Chapter 6
Who You Think You Are
"What do you want? Who are you!" Elladan yelled across the river at the rider, his voice angrier than one normally heard. Blood continued to trickle down his arm, dripping off his fingers at a slightly alarming rate, but he ignored it.
Elrohir swung off his horse's back and stood behind his brother, again notching his bow if such a turn of events could lead to him needing it again. As for Elladan, his weapons were forgotten on the ground and his knife was still buried in the neck of the last tigerwolf.
A loud, clear voice called back to him. "I bear but a simple message for you."
"A message? Of what, death! Is that why you followed us and tried to kill us!"
The dark elf nudged his horse closer, to the very edge of the water before reining the animal in tightly. "Kill you? Hardly! Only the other, since you foolishly brought him with you. My orders were simple, only the two of you are to make this journey through the mountains. I've been tracking you for days, and getting through the forests of Mirkwood, dark as they are, did not make my finding you easy."
"We had no desire to be found, least of all by the likes of you." Elladan spit out, clearly angry. Elrohir was not far behind him in ire. "What is it that you want of us? I have trouble believing that you have a message only, judging by the way in which you have greeted us."
The elf was unmoved by the accusation, knowing exactly what the twin had been referring to. "Tiger-wolves, as you probably know, are not only known for their loyalty and accuracy in killing but in tracking. I was using them to aide my travels through these woods. You are not of the easiest beings to find, and my need is great." The remaining tiger-wolf made his way wearily to the side of his master, looking back at the twins with nothing but anger and contempt. Fiercely he snapped his jaws and shook his body, trying to remove the knife imbedded in his neck despite the damage it would ultimately do to him.
"Tell us then." Elrohir said forcefully, his bow strung and ready, the arrow tip pointing toward the ground. "What do you desire to tell us? I am correct in assuming that you come under the one named Ralorn, am I not?"
"Bravely spoken, son of Elrond. I wonder how long that will last, for when you met what is coming to you, you may not find it so strong." He spoke just as forcefully as Elrohir had. "An arrogant tongue will not serve you now." The dark elf sighed, as though collecting his thoughts, but in his eyes the look of hate did not fade. It left the twins uneasy and wary as he began to speak. "Here is my message and my warning that I have been bidden to pass on to you." He paused angrily, sorting through his thoughts.
"Do you remember many years ago, when you were both very young and still in the training of warriors, a night when the stables of Imladris lit aflame?"
Of all the things the elf could have said to them, this was the last thing the twins had expected. Like a distant memory buried deep within, it took a moment for them to remember... but remember they did. Memory stretches long and deep in the minds of the Eldar, and with the twins it was no different. Of course they could recall that night. The fire had lit up the sky. It had spread so fast and deadly that the elves of Rivendell almost didn't get the chance to reach the horses within. Some had still perished within the flames and even the head stableman had been trapped forever in an abyss of fire, despite the efforts to get them out.
The elf laughed. "Of course you do. But no one ever found out how it started, correct? No one knew for sure."
"What does that fire have to do with this? That was so many years ago. There are no remaining marks of that fire-"
"Oh, that's where you'd be wrong!" the elf cut Elrohir off, his voice reflecting an anger darker than before. "There are still marks, but it looks as though you've forgotten, haven't you? And I'm sure it would come as a surprise if I told you the fire was of your own making!" he laughed again but shook his head as though he found it sadly humorous that the twins would have no idea, never even entertained such a thought. And they hadn't.
"That's a lie!" Elrohir said fiercely, moving forward to stand next to his brother. "We did no such thing!"
"Ah, but it seems you are forgetting something else. Do you also recall a young buck?"
Both the twins froze at that. The buck... that was so many years ago on what began as a peaceful, starlit night...
"Elladan, look!" Elrohir pointed out into the darkness, singling out a stumbling, weary animal in the midst of the giant trees. "It's a young deer," he said a moment later, recognizing the soft antlers atop the animal's head. At this time of year, the young elves were sure he was still in velvet, a stage when the antlers were still young and weak before age and work against the trees and each other would harden them. "I think he's wounded." Though the twins didn't know it, the young deer had been caught in a trap some distance from here, set by men and somehow managed to pull himself free, but now his back leg was torn open badly and it buckled dangerously beneath him.
Elladan saw it too. Both the twins were filled with the desire to go help the struggling animal, but at the same time hesitant. "I don't know, Elrohir," said Elladan carefully. "We aren't supposed to leave our spot, remember?" They had been assigned to watch over the stable areas throughout the night, and not leave the borders unless there was an emergency.
"But look how close he is," Elrohir pointed to the shadowed figure. "He's coming right toward us anyway." Elrohir was sure the buck was following the only source of light here, of their own elvish glow and the brightly burning lantern behind them in desperation. "It'll only take a minute."
