Finnan woke up puking water.
When he regained control of himself, he looked about in stunned confusion. He lay on a beach overlooking the sea, and none of his Men, nor his horse, were in sight. The last thing he could remember was the battle turning against him, near a thousand black Uruks rushing out of hiding to chop them down, setting the field to terror and panic. He had rallied his Men for a desperate charge, and rushed at the monsters, and that was all he knew.
But how had he come to this place?
Only then did he realize that his sword was gone. His armor was off as well, leaving him only in britches and a loose linen undershirt. Finnan jumped to unsteady feet, turning about, amazed to see fertile land behind the beach. There was no sign of Mordor's destruction... Somehow, he had come down the river to the southern edge of the sea!
Then he saw a slim youth running towards him, bronze-skinned with long, black curls snapping behind him in the air. Something about the lad was familiar... Finnan's senses were still soggy, but the boy didn't seem to pose a threat. He ran up and stretched out his hand, a luminous smile on his face, beckoning Finnan silently.
"Where am I?" Finnan demanded. "Where are my Men?"
The youth only smiled. Furrowing his brow, Finnan reluctantly followed him off the beach, into the trees, where a campfire puffed smoke into an emerald canopy filled with strange, colorful songbirds. The youth took Finnan's arm, and bid Finnan sit by the fire. He brought Finnan hot liquid in the hollowed out shell of some giant nut. Finnan sniffed it cautiously, eyes on the youth. It had a sweet, spicy smell. The boy nodded, and mimed turning up the shell to drink the broth. Finnan took a sip, and found it delicious and wholesome. He drank it down quickly, washing the foul sick taste from his mouth. He felt somewhat restored right away.
"What is this place?" Finnan tried again.
The youth-astonishingly beautiful-smiled again, and raised slender fingers to his lips, covering them, shaking his head.
Finnan's scrambled brains began to work. "You are mute," he realized.
The youth nodded. Then, to Finnan's distress, he came and placed a warm hand on each of Finnan's shoulders. Held him for a moment, then lifted his palms in the air.
"You... want me to stay..." Finnan gathered.
A beaming smile. The youth nodded, his long black locks tumbling around his face. He turned and dashed off on long, bronze legs, barely concealed by a short, white linen sarong. Finnan touched fingers to his brow, feeling his sun-dried hair as he checked to be sure he didn't injure his head. Or maybe I dream, he thought, though no dream could ever be so bright, so full of scent and taste and touch.
He returned quickly, coming with a similar looking woman through the strange trees of the forest. Finnan understood instantly who the youth was: Sirhani's brother, the boy-prostitute she'd tried to push on him. A large Man in a hooded cloak followed her, carrying something close to his chest. Finnan pushed himself up again, and when he looked at the newcomers, he instantly fell into a defensive stance and grasped for the sword that wasn't there.
The hooded figure was an Uruk, not a man at all, with skin so black it seemed inky blue, and piercing steel-silver eyes. Then Finnan realized his burden was a young Uruk! Male, the creature, about the size of a three year old, began to squirm in the big buck's arms, and the Uruk mumbled something in foul speech to the imp.
Sirhani's eyes were full of laughter.
"What have you done with me?" Finnan demanded. The fire had a makeshift wooden turnspit over it, and fury flashed over Finnan, thinking they wanted him to become their meal. Well, he wouldn't be so easily brought down!
"Oh, stop it, your lordship!" Sirhani laughed. She sat gracefully on a piece of driftwood, as her brother brought her the same broth he'd served Finnan. She took a long sip, then turned bright brown eyes on Finnan. The Uruk sat beside her, but seemed reluctant to do so, and clutched the imp tightly on his lap. "We saved you, you know. I don't know why I did it. Perhaps it was that letter you wrote. Heartbreaking. Why didn't you sent it to him?"
Finnan's hands gripped to fists. "What are you saying? You... were you thieving? You invaded my privacy!? And how did you save me? And why are you with... that?"
She waved a delicate hand, silencing both Finnan and the now growling beast. "I wasn't looking to rob you, only seeking information. As for how, you were knocked off your horse into the river, and when I could I followed you, and found that you were not dead. So we took pity on you, and brought you into our boat."
"You're a spy..." Finnan breathed, astonished.
Sirhani arched a perfect black brow. The youth stood up then, went to the Uruk, and put his arms out. The Uruk shook his head; then relented. The imp took the youth's hand, jumping off the Uruk's wide lap, running together towards the beach.
"Don't let him go into the water, Ja'lil!" Sirhani cried. She looked to Finnan again, defiantly. "His mother was butchered by your warriors in the north, when she'd only gone to find her own mother and bring her south to safety. I suppose I am his mother now, and blessed be, for I don't think I can have any children of my own. This is my lover, Ranthauk. He has decided not to kill you."
Head spinning, Finnan could not find words for a long while. He understood that he was all but helpless. This Uruk-Ranthauk-could likely best him in hand to hand combat, and surely there were more of his sort nearby. Finnan's voice was full of suspicion as he asked, "And why does he... decide... not to kill me?"
Sirhani lifted her wing-like brow again. "A very good question, Lord Captain. Ranthauk?"
The Uruk slowly stretched his long legs out, leaned back on his hands, and appraised Finnan with a surly expression on his frightening face. He smacked his lips before saying, "I told you I wouldn't kill 'im yet, Sirhani. Even though he's earned a very, very slow death for his crimes against me and mine."
"But you said..." she prompted, in her lovely sing-song voice.
"What I said wuz, if his brains has more use than eatin', if he could learn, then I'd let yer friend here keep 'is life."
The Uruk turned silver eyes on Finnan, and Finnan felt his blood turn to ice.
Ranthauk grunted. "I'm s'pectin you'll go into my pot, tark. Sirhani thinks to prove me wrong. Yer life ain't nothin' more than a bet right now. How yuh feel about that?"
"And a hope," Sirhani added, laying a hand on Ranthauk's steel arm. "It is a hope too, my honey, maathum mine, is it not?"
Ranthauk made another growling grunt, yielding nothing. "We'll see."
But then, shockingly, the brutal Uruk bent down and nuzzled Sirhani's neck; and she kissed his lips, showing a tenderness she denied the knights who were her patrons and marks. Finnan almost curled his lip in disgust... Until Ranthauk, now kissing Sirhani in return, flicked those dagger eyes back to him. Gritting his jaw, Finnan nodded, his face all hardness. Betrayed, defeated, and lost, he was at their mercy, at least for the meanwhile. He supposed he would have to endure their filth, for as long as they wished to keep him as a plaything for whatever game they had devised.