*Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or places, etc., etc., etc.
Mine are the ones you've never heard of before. The rest are the Master's:
J.R.R. Tolkien.
Hope As Long As The Stars Shine by TreeHugger
Chapter 1 - The Orc
"Edhel u-uva pada ned i mor."
Aragorn turned slightly to glance at his companion whose slowing steps had taken him several feet behind the others.
"Legolas? Is something wrong?"
The Elf's blue eyes, usually so bright and serene, were wide with dread. Slowly he looked over at the Ranger.
"I cannot do it, Aragorn," he said quietly. "I cannot go in there."
Aragorn looked to see that the others were continuing to approach the doors leading into Moria. Gimli hurried ahead to walk beside Gandalf, his gruff voice animated with excitement.
"What do you mean, Legolas?"
"An Elf should not walk in the dark," he repeated, his eyes moving to the dark, forbidding doors.
"I don't wish to enter Moria either, Legolas. I have walked its dark halls before and I have no desire to do so again. But as Gandalf has said 'One must tread the path that need chooses'."
"I know, Aragorn. But.the darkness." He shook his fair head. "I cannot abide it again."
The tall Ranger's dark brows furrowed. Again? Legolas had never entered Moria before. What could he mean? Then a name surfaced in his mind: Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Legolas." He moved closer to his friend and gently touched his arm. "You will not be alone this time. There are nine of us here. In just a few days we will have traversed Moria and will be under the sky and the trees again. Come let us join the others." He paused and held out a hand, smiling kindly.
Legolas nodded and moved to follow him. But in his mind he saw not the great carved stone doors of the Dwarven kingdom, but a group of dark, low hills, filled with fell and secret places where no light had ever penetrated. A place where no star's glow could comfort or sweet breezes cleanse the foul air.
Emyn Mor Esgal. The Dark Hiding Hills.
~*~*~*~*~*
He was on watch that night at the southern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was known as Carag o Ungol: Jaws of the Spider. There were tales even among his kind of the Giant Spiders, offspring of the horrible Ungoliant. One was said to have inhabited the lower regions of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was rumored that she was still there, hidden down in the deeper darkness where even they dare not go.
Stars blazed in the night sky and his eyes were drawn up to them. So beautiful.so achingly beautiful. Almost the words of a song came to his mind.Almost. His kind did not sing and if they did it would not be about the stars. A small smile touched his lips. If his comrades could discern his thoughts they would think him unseemly.mad. Smiling and wanting to sing to the stars. He shifted slightly his eyes traveling from the sky to the trees below.
The northwestern edge of Mirkwood lay spread before him, the trees silent and peaceful in the glow of the moon. The dark green of the leaves filled his sight, his heart sighed with happiness.
I could be happy there, he thought. Free beneath the trees. This time a laugh escaped his throat. It was no wonder his name meant the forsaken one.
"Egla Ash." A deep, harsh voice behind him caused him to start and nearly drop his weapon. He lowered his eyes to show respect for his Captain as he stepped out of the dim recess of the caves beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Is something funny, Egla Ash?" He asked, his yellow eyes scanning the land below, narrowing as they fell on the peaceful trees of the Elves' forest.
"No, Gorgash. Just a quiet night," he answered.
The large Captain grunted, cracking his knuckles.
"Too quiet. It's been too long since the Elves gave us any sport."
Egla Ash nodded sympathetically, keeping his true feelings deeply buried.
"Everyone is getting restless. And that is not good." The Captain continued moving to stand a few feet ahead of Egla Ash. "Curse the blasted Elves!" He hissed eyes flashing with hatred. "We'll route them all out. Then we'll have some fun." He laughed suddenly imagining just what he would do to the Elves when he got them.
Egla Ash merely grunted, his eyes also on the dark woods.
The Emyn Mor Esgal company was stationed here in the sparsely populated land between Ered Mithrin and Mirkwood simply to harry the Wood Elves of King Thranduil's realm. But the Elves were wary and many of Gorgash's people lay felled by Elvish arrows. As Gorgash had said it had been a long time since there had been any sport in the dark chambers beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.
Earlier that night a small "hunting" party had been sent into Mirkwood, hoping to scare up some game. But already the sky was beginning to lighten. Egla Ash felt his chest constrict with a new pleasure as the pale gleam lit the far horizon. Beautiful.
Gorgash snarled now cursing the Elves and his Hunters, raising his fist to the approaching dawn. But then harsh horns rent the still air and their gazes were drawn to the edge of the wood. The Hunters were returning.
And Egla Ash noted that they were not alone.
~*~*~*~*~*
The Hunters ran, tireless, up the hill, dragging their wearying prey behind them. It's wrists and neck were tightly bound with thick black rope.
The rope, Egla Ash knew was not ordinary rope, but rope such as only his kind made. Tough, harshly woven with bits of sharp jagged metal that tore the skin. It was especially suitable for Elf skin, so fair and soft. And Egla Ash noted with dismay, the captive was an Elf, a young, fair one: the favorite sport of Emyn Mor Esgal Orcs.
