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Soon, days melded together and seemed indistinguishable from each other, and I quickly began to lose count. But one afternoon, all of our incessant travel seemed to account for something when we at last came into sight of the Fords of Isen. On the horizon, I could faintly make out the outline of Orthanc, a jagged spike jutting out of the Earth like a splinter. It had been looming over us ever since we'd come into sight of it earlier that day, and I was anxious to finally escape from beneath it's watch. And even more anxious yet to arrive at what lay beyond it. The Fellowship. We were almost there. All that was left of the journey was to cross the river, and pass Fangorn. It seemed so short a distance, and yet so long. But all I could do was press on, Legolas by my side.
Things between us had been quiet since that night. The night I received my second rune. He seemed to take special care to tread lightly around me, as though the slightest misstep might set me off. And it annoyed me to no end. I felt there was nothing I could do to appear capable in his eyes. Nothing I could do that would quell his constant worry for my well-being.
Though, I suppose he'd every right to worry. I was worried myself. After all, having your dreams visited by Sauran, and receiving otherworldly markings scrawled into your skin by some form of magic weren't things to be taken lightly. But there was nothing that could be done at the moment. And besides, if anyone might know how to deal with such strange happenings, it would be Gandalf. So, I would take it up with him as soon as we were reunited.
At length, we approached the river, its cool rapids crashing over rocks that stuck out from beneath its angry surface. The body of flowing water released a damp smell into the air, entangled with the distinct smell of smoke. I frowned, my eye trailing the horizon, and coming to a halt over the plumes of grey rising high into the sky around Orthanc. I shuddered, glad I was oblivious to whatever chaos was brewing in its depths. When we'd reached the bank of the river, Legolas slipped off the horse, and I followed suit.
"This is as far as you travel, my friend," Legolas' voice broke the quiet.
He placed a gentle hand on the horse's nose, before turning it around, and sending it off, as we'd promised to do upon reaching the Fords. The creature knew its way home, and couldn't accompany us any further. As it shrunk in the distance, Legolas and I wadded through the shin-deep currents, quickly covering the distance. From here, we broke from the North-South road, making for Fangorn, where we would circle its perimeter before finally making it to Mirrormere.
We continued on for a stretch passed the Fords, our journey soon cut short by the setting sun that dipped below the horizon, sending gleams of light like shattered glass bouncing off of the length of the river that was now a ways behind us. We opted to make camp at the base of a large hanging tree, its leaves like a canvas draped over us, enveloping us in shade.
A fire was soon brought to life in the cradle of the tree, and Legolas and I sat side by side, our backs pressed up against the tree's smooth bark. It was the first time in days we'd stopped to rest, and longer since that I'd actually slept. My eyes threatened to fall closed, but I refused to let them, my mind swimming with fears of re-encountering Sauran. The fear and the pain. I rubbed my heavy eyes, blinking back the fatigue.
"You must sleep at some point. You can't expect to make it to Mirrormere without any rest," Legolas said suddenly, his voice warmer than the fire.
"I can't," I replied, my speech slow and quiet, weighed down by sleeplessness.
"I'll wake you the moment I notice you stir. I promise," he assured me, "But you've got to sleep, Elena."
I turned to face him, finding his eyes already on me, evidently riddled with worry. I didn't argue. Didn't have the energy to. And after a few more moments of resistance, I found I did not even have the energy to fight against my wary eyes, who despite my best efforts, fell shut, sleep following closely. Surprisingly enough, my slumber was not accompanied by dreams of any sort, and I was instead gifted a long and heavy sleep, something I was in dire need of.
I could scarcely begin to guess, however, that the true horror awaited me outside the realm of sleep, and it reached me first in the form of voices muffled by the heavy curtain of drowsiness that still surrounded my senses. As consciousness was returned to me piece by piece, I was made slowly more aware of what was going on, my attention immediately focused on the pointed tip of a knife against my throat. I choked back my fear, my eyes surveying the scene before me.
A group of perhaps fifteen men surrounded our extinguished fire, some of which held Legolas at bay, while another held the knife to my neck, threatening to stain the ground with my blood. Legolas' narrowed gaze never left me as I was pulled to my feet and my hands were bound by the rugged man, his hair dark and tangled, partially hidden beneath a heavy woollen cap. I recognized the group instantly. Dunlendings. Wildmen.
Their glaring, unfriendly faces watched us, scrutinized us, before they began to communicate in a language I didn't recognize. It was harsh and choppy, made even more so by their raucous voices. After a few moments, they turned towards Orthanc, collecting our effects, and dragging Legolas and I behind them. My breathing and heart rate slowed so much so that one might say they weren't active at all as we stumbled back across the Fords, travelling through the rest of the night. The sun's unfriendly white light soon burst from below the horizon, stinging the dull earth with its truculent beams that interrupted the night. We followed the river, like a winding path that led us to the spire looming before us, growing closer and lager with each step we were forced to take.
