Chapter Thirteen: The Captive and the Commander

The door closed with a loud click, and I was alone with Elennar, Merry and Pippin at last. Sighing in relief, I turned to the hobbits. "Finally. Now I can you out of here… all of you."

My gaze flicked over to my sister, who was still huddled in her corner. As I gazed at her, she stared back at me in wide-eyed terror. My mind was screaming as my stomach writhed in guilt. Can't you see me? I cried. Look into my eyes… it's still me inside. I want to help you – let me!

I glanced down at Pippin, who was crawling to my side. "Isilden?" he said softly.

I said nothing as my eyes blurred and burned with tears. Squeezing them shut, I turned my head away. But a soft, timid voice caused me to look up.

"Did you say Isilden?"

Elennar had risen to her feet and was inching forward, her eyes darting this way and that. She looked almost like a mouse in the way she crept nervously out toward us.

"P- please," she stammered, gazing intently at Pippin, "what did you say? Did you say Isilden?"

Pippin nodded as I cut him free, helping him to his feet. "Yes, that's what I said," he replied, smiling kindly at my sister. "Why?"

Elennar advanced further, still wary. "He's my brother," she said in a near whisper. "Isilden's my brother, and I lost him."

"Lost him?" Merry spoke up, stepping forward as his slashed bonds fell to the floor. "How did you lose him?"

At this my sister's eyes filled up with tears again. Falling to her knees, she buried her face in her hands and wept aloud. Merry hurried forward and hugged her, whispering, "Shh, shh, it's all right. Don't cry now, be a brave girl…"

"It's n- n- not all r- right," Elennar sobbed. "Th- they t- t- took h- him away, and n- n- now I'll n- n- never s- see h- h- him again!" She moaned in anguish, pressing her face into the hobbit's chest

I couldn't bear much more of it. How would Elennar possibly understand that there was nothing to fear? I was standing beside her, near enough to reach out and touch her, but she couldn't see. To her, I was just another of her tormentors. Just another orc.

Pippin gazed at me in concern. I stared hopelessly back. It was futile. Nothing I tried would bring anything but fear. My sister was standing in a river and dying of thirst.

I'm sorry, I thought miserably, as tears began to well up in my eyes. I can't change a thing that's happened; I can't make you see me for who I really am. I want you back… I want me back. But no-one can give us what we want. No-one.

Suddenly another thought came to me. I knelt beside my friends and whispered my sister's name. "Elennar?"

Elennar stiffened, lifting her head to stare at me in mingled horror and awe. "How do you know my name?" she asked me

I'm your brother, Elennar! It's me, Isilden! Those sweet words left sugary footprints on my tongue as they danced there, but I hastily swallowed them, cringing as they soured in my throat. Instead I said, "I know your brother. I saw him, not long ago." I hated to lie to my dear sister, but it was necessary.

"You saw him?" Elennar asked, staring at me in surprise. "You met him?"

I nodded. "Yes. He told me to give you a message; he loves you very, very much, and he wishes more than anything that he could be here with you."

"Really?" my sister whispered, her eyes alight with wonder.

"Really," I answered. "And there was one more thing…"

"What?" Elennar inquired, frowning.

I hesitated. "Well, it wouldn't really mean the same coming from me, but Isilden told me that if I ever saw you, I should give you a hug for him."

Elennar gazed uncertainly at me for a moment, then slowly nodded. I smiled, wrapping my arms gently around her body as she clambered into my lap. But I saw her shiver at the sight of my breastplate and the White Hand painted on it.

I understood. Carefully I took my armor off, knowing I was risking my life by doing so. What if Saruman should return? The Gondorian emblem on my tunic would be my doom. But I was willing to take that risk for my sister.

Elennar rested her head against my chest after I took my breastplate off. As I put my arms lovingly around her, I silently rejoiced. The world, for a moment, was all right again. My sister was alive, nestled safely in my arms, where she belonged. I never wanted to let go. Tears of joy began to flow down my cheeks.

I then noticed a small hand brushing the moisture from my face. Elennar gazed up at me in concern, saying, "It's okay, don't cry."

My smile broadened, and I replied, "These are happy tears, Elennar. I'm imagining the look on your brother's face when I tell him I met you," I lied. Then I gave a real sigh. "I just wish he could be here with you, instead of some nasty, stinky orc."