"At last!" Gorgash exclaimed, throwing his fist up in triumph. "At last we will have some sport." He jogged down to meet the returning Orcs, malicious smiles on their hideous faces. "Where is Orblat?" He asked the head of the party.
"Dead. Shot by this one. And so were Dorglam, Uglar, Meltagh, and Grelg."
Even from where he stood by the opening in the hillside Egla Ash could see the angry smile on his Captain's face. He shuddered.
"This one, eh?" He moved to drag on the rope that was wrapped about the Elf's slender neck. His other hand grasped the Elf by the chin and forced the head up. Blood streamed down the side of the beautiful face and ran freely where the ropes held him. But defiance sparkled in the blue eyes.
This seemed to elate the Orc Captain even more. He laughed and shoved the prisoner backwards. He stumbled and nearly fell, but rough hands behind him pushed him forward, forcing him to his hands and knees, the skin of his wrists tearing even more.
Egla Ash knew the fear that must be biting through the prisoner, but he showed it not at all. Surely he knew what happened to the Elves taken by the Orcs. But the young looking Elf merely glared up at Gorgash and muttered something at him in Elvish.
"Thaur Yrch!" [Abhorrent Orcs!]
It was a mistake.
Gorgash's sharp sandaled foot flashed up into the prisoner's chin, felling him with a cry.
"Cursed language!" Gorgash hissed. "You will not speak it in front of me!" He kicked that prone figure again. And yet again. The other Orcs howled and began stamping their hideous feet with excitement. Bones were surely being broken under such an assault. Bruises blossomed on the slim body and blood ran crimson, staining the grass. But just when Egla Ash feared that the violence would escalate Gorgash drew back panting.
"Take him in," he ordered. "We will wait for tonight. Then the fun will begin." With one more solidly landed kick he turned and entered Emyn Mor Esgal.
Cheering and calling raucously to one another, the Orcs yanked the Elf to his feet, laughing as he staggered and moaned. Still laughing and tugging they drug him up the hill and past Egla Ash, who had only a glimpse of long pale hair and anguished blue eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas bit back a moan of despair as the stone door of his cell was pushed shut, with the sound of finality that only stone scrapping on stone could make. The darkness was immediate and complete. His body sagged against the cold stone wall. His wrists were fastened with cold iron above his head, his body ached and every breath he drew brought pain, but it was the darkness that troubled him most. He raised his head, eyes wide with trying to see in the blackness. But there was nothing.Here his Elvish sight failed him. He swallowed, his head drooping once more to his chest. He was a prisoner of the Orcs and every Elf knew what that meant and all feared it.
No, he thought, I will not let them defeat me so easily. He raised himself upright, closing his eyes to ban the darkness.
"Aure entuluva," he whispered. Day shall come again.
Softly he began to sing, his mind filling with thoughts of his beloved trees and the stars, the feel of the sun upon his skin. His voice was hesitant at first but gathering strength as the song eased his pain and fear.
Aure entuluva.
~*~*~*~*~*
The members of the Fellowship were seated on the rocks before the entrance of Moria, bathed in the faint glow of the ithildin letters upon the dark doors. Gandalf, his pointed hat at his feet, was contemplating these very letters, a scowl on his face.
Speak Friend And Enter.
What could be more simple. And yet most confusing. No matter what spells and long forgotten passwords had passed the Wizard's lips none had caused the doors to open, not even the smallest crack had appeared to give them any hope. He pulled his pipe from within the satchel slung around his chest and began to pack Old Toby leaves into it.
The Hobbits were chewing on the cold sausages they had been allowed from the stores with great relish. Merry swatted Pippin on the hand when the younger Hobbit reached for yet another one.
"We said four each, Pip," he scolded. "Four."
"I know, Merry. But I'm still hungry."
"We're all hungry, Pippin. So just be quiet," Frodo said softly, his eyes straying to the dark water behind them. For some reason it unsettled him.
"Yes!" Gandalf barked. "Do be silent, you fool of a Took. It is hard to think with your incessant chattering."
Pippin looked abashed and stared dismally at his greasy, empty fingers. Then he raised them to his mouth and began to lick them.
Gimli was sharpening his axe, his impatience held in check, though ever few minutes he would glance over at the Wizard and mutter something in Dwarvish and shake his head.
Boromir's eyes were distant, his thoughts on Gondor, his beloved city, silently cursing the delay. How long could they sit here and do nothing when every day brought grave peril to the beautiful White City? How could they sit here when Mordor's threat was ever growing, its sights on Gondor first? His strong fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. Why couldn't the old conjurer open a silly door?
Aragorn sat with his back against the hard stone wall, his long legs stretched before him. His pipe flared red, casting its warm glow onto his lean face that was shrouded beneath his hood. Earlier he had watched as Legolas had attempted to "get a feel for the stone" as Gimli had said. The Elf's sensitive fingers had caressed the rocky walls, Gimli watching with anticipation knowing that even an Elf would recognize the strength and quality of the Moria stone. But, much to the Dwarf's disappointment the fair young Elf shook his head, his blue eyes apologetic.
"I am sorry, Gimli. It just feels cold to me." And unfeeling, uncaring, and not alive. But these he didn't say.
