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AelKennyr Rhiano
The first sensation when Olwe came to was the feel of stone, cool, slimy even, against his cheek. He laid there for the moment, still, his chest tight as though bound with bands of metal so close he could scarce draw breath. A moan escaped his lips as his right hand pressed the palm hard against the stone beneath him. Slowly he flexed his fingers of that hand, and concentrated on short breaths. He swallowed hard, his mouth parched. He tried to open his eyes but winced as light stabbed and shut them tightly again. As cautiously as he took measure of his body, so he explored the interior of his mind. His mind felt battered, bruised, aching, beaten. Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to recall the events that lead him here...but where, where was here?
He slowly opened his eyes again and sucked in a sharp breath. He was in shadow. The light was coming from just beyond where he lay , a reddish glow. He tried to turn his head to look ahead of his prone body. It was for certain this was not Sylvahara. Was this another dream? Where was he?
Beyond him was a large pit, from which spilled the red light, and as Olwe looked closer, it seemed the pit was bubbling lava, red hot with orange in its center, but from that center was a very sentient presence....malevolent, watching, waiting....mocking. He tried to slide his other hand close to his body and lever his body off the stone ground, but an invisible weight held him pinned to the ground, like a giant foot pressed upon his back. Vainly, he pushed, to no avail. Laughter erupted, and now with the sound, Olwe whipped his head around to notice he was, in truth, in a cave-like structure. The walls, roughened and shaped by time, allowed the laughter to bounce from one wall to the other until the sound filled the "room." Then the laughter died away, and only the hiss, crackle and popping from the pit in the center could be heard. For long moments, Olwe drew what breath he could, thinking how he could escape this place so filled with evil and fighting the dread that slowly seized him. He still knew not if this were dream or reality. It felt real....
Then the voice that spoke in his head before spoke now, in a slithering, wet whisper that slid over his skin, crawled into his head. "What are you," it hissed. "What are you, puny, weak thing, on your belly on the ground, like a worm, like an insignificant worm. Beg...beg me to let you up, to let you live, and I may be merciful. " The Weight came down upon Olwe again, crushing the breath from him. "Speak, worm, beg."
Olwe drew breath and pushed up with all his strength, useless though the effort seemed to be. Slowly he forced the air into his lungs to make sure his words carried and reverberated throughout the enclosed area. "I....AM.....A Child of......Illuvatar. I SHALL NOT BEG!"
Down came the crushing weight, driving all air from his body, forcing him against the damp, clammy stone ground. Spots of lights appeared before his eyes, his vision dimming as his body starved for a breath he could not draw. As his vision faded, he thought over and over, "Tilion, Tilion." Laughter rang thoughtout the cavern, and the voice hissed and wrapped around him as the weight lessened just enough for him to draw in a breath, his head throbbing from the lack of oxygen. "Yessss....call to the Maia....where is He? Where? Do you see him here to save you? What do they care for you, puny thing you are, shaped of clay. Where is the Maia of Isil, the Vala of the Sea, those who supposedly befriended your people?" The voice paused and then, raising its voice, "Do you not see you were no more than servants, receiving crumbs from their bounty?"
"No," the Teleri Lord answered, drawing in breath to speak. "No, I am a faithful Child of Illuvator..the will of the Va-" The weight came crashing back down, and the air in his lungs was forced from his body.
"Be done?" hissed the voice, silken, smooth, almost caressing as suddenly the weight was gone. Olwe shuddered and gasped for air. He pushed his hands against the stone floor and raised himself up to a kneeling position on the floor, his head swimming, his body racked with pain. The voice crawled into his head, and he knew he screamed, knew he could not stop the screams. "Get out! Get out," he screamed over and over, hugging himself. "The will of the Valar be done," he whispered.
"Even unto your death, worm?" whispered the voice, but it was still inside his head. "Even unto the destruction of everyone and everything you hold dear?" Visions of death, destruction, maimed and tortured bodies filled the Teleri Lord's mind. He rocked forward, his palms slapping the stone floor, all that was keeping his body from collapsing onto the cool wetness. "Tilion," he whispered.
"...is not here," finished the voice. "Even unto your death, worm?"
Olwe bent his head, his eyes gazing at the stone between his hands, unseeing, the visions of killing fields, of dead and dying elves and other Children of Illuvatar filling his vision. He breathed once, twice, and a third time before he answered.
