Revenge

Chapter 7

“She’s what?” Aldamir blinked, head shaking in disbelief. Just when he thought this situation couldn’t get any worse. First Aragorn had been abducted, then Arwen – and now the elves, who apparently knew all about this little bit of information, were informing him oh-so-calmly that the Queen was with child; The very same queen who was now in the hands of someone who could do great harm to her. “This is not good.” Aldamir stared at Celeborn, who sat across from the large table in the dining hall – conveniently now being used as a war / preparation room.

“This is why it is of most urgency that we mount an assault on these captors immediately.” Celeborn’s voice was firm, but even. “If this creature behind the abductions learns that she is with child – it could go far badly for Elessar and Arwen.”

“I realize that,” Aldamir sighed, forcing himself to relax, “ You saw what they did to the men I took with me to scout out their location. That dragon is formidable and-”

“Let the dwarves handle the dragon!” Gimli gruffed, slamming his fist onto the table. “I have sent for the best dwarven warriors. They should be here soon, even riding atop a beast to hasten their journey!”

Celeborn turned to Gimli a said simply, “I appreciate their sacrifice.”

A hint of amusement flickered in Legolas’ eyes at Celeborn’s comment and he turned to Aldamir. “As you are acting ruler here until Aragorn returns, I will inform you that I am taking several scouts to the far side of the hills. There we will make our way up behind them.”

At Aldamir’s protest, Legolas raised a hand. “Hear me out. Elves can hide much quicker and more completely than any man of Annuminas and you know it. Unfortunately, any rescue party you lead, will need to bear the brunt of any attack the creature mounts. “

“We feel this is the only way we might have a chance of penetrating that cavern.” Celeborn finished for the elven prince.

“How will you penetrate that barrier?” Aldamir stared at the elves.

“Leave that to us,” Celeborn said with a small smile, exchanging a knowing look with Cirdan.

Aldamir nodded and turned to Gimli. “We will leave as soon as your men arrive.”

“We must wait until Elrohir recovers enough to join us,” Elladan strode purposefully into the room and took a seat near Celeborn. “He will not forgive us if we should leave without him.”

“He is far too injured. He must remain here.”

Elladan grinned. “Keeping Elrohir from accompanying us may be more difficult than you realize. That is his sister and her husband, a man as close to us as a brother, up there.”

“He was nearly gutted,” Celeborn added, “ but we have created a salve with which to treat his wounds. If the Valar be with him, then he will heal quickly and be ready to accompany us when we depart.”

“We cannot leave without the Dwarves, and they will arrive in a few days, with luck that will give Elrohir enough time to sufficiently heal.”

Gimli smiled smugly at Legolas, who simply rolled his eyes.


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Aragorn groaned in pain as another invisible blow raked across his chest. Tears dripped from the corner of his eyes as his weak body withstood yet another painful blow.

Arwen was still unconscious , laying at an odd angle a few feet away. Seeing her in such a vulnerablsitisition fueled Aragorn’s anger and he was able to withstand the most painful torture to date. His body was driven to the breaking point and all that saved him from collapse was thoughts of how to free his wife from this prison.

But after man hours, his body was weakening under the relentless onslaught. The loss of blood and the pain due to numerous broken bones, was breaking him.

The strength in his arms gone, Aragorn slumped against the wall, grimacing as the metal clamped around his wrists tore into the skin. Despite the chill in the air, Aragorn was soaked with fever-induced sweat and damp hair hung over his eyes, obscuring his vision. This wizard would not believe he did not have knowledge of how to awaken the powers of the Elendilmir.

When Arwen began to move, Aragorn slowly turned his head, his eyes revealing the intense strain his beaten body had endured.

Arwen was unchained as she shook her head to clear the stars swimming before her eyes. When she rolled over and noticed her husband, she immediately gained her feet, ignoring her protesting sore muscles. She ignored Aragorn’s whispered protest when she reached him and slid her shoulder beneath his arm to lift some weight from his torn wrists.

