Torture.
Agony.
Burning.
Darkness.
Smoke.
'I've been here for twenty years… I cannot stand it here anymore. Every day I am tortured, every night I am healed. When I am awake I live a nightmare, when I sleep I am plagued with visions of my family and people being slaughtered.
'Every night I try desperately to run over a muddy, barren field towards my brother, who lies dying at the foot of a large, black gate. Every night I look down to see why I cannot run to his side, only to see that the mud is actually blood and flesh—every night I look down into the bloodless faces of the Valar and am able to do nothing.
'I cannot kill myself, and the enemy knows it. They place a dagger in my cell every night, knowing that if I succumb to the pain and use it, my soul be unable to find its way to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor. I will cease to be, but I cannot do it—I am strong; I will not give in. I will not risk seeing my mother again simply because I cannot withstand pain which I know I will someday be saved from.'
The pale orc laughs and lifts a whip that glows like fire. "Do you enjoy pain, elfling?" He asks, leering at me. He swings the whip, and I scream as it wraps around me, burning furrows into my arm. "You must: if you did not, you would have ended it by now."
He jerks the whip away, leaving deep, blackened burns in my flesh. They are not so deep that I can see my bone, but I still writhe in agony, sobbing. I cry out and pull in vain at the chains holding my arms to the ceiling, unable to kick the orc away because of the shackles holding my ankles to the stone floor. He laughs and swings the whip again, making it wrap around my right upper arm and across both my shoulders. I arch my back, trying to escape.
No matter how many times I am tortured, I will never not curl away from a whip, a branding iron, a knife. I know that I cannot be corrupted—not but a few elves could ever be or have ever been corrupted, and even those have fallen out of our memory—but oftentimes I wonder if I have been, if the continuous exposure to darkness and evil has changed me for the worst.
I blink, bringing myself out of my thoughts. Darkness surrounds me both inside and out; the shadows of night are reflected by the shadows of madness at the edges of my mind.
After an eternity that was only a day, the pale orc unchains my wrist and ankles and slings me over his shoulder, each of his hands large enough to easily wrap itself around my waist and crush me. I cannot move; my wrists are shackled together as well as my ankles. He carries me to my cell and throws me to the ground, smiling gruesomely at my weak whimpers of protest. Unlike other nights, however, the shadow that would descend upon my cell did not immediately come, and I frown, glancing over at the knife in the corner, a plan forming in my mind. The pale orc frowns as well and steps into the cell, facing away from me. Taking a risk, I reach over, grab the knife in my fists, and lunge, hoping to plunge the blade into the orc's heart.
However, the sound of my chains scraping against the floor alerts him, and he turns, backhanding me and sending me flying to the opposite wall. Pain explodes in my back as it makes contact with the chipped rock, and I crumple to the ground in pain, looking blearily over at the pale orc, who reaches down to pick up the knife I had dropped. He grins and kneels next to me, tracing my face with the dark blade.
"The Master will heal you tonight," he whispers in the common tongue, "so it won't matter when I do this." At the last word, he plunges the knife into my side up to the hilt, and I scream, curling in on myself as the world flashed white.
He stands and turns, intent on leaving me in the cell, but before he can, the shadow appears at the door, weaker than before.
It speaks in black speech, and I recognize few words in it. However, I do catch the words "Thror," "Moria," and "Durin". The orc grins and walks out as the shadow fades completely.
I lie dazed and dying as Dol Guldur empties, all the orcs and goblins heading to Moria. I grip the handle of the knife, hoping to pull it out and use it to break my chains, but I am too weak. I remain motionless, my breathing becoming ragged, and darkness began to encroach on my vision.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reaches my ears, and I try to lift my head. 'These are different,' I notice. I open my mouth and cough, tasting blood. "Help," I croak, choking on my blood. "Help!" I cough, louder. The footsteps come nearer as I fall back, crying. "Help me," I whisper, looking up at the enormous figure above me.
It crouches down and lifts me up gently in its arms and I choke, a squelching sound issuing from my throat as he carries me out of the cell. "You are safe, little one," the man says, moving more quickly than before. "I am not going to hurt you." I begin to slip into the world of dreams, I must be, for the man's form shifts to that of a bear, and he begins to run, my prone form on his back with my arms around his neck. My wrists are still chained together, as were my ankles, but I am grateful because I cannot fall off.
