Disclaimer: I claim none of this for my own.
A/N: Aren't you proud of me? See, I posted again.^^
Chapter 37
MITE
Her words had been full of bravado when she had left her friends--speaking of upholding honor, and at the time perhaps she had meant them, though she was at a completely different mind now.
Two days, three unsuccessful escape attempts, a skinned knee, cut cheekbone, and who knew how many bruises later, Apryl was at her last and most desperate of hope. Perhaps in the beginning, when Pippin returned her hug and Merry kissed her upon the brow, perhaps then had she truly thought herself returning to Rivendell and had been fully prepared to meet the angered Lord of the House. But the ache had grown, the fear had intensified, and the longing had burdened her so, that as the days slipped away she became almost desperate to see a familiar face again, one that she could trust, but mostly one that she could smile and laugh and talk with.
Her first escape, considering she had never attempted such before in her life, hadn't gone half as bad as one would have thought. The elves had been overly relaxed with her and overly protective of their other captive and so Apryl found an advantage.
It was the afternoon of the first day that the idea first struck her, for Elladan--the company having come to a rest upon a wide open plain, though rocky and drear--said not a word, made no indication whatsoever, but silently slipped away from the group and went beyond a rising crest far to their left. At first, Apryl thought him scouting but then realized otherwise as he had left his horse in his brother's care and returned not a short while later. And indeed, when Apryl walked beyond the circle at the elf lord's return, he did not try to stop her but let her go about her business, as all living creatures are subject to nature's call.
Once beyond sight, it was easy. She simply did not return. Had she stopped to think on her circumstance (as she later did that night and realized her stupidity) she would have probably turned around and rejoined herself with her newfound company. For one human (not to mention one that appeared to be a hobbit and a female one at that, without weapon or pack, for she had left hers back with the elves) would not make it far, especially with who knew what lurking in the untamed lands of the east.
As it was, it mattered not, for though she ran more often than naught, before night fell Elladan caught up with her on his white mare and she was forced, on sword point, to return. She did so, though ungraciously.
Her second escape was attempted that night, in the cover of darkness (and with her pack) she pretended to fall asleep beyond the fire's light and when she saw the two brothers had closed their eyes and their breathing became even, she slipped away. None saw her leave, or so she thought, save for the poor wretch of a creature. It watched her disappear into the night and then its eyes flashed over to the sleeping Elves and regarded them for a moment before eyeing its own bounded legs and wrists. It tested the bonds but it was a half-hearted attempt, for as the creature suspected, both the elves opened their eyes not a moment later and without a word (and bow in hand), the taller of the two was off. Minutes passed and the elf returned with a small form slumped dejectedly over his shoulder. Her hands were tied; her face was bitter.
The third escape . . . well, if one could even term it as such, was altogether too simple a strategy and doomed to fail from the start. But then, Apryl was getting irritated and the whole idea of holding someone against his or her will hadn't altogether clicked. What right did they have to keep her here if she wanted to be there?
She kicked him--Elladan she thought (hoped, for she sort of liked Elrohir and couldn't have cared less if she busted Elladan's shin)--and ran. That was her brilliant plan, brought on by the fact the two Elves had been discussing the Ring-bearer's quest and Elladan had been fool enough to voice his doubts about the two following halflings catching up with their fellow hobbit.
So she had kicked him.
At the immediate action, escape wasn't on her mind but the fact that immense anger bubbled in her chest. It was this idiot elf that was keeping her from the Merry and Pippin, Merry and Pippin from the Fellowship, and in turn perhaps dooming Middle-earth. Or at the very least allowing Saruman to claim victory, for he would if Pippin and Merry did not meet Treebeard and rouse him and his fellow Entkin. So she kicked him, and was satisfied in felling him.
