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Without further ado,


Dignity

They're pushing me slowly forward. I hear them grumbling and feel their yells in my ears. They're angry with my dignity. They try to beat me into submission without physically marring me. They're having a difficult time. I am young and strong. They are weak and—judging from the amount of ribs I can count—they are starved.

I just wish I knew what they have in store.

I know they are slavers. But surely if they were going to sell me surely they would sell all of us? Or at least Arthoniel and not me? One would think that they would have more buyers for a pretty young female than a young man?

Not that I'm upset that they're selling me and not Arthoniel—If they are selling me.

I tell you I would hurt them faster than they can say, "May Sauron rise," if they threatened to touch her. I love my sister more than life. She is my twin. We always understand each other. People say that twins can communicate telepathically with each other. We cannot. But it is twins like us that make people think that.

I'm overjoyed that they've chosen to sell me and not her if that is truly what they plan.

But surely that's the only thing that makes sense.

I feel terror, horror, and outrage grip my heart. They are going to sell me! Me. The future king of Gondor! How dare they! They intend to make me—Me!—a submissive, dutiful slave! Well I tell you I am full of Duty…To my country!

I look around quickly. There are only ten of them. Surely I can take them. My hands are tied in front of me but I have my feet. I swing my fists into the closest man's jaw. He screams. I kick a man in the groin and head but another man. Several grab my shoulders and try to pull me down. But they are weak! I swing my arms over my head and hit one of them on what feels like the bridge of the nose. I hear a crack.

I glance around. The men are getting over their shock. I swing my fists into one more man's solar plexus and run.

I get farther and farther away from them. The trees are flying by fast. Not as fast as I could with my hands untied and proper balance restored though. I jump over a fallen log. I splash through a creek. In the corner of my eye I see animals running. I can hear the squirrels chattering and the birds chirping their annoyance with me. In the back of my mind I can hear the hunt fading in the background. I can smell the freedom.

Pain shoots through my shoulder. I bite back a scream. They shot me! I catch my balance on a tree with my hands and try to look at it. It's deep. Someone's a good shot.

I could let them take me. They might heal me so they can sell me. But they might consider me too dangerous to let live. No. My only choice is to run and hope I find someone friendly.

I hear them gaining on me. I take a deep breath, clench my teeth and set off on a slow run.

With each step my shoulder hurts more. I never knew how much one moves one's arms while one runs, especially when one is running with one's arms tied together.

I don't hear them any more. Maybe I've succeeded.

I fall down. I pull my arms under me and try not to scream. Oh this hurts. I don't know how I'll get up, how I'll go on.

I remember the tales of Boromir and how he continued to fight after he was implanted with three arrows in him. But I am not Boromir. Boromir was not running for thirty minutes total, and ten of those minutes spent with an arrow in his shoulder blade. Also, He had spent years experiencing battle wounds and was much more used to puncture wounds than I am.

I can withstand broken arms, black eyes, bruises that look like a troll sat on me, whatever you throw at me that one would get in an ordinary fist fight, but I have not much experience with wounds from sharp objects.

I take a deep breath. I need to get a hold of myself. I need to get up and start running.

I pull my face out of the dirt and look up. Two sets of boots greet my face.


I'm pretty sure this is the last you'll here from Dafydd for a long time, so enjoy it.

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