"You're not nasty or stinky," my sister told me. "You're really nice, and you smell…" She sniffed, pressing her nose into my tunic, and finished, "…like flowers."

That came as a genuine surprise. "Really?"

Elennar nodded. "Really." Then she frowned up at me. "Why are your eyes blue? All the other orcs have red or yellow eyes. Yours are pretty."

"Thank you," I smiled. "I'm not sure where I got blue eyes from. Maybe Saruman ran out of all the other eye colors when he got to me." Then I laughed. "He sure didn't go easy with the green, though, did he?"

"No," Elennar giggled. I smiled at the sound of her laughter, so musical and light. But then a much different and sinister sound reached my ears: footsteps. I knew at once that they belonged to the wizard.

"He's coming back!" I whispered.

Elennar scrambled off my lap as I stood up. Hastily I put my breastplate on again, then bent and picked up the ropes that lay on the floor. "Hurry!" I hissed to the hobbits. "Get over here!"

Merry and Pippin stood still as I tied them up again, turning to my sister. "Please listen to me," I told her. "Get back in the corner where you were before. I have to do something right now, and it'll look like I'm hurting them—" I pointed to the hobbits, "—but I'm really just pretending. I'm going to get us out of here, all right?"

"Promise?" Elennar whimpered.

I nodded, moving over to the wall and taking down the long whip I had seen earlier. "I promise."

Elennar had just one more request. "Tell my brother I love him."

"I will," I told her solemnly. "Now get back, quick!"

She nodded, and was soon a mere pile of rags in the corner with two glittering blue eyes. I raised the whip, cracking it loudly as the footsteps grew nearer. Turning my back on the door, I made a show of lashing the air above my friends' bodies while they yelled in pretended agony. Every so often I brought the whip down upon their backs for real, just so it would look as though they had really been flogged.

The door creaked open behind me, and Saruman's cruel voice met my ears. "That's enough, Snagra. They're ready to talk."

I turned to him and bowed low, the picture of meek servility, and the wizard gave a twisted smile. I felt sick with shame. How low had I sunk?

At least you're not actually swearing allegiance, I reassured myself. None of this is real. You're not an Uruk of Orthanc; you're a servant of Gondor.

Don't be so sure, a spiteful little voice hissed somewhere else inside my head. A bow is as good as a word to some. Just see how he takes it.

Shut up, I snapped silently, biting my tongue hard to keep the words from leaving my mouth. I'll never serve that bit of filth. I won't be at his beck and call, creeping around like some dumb animal. I won't let myself be used for evil. They can't do anything else to me. I won't let them!

It doesn't matter whether you'll let them or not, the voice told me. They don't care about that. All they care about is serving their master, and luring others into their nets. Once you're tangled, there's no hope for you. You'd be better off dead.

But I never was tangled, I protested mutely. I may look like one of them, but inside I'm still Isilden. I'm still me.

"I have a reward for you," Saruman told me, jerking me out of my thoughts. "You will be a commander in my horde, leading your own troops to war at Helm's Deep. You will lead the twenty-third squadron of the left wing. I'm sure you will do well, despite your…" he paused, his eyebrows contracting slightly as he searched for an appropriate word, "…nonconformity."

I couldn't help but frown. How could I lead a group of orcs I couldn't even speak to? I gestured to my throat and shrugged, and Saruman nodded. "I have a remedy for that. Here is your assistant." He pointed to the orc next to him: Zharag.

I shivered at the sight of my former colleague, whose blood-hued eyes glinted in his ash-hued face. His yellow, rotten teeth protruded from purplish gums as he grinned at me. I merely nodded.

Saruman stared mutely at his servant, and then nodded to me. Setting down my whip, I followed Zharag as he turned to leave. My heart throbbed with guilt for the hundredth time, but I didn't dare turn back.

"Good job," Zharag complimented me as we walked down the stairs. "It's not often Lord Saruman makes an ordinary horde-orc into a commander, just like that. He must like what you did."

I nodded wordlessly. My promotion was both good and bad. As a commanding officer in the horde, I'd be long gone before Saruman found out he had the wrong two hobbits captive. But I had left Elennar behind as well. I could never fulfill my promise to her now.