Chapter Nine

Doing his best to hide his shock at suddenly seeing the woman so close to him, Aragorn said, “This painting is stunning. Is it your grandmother or your great grandmother perhaps? The resemblance is remarkable.”

Allaura smiled. “Thank you, but that is not an ancestor. That is me.”

Looking from the woman, who had stepped up beside him, to the painting, Aragorn said, “You? The painting is very old, so I assumed it was a much older lady.” Realizing how his words could be misinterpreted, he quickly said, “I didn’t mean to imply that I think the woman in the painting is old. I mean, she...you...are young and beautiful. I just meant the painting looks old, I...”

The man suddenly felt awkward, so he just stopped trying to rescue himself and instead waited to be chastised, something he had a feeling this woman could do with little effort.

To Aragorn’s surprise, Allaura simply said, “You are forgiven.” She again smiled at the ranger. “The painting is actually only ten years old. The artist wanted to make it look as if it came from a time long past. He was a romantic at heart, as I imagine most painters are to be able to do what they do.”

“He definitely accomplished his purpose then, at least as far as I‘m concerned. It certainly looks very old. And yes, it does have a romantic quality about it.” Despite the fact that the painting was of this woman, who he felt sure had had a hand in his capture, he couldn’t help but admire the portrait for the beautiful creation it was.

Silence fell between the ranger and the woman in black. Aragorn studied the painting while Allaura studied him, a fact he was totally aware of but chose to ignore, outwardly at any rate.

Allaura noticed that Aragorn was staring at the jewelry gracing the representation of her in the portrait. “The necklace and earrings you see were given to me by my husband on the tenth anniversary of our wedding, the day before the portrait was begun. I only wear the jewelry on special occasions. Perhaps you will see it before...” she hesitated a fraction before saying, “you leave.”

The hesitation and the implication that he and Legolas would be allowed to leave this place as any ordinary guest would, did not go unnoticed by the ranger. Her words did not ring true. ‘We’ll leave, but not by your hand, I’ll warrant,’ the man said to himself.

Just then Aragorn heard a moan coming from the sofa. He hoped that Legolas was merely shifting positions and not waking up. The elf needed much more sleep than what he had gotten so far.

Aragorn quickly set his empty cup on the mantle and rushed over to the sofa. When he came around the end and looked down, he was dismayed to see that Legolas had indeed awoken.

The elf blinked at him and then surveyed the room. He nodded slightly, indicating he knew where he was.

Kneeling down and frowning slightly, Aragorn said, “You should go back to sleep, Legolas. You need much more than you just got.” His words echoed his earlier thought.

Legolas was going to comment, until he saw Allaura come into view around the opposite end of the sofa. Instead of saying anything, he pressed his lips together and made a valiant attempt to sit up.

“Should you be up so soon?” Allaura asked. Her tone, like Grath’s had been, was not indicative of someone who really cared about the answer, though she tried to hide that fact with mock concern.

“I am fine,” the elf said. His tone was flat, imparting information with no real feeling behind it. He was not in the mood to pretend. He didn’t trust nor even like Allaura. She was not going to let them go, so why put on an act? It was only worth the effort if it accomplished a goal, and being as friendly as he could be wasn’t going to get him or Aragorn anywhere with this woman.

Aragorn grimaced but made no comment. It was soon apparent that Legolas wasn’t going to stay down, so the man reached out and helped his friend into a sitting position.

Legolas took a deep breath, making the effort to stifle a groan. “I am fine,” he repeated to Aragorn in a much softer voice before the ranger could question him.

“Then it is time you went to your room.” Allaura said with an edge to her voice. Her demeanor had changed completely, and all pretence had vanished. She was no longer interested in trying to fool these two people, who she realized didn’t believe her act anyway.

Neither elf nor ranger thought that they were going to be taken upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Their likely destination was to be found in the lower regions of the building.

That notion was confirmed a moment later, when four burly men, dressed in uniforms that identified them as some kind of soldier, probably guards. How they had been called was a mystery. Allaura had neither said a word nor pulled any kind of cord that would ring a silent bell somewhere else in the house tp let them know they were being summoned.

