A/N: nope, LOTR ain't mine! For a full(ish) disclaimer, look at chapter
1.
Turion sat alone in the hall. The fire had been blazing for hours, and although he sat right next to it, he did not feel the heat. His dark, malicious thoughts were chiefly on his brother, but they kept straying to the ranger that had been with him. He had everything planned down to the last detail, but for some irrational reason he thought the human might see through it. The witch he was paying to weave her spell for him was powerful, but he was not sure even she could do the job at hand.
She had entered the room a few moments before, and now stood silently behind him. He had initially been surprised that someone that seemed as young as her held so much power. She looked to be a human child of only about 12 summers old, yet he knew she was most definately not human, and she was much older that he himself was.
The deep violet eyes that betrayed her age and wisdom met his when she came and stood in front of him.
"Is it ready?" he asked. She nodded once, yes, sending her curly
honey coloured hair bobbing across her shoulders.
"It is. All we need now is some of yours and your brother's blood. There will be no way to tell that you are not him then. Even your father will not know."
"And nobody will be able to see through the spells? I have my doubts about the human. Something tells me he knows Legolas too well, he would know immediately if something was different."
The witch straightened a little. "Leave that to me, and you should know better than to question my power. The only ones who will see through the magic are elves with power, like Galadriel, and the Istari. The only way the spell wil be broken completely is if you admit to even one person that you are you, and not Legolas. Then everyone will know, and there will be no way to stop that."
She turned and headed for the door, not waiting to see if he followed, knowing he would.
"If you are ready, we should go and start the first spell now. If everyone is to believe you are your twin, you should have his memories. Then tomorrow, we will weave the spell to make your reactions and 'personality' shall we say, appear to be that of your brother to anyone watching. Then everything will be ready. Remember, this will only work while he lives, so keep your orcs at bay."
*Shame about that. * They were looking forward to having some fun with him, he thought as he followed her down winding stairs lit by flickering torches mounted on the wall, his thoughts straying to the dark magic they would be working in a few minutes time, and the pain he would at last be able to cause his brother after two centuries of waiting. ------------------ The torch that had been left to light the small room was starting to die when Aragorn finally awoke. At the movement, Legolas looked up. Neither said anything for a moment, but the fear in the human's eyes when he looked at the elf was unmistakable.
"Aragorn, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" It had taken a moment for Legolas to realise that it actually was fear. Aragorn didn't reply. There was something else there too, as well as fear. He had been drugged. *Turion, what have you done? *
He tried again, his voice low and quiet, using elvish, hoping it would get through whatever barriers had been put up, "Aragorn, it's me, Legolas. What have they done to you?"
Something like a spark of recognition passed across his friends eyes, and he blinked. "Is it really you this time?"
Legolas sighed. "Well if I was Turion, do you really think I would be
lying here, chained to a cold stone floor? Aragorn, you know better than that."
"Maybe. You have a point." Although the ranger was still unsure, whatever had been affecting him seemed to be wearing off, if slowly.
"Come here Aragorn, let me see if I can get that arrow out. I can hardly come to you." He nodded towards the large heavy metal ring sunk into the floor. Thick heavy chains were threaded through it and held him securely to the spot.
Aragorn cautiously crossed the room, seeming to take an eternity. He had to take his time because each time he moved, the pain in his leg was worse than before, and motion still made the room spin and blur before him. Eventually he made it to his friend, who took one look at the wounds on his leg and frowned.
"It's not good is it? I managed to get the first one out, it was shallow, but I didn't have the strength to remove the second." Aragorn, even in his drugged state of mind, knew it was bad. Legolas looked from the wounds to meet his friends eyes, then back to the arrow, careful to keep his face expressionless.
It certainly was bad. The first arrow wound was not too bad, relatively clean, but it was still bleeding slightly, even after all this time. He suspected his brother had something to do with that, he must have visited the ranger earlier. That would explain the mistrust, although carefully veiled, that showed in the man's face when he looked at him. They did look identical after all.
The second wound, the one that the arrow was still in, was bad. Itwas
deep, and starting to get infected. Even in the low light, it was easy to see the infection setting in round the edges. The arrow had to come out. Now.
"This is going to hurt."
Aragorn just nodded and gritted his teeth. Careful not to inflict more pain than was necessary, Legolas gently took hold of the arrow, and without warning, pulled hard. With his limited range of movement though, the arrow did not come completely free, and still sat just under the skin. Aragorn didn't make a sound, but that, on top of everything else, was enough to cause him to pass out, landing heavily across Legolas' chest. Shifting gently, Legolas managed to pull the arrow the rest of the way from the wound, and tucked it out of sight behind him. Might be useful, he reasoned.
