Chapter 2:

A Meeting of Opposites

"Get up!" a voice growled at Boromir as he felt a boot lodge in his stomach area. He groaned and opened eyes, then shut them again. He had a raging headache, and the dappled sunlight made it worse. He opened them again, but only halfway.

He sat up, and looked up at the owner of offending boot. From his position, the man looked tall, almost giant-like, but most likely he was shorter than Boromir was. His hair was a greasy chestnut, and he had a week-old beard. He was looking at Boromir with a mixture of contempt and mockery.

"Taking your time getting up, are you?" he spat at the young captive, "it's going to be a bit different for you now for a while," he shoved Boromir a rough wooden bowl filled with something that looked like pig slops, "Eat up, we have to keep you alive for when the Chief comes." And with that, he turned around and left.

Boromir looked at the bowl and started to eat with his hands. It was a bit hard, being that his hands were bound with very rough rope. He was surprised that he managed to swallowed the brown sludge without gagging. True, it looked disgusting, but as a soldier, he had eaten worse. Then he looked around the area. He was in a rough-looking camp, filled with rough-looking men. Most were just sitting around, talking to each other. From their accents, Boromir assumed they were from the southern part of Gondor. Where they were now was a different problem. The prisoner closed his eyes and tried to recall what had happened.

He had been riding to Dol Amroth with a few companions. One of his cousins was getting married and since his father and brother were both occupied, he had volunteered to represent his side of the family. On the way they were attacked. The attack had come in the form of arrows, catching his friends off guard and quickly killing them. Boromir, who had been wearing a bit more protection, and had more of a soldiers instinct, had quickly gotten off the open road and into the bushes. After that... he couldn't quite remember. All he knew, he had been clubbed in the head, which accounted for his thundering headache and the rough cloth bandage on his head.

He finished off the bowl and wiped his hands on is pants, before closing his eyes and trying to get back to sleep. He was amazed that he wasn't panicking; perhaps the pain and the fatigue were dulling his emotions. He was about to settle into the painless world of dreams, when he heard something, the sound of voices.

He opened his eyes again, and saw a new man had arrived to the camp. He looked better than most of the other men, both physically and financially. He wore several gold rings on his fingers and his clothes were in very good condition. At the moment, he was talking to the swarthy man who had given him the bowl. He caught the conversation during the middle of it.

"...and he put a bit of a fight M'lud," the man was saying to the newcomer, "managed to knock off Khagres and Polknub before I managed to conk him out with a rock."

"You didn't permanently damage him, did you Jakers?" the rich man said dangerously, "he's no good to me if he's been incapacitated.

"No M'lud," the underling said a bit too quickly, "he's in perfect health. Got a wee bit of bump on the head, but nothing that time can't fix. He just got up, just before you got here." He then pointed to where Boromir sat. Both men strode towards him.

"I know who you are," said the new man, "that little insignia," he pointed towards Boromir chest, where the White Tree was engraved, "it gives your position away. Now, how are you feeling?" he asked in quasi-pleasantness. Boromir didn't answer him, he just glared. The chief ignored it and said, "my name is Delhar. I lead these men in our exploits."

Boromir couldn't resist the urge to snap "you mean, robbing, plundering, and murdering"

With the same mocking pleasantness, Delhar replied, "call it what you may. I prefer the term 'opportunity taking'. Yes we do sometimes have to take lives of course, but it's a necessary part of this business. You would know what I am talking about, since you're a soldier, aren't you?. But don't worry, we're not going to kill you, even though you've killed two of my men..."

"You slaughtered my friends," Boromir angrily cut in. Although in his heart he was proud that he had unknowingly cut down a few of those sons of ------

The leader ignored him. "You're worth more to me alive than dead. I suppose you are familiar with the term 'ransom'? Your father would be more than willing to pay anything for your safe return home, I believe." He smiled a fussy smile and abruptly turned to Jakers. "I want him kept alive and healthy," he ordered, "I'll write the ransom note. If all goes according to plan, by the next full moon we'll be the richest men on this side of the Misty Mountains. He started to walk away, but then turned towards Boromir. "If you even think about trying to escape," his threatened, all of the pleasantness gone "your father might not get you back in one piece." He strode off, followed by Jakers.

Boromir sighed and rested his head. He knew this was going to be a very long week.