~~~~~~~
"I too once passed through the Dimril Gate, but although I also came out again the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time." -- Aragorn, in the FotR book.
~~~~~~~
Legolas sank forward against the rocks, letting
his
forehead fall forward to rest against their rough, cold surface.
"Aragorn," he whispered quietly, pain, both physical and emotional,
stealing his breath away from him.
Suddenly a faint sound made the elf’s head come up
and he listened intently. There... there it was again, clearer this
time! Hope filled him once more as he was able to distinguish the sound
for what it was: a voice calling his own name. Aragorn!
Legolas called back, but without the benefit of
elven hearing, Aragorn did not seem to be able to hear his friend as
clearly as Legolas could now hear him.
Aragorn’s fall had ended in near pitch-darkness.
His
head throbbed and his ribs ached. He could see nothing, but could feel
the rocks that blocked his way. With a sick feeling he remembered
seeing Legolas fall and called his friend’s name repeatedly. He quickly
found that trying to dig his way out was just as useless as Legolas’
attempts to dig his way in. There was no moving the mass of stone that
had fallen between them.
When the ringing in his ears finally began to clear,
he was able to hear his friend’s voice, faint and almost impossibly far
away to his human hearing, but definitely there. Aragorn felt a
dizzying wave of relief sweep through him upon finding that Legolas was
in fact still alive and breathing.
"Aragorn, are you all right? Where are you?"
Legolas’ voice filtered faintly through to him. The elf had to repeat
the question several times before the ranger was actually able to make
it out.
"I think so," Aragorn called back, knowing that
Legolas could probably hear him a lot better than he could hear
Legolas.
It was true, Legolas now had no trouble hearing
Aragorn’s words and they seemed to him only slightly muffled, as if
they were standing on opposite sides of a mere wall instead of opposite
sides of five tons of stone.
"I’m alone in the dark," Aragorn shouted back, his
voice laced with a certain amount of dry humor at his friend’s rather
useless question. "I can’t see a thing and there’s about a million
pounds of rock in front of me, other than that I have no..." he stopped
abruptly. Inexplicably, Aragorn found that he was beginning to be able
to see the stones under his hands, and it was not because his eyes were
adjusting to the dark. "Wait, it’s not so dark now..."
Turning quickly, the young man saw torchlight
approaching swiftly from up the passage behind him. For an instant it
crossed his mind that this tunnel he found himself in now was not the
same one he had been in earlier. The walls were rougher and clumsily
hewn, not like the other dwarf-work they had seen here. A moment later
those thoughts were banished from importance when the twisting
torchlight rounded the corner and he was able to see from whence it
originated.
The young ranger’s eyes widened slightly and a cold
chill shot up his spine as more than two-dozen orcs and goblins spilled
around the corner. They pulled up short when they saw the human and the
jumble of stone behind him.
"And I’m not alone. But I think I’m in trouble," the
last part was spoken softer, but Legolas’ sharp ears still caught it
and the elf stiffened, able to hear the tone of apprehensive fear in
his friend’s voice.
Aragorn drew his sword quickly, clenching the hilt
tightly in his hand. Trapped in this dead-end tunnel with scores of
enemies blocking the only way out, the young man knew his chances were
very slim, but he was prepared to take as many of them with him as he
could.
With a cry, the orcs rushed him.
"Aragorn what’s happening? What’s wrong?" Legolas
called, but his friend did not reply and the elf heard a more
frightening sound answer his question instead. The horrible sound of
orc voices, many of them, and then the metallic clang of weapon meeting
weapon.
Helpless frustration swept through Legolas as he
realized what was happening. It was impossibly infuriating to know that
his friend was fighting for his life not more than fifty yards away and
he was powerless to help.
Grim determination burned in Aragorn’s eyes as he
turned, twisted, parried and spun to keep up with the wicked pace of
the assault his attackers launched at him. He slew orc after orc, but
more just kept coming, hedging him in, leaving him no room to maneuver.
The acrid taste of fear bit at the back of his throat, although he
tried to deny its presence.
Bringing his sword up he caught an orc on the long
blade, felling the ugly beast. His options were growing slim and in an
attempt to maneuver better in the rapidly decreasing space he moved
back towards the rockslide behind him. His fear escalated as he saw
more orcs press into the tunnel.
