"Greenleaves, Greenleaves, Greenleaves," - Thorwen

23rd June/Nórui, 3018, The Enclave of the Temple of Morgoth, The Emyn Duir.

Trigger warning: please note this chapter contains scenes of torture.

The ringing in Thorwen's ears subsided, and her vision grew clearer. The last thing she could remember was the force of Saruman's Will hitting her in the chest. It had sent her flying through the air until she hit stone and blacked out. Thorwen's head and chest ached. She tried to move, but realized that she was strapped to an angled board. The only light in the narrow stuffy cave room was a lamp on a chain above her.

Her attention then drifted to the voices in heated discussion nearby. Nuta was standing at another table, examining a variety of instruments and bottles on it.

Saruman stood beside her. "We should leave now, High Priestess. The Elves will soon overrun this place. There will be time for interrogation when we get to Orthanc!"

"One of my priests is a traitor! I am determined to find out who collaborated with the Elves, so that I can ensure they are sent to the House of Lamentation! The Great Master will not let this go unpunished!"

"What if the Elves get here first? You have taken their king's betrothed and with those, you offered to Melkor to create your shadow cloaks. Do not expect they will take you alive."

Nuta examined a small golden knife that she tucked into her robes, then picked up one of the bottles. "I am not afraid of the Elves. They are little more than woodland frolickers. I will slit her throat before they dare to lay a hand on me."

"And you will not lay a hand on her! Unless I permit it."

Nuta looked startled by Saruman's reply. But then focused her attention back on Thorwen. "She is coming round. I will give her this before her strength returns."

"I hope that is not poppy syrup, High Priestess," Saruman warned.

"It is not, White Wizard! I will need her mind clear for the interrogation." Nuta then opened the small bottle and held Thorwen's nose until she was forced to open her mouth. She then poured a foul tasting fluid down Thorwen's throat.

Thorwen coughed and sputtered, then her head spun and her arms and legs became heavy. "What have you done to me?" she whispered.

Saruman joined Nuta's side, looming over Thorwen with a look of pity and disdain. "Before we can leave for Isengard, you must answer a few questions."

Thorwen looked back at him defiantly. "I have nothing to say."

"Someone helped you to escape your cell. You will give me their name," said Nuta.

Thorwen remained silent.

Saruman then spied Thorwen's glowing bracelet. "Elven Magic. I had better remove this. It will draw them to our location." He took hold of Thorwen's limp wrist, muttering words under his breath. But as soon as he touched the bracelet, he cried out and recoiled in both shock and pain.

Thorwen gave him a satisfied smirk. There was now as much of her own Will in the bracelet as there was Thranduil's and she could also sense that there was something was different about Saruman.

"Almárie, listen carefully! Nuta and I both possess training in the arts of persuasion. Between us, you will be compelled to reveal the name of the traitor."

"The only traitor I know of is the one standing over me. But I am unsure of the colour of your robes, Curumo!" Saruman's eyes grew narrow, and Thorwen knew she had unnerved him.

"It will be best if I draw the information from her. Then we will not need to employ your talents," he said.

Saruman held Thorwen's chin so she could not look away. She could feel his Will trying to reach into her mind as he questioned her, and it was taking all of her own to keep him out.

She focused her mind on walking in the forest with Thranduil. As they approached one of the great beeches, Thranduil reached up and plucked a young branch covered in bright green leaves and held it out to her. "To give you strength. I am coming. Do not give up hope." But when she took the branch, she found herself back at the mercy of Saruman and Nuta. "Greenleaves, Greenleaves, Greenleaves," she muttered repeatedly. As if the very words provided a shield against Saruman's probes.

The White Wizard gasped in frustration. "Her mind is stronger than I anticipated. It appears that further persuasion will be necessary. Almárie, I must compliment you on your resistance. No wonder the Great Master desires you. He can make much use of your gifts."

Thorwen remained defiant." Do your worst. But I will never submit to your Will nor his!"

