At the tenth lash, her head jerked back and her eyes flashed a brighter sapphire than they ever did before.
                                                                                __________

Gandalf knew the possibility of Estelwen surviving was slim to none. Saruman doesn't like his chances. If he has not tortured Estelwen to death, if she is still alive, he will use her as a bargaining chip and kill her as soon as he gets what he wants.

Merry and Pippin stood on a rock in front of the company, unaware of Estelwen's situation and proudly smoking to celebrate their co-victory with the Ents. Gandalf turned to the massive tree moving towards him. "Ah! Master Treebeard."

"Welcome, Gandalf," the tree extended its limbs, "to the ruins of Isengard."

"Well done."

"Has anyone come from the tower since?" Gimli said.

"Saruman? He has not mustered the courage to show his face." Treebeard bowed, quite pleased with himself. He could not sense their urgency.

Legolas started, "Have you heard anything, a cry or a-"

"We will take it from here," Gandalf said, almost too lightly. After Treebeard left, Gandalf turned to Legolas. "Whenever the Ents have met an earthborn, it has always caused drastic changes for them. They need not know unless absolutely necessary!"

Legolas nodded.

Pippin suddenly looked around. "Where is Estelwen? It does not seem like her to stay out of-"

"The fighting?" Merry finished with worry in his eyes.

Gandalf knew what he was thinking. "No, Merry, she did not fall in battle." He turned towards Saruman's tower. "Not yet."

*****

Gríma held a small dagger to Estelwen's throat. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, causing him to look at her curiously. Was she even aware that her life hung on a thread – one that steel and revenge could easily snap? Gríma was ready to play this out. The wizards would be too involved with each other to notice the rising pawn. He lingered behind while Saruman stepped into the light on the balcony.

Saruman raised his staff. "You were foolish to come, Gandalf!"

A ball of fire shot from the tower, engulfing Gandalf. The horses almost bolted from the heat, but their riders kept them from running off. The flames died away, revealing the white wizard unharmed.

Gandalf looked up. "Saruman, your staff is broken!"

Saruman's staff shattered in his hands. He trembled in shock. Gandalf should not have been able to do that so easily. How could he have been granted so much power? "You think you have won?" he shouted in disgust. "The race of men are no match for the forces of Mordor!"

"The Dark Lord underestimates the courage and spirit of men, and that will be his downfall," Aragorn said.

"Aye!" Gimli added.

Saruman ignored him. "You have sent the hobbits to their deaths...as well as the earthborn."

Aragorn turned alarmingly to his left, but Legolas was not there.

"Where is she?" Gandalf demanded.

Gríma approached the balcony dragging Estelwen. The sunlight glinted off the dagger for all to see.

Gandalf glanced at the king before turning back to Saruman. "Set her free. She is of no use to you."

"I demand safe passage to Mordor!"

"It shall be granted to you," Théoden said immediately. "Now hand her over."

Saruman laughed. "Fools, look at her! I never said allowing her to live was a part of our deal."

"Then you have no deal!" Aragorn said.

Saruman's eyes darkened. "Then she will die a slow, torturous death unlike any you could ever imagine. Only after will I let the crows feast on her corpse." He chanted in a deep voice that grew more ominous as he turned to Estelwen. His eyes widened in shock. He stopped chanting. With a sickening sound, Gríma pulled his dagger out of Saruman. Without another word, Saruman toppled from the balcony. Pippin turned away. He didn't need to look to know that the wizard was dead.

"Alas, may those who have underestimated me be punished!" Gríma cried out. There was a crazed gleam in his eyes. "You wizards think that magic gives you an advantage, but you forget to wield a stealthy hand!" For the second time, he raised his dagger, this time towards Estelwen. Something whizzed through the air. A white arrow buried itself deep in his chest. The last bit of air in his lungs wheezed out and the dagger fell to the floor.

The company turned behind them to see Legolas on the shoulder of Master Treebeard. He quickly climbed down and mounted his horse. With a kick that sent Arod galloping, he led the way until they all stopped at the foot of the tower. Gandalf stared hard at the tall, impending walls.

"Gandalf!"

Legolas was holding a rope. He tossed one end up as far as he could. Gandalf lifted his staff and muttered a few words. One end of the rope was now tied to the balcony. Legolas did not bother to check the stability before climbing. Once he pulled himself onto the balcony, he raced to Estelwen's fallen figure. Her clothes were torn and bloodied, mainly where she had clearly been whipped. Legolas stopped and gently touched one of the wounds. They weren't older than a day, but they had scarred over somehow. Yet, the fragile scars on her back had been reopened, bleeding a bright red onto the stone floor.

