Author's note: OK, I know I threatened not to update, but since Bean02
requested an update, I'll be nice. If you want another chapter, please
review or I might not think it's worth the effort.
***
The first thing Rion became aware of was that his wrists hurt. As he became more awake he realised why. His arms were tied behind him, and he was lying down, or rather leaning. The floor sloped strangely to become the wall, so he was lying at an odd angle. His feet were also bound he discovered.
The next thing he became aware of was that his stomach wasn't feeling too good. He felt as though he might be sick at any moment. He thought at first it was from the drug he had been given, but it soon became apparent that it was really the fact that the room was moving. The floor he was lying on was constantly shifting and swaying in a manner that sent his stomach reeling.
Curious, Rion opened his eyes. They were met with darkness. There were thin lines of brightness, letting some dim light into the place he was confined allowing him a look at his surroundings. There were wooden walls barely inches from either arm. Another wall was at his feet, though the lines of light around it suggested this might be a door. There was no handle inside. He pushed against it with his bound feet, but nothing happened.
Rion sighed, and let his head fall sideways against one of the walls with a dull thump. A moment later there was an answering thump on the other side and he sat up straight.
"Who's there?" he asked.
"Rion?" a voice asked, one familiar despite the muffling wood. "It's Mir."
"Have they hurt you?" Rion asked.
"No, they just tied me up and put me in a cell." Rion looked around him. It seemed more like a box than a cell. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, just tired. How long was I out?"
"A day, maybe more, I'm not sure how much time we've been down here."
"And where's here?"
"A ship." That would explain the swaying motion. "They made us walk for a long time until we reached the river. They carried you. The man who gave you that stuff ordered the others to tie up the guards and leave them. He said that they would be able to get free soon enough, but not before we were well away. Then they took us onto the ship." There was a pause as Rion thought about what Mir had told him.
"I was worried about you," Mir admitted after a while.
"I'm fine. That drug just put me to sleep."
They broke off their conversation at the sound of footsteps on wood. Rion heard bolts being pulled back and then the wall in front of him was lifted up and outwards. He blinked several times, blinded by the sudden light. Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw that a man was standing there, dressed in the same uniform as the attackers. He put something down on the floor and then leaned into the cell. Rion tried to pull himself away, but the man took hold of him by the shoulders and rolled him onto his side. It took Rion a moment to realise his hands were being untied.
He rubbed his sore wrists as the man pushed a tray inside and stood up.
"Wait!" Rion called, as the man put his hands on the door to shut it. "I need. . ." He gestured downwards, embarrassed to say. His father had taught him it wasn't polite to speak of such things.
"Very well," the man said, "but do not try anything." He reached down and untied the ropes at Rion's feet. He drew a dagger, then held his free hand out to help Rion. Rion took it, his eyes always on the blade. It was held in a way suggesting the man was used to wielding it, and he had a sword at his side. Rion toyed briefly with the idea of fighting him, but dismissed it. The man was almost certainly going to be a better fighter, which along with being armed put Rion at too great a disadvantage. Besides, he was on a ship filled with enemy soldiers, so where would he go even if he could get himself and Mir free?
The man put his hand in the middle of Rion's back and pushed him along what was essentially a tunnel of wood. They were inside the ship, with stairs at one end of the tunnel leading up to a bright square of daylight, Doors lead off on one side, probably into cabins. The other side held cells stacked on top of each other as well as side by side. Rion wondered why they would have so many cells, then he realised they weren't cells at all. They were store cupboards! Rage filled him that he could be treated in such a way. His hands formed fists at his side and it took a lot of effort to keep himself from acting rashly. He would gain nothing by getting himself killed.
The man opened a small door at the end of the tunnel away from the stairs. Inside was a small room, containing nothing more than a wooden seat with a hole in it. Rion stepped inside, the man still behind him still, watching.
"May I not have some privacy?" Rion asked. The man shut the door, leaving Rion alone. He relieved himself, and then spent a few moments stretching and enjoying the movement in his limbs. His back was sore from his fall and then lying in that awkward position, but otherwise he was all right. His wrists had been rubbed by the tight ropes, but now they were free they were fine.
