They awoke at dawn the next morning to the sound of Cerek's muffled screams
of pain. They had slept little the night before, five hours at the most,
and they were both stiff and tired. Saryn struggled to her feet, joints
popping. She shambled to where their captive lay facedown in the muck.
"Hurts does it? Well, it's your own fault; you shouldn't have tried to
drown Telvryn."
He glared at her as best he could through his swollen eyes as she crouched down beside him.
"I know you, think me mad," she said, gently touching his unbroken cheek, "but I assure you that I really meant you no harm. I only wish to be with my husband. No more harm will come to you at our hands unless you provoke it. We intend to leave you in Lothlorien. They'll tend to you there, and you will be rid of us forever."
He scowled at her, jerking away from her cool hand. She sighed and moved away from him. She could afford to waste no more energy on him. She had so little left, and she was going to need every bit of it if she wanted to see Legolas again. Telvryn was moving around doing what little he could to prepare for the second day of their wretched trek. She noticed with some chagrin that he was sporting a black eye of his own, a souvenir from last night's scuffle no doubt.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, scrutinizing his eye.
"Not nearly as well as I wished," he said. He handed her a chunk of slightly moldy bread. "Not the best I know, but it's all we've got, and even that's not going to last the whole journey. Neither is the water. I figure three sips a day is all we can risk."
"What about him?" she asked.
"I don't care about him. He can die here. I think we should leave him here."
"We can't do that."
"Why not? No one will ever know. We could say he was taken by a serpent, and no one would be the wiser."
"I would be the wiser, and my heart cannot abide it. He is frightened, confused, and angry. I did nearly kill him."
"Your heart is too soft, and it will lead us all to great ill," he muttered and sauntered off to relieve himself.
While Telvryn was so engaged, she took the water flask and returned to the fuming Cerek. "I don't believe you will be able to eat with your cheek in its present condition, but perhaps you can take a drink," she said, uncorking the flask. She removed his cloak from his mouth and poured the cool, clear liquid over his parched lips.
He relished it for a moment, parting his lips to let it drizzle over his sandpaper tongue. Then he remembered who it was holding the flask and spit it out, trying as hard as he could to hit her in the face. "I want nothing your pernicious lips have touched," he snarled, yelping as the bones of his cheek ground together.
"Suit yourself," she said, replacing the cork and refastening the gag around his mouth.
They set off as soon as Telvryn returned from his morning toilet, wading into the chest-deep filth. The dried muck of yesterday was promptly replaced by a fresh coating. The rich, gassy fetor brought about her morning sickness, and she retched forcefully. So much for that nourishing moldy bread this morning, she thought as she paddled along. Lords of Elbereth, how she wished this journey was at and end and she enfolded in Legolas' strong arms. She was tired of this bleak, hopeless darkness, tired of having to be always on guard for hidden dangers, and tired of constantly worrying about the damage she might be doing to her unborn child. This was not the pregnancy she had envisioned over countless starry nights after she and Legolas had coupled, the sweat not yet dry on their toned bodies, and she said as much to Telvryn, who was a few feet ahead, doggedly pulling the raft behind him.
"For what kind did you hope?" he asked, slowing his pace so that she could catch up.
"Oh, I entertained the most splendid of daydreams! I rehearsed exactly what I would say to him, and savored the joyous countenance I would behold when he heard the news. I imagined all of the little gifts and kindnesses he would shower upon me, how he would sweep open doors and hover protectively near when we went into the village square.
"I fantasized about him placing his gentle hands upon my swollen belly and marveling at the movements and kickings of his coming child. I pictured him happily whittling the finest of woods to make a cradle. Yet, here I am, swimming through the foul waters of the Bay of Basylis with a rogue sentry and vengeance-seeking lunatic."
"I could not help but notice," he said with a smirk, "that you forgot to mention the part about sending him out for fresh tomatoes and chocolate in the dead of night when your time drew near."
"Indeed I did," she laughed. "Though I daresay fresh pickles are more to my liking."
After a brief silence, he spoke again. "I shouldn't much trouble myself m'lady. If your Legolas is half the man you believe him to be, he'll waste little time in properly spoiling you. I'll wager my last gildnar he buries you in fine silks and useless baubles. He'll need to be unconscious to leave you unattended again."
