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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: March 18th, 2015, 3:29 am 
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"My, this one's a struggler!" One guard casually remarked to the other, as they shoved their prisoner along down the dark corridor. It was small talk, nothing more. They each held an arm in their tight grip; the young woman kicked out and screamed at the top of her lungs, her eerie wails echoing in the prison block. A third guard whistled an oblivious tune, reaching for one of the jangling keys hanging on his belt. Selecting the correct one, he unlocked one of the cells. With a grin, he observed Rhys as his colleagues shoved Luthien down onto the cold stone floor. The cell door slammed shut again.

"Take care," the third guard warned Rhys. "Your new cell mate is violent. And better not waste your time by trying to get to know her. She should be joining you on the scaffold one fine morning soon." With that, the jailers strode away, commenting amongst themselves about what time their lunch might be today, or if they would be would be kept busy with more prisoners. Rhys and Luthien were left alone, two unfortunate beings forced to be companions in the same devastating fate.

Luthien was crouched down on the floor, her long fair hair hanging in string like clumps, her scalp bloodied. More blood was visible through the greasy strands; red liquid dribbled from a cut on her brow and a slit on her lip. A hint of the beginning of a purple bruise was visible on her cheekbone. Very slowly, she raised her head; the look in her eyes was that of a wild, trapped animal. But she was obviously exhausted. Her unsettling gaze fixed onto Rhys, and she tilted her head very slightly. "Violent?" her voice was hoarse and tired, but not without spirit. "Me? They are the ones who have probably ruined my looks forever." With that, she flopped down onto her back, stared up at the gloomy ceiling of the cell and burst into painful laughter. She clutched her stomach, unable to stop laughing. "Heaven help me!" The look she cast at Rhys as she turned her face towards him was almost cheerful. "So, what is your name, then?"

~~~

Morrigan didn't know what on earth was going on. All she knew was that the house of Uruvion had been sent into a complete uproar. From the confines of her grand chambers, she listened with her ear pressed against the door as servants rushed along the hallway outside, their voices raised with... what? Panic? Excitement? It was past noon, and still no one had come to attend to her. The only person she had seen today was Uruvion, and that had been early this morning; he had told her that under no circumstances was she to leave her rooms. Morrigan knew Uruvion well enough to know that he never made an idle threat. And so she had stayed here, frozen with fear, left to wonder what was happening to Rhys in his lonely imprisonment.

Within a few moments, the hallway was quiet once more. Morrigan trembled as she listened for footsteps. But there was nothing. It remained that way for at least twenty minutes. This silence was just as unnerving as the former sound of unfolding mayhem. It had been like this, on and off, for hours. What was happening? Was there to be an execution? Was that why everyone was behaving so oddly? But if that was so, then she surely would have heard the scaffold being put up outside the house. No, it was something else.

After another five minutes, Morrigan could not bear it any longer. Very quietly, she opened the door, turning the handle gently. She crept out of the room on her silk slippered feet, and took a deep breath. Sunlight poured forth from the hall windows, and she blinked against the sudden bright light. Uruvion had instructed that all her windows in her own rooms were to be covered, so that Morrigan was kept in darkness. It was liberating to reclaim the day as her own. But at what cost? Morrigan dreaded to find out.

She hurried along, not wanting to be caught. She didn't know where she was going, but she was desperate to know what had happened. The silken cream skirts of her gown swished and whispered as she broke into a run. She winded along endless corridors, until she suddenly came to an abrupt halt, almost twisting her ankle in the process. She stared at the open door of the infirmary, which she had always known to be kept shut. Never, in all the time she had been here, had a single patient been brought here. Uruvion disliked illness, and despised the wounded. Both he considered weak and not worth his household's time. The only exception to his hatred of maladies was Morrigan, whose affliction inspired tenderness and almost overwhelming concern in Uruvion, rather than disgust.

Morrigan slowly entered the room. There was only one person in there, lying outstretched on one of the beds. He appeared to be asleep, almost as if drugged. There was a bowl of potently sweet smelling herbs at his bedside. He was a man Morrigan had never seen before, certainly not in this house. A wound on his arm appeared to have been carefully tended to and bandaged. Who was he? How had he come here? Acting on instinct, Morrigan went to sit at the end of Beor's bed. She watched him with a softly furrowed brow, deep sympathy stirring within her heart.

This man may have been here to be brought back to health, but his treatment had not been ordered for his own good. Uruvion wanted him well and healthy before he destroyed him all over again.

~~~

"Let me see you, Arawen."

Arawen stayed where she was, her back resolutely turned away from Uruvion. She could hear him breathing - carefully, as if trying to appear calm. She heard his footsteps as he walked towards her, his boots ringing against the smooth marble. "I said, let me see you," he repeated. Everything was so familiar; the hush of his gently threatening tone, the scent of his hair, which he had always washed in perfumed water. Arawen felt physically sick, her skin cold, goosebumps rising along her arms. The red damask gown Uruvion's servants had dressed her in felt too heavy, too tight, clenched in at the waist with an ornate jewelled belt. They had arranged her hair elegantly and painted her lips crimson.

Uruvion's hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched. He turned her round to face him, and she was finally forced to meet his gaze. Uruvion stared at her, as if he could hardly believe his eyes. He caressed her shoulder, almost as if to make sure to himself that she was actually real. It was obvious to Arawen, in that moment, that Uruvion had dreamt of this moment for years. "Here you are," he whispered. "I never stopped thinking of you, Arawen... not in all these years..."

"Be silent," Arawen spat out, pulling herself free. She saw Uruvion's expression change from fragile hope to anger. "You have not changed, I see. With your poison disguised as honey."

"You would speak to me like that?" Uruvion said. "After what I have done for you? After I have spared you the terrible fate of your friends?"

"My friends," Arawen repeated rapidly. She kept her face blank but her heart was racing. "Where are they? What is to happen to them?"

"You really feel the need to ask? They both shall die, of course. One is already in the cells as we speak. But Beor?" Uruvion allowed himself a vindictive smile. "He is being looked after, most carefully. I'm sure you shall see him, in a short while. We should all have time to have a little chat before he is sent off to his death."

Arawen shook her head. "You can't... you can't do this, Uruvion. They're... they're innocent. They're innocent."

"That matters not to me." Uruvion reached out and slid his hand around Arawen's neck, tipping her head back and tightening his grasp on her throat. "There. Do you see? You look at me now, don't you Arawen?" He stroked her jawline with his thumb. "Remember what I told you? You will always be mine. Look at me."

Arawen shut her eyes, taking this one act of defiance. In this moment, she cared not if he killed her. But he would never do that. And at any rate, she could never forget the vow she had made, to kill him if ever she had the chance. A smile stretched across her lips, and she hissed the words that she knew would affect Uruvion the most:

"I am not yours. If I was ever anyone's at all, it was never yours."

Uruvion's hand dropped from her neck, and he appeared stricken and infuriated. "Well," he said quietly. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: March 19th, 2015, 7:42 pm 
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It was the sound of wind that woke him. Cloth or curtains caught in a soft breeze nearby. It took him minutes, perhaps even an hour to fully shrug off the dreams that tried to pull him back into oblivion. But to his relief, Beör concluded that he had not been troubled by nightmares. He'd slept probably for a long, long time. He was shocked to discover that he lay in a bed with a soft mattress and underneath a single sheet. A curtain hid a large part of the dimly lit room from his view. But what he did see were sandstone tiles on the floor and white plastered walls and the contours of other beds.

