Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay. Life lately has been....well....life. Anywho here we start departing from the summary a bit and allow you to see more of the events as they happened and details only mentioned in Stumbling into the Light. Hope you enjoy.

I haven't done this in a while so thanks to EvelynCMB for your help betareading this work and I don't own Miro, Eternia, or any part of the MOTU universe. I make no money. Please don't sue the Llama.

Chapter 4—Bonds

A shimmering blue light spread out on the forest floor as the unconscious prince materialized.

"What do you want me to do with it?" yelled the elderly blue elf to his servant. "I have no need of this soulless and, most likely, useless boy."

Henden sighed. He'd served Lord Waben all of his life, and though the Alama'Odela were long-lived, they could fall into senility as they reached the end of their days. He was fairly certain his aged master would soon not be able to care for himself at all. Henden explained his reasoning patiently. "I thought that you could offer him to Lord Garenal in place of my life," said the servant with a low bow. "That was why I suggested that your son capture it. I knew that you did not wish to give me over to this lord any more than I wished to pass into his service. I did not think that you would mind an ugly pink mine worker as a tool to pay your debt to the great lord. As it is, I am the last servant you own. I know your sons, as well and I, are concerned that you have a house with no servants. What would such a development do to your social standing?" 'And.' Henden thought to himself, 'who knows how long it will be before you burn your house down around yourself without proper supervision.'

"You have a point," said the older lord. "I did not explain what kind of servant I was going to bring him. I just said a servant. Good thinking, but you are in charge of touching the disgusting thing. I will not sully myself with this useless waste of flesh."

"You know, Henden," the aged elf continued in a nasal voice, "There are times you almost seem intelligent. I will arrange some time for you in the breeding pens as a reward for your quick thinking. Follow me."

"As you wish, my Lord," said the lighter blue elfin figure bowing to his elderly master, a grimace on his face. He did not mind touching this new slave. Henden did mind the fact that another poor creature would feel the yoke of slavery at his urging. 'But I don't want to fall under the rule of Lord Garenal. He is a monster. And at least this one will not be in his presence for abuse personally from his hand. Garenal would not allow anyone this pale to enter his door. Even in the mines, he would be better treated than I would in serving in Garenel's house,' he rationalized. 'Besides, old Waben needs me.'

Miro groaned weakly. His head spun and his vision narrowed to two tiny rotating spots of light. He felt heavy chains about his ankles and wrist. A strange blue elf creature lifted him up to its face and snarled something unintelligible to him. He wished that he could snarl back, but right now even staying conscious was a battle he feared he would not win. The young prince was jerked to his feet and dragged before a group of well-dressed blue elves. These creatures did not seem like strange-flesh eating demons, but rather civilized men who just happened to be blue with pointed ears. Men whose irritation was as obvious as the disdain on their faces. Miro didn't know what he'd done to end up in this predicament, but he was fairly certain he was in serious trouble.

Miro looked around slowly. His vision cleared as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He was pulled by his chains like a pet on a leash. They circled the base of the cursed mountain slowly until they reached a strange set of boulders on the west ridge. The lightest blue of those elves surrounding him shoved him, none too gently, between a small gap in the rocks. The one who'd snarled threateningly at Miro earlier grabbed the chain and jerked the prince below into a small cave opening. The other people's voices drifted back to him in their strange, almost musical language. Miro hit his head several different times as he didn't see the ledges of rock hanging from above. His guide chuckled at his cries of pain and pulled on his bonds even harder. Miro was bleeding over his right eye and covered in bruises to his arms and shoulders when he finally emerged into a wide cavern behind the other elves.

Miro gaped at what he saw. Great columns carved to resemble the trees above in the forest rose to an earthen roof covered with sparking green faceted stones.

Carved walls rose around him in the shapes of grand houses with wide balconies. These lovely dwellings overlooked the main walkways that twisted and wove in front of them. Scenes of elven marriages, battles, and celebrations were carved into the walls with a lovely looping script, more art than writing, surrounding each relief.

Sparking stones shone from the luminous Mage lights that illuminated the underground city, so this cavern was lit like the middle of the day.

Art and beauty were everywhere. Amazed by what he saw, Miro was not sure where he was, but he was certain that these people were not mere demons. It was this fact that gave him a bit of hope as he approached one of the large structures, still following the group of elves.

Miro found himself being dragged through a fine wood door into a great and spacious hallway. He heard arguing and soon another pushed him into a room and shoved him to the feet of another blue elf. One look at his jet black eyes, hard and flashing with anger, and Miro's stomach twisted even more tightly.

A young male, with the same dark blue complexion as the person standing over him began speaking.

