I am sorry it took sooo long to get this chapter out, but I went on like 3 vacations, had to rewrite the chapter like 3 times…. you get the picture.
Deep down in the dungeons of Mordor, Aragorn was chained to a wall. His hands were shackled above his head. His head hung down, his chin touching his chest. His hair hung down across his face. His hair was tangled and mingled with the filth of the dungeon, and his blood. It had been two days since L’ana had captured him on the battlefield. It had been a brilliant plan on L’ana’s part. A large band of Orcs had separated him from the rest of the army. They had overwhelmed him and taken him captive. Faramir had fought with him to the last. But when the Orcs took Aragorn captive they delivered Faramir a deathblow and left him there and had then taken the King to L’ana. A single tear made a clear path through the grime on Aragorn’s cheek. Faramir was loyal, brave, and the best friend a man could have. He could not be dead!
Suddenly Orcs entered the cell. A large Uruk-hi (is that how you spell it?) took a crude key and unlocked the shackles. Aragorn fell to the floor, not even having the strength to lift his head.
“The Lady wants to see you.” The Uruk hissed at Aragorn and grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder. A groan escaped Aragorn. Rage filled him at the way he was being treated. But he knew that it did not matter. He could not stand, let alone walk.
He had been dreading this moment. He knew that L’ana was going to want to speak with him. He had heard all the rumors about the way she tortured her enemies. He hoped that he would not give anything important away.
Mayna paced out side the door. Back and forth, back and forth she went for about ten minuets. Myst lounged casually against the wall. He gave her an exasperated look.
“If you pace one more time, I am going to scream!” he said, annoyed. She sighed and stopped pacing. She ran her hand through her hair and started to drum her fingers on her legs. Myst rolled his eyes.
“There is this thing called patience. Have you ever heard of it?” he said to her sarcastically. She stuck out her tongue at him.
“Nay.” she said. Myst laughed. Barun lounged nearby, paying no attention to Mayna and Myst. His arms were folded across his chest and his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the door. Despite their banter, Mayna and Myst were just as tense as Barun. The door opened slowly. Out came a healer who looked like he had not slept in a week.
“Will Faramir be alright?” Mayna asked anxiously.
“Aye, thanks to you, Lady. He would have died if you had not healed him.” The healer said. She gave a sigh of relief.
“Thank the Valar. He was so badly wounded that he still might not have survived.” She said. She bowed to the healer. She turned to go and jerked her head at Myst and Barun, to tell them to follow her. They nodded and fell in beside her as she strode down the hall. They followed her as she strode out of the building. She stood there, her face upturned, gazing at the stars that gleamed overhead.
“Aragorn?” Myst asked quietly. She turned and looked at him and nodded.
“I know the men that were sent to rescue him are top soldiers. They would be able to rescue him in any other situation. But with L’ana, in Mordor? No. I am the only one who would have a chance. And, maybe, you two.” she said. She turned her head and looked into each of their eyes. ” I have trained you well. You can walk as quiet as an Elf. You are deadly with your weapons. You barely ever miss. This is the final test of your abilities. Are you with me, my friends?” With out hesitation they reached out and clasped her shoulder.
” We are with you. ” they said together. Mayna looked at them, with tears in her eyes. Their loyalty meant much to her. They were willing to go into the very teeth of Mordor with her.
” I thank you, my friends,” She said simply, ” There is something I must get now. Stay here.” With that she turned around and ran off toward her room. In a minuet, she was back carrying a staff. Barun looked at it blankly.
“It is my wizards staff, smart one. Or did you forget that I was a wizard? I did disguise you so that no one would recognize you.” She said.
” Oh. You do not usually carry it. You usually rely on your fighting abilities.” He said. She nodded.
” That is because I prefer them. But with L’ana I need all the help I can get. Now let us stop talking and go to Mordor.” She exclaimed.
” Aye! To Mordor!” they chorused. And with that, they slipped out of Gondor and on to Mordor; three shadows in the night.
The Uruk-hi dragged Aragorn into a dark room and dropped him on the floor. A dark figure in walked toward him. It was L’ana. He watched her, entranced. She was beautiful, in a dark way.
“So this is the famous Aragorn, King of Gondor. King of Gondor, bow to me!” she commanded him. He looked at her, his eyes burning with hatred.
“Never.” He said. She screamed. Her face twisted with anger.
“You dare defy me!!!!” she screamed. Aragorn steeled himself for whatever was to come. He felt it, a growing pain. Soon it filled him, a burning agony. He clenched his teeth. He would NOT scream. Pain racked his body. But, still, he did not scream. Slowly his head went up. He stared into L’ana’s eyes.
” You will never win.” He said softly, and then the pain overtook him and he slumped to the floor. L’ana stared at him. Then she began to chuckle. Then she threw back her head and laughed.
“You fool. You fool.”
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