Author's note: Sorry it's not very long, but it's here. Please review.
***
"Have you made your decision?" Vaylith asked.
Sal nodded. "I will tell him." The thief cut the cords round Sal's wrists. Sal would have done anything for a weapon, but fortune had been taken when he had been captured.
"Remember," Vaylith said, "you must make him believe, or his pain will be all the worse." Sal nodded again. He wished there was any other way, but he couldn't allow the beatings to continue.
Sal followed Vaylith to the cell, the armed guards at his back enough to pursuade him not to try and escape. Vaylith opened the cell door, and Sal entered. Elessar was hanging from the chains, the blindfold still around his eyes, his stomach bruised painfully. He forced himself to stand as he heard the door open. Sal stood in front of him, struggling to hold back the tears he knew he couldn't let fall.
'Please forgive me,' he silently begged as he walked up to him and pulled the blindfold off roughly. He saw the look of shock on Elessar's face, and hoped he could keep his own feelings hidden.
"Sal?" Elessar asked.
"Surprise," Sal said, somehow managing to smile. Elessar looked between Sal and Vaylith, who stood by the door. He looked at Sal with disbelief, and Sal knew he had to do better.
"Bet you never suspected did you?" Sal said with a grin. "Never suspected that poor Salafir might not be as loyal as you thought?"
"No, Sal," Elessar shook his head.
"What? You can't get it through your thick skull that not everyone thinks you're as wonderful as you'd like to think?" The look of sorrow on Elessar's face was worse than a thousand beatings to Sal. He began to wonder if it was really worth it, but he'd started now and there was no going back.
"Why, Sal?"
Sal had to struggle to think of reasons why he might betray Elessar, it wasn't as though it was something he had ever considered before. "Because I'm sick of you," he said, "I'm sick of the way you always bossed me around. You may be the king, but that doesn't mean you're always right."
"Sal. . . "
"I haven't finished! For once in your life let someone else do the talking!" Sal glared at him, imagining he was glaring at Vaylith. "You were always laughing at me! Teasing me! Making jokes at my expense when you knew I couldn't respond!" In truth the teasing had gone both ways, but it was something he could pretend to take offence at. He continued, dredging up every imagined slight he could think of, every time Elessar had annoyed him, every time he had felt left out. By the time he had finished, Elessar was refusing to meet his eyes. Sal thought he could see tears there, and wished again that there were another way.
He wanted more than anything else to throw his arms round Elessar and beg for forgiveness, but to do that would be as good as beating him himself. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away, knowing that if he stayed there much longer he wouldn't be able to keep them back.
Suddenly there were noises outside. Metal struck metal. Everyone inside the room turned to the door, which was flung open by one of the band of thieves. He appeared afraid, as he went to Vaylith.
"Soldiers of Gondor! They are already inside!" They could all hear the footsteps approaching.
"Fool!" Vaylith shouted, "You've led them right to us!" He drew his sword, as did the others in the room. Sal wished he had fortune, so that he might be the one to give Vaylith his justice.
As the soldiers of Gondor entered the room, Vaylith and the others fought against them. Sal glanced behind him at Elessar, but the king had passed out. Sal guessed the shock of his apparent betrayal had been too much for his already injured body.
Sal didn't bother to watch the fight. He only hoped that a stray blow would end his misery. All he had done to Elessar was for nothing. Those tears that he had caused could have been avoided. 'Forgive me, Elessar,' he begged silently as he collapsed to his knees, his ears deaf to the cries of Vaylith and the others as he fell. He barely felt the hands that seized and bound him tightly. His heart burned with a pain far more acute. The pain of his own guilt.
***
Author's note: OK, now we're back to the beginning of the story, but I'm going to be evil and make you wait and see how it turns out.
***
"Have you made your decision?" Vaylith asked.
Sal nodded. "I will tell him." The thief cut the cords round Sal's wrists. Sal would have done anything for a weapon, but fortune had been taken when he had been captured.
"Remember," Vaylith said, "you must make him believe, or his pain will be all the worse." Sal nodded again. He wished there was any other way, but he couldn't allow the beatings to continue.
Sal followed Vaylith to the cell, the armed guards at his back enough to pursuade him not to try and escape. Vaylith opened the cell door, and Sal entered. Elessar was hanging from the chains, the blindfold still around his eyes, his stomach bruised painfully. He forced himself to stand as he heard the door open. Sal stood in front of him, struggling to hold back the tears he knew he couldn't let fall.
'Please forgive me,' he silently begged as he walked up to him and pulled the blindfold off roughly. He saw the look of shock on Elessar's face, and hoped he could keep his own feelings hidden.
"Sal?" Elessar asked.
"Surprise," Sal said, somehow managing to smile. Elessar looked between Sal and Vaylith, who stood by the door. He looked at Sal with disbelief, and Sal knew he had to do better.
"Bet you never suspected did you?" Sal said with a grin. "Never suspected that poor Salafir might not be as loyal as you thought?"
"No, Sal," Elessar shook his head.
"What? You can't get it through your thick skull that not everyone thinks you're as wonderful as you'd like to think?" The look of sorrow on Elessar's face was worse than a thousand beatings to Sal. He began to wonder if it was really worth it, but he'd started now and there was no going back.
"Why, Sal?"
Sal had to struggle to think of reasons why he might betray Elessar, it wasn't as though it was something he had ever considered before. "Because I'm sick of you," he said, "I'm sick of the way you always bossed me around. You may be the king, but that doesn't mean you're always right."
"Sal. . . "
"I haven't finished! For once in your life let someone else do the talking!" Sal glared at him, imagining he was glaring at Vaylith. "You were always laughing at me! Teasing me! Making jokes at my expense when you knew I couldn't respond!" In truth the teasing had gone both ways, but it was something he could pretend to take offence at. He continued, dredging up every imagined slight he could think of, every time Elessar had annoyed him, every time he had felt left out. By the time he had finished, Elessar was refusing to meet his eyes. Sal thought he could see tears there, and wished again that there were another way.
He wanted more than anything else to throw his arms round Elessar and beg for forgiveness, but to do that would be as good as beating him himself. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away, knowing that if he stayed there much longer he wouldn't be able to keep them back.
Suddenly there were noises outside. Metal struck metal. Everyone inside the room turned to the door, which was flung open by one of the band of thieves. He appeared afraid, as he went to Vaylith.
"Soldiers of Gondor! They are already inside!" They could all hear the footsteps approaching.
"Fool!" Vaylith shouted, "You've led them right to us!" He drew his sword, as did the others in the room. Sal wished he had fortune, so that he might be the one to give Vaylith his justice.
As the soldiers of Gondor entered the room, Vaylith and the others fought against them. Sal glanced behind him at Elessar, but the king had passed out. Sal guessed the shock of his apparent betrayal had been too much for his already injured body.
Sal didn't bother to watch the fight. He only hoped that a stray blow would end his misery. All he had done to Elessar was for nothing. Those tears that he had caused could have been avoided. 'Forgive me, Elessar,' he begged silently as he collapsed to his knees, his ears deaf to the cries of Vaylith and the others as he fell. He barely felt the hands that seized and bound him tightly. His heart burned with a pain far more acute. The pain of his own guilt.
***
Author's note: OK, now we're back to the beginning of the story, but I'm going to be evil and make you wait and see how it turns out.