Haldir slammed his fist on the massive wooden table that served as a situation room for Lothlorien's main advisors. "You had ONE job!"
Celeborn stepped forward, leaning his arms over the table, looking fiercely at each advisor in turn, his face demanding silence. "That is enough, Haldir. We understand your frustration. Your brother could not have known where the prisoner was. He did what he thought was best and what you instructed him to do. We will hear no more of it."
Haldir turned away from them and rubbed his forehead, then exhaled, closed his eyes, and after a moment turned back around to address his brother. "I'm sorry, Rumil, I know it's not your fault."
Rumil nodded in understanding and walked around the table to place a steady hand on his brother's shoulder. "We will find her. We will bring her back."
Haldir nodded to him and together the two elves turned expectant faces to Celeborn and Uiron.
"We know he came to explore the possibility of the treaty we suggested. Given the reputation of the Men of the Brown, it remains one we need. One that could bring not only greater protection – for the Men of the Brown are unsurpassed in stealth warfare – surpassing even our own forces, but also a great deal of intelligence about activities in Mordor. His coming to investigates tells me we are not the only ones who seek their alliance. I suspect he now travels back to that barren land to relay our situation to his men, for it is only with their consent that he will open negotiations," said Uiron.
"Then why take the elleth?" asked Rumil.
Haldir furrowed his brow, his lips a tight line and his jaw tense. "He takes Amdir as a hostage. He must have known she is a favourite of King Thranduil's. If we do not act to assure her safety, he knows Thranduil will, and of course, we would not willingly risk Thranduil's wrath either, so she guarantees the cooperation of both realms. As long as she's safe, we dare not attack, or we risk that the Men of the Brown will form an alliance with the Lords of Mordor. We cannot afford that, and having experienced our defenses for himself, Uldor knows it."
Rumil shook his head then stared at Haldir, his mouth agape. "So you would let her go?"
"The Dark Lord builds his forces against us and when he strikes, we must be ready – you know this already. We also know that Mordor seeks an alliance with Rhun, but, perhaps, with the help of the Men of the Brown, we can create that alliance first, weakening Mordor's position. So yes, we must let her go. There is little more we can do." His voice was monotone, his face unnaturally blank. The only sign of tension, a tell-tale pulse of his right jaw.
Rumil exhaled, blowing out his cheeks. "It is a rare day, when I hear resignation in your voice, brother" said Rumil, turning his face away from Haldir, frowning in disappointment. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you did not care about the elleth."
The façade fell and Haldir glared at Rumil who responded with a looked of satisfaction.
"I care about this realm, brother. All other concerns must…bide."
"Haldir is correct," said Celeborn, studying his march warden and stepping in just as Haldir's shoulders dropped. "The Easterling will not harm her, but we will be expected to follow. It seems Uldor would prefer the negotiations happen on his soil, and to that we shall acquiesce. Haldir and Rumil, you will each go to watch over the elleth and initiate the alliance. Take my negotiator, Seren with you. She understands my terms and will communicate them well. Travel alongside them, or as close as the Easterling will allow. And bring two extra horses and supplies. With luck, Uldor is not so prideful that he will turn down these gifts."
"And if Uldor is already in league with Mordor? She may be raped, enslaved or even killed."
"I'm sorry, Haldir, I know you are fond of Amdir, but it's the chance we have to take."
The march warden took a deep breath. "I will find her, we will conclude the treaty, then I will return her to Thranduil myself. By the Valar, neither he nor any of the men in that company will lay a hand on her."
Amdir stumbled over a mossy stone and fell to her knees, only to be roughly pulled up by her arms, still bound behind her back. She scrambled to keep up with Uldor less he end up dragging her along the forest floor, which, she had no doubt, he would.
The brusque, black-haired elf had barely spoke since they left the flet, but to command that she hurry up. They had been walking for hours along deer paths and through thick barely penetrable brush, and the western sun was beginning to fade, lengthening the shadows along the forest floor.
In the distance, a whippoorwill chattered to its mate and she could hear the scattering of small rodents scurrying through the roots and rocks as the two elves passed. Her feet ached and she longed to stretch her arms in front of her, and her mouth was parched with the white cotton gag. She stumbled again, and again he roughly pulled her up with her arms. She tried to yell at him through the gag but he merely shook his head in irritation and avoided her eyes. Eventually she gave up.