She smiled. He was right. Legolas probably would spoil her to excess in his happiness. The glen they shared would be plucked bare of wildflowers, and her father would have enough work for ten seasons. When the child came, the looms would spin endlessly as mile after mile of rich green swaddling and tiny boots found life.
"He's lucky," Telvryn said, interrupting her thoughts.
"Who?"
"Legolas."
"Why?" She was puzzled.
"To have someone like you. You are a remarkable woman. I know of none other who would brave such a journey to be with the one she loves. Most would have gratefully accepted the sanctuary of Rivendell and awaited his return." He sounded strangely despondent."
"It was not luck that brought he and I together, but fate. Besides, surely there are other women who would do the same if they but knew him. Just as someone will someday do for you. You'll see," she said.
"There will be no one for me," he said, sounding more crestfallen than ever. "Before your husband sent me to deliver his letter, I was but a stupid, lazy boor who preferred sleeping to my duty. I still am. The only reason we are on this journey is because I was too much of a coward to stop you in the first place." He said this with such a surety that it frightened her.
"Surely you can't really believe that?" she asked, touching his arm.
He made no answer, only ducked his head and soldiered on. The discussion was apparently over. They trudged on, the silence broken only by the steady drone of the clouds of mosquitoes and gnats that hovered around their heads and the intermittent grunts of Cerek as he tried to breathe through his broken nose. The bugs were even worse than yesterday, most likely attracted by the smell of stale sweat. She idly wondered if Legolas would even recognize her underneath all the crusted-on mud, blood, and filth. A fine thing that would be, to travel all this way to be with her husband just to be mistaken for an orc and felled by one of his arrows. She snorted laughter. Telvryn looked at her questioningly, but she only shook her head.
Mile after mile passed, and with each step, the sentry jerkin she had been wearing grew looser. It hung in tatters on her shoulders, revealing the translucent gown beneath. Her pale breasts were clearly visible through the thin fabric, a fact of which she was keenly aware. Telvryn, too, had noticed, and he was doing his level best to keep from staring. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept moving.
They stopped to rest on the first hummock they encountered, flopping down on the tremulous earth. Her breasts swayed suggestively, causing her companion to choke on his allotted sip of water.
"Well, keep your eyes to the front then," she scolded.
"I'm sorry, m'lady," he muttered, flushing a dark crimson.
"If you cannot trust yourself to control your baser instincts, perhaps you should give me your jerkin," she said, holding out her hand.
He considered for a moment, then reached up and drew the jerkin over his head, revealing taut white flesh. His chest and stomach were soft, yet deceptively so, for she could see traces of lithe musculature under his satin skin. Like buffed marble. She wondered what it would be like to trace her nails over its smooth surface. She shook herself. What are you thinking? You are quite joined. Stop this. She tore her eyes away and slipped the jerkin over her head.
Thusly covered, she limped over and sat beside Cerek, who eyed her warily.
"Don't worry. I mean you no ill," she said.
A grumbled reply sounded from beneath the gag, and she gently pulled it off. "What?"
"Being near you does me ill," he hissed.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she responded blithely. Now do you want a sip of water or not?"
"No."
"This is no time to be stubborn," she pleaded. His tongue was white from dehydration, and she was worried that if he didn't drink something soon his organs would begin shutting down.
"I hope you and your spawn both perish in this unforgiving place," he said.
She sighed. "Try as you might to turn me from my purpose, I am determined that you drink something."
She uncorked the flask and pressed it to his lips. He clamped his mouth shut and turned his head. This close, she could see that his mouth had been rubbed raw from the constant pressure of the slime-caked cloak. His lips were cracked and bleeding. She followed his mouth, refusing to give up.
"I can sit here all night," she said placidly.
He only redoubled his efforts to evade the proffered water. He strained his neck trying to knock the flask from her hand. Why so stubborn? she thought. Then a new thought occurred to her. He is just as stubborn as you are. You two are more alike than he cares to admit. Too bad he has chosen to channel all that energy into blind hatred.
