04 – HOSTILE
Over two days of steady walking, the two travellers did not discuss the night when Flynn could have sworn that, just before she woke from her troubled dreams, Ellos had been overly close to her. But the strangest thing was that despite that night's vague memory, her suspicion of this half-Elf had all but dissipated. It was difficult to stay wary of someone who hunted food for her every day, lead her safely through treacherous countryside, and took very little sleep in order to keep her safe at night. Flynn was developing an odd kind of affection for him, and try as she might she could not resist it. There was innocence in the way Ellos ran his hand through his rich brown hair as he surveyed the horizon, and a noble dignity to his gait that made Flynn flutter a little inside.
On the morning that marked one week of travel together, Flynn woke to find Ellos standing away from their camp and glancing to and fro. His back was to her and there was nervous impatience about the way he gripped his bow and drummed his fingertips against his hip. She rose quickly and packed her things, feeling more with each day that she would lie, steal and beg for a hot shower. The stream had long since dwindled into a meagre trickle only good for filling their water flasks and she could not even hope for a quick dip in the water. Shouldering her pack, she approached Ellos and asked, "Is something the matter?"
Ellos did not turn to look at her, only tilted his head towards her a little, and answered, "We are too close to the country of the Beornings."
"Are they dangerous?" Flynn asked, unsettled by his tenseness.
"If you are not a Beorning yourself, yes. They would not think twice about being rid of me simply for being elven kind, and it does not matter that you are of the race of Men, Flynn, for they will uncover you as a foreigner anyway. They are to be avoided."
Flynn pursed her lips, hot fear prickling over her skin. "How do we avoid them?"
Ellos's dark brows drew together into a heavy frown and he cast his gaze east to the forest. "We cannot linger here. We must enter the woods," he answered.
"Why do I feel as if no choice is safe?" Flynn asked.
Ellos was already moving off towards the shelter of the trees, and he called back to her, "Because that is true."
Checking her knife was secure at her side, she trotted hesitantly after him. They moved within the forest but kept to its edge, keeping sight of the vales in the west whilst staying hidden in the dark cover. Flynn followed Ellos closely, stepping in his footprints, steadying herself on the same branches, stopping to sniff the air and peer watchfully around when he did, standing close to him and smelling the leather of his tunic mixing with the scent of sweat and leaves and the faintest hint of musk. She drew a deep breath of him without thinking, and he stared at her pointedly, high interest upon his face, and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks and moved off as though it were imperative that they not linger.
In a moment Flynn felt Ellos grab her arm, his fingers pressed tightly to her skin, and she whipped around to admonish him, but stopped short, seeing his other index finger held to his lips, bidding her to be silent. He crouched quickly, pulling Flynn ungracefully with him, and she watched him with annoyance as he glanced around quickly. His hard stare locked on to something beyond the trees, on the edge of the forest, and Flynn followed his gaze. There, just metres from the thinning trees, were two huge beasts of men, prowling slowly northwards, their gait wary and alert. Unthinking, Flynn drew a sharp breath as if to squeal in shock, but suddenly a hand clapped over her mouth, flooding her with the scent of skin foreign and unlike her own, and a pair of deep brown eyes pierced hers. Very, very quietly, Ellos said, "Do not make a sound." Flynn nodded slowly and he removed his hand.
The two travellers watched as the huge men, who Flynn assumed were Beornings, slowed to a stop and scuffed at the ground, peering about them, inspecting this place for its suitability as a safe corner for an afternoon rest. Flynn's stomach sank into her feet as they made their decision, plopping down to the ground and leaning against the outlying trees. Flynn could hear her heartbeat in her skull and her legs ached, frozen in her awkward crouch, waiting for what felt like an age – and for what, she did not know. It was difficult to tell if the Beornings were merely lying down or if they had drifted into dozing, but Ellos's hearing seemed keener than hers, and after a long while he turned to her and jerked his head in the direction of the darkness of the forest. Flynn understood his directive and, though she mistrusted the deep woods and her wide eyes betrayed her fear, she nodded.
