DISCLAIMER ~ Same as last time. I don't own J. R. R. Tolkien's stuff.
THANKS TO ~
~ Lux-soap ~ you didn't review but you're the best so I'll mention you anyway!
~ Devie Saves ~ Thanks for the suggestion (not constructive criticism, *suggestion*). I tried to make it more descriptive but you'll have to tell me if I really did or not. :D
~ bunny-luver ~ Funny that. You say I'm descriptive, Devie Saves says I need to make it a little more descriptive. Isn't it funny how different people see things? Yeah, the whip is pretty common. But it's convenient for Rularian to have about.
~ orligurl88 ~ Yes, poor Legolas. But he will have revenge!
~ Wilwarin ~ Good style? Never really thought about my style. What's RPG? Aren't there different types of elvish? Oh I don't know, I'm confuzzed now.
~ MoroTheWolfGod ~ Do mean the 'last chapter' as in 'chapter one'? Yeah, that was inspired by Spirit. In fact the whole story is inspired by that film. So you may see some similarities later on.
~ Rabbit of Iron ~ Thanks for being my beta! I've already said thanks but I'll say it again. Thanks!
~ Elenillor ~ You're probably not there but I suppose I should thank you. Without that review/flame then Rabbit of Iron would not have sent me that review, and I would not have replied, and then I wouldn't have a beta. No one can get to me; I always look on the bright side of life. *starts whistling the tune*
~ lulu bell ~ Aragorn is about somewhere. We will see him later!
~ LOTRFaith ~ Confusing? I suppose it could be. :D
NOTE ~ (. . . . . .) = elvish
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Three ~ The Silence of Dim Jim
The red and orange blaze poured over the lifeless landscape of Rohan, flooding everything in warm colour and sending long dark shadows about where there stood dead trees and boulders. The morning had come far too early for Legolas' liking. He lay in a dreadful state on the ground; the brown grass and dust scratched his underside in an uncomfortable manner. Every sound echoed deafeningly in his ear. The scrape of a dagger and flint became the screech of nails on a blackboard; the bray of a horse became the scream of a terrible beast. He could bear it no longer; the pain of everything pulled him down, making his temples throb. The pain of losing his freedom, the pain being weak enough to lose his freedom, the pain in his head and back.
Legolas cried out in anguish, a long fathomless sound that strummed the heart strings of his fellow elves. They stared upon their broken comrade, tethered to the sandy ground so that he could not move properly, but still struggling against his binds, growling and hollering in all his elvish rage. The blood from the gashes on his back had congealed to a thick reddish-brown sludge and his incessant writhing brought new blood to add to what was already there. The prince's voice was spent and he was reduced to deep gasps and sighs, as though he had just been pulled from deep waters.
Rularian eyed Legolas as he sat with his back to a boulder, his legs stretched out before him and his cloak drawn about him. Spiteful delight pulled at the corners of his lips. He caught the elf's glare of misery and hate. His smiled broadened and became a tooth-bearing grin. The man had broken the elf before it had even reached their destination. He would be paid highly for saving the men at The Camp a fair few weeks of trouble. The other three did not seem to need any harsh breaking; their souls had given up by now.
He climbed to his feet, stretching and yawning, and he pulled a leather hip flask from his side. He saw the elves gaze longingly at it as he pulled the stopper out and took swigs of the water within. They had not consumed any liquid for a least a day and they were very thirsty. Rularian was tempted to just pack up and head them all on without giving his slaves anything to drink but they needed to be in reasonably good condition before they came to The Camp. He glanced at the back of Legolas and wondered. He was in quite bad form now, and despite the fact that he was broken Rularian was now worried that he might not get the full price due to the elf's injuries. Perhaps he should try and heal it.
'Damarlen, fetch the healing herbs.'
The lanky man looked up in confusion, but did not dare to question his master's request and stalked away to get the plants from the saddlebag. Rularian turned around.
'Landan, get some water for them.'
Unlike Damarlen, Landan did not think his master's request was odd, as he always had to get the elves some drink. He scurried off with some shallow pans to the vast supply of water from the huge leather pouches that were carried by their donkey, which had been given the eloquent name of 'Dim Jim'.