Where was he? Beör could not recall how he got there. He remembered how days had blended into nights. How he struggled to keep going. And how on the night, which he thought was going to be his last, they were ambushed. He’d tried and failed to defend himself and then there was only darkness..

He tried sitting up in order to slide the curtain away, but with a jolt of shock he realised that this was not possible because of the bonds, that restrained his wrists to the bed. Panic. He could not be captured, not again. He was sure that he would not survive another period of captivity. Beör tried to calm down and suppress the powerlessness that these restraints caused. After carefully examining them, Beör found that the bonds were made of a slightly flexible fabric. Due to his emaciated state however his wrists and hands were as thin as sticks. After a few moments of wriggling Beör was free.

A new surprise awaited him when he quickly climbed out of bed. He had been washed and his hair had been combed. The ranger stared at his hands, his arms and body from which every bit of dirt was scraped. When his eye fell on the pink lines that formed his scars, he quickly looked away. The memories of how he'd got them had not been washed away. Even though he still felt weak, he could not believe how much a bath invigorated and refreshed him. His old clothes, or rags, however when gone.

The ranger slipped past the curtain and noticed from first glance that the hall was an infirmary. It was night time but from the light of the few candles that were lit and the moonshine through a few high windows he could discern many beds, without any occupants. Beör tiptoed to the end of the hall into an adjoining room, which seemed to be a sort of examination room as there was another bed, a large supply of towels and bandages and shelves with pots and dried herbs.

A thorough examination of the room provided Beör with what he needed. There was a stack of worn, but clean clothes in a small cupboard. On the shelf with herbs he found a small dagger, which he used trim his facial hair and then tucked away in his sleeve. When Beör was about to find a way out of the room, something stopped him in his tracks.

In the far corner of the room there was a glimmering, that caught his eye. Upon taking a closer look, he noticed that it was a mirror. The ranger stopped at a distance, not yet able to see his reflection in the cracked glass. He had never been a vain man, who cared about his looks. He would see his reflection when casting a look at a window or noticing his reflection in a stream, but not look for long. However, when glancing at the looking glass now, Beör stared at a stranger. The bearded man, he saw, was not the same as the young man that lost his freedom sixteen years ago. His blond hair was wild and had grey streaks. His face was gaunt and there was a bruise near his temple where he was struck down before he was brought this place. Only his piercing blue eyes were proof that this was the young ranger, he once was. Beör shook his head, not willing to look at his reflection any longer, quietly opened a door that led to a hallway and left.

If they were in the place he suspected, then they were all in great danger. After traveling for weeks through the barren wasteland, there was only one place where they could be: Núrn, the home of the Black Númenórians, servants of Sauron. But why hadn’t they been handed over to Sauron’s second in command? They had to be dead or in prison at any rate. He had to find Luthien and Arawen.

Beör was now glad that he was bare feet; the hallway was quiet and abandoned and the slightest sound could alert anyone of his presence. Then suddenly, he heard soft voices, coming from further down the hallway. One was distinctly of a woman; a familiar voice. Beör quickened his pace until he reached a door that led to a place from which the voices were clearly audible. With whom was Arawen in that room? Was she in danger?

Bursting into the room could be dangerous. He would most certainly get caught. But he knew that behind that door lay answers and if there was one thing that Beör dreaded, than it was the unknown.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, but froze with fear as soon as he saw its two occupants. Arawen was standing in the middle of the room, looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. And behind her stood a man, he had believed to be dead. The man, who had interrogated him time after time, who had taken Arawen away from him, who had made him wish for death. The man who hunted his nightmares still. Urúvion.

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: March 20th, 2015, 12:44 am 
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Uruvion took a step forwards as the ranger entered the room, interrupting his conference with Arawen. Uruvion ran his dark gaze over Beor, his mouth curling with amused malice. "Well now," he sneered, taking in Beor's time worn appearance. "Look at how the mighty have fallen. You're looking in rather bad shape, Beor." He stood beside Arawen, his arm going around her waist to prevent her from going forward to her comrade. His touch was gentle, but his tenderness was filled with menace. The slightest movement of his fingertips indicated to Arawen that there would be trouble if she tried to escape him.

"Here's your friend, Arawen," Uruvion spoke softly into her ear. "The one for whose wretched sake you traded in your life. Remember? Was he worth it? Did it soothe your conscience to see him linger on year after year behind the bars of his cage?" With his free hand, he toyed with a strand of her dark hair. Arawen stood still as a marble statue, looking as cold as stone. Her bright blue eyes, however, were fixed on Beor.

Run, she mouthed, not risking speaking out loud to him. Run, Beor. Uruvion had made no secret of his plan to make her watch Beor die. She was desperate for Beor to be free; she desired his freedom more than her own. Freedom for herself was an alien concept to her. She only wanted to achieve two things before she left this world: for Luthien and Beor to escape unharmed... and to put an end to Uruvion's life. If her death was the price of these two wishes, then it was one that she was willing to accept.

"Aren't you going to say anything, Beor?" Uruvion taunted him. "No? Nothing to say?" He drew Arawen closer into his embrace. "You're probably thinking to yourself, amongst other things, how lovely she looks. She is so perfectly preserved; Mordor left not one mark on her." He delicately caressed her pale face with the back of his hand. "It is a miracle to see her delivered to me thus. You can be sure that I will never let her out of my sight again. So many years spent dreaming of this ethereal beauty... sleepless nights, longing for her presence. That yearning, that love, never went away." His eyes gleamed as he looked away from Arawen for a moment to pierce Beor's gaze. "But then, that's something you understand absolutely, is it not? Don't you think I knew, and that I know still, how you pined for her after she was taken from the cells? I saw it destroy you. And now you are every inch the wreck of a man that I always knew you would become."

"Enough," Arawen blurted out, unable to stop herself. Her was tone abrupt. She just wanted him to stop talking, to cease this endless torment. "Enough, Uruvion."