Gimli sighed heavily, shaking his shaggy head.
"That is alright, Master Elf. Perhaps it will come to you in time."
Aragorn alone noticed the droop in his friend's shoulders. He was trying to overcome his fears. Traversing Moria would not be easy for any of them. But it would be especially hard for one of them.
"Legolas," he called.
The Elf looked over at him.
"Yes, Aragorn?"
"Why don't you sing something."
Gimli grunted, but remained silent polishing his axe lovingly.
"What do you want me to sing, Dunadan?"
Aragorn shrugged, flexing his shoulders.
"Whatever you wish. Something about trees and leaves, grass, stars, weeds.whatever it is that makes you Elves so happy."
Legolas perched lightly on a rock near him, grateful for what his friend was trying to do. He cleared his throat. He looked around at his companions, seeing that all had their eyes upon him, looking hopefully at him. He quickly thought of a song that felt appropriate.
"This is called "Sador Mellon"[faithful friend]." He lifted his fair Elvish voice and though only Gandalf and Aragorn understood all the words it brought joy to all the hearts of those waiting out side Moria. Frodo who understood some of it smiled. It was a most appropriate song. And surprisingly Sam glanced over at Frodo and smiled. It seemed that he had learned some Elvish as well. Frodo felt the weight of the Ring lessen as Legolas sang. Perhaps they could come through this trial after all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was the feeling of the lash across his face that started Legolas from sleep. He gasped as the pain seared through him. Rough hands freed his wrists, pulled off his clothing and boots and then tied his hands with the torturous rope once more. He was pulled from the cell they kept him in and dragged into the next chamber. The vile voices of the Orcs assaulted his hearing and he cringed at the Black Speech's foulness. The chamber was large, just a rough section of cave with torches about the walls. It was filled with Orcs. He suppressed a shudder and sent a silent prayer to Varda to give him strength to endure what was to come. When they saw him, the Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal cheered and stamped their sandaled feet and shook their fists in the air. Legolas felt his composure begin to shatter under the assault of their voices. The Orc who had fetched him from his prison drug him to the center of the chamber and deftly tied his hands to a vilely carved stone post. Legolas shuddered as his flesh came in contact with the cold stone. It felt evil. He pulled away from it and stared at it in horror. It was carved with Tengwar letters forming words in the Black Speech of Mordor. Legolas couldn't read them, but he didn't need to to know that they were words of hatred and anger, revenge and terror. Dark stains marked the surface of the post and he knew that they were bloodstains. How many Elves had spilt their lives here? Would he be the next?
"Elbereth, anna enni bellas an bronia!" [Varda, give me strength to endure!]
The large Orc, that he guessed to be in charge strode to him and pulled his head back by his long hair. He held a dagger to the Elf prince's exposed throat.
"Never let me hear you speak that language again, dirty Elf!" He ran the razor sharp dagger across the skin; blood welled up and flowed down his neck. Gorgash shoved his head forward violently. It struck the stone, now stained by Legolas' own blood. "Next time I may cut out your tongue!"
The Orcs around them howled with delight.
"Nay, Gorgash. He needs it to scream with!"
More vile laughter filled the air. Legolas pulled away from the
stone once more, not wanting to touch its foulness.
"Anna enni bellas." He whispered as he saw Orcs coming toward him bearing long whips. He could see the glint of metal braided into the strands of leather, also stained dark like the evil stone post. He swallowed trying to take himself into the dreams away from this place. He desperately sought the stars, the trees, and gentle spring breezes beneath fair blue skies.
"Anna enni bellas.Anna enni i ol." [Give me strength.give me the dreams.]
But it wasn't to be. The first lash tore a gasp from his lips, but he clamped his teeth onto his lower lip. He would not cry out. His hands grasped the tearing black rope, feeling it cut into his palms. He would not give the monstrous Orcs the satisfaction of knowing how much they hurt him. He could feel his skin tearing beneath their cruel lashes; warm blood flowed down his back and legs to pool at his feet. To his horror and disgust he felt himself sag against the stone post. Tears welled in his eyes, but he shed them not. He could taste blood in his mouth where he had bitten through his lip. The Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal were howling and jumping about, bits of Westron mingled with Black Speech. He sagged against the post, its coldness seeping into him.
"Look, Gorgash. He embraces the Mor Sarn as if it were a lover!" One of the Orcs bearing a long black whip remarked. Mor Sarn.Sindarin for Black Stone. The Orcs hated the Elves' language but had chosen to use it to name this evil carved post of suffering.
Legolas forced his protesting body away from it, feeling his legs shaking. One of the Orcs shoved him against the stone and held him there with powerful claws.
"Embrace the only lover you will ever have, Elf." He shouted as the other Orcs laughed maliciously and stamped their feet with delight.
Then there were more lashes until he was released into unconsciousness at last. He had found his dreams.
Egla Ash stood at the back of a group of his fellow Orcs while they tortured their prisoner. He was a strong young Elf. He hadn't cried out even once. That was good. And that was bad. Gorgash would only device more and more methods of pain to unleash on him until he submitted to screaming for mercy. Not that any would be given. Orcs didn't know what mercy was. When the Elf finally lost consciousness they left him hanging limply from Mor Sarn. Several parties left the caves to try and hunt up more prey.
