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PostPosted: December 21st, 2009, 4:13 pm 
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"You should tell the truth" Bëor replied promptly. There was a short pause before he spoke again in which he seemed to be lost in thought or memories. "The Mouth is Sauron's most cunning and loyal servant" he said slowly. "Like you said, he possesses dark magic, horrific beyond imagination. He will sense the hatred you harbour. He will know that you have not been defeated, for he is master of lies and deceit. Do you know what will happen to you then?" Bëor's bearded face was drawn, as if with pain but his keen blue eyes were still stared at Luthien.
The moment of silence was loaded, tension clouded the cold prison. Bëor shook his head and heaved a sigh. "One should not get into this light-headed or unprepared." He looked once more at Luthien, estimating her strengths and will-power. "You're not the right person. You've been here too short and your emotions he will read like an open book."

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PostPosted: December 21st, 2009, 5:34 pm 
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Luthien did not back down at all. “You said this would be my responsibility,” she said shortly. “You underestimate me. You know, I am not at all sure that Arawen was defeated before she was released into his service; there is something about her. Something about her manner, as if she has not been crushed.” She paused, trying to remember the tall, dark-haired young woman. “Maybe that was what the Mouth liked about her. Someone who hated him, someone who did not serve him out of their own destruction. Perhaps another like her would amuse him.”
She frowned, weighing over Bëor’s words. “We must not be against each other on this,” she continued. “Would you be able to do it? Would you be able to go out there and serve him? I am not afraid. I could serve him, and show him my hatred freely.”
More and more she thought. “If you were put in that position, would you be able to take the keys from Arawen, somehow?” it was a challenging question, but not unpleasant. “Tell me how you would go about it.”

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PostPosted: December 21st, 2009, 7:34 pm 
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"Those were my words, yes. And I do not take them back. What I'm saying is that you should be prepared" he stated simply. "I don't know what that girl did or didn't do when she was releashed, but I do know that he will have told the Mouth all she knew." Bëor ran his hand through his long, wild hair while pacing impatiently up and down his cell. "He absorbs every piece of valid information from his minions and permits no lies." He tried again. But seemingly he didn't get through Luthien's stubborn mind.
Would you be able to go out there and serve him? If you were put in that position, would you be able to take the keys from Arawen, somehow?
"I do not pretend that I would be fit for such a role" Bëorn said thoughtfully. "If I would share all my knowledge it would lead to the destruction of Middle Earth even quicker than it would at the present. I would not dare to risk that. Yet there are ways to undo the evil sorcery of the Enemy, at least some of it. But my skills have been lost over time.." The Ranger now stood still, watching the opposite wall of his cell. "The girl is just a sideshow. But if it was up to me, than I would make her give the keys to me and take her as a hostage with us. She might prove an useful asset on our flight. And when she becomes useless.." Bëorn paused, his eyes were cold and hard. "When she becomes useless we should have to get rid of her."

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PostPosted: December 22nd, 2009, 12:23 pm 
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Luthien thought for a while, running over Bëor’s words in her head. “Taking her might be dangerous,” she said finally. “She might try to lead them to us if she could. But…” she added grudgingly, “but it is a good strategy to consider.” She imagined killing someone like Arawen. The thought was quite sickening, but Bëor had suggested the idea without flinching. She supposed that violence, like everything else, when considered behind bars, meant nothing. She knew that the girl was a servant of the Enemy, and that made her their enemy; she was unbearable, arrogant, despicable in Luthien’s eyes, but her one redeeming feature was that she was human, like them. She must have once been exactly like Luthien, a girl shivering in a cell, before she served evil.
After a lengthy pause Luthien leaned against the wall of her cell. “Clearly, this needs much planning. More planning than can be done in just a single day,” she said. “I must admit, that I am glad you will help.” She gave a tiny flicker of a smile. “This is an improvement on us arguing relentlessly.”

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PostPosted: December 29th, 2009, 8:51 am 
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[ *wonders where all the others have gone to who signed up* Except for Goldy and Aerweyn ofcourse :hug:

I'm just slightly going to fastforward in time ;) ]

Bëor woke by sudden gust of draft that went through the dungeons. The blond-haired man lay curled up on the ground, at the back of his cell. He did not know how long he'd slept or what time of day it was. A glance was hopefully cast through the cell but the front of his cell was marked by the absence of a filled plate. He lay his head back on the cold stone for a moment and stared at the stone walls, trying to overcome the passiveness which usually mastered him at times. After an undetermined amount of time he slowly sat up and Bëor moved to sit on his favourite spot against the wall. From the dark corner of his cell he took a sharp triangular stone, which he had fingered from the tiled floor and sharpened long ago, to cut some long locks of his blond hair and his beard. The locks he cast aside on a small pile which he kept so that in case of sickness or cold, it could be stuffed under his shirt to keep warm.
Bëor looked around but could not see if any were awake. He closed his eyes again and listened to the sound of silence.