"Enough? No, I've not said nearly enough," Uruvion replied. "In fact, I've only just begun."

~~~

The door creaked as Morrigan pushed it open, her hand trembling. She had followed Beor to this room, in search of an answer to the questions that plagued her mind. Completely unsuspecting of what she would discover behind this door, she had followed her instincts and taken that fatal step. She looked past the escapee patient and gazed upon the sight of her master, holding in his arms the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had flawlessly pale skin, and dark hair. She looked like a queen in her majestic red robes. The woman's blue eyes met Morrigan's. Uruvion followed Arawen's line of vision and realized that they were not alone.

"Morrigan," he pronounced her name coldly. "I thought I told you that you were to remain within your chambers, and not to leave them under any circumstances. The house is not safe for you." He reluctantly let go of Arawen and summoned Morrigan to him with an impatient gesture.

Morrigan obeyed him, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor now, not daring to look up in case even that would anger him. Uruvion ushered her into a window seat, making her sit down. Whatever scene she had just interrupted, it appeared that she now had to be a witness to it. "I suppose you're wondering what's going on," Uruvion observed, stating the obvious. Morrigan gave a tiny nod. "You remember I spoke to you once of a beautiful but disobedient woman I once knew?" Morrigan nodded again. "Well, this is she. My lost love, come back to me."

Morrigan looked up now. Uruvion smiled into her grey eyes, searching for any hint of jealousy. Morrigan felt no envy; she only felt fear. If Uruvion should tire of her, what would become of her? If he had no further use for her, did that mean she would join Rhys in death? Uruvion saw the tears build up in Morrigan's eyes. "Don't be melancholy," he continued. "This all may come as a surprise to you, but you needn't be afraid. There is still a place for you here." He paused. "For now," he added ominously. "I must take some time to make up my mind as to what to do about this current situation." He turned away and held out his hand to Arawen.

"Come here, Arawen."

Arawen remained where she was. Very slowly, she shook her head, before darting towards Beor. She knew she was taking a risk, but what if this was the last chance she had to speak to him? She snatched up his hands and drew him closer to her. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear so that only he could hear her. "Don't give in, Beor. Whatever he says to you, don't give in."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: April 1st, 2015, 6:21 pm 
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[I am not posting for Nadyah just yet. Still thinking of how to get her back into the plot again. ;) ]


He was back between the stone walls of his cell, where the darkness was overwhelming and the loneliness unbearable. Here he could not escape these poisonous words. Sometimes these words were whispered, sometimes shouted, but always threatening.

But he wasn't in Mordor any more; these were the lands of Núrn. The air here felt hot and smelled scorched. And here they were again: Urúvion, Arawen and he. Everything was different, but then nothing had changed.
Even though he now was still free, his lifespan had just been reduced to mere weeks or perhaps even days. The words of this man, this monster still hurt him in the right place. His heart was still instilled with fear whenever he was near, while he had to rely on his ratio to keep himself from believing him.

The cold touch of Arawen's hands pulled Beör from his whirlwind of thought. He clasped her hands in his, beholding her in all her cold beauty. He realised that he had never been so close to her but for that one dreadful night so many years ago. It was that night that he stopped grieving for the companion, he had been so desperate for after years of loneliness and his grief turned to hatred for this woman who he thought had changed allegiance. So many words had remained unsaid about what happened and what she had done. All Beör knew was that he could not let her make that same sacrifice twice.

"I am most glad to see that despite all your big talk you didn't do well after all these years either," Beör said with a vast voice. Sarcasm was clearly audible as he spoke. It was one thing that had not been destroyed in Mordor, on the contrary it had been his only weapon.

"You're still pretending to have any power, to be of importance, but you achieved nothing. You haven't earned any respect, only fear of the people you terrorise." Beör glanced at Morrigan, whom he hardly even noticed coming in. In this moment there were only Arawen and Urúvion, the only two people that had existed in his world for years.

“I might have become a wreck, but I am still a man. But you..” Beör looked at Urúvion, his eyes full of contempt. Arawen’s hands were still locked in his, so she could feel how they trembled. Defying Urúvion took its toll on the Ranger. But he was strengthened by the thought that this time Urúvion would not gain anything by locking him away. After having breathed in the fresh air as a free man, Beör was convinced that taking his freedom away again would destroy him.

You are no man, Urúvion. You have no honour, no sense of loyalty. You are a monster.”


-------------------


Rhys felt a pang of panic when he heard the guards walk down the cell-block, but his panic soon passed as a girl was shoved into his cell. She looked exhausted, her dress was dirty and torn and blood was dripping down her temple. For a moment, Rhys was astonished as he watched how the girl burst into fit of delirious laughter. Without noticing, his lips curled up in a smile. How long had it been since he had heard laughter? Rhys couldn't even remember.

He crawled on hands and knees over to Luthien. “Are you alright?” he asked, when her laughing had ceased. Rhys brushed away the curtain of blond hair to look at the blood on Luthien’s forehead. “Don’t worry,” he responded with a grin to her glare when he touched her head. “I am not violent either. These,” he held up his shackled wrists. “are just for show.”
“Well, it looks like these cuts aren't very serious,” he continued after examining her head. “I am no expert, but I think that you will live- for now.” He patted her on the shoulder and returned to his spot.

Rhys was quiet for a moment and thought of Morrigan, wondering whether she was alright. She had been taken away from the cells hours ago, but Rhys was certain that this courtesy would not be given to him. Somehow, he had become a pebble in the shoe of one of the most powerful men in Núrn and it would not take long before he was discarded.

He held up his wrists, resisting the urge to pull as hard as he could to break the chains and tried to tuck down his sleeves between the iron so that the raw skin of his wrists would be spared. The chains made him feel like a piece of cattle, low and unworthy. That was the method of the Black Guard: humiliation, violence and fear. That’s how they ruled Núrn, maintained control over the slaves and kept the well-oiled machine that produced resources for Mordor going.

“You’re not from here,” Rhys finally remarked with some curiosity. “You’re from Gondor, like me. But I have never seen you before. Do you live in the slave barracks near the Eastern Gate?”
The barracks at the Western Gate came somewhere near a place Rhys could call his home for the past years, yet he had never seen any men or women from the West there. There were only a few of them in the wretched land of Núrn. “Lucky you, I guess,” Rhys grinned, “all these quarrelling Harad tribesmen were driving me mad. No one’s here to bother me here though..” His voice trailed away.

"I am Rhys by the way."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: April 3rd, 2015, 7:49 am 
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Morrigan stared at Beor, astounded by all that he had just dared say. Did he have some kind of death wish? No one spoke to Uruvion like that and lived. Her frightened gaze swivelled from Beor, to Arawen, then back to Uruvion again. How would he react? Would he lose his temper and kill Beor on the spot? No. It seemed not. Uruvion was silent, but he looked calm, a slight smirk on his lips. He appeared amused, as if Beor was nothing more than a speck of dirt on the floor. Or an insect that he could easily step on and be rid of in a moment. Morrigan felt sick just looking at Uruvion. She knew her master well. What was about to happen would be just as bad as any bloodshed.

Uruvion strolled forwards and rested his hands on Arawen's shoulders. His dark eyes gleamed with malice as he smiled at Beor. "So, at last, the ranger makes his final stand," he said quietly. "He has his grand speech all prepared, his fine sentiments, his moral outrage. Such pretty words and yet so little meaning!" He drummed his fingertips against Arawen's collarbones. "You are nothing more than a fool, Beor. Look at you. A time worn prisoner, heading fast towards an early grave - and holding onto the hands of a beautiful woman as if he thought she actually cares for him!" He laughed cruelly.

"What makes you think that she feels anything for you apart from pity?" he continued. "I have always marvelled at your complete and utter idiocy, ranger. You think that you understand her, understand anything about her? It is only I who has ever been able to see into her heart, and in it I see my own reflection. A mirror to my own soul."

Hearing those words, Arawen suddenly broke free. She faced Uruvion, overwhelmed with fury, her blue eyes swimming with a dangerous light. Uruvion's smug smile only served to make her even angrier. She wanted to tear that look off of his face, make him wish that he had kept silent. He would pay for indulging his evil need to tear apart the souls of others. Arawen's mouth lifted in a sneer. "A mirror to your own soul?" she repeated in disgust. "It is you who are the fool! A deluded, wicked fool." With one quick movement, she seized the collar of jewels fixed about her throat and flung them in Uruvion's face before they clattered to the floor.

"Check your temper, Arawen," Uruvion responded, bending over and picking up the jewels. He held them out towards her. "Put these back on. I gave them to you as a gift."

"I care nothing for you or your gifts," Arawen hissed. "Keep your gifts for those who will accept them." She looked over at Morrigan, whose neck was dripping with diamonds. "Who is she?" Her tone altered as she looked at the young woman. There was something about the look in Morrigan's eyes that disturbed her. It was too familiar. It was the look of a trapped animal who does not know which way to run, and so stays where she is, fixed in her fear.

"That is Morrigan," Uruvion said. "She knows her duty. Come here, Morrigan." He summoned her towards him. Morrigan obeyed him, keeping her eyes on the floor. "No need to be bashful," Uruvion reprimanded her. Morrigan's heart pounded as she looked up. Secretly, she wanted to break away from Uruvion and stand by Beor and Arawen, even though they were complete strangers. She wanted to defy Uruvion along with them. She wanted to tell her master what she really thought of him now. But she couldn't. Instead, she remembered the words Rhys had spoken to her through the wall separating their lonely prison cells.

"There's something about your your eyes, your smile. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever met. This makes you powerful. Because you can put men under your spell and let them do your bidding. Every door can be opened for you. All you need to do is realise it."

She could not defy Uruvion to his face. But she could manipulate him...

