A/N: I wrote this story as a birthday present for a friend of mine. She liked it, so I decided to post it. This is my first every Lord of the Rings story, so I would love to hear what you think about it. Even if you didn't like it at all! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.


Erestor was faced with a million different sorts of pain when he regained consciousness. His ankle was throbbing, his wrist felt like there were a thousand burning knives penetrating the skin, a burning gash was present on his back, his head felt like a dwarf was trying to break free from it by using his axe. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, there was pressure on his chest, the left side of his face throbbed.

When he tried to open his eyes, he found that they refused. His left eye stung, making him flinch. His lip was hurt as well, stinging angrily when his facial features contorted momentarily.

"He's up," growled a foul voice near him.

Erestor was immediately aware he was not safe. Again trying to open his eyes, he succeeded. He could barely see anything with his left eye, yet the right was all he needed to find himself staring at an ugly Uruk-Hai face. Behind the ugly creature, he noticed the sun was already beginning to sink lower.

He tried to get away. He knew he was in a bad state, but he would not go down without a fight. The creatures would have a hard time enjoying themselves with him, he would make sure of that.

But then, another thought crept in his head. They already have. Where do you think the pain is coming from?

Memories washed over him. He had left the Last Homely House at the break of dawn to allow himself some time to himself before his duties consumed him for the rest of the day. There was a little river at the southern border, and he greatly enjoyed simply sitting there to relax. Those were the only times he did that, since the Valley and his Lord depended on him. That meant he must have been unconscious for nearly a day, at least. It might have been longer.

"He'll soon wish he wasn't," snapped a second voice.

Panic started to get a hold of Erestor. Though that did not stop the memories.

He remembered that the Uruk-Hai had found him at the side of the stream. They had managed to come close enough to him without him knowing they were there to surprise him.

Their leader had shouted, his beasts had sprung into action. Erestor had known he would not be able to flee from his foes. There were too many, they were too savage and he was unarmed.

He had used the single knife he had had on him to defend himself, though. He had killed two of them, which was why the leader and his creatures had decided to start breaking him down straight away. After all, they wanted nothing more than to see him scream in agony.

At first it had simply been punches. More designed to humiliate him and break his resolve than to truly hurt him, they had been landed in his face most of the time. He had struggled against the bonds that had kept him from moving, had tried to fight back.

They had gotten bored with the Elf rather quickly. He had proven to be a little too hard to break for Uruk-Hai who had obviously on the road for a very long time.

Yet after having some bread and a rather nasty smelling beverage, they had found the time to deal with the Elf again. One of the Uruk-Hai had made to pull Erestor down by his long, black hair, but the councilor had spat at him. Tough it had momentarily stopped the Uruk, he had been twice as determined to get Erestor to talk. And he wasn't above any means, as was typical of his kind. They had begun to kick him as well then, which had fracture his ankle, explaining the throbbing pain.

But by the look on their faces, he would be treated to the worst they had very shortly. And he could only hope that he would be able to breathe after they were done.

"What are you gonna do?" the first voice again.

"I plan on makin' him scream. Now," growled the second Uruk.

Erestor shivered. He began mentally preparing for the pain, the humiliation they had in store for him. If he shredded a part of his mind off, tucked it away safely inside, his body would be able to endure the pain.

The Uruk now turned around. His claws were holding a knife, dried blood still visible on the tip. His face was split in a grin which bared all his rotten teeth.

"He ain't gonna look that pretty when he's all cut up," grinned the first Uruk.

Forcing his face to appear avoid of any emotion, Erestor realized his fear was taking a hold of him. He had struggled so hard when they had bound him, yet now he was awaiting his fate without hope for chance.

That thought strengthened him. He would make these foul creatures pay for what they had already done, what they were about to do.

"Now we've just gotta see how fast his beauty'll fade," grinned the leader.

The knife was pushed against Erestor's skin. The coldness gave him something to grasp onto, something that allowed him to focus on something other than the pain he was undoubtedly going to experience.

The edge pushed a little deeper into his skin. It was not yet cutting, though the promise it soon would was clear.

