Denied Rights
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,620
Reviews:
67
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,620
Reviews:
67
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Elvish insults
*********
On the borders of Lothlorien…
*********
Bodies lay everywhere. Or to be more specific, the bodies oentyenty-five men. Five killed by silver knives, and twenty killed by arrows, for twenty was how many arrows filled the quiver of one of the Galadhrim. And it wasn’t just one of the Galadhrim who had been on patrolling this area—it was Haldir, their Marchwarden, and he never missed a shot.
His brother Rumil, sank to his knees. "He is not here… they have taken him!" he criee hae had heard of elves taken by men before. Most were never seen again, and the ones that returned had been tortured and violated.
"Fear not, Rumil," said Uruitëórëo, putting a slender arm around the grieving elf’s shoulders. "Let us return to Caras Galadhon. The Lady will be able to shed light on your brothers’ whereabouts. Her mirror will show us the way to him, and we will recover our courageous Marchwarden once more!" The elves surrounding him nodded in agreement, their faith strong in their Lady of Light.
*********
Elsewhere…
*********
The first thing that Haldir noticed as he awoke was the darkness. Not blocking his sight- he wasn’t blind, but the darkness that he felt in the woods that the party of men was about to enter. He did not move, nor give any indication that he was awake. Peeking through his eyelids, and getting some idea of his surroundings, he deemed that they were about to enter Mirkwood, the realm of King Thranduil, at sunset. ‘Even if Lothlorien wasn’t on bad terms with Mirkwood, I would not enter these woods at sunset,’ he thought as he closed his eyes again. He smirked as he remembered what Orophin had said earlier, "I’m not sure which I’d rather take on--- King Thranduil or the famous Mirkwood spiders."
However, this small facial movement attracted the attention of his captors, and noticing that he was awake, dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. Halide’s muscles ached in protest, and as the knife wound in his back hit the earth, he could not help but let out a hiss. Malicious laughter rang out around him, and he tensed as one of the men, presumably the leader, ran a finger along the tip of his sensitive ear. "I’ve always wanted to do that," the man said, grinning. "That, and a few other things," he whispered as he leered at Haldir.
Haldir moved not a muscle, and said, "Auta miqula orqu". (Go kiss an orc)
The leader angrily pressed down on one of the arrows sticking out of the marchwarden’s arm. "You understand everything I’m saying, and I’d bet you know how to speak common too. I don’t want to hear any of that elvish crap come out of your mouth."
The pain was excruciating, and Haldir’s world was beginning to darken around him. The leader released the arrow, and his vision cleared; however, the previous dull ache from the arrow had now become a sharp stabbing. Defiantly, he spoke again, his voice getting louder and louder as he glanced at all of the men surrounding him, "Dolle naa lost! Amin feuya ten’ lle! Antolle ulua sulrim! Amin delotha lle! NADORHUANRIM!" (Your head is empty! You disgust me! Much wind pours from your mouth! I hate you! Cowardly dogs!)
The leader, not understanding a word, still had the sense to know that he was being insulted. "What did I tell you? You son of a bitch!" With that, he viciously twisted the arrow embedded in Haldir’s arm. Gleefully he watched as grimaces flashed across his captives’ face, and then pouted when he realized the elf had lost consciousness again.
"Oh why’d you do that boss? Now we have to wait until he wakes up to play with him!" whined one of the men standing behind the elf.
The leader straightened and glared at the man. "I am in charge. I say what we do, and when we do it. Right now, you should be preparing for camp." Glancing around he stopped on his largest and strongest men. "You three," he said pointing, "you guard the elf." He turned to leave.
"But sir, he’s unconscious, and wounded. He doesn’t need three of us to watch him," said the largest man, scratching his head in confusion. "Can’t just one of us do it?"
The leader sighed in exasperation. "You fool! How many men did we start out with? Huh? Out of forty, we now only are fifteen! That elf, that one elf, killed twenty-five of us! It took two arrows, a knife in the back, ropes, and the chloroform to actually subdue him! And you wan lea leave him with just one guard?! I don’t think so!" He stalked away from the campsite.
The three guards looked at each other. "He don’t gotta get so mad ‘bout it," said the second largest man. The others nodded in agreement. A sudden growl of frustration was heard as the leader continued to walk away, muttering about stupidity.