The tales his brothers had told him surfaced in his
mind. He remembered the unspeakable things they had recounted upon
finding their mother trapped in an orc lair. Their warnings echoed
freshly in his mind, ‘never be caught by the orcs, we may not be able
to reach you in time’. Now he found himself trapped with no one able to
reach him and his chances for survival were closing in on him like the
hordes that pressed him back.
Unable to watch his footing, Aragorn stepped on a
small bolder, catching the rock with the side of his boot causing him
to lose his balance. A goblin rushed him and the ranger threw himself
at the oncoming creature, but the misstep was critical and he twisted
painfully as his ankle buckled underneath him. His enemy took advantage
of the slip in his concentration and tackled the human. Aragorn fell
under the attack of the goblin and was pinned in place by the beast’s
weight. His enemies cheered and rushed him as another goblin joined the
first and pulled the human to his feet.
The two goblins threw Aragorn roughly onto the
ground on his face. Kicking the young man’s shoulder viciously, they
flipped him onto his back. Several wargs had been brought in and one of
them snapped at the prisoner with its long, wicked teeth, straining
against the end of its chain. Aragorn couldn’t help flinching and
trying to jerk further away from the beast. The orcs found this
immensely amusing and held their captive still, pinning him down on his
back and laughing.
"Stubborn little thing!" they jeered. "Make nice
tender food for our pets, hmm?" The orc holding the warg’s leash let
the beast surge forward. The warg pounced on Aragorn, its claws
catching and tearing the young man’s tunic, its gleaming fangs and
dripping mouth snapping and snarling only a few inches from his face.
Aragorn could not keep the terror out of his
expression as he tried desperately to scoot further back, away from the
wolf-like creature, but his captors did not allow him to do so. They
laughed harshly at his fear, letting their hold slip a little on the
creature’s restraint, giving the warg even closer access to their
frightened prisoner.
Aragorn’s heart hammered in his chest as he pulled
his head as far back as he was allowed, feeling the hot, rancid breath
of the snarling creature on his chest brush against his face as the
warg strained against its leash to get at him. For all Aragorn knew
they truly intended to feed him to the wargs and that was not an end he
would have chosen.
"He’s too scrawny to make a decent meal," the orc
holding the warg’s collar jeered cruelly, finally pulling the beast
back, away from their prisoner’s prostrate form. It wasn’t actually
true, but the orcs did not intend to kill their captive just yet, they
had merely been playing with him.
Dragging Aragorn to his knees, they held his arms at
his sides. A vicious kick in the stomach doubled the young man over and
his long, dark hair hung in strands about his face as he sought to
regain his breath.
One of the larger orcs, named Velugulv, crouched in
front of Aragorn, taking a chunk of the young human’s hair in his hand.
Yanking the ranger’s head upright and tipping it to the side he cocked
his own to match, leering evilly at the prisoner. The orc sniffed in
almost animal fashion, as if he were smelling Aragorn to confirm what
his eyes told him.
"Now the dwarves are sending humans to spy on us?
And children at that?" the evil being grinned wickedly, poking at
Aragorn’s youthful, soft-edged features that had not yet fully slimmed
out or hardened into the face of an adult man.
Aragorn glared angrily at Velugulv, but said
nothing. He guessed that at this point silence was probably the best
policy.
"What are you doing down here, little rat? Skulking
about? Looking for our passages? Trying to thwart us?" the orc’s voice
turned steely as he glanced at the blocked passageway, which he seemed
to hold Aragorn responsible for.
"Wait, I recognize him..." one of the orcs shoved
his way past the others, stooping down to get a good look at Aragorn’s
face. Thlurglol’s eyes slitted in recognition, hissing as he pulled
back in anger. "This one was with the elf! The ones I only just told
you of! Who sealed Lûzbuk and the others in their cave and left
them to
rot! I saw it with my own eyes."
"Was he now?!" Velugulv scowled darkly, fixing
Aragorn with a dangerous gaze. "I thought I smelled elf-stench about
him!" It was ironic to hear these foul, reeking creatures talk about
ill odors.
"Trying to do the same to us were you?" Velugulv
demanded, twisting his hand painfully in Aragorn’s hair and giving the
prisoner’s head a vicious shake. "Busy sealing up our tunnel-work too
are you?!"