"Even unto my death. I am Teleri. I am Illuvatar's own. He will not forsake me." He closed his eyes and shuddered, once, at the carnage he saw in his mind. "Even unto my death."
"So be it....Teleri," answered the voice. Then darkness claimed Olwe.
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He slowly opened his eyes again and sucked in a sharp breath. He was in shadow. The light was coming from just beyond where he lay , a reddish glow. He tried to turn his head to look ahead of his prone body. It was for certain this was not Sylvahara. Was this another dream? Where was he?
Beyond him was a large pit, from which spilled the red light, and as Olwe looked closer, it seemed the pit was bubbling lava, red hot with orange in its center, but from that center was a very sentient presence....malevolent, watching, waiting....mocking. He tried to slide his other hand close to his body and lever his body off the stone ground, but an invisible weight held him pinned to the ground, like a giant foot pressed upon his back. Vainly, he pushed, to no avail. Laughter erupted, and now with the sound, Olwe whipped his head around to notice he was, in truth, in a cave-like structure. The walls, roughened and shaped by time, allowed the laughter to bounce from one wall to the other until the sound filled the "room." Then the laughter died away, and only the hiss, crackle and popping from the pit in the center could be heard. For long moments, Olwe drew what breath he could, thinking how he could escape this place so filled with evil and fighting the dread that slowly seized him. He still knew not if this were dream or reality. It felt real....
Then the voice that spoke in his head before spoke now, in a slithering, wet whisper that slid over his skin, crawled into his head. "What are you," it hissed. "What are you, puny, weak thing, on your belly on the ground, like a worm, like an insignificant worm. Beg...beg me to let you up, to let you live, and I may be merciful. " The Weight came down upon Olwe again, crushing the breath from him. "Speak, worm, beg."
Olwe drew breath and pushed up with all his strength, useless though the effort seemed to be. Slowly he forced the air into his lungs to make sure his words carried and reverberated throughout the enclosed area. "I....AM.....A Child of......Illuvatar. I SHALL NOT BEG!"
Down came the crushing weight, driving all air from his body, forcing him against the damp, clammy stone ground. Spots of lights appeared before his eyes, his vision dimming as his body starved for a breath he could not draw. As his vision faded, he thought over and over, "Tilion, Tilion." Laughter rang thoughtout the cavern, and the voice hissed and wrapped around him as the weight lessened just enough for him to draw in a breath, his head throbbing from the lack of oxygen. "Yessss....call to the Maia....where is He? Where? Do you see him here to save you? What do they care for you, puny thing you are, shaped of clay. Where is the Maia of Isil, the Vala of the Sea, those who supposedly befriended your people?" The voice paused and then, raising its voice, "Do you not see you were no more than servants, receiving crumbs from their bounty?"
"No," the Teleri Lord answered, drawing in breath to speak. "No, I am a faithful Child of Illuvator..the will of the Va-" The weight came crashing back down, and the air in his lungs was forced from his body.
"Be done?" hissed the voice, silken, smooth, almost caressing as suddenly the weight was gone. Olwe shuddered and gasped for air. He pushed his hands against the stone floor and raised himself up to a kneeling position on the floor, his head swimming, his body racked with pain. The voice crawled into his head, and he knew he screamed, knew he could not stop the screams. "Get out! Get out," he screamed over and over, hugging himself. "The will of the Valar be done," he whispered.
"Even unto your death, worm?" whispered the voice, but it was still inside his head. "Even unto the destruction of everyone and everything you hold dear?" Visions of death, destruction, maimed and tortured bodies filled the Teleri Lord's mind. He rocked forward, his palms slapping the stone floor, all that was keeping his body from collapsing onto the cool wetness. "Tilion," he whispered.
"...is not here," finished the voice. "Even unto your death, worm?"
Olwe bent his head, his eyes gazing at the stone between his hands, unseeing, the visions of killing fields, of dead and dying elves and other Children of Illuvatar filling his vision. He breathed once, twice, and a third time before he answered.
"Even unto my death. I am Teleri. I am Illuvatar's own. He will not forsake me." He closed his eyes and shuddered, once, at the carnage he saw in his mind. "Even unto my death."
"So be it....Teleri," answered the voice. Then darkness claimed Olwe.
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