Part Eight: A Cry in the Darkness
A blood red light filled the sky as dawn approached. Fear gripped the elf's heart. He knew what a red sun meant. He tested the bond and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it still intact.
"A red sun rises, blood has been spilled this night." He said to Aragorn, trying not to let his fear show.
Twice, now, Aragorn had tried to bring up Ithilin's departure, but the elf stubbornly refused to talk about it. He knew Legolas well enough to know that the prince would continue to avoid the subject as long as he could. What he couldn't fathom, was how he could let her go knowing that she faced certain death.
Hoof beats thundered on the plain. Quickly, he motioned for his companions to hid behind a large rock. Peering out, he saw the horses belonged to the Rohirrim.
"Riders of Rohan," he called over the noise of hooves, "What news from the mark?"
The host of riders turned as one and surrounded the three, lowering their spears.
"What business does an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" their leader growled as he dismounted, "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli said haughtily, resting his hands on his axe.
The marshal approached the dwarf, glaring. " I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
In a flash Legolas drew his bow and nocked and arrow to the string, aiming at the marshal's heart. "You would die before your stroke fell." He growled, ignoring the spears that were being pressed against his body. He would not allow anyone speak to Ithilin's Ai'atar thus.
Aragorn reached over and pushed the elf's bow arm down, giving him a stern look.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas of the woodland realm." The ranger said calmly, "We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden your king."
"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." The rider said as he removed his helm. "Not even his own kin."
Legolas felt a shudder along the bond and stiffened. He fought to keep control as pain flooded into him. Aragorn could not know, but his head was swimming. Weakness, he told himself as he sent what strength he could along the bond.
"They have taken three of our friends captive" he heard Aragorn say to the marshal.
Then Aragorn didn't know that Ithilin wasn't with the hobbits.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." Éomer said.
"But there was an Elf and two hobbits with them. Did you see them?!" Gimli gasped fearfully.
"The hobbits would be small, only children to your eyes. The she-elf was not much taller." Fear had crept into the ranger's voice as well.
Éomer shook his head sadly, "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them."
"Dead?" croaked the dwarf. "She can not be."
* * *
The rider stopped his mount before the gates of Orthanc and dismounted, dragging her with him. She stood stiffly as if in pain but her eyes held a cold fire. She would not allow the Uruk the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt her.
When she struggled and fought against him, he bound her arms tightly. He had also raped her on their few stops. Even then she would not cry out. He beat her savagely and still she uttered not a sound. Her head was swimming from pain but she refused to give in to it. She was afraid, but calm.
She understood what had to happen and that Isildur's heir had to be protected at any cost until he revealed himself. She knew that Sauron was going to try to use her as a pawn and she would not bow to his will. She would die before that happened.
Ithilin was thrown to the floor, her long blond hair falling in her face as she hit the polished obsidian. Pain shot up her bound arms as she tried to catch herself. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"The Coithuliel." Came the Istari's deep voice. "Welcome, my lady."
* * *
Dusk had fallen over Edoras. Legolas stood against a pillar as Éowyn fussed over the children that Gandalf had brought in, a mug in his hand.
"Where's mamma?" the little girl asked.
He could hear Ararûn asking the same question if he returned without Ithilin. He hoped that Aragorn would not corner him tonight. He desperately wanted to be alone.
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain hit him. Something was happening to her. His muscles were always tense, as though he were expecting a lash to hit any minute.
He gazed down at the opaque white liquid in his cup. It had been near a fortnight since she had left and he had taken to consuming his own milk. He knew that Ithilin would need it upon her return, though he had no idea when that would be. Fortunately, neither Aragorn or Gimli had asked what he was drinking. He really did not want to explain this.
* * *
Moonlight streamed in the window over the bed that he shared with Aragorn. Gimli slept soundly on the couch under the window. Legolas, however was not asleep. Yet, when the ranger had come to bed he had pretended that he was only to avoid talking about Ithilin. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately. Though, in truth, he knew Aragorn was only trying to help.
Unable to lie there any longer, the prince slid silently out of the bed. Picking up Ithilin's sword, he slipped out of the room and headed toward the great hall. Once there he knelt in the center of the room. He swallowed hard, unsure of why he was even attempting this. He felt he had to know what was happening to her, though he wasn't sure it would work. Although they had been bound for twenty years, it had lain dormant all those years only to be woken just four months ago.
Silently he slid the blade from its sheath, listening to its quiet singing tone for a moment. Breathing deeply, he laid the sword in his left hand an drew the razor sharp blade across his callused palm. Bright red blood welled up out of the wound, staining the silvery etching on the blade.
"Blood calls to blood." He whispered in elvish, "Show me the one to whom I am bound."
His breath caught in his throat as his sight was wrenched from the Golden Hall of Edoras to a cold stone chamber somewhere in the tower of Isengard.
All was dark, except a shaft of blue white starlight that illuminated a blond figure chained on her knees between two posts. Her pale blue tunic hung open and was stained with blood and both her boots and leggings were missing.
