Chapter Twenty-Five: Alone

Mélanyë woke with a start and felt herself pulled back down by something painful. When she opened her eyes she found it was her hair. Her hands were bound behind her back and her kidnappers had tied her down by her own hair, which was long enough to make a secure knot. Somewhere out of her range of sight she heard slow cruel laughter.

"I wouldn't try that again, girlie," the voice said. Strong hands took her roughly by the shoulders and her hair was untied. She was forced into a sitting position and found herself staring into the face of a strong looking man with long dirty hair. He grinned at her in a way that made her cringe. "You get up when I tell you." She heard coughing next to her and saw Cóume lying on the ground. His skin was pale grey and the stain on his chest now covered half his tunic. She instinctively tried to get up but was again forced back down.

"And only when I tell you," he commanded. She looked back at him and stared defiantly into his dark eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked. She was promptly slapped across the face.

"You will not speak until spoken to," he said. She stared at him for a moment.

"What do you want with me?" she asked. Slap.

"You have a lot of nerve for someone so small," he said. "You'll get yourself in trouble that way."

"I thought I already was." The guard holding her raised a hand but the man stopped him.

"If you haven't noticed Mutoh," he said, "that doesn't seem to work with this one." Mélanyë let out an involuntary grin. The man in front of her tipped his head and seemed almost amused. "That doesn't mean we can't think of something else," he said, and as he did Mutoh pressed her hand to the ground and took her little finger securely in his other hand. She whimpered and the other man smiled. "That's better. Now," he pointed to Cóume, "treat him." She opened her mouth to speak again when she felt her finger being bent backwards and her question died on her lips. She nodded slowly and her hands were untied. She cautiously crawled over to Cóume and he opened his eyes.

"Mel-" his voice cracked as he spoke to her. She put a hand to his lips.

"No, Cóume, don't speak…" she whispered. She surveyed his injuries and sat back. "What am I supposed to treat him with?" she asked her kidnapper. Mutoh looked anxiously to him, but he raised his hand to stop him. He reached beside him and threw her backpack at her.

"I'm sure you must have something in there," he said. "There's no weapons." Only then did she realize that Laspis and her other weapons were gone. In a glance she saw that they were lying beside the dark man. With a scowl, she picked up her bag and started searching it for the herbs she'd packed. She was thankful that her food was still there- at least she didn't have to eat whatever it was that Wildmen eat.

"My name is Rachun," said her kidnapper as she began to treat her friend. She quickly realized that she didn't have anything close to what she needed to help Cóume.

"Good for you," she said without turning. Cóume looked up at her with a weak grin. She continued on in silence for several moments before finally speaking. "So are you going to tell me why you've taken us?" She heard a short laugh behind her.

"Let's just say that hobbits are a valuable commodity these days." She looked up at him in disbelief. "They fetch quite a nice price with the White Wizard."

"Well that explains me, why do you need him?" she gestured to Cóume. Rachun sat back and smiled a thin cruel smile.

"The price for hobbits is second only to the price for elves. The deathless make useful slaves." Mélanyë felt a cold chill run up her spine at the thought. Rachun stood. "Now treat him," he said, "He's no good to us dead." He then turned and left, leaving Mutoh to 'care' for them. Mélanyë looked back down at Cóume and saw his eyes wide with fear. He swallowed hard and waited until Rachun was out of earshot before he spoke.

"Mélanyë, leave me here," he whispered, "You go now while you can." She shook her head and continued her vain attempts to heal him. "Mélanyë, please," he insisted, "Go now while you have the strength to fight back…" In a movement that scared even herself, she grabbed Cóume by the tunic and spoke in a harsh whisper.

"I am not leaving you here to die. We both go or we both stay." She went back to her work. He allowed her to continue on in silence for several minutes before he shook his head.

"You have to go," he said, "You can't help me now, you have to save yourself." Mélanyë avoided his eyes as she wrapped a bandage around him.

"I'm staying with you, Cóume," she whispered. "We have to stay together so that when the others come for us-" Cóume took one of her bloodied hands in his.

"The others are dead, Mélanyë," he said softly. She held his eyes for a short moment, discerning the truth from his tone before snatching her hand from his. She went back to her work, roughly tying the bandages, causing Cóume to wince with the pain.

"I am not leaving you here," she repeated. He shook his head slowly and took her hand again. Slowly and purposefully he guided it to his side where through his tunic she felt the hilt of a small knife.

"When the time comes," he whispered, "I want you to know where it is." She stared into his eyes in shock, but before she could respond a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"You're finished," Mutoh hissed at her. She clung to Cóume's hand as she was dragged away from him.

The group travelled for days. She had no idea what would happen to her once they reached 'The White Wizard', but she knew it was bad. The only thing she could think of was that this had something to do with her brother.

She was treated quite poorly by her captors, forced to walk at a faster pace than she could bear on little rest and even less food. Her pack was again taken from her save for when it was time to treat Cóume, which was less often than she'd like. She watched as his condition grew steadily worse but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. She had all but accepted that her life was over. She would never make it to their destination, much less be able to run away. She simply went along with her captors' demands, if only to avoid being mistreated more than she already was.

One night Mélanyë woke in a cold fright. Only the dim light of the stars illuminated her immediate surrounding and so she saw only vague shapes around her. Beside her, however, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of Rachun. He was eating some sort of dried flesh.

"You're awake," he said gruffly, "We'd thought you dead when you collapsed on the road." He got up and sat closer to her and she tried hard not to grimace at the smell.

"Is that concern?" she asked carefully. He let out a short laugh.

"Ha! Concern for my reward, is all!" He ripped off another piece of flesh and chewed it as he spoke. "You just have to be alive when we reach Isengard tomorrow. After that," he swallowed and took another bite, "it doesn't matter. Once I'm paid, I don't care." He sat chewing in silence for a moment, and then he reached into a bag he was holding. He drew out another strip of dried meat and threw it into her lap. "Eat this," he commanded. She grimaced and threw the meat onto the ground.

"No thanks," she said backing away. "Not everyone enjoys eating the flesh of another creature." He picked up the meat and pointed at her sternly.

"Oh, you will eat it!" he growled. "I don't want you to die of starvation before I get my pay." She was silent. In one quick motion he pinned her to the ground. One of the other men who was awake helped Rachun pry open her jaw an he forced a chunk of the vile flesh into her mouth. When they finally let her go she spat it back into his face. He responded by getting up and kicking her in the ribs.

"You'd better watch it," he yelled at her, "You're becoming more trouble than you're worth!" She held his eyes boldly until he walked away before allowing herself to sob with pain.