cry from him. Legolas was valiant, and would do anything to keep another from harm.
Yet, though profound as his strength was, she knew it was failing quickly.
* * *
A/N: Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Aw, I know, I'm being so mean to Legolas. But HELP IS ON THE WAY!
Merrylyn: Oh, hope is not gonna be there for long! And don't you just think people can get even hotter when they're possessed/insane/crazy/evil? Heh.
Kate: I promise, Saruman WILL SUFFER! And, yes, thank you for the reminder. Much will become of that.
Torture-the-elf: Don't worry, romance, not going to happen. I'm not that great at romance, and besides, Legolas is MINE.
C you all next time!
~Searcher of Souls~
A/N: Yay, I updated FAST! Now you can all be happy! But school starts again tomorrow, so updates won't be so quick again. But I'll still update! PROMISES!
* * *
Galadriel stared meaningfully at Thranduil. "Do you have any idea of what Saruman could want with Legolas?" She hated seeing the powerful elf lord so despaired, and she hated having to press him for information, but she had to. "Anything he could want with you?"
Thranduil shook his head. "No, and for the thousandth time, no! What he wants is as much a mystery to me as it is to the rest of you."
Haldir roused himself from his thoughtful silence. "Tell me, my lord, what exactly did Saruman's message say?"
"The messenger was an orc. We killed him when we were done with him. He said Saruman had something of great value to me, and that I would be wanting it back." He sighed. "Great value indeed, that is an understatement. I would give anything to give Legolas back the life he deserves."
"Even your kingdom? Even your own life?"
They all turned to look at Haldir. Somehow, he didn't just think Saruman wanted some trinket. It was something bigger than that. And somehow Saruman must have known that Thranduil's biggest weakness was for his son, and not for jewels or gold.
"What are you talking about?" Suspicion lurked in Thranduil's eyes, but Haldir knew it came with good reason.
"Saruman is not merely summoning you to give you your son. He will want something for his return. Something that is not merely a trinket, for he no longer has interest in riches. His thoughts are meddled in the affairs of power."
Grudgingly they were to admit it, though it was clear that Haldir's thoughts made sense.
"Aye, I see what you speak of." Thranduil shook his head sadly. "And I will be prepared to do all that I can."
"Do not be too hasty in your decisions, Lord Thranduil. For with one victory may come many failures."
So with Galadriel's last words of wisdom, Thranduil departed from their council meeting to prepare for his meeting with the White Wizard.
When at last he came to where his soldiers rested, he heard a voice call out behind him.
"My lord!"
Thranduil turned to see Haldir running towards him. "Haldir, what is it you want?"
Haldir looked determinedly into the elf lord's eyes. "I am coming with you. I promised Aragorn I would do all I could to help Legolas, and I intend to be as much aid in the act as possible."
Thranduil thought, his mind playing with the idea. "Very well, Haldir. You have been severely helpful thus far, let us see if you have more wisdom within you." Thranduil turned to the Mirkwood elves. "We leave now, as soon as we have all we need. We travel swift. Time is a fickle thing. For some it passes slowly, for some it rushes too quickly. Let us use as little of it as possible."
Within the hour, Thranduil departed from the Golden Wood, accompanied by several elves of Mirkwood and the Guardian of Lorien. They ran as fast as they might, tirelessly, for he who awaited them knew not of the love of his friends and father, and to what end it would carry him.
* * *
Legolas slowly drifted back into reality from the world of dreams. He awoke to a rude awakening, in the darkness, from the darkness. Though he much preferred the shadows of sleep.
Why is it always so dark?
No sunlight ever found its way into the dungeons. No wind blew about the cells and chambers. He would pay dearly for even a minute under the trees of his home.
But you will never escape here.
I do not need to be told!
So you know already, hm? Why do you still live then?
What . . .?
Do you really think you could stand this place for eternity? Why not die now, and suffer no more?
Because I have a purpose that has not yet been fulfilled.
"You didn't sleep much." Nifien's voice shattered Legolas' conflicting thoughts.
"Have barely slept at all since I first came here."
"So it's a start then?"
Legolas couldn't help but smile at Nifien's perky voice. "Aye." How she could keep high spirits in a place like this evaded him. But then, circumstances had not been friendly for himself.
"Do you feel any better, now that you have rested a little?"
Legolas thought for a moment. "Well, no, not particularly."
"Oh."
And it was true. Bluntly true. Every attempt to heal his body was overcome by new attempts from his tormenter. No matter how he rested, he knew he wouldn't feel any better. For something would happen, he knew, that would only worsen things.
Legolas remained lying on the ground. There was no point to moving and trying to get comfortable. That was impossible. So he merely lay with his bare, scourged skin on the cold, stone floor.
He closed his eyes, and returned to his thoughts.
I guess, to end it now . . .that would make sense.
Aye, that it would. Before it got any worse.
But, what about what Manwë said?
What, about your purpose? What kind of glorious purpose do you think you serve? You, locked in a cell, with no way out, no way to escape. What kind of purpose do you think you could fulfill?
And Legolas was silent, for he did not know.
"Have the elves gotten to know each other?"
