Blessed by the Valar

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

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They spent a few more days discussing contingencies. Glorfindel had accompanied Elrohir and gone northeast toward the land of the Easterlings. Haldir had departed the next morning to ride back to Ithilien where he and Elladan would reconnoiter Harad. Depending on what each pair found out, the next move would be to marshal forces to advance on the offending parties and crush them.

Alex was disappointed she could not go on these missions. It was, after all, what she’d done for most of her career. But, she acknowledged, she did not know the nations or histories involved and would likely be of no use whatsoever.

When they arrived back in Ithilien, life returned to it’s usual routine with the exception of preparations for a potential battle on the horizon. Alex began to feel anxious and put it down to anticipation of a possible war. Legolas noticed her increased tension and agreed with the likely cause. He did not tell her of his own uneasiness. Something dark was disturbing his thoughts and his mind kept hearkening back to Celeborn’s warning.

Word arrived one day of attacks on southern Gondor---from Easterlings. The northern borders had quieted not long after Lord Karandun had returned from his meeting with Aragorn and the other lords. Glorfindel and Elrohir reported the Easterlings were restive and there were rumors of a leader who promised them peace and prosperity, but they saw no preparations for an attack on Gondor from the North. So they had worked their way through Mordor south to Harad and found the Easterlings massing to attack Gondor’s southern territories.

“Impossible.” Legolas shook his head. “It makes no sense. We are being attacked by the wrong people in the wrong places.” He had gathered the Elven warriors and they were preparing to ride South to assist Lords Herik and Kahmron. The Corsairs had also joined in the raids. All that were missing were the Haradrim.

Legolas and Alex had discussed her going south with them, but as much as he wanted her with him, he felt she would be safer in Ithilien. “Besides,” he told her, “You would be quite valuable in charge of the defenses here.” They were leaving a minimal force of warriors in Ithilien. “If need be, go to Eowyn---and the two of you can decide if you should relocate everyone to Minas Tirith.”

It was not in Alex’s nature to stay behind or retreat. However, she knew her husband was correct. She kissed him goodbye and bid the Elven warriors farewell. Still, she had an uneasy feeling.

Her husband shared it. As he rode away, something inside him kept telling him to either take her with him or stay with her. But, he put it down to their heightened anxiety because of the impending war and being apart during stressful times.

For several weeks, they heard nothing. Then news began trickling back as some of the wounded men returned on their way to Minas Tirith. The Haradrim had finally shown up, adding their ranks to those of the Easterlings and the Corsairs. The battles either ended barely in favor of Gondor or in a stalemate. There had been minimal losses, especially among the Elves. It wasn’t yet dire, but things were just not to the point where the Gondorian army could outflank or deliver a crippling blow to the Eastern Alliance.

Alex had taken to running every day in the woods of Ithilien. Besides helping her stay in shape, it gave her time to think and helped her to work off some of her excess energy. She usually ran from their home and circled through the forest where the Lorien Elves had settled. With the war, the Lorien settlement was quiet, only a few elleth about with a small number of guardians. She ran through the settlement on her way to and from the other end of the forest. The Elves found her behavior strange but amusing and had become accustomed to seeing her dashing by.

One morning she was spotted on the first part of her run, but, several hours later, one of the Elves of Legolas’ household came searching for her. She had not returned. The Lorien Elves recalled her coming through once, but not the return trip. They joined in the search and found no sign of her. However, they did find bloodstained arrows that looked ominously familiar.

“Orcs.” Fereveldir looked at his Lorien brethren. They all felt their gorge rising. How had Orcs come into Ithilien? It was guarded by Lorien Elves, the Woodland Sentinels. There were no more Orcs. Were there?

“We must inform Lord Legolas,” said Dinedal, one of Legolas’ fellow Mirkwood Elves.

“I shall set out for the front at once,” replied Calagalin. As the warden in charge of the Lorien guard, he felt personally responsible---he was responsible. That the Lady could be taken while under the protection of Elves was unforgivable. He began preparing himself for his certain future in the Halls of Mandos.