"Take him back to his cell, Egla Ash," Gorgash called to him, hefting his heavy hiltless sword. "Hopefully when we return we will have more to join him tonight." Laughing the Orcs streamed out into the night.
Egla Ash stared down at the bloody floor beneath the Elf. He grimaced and moved to untie his hands and catch his body as it sank to the floor. He carried the Elf back to the cell and gently laid him on the floor. He went and fetched clean water and began to clean the blood from his body.
Legolas groaned and opened his eyes, the renewed pain calling him back. He stared up at the Orc in terror. He pushed himself away.
"Dartha ad! Car u anglenna enni, deleb glamog!" [Stay back! Do not approach me, horrible Orc!"]
Egla Ash watched as Legolas drug himself away and pushed himself to a standing position against the far wall. He had to admire the Elf. He could see that he was in a great deal of pain, but his defiance still burned brightly. And to speak in Elvish when he knew that it would earn him more pain. He was brave indeed. Or foolish. Egla Ash shrugged.
"Im car le u lhaew." [I do you no ill.]
Legolas stared at the Orc in disbelief.
"Im le mellon. Le iest ha." [I am your friend. If you wish it.]
"Im car u henia." [I do not understand.]
Egla Ash smiled sheepishly and glanced out of the cell to make certain that no one was near.
"I want to help you, Elvellon. My Sindarin is not very good. So please speak Westron. I promise not to use the Black Speech that offends your ears so."
Legolas stared at him in disbelief. What manner of torment was this? Why would this Orc pretend to be his friend? And how could he speak any Sindarin?
"Who are you?" He managed at last, his fingers digging into the cold stone of the wall to keep him from dropping back to the floor. Pain bit through him, but he would not let any Orc see his weakness.
"My name is Egla Ash. It means Forsaken One." He smiled slightly. "Shall I show you why they called me Forsaken? For I was you know." He stood and crossed to grab a torch from the metal sconce on the wall.
Legolas couldn't prevent himself from cringing back from the flame as the Orc drew near.
"I won't hurt you, Elvellon. Here. I just want you to see something." Egla Ash moved to stand next to the prince. "My eyes. Do you see, Elvellon? Do you see what color they are?"
Legolas stared in disbelief at the Orc before him.
"Lhun hen." He murmured. The Orc's eyes were as blue as his own. "How?"
Egla Ash shrugged and returned the torch.
"Please let me help you, Elvellon. The others will be back soon and they would not look on my ministrations with kindness."
Legolas stared at the Orc wanting to believe him. He felt his knees shaking with weakness. He nodded.
Egla Ash helped to lower him to the floor.
"I have some medicine- not Orc medicine," he amended seeing the look of horror on his patient's fair face. "I know something of herbs and medicines. Don't worry." He deftly cleansed the wounds and smeared a cooling salve on them. When dry the salve would be invisible.
"Thank you, Egla Ash," Legolas murmured, the pain easing as his Elvish body began to heal itself.
"I have but one request, Elvellon before I leave you to the dreams. May I have your name?"
"Nin esta na Legolas." [My name is Legolas."]
"Thank you, Legolas. Go to the dreams. Gar sidh. [Have peace.]"
~*~*~*~*~*
Egla Ash opened the cell door and peered into the blackness. The young Elf hung in the chains again, his body slumped, head on his chest. On the second night they had managed to wring some cries from his bleeding lips. But still he sang to himself. His voice was low, almost breathless with pain.
"What are you singing, Legolas?" He asked, bringing in a skin of clean spring water.
"Im linnon ned fin, ned fin ned calen. Calen a malthen galenas,
talt ned i glawar."
[I sing of trees, of trees of green. Green and golden leaves falling
in the sunlight.]
I wish that I could sing a song like that, the Orc called the Forsaken One thought as he helped the Elf take a drink of the water.
The Elf's body was covered with cuts, burns, bruises and welts. He knew that at least one of his ribs was broken. Breathing was painful. But it was the darkness that ate away at his spirit. So dark.never-ending.
"Are the stars bright, Egla Ash?" He murmured, dropping his head once more.
"Yes, Legolas. Very bright and beautiful."
"Why don't you sing to me about them? It is painful for me to sing for very long."
"Sing.me? I am an Orc, Legolas, not an Elf. I do not sing."
Legolas didn't speak, his breathing shallow.
"I dinen menel remmen ah celeb elenath.
Mirdain ned galad, meren a faen;
Arnediad i tinnu talt dinen am i gur."
[The silent sky netted with silver stars
Jewels of light, joyous and radiant;
Numberless as the night falls silent upon the heart.]
Egla Ash stood silently, listening to the beautiful words fall away into the darkness of the cell. He longed to be out under the stars again. Feeling their radiance against him, filling his eyes with the joy that Legolas sang of. Words crept into his mind.almost a song.Almost.
"Do not give up hope, Legolas," he whispered, moving to leave before his absence was marked. "Gar estel annan i elenath sila." [Have hope as long as the stars shine.]