His brother stared at her in amazement, then made as if to grab her. She jumped from beyond his grasp, very nearly lost her balance and fell (her hands were tied, if you remember) but did not and picked up a rock with both hands and chucked it at the poor, unsuspecting Elf. It took her less than a moment to realize what she had done and immediately she was horrified with herself. But, too, she saw these Elven lords, twice again her height, one stunned, the other felled, and her anger abated at the rising of that one word: Escape!
Apryl ran.
She had not gotten far (for indeed a kick to the shin is not a terrible thing) before Elladan was upon her. He was angry with her, that she could tell by his heated words and flaming eyes. At first she was frightened, but when he did nothing more than set her upon the ground and bind her legs together, slowly the fear faded away. He glared at her once or twice but aside from that would have no more dealings with her.
I don't think I'll ever like an elf again, Apryl thought, glaring miserably at her Elven "escort."
She sat before Elladan upon his white mare, her back as stiff as a board, her eyes always cast to the fore. She refused to look at either of them. Even when Elrohir offered her a sip from his waterskin she would not catch his eye, and she had the odd feeling he wanted her to look at him. For forgiveness, to gloat--she had no idea which, or if either was the case.
As it was however, aside from the occasional word in their own tongue, the Elves spoke very little and Apryl was left to her own thoughts and interests, which was just fine with her.
Oftentimes her mind wandered to the small creature leashed to Elrohir's mount, and the more she thought about it the less she suspected it to be Gollum.
Apryl recalled the first time the creature had spoke: "Not orc, not bad! Not bad, not bad! Mite good. Not hurt Mite!"
Mite? Obviously, the creatures name, she decided. But what was it? Not an orc, it had said. Then what?
It reminded Apryl of Gollum, though the creature, this Mite, walked upright (though with a limp as if it were in pain) whereas, of what Apryl had read, Gollum crawled about more often than not on all fours. Apryl saw that its right leg looked to be wounded and wondered at the screams she had heard at dawn . . . how many nights ago? It seemed like forever. The creature's face was thin, as was its entire body, with lanky legs and arms with little or no meat on them. Its hair was a tangled mass of greasy black curls that fell into large, luminous eyes. They were black--that Apryl had seen when Mite had had its teeth imbedded in Pip's skin--pure black, like a murky pool of hatred and fear. More often than she liked Apryl found them digging into her back and, from the corner of her eye, she would spy the small creature watching her with a curious, almost calculating gaze that made Apryl shiver.
In looks alone Mite reminded Apryl of Gollum, or at least what Apryl thought Gollum looked like from Tolkien's description of him. She couldn't shake the similarity and wondered if perhaps this was Smeagol . . . But why then had it said "Mite good. Not hurt Mite"? Why had it called itself Mite? In all Apryl's recollection of Tolkien's words she could not once recall any creature, orc or otherwise, named Mite.
Apryl peered back at the creature. It trailed along sullenly behind Elrohir's mount, its hands bound together by Elven rope--
Apryl blinked. Elven rope? Then certainly the creature was not Smeagol if the rope did not burn the creature. A cool dread worked its way through Apryl's veins to converge and rest heavily upon her heart. What was this creature? And why had Tolkien never mentioned such about it? Was it just some nameless creature that in no way affected the outcome of Middle-earth and so did not deserve a place in the great novel?
Apryl watched it carefully, her mind full of many more thoughts, all of which confused her more and did nothing to solve this odd mystery. Finally, with no answers forthcoming, Apryl turned back around in her seat and decided she was getting worked up over nothing. Mite was probably no more than some off-bread of an orc, some aimless pathetic thing that had gotten mixed up with Elves and was know doomed to a fate Apryl would rather not think about.
Finding this to be a satisfactory explanation for the unexplainable, Apryl turned back to her earlier thoughts of how much she did not like Elves.
That night when they came to their evening rest, Elladan lifted his small charge from his horse and set her gently beneath a large tree. He then turned aside and did his best to ignore her as he prepared a meal.
