Chapter 51

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"I'm surprised to say this but... I miss this." I looked up at night sky, a breeze running across my face as I lay next to a nonexistent fire.

"The bugs or the grass tickling your neck?"

I turned my gaze from the stars to scowl at Legolas, scowling even deeper when I saw his smirk. He turned that smirk to the sky.

"I understand what you mean. The feel of a cool night breeze blowing stray strands of hair, the way the very air seems to sleep, yet come alive in a mysterious way. It's as if the world changes into something different; a place with different sounds, animals, and feel."

Surprised, although I shouldn't be, I turned my gaze to Legolas. Grass tickled my ear doing so. The moonlight shone against Legolas's pale hair, turning his face into an iridescent illusion with his pale eyes almost glowing. The serene image burned into my mind.

"You have a way with words."

He twisted his neck, pale eyes with smudges underneath regarding me. A ghost of a smile on his lips. "Every prince must be."

"No," I shook my head, "like I said before the battle, it's just a Legolas thing." His hand rested beside mine in the grass. I set mine atop his.

He smiled, but something like pain lit his eyes and he withdrew his hand and turned away.

Something twisted in my heart, burning and painful, and I let myself put my back to his. My now-calloused fingers tangled themselves in the grass, some strands popping free at the tension in my fist. Sunngifu's words rang in my head, but cowardice pushed them out.

*********

Saruman stood before me menacingly, as if a wretched lone tree whose limbs and leaves had gone dead years ago, leaving it to twist hauntingly over passerby, threatening to pull them into his clutches. I was his passerby, a helpless victim to sustain his wicked entertainment.

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, my mind leaking tears of fear through my scalp. My limbs were frozen in the anticipation of agony, and I knew it was futile to strain against the bonds holding me to the cold, cold metal chair. The very ground beneath me knew this as the evil gleam on its black surface hungered for my blood.

What would sprout from my blood? What did it hunger to grow? Thorny brambles to ensnarl victims.

"Such power you hold, Lumornel. Such a depth it holds. I wonder just how deep it goes." Saruman approached, a dulled butchers knife in hand, ready to hack open my veins and muscles.

"Will your Light vanish when it sees your Darkness? Will it flee when it senses your future? Surely it will want a worthier Host, not a helpless mouse destined to be caught in a snare."

His white hair brushed my clammy cheek as he descended upon me, abys eyes staring pass mine as if he could see the very power at my core. His knife whispered against the soft spot just underneath my eye. Then pushed harder.

"If the Light does not have a window to see out of, will the Darkness consume it?"

A frail, primal whimper rose in my throat.

"Or maybe," he withdrew the knife and cut off my shirt, "a damaged Host will cause it to flee."

His knife sliced across my abdomen, scarlet blood trailing along it.

At my agonized scream Saruman didn't flinch, instead, he moved the knife to the other side of my torso and dug in.

"Gag her," he commanded. A foul-smelling rag was stuffed in my mouth, then tied around my head. Dried blood filled my mouth with a disgusting iron-tanged taste. With the cloth in my mouth, I was forced to swallow the old blood.

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