"All right, but we must be quick!" Elladan led the way into the trees, leaving most of their weapons and the lantern behind...
"Remember the lantern?" the elf's voice broke them out of the distant memory. "You were right outside the stables, next to a haystack, and you left it there!"
Elladan looked hesitantly at Elrohir, his eyes allowing a little fear to darken them. "Elrohir... did we?"
"I..." Elrohir mirrored his twin's features. "I don't know..."
Horror filled the both of them. Was it true? Was it their fault that such a horrible event had come to pass? They had left the lantern behind, figuring that since they were not going far all would be well, but when they turned around some distance away, the unusually small buck safely held in Elladan's arms, the stable wall closest to them was already nearly engulfed with flames, the smell of burning wood and the smaller sound of terrified horses reaching them at the same moment. Even as they ran back, it never even occurred to them...
No one knew or was sure of the real cause of the fire. There were assumptions and guesses, but the real sure reason remained a mystery. No fingers had ever been pointed at the twins, and the fire was considered an accident.
"How could you know this!" Elrohir yelled at the elf.
"Do you still fail to make the connection between then and now?" the elf stared at them incredulously. "Because there was one who saw you leave your post! One who saw you leave the lantern behind and didn't think anything of it... until it fell on the edge of the haystack he was gathering from and in seconds set the whole dry pile aflame. He ran inside to save the horses on that side of the stables, calling to the others for help, but by the time he had released several horses half the stable was crumbling and when attempting to rescue his own father he was trapped. A burning blanket fell from its peg on the wall and the fire engulfed him as well. He was dragged out, barely alive, half his skin horribly burned. He was lucky, he survived. But his father, the head stableman, didn't make it out so easy."
The twins didn't move, staring wide-eyed at the elf. No, it wasn't possible, it just couldn't be...
"That young elf, just about your age then and now, had to go through weeks and months of healing," the dark elf continued, despite the looks of horror on the twin's faces. "But the burns were so deadly and hard to treat because of the areas covered by the injury that he still to this day retains the marks of that fire, even after the pain of it now is gone. There are still marks; you just haven't had to live with them inside your own little world! You shattered his world, destroyed the only family he had, ruined his chances of making anything of himself in Rivendell by taking away his only friend... and you didn't even know it!"
The elf laughed, but it sounded almost confused now, as if he couldn't understand how the twins could do such a thing.
"He tried to tell others of his knowledge, but that was while in the healing wing and no one believed him, taking his words for injury-induced madness. Then when you drove him out a few years later because of your sister, he lost his chance to demand justice through others and now he desires to seek justice on you himself."
Another event entered Elladan's memory and he shuddered. "Arwen..." he moaned softly.
"Now he wishes to show you what kind of suffering, both body and mind, that he endured. You have been officially summoned by the Lord Ralorn to become subject to his will. You have less than a fortnight to track his path through the mountains and rescue the human from him and take his place. If you don't come, the human will take yours, to endure pain he will never survive that Ralorn now wishes for you."
The elf kicked his horse sharply and turned the animal around, heading back to the trees. The message had been given, his job was done. Now it was time to return home. Just as quickly and violently as he had come, it was strangely opposite in the method with which he left. Like a whisper in the wind, a snarling tiger-wolf limping behind him, he was gone.
§§§
The travel seemed endless. Under normal circumstances Aragorn would have had no problem with how they journeyed farther into the woods that graced the sides of the Hithaeglir, but Ralorn had given strict instruction to Arahil concerning the ranger's well-being. Water was to be given only at night, and food issued in small quantities as Ralorn felt the need to give it. Arahil was inwardly furious by this restriction since Ralorn barely let the man eat, and helplessly had to watch Aragorn's strength dwindle more each day.
They were both under strict watch - Aragorn, known among this group only as Strider, because of his fight with Mayroniel, and Arahil, only because he was new and easy to pick on. The young elf, though very talented in horseback riding, fighting, and hunting, revealed nothing of his past life. Who he was remained hidden information, and it didn't take long for the other guards to notice how different he was. Lom and Mayroniel in particular found this queer and frustrating, but Arahil was not moved by words or threats. He and Aragorn tried to avoid the group as much as possible by small distance alone.
The boy, kept under close watch by Aragorn at all times possible, was dreadfully weary but holding his own strongly, showing remarkable will gained in the absence of true sight and a lifetime of hardship. During the day he was shaky but independent, not wishing that anyone pay any attention to him. At night though, he would always make his way to Aragorn. In the silence that covered the land in the form of darkness made him nervous, doubly blind without the warmth of the sun to keep him going, but he could sleep soundly at the feet of the ranger. It was the only time they spent together now. After the accident with Mayroniel, Ralorn's second-in-command was intent on keeping the two new friends separate as much as possible during the day and had become even more physically aggressive towards Aragorn whenever he could. Arahil was Aragorn's only defense against the abuse, shoving Mayroniel off with calm logic and Ralorn would step in and say it wasn't time... yet.