Out of the darkness, he heard the crack of a whip and saw her tense as the leather thong lashed across her shoulders. Silence. She refused to let her tormentor have the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Her sapphire eyes burned with hatred as her captor came around her into the light.
"So strong, daughter of Varda." Saruman said silkily as he caressed her cheek. "I know that you were marked for the house of Elendil. So tell me, where is your mate?"
Ithilin remained silent.
"Tell me, child, so you can end this torment."
"I will die before I tell you anything!" She ground out through clenched teeth, a cold fire blazing in her eyes.
"I sincerely hope that will not be so!" the Istari replied with mock sadness, giving a slight nod.
"Mîbo orch!" she hissed as the whip meted out two more stinging kisses on her already abused back.
Saruman approached her and grabbing a handful of blond hair, jerked her head back. "Hold her!" he commanded the Uruk holding the whip. "Now, Grima. I promised you something in return for delivering Rohan to me. Do as you wish with her but don't be gentle."
A pale dark-haired man slunk out of the shadows, licking his lips hungrily
"Do what you must." Ithilin said calmly, steeling herself for the inevitable. "But I will never give you what you ask for, Saruman."
"Heat the irons! I will make you beg for death, little one!" Grima taunted, a savage grin spreading across his pallid features as he ran his hands over her exposed thighs.
Ithilin spat in his face, glaring at him defiantly as he removed his robes and breeches.
A white hot rod was pressed into the flesh of her hand but she continued to stare insolently at the toad in front of her. Even when he took her, she stubbornly refused to cry out.
Hours later, Wormtongue finally tired of her silence and left. She hung in the chains, letting them support her weight, and hung her head. She didn't know how much more of this abuse she could take.
"Ilúvatar, lavenni bellas." She whispered painfully.
:I will come for you, meleth-nîn.:
Ithilin's head snapped up, "Legolas!"
:Hush now,: came the prince's mind voice. :If my strength can buy your silence, it is yours. Neither Aragorn nor I will abandon you to suffer. Hold on to hope.: A strangled cry echoed through the chamber, :I must go. Be strong.:
:Hannon le, meleth-nîn.:
Author's Note Elvish translations:
"Mîbo orch!" - "Go kiss an Orc!"
"Ilúvatar, lavenni bellas." - "Ilúvatar, give me strength."
:Hannon le, meleth-nîn.: - :Thank you, my love.:
Additional Note: Please read and review. I like to know how I'm doing.
A blood red light filled the sky as dawn approached. Fear gripped the elf's heart. He knew what a red sun meant. He tested the bond and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it still intact.
"A red sun rises, blood has been spilled this night." He said to Aragorn, trying not to let his fear show.
Twice, now, Aragorn had tried to bring up Ithilin's departure, but the elf stubbornly refused to talk about it. He knew Legolas well enough to know that the prince would continue to avoid the subject as long as he could. What he couldn't fathom, was how he could let her go knowing that she faced certain death.
Hoof beats thundered on the plain. Quickly, he motioned for his companions to hid behind a large rock. Peering out, he saw the horses belonged to the Rohirrim.
"Riders of Rohan," he called over the noise of hooves, "What news from the mark?"
The host of riders turned as one and surrounded the three, lowering their spears.
"What business does an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" their leader growled as he dismounted, "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli said haughtily, resting his hands on his axe.
The marshal approached the dwarf, glaring. " I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
In a flash Legolas drew his bow and nocked and arrow to the string, aiming at the marshal's heart. "You would die before your stroke fell." He growled, ignoring the spears that were being pressed against his body. He would not allow anyone speak to Ithilin's Ai'atar thus.
Aragorn reached over and pushed the elf's bow arm down, giving him a stern look.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas of the woodland realm." The ranger said calmly, "We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden your king."
"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." The rider said as he removed his helm. "Not even his own kin."
Legolas felt a shudder along the bond and stiffened. He fought to keep control as pain flooded into him. Aragorn could not know, but his head was swimming. Weakness, he told himself as he sent what strength he could along the bond.
"They have taken three of our friends captive" he heard Aragorn say to the marshal.
Then Aragorn didn't know that Ithilin wasn't with the hobbits.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." Éomer said.
"But there was an Elf and two hobbits with them. Did you see them?!" Gimli gasped fearfully.
"The hobbits would be small, only children to your eyes. The she-elf was not much taller." Fear had crept into the ranger's voice as well.
Éomer shook his head sadly, "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them."
"Dead?" croaked the dwarf. "She can not be."
* * *
The rider stopped his mount before the gates of Orthanc and dismounted, dragging her with him. She stood stiffly as if in pain but her eyes held a cold fire. She would not allow the Uruk the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt her.
When she struggled and fought against him, he bound her arms tightly. He had also raped her on their few stops. Even then she would not cry out. He beat her savagely and still she uttered not a sound. Her head was swimming from pain but she refused to give in to it. She was afraid, but calm.