The arrow wound had started to bleed, but there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. Unless Aragorn moved, Legolas couldn't reach it to tend to it, and he was unable to move enough to push the man off or turn him over.
It was at that moment that the door opened, and a young girl with honey coloured curly hair entered. Her face showed no expression as she looked at the pair, and Legolas suspected there was something more to this girl than she looked, if she was a girl at all, which he highly doubted. Right behind her walked Turion, accompanied by an orc.
"Move him." Turion told the orc, who pulled Aragorn back to the other side of the room. While the orc secured the unconcious Aragorn to another heavy ring in the floor, Turion and the girl crossed the small room to stand above Legolas.
The very fact that his brother could stand being around orcs, let alone be in command of them, disturbed Legolas deeply. When he had known him, Turion had despised orcs, much as he himself did. Something terrible had happened if his attitude towards them had changed that much. But then this was not the Turion that Legolas knew.
The girl looked at Legolas with un-nerving, deep violet eyes that showed that not only was she not human, but she was also very powerful. She turned and retrieved the small chest that the orc had left by the door, set it down where she had stood a moment ago, and pulled out a small knife. She glanced at Turion before turning to the chest again, and pulling out a small black bowl. Both were carved with the language of the orcs. The witch set both down in front of the captive elf, who try as he might, could not move to get away. She smiled at him, a deceptively warm smile, as she touched the base of his throat lightly with one small fingertip. Immediately, sharp buring pain struck the spot, and lingered even after she removed her hand. The spell that she had laid on him to keep him from moving also kept him from crying out.
She picked up the knife again in her left hand, then used the right to pull back the edge of his shirt and trace her finger in one of the arcane symbols of her craft on the skin above his heart. Before the searing pain began to recede, she took the blade and cut the skin in the pattern she had just traced. Not deep enough to scar, but enough to draw blood. She held his wrist above the small obsidian bowl next, and pulled the edge of the sharp blade across his hand, causing blood to drop into it. All the while, she held his wrist firmly with a strength that one so small should not posess, as the firey pain from her touch spread into his hand as well, threatening to send him to the same place of oblivion that Aragorn was in.
When the witch seemed satisfied with her work, she turned to
Turion. Without her saying a word, he pulled back the edge of his shirt and allowed her to carve the same pattern above his heart. She was careful not to touch him though, and so spared him that agony. She nodded once when she was done, and Turion put his own blood in the bowl himself, in the same manner as his brother's had been drawn.
The witch put the knife back in the chest, and pulled out different
bottles, vials and herbs. She mixed some of the herbs, and various
quantities of the contents of the containers into the bowl with the elves' blood. The vile mixture began to bubble of it's own accord, and then the witch handed it to Turion.
"It's time. Remember, he must take one dose, you have to take the rest."
"Then what?" The witch hadn't explained all her ways to Turion, and he wanted to be sure of what was going to happen to him.
"Then, you wait." she replied stonily. "Make him drink."
Together, they lifted Legolas, who was powerless to resist, into a sitting position, and Turion made him drink a few drops of the foul potion. The stuff made him want to choke, and burned his throat. He could almost taste the magic in it, and it repulsed him. Turion finished the bowl, and almost immediately, both elves could feel the power of the magic flowing between them. Turion sank to the ground as the full force of the spell hit him, and his twin's memories flashed into his mind like flood waters. Turion was not the only one to receive memories. Legolas had the distinct feeling of falling as his brother's every thought and emotion from the past two centuries flooded into his mind. Both elves found it hard to breathe, but
only Legolas found it painful. Turion turned and staggered from the room, leaving the witch behind, and the orc.
"Go." she told the creature, and he nodded, and left. She turned to
Legolas. Seeing the hatred in his eyes that her spell would not allow him to tell, she told him quietly,
"I didn't have to give you his memories. He doesn't know I have. But do not mistake me - I have no interest in helping you, I simply wish to make this more...'interesting'."
With that she turned, re-lit the torch fully with a deft flick of her hand towards the flickering wood, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Unknown to all, Aragorn had awoken and seen the entire horrific ritual from when the witch had touched Legolas' throat, and although he had no idea what had just happened between the three of them, he felt the magic in the air and knew it was something inherently evil. As soon as the door closed behind the small figure of the sorceress, her hold over Legolas was released, and the full force of the pain of the past few minutes hit him at once.