~~~

Luthien nodded her thanks after Rhys checked her wounds. She remained where she was, staring up the ceiling, listening to the jangle of Rhys' chains. Here she was, back in a cell, locked away to await her death. Not so long ago she had believed herself to be free. She'd thought that she'd succeeded in her fight for liberty. This was like some kind of cruel trick, the cruellest there could be. She turned her head towards Rhys as she realized he was asking her a question. She hadn't been ignoring him; her mind just kept drifting a bit. She'd had a knock to her head, after all.

"Slave barracks?" she echoed Rhys' words. "Eastern Gate? No, no." She sounded surprised. She smiled at him and turned onto her side so that they could face each other whilst they talked. "I haven't been in any barracks. I've only just been brought here." She paused, wondering whether to tell Rhys anything of her back story. It could prove a mistake if he was to repeat her words to anyone. But somehow she didn't think he would. He seemed trustworthy.

"I came from Mordor," she said, lowering her voice. Even to herself it sounded like something out of a story. Who ever saw the inside of Mordor and lived to tell of the experience? "I was kept there... somewhere in the fortress. In a prison block, with some others. We tried to escape. We thought we'd succeeded for a while, but... our journey to free lands took us past Nurn, and we were captured. Now that really is bad luck, isn't it?" She laughed again, because there was nothing else to do.

"And now I'm separated from my friends, and I don't know what's happened to them. I don't know why they weren't taken here like me." She gingerly rested her sore head against her hand. Unlike Rhys, she had not yet been shackled. "I'm Luthien. I didn't say that, did I? Nice to meet you, Rhys. I wasn't expecting to see a friendly face in here."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: April 8th, 2015, 6:11 pm 
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Beör's arms hanged limply aside of his body when Arawen let go of his hands. With the loss of that connection, it seemed like an invisible barrier of strength had disappeared as well. Urúvion's words washed over him like a flood, planting doubt in his mind. The hunter knew his prey well. He had spend so many hours interrogating the ranger that he had come to know his defences, his impulses and his first instincts.

Beör looked at Arawen in doubt. Urúvion's words played over again in his head. Perhaps she did only feel pity for him...
Back then, he had been a man who was still clinging onto the possibility to escape and regain his freedom; a man who had been alone for much too long, but he had still been himself. But now... Urúvion was right about him.

And so because of only a few words of this man, Beör lost himself. Just like in his nightmares he was trapped again, too petrified to defend himself from this man's mental or physical attacks.
He became aware of his trembling hands, the throbbing pain in his arm and the cold sensation near his lower back. The touch of cold metal. Suddenly Beör remembered the small blade he had taken from the infirmary and tucked behind the waistband of his trousers before entering the room.

His heart rate fastened and his hands stopped trembling as he was overwhelmed by a sort of savage joy at the prospect of killing this man, whom he hated so much. He felt a flash of madness when all the pieces fell together. He had to escape this nightmare and now he had finally the power to do so.


-----------


Rhys' eyes grew wider when he listened to Luthien's tale. An dark, adventurous tale it was, almost an unbelievable one. But Rhys saw no reason not to believe this girl. She seemed kind and honest, although a bit overwhelmed by all that she had experienced.
Rhys rested his head against the cool stone and looked at the blonde at his side, his arms resting tranquilly on his knees.

"So.." he said slowly, "you escaped from Mordor and you travelled past Núrn, only to be captured again? That is ironic." He nodded his head, his lips curled up in a grin but that smile disappeared from his face when he continued.

"You must have been ambushed by slave traders. Their routes criss-cross through this barren land, most of them coming from and going to Harad. Some of them however dare to venture into Ithilien, roaming the woods and crossing the river Poros.”
Rhys stared into the distance for a moment. He did not think back of his home country that often, but now, thinking of its beauty, he was taken by a certain sadness. He might not see his home ever again.

“I'm really sorry that you ended up here, Luthien,” Rhys said. “I am afraid that the view from where we sit is very grey.”

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: April 21st, 2015, 5:55 pm 
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(I hope you like my post! I wrote Arawen's section whilst listening to the Jane Eyre soundtrack =D
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMkLVmsh9vA )

Arawen simply couldn't stand the way Uruvion's words made Beor crumble. It was a terrible thing to witness, to see him give way to their tormentor's cruelty and spite. It filled her with despair; she felt helpless, hopeless, unable to do anything to change this dreadful situation. It was as if a monstrous shadow was closing in around her, and a void was gradually opening up beneath her feet. It was a darkness that she knew all too well. It left her unable to see any kind of future for herself. Invisible, icy hands crept up along her spine, and she shivered. She closed her eyes and tipped her head upwards, as if to try and glimpse another world beneath her eyelids. Still she saw nothing but the darkness. She outstretched her arms like a bird unfurling it's wings and took a deep breath, trying to find her balance in this world she found herself in.

"Arawen?"

The sound of Uruvion's voice shook her from her reverie. Slowly, she opened her eyes, like one awakening from a long sleep. She didn't turn around to look at Uruvion; she would not give him the privilege. Instead, she gazed around the room swiftly, before her blue eyes fixed on the door behind Beor. She looked and she looked. Then, thinking and acting quickly, she darted forward and grasped hold of Beor's arm. She held onto him tightly, and tugged him forwards before Uruvion could stop her. She slammed the door shut behind them and drew the bolt across, locking Uruvion in the room and putting herself and Beor out of his reach, at least for now.