Miro slowly got to his hands and knees as he heard their two voices go from a civil tone to an argument. Finally, pointing to the door with an angry sneer, his captors were led out by others Miro assumed must be servants.

Miro looked up and started to ask, "Where am I?" but before he could even get the words out of his mouth, he was kicked into a wall.

The large elven male he'd been tossed in front of pulled him up off the floor and slammed in him to the wall so that hard that his teeth were rattled. He stared into Miro's eyes and said in that same dangerous voice something that Miro didn't understand and was fairly certain he didn't want to either. He passed the battered prince off to another elven man wearing a strange leather and metal collar. Miro followed him down the halls with the other slaves.

They walked for what seemed like countless hours. The only thing that helped Miro feel better about this enforced march was that he was sure he had a concussion and the marching, at least, kept him awake. Without realizing when it first began, he found himself being dragged through dank and dark caverns that seemed devoid of all life. He was struggling to stay conscious at first, but his emotions soon kicked in to help him fight away sleep, for with each step, his rage grew. He was Miro, Prince of Eternia. Oh how these monsters would pay when he had the chance. He would get out of here, he promised himself.

They came into a larger cavern that was filled with some rough torches that smoked and sputtered.

The large elf called for some of his underlings. Or at least that was what Miro assumed these people were. Men like him and others with skin various shade of elven blue were gathered by a gaping opening. He saw large bins filled with some kind of ore. 'Great,' he thought, 'a slave mine.'

Another blue elf that Miro assumed was the overseer by the lash wrapped around his shoulder trotted up to the master. He pointed to Miro with a sneer. 'This does not look good,' the prince thought to himself. The elf gripped his lash as he muttered and shouted as two other miners walked up, pulling a woman out from the inside of the cave. She was struggling against the men in spite of the fact that she had a swollen eye and a bruise over her right cheek. 'What's a woman doing in a mine?' wondered Miro.

The lordling roared at the men and threw two powerful bolts of magic at the overseer holding the woman. He pulled the woman to him in another blast of blue light that enveloped her much as the light that had captured Miro had done. This time however, in addition to pulling her to him, the overseer also healed her wounds. He spoke to her soothingly and reached out to stoke her cheek. She jerked away.

A look of fury appeared on his face and quickly hardened to stony rage. The apparent leader among these creatures slapped her into a wall. Miro had seen enough. 'I have get out of here.' He saw the overseer ignore the plight of the woman who crumpled to the stone floor; instead the blue-skinned man approached Miro. He snarled menacingly at the prince and pointed to his whip. Then he removed the cuffs from Miro's ankles and wrists.

Miro attacked and threw the overseer back into the dark opening, grabbing his whip from the elf as it fell. He cracked the whip forward. The group in front of him moved aside with amused looks on their faces. Miro desperately began to back away, toward the way they had come. The woman lifted her head and groaned. The wizard just laughed at Miro and motioned for his men to stay behind him. A strange blue light glowed around his hand and Miro started to run. He heard the creature say something to the woman still leaning against the wall and then felt himself freeze. He struggled as the lord and his men surrounded him. There were looks of loathing on each of their faces as they circled him, their fists clenched. He felt the first blow hit him in his ear, and then saw no more.

Keelyandira leaned heavily against the wall she'd been thrown against. She was truly tired of Lord Garenal's ploys to win her favor and even more wearied of her experiences with his rough hand. 'Still, it could be worse,' she told herself. 'I could be experiencing his "loving" hand.' She saw the men drag the poor unconscious boy over to her side and drop him there without caring if they injured him further.

"You act as though you find my touch disgusting, little Keely, so I will let you know what truly disgusting is. You will be solely responsible for the training and healing of this despicable soulless one. You will never leave his side till I give you permission to do so. And if he sullies you with his base flesh, perhaps you will realize you could have had so much more."

Keely lowered her head, light purple blush snaking across her cheeks.

She would have to act upset. That was easily enough accomplished. All she had to do was remember the cruelty with which they had beaten this poor man. She remembered the pain she felt when she was sold away from her mother to pay a gambling debt. "You monster," she shouted. "I despise you."

"I would blast most servants into a pile of ash for less. And yet you continue to try my patience. Well, you will not duck this responsibility by provoking me to send you to an early death. I will see you beg me to take you back as my handmaiden when you have spent enough time in the presence of this coarse male."

Keely leaned forward, fuming inwardly. Her spinning vision threatened to knock her to the ground, so now she was leaning on the ground as though kneeling. She hated this.

"That's better, little slave." Garenal said condescendingly. "I am a merciful overlord. If you do well with this filth, I may let you beg to enter my bed and my service. Until later." The lord turned away with his lackeys laughing cruelly. Garenal turned back as Keely tried to stand up. "I hope he does take you. That way you will have even more reason to be grateful to your lord when I show what a true male can do."