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PostPosted: December 29th, 2009, 12:42 pm 
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( :hug:

Okey-poke! Morning in Mordor! :lol: )

Luthien blinked. She had curled up tight in the small corner of her cell, her head buried in her arms. She supposed she’d only got a few hours of sleep; it had taken her too long to try and get comfortable, which was impossible in a prison cell. She was shivering now, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. She looked around to see if anyone else was awake yet. Hopefully, she edged towards the bars, eager to have someone to talk to. Loneliness was one of the things she hated most in the world. “Hello?” she whispered quietly. Her teeth were chattering.
Braving the silence that followed, she tried again. “Is anyone awake?”

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PostPosted: December 29th, 2009, 8:08 pm 
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Bëor shut his eyes to preserve the moment of silence but the idyllic quietness was chased away by Luthien's second attempt to talk. "I am, unfortenately.." he groaned. "Someone is keeping me awake by constant chattering." There was a short pause in which Bëor felt a pang of pity for the girl who could not be more than twenty winters old. With only having seen a glimpse of life and then being locked up here was beyond doubt cruel. "Didn't you have a cloak or something with you when you were brought in?" he said, but this time softly, almost friendly. "It can be pretty cold here at times. I can not give you anything of that on that part."

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PostPosted: December 30th, 2009, 9:27 am 
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Luthien remained silent after Bëor’s jibe, trying to think of a suitable retort. However, her head hurt, and despite her need to talk, she wasn’t in the mood for an argument. It was his next words that really surprised her; he sounded almost as if he was interested in her wellbeing. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “I did, but they took it from me,” she replied. A tiny dry laugh followed. “Do not worry. A little cold might do me good.” Her attempt to sound brave tired her. For a moment she did not want to be brave. Maybe it would be just easier to sleep and while her life away pointlessly until her final breath. But she shook away that morbid thought, regarding it irrational; there was no point in that. Besides, suffering from insomnia, there would be no choice of it. The only choice was in fighting. She paused, and she gave the smallest nod of her head to acknowledge Bëor’s olive branch. “Thank you.”

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PostPosted: January 3rd, 2010, 3:22 pm 
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(Sorry. I was on vacation for a week. I'll post later today.)

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PostPosted: January 5th, 2010, 3:07 am 
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(I'll have a post up by tomorrow evening, I totally lost inspiration, but I found it...I hope. So...yeah!)

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PostPosted: January 5th, 2010, 10:39 pm 
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(If I can get a quick run-down of what's going on currently, I'd be more than glad to join.)

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PostPosted: January 6th, 2010, 9:24 pm 
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Shan woke early as always, he tended to be the first one awake not that he ever got much rest to begin with. As soon as he woke, the man began pacing his cell, counting his steps to himself as he went. There as little that was eye catching about the cells of Mordor, and had long become easy to ignore whatever was going on around him. That was exactly what he was doing now.

1...2...3...4 his mind repeated over and over again - a mantra as the rest of his mind roamed for better ideas.

His silence was cut in two when he heard others stirring and a call from the end of the hall by the new woman. He opened his mouth to answer, but Beor spoke first. The man smirked and decided that instead of speaking he would just eves drop.

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

Maethoriel grinned at the Mouth and gave one of her signature barking laughs. His words did little to deter her from her goal. The wizard was still a danger, she knew it - felt it in her bones. Her instincts were rarely wrong, she had years of experience and it culminated in an expertise at educated and not so educated guessing.

She kicked back from the desk, her feet solidly landing on the floor while the chair she sat in clattered to the floor and her mind was taken with a sudden manic state.

Something needed doing, but what? Did it matter? No, she knew that answer. Easy. She needed to get out of the room and up into the open air. A message!

Her fingers snapped and once again red sparks were left from the sound.

"Dear sir..." she said, her dark eyes boring into the creature created by the Eye. "Realize that you are hardly capable of keeping me here. Know that now...I must be off now. Thank you for your time," she said, walking quickly out of the study with an air of purpose that off set her previous lackadaisical mood.

