CHAPTER 16 - Little I have seen
Kal opened her eyes even as a musty scent filled her nostrils. A few blinks later she recalled her location and state. The half-orc tried to rise and managed with some difficulty as her gaze flitted across the enclosure. It was dark but for two narrow recesses hewn into either opposing wall, allowing streams of grey light to fill the space. The structure was somewhat rectangular in shape and supported by wooden pillars, though one could not ascertain this from the outside.
The half-orc rose slowly and managed to prop her back against the wall. What time of day was it? Looking to her wound, she noticed the crude rags it had been bandaged with were now of a greenish yellow tint. The pain had worsened, but her feverish tremors ceased. Fragments of a conversation meandered through her wearied mind. I cannot say that I trust her... She shook her head, dreading to dwell on vaguely irritating and disheartening thoughts and instead strained her eyes in search of her weapon.
It was then she noticed the boy. Celeg was seated some ways in the corner from her cross-legged, her scimitar before him. Bright brown eyes followed her curiously, but there was no trace of fear in them now.
"Greetings...," she tried halfheartedly, her voice raspy with disuse.
The boy moved from his position and drew closer to Kal.
"Wait, could you... could you bring my weapon with as well?" She wanted it close. It was always best to have a means of defense at hand. Especially now, as powerless as she felt.
Celeg looked back to the scimitar, obligingly grasping the handle with both small hands and proceeding to drag it after.
"Celeg, leave it there," a new voice sounded from without.
Her head snapped to attention, meeting steely grey eyes boring down on her. There was much distrust and wariness in them as orc and man regarded each other in silence. After all, this aging human had shot her without hesitation, and Kal felt her body become taut with the familiar tension before a battle.
She heard the elf call him Faramir. At length the man spoke, approaching the corner where Kal lay in measured steps until he stood before her. "You have no use for your blade here," his terse voice washed over her.
Her eyes narrowed. "It is best to be cautious among strangers."
"Particularly among strangers your masters have routinely enslaved and destroyed."
Kal looked away. Similar words she had heard the elf say before. Somehow her arrow wound was become much less bothersome than his searching eyes.
Weighing her words, Kal settled for neutrality. "My only wish, is to be left to my own."
The old man shifted his tattered cloak to one side, kneeling beside the cot. Celeg had since joined them, seating himself with his legs bent under him at Kal's feet.
"Is it now," he said with a smile which never reached his eyes. But he pursued nothing more. Instead the old ranger pointed to her bandages. "Those need changing by the looks of it."
Kal said nothing.
"Has the pain subsided?"
Such undue care from the one who had inflicted said pain. "It has not," she answered shortly.
Faramir nodded in understanding before rising and heading to the opposite corner of the shack. Kal observed various dried herbs were hung about the walls. He returned with a few sparse leaves and Kal saw him retrieve a crude wooden bowl and another tool similar to a pestle. She had seen the like before on the dark alchemists' working tables. Silently the man began to mince the leaves, adding water and sprinkling them with a reddish powder.
"Where... where is Legolas?" she tried, seeing there was no sign of either wolf or elf.
Faramir turned to face her. "Oh, on given names basis I see. How interesting."
She frowned. "What else to call him but by his name?"
A smirk was her only reply. "It is not my place to reveal details he has not deemed to share." Kal recalled Faramir referring to the elf as a prince. New questions arose, but she reined them in.
The ranger seemed to be thinking. "And do they give names in the Black Land?" he asked, eyes on his motions with the pestle.
"My name is Kal," she muttered.
"I am called Faramir."
The half-orc wanted to say that she already knew, but refrained from revealing she had heard part of the conversation from the previous night, and his story. She expected nothing but hatred from someone who had lived through so much. But now it did not come, the man before her calm and at ease. This human had once been with family, boasted a place to call his own. What it must be like to have others of your own blood depend on you, Kal had no notion. It was the most she knew of it.
It was the ranger who broke the silence. "Legolas has gone to the river in search of sustenance. He will return in due time."
"I see." She then saw Faramir approach her, and imperceptibly shifted closer to the wall.
He knelt before her, bowl in hand. "This must be applied to the wound." He placed the bowl next to her and stepped away.
"What is it?" Kal eyed the strange mixture suspiciously.
"Something to prevent your dying from infection," he said in the same severe tone from before. "And here is more cloth," the ranger neared and threw the same beside the bowl.
Kal nodded, unsure how to express her mind. If it were not for him, she might have already been outside the close whereabouts of Mordor by now. When the half-orc met the cold stare of the old man she found him appraising her.
Faramir crossed his arms. "How old are you?"
Kal shifted uncomfortably at the direct query. She was unsure of her age truth be told, and had never counted her time in Middle-Earth though she had learned how. "I know not. But when I was similar to the boy in stature His armies were already being dispatched across your lands to the west."
"After the war then," Faramir mused. "Oh but you are a young one," he smiled in a way which caused a sliver of dread rise within Kal. "And how come your home ceased to be to your liking?"
"There is nothing to like there," she grumbled.
"So I have heard. And yet, I would assume the case to be different for one of your... origins."
"You know nothing of my origins," she snapped then, still weary and feeling the pain in her shoulder flare.
"Neither do you, by the looks of it," the smile turned into a taunting grin. But then unexpectedly the ranger sighed, turning on his heel to leave the shack. He looked over his shoulder at her. "I would not have wounded you had I known you posed no threat."
