A/N: Well, it's been a while. There's no doubting it. I kinda just stopped writing for a while, because I was not inspired to write the next part in this story. I don't like to write things when I'm not inspired, because then they are complete garbage(chapter seven as an example). So, I'm trying again to get this story off the ground, because I feel it is my duty to my readers to do this one thing. I hope you enjoy! ^_^ And PLEASE R&R!!!! If I do not get enough reviews, I will die. Simple fact. Prevent my demise!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I intend no infringement. Tolkien is the holy god of all things Lord of the Rings. I am merely a poor student with a fatal obsession for his work. Please don't sue.^_^
P.S: Please excuse all mistakes in grammar or spelling. I tend to miss things when I edit~_^
Chapter Eight
Rain splattered heavily on the window behind Eomynne's bed when she woke slowly the next morning. Even with her eyes firmly shut, she could see the flash of lightening strike across her closed lids, followed a few beats later by the distinct clap and boom of thunder. Nestled in the warm embrace of the heavy bed sheets, she was reluctant to get up, wishing with all her might that if she kept her eyes closed for long enough, she would be gone from her accursed prison and once more lying under the midday sun along the sandy shores of the Haven. But even with all her wishing and hoping, the rain stayed where it was, instead seeming to mock her by picking up its pace, throwing itself more relentlessly against the glass.
With a sigh, she very reluctantly opened her eyes, staring crossly at the ceiling.
"Go away." She whispered feebly.
"Not a chance." Came a low voice from across the room.
Startled, Eomynne sat up stiffly, holding the sheets close to her chest. By the door sat Eldarion, relaxing easily in the chair he so favoured. He gave her a chilling grin, and Eomynne shivered, lying back down and tugging the sheets over her head, squeezing her eyes shut again. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Did he find it his responsibility to stalk her every moment of every day? Or was he more sick and twisted than she originally thought?
"I am not going anywhere." Eldarion informed her, his heavy voice muffled by the fabric which covered her head. "You can avoid me all you like, but you may soon find yourself running in circles."
Eomynne didn't even bother to respond.
Grimmacing, she tucked her cold legs closer to her chest, rolling over on her side. Her head had begun to throb, a steady beat that marched between her ears, and the dull ache that haunted her had taken up residence in her chest again. She briefly considered taking the unsheathed blade from her bedside table and leaping after Eldarion, but soon realized that he would probably move and imobilize her before she even got three strides toward him.
Eomynne gave a heavy sigh. She was beginning to feel quite pathetic. If she was a real warrior, she would have thought up a plan to kill Eldarion and escape by then, instead of cowering at every word the King said, and flinching with every move he made towards her. What would her brothers think if they knew how lazy and weak she was? If they knew she was doing nothing but lying hopelessly in her bed, hiding like a coward beneath the sheets? They'd already suffered torture, and she was still being treated like a queen. She almost wished Eldarion would do something to her, something to bring her back to her senses.
After a while, Eomynne found there was no use hiding all day. Inwardly wincing, she pulled back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stood slowly, bringing one hand to her temple to fight of the dizziness that ensued. She really should be eating more.
"Are you going to dress?" Eldarion asked, though Eomynne could tell he didn't care either way.
She simply nodded, then retrieved her warrior garb from where she'd tossed it on the floor the night before and removed the long shirt she'd procured from one of the emptied drawers. She turned her back on Eldarion while she dressed, all the while feeling his burning gaze, hot like hellfire on her exposed skin. She tried not to think about it too much, but it still bothered her a little.
"You have many scars." Eldarion noted, and Eomynne could hear him rise and stride over until he was directly behind her. "Did you fight many battles?"
"Yes." Eomynne replied stiffly. "Many of your men died by my sword."
She pulled on her leggings and was starting to slip into her tunic when she felt Eldarion's hand travel down her back slowly. She restrained herself from jumping away, shivering as he hummed under his breath thoughtfully.
"This one here," he murmured, running the length of her back again, "it seems recent. Did that occur when you were captured by my men?"
