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PostPosted: November 28th, 2009, 12:19 pm 
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"You do indeed talk alot" Bëor commented dryly from the shadows. "In here that would not be considered as an useful trait. You ought to watch your tongue, for the walls have ears."
With this comment he did not just mean two women who served the Dark Lord but other evils which were beyond any imagination. Bëor did not quite knew why he was warning the girl; his usual dislike for women or people in general, usually kept him from even communicating with them. Shrugging off his thoughts, he tried to ignore his rumbling stomach, which had not been filled for a long time.

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PostPosted: November 28th, 2009, 4:46 pm 
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Rayelin started at what Luthien said. "Boromir is dead? How? When? Upon an attack? I cannot fathom how that could be...what then of Lord Faramir? And the Lord Denethor?" She stopped, suddenly realizing what an onslaught of questions that had been. She realized that she had been thirsting for news of her homeland for a long time. "So the news is all grave." She sighed. "Not that I had expected much different. I wonder by what hope of the Free people anything can now be achieved against...him?" She pointed upward.

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PostPosted: November 30th, 2009, 4:48 pm 
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Luthien tried her best to ignore Bëor’s words. Even in here, she wanted with all her heart to defy the Enemy of all the free peoples. She had told Arawen that she would give the Mouth of Sauron no information, and she had meant it. But within these four walls she would say what she wished to the other prisoners. Besides, what could she say that the Enemy did not know already? Everyone back home knew that he was planning something.
She turned her attention to Rayelin.
Calmly, she answered all her questions. “Boromir’s horn was found washed up on the riverbank, cloven in two. It now sits upon the lap of the Steward as a sign of his son’s death; Lord Denathor is much aggrieved. He has not been seen much in public.” She paused. “Captain Faramir is alive and well, of course.” She could not help the tone of admiration that sneaked into her voice; all the people of Gondor loved Faramir. “Grave indeed. But I for one will not give up hope, despite what some might advise. I will not bow to defeat.”

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PostPosted: December 1st, 2009, 6:58 pm 
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Bëor shook his head; a tranquil smile lay on his lips. For a moment he'd thought that Luthien was actually clever. But he was gratified to learn, that the girl was ignorant and even more foolish than most of her sort. He would not waste any more warnings on her for she was bound to find out herself if she continued to act this way.
A chill ran involuntarily down his spine upon remembering few of such encounters. The dark magic, which the Mouth possessed, undoubtedly learnt from his master and the fear, by which One of the Nine was surrounded, that consumed everything. Such despair of the acutest kind, made men cautious and discreet.
Upon hearing last of her remark, which was probably addressed to him, Bëor answered in a cold voice. "Do as you wish. You were amazed on how one could endure so many long years of captivity. You're on the right track on not finding out how that is possible."

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PostPosted: December 2nd, 2009, 12:08 pm 
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Luthien turned her gaze back to Bëor. “Think what you want of me,” she said crisply. “That gives me leave to think what I will of you, does it not? You’ve only survived because you seem to have lost everything that once made you human.” She leaned forward. “I’ll die rather than give in, and die gladly. D’you think I wish to lead the rest of my life here, under the thumb of the master of this place and his servants?” Her blue eyes did not waver; there was something almost unsettlingly steady about them. “I won’t be broken. The question is, have you broken yet? That’s the only price for survival.” She moved back from the bars.
“To think,” she added, “to think I was going to share my plan with you.”
She said no more, but fell silent. She had been thinking, and thinking. She could endure not another day here. She would not become a model representation of imprisonment, and measure her words or stay silent forever. Ideas had formed in her head which she was sure would sound idiotic to the others. They would most probably laugh. But she knew that action had to be taken, yes, even behind the bars of a prison cell in Mordor.
The answer lay in the most unlikely of people. Arawen.

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PostPosted: December 2nd, 2009, 6:07 pm 
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In the dark corner of his cell Bëor stiffened. The question which Luthien posed made his blood run cold and anger welled up in his heart. Have you broken yet? That’s the only price for survival.. The words echoed in his ears; challenging, mocking. Did she dare to imply that he'd talked? Cut a deal? That he had betrayed Middle Earth, its people and sold his own soul? She did not know that he had sacrificed everything to keep the truth hidden..
"Do you think that I would still be here if they had learnt everything I knew?" Although his appearance was not visible to any other, Bëor's bright eyes showed a glint of madness. "But I did not talk.. You have no idea-" His voice trembled. "You do not know anything..-"
He remained silent for a few moments and he lay his head in the pamls of his hands, to regain his composure. Then he looked up again, his voice was now steady and calm. "You think me to be inhuman. But this is what I've become. Live with it."