Arawen ignored the furious knocking on the door that followed and focused on Beor. "I can't let him do this to you," she said rapidly. "I can't. There is still hope for you, Beor. There always was. But me..." she shook her head. "It matters not what happens to me. I am already dead." A strange smile formed on her lips, and a distant look clouded over her eyes. "If there was ever a person called Arawen, I don't know where she has gone... she has left only fragments of her life behind." There was a long silence before the mist slowly went from her gaze, and the piercing determination returned, fixing itself on the man in front of her. "There is only one thing I can hold true to before I die: to keep you and Luthien safe. No matter what."

She reached out and took his hand. "You were the one good thing in my life," she told him quietly. "I want you to know that."

~~~

"Grey indeed," Luthien agreed with Rhys. It was true. Life had taken a dreadful turn for the worst. And yet, imprisoned, covered in blood and bruised as she was, Luthien could not bring herself to give up hope. Everything that she was, her longing for freedom and determination to live, refused to acknowledge that this was where her life came to an end. And now, with a person as bright and humorous as Rhys beside her, she was fuelled with further hope. Here was a person like of mind to her, whose spirit remained un-crushed.

How could this be the end? She had escaped one prison before, and she swore by all she held sacred that she could do it again. She would not let herself die here, left to starve. She would not let herself be dragged out to some scaffold one morning and suffer the axe or the rope. Luthien pressed her lips together, trying to suppress her growing excitement. She needed to save her strength if she was to succeed. She remained where she was, resting on her side; but she lifted her eyes to Rhys' and gave him a small smile. "I do not mean to let this happen," she spoke in a whisper, in case there were any guards still lurking. "If I can escape Mordor itself then I daresay I can escape Nurn. My friends are out there somewhere, and I will fight to be back by their side again."

She paused. Thinking of Arawen and Beor - especially Beor - she was filled with hope so acute that it was painful. She yearned to tell Beor how she really felt about him. She knew that he believed he was past hope, but she didn't believe that. "I have something to fight for," she whispered to Rhys. "Something... someone that means everything to me. Surely, you must too." She spoke as persuasively as she could, desperate for her new acquaintance to agree. "I can see it in your eyes."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: April 28th, 2015, 7:06 pm 
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Beör's eyes frantically scanned the room as Arawen bolted the door. There were no windows and no other doors except the one that had just been locked, nor a source of light that could cast light into the shadows.
The loud banging on the door and Urúvion's furious shouting made it hard to make sense of Arawen's words, so Beör stared at Arawen's cold hands that were holding his. Then slowly he looked at her face. Beör's blue eyes were filled with pain and incomprehension.

"Why?" he uttered in astonishment. "I am the reason your life has been destroyed. I am the reason that he could get to you."

The banging on the door became louder and louder and it sounded as if Urúvion was throwing his full weight against the door to force the lock. The ranger let go of Arawen's hand and started to pace through the dark room -a habit he'd picked up in prison- running his hand through his hair in anxiety.

"Why didn't you run off whenever you had the chance?" he suddenly called out, despair was in his voice. "You must have had a chance, an opportunity to leave. Why did you stay so he could make you hurt me and hurt you? Why didn't you save yourself?" Perhaps he would never have been freed if Arawen had escaped, perhaps that woman Maethoriel would have helped anyway. But it all would have been better than this..

Beör shook his head to clear his mind. Somehow, his thoughts became more rational that way. Hypothesizing was of no use now. They had to think of how to solve the situation at hand, which would very soon spin out of control.

He stopped pacing and walked up to Arawen, taking her hand in his again. The door was almost yanked from its hinges. "I don't accept what you are saying. You brought us so far. That was all because of you.” He tried to steady himself and focus. He had to strike quickly, not giving Urúvion even the opportunity of speaking. He knew exactly what to do, but as he hadn't handled a knife for years and years, he prayed the saying was true that some things you never forget how to do.

“I am so sorry for hating you, Arawen. I hope you know that.. But this has to end now. Find Luthien and-.”

The door burst open; the lock broken. Beör’s breathing steadied and his blue eyes became hard in anticipation of his revenge for which he had waited so long. Everything after that happened in seconds. Letting go of Arawen’s hand. Glancing at Urúvion who charged forwards taken by uncontrollable fury. Beör stepping forwards, knees bent and staying low. His right hand going to his back and with one swift movement pulling the knife. Another step forward. Then striking, with precision and force.


----------------------


“Perhaps..” Rhys answered, wondering about the question for a moment. He thought of Morrigan. That sweet and gentle girl, who had looked like nothing less than a queen when he’d first seen her at the barracks. But then he recalled her fear and self-hatred. How she refused to even consider the opportunity to escape, when he practically offered her his laid out plan.
Then there was Nadyah, whom he had met when he was still little and now seemed all alone in the world. He promised himself to take her home, to keep her safe. A smile appeared on Rhys’ features.

“In truth,” he said to Luthien, “there is more than enough to fight for, the big and the small things.” It were the small things that had been on his mind ever since he had been thrown in this prison. Somehow now his end was approaching, he kept thinking of all kind of things he had not appreciated enough when he still had the chance. Springtime in the forest of Ithilien, patrolling the wall of the upper Circle in the evenings breeze, the taste of fresh fruit from the orchards. He wasn’t finished, that he knew. There was so much more to be seen and to do. And he didn’t need to see the look in Luthien’s eyes to know she felt the same.

Rhys got on his knees and crawled over to Luthien until he sat close to her. “You would do well not speak of escape out loud,” he whispered earnestly. “Especially here. You do not know who’s listening. If the Black Guard has only an inkling of your intentions, they will make you regret even thinking about escape. Trust me, you want to stay far away from them.”

Rhys moved, stretching his back, the memories of his encounter with the Guard leaving him uneasy. “The options to escape are limited,” he continued, speaking even softer than before. “It has taken me quite some times to find that out. After a year or so, I tried to escape, but I was caught. It took me a long time to find my courage again." Rhys smiled. "But fate decided to interfere."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: May 18th, 2015, 7:12 pm 
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What happened next happened so quickly that it couldn't have been more than a minute or so, yet as it was happening it felt as if time was stretching on into the void. Arawen looked on in horror as Beor lunged forward, wielding a knife, determination to exact their revenge clear in his eyes. She heard herself scream before she was even aware of doing so. "Beor!" She longed to see Uruvion dead just as much as Beor did, but she could not see an end to their trials this way. Uruvion would be dead and Beor would be put to death as punishment. Acting fast, Arawen leapt onto Beor's back, throwing off his balance, just as Uruvion knocked Beor's arm in a fearsome display of strength, sending his knife clattering to the floor.

Arawen and Beor tumbled down to the ground, landing in a heap. Arawen scrambled onto her knees and shielded Beor from Uruvion, spreading her arms out. She was visibly shaking. "Killing him would mean your death," she whispered so that only Beor could hear her. "I will not let your life be the price of his downfall." She knew that Beor would probably be angry with her for her actions, but she truly didn't care. She had to keep him safe. She had to protect him, and that meant not allowing him to throw his life aside.

Uruvion advanced towards them, Morrigan following him like his shadow. He, too, was shaking, but his eyes were gleaming with hatred. His mouth lifted in a sneer. He pushed aside Morrigan, who kept trying to take his arm. "You worthless piece of scum," he hissed at Beor. "You dare to try to kill me? Kill me? Have you any idea of the penalty for such an attempt? Have you any idea what my life is worth? You snivelling wretch, I'll make you wish you'd never been born!" His tone had quickly risen from a hiss to a thundering yell. The very walls seemed to tremble with the force of his anger.

"My lord!" Morrigan tried again. "You must be calm! It is not fitting for your dignity. Do not lower yourself to even exchange words with this miserable man. He is not even deserving of your glance. Let others deal with him." She clasped his arm, desperately hoping that her ploy would work. Uruvion stood very still, staring at Arawen and Beor; but he seemed to be listening to Morrigan. Slowly, he nodded.

"You're right," he muttered. "You're right. He should be thrown behind bars - out of sight and out of our presence. And then all will be tranquil." He offered his hand to Arawen, indicating that she should get to her feet. "Arawen."

Arawen shook her head silently and clutched Beor's hand. Uruvion glared at her. "So be it. Send for the guards, Morrigan. They have a new prisoner for the cells."

