Title: "Revenge”
Author: Leiasky@aol.com
Synopsis: After one attempt on the King and Queen's life, the soldiers of Arnor double their efforts to find those responsible. An unexpected kidnapping creates havoc within the re-built realm.
This is an AU story that does not follow the timeline of the book.
Spoilers: Takes place after Return of the King.
Pairing: Aragorn / Arwen.
Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien. I don't own these characters. (darn!) I make no money. Done for fun.
Additional Info: Movie-verse.
Sequel to "Restless"
Archive: If you like, just tell me where.
"Revenge"
Prologue
The wind
howled, violently snapping tree limbs and tossing them aside like mere twigs.
Rain pelted the castle walls and thunder rocked the foundations. Lighting
cracked across the darkened sky and inside, a sleeping man trembled.
His long, dark
hair was damp with sweat as he tossed in his bed. He murmured in his sleep as
whispers of a nameless foe stretched their talons toward his unconscious mind.
In his minds eye,
he saw a great battle along a city wall he did not recognize. Men and elves
fought bravely, falling in death from those same walls as arrows pierced their
armor and swords cleaved heads from shoulders. Creatures crawled up the walls,
disgusting and dirty, neatly cutting through the line of defense that had been
set up to keep them from entering the city.
The man’s heart
quickened and he continued to toss in his sleep, adding soft murmurs of
confusion within his troubled mind. Thunder rocked his bed and the scene
changed to one that would have woken him straight away, if not for the fear
mirrored in the tortured man’s eyes.
Aragorn hung
chained to a stone wall, the metal cuffs surrounding his wrists having cut so
deeply that blood flowed down his bare arms. Welts covered his body and with a
jolt of terror, the sleeping man felt, rather than witnessed the King’s death.
Imrahil sat bolt
upright in his bed, not realizing that his scream of terror would soon echo
that of another in the faraway city of Annuminas.
-------------------------------------
Chapter 1
Day 1
Candlelight lit the dark room where they stood, creating shadows that flickered across the walls as if they had a life of their own. Summoned out of their beds by a horrible dream, the men stood around the war room table, fear widening their eyes and waking their weary bodies faster than would a mug of cold water dumped down their backs.
As the Captain of the guard of Rohan stepped beside his King, Eomer gave the order. “Rohan will match the number of men that you send.”
Faramir shook his head. “You cannot leave your borders defenseless. Not with the-”
Eomer raised his hand. “We are far from defenseless. Rohan has long been united with Gondor and we will lend our aid when it is needed.” He cast a worried look in Imrahil’s direction. “And it is needed.”
Faramir nodded reluctantly. He had known Eomer long enough to know when was a good time to cease an argument with the larger man. “We will welcome your aid, King of Rohan.”
Eomer rested a hand on Faramir’s shoulder. “He is my friend as well as the King. He has my respect and admiration, of myself as well as my people. Were I not in command of the army of Rohan, I would find men to march beside those of Gondor.”
Faramir smiled. “Thank you. We will accept your aid and our Captain’s will have dual charge of the army,” Faramir nodded toward his second. “Ready a legion to ride at first light.”
The captain of Gondor’s guard nodded and bowed. “To where do we ride, my Lord?”
“Pelargir,” Faramir said. “You will take the vessels waiting for you and travel up the sea to what the elves call the Grey Havens and make your way to Annuminas from there. Gather your men and inform them of what they are to expect. Then return to me, I will bade you bear a message to the King.”
Imrahil turned to his Captain. “Take my guard and ride with the King's soldiers. Send a messenger to Dol Amroth with this news & have him inform the council I will return in a few days' time.”
Eomer turned from speaking with his Captain and turned to Imrahil and Faramir, a worried look etched into his features.
“They will reach Arnor in time,” Faramir dropped a hand on Imrahil’s shoulder. “They must.” Faramir, having had such real dreams in the past, knew not to discount the Lord of Dol Amroth’s nightmare when he arrived in the middle of the night demanding to see the acting Regent of Gondor.
Imrahil lifted his eyes and muttered a silent prayer. “Ulmo guide them and send them on swift wings to Annuminas.”
-------------------------------
Aragorn tightened his arms around his wife, pulling her protectively against his chest. He nuzzled her ebony hair with a whiskered cheek, breathing deeply of the freshly washed and scented locks. Her audible sigh was muffled into his tunic.
They sat in an overstuffed chair, beside a large window that overlooked the rebuilt City. Unlike Gondor, most of the inhabitants of Arnor slept during the night hours and the City was quiet. Usually. There was activity this evening along the walls as the guard was doubled. There was still some one or some thing out there that had ordered the capture of the King and the soldiers of Arnor would let no one so easily remove their beloved ruler from his home.
When he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, Arwen glanced up at him in concern. “Indonya, you have a head wound, regardless how mild you think it to be. Come to bed.”
When she moved to stand, his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her more securely into his lap. “Just a few more moments.” He whispered, his voice barely audible.
Arwen leaned against his chest, snuggling closer while long arms wrapped themselves around her body. Arwen sighed her displeasure at his statement but indulged him – for now.
They had spoken very little of their ordeal since retiring for the night. Aragorn had been treated for the wounds he had sustained at his captors hands, and he had stood over the healers as they examined Arwen from head to foot, making sure every bruise was checked. Bed rest had been ordered of the King, but he had been hard-pressed to heed those concerns. He was too eager to question those responsible for their abduction. He agreed to a day – and no more – before he would set foot into the dungeons.
Once sequestered within their chambers, they’d simply sat in each other’s arms, taking comfort from their closeness.
Guards had been posted outside the royal bedchambers and sentries watched every entrance into the city. No one would enter or leave without being seen.
If there was still trouble looming out in the wilds, the Rangers of Arnor would intercept it before it reached the King and his wife.
“All is well in the City,” Aragorn whispered into her hair and smiled when slim hands covered his own where they rested against her waist.
“For now.” Arwen answered, eyes searching the sky. “I can’t help but feel that a danger looms over this City. Something that no one has foreseen and preparing to take action no one can prevent.”
“We will be safe. You will be safe. I will not let another lay his hands on you ever again.” Aragorn’s words were firm, his voice unwavering in his determination. He reached around his neck and unfastened the pendant that she had given him before their marriage. Removing it, he carefully placed the Evenstar around her neck and trailed his fingers down the miniature wings.
“It has always comforted you.” He smiled, his eyes glowing with love for his elven queen. “Let it do so now.”
Arwen smiled and gazed over her shoulder into her husband’s crystal eyes. They sparkled in the moonlight, the stars using the sea-colored orbs to reflect their brightness like a mirror.
