After he had successfully found the store with the same logo as on the paper, the elf felt fairly proud of himself as he clutched the packet close to his body. Without another word or a glance back, he tighten his grip on the box, keeping it safe in his gloved hands.

When he went on his way through the market back towards his master's house, he found himself smiling at the stone work on the ground. Despite being dirty and worn down from all the walking, he still found himself liking the way it looked.

Around him, the market was alive and bursting. He heard very little Tevene he could understand, but did hear the occasional Common Tongue. People bartered about prices, some auguring. Others were chatting away about personal things occurring in their lives.

He kept his head bent low, careful not to run into someone, or accidently look anyone in the eye. Luckily, all ignored him, too busy and important to notice someone as lowly as himself.

"—Too expensive!"

"—And then she said–"

"—Thought about—"

As he turned a new corner, he heard someone shout a name. His carefully blank face fell into a frown. He hoped a child hadn't run off or anything. In this crowd, it would be easy for a little one to be lost.

Shaking his head and reminding himself that it wasn't in his master's wishes to find the child, the elf continued on his way.

"Can you believe that?"

"—Look at—"

"Can we—"

His frown reappeared on his face as he heard the name be called out again. This time, it was closer and desperate. 'Please don't be a child missing…' he thought, forcing himself not to turn and help. His master's wishes were the only thing that mattered. He shouldn't, didn't, care about some lost child.

"Alarion!"

The shout came directly behind him, causing a startle that made him jump. Before he could recover, a hand was on his shoulder and he found himself being spun around.

He was facing a man now. With a mustache neatly trimmed, hair attended to with acute detail, and skin brown and glistening. Though the elf knew he shouldn't notice such things or even care, there was no denying that he was quite handsome. Why was such a man paying attention to a slave like himself?

"Alarion?" His whisper was shaking, as if he were close to crying. "Amatus, is it really you?"

The elf didn't answer; he wasn't sure he was allowed to.

"Is it you?" The man pressed, more firmly, but still sounding close to breaking.

Well, the gentleman was asking a direct question. It would be rude not to answer, yes? But what was he asking? Still unsure, the elf opened his mouth and said, "I…" but close it, unsure how to finish his sentence without being punished.

"Alarion?" Then, his misery vanished to be replaced with a joyous grin. A howl escaped his lips as the man roughly pulled him into a hug. Immediately, the elf felt his stomach turn as he began to shake. Surely this was a punishment! And, if it was, there was little doubt in his mind that he would be punished for this. Not to mention the packet had fallen on the ground! He had to get it!

"Amatus! You're alive!" The man sobbed into his ear.

The elf squirmed in discomfort but tried not to move too much. He had a feeling this man didn't want him going anywhere. Even if he wasn't his master, he was still way above him and the elf had no interest in displeasing anyone above him. He was in enough trouble already.

He was finally released, but the man's hands stayed firmly gripping his shoulders. "Alarion…" He whispered. "If I wasn't so happy to see you alive, I'd kill you for making me suffer so."

The elf didn't like the sound of that. After all, he had done nothing wrong. Why would this man want to kill him?

Suddenly, the man's eyes went from round and sad to squinted and angry. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

Though it was a direct question, the elf wasn't sure how to respond in a way that wouldn't lead to him being punished. He shifted his weight, looking down at his feet. What was going on? What was this man doing?

Suddenly, the man's hands gripped tighter onto his flesh. The pain caused the elf to whimper, but the sound was lost as the man growled, "You stopped writing me! You stopped, and then Leli-fucking-ana shows up herself to tell me you disappeared after a fight with some slavers! What else was I to assume other than you died, amatus?" He voice rose to a near shouting, "What? Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

What was he so angry about? The elf shivered under his scrutiny, avoiding his gaze. "Look at me!" The man demanded.

Whimpering, the elf turned his sight back to the man's grey wet eyes. "Say something, amatus!" he hissed.

He had no idea what the man wanted to hear! During his hesitation, he could almost feel the man's eyes as his gaze ran down his whole body without shame. After a long time, it became clear that the man wasn't going to speak first. Finally, the elf whispered, "How may I serve you, Master Altus?"

The man stopped his examination to look him dead in the eye. "Master Altus?" He growled in a repeat.

Why was there such hurt in his gaze? Hoping he won't offend, he whispered, "I don't know what else to call you, Master Altus."

For a moment, it had seemed that time had frozen. Hiss striking face was unreadable, but the elf could see such a large extent of misery in his eyes.

In one swoop, the elf was free. Panic filled him! He turned to flee, to escape this madman and his fury, but only made it a few steps before realizing that he had taken ahold of his left wrist.

"Please," the slave begged, a few tears running down his face. "Please, I don't know what you want from me." Instead of answering, the man slowly lifted the elf's left hand. The elf's heartbeat began to pound in his ears, his throat starting to tighten and hurt. "Please!" His pleas grew more desperate. "Please don't! My master will be so angry with me!"

Ignoring his cries, the man used his free hand to gently remove the glove. Though the elf could not see, he knew what the man was staring at.

No! His master was going to be so angry! Fear pumped his blood, causing it to rush through his veins. The way his heart was racing, the Madman could probably feel his pulse throbbing. "Please!" He begged, tears streaming down his face as he tried in vain to tug free. "Please! I'll be good! I'll be good! Just please don't tell my master!"

Instead of answer, the man looked at his face, studying every detail. His expression was surprisingly calm. Though not so surprising was his look of utter apathy towards the slave's heartfelt pleas.

After one last attempt to wretch himself free of the man's clutches, the Madman reached forward quickly and covered his mouth.

"Forgive me, amatus." He whispered.

From the hand gripping his wrist came a stream of lighting. The sensation was best described as a painful popping flood. A scream fought its way through the elf, but was muffled by the hand. Consciousness fled as he fell forward into awaiting arms. He had fainted before he could hear the man's crushing words as he caught him.

"Forgive me. Please forgive me."