4

I did not have a pleasant awakening, as you might imagine. I was tied up, hand and foot and laying on a heap of straw somewhere. I guess with the horses, because it was pretty fragrant and I could hear stamping occasionally.

I lay there in utter darkness, trying to figure out why I had been bashed on the head. I mean, if they had had some questions or something, they could have just asked me. And of course, this line of thinking just began to frighten me. Because, maybe if it wasn't questions they wanted to ask, then maybe it was something else, more unpleasant.

I shivered at that and started to wiggle my hands to see if I could loosen the ropes. Of course, that got me nothing but rope burns. Sheesh. My wrists were going to be scarred with all the rope burns I had gotten since I'd been here in Middle Earth.

Moving my feet didn't help either.

Over the occasionally shifting animals, I could hear the sound of laughter. Hm. The show must of have begun. I had been unconscious longer than I thought. I struggled and sat up, peering hard in the dark. Finally, I could see a crack in what I assumed was a canvas wall. The faint flicker of light indicated a lantern or a campfire nearby.

Having no shame, I scooted on my bottom towards the light, probably ruining a nice pair of leather pants. Maybe I could call attention to myself and get someone to help me.

Ha. Ha. What was I thinking?

And I, like the ever foolish optimist I am, had had such high hopes for this Great Northern Fair. It was going to fun! An adventure! No need to bother the elf lord!

What an idiot! (Sigh. As usual).

I wasn't half way towards the light, when someone brushed aside the canvas, blocking my escape. I could tell the person was tall and covered in a cloak. "Help me!" I shouted. "I've been kidnapped by…."

The person waved a hand, and I found my throat tightened up like someone had pulled a drawstring around a sack. I clawed at my neck and fell over choking. In less than a minute I was sure I was going to black out.

As the stranger approached, I still tried to say something. The constriction on my throat eased but I couldn't speak. I scooted backwards. Of course I wasn't fast enough and he leaned over me and pulled me to my now tingling feet.

I could see nothing, but I did become aware of his face close to mine. It was so unpleasant. Instead of warmth there was this faint whiff of cold and the smell of his breath was moldy.

What was I dealing with?

I stood quivering, my feet really hurting. Again, I heard the faint sound of the crowd.

But around us, the animals were silent. Not even the swish of a tail.

Without a word of warning, I was enfolded in what must have been his cloak. The thick smell of disuse, mold and mildew enveloped me and before I could think to struggle, I was flung over a bony shoulder.

I could feel cool night air on the back of my legs. He marched silently on and no one stopped him or asked questions. I could hear the crunch of gravel under booted feet. The sudden "skwee" of a night bird overhead.

Then it felt as if we were climbing and through the cloth I could hear the sound of his raspy breath.

Where were we going now?

I started to squirm, which finally made my captor speak. His dry voice, sounding as if he had just discovered its use told me, "Do not move any further. You will suffer for it."

No problem. I ceased moving. I froze solid, almost afraid to breathe.

Suddenly the air got much colder on my legs and the sound of his footsteps got louder. He walked a long time and I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach.

How was I going to get out of this?

Again, with no warning, I found myself flung to the cold ground already banging my sore head. I am sorry to say, well, I cried. I really hurt and I was terrified. (I know, I know: what a wuss.) The cloak was pulled off of me and with a "snick," my captor uncovered a lantern.

Because my eyes were watering, it took me a moment to take in my surroundings.

First. My captor. He was human, I think. But not like any one I had ever seen either here in Middle Earth or even in the 21st Century. Tall, thin, grey-skinned, long lanky hair sort of a beige/grey color. A sharp protuberant nose perched over a thin slit of a mouth.

But his eyes. They were mesmerizing. More so than even Lord Elrond's. (ELROND! I mentally screamed. God, I need you!)

He bent close to me, his eyes filling my vision. They were so dark, almost reptilian. The energy behind them did not feel human. They were fathomless, pitiless.

"You interest me, human. You are not from here." His accent was strange and sibilant. And even more unusual, he was speaking elvish, but a weird archaic form I think.

"D-Delighted, I am sure."

I cringed and winced as my head hurt suddenly, sharply, as if pierced with a needle. The creature drew back with a slight hiss. "You are not half breed elf."

"No, of course not."

"Human, but you smell elvish. I am intrigued. This Bron'Nala has found me a succulent dainty."

