Warning- The rest of the story is fine, but this is rated M. Only this chapter, and you'll laugh if you figure out why, - it has graphic content, but not what you would expect. So summary- she finds a way to escape and almost succeeds, because someone is waiting for her. Oropher, Thranduil and the others- well, everyone, finds out the truth. If you want to skip, go ahead. If you're brave, by all means, go and see- haha!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Estela woke to the coldness of iron on her wrists. Groggily, her eyes came into focus while she tried to clear her mind.
Instantly, she realised that she should feign unconsciousness. It was the best thing to do, if she wanted to remain ignored and unharmed.
She lay on her side on a stone slab, like an altar, she thought, and it chilled her. Her wrists were bound but not her feet. Yet as many talents as she had, there was little hope of escape. Her surroundings were dark and dank. She had no idea where she was.
Orcs lumbered and hankered around. They squabbled and growled at each other. They sneered and screeched. They looked like ordinary orcs. None seemed more intelligent or stronger than the other. Their skins were varying, from sallow shades, like sickly green or dull grey, to burnt-black to red and black mingling together. They were all stunted and twisted, none stood straight and tall as an elf or a human. There was no sign that there was a leader amongst the group.
So who or what could have come up with the plan to kidnap her- by taking Maltariel hostage?
She didn't see or hear Maltariel either. How did they know she was her closest friend apart from Itarillë? Her existence- and the names of the followers of her kin- was kept so secret, not even other Fëanorians knew anything about their kin's followers- not out of mistrust, but to minimize risks. Special care was given to the children of the sons of Fëanáro.
How did they know? A chill swept through her worse than anything. She thought she could fear nothing anymore, but now…
An orc arrived. He was taller than the others and he bared his teeth and growled while they all grovelled and shrank back, while others also snarled in an attempt to show bravery and resistance.
The orc marched over to the slab. Now Estela would rather not have the indignity of being kicked or struck awake, and she glared pointedly at the orc, but also subtly, with both ice and fire.
The orc stared and leered.
He laughed a harsh, guttural laugh. "Lucky, en't you?" he sneered in Westron.
The Mas'er don't want you dead, yet." He laughed again. "You'd be far more useful to 'im alive." He bared his diseased and pointed teeth.
The master. So these orcs were definitely working for someone. Chillingly she remembered the words the old woman (or was she a Maia) had said to her.
Although there was no confirmation, this someone had to be powerful enough to bring the orcs to him. In no part of history, in no Age, no moment in time, had any being or beast ever made dealings with dark creatures such as orcs or wargs- there were no alliances- not unless there was something-or someone- holding them together, a supreme leader who united them under fear or the purpose of seeing a world under their rule. Someone like Morgoth. But Morgoth was long gone…
Why all of a sudden, did the Kings of Númenor turn so suddenly against their fellow man- not just the elves and the Valar? But the Ilúvatar as well? And now they decided to attack and conquer parts of Middle-Earth and subjugate all peoples, including their own race? They had been going into decline for some time, but only now….
There truly was an evil force at work, rising above to the horizon, ready to blot out the remaining light in the world.
"Who is your master?" she asked, trying to put acid in her tone.
The orc jeered. "You should know, 'e's the one who got yer father, and now 'e wants to meet yeh." He threw back his head and roared laughing, the other orcs did the same, though few were intelligent enough to know what they were laughing about.
Estela felt ice fill her from the strands of her hair to the tips of her toes.
So the old woman was right. Her instincts told her so anyway, but now…
She had to warn them. She pretended to collapse.
The orc made a grunt of disgust. "Prissy elves," he growled. "Skarky, keep a guard. The rest of us 'r' leavin'." He grunted and the other orcs moved out.
She waited, her eyes sightless as they left. The orcs grunted and shoved one other as they went.
The orc left- Skarky, she assumed- grunted and sat down on a rock. His back was to her, so she could easily move her eyes around and survey her surroundings.
She was definitely in a fortress. Stone columns and arches- no orc could have built that- it must have been made by dwarves, she thought- no, elves. Furthermore, Noldorin elves. She could tell by the craftsmanship.
But this was no time to be astounded by everything. How was she going to get out?
