Twilight & Shadow

The Third Age of Middle Earth; ten years before the events of Starless Night. Our story begins in Mordor, the land of shadow. A new prisoner, a Gondorian girl, has recently been brought to the Mouth of Sauron; her name is Arawen. She is young and stubborn, and refuses to give in to efforts to break her will. There is something about her that intrigues the Mouth; he does not know quite what it is. Four days have passed since her arrival and he continues to send his trusted servant, Urúvion, to see her. The man is of Black Númenórean descent, and the Mouth’s right hand in all matters. However, though he at all times makes an elaborate display of loyalty, he serves only his own interests, and seeks to fulfill his various ambitions. The power he wields has put him at odds with the half-elf Maethoriel, who desires to eliminate him. However, in his arrogance, Urúvion believes that he is indestructible.
This is a story of betrayal, political ambition, and friendship won and lost. In the darkness of her prison cell, Arawen senses a trap closing in about her. The days ahead will be the most trying of her life; the darkness of Mordor will soon threaten to envelop her very soul. A ranger named Beör in the cell beside hers offers her hope, but they both will soon see that friendship separated by prison bars is never simple, and the evil of the land of Mordor is never to be underestimated.

~~~

It must have been sometime in the morning, and yet Arawen wasn’t sure. How many times had she tried to work out the exact time, sitting in a shadowy corner of her cell? It was impossible. Darkness reigned day and night here. Already she missed the feel of sunlight on her skin, the warmth of a fresh breeze on her face. She felt as if she was suffocating, and there was nothing she could do about it – she could easily die here. She was still sitting in her corner now, where the Mouth had left her to repeat his words over and over again in her head. One day you will give in. And I will be there to see it. Do not underestimate me, child. There are far greater powers at work in this place than your obstinate will. How she hated him. Hated him, hated him, hated him. He was a monster. A creature. A slave. How could he possibly imagine she would ever bow to his demands?

She reached up and brushed her long, dark hair back from her face. Arawen was an exquisitely beautiful girl, with porcelain skin, her features sculpted and pure, and wide, frosty blue eyes. She was still clad in her rich red gown, a silver girdle belt clasped about her slim waist. She didn’t look as if she belonged here, as indeed she did not. She stared into the middle distance, her eyes unblinking, her arms wrapped about her knees. She looked as if she was thinking – she did a lot of thinking here; sometimes, if someone spoke to her, she did not hear them. The only person she felt much inclined to speak to was Beör, and she did not even say much to him. He was kind though, which was a rare trait in Mordor. She appreciated it. He had told her he’d been here for four years. Four years? It seemed unbelievable. How had he endured it?

Anger continually gripped her; raw, burning anger. She did not want to allow herself to give into it. It was so powerful that if she let herself give into it, it controlled her. The depth of her hatred for the Mouth and his servants was extraordinary. But despite this, she continued to hold herself with dignity; she had the bearing and confidence of a princess. Even when she was interrogated, she remained calm and collected. She could see that the Mouth found this confusing, but also, in some strange way, he seemed to approve. As for his dark-haired servant, the one he continually sent to see her, he appeared even to admire her behaviour. She didn’t know why this was. Her hate for them was too great for her to delve a little below the surface.

Slowly, she rose up to her feet, brushing down her skirts. She walked slowly over to the bars of her cell, gripping them loosely. Was this her permanent view of the world now? There were no windows here, and no light would have filtered through anyway. Arawen felt drenched in misery. Although her expression remained carefully unmoved, a tear trickled down her cheek, followed by several more, which she allowed to run freely without brushing them away. She did not dare glance into the cell besides hers. She felt too afraid to ask Beör for help. In all honesty, her pride did not allow her to admit that she was scared. Her mouth trembled with suppressed sobs, and she closed her blue eyes. What was to become of her?

~~~

“You are to go and see her again.”

The Mouth’s grin was wide, ferocious and toothy. Urúvion, who sat opposite him, did not so much as flinch. His master’s hideousness did not faze him at all. He slouched elegantly in his seat, observing the Mouth’s movements as he stood up, gripping his desk to balance himself. “I want you to find out why she will not speak to me. If she has information, I want it,” he stated. Urúvion nodded. “She’s a stubborn child, is she not? It’s a shame she was born Gondorian. It seems to me…” he paused, “…it seems to me she has many estimable qualities. Strong; she seems very strong.”