He knew she was truly troubled when she did not immediately return the pendant. “Yes.” She whispered so low he barely heard the words. “But this feeling. All of a sudden, since they-“
“It is but a memory now, my love.” Aragorn’s arms tightened protectively around his troubled wife. “We will learn what we want to know from those being held in the dungeons.”
She simply nodded, lost in thought, taking what comfort from his embrace that she was able.
“We will remain here for a few weeks, to catch whoever masterminded this plot,” Aragorn continued, his voice low. “We will not leave here until I have found the evil that sought to divide us.”
“Well, you wanted to stay in the North for a while, this investigation will give you an excuse.” Arwen smiled slightly.
“As well protected as Arnor is, Gondor has a much larger army, I would prefer to have you safely within the White City walls.” Aragorn settled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the tip of her ear.
“Your Rangers held this land from Angmar for generations and protected the heirs of Isildur. They can protect us.” Even as she said the words, the feeling of foreboding returned and she shivered before continuing. "Perhaps if you do not trust your royal guard, then you should have a company of Rangers return with us as escort to the White City." Arwen said, her mind completely turned from the earlier events of the day. "They can train the Gondorian soldiers to your satisfaction."
Aragorn smiled and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head. "The skill the Rangers of Arnor employ cannot be taught. It must be learned by years of wandering the wilds." He chuckled. "It is not that I do not trust the royal guard. I trust them with our lives. I would simply prefer to have a much larger distance between this new foe and my Queen."
When Arwen didn't reply, Aragorn sighed. “You are my life, Arwen. I will not lose you. I was powerless today as I watched those filthy men nearly take you from me. I was afraid - truly afraid.”
Arwen cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb against his lips. She understood, with painful clarity, how difficult it had been for him to make such an admission.
“I won’t lose you. For now, until we can leave, you will be safe here within these walls.”
When he bent to press a gentle kiss to her lips, she leaned back into his arms, and returned his kiss with an urgency that both excited and unnerved him.
They kissed and nuzzled for a long while, simply enjoying one another’s closeness. Slim fingers delved into his hair and tugged as large, callused hands wrapped around her waist and turned her to face him.
“Let me rid the terror from your mind tonight.” Aragorn whispered against her cheek before placing a steaming kiss to her lips.
“Yes,” Arwen whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood.
He carried her to their bed, where he laid her gently into the silken linens. She lay quietly, eyes darkening as he disrobed for her, baring his tanned skin to the moonlight shining through the window. A small smiled played across her lips as the tightly coiled muscles in his lean body flexed with each movement. When he reached down to remove her nightshift, he could feel her body tense. His touch reminded her of her near violation at the hands of those filthy brigands.
Aragorn could feel as well as sense her apprehension and simply settled into the cushions beside her. He took her hands and brought them to his lips, laving each delicate finger with a sensuous kiss. His hands roamed down and over her body, gently massaging, relaxing the tense muscles.
When one hand slid away to brush across the hardening nub of her nipple, a small whimper escaped her, drawing a smile from his lips. He leaned her over and pressed a kiss to each covered bud smiling at her sharp intake of breath. When his mouth closed over the soft mound and began to suckle gently, her fingers delved into his hair, tugging, pulling him close.
“Yes, my love,” She whispered, her voice a mere whisper as a searing heat began to spread throughout her body, carrying her willingly along its burning flames. "Love me."
When his hands slipped beneath her night shift, she gasped and glanced into the crystal eyes of her husband. Her hands slid from his hair to cup his cheek and bring his face down to hers. She pressed her lips to his in a gentle, searching kiss and by the time they parted, they were breathless.
At her urging, he moved over her and slipped the night shift from her shoulders, baring her porcelain skin to his hungry gaze. She felt a momentary pang of panic as he lowered his weight between her legs but it was quickly replaced by an unexplainable longing as his fingers trailed down her stomach to test her readiness.
When she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him into her embrace, he pressed a long, sensuous kiss to her lips. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his hips as he pushed gently into her warmth.
He tested her, moving slowly, at first, then as she began to respond, meeting him, he quickened his pace. They moved as one, their bodies dancing to the ages old rhythm. Her hesitation faded into memory as her husband moved slowly, gently, within her, driving thoughts of the abduction from her mind. As their passion grew, so did the intensity of his thrusts. A thin sheen of sweat covered their skin as they moved, the stars the only witness to the pleasure of their union.
With a final thrust, driving her deeply into the bed cushions, his release overtook him and left him trembling in its wake. Arwen whimpered beneath him as life-giving warmth spread throughout her abdomen. He collapsed onto his forearms and pressed heated kisses to her cheek, lips, eyelids.
“With all my heart, Arwen, Amin mela lle {I love you}.” He whispered against her lips.
“And I you, Estel, my husband,” She brushed a few damp strands of hair away from his eyes and smiled at the exhausted look on his face. “My King.” She whispered before pulling his head down to pillow it on her chest. She began to hum an ancient lullaby and she could feel him smile against her breast.
“My mother used to sing that to me.” He smiled tenderly up at his wife as the song reminded him of his mother’s soft voice singing to him as a child.
“As did mine,” Arwen whispered and nuzzled the top of his head with her cheek. “One day, I will sing it to our children.”
His heavy sigh was unmistakable and she tightened her arms around his shoulders. “Soon, love. Gondor will have its heir.”
----------------------------
A roar thundered across the sky, shaking the very walls. Aragorn groaned in disturbed sleep and Arwen's eyes flashed open in the darkness, wide with fear.
Flashes of lightening lit the room for a quick moment before disappearing behind the dark clouds. The havens opened and rain spilled from the sky, splattering and exploding against the stone walls of the castle.
Arwen shivered as a chill swept through the room. She burrowed into Aragorn’s embrace in an effort to still the fear creeping in on her senses. She could feel him reach for the coverlet that had been discarded earlier in the evening, and drape it across their shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, sensing, in his slumber, her discomfort. His embrace warmed her skin but nothing could warm the chill closing in on her heart.
“Sounds like a storm has rolled in from the west,” Aragorn mumbled sleepily as another crack of thunder split the sky followed by a quick burst of light.
“The lightening is close.” Arwen whispered, shivering.
Aragorn mumbled, unconcerned. His senses had been dulled in the false sense of security that the castle afforded. There was something out there, something dark and evil. Something just out of reach of her well-tuned elven senses.
Suddenly, Arwen bolted upright, clutching at her stomach, eyes wide as she stared out the window at the swaying trees and the falling rain. “Something is coming.” She whispered, her voice hoarse.
Aragorn sat up and wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her protectively against his chest. “What do you mean?”
Arwen shook her head and rubbed at the nervousness that had settled in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know. It's - a cloud, an ever changing flicker in the back of my mind.”