Aragorn winced and pulled his head back a little. He
was beginning to understand what had happened, and what had caused the
unfortunate cave-in. "It was not my doing, there was a cave-in. Your
tunnel-work has made the passage above unstable and it came down." He
kept his voice steady, but he could not keep his racing pulse from
pounding in his ears. He doubted he would be believed anyway, and he
was right.
"Liar!" the orc backhanded Aragorn sharply, cutting
the ranger’s lip with the edge of his hard, spiked glove. "Well you’ll
not succeed. We have been working on these tunnels for weeks now, a
little obstruction like this will be soon be cleared again!"
"But if the dwarves know we are tunneling under
them, then our element of surprise is already lost!" the orc who had
spoken before snarled unhappily.
"Shut up, Thlurglol!" Velugulv snapped at the other
orc. "We’ll make a new plan. After all, we have one of them now; one
who can tell us exactly where the dwarves have set up their pitiful
stronghold. We’ll tunnel up from under them and have them all for
supper yet!"
Aragorn really did not like the way this
conversation was going, and when Velugulv’s eyes turned back to him he
caught his breath at the malicious hatred he saw mirrored in their
dark, sunken depths. "You’ll have no problems telling us where the
dwarves have set up their secret stronghold, now will you, young one?"
the orc ran his claw-like fingernails lightly down the young ranger’s
cheek.
Aragorn’s mind whirled emptily and he felt a sick
feeling like a cold, sinking stone in his stomach. He wouldn’t have
told these wicked beings anything they wanted to know anyway, but in
this case he honestly had no clue what they were talking about. If the
dwarves had a secret stronghold here in Moria that they had fortified
and would retreat to if pressed, he had no more notion than did his
captors of where it could be found.
"I don’t know," he shook his head, already knowing
they would not believe him anymore than they had before.
Velugulv grinned maliciously, dropping Aragorn’s
head and rising from his crouch. "I hoped you’d say that. Come boys,
the little rat won’t squeak, let’s loosen his tongue for him!"
Aragorn tried in vain to battle his rising terror as
he was dragged roughly to his feet. The orcs held him firmly between
them as they roughly tore his shirt off him, stripping the young ranger
to the waist. Slamming him face-first against the damp, cold wall of
the tunnel, they yanked his arms out to the side. Two of the orcs’
crude, makeshift tunnel supports stood almost exactly even with his
wrists and they bound him securely to them, staking the young man
against the wall and rendering him even more helpless than he already
was.
Thlurglol thrust a cruel looking, multi-pronged whip
in Aragorn’s face, fingering the knotted ends of the lash with a wicked
grin. "This tickler’s got a pretty bite, how ‘bout we let it play on
you for a while. Tends to make the stubborn ones very talkative."
"I told you I don’t know anything about any dwarf
stronghold," Aragorn ground out between his teeth, his breathing coming
quick and fast. "You may not believe me, but it’s the truth, I cannot
tell you what I do not know!"
The orcs just laughed. "We’ll see about that! We’ll
see what it takes to make little birdie sing!" In truth, they would
have tortured their prisoner just for sport and spite even if they had
wanted nothing out of him.
The stinging lash raked painfully across his bare
shoulders and Aragorn drew his breath in sharply. Another stroke
quickly followed the first and then another, and another.
Aragorn pressed his lips together hard, jerking
slightly as the painful blows fell but refusing to make a sound.
~*~
On the opposite side of the wall, Legolas’ heart
wrenched in fear for his friend when he heard the orcs begin their
questioning. It was horrible, being able to hear them, to know what was
happening and be so helpless to stop it.
The elf heard the brave timbre of Aragorn’s voice
when he tried to make them see that he did not know what they wanted of
him, but Legolas knew his friend was afraid, who wouldn’t be? The orcs
had a nasty reputation concerning what they did to those unlucky enough
to become their prisoners.
The prince heard the orc’s cruel threats and taunts,
followed by the ugly sound of a whip hissing through the air and
finding flesh. He had never felt more powerless in his entire life.
The last thing he wanted to do was to have to stand
here and listen to this, but his options were sadly limited. The truly
aggravating thing was that while Aragorn and the orcs were close enough
for the elf to hear them, they could be miles and miles out of his
reach. Moving this pile of stone could be impossible, and would take
days even if it were. Days Aragorn did not have. The only hope Legolas
had of getting to him at all would be to hope that when Rill and
Rullyra got back with help, the dwarves would know of another way to
reach the other side of the collapsed passage. He had to hope that
there would be some way from there to reach his friend.
