Forever Afternoon
Chapter Sixteen
Word Count: 3,261
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: So I continue to plow through, working on this as much as I can.

Only I have now really committed my previously mentioned sin. This chapter is all Firyavaryar. I had wanted to go into detail about the past between Varyar and Nostalion, but it never fit before. I could not find anything in Moria that I thought l should cover for the fellowship, and I liked the final scene here, so I worked in some of the past that I'd had in mind back when I started Storms in Middle Earth, the beginning of the deep yet strange bond between Varyar and Nostalion.

When Varyar Met Nostalion

"The next time I decide to protect a friend on his course of folly, kill me."

"I do not have to," Nostalion said, slightly amused. "You shall accomplish that on your own."

Varyar glared at him. He was a wet, soggy mess, and he did not have the strength to go after the assassin now. He had managed to kill the creature, yes, but he had almost drowned in the process, so he could not count that as much of a victory. He could not move now. He was too cold, and his clothes were no protection against the plague in their state.

"Who would believe the cure for your fear of water was an ancient, foul creature like that?"

"I was never afraid of water. We are all fortunate that this thing was weak to my kind of poison, otherwise we might all have died," Varyar said. He laid back on the stone, knowing that he could not go anywhere that night. "We must take the path they abandoned and go over the mountain. I cannot think that we will have the same misfortune as they did."

"Being half-drowned makes you that much more of a fool. We may not possess the ring as they do, but we are no more welcome in Saruman's lands than anyone else. We go to see if the wizard is the same as the one that killed your parents and tortured you. He kept you on a leash as a pet. Even if they are not the same, why would any Istari want us to enter his land? We are a threat. We could challenge his authority if not cause his ruin."

"I believe he would underestimate us in that sense, and we carry enough of the shadow for us to fool him if he is not Ogol. If he is, he will be glad to reclaim his pet," Varyar spat. He rubbed a hand across his neck. The cloak had nearly done it again.

"The creature has the ringbearer," Varyar said, pulling off his gloves, moving down the rocks as he did. They were only supposed to watch. This was where the parallel paths ended. They both knew that. Intervening now would draw attention to them. The wizard might know they were there, but the others did not. The dwarf and man would kill them before they could explain, and Legolas could not know yet that Varyar lived.

"Do not be an idiot," Nostalion called after him. Firyavaryar would have said it was too late for that, but the tentacle grabbed hold of his foot and dragged him under the water.

As he struggled in the darkness, he twisted himself so that he could touch both hands to the tentacle. He hoped that the gloves had fallen on the rocks when he went under. He had no spares and could not afford to lose them in the depths. He held on as the creature thrashed, dragging him along under the water.

If this thing did not die quickly, he could die before it did. He had to get out of this water. He would not die in this pond. He would be willing to die in hundreds of other ways, but not in the dark, not here.

The tentacle shriveled away from him, and Varyar forced himself to swim toward the surface. He gulped in air as Nostalion dragged him over to the shore.

"Tell me you are not planning on handing yourself over to Saruman if he is Ogol. I will follow you many places and do almost anything for you, accept your orders and carry all of them out, but not that. I stood by last time, and you died. You are not going to die."

"Leaving aside that I might want that, I did not say that I would give myself to him, just that we could use that to gain access to him. I can and will kill him if I have to, and I will do the same if we get close to Saruman," Varyar explained. He looked at his gwador. We will stop Saruman if we get close, and we will get close."

"That plan I agree with."

"You agree with anything that lets you use your daggers."

"Not true."

"Almost anything that lets you use your daggers," Varyar amended, nodding his head in acknowledgment of the other elf's words.

"That is true."

"You are the leader," the elf on the throne said, watching as Firyavaryar was pushed forward by the sentries. If he had ever believed that meeting other Avari would be a safe haven, this proved that it would not. "Answer me. You are the leader. You are the one they call Varyar. The protector."

"Yes," he said, willing to accept whatever punishment must be taken for their trespass into these lands. "I am."

"You have responsibility for the others. You want them to live."

Varyar tensed. "What is it you mean to imply by that? What is it you want from me?"

"You have trespassed into our lands. You have violated the security and sanctity of our home. These are not trivial offenses. Outsiders are not welcome here. You should all be executed according to the laws of our people."

"I assume, then, that you have some manner by which we are to avoid that fate. What is it?"

Sérëdhiel stepped forward, grabbing his arm. "No. Do not do this. We knew nothing of their laws, and they can do nothing to us for a crime of ignorance. Let them cast us from their lands if that is what they desire. We did not want to come here. We will go. Do not do this. Whatever they will ask of you will be wrong, and we all know this. I will not allow you do something you know is wrong."

"Silence the female. She has no right to speak here."

Varyar glared at the other elf. "My sister will not be silenced, not by you. She may be an elleth, but she has more wisdom than all of you in this room. You want something from me, want it enough to threaten me. What is it?"