Aragorn settled her back into the cushions and slipped out of bed. He pulled on some loose-fitting breeches, and grasped a sheathed Anduril, as he padded to the window. The breeze ruffled his mussed hair and the pitter patter of rain on the stone tossed droplets into the room.
Far in the distance, a faint movement caught Aragorn’s eye and he strained to see the image more clearly. But, as he tried to focus sleepy eyes on the shadow, it was gone as if it had never been. Crystal eyes narrowed as he looked around the sleeping City and into the forest. The only movements below were the swaying of the trees in the strong wind and the guards quietly pacing atop the castle walls.
“What is it?” Arwen asked, eyes dark as she searched her husband’s face.
Aragorn shook his head and pushed shut the panes on the window to keep out the rain. “It was nothing, just the wind and the thunder combining to create something out of nothing. Go back to sleep.”
As Aragorn padded back to the bed, and pulled his wife into his arms, a screeching could be heard in the distance, carried on the wind. Neither of them spoke of the sound, but Aragorn’s body tensed with a fear he had not felt since a Nazgul dropped out of the sky on its winged steed. The sound – it was inhuman - as its voice cut across the sky like a razor-sharp knife.
"I never saw anyone!" Pak'na cried as his body was stretched in the most excruciatingly painful ways. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with leather straps and he had been laid on a grated rack.
"You took orders from someone you’d never seen?" Aldamir asked, his eyes narrowed with disbelief.
"Yes!" Pak’na hissed through gritted teeth.
"You lie!" Aldamir raised his hand and Pak'na's body was stretched to the breaking point.
Before bone began to snap, one of his men called from the corner. "He was covered in shadow. He only met with us at night. His voice - " The man trembled from the thoughtt, "sent chills down our spines."
Aragorn stalked toward the man shackled to the wall. "And what were you promised as a reward for removing myself and my wife from our kingdom?"
"Riches, Land, Slaves?" Aldamir asked, stepping beside Aragorn.
The man lowered his head. "I cannot. He will know I have spoken. Please, just- end my life."
"Not until I have the information that I require." Aragorn growled, drawing his elven knife. "Now speak!"
"He - he spoke with a malice and a coldness that would make even the coldest place in Middle-Earth seem like a volcanic wasteland." The man said slowly. His eyes darted around the room, as if he expected something to leap out of the shadows and eat him alive. "I could hear and feel a whoosh of air, like wings flapping in the darkness. The movement was steady while that - voice gave us our orders."
Aragorn nodded to the guard inflicting the pain on their leader. Pak'na was removed from the rack and led toward the shackles near where his man was speaking.
"Then-then when we turned to leave, these large eyes appeared out of the shadows and a-a large clawed hand picked up one of the men and crushed its throat without any effort."
The men visibly trembled as they remembered their comrade’s death with vivid clarity . “The creature killed Mar’m without any thought or reason.”
“To show us what would happen if we betrayed him.” Pak’na finished. “You may as well kill us. He will come for us now and he will not be merciful in his judgment.”
“What is to be done with you will be my decision, and mine alone,” Aragorn growled, turned on his heel and strode purposely out of the dungeon.
-----------------------
“We’ve found nothing in our search.” Aldamir strode into the King’s office several days later, clearly agitated at his failure to apprehend the men responsible for the attack on the King and his Queen. “This foe could not have simply vanished into thin air.”
Aragorn sighed and sealed the envelope with a stamp of heated wax. He offered the letter to the messengers that stood beside the desk and issued his orders. “Ride with haste back to Gondor and deliver this into the hands of the Steward of Ithilian.” He turned to the two royal guards that were to serve as escort to the messenger. “One of you ride to Gondor, the other is to stop in Lorien and bring this message,” He handed over another piece of parchment, on which was scribed the language of the elves, and sealed with the waxed stamp of the house of Elrond, “to Lord Celeborn.”
With a respectful bow, the guards left Aldamir and Aragorn alone in the spacious office.
“Arwen tires of being sequestered within these walls.” Aragorn sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “I don’t blame her. It is not the way of her people, to be confined in such a way.”
“Her protection, as well as yours, are of our utmost concern.” Aldamir began. “If she would like to go for a walk, I will send a detachment of guards with her.”
“It will not rid her of the feeling of being trapped in her own home.” Aragorn smiled slightly. “I need to get her back to Gondor.”
Aldamir’s eyes flashed. “Think you that we are unable to protect the Queen?”
Aragorn stood quickly and sighed. “Not at all, my friend. There are more men in Gondor and therefore more protection afforded her safety.” Aragorn clasped his friend on the shoulder. “You have a great deal of men searching for these evil beings. That leaves half here to defend the city should it come under attack. There are simply more resources set up in Gondor for the eventuality of a strike against the city.”
“What a better place to strike than the fledgling sister city of the great Gondor.” Aldamir growled. “I suppose we should feel honored to receive such a threat – and while you are visiting no less.”
“Most likely planned with the knowledge that we would be here.” Aragorn sighed. He did not want to fight with Aldamir, but he knew that his words had been a bit more stinging than intended. Aragorn did not want his friend and cousin to feel in any way that he had done a poor job in the rebuilding of the City. Before he could voice that concern, a loud crash echoed through the halls followed by screams of terror. Aragorn and Aldamir glanced at one another before drawing their blades and rushing out of the King’s office.
Royal guards led the way toward the dungeons and to the source of the sounds. The dungeon-keeper bounded out of the dungeons, clutching at the side of his face, which had been ripped open. Blood spurted from between his fingers and Aragorn called for the healers. “Get him to the houses of healing! I must know what happened here!”
Aragorn turned wild eyes on the Captain of the guard. “Be sure my wife is well protected!”
They descended the stairs, more guards joining as they reached the depths of the dungeons. The scent of blood and death was everywhere. The moans of the injured and dying carried up the stone steps, sent tremors of fear through the descending soldiers.
The steel bars surrounding the cell in which Pak’na and his men were kept, had been bent apart and tossed aside as if they were no heavier than a piece of clothing.
Aragorn winced and groaned in disgust as he nearly tripped over a leg near the front of the cell.
Whatever had infiltrated the dungeons had enough strength to rend these men limb from limb. Pak’na was slumped in the back of the cell, lips quivering, eyes staring straight, unseeing, as Aragorn approached.
The King knelt beside the man as the royal guard surrounded the area in an attempt to protect the King from whatever had done this to these prisoners.
“Who has done this?”
Pak’na didn’t answer. Simply stared, unblinking. He clutched at his arm, and only when Aragorn looked down, did he realize it was missing. Bloody marks adorned his chest in the shape of a large claw, releasing even more warm blood.
“Pak’na!” Aragorn hissed. “Who has done this?”
Painful whimpering was his only answer.
Aragorn gripped the clothing that had been shredded at the man’s shoulder and jerked him upright. “You must tell me!”