The hissing snap of the whip wrenched a muffled
grunt of pain from Aragorn’s throat and Legolas clenched his teeth
until his jaw hurt; raw, bubbling rage seething like a dragon in his
chest.
Melkor take it all, where were those dwarves?!
Legolas was not willing to leave unless he knew that there was some way
he could get to his friend. If standing by and listening was all he
could do, he would do it no matter how badly it hurt him inside.
~*~
Aragorn couldn’t help his gasps of pain
presently.
The orcs were cruel and thorough at their work and the pain that was
exploding across his senses was quickly becoming too much for him to
handle silently.
Pressing his forehead against the wall and screwing
his eyes tightly shut he tried to hold the agony inside him, but it was
too much and too searing for him to completely control. His lungs
burned from holding his breath in an attempt to stave off the pain and
his back was on fire from the abuse.
The young ranger felt a keen wave of burning shame
sweep over him when the pain finally wrenched a choked cry from his
lips. He wanted to be stronger than this, he did not want to give any
quarter to his tormenters, but his body betrayed him and he could not
help crying out in pain as they continued to whip him mercilessly.
The orcs laughed and jeered at him, delighted that
they had finally broken through his stoic silence.
Aragorn refused to listen to their cruel taunts and
evil jokes. He didn’t need their condemnation, he had plenty of his own
for himself.
~*~
Legolas slammed the side of his good fist against
the pitiless rocks that separated them, passionately hating his own
helplessness.
Aragorn’s cries went straight through him, nearly
driving the elf insane. If he could have torn through the earth that
separated them, he would have, but there was nothing he could do.
Nothing.
Tears of frustration and heartache glistened unshed
in the elf’s eyes. He swore silently to himself that if he ever got his
hands on the orcs who were doing this to his friend, they were going to
pay a terrible price for their cruelty.
~*~
Aragorn’s chest was heaving with silent sobs he
could not hold back when Thlurglol finally let the bloodstained lash
fall still at his side. But the orcs were far from finished with their
prisoner.
The young man leaned heavily against the wall for
support and when Velugulv cut one of his wrists free he sagged
slightly, until the orc roughly wrenched his arm around. Flipping
Aragorn around so that he faced his tormenters, with his back to the
wall, they roughly tied him again, cruelly pressing his bleeding back
against the rough stones behind him and eliciting another moan of pain
from their captive.
"The stronghold, where?!" Velugulv snapped harshly
in the young ranger’s pale face.
Aragorn closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. "I
don’t know." His voice was roughened with pain and hopelessness. They
would never believe him. It probably wouldn’t matter even if they did.
Yet he had to wonder how much more of this he could take.
"Not talking yet? Well we’ll change that." An iron
fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over against his bonds. His
head was jerked back up again by the hair and Velugulv laid a curved,
wicked-looking knife against the young man’s throat. The orc leered as
he ran the tip of the weapon lightly down the side of Aragorn’s face,
before letting it drop down to his chest. Pressing down suddenly so
that the knife bit into the young man’s flesh he dragged the knife
slowly from Aragorn’s shoulder to his collarbone, leaving a thin trail
of blood across the young human’s damp, clammy skin. The foul creature
grinned wickedly as his captive tensed and grit his teeth under the
bite of the steel. "That’s all right, we have something special for
you."
Velugulv rattled off a command in the black tongue
that Aragorn did not understand, but by the gleeful reaction of the
other orcs, he guessed it meant something bad.
A few moments later Thlurglol uncorked a small,
black bottle and pressed it against Aragorn’s lips, fairly shoving the
neck of the vial into his mouth. The small taste Aragorn got was
stomach-turning and he was certain that if they wanted him to take it,
he did not want to. Turning
his head away, he clenched his jaw shut,
refusing to drink the evil potion.
Of course, the orcs did not take kindly to that at
all. Thlurglol grabbed Aragorn’s head and held it still while Velugulv
forced the bottle to his lips once more. Suddenly socking the young
ranger in the midsection, he purposefully knocked the air out of the
prisoner’s lungs. Reflexively, Aragorn gasped for breath, and when he
opened his mouth, Velugluv tipped the bottle, forcing him to drink in
order to breathe.
Aragorn coughed and choked helplessly on the
hideously foul liquid and felt it burn all the way down into his
stomach.
