Chapter Fifty-Five: Captivity and Escape
A/N: Wow guys, can you believe I've stuck with it all this time. Just amazing, simply extraordinary. And I can't believe you guys have stuck WITH me all this time. This summer, it'll be a year. But I doubt it will last that long. Of course, when I first started writing this story, I thought it would be over by Christmas. Guess I sort of blew that deadline. If I had stuck to posting once a day, we'd long be finished with that, but alas that we can't turn back and I doubt I would have changed how this turned out, and I won't regret spending all of this time from my crazy life to satisfy my writing itch and to (hopefully I have) please my reviewers. Six months I've been at this. It's like writing a real story of my own.
Thanks for all the time you've given me.
…
The servant hesitated at the door, her light eyes upon Aila once more. Her slender hand was placed upon the door, half open in her rush, and she thought of slipping out anyway, but Aila's eyes were clear and unglazed, though dull and distant. Almost reluctantly, she returned to Aila's side and pulled the princess' hand from the covers, helping her from the bed that she shared with Legolas. Aila flipped her legs to the edge of the bed, pulling the covers from her and relieving herself of the weight. Once she was upon her feet she felt immense dizziness and almost fell down, but the servant's hand held on to hers tightly and she recomposed herself.
The door was flung open and Aila passed through it, walking swiftly for fear that she would lose her balance. Of course, to Aila it felt as if she were walking swiftly, but indeed to the servant they were crawling across the castle. They would have to cross almost half the expanse of the huge castle to reach the conference room where the nobles were located, arguing over the men who occupied the forest outside of the elven realm. Aila's head was leaden and her thoughts crawled slowly where once they had shot like jets. Within the halls of her mind the waves of the ocean had come to a slow crash and the air was windless where once the eagles had struggled against the activity of her mind. Even her wraiths were lethargic in her head. Every step to Aila was like climbing a stair two feet high, struggling to mount it and relieved when she finally achieved her goal, but dreading the action of taking one more step.
But the thought of Legolas, the elf who had been by her side for so long, whom she had forsaken the love of for such a long time, whom she had bore a son to; Legolas was the light at the end of her tunnel.
Cautiously, she dredged on, and in her lethargic mind she felt as if the elves around her were passing speedily. Several stopped and attempted to talk with her, but she made no response, but continued walking, fearing that if she stopped she would never keep going.
"Lady Aila," came a voice, and it was Hukil's. His shifty tone was surprised and there was joy in his voice, where there was normally blandness. "Milady Aila," he said again, but she dared not bring her eyes around to look at his sallow face. She had her eyes trained ahead of her, as if she were standing at attention because if she moved her eyes, she would get even dizzier. It was as if she weren't in control of her actions, and for the most part, she wasn't. She was regaining that control slowly, as several of Glorinul's wraiths still occupied her mind. But those were slowly being beaten into suppression.
Slowly, just like everything else that she did in this state. It seemed like hours for the servant until finally there loomed ahead of her the large oak doors of the main conference room, and even down the hall she could hear the heated voices of the elven men within it.
"These men have us cornered!" cried one voice, but outside she could not place us.
"If you call this cornered. We can last for millennia while the men outside shrivel away and die. We can outlast their race by centuries on just our stores here," Legolas said coolly. Thranduil shook his head at his son, Findecano sat placidly.
"No, Legolas," said Thranduil, from the head of the cherry wood table, glossed and shined to a bright finish. "Not with the new elves we have here from Lorien and Ithilien. Soon, the elves of Rivendell will be arriving from their journey and we will have to make down the Anduin."
"Down the Anduin?" Legolas asked angrily, his blonde hair shaking upon his shoulders. "The Anduin? But the ships we are building are not near ready! It will take months."
