Thanks to Elvenesse for reviewing!! 

Just a quick note.  For the past few weeks, I've been updating on Saturdays or Sundays.  However, I'm afraid that I won't be able to post chapter 7 until the weekend after next.  That would be the 18th and 19th.  Sorry guys, but at least I won't make you wait with a cliffhanger!

Chapter 6

Aragorn slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could taste blood in his mouth and feel something warm running down his face. Odd, he thought. I do not remember receiving a wound to my head.

He kept his eyes closed and focused on breathing slowly and evenly, hoping that his captors would believe him to be still asleep. He focused on the sounds around him. There were at least two large creatures somewhere in the room, Orcs from all the noise they were making, and Felnorvard was also there, talking with Saruman.

The two continued their conversation for a few more moments until there was a sudden, unnatural silence. Aragorn cursed his luck as he heard someone moving toward him.

Someone’s hand slid under the Ranger’s neck and lifted it from his chest. “I know you are awake,” Saruman said. The wizards voice was dangerously close to Aragorn’s face and he resisted the urge to pull away. “Open your eyes, Aragorn.”

The Ranger’s eyes shot open. Other then on this journey, he had very rarely heard his true name spoken. For a long time, while he still lived in Rivendell, the name had been taboo. He had always associated it with danger although he knew the time would soon come when it would be spoken freely.

Saruman did not smile as he held the man’s face. “Join with us,” the wizard said as his eyes bore into the Ranger.

“My answer remains the same as before: never,” Aragorn replied. Part of an old elvish poem found its way to his lips, and he spoke, “You are the master who delights in evil; every wicked person finds refuge with you; the arrogant stand before you. You love all who do evil; you destroy all who speak truly. Murderers and deceivers are drawn to you.”

Aragorn kept his face unmoved as the wizard laughed. “I see that Elrond taught you the old texts. I know them as well. ‘Cloud and darkness surround him. Fire goes before him; everywhere it consumes his foes. Lightening illuminates the world, and Middle-Earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt and the days pass like a shadow. He will flash forth lightening and scatter his foes, giving victory to his kings.’” He paused, allowing what he said to hang in the air. “You have the chance to be that king, Aragorn.”

“Saruman, I would rather die by your hands then serve those that I have fought against for so long. I will never comply.”

Releasing his grip on the Ranger’s chin, a cruel smile spread across the wizard’s face. “You will not die by my hand, Aragorn, but you may wish for death before the end.”

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed in anger at the wizard’s comment. “No amount of torture will bend me to your will. I will only become more resolved.”

“Foolish human, I am a wizard! I have more at my disposal then you can ever imagine.” Saruman smiled again as a new idea came to him. “Perhaps I should give you a demonstration of my power, a sample of what you could ally yourself with.”

Aragorn gasped as the wizard placed a hand on his bare chest. It felt as though the air was being pulled from his lungs. He could not draw breath; it was choking him. He threw his head back and tried to speak or cry out, but without air, it was impossible.

His head and lungs were screaming for oxygen yet none would come. His vision began to shift out of focus and darkness crept in from all sides. Just as Aragorn was about to release himself into oblivion, Saruman pulled back his hand.

The Ranger gagged and coughed as he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. In his opinion, suffocating was the most frightening feeling imaginable. When he was younger, Elrohir and Elladan had held him under water as a joke. For years afterward, the child Aragorn had been plagued with nightmares. Even now, over eighty years old, he was still afraid of that feeling.

Saruman could see the fear in the Ranger’s eyes, and he laughed. “Yes, remember that I can bring you to the edge of death and pull you away just as quickly. It can be as often or seldom as you make it.”

Between gasps Aragorn responded, “You control your own actions, and I control mine. That will not change, no matter what you do.”

“We will see.”

Aragorn finally got his breathing and fear under control. Now he could focus his attention back on his situation. Saying nothing from now on should keep him out of trouble. It would not be prudent to make the wizard angry with witty comments. I would rather anger him with silence, Aragorn thought, keeping his eyes on Saruman’s every movement. The wizard had moved to a table a few paces away, but Aragorn could still observe his actions.