Urúvion nodded, although he knew the Mouth could not see him. He rose up from his chair too. He shook back his curly black hair with a smooth smile, and brushed a speck of dust from his black tunic. He was quite a vain man, but he believed he had cause to be; he was tall with an athletic build, and very handsome. But his greatest trait was his charm, which he deployed often and successfully. However, Arawen had not yet succumbed to his attempts to make her believe that he was really on her side. She would not trust a word from his lips, and she was right not to. “And also, she is very beautiful,” he remarked, casually.

“Is she?” The Mouth asked, disinterested. “Well, perhaps this could be useful to us for threats. Tell her that if she does not comply with our wishes I shall carve her pretty face from her bones with my own knife.”

Urúvion was mildly alarmed by this prospect, but he bowed his head. “I’ll mention it to her, perhaps.” The Mouth’s grin widened.

“Very good. You shall go and see her now.” He dismissed him with a wave of his gloved hand. Urúvion smiled slyly and removed himself from his master’s chambers, closing the door quietly behind him. As he made his way down to the cell blocks, his strides were long and confident.

~~~

Arawen’s grip on the bars of her cell tightened as she heard the iron door to the cell block being wrenched open. The footsteps that followed were familiar, and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. But she stepped back from the bars, letting her arms fall to her sides. Whatever he says, do not give in, do not be weak. She repeated this commandment to herself like a mantra in her thoughts. Urúvion soon stopped before her cell with his usual smile, and she stared at him coldly. “Well hello there, Arawen,” he said, smoothly. “I see you’re still keeping these inadequate lodgings. If you would only condescend to speak to my master, I could make sure that you were given a far finer room.”

“Do not try and tempt me,” Arawen retorted. Although her voice was soft, it seemed loud in the echoing cell block. “It will not work.”

“No?” Urúvion mused. “It’s a pity. I try to be kind to you, but time and time again my efforts are rebuffed. Soon I shall have to stop being kind. My master has various cruel ways to make you speak, to make you submit. You would not like them.”

“Doubtless, I would not.” Arawen shrugged. “Nobody enjoys torture.”

“I could relieve you of such pain.” Urúvion stepped forward, his tone alarmingly convincing. Someone less intelligent than Arawen might have believed him, but as it was, she knew that his words were worth nothing.
“You don’t have to suffer. You don’t have to die. All the Mouth requires of you is obedience.”

Arawen remained silent for a moment. Urúvion waited, hopefully, his eyes leaping with fierce light. A few moments passed by without a word exchanged, before Arawen finally spoke. “You may tell him that I will never be obedient to him,” she said, simply. “You may deliver him this message: I shall never obey.”

Urúvion raised his eyebrows, before tilting his head slightly to one side. He observed Arawen, his smile curling, wanting for some reason to laugh. His expression brimmed with mirth. “Very well,” he said. “As you wish.”

~~~

ATTENTION: For now at least, this is a closed RP, since it requires participation in the sequel Starless Night, and knowledge of the characters and their histories.

~CHARACTERS~
Arawen - ~ Goldleaf~
Urúvion - ~ Goldleaf
The Mouth of Sauron - ~Goldleaf~
Beör – Will
Maethoriel - Maethoriel

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

A young man sat motionless at the back of the cell opposite of Arawen’s. His head rested against the cold stones, and his bright blue eyes were closed. His blond hair, which was quite long and wild, and his shirt, that wasn’t nearly as white as it had been, were the proof that he’d been there for a long time. The expression on his bearded face was one of calmness, boredom even. Day and nights were like a virtuous cycle, without an end. There was no dawn or dusk, no season change.. Yet the usual routine of every life had been broken by the arrival of the Gondorian girl. She was young, way too young, to be locked away and Beör pitied her. He’d tried to comfort her, as there was such thing as comfort possible in Mordor, but at the same time, although Beör didn’t want to admit to himself, it was a relief to be able to just talk again to someone sane and alive. Life in Mordor was dominated by darkness and despair. Loneliness wasn’t the greatest threat, but the occasional waves of panic and fear. The latter were the most treacherous. Usually he was able to keep those emotions at bay, but sometimes in dark moments, he couldn’t do anything but succumb to them. Fear was something dangerous, an inclination to weakness and surrender and Beör had never surrendered himself. Never had he talked no matter how hard or unbearable the circumstances.

