Disclaimer: I own nothing but Nilavar.
Summary: Memories assail Legolas as he hangs in a dungeon dying.
Rating: PG13 for torture...not a romance!
I hope you enjoy. Please let me know if this should be R!!!! Lots of torture so if you don't like the whole torture thing you should probably not read this. Well I hope you enjoy and please review. (no flames please!!!! I feel bad after I read them.) I promise I shall update either every or everyother day.
Hope In The Darkness
Prologue
He watched her outside from his balcony. It was night time and a mighty storm was blowing. She stood out there in her gown with the wind blowing from the side. It blew her long hair furiously as it did her gown. She did not seem to notice. She was staring upward at the stars. The clouds were about to cover them and it started to rain. She still kept her face raised up letting the water hit her skin. Her arms were slightly lifted at her sides. He watched with a smile. Finally the rain reached him and he closed his eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1:
Tears trailed down his face. The taste of salt reached his mouth. He barely aknowledged it. His vision had been slowly turning cloudy. He could hear the screeches and horrid sounds of the Orcs. Screaming and taunting him they were. But not yet had he given them what they so desired. His screams.
Only when left alone did his straight emotionless demeanor fall, showing his fright. Only then would he focus on the pain. Being an elf he could endure more than any others. He cursed what some men would call a gift at the moment though. He had not had anything to eat for almost two weeks if memory served him. Water yes, but no food. Still he lived. His body endured.
He had had no sleep. Too frightened to sleep even for a minute. He tried to keep his senses as alert as ever. Though he was sure sleep would help them, he would not take such a chance. For they may come while he slept. As hard as he tried though, his body was exhausted and he knew if help did not come soon, he would be lost.
He could no longer feel circulation in his hands. His body weight was pulling on them as he hung in the air from chains attatched to his wrists. They were bleeding from the metal digging into his skin. The blood ran down his arms to his dislocated shoulders. From his shoulders to his chest down the length of his upper body was the a purple and blackish color from his broken ribs. They had stopped beating him a couple days before and for that he was thankful. He was sure if they had not stopped his ribs would have been dust. Not to mention the very thought that one of them may have punctured his heart or lungs.
His left thigh had an arrow embeddoned in it. Along with it, many knife wounds along both legs. His face was as his chest in color. His lip had been split open and the left side of his face had swelled up. His hair was full of grime and crusted blood. All in all, if anyone who knew who he was saw him, they would not recognize him, let alone know that he was an Elf. He no longer glowed with the pale light as Elves did. He was unrecognizable.
The door swung open suddenly and two Orcs entered. What they brought with them made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He disguised his fear before they saw it. They grinned evily as they came in holding the hot metal rod still glowing red. They waited for the fear to pass across his face. All they got was a look of quiet defiance. The blue eyed gaze never wavered. It was unerving for an evil such as them. The blue eyes never blinked. There was no more beauty of the Elfs left what with all the blood, filth , and utter weakness. The once strong body was limp and seemed out of place. The Elf had wide broad shoulders that went down to a narrow waist and hips. His torn leggings did not conceal the muscle in his thighs. His arms too were shaped well with muscle.
So all in all, the once powerful body that still looked it, was limp dangling in the air. Bruised and bloodied he was. It was a sight that made the Orcs cackle in glee. Although it made their day, it was put to a stop. At first sight they would see a pitiful sight of an Elf, looking closer would bring the truth. Looking into the eyes they saw the purity within. The Elf still had his spirit. It shined through those bright eyes like the sun breaking through the clouds in a storm. In mind he would hold strong and that's what they needed to break. They needed to inflict so much pain he would have no more will to live. So much so that whatever memories and hope he had would be driven away like fire put out by the water.
So with the eagerness of a child, the two Orcs sought out to make him scream. They strutted forward slowly. The one without the metal grabbed the Elfs hair from behind and jerked his head back. The other stood in front of the Elf hoping to frighten him with the agonizing wait. The Elf spat on him. The Orc hissed and brought the rod up. He placed it on the far right of the area he intended to burn. He pushed the metal into the skin as he outlined the elfs collarbone. The smell of his burning flesh filled the room.
It took every inch of his will not to cry out. The Orc behind him prevented him from trying to swing back. He could smell his own flesh. He bit the inside of his cheek as a last resort to keep from screaming. He bit down so hard that he began to bleed. He finally could take it no longer. With as much strength as his battered body had left, he pulled his legs back hitting the Orc behind him between the legs. Then when the Orc let go and fell to the ground he swung his legs forward and kicked the Orc with the rod. The Orc flew throught the air and hit the wall. A crack echoed in the room followed by a clatter as the metal hit the stone ground. Occe the Orc behind him recovered, he grabbed his sword and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt.
With that, the Elf's eye sight left him and his tensed body went slack. Slowly all his senses left him and he went unconscious. The Elf welcomed it hoping it would take him away from the nightmare if only for a few minutes. And it did. Slowly memories assailed Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood as he dangled in the cold dungeon on the brink of death.