"You have been gone long, Father," said Findecano. His voice was not angry, nor was it passionate, but rather complacent. The expression on his face was more complacent than his father's, whom was raged and Legolas' jaws were set grinding. "While you were gone, the elves of Lorien," he gestured to Galadriel and Celeborn, who sat several places from him, "have aided us greatly. They are well versed in ship-building. Where Mirkwood lacks, they excel. It is as if we were the Noldor and they the Teleri in Valinor with their white boats. However, they would willingly help us."
"What if the Rivendell elves arrive soon. We have no tidings from them. They cannot waltz in under the noses of the men. Something must be done. This must be ended soon, before Lord Elrond and his company are even close to the forest of Mirkwood."
Legolas placed his face in his hands and took no more part in the conversation. There was an empty aching in his heart, which had once been filled by Aila's love. But now she was the captive of another, a man who threatened to take down the entire elven race. It served another obstacle for the elves to hurtle over. However, he knew this could not be done easily. His closed tightly his bright blue eyes, and suddenly he felt himself longing for the sea. He had longed for the ocean for so long, since the Fellowship was created, but he had forced himself to forget. Indeed, he had forgotten it the moment he looked into Aila's large brown eyes, saw her bright, vibrant smile, heard her lively laugh.
"There is another obstacle in this," said Legolas, quietly, while the other nobles were arguing over. None heard him, except his son who had been fervently watching his father's fevered movements. "There is yet another obstacle." He raised his voice until he was almost shouting. Finally, each blonde elven head turned to him and the eyes were trained on his. Legolas took a deep breath. "King Glorinul is a Mind Walker, like Aila is. We don't know how powerful he is, but that he can at least capture Aila's mind. Aila has the strongest mind that I know, and she is, at least, aware of what is happening. King Glorinul may take the mind of any of us and control us to do his bidding. He may take my father, my son, myself, anyone of importance. Already he has taken Aila. We don't know how many minds he can control at one time, and we don't know how he can be stopped. He is a huge factor in this."
"Aila can defeat him," came Galadriel's deep voice, vibrating musically from the marble pillars that supported the ceiling, carved magnificently in the fashion of elves. Her expression was vacant, as if she was Seeing, and to all it looked like she was, indeed. "The Book of Ithilien she must read so that she can unveil all of her powers. Do you deem it healthy that a mind walker should be unfamiliar with all of her powers? It is not. She has used some, but not realized it." Legolas bowed his head once more, having said his part, and went back to thinking deeply. Findecano's blue eyes, which mirrored so well those of his father, never left the blonde hair of Legolas, fell fleetingly to the pale hands which covered his face and Findecano wondered as well.
Outside, Aila was struggling towards the oak doors that separated her from Legolas and the rest of the counsel. She had seen Glorinul's mind and she was determined to let the elves know what he was planning. The mortal King had no idea that she had seen into his mind, because he didn't know that her wraiths were rising against him until it was too late.
Finally, the oak doors were flung open and the nobles were distracted from their arguing once more. The servant bowed her head, but loyally brought Aila in as slowly as she could. Aila's head hung, her chin resting against her chest and her thick hair fell limply about her ears and shoulders. She struggled and stopped walking, discontinuing the beat which she had created to keep herself going. Determined to lift her head, she fought against every muscle in her neck until her head was finally raised and she fell into the seat next to Legolas. All eyes were riveted on her, as well as Legolas, who stared openly at her having brought his head up from his hands. Aila took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She inhaled sharply and tried again, but only a soft noise came out, hardly a moan, barely a whisper, with no audible words.
Legolas reacted quickly. Immediately, he was on his knees on the side of her chair. One arm was around her shoulders, supporting her weak head lest it fall back. It was as if she were a small child and inwardly Aila hated it, but she had to get through, to tell them what Glorinul was plotting to do before it was too late. Legolas' other hand held hers and his voice vibrated through her head, causing a weak headache of sound as he whispered to her.