Ralorn saw all this and was pleased. The ranger was weakening from very hard, forced travel and little to make up the difference. It was so bad that Aragorn actually began to lose weight, and easily became lightheaded and dizzy all the time. Often he would have to ride with Arahil in order to keep up without collapsing under the strain of the sun and his own body. The man was strong, very strong, Ralorn admitted, but not strong enough. The man was draining away and all was going according to plan.
One thing that Ralorn didn't take into consideration was the strength of this man's spirit, untouched behind the physical abuse, unbroken and filled with life still.
They were so close that one night about five days away from Ilmgalad; Ralorn did not allow anyone to stop for rest after the full day's travel. He pushed them forward, knowing full well where they were and how far there was to go.
As night fell in its fullness, Arahil allowed Aragorn to finish what was left of the young guard's water. Arahil feared for the ranger as he watched the man literally try to fall asleep on his feet as he walked. It was not normal exhaustion, the man's strength and alertness was so weakened by nothing taking the place of his reserves.
Arahil knew what Ralorn was trying to do to the man. During the travel the younger elf had learned much of Ralorn and his brutality, and he feared the looks that Ralorn and Mayroniel often shared. He knew Aragorn was in big trouble. Mayroniel's injury still pained him but he hid it well, and more than anything he wanted revenge for the pain. All the elf was waiting for was the right.
Aragorn passed a weary hand over his face and back into his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his eyes. He was so tired. His legs felt like lead, and his stomach pinched with hunger. The water had not helped much, because now with substance his body demanded more of what he could not give.
Arahil shook his head and stopped Asfaloth. Without even requesting permission this time the elf boosted the weary young man over the back of his horse and took the place behind him. Ralorn was distracted from them at the moment and gave no reprimand.
Far off in the distance he could see what he had been hunting for, the entrance to a small cave that would serve his purpose to the fullest. Deep in the mountains and far from worthy help, secluded and safe. He immediately sent Lom and Silore to scout ahead, wanting to make sure the area was secure but confident that, at the moment, nothing lurked.
Aragorn sat up straighter on the white horse, feeling slightly more alive now that he was no longer walking, but his walking pains had been replaced with uncontrolled trembling, something that had nothing to do with the cool night air. Arahil loosened his hold on the man but did not release him entirely, unwilling to chance any fall since he felt sure the man was capable of and at the moment a point Aragorn would not have argued with. The ranger looked up into the inky blackness of the sky and watched the stars twinkle merrily, wishing he was anywhere but here.
Arahil was not focused on the stars but glancing warily around into the woods. He had noticed the silence of the forest a while back before the sun had fallen behind the mountains, but now it felt that the lack of noise was deepening. He had not seen hide nor hint of an animal or bird for an unusually long time. The forest had gone deathly silent. The young elf urged Asfaloth forward, though now he could feel the horse tense underneath him, sensing impending danger he could not name.
Minutes passed swiftly as Ralorn led them straight up the side of the mountain now, all quiet save for the sound of the horses gently crushing the undergrowth as they walked. The horses were a bit nervous for a reason none were sure, but the men remained silent as they went.
About a split second before it happened, Arahil felt a stir within him most unlike what he had felt before, and the wood-elves in front of him stopped in confusion. It would not last long.
The ground beneath them began to rumble, a tremor held deep within the earth. It all seemed to happen at once, a small shudder that shook the earth and caught all by surprise.
It didn't last long. After about five seconds the vibrations ceased. Arahil had to use much of his strength to keep Asfaloth on all fours as the horse stamped around in shocked fear. Aragorn tried to help, patting the horse on the neck and wearily speaking comforting words until the stallion stilled under the calm treatment.
It felt as if nothing had really happened, all the shuddering of the earth fading to nothing. The damage the small earthquake had done was minimal, barely noticeable. Some weaker, rotting trees had fallen to the ground and rocks of all sizes had found a new resting spot farther down the mountain, but as for Ralorn and his guard no injury had be taken at all.
Ralorn galloped his horse to where Arahil, Aragorn, and Asfaloth were, checking on them. "Are you all right?"
Arahil could still feel Asfaloth shaking a bit beneath him and Aragorn fared little better, both disturbed by the slight movement of the earth.
"Yes," he told the elf. Such as it was, yes.
"Don't fear the trembling earth," Ralorn said, though his voice lacked all encouragement. "This far into the mountains there are frequent tremors. It is not unusual and that one was hardly worthy of remembrance. Let's keep moving." He wheeled his horse around and resumed his course, and a moment later Arahil urged Asfaloth to join him, again focusing on the task at hand.