This stunned her. What was the point? He had wounded her, the deed was done. And then her eyes turned into slits, thinking how utterly mistaken this human was. She could be very much a threat, and a part of her wished to show him.
"I assume you still move poorly, and the pain rakes. I would stay put if I were you." He turned to the child. "Celeg, come."
Footsteps died away and Kal was left alone once more to mull over the shadows of her thoughts, wishing she were anywhere else.
Faramir descended between the trees, his bow and arrows slung about him and Celeg in tow. They would gather wood for fire. His eyes fell on Legolas who was just approaching from the direction leading to the river bank, a few small and slender fish hanging by a thin string in hand.
"All is clear," he said unto the old ranger.
"Gratitude, my friend."
"I will see you back here," the elf spoke and with that they parted ways.
When Legolas entered the shack his vision drew in every detail by force of habit, eventually falling on Kal, now struggling in a corner. She had discarded her belt and her tunic was opened at the front while she attempted to remove the garb.
"What are you doing?" he asked when her eyes found him.
Kal sighed, her good hand falling to her side. "What does it look like I am doing?" The old man left me medicine of sorts to nurse this," she pointed to the wound.
Eron ran swiftly to the cot, intent on regaling the half-orc with his liveliness. To her amazement the wolf stopped just before Kal and gently climbed beside her, resting its head on her knee. He sighed contentedly.
Kal smiled and ruffled the now richer and thicker fur. "Someone has fed today?" she grinned, looking to the elf.
Legolas hung his fare to a wooden post before approaching the half-orc. He observed the bowl and rags. It seemed Faramir was still as wary of her as she was of him. "Can you sit straight?" he asked without preamble, kneeling beside a surprised Kal.
She looked somewhat disconcerted at him. "Aye."
"Then do so."
"Why?"
"Do you want aid tending your wound or no?"
Kal narrowed her eyes at him but somehow her pride peeled away from her will, as with times before in his presence. "Could you?..."
"I have done it the first time after all," he said evenly.
The elf had dressed her injury? Kal swallowed and nodded, proceeding to remove half of her tunic. She looked back to him. "I, cannot... this side..." she trailed away, unsure how and indeed never having asked anyone for such aid before.
Legolas shifted closer and reached, lifting her hand to pull the garment off and place it aside. Kal held her breath, the gentleness of this touch so completely opposed to what she knew of the elf.
Now half-naked, Kal began to shiver. Her eyes followed the elf but his focused attention was on the wound. Kal noticed his hair was slightly damp and falling freely around his shoulders. She was reminded of her own dire need of bathing, and longed for the cold river waters.
The feel of foreign fingers brought her back as they trailed over her skin, steadily unwrapping the stained material, reaching around her back.
"You did not tell the ranger of your captivity," Kal found herself saying. Nor of how I was about to end you, she might have added but refrained from it.
His gaze went to her but for a moment before returning to his task. "Faramir has been through many trials. He does not need you to worry about atop it all."
Her lips curved upward. "Of course."
"Now, apply the salve to the injury," he presented Kal the bowl with its green brown contents.
Their eyes locked as Kal dipped her fingers inside the container the elf held in his hand.
"Take a generous amount," he urged.
Kal felt the adherent blend stick to her fingers. She began smearing the ointment onto the reddened gash with her good hand, biting her lip at the soreness in the swollen area. When done she looked back to see the elf already preparing the replacement bandages.
"The arrow did not pierce through completely. You should be fit to travel within a few days. But I am not sure about wielding a weapon. Now shift so you are facing me," he instructed and Kal complied as the cloth was wrapped around her shoulder wound twice around. Her eyes were half opened, her skin now attuned to the warm touch. The salve must have begun to release its effects, for her lashes became heavier. Her mind felt engulfed in heavy mist and unawares the half-orc drifted into a strange place beyond consciousness. The pain was there, but whispering of unknown meaning lulled her into a state of soothing meandering.
Her thoughts dispersed, mingling with others. And soon strange visions materialized before her eyes. Images of dark green glades, a shade of color she had never seen before. And then there were large courts with wide arches, strikingly different to what she had seen within the dark and stifling structures of Mordor. Winding stairs lit by shimmering lights led to unknown heights. Lilting laughter, and bright figures engaged in entrancing movements together. Kal felt a weak and gentle flow of warmth span from her center to the tips of her fingers. This was beyond anything she had ever seen, or felt. She was spellbound, wanting to linger, to see more of it all.
Then just as sudden as they flooded her, the images disappeared along with the touch and Kal found herself back in the poorly lit shed.
Her gaze fell on Legolas. He was regarding her with wide eyes, and Kal felt distraught despite herself under the intensity of that resentful gaze. His deep frown aided matters little. Looking downward in a haze, Kal saw her fingers were pressing into her chest, and clasped over his hand.
The elf sharply snatched his arm away and rose all in one single motion, turning his back on Kal without a word to head outside. He passed by Faramir who was just entering the shack with Celeg. "I will return shortly," he threw hastily, going around the old man.
Faramir did not miss the remnants of distress marring the features of his friend. He looked back to find Kal now attempting to pull her tunic back on, and failing. He sighed and made a motion with his head to Celeg.
Kal saw the boy approach as she struggled, still taken aback and confused by the unusual happening of earlier and more so by the reaction of the elf. She barely felt Celeg reach and gently aid her into the garment, her mind still dwelling on peaceful green shades and the unfamiliar warmth of strong fingers.
A/N:
Happy New Year!