A cruel smirk crept across Saruman's face. "Once the Great Master has you in his grasp, you will have no choice. He will wed you with a ring of power. Then your 'Will' will matter little. Only his!"

He turned from the interrogation table towards a door at the other end of the room. "I shall not remain for this. I must prepare the portal with all haste. We are soon to receive another guest at Orthanc. One, I am sure, will be more reasonable. Do what you must, High Priestess. But be careful. The Great Master wants her delivered alive and intact."

"Will the device not preserve her?" asked Nuta.

"Even so, you will not get your reward if she dies. The Great Master does not want a corpse for a queen. But as long as she keeps her face and her virtue, you are free to do as you please."

Then he instructed two large Orcs, who were standing by the door, to place Thorwen in his device after Nuta had finished with her. Thorwen screamed back at him, calling him a coward and warning him there would be consequences for his actions. That it was not too late for him to repent even now! Saruman paused for a moment but did not turn around. He opened the door and swept out of the room, slamming it with a heavy thud.

Thorwen noticed the two Orcs had white hands painted on their chests. Just like the ones that had attacked her when she entered Mirkwood. Between them on the floor was a large box that looked as though it was made of glass. Thorwen wondered if it was the device Saruman had spoken of. The thought of being locked in a box created by the White Wizard filled her with dread.

Nuta leered over Thorwen. Her soft voice made her words sound even more menacing. "The White Wizard may have failed in his interrogation. But I won't. I received training from the Great Master, and I have never disappointed him." Its golden blade glinted brightly in the lamplight. "Now, Sweeting. Just answer my questions, and we will be on our way. But if you continue to resist, then the consequences will be rather painful."

She continued the same line of questioning as Saruman. But this time, when Thorwen refused to answer, she proceeded to cut pieces from her robe until her arms and legs were exposed.

"King Thranduil is coming for me, and he will make you suffer far worse than anything you can do to me!" warned Thorwen.

"King Thranduil and his army are currently waylaid by my Orcs. By the time he reaches this part of the enclave, we will be in Isengard. Now forget your king and give me the name of the one who helped you escape!"

Thorwen remained defiantly silent. Nuta turned towards the glass box between the Uruk-Hai. "You see that casket over there? The White Wizard has placed powerful enchantments upon it. Once placed inside, you will be helpless until he releases you in Isengard. Personally, I would keep you in it until we reach Barad Dur." Nuta then thrust her face so close to Thorwen's. She could feel her spit as she spoke through gritted teeth. "Now, Sweeting, answer my questions or my blade shall cut through your ivory skin like butter!"

Thorwen closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was to come. She called out to Thranduil in her mind in the desperate hope he might hear her.

Nuta gently brushed her knife against Thorwen's cheek so it did not cut. "You have brought this on yourself," she hissed. "The Great Master will not tolerate your defiance. But by the time I have finished with you. You will be more obedient, I think." She took hold of Thorwen's right hand, then sliced the pad of her thumb. Thorwen winced. "You felt that, didn't you? The potion I have given you only incapacitates, and it does not prevent pain." She held her knife to Thorwen's arm. "Now tell me what I want to know!"

With gritted teeth, Thorwen endured the pain as Nuta drove the golden knife into her limbs. Each cut was more painful than the last. But she was determined not to scream, and Nuta grew more exasperated.

"The Great Master asked you nicely to come to him. He entreated you to help him. Yet you refused. The Great Master will take you as his queen, whether you are willing or not. He will place a crown upon your pretty little head and sit you on the throne at his side. His defeated, obedient queen. And when the Great Master defeats his enemies, he will make you watch as he takes the lives of all those you love. But he will not kill them quickly. They will suffer far worse than you are now, Sweeting!"

Thorwen was in agony and struggling to remain conscious, but she was determined not to give in to Nuta. Her limbs were now covered in open wounds, and her blood was seeping onto the floor.

Suddenly, the door opened, and an Acolyte rushed into the chamber. "The Elves have breached our defences, and bears are trying to get into the main chamber. The White Wizard says he must leave now!"