The orcs stepped back, waiting for the poison they
had administered to take effect. It did a few moments later.
Sharp pain lanced through Aragorn, doubling him over
from the intensity of it. The poison raced through his system, wreaking
havoc on his already weakened body. He retched miserably, but his body
refused to expel the nasty toxin.
His captors laughed evilly.
Aragorn’s head spun as every nerve in his body felt
like it had been set on fire. He trembled softly, uncontrollably,
extreme nausea washing over him again and again. The horrid concoction
was not fatal and would not kill him, but at the moment Aragorn almost
wished it would.
"The little rat doesn’t like our brew," Velugulv
snarled with evil amusement. "Well we’ve got more where that came from!
You want a second dose, or you want to tell us where your skulking
dwarf friends are hiding themselves?"
Aragorn’s head lolled against the wall behind him,
his breath coming quick and uneven between clenched teeth, but he did
not attempt to answer. There was no point.
"All right then!" Velugulv and Thlurglol forced
another dose into him and Aragorn quickly discovered that no matter how
badly he thought he had hurt before, it was a hundred times worse now.
When the orcs started to beat him, the young human
had no strength left to deny expression to his pain. His captors toyed
with him, taking turns pummeling their prisoner and enjoying making him
scream.
~*~
Legolas pressed his eyes tightly shut, sinking to
his knees by the wall and resisting the urge to press his hands against
his ears to block out the sound of his friend’s pain. Hot fury burned
inside the elf, mingled with crushing pain and self-condemnation. It
was true that there was nothing he could do, yet having to stand by
helplessly like this made Legolas feel incredibly guilty.
He wished he could reach Aragorn. Wished he could
give him strength if he could not give him aid. Darkness pressed down
on him as he knelt there alone in the empty vastness that was Moria,
with only the painful cries of his young friend to keep him company.
He had not felt so incredibly wretched or hopeless
in a very long time and he was sure that Aragorn was feeling much
worse. If he could not give him anything else, Legolas wished at least
to try to give his friend hope. Give him the knowledge that he had not
been forgotten.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm his own
rapid heartbeat, Legolas began singing softly in the darkness, slowly
letting his voice rise and hoping that it might somehow reach Aragorn
through his pain with the only thing Legolas had to offer, however slim
it may seem: hope.
"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna mìriel
o menel aglar elenath..."
~*~
Aragorn hung limply forward against the bonds
that
held him, his breathing ragged, his body shaking. He couldn’t ever
remember being in this much pain in his entire life. It seemed as if
that was all there was and all there would ever be and in this evil
darkness any light and hope seemed impossibly far away. The dark drug
they had given him sought to wind itself around his heart and poison
him with despair, attempting to break his spirit.
Another fist slammed into his side. His vision hazed
yellow. He wished he would pass out, but he did not.
Faint and far away, he suddenly thought he heard
something... something beautiful that reminded him there was more to
life than pain and darkness.
"Na-chaered palan-dìriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,"
The lovely, lilting elvish words carried faintly to his ears. It sounded like Legolas’ voice, but Aragorn didn’t know whether it was, or whether he was hallucinating or imagining them, but he didn’t care because the song penetrated the dark haze that had been growing about his mind and his heart, holding at bay the despair that wanted to break him.
"Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sì nef aearon!"
Aragorn knew the song, he had heard it many times
in
Elrond’s house and it took him back to the bright, happy times, sitting
in the Hall of Fire and listening to the elves’ merry-making...
He drew in a sharp breath as cruel, punishing orc
hands brought him back to the reality of the moment, but they could not
chase away the small measure of inner strength that he had regained.
Velugulv halted for a moment, his eyes narrowing
sharply as he too heard snatches of the muffled singing. Thlurglol and
some of the other orcs clapped their hands over their ears, snarling in
consternation as the fair tongue assaulted their senses.
"I don’t know what you’re doing, but stop it!"
Velugulv snapped harshly at Aragorn, but the young man just grinned
grimly through his pain. It was gratifying to see something irk his
captors.
"Stubborn slug! We’ll fix you!" Velugulv lost his
patience with Aragorn’s continued defiance of them and struck him
roughly upside the head, slamming the young ranger’s skull back into
the wall behind him and opening a nasty gash along his temple.
For a moment bright flashes crowded Aragorn’s vision
and then the world went dark as merciful painlessness claimed him at
last.
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