“Take them to the vault,” Allaura commanded the four somewhat haughtily. With those words, she turned and left the room.

As the four guards approached, Legolas and Aragorn looked at each other, and the ranger mouthed the word, “Vault?” He was expecting to hear instructions that they were to be taken to the dungeon. He guessed that in the end it probably meant the same thing.

Aragorn bristled when two of the guards, or whatever they were, grabbed Legolas and roughly pulled him up off of the sofa, eliciting an involuntary cry of pain, as the one on the elf’s left side yanked on his arm and consequently pulled his inured shoulder.

“Be careful,” the ranger said angrily. “He’s wounded.”

The guard holding Legolas’s left arm didn‘t say a word. Instead, he yanked even harder on it, adding a little twist as he did so, bringing a wince to Legolas’s face.

The ranger was being held by the other two guards and could do no more than attempt to lunge forward, hoping he could break loose and punch the guard who had hurt his friend. However, he wasn’t even able to take a full step before the hands holding him tightened painfully.

“Do not antagonize them, Estel,” Legolas said in elvish. “They will only take pleasure in hurting you.”

Aragorn wanted to say, ‘Like they just hurt you,’ but he kept silent. It was only because he knew that’s what Legolas wanted him to do.

The four guards did not understand what the elf had said, because if they had, they would have done exactly as he said just to prove the accuracy of his prediction. One glance at the twisted expressions on the faces of these men had told Legolas that cruelty was their strong suit.

Not liking it but going along with it, for now, Aragorn did not give the guards any more trouble, as he and Legolas were led out of the room and down the hallway.

They stopped at a door that blended into the wall under the elaborate staircase that led to the upper floors that it could have easily been overlooked. Behind the door was a set of stairs that went down.

Four levels later the stairs ended. The four guards and two prisoners turned to the left and began moving down a torch-lit passageway. Gone were the stone bricks that made up the building above. Down here everything was hewn out of solid rock.

Four times they came to a large iron door secured in the rock. Each time a different guard took a key from a chain around his neck and opened the door they faced, being sure to lock it again after they had all passed through.

Many twists and turns later, Legolas and Aragorn fund themselves pulled up short in front of yet another iron door. Thinking that this would lead to still another passageway, they were surprised when they were both roughly shoved through the doorway. Before either could turn around, the door was slammed and locked behind them.

One small torch, high on the back wall, was all the light they had. Looking at it, Aragorn said, “I suppose it could be worse. We could be in total darkness.”

He didn’t see Legolas shiver at the thought. The elf could hold himself together as long as there was some kind of light presnet, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. For all intents and purposes, this was a cave, and it made the elf uncomfortable.

Neither elf nor ranger knew if the entire area they had traveled through since leaving the stairway was what Allaura called the vault or if it referred only to this room. They looked around them.

The room was about twelve feet square, and perhaps ten feet high. Running the length of the back wall was a ledge about two feet high that was cut to look like a bench. It was only a foot or so wide so wouldn’t serve as much of a bed. A drain hole near the far right corner was the only thing that could be used for personal needs. A tiny stone bowl protruded from the wall not far from the door. It presumably was meant to hold water, though nothing was in it at the moment.

Except for the torch and its iron holder, securely fastened to the wall, everything in the room was made of stone. There were no blankets or pallets to lie on, not even any straw to soften the hard stone floor.

Aragorn laughed to himself. What else did he expect? This was a prison, after all, and he and Legolas were the prisoners. He hoped that in time they would be fed and given water. The thought occurred to him again, that Allaura wanted them alive for some secret purpose he could not fathom. He didn’t think he really wanted to.

Of course, there was no rule that said torture had to end in death, so there was always the chance the ominous-looking guards would be allowed to have a little fun at their prisoners’ expense. It was a sobering thought.

Legolas, to the dismay of both himself and Aragorn, began to sway slightly. He wasn’t dizzy and didn’t think he was going to pass out, but he wasn’t willing to chance it, so the instant the ranger grabbed for him, he nodded toward the stone bench against the far wall. He sat down, when he and Aragorn reached it.

“It isn’t very wide, Legolas, but, if you are careful, l think you can lie down. You need more sleep.”