“No, stay away. I don’t want you in the way of his rage.” Aragorn choked. His lips were parched and his throat was even more dry, making his voice even raspier than normal.

“I will not leave you.” Arwen whispered in return, brushing her lips against a bruised cheek.

The closeness and her touch gave him renewed strength of will and he made a silent vow to free her from this prison or die trying.

“It will not come to that.” Arwen whispered, circling his bruised wrists with a gentle circular motion of her fingers. “The elves will mount an attack.”

At her words Aragorn’s eyes widened and Arwen pressed a lone finger to his lips. “Celeborn is here and with him the remaining elven army. Cirdan will lend his aid as-”

Her words were cut off as she was pulled roughly away from her husband and thrown to the ground. “Do not go near him again or it will be you that feels the sting of my lash.” The wizard hissed, exchanging glances with his two prisoners before raising his hand to control the whip hanging in mid-air before Aragorn. With a flick of his wrist, the leather snapped painfully against his chest, drawing a line of blood against his bare skin.

Arwen cried in rage but was restrained by invisible hands that shoved her back against the wall of the cave.

Arwen retreated from the hands that kept her from stepping closer. She pushed herself against the wall, wincing with each slap of the lash against her husband’s skin. She curled her legs beneath her and wrapped her arms around them, as much to keep the chill from her skin as to protect herself from the invisible sting of the whip. She closed her eyes when Aragorn could no longer keep silent. His muffled cries tore at her heart and tears began to seep through her tightly closed eyelids. After a few moments, the silence drew her attention and she opened her eyes. She gasped at the gashes the whip had made into her husband’s chest and back. The stench of freshly spilled blood filled the cave, causing a feeling of nausea to imbed itself into Arwen’s stomach.

She moved toward Aragorn and was immediately stopped by a barrier of fire that sprung from the very stone itself. She yelped and dragged herself away from the heat. As she stared at the flames, a realization hit her hard enough for her to gasp. She held her stomach to keep from spilling what little she’d eaten for dinner.

The flames danced in her wide eyes as she stared at her husband. Riddles passed down through the ages of her people and the history of the King’s of Numenor swam through her memories and her heart fluttered. She realized with a shock that the answer the wizard sought had literally been beaten out of Aragorn. His blood, the blood of Numenor and of the Kings of that doomed island - It was the key. And he spilled Aragorn’s so easily and without thought.

Arwen groaned and doubled over, nausea taking control of her body and causing her to retch her dinner onto the stone floor.

“There, there, little queen.” The wizard was beside her in an instant, cleaning the floor and her lips with a wet rag. “We don’t want you to purge your system of nutrients. You must be strong, after all, if you are to think of a way of escape for your husband and yourself.”

Arewn glared at him and he laughed. “I am not so foolish as to think you have not thought about formulating such a plan.” He stood and walked away and with a wave of his hand, dismissed the firat sat separated her from her husband. “See to it that you do not attempt something so unwise. Things would not go – well – for you if you do not heed my words.”

The wizard summoned his dragon and voiced his orders. “Ready the army. We will lay waste to this reunited kingdom once and for all.”

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Day 16

Elladan gazed out over the assembled army. Arnorian Rangers as well as vertically challenged Dwarves sat before them, ready to mount a rescue. They had been joined in this attempt by the remaining elven warriors scattered throughout Middle-Earth. The rest would be arriving shortly and would fortify the battlements of Annuminas should some foolish soul dare mount an attack upon the city.

Elrohir stood near the healer of the house, leaning heavily on a staff for support. His injury had not healed enough for him to safely accompany the troupe leaving to rescue his family and he was more than a little annoyed. Even worse that he was going to be stuck in the castle with the more nervous than usual Chamberlain. The man acted as if his life was falling apart and Elrohir silently wished he could tie the man to the back of a horse and send him on the front line into battle.

