Author's note: All delays are to be blamed on the fact that I moved house. We have only just got the computer working, and I've been very busy. We're converting a barn so there's a lot of work to do.
I'll try and find time to write more though.
***
"But you said you wouldn't go," Lenna complained.
"I'll be back," Legolas said, "I promise. But now I have to go otherwise these people will be nasty to us. Now go with this lady and do what she tells you. I'll see you soon enough. Be good, Lenna."
Legolas was about to go, when he found Lenna's arms round him. He hadn't much experience with children and so wasn't sure how to react. Hugging her back seemed the only way. After a few moments he pried her arms from his legs and sent her with the lady.
Legolas went with Emerin. He had explained what would be expected of him. He was to prepare his mistress's bath, then wake her. While she bathed he would lay out clothes for her. Then once she was dressed he would stand behind her and serve her through breakfast.
During the morning she would normally spend time in her private rooms. Legolas was to wait by the door and fetch anything she called for. Then he would serve her again at lunch. She would often go out in the afternoon. If she walked, Legolas would carry a shade to protect her from sun or rain. If she went in a carriage he must sit up front and go with her. Whether he would remain with her at wherever she went would depend on the circumstances.
Then he would be expected to serve her at dinner. Afterwards he was to prepare a bath and lay out her sleeping gown. He would then be allowed to take some supper himself and go to bed.
He'd already eaten his breakfast. It hadn't been fancy, but it had been enough. Clearly his new owner liked to keep her slaves healthy, and Legolas' tasks weren't going to be arduous. He just hoped Lenna would behave herself. She might easily begin talking when she wasn't allowed to or ask impertinent questions of one who was supposedly her superior.
He knew he shouldn't care, since she was only a human, but he didn't want anything to happen to the child. She deserved better than slavery and when he found a way out of this place he would be taking her with him.
The day was drearily dull to Legolas. There were many occasions where he longed to yell at his 'mistress' and say he wouldn't do the things she asked. But he held his tongue. There was no sense in letting his pride get him killed. He would be on the lookout for an escape route.
His serving was an act. He wasn't really submitting to her. At least that was what he tried to convince himself. As soon as there was a reasonable chance that he could get away he would do so.
While serving breakfast, he leaned forwards to reach one of the dishes and the hair that had been covering his ears fell forwards, revealing the pointed tips. He only realised what had happened when he stood straight again and saw that she was looking at him.
"You are an elf," she said. It wasn't a question so Legolas didn't reply. "Then the child is not your daughter?"
"I am her guardian," Legolas replied. In a sense it was true, even though no parent or relative had appointed him to the task.
"I am surprised," she said, "From what I have heard of your barbarian kind I never thought you would care for a human child."
The sensible part of his mind was telling him to remain silent. Unfortunately, his pride took over on her insult and overruled sense.
"My people are not barbarians," he said, his voice cold with anger.
"Do not contradict me!"
But Legolas' pride and temper had full control now, despite his brain protesting that it might be a good idea to be silent. "My people are more civilised than yours," Legolas said, "for we do not enslave our own. If you wish to see a barbarian I suggest you look in the mirror."
Her blow was just a stinging slap across Legolas' face. It caused no serious pain, and did no good as a warning. If anything, it just increased the coldly burning anger that fuelled his voice.
"An elf would not be punished for speaking the truth. It shows how uncivilised you are if you consider truthfulness a crime."
"Guards!" In an instant two strong looking men stood in the doorway. "Take this slave and beat him until he learns some respect."
"I show respect to those who deserve it," Legolas retorted as the men seized his arms and began dragging him from the room.
***
Aragorn closed his eyes as though that would shut out the pain. It had been administered carefully and purposefully. Macran had begun with his chest and sides, and was now working his way methodically up his left arm. It was now adorned with minor cuts. Thin needles pierced his skin and muscles.
He thought there was some sort of poison on the needles, judging from the pain that seemed to be spreading slowly from his arm into the rest of his body. By now his left arm was completely useless, even if it hadn't been strapped down.
His limbs were aching from being kept still for so long. He didn't even know how long he'd been left like this. A day, he guessed, but he couldn't be sure. He wondered why they were starting with his left arm. It would make more sense to start with his right, or his legs, making escape impossible. He supposed Ackeran thought there was no chance of his escaping anyway.
He hoped he could use that arrogance against him, but from what he'd seen it was more than just arrogance. He didn't think he had much chance of an escape.
He lay back, trying to remember his last encounter with Ackeran. It was difficult, he'd been very young at the time and much of the memory was coloured by discussions he'd had with Lord Elrond afterwards. But still there was something that didn't seem right about this situation, and he couldn't place the voice he'd heard when he was barely conscious.
The door opened again and a guard entered followed by Ackeran. The guard had a sword at his side, and Ackeran held a whip, but otherwise there were no weapons. Ackeran said nothing, but gave the guard a nod.
