"Just take the High Pass, you said. It'll be cake, you said. Nothing bad can come of it, you said!" ranted Cirdae, attempting to loose her bonds and muttering under her breath.
Despite the fact that the High Pass through the mountains was supposedly safe board at the next morning had found the girls bound at the wrists and ankles. Sometime while sleeping they had been captured, tied up, and brought to a small square tent. Around them, outside the tent, they could make out shapes and movement that resembled a large tracking party.
"Ok, so things didn't work out quite as I planned," countered Lassi, struggling to undo her own bonds. Things could be far worse."
Ella, who had lain quietly thinking, agreed. "Yes, we've been captured, but not done any undue harm. Amazing considering there's a large number of lonely men out there." (BohemianDuck: Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
"Whatever happens, we probably don't have anything to worry about until tonight. There are rules of honor, even concerning rape. Any defilement happens in darkness, away from the eyes of the gods," said Cirdae knowledgably. "But our main concern should be escape before anything worse happens."
"No," said Ella calmly, "we're obviously dealing with a band of trackers. If we escape they'll no doubt find us and enforce even stricter rules, and a fate worse than death."
Lassi chimed in, apparently determined to get them out of such a mess. "I know we've all taken the oath to do no harm, but that oath also authorized the saving of one's own hide. It would be in our best interests to wait until tonight when we're split up and sent to men's tents unguarded."
Immediately Cirdae understood. "You're right. The second a man drops his pants, he drops his guard, and that's when it's safe to cut his throat. I trust you both still have your daggers?" It was a little-known fact that everyone in Middle-earth carried a weapon on their person at all times—to do otherwise meant almost certain death. A dagger was the most popular choice due to its instant accessibility and often deadly accuracy. A man with a good arm could drop an Orc at 16 yards if he knew how to handle his weapon.
"Of course," they chorused, pushing aside their robes to reveal the intricately tooled sheathes, pushing them out of sight again when the tent flap opened and in stepped a man they'd never seen before.
(BohemianDuck: Yeah, this is a shameless set up for a rape scene. So what?)
The man was tall and broad, barrel-chested, and his beard was full across his face. He stood just within the tent, dressed in a deep blue tunic, heavily armed, holding a wooden tray, stacked with unleavened bread and various berries.
"Food," he said, setting down the tray and walking out. A stunned silence, and then immediate shuffling to get to the food (no easy task when bound).
And so the day passed, with various people bringing various foods at various times (BohemianDuck: Fuck it all to hell in a fast car! Get to the bloody rape scene, ya bastard!) Soon night was falling like a dark veil, and encroaching footsteps...encroached.
During the day the girls had lain and listened to the hushed conversations of the men, finding them to be renegades, marauders, and rogues. Living outside the law, it was up to them to serve the justice that kings could or would not. (BohemianDuck: Yeah, they stole from the rich, gave to the poor, and wore green tights. Got a problem with that?) Apparently, they had set up camp here as they too were crossing the High Pass, but going the other direction, towards the East.
In stepped the barrel-chested man from before. "It's time." Apparently he preferred monosyllabic words. (Poppet: Sorry. I can't shut her up. BohemianDuck: Hey, why does 'monosyllable' have five syllables?) Pulling his dagger from its sheath, the man the girls had simply dubbed "Man" cut the bonds on Cirdae's ankles and pulled her up by the wrists, pushing her through the door flap. One by one, they were all led away.