Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.
Author's Notes: This chapter contains torture, just so you know. I know it's not an entirely original method, but personally I'm not well- acquainted with torture. I'm working on it. But who says that evil geniuses (like Saruman, not me, honest!) have to be brilliant at torture? Well, Ian Fleming for one. There's some beautiful bits in those books.
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Chapter 9. 'You Will Talk, Prince Greenleaf'
Aragorn awoke alone in a cell. It was almost completely dark, the only light being the dim flickering of a torch outside the door. It barely illuminated the bare stone walls, only allowing the man to see that he was on his own. He rubbed his head irritably.
Oh hell, he thought. This isn't good. Someone's set us up, and I bet it was Grima. And where's Legolas?
He stood and crossed the cell to look out of the window in the door. A large orc was standing outside, guarding the door. Its face creased into a sneer as it saw Aragorn at the door. A rasping sound emitted from its mouth, and Aragorn realised that it was laughing. He gave it a sardonic little smile before returning to examining the door. A long blond hair was caught in the splintery wood, one that Aragorn found familiar.
Must be the cell where Legolas was, he decided, and the thought cheered him. If Legolas can get out then so can I, he thought, bending to examine the lock. It looked fairly old, but still quite solid. He straightened up and stared out into the corridor again, picking idly at the black powder under his fingernails.
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Greenleaf came to when a hand connected with his cheek. Trying to raise his hand to ward off another blow, he found he couldn't. The second slap hit him squarely on the other cheek.
"All right!" he snarled. "I'm awake!"
"Pity," the calm voice of Saruman said, "I was enjoying that. One more for luck, I suppose." He struck Greenleaf again hard.
Blinking, with his head ringing, the Elf focussed his eyes on the room. He was back in the same one where he had eaten with the wizard, the one with the fish tank on one side. But now he was tied to a wooden chair in the centre of the room, his arms bent back behind him. The ropes were tight, and pulling at them just made them tighter still. His tunic had been removed. Saruman stood before the Elf, looking down imperiously.
"Who are you really?" he asked, his face mere inches from Greenleaf's.
True to his training, the Elf said nothing. He scowled back at the wizard, whose eyes narrowed.
"You are the Prince of Mirkwood, that much is apparent," Saruman continued, enunciating each word carefully, "but who else are you? Why are you here? And even more importantly, who sent you!" He had grown quite angry by the last question, and spit flew from his mouth to land on Greenleaf's face.
The Elf still said nothing. Saruman calmed slightly, a wolfish smile curling his lips.
"You will talk, Prince Greenleaf," he said, "I assure you." He walked behind the chair, to a spot where Greenleaf couldn't see him. "Naturally, I was curious when I discovered that an Elf had turned up in Edoras. Particularly after had almost stopped me in Rivendell. So, I invited you round for dinner, where I would play the charming host." He came back round the chair to stare Greenleaf in the face again. "I'll admit I didn't recognise you at first. Your slightly spoiled prince act was very good, but I saw through it. I trust you enjoyed your night here?" He chuckled nastily, then frowned.
"But, of course, I didn't get the answer I wanted. Who is that interested in me? Who has the resources to come after me like this?"
Greenleaf stayed silent, staring straight ahead, apparently ignoring the wizard.
"I'll make it very simple for you," Saruman said slowly, gripping the Elf's chin to force him to look up. "Whom do you work for?"
"Go to hell," Greenleaf told him through gritted teeth. Saruman landed another blow on the Elf's face, still holding his chin so Greenleaf couldn't avoid it. Blood ran from his lip, dripping crimson down his chin and onto his chest.
"Talk!" the wizard spat, dropping the Elf's chin. Greenleaf still refused to say anything, keeping his mouth firmly shut.
"Then you asked for this," Saruman said coldly, walking away again. Greenleaf heard nothing but the wizard's footsteps, crossing the room and returning. Something was pressed against his back and he tensed, wondering what Saruman had in store. He didn't have to wait long.
Crack! A line of bright fire appeared along his bared back. Not expecting this, Greenleaf cried out, his body arching up in spasm. He barely had enough time to recover from the first when the second lash cracked down. This time he bit his lip, not wanting to allow Saruman the satisfaction of hearing his cry out again. He heard the whip whistle through the air before it his him. The pain spread across his back as the wizard continued the beating. He bit his lip harder, determined not to make a sound. When Saruman finally stopped, Greenleaf didn't at first realise; the pain had merged together into one burning sensation.
"Who do you work for?" the wizard repeated, standing before him again. The whip in his hands left blood on the polished floor.
Greenleaf said nothing. He could feel warm liquid trickling down his arms.