Dinedal and Fereveldir set out in the opposite direction, tracking the creatures that had taken the Lady. If they could find her safely, perhaps the Prince’s wrath would be tempered.

Calagalin rode swiftly and located his kin with little difficulty. The Elves were easy to find---for another Elf. For mortals, however, they were nigh impossible to locate.

Fortunately for the Lorien warden there was a lull in the action and Legolas was available. Saelbeth was the first to spot him and knew immediately something terrible had happened.

“The colony---?” The Rivendell Elf had invested a great deal of energy in building a home for the Elves in Ithilien. He could not bear the thought of it being destroyed---especially so soon after coming to fruition.

“Is safe. No attacks,” Calagalin replied. His eyes, however, were full of trepidation.

“Lord Legolas is in the tent.” Saelbeth felt a knot growing in his belly. The dread fairly emanated from Calagalin.

When the two Elves entered, all conversation in the tent ceased. Legolas, Glorfindel, Haldir and the twins sensed the strong emotions of their friends. Legolas looked into Calagalin’s eyes and before the other Elf could say a word, whispered, “Alex.”

Calagalin nodded wordlessly. Legolas’ vision went dark for a moment and he feared he might lose consciousness. However, his self-discipline allowed him to maintain his bearing.

“What happened?” She could not be dead---the bond was still there. He could feel her---yet, something was wrong. Perhaps this was what it was like to lose one’s bondmate: still able to feel them, but unable to grasp the bond.

“She was running, as is her wont. She went through the Lorien Settlement, and did not return. When Dinedal noticed she had not returned to your house, he came looking for her. We searched the woods and found … Orc arrows.”

The gathered Elves were stunned. “There are no more Orcs---the Dark Lord took his minions to the void when he was defeated.” Elladan could not believe it. Not one Orc had been seen since the end of the War of the Ring.

“Nonetheless, we found Orc arrows and it appeared there had been a struggle. Fereveldir and Dinedal are tracking them. I came to tell you.”

“You say signs of a struggle,” said Haldir. “Did you find any evidence that the Lady had been injured?”

All eyes were on Calagalin. “Yes. Human blood on at least one arrow and in the clearing.”

“She is still alive,” said Legolas. Her blood would not have stained the arrow or grass. It would have bubbled and eaten away the evidence. “I can still feel her.”

“We will find her, my lord,” Calagalin promised. “As soon as we have her, I will come---.”

“There will be no need. I will go to find her myself. She is my wife. It is my responsibility.”

“My lord, you cannot leave the battle!” Calagalin was horrified. “It is my duty---I was the warden in charge when she was taken.”

Legolas’ gaze was steady and his voice reasonable, but his control was holding on by the tiniest thread. “You could not have known there would be a threat. Ithilien was believed to be safe. Lord Karandun was protecting the north and northeast---.”

He halted as he saw Haldir’s eyes darken in anger.

“Karandun is not your friend, Legolas.”

The prince looked at the March Warden with horror. “Surely you cannot think he would allow Orcs to take Alex simply because he doesn’t like Elves?”

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged looks. They’d had dealings with those who knew Karandun intimately. Elrohir spoke. “Yes, he would Legolas. But most likely, it was not Orcs who took her. I would wager it was Karandun’s men and they used some old Orc armament in an attempt to distract us.”

Legolas’ mind was racing. He must speak to Aragorn. He could not leave the field---the Elves had been protecting the entire left flank of the Gondorian army while reinforcements from Rohan sped south. He walked quickly from the tent and, leaping onto Arod, rode hard to Aragorn’s headquarters.

The Elves left behind looked at one another. “There is more to this than is apparent,” said Glorfindel. As the most ancient of the gathered Eldar, and a hero to his people, his opinion carried great weight. “I like it not. But both the solution and the prince’s lady must be found.”

“This whole thing stinks of deceit and lies,” said Elladan angrily.

“It also smells of something worthy of Sauron and his ilk,” replied Glorfindel. “I know I am not the only one who has been feeling unsettled in recent months. And I do not mean the preparation for war. Something evil is rising and this battle is but one item on its agenda.”

