[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

He saw her. At first it was just a shadow at the corner of his vision, but the shape of her was unmistakable. He turned his head and there she was, standing alone on an outcropping of stone, watching defiantly as her well-ordered assault crumbled before her eyes into chaotic retreat. A second later, she was gone. Kaldir froze, his sword halting mid-stroke as a wave of tremors swept through his body. His grip loosened and the sword nearly slipped from his hand. Naiore.

The orc he had been fighting sensed weakness and sprang forward, his yellow fangs bared. His sword cut a wide arc in the direction of Kaldir's throat. Coming to his senses at the last second, Kaldir dodged hard to his right. The orc's blade missed its mark, slashing Kaldir's shoulder instead. Blood burst from the wound, but Kaldir scarcely felt it. With a determined grimace, he tightened his grip on his sword once more and, as the orc struggled to regain his balance, he forced the blade home. It lodged fast between the orc's third and fourth ribs. As the heavy orc fell to the ground, Kaldir was pulled from his horse, landing in a heap on top of the dead orc. He wrenched his sword free and struggled to gain his feet, his eyes irresistibly drawn toward the shadows into which Naiore had vanished.

He took only a step in her direction before a sharp stab of remembered pain ripped through his mind. He faltered and dropped to one knee. He was on his knees, his arms bound behind him. She stood before him. He kept his face and eyes averted but she would not have it. Her silken fingers gently traced a trail across his face, which was still whole in those days, then her fists closed tightly around handfuls of his hair.

"Look at me," she hissed, wrenching his face around. Still, he kept his eyes averted from hers. She uttered a short order in the black speech and instantly the lash of a whip bit into his back. She stepped back as the lashing continued. Kaldir lurched forward, bent nearly double as his carefully structured defenses failed him. The sword dropped from his hand.

The lashing continued until he lay on the ground, his face pressed into the damp stones of the dungeon floor. The skin hung from his back in bloody strips. Naiore's fist closed again around a handful of his hair. Lifting his head, she spoke to him softly.

"Look at me," she purred. "Are you afraid, Dúnedan?" This time, he complied, his eyes meeting hers in a gaze of pure hatred.

"Tell me," she whispered, smiling. "Where does the fear spawn?" His body tensed as her mind invaded his, ripping violently through the layered tapestries of his memory and thought. "Where?' she whispered between clinched teeth as her mind continued to push and probe through the deepest layers of his being. He had never felt such intense pain his life, but still he fought her. Struggling to close off whatever he could of his mind from her, waves of tremors broke across his body. Blood dripped from his nose and ears...

Kaldir blacked out.