Jamíran looked suspiciously at the Troll in front of her. "How valuable is she?" she asked, motioning towards the old woman who was slouched unconscious over her horse.
"Not very, to you," he answered. "But we have been searching for this mortal for years. I can assure you we will make it worth your while."
Jamíran looked at the others in her company, then back to the creature. "Let us speak with each other," she requested, then turned to her family and motioned for them to follow her. She walked only a yard or so away, so that the army could not hear them speak. "He wants the eldest one," she told them. "From the sound of it, he will pay much for her."
"What good is she to us?" one of her cousins asked. "Alls we would do with her is kill her. We may as well trade her in for money."
"Why not do that with all of them?" asked another. "Find some way to contact the other 5 strangers – the ones who killed Tyérpe – and ask them how much they would be willing to pay to get their friends back? They would pay handsomely as well. From the looks of it, we have most of the Royal family of Gondor."
"But how will we speak with them?" another person asked. "They would shoot us before we would have the chance. Let us give the woman to these creatures now, and not risk our lives."
Jamíran looked at all of her distant family and sighed. "I will go," she said. "But first, I must speak again with the Troll." Everyone seemed to agree at that, so the young woman turned and went back to the hopeful creature.
"What have you decided?" he asked.
"We will keep her for now," she replied. His eyes showed his anger.
"What?!" he demanded.
"We will keep her for now," Jamíran replied evenly. "I will meet you here at dusk, and then we will tell you what the final decision is, Master Troll. I hope you understand the difficulties that we are having, and would be so kind enough as to delay your progress only for a few hours."
The Troll's glare became a bit softer as he reminded himself that he would have plenty of time to get Arwen later. If Jamíran returned that night and announced that they would not be able to take her, he would kill the wretched witch and then take Arwen by force. "Very well," he said finally. "But bring the human tonight."
"I cannot promise that," the girl replied.
Syrus's anger flared up once again as he lunged at her and put his hand around her neck and held it enough so that she could feel the pressure, but not enough to kill her. Not yet. "Bring the human," he repeated in a new voice that the Troll had not originally had. But this was no longer the Troll's voice at all… it was the voice of Syrus.
"I… I…" Jamíran worked to breathe. "I will," she choked out. Then he threw her down.
"Dusk. Not a moment after." Then a remarkable thing happened. Jamíran was sure that she saw it. It was a dark shadow… a spirit, almost… and it looked as if it had just left the Troll's body. She had seen correctly. Syrus had stopped possessing his cadet. With that, the army of Ums and Trolls turned and started away.
Jamíran coughed and tried to breathe normally again. He had shaken her up for sure, and he threw her down forcefully. She looked up to find the rest of her family looking at her strangely. They had not seen the shadow that she did.
"L-let us bring the captives to a house where they may be stored," she suggested. They seemed to agree at that, and the 5 that were chosen to lead the horses grabbed the reins and lead them to the nearest house which happened to be Nánira's.
~*~
Zerameth's eyes fluttered open and she looked at her surroundings. Alarmed, she screamed and upon hearing this, a raven-haired girl about her own age or maybe a bit older rushed in and flung her hand over the princess's mouth.
"Hush!" she snapped. "If you are loud, I'll have to put you out again, gamajo."
Zerameth took the other girl's hand off of her mouth to ask, "What did you call me?"
"Gamajo. It means outsider. It's an insult."
"Do you have your own language?"
The girl nodded. "Angmarian. But many of us speak the Common Tongue."
Zerameth looked around her. It looked like nothing that she'd ever seen before… rows of wood all around her to form walls and a ceiling. The floor had no carpet but one of grass and dirt, which was very odd for her. She was so used to the palace and other fine places. Currently she was sitting up in a bed, but she had no idea what exactly made up the bed as a mattress. It felt uncomfortable, for there were hard spots and really soft spots that dipped down, and it was so straight and there was no pillow. The blankets were not nearly as warm as hers back at home were… in fact, she didn't know why they bothered throwing something over her since it seemed to do nearly nothing as far as heat went.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"My house. My family brought you here, where you are to stay until we find out how much we will sell you for."
"Sell me?!" Zerameth demanded, fearing that she would end up working as a slave or worse… a girl of pleasure to some young man.
"Yes, but do not fear. You will only be sold back to your father, or to the Trolls who we met. That, or…" The girl hesitated and bit her lip. "Or we may end up torturing you, then killing and eating you."
Zerameth's eyes widened. "You would do that?!"
"I might, but I have never spoken with a captive before. I suppose I'm beginning to have sympathy for you. But my village would. I have no say. But if your father offers a plump amount of money, then have no fear. For we will only torture and kill you if neither offer meets our demands."
Zerameth's imagination was spinning. Who were these people, and why did they eat humans? How did she end up here in the first place? And where was her father right now?
"What happened?" she asked. "How did I get here?"
"We captured you. Well, I did not, but my sister did. I'm too young to go out on watches. But Nánir told me that you were a quite easy capture. The 5 best archers were grouped at the front to kill only 5 of our own, so one of our groups of 30 came up from behind and used a chemical on a cloth to put you all to sleep. They then brought you here, after dealing with the Trolls."
"Is Laesien here?" Zerameth asked, now concerned for her younger sister's life.
"Yes, but each of you are in different rooms. We don't want you conspiring."
For a captor, she is very friendly, Zerameth thought. "I see. What is your name?"
"My…? Oh, I don't have a name."
"You do not have a name?"
"No, only the eldest have names. They're the only ones that are important. But I know your name, and I know that gamaji do things differently in the outside than how we do them here. I like to think that we are a private culture, a private people, who are never affected by the outside. We are our own, and we pay no attention to how things are done other places."
"There is another such group like that in this world," Zerameth thought aloud, thinking of the Hobbits. Of course, they did not eat trespassers, but they were still much the same as Angmarians. They were isolated from the rest of the people… cut-off in a way that Zerameth had never experienced, for Gondor was never like that. Angmar and The Shire were unique, and they each stood alone.
"I believe you."
Zerameth looked thoughtfully at the girl sitting next to her. How could she not have a name? What did people call her when they wanted her to come near, or what did she write on her paper when she did lessons?
"May I give you a name?" Zerameth asked finally. The girl's eyes lit up.
"Oh, yes! That would be wonderful! What would you call me?"
The princess paused, trying to think of a good name. Then finally she said, "Amethyst. 'Tis not a human name, nor a Dwarvish name or an Elvish one. It is a gem, and it's a very unique name. Much like your people."
The girl smiled. "Oh, lovely! Thank you!" She threw her arms around Zerameth in a hug. Then she smiled adventurously and whispered eagerly, "What do you say I sneak you out of here?"
Zerameth would have jumped at the chance, except she knew that that would mean leaving the rest of her company behind. "What about my sister and mother?" she asked. "And… Ohtar's family?"
"Well, I can't very well sneak the five of you out!" Amethyst replied. She opened a window. "Come, Zerameth, before my sister returns."
What if they were sold to the Trolls, and then her mother were in the hands of the enemy? Or what if they were sold to Aragorn, and she could be with her father again? For, she doubted she could find her way to him again.
"I do not think…"
Amethyst nodded. "I understand. You don't want to leave your family behind. But consider it? For, if you stay, I cannot protect you. Should you be tortured, killed, and eaten, I would hold no position of power to oppose it."
Zerameth looked down, trying to figure out what to do. But deep inside, she knew that she could never leave her mother and sister. "No, I will stay."
