Revenge

Chapter 4

Day 10

Aragorn tossed and turned in his sleep, haunting, destructive images plaguing his dreams.

Arwen rolled over and reached out to press a slim hand to his whiskered cheek. She pressed the palm of her hand against his skin, hoping that the pressure would wake him from his dream. When it didn’t work, she slid closer to him and pressed her body against his side.

“Estel,” She whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Estel?” She repeated and he whimpered in his sleep. “Elessar!” She raised her voice and called him by his crowned name and his eyes snapped open.

“Wha-what is it?” The cross-eyed look he gave her indicated that he would not understand even if she told him.

“Sit up and clear your mind. You were having a dream.” She used the bed linens to wipe his damp forehead. “Can you tell me what it was that you were seeing?”

Aragorn sighed and settled into the cushions. “I cannot see it clearly. Whatever it was, it frightened me far more than anything in my life.”

Arwen pressed herself against him and wrapped a protective arm across his waist. Settling her head on his shoulder, she turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “We will sleep close tonight and chase the dreams away together.”

Aragorn smiled and pulled her into his arms, settling back into the cushions with a soft sigh as her slim body pressed against him.

As they hovered on the edge of sleep, a piercing shrill cut through the air, startling them both awake. Before Aragorn could react, huge claws were pulling apart the wall that separated the royal chambers from the outside air.

Aragorn launched himself out of bed and unsheathed Anduril, its blade glinting off the additional moonlight being cast into the room. He pulled Arwen out of the bed, pushed her behind him and stood at the ready, waiting for the attackcomecome.

Royal guards rushed through the door at his call, readying their weapons in the drake’s direction.

The drake ripped through the wall and settled its clawed feet not far from where Aragorn stood pinned into a corner, a frightened Arwen clutching Aragorn’s elven hunting knife.

The guards advanced on the beast immediately in an attempt to clear a path so the King and Queen could make their escape.

One guard was sliced in half by a mighty claw, his body crumpling to the ground without a sound. The other guard stood in place, frozen, eyes wide and unable to move. He didn’t even lift his weapon to defend himself before the cold-drake struck him down.

More guards poured into the room and immediately attempted to stop the advancing drake.

Arwen cried a warning from behind her husband. “Do not look into its eyes! The spell it casts will render you immobile!”

The dragon hissed its displeasure at the Queen’s warning and spewed cold breath from its mouth toward the King and his wife. Aragorn raised Aurndil and the blade began to glow when the frigid breath touched its steel. The Flame of the West melted the frigid air the drake tossed toward its wielder.

Swords and staves bounced harmlessly off the tough dragons scales rendering the aid the royal guards were desperately trying to give their King useless.

“It’s belly and neck are its weakness!” Arwen cried and Aragorn launched himself toward the dragon’s underside.

“No!” Arwen cried and reached toward her husband, who was already well out of arms reach.

A large claw came up and jarred Aragorn’s path just enough so that his powerful thrust shoved Anduril into the dragons rigid scales instead of into his belly. The shock of steel meeting dragon scales jarred Aragorn’s arms so sharply and painfully that he nearly lost his grip on the blade.

More guards filed into the room, distracting the drake. Aragorn lifted his arms for another strike and this time, his blade found its mark between the sc. Th. The drake hissed in pain and screeched loud and long. It’s tail tore more rock from the walls, sending it crashing down on the people below. The drake purposely clawed at the rock surrounding the entrance to the King’s chambers, deliberately halting the royal guards rushing to their King’s aid.

Aragorn pulled Anduril from the creature’s flesh and prepared to thrust the steel into the drake’s exposed belly. A flailing claw-tipped hand caught the advancing Aragorn unawares and tossed him against a far wall. Anduril slipped from his grasp as he slid down the rock unconscious.

Arwen screamed and motioned for the guards to reach her husband before the drake made a meal of him. She rushed toward the drake and it turned its cold stare on her. Without Anduril’s heat to bear the brunt of the dragon’s breath, a cold mist began to envelop her body.

“No!” Arwen cried. She gripped her pendent in one hand and began chanting in the ancient language of the elves – calling on the power of the Evenstar to come to her aid. The evening star glowed bright in her hand and began to warm her chilled flesh.

Guards began to file around her but the dragon’s breath froze them where they stood.

The drake made quick deaths of the few guards left standing around the unconscious Aragorn. The drake turned once more toward Arwen, who was still calling upon the power of the starlight encased in her pendant, and hissed its frigid breath toward her once more. She began to shiver as slivers of cold slipped through the Evenstar’s net of protection. The drake howled its displeasure before pulling Aragorn into its arms and stepping out of the ruined bedchamber. It’s wings expanded and it began to fly toward the mountains – taking the King of the West with it.

Arwen trembled in exhaustion. Ice formed in her hair and she shivered from the biting cold that had settled into her bones. Her remaining strength gave way and she slid down the wall to her knees, looking absently at the death and destruction littered around her. She could hear the cries and the relentless pounding of the stone on the other side of the collapsed door but had no energy to answer their call or move to help.