~*~*~*~*~*
TBC
Hope As Long As The Stars Shine by TreeHugger
Chapter 1 - The Orc
"Edhel u-uva pada ned i mor."
Aragorn turned slightly to glance at his companion whose slowing steps had taken him several feet behind the others.
"Legolas? Is something wrong?"
The Elf's blue eyes, usually so bright and serene, were wide with dread. Slowly he looked over at the Ranger.
"I cannot do it, Aragorn," he said quietly. "I cannot go in there."
Aragorn looked to see that the others were continuing to approach the doors leading into Moria. Gimli hurried ahead to walk beside Gandalf, his gruff voice animated with excitement.
"What do you mean, Legolas?"
"An Elf should not walk in the dark," he repeated, his eyes moving to the dark, forbidding doors.
"I don't wish to enter Moria either, Legolas. I have walked its dark halls before and I have no desire to do so again. But as Gandalf has said 'One must tread the path that need chooses'."
"I know, Aragorn. But.the darkness." He shook his fair head. "I cannot abide it again."
The tall Ranger's dark brows furrowed. Again? Legolas had never entered Moria before. What could he mean? Then a name surfaced in his mind: Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Legolas." He moved closer to his friend and gently touched his arm. "You will not be alone this time. There are nine of us here. In just a few days we will have traversed Moria and will be under the sky and the trees again. Come let us join the others." He paused and held out a hand, smiling kindly.
Legolas nodded and moved to follow him. But in his mind he saw not the great carved stone doors of the Dwarven kingdom, but a group of dark, low hills, filled with fell and secret places where no light had ever penetrated. A place where no star's glow could comfort or sweet breezes cleanse the foul air.
Emyn Mor Esgal. The Dark Hiding Hills.
~*~*~*~*~*
He was on watch that night at the southern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was known as Carag o Ungol: Jaws of the Spider. There were tales even among his kind of the Giant Spiders, offspring of the horrible Ungoliant. One was said to have inhabited the lower regions of Emyn Mor Esgal. It was rumored that she was still there, hidden down in the deeper darkness where even they dare not go.
Stars blazed in the night sky and his eyes were drawn up to them. So beautiful.so achingly beautiful. Almost the words of a song came to his mind.Almost. His kind did not sing and if they did it would not be about the stars. A small smile touched his lips. If his comrades could discern his thoughts they would think him unseemly.mad. Smiling and wanting to sing to the stars. He shifted slightly his eyes traveling from the sky to the trees below.
The northwestern edge of Mirkwood lay spread before him, the trees silent and peaceful in the glow of the moon. The dark green of the leaves filled his sight, his heart sighed with happiness.
I could be happy there, he thought. Free beneath the trees. This time a laugh escaped his throat. It was no wonder his name meant the forsaken one.
"Egla Ash." A deep, harsh voice behind him caused him to start and nearly drop his weapon. He lowered his eyes to show respect for his Captain as he stepped out of the dim recess of the caves beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Is something funny, Egla Ash?" He asked, his yellow eyes scanning the land below, narrowing as they fell on the peaceful trees of the Elves' forest.
"No, Gorgash. Just a quiet night," he answered.
The large Captain grunted, cracking his knuckles.
"Too quiet. It's been too long since the Elves gave us any sport."
Egla Ash nodded sympathetically, keeping his true feelings deeply buried.
"Everyone is getting restless. And that is not good." The Captain continued moving to stand a few feet ahead of Egla Ash. "Curse the blasted Elves!" He hissed eyes flashing with hatred. "We'll route them all out. Then we'll have some fun." He laughed suddenly imagining just what he would do to the Elves when he got them.
Egla Ash merely grunted, his eyes also on the dark woods.
The Emyn Mor Esgal company was stationed here in the sparsely populated land between Ered Mithrin and Mirkwood simply to harry the Wood Elves of King Thranduil's realm. But the Elves were wary and many of Gorgash's people lay felled by Elvish arrows. As Gorgash had said it had been a long time since there had been any sport in the dark chambers beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.
Earlier that night a small "hunting" party had been sent into Mirkwood, hoping to scare up some game. But already the sky was beginning to lighten. Egla Ash felt his chest constrict with a new pleasure as the pale gleam lit the far horizon. Beautiful.
Gorgash snarled now cursing the Elves and his Hunters, raising his fist to the approaching dawn. But then harsh horns rent the still air and their gazes were drawn to the edge of the wood. The Hunters were returning.
And Egla Ash noted that they were not alone.
~*~*~*~*~*
The Hunters ran, tireless, up the hill, dragging their wearying prey behind them. It's wrists and neck were tightly bound with thick black rope.
The rope, Egla Ash knew was not ordinary rope, but rope such as only his kind made. Tough, harshly woven with bits of sharp jagged metal that tore the skin. It was especially suitable for Elf skin, so fair and soft. And Egla Ash noted with dismay, the captive was an Elf, a young, fair one: the favorite sport of Emyn Mor Esgal Orcs.
"At last!" Gorgash exclaimed, throwing his fist up in triumph. "At last we will have some sport." He jogged down to meet the returning Orcs, malicious smiles on their hideous faces. "Where is Orblat?" He asked the head of the party.