The world is completely encased in night, but still I can see—I can make out the shadows of trees and mountains even though there is no starlight. I can see the forms of wraiths, which drift towards me but back off when they see who—or what—carries me.
Finally my eyes begin to drift shut and I slump over, praying to Eru and Seldarine that death will take me.
-o-
I was shaking badly, and my ears were ringing. I was in the place between sleep and wakefulness, and I could not remember anything past what I had just experienced in my dream.
'Was it a dream?' I thought, panicked, 'or am I still in Dol Guldur?!'
A hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder, and I curled into a ball as the hand's owner began shaking me. "Aeyera!" Someone was shouting, "Mahal, princess, wake up! Please! Wake up!"
My eyes snapped open, and I screamed shrilly, throwing the hand off me and shoving the body away. The whole time I was shrieking, and my hands were clamped over my ears. The hands returned but they were gentle, much more gentle than before. One rested on my upper arm while the other traced circles between my shoulder blades.
Slowly my memory began returning, and the gap between the present and my time spent in the dungeons of Dol Guldur began to widen. As my memory proved that I was farther and farther from danger, I began to relax, and my screams turned to whimpers before disappearing entirely. Slowly my mind returned to the present, and I slumped against the floor as I thought about the past day's events, going over them quickly in my mind.
'Tracking. Overhearing Fili and Kili's private conversation. Seeing the orc pack. Seeing Beorn. Running. Tripping over Kili. Kili catching me and preventing me from falling into the river. Thorin helping me as I became too weak to run. Tackling Kili to the ground. Kili and Oin wrapping my ankle after I used magic to heal it. Taking the sleeping drought. Telling Kili about my mother. Letting slip about my years in torture. Falling asleep for the first time in decades. Reliving my last day in Dol Guldur.'
After reviewing the events of the last twenty-four hours and assuring myself of my safety, I opened my eyes and felt a wave of relied sweep over me at the sight of Kili kneeling beside me. His hands stilled as my green eyes fluttered open, and he gave a small, relieved smile.
"What happened?" I whispered, not yet aware of the other dwarves behind him. "How did you wake me up?"
His dark eyes stood out in stark contrast against his white face, and they remained locked on mine as he spoke. "I-I drifted off sometime after you did," he said, sounding ashamed. His hand began moving in circles again, and I felt myself relax at his touch, feeling truly safe for the first time in longer than I could remember. "I felt something jerk, and I woke to see you having a fit, crying and whimpering and thrashing around as if you were being tortured. I grabbed your shoulder and tried to shake you awake, but you threw me off… I didn't realize how hard you could hit," he added, rubbing his bruised jaw. He continued on before I could apologize. "When you started screaming, I panicked, and that's when the others started waking up. Fili and Uncle ran in and helped keep the others back; they probably would've accidentally trampled you if they hadn't," he said thoughtfully, glancing at his brother gratefully. "While that was going on, I did the only this I could think of, rubbing your back, which seemed to calm you down. Fili and I used to do it when we were dwarflings to calm each other down when we had nightmares," he added quietly, so only I could hear. He looked wistful, and my heart ached as I thought back to the last ten years I spent in the Greenwood with my brother when we became so close.
'I wonder what would've happened if Legolas hadn't told me about the dragon,' I thought briefly. I quickly banished the thought, unwilling to tempt myself with what ifs. "Thank you," I said softly. I still shook, scars throbbing with pain that reverberated up through the centuries to now, and I still fought the madness at the corners of my mind, but I knew I was safe—at least for now—so I relaxed.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you—" Kili blurted, looking very upset. "I tried to wake you sooner, I really did, but I—"
"I know," I said softly, tired and sad. My heart was heavy, and my eyes were nearly as heavy as my heart. I twisted a strand of hair around into a thin, intricate braid, thinking.
"You don't have to go to sleep again," he said as most of the other dwarves took their leave, heading back to their nooks and crannies where they were before. I mushed myself up so we sat facing each other, my left leg stretched out in front of me. "You can just do… whatever it is elves do instead of sleeping and stick with that, I would never make you—"
"Kili," I said softly, reaching over and taking his hand. "You saved me… and I trust you to do so again, should another nightmare occur while I stay in this home."