There was an exit route- a tunnel where the orcs had left, but who was to say what was guarding on the other end of that tunnel? And how many were guarding it and the fortress as a whole? Where was the way out, how would she get there quick enough and get herself to safety, even without the orc left behind and her chains.
She looked at her hands and assessed the weight of the cuffs and the chains that linked them to the blocks of stone which held the slab on which she lay- she realised in shock that it was an altar. A place of worship- to the Ilúvatar- and she saw the statue of Aulë- definitely a dwarvish chapel where they once prayed. But it was in ruins and parts of the stone were crumbling, most of the ornaments and holy images were deliberately shattered and broken. And she lay chained onto an altar. The sacrilege was enough to make her shudder in horror.
But more than that, was the fact that she had interacted with dwarves, in actual fact, more than any elf normally would. While the rest of the elves- including the Wood-Elves- did not hold them to high esteem, the Fëanorians were smarter than that, and were long since humbled by their experiences. The dwarves soon learned they were different from other elves and they shared many things in common. They traded with one another- which may have saved their lives.
So Estela would know of a way out. There was no sign that this was one of the fortresses she helped build, but she knew what Dwarves wanted with their chapels. Aulë as the centre theme, for one, and a secret door for the priests to enter…
Always behind the statue.
A loud snorting, yet wheezing sound interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head and saw that the orc standing guard had nodded off. If now was the perfect time to escape, then…
But she could not go. Her chains bound her hands to the altar. They didn't bind her feet, for some reason, however.
So whatever she did was limited to her feet. Inwardly, she groaned. But that was before she saw felt something on the side of the desecrated altar.
"What?!" Telperinquar roared.
The audience cringed. Telperinquar couldn't even begin to process what needed to be done.
"Did anyone," he went dangerously slow in his speech, "Ever think about tracking the orcs soon after they took her away?"
There was a moment of dooming silence.
"We tried, my lord," someone stammered, "but the tracks soon faded. We suspect sorcery-"
"Sorcery?" He demanded. He could laugh if the situation wasn't so bad. "Sorcery? Orcs can't build a decent house, let alone conjure up a spark with magic or something more!"
"The princess said-" someone began. Telperinquar turned his gaze- blue and as bright as Gil-Galad's but in a lighter shade, towards the unfortunate speaker who quailed.
"Go on,' he said dangerously. "Tell me what the princess said."
The group looked at each other. Alwion, a favourite of Telperinquar and Estela's, looked nervously at them from Telperinquar's side.
The elf stammered something about what Estela had said, to come to the aid of the High King- damn him, Telperinquar thought and the men and those Wood-Elves!- and what she had said about Morgoth's slaves.
Telpe- what Estela called him for short- shook his head in disbelief and dismay. It wasn't like his cousin to act upon such flimsy information- and widely disputed at that, and- what she normally would have taken into account- illogical.
"It's not like her," he muttered, closing his eyes and turning around. "It's not like her at all. Damn them. She came to their aid, and now…" he turned sharply towards the crowd. "Did anyone discover her identity?"
They cringed. "Her name-"
"What?!"
"But only that," Fëapoldon said hastily. "Not whose daughter she was."
He nearly sagged against the wall. His blue eyes flashed. "What about Gil-Galad?"
They all looked at each other. "And Oropher?" he demanded. "And Amdir? And the humans? How did they react?"
"The High King went white," Fëapoldon reported. "He immediately went into action and ordered a search party. Lord Elrond or Rivendell did the same." Elrond, Telperinquar thought darkly. He would have a word with that half-elf.
"They kept searching, the High King was especially desperate for some reason," he didn't dare tell Estela's cousin what the reason could be. "But no trace could be found. The Lady Galadriel-" Artanis, Telperinquar thought bitterly. "-believed it was sorcery that covered the tracks. Someone, she believes are in league with the orcs."
Telpe frowned. "Dark Númenóreans?" he asked swiftly. But immediately discounted the thought. They held everyone else in contempt- elves they envied, and orcs they thought of in disgust. No sorcerer from the island-kingdom would do that- would they? After all, there had been no pilgrimages to Meneltarma- the sacred mountain of Númenor. The White Tree, seedling of Telperion, withered. Sanctity was forgotten by the Númenóreans but would they really consider allying themselves with the most foul and evil of enemies left in Arda?