Upon hearing the creaking iron of an opening door and heavy approaching footsteps, Beör opened his eyes. He’d already suspected who the entrant was, before he saw him; Urúvion, the right hand of the Mouth of Sauron, who’d probably now came down here to gloat and threaten the newest prisoner. He was a dangerous man. Cunning and malicious, for besides executing the cruel commands of the Servant of Sauron, he had an agenda of his own. With his poisonous words, he was master in spinning a web of lies, which had deceived many prisoners already. Beör feared and despised him. Frustrated he was, that he could only watch, powerless, as most prisoners were lured into a trap by his promises and talked or bent to the Mouth’s will. There was only one way to defy him, one way to vent his anger and that was through words. Whether it was wise or foolish, Beör hardly cared. All he knew was that he would surely die if he couldn’t do anything else but hope for a miracle.


“You might have to write it down for him, Arawen,” Beör finally commented from the shadows, his voice filled with scorn. “The piece of filth probably has no mind of his own, and is only able to answer to the whims of his master.” The ranger’s lips had curled up in a sarcastic smile, his percing gaze rested on Urúvion and he felt enormously relieved that he could finally pour all his frustrations on a man so hated . “I believe that Mordor is renowned because of its brainless and will-less slaves..”

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Urúvion's subtle threat and his menacing smile did not remain unnoticed to Beör. He knew the man and his tricks. Being master in lies and deceit, and his cruelty to others had helped him to climb the ranks in Mordor; it made him dangerous. Yet his capability of betrayal seemed even to be a threat to the Mouth, as Urúvion was only loyal to himself. His obsession for beauty had led him to take everything that would boost his ego until it had been exploited and would be discarded by him. Beör was not so stupid not to fear such a dangerous man, yet despite his well-hidden fear he would not let Urúvion harm Arawen. Not now, not ever..

He took two large steps and advanced the bars of his cell, following Urúvion's moves with a sharp glare. "Dont you dare harming her," Beör hissed as Urúvion had grabbed Arawen's arm, pulling her closer, judging her. The ranger had grabbed the bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white as if he was trying to pull the bars apart. Had those heavy iron bars not seperated him from the Black Numenorean than Beör would have made him pay, without thinking of the consequences, forgetting his caution. He would make him pay for intimidating Arawen in such a way, for using her vulnerability to break her, for playig with the innocent maiden for his own amusement, as if she was a toy, before breaking her.

Yet the iron did not yield and before Beör could think of a distraction plan, the Gondorian girl had bit Urúvion, making the latter jump back in shock. "I hope you didn't bite through and through," he commented, throwing a hateful glare at the silent servant of the Mouth. "As man as evil as he, his blood must be poisoned by his malice."

But strangely Urúvion did only utter a few threatening words aftear his long silence, and an insult was directed to him, before the man left, and the prisoners remained alone in the darkness. Beör was puzzled by this sudden annd silent departure, clearly remembering how Urúvion had born his resistance not all that long ago. to him, Beör recalled grimly, the cunning man had not been so lenient..
He shivered and ran his hand through his tangled, shoulder-length hair. No.. By thining of that he would only be tormenting himself. Those memories were locked up, somewhere far, only to come out and vex him in his sleep.

All the ranger wanted was to protect the girl from such experiences, spare her from the horrors of this dark place. He wondered, with a sense of foreboding, what evil retribution plan Urúvion would forge. Never would he tolerate such an insult. That Arawen was a woman would not diminish his anger; he was merciless, that had Beör experienced. Again a shiver.
Unless.. unless the man did not want to hurt Arawen, unless he wanted to use her for something else, a cunning plan of his own making..

Beör's thoughts were interrupted by Arawen's soft words. She sounded as if she was crying; lost in the darkness, frustrated and angry of her situation, and fearful of what was to come. It was how he had felt when he'd first arrived in the dead lands of Mordor.
"Don't you think like that.." Beör spoke softly, looking at Arawen through the bars of his cell. "You shouldn't give in to fear or despondency. If you do, you will end up like all those others; either dead or insane." His bright blue eyes tried to find hers as he continued encouragingly: "You will get through this. You should hold on to hope, even though there's seems to be nothing left..."
The ranger sat down on his knees and leaned against the stone walls as his words faded into silence. Lines, caused by worry and distress, were visible on his bearded face and although he at times did not dare to hope anymore; he still believed there was something left to hope for, he had to believe it; he needed to believe it. It was all he got left.

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

At first the girl did not seem to respond to his words. She nodded her head, but did not say a word. Maybe she remained silent to mask that she'd been crying, but then, she hadn't said that much ever since she'd got here. Beör could hardly blame her. The panic after being captured, the long journey through Mordor and the fear and anguish after being locked up in the dark cell was enough to silence and shock anyone.