The elf wasn’t sure if he could sleep under these conditions. Places like this usually made his mind race. But he knew he needed the sleep to fully recover his strength. And he couldn’t deny that elven dreams or even outright oblivion would be better than this. When he looked into the concerned eyes of his friend, he realized that Estel would not rest until he did.

Nodding, the elf lay down on his right side. Even as slender as he was, he barely fit, and that was with his back hard against the rock wall. He didn’t say a word about the discomfort that was caused by the unyielding stone of the bench pressing against his hip bone.

The elf had to face the fact that this was not a place that offered comfort, so he had best get used to it. Still, Legolas couldn’t help comparing where he was now to the incredibly soft sofa he had been lying on upstairs. He shook his head ruefully. Thoughts like that were only going to make him feel worse.

Aragorn noticed the shake of the elf’s head. “What’s wrong, Legolas? Do you have a headache?”

The elf laughed. “I think that is the only place on my body that does not hurt.” He realized immediately what he had said and the concern it would cause. When Aragorn frowned, the elf quickly said, “I said that in jest.”

“Let me guess. You are fine.” There was a small note of resigned sarcasm in the statement.

“Truly I am,” Legolas returned. “I will sleep, and be well when I awaken.”

“Which means you aren’t really well now.” The man grinned, seemingly happy he had caught the elf in a falsehood and challenging him to refute it.

Legolas merely shook his head again and sighed. He lay his head down on his right arm, which he stretched out over his head on the bench.

Aragorn’s face was mere inches from the elf’s, and he didn’t move until he saw Legolas’s eyes lose their focus. They were half closed, but that was better than being fully closed, so the ranger nodded to himself and stood up. Secure in the knowledge that his friend was finally going to get the sleep he needed, the man turned his attention to the room they were in.

Aragorn went to the center and studied the walls, turning slowly until he was back in his original position. He then examined the floor and the ceiling. The room was solid rock, just as he had thought, when he first entered it. There was absolutely nothing there that offered even the slightest chance for escape. That left just one possibility.

The ranger turned toward the door. He sized it up from where he stood. It was larger than the average door being about four feet across and a good seven feet high. He walked up to it and tapped it. The resulting sound told him exactly what he thought it would: the door was solid metal.

He ran his hand over it, concentrating on the hinges. They were secured into the iron frame with large, heavy bolts. It was easy to see that no amount of trying was going to be able to pry them loose.

The spot where the lock should be was smooth and solid. The door had to be locked and unlocked from the outside only, eliminating any chance to work on the lock from a hole on the inside.

Aragorn stepped back. It appeared that the only chance he and Legolas would have to get out of this room was when the door was open. Unfortunately, that also meant that guards would be present in the room and probably more outside in the passageway.

The man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t going to be easy. But then, he hadn’t really thought that it would be. Still, he was not willing to give up, certainly not this early in the game. He almost laughed at the word game. Weren’t there two sides? Wouldn’t they each be making moves until there was a winner and a loser. Wasn’t that the definition of a game? Of course, now the stakes were as high as they got---the lives of himself and Legolas.

He looked back at his sleeping friend. Nothing could be done until Legolas woke up, and they could discuss their course of action. Whatever was going to be done, the elf’s strength and wisdom would be needed.

With nothing left to do, Aragorn went over to the stone bench and made sure Legolas was still asleep before lying down on his left side, head-to-head with Legolas. Maybe getting a little sleep would help him, too. He had a feeling that he would also be needing his strength.

*~*~*~*

Upstairs, Allaura was sitting at her dressing table in a large ornately decorated bedchamber. On the table sat an open gold box, which held three items. Lying on the red velvet lining were a blue gen stone necklace and two matching earrings.

The woman smiled, as she reached in and pulled the necklace out, holding it up for inspection before fastening it around her neck. She then put on the earrings. Staring into the mirror in front of her, she admired her image.

“What do you think, my love?” she cooed, standing up and walking toward the large bed on the opposite side of the room. "It is time."

Lying on the bed was a dark-haired man. His naked body was covered loosely by a black satin sheet. Any normal man would have been excited by the approach of such a beautiful woman, whose very demeanor promised desire and passion. This man was different. His eyes held only terror.

TBC