Disclaimer: I don't own Baraddur, Mordor, elves or orcs, or Sauron. There, that covers it.

The Courageous Stars of Night

Prologue

The darkness of Baraddur was drowning them. Cries in a fell language polluted their ears. Taunts and whips showered down upon them day and night, though it was impossible to determine the difference within the prison. Their bonds sliced sharply into their flesh, but that was the least of their pain. Their clothes were now mere shreds, the last stray leaves, brown and fragile, that clung to a tree, denying that winter has arrived. Did they still have bodies, or were they mere phantoms of their former selves? They must still be in their bodies, they could feel everything, the fowl breath of their captors, the chains around their shrunken necks, arms, and legs, the blood that left their worm-like bodies, everything. They certainly existed, the two of them, although their existence was by no means worthy of being called life. It was an existence of extreme agony, without freedom, and just enough disgusting food to keep them alive. They rarely spoke, lest one of the guards that constantly attended them should find something of importance in their words. That would be an even worse fate than this; to suffer so and yet aid the enemy. It would have been unbearable.

It was incredibly difficult for either of them to remember the time before they had been captured, the time before the darkness, when they had been free. In the memory of that freedom, though, there was hope. Perhaps they had not truly lost that hope and that was the reason they remained alive while so many others had previously succumbed. Also, each had the other to remind them of what had been. These reminders weren't conveyed by words, which were too easily struck down, nor by significant eye contact, for even their keen eyes could only perceive the outline of the other. Hope was conveyed by the quiet sound and the soft brush of the other's breath, not far away. It could be heard in the rare sound of sleep or, more commonly, in the shrieks of the other as each was brutally and horribly tortured, almost to the point of death. At those times, it seemed their ears became even keener and the disguised message in the howls of pain was conveyed: I haven't given up yet, so you cannot surrender either.

Neither being knew how long they had been there. It was impossible to track time by any means in the fell dungeons, not even by the comings and goings of the enemy's servants. They were erratic and unpredictable. There was no hint of sun, moon, or stars; the dismal room was kept black as death at all times, for the sake of the fell creatures who swarmed the land. They could not stand even the tiniest shred of light and ventured out into the world of the sun under the only the strict orders of their dark lord.

When sleep did come to the captives, it was usually for brief spans of time and laden with terrified shrieks. Only in their deepest dreams did they receive glimpses of light and happiness. Sometimes they saw people of the past, and others that they had never met. On other occasions, visions of lands they had nearly forgotten passed before their eyes. Sometimes these were images of Middle Earthen lands, but occasionally, the lands beyond the sea came into view. Recently, the younger of the two captives had beheld the Grey Havens and a ship sailing into the west almost every time he had shut his eyes, which had never happened with any other object, place, or person. Even now, his eyes open and staring at the darkness, he could almost picture the scene in his mind.

A strong fowl scent and the crashing of armor heralded the approaching multitude of Orcs. Both beings braced themselves for the torture they knew was at hand. Each gazed meaningfully at the spot in which they knew the other lay. Each could feel the other's gaze, although they could not see it. (They barely remembered what they looked like.) Neither was the least bit scared. The routine had happened countless times, so they knew exactly what would surely happen. One of them, however, had a white elven ship sailing through his mind.

They were seized roughly and their chains were undone. The first times they had experienced this ritual, both of them had fought vigorously to escape the clutches of their captors, but it had been to no avail. Now they were shoved into different chambers, parts of their bodies crashing up against the stone walls and doorways, as the orcs did not care at all for the well being of their captives. The older's right leg slammed violently into the doorframe and a slight crack was heard over the noise of the orcs. The leg had broken, but it was of little worry at the moment. Both were placed on tables and the multitude began to torment the elder. The captives were always tortured one at a time because the orcs believed hearing the screams of pain from the other room would demoralize the other victim enough to answer the questions their nauseating voices asked. This strategy had never been effective with these two, however, as each encouraged the other through their own agony. The younger one, who was directly next door, heard every shout and smiled, proud of his comrade. After what seemed like the longest time he had ever had to endure those screams, they stopped and he heard the comforting sound of his companion's breathing. They would keep her on the table in the room next door until they were finished with him. Almost instantly, a burning sensation drilled into his neck.

It seemed as if the orcs would never stop. Time slowly ticked on as they burned him, sliced him, and crushed him. This was the worst they had ever done to him and he could feel himself weakening badly. In the darkness, he seemed to see a large white object, which had disappeared for a while, and was sure he heard something besides his own breathing, his screams, and his heart pounding in his ears. The white vision moved closer, closer. It was a ship. The elf desired passionately to board it and leave this place forever to go to the elven lands. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, his breath growing shallower, his screams fading into the distance. He was traveling away from it all, sailing smoothly away. Then his thoughts rested on his companion, separated only by a stone wall from the room in which the dwindling body lay. For the first time in ages, he could almost see her. She was aware of an unusual occurrence in the room beside her. She could hear the screams quieting, yet the howls and vile laughter of the beasts did not cease. Her head turned toward the fading screams. Then, the shrieks halted, never to resume. In the last instants before he boarded the ship, the younger elf focused on his companion with all his might. The elder elf felt an odd sensation of peace. What seemed like a fresh breeze blew over her face and she felt her limbs released from her bonds, and a soft, damp sensation overtook her body and filled the smell of the world around her. Then she knew no more.