Damarlen quickly returned with the healing herbs and handed them to Rularian. The leader took them and knelt by Legolas. At this point Landan came back with the water, trying not to spill it, and he set the pans carefully beside the leading man. Using a large piece of dampened cloth Rularian cleaned the blood off, causing the elf prince to hiss in pain. The man spoke up so that all four elves could hear him.
'We will reach the camp today. You must look clean and neat, otherwise we will not be paid the price that we deserve for catching you. As I have said before you will not speak unless you are spoken to. You will do as you are told to do. You do not have names. You are vermin.'
Rularian paused and applied some sticky mashed herbs to Legolas' wounds.
'I will heal you so that you will be fit to do The Camp's work and this day I will give you water *and* food. You must be strong and fetch us a high price.'
The elves listened to this with dread. What kind of work would they be required to do? Legolas closed his eyes in despair yet relief was on his fair face. The cool water soothed his cuts and he could feel the herbs working their magic. He looked into the distance, eyeing the ridges of the rolling hills for any sign of Aragorn but he was not to be seen. Again his eyelids drooped and he waited patiently for Rularian to finish his work. When that was so Legolas was unbound and dragged to his feet, though he still had to wear that wretched Bridle.
'Banes, clean him up. Get that dirt off him.'
Banes glared. His face was covered in bruises, such was the severity of Rularian's punishment for falling asleep while he was on lookout. Smothering his grudge he grasped Legolas' arm and marched him over to Dim Jim before pouring some water over the elf's head and face. Rularian was now healing the other elves and ordering the other men to wash them up. Rularian wiped the residue of the herbs from his hands, standing to his full height and stared at each of his elvish slaves. Two were twins, with dark brown hair and sharp, wise faces. Their clothes, which were now tattered and dirty, would have looked grand before and their hair was twisted into a rather more fancy version of the hunter's braid. In spite of what he had told them about not having names he stepped forwards and questioned them.
'You two!' he growled at them. 'What are your names?'
The twins looked perplexed and slightly apprehensive. They exchanged glances and then answered.
'Elladan,' said one.
'And Elrohir,' said the other.
'We are the sons of Elrond.'
Rularian's eyebrows shot up in surprise and joy.
'The sons of Elrond?' he repeated breathlessly. 'The Half-elven?'
A pair of nodding heads was his answer. It was too late to deny what they had said. Rularian grinned wickedly. Twins, the sons of the renowned Half- eleven of Rivendell. . . They would fetch a very high price! He turned his attention to the quiet one with blonde hair.
'And you?'
The elf looked up.
'Haldir of Lórien. Captain of the Guard.'
Rularian was not so delighted about this as he was after the twins, but Haldir was strong and mild, that was still good. At last he turned to the one that had been punished the night before. He did not need to say anything; the elf knew what to do.
'Legolas,' he said through gritted teeth. He then held his head high. 'Prince of Mirkwood.'
Rularian's eyes almost popped out of his skull. Then he laughed out loud and clear. He would be rolling in years of rations! He was in possession of some incredibly expensive slaves. He grinned and strode away, packing his things with much enthusiasm. He looked up at his men, the glee radiated from his eye like star shine.
'Pack up!' he called. 'We will make it to The Camp by late afternoon!'
He bent down and picked up his sword, which he had left briefly to inspect the elves. It was his habit to inspect his sword, as he was very fond of it. He tossed it and it sang beautifully as it cleaved the air. Catching it by the hilt, he returned it to its scabbard on his side.
'We have four extremely pricey and tame elves!'
At this remark Legolas could not suppress a grim sneer. Let them think that he was broken, that his soul was shattered. Even if they knew that he *was* the prince of Mirkwood they did not know that he was not actually tame like they had first believed. Legolas had no clue as to what waited at The Camp but he would make it very difficult for the slavers.