At this signal the guard released Aragorn from his bonds. He struggled, but his useless left arm and the ever increasing pain meant there was little he could do. The guard pulled him to his feet and towards a set of chains hanging from the wall.
Aragorn managed to give his captor one good punch and a few more feeble blows before he was chained up securely. A moment of struggling against the chains told him that there was no way he was getting out until someone let him.
So he stood.
His face might be towards the wall but his back was held straight and his head erect. He wouldn't let Ackeran see the pain he was feeling. He would hold himself proud, as a son of kings and a ranger of the north. He would not be tortured into submission.
"You suggested that I should hurt you," Ackeran said, "so I decided to do what you asked." There was a sneer to the voice and Aragorn wanted nothing more than to hit that man in the face. The man who was responsible for his father's death.
"Ackeran betrayed your father."
He heard the swish of the whip, and the pain cut into his back. He didn't cry out though. After what Ackeran had done to him and his family he would give him no satisfaction.
The whip swung again, and again. Aragorn bit his lip to keep from screaming and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. But still he did not cry out.
The pain filled his back, mingling with the agony of his arm and spawning little children that shot through the rest of his body on fiery feet. He allowed his shoulders to slump and hung from the chains. He allowed his left wrist to take most of his weight, ignoring the pain that seared through his shoulder and up to his wrist. He wanted to make sure his right arm remained uninjured. At last he dropped his head and hung motionless, his eyes closed.
He was remembering Lord Elrond's startling declaration and what Ackeran had said afterwards. He needed to know.
He made no sound or movement as the whip swung one last time and Ackeran told the guard to let him down. The guard released his right wrist first, and Aragorn let it fall limp, feigning unconsciousness. The pain was enough that lesser men might already be out from it, but he was not a lesser man.
The instant his left arm was free he moved.
His feet took his weight and his right arm swung round to knock the guard against the wall. As he slumped down unconscious, Aragorn grabbed the man's sword. He wasn't anywhere near his usual strength, and that single blow shouldn't have been enough to knock anyone out.
He didn't have time to worry about that though. Ackeran's whip caught him around the legs, causing him to stumble and almost fall. Almost. He kept upright, and knocked Ackeran to the ground, the whip flying from his hand and skidding across the floor.
A moment later the sword was pressed against Ackeran's throat.
"Well?" Ackeran asked at last, "Do you mean to kill me?"
"No."
***
Author's note: Bet you didn't see that one coming.
I'll try and find time to write more though.
***
"But you said you wouldn't go," Lenna complained.
"I'll be back," Legolas said, "I promise. But now I have to go otherwise these people will be nasty to us. Now go with this lady and do what she tells you. I'll see you soon enough. Be good, Lenna."
Legolas was about to go, when he found Lenna's arms round him. He hadn't much experience with children and so wasn't sure how to react. Hugging her back seemed the only way. After a few moments he pried her arms from his legs and sent her with the lady.
Legolas went with Emerin. He had explained what would be expected of him. He was to prepare his mistress's bath, then wake her. While she bathed he would lay out clothes for her. Then once she was dressed he would stand behind her and serve her through breakfast.
During the morning she would normally spend time in her private rooms. Legolas was to wait by the door and fetch anything she called for. Then he would serve her again at lunch. She would often go out in the afternoon. If she walked, Legolas would carry a shade to protect her from sun or rain. If she went in a carriage he must sit up front and go with her. Whether he would remain with her at wherever she went would depend on the circumstances.
Then he would be expected to serve her at dinner. Afterwards he was to prepare a bath and lay out her sleeping gown. He would then be allowed to take some supper himself and go to bed.
He'd already eaten his breakfast. It hadn't been fancy, but it had been enough. Clearly his new owner liked to keep her slaves healthy, and Legolas' tasks weren't going to be arduous. He just hoped Lenna would behave herself. She might easily begin talking when she wasn't allowed to or ask impertinent questions of one who was supposedly her superior.
He knew he shouldn't care, since she was only a human, but he didn't want anything to happen to the child. She deserved better than slavery and when he found a way out of this place he would be taking her with him.
The day was drearily dull to Legolas. There were many occasions where he longed to yell at his 'mistress' and say he wouldn't do the things she asked. But he held his tongue. There was no sense in letting his pride get him killed. He would be on the lookout for an escape route.
His serving was an act. He wasn't really submitting to her. At least that was what he tried to convince himself. As soon as there was a reasonable chance that he could get away he would do so.
While serving breakfast, he leaned forwards to reach one of the dishes and the hair that had been covering his ears fell forwards, revealing the pointed tips. He only realised what had happened when he stood straight again and saw that she was looking at him.
"You are an elf," she said. It wasn't a question so Legolas didn't reply. "Then the child is not your daughter?"
