Completely limp, the half-elven girl leaned heavily on
the gruff ropes that held her and reopened the profusely bleeding injuries.
As she took a weak breath she felt the presence of the two arrows in her
body and cringed. For a moment a bright flare of panic at her own
helplessness washed over the elf before she got control of herself and
pressed it down to a dull fear. What did these men want with her? Forcing
her eyes open and struggling to bring the blurry world into focus, she
could have sworn that she recognized none of them.
An ill sounding cackle came from beyond her limited vision.
"Oy! The elf's awake!" the voice said in a low growl.
A massive hand shot up and yanked the ranger's head from it place on her
chest and squeezed it in his iron grip.
"Let's have a bit of fun shall we?"
" NO! She's mine!" yelled what seemed to be the leader.
"Don't worry, you'll get a chance to meet everyone".
~*~
Belegorath hung limply forward against the bonds that held her, her breathing ragged, her body shaking. She couldn't ever remember being in this much pain in her entire life. It seemed as if that was all there was and all there would ever be and in this evil darkness any light and hope seemed impossibly far away. A cold laugh called to her. Making her aware of the presence of men. Opening her eyes as far as the swollen lids would allow, she surveyed the small encampment that surrounded her. A fire burned and illuminated the clearing, showing the rough settlement that all to obviously had been pitched no more than three days earlier. Scraps of long forgotten game lay strewn across the ground, and clothing and weapons of all sorts. Crude language could be heard in every voice. But only one was speaking to her.
"Hello. So you have decided to join us have you?" came the icy voice. "Where?." she choked on her own word. How long had she been out? "So close and yet so far from home. Sad really. Help being so close and yet there is still no chance for you. Must be frustrating" he scoffed. "Who.?" was all she could manage. "Who am I? Are you sure you want to know little one?" he whispered leaning close. "My men call me Eyothaen, but you may call me my lord." The blond haired man said with a twisted grin. "What.?" she groaned ".Do I want with you? Money and.A good laugh!" his green eyes blazed in the light of the fire, reflecting madness as well as flame. Eyothaen struck the elf across the face, knocking Belegorath's head back into the tree behind her and making a small trickle of blood run down the corner of the ranger's chin. "See! Now that's amusing!" he spat. "Money?" her brow furrowed. "Well I usually don't mix work with pleasure but exceptions are always being made. My lord Saruman pays a hefty sum for those who give him trouble." He explained. //Saruman? Who dose he speak of? I know him not! Wait, Saruman the Istari? No, he is friend. It must be someone of the same name. // "Eyothaen, please listen to me. You have made a grave mistake! I am not whoever you think I am! I don't even know who this Saruman you speak of is. Please if you let me go now I will sort this all out! Plea." her words were interrupted by his harsh bark. "I said call me 'MY LORD!'" he struck he in the face, throwing her head to the side. Bele stifled a moan at the pain that the blow caused. Her head lolled limply to the side and for a few moments, she did not have the strength, or the will to raise it again. But the overwhelming sense of dread of what they could do if she was unconscious kept her alert enough to remain in this world. "L-L-Legolas.I'm sorry," her wits had left her long ago. Belegorath was almost fully delirious by now and she no longer even knew what she was saying. "Legola..." her words were cut short as a metal object crashed into her side. No longer able to suppress her cries, she let an agonized wail out into the night air. "You can't break yet, the night is still young!" said one of Eyothaen's men who looked to be no older than she, perhaps eighteen years of age. She winced and dropped her head forward, feeling the warm touch of fresh drawn blood.
Picking up a thick branch from the pile of firewood, Eyothaen struck the elf in the ribs. Estelea cried out helplessly, much too far gone to attempt any kind of control over the body that betrayed her. Several of the other men followed his lead, picking up clubs of their own. All crude makeshift weapons, sword handles, branches, pots, anything they could swing. When they all started in on her, the battered half-elf did not even have enough breath to scream. She felt herself slipping away swiftly, falling towards the darkness of either death or unconsciousness, she knew not which, nor did she care, so long as it took her away from the agony that she was in right now. Belegorath leaned forward, letting the chains on her wrists support her trembling body "Legolas...make it stop saes!" deliriously she reverted back to her native tongue of Quenya, she called out for her friend before the darkness claimed her.
~*~
~*~
Belegorath hung limply forward against the bonds that held her, her breathing ragged, her body shaking. She couldn't ever remember being in this much pain in her entire life. It seemed as if that was all there was and all there would ever be and in this evil darkness any light and hope seemed impossibly far away. A cold laugh called to her. Making her aware of the presence of men. Opening her eyes as far as the swollen lids would allow, she surveyed the small encampment that surrounded her. A fire burned and illuminated the clearing, showing the rough settlement that all to obviously had been pitched no more than three days earlier. Scraps of long forgotten game lay strewn across the ground, and clothing and weapons of all sorts. Crude language could be heard in every voice. But only one was speaking to her.
"Hello. So you have decided to join us have you?" came the icy voice. "Where?." she choked on her own word. How long had she been out? "So close and yet so far from home. Sad really. Help being so close and yet there is still no chance for you. Must be frustrating" he scoffed. "Who.?" was all she could manage. "Who am I? Are you sure you want to know little one?" he whispered leaning close. "My men call me Eyothaen, but you may call me my lord." The blond haired man said with a twisted grin. "What.?" she groaned ".Do I want with you? Money and.A good laugh!" his green eyes blazed in the light of the fire, reflecting madness as well as flame. Eyothaen struck the elf across the face, knocking Belegorath's head back into the tree behind her and making a small trickle of blood run down the corner of the ranger's chin. "See! Now that's amusing!" he spat. "Money?" her brow furrowed. "Well I usually don't mix work with pleasure but exceptions are always being made. My lord Saruman pays a hefty sum for those who give him trouble." He explained. //Saruman? Who dose he speak of? I know him not! Wait, Saruman the Istari? No, he is friend. It must be someone of the same name. // "Eyothaen, please listen to me. You have made a grave mistake! I am not whoever you think I am! I don't even know who this Saruman you speak of is. Please if you let me go now I will sort this all out! Plea." her words were interrupted by his harsh bark. "I said call me 'MY LORD!'" he struck he in the face, throwing her head to the side. Bele stifled a moan at the pain that the blow caused. Her head lolled limply to the side and for a few moments, she did not have the strength, or the will to raise it again. But the overwhelming sense of dread of what they could do if she was unconscious kept her alert enough to remain in this world. "L-L-Legolas.I'm sorry," her wits had left her long ago. Belegorath was almost fully delirious by now and she no longer even knew what she was saying. "Legola..." her words were cut short as a metal object crashed into her side. No longer able to suppress her cries, she let an agonized wail out into the night air. "You can't break yet, the night is still young!" said one of Eyothaen's men who looked to be no older than she, perhaps eighteen years of age. She winced and dropped her head forward, feeling the warm touch of fresh drawn blood.
Picking up a thick branch from the pile of firewood, Eyothaen struck the elf in the ribs. Estelea cried out helplessly, much too far gone to attempt any kind of control over the body that betrayed her. Several of the other men followed his lead, picking up clubs of their own. All crude makeshift weapons, sword handles, branches, pots, anything they could swing. When they all started in on her, the battered half-elf did not even have enough breath to scream. She felt herself slipping away swiftly, falling towards the darkness of either death or unconsciousness, she knew not which, nor did she care, so long as it took her away from the agony that she was in right now. Belegorath leaned forward, letting the chains on her wrists support her trembling body "Legolas...make it stop saes!" deliriously she reverted back to her native tongue of Quenya, she called out for her friend before the darkness claimed her.
~*~