Chapter 31: Tower of Betrayal

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"Lord Aragorn!"

Aragorn looked down from the stone balcony. Near the gates was an elf who should have been with the others riding back to Lothlorien. "What is-"

The elf cut him off urgently, "Lord Haldir would have come, but his injury prevents him from giving immediate word."

Aragorn ran down the steps, shouting, "What has happened?" His hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword.

"Lord Daurion..." the elf trailed off, his face still in shock.

"He was seen only an hour ago. Is he in trouble?"

"He has been slain!"

Aragorn froze. Horror speared him in a way that the war did not. He recalled that the last time Lord Daurion was seen, he was following Estelwen. Aragorn found it difficult to speak. "Was...was there anyone else, any bodies found near his?"

­*****

Everything was blurry. Estelwen's eyes slowly adjusted, as did her sense of smell. There was a strong stench of something burnt. Hair. Estelwen stared in shock at the contrast of her fried black ends against the grey stone floor. Half her hair length was gone. Other details became clearer: stone walls, dark, grimy atmosphere. A cell. Oddly enough, there was no door to block her way out. Whoever put me here is not foolish enough to trust a guard. Perhaps they want me to leave this room. She sucked in her breath and let out a moan. How could lifting her head be this painful? She could barely move.

A cold voice broke through the chill in the air. "Go back to sleep."

Captor. Estelwen felt the spite lace her voice. "And why should I listen to you?"

He yanked her up by the arm, having no trouble lifting her petite frame. Estelwen cried out. It was the blistering burns on her left side, countless bruises from the battle, and her freshly scalded back.

"You are both naïve and young for an earthborn," her captor said.

She was about to say how he could not have been much older than she, but something clicked. The ball of fire, the burns, and her capture – it could only be whom she was preparing to face one day, once she was fully trained and prepared. Her heart suddenly clenched. She could see the murderous flames before her eyes as well as the countless deaths at Helm's Deep – deaths that could've been prevented if the Ring was never forged. "Anorath."

Her hard voice surprised him. It was as if he had done something personal to her. Something that summoned a brewing vengeance. "Surprising that the elves told you that much." He dragged her up the stairs and through a door at the top.

Seated next to his desk, Saruman looked up in surprise. "You brought her..."

"As you suggested."

Saruman tilted his head. "Since when do you start listening to a wizard?"

"When I became, more or less, a bit curious of your abilities myself."

Saruman did not miss the dare in Anorath's words. "Leave us."

Anorath left without protest.

Saruman grimaced at Estelwen's pitiful condition. He gestured towards the chair in front of him. "Sit."

Estelwen had already fallen onto it. "If you are going to persuade me to fight against everything I hold dear, then-"

"You think that is my purpose for bringing you here? Come now, you should know better, I..."

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