"I bet it'll be very fast," rumbled his companion.

And without any more ado, he brought his hand down against Erestor's already hurt cheek sharply. One of the Uruk's nails cut his skin. Blood trickled down to his neck, the warm liquid in great contrast to the chilly air surrounding him.

Tears sprang into his eyes. But he bit them back, as he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Again, the hand came down. This time, the blow was aimed lower. It tore his lip, making his gasp in pain and surprise. Where he had taken a blow to it before, this one made him bleed.

"Look at that, he wasn't expectin' you to do that," grumbled the first Uruk.

The growling sounds the second one made, were undeniably laughter. Erestor felt sick to the stomach as he realized that.

"He's damn sweet when he does that, ain't he?" was the next sentence that penetrated his foggy mind.

He was pulled up roughly by his hair. His bruised body protested, but he was too weak to do anything. Yet he wasn't sure his captors knew that. If he played stronger, maybe they would see him as too much of a burden and they would leave him.

Or kill me, he though immediately after.

He pushed that thought from his mind. If he wanted to stand a chance of escaping, he had to believe he was capable.

The Uruk touched the blood on Erestor's lip. Dragging it over his cheek, his face split over a grin.

"Damn sweet when he's covered in his own blood, too," grunted the other.

Some of the other beasts were still eating maggoty bread, the last food they had. There wouldn't be anything else for them for at least some days, possibly a week, judging by the quantity of it.

Other were still drinking the strange liquid, but what exactly they were pouring into their mouths Erestor did not know. And he was sure the answer wouldn't please him, so he did not attempt to solve the riddle.

"But he still ain't talkin' now, is he?" was the next question.

There was no verbal response. Erestor's body tensed, every muscle knowing that what was to come next would make him scream.

And scream, he did. The blow to his ribs had made one crack, in addition to his other already badly injured ribs. Fortunately, it was one of his lower ribs. Else, he might have had to deal with a punctured lung.

"That ain't talkin'," came the accusation of one of the Uruk-Hai.

Erestor had not realized it until then, but he was now surrounded by the others. Apparently, it was more interesting to watch someone being tortured than to eat. He should have expected that.

"I like him screamin' more than talkin'," said the bigger Uruk he had seen when he had opened his eyes.

There was laughter going through the group. The tone of it was even more evil than Erestor had ever thought it would be. More evil than before. It made him pull against the bonds weakly again. But to no avail.

"Then make him scream some more!" they yelled.

If he wouldn't have been so scared they would rejoice in his groaning, he wouldn't have refrained. As it was, he kept silent, the only sound he made being his slightly labored breathing.

The Uruk began tracing Erestor's face with his claws. With his last strength, he pulled back with a growl.

"He doesn't like your touch," grinned another beast.

His torturer grinned. The wicked gleam in his eyes meant trouble, and everyone around him knew that.

"He'll learn to soon enough," he snapped at the Elf.

He brought his hand back to Erestor's chin, grabbing it and forcing the beautiful Elf to look him straight in the eyes.

"And that's a promise," he vowed.

Nausea came over Erestor. This Uruk was going to make him like being touched by him? And how was he going to do that? Probably by beating him some more in an attempt to make the Elf do as he pleased.

What he had not expected was his next order.

"Take of his tunic," the Uruk said.

One of the creatures pulled a knife from his belt. With practiced ease he began to tear away the fabric.

Erestor wanted to struggle. Yet he kept silent, hanging from the bonds tying him to the tree. If he moved, he might get cut. And more pain was the last thing he needed. He was already in so much pain that he had no desire to inflict more of it on himself. And blood loss would only make him weaker.

Because he was not very strong anymore. The blood he had lost because of the gash on his back had weakened him. And he needed time to replace it, as the wound had begun to close as far as he could tell.

"Seems he's struggling less now," came the grinning observation.

Cold claws were pushed against his chest. They were not quite touching, the contact was too light for that. But even the ghostly presence was enough to make Erestor try and pull back slightly in an attempt to create distance.

The Uruk did not seem to care. He turned around and grunted to his second in command, making a motion that was meaningless in Erestor's eyes but that told the Uruk exactly what he needed to do.