"You will tell me sooner or later," Saruman said, "that I can safely tell you. I know that this ring is what you are after." He pulled a small box from his robes; the same small box that Greenleaf had fought him for in Rivendell. Opening it, he held it close before Greenleaf's face, showing him the golden ring.
"This tiny little bit of jewellery. Hardly seems worth it, does it? But this is going to bring all our plans to fruition. This is the final part of my lord's plan. Together, he and I shall rule Middle Earth!" Saruman seemed to have forgotten Greenleaf for the moment, so the Elf decided to bring him back to reality.
"You think Sauron's going to share his rule with you?" he commented, as acidically as he could.
"Of course he will!" Saruman snapped. "But you will be out of the equation by then, Prince Greenleaf. Long out of it. I shall get my information from you, no matter how hard you try and fight it. I will have you in so much pain that you'll be begging me to kill you, just to end the pain. And I may kill you. But then I'll bring you back, so that I can torture and kill you all over again.
"You'll barely know who you are anymore; you'll be so screwed up. And I'll enjoy every last screaming minute of it. You may be a proud, handsome Elf now, but I can, and will, change that. You'll do anything I say eventually. Betray your bosses, wash the dishes, lick my boots, anything. You'll be mine, Prince Greenleaf. A humble cringing servant that nobody'll look twice at."
Greenleaf remained stony-faced throughout Saruman's tirade. It was megalomania, he told himself, the crazed rantings of a deranged psychopath. But still the uneasiness crept in on him, twisting in his gut. "It may sound like a cliché," he said, sounding as blasé as he could, "but you won't get away with it."
Saruman laughed. "Oh, I will. Nobody can stop us. And, just for you, I'm going to send my Uruk-Hai to destroy Edoras. It's a tiresome little place."
"You bastard," Greenleaf growled, "what have they ever done to you?"
"Supported you in your little 'attack'," Saruman said, a smile on his face, "I know all about the riders waiting outside, and where they're waiting."
He walked towards the door, carelessly dropping the whip on the floor as he went. At the door he paused and turned back.
"Don't worry; I'm not leaving you without company." His smile turned into a leer. "You can play with him, Grima, but don't break him yet." He swept out of the room.
From behind Greenleaf there came a chuckle, a nasty, dry-sounding one. Grima, king's advisor and spy, came into view. His smile was malicious.
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Nope, didn't see that coming at all. . .
:::::::::::::::::::
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.
Author's Notes: This chapter contains torture, just so you know. I know it's not an entirely original method, but personally I'm not well- acquainted with torture. I'm working on it. But who says that evil geniuses (like Saruman, not me, honest!) have to be brilliant at torture? Well, Ian Fleming for one. There's some beautiful bits in those books.
:::::::::::::::::::
Chapter 9. 'You Will Talk, Prince Greenleaf'
Aragorn awoke alone in a cell. It was almost completely dark, the only light being the dim flickering of a torch outside the door. It barely illuminated the bare stone walls, only allowing the man to see that he was on his own. He rubbed his head irritably.
Oh hell, he thought. This isn't good. Someone's set us up, and I bet it was Grima. And where's Legolas?
He stood and crossed the cell to look out of the window in the door. A large orc was standing outside, guarding the door. Its face creased into a sneer as it saw Aragorn at the door. A rasping sound emitted from its mouth, and Aragorn realised that it was laughing. He gave it a sardonic little smile before returning to examining the door. A long blond hair was caught in the splintery wood, one that Aragorn found familiar.
Must be the cell where Legolas was, he decided, and the thought cheered him. If Legolas can get out then so can I, he thought, bending to examine the lock. It looked fairly old, but still quite solid. He straightened up and stared out into the corridor again, picking idly at the black powder under his fingernails.
:::::::::::::::::::
Greenleaf came to when a hand connected with his cheek. Trying to raise his hand to ward off another blow, he found he couldn't. The second slap hit him squarely on the other cheek.
"All right!" he snarled. "I'm awake!"
"Pity," the calm voice of Saruman said, "I was enjoying that. One more for luck, I suppose." He struck Greenleaf again hard.
Blinking, with his head ringing, the Elf focussed his eyes on the room. He was back in the same one where he had eaten with the wizard, the one with the fish tank on one side. But now he was tied to a wooden chair in the centre of the room, his arms bent back behind him. The ropes were tight, and pulling at them just made them tighter still. His tunic had been removed. Saruman stood before the Elf, looking down imperiously.
"Who are you really?" he asked, his face mere inches from Greenleaf's.
True to his training, the Elf said nothing. He scowled back at the wizard, whose eyes narrowed.
"You are the Prince of Mirkwood, that much is apparent," Saruman continued, enunciating each word carefully, "but who else are you? Why are you here? And even more importantly, who sent you!" He had grown quite angry by the last question, and spit flew from his mouth to land on Greenleaf's face.