Banes came over to him and grabbed him by the arms and marched him to his horse, for Banes always rode at the back of the horse train. Elladan, Elrohir and Haldir were also taken over. It was a standard procedure now, to be tied to Banes' horse and then have the others tied behind him one after the other. On some occasions when Dim Jim was being lazy they would tie the donkey to the last elf, to prevent him from lagging behind and to make it extra difficult for any elf to escape. This was done that day, and Dim Jim was braying in his donkey way, making everybody groan and stop their ears.
'Shut him up!' cried Rularian.
Banes nodded and began to walk over to the donkey but before he got there Legolas turned and fixed the animal with a glare and a raised eyebrow, as though Jim was a young child. The powerful vibes that said 'shut up' hit Jim and he was silenced immediately, his large ears pricked up in surprise. Banes stopped and turned around with a grin, obviously thinking that *he* was the cause of the beast's silence. Rularian, on the other hand, had seen the whole thing and it had caused him to wonder. Did all elves have this potent authority over animals or were they just in touch with nature, on the same wavelength of understanding so to speak? He returned his eyes to the distance ahead, where The Camp lay, biting his lip and still thinking. He knew that elves were very deep creatures, and that they were very wise and meditative. That raised eyebrow expression and Dim Jim's surprise played through his mind again. Could this hushed dominance have an effect on humans as well as animals?
Rularian shook the thought from his mind. He dread to think what would happen if those elves at The Camp got loose in their condition. It would become a bloodbath, bits of dead men lying everywhere, elves with blood smeared across their mouths and hands. . . He shuddered. No. That would never happen. He twisted in the saddle to take another look at the prince and found himself coming eye to eye with it. The elf's stare was sharp and knowing, as though he had been reading the man's mind. Rularian whipped his head around and rested his eyes upon the ears of his horse, not bearing to keep the contact. Now he was really wondering how powerful elves were. Shaking his head and trying not to think of it he nudged his horse's sides and the long train headed away towards The Camp. They would make it by late afternoon, and by the next morning the prince's spirit would surely be broken.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
AN ~ YAY! Chapter 3! Phew. . . Okay, reviews are welcome, as are suggestions. *Not* constructive criticism, coz that sounds negative. The key to a good life is to be positive. Like, the glass is half *full* not half *empty*. Got that? Hurrah. . . Chapter 4 up ASAP.
THANKS TO ~
~ Lux-soap ~ you didn't review but you're the best so I'll mention you anyway!
~ Devie Saves ~ Thanks for the suggestion (not constructive criticism, *suggestion*). I tried to make it more descriptive but you'll have to tell me if I really did or not. :D
~ bunny-luver ~ Funny that. You say I'm descriptive, Devie Saves says I need to make it a little more descriptive. Isn't it funny how different people see things? Yeah, the whip is pretty common. But it's convenient for Rularian to have about.
~ orligurl88 ~ Yes, poor Legolas. But he will have revenge!
~ Wilwarin ~ Good style? Never really thought about my style. What's RPG? Aren't there different types of elvish? Oh I don't know, I'm confuzzed now.
~ MoroTheWolfGod ~ Do mean the 'last chapter' as in 'chapter one'? Yeah, that was inspired by Spirit. In fact the whole story is inspired by that film. So you may see some similarities later on.
~ Rabbit of Iron ~ Thanks for being my beta! I've already said thanks but I'll say it again. Thanks!
~ Elenillor ~ You're probably not there but I suppose I should thank you. Without that review/flame then Rabbit of Iron would not have sent me that review, and I would not have replied, and then I wouldn't have a beta. No one can get to me; I always look on the bright side of life. *starts whistling the tune*
~ lulu bell ~ Aragorn is about somewhere. We will see him later!
~ LOTRFaith ~ Confusing? I suppose it could be. :D
NOTE ~ (. . . . . .) = elvish
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Three ~ The Silence of Dim Jim
The red and orange blaze poured over the lifeless landscape of Rohan, flooding everything in warm colour and sending long dark shadows about where there stood dead trees and boulders. The morning had come far too early for Legolas' liking. He lay in a dreadful state on the ground; the brown grass and dust scratched his underside in an uncomfortable manner. Every sound echoed deafeningly in his ear. The scrape of a dagger and flint became the screech of nails on a blackboard; the bray of a horse became the scream of a terrible beast. He could bear it no longer; the pain of everything pulled him down, making his temples throb. The pain of losing his freedom, the pain being weak enough to lose his freedom, the pain in his head and back.