The ranger realised how much Arawen suffered under the current conditions and how hard she tried to keep herself calm and under control yet still he was glad that she was here. It was a basal feeling. A selfish feeling. But the presence of another sane of human and being able to talk to that person had an immense impact on him. Although he had never been able to sleep more than a few hours straight, he was calmer in his sleep. He was not alone anymore, in the dark when the demons came for him. It felt secure, almost safe. Even though the place in which he’d been locked up was everything but safe. Still, just the presence of someone who remembered the warmth of the sun and the smell of grass; someone who could talk rationally or could listen instead of mumbling incoherently or screaming, was an enormous relief. Many had come and left the place, and they were either dead or insane. There were scratches on the wall, small, thin lines carved into the wall with a stone, depicting some sort of calendar. Four years was his calculation that he’d been there. But he could not be sure, it could also been five. Beör had hardly been able to keep the days and nights apart. The darkness seemed everlasting and sometimes it felt like he had been there forever. And it would have made any man selfish.
The coming of Arawen had been some sort of light in the darkness; her silent presence a welcome change. His hope of leaving this place alive had crumbled over time. But he needed to believe that it was possible. He needed Arawen. He needed her to keep hope. He needed her, so he would not lose his sanity.

“He’s planning something. Urúvion, I mean. I can’t help thinking that he works for himself more than he does for the Mouth.” Her clear voice drifted from the opposite cell and her cool blue eyes looked at him. “Am I right? You know more about this place than I do.”

Beör was silent for a moment, thinking of how to respond to the question of which the answer was so unpleasant. “Yes, he is planning something,” he finally admitted. He turned towards Arawen and he realised that he had to be frank with her about the situation. She deserved to know the truth however horrible it was.
“He is testing you. He wants to use you for one of his dark plans and you thwarted his test. I’m not sure why he allowed you to do that. Urúvion is not a man to be crossed..” The ranger paused for a moment. A grim look had appeared on his bearded and he seemed lost in thought for a few moment. “I can only advice you to ignore his comments and his provocations.. for if you cross him again, he will make you regret it.”

There was another short pause after which Arawen spoke again, sharing her frustrations, speaking more than she’d ever done since her arrival. Beör listened quietly and a strange feeling welled up inside him as Arawen told him that she did not hated him. It affected him more than he wanted to. How long had it been since anyone had pronounced his name or spoken a kind word to him?

“Thank you,” he said silently, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You don’t know what it means to me to speak to another human being again. I’d thought that I would never see any good creature ever again..”

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

(I have not forgotten this rp. I just cannot find a good spot to jump in. We all know that Maethoriel loves her entrances like a kid loves candy. She won't just let me throw her in casually.)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

[ And how could we help to make this happen? We could not deny Maethoriel her grand entrance! ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

The woman had slipped inside the fortress of the Mouth and into his favourite's chambers. They were ornate, ostentatious and pompous, she wondered how the Mouth ever placed any faith in his dog when it was so clear that he was vying for ownership of the pack and lands. Ah, well, she mused while flipping through the pages of a book on the desk, it was a large piece of furniture made of dark, hand carved, wood occupying most of the back wall. Undoubtedly the man would rather not have his things moved about and read, but that was hardly her problem.

The lights were extinguished and the only a thin sliver of silver could be seen from under the door. Maethoriel, too lazy to light the candles, sat back in the chair waiting for Uruvion to enter. Doubtless the man would show his false bravado and try not to show any fear to the mad woman overtaking his desk, but she did not care. The door was locked and she had entered anyway, anyone would feel unnaturally about that - he might show anger, or annoyance, but when was anyone glad to see her? She could not remember the last time. It caused her to smirk.

Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling and she thought of the strange herald her own lord had sent to her - not by raven or hawk, he had a more effective way of contacting the woman. The dreams that had plagued her had been dark and even now she smelled sulphurous ash. There was a man in black and he stumbled, but when he removed his helm there was clearly a woman beneath it - all in all it was not his most cryptic work and she had told the lord of the dead that he was growing old and losing his touch. Perhaps his wife would like help at her tapestry - her head still ached from the laughter. The problem with consorting with the Valar when you were not, in point of fact, made to see them like their other instruments were meant she often was pained by the pureness of them. The unadulterated air that came with being a ruler of the known universe was not something a normal being could handle and Maethoriel was forced to continually question why they did not just raise the raise the damned Maiar twins who had gone and got themselves murdered in Rhun instead of throwing the blue cloak at her?

