Cold. Dark. Stuffy.
At first, Tauriel wondered what had happened, quite sure that when she opened her eyes, she would see the familiar ceiling of the Mirkwood's room. She must have kicked the covers off of her, and now, no wonder she could feel cold. After all, there was no other explanation. It was winter; probably someone had closed the window, what caused the room to get so stale.
Only a part of her consciousness returned to her; that was why she could not open her eyes just yet. Her body was still exhausted and every muscle of it hurt. The fact that she had had such terrible dreams could not help much. Apparently, though, it was the result of her experiences. The battle had taken place not that long ago; those phantoms would not just stop tormenting her so easily. It would take years, maybe more, or maybe it would never cease; and she was ready for the worst. She had to prepare herself well.
Darkness took over her once more for a longer while; she could not know how long it actually was. Maybe a minute. Maybe a day. She hoped it had not been more. Her stomach growled from hunger, but she felt too sick and too weak to move and reach for anything to eat.
That was when she first noticed that she did not lie on her back; rather on her stomach. More than that, something was pressed tightly to her abdomen, causing pain, but she dared not open her mouth to complain, even though that was exactly what she would like to do. Something she probably would do, if not for the fact that she noticed that the thing she was lying on moved rhythmically in a pace of moderate steps. That had to alarm her. No bed would move like that. No bed would be that uncomfortable.
With all of the strength she had, the former captain forced herself to raise her strangely heavy eyelids. The activity that seemed to be one of the easiest in the world, now was harder than the majority of the things she had ever tried.
When she at last managed to open her eyes enough to be able to see anything, she realized that it definitely was not Mirkwood, not any part of the world she had been to. Although she had been to the places where snow was something that appeared in winter, never had she seen so much of it; it covered the ground densely, creating a soft white carpet at which she was forced to look. Feeling too uncomfortable she shifted slightly to realize that she was barely able to move. No wonder, though: her wrists and ankles were tied, there was something in her mouth, apparently meaning to keep her quiet, and as she had noticed before, something was pressed against her stomach. Only after a while, she found enough consciousness to understand that she was hanging over somebody's shoulder.
Even in this state, she had to admit that it was pretty surprising, that someone had managed to hang her like this, as if she was not a grown-up woman, a short one, yes, but still not a midget, but rather some kind of a rag doll.
Biting her bottom lip and praying that her assumptions were not true, she dared turn her head to the side, so she would see something from the corner of her eye. However, she was pretty sure what had happened; now, she could understand that what she had thought had been nothing but a dream must have really happened, and that meant that her days were numbered.
To her terror, she had not been wrong. There would never come a moment when she would not be able to recognize this dark skin, that steel armour pushed violently into it, what looked like it was mounted to the other's skeleton. Right now, she could only hope that it was not a part of his skeleton; it would make him even more difficult to fight, for this thought was just enough to plant a little seed of fear in her heart.
That ugly, dark orc, one of the most unsightly and biggest of the ones she had ever seen; and she had seen a lot of them. His looks, however, were not the only thing she despised about him. He was the one who had killed Kili; and that was not something she could simply forgive, not without getting her revenge.
Clenching her teeth on the rag in her mouth, Tauriel tried to move, preparing herself for the fall. After all, not every day did she fall from such a height onto the cold, solid ground. Maybe the thick layer of snow would help a little bit, but that was not something she could hope for. It was not about comfort. Being a warrior, she had experienced much worse things than just hitting the ground, and her motivation could make it all almost painless. Her body would remember that later on, though, therefore she knew that she would have to be careful, so she would be able either to escape or to battle the monster.
Her hopes, though, disappeared just as suddenly as they had emerged from nothingness; as soon as the orc felt the little elf move on his shoulder, he readjusted the grip on her waist, growling something in the nastiest language of all. Tauriel would swear that it was a curse, but then, in his language everything would sound like that. Yet not that was the worst thing of what she had understood.
Until now, she had been convinced that there was no-one but the abominable orc and her. That their battle would be just a duel. Right now, though, she realized that he would be an idiot to do follow her with no escort. And from the voices that responded to his grumble, she understood that her assumptions were right. He was not alone; there were more of those monsters, ready to fight with her, and weak as she was, she would not be able to face all of them at the same time.
The cloth muffled a quiet groan, and not at once did she realize that it was a sound coming from her own throat; only when the orc grunted, giving her a poke to a side, she realized that she had allowed herself to be so careless and that now the creature knew that she was no longer unconscious. All of the muscles in her body went tense and she held her breath, but nothing happened; or at least that she thought. For after a moment, she saw one of the smaller orcs and she felt pain.
And then, nothing once more.
When she woke up again, Tauriel did not allow herself to open her eyes at once. Right now, she was afraid of what she would see, for she was certain that it would be the last sight she could ever see in her life. This monster had brought her there just to kill her – she was pretty sure of it, even though after a moment, she thought that it was pretty strange that he had dragged her for so long just to murder her.
