Left all alone, Mistril returned to the Hall of Fire and placed her sword in front of her before she sat down.
“Deldhin…” she muttered the sword’s name.
It came so naturally that it scared her. It seemed there was an invisible force that was drawing her to the sword to the point she couldn’t control herself anymore. She held it in her hand and felt excitement before her sight became blurry.
The sword fell out of her grasp onto the floor. The sound was loud but every motion seemed to move incredibly slow in Mistril's eyes. And then something happened; it took over her mind and her green orbs turned black. It was time to remember everything.
Once the orcs hit Mistril they took her with them, to a cave that was not as dark as it smelled of sweat and rotten meat. Mistril opened her eyes to a sight she did not like at all: she was in what looked like half a cell, because the other half was used to store dead bodies. The smell itself and the dirty surroundings were enough to make her want to throw up. But she didn't have time. She tried to get up but something was keeping her down. They chained her neck as if she was an animal, and the chain was firmly stuck into the ground so she could only get on her knees before she'd be pulled down.
"Well, well, our doll woke up. How ya feeling princess?" said an orc that had eyes so wide that it looked like they were going to spontaneously bulge from his sockets.
"That ain't no princess. D'you know, nobody came to protect her. But she put up quite a fight, filthy little elf." Another commented before he spat at her. It didn't reach her, thankfully.
"Good fo us! We've got a new plaything you lot! We won't get bored soon with this one!"
That was preposterous. Mistril glared at them but she couldn't do much under the circumstances.
They didn't do anything to her for a few days, mostly because they were fighting with each other. The food they threw at her was not worth the bother to try and she barely drunk the water they gave her which smelled like they cleaned themselves in it before.
But then things changed and she could feel it in their demeanor too. New orcs came to the cave and the space diminished. The new orcs had a leader, or what looked like to be a warrior that was more powerful than the rest. They were talking in orcish mostly but she caught a few names, one of which was this leader's. Grommok was his name and he was larger, fitter and from the looks of it, with more brains than the rest. Orcs are usually very brutal, standoffish to each other in weird ways and yet this one was different. There was real malice and hatred in his eyes, especially when they fell over her.
She was sleeping when she woke up at the hands of someone grasping her hair and dragging her out of the cell. She passed him and saw his eyes glinting as a sign of what was going to happen. She shuddered as her scalp started to sting badly at the force. She was dragged into another part of the cave that she hadn't seen before, into this space in front of numerous other orcs. They were yelling at her, spitting and whatnot and the noise only grew when a huge black creature stepped towards her. He was an orc but he was twice her size and his armor only made him larger.
"Fight! Fight!" They said and Mistril swallowed nervously.
Seeing how she had nothing to fight with, she tried to defend herself by running. It wasn't going to work for long; she knew it from how annoyed the viewers looked.
"Kill her, Ug! Make her scream!" The orcs yelled.
Mistril's eyes widened at the encouragements. She was still young and inexperienced in fighting. All those sparing games with Glorfindel's army men and her brothers were not enough for a fight against a creature like Ug. And yet she couldn't help but remember those happy times and the safety of her home. Getting caught up into the past, she lost focus and Ug hit her really hard against her face before he pushed her down and punched her several times. However, he didn't punch her in the face but in the liver, and then kicked her randomly. He stopped when the orcs started to boo because really there was no fun in a one sided fight.
So they dragged her back into her cell and let her there in agony. She had some ribs broken and there were many bruises forming on her once fair skin.
But from that day on, it just became worse. Every time after breakfast they'd wake her up by different means, mostly with dirty cold water, and get her out for torture. It started easy with fights and then it became smarter, with Grommok watching or himself inflicting pain onto her body. It was horrible. It seemed one memory in particular surfaced, one that was worse than any other.
She was half dressed, her hair was dirty and tangled and she hadn't had a bath in a long time. She was sleeping when she woke up because she couldn't breathe. Once she opened her eyes the elleth realized someone was trying to pull her out by her legs and forgot about the chain around her neck. She choked and kicked the idiot when finally he realized what was wrong. From the cell they placed Mistril into an obscure part of the cave where they chained her hands to the wall. It was cold and damp which made her think outside was winter. Actually, time became irrelevant to her. She couldn't even remember when she last saw the sun or smelled something clean.
But those thoughts vanished when she felt pain go down her back. She got whipped with something very hard. At first it felt like rope but then someone brought something metallic. It hurt so much, she screamed so loud that she fainted. She woke up when they poured water on her, her back stinging like hell. They continued like that for some time before she could barely move off the ground. And the Grommok entered the cell...and he spoke.
"So sad. Nobody's coming after you." He started in his low voice. "
"You don't know anything." She hissed glaring up at him.
"You've been here for more than a century, burzsnaga (dark slave). The world moved on and forgot you ever existed." He whispered, sounding pleased with himself.
Mistril's eyes widened in shock.
"No. No, you're lying. This is just another game for you." She whimpered when Grommok pushed harshly on her back. Her wounds were opening up and she knew it was just a matter of time until she'll have to fight again some warrior orc. "Let me die then. Just kill me."
"Where would be the fun then? You've been such a nice plaything, breaking right in front of me." He grabbed her by the back of her messy hair and pulled her up a bit. "That's what you are, you filthy elf. You are our punching bag."
"He will come and save me." She hissed both in annoyance and in pain. "Glorfindel will-"
Suddenly Grommok started to laugh loudly. It was such a hateful sound. It made her hands twitch.
