Revenge

Chapter 5

Day 12

Aragorn was chained to one of the far walls with steel ripped from his own dungeons. The man was still sleeping off the effects of the last blow that had rendered him unconscious. The Istar had taken pity on the man and had not woken him for more painful interrogations. He instead chose to let the King regain a bit of his lost strength.

His norenorean blood would allow him to heal a bit faster than a normal man, but it had been so diluted over the centuries that it would probably be of little good to the King.

The wizard watched the sleeping man carefully. His dark features and prominent facial structure bore the distinct mark of Numenor. You could not mistake this man as a member of that bloodline.

Were it any other time, any other circumstance, the Istar would not choose to involve himself in the affairs of men. But, he could conceivably be the most powerful being in Middle-Earth. And with the power of the Elendilmir, he could return to Valinor and destroy the evil bastards that had sent him here all those centuries ago.

Rage boiled the Istar’s blood. The others who had crossed the sea had been eager to come to Middle-Earth. But he, he had not the interest in being separated from his people, those he loved.

He glanced down at Aragorn, a look of contempt growing in his eyes.

The King had everything he wanted. A kingdom, a people who loved him, a beautiful elven wife – and for the life of him he could not understand why she had chosen to give up her mortality for a mortal man – and a strength of will outmatched by any who had come before.

Graulwg snorted from the vicinity of the cave entrance, his large eyes watching the goings-on’s within the cave with great inte.
.

“Be watchful, my friend,” the wizard instructed his young charge. “If given any chance, this one will try to escape.”

“He would find the outside much more troublesome than sitting here in the cold cave,” the drake answered with a small hint of a smile.

“Indeed, he must be quite cold.” The wizard glanced down at the unconscious man, bare to the waist and bearing evidence of a painful beating across his torso. “The elements will break him should I fail.” he Ihe Istar dropped a ragged piece of cloth onto the unconscious king that would serve as a tunic for the timebeing.

Eventually, the Istar smiled, the material would be beaten from his shors. rs.

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“The longer we delay, the more danger Estel is in!” Arwen growled at the newly formed war council and she pinned each member to their seat with a harsh glare. “I will not sit here and discuss matters in a committee when my husband has been kidnapped like some child for reasons as yet unknown to us!”

“He has been taken by a cold-drake,” Elrohir moved to his sister’s side and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We have many clues as to where he may have taken Aragorn, but – until we know for sure, we cannot deplete our manpower by sending a small army in every direction.”

“We need to get him back – “ Arwen faltered, fear growing with every minute that Aragorn was not at her side.

“We will. We must be sure before we mount an attack that could get him killed.” Elladan spoke softly, calmly, his rage at this audacity buried just below the surface of his emotions.

“Scouts will be returning any time now,” Aldamir said, leaning across the table. “Then we can formulate a plan of action.”

“We already know he was taken into the mountains. But where exactly is the question.” Legolas offered. “A flying beast is difficult to track.”

Arwen nodded and then closed her eyes as a wave of nausea threatened to bring up what little she’d eaten since her husband’s capture. She swayed and clutched the end of the table, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Elladan was the first to notice this change and was on his feet beside his sister immediately. “What is it?” A comforting hand slid around her arm to keep her from falling over.

“Fear that my husband is going to be killed before we have the change to mount a rescue attempt,” Arwen snapped and stalked out of the room.

The men looked at her suspiciously but the current situation did not give leave for further reflection and so they continued with their discussions.

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“I want you to stop for no one except the recipient of this message,” Arwen said quietly to the royal messenger. “It is imperative that this reach him today. With my directions, you will be able to find the location without much trouble.”

“Yes, My Lady,” The messenger bowed deeply and stuffed the hand-written message into his leather vest and bound it shut.

“Please stress to him that his presence is of utmost urgency. I need him here immediately.”

“I will not return unless he accompanies me.”

“Very good,” Arwen fought back another wave of nausea and forced a smile. “Thank you. Now ride fast and hard.”

The guard bowed and flew out of the castle on his errand, breezing past even the most noble men without so much as a nod.

Arwen sighed deeply and closed her eyes. The nausea had been getting worse since Aragorn had been captured. But she pushed her health to the side so that she could concentrate on getting her husband back from the clutches of that vile creature and its Master.

When she turned from the steps, she heard commotion below. Her eyes widened to see a host of elven warriors riding through the fourth gate, at their head the Lord of Lorien –Celeborn.