It seemed they wanted him unhurt for whatever reason. How long would that last? His mind filled with thoughts of torture and pain that they might deal out on him and Mir. He wished he had his father's warnings more seriously. The thought of his father, made tears well up behind his eyes, but he kept them back. He couldn't let them see how he was being affected. As he opened the door and allowed himself to be taken back to his cell, he kept his expression calm and controlled. It was a struggle, since he had never been so afraid.
They reached his cell, which was one of the ones on the bottom row. He could see that once shut it would be secured by two bolts, neither of which there was any way of opening from inside. The man gave him a firm but not unkind push down. He dropped and went inside the cell. The thing that the man had brought was still there, a tray containing some hard biscuits and a cup of water.
The man retied his feet, but left his arms free.
"Is that necessary?" Rion asked.
"The captain doesn't want to take any chances with you," the man replied. Rion sighed and reached for the biscuits. He took a cautious bite and grimaced, it was dry with a rough texture and barely any taste.
"This is food?" he asked.
"You'll get no princely banquets here," the man replied, "eat this or starve, the choice is yours." Then he stepped back and shut Rion in again. The sounds that filtered through the wood told him that Mir was being taken out, probably being allowed to relieve himself as well. He ate the biscuits slowly, thinking about what the man had said, while Mir returned and was locked in.
"They know who I am," Rion said, "which means the attack was specifically planned to capture us." Or me, he added silently.
"What difference does it make?" Mir asked.
"It means that they must have gone to a lot of trouble, so they'll be less likely to kill us." Hopefully. There was a pause.
"I can understand why they might want you a prisoner," Mir said at last, "but why would they want me? I'm no one important." Rion thought about this for a while, remembering the initial attack.
"So they can hold a knife to your throat when they want me to co-operate." Mir had nothing to do with any of this. Anyone else would have served just as well, but they brought his best friend. Mir didn't deserve to be treated like this, locked in a tiny cupboard. It was all his fault.
"I'm sorry," Rion said, at exactly the same moment that Mir did. He was about to ask what Mir was sorry about, when they both heard footsteps approaching. The door in front of Rion opened again, and this time it was the man who had drugged him who stood there, the one with the stripes on the shoulder.
"I'm under orders to take you back to my land," he said, "but there is no reason for your journey to be more uncomfortable than necessary. I will allow you to be moved to one of the cabins."
"At what price?" Rion asked cautiously.
"Your word that you will not try to escape."
"NO! I will not surrender to an enemy simply because of comfort!"
"You will have no chance of escape in here any more than if you were bound by your word. It would be sensible to accept this offer. It will not be made again." Rion just glared at him. Eventually the man sighed in a resigned way. "Very well then." He stood back and locked Rion in again.
As the footsteps receded, he heard Mir shifting uncomfortably in the next cell. Had he made the right choice? Yes, he had. If he gave his word then he would not be able to free himself, even if the chance presented itself. There was little hope of that, but still some. Content he had chosen rightly, the young prince of Gondor reached forwards and began picking at the ropes that bound his legs together.
***
Days passed uncomfortably, with the only change being the fading of the light round the door and the men coming to bring him food. He wasn't starved, but the dry biscuits weren't very satisfying. Rion unbound his legs, but each time someone brought him food they bound them again. It seemed pointless, but he wasn't going to be the one to break the cycle. As long as he could free his legs he felt there was some chance of freedom, small though it was.
Ten days had passed, and so far he had had no opportunity to escape. They would take him out to relieve himself twice a day, but always guarded and the guard was always armed. The only glimpse he had of daylight was what little came down the stairs into the tunnel. As time past he began to feel that even if he got out, the sun would have gone dark and he would spend his time forever in blackness.
He told Mir this, who just laughed at him. It was silly, he knew, but despair was easy in a place like this.
He had been asleep, but was woken suddenly by pain up his right arm. He had barely enough to time to register it before he was flung sideways and his left arm hit the wall of the cell hard. In a moment he realised it was the motion of the ship and braced himself against the walls. It was night, since there was no light at all in the cell. He could hear a huge roaring, and people shouting, but he couldn't make out the words.
There was a flash, and for a moment the edges of the door were lit brightly, but then he was plunged into darkness. A storm, and a powerful one at that. If the ship sank, he would have no way out and would drown for sure. Though fear gripped his heart, the motion of the ship made his stomach the most immediate problem. Rion vomited.
***
How long the storm lasted for, Rion couldn't guess. It had been a horrible experience, locked in that cell. He had vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach and still he couldn't stop. His arms were sore from being flung against the walls as the ship lurched. And now he sat, the ship seeming motionless after the horrendous storm.