The Elf still said nothing. Saruman calmed slightly, a wolfish smile curling his lips.
"You will talk, Prince Greenleaf," he said, "I assure you." He walked behind the chair, to a spot where Greenleaf couldn't see him. "Naturally, I was curious when I discovered that an Elf had turned up in Edoras. Particularly after had almost stopped me in Rivendell. So, I invited you round for dinner, where I would play the charming host." He came back round the chair to stare Greenleaf in the face again. "I'll admit I didn't recognise you at first. Your slightly spoiled prince act was very good, but I saw through it. I trust you enjoyed your night here?" He chuckled nastily, then frowned.
"But, of course, I didn't get the answer I wanted. Who is that interested in me? Who has the resources to come after me like this?"
Greenleaf stayed silent, staring straight ahead, apparently ignoring the wizard.
"I'll make it very simple for you," Saruman said slowly, gripping the Elf's chin to force him to look up. "Whom do you work for?"
"Go to hell," Greenleaf told him through gritted teeth. Saruman landed another blow on the Elf's face, still holding his chin so Greenleaf couldn't avoid it. Blood ran from his lip, dripping crimson down his chin and onto his chest.
"Talk!" the wizard spat, dropping the Elf's chin. Greenleaf still refused to say anything, keeping his mouth firmly shut.
"Then you asked for this," Saruman said coldly, walking away again. Greenleaf heard nothing but the wizard's footsteps, crossing the room and returning. Something was pressed against his back and he tensed, wondering what Saruman had in store. He didn't have to wait long.
Crack! A line of bright fire appeared along his bared back. Not expecting this, Greenleaf cried out, his body arching up in spasm. He barely had enough time to recover from the first when the second lash cracked down. This time he bit his lip, not wanting to allow Saruman the satisfaction of hearing his cry out again. He heard the whip whistle through the air before it his him. The pain spread across his back as the wizard continued the beating. He bit his lip harder, determined not to make a sound. When Saruman finally stopped, Greenleaf didn't at first realise; the pain had merged together into one burning sensation.
"Who do you work for?" the wizard repeated, standing before him again. The whip in his hands left blood on the polished floor.
Greenleaf said nothing. He could feel warm liquid trickling down his arms.
"You will tell me sooner or later," Saruman said, "that I can safely tell you. I know that this ring is what you are after." He pulled a small box from his robes; the same small box that Greenleaf had fought him for in Rivendell. Opening it, he held it close before Greenleaf's face, showing him the golden ring.
"This tiny little bit of jewellery. Hardly seems worth it, does it? But this is going to bring all our plans to fruition. This is the final part of my lord's plan. Together, he and I shall rule Middle Earth!" Saruman seemed to have forgotten Greenleaf for the moment, so the Elf decided to bring him back to reality.
"You think Sauron's going to share his rule with you?" he commented, as acidically as he could.
"Of course he will!" Saruman snapped. "But you will be out of the equation by then, Prince Greenleaf. Long out of it. I shall get my information from you, no matter how hard you try and fight it. I will have you in so much pain that you'll be begging me to kill you, just to end the pain. And I may kill you. But then I'll bring you back, so that I can torture and kill you all over again.
"You'll barely know who you are anymore; you'll be so screwed up. And I'll enjoy every last screaming minute of it. You may be a proud, handsome Elf now, but I can, and will, change that. You'll do anything I say eventually. Betray your bosses, wash the dishes, lick my boots, anything. You'll be mine, Prince Greenleaf. A humble cringing servant that nobody'll look twice at."
Greenleaf remained stony-faced throughout Saruman's tirade. It was megalomania, he told himself, the crazed rantings of a deranged psychopath. But still the uneasiness crept in on him, twisting in his gut. "It may sound like a cliché," he said, sounding as blasé as he could, "but you won't get away with it."
Saruman laughed. "Oh, I will. Nobody can stop us. And, just for you, I'm going to send my Uruk-Hai to destroy Edoras. It's a tiresome little place."
"You bastard," Greenleaf growled, "what have they ever done to you?"
"Supported you in your little 'attack'," Saruman said, a smile on his face, "I know all about the riders waiting outside, and where they're waiting."
He walked towards the door, carelessly dropping the whip on the floor as he went. At the door he paused and turned back.
"Don't worry; I'm not leaving you without company." His smile turned into a leer. "You can play with him, Grima, but don't break him yet." He swept out of the room.
From behind Greenleaf there came a chuckle, a nasty, dry-sounding one. Grima, king's advisor and spy, came into view. His smile was malicious.
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Nope, didn't see that coming at all. . .