Trickery
Horse, horses, and more horses. All these men did was ride. Did they never tire of it? Selanae longed to walk, even if it meant taking much longer on this journey to nowhere. She shifted in the saddle, though not much since she was tied down to it. How she longed for her sword. It was stowed with Eomer's horse. On more than one occasion she'd seen him admire it. The dragon-head hilt especially drew his attention.
She scowled at him as he led the group in the growing darkness. Would he ever stop?
As if sensing her complaint, the marshall held up his hand and ordered the men to stop for the night.
Five soldiers approached her, their swords drawn. She smirked at this routine they'd created—such caution, all for one woman. At least she was taken seriously. They cut the ties to the saddle and she dismounted carefully. Her body ached from riding, but she didn't let it show. The soldiers started walking, surrounding her with their bodies and swords. She went with them and sat where told.
She watched the men set up camp again, and eagerly awaited a fire to be set up. The warmth would help her muscles. She stretched out her bound hands, reaching for a void and pulling her muscles longer for a few moments before relaxing. She extended her legs, one at a time, and titled her foot back and forth, stretching the muscles on the back of her leg. Then she raised a leg up in the air until she felt a satisfying pull where her muscles ached from riding.
She smiled and leaned back, lying on the ground. It was quiet, and Selanae enjoyed it, even though she did not know her unusual nature drew attention.
A few hours later, most of the men were asleep, and Selanae was bound with her feet tied to a stake in the ground. A few patrolled the perimeter of the camp, watching for foes. One man kept his eyes on her, no doubt as a foe.
Selanae knew he'd been watching but chose to ignore it. However, one can only ignore that for so long. Her eyes snapped in Eomer's direction. She glared at him, and he stood from his bedroll and walked to her spot on bare ground. That reminded her . . . where had her things gone? She knew where the sword was, but the rest?
She scowled at the thought of losing her things.
As soon as he was in front of her, she asked him.
"Where are my things?"
Eomer frowned. "I know only of your sword." Selanae muttered to the ground. Where were her things? Had she left them somewhere? The orcs. She'd dropped her things, except her weapons, when the orcs showed up.
"What is the significance of the dragon on the hilt?" Eomer asked. He was fishing again, and it drew a smile to Selanae's lips.
"Significance?" she repeated.
"Yes," he said. "Dragons have long been allied with the enemy. There are tales of the horror they wreak on civilizations."
Selanae chuckled at that, more to herself than to torment the marshall.
"It has no significance other than I liked it," she said with a smile. "Must everything point to some deeper meaning or alliance?"
Eomer frowned, but didn't answer that. "It is a good blade," he said, and Selanae supposed that was a compliment. She nodded.
"Do you still think I am your enemy?" she asked. He almost jerked at that. Maybe he hadn't expected her to be bold about it. Selanae grinned wider, especially since this man had no idea what he was up against.
Eomer stammered for an answer, and again it amused her. Where was the stubborn, defiant marshall? The confident and challenging man who didn't take no for an answer?
"I am unarmed," she said, interrupting whatever Eomer was trying to say. "Will you remove the bindings?" She held up her wrists for him to see. They were red, and some of her skin had been rubbed away. He winced upon seeing it, but hesitated. His eyes glanced to her feet, which were still tied to that stake in the ground.
He nodded and removed a dagger to cut the rope. She took note of where he put the dagger, by his leg, in his boot.
Selanae rubbed her wrists slightly. The air stung them, but it felt better than having the constant annoyance and lack of movement.
"Thank you," she said. Eomer nodded, and almost blushed. She fought back a smile. "So you are from Rohan? Tell me about the land."
His jaw almost dropped. He began to nod, but stopped. "Why do you want to know?"
Selanae put on a face of innocence. "Are you the only one who can ask questions?"
He frowned. His eyes darted around her, as if seeing if she had any advantage she could use. He failed to take into account her abilities.
Selanae suddenly jerked her feet up high, uprooting the stake. She spun on the ground and chopped at the back of his knees with her arm. He went down, and she grabbed the dagger from his boot.
She cut the ropes from her feet in seconds while Eomer yelled out. She turned back to him, diving at him with the dagger. Her body collided with his and they rolled over the uneven ground. Selanae stuck out a leg to stop their roll and with that control, she quickly put the blade to his throat.
His men were yelling out and scattering around her, and their marshall. She didn't see one sword undrawn. Even so, Selanae kept her arm tight around his neck, with the blade reaching for one side to start a long slit.
"Stand back, or your marshall suffers," Selanae ordered. The men did not move immediately. She began to draw the blade over his flesh.
He didn't cry out, and that impressed her. She didn't cut deep or much, just enough to show a little blood. His stoic stance though didn't help him. His men saw how serious she was, and stepped back.
They didn't lower their swords, and that was fine with her. She could only expect so much obedience, especially under these circumstances.
"You are the enemy," he muttered. She rolled her eyes.
"You've made me your enemy," she whispered roughly in his ear. She led him towards his horse and retrieved her sword carefully. The dagger never left Eomer's neck. She glanced behind her, where some soldiers stood. Behind them was the edge of a forest, and she had every intention of disappearing within it.