Legolas cried out in anguish, a long fathomless sound that strummed the heart strings of his fellow elves. They stared upon their broken comrade, tethered to the sandy ground so that he could not move properly, but still struggling against his binds, growling and hollering in all his elvish rage. The blood from the gashes on his back had congealed to a thick reddish-brown sludge and his incessant writhing brought new blood to add to what was already there. The prince's voice was spent and he was reduced to deep gasps and sighs, as though he had just been pulled from deep waters.
Rularian eyed Legolas as he sat with his back to a boulder, his legs stretched out before him and his cloak drawn about him. Spiteful delight pulled at the corners of his lips. He caught the elf's glare of misery and hate. His smiled broadened and became a tooth-bearing grin. The man had broken the elf before it had even reached their destination. He would be paid highly for saving the men at The Camp a fair few weeks of trouble. The other three did not seem to need any harsh breaking; their souls had given up by now.
He climbed to his feet, stretching and yawning, and he pulled a leather hip flask from his side. He saw the elves gaze longingly at it as he pulled the stopper out and took swigs of the water within. They had not consumed any liquid for a least a day and they were very thirsty. Rularian was tempted to just pack up and head them all on without giving his slaves anything to drink but they needed to be in reasonably good condition before they came to The Camp. He glanced at the back of Legolas and wondered. He was in quite bad form now, and despite the fact that he was broken Rularian was now worried that he might not get the full price due to the elf's injuries. Perhaps he should try and heal it.
'Damarlen, fetch the healing herbs.'
The lanky man looked up in confusion, but did not dare to question his master's request and stalked away to get the plants from the saddlebag. Rularian turned around.
'Landan, get some water for them.'
Unlike Damarlen, Landan did not think his master's request was odd, as he always had to get the elves some drink. He scurried off with some shallow pans to the vast supply of water from the huge leather pouches that were carried by their donkey, which had been given the eloquent name of 'Dim Jim'.
Damarlen quickly returned with the healing herbs and handed them to Rularian. The leader took them and knelt by Legolas. At this point Landan came back with the water, trying not to spill it, and he set the pans carefully beside the leading man. Using a large piece of dampened cloth Rularian cleaned the blood off, causing the elf prince to hiss in pain. The man spoke up so that all four elves could hear him.
'We will reach the camp today. You must look clean and neat, otherwise we will not be paid the price that we deserve for catching you. As I have said before you will not speak unless you are spoken to. You will do as you are told to do. You do not have names. You are vermin.'
Rularian paused and applied some sticky mashed herbs to Legolas' wounds.
'I will heal you so that you will be fit to do The Camp's work and this day I will give you water *and* food. You must be strong and fetch us a high price.'
The elves listened to this with dread. What kind of work would they be required to do? Legolas closed his eyes in despair yet relief was on his fair face. The cool water soothed his cuts and he could feel the herbs working their magic. He looked into the distance, eyeing the ridges of the rolling hills for any sign of Aragorn but he was not to be seen. Again his eyelids drooped and he waited patiently for Rularian to finish his work. When that was so Legolas was unbound and dragged to his feet, though he still had to wear that wretched Bridle.
'Banes, clean him up. Get that dirt off him.'
Banes glared. His face was covered in bruises, such was the severity of Rularian's punishment for falling asleep while he was on lookout. Smothering his grudge he grasped Legolas' arm and marched him over to Dim Jim before pouring some water over the elf's head and face. Rularian was now healing the other elves and ordering the other men to wash them up. Rularian wiped the residue of the herbs from his hands, standing to his full height and stared at each of his elvish slaves. Two were twins, with dark brown hair and sharp, wise faces. Their clothes, which were now tattered and dirty, would have looked grand before and their hair was twisted into a rather more fancy version of the hunter's braid. In spite of what he had told them about not having names he stepped forwards and questioned them.
'You two!' he growled at them. 'What are your names?'
The twins looked perplexed and slightly apprehensive. They exchanged glances and then answered.