"I am her guardian," Legolas replied. In a sense it was true, even though no parent or relative had appointed him to the task.
"I am surprised," she said, "From what I have heard of your barbarian kind I never thought you would care for a human child."
The sensible part of his mind was telling him to remain silent. Unfortunately, his pride took over on her insult and overruled sense.
"My people are not barbarians," he said, his voice cold with anger.
"Do not contradict me!"
But Legolas' pride and temper had full control now, despite his brain protesting that it might be a good idea to be silent. "My people are more civilised than yours," Legolas said, "for we do not enslave our own. If you wish to see a barbarian I suggest you look in the mirror."
Her blow was just a stinging slap across Legolas' face. It caused no serious pain, and did no good as a warning. If anything, it just increased the coldly burning anger that fuelled his voice.
"An elf would not be punished for speaking the truth. It shows how uncivilised you are if you consider truthfulness a crime."
"Guards!" In an instant two strong looking men stood in the doorway. "Take this slave and beat him until he learns some respect."
"I show respect to those who deserve it," Legolas retorted as the men seized his arms and began dragging him from the room.
***
Aragorn closed his eyes as though that would shut out the pain. It had been administered carefully and purposefully. Macran had begun with his chest and sides, and was now working his way methodically up his left arm. It was now adorned with minor cuts. Thin needles pierced his skin and muscles.
He thought there was some sort of poison on the needles, judging from the pain that seemed to be spreading slowly from his arm into the rest of his body. By now his left arm was completely useless, even if it hadn't been strapped down.
His limbs were aching from being kept still for so long. He didn't even know how long he'd been left like this. A day, he guessed, but he couldn't be sure. He wondered why they were starting with his left arm. It would make more sense to start with his right, or his legs, making escape impossible. He supposed Ackeran thought there was no chance of his escaping anyway.
He hoped he could use that arrogance against him, but from what he'd seen it was more than just arrogance. He didn't think he had much chance of an escape.
He lay back, trying to remember his last encounter with Ackeran. It was difficult, he'd been very young at the time and much of the memory was coloured by discussions he'd had with Lord Elrond afterwards. But still there was something that didn't seem right about this situation, and he couldn't place the voice he'd heard when he was barely conscious.
The door opened again and a guard entered followed by Ackeran. The guard had a sword at his side, and Ackeran held a whip, but otherwise there were no weapons. Ackeran said nothing, but gave the guard a nod.
At this signal the guard released Aragorn from his bonds. He struggled, but his useless left arm and the ever increasing pain meant there was little he could do. The guard pulled him to his feet and towards a set of chains hanging from the wall.
Aragorn managed to give his captor one good punch and a few more feeble blows before he was chained up securely. A moment of struggling against the chains told him that there was no way he was getting out until someone let him.
So he stood.
His face might be towards the wall but his back was held straight and his head erect. He wouldn't let Ackeran see the pain he was feeling. He would hold himself proud, as a son of kings and a ranger of the north. He would not be tortured into submission.
"You suggested that I should hurt you," Ackeran said, "so I decided to do what you asked." There was a sneer to the voice and Aragorn wanted nothing more than to hit that man in the face. The man who was responsible for his father's death.
"Ackeran betrayed your father."
He heard the swish of the whip, and the pain cut into his back. He didn't cry out though. After what Ackeran had done to him and his family he would give him no satisfaction.
The whip swung again, and again. Aragorn bit his lip to keep from screaming and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. But still he did not cry out.
The pain filled his back, mingling with the agony of his arm and spawning little children that shot through the rest of his body on fiery feet. He allowed his shoulders to slump and hung from the chains. He allowed his left wrist to take most of his weight, ignoring the pain that seared through his shoulder and up to his wrist. He wanted to make sure his right arm remained uninjured. At last he dropped his head and hung motionless, his eyes closed.
He was remembering Lord Elrond's startling declaration and what Ackeran had said afterwards. He needed to know.
He made no sound or movement as the whip swung one last time and Ackeran told the guard to let him down. The guard released his right wrist first, and Aragorn let it fall limp, feigning unconsciousness. The pain was enough that lesser men might already be out from it, but he was not a lesser man.
The instant his left arm was free he moved.
His feet took his weight and his right arm swung round to knock the guard against the wall. As he slumped down unconscious, Aragorn grabbed the man's sword. He wasn't anywhere near his usual strength, and that single blow shouldn't have been enough to knock anyone out.
He didn't have time to worry about that though. Ackeran's whip caught him around the legs, causing him to stumble and almost fall. Almost. He kept upright, and knocked Ackeran to the ground, the whip flying from his hand and skidding across the floor.
A moment later the sword was pressed against Ackeran's throat.
"Well?" Ackeran asked at last, "Do you mean to kill me?"
"No."
***
Author's note: Bet you didn't see that one coming.