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PostPosted: December 3rd, 2009, 2:55 pm 
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For a moment Luthien repented, seeing the expression on the man’s face. She had to admit, despite her opinion of him, she felt sorry for him. Enduring so long in this place could only mean appearing inhuman on the outside. She noted the glimmer of something almost animal in his eyes, the madness of one in captivity. Above all she longed not to get that glimmer in her eye, not to feel that every day more that passed, a monster was growing under her skin. Sighing, she shifted slightly to sit more comfortably, and then drew closer to the bars.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “It doesn’t have to continue like this. I will tell you what I mean, if you will not laugh at me with scorn once I have told you.” She paused. Whatever he might think, Luthien was not stupid. She had been given a fearsome education, but it was not even that which drove her onwards to her goals. She had a sheer determination for things to go her way, and if he was to hinder her, she would only try harder to change his mind.
“We can get out of here. If you will help me. It only needs one small plan, and I’ve already formed it.”

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PostPosted: December 3rd, 2009, 6:43 pm 
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Rayelin listened silently as conversation was held between Beor and Luthien. She was surprised to hear something of a quiver in Beor's voice for a moment. She had thought him to be hard as a stone indeed. She listened quietly to Luthien's passion and his cold rebuttal, but started as she heard the words, "We can get out of here." What was the girl thinking? It was impossible to escape. The towers, the guards, the darkness...Who did she think she was? Then she remembered her own angry thoughts in the early months of her own captivity. Indeed she had thought much of the same thing. She wondered if she had a plan, though. Maybe...
"What do you suggest, Luthien?" she asked. Quietly to be sure. She was interested to hear it and wasn't about to let Beor's demeanor change that.

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PostPosted: December 4th, 2009, 12:16 am 
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Mab's one pretty feature left now looked edgily around the hall. She hadn't walked to the bars - she was too afraid for that and perhaps walking had even become too difficult. The girl had been pretty at one time, but now she resembled a shadow of a person, a crust of grime over her body from years of unsanitary living. Her blond hair was greasy and not all one length, at one time she developed a habit of pulling it out in frustration and manic moments where she felt herself lowering into the abyss of madness.

Her arms wrapped around the bars and her large brown eyes - the soul pretty feature left - looked out and down the hall around her at all the other prisoners. She used the bars as leverage to keep herself sitting straight and her mouth opened up and down like a fish out of water as she tried to find words and her voice. She licked her lips and the words that came out were dry and cracked as the throat they came from.

It was nonsense words first, just babbling, but really she was searching through her mind for things she had forgotten. "Dark, cold, metal..." she spat out, swallowing only to find no saliva to coat her throat, but she continued with a few more senseless words before she found the right ones.

"Escape?" It was obviously a question. "You speak the truth?" Those last words were hopeful and a small spark lit the dead eyes, but the moment was short lived as in the next moment the spark died and did not light again and the blond woman slumped at her bars into a comatose state once more.

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

Maethoriel paid no heed to the other woman in the room, her dark gaze stayed heatedly on the grizzly sight of the Mouth. It was obvious that any fear any held for him - perhaps it had been in her once too - was shot to Hell and back.

Her fingers ached to do something, and so they grasped the hilt of her knife, pulling it easily from its hiding place in her sleeve and spun it. The movement of the smooth ivory in her hands was intoxicating and for a moment she paused in her thoughts and speech to watch it go on its course, over and around in a hypnotic fashion. This was a common occurrence for those that knew the women, all her acquaintances - not friends, no, never friends - knew that in general the action was not dangerous.

Her head jerked up as she realized that she wasn't alone and in fact in a meeting. What was it about? Oh yes...

"The wizard," she said aloud. "The traitorous wretch that sits mightily in his gilded, white cage. I do believe that Sauron would appreciate his life and further influences ending...Else he would have competition for the..." she paused and frowned. The stupid servant child was still here and there were none others that knew of the ring, no doubt that it would be wise for her to use better words here. "Trinket that he so devoutly wishes to be returned. I can offer assistance in this realm. Well do I know the wizards and their folly. It would only be a matter of gaining entrance into his tower, an edict from you would be enough."

The woman had pulled out a chair from in front of the creature's ornately decorated desk and sat in it, propping her worn boots on the table top, her head tilted to one side with a smirk plastered on her face.