"Aila, what's wrong?" She made no response, since she had no control over her lymph nodes for the moments. "Are you okay?" The only thing she had control over were her basic muscles and she fought against herself to make her hand contract, squeezing his. A primitive sign that she was okay. "Is there something you want to tell us?" Legolas rejoiced in the squeeze that she gave his hand. She was recovering, but slowly. "About the men?" Another squeeze, Legolas was fidgeting with excitement. He had Aila back, and she had information. But his heart fell once more: she didn't have the ability to convey her information.
Calm as always, Findecano came to the other side of his mother, his mirror blue eyes never leaving her brown head of hair, and he placed paper before her, and a pen. Understanding what he meant for her to do, Legolas looked up and watched in earnest as Aila pulled her right hand from his and struggled to bring her arm to the table. Loosely, she grasped the pen, and as if by some miracle she summoned the strength to write.
It was as if she had suddenly become mentally retarded. Like those people born without the ability to use a part of their brain, and in truth, that's what Aila had become. Due to her captivity to Glorinul and that he still occupied certain parts of her brain like Nazi Germany had occupied parts of Europe, she had become as unequipped to function as a five year old would.
However, there was some miracle at work that day, and Aila found the strength and the mental capacity. With Greenleaf still upon her finger, and another Greenleaf at her side, having grasped her left hand, she began writing. Slowly, at first, as everything she had done that day, but on the third word she became more steady in her hand. Upon the paper, she had written: "Glorinul is planning to …" Suddenly, as if she had a seizure, Glorinul's wraiths gained the upper hand momentarily, and she lost control of herself. He saw through her eyes what she was writing and thrust her into a fit of spasms. Her hand dropped the pen, almost throwing it across the room. From her throat came a terrifying scream, until suddenly she was silent.
The entire company watched in horror as her eyes rolled furiously in her head, fading in and out of focus. Until the familiar white film, which caused shivers to crawl up Legolas' spine, returned to her eyes and she slumped back in the chair, practically lifeless.
…
Back in the camp of the men, Glorinul was pacing his tent. One of his officers came through the doorway and saluted before Glorinul gestured for him to stand at ease.
"We must enact our plan soon," the officer nodded, but there was a note of confusion in his eyes. "The elves have escaped, that you know. But the woman, she knows of my plan. I don't know how much longer I can hold her mind. She is strong." A grunt and another nod came from the officer and he left the tent.
…
Within Aila's mind there was utter chaos. In one room her most important wraiths had hidden themselves for a meager counsel of war. None of them spoke. None needed to speak. They spoke through their minds, as wraiths do, and a decision was easily made. Each of them knew what had to be done. Aila's head wraith, with sword and scroll nodded, and her hair stuck around her head where it had been matted there by blood. Another wraith stood slightly away from the rest, and on the blue flight suit there stood the name, MANNINGS, the Air Force Fighter-pilot. More wraiths crowded the large room within Aila's mind. There were her wraiths, as well as wraiths of Legolas, who shared her mind as well.
Each of them had some token of the battle. Some had lost fingers, tips of ears, hair, chunks of their arms, sides, hands, faces. Blood splattered all of them. Every sword holder in the room was wiping the blood from their swords in whatever way they could. Outside, the battle still raged. There was no infirmary. Wraiths do not give in until they are dead. They are like the cells of the brain. If too many are lost, the person who go brain dead and die. There were already too many wraiths lost for Aila's head wraith's liking. She turned to Legolas' head wraith, who had fled to Aila's mind in the time of need, and he was wiping off his double elven blades, sporting a crown upon his head. Legolas looked up and nodded at her. With slow precision and caution, she began unraveling the scroll she had in her hand and took up a quill from another.
"We must fight with head and heart if we are to win this," the thoughts of every wraith in the room echoed the same thing. There was only one thing left for them now. Victory seemed so far, yet so close to her now. In scrawling letters, she hurriedly wrote several primitive words upon the scroll and handed it to a fleet-footed likeness of Aila.
"Summon the Wrath of Heart."
…
A/N: I hope you like how I've continued. Look forward to more interesting twists like this. I'm just getting started all over again.
