Chapter Six

From a Nightmare to Reality

Celebrían stirred, moaning. Pain shot through her body like needles as she tried to recollect what happened. Memories of being hit over the head with the cruel hammer of an orc reached her. Something vague about indescribable agony. What did they do to her? Or what were they planning to do with her? Her head pounding, Celebrían managed to sit up shakily. The nearest orc growled something at her. Celebrían tried to shake her head, but the pain racking her skull made it impossible. After a few guttural noises, the orc managed to say something in common speech. "What are you doing in our woods, elf?" he snarled.

Celebrían reeled as she tried to think of a reply. "TELL ME!" the orc demanded, whipping out an evil looking knife. Celebrían mouthed wordlessly, her tongue running across her lips, trying to put some moisture into the dry, cracked lips. The orc moved closer, the knife glinting wickedly in the dark light of the night. "Melethron, melethron!" Celebrían cried, unable to say anything else but call for her Elrond. "O Elbereth!" The orc froze. Celebrían looked around wildly. "O Elbereth, Gilthoniel. Silivren penna miriel!" She had found her voice. Her sweet, tremulous voice rang through the air. "Be gone, yrch!" she called, staggering up. A few feet away she saw her sword. Diving over she reached it, scrabbling to grab hold of it. Closing her eyes, she stabbed forward, shuddering as it hit the body of the creature with a dull thud. Black blood spurted out, staining her ruined gown.

But her song had roused the other orcs. Though she had been guarded by only one sentry, eventually the others came along. Apparently when she was unconscious, they had gained reinforcements. She looked around when her strength failed her. The fog was not without purpose, for she saw that they were in the Misty Mountains. Collapsing onto the ground, she waited for the orcs to come and tie her up again. The minutes passed slowly. Her face buried in the ground, her lustrous silvery gold hair a disaster, Celebrían remained there waiting. She was not left alone for within a moment she blacked out again.

When she awoke, it was to the harsh machineries of the orcs. Clangs and bangs echoed throughout the hollow cavern, making her headache worse. But she would have more than just pains in her head soon enough. She felt herself being lifted by the hairy hands of the orcs. Celebrían was being borne to one of the machines. Since her refusal to speak of neither her name nor her whereabouts, she realized with a sinking heart that they were going to torture them out of her. You must be strong… Celebrían told herself. Think about what Nana or Ada would do in this situation. She knew her lady mother would rather die then betray her kind. And she knew her father would too. So would she. Celebrían…the Silver Queen…to meet her death at the hands of the crude machines of the orcs? It would not be so. She would live through this pain.

As if reaffirming her thoughts, the Elessar began to shine. Despite the dank and dark of the cavern, its bright green light pierced through the atmosphere. She took a deep breath. Her voice cried out for the last time, "Elbereth!" before she was placed on one of the machines. The last thought that drifted through her head was that the orcs could not even do their own torture. Her hand clamped firmly on her mouth, refusing to scream. But a strong hand yanked her own from her mouth, forcing them onto a rack. Rough iron chains bound her to it, and Celebrían saw that they were not taking any more chances. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth, preparing for the worst. No matter what happened, she would not give anything up. She would live through this. She would not die.

Celebrían remembered nothing more. All she knew was that she woke up crumpled in a side part of the cavern. Her body was broken. All of her will to live vanished. Blood was streaming down her forehead, obscuring her vision. She could feel numerous bones broken or cracked. Her feet were sore and swollen. Celebrían's hands were no longer delicate and tapered as they had been in her earlier days. Most of her fingers were broken save the pointer and the thumb of her left hand. She only wanted to stop the pain. Looking around, she felt like a bird whose wings had been broken. The stench of orcs was overbearing. She groaned, propping herself up by the elbows. There was neither food nor water. Not that she expected any.

But in her pouch she had a few wafers of lembas. And a small flask of miruvor. Clutching her forehead, Celebrían managed to sit up. Her ribs dug into her small body, causing her breathing to come out harsh and ragged. Her mouth was devoid of saliva, completely dry. Celebrían tried to open the flask with her two working fingers. But they like her feet were sore and swollen. She could not bear to look at the parts where her fingers stuck out in bizarre positions, the bones shattered. Suddenly, the flask slipped, dropping to the floor.

Celebrían took a sharp breath as the glass shattered and the precious liquid diffused into the parched ground. Instinctively she dove forward, scrabbling with a piece of glass that had a few drops left. She licked up the bit she could find. A bit of vigor refilled in her veins. She could move on.