Summary: Memories assail Legolas as he hangs in a dungeon dying.
Rating: PG13 for torture...not a romance!
I hope you enjoy. Please let me know if this should be R!!!! Lots of torture so if you don't like the whole torture thing you should probably not read this. Well I hope you enjoy and please review. (no flames please!!!! I feel bad after I read them.) I promise I shall update either every or everyother day.
Hope In The Darkness
Prologue
He watched her outside from his balcony. It was night time and a mighty storm was blowing. She stood out there in her gown with the wind blowing from the side. It blew her long hair furiously as it did her gown. She did not seem to notice. She was staring upward at the stars. The clouds were about to cover them and it started to rain. She still kept her face raised up letting the water hit her skin. Her arms were slightly lifted at her sides. He watched with a smile. Finally the rain reached him and he closed his eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1:
Tears trailed down his face. The taste of salt reached his mouth. He barely aknowledged it. His vision had been slowly turning cloudy. He could hear the screeches and horrid sounds of the Orcs. Screaming and taunting him they were. But not yet had he given them what they so desired. His screams.
Only when left alone did his straight emotionless demeanor fall, showing his fright. Only then would he focus on the pain. Being an elf he could endure more than any others. He cursed what some men would call a gift at the moment though. He had not had anything to eat for almost two weeks if memory served him. Water yes, but no food. Still he lived. His body endured.
He had had no sleep. Too frightened to sleep even for a minute. He tried to keep his senses as alert as ever. Though he was sure sleep would help them, he would not take such a chance. For they may come while he slept. As hard as he tried though, his body was exhausted and he knew if help did not come soon, he would be lost.
He could no longer feel circulation in his hands. His body weight was pulling on them as he hung in the air from chains attatched to his wrists. They were bleeding from the metal digging into his skin. The blood ran down his arms to his dislocated shoulders. From his shoulders to his chest down the length of his upper body was the a purple and blackish color from his broken ribs. They had stopped beating him a couple days before and for that he was thankful. He was sure if they had not stopped his ribs would have been dust. Not to mention the very thought that one of them may have punctured his heart or lungs.
His left thigh had an arrow embeddoned in it. Along with it, many knife wounds along both legs. His face was as his chest in color. His lip had been split open and the left side of his face had swelled up. His hair was full of grime and crusted blood. All in all, if anyone who knew who he was saw him, they would not recognize him, let alone know that he was an Elf. He no longer glowed with the pale light as Elves did. He was unrecognizable.
The door swung open suddenly and two Orcs entered. What they brought with them made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He disguised his fear before they saw it. They grinned evily as they came in holding the hot metal rod still glowing red. They waited for the fear to pass across his face. All they got was a look of quiet defiance. The blue eyed gaze never wavered. It was unerving for an evil such as them. The blue eyes never blinked. There was no more beauty of the Elfs left what with all the blood, filth , and utter weakness. The once strong body was limp and seemed out of place. The Elf had wide broad shoulders that went down to a narrow waist and hips. His torn leggings did not conceal the muscle in his thighs. His arms too were shaped well with muscle.
So all in all, the once powerful body that still looked it, was limp dangling in the air. Bruised and bloodied he was. It was a sight that made the Orcs cackle in glee. Although it made their day, it was put to a stop. At first sight they would see a pitiful sight of an Elf, looking closer would bring the truth. Looking into the eyes they saw the purity within. The Elf still had his spirit. It shined through those bright eyes like the sun breaking through the clouds in a storm. In mind he would hold strong and that's what they needed to break. They needed to inflict so much pain he would have no more will to live. So much so that whatever memories and hope he had would be driven away like fire put out by the water.
So with the eagerness of a child, the two Orcs sought out to make him scream. They strutted forward slowly. The one without the metal grabbed the Elfs hair from behind and jerked his head back. The other stood in front of the Elf hoping to frighten him with the agonizing wait. The Elf spat on him. The Orc hissed and brought the rod up. He placed it on the far right of the area he intended to burn. He pushed the metal into the skin as he outlined the elfs collarbone. The smell of his burning flesh filled the room.
It took every inch of his will not to cry out. The Orc behind him prevented him from trying to swing back. He could smell his own flesh. He bit the inside of his cheek as a last resort to keep from screaming. He bit down so hard that he began to bleed. He finally could take it no longer. With as much strength as his battered body had left, he pulled his legs back hitting the Orc behind him between the legs. Then when the Orc let go and fell to the ground he swung his legs forward and kicked the Orc with the rod. The Orc flew throught the air and hit the wall. A crack echoed in the room followed by a clatter as the metal hit the stone ground. Occe the Orc behind him recovered, he grabbed his sword and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt.
With that, the Elf's eye sight left him and his tensed body went slack. Slowly all his senses left him and he went unconscious. The Elf welcomed it hoping it would take him away from the nightmare if only for a few minutes. And it did. Slowly memories assailed Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood as he dangled in the cold dungeon on the brink of death.
