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Chapter 5 - Ensnared
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Callin was awestruck. There it was, lying within the leaf litter as sweetly as a newborn babe, one of the elusive Firstborn. It worked! He had actually caught an Elf! He felt himself blushing with rapturous delight as he looked down at his prize.
Breathlessly, he reached out a booted toe and nudged the fallen elf, rocking it back and forth roughly. When it did not stir, he swung his foot more forcefully, landing a solid blow into the unprotected ribs of the elf's chest. Satisfied that the guardian was indeed unconscious, he removed the warrior's bow and quiver, handing them to the other that stood cautiously behind him. He then leaned over and claimed the daggers from the elf's boots, shoving them into his own.
The adan stared hard at the creature lying helpless at his feet and then turned to stare at the man standing behind him, remaining quiet but deep in thought. Coming to a silent decision, Callin pulled a section of rope from his gear and turned back toward the elf.
Tears of frustration flowed freely from the injured guardian hidden in the trees high above. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the man bind Rúmil tightly hand and foot and then throw him roughly over his shoulder. Anendel wanted to throw himself from the tree in hopes of hitting the adan. He wanted to do something, anything to stop what was happening. He wanted to move!
He harshly cursed his body's betrayal. It had come over him so slowly that he had not realized what was happening until it was too late.
He had sighed in relief when the painful tingling in his limbs had begun to abate, and only when he attempted to rise and join Rúmil, did the numbness overtake him. Now he could only lie there, still and desperate, forced to watch as Rúmil was left to the mercy of those who possessed none. Trying to fight off the deepening dark that attempted to creep up to claim him, he wept quietly, firmly embraced in the protective grasp of the tree that sheltered him.
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Back in the temporary safety of his camp, Callin secured the unconscious elf as he would any large game animal. Yanking off the elf's boots, he bound his wrists, knees, and ankles tightly together. He then slid a heavy wooden pole between the captured limbs and propping it up between two wagons, let the elf hang by his arms and legs, his head arching limply toward the ground. Callin was literally oozing with pride as he backed away to display the fruit of his labors.
"I told you it would work," he crowed.
Stunned dim, his men balked at first and backed away, nervously glancing in the direction of the forest for the elf's companions. When they realized that no others were to follow, curiosity overruled prudence. They began to come in closer, occasionally touching or brushing against the elf to see if it were indeed real. When their moves became too bold, Callin shoved them away, sending them back to their work. This elf was his.
Alone again with his prize, the adan regarded the suspended elf leisurely, a speculative expression on his sun-darkened face. Growing rarities, Elves were exotic and inscrutable creatures to most men. Never really seen, they were merely a flash of movement caught out of the corner of one's eye or a shiver that ran up one's spine in the darkness. Callin had never been this close to an elf. He had actually never seen an elf, and he found it both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He knew this creature could be extremely dangerous and that excited him.
He had planned to just teach the elf a lesson. His intention had been to leave it suspended in the trees to be found by its kindred, causing some extreme embarrassment and more than a little pain.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Callin slid down into a crouch, studying the elf closely; it was beautiful, more beautiful than he thought possible. Reaching out, he tried to slide his fingers through the soft fall of golden hair only to have them snag on a braid. Rubbing the offending strands between the rough pads of his fingers, he clucked to himself and began to remove the bothersome twists of hair until the silken mane cascaded freely onto the ground.
His fingers, now able to glide unfettered, drifted along the long, smooth neck to a delicate ear, tracing along its edge almost reverently, pausing to finger the daintily pointed tip. He moved across a high cheekbone and down the sweep of the gently upturned nose to brush over the slightly parted lips of the elf's mouth. He drew his hand away quickly at the sound of a soft moan and the rush of warm air against his fingertips and almost gasped aloud when the most splendid blue eyes he had ever seen slid open.
Callin watched avidly, relishing every moment, as the elf slowly opened its eyes. Confusion, pain, alarm, they all flashed in those exceptional blue depths before fading into a look of cold fury.
"Greetings," he said, and Callin could not keep his grin from reemerging when the elf dismissed him without even speaking.
Ignoring the smirking man beside him, Rúmil quickly scanned the camp, looking for his companion. Where was Anendel? Was he safe? Callin saw the elf's eyes sweep the camp and assumed that he was looking for some means of escape.