Nuta stepped back and observed her handy work. "It seems we must continue this conversation at another time." She ordered the Uruk-Hai to put Thorwen into the device and take her to the portal. Rough hands unstrapped her from the bloody board and placed her into the cold, hard casket.

"You will not get far. They are coming for me," Thorwen whispered. Before her eyes glazed over and the darkness took her.

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Thranduil put down the enemy as he advanced through the passageways. Every so often, he would glance at his wrist. The bracelet was still glowing, but it had become fainter. He knew Almárie was in grave peril, and he must find her before it was too late. His mind reached out to her, reassuring Almárie that he was coming and not to give up hope. Thranduil was sure he could hear her calling back. But her calls grew fainter and were intermingled with cries of agony. The White Wizard must be torturing her.

This only fueled his fury as he rushed through the maze of tunnels. Spying another vile priest in the distance. He prepared to strike when the hood fell to reveal long white gold hair, just like his own.

"Calenamath! Muindor!" he called.

The two brothers were relieved to see each other, but there was no time for a family reunion. "Thorwen, she took on the White Wizard so that the others could get away, but he defeated her and carried her off."

"Do you know where he would have taken her?"

"We should try the interrogation room next to the Great Chamber. Unless he has already taken her through the portal."

"Portal?"

"Saruman plans to take her to Isengard!"

Thranduil glanced fearfully at his bracelet. He knew that if she crossed that portal, he would never see her again. But the bracelet brought him a glimmer of hope. "She is still here, but fading."

The brothers wove in and out of the passageways till they came to two large doors with the Mark of Sauron carved into them. They were almost off their hinges as if something large had forced their way through. Several dismembered bodies of Orcs and priests littered the entrance, splashing the walls with blood and body parts. "It appears our Beorning friends have been here already," said Calenamath.

Thranduil immediately recognised the place as his old throne room when he had first returned to his kingdom after Dagorlad. They had spent a few centuries here. But after the arrival of the Necromancer to Dol Guldur. Darkness had encroached ever nearer, and he had chosen a hill in the far north to build a new home. Now this place had been completely violated by the Temple of Morgoth.

Legolas, Corwen and the Hurscarls came running up behind them.

"What happened here?" asked Legolas.

As Calenamath explained the situation, a low growl caught their attention. Carefully, Calenamath pushed open the doors, but they fell to the floor. Two large brown bears were prowling the once Great Hall. While another stood upright on top of a long glass box. The bodies of two huge Orcs were lying nearby with white handprints on their chests. One of the bears looked up and growled defensively. But on seeing the Elves, all three calmed and retreated into a dark corner.

Thranduil entered the chamber first and slowly approached the box. He noticed it was a casket made of crystal and someone was lying within. A young woman dressed in a tattered black robe who was covered in blood with many cuts on her limbs. On her wrist, he could just make out that something was faintly glowing.

Thranduil collapsed to his knees. "Thorwen!" he cried.

"By, The One, Ada. They have killed her!" cried Legolas.

"No! She lives, but barely," said Thranduil. He could not take his eyes off her pale face. Helpless, motionless, and trapped within. He wanted to rip the crystal apart and feel her in his arms again.

"It is the device the White Wizard brought with him. We must get her out of there or she will perish," said Calenamath. Corwen, Legolas and Calenamath desperately tried to lift the lid, but it would not budge.

"It is sealed with powerful enchantments!" cried Calenamath in frustration.

Thranduil was motionless. He felt as though he was outside of himself. Only half hearing the commotion as the others tried in vain to free Thorwen. Then a great force of light entered his body, and he heard a roar of laughter filling his ears.

When he came to, he found the lid of the casket smashed and he was holding Thorwen in his arm. She opened her eyes for a moment and gasped before falling unconscious again. Calenamath and the others were staring at him with wonder. He gently brushed the crystal from Thorwen's bleeding body. "What are you waiting for? Help Her!" he commanded.