Revenge

Chapter 8

A chill, carried swiftly along the wind, caused Elrohir to tremble. He paced the castle walls unable to shake the foreboding feeling growing in his heart with each passing minute. His heighd eld elven senses could feel something coming, something large, something – unexpected.

Fear for his family gripped his heart and he could only wonder what had befallen them to cause such an uneasy feeling to permeate deep into his very bones. He searched the trees, his senses piqued, alert to any danger that could be waiting, hiding in the surrounding forest whose tree’s could shield the largest army.

His eyes snapped toward an unseen foe, concealed within the trees, its stench, that only an elf could smell, carried along the fresh, crisp wind.

With a loud cry that alerted every guard on the wall, Elrohir swiped a bow out of a nearby archer’s hand and loosed a volley of arrows faster than any Ranger could ever hope to fire. Cries echoed around him, some coming from the guards racing toward the walls, bows at the ready, others coming from the advancing Orc army as they rushed out of the trees in an attempt to catch the city guards unawares.

Elrohir and the elves on the wall, took out the leading orcs, giving enough time for those outside the gates to find safety within. The deadly accuracy with which the elves loosed their arrows could not even begin to down the number of Orcs racing toward the city gates.

As the first gate slammed shut, those remaining inside the city joined in the battle at the walls, loosing arrows at the advancing Orc army that numbered more than they cared to think.

The remaining gates were closed with great speed, in case the unthinkable happened. In case the wave of Orc’s attacking the city were able to breach the first gate and march on the King’s tower – and the seat of power in the re-built city of Annuminas.


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“Oh sweet Eru,” Legolas keen eyes saw what the others had yet to notice.

“There is more than a battle with a solitary dragon going on down there,” Aldamir followed Legolas’ gaze and promptly gasped when Orrushrushed out of the trees and toward the Dwarves.

“We must break through this barrier,” Cirdan pressed his hands against the wall of ice and closed his eyes.

“We can break this,” Celeborn whispered and Cirdan nodded silently as he began to whisper an ancient elvish text.

A strong breeze swept up the mountain, swirling the hair of the elves into their faces. Celeborn and Cirdan continued their muttered chants as the others watched helplessly the battle going on far below.

Water trickled down the mountainside near their feet,elf-elf-made flow etching itself into the surrounding rock and dirt. As Cirdan chanted, the water flowing from the mountain began to flow stronger, pressing against the wall of ice. As nature answered the call of the Shipwright, the ice wall began to creak with the force of the water gathering at its base.

Celeborn raised his eyes to the sky, his face contorted with the power he was attempting to summon without the strength of a ring of power. The wind howled, picking up small leaves and twigs, tossing them into the straining barrier of ice.

Water continued to pool against the man-made dam as the howling wind aided in pressing against the thick ice.

Legolas’ eyes sparkled with realization as he watched the water and wind combine to create cracks in the sheer wall before them.

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The wizard smiled widely at the sound of battle echoing up the mountain side. He glanced down at Aragorn, who was still loosely chained to the wall, giving him leave to sit and lean against the cold stone.

He was trembling and Arwen could see that his fever was getting worse. “If you mean to kill us, then do so. He will not give you what you seek.”

The wizard laughed, loud and long, and glanced down at Aragorn with a malicious smile. “Perhaps you would like to see the army of the West defeated before your very eyes?” In his excitement and drive to force Aragorn to witness the destruction of his army, Alatar did not feel the tampering with the protective barrier had had constructed around the upper portion of the mountain.

Aragorn weakly lifted his head, his eyes unblinking, emotionless. Only Arwen noticed his chained hands clenched into fists, his jaw set with frustration. Arwen’s eyes lit with recognition as she felt her family near. She stared at Aragorn, imploring him to read her eyes and know. When he finally caught the dark gaze, and the small smile that flitted across Arwen’s lips, he knew. He knew they were coming. He only hoped that the wizard did not.

“Yes, I believe that is exactly what I shall do.” He motioned for two disgusting Orc’s to leave their posts outside the cave and gather the chained Aragorn. “Drag him to the cave’s mouth. I wish for him to see the defeat of his mighty army.”

The Orc’s nodded and answered only in the form of hideous grunts.

Arwen wrinkled her nose at their stench and looked away, her stomach turning at the mere sight of them. She needed to distract Alatar, now that he had pulled his guards away from the entrance to the cave.

“Come, Lady Arwen,” The wizard smiled and lifted her to her feet with a simple gesture. “ I will be your escort.”

“I will wait here.”

“Indeed, you will watch at your husband’s side.” His hands gripped her arms tightly and she winced from the pain.

“Unhand me.” She hissed as she watched Aragorn attempt to turn at her words. But the Orc’s kept firm hold on his chains and pulled him roughly away until he could do nothing more than crawl to the cave’s mouth.

“It would be wise for you to cease your struggle.”

Arwen whirled and glared at him, hissing between clenched teeth and drawing the attention of the Orcs and Aragorn. “You will rue the day you laid your filthy hands on my husband.”

The wizard laughed. “And what do you plan to do to me, little elf? You would be wise to fear my power.”

Arwen stared straight into the sunken eyes of the wizard. “I fear nothing.”