"Does it distress you to see yourself reflected in the mirror of my face?" she whispered.
He froze. He was gasping from the exertion of his struggles to avoid her. Then he began wrenching to and fro harder than before, his face redder than ever. "I am not like you! You belong in this wretched bog, woman with a forked tongue. Get away from me!"
Clearly he was not going to cooperate. "Telvryn," she called, "I need your help."
"Why do you waste your time and our water with that foolish ingrate?" he said, not rising.
"Because I have no intention of being led away in chains because he died under my care. No doubt they would think I tortured him and deprived him of all sustenance, and it certainly would appear so if one were to look upon his ruined face." She put her free hand on her hip and turned to scowl at him.
Telvryn reluctantly left his resting spot and came to stand beside her. "What would you have me do?"
"I don't care, so long as he swallows the water."
A malicious grin spread across his face and he leaped onto Cerek's back. He grabbed his hair with one hand and his chin with the other and pulled with all his might. There was a gritty grinding sound followed by a piercing scream, and his mouth stood wide open. She poured the water, too much, with suddenly shaking hands. As soon as his mouth was full, Telvryn slammed it shut and smashed the palm of his hand over Cerek's mouth and nose. "Swallow it or choke do death," he ordered, brutally pinching his tender nose shut.
Cerek's face was rapidly turning purple, and she was suddenly sure he was going to die. Miraculously, Cerek's body relaxed and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Elbereth be praised, she thought. He collapsed, his body, shaking with sobs of humiliation.
"You're not as stupid as you appeared," commented Telvryn jovially, pushing his victim's head into the raft one last time before getting up.
"Leave off! There's no need for that," she snapped, trying to control her voice.
"Have you so soon forgotten that he tried to break your nose and drown me?" Telvryn was looking at her incredulously.
"Of course not, but every bruise or mark you leave upon him is another indictment against me should he die. Now leave off."
He sniffed and spared Cerek a final contemptuous glance before returning to his resting place. She could tell he didn't believe her reasons for not wanting Cerek abused, but she didn't care. The important thing was that he stopped. If anyone had thought to ask her why she objected so his harsh treatment, she couldn't have given them a precise answer. It was simply a deeply ingrained abhorrence for seeing any living creature suffer and a diffuse desire that her decision to save him not be the wrong one.
She turned to where he lay, hunched shoulders still shaking as he wept, and put her arm over him in a meek gesture of comfort. He shook her off.
"This is all your fault," he sniffled, "all of it. If you had stayed in Rivendell, as you should have done, none of this would have happened. I would still be in my warm home, not here with a broken body. I never knew hate until I saw your face." He turned his face away and continued weeping.
She moved away from him, wounded to the core. He was right, and she couldn't deny it. Everything that was happening now was a direct result of her decision to seek out Legolas. His broken face, this death march through the bog, all of it. She could never explain to him her desperation, her terror, and why they made this voyage necessary. Even if she could, he wouldn't understand.
They moved out again, Telvryn walking a few yards ahead. He was desperately confused and ashamed. The sight of Saryn's wet breasts had excited him more than he liked to admit. He felt himself stiffening as the memory flitted across his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut to drive the vision away, but it only grew sharper, and he bit his lip to squelch a groan of longing. Women had never paid much attention to him. They were turned off by his laziness and aloof nature. Compounding the problem was his agonizing shyness. Every time he tried to make the acquaintance of a beautiful damsel, his tongue grew wooden and his legs turned to melting rubber. Sometimes he said something foolish. If he was lucky, he escaped with nothing more than a withering look and a sorely wounded pride. There had been many times, however, when he'd returned home with stinging cheeks or bruised testicles. Now, just his luck, the only woman to ever regard him with anything other than utter revulsion, was joined. He could never seem to catch a decent break.