On the borders of Lothlorien…
*********
Bodies lay everywhere. Or to be more specific, the bodies oentyenty-five men. Five killed by silver knives, and twenty killed by arrows, for twenty was how many arrows filled the quiver of one of the Galadhrim. And it wasn’t just one of the Galadhrim who had been on patrolling this area—it was Haldir, their Marchwarden, and he never missed a shot.
His brother Rumil, sank to his knees. "He is not here… they have taken him!" he criee hae had heard of elves taken by men before. Most were never seen again, and the ones that returned had been tortured and violated.
"Fear not, Rumil," said Uruitëórëo, putting a slender arm around the grieving elf’s shoulders. "Let us return to Caras Galadhon. The Lady will be able to shed light on your brothers’ whereabouts. Her mirror will show us the way to him, and we will recover our courageous Marchwarden once more!" The elves surrounding him nodded in agreement, their faith strong in their Lady of Light.
*********
Elsewhere…
*********
The first thing that Haldir noticed as he awoke was the darkness. Not blocking his sight- he wasn’t blind, but the darkness that he felt in the woods that the party of men was about to enter. He did not move, nor give any indication that he was awake. Peeking through his eyelids, and getting some idea of his surroundings, he deemed that they were about to enter Mirkwood, the realm of King Thranduil, at sunset. ‘Even if Lothlorien wasn’t on bad terms with Mirkwood, I would not enter these woods at sunset,’ he thought as he closed his eyes again. He smirked as he remembered what Orophin had said earlier, "I’m not sure which I’d rather take on--- King Thranduil or the famous Mirkwood spiders."
However, this small facial movement attracted the attention of his captors, and noticing that he was awake, dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. Halide’s muscles ached in protest, and as the knife wound in his back hit the earth, he could not help but let out a hiss. Malicious laughter rang out around him, and he tensed as one of the men, presumably the leader, ran a finger along the tip of his sensitive ear. "I’ve always wanted to do that," the man said, grinning. "That, and a few other things," he whispered as he leered at Haldir.
Haldir moved not a muscle, and said, "Auta miqula orqu". (Go kiss an orc)
The leader angrily pressed down on one of the arrows sticking out of the marchwarden’s arm. "You understand everything I’m saying, and I’d bet you know how to speak common too. I don’t want to hear any of that elvish crap come out of your mouth."
The pain was excruciating, and Haldir’s world was beginning to darken around him. The leader released the arrow, and his vision cleared; however, the previous dull ache from the arrow had now become a sharp stabbing. Defiantly, he spoke again, his voice getting louder and louder as he glanced at all of the men surrounding him, "Dolle naa lost! Amin feuya ten’ lle! Antolle ulua sulrim! Amin delotha lle! NADORHUANRIM!" (Your head is empty! You disgust me! Much wind pours from your mouth! I hate you! Cowardly dogs!)
The leader, not understanding a word, still had the sense to know that he was being insulted. "What did I tell you? You son of a bitch!" With that, he viciously twisted the arrow embedded in Haldir’s arm. Gleefully he watched as grimaces flashed across his captives’ face, and then pouted when he realized the elf had lost consciousness again.
"Oh why’d you do that boss? Now we have to wait until he wakes up to play with him!" whined one of the men standing behind the elf.
The leader straightened and glared at the man. "I am in charge. I say what we do, and when we do it. Right now, you should be preparing for camp." Glancing around he stopped on his largest and strongest men. "You three," he said pointing, "you guard the elf." He turned to leave.
"But sir, he’s unconscious, and wounded. He doesn’t need three of us to watch him," said the largest man, scratching his head in confusion. "Can’t just one of us do it?"
The leader sighed in exasperation. "You fool! How many men did we start out with? Huh? Out of forty, we now only are fifteen! That elf, that one elf, killed twenty-five of us! It took two arrows, a knife in the back, ropes, and the chloroform to actually subdue him! And you wan lea leave him with just one guard?! I don’t think so!" He stalked away from the campsite.
The three guards looked at each other. "He don’t gotta get so mad ‘bout it," said the second largest man. The others nodded in agreement. A sudden growl of frustration was heard as the leader continued to walk away, muttering about stupidity.