He was hungry, but the smell would have put him off eating even if they brought him food. He was sitting in a pile of his own vomit, his clothes covered with the stuff. It was so disgusting that he thought that if the man with the stripes were to offer him a warm bath he would probably do anything he asked.
After some time there were footsteps, and someone opened the door. The man standing there grimaced at the stench, and Rion didn't blame him.
"Not much of a seafarer, are you?" the man said. He took a stretch of rope out. Rion thought at first he meant to bind his feet again, which he had untied as always. Instead the man put a hand on Rion's shoulder, where he was cleaner, and pulled him forward. Rion stepped out of the cell, and the man bound his wrists behind him. He knew something apart from the normal was going to happen, since they hadn't bound his hands since that first day.
Once he was secure, Rion was prodded gently in the direction of the steps. Warm sunlight struck him for the first time in days and the sheer joy of it was immeasurable. He emerged onto the deck, and felt a breeze, tinged with salt, ripple through his hair and caress his skin. He stood still for a moment, feeling the pleasure of nature, but a hand pressed into his back.
"You might want to stand there in your own stench, but I don't," the man said, and pushed him along the deck. The deck of the ship was at three levels. The central one, on which Rion stood was the lowest, the other two on either side were higher, reached by steps. Doors into these levels suggested there were more cabins there. The man took Rion to the wall made by one of the higher levels and tied his hands to a metal ring fixed there.
Rion didn't resist, partly because there wouldn't be much point, but mostly because he was just enjoying being outside. If he struggled now they would most likely shove him back into that cell and leave there forever. As the man walked away, Rion got a good look at this level of the deck. People, all in the same uniform, were working. Some were repairing broken woodwork, or carrying things up the sets of steps. Others were moving about on tasks Rion didn't know the purpose of, but it seemed there was no one who wasn't busy.
The man came back to Rion, carrying a bucket of water and a cloth. It wasn't a warm bath, but at least it was something. Rion stood calmly, and allowed the man to clean his skin and wipe the worst of the filth from his clothes, moving to make the task easier for him.
"Thank you," Rion said when it was finished. He wasn't very clean, but cleaner than he had been in a while. He had inherited more from his mother than just the pointed tips of his ears, and to sit for days dirty without the opportunity of washing disgusted him, as much as the lack of sunlight or starlight filled him with despair.
"I'm just doing my job, your highness," the man replied, surprised. His surprise was nothing compared to Rion's surprise at hearing the man address him by his title.
"Whether by orders or not, you have shown me kindness. For that I thank you." The man smiled, still surprised at hearing polite words from a prisoner.
"You're welcome." He reached round to release Rion's arms from the ring.
"Might I stay up here a while?" Rion asked. The man looked at him closely, surprise replaced by suspicion. "Please," Rion said, "my kind aren't meant to be shut away in darkness." He saw the man's gaze flicker to Rion's ears.
"I'll have to ask the captain," he said, and then called to a man who was nearby, fixing a piece of wood railing on the side of the ship, "Keep an eye on this one." The other man nodded, then the first went off. Rion closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall behind him. Sunlight lit his face, and the wind touched him gently. His bound hands didn't matter for several long moments as he mind drifted free. In the darkness below the ship it had felt as though he would never experience this again.
When he opened his eyes again the sun had moved considerably. He hadn't realised how much time had gone by. Most of the people who had been moving about the deck earlier were elsewhere, performing other tasks. He looked out at the wide expanse of sea, and noticed saw a group of rocks emerging from the water not far from him. He wondered how there could be rocks on their own in the middle of an ocean, when he learned that they weren't.
"Land in sight!" a voice called. Whatever land had been sighted was hidden from Rion by the wall he was tied to, but at least he knew that his journey was almost over. As people rushed about, many up to the deck behind Rion, the man with stripes on his uniform came up to him, a familiar bottle in his hands.
"Drink," he said, holding it up to Rion's mouth. He hesitated for a moment, considering. He knew the liquid would only send him to sleep, but that would leave him completely at the mercy of these people. Then he realised how foolish that notion was. He was at their mercy anyway, and this man could easily force him to drink if he refused. Or hurt Mir. So Rion opened his mouth to accept the liquid and in moments was asleep.