The young prince, whose eyes had been glued to our intertwined hands, jerked his head up, brown eyes wide with panic. I couldn't help but wonder just how terrible my screams had been to make him this frightened for me. "What?! No, you can't—"
"I am sorry to interrupt," his uncle said, moving forward and kneeling next to our linked hands. As he glanced down at them, I quickly retracted my own, feeling my face heat up. Thankfully the house of Beorn was too dark for the king to see me blush, but there was enough light for me to see the concern and understanding in his face. "But I need to speak to you privately, if you are well."
I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by a yawn, and Thorin smiled as I blinked in surprise, trying to stay awake. The sleeping herbs had not yet worn off, and I could feel the effects as I struggled not to slump to the ground, asleep. "Now may not be the b-b-" I was interrupted by another yawn, and I frowned, "best time, my lord." I covered my mouth as another yawn escaped me, irritated. I never yawned. Ever.
He nodded in understanding and glanced around at the others, several of whom still looked on with concern from their sleeping spots. After a moment, he bowed his head and stood. "We will speak when you wake," he said. Turning, he whispered something to Kili in Khuzdul, and I couldn't catch it. He straightened and glanced over his shoulder at me, his face softening. "Sleep well, princess," he said, turning and heading back to sleep, glaring at the others in an attempt to get them to do the same.
Kili turned back to me as I snuggled down, ready for the first time in centuries to sleep. A sense of peace stole over me as Kili lay down beside me, both of us lying on my blanket in the hay. After covering us both with his blanket, he turned to me, propped up on one elbow. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, clearly worried about me. I nodded. "Do… do want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly. "About your nightmare?"
"Memory," I corrected softly. "It was a memory." This was the first time I had divulged my past to anyone; the rangers never asked about my past, knowing it was not one I wished to remember. They had, however, visited Beorn's house and introduced him to the Athelas plant, Arathorn being the one who healed my Morgul wound. Beorn figured my past out on his own, having found me and kept me alive until the rangers found me. Kili remained silent, and I continued, feeling that I was able at least to trust him, if no one else. "After my brother and I split at the edge of the Greenwood, I made my way North, hoping to meet with dwarves making their way to the Blue Mountains from Erebor. I never made it. Several weeks after the dragon attacked the Lonely Mountain, I was—I was captured and brought to the dungeons of Dol Guldur. You asked once why Azog the Defiler wanted me," I said, raising my eyes to meet his. "It is because I escaped. He used to torture me…" I closed my eyes against the pain reflected in Kili's own, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I was a prisoner for twenty years until the orcs began to take notice of the Dwarf kingdom of Dwarrowdelf. At that point, the pale orc stabbed me with a Morgul blade and left the dungeons with the rest of the orcs there."
Kili looked confused, his dark eyes churning with so many emotions that I couldn't keep track. "But why would he leave? You said you escaped, but how—"
I shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter around me. "There is a shadow that lies upon those ruins," I said, my voice low. "It would put me to sleep every night and heal me, plaguing me with nightmares all the while. The shadow did not come on that night; I do not know why. It was weaker, when I saw it, but it neither harmed nor healed me. Hours later, I was passing out of consciousness and into death, when Beorn found me. He brought me back to his home and did his best to heal me, but could do nothing about my Morgul wound. Miraculously, a group of ranges, the Dúnedain, were passing through his lands. When they discovered that a wounded elf was being sheltered by him, the leader of their company, Arathorn, son of Arador, healed me with the Athelas plant, saving me from death and preventing me from becoming a wraith."
Kili interrupted again, face paler than before. "I thought only elves could access the plant's power," he said. "How did a ranger do so?"
"The Dúnedain are men descended from the Númenóreans who retreated to Middle Earth in the Second Age," I said. "They are descended from Elf-friends, and Arathorn was one of the few who remains one."
"Elf-friends?" he repeated, frowning.
"Yes. Few are given the title, for few are friends to elves and do a great service to them," I replied. "Arathorn, a dear friend of mine, passed on nearly ten years ago, but never received such a title."
"Have I met any dwarves who have?" he asked, excited.
"I do not know," I answered slowly. "The two that I remember and who are most notable are Elrond Half-elven, who has lived since nearly the beginning of the First Age; and Elendil, the High King of Gondor in the Second Age, who lived to be three hundred and twenty-two."
"Oh," he replied, slightly put out. "What happened after Arathorn healed you?" he asked, looking over at me.