“A woman who has faced down Sauron’s Black Riders and lived to tell the tale will be a formidable opponent,” Aragorn gritted as the orcs tugged at the chains. “You would be wise to remember that.”

The wizard felt a small snap in the back of his mind, but ignored it in favor of drawing himself to his full height to stare down his nose at the Queen of Gondor. With one hand, he held her, the other lifted his staff and thrust it towards Aragorn.

The invisible blow would have knocked him off his feet had the Orc’s not kept a tight grip on the metal binding him in place. “Drag him if you must.”

Aragorn stared at Arwen, pleading with her to cease her struggle. It would only give the wizard cause to harm her. He didn’t realize that her efforts were causing their captor to divert his attentions from the barrier that her kin was attempting to dissolve.

The wizard dragged a struggling Arwen to the edge of the cave’s mouth, the Orcs pulling Aragorn mere steps behind.


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They stared in horror as the bloody battle below raged on below. Elves and Rangers of Arnor fell in large numbers due combined strength of the Orc army that was aided from above by the large, menacing cold drake.

Aragorn could see a man, who looked very much like his Regent, fall and with him two elves. His heart lurched at the potential loss of his kin. The dwarves held their own quite well until a wall of Orcs split their ranks and separated their leaders. The dragon swept men and dwarves alike off their feet. It was only the elves that had the ability to keep their feet when the drake lunged toward them.

It was then that Aragorn lost track of Gimli. Dimly, he wondered where Legolas could be for he never left the Dwarf’s side in such a battle. His brothers were also missing as was Cirdan and Celeborn, whom he’d learned from Arwen had also traveled to Arnor.

His clouded mind would not allow the King of Gondor to believe that they had died already, but that they had remainer sor some reason in Annuminas. Before any further thoughts could spread further chills down his spine, he could hear the whoosh of an arrow pass his face. The Orc standing at his right fell, clutching at his chest, dead before he hit the ground. The other Orc dropped the chain’s holding Aragon prisoner and turned in the direction from which the arrow had come, fumbling for his weapon. The mistake would turn out to be a fatal one as another arrow embedded itself through his disfigured head.

Aragorn stumbled as he turned his attention now to his advancing brother, Legolas and his drawn bow, Aldamir and two elves, all with blades drawn and at the ready. A glint of metal caught Aragorn’s attention and his eyes briefly lowered to the familiar blade sheathed at his Regent’s waist. Joy filled Aragorn’s weak body at seeing his kin.

“Alatar,” Celeborn exchanged a quick, knowing look with Cirdan before turning his attention on the wizard.

The wizard gasped in shock but was unable to respond as his attention was divided between Arwen and the now free Aragorn, who had somehow found the strength to stand and advance from the opposite direction, chains dragging across the snow-covered ground.

‘Release the Queen,” Aldamir demanded as he strode purposefully toward the cloaked wizard.

Legolas held back, bow at the ready, waiting. Celeborn and Cirdan separated from the other two, unwilling to give such a combined target to the ancient being.

“Do not test him, Aldamir,” Aragorn gritted through parched lips. “He is a wiz-“

Before he could finish, the wizard raised his staff and connected with Aragorn’s lower jaw, sending him sprawling into the snow.

Legolas loosed an arrow, which embedded itself deeply into the wrist that held the staff, and the wizard cried out in pain.

His grip on Arwen loosened and she pulled away, rushing toward her grandfather and the protection she knew he would provide.

Aldamir cried out when Aragorn had been struck to the ground, his blade raised over his head ready to strike down this being who intended to harm his King.

“Aldamir, no!” Legolas cried as the wizard rebounded from striking Aragorn and raised his staff to block the blow from Aldamir’s blade.

When the Regent of Arnor stared into the sunken eyes of the wizard, he recoiled in disgust. He disengaged his blade from the staff and attempted to repost beneath it.

The move failed and the staff came down on Aldamir’s sword arm, snapping it in two. The blade clattered to the ground as the wizard whirled away, directing a magic field around himself to prevent another arrow from striking its mark. On his return whirl he clubbed Aldamir over the head, knocking the man unconscious.

Arwen screamed and Aragorn’s eyes watched his regent fall beside him. Anduril rested in the sheath of the unconscious man, beckoning its rightful owner to free the blade and raise it against his foe.

Arwen’s cry, and the forward movement of Cirdan and Legolas, distracted the wizard enough for Aragorn to grasp Anduril and release it with a loud shing. He stepped back, the blade raised as if to defend himself should Alatar make another move towards him.

He searched for a way to release the heavy chains from his limbs but decided against using Anduril to cut the links. A few feet away lay Aldamir, blood flowing from the side of his head, his blade resting nearer to Aragorn. While Alatar was distracwithwith the elves, Aragorn thrust Anduril into the snow and grasped Aldamir’s blade.

He swiftly cut away the heavy chains that would restrict his movement, a few links and the shackles to which they were attached, were all that remained attached to his wrists.

He tossed the blade next to his unconscious cousin and gripped Anduril tightly, anger flooding his limbs and giving him the strength to continue.

He stood on shaky legs, and took several deep breaths. The cold steel between his hands warmed him like a cozy fireplace giving him renewed strength ond and as well as body. He did not hesitate a moment longer as he stalked towards his captor’s cloaked body.