Eglan (Forsaken)

Title: Eglan (Forsaken) CT5
Author: Iamme & Belle Bayard
Type: FPGen
Cast: Haldir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It’s not mine it belongs to Tolkien and Dumas.
Warnings: Mention of character death, and possibly actual character death later on (not Hal) angst, mental anguish, wrongful imprisonment, and lashings. Not Canon!!!
Beta:Alex
Summary: Haldir finds himself wrongfully accused and imprisoned for an Elf’s murder. Based loosely on Alexander Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo
Author's Notes: This is a story also based loosely on a RP I have done with both Mirasaui and Hockeygrl. Also thank you to Belle Bayard for the title.

As the Men rowed toward the sea cave, darkness descended. Haldir smelled the slime and the stench of prisoners held in the dank cavern. Even now, he could feel the heavy weight of despair the whole place generated. Far above, in the warden’s office, Eöl scowled and pushed the letter to one side of his desk. Yet another victim of circumstance would soon arrive. He had seen the wretched creature as he approached in the small boat and his lips twisted in a cruel smile. Another to share in the pain and misery that had become his life.

The Men lifted Haldir roughly out of the boat and pushed him onto the shore. Swiftly, they returned to the boat and left him waiting, shaking in fear. The guards moved forward from the shadows, pulling Haldir along to march up the narrow stone steps. Torches lit the way, the greasy smoke making the air even heavier. At last, after many twists and turns, they finally arrived at their destination. A heavy door, bound with metal reinforcement, swung open to reveal the occupant. Eöl looked up, a frightful smile on his face.

Eöl rose and strode toward the blond Elf. He peered at the features, and despite the grime and nondescript clothing, he detected a mingling of Sindar and Silvan. "Well, well... What have we here? Aye, I am an Elf, one you may have heard of in tales told to frighten children." He leered at his prisoner. "I am Eöl and you are..." The dark Elf turned to the desk, retrieving the letter he had received. "Haldir, formerly of Lorien. Welcome to Tol Eglan, the place Elves who have become... inconvenient... are sent."

"What do you mean? I have done nothing! I am an innocent Elf!"

Eöl smirked. "Oh, but I know that. All those that come to Tol Eglan are innocent. 'Tis those that cause others shame that come to reside in these walls, not those who have truly committed some horrible deed." *Excepting myself, of course.*

"I have done nothing to anyone! I was sleeping in my bed! I killed no one! I did nothing to hurt anyone. Why would they send me here?"

Eöl shrugged. "'Tis of no import at this point. Shall we show you to your new quarters?"

Haldir tried to back away, but his weakened state did not allow it and they soon had him up and moving once more through the grimy hallways

Eöl took up a lantern and moved past the newest addition to his collection. He chuckled as he did so, contemplating the wounds he would inflict on this proud, innocent one. Fire still shone in those hazel eyes and that would not do. He would see this one beaten down properly until he no longer cared if he lived or died. They arrived at the barren stone cell that would become Haldir's world, the door creaking open on its hinges. He moved into the room, lighting the wall where the previous occupant had scratched something into the stone. 'The Valar will give me justice.' Eöl shook his head. "Amazing. Some take to such methods, scratching off the days to keep track of how long they have been here. Never fear. On the anniversary of your arrival each year, we will give you reminders of the time passed."

“But for now..." He gestured to the guards who roughly pushed Haldir against the back wall, then attached manacles to his wrists. "A little welcoming present." With a terrifying smile, he had the guards pull the chain, wrenching Haldir's arms above his head until he stood on his toes.

Haldir looked over his shoulder to see the dangerous looking whip in Eöl's hand and his heart dropped to his stomach as the guards rolled his shirt up. Helpless, he could only wait for the first blow to fall.

Eöl’s lips drew back from his teeth in a feral snarl. He did *so* enjoy this part of his job. It even made up for his own pain of returning to Arda for such a place. Tossed out of the Halls of Waiting to become keeper of souls such as this! He struck and struck that flawless skin until it ran red. Only the subtle shuffle of feet brought him back to awareness. He must not lose control completely. With a nod to the others, he had Haldir lowered to the ground, though not gently. With a nearly maniacal laugh, he turned to depart. "Again, welcome to Tol Eglan. See you next year."

Haldir lay on the stone floor shivering. He looked around the small room. A pan for food and a bucket for bodily needs and a small window and trap door, which his food would be delivered through, was now his whole world. He sat back thoughts of what his brothers must be thinking. Would they believe the accusations? He looked at the words on the wall and knowing he had to do something to keep from going mad he began to trace the letters. It would be his duty day after day till the Valar freed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lord Celeborn waited in his office for Rúmil and Orophin to arrive. He kept the small bundle of clothes next him wrapped in his own cloak. Haldir's sword lay next to all that remained of the disgraced Elf’s existence in this world. All hidden so as not to alarm the former Marchwarden’s brothers.

Orophin and Rúmil hurried toward the palace talan, fear in their hearts. Haldir had left for Imladris nearly a year ago and they had heard nothing more from him. Now this summons from their lord.