Both Legolas and Nifien started at the unexpected voice. Saruman came into their midst, standing in front of Nifien, but on such an angle so he could still see Legolas.
"Are your shoulders sore yet, my pretty little elf?"
Nifien spat into Saruman's face. "Not at all."
Saruman wiped away her spit. "Ah, so you are defiant. Now I know a little about you. But I still lack your name."
Nifien was silent.
"Well, if you do not know, perhaps Legolas does." Saruman walked past Nifien, and stood before the barred door of Legolas' cell. "Will you tell me the pretty elf's name, princeling?" He smiled down at Legolas' exhausted, scarred figure.
"No."
"You won't, will you? Perhaps I can encourage that name from your mouth, to be sputtered up amidst your own blood."
He was trying to scare Legolas. Trying to weaken him by toying with his mind. But it wouldn't work this time.
You cannot hurt me any more.
"Try it."
"Don't you touch him!" Nifien shouted. Saruman turned to face her.
"Will you tell me your name?"
Nifien was silent. She would give the wizard nothing, not even the smallest thing, that he wanted.
"Then Legolas will."
No I won't.
Saruman unlocked Legolas' chamber door. Even as Saruman stood over him, Legolas did not move.
A booted foot kicked Legolas powerfully in his ribcage. The air whooshed from his lungs, and he instinctively curled into a defensive ball. "Tell me now, little elf, or it shall only get worse."
"It'll get worse no matter what I do." His voice was hushed, and scorched with thirst.
Saruman kicked him again in the stomach. But no sound escaped Legolas' lips. There was the sound of a knife being drawn.
"Are you thirsty, little elf?"
Yes, yes, please, I am so thirsty.
"Taste your own blood." Saruman brought the knife down on Legolas' arm, only just puncturing the skin. "Will you speak?" The knife dug deeper. Legolas winced, but clamped his mouth shut. "Are you thirsty?" Deeper, deeper still. The cold steel blade dug past the skin, tearing through muscle, nudging the bone. Legolas squirmed, but did not say anything.
Saruman withdrew the knife, and Legolas breathed out in relief opening his eyes again.
"It will only get worse, little elf."
Of course it will.
Saruman seized Legolas by his injured arm and tossed him out of his chamber. He stumbled, but regained his footing, using a wall for balance. Saruman advanced on him, this time with his staff, and Legolas suddenly found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move.
The wizard walked past Legolas, leaving him there for a moment. But he returned. In the darkness, Legolas could see something in his hands, but he couldn't make it out. As he got closer, he perceived that it was long, and thin; and the end was glowing.
"Shall words be driven from your mouth, like people from a burning house?" Now Legolas knew what it was. "We shall see."
Saruman brought the glowing iron just above Legolas' face. "Do you fear fire, my little elf?" Suddenly, Legolas felt his arm where it had been cut erupt in sudden searing pain. He struggled, but found the only part of his body that was moving was his head, tossing side to side, golden hair flaying wildly about. He bit his lip, drawing blood, but refraining himself from crying out.
The iron was brought from his cut to his stomach. Saruman pressed it hard against his pale skin, but kept his eyes on Legolas' distressed face.
Legolas' vision began to blur, his eyelids began to droop. Saruman saw this and backhanded Legolas across the face. "You will not rest, little elf, ere you speak to me." But Legolas was silent.
He brought the glowing iron to Legolas' neck. The elf's eyes widened, and his head whipped about him, accidentally pressing his cheek against the iron. Then it was brought to his other cheek. Saruman pressed long and hard into his fair skin. He could see Legolas' turmoil, trying to keep from crying out. He would break sooner or later.
Suddenly, Saruman had his knife in his hand again. He smiled briefly at the dazed elf, and then plunged the steel blade into Legolas' already wounded arm.
An icy cry resounded in the hall, and as Saruman twisted the blade, lodged in the elf's arm, Legolas realized the scream came from his own lips.
You are so weak.
"So, you can speak." Saruman withdrew the blade slowly, slicing more and more of Legolas' arm as he did so. "You will have visitors soon, little elf. I hope you can speak clearly by then." But Legolas only barely heard him. Suddenly he was thrown onto the ground. He heard a scurry of footsteps that could only belong to orcs. Saruman left him, and the orcs delightedly leapt upon the forsaken elf, beating him with their boots and fists, cutting him with their armour. He heard himself cry out more than once, and he hated himself for it. But he could do nothing.
Nifien watched in horror as blow upon blow descended upon Legolas. That should have been me, she thought. But at the same time, she marvelled at his strength. It had taken so much to provoke even one cry from him. Legolas was valiant, and would do anything to keep another from harm.
Yet, though profound as his strength was, she knew it was failing quickly.
* * *
A/N: Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Aw, I know, I'm being so mean to Legolas. But HELP IS ON THE WAY!
Merrylyn: Oh, hope is not gonna be there for long! And don't you just think people can get even hotter when they're possessed/insane/crazy/evil? Heh.
Kate: I promise, Saruman WILL SUFFER! And, yes, thank you for the reminder. Much will become of that.
Torture-the-elf: Don't worry, romance, not going to happen. I'm not that great at romance, and besides, Legolas is MINE.
C you all next time!
~Searcher of Souls~