Of Elves and Men – Chapter 1
Argarath took a good look at the young, bedraggled human who was crouching at the base of an elm tree. He had appeared to be asleep when they first found him, but had woken with a start not long afterwards. He was covered in mud from head to foot and completely soaked – which was interesting in itself as they were far from even a brook, and it had not rained in several days. He did not look harmful, but appearances could be deceptive, and in any case, by decree, any intruders found near Rivendell were to be taken and brought to the Lord Elrond. He turned to the rest of his hunting party and gave a wry grin. "It appears our hunt is to be cut short. We must take this one to Lord Elrond".
The elf (for that is what it (he?) was, he was almost sure now) turned back to Michael and spoke. The words were at once strange and yet familiar, but the hand gesture was clear. The blade moved away from his throat and Michael rose slowly and warily to his feet, keeping his hands in the open. The leader of the group sheathed his blade in one smooth movement and stepped towards him, drawing a long cord from the pouch at his waist. At the same time, two of the archers on either side let their bows down and started towards him. Michael smiled a little, shrugged and slowly turned round, placing his arms in the small of his back in an optimum position for binding. There was no way he was going to make trouble – there wasn't much he could do against seven armed warriors, when he hadn't even a penknife on him, so the only choice was to cooperate and make things easy on himself.
The elves shared a look that spoke volumes and the two archers dropped back again. Argarath tied the cord firmly round the boys left wrist and right forearm, crossed to his right bicep, passed round the right side of the neck to the front, back down the left side and across to the right bicep, and from there back down to the right wrist and left forearm. This made a double cross pattern vertically on the young prisoner's back.
While the elf was busy, Michael took the chance to take in his surroundings. This wasn't where he had fallen asleep, certainly! For one thing it wasn't raining… He winced as a knot was pulled tight and noted that the elf certainly knew what he was doing. There was no chance of him getting out of this by himself, unless he dislocated his shoulders, and he was not about to do that unless absolutely necessary! The elf spun him round by the shoulder and let go quickly as Michael flinched at the pressure on a large bruise. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw a wave of concern flash across the normally impassive face of the elf leader. Now that'd be a rare thing – captors who care about their captive! In Michael's experience, the only ones who did that were those that kidnapped for ransom, and they were usually just interested in keeping the hostage alive long enough to get the money.
Argarath motioned the group forward and gave the boy a gentle push in the right direction, noting again with unease the almost unnoticeable hiss of pain that escaped him. Halfway down the path he halted the company again, locked eyes with the boy and pointed behind him. The boy turned, to find Argarath's best archer no more than five paces behind him, with bow drawn. Argarath walked up to him, lifted his chin to meet his eyes, and said calmly "If you run, he will shoot you before you have gone ten paces." He wasn't sure that the boy had understood his words, but it appeared that he understood the gist of what was said, so the company moved off in the direction of Rivendell.