Celeborn stood and looked sorrowfully at them, "Rúmil, Orophin… please sit."

With sinking hearts, the brothers did as their lord bid them. Orophin, the younger, spoke up. "What news of Haldir, my Lord? Rúmil and I worry about him so."

"I am afraid I have the worst kind of news to deliver. While in Imladris, Haldir killed an Elf, Saelbeth of Mirkwood, in a fit of rage. For what reason, we never discovered. On the journey to his place of imprisonment, a party of Orcs ambushed the group, killing several, your brother among them. " Celeborn sat the clothes and the bloodstained sword on the desk. He looked down and swallowed hard. "All three of you have been as sons to me... Haldir... We buried what remained of him beside the road. Were it not for his clothes and hair, I would not have known it was him.”

Orophin and Rúmil sat silently in their shock. Their beloved brother had become a Kinslayer? Disbelief warred with their anguish. In their entire lives, they had never seen Haldir lose control of his temper to such an extent. Yet... How could they refute the words of their Lord? And then, to meet such an end, bound and helpless to defend himself!

Orophin remained still, though Rúmil bit his fist to keep from wailing. How could this be? Stoically, Orophin rose, tugging at Rúmil. ""Where is his body, my Lord? Rúmil and I would at least see his grave," Orophin managed, his voice thick with unshed tears. “We would journey to where he lay, if you will give us leave. Though he may have fallen from grace, his is... was our brother, our kin, and we still love him."

"I will grant you a three month leave to do so. I cannot afford to sacrifice you for long as I have just lost my best Marchwarden. I am sorry, but with his crime as Kinslayer, we could not bury him here. He lays just outside of Calprass pass, closest to Imladris." Celeborn handed the brothers Haldir’s belongings, and then addressed the next issue. "Orophin, I see no reason to hold your brother's actions against your family. With Haldir no longer among us, you have become our best. Would you act as my new captain?"

Swallowing his sorrow, Orophin bowed, accepting the commission. "Aye, my Lord, though I would have Rúmil as my lieutenant. Ever have we worked well together."

"So be it then. I give you this time to grieve, as your brother will likely never be reunited with you. ‘Tis a tragedy for all involved. "

Orophin nodded, thanking Celeborn for his consideration of their sorrow, then touched Rúmil's shoulder. "Let us go, brother. We have little time to seek out Haldir's resting place and return to take up our duties."

Orophin and Rúmil bowed to Celeborn, their right fists over their hearts. With heavy feet, they returned to the talan they had shared with their brother. In silence, they packed, words unnecessary between them. Though they had no reason to doubt what their lord told them, something bothered Orophin. He grimly determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it meant going beyond Calprass pass to the very heart of Imladris.

With nothing but the briefest explanations to their fellow Galadhrim, Orophin and Rúmil left Lorien. Both sensed something wrong in the tale Lord Celeborn told them. Caras Galadhon should have hummed with the news, but instead an almost unnatural hush lingered over the city. They rode hard, putting their home behind them in record time, their Elvish steeds willingly pushing themselves as they sensed their rider’s grief. The roads, wet and muddy, slowed them some, but still they pressed on until they reached Calprass, the mountain pass still sporting drifts of snow.

Three weeks passed before they came to the spot Celeborn had marked on their map. Off to one side of the road, a small stone marker stood, looking out of place in the barren landscape. Orophin and Rúmil dismounted, kneeling to read the crudely scratched inscription. ‘Here lies Haldir, former Marchwarden of Lothlorien. Kinslayer of Saelbeth of Mirkwood.’ Some animal had dug it up, scattering the remains from the too shallow grave. The bones lay about the ground here and there. Nothing discernable except a few fingers, the larger parts most likely dragged off for consumption.

Orophin wept unashamedly at the sight, grieving that their beloved brother would come to such an end. Though his *fea* might walk the Halls of Waiting, no Elf should have his *hroa* desecrated in such a way. Grimly, he searched the area, looking for something that would truly prove this body belonged to Haldir and not some other poor creature.

Rúmil knelt at the grave, his tears falling as he looked among the disturbed earth. His eyes picked up the glint of pale gold among the forest detritus. Stooping, he retrieved a long hank of hair, the color matching his and his brother’s. "Orophin!" he cried out, clutching the now dull hair. Though dirty, none could mistake the original hue.

Orophin hurried to Rúmil, questions on his lips until he saw what his brother held. Together, they retrieved what they could find of Haldir, placing the pieces in a sack to carry to a safer place. Hope no longer resided in them that the eldest of them still lived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days felt endless in this hell. Haldir spent hours scratching in the stone, eating a small bit of swill, and trying to sleep. The latter he found nearly impossible on the cold stone floor with nothing to comfort him. The clothing he had come with had long since become threadbare. He could not remember the last time he felt clean. Sometimes his previous life seemed a beautiful dream he had awoken from to a place of torment that he could not escape. He longed to walk the Halls of Mandos, but something held him here. Relentlessly, the seasons passed, only the yearly visits from his tormentor giving him any sense of time.