~~~

"I'm not a fool," Luthien whispered back to Rhys. "I promise, I'll never speak above a whisper of our plans." Her face, although pale and bloodstained, was lit up with hope. "You don't have to warn me about the dangers here. I have seen more than enough of evil in the halls of Barad-dur." She uttered the name with a grimace and a shiver. "And even then, I only saw very little of it. I was mostly confined to my cell. But my friend, Arawen..." she paused, feeling a pang as she thought of her. She felt immensely guilty that she had ever felt resentful or jealous of the woman's bond with Beor. She was still her friend, no matter what. "...she saw first hand the darkness of that place, day after day. I can only hope that she will not be destroyed by the memories of all that she has endured."

She paused, resting her head on the cold floor of the cell. "She came from Gondor too," she murmured. "That is one of the things that binds us together. The white city, Rhys... if I could ever see it again, look upon it as I used to do every day..." Her tone was filled with longing. "But if we ever return... will it still be standing? Will it still exist?" She finally voiced one of her greatest fears. "I've asked myself that question again and again."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: May 19th, 2015, 6:44 pm 
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The knife clattered to the ground. It was a chilling and foreboding sound. Just before his body hit the ground and Arawen fell half on top of him, Beör knew that he was doomed. He did not feel the pain of the fall or his arm that Urúvion had hit forcefully, only the sharp pain in his chest upon realising what Arawen had done.

Arawen.. why?” he whispered with that same pain in his voice. “It wouldn't have mattered. I would have been free and so would you.”

Pressing his arm to his chest, the ranger slowly scrambled up. He looked at Urúvion, never averting his gaze as the man shouted at him and insulted him. He wanted shout back, tell that he would kill him, even if it was the last thing he would do. He wanted to shove Arawen aside and attack Urúvion, if only to fight him with his bare hands. But he could not move nor speak. Perhaps after everything that happened he had gone into shock. Yet he still could hear Urúvion speak. His words first seemed meaningless however and it took him some time to put things together.

By the time the guards arrived, the realisation of what was to happen hit Beör like a rock.

“No!” It was a low, raw cry that escaped his lips. He fiercely started to resist, like a wild animal that was going to be caged, when the guards grabbed him and pulled his arms behind his back. “No, I won’t go back. Please, don’t make me go back.”

He was in the corridor now, but Beör kept fighting his captors. He still heard Urúvion’s venomous laughter in his ears, Arawen’s shocked expression was printed on his mind. Then there was only darkness.


------------------


“I didn’t mean to belittle what you have been through,” Rhys spoke quickly. “I am sorry.” He wanted to change to a more hopeful subject. Even though he wished he could tell that Luthien’s friends were alright and that she would see them again, he knew that he could not make such promises. Since she was the only one cast into prison, Rhys expected that the others had not lived to see another day. Instead of sharing his dark thoughts, he eagerly responded to her question in order to lift his companion’s spirit.

“I have no doubt,” Rhys said with a smile. He sat back against the wall again, a bit more relaxed. “The White City will never fall. It is the most secure stronghold of Gondor and it has weathered many storms. Its walls cannot crumble and its gate cannot be breached. The Captain of the guard is Lord Denethor’s son and so is the Captain of the rangers of Ithilien. Don’t worry, they won’t let the city fall..”

Rhys spoke with conviction and without a trace of doubt, as if he stepped into the future and had seen what would come to pass. He was a man of strong beliefs and since his life in Núrn offered him no certainty, he had to hold on to the thought that he would escape and that he would see the White City again in its full glory.

“Did you live in Minas Tirith, Luthien?” he asked curiously to know more about the girl next to him. “Are there people waiting for you there?”


------------------


The smell of stale air was his first warning that his dulled senses returned to him. But Beör kept his eyes shut, wishing to prolong the peaceful oblivion. But the throbbing pain in his head and the trembling of his body dragged him back to the here and now. The sight that greeted him was similar to the one he woke up to for the past fourteen years: three solid walls a few paces aside and bars on one side.

All these years Beör’s rational mind had guided him, but now all ratio seemed to have disappeared. The tumult of his mind was growing painfully great; despair and pain was overwhelming. His hands scrapped over the limestone, as Beör crawled on his knees over the corner of the cell. He then rested his head against the wall and shielded his head with his arms. Then he closed his eyes, hoping that his sleep would soon relieve him.

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: May 26th, 2015, 6:07 pm 
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"Beor?" Arawen ignored the guards as they shoved her into the cell. She rushed forwards, hardly hearing the harsh slam of the iron barred door. Beor was crouched in a corner, his arms around his head. The worst had happened to him; he was back in prison. This was the fate that he had dreaded; he would have preferred death to this. Arawen dropped onto her knees beside him, at a loss as to what she could possibly do to to help. Perhaps Beor would rediscover his former hatred for her, now that she had stopped him killing Uruvion. Didn't he see that she'd done so to save him? To give him the chance to keep living?

"Beor, please," she whispered, tentatively putting her hand on his shoulder. She waited for any kind of response. Would Beor blame her, shout at her? Or would he simply ignore her and stay silent? Which would be worse? Arawen struggled to find something to say. Could any words possibly be enough to make him see that all was not lost for him? Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "Say something, anything," she said, half begging, half angry. She was angry with herself for not successfully getting Beor and Luthien to safety. She had been meant to protect them. Now here they were, in this dreadful place. They didn't even know where Luthien was.

