Oh great. Caught again. These stupid orcs were getting smarter. I was heading north on a recon mission for the elves, a simple mission. Get information and get out. Since it worked out so great, I am currently chained to a tree, the shackles digging into my wrists, blood dripping from my nose, thanks to an untimely beating. Still haven't learned to keep my mouth shut, not that I ever will.
A small orc encampment was about two leagues away from Erebor on the northern side of the mountain, a sight I haven't seen in a year. It loomed out in the night, the torches from the guard towers blinking like stars. The orcs were surprisingly quiet, their fires low to the ground, and the squabbles at an absolute minimum. The only sounds were grunts of discomfort, metal grinding across steal as the weapons were sharpened.
I used my gift, inherited from my elven mother, of above average sight to study my surroundings. A gentle drizzle fell from the sky, though not uncomfortable, it was not appreciated. The dark deepened as the night watches grew tired. Trying to release my bonds, I gave up with a sigh as the iron dug into my raw flesh. Knowing it was no use, I used my time to think about how far I had travelled since the last time I was near the great dwarven kingdom.
I had left with no warning about a year ago, abandoning the company soon after they reached their home. I found Midnight grazing in a small meadow, on the outskirts of Mirkwood. We made our way southwest, intending to go back over the mountains to Rivendell to assure them in person that I was okay. But life happens and I ended up finding a small village in the Gladden Fields. It had been ransacked by Easterling marauders; lowlifes that had been kicked out of their own society and delighted in ruining other people's lives because they messed up their own.
Leading their small number of warriors after the raiders, we barely managed to return with the three young girls they had kidnapped alive. Everyone had bruises and gashes, some small, some much more serious. I helped the old healer, more dead than alive, with all the wounded, ignoring my own injuries. Not that I knew I had any, adrenalin still kicked in. I mounted Midnight and left soon after.
It was nigh on three hours when I finally knew something was wrong. I opened my eyes in surprise when I ended up on the ground. Somehow, I had blacked out and slipped out of my saddle. Midnight nickered worriedly when I sat up groaning. Reaching around to feel my shoulder blade, my fingers came back wet with a sticky dark liquid.
Dragging my satchel off the saddle, I dug around in it for some bandages. Barely finding what I needed in my severe lack of medical resources, I wrapped my bleeding shoulder as well as I could. Now I had a more legitimate reason to hasten towards Imladris.
I was too far south to go back north and cross over the Misty Mountains on the eastern side. I was past Isengard by the time I realized it. Midnight had taken me away from the mountains, mostly because she could feel the change in the air. Dark clouds hung over the looming mountains, threatening heavy snowfall. Of course that was over the mountains not over the plains which I was on.
It was raining in torrents now though. Growling at the weather and the cold, I shoved nausea down for the hundredth time. Midnight was drenched just as much as I was, but at least she wasn't covered in mud from falling into the heavy substance. I had long since tied myself to the saddle to keep from falling to the ground again. My head drooped and my shoulders sagged, heat radiating off my body.
Not even realizing that we had entered the forest around Rivendell, I was surprised when a tree branch slapped me in the face. Thinking it was an attacker, I sloppily tried to unsheathe my sword but only managed to untie myself and end up on the forest floor. Midnight stood guard as I slipped out of consciousness, shivering in the cold.
I woke up in the healing ward of Lord Elrond, dazed and feeling nauseous. Thankfully, my Daeradar was moving towards me with a bucket. Emptying an empty stomach, I ended up dry heaving and coughing through shuddering breaths. I blacked out again, but that was probably good, I needed sleep to get rid of a raging fever. When I did come to, and I was coherent enough, my uncles were sitting in chairs, well… sleeping in them.
I cleared my throat and forced a smile into suppression as the two elven warriors leapt from their seats and faced the door in matching fighting stances, their arms held out in front of them. Realizing the origin of the sound did not come from the door, the twins turned and faced the window, which happened to be past my bed.
Upon noticing me awake, they both shouted for their father, who rushed in on the scene of his sons hugging me tightly. After issuing his own greeting, I sat quietly as the three elf lords rebuked me nonstop. When they had finished their rant, I humbly reminded them that I had no control over the fact that I got hurt, again. Apparently, they had word from Legolas about the spider incident.