"The Lady does not believe it to be them," Fëapoldon said softly. "And neither does Lord Elrond. But there is more than orcs at work."
Telperinquar clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut. "Distract them," he said finally, opening his eyes which had a fierce light. "Alwion take two divisions and put them to work setting a false trail for the others- I do not trust them and I will not let them get hold of my cousin," he said firmly. "The next eight divisions are to prepare themselves. We move out to search for her." He said slowly. He calmed himself.
They nodded and left the room. He didn't even watch them go. How could he?
But what if Estela was right? What if there was a darker force at work?
Ereinion strode back, muddy and soaked in places and threw down his spear. Aeglos fell with a clatter on the ground.
"No sign," he said. His eyes held madness in their depths and despair. "No sign at all."
Galadriel closed her eyes. She was not visible to the other elves in the campsite, but she was there- watching.
Ereinion sank onto a log and closed his eyes. Despair was written all over his face. Galadriel did not take her eyes off him.
He was in love- and no doubt that it was Estela.
A while later, Oropher and Amdir arrived on the scene, with Thranduil following suit. Elrond looked up sharply from where he was sitting with the High King.
Galadriel spoke to him in her mind.
Come with me.
Elrond rose and left the campfire.
"What do you propose?" he asked warily, eyebrow raising.
She closed his eyes. When she opened them and gave him a long look, he seemed to understand what she wanted to do.
"You cannot want-" he began
"It is what we must do," Galadriel murmured. "Surely she has proved her worth enough? Whispers of her deeds, stories of the like of legend, have spread and all know of her. It is time, to tell her tale- a story like no other. If they wish to punish and slander her for the sins of the fathers, then they are not worthy of saving."
Elrond looked at her and sighed a heavy sigh. "Where do we even start?" he exclaimed.
Galadriel gave him a sad smile. "Why not the beginning?"
Telperinquar's eyes were as blue as Ereinions, and as bright- as mentioned- though they were paler in shade. And now they scanned the surrounding forest at a frantic rate.
The trees would know, he thought. He dismounted his horse. Reaching his hand out, he touched the nearest tree trunk.
His mind went onto the tree. In answer, the tree responded to his touch- both mental and physical and the leaves ahead shivered, as if touched by wind. Telperinquar relaxed.
He asked the tree what it had seen and heard- if there was a female elf that had been taken by the orcs.
The tree- a great oak- rustled its leaves in reply. A rush of mental images and movements went forth into his brain.
He saw Estela confronting the orcs, them grabbing her, and binding her, carrying her away…
Into that direction. He turned his gaze into a hollow. The tree told him that some sort of magic had been cast, so no one would be able to track her.
He rose, and thanked it, gripping his sword in its sheath. When he reached the path, he drew it and the blade seemed to glow on its own accord.
He went forwards, his blue eyes glowing dangerously in the dark. They would regret this, he did not fear them.
Oropher sat back in shock. So it was true. Just as he suspected.
"How is this possible?" he whispered. "There are no mention of her in the records, of any kind?"
"They took great care," Elrond said softly. "They were determined not to let her take part in that particular war. And so she didn't."
"Why did she help us?" Thranduil asked.
Celeborn grimaced. There really was no going back now.
"To know your answers," he said quietly. "You must start at the beginning."
Galadriel's lips quirked. It was very similar to what she told Elrond.
"In the Age of Trees, in Valinor, Nelyafinwë son of Fëanáro, later known to be Maedhros, firstborn of the Seven, had despaired." She pursed her lips. She had been close to this cousin, as he had married another cousin she considered her sister. "One by one, the sons of Fëanáro save for Tyelcormo, the third son, known as Celegorm, and the two twins, had married. All had been happy, but only most had produced offspring.
"Nelyafinwë had married, long before, to the daughter of Arcalimar, firstborn of Olwë brother of Elu Thingol." She smiled sadly. "It was a happy union and all in Valinor had celebrated. The Teleri gave their blessing."