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Turion sat alone in the hall. The fire had been blazing for hours, and although he sat right next to it, he did not feel the heat. His dark, malicious thoughts were chiefly on his brother, but they kept straying to the ranger that had been with him. He had everything planned down to the last detail, but for some irrational reason he thought the human might see through it. The witch he was paying to weave her spell for him was powerful, but he was not sure even she could do the job at hand.
She had entered the room a few moments before, and now stood silently behind him. He had initially been surprised that someone that seemed as young as her held so much power. She looked to be a human child of only about 12 summers old, yet he knew she was most definately not human, and she was much older that he himself was.
The deep violet eyes that betrayed her age and wisdom met his when she came and stood in front of him.
"Is it ready?" he asked. She nodded once, yes, sending her curly
honey coloured hair bobbing across her shoulders.
"It is. All we need now is some of yours and your brother's blood. There will be no way to tell that you are not him then. Even your father will not know."
"And nobody will be able to see through the spells? I have my doubts about the human. Something tells me he knows Legolas too well, he would know immediately if something was different."
The witch straightened a little. "Leave that to me, and you should know better than to question my power. The only ones who will see through the magic are elves with power, like Galadriel, and the Istari. The only way the spell wil be broken completely is if you admit to even one person that you are you, and not Legolas. Then everyone will know, and there will be no way to stop that."
She turned and headed for the door, not waiting to see if he followed, knowing he would.
"If you are ready, we should go and start the first spell now. If everyone is to believe you are your twin, you should have his memories. Then tomorrow, we will weave the spell to make your reactions and 'personality' shall we say, appear to be that of your brother to anyone watching. Then everything will be ready. Remember, this will only work while he lives, so keep your orcs at bay."
*Shame about that. * They were looking forward to having some fun with him, he thought as he followed her down winding stairs lit by flickering torches mounted on the wall, his thoughts straying to the dark magic they would be working in a few minutes time, and the pain he would at last be able to cause his brother after two centuries of waiting. ------------------ The torch that had been left to light the small room was starting to die when Aragorn finally awoke. At the movement, Legolas looked up. Neither said anything for a moment, but the fear in the human's eyes when he looked at the elf was unmistakable.
"Aragorn, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" It had taken a moment for Legolas to realise that it actually was fear. Aragorn didn't reply. There was something else there too, as well as fear. He had been drugged. *Turion, what have you done? *
He tried again, his voice low and quiet, using elvish, hoping it would get through whatever barriers had been put up, "Aragorn, it's me, Legolas. What have they done to you?"
Something like a spark of recognition passed across his friends eyes, and he blinked. "Is it really you this time?"
Legolas sighed. "Well if I was Turion, do you really think I would be
lying here, chained to a cold stone floor? Aragorn, you know better than that."
"Maybe. You have a point." Although the ranger was still unsure, whatever had been affecting him seemed to be wearing off, if slowly.
"Come here Aragorn, let me see if I can get that arrow out. I can hardly come to you." He nodded towards the large heavy metal ring sunk into the floor. Thick heavy chains were threaded through it and held him securely to the spot.
Aragorn cautiously crossed the room, seeming to take an eternity. He had to take his time because each time he moved, the pain in his leg was worse than before, and motion still made the room spin and blur before him. Eventually he made it to his friend, who took one look at the wounds on his leg and frowned.
"It's not good is it? I managed to get the first one out, it was shallow, but I didn't have the strength to remove the second." Aragorn, even in his drugged state of mind, knew it was bad. Legolas looked from the wounds to meet his friends eyes, then back to the arrow, careful to keep his face expressionless.
It certainly was bad. The first arrow wound was not too bad, relatively clean, but it was still bleeding slightly, even after all this time. He suspected his brother had something to do with that, he must have visited the ranger earlier. That would explain the mistrust, although carefully veiled, that showed in the man's face when he looked at him. They did look identical after all.
The second wound, the one that the arrow was still in, was bad. Itwas
deep, and starting to get infected. Even in the low light, it was easy to see the infection setting in round the edges. The arrow had to come out. Now.
"This is going to hurt."
Aragorn just nodded and gritted his teeth. Careful not to inflict more pain than was necessary, Legolas gently took hold of the arrow, and without warning, pulled hard. With his limited range of movement though, the arrow did not come completely free, and still sat just under the skin. Aragorn didn't make a sound, but that, on top of everything else, was enough to cause him to pass out, landing heavily across Legolas' chest. Shifting gently, Legolas managed to pull the arrow the rest of the way from the wound, and tucked it out of sight behind him. Might be useful, he reasoned.