"Do not follow," she said loudly to the Rohirrim, "or his blood will leave a trail to his dead body." She backed up towards the forest, and the soldiers moved out of her way. Eomer was tense but he moved with her. His neck depended on it.
"Why not take the horse?" he whispered. It seemed like he didn't dare raise his voice beyond that, and that satisfied Selanae.
"You have the advantage where horses are involved," she said. She was amazed at how cheerful she sounded. Well, she was free. Not out of danger, but she was accustomed to that. They sank deeper into the forest, and the Rohirrim were out of sight. She knew they wouldn't just stay there. Speed now was of the utmost importance.
She released him, pushing him forward suddenly. She tossed the dagger up and caught it by the blade. Her arm was poised to throw it at him if he misstepped.
"Throw aside your sword," she ordered. She drew her own sword as well, just an extra incentive. Eomer glared at her, but unsheathed his sword. His eyes betrayed a sadness at parting with the blade. Even so, he tossed it aside.
He swiped a hand at his neck, smearing the bit of blood there.
"Now what?" he asked, trying to challenge her. She smirked at the attempt.
"Now we run." She pointed with her sword ahead, deeper into the forest. "Let's go."
He was too cautious as he ran, and it was slowing her down.
"Faster," she hissed behind him. She slapped the flat of the blade against his thigh. She could almost feel the hatred he exuded from that. But he picked up the pace, and Selanae followed.
She glanced behind her. No one followed, and she wanted to keep it that way. After running for a good half-hour though, Eomer stopped. She glared at him.
"Keep going," she ordered with a low voice. He leaned forward with his hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
"They will not be able to follow so quickly," he said. "And I am tired."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't care. Move." She pointed towards a new direction. He sighed, but held up a hand. Slowly, he began to remove some of his armor. She thought he slept with that stuff on. Personally, she thought it was a waste—too exhausting when one's body could naturally dodge against arrows and blades. She shrugged to herself, and Eomer seemed relieved with the burden's removal. He began to trot. It was slower, but she allowed it. She felt fine, and she was enjoying herself immensely at his expense. Nice to have our fates changed.
He tripped a bit later, and though he tried to catch himself, Eomer fell to the ground on his back. Selanae grinned.
"I thought you'd fought in wars and battles and had met every foe imaginable," she mocked. "But you can't run for an hour?"
He glared at her from the ground. "I ran half way with armor that doubled my weight. You try doing that."
Selanae laughed, and he scowled even more. It was fun, to her, and the run had been refreshing after all that horse-riding. It felt good to laugh too. She was free.
Eomer, however, was not, and he didn't like it. Too bad, she thought. She glanced around them, and listened to the still night. There was no sound, not even wind or bird. That suited her fine.
She looked back to the marshall. His tunic was slightly torn from his fall. She smiled.
"Remove your tunic," she said. Eomer blanched at that. She stepped forward, her sword inching towards his body. "Now."
He grunted at her, but took off the tunic. He was left in a thin shirt, something that instantly allowed the night air to get to him. The shivering started quickly, and Selanae almost felt bad.
Almost.
She kept her eyes on him as she tore a long strip from the tunic. A fallen tree wasn't far away, and she motioned for him to go to it.
"Put your hands behind your back," she said, going towards him with the long strip of fabric. He sighed and tried to hide how mortified he felt. Selanae enjoyed every moment.
She tied the fabric around the log and then around Eomer's wrists. The knots were tight and pinched at his skin. She felt no sympathy for him—he brought this on himself.
"You mean to leave me here?" he asked.
"I mean to escape," she said. "To go on my way, free like I was before. And not with you." She moved around to face him. She sheathed her sword and knelt in front of him. "I told you to let me go. I am no foe to Rohan, but if you or your men track me, I will be."
She took out the dagger, and his eyes followed it. But he almost jerked when she put it back in his boot.
"That looks like a family heirloom," she said. "It'd be a shame to lose it." She smiled at him, victorious, and ran away.
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That was rewarding, she thought to herself. She could still see him in her mind, tied to that tree. Probably shivering too.
Serves him right.
She stepped lightly but swiftly, moving through the woods. She deftly dodged trees and fallen limbs and roots. Her heart soared at the freedom she had—for years she wandered where she wanted to, and even two days without that tortured her. Especially in the company of such a terrible man.
She couldn't help but smirk. When his men found him, he would be so embarrassed. His pride would be destroyed. And for that to happen to a man of Rohan was quite a feat, from what she understood of the people.
Suddenly she stopped. Something was wrong. The air was unusually still and quiet, like it'd been before, but she could feel it. Something beyond wrong—something dangerous. Evil.
Selanae turned towards every direction, searching in the darkness. Her eyes moved to the ground.
Iciness came over her. Tracks covered the ground. Heavy tracks. Large tracks.
Orc tracks.
And they led all around. Selanae drew her sword.
But they weren't close. She could feel that at least.
Her heart skipped a beat. Eomer. As much as she hated the man . . .
She ran hard and fast back the way she'd come.
a/n: Any thoughts? Reactions? Let me know!