Arwen’s eyes widened and she rushed down the steps to greet her grandfather.

No sooner had he dismounted had Arwen flung herself into his arms.

“Grandfather!”

Celeborn wrapped protective arms around his granddaughter and held her tightly. “My Lady,” he whispered as his men dismounted. “All will be well. A royal messenger was sent to us. Where is Aragorn? We must speak immediately.”

Arwen’s eyes lowered and she began to feel the nausea overtake her. “He’s gone.”

“What?” Celeborn blinked, unable to fathom what could possibly take the King from his kingdom with a cold-drake on the loose.

“The drake clawed into our chambers and took him.” When Arwen lifted her eyes there were tear’s pooled in their depths waiting to be released.

Celeborn took a deep breath and held his granddaughter close. “We will get him back, Arwen. I promise you.”

A few moments later he held her at arms length. “I must speak with his second, then. I do not believe Faramir made the journey with you from Gondor?”

“No.” Arwen answered. “But I believe Estel sent a message to him after our first encounter with the drake.”

“The news will be difficult to contain once that messenger reaches Gondor.” Celeborn sighed. “Faramir will need to remain and keep the army on alert.”

“The messenger was given strict-”

“Yes, yes, this is true. But a lone King’s messenger riding frantically toward any destination is bound to turn some heads, as it did ours.” Celeborn wrapped his arm around her waist and allowed her to lead him inside.

Behind them, Haldir and the rest of the men followed a Ranger toward the stables where they could rest their weary horses.


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“You’ve rested long enough.” The wizard raised his staff and swung it in a wide arc. To any trained eye, he was not close enough to Aragorn to strike him but this was no ordinary brawl.

Aragorn recoiled as if the staff had struck him across the face. Blood pooled at the corner of already cut and bruised lips and the King doubled over fighting to stay conscious.

“You are foolish for withholding this information from me.” The wizard glared down at Aragorn.

The King was curled into a ball in an attempt to ward off the invisible talons that began to squeeze the breath from his lungs. When the grip loosened and Aragorn could take a breath, the wizard laughed.

Before Aragorn had a chance to look up, a large clawed hand sailed toward his chest and impacted so hard against his shoulder that he could feel bones snap. He cried out in pain at the unexpected attack and rolled away, gripping his arm.

“Let me take a bite out of him, Master.” The drake hissed, its large eyes blinking slowly as it watched Aragorn crawl out of its reach.

“Soon, my friend,” the wizard assured. “Very soon.”

Aragorn leaned over and closed his eyes. The pain from earlier injuries had subsided but now the pain from broken bones in his arm and shoulder blocked out all thought - what was it that the wizard wanted again?

The drake stalked closer, its claws tapping the stone beneath them as it walked.

Aragorn pushed himself to his feet and attempted to stand back from the blow he could anticipate was about to be launched. But he did not expect the movement to be so quick that he could not see from what direction it came. The claws ripped into his skin as an anguished cry tore from his lips. The weight from the impact tossed him into the wall and there he slid down the rock, groaning as he watched fresh, warm blood soak the ragged tunic he’d been given to cover his torso.

“Enough!” the wizard stepped between the two and Aragorn breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“I want you to go back to Annuminas and fetch the Queen.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened.

“If he will not reveal the secrets of the stone, then I will find other ways to persuade him.”

“No!” Aragorn grunted in pain as he pushed himself to his feet and launched his weary body at the wizard.

But the wizard had anticipated the wounded man’s movement and rammed the end of his staff into the King’s stomach. Aragorn fell over, gasping for air as he realized the blow had broken another rib. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips and he coughed.

Consciousness began to fade just as searing heat began to envelop his body and he turned wide eyes on the wizard standing a few feet away. The Istar had created a fire from the stone and it burned bright and hot next to Aragorn, warming the chill from his body.

A wooden plate slid across the floor into Aragorn’s leg and he glanced dispassionately at it. The food smelled good but the King was too weak to bend over to take a piece of the warm meat.

“Eat, Elessar. You need to keep up your strength.” The wizard laughed as he went back to his table.

Aragorn’s eyes crossed and his vision blurred as he reached toward the food. As a finger curled around the tender meat, he found that he didn’t even have the strength to lift it to his lips.

He fell unconscious beside the fire, the tender meat cradled in his hand to be eaten later.