The Last One

Chapter 19

The days seemed to drag on, but from her dark cell Ruive could never tell if it were day or night. That last thing she remembered was being dragged away from her sister's lifeless body. For what she was sure was decades now, Azog had tortured her, demanding she tell him everything she knew about dragons. Now, why Azog had any remote interest in dragons and there whereabouts was completely unknown to Ruive, but everyday he would torture her, but she would not break. Then again, how do you break someone with nothing left to lose? Not once did she utter a word, she would not let Tauriel's death be in vain, the only words she would speak were insults and curses in her mother and father's tongue if she felt like angering Azog more.

There were many occasions where hope seem like a distant memory, but one thought kept her hope alive; he would come, he promised, he will save her... Legolas would come. But he never did.

On this particular day, the torture had been like any other, whipping, burning, slicing, poking. But Ruive, broken bodied, felt more hope than she had felt in many years. Maybe today Legolas would come? Though she had given up on that hope many years ago, today hope seem to fill her spirits, giving her reason to fight just a little longer. She lay in a crumpled, broken heap, blood weeping from a variety of wounds. She was thin and pale, the strength and muscle she once had was gone, her once strong and soft hair was now dead and brittle. And her once bright and fierce eyes were dull and dark circles swamped them. She was almost unrecognizable, this once strong and beautiful warrior was frail and dejected. Something she never thought she'd be.

The faint sounds of swords and the cries of battle reached her ears. If she'd the strength, she would have pulled herself up to investigate. But she just laid there, staring at the cell door half expecting Azog to come and drag her away from more torture. But what came made her question her consciousness. A figure, cloak in cloth and leather, definitely not an orc fought his way into the dungeons, followed by three other similarly dressed figures. At first, Ruive thought this was a dream, but when the door to her cell was opened and the first figure stepped though to her she realized he was real. The first thing she noticed were his blue almost grey eyes, wisps of black hair draped over his face, matted by sweat peaked from under his hood. From what she could tell of him he was of the race of men. When he spoke to her, his voice was gruff but kind, it reminded her of her father.

"Easy now, you are safe now." 

The figure glanced over her body grimacing at the many wounds she adorned. Gingerly and gently he placed a hand under her knees and the other round her shoulders. Ruive groaned in pain when he lifted her off the ground. He whispered apologies in her ear in what she guessed as elvish. He was about to leave with the other men but her soft raspy voice stopped her.

"Wait. My weapons." 

She reached her arm out and pointed to where a pile of her weapons lay. The man holding her nodded at the others and the gathered up her weapons before leaving the dungeons and the torture behind.

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Ruive's senses were in a frenzy. She could smell orcs, the dungeons of Dol guldur, her blood, but then she could smell honey, flowers, she could smell spring. She could hear the sound of the whip breaking over her back, and her cries of pain, the orders in black speech, but she could hear the buzzing of bees, and birds singing. With great struggle she forced her eyes open. The familiar sounds and smells of Dol guldur faded from her senses. The first thing she saw was a wooden roof, she guess she was in some kind of house or hut. But how did she get there? Memories of the figure who saved her from Dol guldur came flooding back to her. 

"Ah, you are awake." 

That voice, the one who saved her. She turned her head to the side and saw the same blue-grey eyes and black hair. Ruive moved to sit upright, but hissed at the pain that coursed through her veins.