"Ewwww……." I said inadvertently. He was smelling me? (And me not having had a thorough bath in several days. Only a daily wipe down with a wet cloth. Okay, enough information!)

He drew back out of the light and I heard his footsteps.

And Bron'Nala? If he wasn't Bron'Nala…then who was he? And I was a "succulent dainty?" His speech was confusing me. Was he working with/for Bron'Nala?

I glanced about and realized I wasn't on the ground really, but on a cold stone slab. And then because I was slow, I also realized I was laying at about waist height for him. In other words, I was on a table of some sort. I hopelessly wiggled my wrists and feet.

With uncanny silence, he approached my side again. A flash of silver caught my eye, and in seconds a dagger sliced me in the neck. Through the sudden excruciating pain, I saw him lean over me and then…then…he licked the blood from the cut he'd made.

I tried to pull away to get sick, but all I could do was toss my lunch to the side.

Didn't faze him in the least.

Choking, I began to cry again as I felt the rough swipe of his tongue which felt long like a dog's. His lips settled on my neck and because I was so terrified, I passed out.

I can write about the dreams I had, but it is very, very difficult. They were a mad maelstrom of horrors beyond the imagination of any cheap Hollywood gore fest. Please excuse the wiggles and blotches my quill makes.

The dreams were ugly. People being tortured and violated by things uglier than orcs. Though there were orcs in these dreams, they kept to the sidelines. I guess they got their jollies by watching. Women and men ripped apart by metal hooks, limbs held over firepots and dipped in acid…and the screaming. The screaming went on and on until my head rang with it…..Oh heck, I cannot say any more.

I did not want to open my eyes, as you can imagine, when I swam up from my dark dreams. I felt weak and shivered continuously. My neck ached and throbbed.

I lay there, tears leaking out from under tightly shut lids.

I was being held by a vampire no doubt. (Duhhhh. You think?)

And I was either going to be drained dry…

Or turned into one of the undead.

How much of this do you want to read? How much of this can I write with out running off to gibber in my wardrobe? I know it is therapeutic to get the horrors out into the open….but…..you guys…I was there for a couple of….days.

Days of no light save the intermittent thin beams from the lantern. Laying there, being slobbered and sucked on by a vampire. And because we were somewhere dark, I assume a cave of some kind, he did not have to worry about being burned by sunlight. Who, when bored, would slice me somewhere else and lick the blood from the new injury. He was careful to avoid arteries because I guess, he wanted me to…last.

He spoke very little, though he did mumble about the taste of my dreams and flavor of my blood being so unusual and "unfathomable." Which, by the sound of his voice, pleased him.

So, you are thinking, did I just lie there and make no attempts at escape?

Well, I was terrified and weak, I admit it. And he was able to, well, I guess the best word is, "enthrall" me. I had no will power, I could not think much, though I dreamed Technicolor horrors and nightmares. I could feel the bastard sifting through my mind and I snapped out of my stupor to find myself screaming hoarsely.

By the end of the second day, I could feel myself fading…listless and delirious with visions of horrors. Of blood and bloodied throats. And even though this vampire did not seem to have the fangs that my world pictured on a vampire, I kept seeing them, sharp and bloody. All I could see was blood in my dreams and his leering face. I shivered all the time and I couldn't get warm.

The monster even gave me water occasionally, but food I just threw up and so he stopped trying. Like I said, he was trying to make me last…like a three day sucker (lollipop) or something. (okay BAD joke).

After, I don't know; three feedings he untied me and the renewal of my weak circulation in my extremities kept me in pain and awake for sometime.

I cannot tell you that this creature gibbered and talked to itself, like Gollum. He was either mangling me, or not there. The true nightmare for me was I could not hear him, save for the thinnest whisper of footsteps. And suddenly he would appear next to me with no warning and terrify me by touching me with his cold hands and fingering the wounds he'd made, as if deciding which he wanted to taste.

I put my hand on my heart at one point, frightened by its erratic rhythm. I moved my hand to my face and my skin felt paper-like and hot. I let my hand drop to the cold stone. I could not focus my eyes and my ears throbbed with the absence of sound. I could not even hear my pulse.

I think I was dying.

Okay. Well, I cannot write any more right now, especially because the sun is setting and the long shadows make me jumpy. I'm feeling rather cold and clammy just thinking about all this.