Review.
A/N: Wow guys, can you believe I've stuck with it all this time. Just amazing, simply extraordinary. And I can't believe you guys have stuck WITH me all this time. This summer, it'll be a year. But I doubt it will last that long. Of course, when I first started writing this story, I thought it would be over by Christmas. Guess I sort of blew that deadline. If I had stuck to posting once a day, we'd long be finished with that, but alas that we can't turn back and I doubt I would have changed how this turned out, and I won't regret spending all of this time from my crazy life to satisfy my writing itch and to (hopefully I have) please my reviewers. Six months I've been at this. It's like writing a real story of my own.
Thanks for all the time you've given me.
…
The servant hesitated at the door, her light eyes upon Aila once more. Her slender hand was placed upon the door, half open in her rush, and she thought of slipping out anyway, but Aila's eyes were clear and unglazed, though dull and distant. Almost reluctantly, she returned to Aila's side and pulled the princess' hand from the covers, helping her from the bed that she shared with Legolas. Aila flipped her legs to the edge of the bed, pulling the covers from her and relieving herself of the weight. Once she was upon her feet she felt immense dizziness and almost fell down, but the servant's hand held on to hers tightly and she recomposed herself.
The door was flung open and Aila passed through it, walking swiftly for fear that she would lose her balance. Of course, to Aila it felt as if she were walking swiftly, but indeed to the servant they were crawling across the castle. They would have to cross almost half the expanse of the huge castle to reach the conference room where the nobles were located, arguing over the men who occupied the forest outside of the elven realm. Aila's head was leaden and her thoughts crawled slowly where once they had shot like jets. Within the halls of her mind the waves of the ocean had come to a slow crash and the air was windless where once the eagles had struggled against the activity of her mind. Even her wraiths were lethargic in her head. Every step to Aila was like climbing a stair two feet high, struggling to mount it and relieved when she finally achieved her goal, but dreading the action of taking one more step.
But the thought of Legolas, the elf who had been by her side for so long, whom she had forsaken the love of for such a long time, whom she had bore a son to; Legolas was the light at the end of her tunnel.
Cautiously, she dredged on, and in her lethargic mind she felt as if the elves around her were passing speedily. Several stopped and attempted to talk with her, but she made no response, but continued walking, fearing that if she stopped she would never keep going.
"Lady Aila," came a voice, and it was Hukil's. His shifty tone was surprised and there was joy in his voice, where there was normally blandness. "Milady Aila," he said again, but she dared not bring her eyes around to look at his sallow face. She had her eyes trained ahead of her, as if she were standing at attention because if she moved her eyes, she would get even dizzier. It was as if she weren't in control of her actions, and for the most part, she wasn't. She was regaining that control slowly, as several of Glorinul's wraiths still occupied her mind. But those were slowly being beaten into suppression.
Slowly, just like everything else that she did in this state. It seemed like hours for the servant until finally there loomed ahead of her the large oak doors of the main conference room, and even down the hall she could hear the heated voices of the elven men within it.
"These men have us cornered!" cried one voice, but outside she could not place us.
"If you call this cornered. We can last for millennia while the men outside shrivel away and die. We can outlast their race by centuries on just our stores here," Legolas said coolly. Thranduil shook his head at his son, Findecano sat placidly.
"No, Legolas," said Thranduil, from the head of the cherry wood table, glossed and shined to a bright finish. "Not with the new elves we have here from Lorien and Ithilien. Soon, the elves of Rivendell will be arriving from their journey and we will have to make down the Anduin."
"Down the Anduin?" Legolas asked angrily, his blonde hair shaking upon his shoulders. "The Anduin? But the ships we are building are not near ready! It will take months."