And then it happened. The day came when they came and took her and chained her to the same wall. Voices were yelling at her but she could hardly hear them. Something hard and cold touched her back before it hit her making her scream. It happened a few more times and her screams became louder until she could hardly keep herself awake. It wasn't just that moment but all those that preceded. She has been there for so long that she couldn't remember how her language sounded or how the sun felt on her skin. Water and food were nice dreams for her but there was always a gleam of hope in her eyes. Maybe he will save her. Maybe her hero will come and ease the pain. But darkness was lurking in her heart. Or maybe he won't, it said. Maybe he is dead or maybe he doesn't care about her. Why would he? He was a lord while she was the blacksmith's daughter. She was nothing. Those thoughts ate her soul bit by bit. One final hit sent her into unconsciousness but the orcs were not yet satisfied. She felt muddy water being splashed over her face and she did wake up but she didn't open her eyes.
"Wake her up wake her up! Come on! I want my turn!" One filthy orc shouted.
"Wait in line! We have enough time. She won't go anywhere." Another said.
Those words stung. They were right and she was doomed to an infinite torture. Death was too good at that point. No, she was angry. She was broken, disappointed and her elvish light diminished to the point it transformed into something else. Mistril's once deep green eyes became pitch black and she lost all there was that made her an elf.
She killed every orc she could place her hands on, starting with Ug. She left Grommok last before she made him suffer the same way before finally grabbing his eyeballs out and forcing one into his mouth, watching as he choked on it. There was no consciousness and no regret. She was free.
She killed many orcs and fought just as many until she was brought before the Witch-king of Angmar. He was still human, but his soul was already taunted by darkness and magic.
She was like a wild animal, squirming in her binds.
"I may find you better work than mass murder." He said, looking at her as if at a pet. "Take her and cloth her. I have work for this one."
He gave her time to perfect in the art of sneaking and killing before he literally sent her to do his dirty work. That was how she ended up in front of Sauron as well. She became a force of the Enemy and he gave her something in return, knowing that with black eyes or not, Mistril could easily turn her back to him. So he bound her...
He held tightly onto her wrists before he grasped them tightly. He chuckled as a surge of pain ran up her body and she screamed. It was a different kind of pain, one that didn't leave scars but felt like fire in her veins and it was coming from him.
"Rise, Daewen and do not fear me for I am the source of both your life and death."
Now that she could remember clearly, it did not sound like a threat but like a baptism. He was giving her a new life, a new name and a new purpose. She became Daewen and she marched for him on Dagorlad.
She killed many in the war and she witnessed with cold eyes as Oropher was murdered. Orcs were scared to ask her anything, remembering the massacre that she caused several years back. It felt like yesterday but it was more than 1000 years ago. She spent a century alone as a prisoner and the rest as what she had always wanted to become: a warrior in a strong army.
The change that she was curious of, the one that changed her view over her life and brought light back into her eyes was there in Dagorlad. She fought Elrond at one point, injuring but not killing him. She fought Faervel as well, she saw Thranduil from afar and she murdered more than 100 elves only that day. And then she saw him, Glorfindel. The hero that didn't come to her aid, the one she forgot about because he probably forgot about her too. He was there and he was a force of good. He was blinding and that strong elf light reached her soul and something in her mind snapped.
She ran away and forfeited the battle. Mistril's eyes became grey and she sneaked out of there.
The rest of the memories were not as important. She lived in secrecy and never spent more than a week in one place. She became a hired hitman for most of the time but she also worked as a blacksmith. She abandoned her own sword, Deldhin, because it was a reminder of how many lives she took. Mistril had a new purpose now and that was to stay hidden. She was going to Esgaroth indeed on that day, to get paid for a job she had done. She never made it because a pack of goblins intercepted her, knowing exactly where to find her. The rest, as they say, is history.
Mistril's eyes cleared up and she fell on her knees. Only when she touched her cheeks she realized she has been crying for a while. Two arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a warm hug and she started to cry again.
"I'm a monster. I'm a monster." She repeated again and again until words became hiccups.
"It's alright. It's not your fault, it's mine." Glorfindel murmured softly as he stroked her hair.
She finally remembered and it was far worse than she imagined. Her punishment will probably be as big as her sins.
Next morning, Glorfindel went into Elrond's study with a worried expression. He spent the whole night rocking Mistril softly in his arms as she cried. When she eventually fell asleep, he put her in his room just so he'd be sure she won't wake up and cry again.
"I suppose she remembered." Elrond asked looking up from his documents. "How is she?"
"She's tortured by the memories. I've never seen someone so broken before." Glorfindel said as he sat across the lord of Rivendell.
"It's only normal. The life Mistril led may seem a story for us but for her, it was torture. We will never be able to understand the horrors she saw and the pain she felt." Elrond said.
"What really happened? Was Mithrandir the one to awake her mind?" Glorfindel asked worried that the grey wizard might have done something to her.
"It was a gift he gave her. A sword made by her in the depths of Mordor." Elrond answered, glancing down at his documents before he pushed them aside, giving his entire attention to the once lord of the House of the Golden Flower.
"She forged it? Where the ring was forged?" he asked not quite believing the coincidence.
"Indeed."
"Where was it found?"
"I do not know and neither does Mithrandir. It was by chance he came upon it. Its name led to its creator. Deldhin led to Daewen and Daewen is Mistril." Elrond explained.
"Do you believe she will recuperate?" Glorfindel asked after a moment of silence.
"She is wise enough to understand the importance of her memories. Now, the hardest part is to learn and fight her bindings."
"Lady Galadriel will help?"
"I do not know for sure if any force could help. It will eventually come down to her will power."
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