Ellos very slowly stood and offered his hand to Flynn, who took it, allowing him to help her stand, noting the strange softness of his palm, uncharacteristic of a weathered traveller. She wondered for a moment, as their eyes met, if he was indeed as full of Elf blood as he said. He certainly had not managed to crop a five o'clock shadow in the time they had spent together, though she remained unconvinced he couldn't have shaved by the stream while she slept the sleep of an exhausted traveller. But there was also something strange about the way he naturally deflected dirt and grime while she grew only filthier and more second-hand. Blinking, she rubbed her legs firmly, willing the blood to flow, and Ellos crept slowly further into the woods, motioning for her to follow.
It was impossible for Flynn to move as quietly as Ellos did, every footstep disturbing the leaf litter. The forest air was close and hot when Ellos halted ahead of her and turned to check her progress. "Are you well, my lady?" he asked as Flynn approached slowly, pushing twigs and leaves out of her way.
"I would be better if I were not so... afraid," she answered, agitation in her tone. She failed to notice the strange mark of politeness upon his voice. If she had, she would have felt that ominous tingle of suspicion creep up the back of her neck, for this was not like Ellos at all.
The half-Elf's face softened into sympathy. "Be not afraid," he said softly, "For it is safer in here, and you have me to protect you."
Flynn laughed silently through her nose. "Do you think I am helpless?"
One of Ellos's eyebrows crept doubtfully up on his face. "You have but a knife and a hope; I have a quiver of arrows and a good eye," he said.
Flynn raised her brows at him. "We will see your skill if we meet danger," was her challenging response, and Ellos stared at her for a moment with dark eyes endless and unreadable. Then he turned quickly and moved off.
Flynn followed awkwardly, and soon the stifling heat within the wood affected her energy, and exhaustion began to creep over her, and she kept her head down as she picked her difficult path through the undergrowth, not noticing Ellos advancing farther and farther ahead. After some time when she sensed the light dimming, the afternoon fading into evening, she stopped and looked up and ahead, scouting out for him. But he was nowhere to be seen. His footsteps were ever light and she could not hear him, and in the dim she could see nothing but the unmoving woods. Fear tightened around her chest as her eyes darted frantically to and fro. Where could he be? Was she even moving in the right direction?
"Ellos?" she called softly, her voice breaking. There was no reply and not a sound in the forest. Louder, she cried, "Ellos!" and grimaced as her voice rang through the trees and was soaked up by the textures all around. She waited for the sound of his voice to cut the silence, but it did not come. Flynn stood frozen to the spot, her veins turning to ice while her head raced with thoughts of wandering lost, alone and unprotected in this dangerous region of the biggest forest in Middle-earth, where the trees were so close she could hardly see the sun to guide her. The silence in the wood grew too heavy to bear, and something in Flynn snapped, and she knew she must take action.
She scampered off again in the direction she thought Ellos had gone. Her trot grew to a run as panic rose, and she crashed through the undergrowth loudly, fear throwing logic to the wind. But then almost as quickly as she had begun, Flynn was stopped short as a dark figure stepped out in front of her and knocked all the breath from her body. She reeled back, doubling over and clutching her ribs and, stumbling, tried to straighten. She looked up to see the tall, grubby-looking figure of a mortal Man, dressed in animal skins and wearing a fur hat over his lank hair, a menacing scowl on his face and a huge axe in one hand. He regarded her through narrow eyes and spoke in a deep, gruff voice in a language she did not understand. When she did not respond, he seemed to make up his mind that she was a foe, and he lunged toward her, his axe flying.
Panicking, Flynn did the only thing she could think of and threw a punch in the general direction of his groin. It landed squarely in his belly and the man stumbled back. Still wheezing, Flynn screamed, "Ellos!" with a raw voice, and she spun and fled. But she did not get far, for she ran headlong into another man, this one bigger than the first, and he smacked her across the face and she stumbled back, stunned. Two massive arms grabbed her from behind and she was lifted, screaming, from the ground. The man who held her set off at a jog and the one who had hit her followed, their heavy boots crashing through the undergrowth and their furs stinking of sweat and food. Flynn screamed for all that her lungs were worth, and the men growled at her in their own tongue, and she felt herself dropped to her feet. The man holding her clapped one hand around her mouth and one around her body, stifling her and restraining her arms and dragging her painfully on.