“True. I have felt it, but I ascribed it to the unsettled situation with the Eastern Alliance.” Haldir sighed. “Lord Celeborn warned of a growing threat, but it was not clear from where it would come and how far into the future it lurked.”

“Evil is never predictable,” the Seneschal of Rivendell replied.

Legolas kept his roiling emotions under tight control as he entered Aragorn’s tent. The Gondorian king was alone except for Faramir, Steward of Gondor. They both immediately sensed the tension in their friend.

“Legolas. What has happened? Have the Southrons broken through the Eastern flank?” The king expected the worst.

“No. The Elves hold the East. But Aragorn … I must go to the north. Alex … has been taken. It looks like Lord Karandun either allowed someone through his lines in order to reach Ithilien, or he did it directly.”

Both men stared at the Elf. First, they thought of his pain as a husband---what would they do if Eowyn or Arwen had been taken during a war? Then, the implication of Karandun’s possible role began to hit them.

“If Karandun cannot be trusted to hold the north …” began Faramir.

“…he cannot be trusted in any part of this war,” finished Aragorn.

“I do not wish to leave, especially when the Rohirrim have not yet arrived…” Legolas trailed off as his thoughts darkened. He was torn between his duty to his friend and his bond with his wife.

“No, Legolas. Eomer will be here within the next two days. We can hold until then. Take your warriors and head north. Who knows what lurks on our northern borders?” Aragorn felt sick to his stomach. Minas Tirith---Arwen---were in close proximity to Karandun’s possible treachery. He glanced at Faramir and saw the same fear in his eyes. If Alex could be taken---and she was a warrior protected by Elves---then Eowyn and Arwen were at definite risk.

“Aragorn. I cannot leave your armies--.”

“Legolas---the most precious treasure of my kingdom sits to the north---and I will not rest easy until I know it is protected by the Eldar.” The Elf knew that Minis Tirith was indeed the jewel in Gondor’s crown. But he also knew Aragorn was referring to Arwen---the Evenstar.

He nodded in understanding and turned to Faramir. “When we arrive in Ithilien, I will be certain of Eowyn’s safety. I will have her sent to Rohan, if you wish---Arwen as well.”

“If you find the situation is deteriorating, then send them wherever you deem safest. Eowyn will refuse, of course, but tell her I insist.” Faramir smiled at the thought of his beautiful, but headstrong wife.

Legolas allowed himself a small smile for the first time since he’d received the terrible news that night. “I understand dealing with strong wives.” Turning to Aragorn, he continued. “I will take 250 Elven warriors. The rest, I will leave here under Figwit and Golradir.” When the king opened his mouth to object, he continued. “I will send word if they are needed in the north. When you have things under control here, then, if you feel they are no longer necessary, send them to me. But I will not leave Gondor without Elven aid.”

The men each embraced the Elf prince. “May the Valar go with you, my brother,” whispered Aragorn as he hugged his oldest friend tightly. Faramir echoed his king’s sentiments and then the Elf was gone.

When he arrived back at his tent, he found the twins, Haldir and his brothers, Saelbeth, Glorfindel, Balewith and Morhir with their mounts awaiting his return. He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“You certainly do not think you are going to ride into whatever trap that Elf-hating traitor has waiting for you alone, do you?” Haldir asked matter-of-factly.

“I suppose not.” He maintained his cool exterior, but on the inside, he was grateful to have his friends’ support. He called Figwit and Golradir to his tent and gave his instructions. Confident in his kin’s ability to protect the Gondorian army, even with their numbers diminished by almost one fifth, Legolas swung onto Arod and led his small troop of warriors north.

*
Alex was aware of pain. Intense, burning pain in her back, just above the shoulder blade. She fought to move, but couldn’t. It took her a few moments to figure out her arms and legs were bound tightly. Not only that, she was incredibly weak, as if she’d been drugged. She tried to remember what had happened, but nothing but vague nausea, intense thirst and a headache remained at the forefront of her mind.

She had no idea how long she’d been in this predicament. She could tell she was in some sort of cart, and it seemed to be moving quite fast, judging by how it bucked and jiggled. Whatever discomfort she was experiencing, it apparently overwhelmed her senses and she soon blacked out again.

