Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. And thanks also for the
declaration of love. I'll never complain about getting those. So, on with
the show.
***
The trail was hard to follow, the attackers were obviously skilled at concealing their passing. Twice Bergil suggested giving up, and Sal began to wonder why he was so reluctant to come. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was afraid.
Sal dismounted in order to look better at the trail, handing his reins to Bergil. He crouched down, only to stand up quickly as he heard a sound behind him. He turned, to discover that it was only Bergil dismounting. Sal didn't bother to wonder why, instead he turned his attention to the ground. There were marks, as though something had been dragged. Or perhaps someone. Sal shuddered to think of Elessar being dragged around, prisoner for some unknown reason.
He heard footsteps again, and looked behind to see Bergil coming closer. He turned back, to see that someone had come up in front of him while he had been distracted. He reached for fortune, but not fast enough, as again the cloth with its sweet drug was pressed over his mouth and nose. He looked towards Bergil, silently pleading for help, but Bergil stood there, unmoving.
***
Sal was lying on his front when he woke. He pushed himself into a sitting position with difficulty because his hands were tied behind him. There were tight cords around his ankles and legs as well. He was in a cell, but one very different to the cells in Minas Tirith. It looked like a natural cave, which someone merely found useful and added to. There was a door of heavy wood with a large lock. More than anything, it reminded him of the orc tunnels that had been built in the ruins of Sauron's realm in Mordor. To think that anything made by men could be as terrible as that place.
Was this where Elessar had been brought? Sal guessed it was, since he had been drugged with the same substance as in the original attack. At least if he was drugged there was a chance Elessar was alive. What worried Sal most was the way Bergil had acted during the attack.
Had he been frozen by fear? Sal was no stranger to the effects of fear, but he would have thought Bergil would have done something. The expression on his face hadn't looked like fear, but perhaps the drug had been affecting Sal's mind. He was probably mistaken.
His hands and feet had begun to go numb from the cords tied round them before the door was opened. The man who entered was tall and dark, his looks that of a man of Gondor, but his clothes were torn and dirty. There was also something familiar about him. Sal had seen him before, but couldn't quite place where.
He walked over to Sal and punched him for no apparent reason. Sal's head snapped back, but he didn't cry out.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long," he said. Again the voice was familiar, and again Sal couldn't think where from.
He didn't have time to think about it. Two more men followed the first in. They grabbed Sal roughly by the shoulders and hauled him up, dragging him out the door with his feet trailing. It would have saved them a lot of trouble if they had just cut the cords round his feet. Either they were very worried about what he could do to them, or they just wanted to treat him in as undignified a manner as possible. Then again, it could be both.
When they reached their destination, the men released their grip and Sal, unable to stop himself, fell face-first onto the ground. Someone laughed. Sal looked up at a familiar figure.
"Rather a change of situation, wouldn't you say, Salafir?" The man looking down at him laughed again. Suddenly the memories snapped into place and he knew who these people were.
"This time you'll get justice, Vaylith," Sal said, though it didn't seem much like it. He didn't let himself feel afraid though. He tried to push himself into a more comfortable position, but a foot planted itself in his back pushing him down again.
He heard a sound. A cry of protest quickly stifled, and managed to turn his head to look. Bergil was standing in a corner of the room, a man pressing restraining hands on his shoulder. Bergil wasn't bound, and he wasn't trying to escape. As he looked at Sal, Sal thought he saw something in his eyes. An apology?
"You're a fool, Salafir," Vaylith continued. "For three years I have been planning my revenge, and I'm not going to let justice stop me."
"If you wanted revenge then why didn't you kill me?" Sal asked.
"And have you die a martyr with your king? No, far better for you to be killed by your own people. A traitor."
"But that won't happen now."
"No, but this fool," he jerked his head towards Bergil, "has provided me the means for a greater revenge." Sal's first thought was that Vaylith was planning on hurting Bergil to get to him, but the man continued. "Your king is filled with the hope that you will come rescue him."
"You want to show him there's no hope?" Sal asked.
"More than that," Vaylith laughed again. Sal was getting sick of the sound. "You will tell him you betrayed him."
"Never!"
"I can inflict a thousand pains on you, and on him." He let that sink in. Sal thought of Elessar, and couldn't bear to imagine him in pain. He knew what Vaylith was like, and didn't doubt he was capable of everything he threatened.
"If I tell him, you will let him go?"
"No, but I will make sure his death is painless."
"No!" Sal was surprised by the protest, and thought Vaylith was as well. Both turned to look at Bergil. "That wasn't part of the arrangement!" Sal wondered what arrangement he could be talking about. It took him a few seconds to realise it, and once he did he searched his mind desperately for another explanation. It fit, and would explain the way Bergil had acted, but still Sal didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't believe his friend was a traitor.
***
Author's note: The muses made me do it. Please don't hurt me.
I promise, explanations will be coming, if not in the next chapter then in the one after, or the one after, or the . . . well, there'll be an explanation at some point. Try not to kill me until then.
