Synopsis:
In
the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the
peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But
her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf
she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once
more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?
OK… here is
Chapter 8. Very sorry to keep you guys
hanging for so long but I've been on holiday and subsequently got sick with a
head cold. Am all
better now thankfully, so here is the next installment. Please read and review, but most of all…
enjoy…
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian)
belong to Tolkien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory
Chapter 8: Into the abyss
The Master watched the small hunched figure kneeling before him in the dimming light of his cave and smiled. "So Fidelian," he said with a menacing smile as he approached the mage and clasped a hand onto his shoulder. "Am I to have the other ear?"
"S-sadly m-master…. I fear I m-must disappoint," Fidelian managed weakly as the taller man's thin fingers bit into his arm.
A cold laugh blew over the small magician like a blast of icy wind. "Humour Fidelian? I did not know you were capable of it. I am pleasantly surprised."
The Master pulled him up by his robes. "So," he whispered keenly, placing an arm around the small mage's shoulders and steering him towards the oak table in the middle of the room. "You have found me Arienel."
Fidelian faltered. "Ah… not exactly Master," he began, moving backwards imperceptibly.
He watched as the expression of the man before him darkened and thought to himself in that moment that perhaps only the Dark Lord Sauron or the legendary Witch King of Angmar would have frightened him more.
"What precisely," asked the Master coldly as he wound his long, thin fingers slowly around the mage's scrawny throat, "does that mean?"
Fidelian's eyes bulged slightly at the pressure around his oesophagus. For a thin man, the Master certainly did not want for strength.
"I k-know h-how," Fidelian choked out as he struggled feebly against the fingers working at his throat. "I know how to find her."
He gasped as the pressure was released abruptly. "I have reconstructed the potion," he explained.
Careful to hide the resentment he felt, Fidelian glanced surreptitiously at the grinning man before him. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering about the man's past. The Master's pale and scared features still held the ghostly shades of what would have been a youthful beauty. With dark blonde hair and blue eyes, the Easterling could have sworn that the Master was one of the men of the West. Would have sworn it if he didn't know any better.
"Excellent," the Master whispered. "Excellent. You have outdone yourself, Fidelian."
***
The sun was in the last stages of its slow descent from the sky by the time Legolas and Gimli finally reached Minas Tirith. With Gimli following behind and grumbling about 'blasted Elves with their horses and trees', Legolas had bypassed the palace and was heading straight for Valraen's room. A blind panic had taken hold of him and he could think of nothing but from the woman he still loved more than any other being in Middle Earth.
Having left Arod by the White Tree, he was part way across the central court when he heard a cry.
"Legolas… feitha!"
Legolas stopped abruptly and turned, causing Gimli to collide into him and curse roundly in Dwarvish. Unfazed, Legolas looked towards the direction of the voice and saw Arwen running urgently towards him.
"Arwen," he said immediately, moving towards her and grasping her upper arms in a tight grip. "Where is Valraen? Manke naa re?"
Showing a complete lack of surprise at his question, Arwen moved a hand to her breast and tried to catch her breath. "She is in the Houses of Healing," she said in a rush. "Aragorn is with her now. I found her on the floor in her room when I went to visit her today."
Grasping him by the arm, Arwen looked urgently into his eyes. "Legolas," she whispered desperately. "I could not reach her."
Legolas looked at her in horror. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas placed a hand against Arwen's cheek with more reassurance than he felt.
"Sana amin a' re, Arwen," he whispered. "Please."
***
Within the Houses of Healing, Aragorn sat alone beside his cousin holding her pale hand. The warden of the houses had brought the King the athelas leaves and had left as requested. The leaves now sat abandoned in a bowl of steaming water by the bed head.
Over the last hour Aragorn had used all of the healing powers he was blessed with but to no avail. He had tried calling her over and over again from the dark madness which had overtaken her without success.
What response he did receive was without form or meaning.
Aragorn brought his cousin's hand to his chest as she let out another plaintive cry. "Cousin," he said gently. "I'm here. Come back to us."
Valraen began to weep. "Nooo…" she cried. "No… don't… let go…"
She looked at Aragorn. "Where is it?" she asked desperately. "Where is it?"
Looking at the hopeless confusion in his cousin's eyes, Aragorn felt tears forming behind his own. "Where is what love?" he asked gently. "Valraen, what are you looking for?"
"Cardolan?" she asked. "Is that you?"
"Cardolan is dead, remember cousin?" An old pain clutched at his heart as he thought of his old friend. "He died in battle many years ago…"
Valraen let out a blood curdling scream and Aragorn felt the hair on his neck rise.
"NO!" she cried in pain clutching the hand that held hers in a sudden vice-like grip. "Please no… please… please don't… you mustn't…" Aragorn felt the last remnants of his hard-earned composure begin to disappear as she started to convulse again.
"Valraen," he said desperately. "Tell me what to do!" He watched helplessly as his cousin's convulsions grew worse. They would subside eventually, he knew, but he also realised that as time went on they were getting progressively worse and that despite all his efforts, he had achieved nothing.
Legolas, he thought despairingly, where are you?
***
Valraen was trapped in a wilderness of darkness. She knew neither where she was nor where she was going. Branches from the dark, towering forest trees tore through her hair and clothes like the hands of clutching madmen."No," she cried as another branch tore into her moonlit skin. "No… don't…let go…"
The more she tried to escape however, the more trapped she became. Taking out her knife, Valraen tried to cut through the dense foliage but found herself instead suddenly lifted and deposited into a dark cavernous hole beneath the forest floor. She tried desperately to claw her way out of the rotting pit but was prevented by the roots that grew suddenly across the entrance.
She reached again for her knife but realised with dismay that she had lost it. Dropping to her knees, she searched in vain amongst the worm-ridden mud. "Where is it?" she whispered desperately. "Where is it?"
She was in the process of searching through the decaying leaves when a sudden movement brought her to her feet. She narrowed her eyes, looking anxiously for the source of the noise.
A figure moved forward into the gloomy light.
"Cardolan," she whispered uncertainly. "Is that you?"
The tall, thin figure moved towards her, leering viciously. "A..r..i..e..n..e..l…" it breathed. "My dear, dear Arienel…"
Valraen gasped in horror as the features of the being before her became clear. Backing into the wall behind her, she closed her eyes and turned her head as the man moved close enough for her to smell his putrid breath. One thin hand clasped her around her throat as the other gripped her skull. A searing wedge of pain shot through Valraen's brain.
"NO!" she cried. "Please no…"
But she was helpless to resist the waves of intense pain flowing through her. "Please…" she begged.
"Please what, my dearest?" said the menacing voice. "I want you to beg me… I want you to scream…"
"Please don't," Valraen whispered desperately. "You mustn't'…"
"I mustn't," the man said with a cold smile. "Well now… that's exactly what you said the last time."
He tightened his grip on her skull further until she began to convulse. "This time however," he said as he drained every drop of memory from her mind, "You are mine."
***
Elvish/ English Translation c/- The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)
Feitha = Wait
Manke naa re? = Where is she?
Sana amin a' re = Take me to her