Elrohir slid gracefully from his own mount and regarded the small, wretched creature tied to his horse. He then turned to his brother and, in their own tongue, said, "I think I will untie it from Thônthil this night." Mildly curious, Elladan glanced over. "I hate to keep it near her so often," he continued and scratched his horse apologetically. Thônthil snorted.
Sitting dejectedly beneath the trees boughs, Apryl did not even consider the Elf's words. She had gotten use to their unfamiliar language and, finding no way to understand it, merely ignored them.
Elladan nodded. "Secure it to a tree, then. And make certain it is bound tightly. I would bring this thing to Father and learn of why it was trailing the Fellowship. He should like to question it."
Elrohir went about unlashing and then rebinding the creature to a nearby tree. It did not struggle nor fight in any way, but seemed oddly obedient as he dragged it over to a thin pine only several paces from where Apryl sat. Checking the bindings, Elrohir nodded in satisfaction then rose to help in setting up camp.
Apryl eyed the creature somewhat warily and frowned as she saw it looking at her. They stared at one another for a moment and then suddenly and quite unexpectedly the creature smiled. Sharp teeth glinted and Apryl cringed away in both uncertainty and fear. It almost looked as if the creature grimaced, though this was not so, for there was an odd glint of glee in Mite's eyes and it was this more than anything that worried Apryl.
"Nice Hobbit-girl know Smeagol, yes?" it hissed and Apryl blinked in startlement. For many days the creature had said nothing, not since she had first come upon it, and Apryl had nearly forgot that it could speak at all. "Hobbit-girl say Mite is Smeagol," Mite said eagerly. "This mean Hobbit-girl knows Smeagol? Knows where Mite can find Smeagol?"
Apryl edged away slowly, barely comprehending the creature's rasping speech but not liking at all the glint in its eyes.
"No, no," it moaned, seeing her back away. "Mite is nice. Mite is nice to pretty Hobbit-girl. Mite ask only. Mite not hurt, no, no, not ever hurt."
"I--I don't know Smeagol," Apryl stammered, feeling sorry for its pathetic whining. "I only thought--well, you look like him . . ." she hesitated and then: "I think."
Suddenly, Mite's eyes narrowed and it hissed in malice. "Yesss, look like Smeagol." It gnashed its teeth together and clenched and unclenched claw-like fists. "Poor, poor Mite look like Smeagol. Nasty, nasty Smeagol!"
"B-but you're not?" Apryl inquired weakly, frightened by the creature's sudden anger but curiosity about what and who it was outweighing any fear she had.
"No!" Mite shrieked and Apryl fell back in surprise. Across the small clearing, Elladan looked up from preparing a meal but, finding nothing amiss, went back to his work. Of what Apryl could see, Elrohir was nowhere in sight. "Mite not Smeagol! Mite hate Smeagol!"
"A-alright," Apryl said, trying to calm Mite down and reassure it that she did not think it was Smeagol any longer. "Are you an orc, then?" she asked, hurriedly, hoping to distract it.
Mite looked offended by this. "Did Mite not say already?" it asked. "Mite is not orc. Orcs bad. Mite is not bad."
"Well, then . . ." Apryl frowned. It was an odd thing, to discuss with somebody what they were. "What . . . ?"
Mite's face brightened considerably and Apryl was taken aback by how "unorcish" this made the creature look. "Mite like Hobbit-girl," it said matter-of-factly and sat up proudly.
Apryl frowned, confused. "Ah . . ." she began. " 'Like Hobbit-girl'? You mean . . . you're a Hobbit?"
Mite nodded and a smile flashed across its face. This time, though, it did not frighten Apryl, for it was genuine and almost pleasant in its own way. Pippin was right! Apryl thought, incredulously, remembering him mistaking Mite for a Hobbit.
"Mite is a Hobbit-girl, too."
Apryl stopped, this last statement taking a moment to register. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean . . ." she said, hardly able to finish her thought. "Y-you're a . . . a her."
