Author's Note: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers for your encouragement, questions, and comments, especially Dipdab 500, Princess Arimae, and Littlefish for taking the time to review each chapter.
Princess Arimae- Legolas is 80 years old. The human equivalent would be approximately 18.
This is the last chapter that I wrote originally, which was a horrible thing to do to my readers. However, do not dismay. I do have the next chapter written and do plan to continue working on this story. All your reviews are greatly appreciated.
Chapter 3- Coming of Age
The cool predawn winds blew gently against Legolas's upturned face as he gazed at the lightening sky. The waning light of Earendil reflected in the silver tear that slid down the Elf's bruised cheek. His forlorn heart found little comfort in the pastels of dawn. This should have been a moment of excitement and glory for him. The realm should have been singing his praises, merrymaking and joining in the coming of age celebration for Greenwood's youngest prince.
Instead, Legolas sang quietly to himself in the cold solitude, pouring his pain, anger, and loneliness into the hushed melody. The raucous cawing of large black birds interrupted his song. As he turned to look at the low flying birds, he winced, bruised and aching muscles protesting the movement. Legolas's back was all but healed from Saleros's beating, but the last four days had added many bruises to replace the welts. Breathing was still slightly painful from three cracked ribs incurred during a "dispute" with Helgar. However, Legolas felt it was worth it knowing Helgar had been unable to sit comfortably for the next two days.
The rumblings of Legolas's empty stomach induced thoughts of the lavish feast Thranduil had planned in his son's honor for this evening and reopened his longing for home. The knowledge that Saleros had the power to withhold all food from him burned the captive's heart.
By now, the camp had begun its morning preparations for the day. Meek steps accompanied by the clanking of leg chains heralded the approach of the slave who seemed to have been given care of Legolas. The man's weathered face wreathed in short brown hair graying at the temples was a mixture of concern and curiosity as he placed the Elf's daily water ration near the glaring prince.
"Please, let me clean your wounds. I fear…"
"Get out of my sight, Slave," hissed Legolas, taking his anger out on the innocent human.
Benoni had expected rejection and, with a nod, turned away to help break camp. He kept his gaze down as he passed two guards coming to unchain the Elf from the isolation post. Saleros seemed to realize putting his Elven captive with the rest of the thirty human slaves would only cause trouble at this point. Therefore, the defiant Elf was staked slightly away from the rest.
Legolas leveled his best glare on the approaching guards as he stood to prepare for the coming confrontation. Both guards paled, but came on, clubs ready to strike if the captive made any aggressive moves. Feeling the need to vent his writhing emotions, Legolas charged the men the moment they came within reach. Faster than the eye could follow, the enraged Elf had flipped one guard on his back and kicked the feet out from under the other. Punching the fallen guard in the face when he tried to rise, Legolas felt the satisfying crunch of bone before ducking away from the other guard's club. Unable to stop the weapon's momentum, the man accidentally struck his companion in the stomach. Legolas picked up the moaning guard's own club and brandished it at the confused human trying to apologize to his partner. Suddenly, a black whip wrapped itself around the Elf's wrist and jerked Legolas backwards. Put off balance by the sudden move, Legolas crashed heavily into the wooden post, jarring his cracked ribs. A moaning gasp escaped his lips as he tried to stand and face his assailant.
Saleros glowered at his captive, quickly grabbing the neck chain and pulling him forward. Legolas tried to resist, planting his feet in the soft prairie grass, but a severe kick to his right knee sent waves of pain shooting up his leg and he fell to the ground. Several more kicks to his legs and stomach served as punishment for his futile rebellion. Saleros continued to supervise as Legolas was dragged to the slave wagon and chained to one of the iron rings fastened to its side.
"Go ahead and defy me now, Snaga. I will teach you to tremble at my every word," sneered Saleros before turning back to oversee the last preparations before the camp moved out.
*****
Every painful step that took Legolas farther from his home seemed to drain the weary Elf. When the bulky wagon finally rolled to a stop, Legolas had to force himself to remain standing instead of dropping to his knees as his overtaxed body begged. The guards went about releasing the slaves from the slave line so they could help prepare the camp. The wagons were drawn into a large circle with the horses picketed at one end near the supply wagon. The slave wagon and isolation post were positioned at the other end, far from the warm fires the guards gathered round to ward off the autumn chill.
Two guards came to release Legolas. However, instead of immediately taking him over to the isolation post being hammered into the ground as they had done every previous night, the guards dragged Legolas to the other side of the camp. When he caught sight of Saleros, a sudden sense of foreboding filled him. The slaver made a totally black silhouette against the blood red of the setting sun, his whip coiled in his left hand, his right hand on his hip in a cocky stance.
One of the guards kicked Legolas's feet out from under him, and the Elf landed hard on his hands and knees a few feet in front of Saleros. The human's triumphant gaze as he approached put Legolas on edge. Something was about to happen.
"Coming of age today, aren't you?" began Saleros.
Legolas's head snapped up at the human's words, eyes huge. How could Saleros know about his coming of age today?
Almost as if in response to his silent question, the slaver spoke. "Your father is quite a forceful writer," he remarked, pulling a wrinkled letter from his belt. "Such an occurrence calls for something special. I'm afraid an Elven feast is out of the question, but perhaps I can come up with something else. Helgar, if you would be so good as to secure our honored guest."
