Eglan (Forsaken)

Title: Eglan (Forsaken) Ct.6
Authors: Iamme and Belle
Type: FPGen
Cast: Haldir
Rating: NC-17
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. Torture (Please pay heed to this warning. It is however critical to the later plot line.) , Violence, AU (If this is not your cup of tea then you might search for something more to your taste.) If you find any of the things above then you should not proceed on.
Beta: Alex the nicest beta in the world
Summary: Haldir finds himself wrongfully accused and imprisoned for an Elf’s murder. Who hates him so much that he or she would kill another Elf and blame it on him? 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.


The days passed, but they did not seem as bad as before. Now both Elves had a purpose and someone with which to share time. Haldir and Oropher spent their nights in discussions of politics and what it took to govern a realm. They spent them in stories of their past and sharing of many secrets.

"You see, Haldir, Gil-Galad did not get the best hand after all," Oropher pointed out during one of their talks.

Haldir looked confused. “Why do you say this?”

“Because I only have to face Eöl. He has to face the Valar, who know his crimes, and I did manage to hide a good bit of the wealth I acquired. Much more than the others realized. I have the map right here.” Oropher pulled out the old piece of leather and showed it to the former Marchwarden. “It will serve us well to begin again when we get out of here.”

Haldir snorted. “I just want revenge.”

Carefully folding the leather map, Oropher sighed. “Do not stoop to their level, my young friend. It will do no good. Get out of here, find your family, and rebuild your life.”

“I am a Kinslayer, remember?” Haldir replied with a shake of his head. “A dead Kinslayer at that. No one would believe me over a group of Elf lords.”

Holding up a finger, Oropher grinned. “Ahhh… Unless you can prove why they would want to set you up.”

“I have tried, but I can not figure it out,” Haldir retorted, rising to pace.

Oropher smiled. “I think if you tried now you could put it together, use the logic you have learned. Tell me the facts once more.”

“I had gone to Imladris with Lord Celeborn. After about a week, I retired to my quarters and went to sleep. I awoke to pounding on my door. When I rose, those at my door found all the evidence that I had committed a crime in my room.”

Oropher gave a mental nudge. “And your accusers?”

“Lord Elrond, Master Erestor, and Lord Celeborn,” Haldir replied flatly.

Oropher gave another nod. “Now, think of who they would all have an interest in protecting? You were a highly regarded officer, so it had to be someone more important than you. Someone they felt that sacrificing you was worth.”

Haldir turned to face Oropher, fury in his eyes. “No… NO!” Haldir slammed his fist into the wall. “I will make them pay!! All of them!!”

Oropher said nothing as the Elf raged. Even in such anger, Haldir remained ever mindful of their situation and what would happen if anyone realized what they attempted.

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

The next two years crept by slowly, but at a progressive pace despite the never-ending sameness of each day. Eöl’s visits always evoked a dark side to the imprisonment, but Oropher had warned him that every hundred years something terrible waited. He told Haldir he had experienced it enough since his arrival to know it would turn out the same for him.

Once Haldir’s stay reached a century in length, his cell door opened, the Elf from his nightmares walking in with two guards. They quickly hung Haldir from the ceiling by his hands, removing the remains of his shirt and tossing it to the floor.

“Ah, Haldir… You have been here one hundred years, though it seems only yesterday that you arrived. At least, it seems that way for me. However, I would like to do something extra special for you to remember this day,” Eöl said with a grin, and then stepped back. “Normally I enjoy this day a great deal, but I believe an extraordinary Elf, Haldir. I will relish it even more.

The other two Elves shortened Haldir’s chains so he hung high off the floor. Eöl leaned back against the wall to watch, smirking.

“I hope you do not have any big plans for the next few months because you will not be up to dancing,” he told Haldir, cruel amusement in his voice.

The guards hauled on the chains until Haldir’s hands nearly touched the ceiling. Just when he began to wonder if they would try to pull his arms through the large rings there, they released him. The floor rushed up at him, suddenly the chains jerked him to a halt. The sudden stop placed too great of a strain on his arms, the shoulders unable to take it. As his arms dislocated from the socket, Haldir screamed. Dark spots blurred his vision. When he was able to think once more he found himself on his knees, panting, with streams of sweat pouring over his face and down his thin frame. A century ago, he could have at least handled the pain, but now his malnourished body no longer could tolerate it.

When a club crossed his throat, forcing his head up to face the warden of what Men would call Hell, he could do little to resist. Eöl had donned a thick, heavy appearing glove. Haldir could see the blood stains that had stiffened the leather and turned it a deep burgundy. Despite his weakness and pain, he did his best to prepare himself, he had learned long ago that struggling only brought more pain. Still, when the first swing approached he found his attempts insufficient to ward off the agony.

Eöl finally finished with him and stood back, perusing his handiwork. Haldir no longer looked the same. His entire face had swollen, making him unable to see. In addition, every part of it throbbed and when he moved his jaw, he could feel the grating of broken bones. He had to open his mouth to breathe and felt certain Eöl had broken his nose as well. Attempting to open his eyes, he winced, finding it painful and fearing he also had fractures in his cheeks. If he healed, he would never look the same. Finally, the guards let his arms drop. The dark Elf made a disgusted sound, frowning at them as if he looked upon disobedient children.

“Lift him to his feet again. He did not receive his lashes yet. We cannot let him get by without those now, could we?” Eöl coiled the studded whip, a fearful smile curving his lips. With a few experimental flicks, he began the finishing touches of his session.

For the next few minutes, Haldir’s screams rang through the quarter. Never before had he felt such gratitude upon hearing the door slam shut, leaving him alone with his pain. He lay on the cold stone floor, one side of his face pressed against their welcome chill. The fiery agony wracked his abused body and at last, Haldir succumbed to unconsciousness, welcoming the unknowing darkness.

When he awoke, he opened his eyes to darkness. A cool cloth lay over his face, providing some relief to the throbbing heat that pounded through his abused body. He could hear the storm raging outside that matched the one with in. He had to get out of here, had to make them all pay. For now however all he would be able to do for sometime was lay there and wait for his broken body to heal the best it could.

Someone moved in the room and Haldir stiffened. A comforting hand landed on his shoulder and Haldir relaxed, recognizing the touch.

“Oropher,” he croaked.

“Do not try to speak, my friend. You have had too many blows to your face and I believe he damaged your throat as well,” the former King gently told the injured Elf.

“How long…” Haldir whispered. Pain lanced through his face, his lips cracking and bleeding.

“You lay unconscious an entire day. I came as soon as I could. I have little I can help to heal you with but my innate skills and cool water. I fear you will be no longer look as you did. Eöl did his work too well. However, it could work to our advantage once we win free of this place.” Oropher said, assisting Haldir to sit up against the wall.

The former Marchwarden nodded slightly, even that tiny movement shooting sparks of pain through him. Oropher gingerly removed the cloth, returning it to the bowl of cool water, and then wringing it out.

“How is your pain?” he asked.

“I will survive,” Haldir whispered, managing to crack his eyes open enough to peer at a very blurry Oropher. “And I will triumph.”