It wasn't long at all before we were at its foot, shrouded beneath the pointed shadow it threw across the land. It was surrounded by smoke that rose from huge pits dug out in the ground, and orcs and Uruk-Hai milled about it in more excess than I'd ever seen in my life. Legolas and I shared a worried look, separated by the Wildmen who kept us at a fair distance from each other. The cold of the morning stung my throat and chilled my skin, my limbs stiff and frozen as we cut through the countless scores of orcs, Uruk-Hai, and other Wildmen, attracting their attention as we went. They launched insults, laughed throaty, roaring laughs at what they thought was our imminent deaths. And perhaps they were right. Perhaps we would die.
The only reason we hadn't yet was likely by some slim chance that the Dunlendings recognized one of us, and thought it wise to brings us first to Saruman. Or, perhaps Saruman had known we were there the moment we were in Orthanc's midst. Either way, now we were here, in the middle of it all, and perish or live, it wouldn't be pleasant. I was passed between the men until I stood before the tallest of them, the one that looked to have some position of authority. Surrounded now by only three of the men, Legolas and I were led through the towering doors of Orthanc and met with a sharp, cold interior almost solely grey and white.
The room was tall, so tall the ceiling disappeared above our heads. Further on, a few men sat around a table, more distinguished in appearance than those restraining us. They spoke in loud voices as we approached them, oblivious to our presence until one of the Wildmen cleared their throat, pushing me forward with the jagged edge of his blade. I stumbled over my feet, and felt Legolas' bound hand on my shoulder, steadying me as he too was urged forwards by the sharpened tip of a sword.
The men turned to face us, and my heart dropped into my stomach when one face stood out among the others. Prince Alintas. Across from him, sat his father, hands folded neatly atop the table. And at the end of the table, with all the arrogance of the tower itself, sat Saruman, commanding all the attention in the room. Alintas let his brow furrow for only a moment before a smirk stretched across his face, revealing his delight at my peril.
"Legolas and Elena, as you ordered," the leader of the Wildmen stepped forward.
"You may go," Saruman waved his hand at them, and they bowed away.
Alintas and Falhir didn't dare speak out of turn to me, quite obviously afraid of interrupting Saruman and facing the consequences of doing so. But Saruman didn't speak. He didn't speak for so long, I wondered if he ever would.
As if in answer to my thoughts, he at last opened his mouth to speak.
"How terribly foolish a mistake," he uttered, "To think you might pass through the gap of Rohan without my knowledge. That you might escape my army, evade me."
He chuckled darkly, at last coming to a stand and strolling with casual ease until he stood at the other end of the table.
My chest felt heavy, and rose and fell in untimely rhythm as I waited for him to continue his speech.
But instead of receiving more bitter and condescending words, I was met with a sudden sharp tightness that enveloped my body, and my heels left the ground where they were firmly planted, my toes barely scraping the floor. Saruman's staff was pointed down at me, as his eyes perused me. Legolas took a step forward, but before he could utter even a single word, he was hurled back against the wall by the power of the very same staff that now suspended me mid air.
"You share her looks as much as her wit, that much is clear..." he whispered through gently parted lips, and I frowned.
"I know nothing of what you speak," I said pointedly, and winced as his hold coiled around me like a snake.
My ribs, only just beginning to heal, ached horribly as his grip, little by little, grew stronger. He stepped a few strides closer, eyeing me.
"I shall enjoy toying with you, Elena of Aerith," he said with a sickening smile, dropping me with sudden abruptness to the floor, an action that caused me to crash to my knees.
With a single sonorous order that bounced off Orthanc's steep walls, the Wildmen were back to do Saruman's bidding, grimy hands clamped around my arms, pulling me out of the room. And away from Legolas. My heart rate peaked.
"Legolas!" I screamed as he was dragged into another room, head spinning from his collision with the solid wall.
In spite of his daze, however, his head snapped up at hearing my distressed voice, and he fought against the hold of the Wildmen, nearly escaping if not for Saruman, who held him at bay with an indifferent flick of his staff. Before I could watch the scene unfold any further, I was pulled into a hall that led to a steep and spiralling staircase.
Taking them two at a time, the Dunlendings on either side of me dragged me to some floor the number of which I'd long since lost count. When it seemed we could go no higher, I was tossed like waste into a windowless room, and bathed in pure, unbroken darkness, as the door to the room was pulled closed with a decidedly heavy thud that echoed off the walls of my new prison.
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