Behind him and oblivious to his torment, Saryn was lost in her own thoughts. She thought of anything to distract her mind from her body's weariness. Mostly, she thought about Legolas. She wondered what he was doing now and whether he missed her as much as she did him. Was he as filthy and bone-weary as she? She doubted it. The southern pass was crossed by the river Isen. He'd probably bathed there. Her bored mind drifted away on thoughts of her lover's bare chest and how it looked when water rilled down its smooth surface. How the rigid, strong muscles there rippled and flexed as he swam through the warm, crystal waters of their lagoon. An involuntary shudder coursed through her body as she remembered the luscious friction their bodies made as they moved together and how the sight of his sweaty chest glistening in the soft glow of the candlelight as they made love never failed to trigger an explosive climax. She dug her nails into the soft flesh of her palms to banish the tantalizing images crowding her head. They were awakening parts of her that need not be disturbed just yet. Soon, she thought. She gritted her teeth and kept walking.
They walked mindlessly for untold hours, slogging through the clinging mud while their legs throbbed and sang in protest. Gradually, though, the greenish-black water began to recede, and several mossy hummocks became visible. Soon it would be time to set up camp.
She was just about to ask Telvryn which one he thought would be best when a soft plip-swish caught her ear. She turned just in time to see two yellow dots submerge. No, not dots. Eyes. Serpent eyes.
"TELVRYN, SNAKE!!" she howled, scrambling on to the nearest piece of land, a tiny scrap barely big enough to hold her, and drew her bow.
Telvryn also sought out dry land. He headed for the hummock to the right of hers, but the snake was quicker. It darted its huge, spade head forward and coiled around his ankle. He cried out and dug his fingers into the soggy earth. The snake was stronger, and it pulled him inexorably toward the black depths.
Breathless with panic and unaware that she was sobbing, she fitted an arrow and searched the water for a vulnerable target. When she thought she'd found one, she let fly. It struck flesh, and there was an ear- splitting shriek. The snake released Telvryn and turned in her direction.
Its pus-yellow eyes glittering with malice, it raced toward her hummock, smashing into it with all its might. The impact jarred her, vibrating in her legs and rocking the flimsy hummock like a capsizing ship. She swayed and wobbled as the ground beneath her pitched and undulated. She struggled to fit another arrow as the snake readied for another charge.
The snake lunged again, and the arrow she was holding flew from her grasp and landed in the water behind her. Her sanctuary was crumbling beneath her feet, giant cracks and runnels forming even as she fought to maintain her balance. A gap yawned beneath her feet, and her foot slipped into it. She fell sideways with a scream, her knee and ankle wrenching painfully. She was now defenseless.
The snake, sensing victory, prepared to strike again, but it hadn't counted on the tenacity of faithful Telvryn. He sprang onto its back, sword in hand. Surprised, the snake screamed and rolled onto its back, trying to shake him off. Telvryn clamped his wiry arms and legs over the serpent's bulging sides and held on.
On her rapidly disintegrating oasis, Saryn hobbled to her feet, limping painfully on her sprained knee and ankle. She groped for another arrow, already looking for a target. The pain in her leg was enormous, but she forced herself to focus. Telvryn's life depended on it.
Underneath the blinding water, Telvryn prayed his air wouldn't run out before he could stab the snake. He lungs were screaming for air. He stabbed blindly in the dark, but each time he came up empty. The snake seemed to sense his strokes and easily moved away from them. Unless someone struck it right between the eyes, he was going to die.
On the surface, Saryn stood on the remnants of her island and aimed her arrow at the dull yellow dot that was the serpent's eye. A strange coldness had come over her. There was no more panic, no more fear. Even the burning throb in her injured leg seemed far away. Everything stood out in a vivid, stark clarity. Her field of vision had narrowed to that miniscule yellow dot. She took a deep breath and released the bow.
The arrow hit home. The eye exploded with a thick squt! The snake screeched and writhed, and Telvryn bobbed to the surface like a cork. With an enraged bellow, he drove his sword into the snake's head, stopping only when the hilt struck the base of the skull. His eyes were alight with a mad glee.
"Die, die, you hellspawn!" he hollered, chest heaving.
The snake convulsed, and a thick gout of gelid black blood erupted from the wound. Telvryn danced and gibbered as the snake sank beneath the turbulent water with a final guttering cry. Saryn collapsed on the hummock as the adrenaline ebbed from her body.
Saryn's collapse brought Telvryn back to himself. He clambered up the embankment to where she lay, white-faced and trembling.