"What have they done to you?" Legolas whispered. Sliding his arms under her body, he slowly lifted her up. With every falling drop of her blood, Legolas felt his fury grow. He could have prevented this, but he hadn't. His voice stayed silent, but his mind released a torrent of curses upon himself that would've darkened the room more than Saruman's voice. Descending the tower would not be difficult. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, or rather, on Estelwen, as he came down. As soon as he touched the ground he looked to Aragorn. "Boe de nestad! (She needs healing!)"

"And none of us shall leave until we do," Gandalf agreed.

"What do you think he said?" Pippin whispered to Merry.

Merry couldn't take his eyes off Estelwen. What did they do to her in there? "They need to tend to her wounds."

"Quickly, onto dry ground!" Aragorn said.

Legolas lay Estelwen down at the edge of Fangorn forest. Théoden saw the wounds on her back for the first time, and his eyes widened. "It will be a wonder if she does survive."

"The lass's heart is too strong to give up so easily," Gimli said.

"Strength of heart does not always relate to strength of body, Master Dwarf. She is on the edge of death."

"She will not fall," Merry said.

Suddenly, all eyes were drawn to the tree that loomed over them. Treebeard's gaze was fixed upon Estelwen. Gandalf motioned for the others not to speak.

"She is different." Treebeard muttered. "Gandalf, this one does not belong with us." Then he left. Aragorn watched as Treebeard walked back into the forest. It was clear that the Ent had come to an important realization, though Aragorn was not quite sure what it was. Whatever the matter was though, it was now at peace and best to be left to the past, especially since Gandalf was the only one who appeared to understand it.

Théoden, Gimli, and the Hobbits turned around and stayed several paces away to give room to those who had healing experience.

Gandalf looked warily at the wounds. "There was a foreign magic at work here, yet it carries no trace of a spell that I know. It would be a greater risk for Estelwen if I use magic where there may be a hidden spell."

Aragorn's brows furrowed. "What kind of creature could induce such magic?"

Gandalf looked up. "An earthborn."

Legolas' eyes flashed. "Anorath was thought dead for many years. You have not found this information to be important until now?"

Gandalf sighed. "I thought she would have told you."

"Who?"

"Estelwen."

Legolas' face went blank. He curled his fist. Why? They had both been hiding secrets from each other. Only his would result in her death.

Aragorn reached into his pouch, pulling out the last of the Athelas plant. "I fear it will not be strong enough for her wounds, but it is our only hope."

"Wait." Legolas ran into the forest. A memory surfaced and pressed for his attention. Long ago, his mother tended to a man near death. Not an elf, but a man. Legolas had seen the man's scorch marks, which bore a remarkable resemblance to Estelwen's wounds. He is going to die, he had thought. But then, his mother had found a plant he had never seen before. Each leaf had a thin, silver middle vein. With it, she had healed the man. Upon hearing of its properties, Thranduil had sent elves to search for it, but to no avail. Only his mother was able to find it, and she had done so only once.

Legolas did not know why he felt he could find it, only that it was now he needed it most. He followed a path he could not see, only feel. The feeling stopped sharply, and he was puzzled. But when he looked down at his feet, he knew he had found it. A delicate, brown strand rose slightly from the ground. Nine leaves, each with a silver vein, were attached to it. Legolas gratefully plucked the leaves. Deep inside, he knew it was not his instincts that led him to finding it. Diola lle (Thank you).

Legolas emerged from the forest and placed them in Aragorn's hands. "Use it as you would the Athelas. It will not fail you."

Aragorn ground it into a paste, and began to spread it over the deepest wounds. From the moment he had met Estelwen, he knew that their paths would cross again. He never expected that she would become a sparkling fire that was both a pain and a joy. Now that they shared the same name, she was the younger sister he never had. Yet, he often forgot her age because of her wisdom. He often forgot her mortality because of her courage. He finished spreading the paste. Once it was dry, they decided to leave. Estelwen had a better chance of recovering in Rohan. Legolas offered to carry her with him. Aragorn nodded, noting that an elf's grace and skill would make the ride smoother for Estelwen.

Legolas steeled his heart as he picked her up. How could such a fragile being weigh so heavily on his soul? He begged the Valar that she would heal. He hoped that something good would come from remembering his mother. He felt Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "She will wake up, Legolas."

His words should have helped, but Legolas felt no relief. He brushed away Estelwen's hair so it wouldn't stick to the dried blood on her face. He gently kissed her forehead. "Díheno nin. (Forgive me.)"