She had a strange feeling it was because said former wearers of the cloaks had no desire to reenter the world. They had been the youngest in mind, at least, sent to help the children of Middle Earth, and they scorned them because they did not please the Valar and because they too often reminded others why they were gifted with power. It had gotten them poisoned, an unpleasant experience that she supposed the did not wish to repeat. Her frown - which had wormed itself onto her face when contemplating her life - turned to a mocking smirk when a light, issuing from a torch filled the space. The man holding it was dark and handsome. She could not conceal her contempt.

"Pestering the blonde, again? You have a disturbing fetish," she quipped.

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

[Yay! I already said so in our plotting thread, but I'm glad you found the time to post! It's brilliant like usual! ]

Beör listened quietly to Arawen's words, drinking in every word she said, grateful to hear another voice but his own or the raw sneers of the orcs. But when she suddenly mentioned her family, the Ranger looked up and moved closer to the bars of his cell. She had never told him anything personal, about herself or her life, as if afraid to share anything about the time before she came to Mordor. The fact that Arawen had lost her family, her freedom, her life all at once was too horrible, almost incomprehensible. The courage and resistance she had shown demanded respect and for a moment Beör didn’t know what to say. How could he console someone who had lost almost everything she knew and also the persons she had loved most in her life?
“Arawen-,” he said, his voice soft but also filled with something that resembled hesitation. “I’m so sorry for you.. I cannot say that I know what you’re going through, as I have never known the gift of family.” He glanced at the brunette’s pale face, which bore an expression that was remarkably blank and he could only guess what lay beneath that emotionless façade: anger… hatred… fear… or guilt? “I’m sure that they know that you did everything you could to protect them. They would never have wanted to part with you, to leave you so alone. But in the end, no matter how dark and lonely this place might be, you will not be alone. They are still with you, live on inside you, as long as you remember them..”

For a moment Beör remained silent. He thought involuntary of the past that he had left behind, which only seemed like a vague memory, something that had happened in a dream. The life he had abandoned was full of journeys to distant places, combat and fighting, adventurous quests and ecstasy of beautiful discoveries. Yet it had also been filled with disappointment and resentment, bitterness and betrayal, lost and shattered dreams. At times he had wondered whether it was a good or a bad thing that he didn’t have many persons to miss. Deep in thought Beör stared at the opposite wall of his cell. The early lines on his face, that came from too much worry and fear, deepened as his mind wandered off to other times and places.

That Arawen was still so calm and contained amazed the ranger. Her spirit had not been crushed by those awful events that had eventually brought her here. Unlike so many others Beör had seen come and go, the girl seemed to be a fighter. She would not yield, at least not any time soon. Others had been shocked and petrified when they were locked away in the darkness. He’d often tried to help them, help them to steel their minds, to save them. But after the first interrogation most of them had been hardly approachable; affected by the Mouth’s dark magic or eaten with fear. A longer stay and subsequent interrogations drove many to insanity. The incoherent mumbling or screams in their sleep was a constant reminder of perhaps his own fate. But eventually all became silent, either by the hand of an orc in order of the Mouth or they simply had no will to live anymore. The most died within a year.

Beör slowly turned his head and studied Arawen’s face, which was pale but also collected, as if she tried hard to hide her feelings. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly, hoping that the girl didn’t think him to be intrusive. “Don’t be afraid to feel or grief. It will hurt, but it will help you..”
There was a short pause in which the Ranger ran his hand through his long, tangled hair, but then he continued, hesitantly : “Whenever things became too much-…too much to bear. I would think of the one place where I had been happiest… And I would just go there.. in here.” He tapped with his finger against his head and a smile appeared on his emaciated face. He suddenly looked years and years younger. “It offers you strength, you know. For in that place there is no fear, sorrow or loneliness.”

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

[ Consider this as a bumpidy bump for either Mae or Goldy..
and a precaution so our epic doesn't disappear in the deep pit of forgotten RP's ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

(Sorry, y'all. School's started so it is pretty busy. I'll get a post up soon)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

[ Take your time Mae, I understand how it feels.. Now school/uni started again life is getting busier! And it just takes so much time to post! It usually takes me hours to get a good post up of decent quantity and quality.. ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

[ Ahem, I do not mean to double-post.. but lets not forget about this, shall we? ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.