"Are you alright?" he asked bending over her.
"Never better," she replied cheerily.
They exploded in hysterical, frightened laughter. So passed the second night in the bog of the damned.
He glared at her as best he could through his swollen eyes as she crouched down beside him.
"I know you, think me mad," she said, gently touching his unbroken cheek, "but I assure you that I really meant you no harm. I only wish to be with my husband. No more harm will come to you at our hands unless you provoke it. We intend to leave you in Lothlorien. They'll tend to you there, and you will be rid of us forever."
He scowled at her, jerking away from her cool hand. She sighed and moved away from him. She could afford to waste no more energy on him. She had so little left, and she was going to need every bit of it if she wanted to see Legolas again. Telvryn was moving around doing what little he could to prepare for the second day of their wretched trek. She noticed with some chagrin that he was sporting a black eye of his own, a souvenir from last night's scuffle no doubt.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, scrutinizing his eye.
"Not nearly as well as I wished," he said. He handed her a chunk of slightly moldy bread. "Not the best I know, but it's all we've got, and even that's not going to last the whole journey. Neither is the water. I figure three sips a day is all we can risk."
"What about him?" she asked.
"I don't care about him. He can die here. I think we should leave him here."
"We can't do that."
"Why not? No one will ever know. We could say he was taken by a serpent, and no one would be the wiser."
"I would be the wiser, and my heart cannot abide it. He is frightened, confused, and angry. I did nearly kill him."
"Your heart is too soft, and it will lead us all to great ill," he muttered and sauntered off to relieve himself.
While Telvryn was so engaged, she took the water flask and returned to the fuming Cerek. "I don't believe you will be able to eat with your cheek in its present condition, but perhaps you can take a drink," she said, uncorking the flask. She removed his cloak from his mouth and poured the cool, clear liquid over his parched lips.
He relished it for a moment, parting his lips to let it drizzle over his sandpaper tongue. Then he remembered who it was holding the flask and spit it out, trying as hard as he could to hit her in the face. "I want nothing your pernicious lips have touched," he snarled, yelping as the bones of his cheek ground together.
"Suit yourself," she said, replacing the cork and refastening the gag around his mouth.
They set off as soon as Telvryn returned from his morning toilet, wading into the chest-deep filth. The dried muck of yesterday was promptly replaced by a fresh coating. The rich, gassy fetor brought about her morning sickness, and she retched forcefully. So much for that nourishing moldy bread this morning, she thought as she paddled along. Lords of Elbereth, how she wished this journey was at and end and she enfolded in Legolas' strong arms. She was tired of this bleak, hopeless darkness, tired of having to be always on guard for hidden dangers, and tired of constantly worrying about the damage she might be doing to her unborn child. This was not the pregnancy she had envisioned over countless starry nights after she and Legolas had coupled, the sweat not yet dry on their toned bodies, and she said as much to Telvryn, who was a few feet ahead, doggedly pulling the raft behind him.
"For what kind did you hope?" he asked, slowing his pace so that she could catch up.
"Oh, I entertained the most splendid of daydreams! I rehearsed exactly what I would say to him, and savored the joyous countenance I would behold when he heard the news. I imagined all of the little gifts and kindnesses he would shower upon me, how he would sweep open doors and hover protectively near when we went into the village square.
"I fantasized about him placing his gentle hands upon my swollen belly and marveling at the movements and kickings of his coming child. I pictured him happily whittling the finest of woods to make a cradle. Yet, here I am, swimming through the foul waters of the Bay of Basylis with a rogue sentry and vengeance-seeking lunatic."
"I could not help but notice," he said with a smirk, "that you forgot to mention the part about sending him out for fresh tomatoes and chocolate in the dead of night when your time drew near."
"Indeed I did," she laughed. "Though I daresay fresh pickles are more to my liking."
After a brief silence, he spoke again. "I shouldn't much trouble myself m'lady. If your Legolas is half the man you believe him to be, he'll waste little time in properly spoiling you. I'll wager my last gildnar he buries you in fine silks and useless baubles. He'll need to be unconscious to leave you unattended again."