Maethoriel did not sleep the entirety of the night. She sat in her own room, filled to the brim with papers. They covered everything including her bed. Nothing written on the papers made sense, scribbles of half words and thoughts that only could be defined in her own diseased mind.

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

Mab couldn't tell if she slept or not. Darkness was the same as light to her in the cells beneath Mordor. Everything ran together and nothing could pull apart the days from each other. The first thing the woman noted was that it was very cold. She had no cloak either, but the cold din't make her shiver, her body had given up even the most basic survival instincts.

The woman hadn't moved from the spot that she had drifted into the dark yesterday. Her arms were still locked around the freezing metal still holding her up. She heard voices now, but not the normal cruel voices that usually filled her nightmares and waking hours. They were somewhat familiar. She couldn't remember when she heard them last. Maybe a week ago, or was it just an hour? IT was all the same.

"Awake..." she muttered in response to Luthien, her arms locking and dragging her frail form closer to the bars so that her forehead rested on the metal.

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PostPosted: January 6th, 2010, 9:49 pm 
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(I forgot. Again. Here is my tiny post to keep myself going.)

Rayelin woke slowly, not wanting to leave her dream. She was beginning to feel like any dream was better than this languishing reality. She wished there were sun, for the thousandth time since she was in here. Was it morning or 2 am? How could anyone know? As the others began to stir, she sat up slowly and looked around. "Here," she whispered quietly. "Good morning," she followed in a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness. "Any flashes of inspiration in the night?"

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PostPosted: January 8th, 2010, 2:42 pm 
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[ @ Morwen: most charries are still stuck in Mordor and some are discussing plans to escape. That's what pretty much happened up till now

@ Mae: You're back! :hug: ]

Bëor felt uncomfortable by Luthien's expressed gratitude. Not often had he done something that would make others feel better and he was not quite sure how to handle it. "Any time, I guess.." he at last answered.
Sounds of others, who were stirring, was now heard; silent shuffling and illogical blabbering.
"Great.." Bëor muttered. "Even the inept and the insane seem to be awake now.."

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PostPosted: January 9th, 2010, 1:42 pm 
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(*looks to Goldleaf* permission to join with my char, Morwen? Shes going to be somewhere between prisoner/servant. Been in Mordor too long than is good for her, she gave up on fighting to avoid pain.)

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PostPosted: January 9th, 2010, 7:01 pm 
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(Hooray, brilliant to see Starless Night busier again! :-D

And of course you can join, Morwen :-D Welcome to the RP! Your charrie sounds like she'll fit in brilliantly =) )