As the light of forest took on a dusky hue and a faint chill crisped the air, he finally allowed them a rest. She sank down on a flat rock and watched as he unscrewed his water skin. She expected him to take a long draw, but instead he carried it over to her and, releasing her from the gag with one hand, allowed her a long, luxurious drink with the other.
She sat for a moment, allowing the clean water to revive her, and catching her breath, then her attention focused on her kidnapper, who stood straight, sharp green eyes scanning the forest behind them. She opened and closed her jaw, trying to release tension built up from the gag. How she hated him.
He turned to look at her. "All right, then?"
She glared. If her hands weren't bound behind her back, she'd hit him again. The red welt on the side of his left jaw had gone down since they began their trek, but was still visible and made her feel nominally better. He must have followed her thoughts for his hand absently touched the welt.
"It was a good shot. You surprised me Amdir. I didn't think you had it in you."
She narrowed her gaze. "What kind of elf kidnaps another? Gags her and drags her through the forest like an animal? Haldir will come for me. He will come for me, and he will kill you. He's done it before, you know. The warriors of Lothlorien are the fiercest in all of Arda and their stealth is unrivalled. Just wait."
Uldor looked at her and said flatly, "He's not coming for you."
"Oh really? And what about King Thranduil? When HE hears of what you've done, you will not survive his wrath!"
He barely looked at her as he spoke. "Not so. I have something the elven realms need. Nobody is coming to rescue you, at least not in the way you imagine." His face finally turned to her, his gaze thoughtful.
She was about to protest but something in his eyes stilled her words. A steady certainty that made her stomach drop. "Why do you say that?"
The tall elf sat down on a rock close to her and lifted the waterskin to his mouth, tipping it back for a healthy swig and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Amdir looked away.
"Because you are my hostage, my guarantee that they will let me return to my company safely and there we will negotiate a treaty. A treaty that Lorien needs – and Mirkwood needs too for that matter."
"And if they attack?"
"I will kill you."
"No, I don't believe you. They will come for me. I'm sure of it."
She frowned and her eyes stared hard into the trees, as though willing an army of elves to appear, but the forest remained still. "I'm sure of it," she said more quietly, trying to convince herself, even as her confidence diminished in the face of his logical explanation.
She fell quiet and, as her eyes studied the dark brown tree boughs that latticed the velvety green canopy above them, she was reminded of the dark yet beautiful shadows of Mirkwood, and of her cozy room in Thranduil's palace.
Right now, the wood elves would be gathering in the great hall, waiting for the King to arrive. Sharp at 7pm, he would enter the hall, no doubt looking causally resplendent, with his striking black-haired Queen at his side. Queen Isobel was a story to be told. The granddaughter of the great Sinda smith Eol, an elf rumoured to be King Thingol's get, an elf who killed his own wife and whose son, Maeglin, joined with the Dark Lord. Together Maeglin and Morgoth unleashed an evil that effectively ended the First Age of Middleearth. But against the odds, Maeglin had survived the First Age, and it was Haldir who had killed him, only 35 years before. Some say that Isobel took pity on her uncle, but Amdir did not believe it.
She looked at Uldor and tilted her head. Odd. There was something about his features, as he leaned down to adjust the tie of his boots, that reminded her of Queen Isobel. Her chest tightened as she realized that there was a very real chance she may never see her loved ones again, and her eyes filled with tears at the thought of it.
Uldor looked up and caught her eyes, then exhaled impatiently. "More tears? You act as though this is the worst thing that could happen to you."
Her brows knit, indignant, as she looked at him. "It IS."
He chuckled sardonically. "I can assure, it is not. You are too sensitive. You will have to toughen up if you're to survive in the Brown Lands."
Hands bound, she couldn't wipe her eyes and wished the damn tears would dry quickly on her face, useless as they were. "Are you suggesting that I should become as hard and callous as you? Kidnapping people, gagging them and dragging them through a forest?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head and, to her surprise, he said "No, it's not. You are right in that I am hard, and I am callous. And that which has made me that way I would not wish on you or anyone else. In fact, I would do what I can to ensure that what happened to me doesn't happen again. You are angry, but what you don't understand is that taking you makes this treaty possible. A treaty that could save thousands of lives. It could ensure that no one ever suffers what I suffered, ever again."