She smiled. He was right. Legolas probably would spoil her to excess in his happiness. The glen they shared would be plucked bare of wildflowers, and her father would have enough work for ten seasons. When the child came, the looms would spin endlessly as mile after mile of rich green swaddling and tiny boots found life.
"He's lucky," Telvryn said, interrupting her thoughts.
"Who?"
"Legolas."
"Why?" She was puzzled.
"To have someone like you. You are a remarkable woman. I know of none other who would brave such a journey to be with the one she loves. Most would have gratefully accepted the sanctuary of Rivendell and awaited his return." He sounded strangely despondent."
"It was not luck that brought he and I together, but fate. Besides, surely there are other women who would do the same if they but knew him. Just as someone will someday do for you. You'll see," she said.
"There will be no one for me," he said, sounding more crestfallen than ever. "Before your husband sent me to deliver his letter, I was but a stupid, lazy boor who preferred sleeping to my duty. I still am. The only reason we are on this journey is because I was too much of a coward to stop you in the first place." He said this with such a surety that it frightened her.
"Surely you can't really believe that?" she asked, touching his arm.
He made no answer, only ducked his head and soldiered on. The discussion was apparently over. They trudged on, the silence broken only by the steady drone of the clouds of mosquitoes and gnats that hovered around their heads and the intermittent grunts of Cerek as he tried to breathe through his broken nose. The bugs were even worse than yesterday, most likely attracted by the smell of stale sweat. She idly wondered if Legolas would even recognize her underneath all the crusted-on mud, blood, and filth. A fine thing that would be, to travel all this way to be with her husband just to be mistaken for an orc and felled by one of his arrows. She snorted laughter. Telvryn looked at her questioningly, but she only shook her head.
Mile after mile passed, and with each step, the sentry jerkin she had been wearing grew looser. It hung in tatters on her shoulders, revealing the translucent gown beneath. Her pale breasts were clearly visible through the thin fabric, a fact of which she was keenly aware. Telvryn, too, had noticed, and he was doing his level best to keep from staring. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept moving.
They stopped to rest on the first hummock they encountered, flopping down on the tremulous earth. Her breasts swayed suggestively, causing her companion to choke on his allotted sip of water.
"Well, keep your eyes to the front then," she scolded.
"I'm sorry, m'lady," he muttered, flushing a dark crimson.
"If you cannot trust yourself to control your baser instincts, perhaps you should give me your jerkin," she said, holding out her hand.
He considered for a moment, then reached up and drew the jerkin over his head, revealing taut white flesh. His chest and stomach were soft, yet deceptively so, for she could see traces of lithe musculature under his satin skin. Like buffed marble. She wondered what it would be like to trace her nails over its smooth surface. She shook herself. What are you thinking? You are quite joined. Stop this. She tore her eyes away and slipped the jerkin over her head.
Thusly covered, she limped over and sat beside Cerek, who eyed her warily.
"Don't worry. I mean you no ill," she said.
A grumbled reply sounded from beneath the gag, and she gently pulled it off. "What?"
"Being near you does me ill," he hissed.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she responded blithely. Now do you want a sip of water or not?"
"No."
"This is no time to be stubborn," she pleaded. His tongue was white from dehydration, and she was worried that if he didn't drink something soon his organs would begin shutting down.
"I hope you and your spawn both perish in this unforgiving place," he said.
She sighed. "Try as you might to turn me from my purpose, I am determined that you drink something."
She uncorked the flask and pressed it to his lips. He clamped his mouth shut and turned his head. This close, she could see that his mouth had been rubbed raw from the constant pressure of the slime-caked cloak. His lips were cracked and bleeding. She followed his mouth, refusing to give up.
"I can sit here all night," she said placidly.
He only redoubled his efforts to evade the proffered water. He strained his neck trying to knock the flask from her hand. Why so stubborn? she thought. Then a new thought occurred to her. He is just as stubborn as you are. You two are more alike than he cares to admit. Too bad he has chosen to channel all that energy into blind hatred.
"Does it distress you to see yourself reflected in the mirror of my face?" she whispered.