“T-told you he – he would come,” Pakna mumbled. Blood dripped from his lips as he spoke.
“Who?” Aragorn demanded. “What form of creature has done this to you?” he turned to Aldamir, “What form of creature could enter these dungeons unnoticed?”
“We are searching right now for – “
Pak’na slumped in Aragorn’s grasp as another scream emanated from far above. This same creature had apparently reached the higher levels of the castle – and that meant that it was far too close to the royal chambers for Aragorn’s liking.
The King muttered a string of curses in elvish before gaining his feet and rushing toward the stone steps.
Aldamir as well as the royal guard followed on his heels. As they ran, crumbling rock could be heard from above and large pieces of stone began to fall around them. Dust billowed around them, obscuring the large pieces of stone that fell from above.
“Something is bringing down the walls!” Aldamir gripped the King and pulled him toward the top of the stairs as more fragments of stone fell from above.
Several guards were caught beneath the falling rock and were crushed, but not before they pushed at their King to get him out of the way. Aragorn turned to grasp a hand as the body it was attached to fell beneath the heavy stone.
“No!” Aragorn cried, stopping in an attempt to free the trapped man.
“Aragorn. No!” Aldamir gripped his friend’s arms and pulled him away. “It’s too late!”
By the time they reached the top of the spiraling staircase, the path to the dungeon was completely blocked by debris. Those responsible for the collapse were nowhere to be seen and Aragorn turned sad but determined eyes on the guard that had escaped with their King.
“Get men down there to dig them out! Find out who has breeched these castle walls and –"
Another scream pierced their eardrums. This time it came from the direction of the King’s offices and throne room. Aragorn shot an exasperated look at Aldamir before gripping Anduril tightly in an already blood-covered hand and rushing toward the source of the piercing sound.
“Protect my wife!” Aragorn called behind him and several other guards pealed off and raced down the opposite hallway and toward the chambers Aragorn shared with his Queen.
When they reached the throne room, the place was a crumbled mess. Statues had been torn down and pieces of polished stone and marble lay in ruin at their feet. The guards normally stationed at the entrance to the great hall were dead, killed in much the same manner as those in the dungeons. With the exception of one small difference - they had been frozen before being violently torn apart.
Aragorn stared at the men for a long moment before Aldamir's hand on his shoulder pulled him from his disbelieving stuper.
The two men looked around the hall in complete disbelief. There was no sign of whoever had done this. They had gone, leaving utter destruction and death in their wake.
“Who has done this?” Aragorn seethed, eyes searching the ruins for some clue. As they walked slowly around the hall, a cry from the dais got their attention and two sets of eyes darted toward the sound.
Aragorn and Aldamir rushed toward the throne, gaping at the once ornate structure that had housed the crown of Arnor. The statue had been crushed and the mithril coronet was gone.
Aldamir’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what those responsible for this destruction had been looking for. “They’ve stolen it.”
Aragorn stared at Aldamir, disbelief written is his crystal eyes.
“What could someone possibly want with the Elendilmir?” Aldamir asked. “Even with the crown of Arnor, one could not possibly hope to usurp your rule. It would be a useless attempt.”
“I don’t know.” Aragorn answered, his mind racing to find an answer to what could possibly be the reason for this theft. A memory flashed in his mind and he gasped, startling Aldamir.
“What is it?” Aldamir stared at his King, making sure that he had not sustained any injuries.
“The old tale.” Aragorn whispered.
Aldamir stared at Aragorn.
Aragorn shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts and jog his memory. “The diamond- in the coronet was said to have some great power. But, whatever this power is,” Aragorn shrugged, “has fallen out of all knowledge; even the knowledge of the oldest elves. For it is from their records that I read of this rumored power.”
“If this thief has discovered the properties the diamond contains, that would not be good for Middle-Earth.” Aldamir whispered, low enough so that his voice would not carry to the four corners of the hall.
“It is doubtful these thieves-”
“I think it is highly possible that they know. Why else would they be so concerned with obtaining it?” Aldamir sighed.
“It’s worth.” Aragorn shrugged.
“Aragorn,” Aldamir stared incredulously at his King. “Even you would not be so foolish as to believe that greed has driven thieves to go to such lengths-”
“No,” Aragorn said softly. “I am more apt to believe that it was power that these thieves are after.”
“Then we must get the Elendilmir back before they discover its magical properties.” Aldamir stared at the statue that once contained the mithril coronet, now lying in ruins at their feet.
A movement in the far corner caught Aragorn's attention and he rushed over and fell to his knees. Dropping Anduril, he clawed with already bloodied hands at the crushed stone that covered the barely-conscious woman. She coughed and sputtered and was bloodied from the falling stone, but was otherwise unhurt. Her eyes were wide with fear and she was trembling.
"Lady!" Aragorn pulled the young woman into his arms and cradled her as best he could. "What did you see? Please, we must know. What did this?"
"It - it was terrible." The young maid trembled. "I-I will never sleep again. Never. It - it turned them to stone, the guards, with one look. It hissed at them with a foul and cold breath. I could feel it from across the room." She shivered in Aragorn's arms as Aldamir knelt to check her body for broken bones.
Aragorn exchanged a worried glance with Aldamir. "What kind of creature - "
A screeching pierced the air and suddenly, with perfect clarity, Aragorn knew what creature had invaded his city. Aldamir stared at his friend and King in disbelief as he, too, recognized the descriptions of the ancient creature the young maid was describing.
"Sweet Eru," Aragorn muttered as the woman mercifully passed out. "It can't be."
"It cannot be anything else. Not with that description." Aldamir said, glancing around at the room that lay in ruins at their feet.
"The dwarves will not be happy to have to return to rebuild this city." Aragorn chuckled, taking a quick moment to find amusement in the wake of such death and destruction. Glancing around, his expression turned solemn once again.
"We have not the strength to stop the destructive whims of a cold drake."
“Well it looks like we are going to have to find a way.” Aragorn rushed to one of the windows that had not been destroyed.
The slender, cylindrical body and wings of the drake were unmistakable as it flew toward the mountains and out of sight. People stood on the grounds below, shocked into immobility, their heads tilted toward the sky where the creature nearly blocked out the sun.
If they thought the Witch-King of Angmar and his devils were bad, facing down a nearly indestructible cold drake was going to be near impossible.
“What are we going to do?” Aldamir muttered in disbelief.
.
Chapter 3
"Sweet Aule!" Gimli stomped into throne room. "What has happened here?" The Dwarf stalked through the ruins kicking at the crumbled walls that had been painstakingly carved and installed by his people. "Look at all of this!"
