Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, only things
unrecognizable are mine, and I am sure we can all figure out which is
which.
Author's Note: This is the beginning of a dark fic, and may not be suitable for some. Fair warning of torture and tense situations. Would appreciate reviews to know what you think.
Chapter 1
Dark. Dark, and nothing else. Not even any pain anymore, those parts are gone. Wonder what happened to them, maybe they are truly gone for good. Pain would be preferred.
Legolas Greenleaf, elven Prince of Mirkwood, struggled to regain his full senses and pierce through the utter darkness. The dark had to be a result of eyelids that refused to open, but Legolas soon realized that his eyes were already wide open. Even worse.
Sight is not what leaves me, there is merely nothing here. Nothing but the dark. The merciless dark that will not reveal anything, makes a mockery out of everything. Dark is torture.
But of course, that was not the only torture the elf had sustained. Feeling as if his mind was in a fog, Legolas tried to remember what had happened to him the past few days. He had been sent as part of a hunting party to gather food for a grand feast. They had been besieged, Legolas could not remember by who, and he had been brought here, alone. What happened to the rest of his party was a mystery to him, and Legolas could only assume they were dead. One thing was for sure, none of them were here with him, there was not a breath of sound.
The events that happened after being brought here were vague and weightless in Legolas' mind. The more he tried to grasp at them, the more they seemed to evade him. The only scene he could remember was one of bright blood. For there had been light when they had taken him here, they had to see. Yes, there had been a lot of blood, but from what? From himself?
The elf moved slightly, trying to gather information on his body. He felt disconnected with it. Sharp pains hit him from several different areas, so much so that he immediately stilled all movements and tried to concentrate on where the pain was coming from. But there was too much to decipher. At least his body was still there.
Alright then, the blood had been from him. When he came to the realization, another scene came to him. A large whip had been brought in, made of the toughest leather and cruelly barbed at the end. An equally large man wielded the whip, and he had brought it down upon Legolas several times, while Legolas had raged futilely, chained into the walls like a mere beast.
But pride and anger can only last for so long in the face of agony. Legolas had quickly been broken, and had only closed his eyes, hoping that the torment would end soon. He made no sound, would not let himself make any, though his soul itself had screamed, and that only infuriated his captors even more. The blows came harder and multiplied, but still the elf gave no response. Blessedly, Legolas had passed into a painless void, unconscious.
Disgusted, his captors had left and blew out the torches that provided the harsh light.
And that had been the end. Legolas' mind was starting to function now, and he was sure that that had been all to transpire. Which seemed impossible, he felt like he had been here for weeks, when it had truly been only a day, if that even. Denied the view of the sky, Legolas could not judge the passage of time.
Now that Legolas was fully conscious, pain began to hit him in steady waves. The elf prince gritted his teeth and tried to move about so that he was in a more comfortable position, one that evoked less pain. But he had been manacled to stone walls, with short chains that restricted movement. He could not even sit down, but had to remain standing on pained legs. His arms were held above his head, stretching his chest and causing his breath to be labored. Everything hurt now.
The sound of pounding blood filled his ears, and the reverberation was maddening.
Should be grateful for some things, the elf thought to himself, that it still beats at all is miraculous in itself.
The elf wanted to get his mind off of the pain, so instead he strove to think of who his captors were. No matter how he tried, he could not remember what those who attacked him and his party looked like. But the ones who had stood before him to torment him, he had seen those. They were tall, some even taller than he, and all wore long dark robes with the hoods pulled up. They did not want him to know who they were. Which could be a good or bad thing. Had they revealed themselves, that meant that they would most likely kill him without reason, for they had no ulterior motives which required stealth. On the other hand, the disguised identities could mean that they desired no ransom for him and would kill him as well.
Either way it was looked at, it appeared as though they wanted Legolas dead. Probably the only reason he was alive now was because they recognized his position, a royal could fetch a high ransom and was worth more alive than dead.
Legolas' tortured mind soon became exhausted with all of the thinking, so he stopped. There was no more he could find out on his own, anyway. He was still uncertain that he had even been able to remember everything. Only one thing was for sure, it would be better for him to be able to escape before anybody came back.
Legolas leaned forward, testing the strength of his bindings again. They were remarkably strong, the kind intended for an elf. Another clue, his captors knew much of the elven ways and their strengths. Which was why he was being imprisoned in a dark, stone room. He had nothing from which to work with, to draw strength from, even sight had been robbed from him, and his hearing did nothing.
The tired elf Prince stilled his movements and ceased thinking. His only concentration was that of drawing adequate breath. Slowly, he could feel himself going mad. The oppressive darkness was too much for an elf, and his entire body throbbed. He wished in vain to leave consciousness again, but it didn't happen. Fate was not going to be so kind. He was painfully aware of everything, which was to say he was aware of the nothingness.
The dark solitude was more torture than the cruel whip, and Legolas let out a feeble scream, the first sound to leave his throat since he had been brought here. He stopped the sound immediately, ashamed, and hoped that nobody had heard it. That was not to be so, for his sharp ears soon picked up the sound of a door being pulled open, and then soft footsteps coming down stairs.
Legolas tried to draw himself up and braced for the encounter of his tormentors. He made a vow that he would not scream again.