***
Author's note: Well, what do you think? Please tell me, I love getting reviews. I will explain about the title later on.
***
The first thing Rion became aware of was that his wrists hurt. As he became more awake he realised why. His arms were tied behind him, and he was lying down, or rather leaning. The floor sloped strangely to become the wall, so he was lying at an odd angle. His feet were also bound he discovered.
The next thing he became aware of was that his stomach wasn't feeling too good. He felt as though he might be sick at any moment. He thought at first it was from the drug he had been given, but it soon became apparent that it was really the fact that the room was moving. The floor he was lying on was constantly shifting and swaying in a manner that sent his stomach reeling.
Curious, Rion opened his eyes. They were met with darkness. There were thin lines of brightness, letting some dim light into the place he was confined allowing him a look at his surroundings. There were wooden walls barely inches from either arm. Another wall was at his feet, though the lines of light around it suggested this might be a door. There was no handle inside. He pushed against it with his bound feet, but nothing happened.
Rion sighed, and let his head fall sideways against one of the walls with a dull thump. A moment later there was an answering thump on the other side and he sat up straight.
"Who's there?" he asked.
"Rion?" a voice asked, one familiar despite the muffling wood. "It's Mir."
"Have they hurt you?" Rion asked.
"No, they just tied me up and put me in a cell." Rion looked around him. It seemed more like a box than a cell. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, just tired. How long was I out?"
"A day, maybe more, I'm not sure how much time we've been down here."
"And where's here?"
"A ship." That would explain the swaying motion. "They made us walk for a long time until we reached the river. They carried you. The man who gave you that stuff ordered the others to tie up the guards and leave them. He said that they would be able to get free soon enough, but not before we were well away. Then they took us onto the ship." There was a pause as Rion thought about what Mir had told him.
"I was worried about you," Mir admitted after a while.
"I'm fine. That drug just put me to sleep."
They broke off their conversation at the sound of footsteps on wood. Rion heard bolts being pulled back and then the wall in front of him was lifted up and outwards. He blinked several times, blinded by the sudden light. Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw that a man was standing there, dressed in the same uniform as the attackers. He put something down on the floor and then leaned into the cell. Rion tried to pull himself away, but the man took hold of him by the shoulders and rolled him onto his side. It took Rion a moment to realise his hands were being untied.
He rubbed his sore wrists as the man pushed a tray inside and stood up.
"Wait!" Rion called, as the man put his hands on the door to shut it. "I need. . ." He gestured downwards, embarrassed to say. His father had taught him it wasn't polite to speak of such things.
"Very well," the man said, "but do not try anything." He reached down and untied the ropes at Rion's feet. He drew a dagger, then held his free hand out to help Rion. Rion took it, his eyes always on the blade. It was held in a way suggesting the man was used to wielding it, and he had a sword at his side. Rion toyed briefly with the idea of fighting him, but dismissed it. The man was almost certainly going to be a better fighter, which along with being armed put Rion at too great a disadvantage. Besides, he was on a ship filled with enemy soldiers, so where would he go even if he could get himself and Mir free?
The man put his hand in the middle of Rion's back and pushed him along what was essentially a tunnel of wood. They were inside the ship, with stairs at one end of the tunnel leading up to a bright square of daylight, Doors lead off on one side, probably into cabins. The other side held cells stacked on top of each other as well as side by side. Rion wondered why they would have so many cells, then he realised they weren't cells at all. They were store cupboards! Rage filled him that he could be treated in such a way. His hands formed fists at his side and it took a lot of effort to keep himself from acting rashly. He would gain nothing by getting himself killed.
The man opened a small door at the end of the tunnel away from the stairs. Inside was a small room, containing nothing more than a wooden seat with a hole in it. Rion stepped inside, the man still behind him still, watching.
"May I not have some privacy?" Rion asked. The man shut the door, leaving Rion alone. He relieved himself, and then spent a few moments stretching and enjoying the movement in his limbs. His back was sore from his fall and then lying in that awkward position, but otherwise he was all right. His wrists had been rubbed by the tight ropes, but now they were free they were fine.
It seemed they wanted him unhurt for whatever reason. How long would that last? His mind filled with thoughts of torture and pain that they might deal out on him and Mir. He wished he had his father's warnings more seriously. The thought of his father, made tears well up behind his eyes, but he kept them back. He couldn't let them see how he was being affected. As he opened the door and allowed himself to be taken back to his cell, he kept his expression calm and controlled. It was a struggle, since he had never been so afraid.
