"Both men were bruised and battered by the time they reached Maashava. Halt's left cheek was a massive

bruise and the eye was nearly closed, courtesy of a Tualaghi fist. Gilan had bled profusely from a head

wound inflicted by a small club. The crusted blood matted his hair and face."

-Erak's Ransom

Halt had come to the conclusion that he greatly disliked Arrida. The best part was the incredible coffee, but besides that, Halt had been given a very negative impression. It was constantly dusty, burning his throat when he inhaled. The heat was scorching and seemed to bear down on him like a weight. The scenery was drab and unchanging in comparison to Araluen's greenery.

He also just so happened to be a captive of the Tualaghi.

So far, the journey to Maashava hadn't been pleasant. With the exception of Evanlyn, who had been traveling on horseback, and Selethen, to a certain point, the captives had been treated cruelly. All them had deep scrapes on their forearms from the many times they had been jerked off balance, struggling with their bound hands and failing to catch themselves against the rough ground. They had lost the keffiyehs that Selethen had given them before they had set out on the initial journey, and the direct exposure to the sun was beginning to take its toll, most notably on the more fair members of their group. With their fair complexions, blonde hair, and blue eyes, Erak, Svengal, Horace, and Gilan were burning more easily in the unrelenting heat. It had only been two days of traveling, and their faces, necks, and forearms were already a magnificent shade of pink. Halt had burned as well, but with his darker complexion, had fared better than his companions.

With the presence of the new prisoners, Halt had noticed that the Tualaghi mostly left Erak alone. Horace had taken a shallow dagger slash to his cheek earlier that morning, but for the most part, managed to avoid most of the beatings that some of the Tualaghi passed out with something akin to relish. This was probably due to the fact that most of the beatings were directed toward him and Gilan, Halt reflected. Their longbows had marked them as the archers with the uncanny accuracy, and the Tualaghi seemed determined to make them pay for every arrow that had found its mark in one of the Tualaghi warriors.

The beatings that Halt and Gilan received could be brutal, and they were both growing increasingly bruised and battered. Halt wouldn't have minded being the one to receive the majority of the Tualaghi's wrath if it meant that they left the rest of his friends alone, but having Gilan included was something that Halt could barely stand. He had seen how his former apprentice had been cracked repeatedly over the shoulders with a heavy spear when they had first been captured, during which Halt had felt a rage well up in him that he hadn't experienced since Morgarath had taunted him with Will's capture.

The grizzled Ranger was feeling helpless, a sensation that he hated. He couldn't stop the group being captured. He couldn't stop Tug from panicking during the sandstorm, causing Will to go out into unfamiliar territory to find him. He couldn't stop the Tualaghi who had slashed open Horace's cheek. He had to stand by and watch their captors mercilessly attack Gilan, who was becoming more despondent with every blow.

Gilan, whose young, athletic body was becoming stiff and sore with bruises. Gilan, who couldn't help giving quiet grunts of pain every time his abused figure was jerked off balance onto the ground. Halt was being forced to watch one of the most important people in his life being hurt without any way to stop it, and that distressed the Ranger more than any of his own beatings.

It was when one of the Tualaghi, swinging a small club, moved toward a shuffling Gilan, that Halt finally broke.

Gilan, seeing the man approach, instinctively moved away and raised his bound hands in a pathetic attempt to shield his head. The club was raised in an almost casual manner before it was brought crashing down on the side of the younger Ranger's head, and Halt saw red for a fleeting second before losing it.

"Leave. Him. Alone!" Halt growled, lunging against the rope he was tied to, pulling an unsuspecting Horace off balance as he did.

Gilan had fallen heavily to the ground as the club made contact, a slightly dazed look on his face. Blood immediately began seeping from his head, coloring some of his dark blonde hair a sick shade of bright red. Halt knew that head wounds bled a lot, often making them look worse then they actually were, but that didn't stop his already awoken protective instinct, honed from having two apprentices, from going into overdrive. Halt landed several expertly placed kicks on the club happy Tualaghi before several other warriors managed to restrain him. Heavy punches found their way to the older Ranger's face, causing him to sag. After the beating, he was thrust roughly to the ground. He remained there, trying to see past the stinging agony in his face.

"Halt? Can you walk?" Horace asked urgently, placing himself between the Ranger and the Tualaghi. Gilan had staggered to his feet, blood still seeping from his wound and now running down his face. The glare that the young Ranger gave their captors rivaled Halt's best, and the Tualaghi took a step back as they saw it, before quickly yelling for the group to begin moving again.

Halt groaned as he lurched to his feet. A headache pounded through his temples, but he was able to make out Horace's worried face through his rapidly swelling eye. "I'll be fine, Horace," he said, trying to reassure his friend.

"You didn't have to do that, Halt," Gilan's sorrowful voice came from behind him. Gilan had seen how badly Halt had been beaten on his behalf, and guilt was now flooding the young man's conscience.

"No, Gilan. I did," Halt replied steadily. He was tired of the beatings, of watching Gilan grow steadily more dispirited, of watching Horace get constantly pushed around, of Evanlyn's fearful glances toward him from where she sat perched on her horse. He was tired of worrying about Will's safety, and wondering if he would ever get his family home again.

Looking around at the bruised and burned, yet determined faces around him, Halt came to another conclusion; that he would do whatever it took to get everyone back home. And as illogical as it may have sounded, as Halt made this decision, he felt a little less helpless.

Erak's Ransom is one of my favorites in the series. This scene has been nagging at me, so I finally gave in to its pleas. Hope you enjoyed!

Reviews are loved.

-TrustTheCloak