The arrow wound had started to bleed, but there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. Unless Aragorn moved, Legolas couldn't reach it to tend to it, and he was unable to move enough to push the man off or turn him over.
It was at that moment that the door opened, and a young girl with honey coloured curly hair entered. Her face showed no expression as she looked at the pair, and Legolas suspected there was something more to this girl than she looked, if she was a girl at all, which he highly doubted. Right behind her walked Turion, accompanied by an orc.
"Move him." Turion told the orc, who pulled Aragorn back to the other side of the room. While the orc secured the unconcious Aragorn to another heavy ring in the floor, Turion and the girl crossed the small room to stand above Legolas.
The very fact that his brother could stand being around orcs, let alone be in command of them, disturbed Legolas deeply. When he had known him, Turion had despised orcs, much as he himself did. Something terrible had happened if his attitude towards them had changed that much. But then this was not the Turion that Legolas knew.
The girl looked at Legolas with un-nerving, deep violet eyes that showed that not only was she not human, but she was also very powerful. She turned and retrieved the small chest that the orc had left by the door, set it down where she had stood a moment ago, and pulled out a small knife. She glanced at Turion before turning to the chest again, and pulling out a small black bowl. Both were carved with the language of the orcs. The witch set both down in front of the captive elf, who try as he might, could not move to get away. She smiled at him, a deceptively warm smile, as she touched the base of his throat lightly with one small fingertip. Immediately, sharp buring pain struck the spot, and lingered even after she removed her hand. The spell that she had laid on him to keep him from moving also kept him from crying out.
She picked up the knife again in her left hand, then used the right to pull back the edge of his shirt and trace her finger in one of the arcane symbols of her craft on the skin above his heart. Before the searing pain began to recede, she took the blade and cut the skin in the pattern she had just traced. Not deep enough to scar, but enough to draw blood. She held his wrist above the small obsidian bowl next, and pulled the edge of the sharp blade across his hand, causing blood to drop into it. All the while, she held his wrist firmly with a strength that one so small should not posess, as the firey pain from her touch spread into his hand as well, threatening to send him to the same place of oblivion that Aragorn was in.
When the witch seemed satisfied with her work, she turned to
Turion. Without her saying a word, he pulled back the edge of his shirt and allowed her to carve the same pattern above his heart. She was careful not to touch him though, and so spared him that agony. She nodded once when she was done, and Turion put his own blood in the bowl himself, in the same manner as his brother's had been drawn.
The witch put the knife back in the chest, and pulled out different
bottles, vials and herbs. She mixed some of the herbs, and various
quantities of the contents of the containers into the bowl with the elves' blood. The vile mixture began to bubble of it's own accord, and then the witch handed it to Turion.
"It's time. Remember, he must take one dose, you have to take the rest."
"Then what?" The witch hadn't explained all her ways to Turion, and he wanted to be sure of what was going to happen to him.
"Then, you wait." she replied stonily. "Make him drink."
Together, they lifted Legolas, who was powerless to resist, into a sitting position, and Turion made him drink a few drops of the foul potion. The stuff made him want to choke, and burned his throat. He could almost taste the magic in it, and it repulsed him. Turion finished the bowl, and almost immediately, both elves could feel the power of the magic flowing between them. Turion sank to the ground as the full force of the spell hit him, and his twin's memories flashed into his mind like flood waters. Turion was not the only one to receive memories. Legolas had the distinct feeling of falling as his brother's every thought and emotion from the past two centuries flooded into his mind. Both elves found it hard to breathe, but
only Legolas found it painful. Turion turned and staggered from the room, leaving the witch behind, and the orc.
"Go." she told the creature, and he nodded, and left. She turned to
Legolas. Seeing the hatred in his eyes that her spell would not allow him to tell, she told him quietly,
"I didn't have to give you his memories. He doesn't know I have. But do not mistake me - I have no interest in helping you, I simply wish to make this more...'interesting'."
With that she turned, re-lit the torch fully with a deft flick of her hand towards the flickering wood, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Unknown to all, Aragorn had awoken and seen the entire horrific ritual from when the witch had touched Legolas' throat, and although he had no idea what had just happened between the three of them, he felt the magic in the air and knew it was something inherently evil. As soon as the door closed behind the small figure of the sorceress, her hold over Legolas was released, and the full force of the pain of the past few minutes hit him at once.
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