The next thing he saw, was a jar being handed to the leader. There was something in it which resembled water.

What did they have in store for him? Were they going to try and frighten him by throwing water over him, as it was something they did not like? But then again, they could not seriously expect him to be afraid of it? After all, they had found him next to a stream. It must be something else. But what?

His question was addressed by the Uruk to his far left.

"Wha's tha'?" he asked.

Throwing his head in his neck, the leader barked his laughter to the skies.

"Saruman's own concoction," he spoke wickedly.

He applied small amounts of the paste all over Erestor's chest. Under his left nipple, over his heart and above his navel.

At first, there was no reaction. But the magic Saruman had used to create this paste soon began to work. The areas with paste on them began to burn, angry red blisters appearing.

Erestor was shaking violently, the bonds cutting into the flesh of his wrists. There was a snapping sound when he jerked up when the Uruk pressed his claw against the burn above his navel.

"You didn't like that, did ya? Stay still and you might enjoy what I've got in store for you next. If you struggle, it'll be very painful," grunted the leader, stressing the next to last word.

He extended a hand and grabbed the knife the other Uruk had used to cut away his tunic. Before Erestor was aware of what was happening, one side of his leggings was cut open.

He forced Erestor's legs further apart. The Elf hissed in pain when his ankle collided with the tree.

The Uruk began touching the porcelain skin on his legs. Erestor wanted to scream. He wanted to kick, scream, fight in every way possible. But this creature was going to rape him. And there was nothing he could do about it, as he was tied and had no weapons to defend himself.

He was sick to the bone right now. There was naught he wanted to do more than vomit, take away the nausea that had claimed a hold over him. But his body refused to obey his order.

The other side of his legging was cut open as well. They were nothing but a useless rag anymore. There was nothing but a small cloth that kept him from being completely naked now, and he assumed the Uruk-Hai would do away with that as well.

But the leader had different plans. He let his hands wander over the bruised skin of Erestor's chest, now making full contact. Every time his hand ventured lower. His grumbling told Erestor he was pleased with what he found.

Tears began to form in his eyes. Although he fought against the hands on his body and the tears, it was fruitless. Salty drops began to drip down his cheeks, and the hands did not stop.

With one final grunt, the Uruk now began to touch his legs. Higher and higher the claws went. At a certain point, the nails began to cut the skin, the nails digging deep into and through the flesh.

And all the while, Saruman's concoction was burning his skin.

Suddenly the Uruk pressed Erestor against the tree forcefully. White, bright pain exploded behind his closed eyelids at the contact. His legs were forced around the Uruk's waist.

And the creature forced his pelvis against the tree hard. His entire weight was pushing against Erestor's entire body, who felt as if he were trapped beneath a rock. He struggled for breath, gasping and panicking.

He struggled as hard as he could. But the bark of the tree caused more wounds to the now exposed skin, and the body on top of his did not move. Pain flared in his pelvis as he felt how more weight was applied to make it stay where it was. But he kept struggling, knowing that if he stopped, he would get raped.

But then, there was a nearly inaudible sound that caught the Elf's attention. He had heard it so many times before that there was no mistaking it. He only hoped that the creatures would hear it and recognize it, as it was his only chance of surviving.

If they don't panic and kill you first, the little voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

The leader pulled his body away from the Elves. He sniffed, moving his head around as to figure out what he had felt was wrong.

Erestor's chest heaved heavily. The pressure on his lungs he had woken up to was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now. There was no air penetrating them, however hard he tried. He was suffocating, he was sure of it.

The Uruk-Hai were not paying any attention. They had heard the same sound that he had mere seconds ago: hooves rapidly moving closer to them.

"Grab your damn food an' weapons. We're running!" grunted the leader.

Within less than one minute, every Uruk was holding a bread wrapped in a cloth made for traveling. Their swords and knives were at their sides.

Erestor was feeling so dizzy he could not find the energy to pull himself up a little straighter. His ankle would not be able to take all of his weight, his pelvis burned with even the smallest move he made, but at least it would have been less painful than having his probably broken wrists pulled this high above his head in combination with the other painful injuries he had sustained.