They reached his cell, which was one of the ones on the bottom row. He could see that once shut it would be secured by two bolts, neither of which there was any way of opening from inside. The man gave him a firm but not unkind push down. He dropped and went inside the cell. The thing that the man had brought was still there, a tray containing some hard biscuits and a cup of water.
The man retied his feet, but left his arms free.
"Is that necessary?" Rion asked.
"The captain doesn't want to take any chances with you," the man replied. Rion sighed and reached for the biscuits. He took a cautious bite and grimaced, it was dry with a rough texture and barely any taste.
"This is food?" he asked.
"You'll get no princely banquets here," the man replied, "eat this or starve, the choice is yours." Then he stepped back and shut Rion in again. The sounds that filtered through the wood told him that Mir was being taken out, probably being allowed to relieve himself as well. He ate the biscuits slowly, thinking about what the man had said, while Mir returned and was locked in.
"They know who I am," Rion said, "which means the attack was specifically planned to capture us." Or me, he added silently.
"What difference does it make?" Mir asked.
"It means that they must have gone to a lot of trouble, so they'll be less likely to kill us." Hopefully. There was a pause.
"I can understand why they might want you a prisoner," Mir said at last, "but why would they want me? I'm no one important." Rion thought about this for a while, remembering the initial attack.
"So they can hold a knife to your throat when they want me to co-operate." Mir had nothing to do with any of this. Anyone else would have served just as well, but they brought his best friend. Mir didn't deserve to be treated like this, locked in a tiny cupboard. It was all his fault.
"I'm sorry," Rion said, at exactly the same moment that Mir did. He was about to ask what Mir was sorry about, when they both heard footsteps approaching. The door in front of Rion opened again, and this time it was the man who had drugged him who stood there, the one with the stripes on the shoulder.
"I'm under orders to take you back to my land," he said, "but there is no reason for your journey to be more uncomfortable than necessary. I will allow you to be moved to one of the cabins."
"At what price?" Rion asked cautiously.
"Your word that you will not try to escape."
"NO! I will not surrender to an enemy simply because of comfort!"
"You will have no chance of escape in here any more than if you were bound by your word. It would be sensible to accept this offer. It will not be made again." Rion just glared at him. Eventually the man sighed in a resigned way. "Very well then." He stood back and locked Rion in again.
As the footsteps receded, he heard Mir shifting uncomfortably in the next cell. Had he made the right choice? Yes, he had. If he gave his word then he would not be able to free himself, even if the chance presented itself. There was little hope of that, but still some. Content he had chosen rightly, the young prince of Gondor reached forwards and began picking at the ropes that bound his legs together.
***
Days passed uncomfortably, with the only change being the fading of the light round the door and the men coming to bring him food. He wasn't starved, but the dry biscuits weren't very satisfying. Rion unbound his legs, but each time someone brought him food they bound them again. It seemed pointless, but he wasn't going to be the one to break the cycle. As long as he could free his legs he felt there was some chance of freedom, small though it was.
Ten days had passed, and so far he had had no opportunity to escape. They would take him out to relieve himself twice a day, but always guarded and the guard was always armed. The only glimpse he had of daylight was what little came down the stairs into the tunnel. As time past he began to feel that even if he got out, the sun would have gone dark and he would spend his time forever in blackness.
He told Mir this, who just laughed at him. It was silly, he knew, but despair was easy in a place like this.
He had been asleep, but was woken suddenly by pain up his right arm. He had barely enough to time to register it before he was flung sideways and his left arm hit the wall of the cell hard. In a moment he realised it was the motion of the ship and braced himself against the walls. It was night, since there was no light at all in the cell. He could hear a huge roaring, and people shouting, but he couldn't make out the words.
There was a flash, and for a moment the edges of the door were lit brightly, but then he was plunged into darkness. A storm, and a powerful one at that. If the ship sank, he would have no way out and would drown for sure. Though fear gripped his heart, the motion of the ship made his stomach the most immediate problem. Rion vomited.
***
How long the storm lasted for, Rion couldn't guess. It had been a horrible experience, locked in that cell. He had vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach and still he couldn't stop. His arms were sore from being flung against the walls as the ship lurched. And now he sat, the ship seeming motionless after the horrendous storm.
