Title: Gwathuiol (Nightmare) Author: Nona Sumi nonasumi@yahoo.com Pair: Aragorn/Legolas, Sauron and his orcs Rating: NC-17 Summary: The Man and Elf in Sauron's dungeon Disclaimer: Characters are Tolkien's. Warning: Graphic violence / torture / blood Note: Translation of Sindarin words are provided below. Feedback are happily welcomed. If you happen to know better Sindarin wording, please share your precious knowledge The war was pressing upon them like tidal wave. It was obviously hopeless. Orcs, swarthy men and all kinds of fell creatures came to them from all directions. There was no arrow left in his quiver. The sword in his hand was drenched with black blood, creating slippery clammy feeling on his palm. Still the Elf fought tirelessly in his entire wrath. None of Sauron's creature could touch him, for he was too swift for them and his armour coat denied their blades. But they poured ever ceaselessly. Every time he hewed one, five more came. The air was stifled with blood reek and the thickening Darkness above. Just few feet from him Aragorn the Hope despite of his weariness lifted Anduril high and encouraged his men. "Keep abreast! Don't yield!" The Elf's feet were deep in mushy earth as it took so much blood. The war rippled all the way about him. Far behind, Minas Tirith had burst into flame. There was no way to save the City. Aragorn had decided to pull all remaining force to hold their position on Pelennor Field. Everywhere he saw men of Rohan or Gondor fallen and strewn. He saw Aragorn giving all he got in every strike, and Gimli, battered and worn, yet still fiercely swung his axe with his only good arm. The others he could not see. They were alone amidst the battle. Gandalf had long been swallowed by the darkness of Moria. The younger hobbits and Boromir were nowhere seen. There was also no sign whatsoever of Frodo and Sam, and whether they accomplished their mission. To him came the breeze from the north but no happier news it brought. Legolas was shocked as he felt his eyes warmed with tears. "Gilthoniel! U-awartho ammen! Star-kindler! Don't forsake us!" he called before he met another orc with his blade. Madness, Gimli might call him, but the Elf raised his voice to a silvan feast song as he hacked all that stood in his way. If he was young, he was still an elf, many years older than humans if not immortal, and of no lesser blood. He was the Thranduilion of Oropher, a Sindar prince of the House of Teleri. And if Namo in Mandos he should see, he would do happily, as soon as he was assured of the safety of the Last Line of Kings over there, and with piles of these ugly things under his feet. Suddenly he saw a spear flung across for the Man. Senses and wisdom left him as in desperation he leaped! "Aragorn!" was his only broken yell. Bright red blood burst on his lips as the spear blade pierced through his mail-shirt and slipped between the ribs of his left chest. "Legolas! Legolas!" he heard his name ringing in his ears as the gloom took over him. * * * He was not quite sure which one awoke him first; the sharp lash's swoosh or the disgusting stench that assailed his nose. As he spat the uneasy taste of blood in his mouth he realised that he was all stripped off, and shackled. It was not difficult for him to figure out that he was alive…in Sauron's dungeon! The next thing he found was that the spear only scored few inches deep of his flesh, definitely harmless for an elf even though the unattended wound stung. More to his discomfort, the place was echoed with all sorts of cries and moans of the tormented hostages mixed with the noises of any torturing apparatus at work. It was sure an unhappy place for elves, wounded or not. But even before he thought of any escape, he sensed an approaching movement. To his disgust, it was Sauron the Dark Lord himself! And many of his servants were at his tail. If there was any relief in seeing such Evil, it was for the Elf saw him without the Ring. Sauron was still in his shadowy form with fire-wreathed orbs as his eyes. Nonetheless Legolas felt his heart failed to the sight. "Varda Elentári!" he gasped. The effect of it was obvious if not expected, the orcs screeched under the name while the Shadow let a gurgling roar and hurled at the Elf with such paralysing force. A great black blue line marred the fair elven skin across the right chest up to lower jaw. Legolas retched as the pain burned his flesh. But as soon as his lungs caught a new draught of air, the Elf gathered all his courage and lifted his head high defying the reigning Fear. And shout he did with all his might until the dungeon rang with, "Elbereth Gilthoniel! Silivren palan-diri…" A great thud muted the chant halfway, but somehow it lifted the spirits of the tormented souls there. For a score of voices replied to it much to their wardens' anger. The sounds of lashes soon overtook the hopeful cries. The Elf paid his deed with no lesser price, for now all his left side were deep blackish crimson from an even harder blow. Blood gushed out again from the spear wound. But he giggled between his spasms of pain. "A Airetári Oiolossëo, sílo'r nin !" he called in hoarse laugh, giving Sauron no choice but touching his elven-flesh to restrain him. The Shadow stretched the fingers of his remaining hand to an iron-grip on his jaws with much hatred. Scorched was the elven skin under the touch, as the Dark Lord -- with all curses upon the flesh of the Star-children, pondered into his mind and heart for the Ring. Legolas helplessly trembled in his resistance, despite of his valour and faith he was