Thranduil looked incredulous. Galadriel noticed his look and said, "Did you really think that any would have followed Fëanáro had he not been beloved before whatever madness took root? He was the most skilled and the most brilliant- he never thought himself as being higher than the rest, and they loved him for it. Alqualondë, Haven of the Swans, was his achievement. Long before he sowed chaos and set fire to the streets, he had raised them to the skies, and gave beauty and form to the great cities of the Falmari. That was his accomplishment. And thus, the Houses of Finwë and Olwë had been close and in their bond was love and friendship. And it was with great joy that two of the sons of Fëanáro wedded two maidens of the Falmari- a lady of a noble house, and the daughter of the High Prince."
And so Galadriel told the tale. The listeners were spell-bound. She spoke of the longing they had when they struggled to bring forth a new life. She spoke of Maedhros' journey to Taniquetil to beg the Valar, to help them. He and his wife had despaired. She told them of the Ring of Doom, the Máhanaxar that convened soon afterwards and of the Fëanturi's response. They all looked each other when she spoke of that. As they should, they knew what was to come.
And so she paused before continuing. The prophecy had been fulfilled, the princess had given birth to a daughter when Telperion shone so bright, a mortal man would have been blinded. She told them of Estela's happy childhood- and her status as heir to both Houses- and both peoples.
She spoke of the childhood she had, spent on the shores of the Falamari, building ships- or assisting in the building- and learning to write, read and other crafts in Noldorin cities which she excelled. They had high hopes for her- and the festival in which Aulë came to announce Morgoth- then known as Melkor- had been released. She told them of the fear, the shock, the visit Melkor made to Fëanáro and the slaying of Finwë in Formenos- all of which Estela had witnessed first-hand- what she saw through her eyes- the eyes of a child- her reaction and the rage she witnessed her grandfather had succumbed to, finally reaching the peak of madness, and the fight between both grandparents- Fëanor and Nerdanel- of which writers had chronicled, but mentioned only the twins and not the grandchild Fëanor insisted on bringing to his wife's protests. She told them of the meeting between Olwë, his son and the other members of the Telerin royal family and the eldest sons of Fëanor- and the shock, terror felt by Olwë and his family when they learnt that Estela was to accompany her other grandfather to Middle-Earth. They exercised their rights, she told them, not just on the ships- that came afterwards- but on Estela, herself, Arcalimar's granddaughter. That was what truly enraged Fëanáro.
She told them the rest of the tale. Growing up in hiding, being hunted and in fear. Losing loved ones, learning with horror and shock, of the guilt of her kin, and the shame and horror she felt mingled with grief. Elrond told them that she had helped raise him- and Elros and taught him to heal. They both proceeded to tell them that Estela's mother had died- faded in grief, when she mistakenly believed both Maedhros and Estela were slain, when in fact, they had escaped from a terrible assault when Maedhros was unable to fight, for some reason. She then told of how father and daughter had separated.
By this point, everyone- from the pages and pot-boys of the kitchen tents and the soldiers, had gathered to listen. It was such an incredible tale of suffering, rejection and survival they had not even fathomed that such a thing occurred. But now the truth was laid bare and the secrets that the Fëanorians had fought so hard to keep was in the open.
Everyone went quiet, there was no noise save for the crackling of the fire.
"I never imagined," Ereinion began "that such a story existed- such a tale of a person's life- so much struggle and grief." There were murmurs of assent all around.
"I never knew," Oropher breathed. "Though I did suspect."
They all stared at the fire.
"Such pain," an elleth whispered. "So much pain, she endured." There were mutterings all around. No one condemned her as a kinslayer- Galadriel made sure they saw it all through her eyes. She told them Estela's tale.
Ereinion's eyes rose from their sightless gaze. There was a burning in there, a steely will to do something. Galadriel knew she could not stop him.
She would have found it easier to stop Findekáno from rescuing Maitimo. She allowed her lips to twitch into a smile that was seen by none, save Celeborn.
This was the most foolhardy thing she had ever attempted, Estela thought as she stretched into an absurd position while the orc snored away.
His snores sounded horrific, she decided. Absolutely beastly. But she was better off if he was asleep rather than awake.
The orc gave a ridiculous wheezing grunt as she stretched out and managed to achieve the impossible.
