A/N: The only characters I own are Isilden, a.k.a. Snarga, Elennar, Krân, Lunk, Gorlen, Tharv, Zharag and Braghûl. All the rest are Tolkien’s.

Chapter One: A Bad Beginning

I ran.

I panted for breath, head bowed against an onslaught of icy rain and stinging shards of hail. My feet bled liberally, for my boots had worn through hours ago. A trail of blood was left in my wake, soon washed away by the torrential storm.

I was running from the Uruks.

They had captured me just yesterday. I had been on a hunting trip with my family, my parents and younger sister, Elennar. We had intended to travel to Mirkwood, from our home in the Golden Wood of Lórien. We had made it only to the western banks of the Anduin River when a passing orc-horde spotted us and attacked.

They slew my mother first. She screamed for mercy, until an arrow to her throat silenced her pleas forever. Ada was next – he yelled for my sister and me to flee, and then tried valiantly to hamper the masses of Uruk-hai that had ravaged our campsite and massacred his wife. He battled them bravely, but a wayward sword-thrust proved to be his downfall. As my sister and I raced across the grassy plains toward Mirkwood, his dying yell rang in my ears: “Ú-tiro dan! Ú-tiro dan! Rima!” **Don’t look back! Don’t look back! Run!**

I didn’t look back. If I had, I would have seen the river running red.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground, with my face pressed against the grass and the tip of a sword at the base of my neck.

“Here’s another two for Lord Saruman!” a low, harsh voice growled above me. I tried to turn my head to look at my sister, but I could not. But I could move my eyes, and they met my sister’s terrified gaze. I wished I could tell her that everything would be all right, that we would get out of this mess somehow. But I didn’t dare speak, for just then a second voice answered the first, this one a high-pitched whine.

“Yeah? They look fit enough to serve him… now. Think they’ll be strong enough once Saruman’s through with ’em?”

“They’d better be. He doesn’t want dead meat.”

“Well, let’s get ’em to the Tower and see what happens. At least if they do die, there’ll be more food for us. They’re young, though,” it added. “I dunno, Krân. Maybe we should look ’em over a bit before we take ’em to Lord Saruman.”

“Get ’em up, Lunk,” the first voice snarled. At once I felt the blade move away from my neck, and I was grabbed by a large, muscular hand and hoisted up onto my feet. Shaking, I gazed fearfully up at my captor, Krân. He was a tall, heavily-built orc, with blackish skin, stained yellow teeth and dark, malicious eyes. His companion, Lunk, was slightly shorter, and a great deal skinnier. His complexion was somewhere between gray and green, and his eyes were a dull brownish-yellow. He stared intently at me as I stood in silence, too frightened to do anything to defend myself.

“Yeah, this one’s pretty fit. Dunno about the other one, though. Ah, doesn’t matter. We’ll take ’em to see Lord Saruman, like you said. Come on, you,” he hissed at me, seizing my wrist and yanking me forcefully forward. I heard Elennar give a little shriek as Krân grabbed her.

“Where are you taking us?” I cried, struggling vainly to prise the slender, gnarled fingers from my arm.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Lunk told me, grinning wickedly.

I fell silent; numbing fear made my body feel like ice. But still I attempted to escape, to no avail. Finally there was a white-hot burst of pain across my skull as something hard slammed into the back of my head, and I plunged into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I found myself in a dark, dungeon-like chamber, with hundreds of huge, terrifying instruments lining the black stone walls. There were swords and knives bigger than a man, with blades sharper than the the breath of midwinter; fearsome maces and clubs, tipped with metal spikes like iron icicles. All of them were stained with dark splatters of what could be nothing but blood. The room had a reek of old blood and sweat, of orcs and filth and smoke. It was the stench of death.

Gazing around in horror, my eyes fell upon my sister, who was crouched in a corner, sobbing. She turned her tear-streaked face to me, and whispered, “Are they going to kill us, Isilden?”

I could not reply, for fear had constricted my throat, but I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, to reassure her that hope was not lost. But my fingertips had no sooner brushed her arm than the room’s single door burst open to admit half-a-dozen Uruks of varying sizes and shapes. Three of them grabbed me, and the others reached for my sister. With a yell, I seized the nearest instrument that was light enough for me to hold and use – a broken metal spike – and impaled the first Uruk upon it.

That blow excited the others, who all began screaming at once in a foul language I could not understand. Brandishing my makeshift spear, I stabbed and slashed at random, amid deafening howls and screeches of pain. Three of the remaining five Uruks fell to the floor, stone dead. The other two threatened to slaughter my defenceless sister, but I would not surrender. Blood, black as tar, spurted across the floor in a sticky spray.

Suddenly the doors, which had slammed shut, flew open again. But this time it was not orcs who entered the stinking chamber. It was a tall, bearded man, shrouded in a dirty cloak which had probably once been white. In his right hand he clutched a forked staff that was as black as ebony, save for the gleaming white stone set at its top, between the four spikes. The Uruks temporarily halted their coercion and turned to look tentatively up at the White Wizard of Orthanc, who was striding purposefully toward them.