He was hungry, but the smell would have put him off eating even if they brought him food. He was sitting in a pile of his own vomit, his clothes covered with the stuff. It was so disgusting that he thought that if the man with the stripes were to offer him a warm bath he would probably do anything he asked.
After some time there were footsteps, and someone opened the door. The man standing there grimaced at the stench, and Rion didn't blame him.
"Not much of a seafarer, are you?" the man said. He took a stretch of rope out. Rion thought at first he meant to bind his feet again, which he had untied as always. Instead the man put a hand on Rion's shoulder, where he was cleaner, and pulled him forward. Rion stepped out of the cell, and the man bound his wrists behind him. He knew something apart from the normal was going to happen, since they hadn't bound his hands since that first day.
Once he was secure, Rion was prodded gently in the direction of the steps. Warm sunlight struck him for the first time in days and the sheer joy of it was immeasurable. He emerged onto the deck, and felt a breeze, tinged with salt, ripple through his hair and caress his skin. He stood still for a moment, feeling the pleasure of nature, but a hand pressed into his back.
"You might want to stand there in your own stench, but I don't," the man said, and pushed him along the deck. The deck of the ship was at three levels. The central one, on which Rion stood was the lowest, the other two on either side were higher, reached by steps. Doors into these levels suggested there were more cabins there. The man took Rion to the wall made by one of the higher levels and tied his hands to a metal ring fixed there.
Rion didn't resist, partly because there wouldn't be much point, but mostly because he was just enjoying being outside. If he struggled now they would most likely shove him back into that cell and leave there forever. As the man walked away, Rion got a good look at this level of the deck. People, all in the same uniform, were working. Some were repairing broken woodwork, or carrying things up the sets of steps. Others were moving about on tasks Rion didn't know the purpose of, but it seemed there was no one who wasn't busy.
The man came back to Rion, carrying a bucket of water and a cloth. It wasn't a warm bath, but at least it was something. Rion stood calmly, and allowed the man to clean his skin and wipe the worst of the filth from his clothes, moving to make the task easier for him.
"Thank you," Rion said when it was finished. He wasn't very clean, but cleaner than he had been in a while. He had inherited more from his mother than just the pointed tips of his ears, and to sit for days dirty without the opportunity of washing disgusted him, as much as the lack of sunlight or starlight filled him with despair.
"I'm just doing my job, your highness," the man replied, surprised. His surprise was nothing compared to Rion's surprise at hearing the man address him by his title.
"Whether by orders or not, you have shown me kindness. For that I thank you." The man smiled, still surprised at hearing polite words from a prisoner.
"You're welcome." He reached round to release Rion's arms from the ring.
"Might I stay up here a while?" Rion asked. The man looked at him closely, surprise replaced by suspicion. "Please," Rion said, "my kind aren't meant to be shut away in darkness." He saw the man's gaze flicker to Rion's ears.
"I'll have to ask the captain," he said, and then called to a man who was nearby, fixing a piece of wood railing on the side of the ship, "Keep an eye on this one." The other man nodded, then the first went off. Rion closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall behind him. Sunlight lit his face, and the wind touched him gently. His bound hands didn't matter for several long moments as he mind drifted free. In the darkness below the ship it had felt as though he would never experience this again.
When he opened his eyes again the sun had moved considerably. He hadn't realised how much time had gone by. Most of the people who had been moving about the deck earlier were elsewhere, performing other tasks. He looked out at the wide expanse of sea, and noticed saw a group of rocks emerging from the water not far from him. He wondered how there could be rocks on their own in the middle of an ocean, when he learned that they weren't.
"Land in sight!" a voice called. Whatever land had been sighted was hidden from Rion by the wall he was tied to, but at least he knew that his journey was almost over. As people rushed about, many up to the deck behind Rion, the man with stripes on his uniform came up to him, a familiar bottle in his hands.
"Drink," he said, holding it up to Rion's mouth. He hesitated for a moment, considering. He knew the liquid would only send him to sleep, but that would leave him completely at the mercy of these people. Then he realised how foolish that notion was. He was at their mercy anyway, and this man could easily force him to drink if he refused. Or hurt Mir. So Rion opened his mouth to accept the liquid and in moments was asleep.
***
Author's note: Well, what do you think? Please tell me, I love getting reviews. I will explain about the title later on.