She had been reaching for the sharp pyramidal stone imbedded in the edge of the altar's frame. It must have been in a pattern, long gone, but had escaped the notice of its desecrators. She thanked the Valar with all her heart and fëa even if they had turned their backs on her.
She managed to reach and gave it a tug. It took more than what mortal strength would have been capable of, and for once, she was glad she wasn't mortal. It was lodged firmly in, but she felt it shift. She kept moving it from side to side, loosening the grip the mortar sealing had upon it. Finally she- very carefully as to not make a sound- managed to wrench it free.
She slowly, and very carefully turned onto her stomach. Her heart pounded and she gave a quick glance at the orc named Skarky to make sure he was still asleep. He grunted and snored on.
She had waited for a time, now. But now she needed to act.
The chains were pathetic, she decided. Years of craftsmanship had taught her to assess and recognize the quality and strength of metals. What's more, they had keyholes. She carefully inserted the sharp stone into the hole. She wormed it in, moving it around.
Come on, come on, she pleaded desperately, silently.
She prayed to the All-Father for help, to at least get her away from these orcs. Middle-Earth was in danger. For them at least. She needed to warn everyone.
She did as she was told. The old woman- now she was almost sure she was a Maia- had told the truth. She had been warned for a reason. Surely, that reason was to warn others, at least?
She shifted the stone and was rewarded by a satisfying click. Her heart soared, but it quickly skipped a beat as she feared the orc Skarky might have heard it. He just grunted and snored louder than ever.
But what if other orcs heard his snore? She pulled her hand out, quietly and as quickly as she could. She worked on the other wrist, heart pounding until she could slip it out.
Then she carefully set her bare feet onto the stone floor. It was cold and dusty for it had long since been cleaned.
Clutching the stone still, she crept behind Skarky and clamped her hand over his mouth and slit his throat. His eyes opened wide and a wheeze which couldn't be heard, from the now fully-conscious creature, was emitted as black blood oozed out of his throat. It wasn't too sharp that stone, but it was sharp enough and she was strong making it go deep. She stabbed him again.
She had to leave. Setting his body gently on the ground- she wasn't taking any risks- she tip-toed away, hurriedly. Fear hit her as she realised the floor was dusty- what if she made foot-prints?
But her fears were eased as she made her way towards the statue of Aulë. She knew where the door was- although the tall elleth- as tall as Galadriel, if not slightly taller-had to crawl.
But she knew it was too easy. So she was on full alert. She was weaponless. She was not wearing armour.
And as she crawled through the tunnel- actually it was a passageway but she could barely fit- she realised she needed to think ahead.
Estela finally reached the end, and pried the door open gently. It was a hidden room, and therefore there were no orcs. But there were dwarvish weapons of a superior quality to orcs'. She crawled out, stood and grabbed a sword and tested its weight. She could not deny the quality, but she preferred elvish weapons of Noldorin make- who wouldn't? But she would have to make do.
What were weapons doing in a priests' room? But then again, dwarves knew they could easily be attacked and this room must have served more purposes than to prepare priests. They must have taken refuge here.
But she needed to get out.
She spotted another door, and pried it open, just a crack. She saw….
A long corridor. After waiting a few orcs came and went, but they barely came. She thought it was unlikely they knew there was another room.
She shrunk back on instinct when she saw a light burning-a torch, she thought at first, but Estela soon saw a sight no other elf ever saw.
There was a creature she spotted which bore a striking resemblance to the orcs she had seen, but was less… well, less grotesque, she supposed, although she still saw them as… well, how everyone saw orcs.
There was less twistedness to its features, she noted as the creature approached. It truly wasn't as ugly as the orcs she had seen and killed, but she still didn't envy its looks. This must be a female orc.
Her eyes widened in fascination, despite herself, as the she-orc came closer. She had hair, Estela saw, more than the males, but still wispy and thin, and she couldn't tell the colour. Her nose was pointed, but less so than the males, and her teeth were still sharp. The female's eyes, a dull ash colour narrowed and she wore strips of leather fashioned into a dress of sorts.