"You have been gone long, Father," said Findecano. His voice was not angry, nor was it passionate, but rather complacent. The expression on his face was more complacent than his father's, whom was raged and Legolas' jaws were set grinding. "While you were gone, the elves of Lorien," he gestured to Galadriel and Celeborn, who sat several places from him, "have aided us greatly. They are well versed in ship-building. Where Mirkwood lacks, they excel. It is as if we were the Noldor and they the Teleri in Valinor with their white boats. However, they would willingly help us."
"What if the Rivendell elves arrive soon. We have no tidings from them. They cannot waltz in under the noses of the men. Something must be done. This must be ended soon, before Lord Elrond and his company are even close to the forest of Mirkwood."
Legolas placed his face in his hands and took no more part in the conversation. There was an empty aching in his heart, which had once been filled by Aila's love. But now she was the captive of another, a man who threatened to take down the entire elven race. It served another obstacle for the elves to hurtle over. However, he knew this could not be done easily. His closed tightly his bright blue eyes, and suddenly he felt himself longing for the sea. He had longed for the ocean for so long, since the Fellowship was created, but he had forced himself to forget. Indeed, he had forgotten it the moment he looked into Aila's large brown eyes, saw her bright, vibrant smile, heard her lively laugh.
"There is another obstacle in this," said Legolas, quietly, while the other nobles were arguing over. None heard him, except his son who had been fervently watching his father's fevered movements. "There is yet another obstacle." He raised his voice until he was almost shouting. Finally, each blonde elven head turned to him and the eyes were trained on his. Legolas took a deep breath. "King Glorinul is a Mind Walker, like Aila is. We don't know how powerful he is, but that he can at least capture Aila's mind. Aila has the strongest mind that I know, and she is, at least, aware of what is happening. King Glorinul may take the mind of any of us and control us to do his bidding. He may take my father, my son, myself, anyone of importance. Already he has taken Aila. We don't know how many minds he can control at one time, and we don't know how he can be stopped. He is a huge factor in this."
"Aila can defeat him," came Galadriel's deep voice, vibrating musically from the marble pillars that supported the ceiling, carved magnificently in the fashion of elves. Her expression was vacant, as if she was Seeing, and to all it looked like she was, indeed. "The Book of Ithilien she must read so that she can unveil all of her powers. Do you deem it healthy that a mind walker should be unfamiliar with all of her powers? It is not. She has used some, but not realized it." Legolas bowed his head once more, having said his part, and went back to thinking deeply. Findecano's blue eyes, which mirrored so well those of his father, never left the blonde hair of Legolas, fell fleetingly to the pale hands which covered his face and Findecano wondered as well.
Outside, Aila was struggling towards the oak doors that separated her from Legolas and the rest of the counsel. She had seen Glorinul's mind and she was determined to let the elves know what he was planning. The mortal King had no idea that she had seen into his mind, because he didn't know that her wraiths were rising against him until it was too late.
Finally, the oak doors were flung open and the nobles were distracted from their arguing once more. The servant bowed her head, but loyally brought Aila in as slowly as she could. Aila's head hung, her chin resting against her chest and her thick hair fell limply about her ears and shoulders. She struggled and stopped walking, discontinuing the beat which she had created to keep herself going. Determined to lift her head, she fought against every muscle in her neck until her head was finally raised and she fell into the seat next to Legolas. All eyes were riveted on her, as well as Legolas, who stared openly at her having brought his head up from his hands. Aila took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She inhaled sharply and tried again, but only a soft noise came out, hardly a moan, barely a whisper, with no audible words.
Legolas reacted quickly. Immediately, he was on his knees on the side of her chair. One arm was around her shoulders, supporting her weak head lest it fall back. It was as if she were a small child and inwardly Aila hated it, but she had to get through, to tell them what Glorinul was plotting to do before it was too late. Legolas' other hand held hers and his voice vibrated through her head, causing a weak headache of sound as he whispered to her.