But then, she remembered that it was no mere orc; he had seemed to be some kind of a commander during the battle. Moreover, he was stronger and bigger than other orcs, so she assumed he was someone really important amongst the others of his kin. It was probable that he simply wanted to make an example out of her. He would kill her just to show the rest of this filthy brood how to kill elves. How to treat them before they sank a blade in their hearts. Maybe how to make them beg for mercy, for death.
No, thought Tauriel. I will never beg him for mercy. I will never seem weak. Kili has never been weak during the battle with him – and I cannot let myself do anything like that. I will fight him; and when I cannot do it anymore, I will face death as proud as any of the great heroes of the ancient legends.
Of course, she did know that she was no hero. However, she could not let herself stain her kin's honour. She was a warrior; she had been brought up by the king himself. How would she ever be able to turn out to be a coward?
Very slowly, she opened her eyes, taking a deep breath, afraid of what – or whom – she would see. However, what she saw was far away from what she had imagined. It was nothing but a dark room with stone floor and walls. There was a door in the corner, but besides that, the whole room was empty. And if not for the sizes of it, she would say that it was a cell. Nevertheless, it was far too big as for a cell.
When she tried to move, she heard a quiet sound. There were shackles around her wrists and ankles that made sure she would not run away. On the other hand, though, the chains were long enough, fixed to a peg in one of the corners, what allowed her to suspect that she would be able to move all around the room. That gave her a little bit of hope, and although she was still exhausted and terrified, she stood up. Her knees were shaking, but she was not quite sure whether it was caused by her weakness, fear or simple cold. For no matter how much she would give for a simple mantle, there was nothing she could use to warm herself up.
To her surprise and relief, she felt that the chains were not that heavy, and although it was difficult to move with them, she was still able to do that. What could that mean? Did the big orc want to keep her as his pet?
The thought itself filled her with strange disgust and she glanced at the door once more. There was no way she could escape. She was still tired and weak, not to mention the constant grumbling of her stomach which she had tried to ignore until now. No longer could she do that, though, and she bit her bottom lip in distress. The sounds coming from outside would betray that there were people out there. But what could she do? Should she call them? Ask for food? No, she would not beg – that was a promise she had made to herself and to the others of her kin.
With a sigh, she made some more hesitant steps, leading her hand across the cold surface of the wall. There was little she could see in this darkness, even using her elven eyes. Probably that was the reason why she had not noticed a small bowl and a cup placed right next to it. At first with curiosity and distrust, she approached them and slowly knelt down next to them. When her skin touched the ice cold floor, she gasped and glanced down, only to realize with a shame that someone had taken away her clothes. Blushing but blessing the fact that there was no-one to see her like that (and that in such a darkness no-one would be able to see anything actually), she curled up, as if trying to hide from herself.
However, curiosity and hunger made her straighten up once more, so she could reach out for the bowl. Soon, she learnt that the bowl was filled with something that looked like raw meat and she felt sick at once, sour taste filling her esophagus. But was there anything else she could do? If she did not eat anything, she would lose the very rest of the strength that still dwelled in her body. She could not allow herself to do so.
Trying to imagine that it was nothing but a wonderful salad from Mirkwood, she closed her eyes and took out a morsel of strangely smelling meat, letting it slide smoothly into her mouth. Its slipperiness was disgusting, the taste – sickening, but she could not be picky, not in a moment like this. It took her far too long to empty a half of the bowl. Then, she resigned, being completely incapable of continuing this repulsive feast.
In hopes for something that would clear this awful taste off her tongue, she greedily grasped the cup and pressed it to her lips, taking a couple of long sips only to realize it was not water or the great elvish wine; but rather some bitter drink, apparently alcoholic, that made her feel not only sick but dizzy as well.
With a groan, she put it away, curling up again. Was that what she had always thought her life would look like? No, definitely not; locked up in some orc's chambers, chained to the floor, allowed to eat only that detestable food orcs ate. It was as if that black monster hoped she would become one of them – but she would never agree to that. She would never let him humiliate her that much. But had he not yet?
Sobbing quietly, she cursed the day she had left the safe walls of Mirkwood. Had she been obedient, she would not have been banished. She would not have been caught by some foul creature which tried to degrade her to a level of some pet.
Nevertheless, Tauriel had to admit that the orc was good enough to her to give her anything to eat. It seemed that he wished not to kill her like that, and she was thankful to him for that. Starved to death? That was hardly the way she would like to die. Nothing could humiliate anyone than that, pushing them to the ground, to the point when they were no longer able to move, only to look up and beg for mercy, for a bite of old bread...
When she closed her eyes, she could not tell if she fell asleep again or not. However, a sound of brutally opened door woke her up, making her look in the right direction. Even in this darkness she could say who it was who had just entered, pushing the door closed. Her heart began pounding in her chest, but she got up, no matter how much her knees were shaking; if that was the moment of her death, she would not die on her knees.
Yet although she had expected a strike, she felt nothing. The monstrous creature stood a couple of feet away of her, eyeing her with a lustful grin. Another hot flush hit the elf's cheeks, but she would not avert her sight; he would not know how scared she was.