"Dead. Shot by this one. And so were Dorglam, Uglar, Meltagh, and Grelg."
Even from where he stood by the opening in the hillside Egla Ash could see the angry smile on his Captain's face. He shuddered.
"This one, eh?" He moved to drag on the rope that was wrapped about the Elf's slender neck. His other hand grasped the Elf by the chin and forced the head up. Blood streamed down the side of the beautiful face and ran freely where the ropes held him. But defiance sparkled in the blue eyes.
This seemed to elate the Orc Captain even more. He laughed and shoved the prisoner backwards. He stumbled and nearly fell, but rough hands behind him pushed him forward, forcing him to his hands and knees, the skin of his wrists tearing even more.
Egla Ash knew the fear that must be biting through the prisoner, but he showed it not at all. Surely he knew what happened to the Elves taken by the Orcs. But the young looking Elf merely glared up at Gorgash and muttered something at him in Elvish.
"Thaur Yrch!" [Abhorrent Orcs!]
It was a mistake.
Gorgash's sharp sandaled foot flashed up into the prisoner's chin, felling him with a cry.
"Cursed language!" Gorgash hissed. "You will not speak it in front of me!" He kicked that prone figure again. And yet again. The other Orcs howled and began stamping their hideous feet with excitement. Bones were surely being broken under such an assault. Bruises blossomed on the slim body and blood ran crimson, staining the grass. But just when Egla Ash feared that the violence would escalate Gorgash drew back panting.
"Take him in," he ordered. "We will wait for tonight. Then the fun will begin." With one more solidly landed kick he turned and entered Emyn Mor Esgal.
Cheering and calling raucously to one another, the Orcs yanked the Elf to his feet, laughing as he staggered and moaned. Still laughing and tugging they drug him up the hill and past Egla Ash, who had only a glimpse of long pale hair and anguished blue eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas bit back a moan of despair as the stone door of his cell was pushed shut, with the sound of finality that only stone scrapping on stone could make. The darkness was immediate and complete. His body sagged against the cold stone wall. His wrists were fastened with cold iron above his head, his body ached and every breath he drew brought pain, but it was the darkness that troubled him most. He raised his head, eyes wide with trying to see in the blackness. But there was nothing.Here his Elvish sight failed him. He swallowed, his head drooping once more to his chest. He was a prisoner of the Orcs and every Elf knew what that meant and all feared it.
No, he thought, I will not let them defeat me so easily. He raised himself upright, closing his eyes to ban the darkness.
"Aure entuluva," he whispered. Day shall come again.
Softly he began to sing, his mind filling with thoughts of his beloved trees and the stars, the feel of the sun upon his skin. His voice was hesitant at first but gathering strength as the song eased his pain and fear.
Aure entuluva.
~*~*~*~*~*
The members of the Fellowship were seated on the rocks before the entrance of Moria, bathed in the faint glow of the ithildin letters upon the dark doors. Gandalf, his pointed hat at his feet, was contemplating these very letters, a scowl on his face.
Speak Friend And Enter.
What could be more simple. And yet most confusing. No matter what spells and long forgotten passwords had passed the Wizard's lips none had caused the doors to open, not even the smallest crack had appeared to give them any hope. He pulled his pipe from within the satchel slung around his chest and began to pack Old Toby leaves into it.
The Hobbits were chewing on the cold sausages they had been allowed from the stores with great relish. Merry swatted Pippin on the hand when the younger Hobbit reached for yet another one.
"We said four each, Pip," he scolded. "Four."
"I know, Merry. But I'm still hungry."
"We're all hungry, Pippin. So just be quiet," Frodo said softly, his eyes straying to the dark water behind them. For some reason it unsettled him.
"Yes!" Gandalf barked. "Do be silent, you fool of a Took. It is hard to think with your incessant chattering."
Pippin looked abashed and stared dismally at his greasy, empty fingers. Then he raised them to his mouth and began to lick them.
Gimli was sharpening his axe, his impatience held in check, though ever few minutes he would glance over at the Wizard and mutter something in Dwarvish and shake his head.
Boromir's eyes were distant, his thoughts on Gondor, his beloved city, silently cursing the delay. How long could they sit here and do nothing when every day brought grave peril to the beautiful White City? How could they sit here when Mordor's threat was ever growing, its sights on Gondor first? His strong fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. Why couldn't the old conjurer open a silly door?
Aragorn sat with his back against the hard stone wall, his long legs stretched before him. His pipe flared red, casting its warm glow onto his lean face that was shrouded beneath his hood. Earlier he had watched as Legolas had attempted to "get a feel for the stone" as Gimli had said. The Elf's sensitive fingers had caressed the rocky walls, Gimli watching with anticipation knowing that even an Elf would recognize the strength and quality of the Moria stone. But, much to the Dwarf's disappointment the fair young Elf shook his head, his blue eyes apologetic.
"I am sorry, Gimli. It just feels cold to me." And unfeeling, uncaring, and not alive. But these he didn't say.
Gimli sighed heavily, shaking his shaggy head.