Eöl watched Haldir each year, surprised that the fire had not died in those remarkable eyes. Instead of weakening, it appeared the solitude and hopelessness of Haldir's situation had only shown his resilience. Others came, but none like Haldir. These pitiful creatures often faded within months of their confinement, unable to bear the lack of fresh air, earth, and the trees about them. It puzzled Eöl to no end why Haldir should survive when these others did not.

Time ticked on for ninety-eight years. With no sense of whether snow fell or the summer heat baked the land outside, Haldir let the stone fall from his hands. The Valar had not delivered him. He felt hopeless and he wondered if he would ever set sight on his brothers or anything to do with home again. He could no longer take the isolation. In desperation, he fashioned a crude rope from his shirt, secured it to one of the iron rings, and then tied it around his neck. He tried pulling on one end to hang himself, but found he did not have the heart nor the strength to do so effectively. Gagging and gasping for breath, he fell to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oropher had made his calculations and as he moved up, he felt the earth give above him. He cautiously pushed upward, his heart sinking as he took in stone walls. Turning, he came face to face with the occupant of this other cell. He shook off the dirt, and then hauled himself up to sit on the edge of the tunnel he had hewn with makeshift tools. "Well, it looks as if I miscalculated," he muttered, then laughed at himself.

Haldir backed away the shirt still tied about his neck "Did I die? Is this Mandos?"

Oropher laughed again, in genuine amusement. "Valar, no! Would that it was! At least then, we would have a chance at rebirth. Nay, lad, 'tis Tol Eglan, the prison where those in power send those of us that become a problem."

"I am no problem... I am a warrior…"

Oropher shook his head. "Then somehow, you have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone needed you out of the way." He shrugged. "Perhaps two minds can ferret what one cannot. I have no problem knowing who and what sent me into this place." He looked down at his tunnel. "Come, join me in my cell. Just being able to move about a bit seems like a little more freedom."

Haldir knew what would happen if a guard caught them, but he could not resist the chance and he followed the Elf down. "You look familiar."

Oropher chuckled. "I doubt you were alive during the Last Alliance, but then again..." He waited until they reached his cell, and then helped the other Elf up. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Oropher, once king of Eryn Lasgalen, now king of what you see here. I made the mistake of objecting to Gil-galad's strategy, or lack thereof. Hence, my son and several others decided I should... die. Well, rather than turning Kinslayer, they drugged me and had me dragged off and locked up here." He shrugged. "I've been working on that tunnel the last fifty years, after I grew bored of pacing a rut in the stones of my cell. I considered every angle and decided one of two ways would get me to the surface." With a self-deprecating smile, he shook his head. "Obviously, I chose the wrong way."

"Oropher... King Oropher... How? Why? I mean... Oropher is dead..."

Oropher could not help his laughter, but he soon sobered. "Aye, 'tis what my rebellious son and others would have the world believe. They staged my death, though the reality of the loss of life among my people was no charade. That I truly regret. Though I sustained a grievous injury, I did not die. Those who acted against me made it appear thusly, but instead of returning to the Greenwood Great, they took me here. I awoke to these walls and the tender ministrations of Eöl and his lackeys."

"Your own son? King Thranduil? I would have never guessed."

Oropher sighed. "Nay, I did not believe him capable of such a thing, but he proved himself more ambitious than I gave him credit for." A golden eyebrow rose above the emerald eyes. "And what might *your* story be, lad? You look to be of Silvan or Sindarin background, yet not one of Eryn Lasgalen's folk."

"I had gone to Imladris on a mission for Lord Celeborn... They say I killed an Elf, Saelbeth of Mirkwood. I would never do that! I was Marchwarden of Lothlorien’s Northern Fences! My father was Marchwarden of Lothlorien. It is in my blood to serve my Lord. He said he believed me, yet he sent me here."

Oropher frowned, nodding. "Hmm... We must think this out. There must be a reason why someone would accuse you of this and find ways to make you appear guilty."

"They found the clothing in my room, my sword covered in his blood. I was asleep when Glorfindel came for me."

"Think back to what happened before you went to sleep. Where were you and what do you remember about the things around you?" Oropher probed.

"I had dinner in the gardens…then walked in the woods for a bit. I found a pond to bathe in before I returned to my rooms and went to bed as I was exhausted. "

Oropher gnawed on his lower lip, considering what Haldir told him. "Well, it's not as though we don't have time to work this out." He rose. "I have a proposition for you. If we dig together, I will teach you anything you wish. Though you must be a warrior of some renown, given your former position, there must still be *something* I can impart to you."

"I am sure there is something a King could teach a mere soldier."

Oropher grinned. "Well, I would be more than happy to teach you about governing a realm, economy, strategy beyond the scope of protecting one's home."

"That might be useful. And I could also use some practice. I have been unable to do so for longer than I can remember."

Clapping Haldir on his shoulder, Oropher indicated the tunnel. "Well then, we shall begin with we have at hand."

Haldir nodded. "It is a tunnel."

Oropher had to laugh again. "Aye, it is. And in the wrong direction for us to gain our freedom. What say you we begin on the other side and do our best to get shed of this hole?"

"I would like that.”