"Beor, please, I'm sorry," she continued. "I did what I did to try and protect you. I only want you to be safe." She tried to turn his face towards hers. "Please don't hide your face." She stayed beside him, waiting for him to say something. Her breathing was beginning to feel constricted in the cramped cell, and she was worried that she might begin to panic if Beor didn't respond. Her hand stayed on his shoulder. "I'll be here, waiting," she said quietly. "It's not as if I have anywhere else to go."

~~~

Luthien listened to Rhys' optimistic words about Gondor. She almost didn't want to tell him the awful news that obviously hadn't reached him since he had been in Nurn. She averted her gaze from him as she tried to figure out how to put it into words. "Lord Denathor's eldest son... he is dead." Her usually bright voice faded when uttering those words. "I'm very sorry to have to be the one to give you such tidings. The whole city fell into a great grief when the news was brought to us. Hope began to dwindle away even further at that time.... it had been damaged already, but we had given our faith to the Steward's sons. Now there is only one." She bit her lip, hoping that Rhys' mood would not change too much upon hearing what she had to say. She needed him to be hopeful too. "But there is still hope," she added quickly. "Our people will never give up hope."

She sat up and went straight to Rhys' question about her past. "I did live in the White City," she said, smiling. It was a genuine, warm smile. "It was my home all my life... my family will be waiting for me there. I wish there was a way to let them know that I'm safe. Well..." she indicated the bars of their cell, her smile turning a little wry, "relatively safe. What about you, Rhys? Where did you come from?"

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: June 2nd, 2015, 7:21 am 
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[Just a short post, because my OGR post is taking so much time. :) ]

Beör remained silent and did not flinch when Arawen was shoved into his cell and sat next to him. Her hand lay on his shoulder and he remained in this same position, like a statue, for what seemed like hours.

But something changed when he was in Arawen's presence, something only Beör could perceive. His mind became less clouded, his thoughts less chaotic. The trembling ceased and it was like slowly, Beör came out of shock. His arms fell down his side and he raised his head, looking at Arawen. There was a deadened look in his eyes that left little room for sadness.

He could not speak. There was nothing much to say anyway. He did not blame Arawen for what she did. She tried to help him, to give him a chance on living. But this was not living, Beör knew that now. It was simply not dying. He silently wondered if she perhaps had a plan. But he couldn't see what could be done. No doubt Urúvion was glad that woman changed his mind and that instead of killing him, he would witness Beör's destruction. Knowing that they had once escaped the darkness of Mordor, the man, who proclaimed himself to be of such power and importance, would make sure no one would escape his web. They would not get out, not this time.

The ranger took Arawen's frail hands in both of his hands, holding on to them as if they were his lifeline. She held the darkness in him at bay. "Please," he whispered, "Don't go."

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: June 17th, 2015, 4:39 pm 
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Arawen watched as Beor raised his head to look at her. Her anxiety as to what he might say or do was so great that she almost hardly dared breathe. The look in the ranger's eyes was so dead, so empty; Arawen feared that perhaps this was it, perhaps the Beor she'd known had disappeared forever. They'd both been through so much. And yet, despite the desperation of their situation, something seemed to have changed in Beor; he seemed calmer, and he had stopped shaking. Arawen remained oblivious to the fact that this was due to her presence in the cell.

Suddenly, he was taking hold of her hands. His touch came as a shock to her, but she did not flinch away. He was asking her, almost begging her, not to go. She had expected him to be angry with her. Now, she had no idea how to respond but to grip his hands tightly in return. She held onto him, feeling that it would have been easier for her to deal with fury from him instead of this. All these years, Beor had despised her and blamed her. She had been able to accept that, keeping her secret close to herself, finding comfort in the knowledge that what she had done was for him, even though he did not know it. Now there was no secret, and here they were, clasping each other's hands without a word.

The silence was becoming too much to bear. "You should hate me still," she blurted out. "You should hate me, Beor. It was easier by far to be hated... than to be..." she broke off, not knowing what word to use. What was it that Beor felt for her? Was it true, that he had loved her once? Her hands began to tremble as she considered the possibility of such a thing. Her blue eyes flashed to the ground, and she was unable to utter another sentence.

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: July 7th, 2015, 6:25 pm 
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The stone felt cool against his back as Beör leaned back into the wall of the cell. It was strange but he found some tranquillity in the stillness around him; the slow heaving of his chest, the perfect circles he idly drew on the palm of Arawen's hand with his index finger. His thoughts though, were bound to stray.

He thought of Urúvion and how victorious he must feel now he had done his worst. And he.. how could have become this way? So weak, such a coward. There was a time when he had honoured his heritage by not giving up. He acted with pride and left no moment pass where he tried to fight the evil that put him there. The servants of Sauron however were cunning and unpredictable. They were most inventive in finding ways to elicit fear and robbing him of his courage. The most effective way had probably been to sent an innocent Gondorian girl to his cell to harm him. Slowly his resistance had crumbled and turned into the person he was now. A person he despised.

It took courage to defy an enemy, but perhaps it took even more courage to face an hopeless situation with chin up and dignity. If he could only find a way to regain his courage.

Beör opened his eyes and looked at Arawen as she spoke. Her face flustered as if she was embarrassed by what she said.
"Well, I can return to hating you if that's what you want," he smirked. The corners of his mouth twitched up. As he spoke with his usual scorn in his tone he almost sounded a bit like his old self again.

Suddenly his eyes lit up as a thought hit him. He let go of Arawen's hand and pressed his hand against his forehead as if to get a firmer grasp on the fleeting thoughts that threatened to fade away as soon as they came.

"Perhaps," he said slowly. "That might work to our advantage." Arawen was not supposed to be here. Beör was certain that Urúvion only intended to keep Arawen locked up for a short time. If they could speed up that process, Arawen could get out. She could try to find Luthien or a way out. Could. If. Maybe. It was a start.

"He wants you, Arawen. He will want to keep you close," the ranger explained in a matter-of-fact- like tone, while the words sickened him. "He will not let anything happen to you. If you would get hurt here, he will undoubtedly come to your rescue. You can get out of here."

But then Beör's posture slumped against the wall and his face clouded. "It means that to make it look convincing I may need to hurt you. "

---------------------------------------

Rhys stared at the opposite wall of the cell when Luthien spoke of the death of the Steward's son, Boromir. He had seen the Captain of the White Tower many times, but only from afar. Yet his bearing was one of courage, pride and honour and inspired the best in all the men. And his Captain, the brother of the Steward Prince, held Boromir always in the highest regard.

"It's grave news indeed to hear of the death of one of the most honourable and courageous men," Rhys finally said. "But his brother will do us proud, I am sure of it. He is his brother's equal."

Rhys was quiet for a moment and felt a familiar pang of hopelessness in his chest. It was an overwhelming sensation, that usually crept up to him at night and threatened to suffocate him.
He was relieved when Luthien spoke again, but somehow he was not prepared for her question about his past. In this land, no one had ever cared enough to ask him. Still, he wanted to share his story, even though it was not a great tale that deserved to be remembered.

“I do not come from the White City. The Eastfold was my home for some time,” Rhys started. “I lived for a part of my childhood in a small village on the skirts of the White Mountains and near the banks of the Mearing Stream. When I was eight a sickness hit the village, that spared neither the weak or the strong. My father had died and my mother weak of fever wrote to her brother, begging him to take us in and then she sent my brother and me on our way. That’s how we came to Minas Tirith.”

He had never forgotten that moment how he, despite the exhaustion of the journey and his wariness of what he had left behind, looked up at the City in its splendour and felt awe and the strength to continue.

“My uncle Thièrry took us in, reluctantly.” Rhys’ smile faded. How long had it taken them to find out the man’s true nature? Only too soon they realised that they wouldn't find the kind and loving home there, like they’d left behind.

“Let’s just say he does not miss me.” Rhys laughed again, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It wasn't something to laugh about, but Rhys had to. These things shouldn't matter-not here.
“I bet he would be glad to hear that they have put me to some useful work here.”

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: July 20th, 2015, 3:25 pm 
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Lynne wiped the sweat from her forehead when she entered the kitchen of largest house of Taurband. The roaring fires that warmed large cauldrons and roasted meat on spits caused the temperature inside to be even higher than outside. The past few days the court of Urúvion had been quiet. There were no feasts and there was no entertainment and the Master of the House had not showed himself either. There had been whispers about an incident, but no one exactly knew what happened. Today however a celebration had been announced and all those importance would attend. That why now in the late hours of the morning all fires in the kitchen were already lit and servants and slaves busied themselves in preparation of the feast.

Lynne brushed her hands off on her apron and quickly tucked a few loose strands of red hair back into her braid. She turned and walked over to the large wooden table that was filled with fresh ingredients. She breathed in the scent of basil, thyme and rosemary and looked around to find work for her idle hands. A dark-skinned woman who stood on the other side of the table nodded to a tray while she was cutting large slices of water melon. She spoke a few words in a tongue other than Common speech, but Lynne nodded that she understood and picked up the tray.

The marble corridors in the house were quiet and remarkably cool. They also looked very much alike, so even though Lynne had been there for quite some time, she still got lost sometimes. She took a left and right and then passed the Great Hall on her left. The hall was now deserted, but tonight it would be filled with talk and laughter, with colour and splendour. When she was about to take another turn towards the stairway, her path was blocked. A dark-haired man was standing in her way with arms folded. His clothing was refined and expensive and he had an air of importance. He leaned against the wall in a nonchalant fashion, but his wicked smile didn't reach his dark eyes.

Lynne stopped abruptly, and even though she knew she was expected to apologise to this man, she did not. She was silent and looked at him.

“So, shall we take up where we left off?”

His voice was so soft that even if the hallway hadn't been empty, no one else would have heard. His hand touched her shoulder gently, like a caress, but he did not let go. Lynne looked away to the stairway behind the man, only not to look at the dark gleam in his eyes. When the hand moved from her shoulder to her arm, she quickly stepped back.

“I am expected elsewhere.”

The words came out with more decisiveness and strength than she felt. But this time she looked at him, her grey eyes unwavering. Edging away from the man, she hoped to pass around him. But he didn't let her pass that easily and he pulled her back with force this time.

“Go then..” he whispered in her ear. “But know that next time, you can’t escape me.”

Lynne ran up the stairs as fast as she could without spilling anything on the tray. When she approached the room she needed to be, her heart was still bouncing wildly. So she took a few seconds to compose herself. With eyes closed she leaned against the doorpost until her heart rate had returned to normal. Her lips turned up in a smile. Then she entered the room.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling. She placed the tray on the night stand and opened the curtains of the four-poster bed. “Are you feeling a bit better today, Lady Morrigan?”

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 Post subject: Re: Starless Night
PostPosted: July 22nd, 2015, 9:23 am 
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Morrigan scarcely blinked as the curtains of her four poster bed were opened. She was lying on her side, one hand clenched into a fist against the pile of silk pillows. There was an empty look in her grey eyes; she was clearly lost in a deep track of thought. Her expression was pained. Her mind was on the events of early yesterday afternoon, when she had been caught up in a confrontation between Uruvion and two strangers. Who were they? What was the connection between Uruvion and the woman he called Arawen? Morrigan remembered the way he had looked at the dark haired woman. She had not caught sight of Arawen since she and her companion had been taken away to the cells. Would she be brought back to the court? If so, what would that mean for Morrigan?

Morrigan knew from first hand experience how Uruvion could treat women he claimed to love. If he had tired of her, and meant to replace her, then there was no telling what her fate might be - especially considering how she had angered him. Since then she had been careful to show him every sign of obedience. However, it may just have been too late. He had seen now that she was capable of disobedience.

“Are you feeling a bit better today, Lady Morrigan?”

Morrigan looked up, startled from her thoughts. Her gaze went from the breakfast tray Lynne had brought in, to Lynne herself. It took her a moment to fully appreciate that she was not alone in the room. Shortly, she plastered a warm smile onto her face and sat up in bed, resting her back against the cushions. "Good morning, Lynne," she replied, trying her best to sound cheerful. She always tried to put on a brave face in front of the servants. They had enough work on their plates without thinking that they had to comfort her in her misery. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. I think that I was just a little tired yesterday." It made her chest hurt to act as if everything was alright, but she didn't see another way, no matter how much she would have liked a friend to confide in. "I'm sure that this beautiful breakfast you've brought me will make me feel better still."