"That is alright, Master Elf. Perhaps it will come to you in time."
Aragorn alone noticed the droop in his friend's shoulders. He was trying to overcome his fears. Traversing Moria would not be easy for any of them. But it would be especially hard for one of them.
"Legolas," he called.
The Elf looked over at him.
"Yes, Aragorn?"
"Why don't you sing something."
Gimli grunted, but remained silent polishing his axe lovingly.
"What do you want me to sing, Dunadan?"
Aragorn shrugged, flexing his shoulders.
"Whatever you wish. Something about trees and leaves, grass, stars, weeds.whatever it is that makes you Elves so happy."
Legolas perched lightly on a rock near him, grateful for what his friend was trying to do. He cleared his throat. He looked around at his companions, seeing that all had their eyes upon him, looking hopefully at him. He quickly thought of a song that felt appropriate.
"This is called "Sador Mellon"[faithful friend]." He lifted his fair Elvish voice and though only Gandalf and Aragorn understood all the words it brought joy to all the hearts of those waiting out side Moria. Frodo who understood some of it smiled. It was a most appropriate song. And surprisingly Sam glanced over at Frodo and smiled. It seemed that he had learned some Elvish as well. Frodo felt the weight of the Ring lessen as Legolas sang. Perhaps they could come through this trial after all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was the feeling of the lash across his face that started Legolas from sleep. He gasped as the pain seared through him. Rough hands freed his wrists, pulled off his clothing and boots and then tied his hands with the torturous rope once more. He was pulled from the cell they kept him in and dragged into the next chamber. The vile voices of the Orcs assaulted his hearing and he cringed at the Black Speech's foulness. The chamber was large, just a rough section of cave with torches about the walls. It was filled with Orcs. He suppressed a shudder and sent a silent prayer to Varda to give him strength to endure what was to come. When they saw him, the Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal cheered and stamped their sandaled feet and shook their fists in the air. Legolas felt his composure begin to shatter under the assault of their voices. The Orc who had fetched him from his prison drug him to the center of the chamber and deftly tied his hands to a vilely carved stone post. Legolas shuddered as his flesh came in contact with the cold stone. It felt evil. He pulled away from it and stared at it in horror. It was carved with Tengwar letters forming words in the Black Speech of Mordor. Legolas couldn't read them, but he didn't need to to know that they were words of hatred and anger, revenge and terror. Dark stains marked the surface of the post and he knew that they were bloodstains. How many Elves had spilt their lives here? Would he be the next?
"Elbereth, anna enni bellas an bronia!" [Varda, give me strength to endure!]
The large Orc, that he guessed to be in charge strode to him and pulled his head back by his long hair. He held a dagger to the Elf prince's exposed throat.
"Never let me hear you speak that language again, dirty Elf!" He ran the razor sharp dagger across the skin; blood welled up and flowed down his neck. Gorgash shoved his head forward violently. It struck the stone, now stained by Legolas' own blood. "Next time I may cut out your tongue!"
The Orcs around them howled with delight.
"Nay, Gorgash. He needs it to scream with!"
More vile laughter filled the air. Legolas pulled away from the
stone once more, not wanting to touch its foulness.
"Anna enni bellas." He whispered as he saw Orcs coming toward him bearing long whips. He could see the glint of metal braided into the strands of leather, also stained dark like the evil stone post. He swallowed trying to take himself into the dreams away from this place. He desperately sought the stars, the trees, and gentle spring breezes beneath fair blue skies.
"Anna enni bellas.Anna enni i ol." [Give me strength.give me the dreams.]
But it wasn't to be. The first lash tore a gasp from his lips, but he clamped his teeth onto his lower lip. He would not cry out. His hands grasped the tearing black rope, feeling it cut into his palms. He would not give the monstrous Orcs the satisfaction of knowing how much they hurt him. He could feel his skin tearing beneath their cruel lashes; warm blood flowed down his back and legs to pool at his feet. To his horror and disgust he felt himself sag against the stone post. Tears welled in his eyes, but he shed them not. He could taste blood in his mouth where he had bitten through his lip. The Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal were howling and jumping about, bits of Westron mingled with Black Speech. He sagged against the post, its coldness seeping into him.
"Look, Gorgash. He embraces the Mor Sarn as if it were a lover!" One of the Orcs bearing a long black whip remarked. Mor Sarn.Sindarin for Black Stone. The Orcs hated the Elves' language but had chosen to use it to name this evil carved post of suffering.
Legolas forced his protesting body away from it, feeling his legs shaking. One of the Orcs shoved him against the stone and held him there with powerful claws.
"Embrace the only lover you will ever have, Elf." He shouted as the other Orcs laughed maliciously and stamped their feet with delight.
Then there were more lashes until he was released into unconsciousness at last. He had found his dreams.
Egla Ash stood at the back of a group of his fellow Orcs while they tortured their prisoner. He was a strong young Elf. He hadn't cried out even once. That was good. And that was bad. Gorgash would only device more and more methods of pain to unleash on him until he submitted to screaming for mercy. Not that any would be given. Orcs didn't know what mercy was. When the Elf finally lost consciousness they left him hanging limply from Mor Sarn. Several parties left the caves to try and hunt up more prey.