Then Saruman spoke, in a deep voice that was colder than ice, and that reverberated through the air like a death knell.

“Unhand them,” he ordered.

One of the two Uruks protested feebly, in a quavery voice.

“We was only havin’ a bit o’ fun with ’em, Lord,” he whined. “I weren’t gonna kill ‘er, but that ‘un’s slew four of us with just a spike!” He pointed to me with a crooked forefinger. Saruman glared at me with eyes as grey as wintry seas. I shuddered beneath his cruel gaze.

“Let me see them,” the Wizard commanded, turning back to the Uruk. “Leave us.”

Nodding mutely, the Uruks slunk sullenly out of the chamber. I knelt next to Elennar and shushed her gently, as Saruman’s voice rang harshly out again.

“So, you killed my servants, did you, elf?”

I stared silently up, too afraid to reply.

“Answer me!” the man thundered.

I nodded hurriedly. “Y- yes, sir.”

Saruman’s eyes narrowed as he continued.

“And did you think you would get away with it? That you could do so without any punishment at all? Did you?”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I repeated my last reply: “Yes, sir.”

“Hmmm…” The Wizard stood in silence for a moment, and then gestured to Elennar. “And who might this be?”

I gulped. “M- my little sister, sir.”

“Indeed. And would you be willing to do anything to save your sister’s life? If I were to, say, re-summon those orcs and let them have their way with her, what would you do?”

“I’d kill them, and then kill you!”

Saruman laughed coldly; it was a terrible sound. “Such bravery,” he crooned. “Such a fiery spirit you have. You would be very useful to me.”

I glanced uncertainly up at him. “How?” I asked nervously.

Saruman chuckled again, no less mirthlessly than before. “I could use someone like you; someone who has a temper, an anger. Are you angry?”

My eyes narrowed in a sudden, red-hot burst of fury. “Yes!”

“Excellent,” said Saruman appreciatively. “Yes, you will indeed be a valuable asset. Come with me now.”

Elennar stared at me, horror in her eyes. I stepped back, apprehensive, but Saruman grabbed my wrist and half-dragged me out of the room and down a tall flight of stairs, deeper and deeper into the earth. At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretched out before us, with a single door of black iron at the far end.

Saruman pushed open the heavy door, and a great wave of the same putrid odor I had encountered in the upstairs chamber hit me with full force. I reeled back in disgust, but Saruman shoved me none-too-gently forth.

I gasped in horror at what I beheld. The room was packed with Uruks, lining the walls of the huge chamber. At the very middle of the room was a gaping hole that appeared to be full of some sick, filthy muck. Saruman walked calmly to the edge of it, pushing me ahead of him, so that I had no choice but to go forward.

“Look,” he said, pointing down into the slimy pit. I tilted my head downward, gazing at what appeared to be a large mound in the center of the gooey stuff. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as a figure rose slowly from the depths of the pool.

It was an Uruk, dripping with ooze, eyes gleaming madly in its head. As I stumbled back in terror, it lumbered toward me, clawed hands outstretched. I backed away until my back was against Saruman’s flowing robe. He placed his hand on my shoulders, and his long, talon-like fingernails pricked my skin. I winced and tried to pull away, but he only gripped me tighter. I squirmed and struggled in his viselike grasp. With a final, desperate effort I pulled away, and then suddenly whirled around and tripped Saruman, sending him sprawling headfirst into the sludge that filled the pit. He thrashed around like a man in his death throes, shrieking for the Uruks to help him. I took the opportunity to flee for my life.

“Get him!!!” Saruman screeched, pointing madly toward me. “Kill that elf!”

My heart pounded in my chest as I ducked through the door, which slammed itself shut behind me with an echoing BOOM. I raced up the hallway and the stairs, back toward the torture chamber. When I reached the door, I found to my despair that it was locked tightly, and I could not force it from the outside. My sister was trapped within, alone and helpless.

Pounding footsteps suddenly reached my ears, coming from further up the passage, opposite the staircase. The stairs were the only way I could escape. But I couldn’t leave Elennar.

The footsteps sounded ever nearer as I pondered my fate. The Uruks’ shadows began to dance on the walls as they approached, and I quickly made up my mind.

“Im naer, Elennar,” **I’m sorry, Elennar** I whispered. “Ettulathon ten’le ae ‘erin.” **I will return for you if I can.** My heart ached at the thought of leaving her behind, awaiting her inevitable fate, but there was nothing I could do for her. I turned around and ran as fast as my legs would carry me; I didn’t know where I was going, but it didn’t matter. All I wanted to do was get as far away from Saruman and the Uruks as possible. I kept on running…

I kept on running.

Whether I stumbled over something, or whether I was deliberately knocked down, I never knew. But all of a sudden I was flat on my back, with the icy rain falling heavily onto my upturned features as I stared up into a face I hoped I would never see again – Krân.

To Be Continued…

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