"You'll find that escape is impossible," and fingering the rough ropes tightly binding the elf, he said, "I tied these knots myself."
Rúmil's gaze snapped back to the man beside him, and glaring frostily into the muddy, brown eyes, he said, "I will be missed by my fellow warriors. I suggest for your own wellbeing that you release me before they arrive."
The man chuckled lightly, and said, "My dear elf, I believe that if your fellow *warriors* were close by, you wouldn't be here, and I would be laying face down in the dirt with a dozen arrows sticking out of various body parts and organs."
"Callin, this could bring us a mountain of trouble. Perhaps you should do as he says?"
Callin pivoted sharply, turning in the direction of his men. They had begun to cluster around the now conscious elf once again, bits of the troubling conversation having drawn their attention. They looked from Callin to the elf and then back to Callin again.
"Let it go? Let it go?! After all the trouble it has caused me -- caused us!"
Callin began to pace back and forth, muttering angrily to himself, and then stopped abruptly to glare at the elf. Flashing a wicked smile that only the elf could see, he schooled his features into a perfect mask of serenity before he spun back toward his men.
"Yes, of course, you are right. We should let it go, but then again…," his tone took on a thoughtful quality as he tried to bring the men around him to his way of thinking. "…it has presented us with an opportunity to recoup some of our losses and perhaps even come out ahead in the bargain." Callin gestured grandly toward Rúmil before continuing.
"I mean, really, *look* at it." Reaching out, he slid his fingers once again through the elf's thick mane.
"Its hair is as silk and the color of sun-touched mist in morning." Callin grabbed the elf's hair tightly in his fist, and Rúmil hissed through his teeth, glaring at the adan as he used his hold to twist his head around to face the gathered group of men.
"Its eyes are as blue as a deep mountain lake on a clear winter day," and the hand in Rúmil's hair loosened its hold and shifted, briefly caressing a down-soft cheek.
"And its skin," and Callin paused, his voice lowering in contemplation, "its skin is as soft and pretty as any virgin maid's…" Callin snatched his hand away quickly, ignoring the snickering from his men, as the elf made a move to bite him and snorting himself, said, "…and just as feisty!"
His hand continued its study, moving over the strong arms to come to rest at the apex of Rúmil's body, and Rúmil gasped in pain as the man held him a brutal grip.
"But it's most definitely *not* a maiden!" said Callin with a laugh, and his men erupted into boisterous laughter at the sound of the elf's distress.
"A creature such as this would fetch quite a price in the right venue." Callin turned to the others in his small group, smiling inwardly as he noticed the familiar glint of lust and greed in their eyes.
"But, you are right. I will just release these bonds and let it go," he continued, and he made to undo the knots binding the elf.
"Hold on!"
Callin turned and gave his men a look of questioning innocence.
"Yes?"
"What if the elves come looking for him?"
"If we pack up now, we can be leagues from here before they even know it's missing."
Callin held his breath, watching his men speak quietly amongst themselves, then released it slowly when, without further protest, they quietly moved away and began loading the wagons. Flashing a victorious grin in the elf's direction, he removed a dirty piece of cloth from his pocket.
"Now that my men see the wisdom of what I speak, we can move onto other things."
Rúmil remained obstinately silent, glaring at the man defiantly as Callin sauntered toward him, running the strip of cloth across his palm.
"So, do you have a name?"
Refusing to answer, Rúmil clenched his teeth, causing the muscles in his jaw to jump furiously.
"No? Well, that's all right. I'm just glad you have decided to stay. Now, if you don't mind, I can't have you making a fuss. We have quite a journey ahead of us."
Grinning at the elf's stubbornness, Callin reached over and pushed his knuckles against the still bleeding wound on Rúmil's arm, twisting them viscously.
"Open up."
Rúmil's sudden gasp of pain was enough for Callin to shove the dirty rag deeply into the elf's mouth and secure it tightly. Still grinning, he leaned down close to the elf's ear and drew his tongue along the gracefully curving edge, chuckling when he felt the elf cringe.
"I think I may keep you, at least for awhile. And, you never know, you may grow to enjoy my company."
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~* To Be Continued *~
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