He froze. He was gasping from the exertion of his struggles to avoid her. Then he began wrenching to and fro harder than before, his face redder than ever. "I am not like you! You belong in this wretched bog, woman with a forked tongue. Get away from me!"
Clearly he was not going to cooperate. "Telvryn," she called, "I need your help."
"Why do you waste your time and our water with that foolish ingrate?" he said, not rising.
"Because I have no intention of being led away in chains because he died under my care. No doubt they would think I tortured him and deprived him of all sustenance, and it certainly would appear so if one were to look upon his ruined face." She put her free hand on her hip and turned to scowl at him.
Telvryn reluctantly left his resting spot and came to stand beside her. "What would you have me do?"
"I don't care, so long as he swallows the water."
A malicious grin spread across his face and he leaped onto Cerek's back. He grabbed his hair with one hand and his chin with the other and pulled with all his might. There was a gritty grinding sound followed by a piercing scream, and his mouth stood wide open. She poured the water, too much, with suddenly shaking hands. As soon as his mouth was full, Telvryn slammed it shut and smashed the palm of his hand over Cerek's mouth and nose. "Swallow it or choke do death," he ordered, brutally pinching his tender nose shut.
Cerek's face was rapidly turning purple, and she was suddenly sure he was going to die. Miraculously, Cerek's body relaxed and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Elbereth be praised, she thought. He collapsed, his body, shaking with sobs of humiliation.
"You're not as stupid as you appeared," commented Telvryn jovially, pushing his victim's head into the raft one last time before getting up.
"Leave off! There's no need for that," she snapped, trying to control her voice.
"Have you so soon forgotten that he tried to break your nose and drown me?" Telvryn was looking at her incredulously.
"Of course not, but every bruise or mark you leave upon him is another indictment against me should he die. Now leave off."
He sniffed and spared Cerek a final contemptuous glance before returning to his resting place. She could tell he didn't believe her reasons for not wanting Cerek abused, but she didn't care. The important thing was that he stopped. If anyone had thought to ask her why she objected so his harsh treatment, she couldn't have given them a precise answer. It was simply a deeply ingrained abhorrence for seeing any living creature suffer and a diffuse desire that her decision to save him not be the wrong one.
She turned to where he lay, hunched shoulders still shaking as he wept, and put her arm over him in a meek gesture of comfort. He shook her off.
"This is all your fault," he sniffled, "all of it. If you had stayed in Rivendell, as you should have done, none of this would have happened. I would still be in my warm home, not here with a broken body. I never knew hate until I saw your face." He turned his face away and continued weeping.
She moved away from him, wounded to the core. He was right, and she couldn't deny it. Everything that was happening now was a direct result of her decision to seek out Legolas. His broken face, this death march through the bog, all of it. She could never explain to him her desperation, her terror, and why they made this voyage necessary. Even if she could, he wouldn't understand.
They moved out again, Telvryn walking a few yards ahead. He was desperately confused and ashamed. The sight of Saryn's wet breasts had excited him more than he liked to admit. He felt himself stiffening as the memory flitted across his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut to drive the vision away, but it only grew sharper, and he bit his lip to squelch a groan of longing. Women had never paid much attention to him. They were turned off by his laziness and aloof nature. Compounding the problem was his agonizing shyness. Every time he tried to make the acquaintance of a beautiful damsel, his tongue grew wooden and his legs turned to melting rubber. Sometimes he said something foolish. If he was lucky, he escaped with nothing more than a withering look and a sorely wounded pride. There had been many times, however, when he'd returned home with stinging cheeks or bruised testicles. Now, just his luck, the only woman to ever regard him with anything other than utter revulsion, was joined. He could never seem to catch a decent break.
Behind him and oblivious to his torment, Saryn was lost in her own thoughts. She thought of anything to distract her mind from her body's weariness. Mostly, she thought about Legolas. She wondered what he was doing now and whether he missed her as much as she did him. Was he as filthy and bone-weary as she? She doubted it. The southern pass was crossed by the river Isen. He'd probably bathed there. Her bored mind drifted away on thoughts of her lover's bare chest and how it looked when water rilled down its smooth surface. How the rigid, strong muscles there rippled and flexed as he swam through the warm, crystal waters of their lagoon. An involuntary shudder coursed through her body as she remembered the luscious friction their bodies made as they moved together and how the sight of his sweaty chest glistening in the soft glow of the candlelight as they made love never failed to trigger an explosive climax. She dug her nails into the soft flesh of her palms to banish the tantalizing images crowding her head. They were awakening parts of her that need not be disturbed just yet. Soon, she thought. She gritted her teeth and kept walking.