"Aila, what's wrong?" She made no response, since she had no control over her lymph nodes for the moments. "Are you okay?" The only thing she had control over were her basic muscles and she fought against herself to make her hand contract, squeezing his. A primitive sign that she was okay. "Is there something you want to tell us?" Legolas rejoiced in the squeeze that she gave his hand. She was recovering, but slowly. "About the men?" Another squeeze, Legolas was fidgeting with excitement. He had Aila back, and she had information. But his heart fell once more: she didn't have the ability to convey her information.
Calm as always, Findecano came to the other side of his mother, his mirror blue eyes never leaving her brown head of hair, and he placed paper before her, and a pen. Understanding what he meant for her to do, Legolas looked up and watched in earnest as Aila pulled her right hand from his and struggled to bring her arm to the table. Loosely, she grasped the pen, and as if by some miracle she summoned the strength to write.
It was as if she had suddenly become mentally retarded. Like those people born without the ability to use a part of their brain, and in truth, that's what Aila had become. Due to her captivity to Glorinul and that he still occupied certain parts of her brain like Nazi Germany had occupied parts of Europe, she had become as unequipped to function as a five year old would.
However, there was some miracle at work that day, and Aila found the strength and the mental capacity. With Greenleaf still upon her finger, and another Greenleaf at her side, having grasped her left hand, she began writing. Slowly, at first, as everything she had done that day, but on the third word she became more steady in her hand. Upon the paper, she had written: "Glorinul is planning to …" Suddenly, as if she had a seizure, Glorinul's wraiths gained the upper hand momentarily, and she lost control of herself. He saw through her eyes what she was writing and thrust her into a fit of spasms. Her hand dropped the pen, almost throwing it across the room. From her throat came a terrifying scream, until suddenly she was silent.
The entire company watched in horror as her eyes rolled furiously in her head, fading in and out of focus. Until the familiar white film, which caused shivers to crawl up Legolas' spine, returned to her eyes and she slumped back in the chair, practically lifeless.
…
Back in the camp of the men, Glorinul was pacing his tent. One of his officers came through the doorway and saluted before Glorinul gestured for him to stand at ease.
"We must enact our plan soon," the officer nodded, but there was a note of confusion in his eyes. "The elves have escaped, that you know. But the woman, she knows of my plan. I don't know how much longer I can hold her mind. She is strong." A grunt and another nod came from the officer and he left the tent.
…
Within Aila's mind there was utter chaos. In one room her most important wraiths had hidden themselves for a meager counsel of war. None of them spoke. None needed to speak. They spoke through their minds, as wraiths do, and a decision was easily made. Each of them knew what had to be done. Aila's head wraith, with sword and scroll nodded, and her hair stuck around her head where it had been matted there by blood. Another wraith stood slightly away from the rest, and on the blue flight suit there stood the name, MANNINGS, the Air Force Fighter-pilot. More wraiths crowded the large room within Aila's mind. There were her wraiths, as well as wraiths of Legolas, who shared her mind as well.
Each of them had some token of the battle. Some had lost fingers, tips of ears, hair, chunks of their arms, sides, hands, faces. Blood splattered all of them. Every sword holder in the room was wiping the blood from their swords in whatever way they could. Outside, the battle still raged. There was no infirmary. Wraiths do not give in until they are dead. They are like the cells of the brain. If too many are lost, the person who go brain dead and die. There were already too many wraiths lost for Aila's head wraith's liking. She turned to Legolas' head wraith, who had fled to Aila's mind in the time of need, and he was wiping off his double elven blades, sporting a crown upon his head. Legolas looked up and nodded at her. With slow precision and caution, she began unraveling the scroll she had in her hand and took up a quill from another.
"We must fight with head and heart if we are to win this," the thoughts of every wraith in the room echoed the same thing. There was only one thing left for them now. Victory seemed so far, yet so close to her now. In scrawling letters, she hurriedly wrote several primitive words upon the scroll and handed it to a fleet-footed likeness of Aila.
"Summon the Wrath of Heart."
…
A/N: I hope you like how I've continued. Look forward to more interesting twists like this. I'm just getting started all over again.
Review.