'Elladan,' said one.
'And Elrohir,' said the other.
'We are the sons of Elrond.'
Rularian's eyebrows shot up in surprise and joy.
'The sons of Elrond?' he repeated breathlessly. 'The Half-elven?'
A pair of nodding heads was his answer. It was too late to deny what they had said. Rularian grinned wickedly. Twins, the sons of the renowned Half- eleven of Rivendell. . . They would fetch a very high price! He turned his attention to the quiet one with blonde hair.
'And you?'
The elf looked up.
'Haldir of Lórien. Captain of the Guard.'
Rularian was not so delighted about this as he was after the twins, but Haldir was strong and mild, that was still good. At last he turned to the one that had been punished the night before. He did not need to say anything; the elf knew what to do.
'Legolas,' he said through gritted teeth. He then held his head high. 'Prince of Mirkwood.'
Rularian's eyes almost popped out of his skull. Then he laughed out loud and clear. He would be rolling in years of rations! He was in possession of some incredibly expensive slaves. He grinned and strode away, packing his things with much enthusiasm. He looked up at his men, the glee radiated from his eye like star shine.
'Pack up!' he called. 'We will make it to The Camp by late afternoon!'
He bent down and picked up his sword, which he had left briefly to inspect the elves. It was his habit to inspect his sword, as he was very fond of it. He tossed it and it sang beautifully as it cleaved the air. Catching it by the hilt, he returned it to its scabbard on his side.
'We have four extremely pricey and tame elves!'
At this remark Legolas could not suppress a grim sneer. Let them think that he was broken, that his soul was shattered. Even if they knew that he *was* the prince of Mirkwood they did not know that he was not actually tame like they had first believed. Legolas had no clue as to what waited at The Camp but he would make it very difficult for the slavers.
Banes came over to him and grabbed him by the arms and marched him to his horse, for Banes always rode at the back of the horse train. Elladan, Elrohir and Haldir were also taken over. It was a standard procedure now, to be tied to Banes' horse and then have the others tied behind him one after the other. On some occasions when Dim Jim was being lazy they would tie the donkey to the last elf, to prevent him from lagging behind and to make it extra difficult for any elf to escape. This was done that day, and Dim Jim was braying in his donkey way, making everybody groan and stop their ears.
'Shut him up!' cried Rularian.
Banes nodded and began to walk over to the donkey but before he got there Legolas turned and fixed the animal with a glare and a raised eyebrow, as though Jim was a young child. The powerful vibes that said 'shut up' hit Jim and he was silenced immediately, his large ears pricked up in surprise. Banes stopped and turned around with a grin, obviously thinking that *he* was the cause of the beast's silence. Rularian, on the other hand, had seen the whole thing and it had caused him to wonder. Did all elves have this potent authority over animals or were they just in touch with nature, on the same wavelength of understanding so to speak? He returned his eyes to the distance ahead, where The Camp lay, biting his lip and still thinking. He knew that elves were very deep creatures, and that they were very wise and meditative. That raised eyebrow expression and Dim Jim's surprise played through his mind again. Could this hushed dominance have an effect on humans as well as animals?
Rularian shook the thought from his mind. He dread to think what would happen if those elves at The Camp got loose in their condition. It would become a bloodbath, bits of dead men lying everywhere, elves with blood smeared across their mouths and hands. . . He shuddered. No. That would never happen. He twisted in the saddle to take another look at the prince and found himself coming eye to eye with it. The elf's stare was sharp and knowing, as though he had been reading the man's mind. Rularian whipped his head around and rested his eyes upon the ears of his horse, not bearing to keep the contact. Now he was really wondering how powerful elves were. Shaking his head and trying not to think of it he nudged his horse's sides and the long train headed away towards The Camp. They would make it by late afternoon, and by the next morning the prince's spirit would surely be broken.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
AN ~ YAY! Chapter 3! Phew. . . Okay, reviews are welcome, as are suggestions. *Not* constructive criticism, coz that sounds negative. The key to a good life is to be positive. Like, the glass is half *full* not half *empty*. Got that? Hurrah. . . Chapter 4 up ASAP.