Of course there were females- they had to mate. But Estela wondered why there were so few- few enough that they had never been seen. She saw more dwarrowdams- female dwarves- than orcs. Was this a feature of other races, save Men? More males than females? Her grandfather had no daughters. She was the only female descendant and his brothers had one daughter to three sons each.
The orc moved forwards, sneering at another orc, whom she saw in the distance. He grunted as he came forwards, and she slapped him- whatever for, Estela didn't bother being curious.
The male grunted and growled at the she-orc. He snarled and she screeched. The two circled each other and Estela expected them to fight but…
She got something else entirely. It was something that she had never witnessed before in other beings but she was sure existed.
Mating was a very private thing for elves- so private- it was considered special and kept intimate between husband and wife, because it produced children. She nearly gagged and she flushed in mortification- of all things- to hear the grunts growls and other disgusting noises. She refused to look. Oh, this was really disgusting.
If she had been fascinated before, she had learnt too much. She didn't really want to learn that much about orcs.
She had to keep an eye out for a potential escape route. So she had no choice but to open her eyes, trying not to gag, her face heating at an incredible rate as she forced herself to witness a scene she had never wanted to witness in her entire lifetime. Ugh, oh when will this end?
The amazing thing was that other orcs came and went from time to time and no one bothered to look at the two unusually. They barely spared them a glance and acted neutral about it. Was there no shame, no modesty? But what was she thinking, these were orcs!
Not necessary, she thought, wishing she could cover her ears. Not necessary at all.
Elves would keep this in private. She wondered if they took special care to keep it private- where no one could stumble upon them. This act had been mentioned to her when she was old enough, but no one really elaborated- although they did say, when she recoiled, that it was actually supposed to be enjoyable. How in the world, she did not know.
This was an act of marriage for the Eldar. A ceremony would take place, and the bride and groom would arrive in a chosen place, usually somewhere sacred and beautiful. The bride would wear white- the colour of elven brides, though human brides' varied and dwarves preferred blue. They would exchange rings- Noldorin preferred to craft their rings themselves. And after the blessing, the father of the groom and the mother of the bride gave blessings and presents to the bride- by her father-by-marriage, and the groom, by his wife's mother. There would be a feast.
She wondered what her own parents' marriage ceremony and feast must have been like. Did they expect to do the same with her one day, before Finwë's death ended all that?
She never thought about it.
Who wanted to bind themselves into a family of kinslayers? Estela would have been an excellent catch for anyone and their family- the heiress to two Royal Houses- if nothing had happened and Melkor stayed captive.
She missed out on so much. Estela was never a romantic, and she was a realist when it came to accepting that no one would allow their son to marry into a family like hers- she accepted that long before she even grew up without anyone mentioning it. Did she want marriage- love? She was startled. She never thought about it. And to whom?
An image of Ereinion flashed in her mind. Him and his blue eyes. She never considered it but she admitted to herself, that if she could have, it would have been him. He did not need to know that, so she kept it to herself.
The two orcs finished their grunting business and both got up. Estela grimaced and wished she could look away- she was still keeping watch for an escape route- when the female straightened her clothes. The male grunted and rose. The two left.
She could have fainted in relief. But her ordeal wasn't over yet, disgusting as it had been.
There was a passageway. And she craned her neck when no one was about and shifted herself slowly, edging out, as quickly and slinking as silently as she could, blending in with the many shadows- hard, her hair was bright, and her eyes- and she crept away, hiding beneath the columns of a dwarven city underground, long-forgotten.
She made it outside.
But as hope dared to dawn onto Estela, she knew she was trapped.
A swirling darkness surrounded her and as it grabbed her and threatened to choke her, she heard a chilling laugh.
She started to do something she hadn't done since she was a child... she started to scream.
Definitely not what we would expect. Sorry if you didn't want that! Of course she should be grossed out, its orcs for goodness' sake! But it does make her think, repulsive and sickening as it was, and what will this lead to? So now everyone knows- Celebrimbor/Telperinquar will not be happy! But their reaction isn't as negative- they know she isn't to blame, but only because Galadriel told them the story through her eyes and she saved millions- otherwise, they wouldn't have trusted her or wanted anything to do with her. They remembered she's Olwë's great-granddaughter and Telerin as well.