I spent about a month in Rivendell, spending time with my elven family, before heading out on the road again. I couldn't stay cooped up in Rivendell, not when I was reminded of my time here with the company. Their faces came up often in my thoughts, though I forced myself not to dwell on the past. I couldn't go back, no matter how much I wanted to. When I was finally allowed to leave the elven house, I headed directly to Bree, mostly to check in with old Butterbur, letting him know I was still alive, and seeing if any merchants needed a scout. Here I was, back to my old job. I turned Midnight loose to roam the landscapes, knowing she would rather do that then traipse across the countryside.
Thankfully there was a boatload of caravans in need of help. Some as a cook, some as a scout. It kept me busy for months. I finished up a long trip, way too far into Easterling territory, when I decided to stop in a town on the far western edge of Rhûn. Hungry, tired and not really paying attention to my surroundings, I almost ran right into a dwarf, barely managing to back-step before hitting him.
Then I ended up falling on my rear when I saw who was standing in front of me. His bald head was a decent giveaway though. I quickly rolled out of view, hoping he hadn't seen my movement when he turned around. Maybe he only turned around because of the noise, but I wasn't staying and finding out.
As I scamper down a dark alley, I realized that Dwalin wouldn't be in Rhûn alone. He must have one of the Durin's with him. I couldn't let them find me; they were probably furious about what happened almost a year ago when I left them. I quickly slid to a stop before stepping out into the street. Peering around the corners, I searched for any dwarves in between the men and soldiers. Not spotting any, I braved the streets again, crossing my fingers that I would make it out of the city without getting caught.
The gate was in sight, a merchant's caravan just beginning to roll out. Then the shouts started behind me. I glanced in the direction of the noise making eye contact with the young prince of Erebor, but quickly turned back around and dashed towards the departing caravan. Ducking around persons and animals, I darted back out the backside and entered a crowd headed into the city again making sure the dwarves saw me. Then I quickly rerouted myself and caught up to the front of the caravan line and vaulted myself next to the leader.
"Do me a favor and hide me please?" I shoved a pouch of coins into the matching hand of a very surprised merchant. He nodded and shouldered the heavy canvas of the wagon open. Tumbling inside, I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dimmed light inside. The merchant's family was seated inside; they had heard my conversation and their eyes showed some amount of fear. That was probably understandable.
"Um, hi."
The older woman was understandable surprised; here was a stranger, dressed in foreign ware, and speaking her language. A little girl reciprocated my wave, her twin braids shaking when she turned to look at her mother. I conversed a slight mistruth to the mother which she thankfully bought. Something or other about my abusive partner trying to catch me. Never thought I would use that excuse. Thank you, Michael, you managed to make a reasonable lie.
Prince Michael was the next in line ruler of Harad, a kingdom south of Gondor. He had offered my parents a marriage alliance, which they thankfully forced out the door, literally. The dwarves thought I went back into the city so that would buy me enough time to get far away from them. When I looked back in the street at Kili, I knew the exact moment that he recognized me. His eyes grew wide and they were filled with such hope. That alone puzzled me, but I couldn't think about that now.
Nightfall was upon us when I thanked the merchant and his family for their help. Telling them of my wish to depart from their caravan, wasn't the best thing to say. The mother was emphatic upon the point that my pursuers could still be tracking me, her husband joining in her concerns. Seeing as their children were asleep, I confessed to them that I wasn't really running from an abusive relationship, but a job gone sour.
I told them I was a scout and the people I had been working for, didn't want to give me my full payment, and when I threatened to involve the authorities, they didn't exactly like that. Even though that hadn't happened with the dwarves, it had happened a couple months ago with a shady set of merchants. Thankfully they thought I was just a young stable boy with a mouth. I had learned never to trust merchants after that, but the ones I was with proved to be of the kindly sort. Thanking them for the help and hospitality, I left their company and began my journey to the Woodland halls.
The elves were glad to see me, Legolas especially. Upon hearing about a solo reconnaissance missions they could find no one to take up, I decided to put my name in for option. Legolas wasn't so sure, but his father, King Thranduil, was more than okay with me taking the job. It had nothing to do with the all the pranks that randomly started happening when I arrived.
And that is how I got myself captured by orcs. They were quiet and I didn't expect an attack. When they took me hostage, I could practically hear Legolas and my uncles groaning in exasperation. So there you have it, the story leading up to me being chained to a tree.