~~~

Arawen had not had a wink of sleep. It was impossible to get any rest lying on a cold stone floor. She didn't really mind; it gave her more time to think. Planning and strategy was the only thing that could not be taken away from them. Over and over again Arawen had gone over in her mind a way to engineer an escape, a way to bring Beor and Luthien to safety. Arawen had no way of knowing what cell Luthien had even been put in. She had to admit, she was missing her friend's company. Luthien had a way of raising the mood that both Arawen and Beor were incapable of. Luthien had only been brushed by the darkness of Mordor. It had not even begun to enter her soul.

Arawen sat with an upright spine against a wall, her arms folded around her knees. She was thinking about what Beor had suggested yesterday. If Arawen could be released from prison sooner rather than later, then that would help them find a way out of here. Time was the only weapon they had at hand. But Arawen shrunk from the plan Beor had put to her. Being forced to inflict harm on her would only increase the downward spiral of his mental state. She couldn't let that happen.

"Are you awake, Beor?" she murmured, not knowing whether she really wanted him to answer or not. "The guards will be bringing breakfast soon." If one could even call one piece of stale bread breakfast. "Perhaps they will bring word from Uruvion, that I am to be released today." That was their best hope.

~~~

"Rhys!" Luthien shook Rhys' shoulder. "Rhys, quickly, wake up! Wake up!" She glanced over her shoulder at the intimidating looking man standing on the other side of the cell bars. He was flanked by two guards. Whoever he was, he was clearly a man of status. "We have a visitor..." she scrambled to her feet and warily approached the cell bars, pushing back her stringy hair so that she could have a better view of him. The man wore a mocking smile, as if he had just been told an amusing joke. Luthien stared back at him with a defiant glint in her eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Who am I?" Uruvion repeated with a disdainful chuckle. "I rather think it is I who should be asking you that question. After all, you are as yet my anonymous prisoner, the one I know nothing of. You were brought here with Arawen and Beor. So. Who might you be?" He folded his arms loosely, and curled his lip.

"How do you know Arawen and Beor?" Luthien said instantly. He spoke of them as if he had more of an acquaintance with them than mere prisoners and captor. "Where are they? Where have you put them?"

"I really think that's none of your concern. However, I might feel more disposed to tell you, if you obliged to answer my question and tell me your name. Come now. Your accent is Gondorian, I think?"

Luthien looked around for Rhys, hoping for some moral support. She didn't know what on earth was going on or who this man was. There was something frightening about his careless tone of voice, as if none of this really mattered to him - as if it was all just some game designed to bring him entertainment. Luthien didn't like the idea of being part of his personal pantomime. "Rhys... Rhys, come here," Luthien whispered desperately. "Tell me who this man is."

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