Suddenly, the Uruk-Hai started moving.

"What above 'im?" one of the beasts asked.

He leader snorted.

"Leave the Elf. He'd be no more than a burden," he grumbled.

And then, there was a voice Erestor knew all too well. Glorfindel's voice, sounding above all of the commotion rising when the Uruk-Hai saw the Elves that had been closer than they had anticipated.

"Destroy them! Leave none alive!" was his order.

And his warriors obeyed. They rode onto the clearing, their swords reflecting the rays of the setting sun.

His eyes refused to focus, the sounds seemed far away, even though the battle was no more than mere feet away from him. The world was spinning around him, blurred shapes being the only things left for him to see.

But not one of the warriors seemed to notice the Elf tied to the tree, the state he was in. It was as if he was invisible. To those he had lived with for thousands of years, he was as invisible as he had been to the Uruk-Hai

His eyes began to close, nothing he did could make them fight the urge to close and never open again. His heart was burdened so heavily it seemed to struggle to keep beating.

Please, make this stop… Please… Was the only thing that he could think. He was so cold, so weak and so tired that whatever happened next did not matter to him anymore. He only wished that he could close his eyes and never open them again, for the pain to be gone and the memories to be taken away.

But then, through the turmoil in his head, there was a voice that brought him back from the dark cavern he was rapidly falling into.


It was Glorfindel. The golden warrior had noticed his body hanging from the tree, it seemed.

"Erestor, respond!" Glorfindel shouted above the sounds of the battle still going on around them.

The dark Elf could do naught more than groan weakly. There was too little air in his lungs to do anything else.

Apparently, it had been enough. Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower had heard it. And within mere seconds, Erestor felt the larger Elf carefully put his hands against the restraints to remove them.

Now that he was finally lose, Erestor did not have the strength to do anything else than fall against Glorfindel. His ankle did not permit him to support himself, and his wrists were useless.

"I've got you, mellonamin. It's alright, I've got you. Just stay with me now," came Glorfindel's voice.

Erestor held onto that sound. It was the only thing that kept him from losing consciousness.

"Awra…" he croaked.

It was all he could manage. And deep down, he knew it was an attempt to make Glorfindel be careful whilst holding him, even though he did not want him to let go.

"Amin sinta tanya," Glorfindel whispered softly.

Erestor felt the other Elf removing one of his hands and heard a soft clicking sound. And then, he was covered by a warm cloak.

"Wear this. It will keep you warm and safe from unwanted gazes," said Glorfindel.

"Hannon lle," Erestor whispered hoarsely.

Erestor felt how Glorfindel carefully grabbed a better hold of his upper body to steady him and placed his other arm against his knees. Mere seconds later he was lifted.

Tears from pain tumbled down his face. He buried his face against the golden warrior's shoulder, trying to find comfort in the fact he was now as close to Glorfindel, whom he had loved for over three hundred years, as he had only dreamed to be.

Glorfindel kept making reassuring sounds the entire time.

"It'll be okay, Erestor… I'm taking you away from this madness… You will be fine…"

It was as a mantra to the Noldo, who focused on the words, all the while clinging to Glorfindel as if he were his lifeline. And in a way he was.

"Asfaloth!" the warrior called out.

The horse came running to them, Erestor could tell by the sound of hooves approaching them.

"Down, seas," Glorfindel asked.

With his last strength, Erestor opened his eyes to find the horse obeying its master. He kneeled, allowing Glorfindel to mount him with his burden in his arms.

Without as much as one last word to the other warriors, Glorfindel pushed his heels into the horse's sides.

"We'll be back home soon, mellonamin. You're safe," he whispered.

And Erestor allowed his eyes to close. He was too tired to even make a sound, instead slipping into darkness.

A/N: Here are the translations to the Elfish words I used. If I missed any, feel free to ask me to translate those as well!

mellonamin= Friend
Awra = Hurts (Als in: It hurts)
Amin sinta tanya = I know that
Hannon lle = Thank you
seas = Please