Eomynne shivered again, trying to squash down the heat flooding her cheeks.
"No." she forced out. "No it didn't. But I did receive this…."
She raised one trembling hand and parted her hair on the side of her head, revealing an ugly scar that was still in the process of healing. Some crusted blood still remained, even after she'd been cleaned up by Manille and Vera. There was a moment of silence, where Eomynne assumed Eldarion was examining the cut. After a few heavy moments, he chuckled darkly.
"That would be Domic's handiwork, is it not?"
Eomynne frowned.
"I suppose." She sighed. "Though I cannot confirm that. I hardly had the time to realize what was happening before I was struck, let alone scrutinize the face of my assaulter and save it for later."
Her tone was bitter.
Eldarion chuckled again, then moved around to face her, his dark eyes burning like hot coals.
"You Elves are indeed strange." He observed, raising one elegant eyebrow. "Pigheaded in every sense of the word. Too proud to admit what a pradicament they've gotten themselves into, and then they try to cover up their fear with witty remarks and a stiff upper lip."
Eomynne said nothing, pushing her quiet outrage down.
Eldarion eyed her carefully.
"You don't fool me." He said, smiling a little. "You're afraid, and your dearest brothers cannot save you this time…."
"What do you know about my brothers?!" Eomynne shrieked, her misty eyes flaming. "You do not know anything about them! They could be just as easily the same as you, but you are too blinded by your disgusting blood lust to see!"
Eldarion stepped back, no doubt surprised by her unchecked display of rage. Eomynne however, wasn't going to let him get away that easily. She advanced, slapping him forcefully across the cheek, and backing him into the corner. Without thought, she snatched the dagger from where it lay unsheathed and pressed it firmly against Eldarion's throat, leaning all her body weight onto him to keep him from striking back.
"You deserve no better." She hissed into his face, teeth clenched tightly together. "By the Valar, I should have killed you the moment I saw you."
Eldarion forced out a laugh, and Eomynne could see he was far from afraid. She hesitated a moment, instantly regretting it when she was pushed backwards in her moment of weakness, and sent tumbling across the floor. Before she had time to draw breath, Eldarion was on her, peeling her fingers away from the hilt of the blade and tossing it carelessly behind him. His elbow dug painfully into her chest, and as Eomynne sucked in air, he shoved it deeper, knocking the wind out of her and pushing a faint whine from her throat.
"Did you seriously think you could do that?" Eldarion muttered, laughing softly.
"I had a chance." Eomynne wheezed, struggling underneath him.
Eldarion shook his head, his dark hair falling in dissaray over his face.
"No, you didn't."
Eomynne gave him a sour look, wanting with all her might to scratch his eyes out. She continued to struggle, not to escape, just to give Eldarion a hard time. If she wasn't going to kill him, she was going to do everything in her power to be difficult about it.
"If you stay still, then I will let you go." Eldarion promised. "I give you my word."
"Ha." Eomynne scoffed, giving Eldarion one of her most disgusted smiles. "When was your word worth anything?"
Eldarion leaned harder into her chest, causing a sharp white flash of pain to strike across her abdomen.
"It is worth enough for the likes of you." He replied, his lip curling in a sneer, clearly enjoying seeing Eomynne writhe and struggle, suffering under his massive weight.
Eomynne had had enough. She spat fiercely into his face.
"Amin feuya ten'lle." She hissed with contempt. "Utinu en lokirim."
You disgust me. Son of Snakes.
Eldarion simply gave a chilling smile.
"Tanya nae sai eina." He laughed, clearly amused. "Lasta lalaithamin."
That was very funny. Listen to my laughter.
Eomynne screamed in outrage, heaving all her weight forward and cracking her skull against Eldarion's. He gave a cry of surprise, clutching his head as she sprung away from him, dashing to her bed where the dagger lay on the floor behind it. She groped in the darkness, until her fingers touched the cold steel and she clutched the hilt, turning just in time to throw the deadly weapon at Eldarion as he came after her. The blade sunk deep into his shoulder, and he faltered, stumbling aside.