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PostPosted: December 4th, 2009, 10:27 am 
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Luthien looked at Rayelin. “This is no foolish fancy, I promise you,” she whispered. “If it was beyond hope then do you think I would utter it?” She shook her head. “Hear me. That servant, Arawen, keeps the keys to our prison. She is the one we must play to our advantage, behind bars or no. If one of us pretends to have given in, we are released into the Mouth of Sauron’s service – giving him false information, of course. But then we are free – and I use that term in a very broad sense of the word – to put our plan into action. Arawen was once one of us. It will need one of us to bring her back to as she was; through her we can get the keys.”
She paused. “Of course this would not be as easy as it sounds. Far harder, if anything. But I believe that this is our chance.” She glanced at Mab, who had spoken up for the first time, before falling silent, lolling against the bars. “This chance of escape will take work from all of us.”

~~~
Arawen listened as Maethoriel addressed the Mouth. She obviously spoke of Saruman, the traitor. Keeping silent, Arawen found the very thought of the Mouth releasing Maethoriel to Isengard quite ridiculous. Everyone knew that the woman was dangerous, and she would betray either side if she could, for her own ends purely.
The Mouth suddenly laughed. “Maethoriel, your offer comes too late, far too late,” he said. “Saruman the traitor is no threat to the Eye, not anymore. Word has reached my ear of Isengard’s fall. Some plot brought about by the tree-folk, so I’ve heard.” He smiled, one of his hideous smiles, all tooth and malice. “All his influences are vanished. His staff is broken.”
He paused as Maethoriel seated herself before him. He did not flinch as she propped her boots on his desk. “I must say, I would have desired his fall to come about by one of us. But the enemy shared our dislike for this withered old man, it seems. He is their traitor, as well as ours. Saruman is caged now and hardly dangerous.”
Arawen crossed the room as he spoke and poured herself a goblet of wine from a pitcher. Though she was turned away from the Mouth, she listened intently.
“If I were to send you to Isengard, it would be a pointless task. Do you not think that Gandalf Stormcrow and the likes already have their eye on him?” the Mouth continued. “Besides…” he laughed. “Besides, Maethoriel. I would not release you from here even if I wanted to. I know you and your whims. You care not for who you betray or aid. You are a chess-piece in no man’s land; who knows where your alliance truly lies?”
Arawen turned, taking a small sip of wine before setting it down again. She watched the scene thoughtfully, measuring the Mouth’s words. She wondered what he thought of her own disloyal mind. He knew that she by no means served him out of her own wishes. She would have happily stayed in that prison, and would still be there now, if not for his determination to use her strengths to his own aid – she remembered being hauled up before him, defiant, trembling with cold, but chin up, eyes unafraid.

“What is your name?” he mused, sitting in his chair, then as now. He could not see her, but he could sense the strength that she radiated like a light. “You’ve proved somewhat of a troublemaker, I’ve heard. They’ve been reporting to me.”
“Arawen,” she answered bluntly. “And I don’t doubt your fools report to you every second of the day. What do I care of it?”
“No need to snap at me. You’ve got a bit of a temper. Now what need was there to go and break my orc servant’s wrist? It really wasn’t needed. You could use your might to so much better ends, you know.”
“Your ends?” she retorted.
“Exactly so. You’re a quick learner.”
“I will never serve you.”
“You will find you don’t have a choice, Arawen. You will serve me, or you will die.”


Arawen cast the memories away, not caring to remember that eventful day when she had entered into his service.
“Arawen?” the Mouth suddenly said sharply. “You are still there, I trust?”
“Yes.” Her reply was flat.
“Good.” The Mouth turned his attention back to Maethoriel, awaiting her answer.
Arawen sipped just a little more wine. It was obviously not brewed from Mordor, but it had a taste of home; well, what had once been home. It seemed strange that the Mouth should hanker after Gondorian wine, when he intended to crush the country of origin. Perhaps he drank it out of some twisted joke. His sense of humour certainly was warped; what other master would send her on such violent errands?

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Last edited by ~Goldleaf~ on December 4th, 2009, 11:18 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: December 4th, 2009, 10:36 am 
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Bëor listened to the words of his fellow-captives in silence. He was not surprised that Luthien came up with a plan to escape: they all did, soon after they were brought in most of them entertained high hopes of escape, even he had. Yet never anyone had succeeded. He heard the surpise and interest in the tones of the others and he knew that they felt a glimmer of hope upon thinking of the impossible possibility of escape. False hope. Nothing was more cruel than to be given hope and the endless fall in the pit of despair when hope had failed.
"Even If you manage to escape. If you would be able to deceive the vile servant of Sauron who possess as much Black Magic as his master. If you manage to get out of here, alive and unseen, then it will still be impossible." Bëor spoke bitterly. "The ash plain of Gorgoroth stretches for over a hundred miles. Without food or water it would be an enormous walk, even for those who are strong enough. Orcs swirm around this deadly plain, the Nine will hunt you down as you will be bound to be caught. And then there's the Eye.. always watching.." Bëor paused. His words might sound hopeless. But it was the truth. Some might think that he was only to knock Luthien's plan, but they had to face the truth in order not to believe in a daydream.
"Escape is impossible, unless you arranged the Great Eagles as a lift."

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PostPosted: December 14th, 2009, 10:39 am 
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[ Eh, bumpish? :erm: ]