"One of ours has gone missing. We sent another for him. Neither have returned. Find him, and we will spare your lives."

"If your envoy failed, why do you think I would have any sort of success?"

"He failed because he was weak. You do not share that weakness. Two there were that went missing. One he recovered. The other he said he would return for. He has not managed to recover himself. Find Turvuin, and you may pass from our lands."

"You are sending them to their deaths."

"Only the leader will go. The others remain here," the elf on the throne glared at the elleth who had spoken. "You know not to speak here, Alassë, and you should consider yourself fortunate that we are willing to assist you or your brother."

"You did not assist me, Meligur," she said, her voice full of defiance and anger. "Nostalion did, and now you send another in his place—a stranger."

"Take her. She has forgotten her place," the leader ordered, and two of his guards dragged the struggling elleth from the room.

"You are a monster," Idhrenion said, and Varyar pushed him back before he could gather the leader's wrath upon himself.

"She knows where your people were taken. If you want to find them, why not ask her?"

"You may speak to her after she has learned discipline. She will not tell you more than we wish you to know. You will not leave here alive with our secrets. Ask too much, and you will condemn yourself."

Varyar grimaced. He understood more in that statement than they intended him to—they would not leave this land alive. It did not matter what he did. He could find the one that was missing, but that would not buy their freedom. His family would be killed if they attempted to leave.

"If I agree to this—"

"If you agree? You have no choice. Do this or die."

"Meligur, clearly you believe I am a fool. You still intend to kill me even if I do what you want. You have made no statement that would have me believe otherwise. I may consent to play your game, but only on my terms," Varyar said, smiling at the other elf's ire. "You should know that killing me will incur the wrath of a very powerful sorcerer. Also a prince, a Maia, and the lord of Imladris."

"You lie."

"Challenge them if you wish. I will not go on any task for you when I have no assurance of my family's fate. Show me you will honor your word, and I will give you mine."

Growing up, Varyar had been indifferent to the race of edain. He had fought some before, ones who teased Idhrenion, but he did not have a true reason to hate them until now, with their filth surrounding him, stale ale and pipeweed, with bruises on his body and stories in his head. They were everything Alassë had said they were in between her unwilling tears and grimaces of pain. She had been with them only a short time before her cousin intervened, but she hated edain now with all she was. He now understood why.

"I have heard it said that elves that are violated fade," the man said, putting the blade up against Varyar's neck. It drew blood again, trying to add menace to the threat, one that needed no additional malice. "Shall we see if that is true?"

"You are supposed to sell me, remember?" Varyar asked, glaring at the human. "Why lose the money you are supposed to get for your slave by risking causing it to fade?"

"You annoy me, elf, and no one wants one of you as a slave. You fade too easily, all of you," the human sneered, leaning into his face. Varyar knew that the brute was lying—Alassë had not faded in the face of these taunts. Her brother still lived, as did her cousin.

"You only wish we did. You cannot control us, so you hate us."

"I have already been paid for you," the slaver told him, lifting his head. "Think about that before you defy me again. You are pretty enough, elf, and it has been too long since the men had any fun."

Meligur. The damned Avari had betrayed him. Varyar seethed as he watched the man leave, chuckling to himself as he did.

"Provoking them is foolish. Save your strength for when escape might be an option."

"Is that how you survive, Turvuin?"

The other elf laughed. "It is not, and I am not Turvuin."

"Nostalion, then," Varyar said. He looked over the other elf's bonds with a grimace. Nostalion had been made to suffer for getting one of their captives free. He could barely move, so many and so tight were the cords binding him. Those would not be cut through easily, and he did not have the proper tools—any tools—to do it with. This would be more difficult than he had hoped, but the edain had underestimated him, and he had expected that.

Ogol had learned quickly that Varyar could not be contained by mere ropes. The edain had not. The other elf watched him. "Who are you? What do you know of me and Turvuin? What are you doing?"

Varyar finished twisting himself out of his bonds and smiled. "That."

"They will bind you tighter if they learn how easy it is for you to slip free of those."

"You plan on telling them?"

"Depends. Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you here?"

"Hmm. Questions. Did not expect so many. Your cousin claimed that you were more of a mute," Varyar answered, smiling. He did not understand his own amusement. This circumstance was far from ideal. "In short, Meligur has my family. I have to return Turvuin to him to get them free. You are incidental to this. I could use assistance getting out, and since I believe he expects us both to die here, I think I should like to defy him and see you return alive."

"Meligur did not send you."

"Because he would not have abandoned you or because he never wanted Turvuin rescued?" Varyar asked, getting a flare of emotion from the other elf. "As I told your esteemed leader, I am not a fool. I see this for what it is. Had you defied their orders for Turvuin and succeeded, you would have been forgiven. Since you failed, you are abandoned. That is the truth of it. Now, you can come with me or not, but I do not think this fate is worth staying for, is it?"