Eomynne saw her chance.
She streaked forward, throwing open the door and dashing out into the pouring rain, sprinting with all her strength to where Elleduil and Caelidur's rooms were placed. The grassy courtyard was reduced to a squelching quagmire of mud, sucking her bare heels and slowing her progress, but she struggled on nonetheless, hoping with all her might that Eldarion wouldn't pursue her right away.
Much to her joy, the guards that stood outside her brother's rooms had just left to be relieved, and the ornately decorated doors were left unminded. As she skidded to a halt by the first one, there was a whizz of steel in the air, and she jumped right just in time to miss Eldarion's throw. Powered by fury, and the adrenaline surging through her veins, Eomynne snatched the blade and turned to see Eldarion stumbling after her, his shoulder a bloody mess. Forgetting her brothers, she raced up to him, ready to drive her dagger right through his black heart.
"Gurth goth Tel'Quessir!" she shrieked above the howling wind and booming thunder, raising her hand to deliver the final blow. Without warning, Eldarion lunged at her, grabbing hold of Eomynne's arm and kicking her feet from under her. She fell, her arm twisting and breaking with a sickening crack. The ground was soft, but she cried out in agony, clutching her ruined arm, mud slopping into her mouth and clinging to her destroyed braid. Towering over her, Eldarion laughed, kicking her hard in the stomach, watching with glee and she moaned and curled into a ball, trying to defend herself from his brutal attacks.
Tears streamed from Eomynne's eyes as she struggled to sit up, her gaze burning with fury and hatred through the muddy hair that was smeared across her face. The rain was falling in a torrential downpour now, pouring in all direcions, thrown by the merciless wind. Both Eomynne and Eldarion were soaked to the skin, their bodies covered in squelching mud and flowing blood, their faces contorted with fury, illuminated by the lightening that streaked across the dark sky.
"Ona ta a'amin." He said firmly, gesturing to the bloody dagger where it lay beside Eomynne.
Give it to me.
"Amin nauva il on'lle ai'nat." Eomynne hissed.
I will not give you anything.
The sounds of guards approaching cut through the rain, and Eldarion turned to see five men-at-arms come running towards them, swords drawn.
"Take the Ardarauko." He ordered, motioning to Eomynne.
The men pulled Eomynne to her feet, and she noticed Caelan was among them. He gave her a brief look, something she could not place in his grey eyes, then guided her away. Two of the guards stayed with Eldarion, and one began to inspect the wound in his shoulder.
"I will take the woman back to her room." Caelan told the men with him. "Return to your posts. You are no longer needed."
The men gave a brief bow, then strode away.
Caelan snatched her right arm, pulling Eomynne towards her room. His eyes roved over her twisted arm with concern.
"What were you thinking?" he asked incredulously under his breath.
"I was trying to escape." Eomynne replied stiffly, biting her lip to keep from moaning in pain.
Caelan frowned.
"You did not have a chance." He muttered. "Eldarion could have you killed for this…"
"But he won't." Eomynne interupted.
"Do not be so sure."
Once they were safely back inside Eomynne's room, Caelan lit a fire in the large hearth, then boiled some water and stirred in crushed herbs. The smell wasn't altogether pleasant, but Eomynne didn't say anything. She continued to nurse her broken arm, holding it lightly close to her chest. She understood that it would need to be straightened back in place, but she didn't think she had enough courage to do it herself. Eomynne hoped that Caelan knew how to do it properly.
"Drink this." Caelan ordered, handing her a goblet with the odd smelling liquid in it, then draping a rough blanket around her shoulders. "It will dull the pain when I set the bone in your arm."
He cast a quick eye over her.
"It would also be wise to clean yourself up. The dirt will do nothing for the cut on your forehead."