They walked mindlessly for untold hours, slogging through the clinging mud while their legs throbbed and sang in protest. Gradually, though, the greenish-black water began to recede, and several mossy hummocks became visible. Soon it would be time to set up camp.
She was just about to ask Telvryn which one he thought would be best when a soft plip-swish caught her ear. She turned just in time to see two yellow dots submerge. No, not dots. Eyes. Serpent eyes.
"TELVRYN, SNAKE!!" she howled, scrambling on to the nearest piece of land, a tiny scrap barely big enough to hold her, and drew her bow.
Telvryn also sought out dry land. He headed for the hummock to the right of hers, but the snake was quicker. It darted its huge, spade head forward and coiled around his ankle. He cried out and dug his fingers into the soggy earth. The snake was stronger, and it pulled him inexorably toward the black depths.
Breathless with panic and unaware that she was sobbing, she fitted an arrow and searched the water for a vulnerable target. When she thought she'd found one, she let fly. It struck flesh, and there was an ear- splitting shriek. The snake released Telvryn and turned in her direction.
Its pus-yellow eyes glittering with malice, it raced toward her hummock, smashing into it with all its might. The impact jarred her, vibrating in her legs and rocking the flimsy hummock like a capsizing ship. She swayed and wobbled as the ground beneath her pitched and undulated. She struggled to fit another arrow as the snake readied for another charge.
The snake lunged again, and the arrow she was holding flew from her grasp and landed in the water behind her. Her sanctuary was crumbling beneath her feet, giant cracks and runnels forming even as she fought to maintain her balance. A gap yawned beneath her feet, and her foot slipped into it. She fell sideways with a scream, her knee and ankle wrenching painfully. She was now defenseless.
The snake, sensing victory, prepared to strike again, but it hadn't counted on the tenacity of faithful Telvryn. He sprang onto its back, sword in hand. Surprised, the snake screamed and rolled onto its back, trying to shake him off. Telvryn clamped his wiry arms and legs over the serpent's bulging sides and held on.
On her rapidly disintegrating oasis, Saryn hobbled to her feet, limping painfully on her sprained knee and ankle. She groped for another arrow, already looking for a target. The pain in her leg was enormous, but she forced herself to focus. Telvryn's life depended on it.
Underneath the blinding water, Telvryn prayed his air wouldn't run out before he could stab the snake. He lungs were screaming for air. He stabbed blindly in the dark, but each time he came up empty. The snake seemed to sense his strokes and easily moved away from them. Unless someone struck it right between the eyes, he was going to die.
On the surface, Saryn stood on the remnants of her island and aimed her arrow at the dull yellow dot that was the serpent's eye. A strange coldness had come over her. There was no more panic, no more fear. Even the burning throb in her injured leg seemed far away. Everything stood out in a vivid, stark clarity. Her field of vision had narrowed to that miniscule yellow dot. She took a deep breath and released the bow.
The arrow hit home. The eye exploded with a thick squt! The snake screeched and writhed, and Telvryn bobbed to the surface like a cork. With an enraged bellow, he drove his sword into the snake's head, stopping only when the hilt struck the base of the skull. His eyes were alight with a mad glee.
"Die, die, you hellspawn!" he hollered, chest heaving.
The snake convulsed, and a thick gout of gelid black blood erupted from the wound. Telvryn danced and gibbered as the snake sank beneath the turbulent water with a final guttering cry. Saryn collapsed on the hummock as the adrenaline ebbed from her body.
Saryn's collapse brought Telvryn back to himself. He clambered up the embankment to where she lay, white-faced and trembling.
"Are you alright?" he asked bending over her.
"Never better," she replied cheerily.
They exploded in hysterical, frightened laughter. So passed the second night in the bog of the damned.