not in contest at all against the Great Eye, but somehow he managed to seal his thought from the Necromancer. "Very well, Firstborn," said the malicious voice, "Deny me, deny yourself, but what if your heart betrays you? Behold …" The Great Torturer turned and beckoned him to look across. A great chain was lowered down the opposite wall at his command. Legolas sprang forward frantically. The orcs beat him right away, but he cared not the blows as he screamed at the top of his lungs. "No! No! Don't! Spare him!" Yes it was Aragorn hanging at the end of the chain, gagged. Gone were his heavy mail-shirt and battle gear. And with them they took off his grey elven-cloak, the ranger's black long jerkin, as well as his under-shirt, belt, and pants. Legolas saw that Arwen's pendant, Galadriel's green stone, and Barahir's ring were no longer at their places. The orcs did a thorough job that the Man was no less stripped than the Elf. His body was raw with black-blue marks and cuts but he fought no less angrily as he saw the Elf. Sauron laughed terribly for the Elf now raved in curses upon him. "I'll release him…" he said to the miserable Elf, "but where is my Ring?" Legolas spat a mouthful of blood at him, and for that he received an assortment of heavier clouts. One broke the skin of his forehead so blood dripped down his marred face. A big black club sent him on his knees as it rammed against his abdomen. Aragorn bellowed behind his gag. Tears flowed as he saw the orcs yanked up the Elf by the hair only to let him noticed the grisly mark they made. Their horrible jeers were indescribable as Aragorn wailed for Legolas. Sauron approached him. "I'll save his beauty in return of the One," he offered the sly bargain. "No, Aragorn! Don't give in!" Legolas did the best with his blood-clogged voice. Sauron's servants stepped forward and lashed him wildly as they cursed him with all Dark tongue maledictions. Aragorn thrashed in his chains while screaming in muffled pitch the Elf's name. He hollered in agony as he saw bright red lines, narrow and wide, criss-crossed the pale skin, barely leaving any unscathed. Blood ran down the Elf's legs and dripped into a brownish pool under his feet. But the Elf shook his head and stared at him piercingly in admonition; whatever damage inside had greatly taken his voice. Aragorn fell silent in hesitation. Sauron turned again to the Elf. "So, you're the stronger of both?" he hissed cunningly, " Let's see, I'll break either of you, one way or another…" He pointed at Aragorn. "Bleed the Man…" was his bidding. Legolas roared in wordless cries. He strained at the length of his chains as they drew long needle-like steels through Aragorn's skin. In tears and blood the Elf bent his remaining strength to break his chains. The orcs employed whip, blade and club upon him, not knowing that it was a mad Elf now they dealt with. Seeing Legolas struggled single-mindedly for Aragorn and he could not buy the Elf for anything, Sauron decided to play harder on Aragorn. The exhausted Elf stood motionless witnessing the orcs lit fire at the end of each needle on the Man. Despite the excruciating punishment he was suffering, Aragorn let not a scream or sign of agony. Instead he turned his face from the Elf and closed his tearful eyes. Such doing but made Legolas wept for he knew the Man just tried to placate him from resisting. The Lord of the Earth broke in ugly deafening laughter as he delighted the misery of both children of Eru. Finally, he had one of them broken. But then, summoning the last of his lasts, the Firstborn leaped, pulling and renting the entire chains. Sobs were all that remained in his voice and he did heartbreakingly. "Aiya i mBelain Menelen, thaedo nin rithad e mbaug nguruthen ." The orcs mauled him mercilessly. The iron cuffs tore the flesh of his wrists and ankles. But blinded by pain, blood and tears Legolas reached ever for the Man, until with a great clang the shackles, cuffs, chains and bolts, tore off the wall. * * * Legolas stumbled from his standing rest. Tears were on his cheeks. The Moon was waning from the starry dome far above. The night breeze brought him the dewy scent of nearing dawn. Several feet away, Aragorn jumped from his sleep. Shivering and disconcerted he turned to the pale Elf. "I won't give in, whatever may come …" he whispered in halted words. "I'll never abandon you unto the end," replied the Elf, wiping his face. Whatever vision each of them had, none would share it, but they stared at each other in understanding. They were awoken at the shore near Sarn Gebir, just before the pass of Argonath. By the boats, the four hobbits huddled together undisturbed. Boromir had his camp below two trees nearby, while Gimli snored heavily by a smooth rock. The Ranger stood and walked to the Elf. "It's the Ring," he murmured, "its evil wreath grows stronger as we are nearer to its master." Legolas nodded. "Have hope, we have resisted it once, and we haven't failed yet," said the Archer tapping him on shoulder, consoling the Man from his burden. Heartfelt, Aragorn embraced him and kissed his cheek. And there, just an hour before the dawn, a gentle rain came. "It's alright, just a mild rain," said the Elf to the stirred ones, "the Valar speed us their blessings." A smile was on his lips; he was heard. i Vett ---- "A Airetári Oiolossëo, sílo'r nin!" : Mixed Quenya- Sindarin. O Holy Queen of Everwhite (Q.), shine upon [lit. over] me (S.)! "Aiya i mBelain Menelen, thaedo nin rithad e mbaug nguruthen." :O Heavenly Valar, help me breaking out the constraint of death.