Flynn could hardly breathe through the massive, calloused and sweaty hand pressing against her nose and filling her mouth with hair, and soon she could not draw breath enough to struggle. Her heart felt like it might explode in her chest, welling with fear and despair. Ellos had said neither women nor elves were afforded any pity by the races of wild men in these parts, and she held little hope for her life. She hardly dared to think where they were taking her and what they would do with her when they got there.
Flynn could see the first man, the one she had run into, jogging along, bringing up the rear now that he could stand again, and she winced, knowing she would be punished mightily for attacking him. But then the strangest thing happened. The man stopped, mid-run, and his eyes rolled in his head and, without making a sound, he crumpled to the ground.
A lightning-fast figure emerged silently from the forest and jumped over the fallen body, and as the figure drew closer she recognised the lithe form of Ellos, fitting an arrow to his bow and sprinting towards them. He loosed another arrow and it struck the man leading the pack and pierced his shoulder, and he hollered in agony. The brute who held Flynn halted and, filled with a new hope, she bared her teeth and bit down hard on the fleshy palm against her mouth. The first man whirled around, his eyes wide with fury as he found the lone half-Elf staring him down with hatred-filled eyes and an arrow aligned. The man cried out in rage and charged at Ellos, his axe in the air. But he had left himself wide open and Ellos shot again, this time slicing through the man's axe-wielding arm, the weapon falling from his hand as he buckled, screaming, an arrow in each shoulder.
The man holding Flynn growled as she bit him but he did not let go. He freed the hand into which her teeth were sunk and unsheathed a hunting knife from his belt. He launched it at Ellos before turning and fleeing, still dragging Flynn, his huge legs making an impossible charge through the thick undergrowth. Flynn screamed, struggling against the strength of his arm, and watched as the knife spun though the air. Ellos ducked the deadly missile and it struck the tree behind him. He took a second to shake himself and again set off after the huge man. There was but one arrow left in his quiver and he aligned it as he ran, and Flynn's eyes were full of terror when he aimed it straight at her. "You cannot shoot him!" she screamed.
"Do not struggle!" Ellos shouted back, but it was against all her logical senses to go limp in the arms of this man. Flynn did not even know if Ellos was as good an archer as he claimed. But she felt her life slipping from her, clothes catching on sharp twigs, lashing her with a lacing of shallow cuts, and somehow, she obeyed Ellos's command. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, unable to watch, and unwittingly held her breath as she stopped struggling. In what felt like an age but was only seconds she felt firmness, her feet touching the ground, and she stumbled, still in the arm of the rough brute, but he was falling, tumbling heavily to the ground, and his arm loosened momentarily and Flynn wriggled from under it, not checking if Ellos had shot him or not, only knowing she had this one opportunity to get away. She stood quickly and ran for her life.
Ellos was waiting for her. He held out a hand and as she took it he pulled her to him, and they racketed through the forest. Flynn's legs pounded as quickly as they would go, trying desperately to keep up with Ellos, who seemed to sail easily through the dense wood, his grip on her tight. Her lungs burned and her legs ached but the adrenaline coursing through her would not let her stop, and nor would Ellos, who tugged at her when she slowed, urgency flashing in his eyes. Just when Flynn was certain she could go no further and she would collapse here in the darkening woods, prey to the Woodsmen stalking silently through the forest, the pair burst from the thinning trees and before them saw stretched out the Vales of Anduin.
Ellos slowed to a trot but did not let go Flynn's hand, peering cautiously about the wide-open country, the sun sinking down behind a sky blanketed in low gunmetal cloud. Flynn's chest rose and fell heavily, regaining breath. Ellos gave her a moment, but soon he seemed to make a decision and he set off again, venturing further out into the green landscape. They did not run as quickly as before but he seemed dissatisfied with the undulating hills and tree-lined hollows, and they jogged on through the dark, Flynn growing weaker with each step but determined not to stop until they had put a million miles between them and the men.