Elladan assured his brother that he would not return without those he left to retrieve, and they parted with the knowledge that his family may not return from this battle.

“Gimli and Aldamir will lead the assault on the dragon.” Celeborn stated from where he sat atop his own steed. “Cirdan, Legolas, Elladan and I will attempt to penetrate this cave from the north.”

“I will accompany you,” Aldamir stated in a tone that left no room for argument. It was not lost on Celeborn that he sounded like Aragorn at that moment. The King had chosen his regent well.

“Be grateful I am not ordering you left here, Regent of Arnor.” Celeborn stated, eyes hardening. “If we should fail, the King will most certainly be killed and this kingdom could not survive without a strong leader. You have demonstrated that you have a natural ability to lead, which will become imperative if we should fail.”

“Gimli and my Captain will lead the attack against the dragon. I will accompany you.” Aldamir turned his mount from Celeborn and trotted to the front of the assembled men. “With all due respect, Lord Celeborn, you have no authority to choose whath I h I may take.” Aldamir slid his sword into a sheath attached to his stallions back, another, more familiar blade hung at his waist. “Aragorn is a distant cousin, and I’ve loved him as a brother and as a friend, before he became my King. I will accompany you.”

Celeborn sighed and decided that his anger was best left in doing battle with those that sought to divide the reunited kingdom. Instead he turned to Elrohir, “I know you are upset. Your injury would hinder more than aid us, grandson. Be secure in the knowledge that we will bring them back or not return ourselves.”

Elrohir nodded slowly, sadness etched into his ageless features.

“You are given command over the army of Annuminas. Keep the City safe until our return.”

“We ride!” Aldamir cried and they trotted toward the mountain prison that held the King and Queen of the West.


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Arwen dipped the cloth into the frigid water and carefully bathed the cuts that marred her husband’s body. She could feel the burning heat of his skin through the cloth and knew that he was running a very high fever. He was barely conscious and his head tossed as she wiped the dried blood from the wounds.

“Estel,” She whispered, brushing her lips against his ear and heating his skin with her very breath. “Please come back to me. We are not destined to end this way.”

She received a murmured elven endearment in response. She turned a hard gaze toward the wizard who watched her with careful eyes. “Let me make a salve for his wounds.”

“No.”

“He will die from this if they are not treated and then where would you be? The only one who carries these answers you seek dead by your hand.”

The wizard growled and stalked toward his work-table but did not answer.

“He is dying. He is cold and he is feverish. Let me ease some of his pain.”

Still no answer as the wizard continued to work and mix foul-smelling concoctions.

“What do you know of the healing art’s, elf?”

“My father was the most renowned elven healer in Middle-Earth. I believe I am qualified in the healing arts.”

“Ah, yes, Elrond Half-Elven.” The wizard nodded and motioned to her. “Come then, make your salve and be quick about it.”

As Arwen worked, a large shadow fell over the cave entrance and the wizard motioned for it to enter. She cringed when she saw the deformed creature enter the cave and sank back against the table so that he would not turn his disgusting gaze on her.

“We are ready, My Lord.” The creature slithered. “They will not know what to do when we attack.”

“Good, be quick about it and then double around on those who come to rescue my prisoners here. When they find themselves outflanked and outmaneuvered, we will destroy them.” The wizards smiled widely. “Then you make take Annuminas as your own and march on Gondor.”

The creature’s mouth parted in a lopsided smile and he bowed low to the wizard. “Yes, our victory is at hand!” He raised his jagged blade and siddled out of the cave.

“Yes, my revenge will be swift and complete.” The wizard turned back toward where Arwen was working and smiled widely, his hollow cheeks and large eyes bulging with excitement. “I will succeed where Saruman failed. I will bring the most powerful kingdom in Middle-Earth to its knees and then with the power of the Elindilmir return to Valinor and make them bow at my feet!”