Her forays in and out of consciousness continued intermittently. A couple of times, she felt a little stronger and tried to work herself loose. On both occasions, she felt sharp, stabbing pain in her thigh, then everything went black for a while.

Finally, the ceaseless jiggling stopped. Her bladder had given up after the first day, so her leggings were soaked and terribly uncomfortable. She had been gagged and not given food nor water on what she guessed to be at least a three day journey, judging by the faint gray light she had seen on at least three occasions.

She smelled something that set her senses on edge. It was a wild smell and the darkness in her responded. She stopped struggling and waited for hands to pull her into the early evening light, which hurt her already dilated eyes. Men were trying to drag her into a large stone building. She pulled her knees up to her chest and kicked out at the nearest man. The crunch of bones brought a smile to her mind, if not her lips and she could see his lifeless body as it collapsed on the stones of the courtyard.

She could hear a familiar voice screaming oaths at the men, but couldn’t place it. Suddenly, the stench of something untamed was overpowering and strong arms lifted her easily. She saw creatures unlike anything she’d seen on Middle Earth. The stood upright like men, but their skin was grayish black, their teeth sharp and pointed, their eyes black and gray, and their ears sharply pointed. Her own primitive self was drawn to them---they could be interesting prey. She tried to place them, something in the back of her mind telling her she knew what they were. But she couldn’t concentrate and lost consciousness again.

When she awoke, she had been stripped of her fouled clothing and was on the floor of a square room with stone walls, ceiling and floor. There was no bed, no pallet, not even a bucket where she could relieve herself. She felt nausea overwhelm her and managed to crawl into a far corner where she dry heaved until she collapsed from exhaustion. Her cheek lay against the filthy, hard floor as she contemplated her situation.

She had no idea where she was or what she was doing here. She knew she was helpless. For once, she could not call upon her inner demon to help her out of this situation. Whatever they drugged her with was making her too weak. Still, she’d managed to kill at least one of her captors. The memory brought a smile to her lips. She fell asleep with the satisfying sound of human bones being crushed by her kick still echoing in her mind.

The next time she became aware, she was suspended from a stone ceiling by chains around her arms and legs, holding her above the floor quite painfully. The pressure on her joints made her feel as though they were being ripped from their sockets. She couldn’t grip the chains with her hands or feet to ease the pressure. In any case, she was stretched in a most painful and most undignified position. Her head hung back and she silently vowed to kill whoever had gotten her into this fix.

Eventually, she became aware that someone had entered the room. Lifting her head put incredible pressure on her shoulders and hips, but she was determined to maintain as much control as possible in an uncontrollable situation. She saw a man standing near the door. It took her a moment, but she finally placed him---Karandun. Another presence was there also, but she could not see it. Whoever it was stayed out of her limited line of sight.

The northern lord walked around her, looking at her with an expression of disgust. Finally, he spoke, and his voice shook with repugnance.

“You are an abomination. You have betrayed your people in the bed of the Eldar. And now, you will be punished for your perfidy. Your Elven lover will despair at your loss and he will give up his life, as his kind do when faced with the loss of their mates. But you---you will pray for the Valar to take you before your death. You chose to turn your back on your own kind.” His voice had risen as his tirade had gone on and with his last word, Alex felt a cutting sting across her belly as he brought a long whip down on her flesh.

She did not cry out, but it wasn’t due to bravery or stoicism. The blow simply took her breath away and she couldn’t have screamed if she’d wanted to. The next blow struck her diagonally across her chest, cutting into the soft flesh of one breast and over the ribs below the other. Soon, her entire body was criss-crossed with the marks of Karandun’s whip. Her pain tolerance was not up to its usual standard, again, likely thanks to whatever they had drugged her with, but she felt a vague sense of pride that she didn’t cry out in pain.

Alex lost track of time---it felt like days had gone by, but she knew it was likely only hours. The only thing she could think of was Legolas and how she’d never see him again. She sank into her memories of her husband and the few short years they’d shared. She tried to remember each moment and soon the pain, Karandun’s curses, and the whole sorry mess faded as her mind filled with her love for her prince.