Aragorn sighed and Aldamir winced as the Dwarf stalked to the door and glanced down the hallway. The drake had obviously taken this path from the dungeons if the chunks that had been taken out of the walls were any indication. The dwarven stone lay in ruins along the length of the hallway and the dwarf snorted in disgust.
"Do you know how long this will take to replace!" Gimli cried, too disgusted to look up at Aragorn.
Gimli continued to mutter to himself and Aragorn cast an exasperated look at Aldamir but said nothing. The Dwarf would get it out of his system soon enough and the men would have peace, at least from the easily aroused dwarven temper.
After a few minutes of constant muttering, Aragorn stepped forward, cleared his throat and said. "Are you quite finished?"
Gimli whirled on the man, ready to cleave the King's head from his shoulders. All too quickly, Gimli realized who had spoken and lowered his axe. "My apologies, King Elessar." The Dwarf bowed deeply, mainly because Aldamir was standing right there and it was best to show the King respect in public. Had Aragorn been alone in the room, Gimli would have taken his head off - with his tongue rather than his axe.
"If you are done complaining about what has happened, I should need your help in rebuilding this destruction." The thinly veiled command was carefully worded so that Gimli had no choice but to agree.
Gimli opened his mouth to ask again what had happened but Aragorn anticipated the question and had already begun to frame a response.
"Council will be held to address this matter as soon as possible. Please save your questions until then, I do not wish to repeat myself more than once."
---------------------
"I am NOT going back to Gondor while you sit here and make war on a dragon!" Arwen stared at her husband, aghast that he would even consider such a thing. "I will not be spirited away like a fragile old woman unable to protect herself!"
"Arwen," Aragorn sighed. After dealing with Gimli AND the Council, Arwen being difficult was nearly the final straw that loosed his carefully controlled temper. "I cannot protect the city from this creature. I would be foolish to think I could protect you from it. Please, you must go. I will send you with-"
"You will not deplete your forces even more by sending an escort with me to the White City." When Arwen spoke, there was an edge to her voice that Aragorn hoped he never had to hear again. He knew her reaction to this news would not be favorable. He however, did not expect her to refuse so vehemently. He was only considering her safety and he found it difficult to believe that she did not realize this fact.
"You need every man here to fight this evil and you will need me as well."
Aragorn shook his head. "I will not put you in such danger." He trailed the back of his hands down her cheeks to rest at the base of her neck. "I could not bear to see you harmed by this creature."
"Have you ever seen one of these dragons? Do you know what they are capable of? Do you know how to kill one? Do you know what you are up against?"
Aragorn stood in silence, knowing very well that she knew he did not have the answers. He had read about the drakes, fire and cold, deadly creatures of the ancient world that could not be killed by any conventional means. Bilbo Baggins had told many a tale about Smaug, the dragon that lived in the Misty Mountains. The hobbit would never have escaped alive had it not been for Gandalf.
Aragorn sighed. Would that Gandalf were here now, to advise and lend his always appreciated aid.
"No, I didn't think so." She rested her fingers on his forearms, her eyes softening. "I have seen these creatures. Have seen their destructive capabilities. You will need me to help you formulate a plan to destroy it." As if reading his thoughts, she added with a small smile, "Gandalf is no longer here to help us and the three rings of power have passed across the Sea. We must fight this creature alone with all the might the men of Middle-Earth can muster."
Aragorn nodded slowly, unable to find a way to contradict his wife's wise words.
"It cannot be acting on its own. It has to have a Master controlling it," Aragorn said, lost in thought. "If it was behind the attempt on our lives before, do you think now that we are surrounded by stone walls - that the creature can easily reduce to ruin - will serve as any protection? I will not risk your safety."
"I am not some weak-willed woman, Estel. I can defend myself better than most men!"
Aragorn pulled her into his arms and smoothed her hair. "Yes, you can. But you are my wife and I have a duty to see that you come to no harm."
"As you have a duty to your kingdom to see that it does not fall into ruin?" Which is exactly what had happened in the last few days.
Her words were more biting than she intended and she winced. The hurt in his eyes could not be masked and he turned away.
"I'm sorry," Arwen whispered. She took a step toward him and rested a gentle hand on the small of his back. "You've done everything you can to protect this city. I know there is little that can be done against such an ancient creature. But you will need me here, I know this as well as you."
Aragorn shook his head. He didn't want her to remain here. He didn't want to put her in danger. But, her ages old knowledge would be needed if they were to defeat this creature. He gave another half-hearted protest. "I don't want to put you in any unneeded danger, Arwen."
He was becoming argumentative and Arwen knew when to concede this battle and wage it another time. He was no use in discussing matters rationally when he was living on very little food and sleep. The people were frightened and looked to their King for his support and reassurance. And he gave them every ounce of strength he was able, until he could barely stand.
"We will discuss this later," Arwen slipped her arm into his and began walking him toward the bed. "You need some rest. And I intend to stand over you while you get some."
Aragorn opened his lips to protest but snapped his mouth shut when he saw the unarguable look in his wife's eyes.
-------------------
Far to the north, the creature stood quietly, its large eyes watching its surroundings like a bird stalking its prey. It's cold breath puffed below its nostrils as it waited - and watched - its Master work. Enchantments echoed in the evening air, spells unused for millennia spilled from the wizard's lips.
"Arghh!" The voice hissed and the drake's head turned to stare at the man leaning over the Elendilmir. "I cannot activate the powers within the stone. I can't make it work! Why?!"
"What powers does the stone carry?" The drake asked, its voice deep and raspy. Its large blue eyes glinted in the moonlight.
"Power beyond anything still surviving in Middle-Earth." The wizard's black eyes pierced the dragon and it appeared to wilt before him. "Once I awaken it, the people's of Middle-Earth will kneel at my feet."
He began another chant, only to have that one fail to yield the desired results. He cursed in his native language and stared down at the mithril coronet.
"Hmm," the wizard began to stroke his long gray beard in thought. "Could it be so simple?"
He continued to stroke his beard, lost in thought, until a wide smile crossed his lips. "Yes, I do believe that is the solution."
The drake blinked at its Master.
"Come, Graulwg," The wizard moved to mount his pet. "We must return to Annuminas. The King, the rightful heir to this coronet, must be the only one who can unlock its secret power."
----------------------
"The drake must be young," Aragorn leaned back in his seat and rubbed tired eyes. Sprawled out before him was a large map of Arnor and the lands that lay beyond its borders. "Otherwise his Master would not be able to control him. Dragons are controlled by no one but a dragon would not have the skill to be able to invoke an ancient and long-unused power."
"Melkor was able to control the dragons of the ancient world," Legolas glanced up from where he was leaned over the map. "If this Master is - "
Aragorn shook his head. "Oh sweet Eru, Legolas please don't even think it."
"It is a fact we must consider," Legolas said. "If there is an Istar controlling this drake, it will be near impossible for us to do anything about it."