Surprised, Eomynne reached up and tenderly touched her brow, then stared at her fingers in shock when she saw they were stained crimson. She didn't remember getting the cut, but it was there, and now that she realized it, it had begun to sting.
"Will you set the bone first?" she asked. "Or would it be best for me to bathe?"
Caelan shrugged.
"Either way, it will make no difference."
Eomynne decided she would rather have her arm taken care of before she attempted to clean and redress herself. She drank the liquid, then extended the broken limb as best she could, steeling herself for the innevidable pain to follow. Caelan squatted down beside her, then took hold of her arm tightly, causing a brief flash of pain to shoot up from her elbow.
Caelan gave a small smile.
"It's going to hurt more than that." He told her, laughing a little.
Eomynne gave him a bitter smile in return.
Caelan grasped the limb again, then in one violent motion, he snapped the arm back in place. Eomynne nearly bit her tongue in two to keep from screaming. But as soon as it had begun, it was over, and the pain dulled to a heavy throb while Caelan pulled a smooth, flat stick from his pack and placed it along side her arm, tightly wrapping white cloth around the splint and pinning it in place.
"That will let the bone heal." Caelan explained. "Try to use your right arm for a while. It is going to take a long time for the bone to fix itself."
Eomynne sighed.
"I will do my best." She promised.
"Good."
Caelan rose and gathered his things together, checking to make sure she had all she needed before leaving. Once the door had closed, Eomynne hauled her aching body off the bed and heated some more water for a bath. Being carefull of her arm, she undressed herself. The basins of water had heated up by the time she was finished, and she poured them into the tub, sinking in gratefully once it was full. She scrubbed roughly at her muddy skin, and washed her long hair four times before she was satisfied it was clean.
After toweling herself dry and dressing again, Eomynne was utterly exhausted, and even though it was only a few hours past midday, she climbed into bed again and pulled the covers close.
Within a few moments, she was alseep, the storm still raging on outside.
Nathaniel stared blankly at the wall from where he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. Three gold balls were placed a few feet away from him, glimmering in their lovely way. At his silent command, the balls began rolling around in a circle, one following the other. Without stopping they rose into the air, still spinning and chasing, until another object joined the fray, a fourth gold ball much larger than the other three. As if it had a life of its own, the fourth ball approached one of the three, then tapped it, causing the glimmering sphere to tumble to the ground, stopping a hand span from the floor. The fourth ball continued on, tapping the other two in turn, and each fell to the ground, stopping a hand span from the floor, just as the first had done. Once each of the three had been tapped, the fourth followed them to the floor and sat itself daintily upon Nathaniel's outstretched palm. Without a word, the three gold balls clattered to the ground, rolling away in various directions.
Like Hasana, Nathaniel understood what a waste of the craft such simple displays were, but he practiced them nonetheless. He always got better, so it wasn't necissarily a total waste. Assilan didn't like it much when he did it though, but he was barely around anyway, so it didn't matter.
Closing his eyes, Nathaniel made a brief attempt to try to reach Cigry, but the Elf was locked away in his own despairing thoughts, and would not allow him to enter. Nathaniel gave a small shove at the walls Cigry had erected around his mind, but they stayed firmly in place. Either he didn't want to talk, or he couldn't. Nathaniel was anxious to know how the Elven Lord was faring, but it seemed he would not find out then. When Cigry felt like speaking to him, he would. Until then, Nathaniel would just have to wait.
With a heavy sigh, Nathaniel went back to his golden balls, watching with complete disinterest as they spun and dipped and dived. A lock of brown hair drooped over his eyes, and he brushed it away. The balls did not falter no hesitate. They could continue on even if he closed his eyes. They could spin and dip and dive even if he was in the next room. As long as he knew where they were, they would move as he willed them to. Such was the extent of his power, that he could talk to the Elves in their Haven if he so wished. He didn't know anyone there, so it would be extremely difficult, but all the same, he could if he wished to.
