A Spoonful of Sugar

Chapter three:…Quickly followed by a kick in the gut

Written by: Earedien

Swirls of a variety of colours gently made their way across my mind, gently fading as the solace of my thoughts began to offer no comfort.

I could now feel, the fuzzy cocoon that I had found my self in was rudely torn apart and unfortunately I was no butterfly.  I blinked, and then blinked again, I could not believe this!  I was in the dark again and my wrists were sore. 

Eventually I recollected what had previously happened and I remembered the bag that had been put over my head!  Its rough material grated against my skin as I tried to look around.  Gradually I realised that my hands were bound behind me, the reason for the resounding pain shooting up my arm.

My air was still slightly damp, contributing to the musty smell of the sack, which was laced with an undercurrent of…was that flowers?

The thoughts was quite perplexing, whoever had abducted me, albeit from the middle of nowhere, had also been collecting flowers?  This seemed somewhat wrong, most definitely wrong!

I could hear nothing but the scratching of the rough fabric on my skin as I turned my head in vain, hoping that I could somehow be free to breathe fresh air again.

And then it came; the incomprehensible urge to scream.  I am never one to think about what I do, well on the whole I do before I think, and this was one of these occasions, so I opened my mouth, took in a deep lungful of air and screamed like I'd never screamed before.

That certainly caught whoever's attention.

Suddenly I could hear movement around me and shouts of "Dina!" and "Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!"

I had no idea what these people were on about, the prison guards had been bad enough in their middle age English, but this was surely becoming ridiculous; I did nonetheless continue to scream, pausing only to gulp down some more air.

Abruptly, the sack was wrenched from my head, scratching my skin harshly.  Mutinous eyes looked at me harshly before exclaiming "Dina!"

The scream died in my throat before I closed it realising I would no longer be able to speak, my throat had already been dry and parched, it would now be red raw, my voice being lost.

"Lle lava?"  He asked strictly, his eyes boring into mine.

I stared at him; lips pursed before subtlety quirking an eyebrow in question.  His eyes hardened before asking "Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"

I sighed audibly before looking around his to see where I was.  The forest that I had previously looked at in abject horror was still there; in fact I was now in the aforementioned forest, wood, whatever it was.  We appeared to be in some sort of grove.  There was a circle of cleared trees, I was on the outskirts of it, the centre holding a blazing fire that I couldn't help but yearn for.  Dead laves littered the forest floor, hard and crunchy, it must have been autumn as they had not yes decomposed adding nutrients to the soil.

There were about twenty other people, all of which were blond, just like the man that had shouted at me in gibberish.  I was stopped from making further analysis as a finely manicured hand gently cupped my chin before turning it back to when it had previously been.  The man again.  His eyes were slightly softer though the dark blue orbs still kept a lot of restraint and power "I take it you do not speak Sindarin then." 

There was a severe urge to say "no shit." But this was quelled, it would be improper, not that I cared, but these people were holding me prisoner, but it was coupled with the fact that I could not talk.

The man stared at me in waiting, idly tapping his leather booted foot on the floor.  When I did not respond he crouched down, to be eye level with me "Are you a mute?  Or deaf and dumb?"

I narrowed my eyes, and he smirked "You can hear me then and understand what I am saying." He seemed to be talking more to himself then at me "What remains to be asked then, is why you will not respond.

Suddenly someone spoke to him in this 'Sindarin' language, gibberish as far as I could tell.  He responded with "Mani naa ta?" he sounded somewhat irritable, whether this was because it broke his 'interrogation' or because this other person had asked something stupid.

"'Mani naa essa en lle?'" he echoed.  Turning to me he asked, "What is your name?"

Ahh, a very good question, yet somehow I did not feel like giving my captors, who ever they were my real name.

"Cinderella." I replied sarcastically, though the effect was somewhat dampened by my rasping voice, eventually giving way to racking coughs, sending fire through my throat

"Cinderella?" he echoed softly "Well Cinderella, my name is Daugnir, I am leader of this platoon, and I am taking you to my home." He said this nicely but I could see the underlying tone, I could go there agreeably, or the hard way, most probably involving that damned sack again.