Aragorn sighed. "Gandalf has sailed West and taken the rings of power with him. What can we do to combat this new evil that threatens the peace and security of this realm?" He looked from Aldamir, who had taken up the roll as King's advisor, to Legolas, for an answer.
"We track it to its lair and collapse the walls around it!" Gimli stalked into the make-shift war room, axe clanging on the stone floor as he walked.
Legolas heaved a heavy sigh. "Dwarf, do not speak of matters you know nothing about."
Gimli feigned hurt but was quick to respond. "You forget, ancient elf, that my ancestors have fought many a dragon, even slew the mightiest of them. Do not discount my suggestions too quickly."
Aragorn rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Aldamir gazed with fascination at Legolas and Gimli, wondering how it was that the two had never ripped one another limb from limb.
Legolas cast a side-long glance at Gimli before allowing a small victorious smile penetrate the stern look.
Gimli huffed, unwilling to concede defeat. "Now, I have sent for the records of the defeat of these dragons. Perhaps they will help us find a way…."
"You have records?" Legolas interrupted, eyes dancing. "I was of the understanding that once the Dwarves unleashed Durin’s Bane, your written histories were destroyed."
Gimli was incensed. "Well, if your ancestors had not created such beasts, we would not have to worry about them, now would we?"
Legolas opened his lips to respond but Aragorn stood and raised his hand. "Peace, you two. Not now. We have more important matters to discuss."
"Indeed." Was Legolas' only response and Gimli merely grunted.
"Now," Aragorn indicated they all look at the map sprawled before them. "Your council on where this creature could be hiding?"
"A cold-drake would hide in the mountains, where it feels comfortable." Legolas observed.
"However if its Master is a wizard, would he not feel more comfortable hiding in a cave or-"
"I will send scouts into the caves!" Gimli interjected. "We are made for such work. If there be evil lurking in the caves of Arnor, the dwarves will find them!"
The men smiled, grateful that Gimli had found a task in which to set himself to keep him occupied.
The door to the ‘war’ room opened and Arwen appeared, bearing a tray of fruit and mugs of ale and mead. Aragorn eyed her suspiciously.
“I am up to nothing, husband,” Arwen smiled when she noticed Aragorn’s eyebrows rise at her arrival.
“Serving us like a maid, now, orenya?” Aragorn teased as the men gained their feet in respect.
Arwen expertly balanced the tray on one hand and cleaned off a place at the end of the table with the other. “Since you refuse to leave this room, and have given the guards express orders not to allow anyone in, I knew you would not be taking food or drink.”
“Then how did you get passed these guards?” Gimli asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
Arwen shot him a mischievous smile. “Not many dare to refuse the Queen of Gondor.”
“And wrong they would be, if they made the attempt,” Aragorn rounded the table and pressed a quick kiss to Arwen’s cheek. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a hearty swig. “Thank you.” He gently touched her wrist, an intimate gesture that was not lost on the three men who watched the exchange.
Their eyes locked for a moment before the movement of the others reaching for their mugs distracted the couple. “And I’ve brought fruit, cheese and bread as well.” Arwen said to the men, pointedly looking at each one. “Since you will not come to the dinner table, please do me the courtesy of eating here.”
“I will see to it.” Aragorn assured his concerned wife.
Arwen’s eyes sparkled as she turned to Aldamir. “ Since my husband will be so concerned with making sure you have eaten, kindly do me the favor of seeing to it that he partakes as well.”
Aldamir smiled before executing a deep, respectful bow. “He will eat before the rest of us, Lady.”
Arwen smiled and returned Aragorn’s earlier gesture, trailing a feather light touch around his wrist.
Aragorn grinned, eyes sparkling, and nodded his head. “Yes, I will eat.”
Arwen smiled.” Good, because I will feed you myself if I must.”
Aldamir snickered and Gimli stifled a laugh by shoving the mug into his mouth and taking a long swig of ale.
Arwen smiled lovingly at her husband. “See to it that you remember.”
“Might we have a demonstration?” Legolas teased, knowing that this was a chance to inject a bit of stress-relieving laugh into the day.
Without missing a beat, Arwen reached down, plucked a piece of cheese from the platter, set it on an equally small piece of bread, and pushed it into Aragorn’s open mouth.
All three men laughed and Aragorn nearly choked on the food.
Arwen smiled widely and moved away as Aragorn swatted at her backside. “I will send a maid in to refresh your mugs and the platter, shortly.” Before anyone could answer, she was through the door and out of earshot.
Aragorn’s stern expression only caused the men to laugh louder.
Aragorn tossed and
turned in his sleep, haunting, destructive images plaguing his dreams.
Arwen rolled over
and reached out to press a slim hand to his whiskered cheek. She pressed the
palm of her hand against his skin, hoping that the pressure would wake him from
his dream. When it didn’t work, she slid closer to him and pressed her body
against his side.
“Estel,” She
whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Estel?” She repeated and he
whimpered in his sleep. “Elessar!” She raised her voice and called him by his
crowned name and his eyes snapped open.
“Wha-what is it?”
The cross-eyed look he gave her indicated that he would not understand even if
she told him.
“Sit up and clear
your mind. You were having a dream.” She used the bed linens to wipe his damp
forehead. “Can you tell me what it was that you were seeing?”
Aragorn sighed and
settled into the cushions. “I cannot see it clearly. Whatever it was, it
frightened me far more than anything in my life.”
Arwen pressed
herself against him and wrapped a protective arm across his waist. Settling her
head on his shoulder, she turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his
lips. “We will sleep close tonight and chase the dreams away together.”
Aragorn smiled and
pulled her into his arms, settling back into the cushions with a soft sigh as
her slim body pressed against him.
As they hovered on
the edge of sleep, a piercing shrill cut through the air, startling them both
awake. Before Aragorn could react, huge claws were pulling apart the wall that
separated the royal chambers from the outside air.
Aragorn launched
himself out of bed and unsheathed Anduril, its blade glinting off the
additional moonlight being cast into the room. He pulled Arwen out of the bed,
pushed her behind him and stood at the ready, waiting for the attack to come.
Royal guards
rushed through the door at his call, readying their weapons in the drake’s
direction.
The drake ripped
through the wall and settled its clawed feet not far from where Aragorn stood
pinned into a corner, a frightened Arwen clutching Aragorn’s elven hunting
knife.
The guards
advanced on the beast immediately in an attempt to clear a path so the King and
Queen could make their escape.
One guard was
sliced in half by a mighty claw, his body crumpling to the ground without a
sound. The other guard stood in place, frozen, eyes wide and unable to move. He
didn’t even lift his weapon to defend himself before the cold-drake struck him
down.