It was several minutes before Aldamir and more guards were able to dig themselves a small hole to crawl through.

The King’s advisor surveyed the damage left behind, gasping at the carnage that surrounded him. He raced to Arwen’s aid, leaping over bodies and stone to reach her before she collapsed completely. She leaned into his arms as he knelt beside her and he gasped at how cold her skin felt.

“Get me a wrap! Quickly!” he ordered and began to frantically rub at her arms.

“It took him,” Arwen whispered.

Aldamir gazed around the ruined chamber, eyes finally coming to rest on Anduril as it lay covered in debris. It’s wielder nowhere to be found.

“That creature took Aragorn?” Aldamir choked, looking down to Arwen for confirmation.

“Yes.” She breathed as a chill raced down her spine. “He was unconscious and-“ her teeth chattered and she trembled in Aldamir’s arms. “And the creature just lifted him in its arms and flew away.”

Aldamir closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer for the safety of the City and it’s people.


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The Camberlain paced nervously at the foot of the Queen’s bed, watching the healers care for the unconscious woman.

“She will be well,” the healer pulled the covers up to Arwen’s neck and tucked her in. “Her body temperature is returning to normal. I have given her a potion to help her sleep.”

“I need to know as soon as she wakes.” Aldamir asked. “She is the only one likely to live through this attack. I need to know what happened.”

“Yes, M’Lord,” The elderly woman cast a sad look toward the other filled beds in the healing house. Most of the men were already dead, the others unconscious and not expected to wake.

“We must go after them!” Gimli charged into the room, oblivious to the sleeping Queen behind Aldamir.

When the Chamberlain moved to intercept the enraged Dwarf, the glare the diminutive warrior gave the man caused him to step back in fear for his life.

“I know, Gimli,” Aldamir sighed and seeing the Chamberlain’s disgusted look, escorted the upset Dwarf out of the healing chamber. “But until the Queen wakes, our hands are tied.”

The Chamberlain settled himself by the Queen’s bedside as Aldamir escorted the Dwarf out the doors.

“People for leagues in every direction watched this creature fly away!” Gimli gripped his axe like a vice, ready to pound in a head or three. “It is no secret as to where this beast has fled!”

“And if we chase it without knowing what to expect, we might as well jump from the tower of Ecthelion with nothing to break our fall.” Legolas strode down the hallway, two tall, dark-haired elves following.

“Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris,” Legolas began the introductions, “ Aldamir, Captain of this city in the King’s absence. You know Gimli.”

“We do,” the eldest twin nodded.

“Welcome to Arnor, Lords,” Aldamir bowed respectfully. “I’m sorry we have not the time to welcome you properly.”

“How is our sister?” Elrohir dispensed with the formalities, uninterested in such trivial matters.

“She sleeps comfortably. We are not certain how she survived when all others in the chamber were killed.”

Aldamir led them to an adjacent chamber, one where they could speak together privately. The twins warred with wanting to see for their own eyes that their sister was indeed safe and the desire to see her sleep comfortably. They chose the later and were satisfied when Aldamir led them to a room not far from where their sister lay.

“If this was, indeed, a cold-drake, as Legolas has informed us, then we believe she called upon the power of the Evenstar, the evening star, to protect her.” Elladan took the proffered seat.

“Anduril, being elven and containing both the power and spirit of the sun and the moon, should have been able to prevent Aragorn from succumbing to the dragon’s breath.” Elrohir continued, taking a seat next to his brother.

Aldamir nodded in agreement. “We have Anduril. Aragorn dropped it when he was taken. The queen bears the pendant.”

Gimli paced the length of the table, while Legolas and Aldamir took seats across from the twins.

“We were riding North when we came across the King’s messenger and bade him tell us his message.” Elrohir explained to Aldamir, who’s unvoiced question could be heard quite clearly by the twins.

“But we don’t know if Aragorn lives. All Arwen was able to relay is that he had been taken and that he was unconscious when the dragon carried him away.” Aldamir sighed deeply. “We won’t know more until the Queen wakes.”

“If whoever has done this wanted Aragorn dead, he would have been killed in the chamber with the royal guard.” Elrohir stated.

“Then they want him for ransom.” Gimli stated, as if he knew the reason for Aragorn’s capture.

“I fear it will be far from that simple.” Aldamir sighed.


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Day 11

Darkness had fallen by the time Arwen woke from her drug-induced slumber. She sat bolt upright in her bed, trembling from a dream that soaked her bedclothes.

The Chamberlain had been excused from his vigil at tueenueen’s bedside by her brothers, something for which Arwen would later thank them.

Elrohir caught her in his arms and cradled her to his chest, murmuring words of comfort in her ears.

Arwen’s eyes went wide at the sight of her brother, but did not question how he had come to be there. Her mind focused on her husband, and the fact that he was not by her side.

“We need to know everything you can tell us.” Elladan walked in with a cup of steaming tea and pressed it to his sister’s lips. “If we are to mount an effective rescue, we must know what we are up against.”