The night was black when Ellos finally slowed, leading Flynn into a clearing in the loose wood on the vales. The dark treetops ringed a circle of sky that showed clear stars and swarthy wisps of cloud, but Flynn could see little else around her. Ellos turned to look at her, the alert concentration on his face washing away slowly, replaced with compassion. Flynn was caught in the headlights of his stare for a moment, and then suddenly the intensity of his concern tipped her from the edge of coping, and she slumped against a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing and dropped her face into her hands. All the fear and shock of the attack came rushing to her and she felt as if she were filling to the brim with fear, and suddenly tears stung at her eyes, and she could not help but cry.
Ellos was with her suddenly, one arm drawing her to him, one hand stroking her hair, his fair voice soothing. "I am so sorry, Flynn," he murmured, "I should never have taken my eyes off you." Flynn sobbed against his shoulder, unable to speak. "I can barely call myself an Elf for not noticing you were so far behind me. This was wholly my fault," he said.
Flynn willed herself to regain composure, and she drew a deep breath, slowing the sobbing. "No," she said resignedly, "I was not watching where I walked. I should have seen... " She trailed off, sighing, pulling away from him slowly. Ellos's brow was creased in worry, full lips pursed and cheeks drawn. She slid down to the ground, deflated. Ellos regarded her a moment with a tilt of his head, then quickly slipped his quiver from his back and sat down beside her. Flynn looked at him then and saw a strange mixture upon his face: guilt, distress, concern and above all, care. These emotions written starkly across the face of someone as stoic as Ellos was compelling, and she stared in his eyes, unable to tear her gaze away, and in a moment he slowly reached up and ran the back of one hand gently down her face, the fingers resting below her lips.
Flynn shivered under his touch, caught in it, and when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, she fell headlong from reality. The dim sky seemed to disappear as she tasted the foreign flavour of his mouth, and she found herself responding, kissing him back, challenging his lips with her own. He drew a sharp breath and ran a hand through her hair, and she reached for his face, exploring contour with her soft palm, brushing fingers over lips, tasting the strong masculinity of his mouth in pleasure such as she had not enjoyed for a long time, its headiness drenching her, breaths deepening. Ellos moved in, his body pushing against her, needy and hungry, lips devouring her own, hands snaking over her shoulders, around her neck, under her hair, gripping the curls, pulling her head to him, his will strong.
Flynn could only acquiesce under his passionate strength, accepting his mouth, his wandering fingers, his teeth at her throat, his chest against hers. Ellos planted a line of kisses up under her throat, his lips cold in the crisp chill of night, and he nibbled at her bottom lip as she ran a hand down his chest and sighed softly against his mouth, and tilted her face to his. Looking into his face, they paused a moment, and she saw a brief shadow pass across his eyes, and he pulled his head away – just slightly – and his frame tensed. "I am sorry," he said quickly, consternation on his face, his whole body withdrawing. "I was not... I should not have... You are in no state for this."
Flynn's eyes searched his own, her brows knitting. She shook her head at him. "I am well," she argued. "Do not say such things... Do not stop!" she whispered desperately, his touch lingering upon her. But her permission was too late; the half-Elf was already backing up, standing, stepping away, turning his back to her and making a show of scanning the horizon, his arms folded over his chest.
"We must not lose our guard this night," he said, chagrin in his voice.
Flynn tilted her head, watching him with confusion. "Are we not safe here, or anywhere?" she asked incredulously, her whole being unwilling to believe that she may have to keep moving, keep running, keep searching tonight for the elves near Dol Guldur, and safety.
"We are safe, Flynn," Ellos assured her, finally turning. "But the night is a time for listening." He paused a moment, glancing through the trees, and Flynn thought she caught him trying to stop himself cocking a conspiratory eyebrow when he added, "Not for making noises."
Flynn blinked, stared at him a moment, then shook herself, willing the moment away, knowing that Ellos's word would be final, and if he chose to stand guard all night and pretend that the bubble of their pent-up attraction had not just torn open, he would. But Flynn was not fooled; she had not imagined the quickness of his breath, the eagerness of his hands, the unmistakable firmness in his breeches. If it only took daylight to retrieve that moment, then she would be patient – but only until morning.