She understood what had to happen and that Isildur's heir had to be protected at any cost until he revealed himself. She knew that Sauron was going to try to use her as a pawn and she would not bow to his will. She would die before that happened.
Ithilin was thrown to the floor, her long blond hair falling in her face as she hit the polished obsidian. Pain shot up her bound arms as she tried to catch herself. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"The Coithuliel." Came the Istari's deep voice. "Welcome, my lady."
* * *
Dusk had fallen over Edoras. Legolas stood against a pillar as Éowyn fussed over the children that Gandalf had brought in, a mug in his hand.
"Where's mamma?" the little girl asked.
He could hear Ararûn asking the same question if he returned without Ithilin. He hoped that Aragorn would not corner him tonight. He desperately wanted to be alone.
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain hit him. Something was happening to her. His muscles were always tense, as though he were expecting a lash to hit any minute.
He gazed down at the opaque white liquid in his cup. It had been near a fortnight since she had left and he had taken to consuming his own milk. He knew that Ithilin would need it upon her return, though he had no idea when that would be. Fortunately, neither Aragorn or Gimli had asked what he was drinking. He really did not want to explain this.
* * *
Moonlight streamed in the window over the bed that he shared with Aragorn. Gimli slept soundly on the couch under the window. Legolas, however was not asleep. Yet, when the ranger had come to bed he had pretended that he was only to avoid talking about Ithilin. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately. Though, in truth, he knew Aragorn was only trying to help.
Unable to lie there any longer, the prince slid silently out of the bed. Picking up Ithilin's sword, he slipped out of the room and headed toward the great hall. Once there he knelt in the center of the room. He swallowed hard, unsure of why he was even attempting this. He felt he had to know what was happening to her, though he wasn't sure it would work. Although they had been bound for twenty years, it had lain dormant all those years only to be woken just four months ago.
Silently he slid the blade from its sheath, listening to its quiet singing tone for a moment. Breathing deeply, he laid the sword in his left hand an drew the razor sharp blade across his callused palm. Bright red blood welled up out of the wound, staining the silvery etching on the blade.
"Blood calls to blood." He whispered in elvish, "Show me the one to whom I am bound."
His breath caught in his throat as his sight was wrenched from the Golden Hall of Edoras to a cold stone chamber somewhere in the tower of Isengard.
All was dark, except a shaft of blue white starlight that illuminated a blond figure chained on her knees between two posts. Her pale blue tunic hung open and was stained with blood and both her boots and leggings were missing.
Out of the darkness, he heard the crack of a whip and saw her tense as the leather thong lashed across her shoulders. Silence. She refused to let her tormentor have the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Her sapphire eyes burned with hatred as her captor came around her into the light.
"So strong, daughter of Varda." Saruman said silkily as he caressed her cheek. "I know that you were marked for the house of Elendil. So tell me, where is your mate?"
Ithilin remained silent.
"Tell me, child, so you can end this torment."
"I will die before I tell you anything!" She ground out through clenched teeth, a cold fire blazing in her eyes.
"I sincerely hope that will not be so!" the Istari replied with mock sadness, giving a slight nod.
"Mîbo orch!" she hissed as the whip meted out two more stinging kisses on her already abused back.
Saruman approached her and grabbing a handful of blond hair, jerked her head back. "Hold her!" he commanded the Uruk holding the whip. "Now, Grima. I promised you something in return for delivering Rohan to me. Do as you wish with her but don't be gentle."
A pale dark-haired man slunk out of the shadows, licking his lips hungrily
"Do what you must." Ithilin said calmly, steeling herself for the inevitable. "But I will never give you what you ask for, Saruman."
"Heat the irons! I will make you beg for death, little one!" Grima taunted, a savage grin spreading across his pallid features as he ran his hands over her exposed thighs.
Ithilin spat in his face, glaring at him defiantly as he removed his robes and breeches.
A white hot rod was pressed into the flesh of her hand but she continued to stare insolently at the toad in front of her. Even when he took her, she stubbornly refused to cry out.
Hours later, Wormtongue finally tired of her silence and left. She hung in the chains, letting them support her weight, and hung her head. She didn't know how much more of this abuse she could take.
"Ilúvatar, lavenni bellas." She whispered painfully.
:I will come for you, meleth-nîn.:
Ithilin's head snapped up, "Legolas!"
:Hush now,: came the prince's mind voice. :If my strength can buy your silence, it is yours. Neither Aragorn nor I will abandon you to suffer. Hold on to hope.: A strangled cry echoed through the chamber, :I must go. Be strong.:
:Hannon le, meleth-nîn.:
Author's Note Elvish translations:
"Mîbo orch!" - "Go kiss an Orc!"
"Ilúvatar, lavenni bellas." - "Ilúvatar, give me strength."
:Hannon le, meleth-nîn.: - :Thank you, my love.:
Additional Note: Please read and review. I like to know how I'm doing.