“The desire for power corrupts even the most powerful mind,” Arwen offered as she worked, lowering her eyes so that she would not have to see his reaction.

The wizard laughed, bone-chilling in the warmth of the cavern. “Yes, elf. And absolute power corrupts absolutely. I will have absolute power over every being, mortal or no.”

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Faramir ‘s face fell as he unrolled the parchment and began to read. He sank into his seat and sighed deeply, turning the attention of his friends and advisors to looks of concern instead of curiosity.
“He wanted to leave Minas Tirith for a time. Stretch wings clipped far too soon for his liking. I should have known he’d get into some kind of trouble.” Faramir muttered, running a hand through his already mussed hair. “I was hoping you had been wrong.”
“My Lord, “ the second messenger in as many days spoke hesitantly, “Do you have a return message?”
“What is it?” Imrahil strode purposefully into the room, his eyes full of concern.
Eomer, having been summoned when the first messenger arrived, swiped the parchment out of Faramir’s hands and began to read.
“Not yet. Give me time. I must look at the safety of the entire kingdom.” Faramir didn’t seem to care that the King of Rohan had just ripped the King’s message right out of his hands. “We must believe our aid will reach them in time. I hwe swe sent enough men. My hands are firmly tied with the Haradhrim prowling our borders and the possible threat from this new enemy that Aragorn has discovered.”
Eomer gasped and slammed his hands down to his sides. “How long will it take the boats to arrive?”
“At least ten days, and that is with a good wind.” Faramir sighed.
“Or can we summon the eagle’s?” Imrahil offered and Faramir stared.
Faramir had sent men nearly ten days ago up the sea toward Annuminas. “Even with the eagle’s swift wings, they would not hear our plea and come and return faster than our ships would reach them. Nor could they carry enough men at one time to make much of a difference.”
Imrahil turned to the messenger who had just arrived on the wings of the aforementioned Eagle. “Who summoned your steed?”

“Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, my Lord. The beast waits to return me with a message.”

Faramir’s eyes lit with hope. “Celeborn is there? That means, I hope, that he arrived with a host of elves to protect the King. I know not how fortified the City of Annuminas is nor how many battle ready men they have.”

“I will return with a message,” Imrahil said. “You will remain here and take your rest. Tell Faramir everything that you know so that we may be better prepared for a battle should it reach our shores.”

“I don’t know if this is wise,” Faramir dropped a hand on Imrahil’s shoulder.

“My dreams prevent me from sleep,” Imrahil turned angry eyes on Faramir. “I cannot sit here and do nothing. I am of Numenorean blood nearly as deep as Aragorn. I feel rather than see his pain. This is a bad omen. These dreams have come to me for a reason. I will go and carry whatever message to Annuminas that you wish.”

Faramir nodded slowly, unwilling to argue the point further when he knew that Imrahil was right.

“Delay no longer. Ride swiftly, my friend and bring good news to our troubled sister city.”

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As the army reached the base of the mountain, they stood quietly, searching the sky, waiting for the expected attack.

Celeborn and those who had gone with him were no where to be seen, and the Captain wondered if they would survive this day and this battle.

Far above their heads, they heard a loud cry. A screeching unlike anything they had had heard pierced their ears and a large shadow descended from the sky. The men’s heads snapped toward the sounds, the sching of blades being plucked from their sheath’s echoing through the trees.

From the trees below, branches shook and snapped, splitting the attention of the men.

Gimli ordered his dwarves to dismount and spread apart, ready to do battle with this dragon as soon as it reached the ground.

A battle cry sounded suddenly all around them and Orc’s rushed out of the trees, in every direction, their jagged blades raised to draw first blood.

“Oh sweet Aule,” Gimli muttered as he split the head of an Orc in two. “This is not good.”

In Annuminas, another would feel the same chill that now ran down the spines of every man, dwarf and elf as they watched in shock and dejection at the sheer numbers of Orcs racing toward them.