The Mouth of Sauron seldom slept. His sharp mind was too alive with cruel thought, his ideas and plans in endless circulation. He had no need to, anyway; the dark enveloped him without sleep. Tiredness was not something he knew. There was no room for such things in Mordor, where evil was immortal. The Eye would not allow weaknesses, and he always wished his second-in-command to be at hand at all times, should conference between them be required, which it often was. The Mouth was given up entirely to the darkness, all of his being dedicated to carrying out his master’s wishes.
No, sleep was not for him. He had spent the entire night dictating to his clerk, who, in turn, was allowed no respite from his work. Now, in the early morning, as the scribbling of the clerk’s quill ceased for a moment, the Mouth’s thoughts turned to the woman Maethoriel who had barged her way into his lodgings yesterday. A pity, how mangled her mind had become; but also, a delightful hilarity to the Mouth. There was nothing more he loved than observing what the land of Mordor had done to those who dwelled there; it turned their heads to madness.
“You may as well have a break,” he commented harshly to the clerk, whose fear he could sense. “Get out, and come back within the hour.” This suggestion was out of no pity on his part; the presence of his servant was beginning to annoy him, and he needed time to think without the scritch-scratch of his quill.
“Y-y-y-y-y-y-yes s-s-ir, I… I…” there was a scrambling as the clerk scraped his chair back from his desk and backed from the room. Now there was another one, the Mouth thought, as the door slammed shut; that man had once been strong and proud, and now he was but a ghost of his former self, terrified of his life, of his master, of everything. He was only kept because of his skill to write for prolonged periods of time.
There was a loud knock on the door, and the Mouth glared. “Enter.” As the door swung open, he sensed Arawen’s presence like a fierce, cold breeze. The girl crossed the room, clicking the door closed behind her. A blue cloak was thrown over her tattered red gown; she had just returned from her errand. “Ah. You’re back, finally. What news have you?” the Mouth enquired.
Arawen took a seat. “You will be gratified to learn that she’s dead, my lord.”
There was a lengthy pause, and the Mouth took a long hiss of an intake of breath between his teeth. “Finally. Finally, after so long,” he said, an unmistakable note of glee in his dreadful voice. “The elf-maiden. So many years she endured, even after being moved to the low dungeons, apart from the other prisoners…” his toothy grin was quite hideous; Arawen almost wanted to recoil at his delight in her news. He had given her the task of visiting the low dungeons, more a cave than a row of cells, late last night; his oldest prisoner had not been checked on in quite a while. She had been captured long ago, and her immortality and strength of character had helped her to endure her terrible treatment. Now she was dead, gone; a hostage of the elves taken to taunt them, once a beautiful lady of Rivendell, an attendant to Elrond Halfelven’s daughter.
She had never once spoken one word; not even when they tortured her. She had been left a wreck of a captive. Arawen had heard much of her, but she had not seen her until early this morning, when she had ventured down into the dungeon, finding her lifeless.
“She was brave,” Arawen said eventually, boldly. “Indeed, very brave, I would say. She outwitted you even in death, leaving you with no information whatsoever.”
The Mouth paused. “You speak dangerous words.”
“I speak the truth. What does it matter? She has passed on now. And I doubt you ever really needed her,” she replied shortly. “A meaningless death, but a clever one all the same. You never won.” She folded her arms loosely and waited.
“I suppose. She was a trinket.” The Mouth laughed. “A stubborn one. Well. On to our next matters. I want you to pay another visit, Arawen. And you will not deny me.”
“I never do.”
“You will visit Maethoriel.”
Arawen paused. “My lord, that would be a wasted visit. There’s nothing to be gained from speech with her. You know, everyone knows, that she is mad.”
“And a danger to us. She would betray us, she would betray our enemy too. I need to be rid of her, but if I let her go she will surely dart over to that greybeard wizard,” the Mouth said. “You have proved in the past that you have a skill with death…” he let another pause stretch out. Arawen took in his words, weighing over their horror.
“I will not kill one such as her.”
“You’ve done it before,” he retorted. “What harm another life?”
“I will visit her, as you say,” Arawen said. She rose from her seat. “She is dangerous, yes. But there are other methods that are not spilled blood.”
“Getting squeamish, are we? That’s new of you,” the Mouth taunted. He gripped the armrests of his chair, leaning forward. “I shall expect a full report when you return.”
“I will see her when I have the time. But as you know you keep me busy with a full day’s schedule. The prisoners are my responsibility – you’ve made sure of that.”
The Mouth chuckled. “I like to remind you of how you arrived here.”

~~~
Luthien listened to the other prisoners wake, their words, whether born of sanity or nonsense, running in together like waves. Her head still hurt, and she found it difficult to concentrate. She focused on Bëor for a moment, noting that he looked slightly uncomfortable. Maybe her gratitude embarrassed him, and after all, he did not seem a naturally kind person. Glancing away, she observed Mab for a moment. Poor girl. She had quite obviously yielded to madness. Luthien could so easily end up like her… she could not lose her determination. It was all that kept her going. Without it, she might as well crumple. Fade into a shadow.
She looked over at Rayelin. “Yes, I have been thinking,” she said finally, as the world settled around her in sharper clarity, despite her harsh headache. “I’ve had plenty of time.” The irony in her voice could not be missed. Sleep deprivation provided a person with bountiful time to think, and think, until thinking pained them. Stretching, Luthien shivered again. Ever since childhood she had not been able to take the cold well. It was an affliction ill-matched with her natural confidence.
Suddenly, the prison door slammed open, and the dark-haired servant of the Mouth of Sauron strode in, two servants of lesser rank scuttling behind her carrying chipped, ugly-looking plates. It was time for the prisoners’ breakfast, an unsatisfactory meal of sour meat and mouldy bread. Arawen carried the heavy iron keys of the prison cells, swinging them and making a jangling tune. Her bright blue eyes took in each and every prisoner, observing them with no feeling. “Your morning meal,” she said briefly, and summoned to the servants behind her, who were obviously terrified of her, like most people. It was chilling, the violence she’d inflicted during her time in Mordor; word of it spread quickly, creating a kind of fear and respect around her.
She strode towards Luthien’s cell, carrying the heavy keys.

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