Nostalion glared at him. "Do not think I will follow you so easily. I have no reason to trust you. You are ill-equipped for a rescue mission. You have no weapons and were captured yourself."

"Being captured can be a more effective tool than people realize. All my weapons were predictably taken, but I have learned the value of improvisation," Varyar said, breaking the glass on the table and carrying a shard over to the ropes binding the other elf. He ignored Nostalion's frown as he set to work cutting through the ropes.

"That will take too long. They will return before you finish, and your hand will be a bloody mess."

"Not the first time," he said, continuing to saw. "And it is my hand and my choice. Honestly, if I thought it would not matter, perhaps I would return alone. I know that I cannot, so I will bring you with me."

"Do you know what you would condemn me to if you returned me?"

"I never said you had to stay there. You can go where you please as long as my family is released. If you help me with that, you can even come with us. Not that you would want to. My brother recites annoying facts, and my sister is infuriatingly logical. She is also, I assume, the reason they want dead. How is your family on breeding stock?"

"Breeding stock?"

"That was what the sorcerer called it. He offered me some when he last abducted me," Varyar said. He would like to stop himself from talking, but he tended to fill the silence ever since that damned wizard put that spell on him.

"That was not a lie for the edain?"

"Part of it was."

"You do not know any prince or the lord of Imladris."

"I do. They do not know where I am, and I will not be rescued by them, but I know them," Varyar said, pulling a cord loose. He dropped it to the ground, looking at the other elf. "Did they take all of your weapons? Can you fight?"

"Always."

"Good. They are coming."

"I am afraid they are rather... damaged. They went through most of my men before they were subdued. They are trained fighters. That one is the more dangerous one—"

"I object to that. I may lack the assassin's training that he has, but I am not a weakling. I fought all of them with only one good hand," Varyar said, rubbing at the cut on his palm. He lifted up his hand and waved it at them with a grin that made Nostalion frown. The assassin had not realized his companion was a lunatic. He could have warned the other elf that his latest encounter with Ogol had left him slightly deranged. He had not.

"They are strong." The client walked toward them, and Varyar tried not to flinch. Why were they always robed? This one was cloaked, but that did not did not change the effect it had on Varyar. This was almost too much like facing Ogol again. Varyar controlled himself, refusing to pull away even as the other being took hold of his chin and examined him. "That is to be preferred. I will need subjects capable of enduring the experiment."

"You do not want me. I am insane, I cannot be broken, and there is a psychotic sorcerer who claims me as his. He will kill you if you harm his pet."

"You must be desperate to make such a claim. If you were someone's pet, you would not be here," the hood said, stepping back. "No, I do not fear your master, pet. No one will. I will use you as I please."

"No," Varyar said. He would kill that creature. He swore it now.

"If you want them, you will have to pay extra to compensate for the loss of my men," the slaver said, glaring at both of the elves. "I would take that satisfaction from them, and if you want to deny me that, you will pay for it."

"You overestimate your value. I do not need you or your men. I do not care if you located these specimens for me, but I do not need you."

"Draugminaion—"

"Kill them. Bring the elves," Draugminaion ordered, pushing past the slavers and walking out of the room. Orcs rushed in, overwhelming the edain.

Varyar yanked on his bonds, trying to free himself. He knew that he could not hope to get Nostalion from the additional bonds that held him. He could only try and get himself out to make some kind of defense. He was conscious again, and despite his injuries, he would fight. He struck out with his foot as the orcs came close to him, twisting in his ropes. His arms ached, but he could ignore the pain if it meant escaping.

"I hope we get to play with you, pretty. We will cut you up good. No more pretties."

"No, I will cut off your head," Varyar said, using what he had learned of the orcs' language. He had been there long enough to hear and assimilate their tongue. "I promise you that, yrch."

"You think we are scared of you, elf? You speaking our tongue does not intimidate us. Our master will kill you—if you are fortunate."

Varyar slipped a hand free, and when the orc came closer, he grabbed hold of it, tightening his grip around the orc's neck. The creature struggled, slamming him into the wall. He felt his head connect with the wall, trying clear his vision as he maintained his hold on the orc. He would not go without fulfilling his promise and killing that orc.

"You will not survive."

"I thought you were always ready for a fight," Firyavaryar called to the assassin. "Are you going to claim that being tied up is stopping you? Or is it your injuries?"

"Neither," the assassin said, using his legs to catch one of the orcs. Even if he could kill several of the orcs, the edain were already succumbing to the orcs' greater numbers. This was not a battle that could be won. They would be taken. They would die.

Or wish they had.

Nostalion looked over at Firyavaryar. "We may have a problem."

Shaking away the old memories, uncertain why those ones had surfaced, he swallowed, touching his forehead, trying to force away the pain. He did not want to think, but the waking dreams made it impossible not to. He could not avoid them or the associations the memories made.

"Another besides my constant fugues?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"The wizard is dead."