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PostPosted: December 17th, 2009, 10:57 am 
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(*Bump!* :-D )

Luthien did not so much as flinch at Bëor’s dark words. “Say we did escape alive and unseen,” she said. “Say we did. Do you think that the Nine would take interest in persons such as us? Do you think in a time such as this, when the will of the Eye is bent on much greater matters than this, that anyone would give a thought to us if we did escape?” Her eyes were bright, and she clutched the iron bars of her cell, holding Bëor’s gaze intently. “They are preparing for war, all of them. How do I know this? Because at home we are being enclosed, trapped, frightened. Everything, everything is changing. If we should manage to break free, then I freely admit it would not be without hardship. But it would not be impossible. The Enemy’s minions will have their backs turned from us. All their thoughts are turned to Gondor. My home.” She finished quietly, but she did not sound defeated. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “If I do this alone, then so be it. At least I will have tried. I do not force anyone to join me.”

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PostPosted: December 17th, 2009, 9:28 pm 
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Rayelin listened. Beor's claims were indeed good. It was true it would be a tiny chance, just a glimmer of it, really. How could they cross the distance from here to the civilized world safely, undetected, undetained, with no resources but themselves? "But, Luthien...the servants of the Eye are malicious in their own way. I do not think, if they met us, that they would not try and kill, harm, plunder, or drag us back. They, I fear, care not for what the Eye wants. They are merely his servants in their fear and cowardice, doing his bidding." She bit her lip. Still...how often had she said she would rather die with her mind than languish here? "And why are they keeping us here if they would not notice us?" Originally it must have been for information. Indeed, though, it seemed there would be no need for it. The Eye's forces were mobilizing. She shook her head as a burst of resolution overcame her. "So be it. I will join you...if you can succeed in the first part of your plan...if your plan is formulated well. Likely it will be my death, but better that than to be here." She shook her head and settled back in the shadows once more.

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PostPosted: December 18th, 2009, 8:09 pm 
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"Some things do matter to the Nine.." Bëor replied darkly, but then for a few moments he said no more. He mused on Luthien's words of the coming war. Gondor seemed to stand on the brink of war. A deadly and unevitable war. Then He had to know. He was surely planning on using It. If it was found, surely all was lost. Bëor's contemplations were, as always, by the lack of news, going in circles. It was frustrating.
Suddenly the man was overtaken by a certain longing to fight, as if he was set aflame, but only for a very short moment. The nothingness which filled his life for a long time subsided in that moment and it was replaced by a certain pride and realization of his ancestry which had been long forgotten. Unconsciously Bëorn started to think over the alternatives if they managed to escape. Knowledge that he'd possessed for many years before his captivity seemed to flow back after all those years that it had been denied and fill his body witha warm glow like a warm liquid.
After a long silence Bëorn spoke again, but now his voice sounded more serious and different than before. "You will not survive in those dead lands without me, once you're out. I come from Wandering People and I've done so my entire life. A ranger might prove useful." Fire seemed to shine in his blue eyes and Bëorn was determined although he did not know what he was escaping too.
"But then" he added "you must first succeed with your plan. I take that's your responsibility."

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PostPosted: December 19th, 2009, 12:17 pm 
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Luthien listened to the others, her heart suddenly soaring with unexpected triumph. “The plan will succeed,” she said. “I take it as no light responsibility. I swear it.” Silence reigned for a few short minutes; the first step, at least, had been taken. They had agreed to join her if the first part of her plan went well. What surprised her most was that Bëor had agreed. Something had seemed different in his voice, in his eyes as he spoke those words. He would not stand against her. But first, much needed to be done. Luthien’s hands loosened their grip on the iron bars as she relaxed a little. “First…” she said finally, “first one of us must be released. So, I will enact defeat. I will pretend I have given in, and they will bring me before the Mouth of Sauron.” Even the thought of pretending to defeat disgusted her, but it had to be done. “I will tell him no truths, of course. Now, it is Arawen who keeps the keys. The question is, how do we get them from her?” she took a deep breath, as if what she would say next was hardly pleasing to her. “Two options. The first: befriend her. Such a thought repels me. The second just as much. The Mouth, I have heard, has much sorcery at his command. I heard the orcs who brought me here speak of a room, a secret room, in which he keeps his potions and elixirs. Arawen will very probably have access to the room too. The second option is poison.”
The silence stretched out. If they wanted to escape, drastic action had to be taken. And it seemed that it lay with Luthien to put the action into place. If she was indeed brought before the Mouth, then maybe he would take a liking to her, as he had obviously taken to Arawen. Maybe he would take her into his service. As his servant, Luthien would be perfectly placed to start the escape strategy.
The thought of befriending Arawen was loathsome, but the thought of killing her was equally so. Luthien frowned. “Dislike her as I do, I have no desire to kill anyone. But how could you endear yourself to such a heartless person?”

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