More guards poured
into the room and immediately attempted to stop the advancing drake.
Arwen cried a
warning from behind her husband. “Do not look into its eyes! The spell it casts
will render you immobile!”
The dragon hissed
its displeasure at the Queen’s warning and spewed cold breath from its mouth
toward the King and his wife. Aragorn raised Aurndil and the blade began to
glow when the frigid breath touched its steel. The Flame of the West
melted the frigid air the drake tossed toward its wielder.
Swords and staves
bounced harmlessly off the tough dragons scales rendering the aid the royal
guards were desperately trying to give their King useless.
“It’s belly and
neck are its weakness!” Arwen cried and Aragorn launched himself toward the
dragon’s underside.
“No!” Arwen cried
and reached toward her husband, who was already well out of arms reach.
A large claw came
up and jarred Aragorn’s path just enough so that his powerful thrust shoved
Anduril into the dragons rigid scales instead of into his belly. The shock of
steel meeting dragon scales jarred Aragorn’s arms so sharply and painfully that
he nearly lost his grip on the blade.
More guards filed
into the room, distracting the drake. Aragorn lifted his arms for another
strike and this time, his blade found its mark between the scales. The drake
hissed in pain and screeched loud and long.
It’s tail tore more rock from the walls, sending it crashing down on the
people below. The drake purposely clawed at the rock surrounding the entrance
to the King’s chambers, deliberately halting the royal guards rushing to their
King’s aid.
Aragorn pulled
Anduril from the creature’s flesh and prepared to thrust the steel into the
drake’s exposed belly. A flailing claw-tipped hand caught the advancing Aragorn
unawares and tossed him against a far wall. Anduril slipped from his grasp as
he slid down the rock unconscious.
Arwen screamed and
motioned for the guards to reach her husband before the drake made a meal of
him. She rushed toward the drake and it turned its cold stare on her. Without
Anduril’s heat to bear the brunt of the dragon’s breath, a cold mist began to
envelop her body.
“No!” Arwen cried.
She gripped her pendent in one hand and began chanting in the ancient language
of the elves – calling on the power of the Evenstar to come to her aid. The evening
star glowed bright in her hand and began to warm her chilled flesh.
Guards began to
file around her but the dragon’s breath froze them where they stood.
The drake made
quick deaths of the few guards left standing around the unconscious Aragorn.
The drake turned once more toward Arwen, who was still calling upon the power
of the starlight encased in her pendant, and hissed its frigid breath toward
her once more. She began to shiver as slivers of cold slipped through the
Evenstar’s net of protection. The drake howled its displeasure before pulling
Aragorn into its arms and stepping out of the ruined bedchamber. It’s wings
expanded and it began to fly toward the mountains – taking the King of the West
with it.
Arwen trembled in
exhaustion. Ice formed in her hair and she shivered from the biting cold that
had settled into her bones. Her remaining strength gave way and she slid down
the wall to her knees, looking absently at the death and destruction littered
around her. She could hear the cries and the relentless pounding of the stone
on the other side of the collapsed door but had no energy to answer their call
or move to help.
It was several
minutes before Aldamir and more guards were able to dig themselves a small hole
to crawl through.
The King’s advisor
surveyed the damage left behind, gasping at the carnage that surrounded him. He
raced to Arwen’s aid, leaping over bodies and stone to reach her before she
collapsed completely. She leaned into his arms as he knelt beside her and he
gasped at how cold her skin felt.
“Get me a wrap!
Quickly!” he ordered and began to frantically rub at her arms.
“It took him,”
Arwen whispered.
Aldamir gazed
around the ruined chamber, eyes finally coming to rest on Anduril as it lay
covered in debris. It’s wielder nowhere to be found.
“That creature
took Aragorn?” Aldamir choked, looking down to Arwen for confirmation.
“Yes.” She
breathed as a chill raced down her spine. “He was unconscious and-“ her teeth chattered
and she trembled in Aldamir’s arms. “And the creature just lifted him in its
arms and flew away.”
Aldamir closed his
eyes and whispered a silent prayer for the safety of the City and it’s people.
---------------------------------
The Camberlain
paced nervously at the foot of the Queen’s bed, watching the healers care for
the unconscious woman.
“She will be
well,” the healer pulled the covers up to Arwen’s neck and tucked her in. “Her
body temperature is returning to normal. I have given her a potion to help her
sleep.”
“I need to know as
soon as she wakes.” Aldamir asked. “She is the only one likely to live through
this attack. I need to know what happened.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” The
elderly woman cast a sad look toward the other filled beds in the healing
house. Most of the men were already dead, the others unconscious and not
expected to wake.
“We must go after
them!” Gimli charged into the room, oblivious to the sleeping Queen behind
Aldamir.
When the
Chamberlain moved to intercept the enraged Dwarf, the glare the diminutive
warrior gave the man caused him to step back in fear for his life.
“I know, Gimli,”
Aldamir sighed and seeing the Chamberlain’s disgusted look, escorted the upset
Dwarf out of the healing chamber. “But until the Queen wakes, our hands are
tied.”
The Chamberlain
settled himself by the Queen’s bedside as Aldamir escorted the Dwarf out the
doors.
“People for
leagues in every direction watched this creature fly away!” Gimli gripped his
axe like a vice, ready to pound in a head or three. “It is no secret as to
where this beast has fled!”
“And if we chase
it without knowing what to expect, we might as well jump from the tower of
Ecthelion with nothing to break our fall.” Legolas strode down the hallway, two
tall, dark-haired elves following.
“Elladan and
Elrohir of Imladris,” Legolas began the introductions, “ Aldamir, Captain of
this city in the King’s absence. You know Gimli.”
“We do,” the
eldest twin nodded.
“Welcome to Arnor,
Lords,” Aldamir bowed respectfully. “I’m sorry we have not the time to welcome you properly.”
“How is our
sister?” Elrohir dispensed with the formalities, uninterested in such trivial
matters.
“She sleeps
comfortably. We are not certain how she survived when all others in the chamber
were killed.”
Aldamir led them
to an adjacent chamber, one where they could speak together privately. The
twins warred with wanting to see for their own eyes that their sister was
indeed safe and the desire to see her sleep comfortably. They chose the later
and were satisfied when Aldamir led them to a room not far from where their
sister lay.
“If this was,
indeed, a cold-drake, as Legolas has informed us, then we believe she called
upon the power of the Evenstar, the evening star, to protect her.” Elladan took
the proffered seat.
“Anduril, being
elven and containing both the power and spirit of the sun and the moon,
should have been able to prevent Aragorn from succumbing to the dragon’s
breath.” Elrohir continued, taking a seat next to his brother.
Aldamir nodded in
agreement. “We have Anduril. Aragorn dropped it when he was taken. The queen
bears the pendant.”