He abruptly rose and began to repack the travel bag, his face pained with memory. Amdir watched him with astonished eyes. "If you are really after this treaty, why not just say as much to Lord Celeborn?"
He snorted. "It was premature. I set out for Lorien simply to ascertain whether they would be worth our negotiating with. Nothing more."
"So to spy on their defenses."
He shrugged. "Yes, that is one way of putting it. I didn't mean to be captured; my intent was to return to my men to seek consensus before initiating an alliance, and if they agreed, invite representatives of Lothlorien to The Brown Lands to talk."
A small fly landed on her ear and she jerked her head to dislodge it, but it kept flying around her.
"Why do you require their consensus when you are their leader? Can you not make your own decisions?"
Uldor's harsh look cut her to pieces. "I do not treat my men like children, the way your Elf Lords treat their subjects. In my company, each man has an equal say. I lead them with their permission, not at my own pleasure."
She exhaled and looked to the side, tracking the fly as it flew a few feet away, then returned to explore her face with even greater enthusiasm. She glanced at Uldor. "You speak like a man, but you forget you are also an elf."
"And you speak like an elf. All arrogant entitlement with an irritating dose of ignorance."
"You forgot to add 'overly sensitive'"
"Thank you for the reminder. OVERLY SENSITIVE. You, Amdir of Mirkwood, have forgotten that you should try not to annoy me. Keep your mouth closed and I'll keep the gag in my pocket instead of in your mouth."
She burned to swear at him but wisely chose to remain silent, and left it to her expressive eyes to tell him what she thought of him and his blasted gag. The silence lasted all of 30 seconds, until the fly landed on her check and she stood, violently shaking her head.
"Can you PLEASE release my arms?!"
If he was amused or irritated at her outburst, she couldn't know, for his face remained impassively blank. "You will run," he said.
She sighed. "Please. I will not run, I just need to…move."
They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then, with a barely perceptible nod, he walked behind her and untied her hands. She immediately wrapped her arms around her shoulders, luxuriating in the stretch of her shoulders muscles.
"Better?"
She nodded and almost smiled, but caught herself in time. She was not about to thank him for untying her!
They walked throughout the night, at least another 10 or 15 miles. He still walked behind her, and he still caught her when she stumbled, but now his touch was a measure more civil, a tiny but noticeable measure, and as the dawn began to light the sky, he found a small copse of trees where the ground was covered in thick moss.
Uldor tied her hands again, but in the front this time, and left a length of rope which he tied to one of his wrists.
They laid down on their sides facing each other, uncomfortably close for Amdir, hands bound in front, sharing the warmth of the travel cloak he'd grabbed back at her flet.
Within minutes, the Easterling was fast asleep, but even in her exhaustion, Amdir was too tense to sleep. Instead she studied his face in the soft dawn light. His hair was pulled back in a single braid and sleep had caused the lines of his face to relax. His mouth was slack and long black eyelashes fluttered with dreams. His jaw was perfectly square and the angle of his cheekbone looked quite sharp from her horizontal perspective. He was, quite simply, beautiful.
She sighed and gently rolled onto her back, careful to move slowly so as not to tug the hand that was attached to hers and wake him.
Sleep made even the most hardened criminals look innocent and vulnerable. She thought about his story and looked back at him. He had seen his parents murdered in front of him, this was something she could relate to, for she could never forget the day the Orc company murdered her parents. And then he was raped for years, or perhaps it was consensual? She shook her head. No, he was a slave. It could never be consensual. And now that the elf who had raped him was dead, he had become a fierce leader of men.
It was not hard to understand why he might be hardened, where the callousness came from. But he hardly looked either of those things now. He looked nothing more than young, and harmless, and if it hadn't been for the rope, she imagined that this is how two lovers would sleep: Facing each other, hands joined between them. She slowly rolled back into him and moved just an inch closer, assuring herself it was just for the warmth, and for a few hours, she slept.