Author's Note: This is the beginning of a dark fic, and may not be suitable for some. Fair warning of torture and tense situations. Would appreciate reviews to know what you think.
Chapter 1
Dark. Dark, and nothing else. Not even any pain anymore, those parts are gone. Wonder what happened to them, maybe they are truly gone for good. Pain would be preferred.
Legolas Greenleaf, elven Prince of Mirkwood, struggled to regain his full senses and pierce through the utter darkness. The dark had to be a result of eyelids that refused to open, but Legolas soon realized that his eyes were already wide open. Even worse.
Sight is not what leaves me, there is merely nothing here. Nothing but the dark. The merciless dark that will not reveal anything, makes a mockery out of everything. Dark is torture.
But of course, that was not the only torture the elf had sustained. Feeling as if his mind was in a fog, Legolas tried to remember what had happened to him the past few days. He had been sent as part of a hunting party to gather food for a grand feast. They had been besieged, Legolas could not remember by who, and he had been brought here, alone. What happened to the rest of his party was a mystery to him, and Legolas could only assume they were dead. One thing was for sure, none of them were here with him, there was not a breath of sound.
The events that happened after being brought here were vague and weightless in Legolas' mind. The more he tried to grasp at them, the more they seemed to evade him. The only scene he could remember was one of bright blood. For there had been light when they had taken him here, they had to see. Yes, there had been a lot of blood, but from what? From himself?
The elf moved slightly, trying to gather information on his body. He felt disconnected with it. Sharp pains hit him from several different areas, so much so that he immediately stilled all movements and tried to concentrate on where the pain was coming from. But there was too much to decipher. At least his body was still there.
Alright then, the blood had been from him. When he came to the realization, another scene came to him. A large whip had been brought in, made of the toughest leather and cruelly barbed at the end. An equally large man wielded the whip, and he had brought it down upon Legolas several times, while Legolas had raged futilely, chained into the walls like a mere beast.
But pride and anger can only last for so long in the face of agony. Legolas had quickly been broken, and had only closed his eyes, hoping that the torment would end soon. He made no sound, would not let himself make any, though his soul itself had screamed, and that only infuriated his captors even more. The blows came harder and multiplied, but still the elf gave no response. Blessedly, Legolas had passed into a painless void, unconscious.
Disgusted, his captors had left and blew out the torches that provided the harsh light.
And that had been the end. Legolas' mind was starting to function now, and he was sure that that had been all to transpire. Which seemed impossible, he felt like he had been here for weeks, when it had truly been only a day, if that even. Denied the view of the sky, Legolas could not judge the passage of time.
Now that Legolas was fully conscious, pain began to hit him in steady waves. The elf prince gritted his teeth and tried to move about so that he was in a more comfortable position, one that evoked less pain. But he had been manacled to stone walls, with short chains that restricted movement. He could not even sit down, but had to remain standing on pained legs. His arms were held above his head, stretching his chest and causing his breath to be labored. Everything hurt now.
The sound of pounding blood filled his ears, and the reverberation was maddening.
Should be grateful for some things, the elf thought to himself, that it still beats at all is miraculous in itself.
The elf wanted to get his mind off of the pain, so instead he strove to think of who his captors were. No matter how he tried, he could not remember what those who attacked him and his party looked like. But the ones who had stood before him to torment him, he had seen those. They were tall, some even taller than he, and all wore long dark robes with the hoods pulled up. They did not want him to know who they were. Which could be a good or bad thing. Had they revealed themselves, that meant that they would most likely kill him without reason, for they had no ulterior motives which required stealth. On the other hand, the disguised identities could mean that they desired no ransom for him and would kill him as well.
Either way it was looked at, it appeared as though they wanted Legolas dead. Probably the only reason he was alive now was because they recognized his position, a royal could fetch a high ransom and was worth more alive than dead.
Legolas' tortured mind soon became exhausted with all of the thinking, so he stopped. There was no more he could find out on his own, anyway. He was still uncertain that he had even been able to remember everything. Only one thing was for sure, it would be better for him to be able to escape before anybody came back.
Legolas leaned forward, testing the strength of his bindings again. They were remarkably strong, the kind intended for an elf. Another clue, his captors knew much of the elven ways and their strengths. Which was why he was being imprisoned in a dark, stone room. He had nothing from which to work with, to draw strength from, even sight had been robbed from him, and his hearing did nothing.
The tired elf Prince stilled his movements and ceased thinking. His only concentration was that of drawing adequate breath. Slowly, he could feel himself going mad. The oppressive darkness was too much for an elf, and his entire body throbbed. He wished in vain to leave consciousness again, but it didn't happen. Fate was not going to be so kind. He was painfully aware of everything, which was to say he was aware of the nothingness.
The dark solitude was more torture than the cruel whip, and Legolas let out a feeble scream, the first sound to leave his throat since he had been brought here. He stopped the sound immediately, ashamed, and hoped that nobody had heard it. That was not to be so, for his sharp ears soon picked up the sound of a door being pulled open, and then soft footsteps coming down stairs.
Legolas tried to draw himself up and braced for the encounter of his tormentors. He made a vow that he would not scream again.