There was a sudden loud thump on his door, and Nathaniel jumped, surprised after his long morning of complete and utter silence. He watched the door with his colourless eyes, wondering if he'd only been dreaming, but after a few short moments, there was another thump, followed by one more, this time louder and more insistent.
Sighing, Nathaniel pulled himself to his feet, striding towards the door and knowing instantly who it would be. He could have felt Assilan's cold presence even if he was miles away, and just standing on the other side, he gave off waves of bitter cruelty and malice, sinking into Nathaniel's skin and burrowing under his nails. It was a very unpleasant feeling, but Nathaniel knew that if he did not open the door and let him in, Assilan would become very angry indeed, and then it would just be worse. Nathaniel often wondered how one man could be so evil, and still be alive, living, breathing just as everyone else did.
"Open the door." Came a low voice from the other side.
Nathaniel obeyed, unhooking the various chains and locks and sliding the deadbolt free, swinging it open and stepping aside. Assilan swept in with a great flourish, shutting the door behind him. He gave Nathaniel a hollow smile, then pulled a chair away from Nathaniel's desk and sat casually, crossing his legs at the ankles.
Nathaniel hid a grimmace, trying to slither into Assilan's mind just for the fun of it. Even though the man didn't have a scrap of craft in him, he somehow knew when Nathaniel attempted this, and always had a strong and unbreakable barrier in place, one that was more than extremely difficult for Nathaniel to break. This time was no exception. The wall around his mind was just as real as if it had been stone and mortar, and did not give in the slightest after Nathaniel's various shoves and slams. Somewhat dissapointed, Nathaniel crawled back into his own mind, finally letting his grimmace loose.
"Another failure?" Assilan chuckled, eyeing him carefully.
"I have to say," Nathaniel began, "that even though you are evil in every sense, and have an aura that could kill a cow, your mind is extremely strong."
Assilan's smile dissapeared. He was obviously insulted, but chose not to say anything. Nathaniel felt his heart leap at this small victory. He rarely gained any ground with Assilan, and even something so small as insulting him, and having the man be insulted was enough for Nathaniel.
"I came here to inform you that tommorow you will meet with the Lady Hasana." Assilan told him. "She is another captive within Eldarion's palace, and has similar talents to yours."
Nathaniel was confused.
"I know whom you speak of." He replied slowly. "But why does Eldarion wish us to meet?"
Assilan smiled coldly.
"That is none of your concern. You will know when the time is right."
With that, Assilan rose again and strode towards the door. He stopped abruptly, and turned, going back to Nathaniel's side and clutching the side of his face tightly and twining his fingers in Nathaniel's hair.
"Do not tire yourself out." Assilan whispered, holding Nathaniel's colourless gaze. "I will not have my things become unusable. You are mine." he caressed Nathaniel's cheek with his thumb, as if in a reminder. "You are mine forever. Do not forget that."
And then he was gone, leaving Nathaniel to stand alone in his room, trembling and shaking as if he would never stop. The storm outside raged on, but Nathaniel scarcely heard it for the screams inside his head were suddenly very clear, and as he fell backwards in a faint, a vision passed before his eyes of a woman, kneeling beside a man and wailing as if she'd lost everything that was ever precious to her, her face contorted with agony and despair.
Then all was gone, and he knew no more.
A/N: Well, I have various things to say here. First of all, I must note that all the Elvish used in this story is mostly a rough translation. My source is a very reliable site, but I do not know how accurate their translations are. Second, I am no doctor, and the way Caelan set Eomynne's arm could have been totally wrong. I'm just guessing. Third and final, I realize how that last bit with Nathaniel and Assilan was kind of on the slashy side, but I promise that's not what I meant at all. I wanted to convey how precious Nathaniel is to Assilan( the source of all his power) and that if he didn't have him captive, he would have very little influence in Eldarion's court. If you want to believe that Assilan has lusty feelings for Nathaniel, go ahead. I cannot stop you. But, that is not what I intend to convey. So anyway, R&R!!!!!!!!!! I NEED reviews! Please review! Tell me what you think! Please please please?!