“A cold-drake.” Arwen swallowed the steaming liquid before settling weakly back into the cushions. “It was fairly small so it must still be young. It has learned how to use its breath, however. It killed many before taking Estel.”

“Did he use Anduril to combat the breath?”

“Yes.”

The twins breathed a visible sigh of relief. “So he could still live?”

“It is my belief the creature wanted to capture Estel, or else he would have been killed.”

The twins nodded. “It is as we thought as well.”

“We have sent messengers to bring warriors from Imladris and Lorien.” Elrohir informed his sister. “There won’t be many, but they will at least help to replace what Arnor has lost.”

“Thank you.” Arwen squeezed her brother’s hands, comforted by their mere presence.

After a few moments of silence, she stared at them with tear-filled eyes. “Bring him back to me, El. Please.”

The twins wrapped their sister in their protective embrace and whispered soothing words to her in their native tongue. After a time, she leaned back into the bed cushions and fell into a tea-induced sleep.


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Aragorn groaned as he began to regain consciousness. It was dark and he had no sense of the time that had passed. He was sore, every muscle hurt, and he could feel several bones in his wrist that had been twisted badly. A small fire flickered in one corner of the cave and the King blinked, trying to focus on the cloaked figure sitting beside it. He was obviously no longer in Annuminas and he struggled to clear his thoughts from the fuzzy haze of unconsciousness.

The wind howled outside, bringing with it small flakes of snow. A chill settled into Aragorn’s bones and he trembled. He was shirtless, and wore only his sleep pants. His feet were bare and he trembled from the chill. Aragorn winced, realizing that he had been carried far up into the snow-encrusted mountains.

“You would be wise to move closer to the fire if you do not wish to freeze,” Came the voice from the work-table.

Aragorn attempted to stand but groaned as he put pressure on his leg. It buckled beneath him and he fell, forcing him to crawl toward the fire.

“Who are you?” He asked slowly. “What do you want with me?”

The cloaked figure laughed and turned slowly toward the King. “You, King Elessar, will give me the power to destroy Middle Earth.”

Aragorn raised an amused eyebrow at the figure. “I will? I have no more power in Middle Earth than does any other man.”

“That is where you are wrong, Ingaran”* The stranger stood and Aragorn caught his breath.

The man smiled from beneath the hooded cloak that shrouded all but his eyes and very pronounced nose. “I see that you recognize me.”

“Your kind have departed over the Sea.”

“No, Elessar, there remain still three of us who have not yet returned to the prison that is Valinor.”

Aragorn blinked. “The only mystery remains is which one of the three Istari you are.”

The cloaked figure moved closer to where Aragorn sat, fingering an intricately carved box.

Aragorn glanced at the box and, recognizing it for what it was, pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. “You have no right to the Elendilmir, I demand that you return it to Annuminas immediately.”

“You are in a position to demand very little, King Elessar.” The voice deepened and when the wizard dropped the hood shrouding his head, Aragorn coughed back a gasp.

The face that greeted him was no more than a shell. The wizard’s skin was sunken and stretched, his fingers long and bony. “I see that whatever evil you practice has taken its toll.” Aragorn taunted.

A shadow obscured the moonlight then and Aragorn turned to see the cold-drake stalking towards him. The cave’s mouth was large enough for the young dragon to fit its entire body but further toward the back, only its torso would fit. It swung a clawed hand at Aragorn, swiping the King off his feet before he could move out of the way. He hit the ground with a hard thud that jarred his teeth and further bruised broken bones.

“Speak no malice to my Master, human!” The dragon hissed and Aragorn’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, Elessar, my pet here can speak.” The wizard approached where Aragorn lay. “Now, you will help me release the power in the gem.”

“Then kill me now, for I will never help one such as you.”

The wizard lifted his staff and swung it toward Aragorn, who could never have anticipated the invisible blow that struck his stomach with enough force to suck the breath from his lungs. Aragorn groaned and curled into himself to avoid another blow. The next one came as a stinging slam into his back and side. He could feel ribs breaking beneath the invisible strike and winced in pain, eyes slipping shut to stop the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“You will call upon the power of the Elendilmir, heir of Isildur, of the line of Numenor!” The wizard cried, “Or you will die a slow and painful death.”

“No!” Aragorn gritted as another blow struck him across the chest. He coughed blood and winced as a sharp pain lanced through his chest and down his arm.

The wizard waved back his dragon and raised his hand, and staff, toward Aragorn. The King’s eyes went wide as his throat began to constrict, making it difficult to breathe. His body was lifted off the ground and tossed against the wall, his back impacting with the hard stone.

Aragorn groaned as his body slid to the ground and the wizard smiled. “There are ways to make you speak, Elessar. I have but to find your breaking point.”

Aragorn’s head lolled to one side, consciousness fading with each breath. Before the next blow drove him into unconsciousness, Aragorn’s last thoughts faded to Arwen and the safety he hoped she had found somewhere in Annuminas.


*Quenya for ‘High-King’