Helgar seemed to be in on Saleros's plan, and he gleefully went to work. With much protest, Legolas was finally staked spread-eagled on his stomach to the ground. He tried to keep Saleros in his sight as the human circled about him, but his position prevented it. He could still hear the slaver though, and the man's words chilled his heart.
"Coming of age is a monumental event, a standard for measuring the rest of your life. Among men it is customary to give a special gift to the one coming of age that will help them in their adult life. Since I do not want you to feel left out, I have a very special gift for you."
Saleros turned to Helgar who was kneeling beside the fire. Taking a long metal object from him, Saleros turned to his wide-eyed captive with a leer on his face that made Legolas's heart clench in fear. Saleros knelt by the bound Elf's head and held the foreign object so Legolas could see it. The golden red of the setting sun glinted off the polished iron bar that connected to a metal figure at its base. Saleros laughed at the Elf's confused expression.
"I realize that Elves do not use such things, but men find brands very useful in identifying their belongings."
Saleros held the brand so Legolas could see the shape at its base: the metal intricately outlined a roaring dragon, its wings outstretched, with an S rune on its breast.
"You see, Elf, this is the mark of a slave. This way, no matter how far they run, how they try to hide, this mark reveals slaves for what they are."
Finishing this last speech, Saleros walked over to one of the slaves working to prepare the evening meal a few feet away. Grabbing the thin man by the chain connecting his collar and wrists, Saleros pulled the slave over to Legolas, making the man kneel with his back to the Elf. Taking hold of the thread bare, tattered remains of the slave's tunic, Saleros tore it back to reveal the man's right shoulder. The sight of the dark brown scar set off sharply against the slave's pale skin made Legolas recoil in horror and disgust. Saleros pushed the shame-faced slave away and sneered down at his captive.
"You see how such a device can be quite useful."
"It will not help you with me," hissed Legolas, trying to regain control of his rapidly beating heart. The pain of such a process would be excruciating, but the prince found comfort in the knowledge that he would never retain such a mark.
Saleros seemed to pay no attention to his captive's words and, turning, gave the brand to Helgar to begin heating in the fire. The slaver's tone was calm, almost conversational as he strolled over to a table set up a few feet away in front of a tent. His words were directed at Helgar, but were clearly meant for the bound Elf.
"Did you know, Helgar, that Elves don't scar? It is a strange fact, but true. Another one of their superior qualities it seems." The slaver's lip twitched into a mirthless smile at his last statement.
"But, sir," began Helgar, startled at this new information, "how are we going to…"
"I have been considering this problem since I first made my fine purchase." Saleros smiled, noticing out of the corner of his eye how his words made Legolas flinch as if he had been slapped. "And, thanks to some unnamed help, I have found a solution."
Saleros had kept his back to the watching Elf, hiding his actions at the table, but now he turned, revealing a small black bowl in his hands. Legolas felt his breath leave his body, his eyes riveted on the foreboding object. As the slaver moved closer, the acrid odor of the bowl's contents reached Legolas's nose, nearly making him gag. The foul smell seemed filled with malevolent breath-- the work of an unnamed evil. Legolas twisted franticly in the bonds that held him, desperate to escape the doom coming toward him, but the chains held tight.
By now the entire camp, guards and slaves alike, had crowded as near to the unfolding scene as they could. However, as Saleros turned with an unholy light reflecting in his eyes, all scrambled to get back. Even Helgar momentarily looked as if he wished to depart the circle before steeling himself to his duties.
The sun had set, except for a glowing strip against the black horizon. The dark night seemed to coalesce around the fire-lit circle, as if to hide this evil from all light. Saleros truly did look possessed, the fire's red light dancing across his cruel features as he knelt to place the dish next to the struggling Elf. Shuddering and coughing as the toxic fumes invaded his body, Legolas watched through watering eyes as Saleros turned to retrieve the brand from Helgar. Holding the now glowing bar in front of him in black-gloved hands, Saleros approached.
"No!" cried Legolas, "You cannot…"
Saleros cut him off, speaking menacingly in the Black Speech. Legolas gave a strangled cry and tried to block the agonizing sound, but there was no relief. Now standing above the frantic captive Saleros switched back into the Common Tongue.
"May all know that I have purchased this Elf legally and have legitimate hold over his life. This brand declares him my slave and claims him as my property."
At Legolas's scream the whole of nature ground to a halt. Eternity seemed to pass before Saleros removed the brand from the Elf's right shoulder. Legolas's choking sobs were the only sound in the eerily silent night. Handing the cooling brand back to Helgar, Saleros removed his gloves and knelt beside the quivering youth. Terror filled eyes watched the human dip his fingers in the bowl. A thick glob of black ooze covered his hand when he pulled it from the dish. Saleros's eyes, burning with malicious ecstasy, met Legolas's horrified, pleading gaze for a brief moment before the human ground the mixture into the brand's raw wound with one swift movement.
If the Elf's cry had been horrible before, now his screams held levels of pure agony beyond the experience of any present. The earth shuddered, and a strange, deep groaning could be heard in the whistling wind.
Pain. Blinding, consuming pain overwhelmed Legolas's mind as the poison invaded his system. Able to handle no more, a black fog filled the Elf's vision. As the last vestiges of consciousness fled, Legolas heard Saleros's voice whisper in his ear.
"Welcome to your new life, Snaga."