I continued. "After the Morgul knife was removed and the splinter taken out of my chest, it took nearly a year for me to recover. See, a Morgul blade, once it tastes flesh, allows its point to splinter into the body and dig its way to the victim's heart. When it reaches it, the victim becomes a wraith." I looked down at my hand, tracing the scar on the back of it. "Elves were created to be incorruptible," I said softly. "Some were twisted and mutilated in the very beginning by Morgoth and transformed into orcs, but this was before we were awakened by Eru. I have often wondered if I could have been corrupted; elves were not created to be consumed by darkness." I returned to myself and continued the story, closing my eyes. "Several rangers stayed near to Beorn's dwelling place, watching for danger in order that they might protect me, but nothing ever came. That is, until the anniversary of my escape. I became sick; very sick, and began drifting into the realm that wraiths dwell in. From what I have heard, Arathorn was called to my side and healed me, preventing me from fading completely. Once I was healed, I taught myself to fight and run again, and I travelled with the rangers until two years ago, when I discovered word of my companion Arathorn's death." My face fell as I remembered finding his group of rangers and not seeing him with them, and I fought back tears as I recalled the grief on their faces. "The Dúnedain are split into several groups, each keeping watch over a certain part of Middle Earth. While they still remain part of a... tribe, you could say, they are a solitary people and often travel alone, meeting up on occasion to discus any evil that seems to be growing. This was one of these times. Arathorn's tribe was keeping watch over Gondor when I discovered them; they had been heading East since last I saw them. Both I and the rangers I travelled with kept watch over the Iron Hills and Blue Mountains, protecting the dwarves from orc raids. We went to meet with the men of Gondor, for we had received word of a shadow to the East, and that is when I found out about his death.
"Many of the rangers either knew me or knew of me from their kin, and they knew the grief of elves runs deep. I still recall the pain and guilt on their faces; many of them fought by Arathorn's side and were grieved that I had not heard of his death. I do not know how word of his death escaped me for so long, but… I-I lost the will to remain in Middle Earth.
"I received word of my friend's death in Ithilien, and I travelled for a year until I reached the edge of the Shire, which is closest to the Grey Havens where the elves sail from Middle Earth to the Undying Lands. I lost the will to remain in this world… until Mithrandir approached me at the border of the Shire with word of a quest to reclaim a mountain, and slay a dragon. I accepted, and here I am as one of your companions, nearly a year later, going back to the place that nearly cost me my life."
I looked up at the young dwarf prince, who stared down at me with eyes that were filled with sorrow. He looked both enthralled at and grieved by my words, but he still spoke, his voice steady. "How is it that one can be so strong as to endure all this pain?" he whispered.
I closed my eyes. "I am not strong," I said softly, closing my heavy eyes as a tear rolled down my cheek.
I felt his hand hesitantly touch my cheek, his thumb gently brushing the tear away. I opened my eyes and looked into his, confused and lost. "You're stronger than you know," he said softly.
"I tried to run away," I said. "I was on my way to the Grey Havens when Gandalf found me."
"What are the Grey Havens?" he asked. "You mentioned them many a time, but I haven't heard of them before."
"You wouldn't have," I replied softly. "Most of the elves who pass out of Middle Earth have lived a full life, many of them having lived thousands of years. Many elves I met on their way to the Sea were veterans of the War of the Last Alliance, when the dark lord, Sauron, was destroyed by Isildur, son of Elendil. Many of these elves were over five thousand years old," I murmured.
His eyes were wide. "And you?" he asked.
"Others leave because they have no purpose," I told him sadly, a feeling of shame settling over me. "I am less than two hundred years of age: I was conceived twenty-seven years before the dragon attacked Erebor."
"And you were going to leave Middle Earth?" Kili asked, clearly not understanding. "But you are younger even than my uncle…" he trailed off, finally piecing together the whole story. "Oh," he whispered.
"Oh," I repeated sadly. "I am a coward, mellon," I told him, resting my head in the crook of my arm. "I have tried my whole life to run away."
"You're not running now," he pointed out gently.
A smile graced my lips as sleep overtook me again. I felt as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulders: telling Kili my story had freed me, somehow… I wasn't alone anymore, someone else knew my past and could help me. I rolled over so my back faced the prince, pulling his blanket to my chin.
"Thank you," he said softly, his voice nervous.
I turned my head slowly, catching a glimpse of him over my shoulder. "For what?" I asked, surprised.
"For trusting me," he replied. I smiled and turned over, allowing sleep to overtake me. And somehow… I knew I would not be plagued by nightmares again: at least not of my past.