And yet, he did know. This wonderful scent of humiliation mixed with terror he had managed to put into the poor she-elf's heart filled the whole place and he breathed it in with his smile even widening. Yes, bringing her here was a good idea. He would teach her how to be a good elf. She would not make the mistakes others of her kin had made; her fiery nature, her courage and strength made her quite a desirable prey for Bolg, and he would have her, whether she wanted that or not. After all, why would he ask for her permission? It was his realm. He had made sure she would not escape. Right now, besides her own body, which was so restrained, she had no other weapon no armour. She belonged to him, and that was the way it would stay.
Seeing her tremble like a leaf in the wind, Bolg made another couple of steps. That was enough for him to approach her – and she would not run away. His hand cupped her cheek, before slowly sliding down, along her neck to her chest. Holding her breath, Tauriel froze, her eyes widened as she looked at the ugly face right before her.
But that was enough. She would not let him touch her like this. With a grimace, she stepped away, letting the wide hand suddenly hang in the midair, as if it was cupping something invisible. Oh, yes, she knew perfectly that was a good reason for him to punish her, but she was not afraid of pain. She was not afraid of punishment.
The orc had to admit that it did irritate him; truly, he had not expected such a behaviour from his little she-elf, but no matter how much it annoyed him, he felt some strange excitement gather in his chest and abdomen. She was not a mere elf; not someone who would just bend when he told to do so. She was an interesting one. Although her body seemed to be small and fragile, there was a great flame dreaming inside her heart. Right now, this flame had been awoken, and she was ready to use it against him.
A growl escaped him as he gritted his teeth, and that was a sign for her to escape. It was not easy with the shackles around her ankles, but that was not enough to make her give up. Actually, it was a good way to motivate her; his touch would not defile her, at least not without her protest. And even if she was to fail, she would not obey him.
"That was a bad choice, she-elf," he growled, making long steps towards her and reaching for her shoulder, but she was able to avoid his claws, leaning back. Although at first he was pretty surprised, Bolg soon regained his composure and pulled on one of the chains, yanking her hand towards himself, what made her lose her balance. With a quiet squeal she fell onto the floor, what allowed her to use her feet to try and kick the orc's ankle in hopes she would knock him over.
Unfortunately, though, he was too big and too heavy for her to do that. On the other hand, that move made him let go of the chain and she quickly stood up, swaying slightly on her feet. The battle was not finished, though, not yet.
Bolg understood his mistake. It was not the chain at her hand he should have used; rather the one wrapped around one of her ankles. That would not let her stand up, and she would be hers. He knew he had enough strength to force her to obey. At first, he had thought that she would be smart enough not to fight him. Yet it seemed that the same longing for freedom claimed all of the elven hearts. Then he should crash it right now, so it no longer could bother him.
Growling, the orc pushed Tauriel aside when she tried to attack him. Hitting the cold wall, she lost her breath, and that was a chance for Bolg. With one motion of his hand, he pulled her back onto the floor, making her unable to move.
"I gave you freedom," he barked, looking down at her. "I gave you food, even though you deserved nothing. And this is how you thank me?"
"You have taken me against my own will," retorted the elven warrior, still helplessly trying to find a way to stand up. However, even she had to admit that it was impossible, especially when the one holding the chains was at least twice as strong as she was, even if she were in her normal state. "You have given me nothing but a poison to eat and drink. You have undressed me, chained to a floor and left me alone in a dark, cold room. What should I be thankful for?"
The woman expected she would see a grimace of fury on the ugly face, but she was wrong; what she saw was definitely not pretty, but even she had to recognize a smile in that terrible expression. That confused her to no end and a frown crawled upon her features.
"It is not what you would like to eat, eh?" he mocked. "You are lonely and cold in here? Well then... I think I have an idea how to help you with that."
For some reason, Tauriel knew what it meant, and it made her sick. Averting her sight, she tried to fight the gag reflex. No. He could not stay there with her, he would not touch her... he would not make her do anything she did not want to do...
And yet, it seemed that this was exactly what he was planning to do. A nasty grin on his face made her shiver and she began to pull on the chains even more desperately, hoping that this one time a miracle would happen. That she would free herself and not let this awful creature humiliate her like this. What if she begged for him to let her go? No, he would not allow that to happen; he was having quite a lot of fun, too much to just give up on it. And it seemed that he had wanted to have her there, in this dark room, for some time now, if he had followed her so long after the battle during which he had been supposed to die.
Yet, the only thing that made her sure that it had been him whom Legolas had tried to kill, was another long, steel badge fixed on the top of his head, right where her friend's blade hit him. What had happened back then seemed to have only irritated him. It would seem he had planned this since he had fallen during the duel with the prince... and as soon as the chance had come, he had made his move.
And now, she was here.
"You will not dare touch me, you filth," she hissed.
"You told me the same thing before... but I did touch you," he continued his mockery as his face moved dangerously close to her own, making her sick from the musty smell of decay coming from his mouth. "And guess what, she-elf... I will do that again."