Eventually, it dawned on her Karandun had stopped and was leaving the room. But the other presence remained. The candles that had lit the chamber during her torture had burned down and the being extinguished those still alight. She could not tell who it was---he wore a heavy cape that kept him in shadow. Once the room was completely dark except for pale light near the ceiling, the being spoke.

“You think on your Elven lover, do you not? The memories bring you comfort. But think of what it will be like without him. For all of eternity you will be without his arms, his lips, his body---most importantly, you will have lost your bond. As a mortal, your bond will dissolve upon death. Do you know what it will be like for him? An Elf whose bond has died---it is a torture that cannot be escaped, even in Mandos’ Halls.”

The voice sounded … off. Like something was speaking along with the voice of the creature. It didn’t sound like a man, exactly. It had overtones that were vaguely human, but underneath was something both repulsive and seductive. Like an Elf gone bad---that was the only thing she could think of.

“This body could take yours if I wished. But I do not think I will taste the pleasures of your torn flesh just yet.” She felt him---it---drag a finger along her thigh, then suddenly pull back with a hiss. She smiled to herself. She must be bleeding.

“What are you?” The words were whispered very close to her ear. Then, she realized they were inside her head. She closed her mind and began to mentally review star charts---the most boring, tedious thing she could think of. She had to hide her inner beast. But it was struggling to come out---this thing that was tormenting her was so terribly attractive to her own personal demon.

She heard the thing shriek in anger and suddenly an intense pain shot through her body, beginning somewhere near her lower belly. She felt as if she were being skinned alive and all of her being was being sucked out of her through the multitude of cuts. She didn’t know if she screamed or not, the pain was so intense.

“Ahhhhh!” the vile creature sighed as if in the aftermath of a powerful orgasm. “Pain makes the soul so much sweeter. And yours has a special flavor I cannot quite identify. But I like it. Now rest, and I will send you sweet dreams of your Elf prince to comfort you.”

Alex felt as though every ounce of energy in her ravaged body had been drained. She could barely breathe. Not only that, but she was having trouble holding on to her bond with Legolas. She searched for it and thought she caught the faintest thread. She was vaguely aware of being released from the chains and carried back to what she presumed was the cell where she was tossed onto the floor and left alone with the ‘comforting’ dreams sent by her tormentor.

The Elves quickly covered the distance between the battlefield and Ithilien. Once there, they gathered more supplies, allowed their mounts to rest, changed them if needed, then began following the trail identified by Fereveldir and Dinedal. Legolas sent riders to Eowyn and Arwen and told them to be prepared to evacuate to Rohan if the situation on the borders deteriorated. He spared a moment to think of the reactions from the ladies. Arwen would likely smile and agree to do as her lord bid, for the safety of the kingdom. Eowyn, on the other hand, would probably refuse and would only abandon Emyn Arnen if carried out in a litter.

“I do not think this is the work of Orcs, Legolas. The tracks are of men.” Dinedal felt badly about the lady’s loss. But none had thought …

“I agree,” the prince replied. “But Elrohir and Glorfindel have identified an Orcish poison on the arrows.”

The Elves considered this information. Who would have access to Orcish poison? The idea of Orcs in Middle Earth again was disheartening. But then, they were an enemy the Elves were accustomed to fighting.

His fellow Eldar left Legolas alone during much of their journey. He tried to concentrate on his bond with Alexandra, but it was difficult. He was beginning to lose hope when Glorfindel rode up next to him. They traveled in silence for a few moments, then the Seneschal of Rivendell spoke.

“Does your lady still call to you?”

The young prince looked over at the ancient Elf-Lord. “Sometimes her light seems to dim and I cannot find her. Then, she shines brightly for a while. I fear she suffers greatly.”

“Trust the Valar, Legolas. They will not fail you or your lady. We will find her and we will solve the puzzle of Karandun’s treachery.”

The Lord of the Elves of Ithilien took comfort from Glorfindel’s words. After all, the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower had personal experience with the Valar.