Saruman was pulling apart various plant leaves and dropping them into a bowl of water. He was intently focused on his task and spoke quietly under his breath. He occasionally waved his hand over the bowl, dropping in the now crushed herbs.

Aragorn hoped that his worries were not apparent on his face. The Ranger could deal with conventional torture, but what the wizard had in mind was far more damaging and effective. His limited experience with drugs had always been in healing, never torment. He was uncertain how to prepare himself. Perhaps there is nothing I can do, Aragorn thought as Saruman turned his attention back to him. But I will not make his task any easier.The wizard poured the solution into a cup and offered it to the man. Aragorn did not even look at the liquid but kept a cold stare straight ahead.

“Come now, Aragorn,” Saruman said. “This is folly. You can not resist me, and I speak the truth when I say that I do not wish you harm. I am merely showing you your mistake.”

Aragorn laughed aloud, but he did not trust himself to respond. The words he wished to speak would bring more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps a different approach was needed.

Closing his eyes, the Ranger very slowly parted his lips and allowed the wizard to pour the drink into his mouth. It tasted strangely familiar though he could not place it.

Saruman withdrew the now half-empty cup from the man’s mouth and smiled. “There. That was not as difficult as you thought and less painful then…” Aragorn cut the wizard’s sentence short by spitting the drug in his face.

Aragorn fought to keep himself from smirking at the wizard’s expression. The memory of the look on his face would make up for whatever the punishment.

The Ranger waited as Saruman wiped his face on his robes. Then the punishment came. The wizard raised both of his hands and spoke in a tongue that Aragorn did not understand.

Suddenly, the Ranger felt a sharp pressure forming behind his eyes. It was deep within his head and throbbed violently. He started to blink rapidly, trying to expel whatever was causing the pain. The pressure was steadily building and began to spread across his entire face. Aragorn wished he could rub his eyes or at the very least, hold his head, but he could not. His arms were bound very securely.

His breath was beginning to come faster as the pain grew, and he was trying everything to eliminate it. He squeezed his eyes shut and started to violently shake his head back and forth. It felt like his entire head was going to explode. His heart pounded in his ears and blocked out everything else.

Aragorn felt something being poured into his now open mouth, but he didn’t care. The only thing he could think about was the pain coming from inside his head and how to make it stop.

As quickly as it had started, the pain vanished. Aragorn opened his eyes, and although his vision was plagued with yellow and black spots, he could see Saruman still standing in front of him.

“I told you that it would be as painful as you make it. I care not as long as my goal is reached.” Saruman summoned his Orcs to unbind the Ranger.

Aragorn frowned in confusion. What did the wizard mean by ‘reaching his goal’? He searched his thoughts for any idea about what had happened. He had been so caught up in the pain that he had not been aware that anything else had happened. Of course! Aragorn thought as his memories came back to him. He remembered tasting something in his mouth and swallowing in reflex. If I had only been more vigilant, but hopefully I will be able to correct my error when I’m alone. It will be easy enough to expel whatever was forced into me.

Aragorn was still very weak from his beating, and when his arms were released, his legs refused to support him, and he collapsed to the floor. The Orcs laughed and pulled him back to his feet, dragging him toward the door.

They traveled quickly through the corridors of Isengard and down to its dungeons. With so many twists and turns, Aragorn had long given up trying to map where they were.

Finally arriving at their destination, the Orcs roughly threw the Ranger to the stone floor. They did not leave. Aragorn could only imagine what they were waiting for, but he did not have long to guess. Felnorvard had followed the group and now, he entered, holding a strange metal and leather object. From his position on the floor, Aragorn could see that it was a mask of some kind.

Felnorvard knelt in front of the fallen Ranger, a small smile spreading across his face. He slowly reached his hand behind Aragorn’s head and pulled him forward. The man brought the mask up to place it on his face, but Aragorn struggled and tried to pull away.