Gimli paced the
length of the table, while Legolas and Aldamir took seats across from the
twins.
“We were riding
North when we came across the King’s messenger and bade him tell us his
message.” Elrohir explained to Aldamir, who’s unvoiced question could be heard
quite clearly by the twins.
“But we don’t know if Aragorn lives. All Arwen was able to
relay is that he had been taken and that he was unconscious when the dragon
carried him away.” Aldamir sighed deeply. “We won’t know more until the Queen
wakes.”
“If whoever has
done this wanted Aragorn dead, he would have been killed in the chamber with
the royal guard.” Elrohir stated.
“Then they want
him for ransom.” Gimli stated, as if he knew the reason for Aragorn’s capture.
“I fear it will be
far from that simple.” Aldamir sighed.
------------------------
Day 11
Darkness had
fallen by the time Arwen woke from her drug-induced slumber. She sat bolt upright
in her bed, trembling from a dream that soaked her bedclothes.
The Chamberlain
had been excused from his vigil at the Queen’s bedside by her brothers,
something for which Arwen would later thank them.
Elrohir caught her
in his arms and cradled her to his chest, murmuring words of comfort in her
ears.
Arwen’s eyes went
wide at the sight of her brother, but did not question how he had come to be
there. Her mind focused on her husband, and the fact that he was not by her
side.
“We need to know
everything you can tell us.” Elladan walked in with a cup of steaming tea and
pressed it to his sister’s lips. “If we are to mount an effective rescue, we
must know what we are up against.”
“A cold-drake.”
Arwen swallowed the steaming liquid before settling weakly back into the
cushions. “It was fairly small so it must still be young. It has learned how to
use its breath, however. It killed many before taking Estel.”
“Did he use
Anduril to combat the breath?”
“Yes.”
The twins breathed
a visible sigh of relief. “So he could still live?”
“It is my belief
the creature wanted to capture Estel, or else he would have been killed.”
The twins nodded.
“It is as we thought as well.”
“We have sent
messengers to bring warriors from Imladris and Lorien.” Elrohir informed his
sister. “There won’t be many, but they will at least help to replace what Arnor
has lost.”
“Thank you.” Arwen
squeezed her brother’s hands, comforted by their mere presence.
After a few
moments of silence, she stared at them with tear-filled eyes. “Bring him back
to me, El. Please.”
The twins wrapped
their sister in their protective embrace and whispered soothing words to her in
their native tongue. After a time, she leaned back into the bed cushions and
fell into a tea-induced sleep.
---------------------------------
Aragorn groaned as
he began to regain consciousness. It was dark and he had no sense of the time
that had passed. He was sore, every muscle hurt, and he could feel several
bones in his wrist that had been twisted badly. A small fire flickered in one
corner of the cave and the King blinked, trying to focus on the cloaked figure
sitting beside it. He was obviously no longer in Annuminas and he struggled to
clear his thoughts from the fuzzy haze of unconsciousness.
The wind howled outside,
bringing with it small flakes of snow. A chill settled into Aragorn’s bones and
he trembled. He was shirtless, and wore only his sleep pants. His feet were
bare and he trembled from the chill. Aragorn winced, realizing that he had been
carried far up into the snow-encrusted mountains.
“You would be wise
to move closer to the fire if you do not wish to freeze,” Came the voice from
the work-table.
Aragorn attempted
to stand but groaned as he put pressure on his leg. It buckled beneath him and
he fell, forcing him to crawl toward the fire.
“Who are you?” He
asked slowly. “What do you want with me?”
The cloaked figure
laughed and turned slowly toward the King. “You, King Elessar, will give me the
power to destroy Middle Earth.”
Aragorn raised an
amused eyebrow at the figure. “I will? I have no more power in Middle Earth
than does any other man.”
“That is where you
are wrong, Ingaran”* The stranger stood and Aragorn caught his
breath.
The man smiled
from beneath the hooded cloak that shrouded all but his eyes and very
pronounced nose. “I see that you recognize me.”
“Your kind have
departed over the Sea.”
“No, Elessar,
there remain still three of us who have not yet returned to the prison that is
Valinor.”
Aragorn blinked.
“The only mystery remains is which one of the three Istari you are.”
The cloaked figure
moved closer to where Aragorn sat, fingering an intricately carved box.
Aragorn glanced at
the box and, recognizing it for what it was, pushed himself to his feet,
ignoring the pain in his leg. “You have no right to the Elendilmir, I demand
that you return it to Annuminas immediately.”
“You are in a
position to demand very little, King Elessar.” The voice deepened and when the
wizard dropped the hood shrouding his head, Aragorn coughed back a gasp.
The face that
greeted him was no more than a shell. The wizard’s skin was sunken and
stretched, his fingers long and bony. “I see that whatever evil you practice
has taken its toll.” Aragorn taunted.
A shadow obscured the moonlight then and
Aragorn turned to see the cold-drake stalking towards him. The cave’s mouth was
large enough for the young dragon to fit its entire body but further toward the
back, only its torso would fit. It swung a clawed hand at Aragorn, swiping the
King off his feet before he could move out of the way. He hit the ground with a
hard thud that jarred his teeth and further bruised broken bones.
“Speak no malice
to my Master, human!” The dragon hissed and Aragorn’s eyes went wide.
“Yes, Elessar, my
pet here can speak.” The wizard approached where Aragorn lay. “Now, you will
help me release the power in the gem.”
“Then kill me now,
for I will never help one such as you.”
The wizard lifted
his staff and swung it toward Aragorn, who could never have anticipated the
invisible blow that struck his stomach with enough force to suck the breath
from his lungs. Aragorn groaned and curled into himself to avoid another blow.
The next one came as a stinging slam into his back and side. He could feel ribs
breaking beneath the invisible strike and winced in pain, eyes slipping shut to
stop the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.
“You will call
upon the power of the Elendilmir, heir of Isildur, of the line of Numenor!” The
wizard cried, “Or you will die a slow and painful death.”
“No!” Aragorn
gritted as another blow struck him across the chest. He coughed blood and
winced as a sharp pain lanced through his chest and down his arm.
The wizard waved back his dragon and raised his hand, and staff, toward Aragorn. The King’s eyes went wide as his throat began to constrict, making it difficult to breathe. His body was lifted off the ground and tossed against the wall, his back impacting with the hard stone.
Aragorn groaned as his body slid to the ground and the wizard smiled. “There are ways to make you speak, Elessar. I have but to find your breaking point.”
Aragorn’s head lolled to one side, consciousness fading with each breath. Before the next blow drove him into unconsciousness, Aragorn’s last thoughts faded to Arwen and the safety he hoped she had found somewhere in Annuminas.
*Quenya for ‘High-King’