Why I was being taken there I did not know, though it seemed to me that I was going there for interrogation, why? What did they hope to glean from me?  I knew nothing; I didn't even know where I was!

I nodded before glaring irritably around me.  The men had decided to go back to whatever they had been doing before I have screamed my head off.  Some went back to the bedrolls, others stoked the fire while some decided to stare at me, I did not know if they had been doing this previously and it just furthered my contempt for my captors.  Only I could get out of one prison to be caught by another set of people.

My mind whirled in though remembering the mans talk of 'Barbarians' is that who these people were?  Barbarians?

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, was I to be shown a tyrannical leader intent on killing me, or worse?

Two hours of sitting in silence followed, I idly wondered if this was another of their tortures or some sort of test, how far could I endure the silence when they knew that millions of questions were milling around in my head.  They did not know, however, that asking these would have been impossible anyway, my throat had gone back to stinging resolutely, in fact the only time the impermeable silence was broken was when I broke out in raking coughs that seemed to be intent on ripping my body in two. 

I reverted to the tactic I had strongly upheld during my time in the prison, my thoughts.  Where was I? Was the main point, though closely followed by wondering how? Why? And who? 

My eyes became glazed as they focussed, more ridiculous ideas forming in my mind, apparently due to the mass of pink and grey inside my head melting down into a ball of goo, my nerves frazzled, the chemicals used for signals to cross Synapses seemingly gone where they were most vital.  I found myself wishing that I had some Levodopa*. 

"Cinderella." The cacophony that was my brain was suddenly penetrated as Daugnir shook me "We are leaving now, get up." 

I complied though I was wondering, why was he being so nice too me?  This thought was hastily put to the back of my mind, the causes and consequences of his actions were not to be analysed, as least not at that time.

The people around me were suddenly up in a flurry, the fire was hastily being put out, covered in leaves and other debris, making sure that if someone came upon this spot they would not realise that someone had been camping there.  I was impressed, had I not known that there had been a fire there I would not have realised that there had been one.  This wasn't really a compliment as such, my wood skills were next to nothing and my eyesight was becoming somewhat blurred.

They suddenly went into formation and I was put between two people and we matched forward for what seemed like hours.

In my dilapidated state I couldn't help but trip up on practically every single root that came my way, my feet not really coming up off the ground as I scuffled along.

As the sun began to set the platoon abruptly stopped and I found Daugnir before me "Cinderella, you are about to before King Thranduil in his court."

My heavy heart plummeted; I was to meet the King of Mirkwood?  From Middle Earth?  A realm that didn't even exist!  My mind strayed back to the hobbit and the way the Kind had been portrayed, suddenly the feeling of dread that had been slowly forming in my stomach grew into a fireball of terror and I could do nothing but follow.

*Levodopa:  A medicine used to combat Parkinson's disease.  The Levodopa changes into Dopamine, which is used in the brain to carry chemical signals across synapses.

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS

Dina:  Be silent

Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!:  By the sea and stars

Lle lava?:  Do you yield

Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie:  Do you speak elvish?

Mani naa ta:  What is it?

Mani naa essa en lle?:  What is your name?

The reason the translation is not given in the actual body of text is because 'Cinderella' does not know what they are saying, so therefore you don't!

Mayrana:  Yes Gimli and Gandalf doing puppy dog eyes would be rather scary, I not quite amusing!

Candyfloss:  Hi momo, lol, I haven't taken as long as Gwil did to update, so hopefully you'll keep up with the plot.

nic nac:  Well no, King is not Aragorn laughs is in fact King Thranduil Kinf og Mirkwood/ Eryn Lasgalen depending on what part of the third age we're setting this in, probably in the 'dark years' so Mirkwood, yes I've decided making an executive decision, it's Mirkwood!  Yes descriptive, writing in first person tends to make us do that!

BlackmageI2:  Lol, are you sure that was vitamin pills you were taking?  Use captivating!  Makes me feel bigheaded!  Yes, being told you have an enchanting story is always good.

Earedien

Ps, this is from Gwilwileth, ignore my slightly insane co-writer! :)