Felnorvard’s fingers closed around a clump of his hair, and although Aragorn still resisted, he was able to hold him still. His eyes narrowed as he challenged the Ranger’s resolve, saying, “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Aragorn! What do you possibly hope to accomplish resisting me in your position?”

Aragorn frowned. He was too weak to argue and didn’t really want to deal with the consequences of disobedience; everything hurt too much.

Felnorvard felt the Ranger relax slightly, and he began to slip the mask on again. There was a large metal section that fit snugly under the length of the chin and over the mouth. It was designed to keep objects from entering or exiting the captive’s mouth, but it also kept them silent.

Aragorn closed his eyes in silent defeat as the straps were tightened around his head. He would not waste his failing strength on something so trivial. The only possible result of resistance would be more injury. From now on, he would be forced to pick his battles carefully. Honor and foolish pride were no longer enough of a reason to pick a fight with his captors. He needed strength to escape.

Felnorvard finished and rose to his feet, saying, “That will make sure the medicine stays in your body and has a chance to do its work.”

Medicine indeed, Aragorn thought as two Orcs stepped forward and tightly bound his hands behind him. Then they left him alone with his thoughts.

Aragorn slowly eased himself against the cell wall, being careful of the welts on his back. He tried to move his mouth from under the mask, but it was a futile effort. There was a large leather strap that came out of the metal, over his forehead, and connected in back, effectively keeping him from opening or moving his mouth in any direction. Aragorn knew that he was lucky it wasn’t tight against him. He didn’t know how long he’d be in the cell, but a painfully tight mask around his face would have made the wait insufferable.

It was intensely dark for there was no light entering his cell. Even the small window leading to the corridor was black and lifeless. Strangely, there was no sound either. He could hear no one moving about in the hallway, only his own shallow breathing. It was as quiet as death.

Aragorn shuddered at the thought. No, he was not dead yet and if he had it his way, not for a long time. He knew that he had to focus on the present rather then the future. All of his mental and physical strength was needed to fight whatever poison had been given to him.

He waited in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity, and during that time he studied his body’s reaction to the potion. Nothing seemed to be happening. He still had the use of his legs, and even though his arms were bound, he could move them.

Then it is not a physical reaction that I should be weary of, Aragorn thought as he tried to free his jaw from the mask again with no luck. He had hoped it would have been different. Such drugs could leave lasting side effects on their victims.

Aragorn let out a sigh of pain and frustration. There was nothing he could do but wait for Saruman to return. Patience he had, but he hated waiting, especially for the inevitable. He would need his strength, and sitting there thinking about what was going to happen, would drive him insane. Therefore, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep.

----------

When sleep did come, he was tormented by strange dreams.

He dreamt that he was running through the forests surrounding Rivendell with his elven brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. He was carefree, like he was as a child. The trees flew by as he ran, but something was wrong. They were no longer following him so he stopped, turning back.

Elladan and Elrohir had vanished. Then he found himself on top of a large cliff, overlooking a great valley. He could see the White City in Gondor, Rivendell, and the cities of Rohan. Everything looked peaceful and prosperous, and he stood for a time, just watching.

But as the sun began to set, a strange darkness swept over the land. It consumed everything. But, far in the east, Aragorn could see a red glow, creeping slowly westward. It came upon the White City first, setting whatever it touched aflame. The plains of Rohan and Edoras were sacrificed next, followed by Lórien, Mirkwood, and Rivendell.

Aragorn looked down and could see a large mass of people moving toward the base of the cliff he stood upon. They were trying to climb up to him, to escape the fire and burning around them.

Aragorn stood in horror; he recognized many of them. Lord Elrond, Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir, Gandalf, Glorfindel, Lady Galadriel, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas, and King Theoden were all in the front of the group, pleading with him, begging for his help.

But he could do nothing to save them. His feet were firmly planted to the rocks. The fires started from behind and devoured the dwarfs, men and elves who had come to him. Aragorn watched as the ones he loved and cared for were slaughtered before his eyes.

TBC...