"Take him back to his cell, Egla Ash," Gorgash called to him, hefting his heavy hiltless sword. "Hopefully when we return we will have more to join him tonight." Laughing the Orcs streamed out into the night.
Egla Ash stared down at the bloody floor beneath the Elf. He grimaced and moved to untie his hands and catch his body as it sank to the floor. He carried the Elf back to the cell and gently laid him on the floor. He went and fetched clean water and began to clean the blood from his body.
Legolas groaned and opened his eyes, the renewed pain calling him back. He stared up at the Orc in terror. He pushed himself away.
"Dartha ad! Car u anglenna enni, deleb glamog!" [Stay back! Do not approach me, horrible Orc!"]
Egla Ash watched as Legolas drug himself away and pushed himself to a standing position against the far wall. He had to admire the Elf. He could see that he was in a great deal of pain, but his defiance still burned brightly. And to speak in Elvish when he knew that it would earn him more pain. He was brave indeed. Or foolish. Egla Ash shrugged.
"Im car le u lhaew." [I do you no ill.]
Legolas stared at the Orc in disbelief.
"Im le mellon. Le iest ha." [I am your friend. If you wish it.]
"Im car u henia." [I do not understand.]
Egla Ash smiled sheepishly and glanced out of the cell to make certain that no one was near.
"I want to help you, Elvellon. My Sindarin is not very good. So please speak Westron. I promise not to use the Black Speech that offends your ears so."
Legolas stared at him in disbelief. What manner of torment was this? Why would this Orc pretend to be his friend? And how could he speak any Sindarin?
"Who are you?" He managed at last, his fingers digging into the cold stone of the wall to keep him from dropping back to the floor. Pain bit through him, but he would not let any Orc see his weakness.
"My name is Egla Ash. It means Forsaken One." He smiled slightly. "Shall I show you why they called me Forsaken? For I was you know." He stood and crossed to grab a torch from the metal sconce on the wall.
Legolas couldn't prevent himself from cringing back from the flame as the Orc drew near.
"I won't hurt you, Elvellon. Here. I just want you to see something." Egla Ash moved to stand next to the prince. "My eyes. Do you see, Elvellon? Do you see what color they are?"
Legolas stared in disbelief at the Orc before him.
"Lhun hen." He murmured. The Orc's eyes were as blue as his own. "How?"
Egla Ash shrugged and returned the torch.
"Please let me help you, Elvellon. The others will be back soon and they would not look on my ministrations with kindness."
Legolas stared at the Orc wanting to believe him. He felt his knees shaking with weakness. He nodded.
Egla Ash helped to lower him to the floor.
"I have some medicine- not Orc medicine," he amended seeing the look of horror on his patient's fair face. "I know something of herbs and medicines. Don't worry." He deftly cleansed the wounds and smeared a cooling salve on them. When dry the salve would be invisible.
"Thank you, Egla Ash," Legolas murmured, the pain easing as his Elvish body began to heal itself.
"I have but one request, Elvellon before I leave you to the dreams. May I have your name?"
"Nin esta na Legolas." [My name is Legolas."]
"Thank you, Legolas. Go to the dreams. Gar sidh. [Have peace.]"
~*~*~*~*~*
Egla Ash opened the cell door and peered into the blackness. The young Elf hung in the chains again, his body slumped, head on his chest. On the second night they had managed to wring some cries from his bleeding lips. But still he sang to himself. His voice was low, almost breathless with pain.
"What are you singing, Legolas?" He asked, bringing in a skin of clean spring water.
"Im linnon ned fin, ned fin ned calen. Calen a malthen galenas,
talt ned i glawar."
[I sing of trees, of trees of green. Green and golden leaves falling
in the sunlight.]
I wish that I could sing a song like that, the Orc called the Forsaken One thought as he helped the Elf take a drink of the water.
The Elf's body was covered with cuts, burns, bruises and welts. He knew that at least one of his ribs was broken. Breathing was painful. But it was the darkness that ate away at his spirit. So dark.never-ending.
"Are the stars bright, Egla Ash?" He murmured, dropping his head once more.
"Yes, Legolas. Very bright and beautiful."
"Why don't you sing to me about them? It is painful for me to sing for very long."
"Sing.me? I am an Orc, Legolas, not an Elf. I do not sing."
Legolas didn't speak, his breathing shallow.
"I dinen menel remmen ah celeb elenath.
Mirdain ned galad, meren a faen;
Arnediad i tinnu talt dinen am i gur."
[The silent sky netted with silver stars
Jewels of light, joyous and radiant;
Numberless as the night falls silent upon the heart.]
Egla Ash stood silently, listening to the beautiful words fall away into the darkness of the cell. He longed to be out under the stars again. Feeling their radiance against him, filling his eyes with the joy that Legolas sang of. Words crept into his mind.almost a song.Almost.
"Do not give up hope, Legolas," he whispered, moving to leave before his absence was marked. "Gar estel annan i elenath sila." [Have hope as long as the stars shine.]
~*~*~*~*~*
TBC