Alex’s days were endless hours of pain and torment, always culminating in the cannibalism of her soul by the creature who watched as Karandun exhausted himself ‘punishing’ her for her sin of loving an Elf. Her metabolism, which had been one of the few good things to come out of Culean, now became a curse, as she healed during the night so her flesh was smooth, albeit tender, when Lord Karandun had her dragged out and hung up for her daily correction. This seemingly magical healing only served to enrage him further as evidence of the vile workings of the Firstborn, further corrupting her otherwise human form.

She lost track of the things Karandun said. Sometimes he seemed to confuse her husband with Thranduil. She had no idea why, but the Elf King seemed a particular focus of the man’s hatred.

Her inner darkness failed her for once. Whatever the creature did to her, it was taking her primal energy away. She still felt the urge, but lacked the strength to use her inner predator to save herself.

For all the discomfort of the constant beatings and screamed invectives, what Alex dreaded most was the aftermath of the dark creature’s draining of her energy. In the darkness of her cell, she fell into deep sleep; but it was not a restful sleep. Instead, she saw visions of horrible things: her husband being tortured endlessly, herself helpless and unable to save him; his Elven kin suffering as well; his father’s kingdom, his beloved Greenwood, brown and lifeless. The being would speak to her, telling her of the delights he had in store for her husband and his kind. She began to realize she was simply being used as bait to lure Legolas into the creature’s clutches. She almost gave in to despair, knowing her husband would come for her and would fall into the trap.

She was aware at times, of gentle hands lifting her head as she lay on the hard floor of her cell, giving her cool water to drink. Her parched throat and cracked, dry lips were eased somewhat by the water. Once, she even had a few swallows of broth. The voices were furtive and she heard the name ‘Jacon’ on at least one occasion. She did not know who brought her these small comforts, but she was certain they were angels.

One day, she was certain Karandun was going to kill her. He would not lay his hands on her---she might corrupt him as she was unclean, having lain with an Elf. She thought she would finally give in and scream her agony, but he suddenly ceased his tirade and dropped his whip. He said not another word to her, but walked out of the room. She wondered what had stopped him when she felt the presence of the other standing at her feet, just out of sight. She steeled herself for the inevitable rush of pain and when it came, the thing spoke to her mind.

“He is almost here. I can smell him. He brings many others with him. Oh, how I shall enjoy this. I have not feasted on Elven souls for a very long time. You have sustained me, for you are very strong. But with the souls of the Firstborn, I will be more powerful than ever. Thank you, my dear. You have served me well.”

Then, he was gone. She was dragged back to her cell and thrown in. She lay there for an interminable length of time before she became aware of gentle hands again lifting her head.

“My Lady. It’s Jacon. I’ve brought you some water and some clothes. I don’t know if it fits, but it’s a the best I can find.”

He dragged the dress over her head and pulled her arms through the sleeves. She tried to help, but was very weak. He handed her the cup of water and she drank as much as she could. It helped a little. She whispered her thanks and in the dim light could see he was a young man, probably about 20 or so.

“We have to get you out of here. The Master will kill you if we don’t. I’ll see if there’s anyone around. Do you think you can stand? I’ll carry you if I must.” He stepped out into the main room and she grabbed hold of the door and tried to pull herself up.

The young man---Jacon---had his back to the door to the hall and never saw Karandun enter. She couldn’t find her voice to warn him and could only watch in horror as the insane Lord slammed the hilt of his sword against the young man’s temple. He mumbled nonsense as he wrapped one of the chains used to restrain Alex around Jacon’s leg and hoisted him up into the air. He muttered something else about betrayal and sliced open the young man’s throat. Blood gushed out and Alex stared as Jacon’s young life bled onto the stone floor.

Karandun walked over to the cell door and she thought, ‘This is it. He’s going to kill me now.’ Instead, the man pulled her cell door closed and locked and bolted it.

Looking through the bars set into the metal and wood frame, he said, “His blood is on your hands, Elvish whore. One more thing you must answer for in the Halls of Waiting.” With that, he walked out and left her alone.