Keely lowered her head so her master would not see the rage in her eyes. She could not stop herself from the silent sobs that shook her body. Nor did she try. Her master wanted her pain. To deny him would only lead to harsher punishment, and she was tired. So very tired.

She wanted to sleep and was grateful that she was supposed to care for this hurt man. He had head injuries, of that she was sure. She would be left alone with him for days until he was out of immediate danger. She would have to wake him up of course, but much of the time she could sleep as well and order extra healing herbs in the guise of healing this hot-headed young fool while still having enough left over for herself. She was sure that this "punishment" would make her days much easier. She reached down and pulled the man next to her as he groaned in protest. He was heavy but not too much for her. She dragged him to a side hall that served as a makeshift infirmary and laid him down on a clear section of stone floor. She washed his wounds, then her own, and placed a poultice of herbs on his wounds and then her own. So she could feel his breathing even while she was asleep, she laid by his side, her hand on his chest so that she would always know if he were breathing. 'This will work,' she decided. She would wake him, and if the Ancients blessed, he would live.

Miro groaned. He felt something wet and sticky on his forehead, and he remembered the last fight he had with that elven lord. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a blue hand on his chest. He started. For the briefest of moments he had allowed himself to hope that he had only dreamed his capture. Then his warrior training kicked in and he was fully back to reality. He was trapped in some kind of strange underground civilization. There were others like him in the group of people gathered outside of the mines; surely one of them could communicate.

"So you finally awaken?" whispered a female's voice into his ear.

Miro jerked and immediately regretted it. A moan escaped his lips.

"Shhhh! I know you're hurt, but you must not make too much noise. If the foreman sees that you are able to talk, he may try to rush you into the mines. We need to make this illness seem as long as possible."

Miro attempted to nod and stopped as his world began to spin around him.

"Don't try to communicate verbally. If you need to say yes move your right thumb back and forth. If no, just hold it down to your hand. Do you understand?"

Miro moved his right thumb up and down.

Keely smiled. "I guess you want to know a great many things?"

Miro wiggled his thumb vigorously in a clear yes.

"I am Keely, and like you, I am a slave of Lord Garenal."

Miro flinched and tried to shake his head.

"Stop," Keely whispered laying her hand on his forehead to still the movement. "Whatever you once were, know now that you are a slave to Lord Garenal."

'A slave?' Miro thought in a panic. He was overwhelmed with a sick feeling that had nothing to do with his injuires. How could he, in one moment, go from being a prince with the world at his feet and the next minute become someone who worth only depended on the whim of another. How coud he endure this? 'I can't be a slave,' he thought miserably. 'I won't live this way. I had to have misheard her.'

"You are in the home of the Alma'Odela. The name in our language means enlightened souls. They believe that only they have souls and that all others who are not of their pure blood are chattel and good for nothing else but serving them, which is why we are both in the circumstances we find ourselves in now."

Miro grimaced, both at the pain and at the uncomfortable truth this woman shared with him. 'I don't know how,' Miro promised himself, 'but I will escape from here.'

"Here," Keely whispered gently. She reached behind Miro's shoulders and lifted him up against a rag-covered stone.

Miro felt a spoon containing some warm liquid up against his lips.

"Drink," Keely instructed.

Miro sipped at the bitter liquid. He choked and coughed causing his world to spin sickeningly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered laying a cool rag on the unbandaged side of his head. "I need you to drink this. I know it's bitter, but it will heal you."

Miro grimaced as he forced down more of the vile concoction. Finally, when the world stopped spinning, he slowly opened his eyes. He saw a curvaceous yet slender silhouette turned to trim the wick for a lantern. Her midnight blue hair hung in a loose ponytail. Tendrils of hair hung in loose curls about her head. Her ears were pointed like her masters. His eyes had just adjusted to the dim light when she turned back to him.

Miro's breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Eyes of the deepest blue looked out at him. Those lovely eyes were gracefully tilted. Her nose was straight and lovely and her lips a full and lovely lavender. Her face was an oval with high cheekbones and her blue skin was just a shade darker than a summer sky. Her hair was almost a complete match to her lovely eyes and it shown like the softest and finest of thread. Miro was consumed with an overwhelming urge to stroke her cheek. Only his weakness prevented him from following through on his heart's desire.

"Feeling better?" she asked, placing a fresh, cool cloth on his fevered brow.

"Yes," he breathed hoarsely.

Keely smiled without realizing that his improved state had little to do with her medical aid and everything to do with the fact that she was the one who was caring for him.

In that instant, Miro made another promise to himself. 'When I escape, she is coming with me."