***
The trail was hard to follow, the attackers were obviously skilled at concealing their passing. Twice Bergil suggested giving up, and Sal began to wonder why he was so reluctant to come. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was afraid.
Sal dismounted in order to look better at the trail, handing his reins to Bergil. He crouched down, only to stand up quickly as he heard a sound behind him. He turned, to discover that it was only Bergil dismounting. Sal didn't bother to wonder why, instead he turned his attention to the ground. There were marks, as though something had been dragged. Or perhaps someone. Sal shuddered to think of Elessar being dragged around, prisoner for some unknown reason.
He heard footsteps again, and looked behind to see Bergil coming closer. He turned back, to see that someone had come up in front of him while he had been distracted. He reached for fortune, but not fast enough, as again the cloth with its sweet drug was pressed over his mouth and nose. He looked towards Bergil, silently pleading for help, but Bergil stood there, unmoving.
***
Sal was lying on his front when he woke. He pushed himself into a sitting position with difficulty because his hands were tied behind him. There were tight cords around his ankles and legs as well. He was in a cell, but one very different to the cells in Minas Tirith. It looked like a natural cave, which someone merely found useful and added to. There was a door of heavy wood with a large lock. More than anything, it reminded him of the orc tunnels that had been built in the ruins of Sauron's realm in Mordor. To think that anything made by men could be as terrible as that place.
Was this where Elessar had been brought? Sal guessed it was, since he had been drugged with the same substance as in the original attack. At least if he was drugged there was a chance Elessar was alive. What worried Sal most was the way Bergil had acted during the attack.
Had he been frozen by fear? Sal was no stranger to the effects of fear, but he would have thought Bergil would have done something. The expression on his face hadn't looked like fear, but perhaps the drug had been affecting Sal's mind. He was probably mistaken.
His hands and feet had begun to go numb from the cords tied round them before the door was opened. The man who entered was tall and dark, his looks that of a man of Gondor, but his clothes were torn and dirty. There was also something familiar about him. Sal had seen him before, but couldn't quite place where.
He walked over to Sal and punched him for no apparent reason. Sal's head snapped back, but he didn't cry out.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long," he said. Again the voice was familiar, and again Sal couldn't think where from.
He didn't have time to think about it. Two more men followed the first in. They grabbed Sal roughly by the shoulders and hauled him up, dragging him out the door with his feet trailing. It would have saved them a lot of trouble if they had just cut the cords round his feet. Either they were very worried about what he could do to them, or they just wanted to treat him in as undignified a manner as possible. Then again, it could be both.
When they reached their destination, the men released their grip and Sal, unable to stop himself, fell face-first onto the ground. Someone laughed. Sal looked up at a familiar figure.
"Rather a change of situation, wouldn't you say, Salafir?" The man looking down at him laughed again. Suddenly the memories snapped into place and he knew who these people were.
"This time you'll get justice, Vaylith," Sal said, though it didn't seem much like it. He didn't let himself feel afraid though. He tried to push himself into a more comfortable position, but a foot planted itself in his back pushing him down again.
He heard a sound. A cry of protest quickly stifled, and managed to turn his head to look. Bergil was standing in a corner of the room, a man pressing restraining hands on his shoulder. Bergil wasn't bound, and he wasn't trying to escape. As he looked at Sal, Sal thought he saw something in his eyes. An apology?
"You're a fool, Salafir," Vaylith continued. "For three years I have been planning my revenge, and I'm not going to let justice stop me."
"If you wanted revenge then why didn't you kill me?" Sal asked.
"And have you die a martyr with your king? No, far better for you to be killed by your own people. A traitor."
"But that won't happen now."
"No, but this fool," he jerked his head towards Bergil, "has provided me the means for a greater revenge." Sal's first thought was that Vaylith was planning on hurting Bergil to get to him, but the man continued. "Your king is filled with the hope that you will come rescue him."
"You want to show him there's no hope?" Sal asked.
"More than that," Vaylith laughed again. Sal was getting sick of the sound. "You will tell him you betrayed him."
"Never!"
"I can inflict a thousand pains on you, and on him." He let that sink in. Sal thought of Elessar, and couldn't bear to imagine him in pain. He knew what Vaylith was like, and didn't doubt he was capable of everything he threatened.
"If I tell him, you will let him go?"
"No, but I will make sure his death is painless."
"No!" Sal was surprised by the protest, and thought Vaylith was as well. Both turned to look at Bergil. "That wasn't part of the arrangement!" Sal wondered what arrangement he could be talking about. It took him a few seconds to realise it, and once he did he searched his mind desperately for another explanation. It fit, and would explain the way Bergil had acted, but still Sal didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't believe his friend was a traitor.
***
Author's note: The muses made me do it. Please don't hurt me.
I promise, explanations will be coming, if not in the next chapter then in the one after, or the one after, or the . . . well, there'll be an explanation at some point. Try not to kill me until then.