A few hours later, as dawn filtered through the shadow of night, they reached their destination. Nestled in the side of the mountain and almost hidden from view was the cave Ralorn knew to be there. The entrance was a hidden, haunted sight. The opening cut into the surface of the mountain like a small but deep gouging scar upon the rocks. Beyond it lay a labyrinth of sorts, though its tunnels did not stretch far from the open air, nor deep into the ground. The walkways were tall and wide but unsupported by anything more than rock and earth, and after so many times of being touched by the elements the lower tunnels were weakening, more in danger of collapsing than the stronger ones near the door.
Ralorn knew all this. He had known of this cave for a long time in time long past and far beyond the count of an average human's life, for he had dwelt here once when he was young. His lip curled at the thought of those days, months, years... it was of no matter anymore. He was doing exactly what he had planned during his self imposed exile in the mountains, after a deep wrong had been dealt to him. It was all going to start, and end, right here.
He turned to Arahil. "Take him inside," his voice deep and filled with amused anger.
Arahil balked slightly at the thought of entering the cave. He had no love for them and something in his gut warned him against it. But under the piercing glare of Ralorn, he couldn't back away. Nothing could risk his part in this nightmare; he couldn't let them know anything about what he planned to do. Slowly, he slid off Asfaloth's back and helped Aragorn dismount. As they passed Ralorn, the elf was not hesitant to suddenly shove Aragorn in the back, nearly knocking the young man off his feet. Arahil made no move to help; he couldn't revile against abuse that Ralorn gave himself. His eyes shadowed considerably.
Aragorn quickly righted himself, looking back with a mask of barely restrained annoyance. Ralorn ignored the look. "Take the main path. Pass the first five offshoots and look for a heavy wooden door. Put the human inside the room when you find it, lock the door, and come back quickly. There is much still to prepare for." He handed Arahil a ring of keys, pointing out the correct one.
Mayroniel, Lom, Silore and the other guards returned after quickly securing the area. There had been nothing about, and the small tremor seemed to have helped that. Following Ralorn into the cave, they took their horses and entered. Nothing marked their passing as they vanished under the cover of the night and into the darkness of the mountain.
Arahil led Aragorn down the cave hallway, passing by the first five pathways that shot out from the main path. The tunnel was long and deep, descending downwards and it did not help any that Lom was following them, pushing the ranger at random intervals and ignoring Arahil's implores to leave the man alone. They came to a large wooden door – the only one in the cave – Arahil unlocked the door and lead Aragorn inside.
The interior room was small and both Arahil and Aragorn were surprised to find the walls to be made of wood and not just bare earth as they expected. Into three places on the far wall and to the right of the doorway chains had been bolted deeply into the wood.
Aragorn immediately hated the room. It spoke of nothing but evil and despair, the perfect place to be locked away with almost no hope of escape. He balked slightly upon entering and Lom shoved him forward, making him fall to the dirt ground.
"Get in there."
Arahil glared at the other elf and knocked his hands away, pushing him out of the room. "Get out of here Lom. It is not your place to even touch him."
Arahil looked down at Aragorn, who had turned around on the ground but not risen yet, and aside from the weariness that was now etched into his face his eyes burned with anger. He was so tired of this. So tired of the abuse and the fear. Arahil glanced at him apologetically and shut the door after he stepped out. He didn't want the ranger to get in any more trouble and though he hated the fact that he had to, he locked the door. At least that way, no one could get inside.
Lom glared back at Arahil. "Why do you defend him so much? He is human, he is nothing! A disgrace to this world. Humans only know the path to destruction and anger, and yet you shield him?"
"Destruction and anger?" Arahil gazed hard back at the elf, his eyebrows rising. "And this is different how to the way in which you treat others? Yes, I protect him, but that is because he is under my charge, not yours. He is not to be harmed by you, you hypocritical whelp."
Lom's gaze turned flinty. "You dare compare what I do and what they do? I protect our kind from evil creatures such as that one! He and the boy, they should both be killed, and the world would remember them no more. Man cares not for his own kind, all are a liability. They defile us. We would be better off without any of their race."
"That is not your place to decide and it's outside your control alone," Arahil replied evenly, though his eyes snapped fire. "There is much you have yet to learn. You have allowed arrogance and lust for power blind you! You know nothing of what you speak, and your cold heartedness is shameful."
"This is what Ralorn works for, and you defy him as well?"
"Ralorn has a more level head than you. Get out of here, be useful elsewhere, and leave the man and the boy alone."
Lom began backing away, knowing he had lost the battle of words but could not help the need to leave behind a stinging barb. "Sometimes I wonder whose side you're on. You like humans, don't you?" Arahil looked at him fiercely, and Lom knew he had found a chink in the wall of silence. "Anyone who would lay claim to such a foul race is a traitor to me."
"What I see is a lot of strong talk in front of a cowering fool. Leave, and do not open your filthy mouth again!" Arahil walked up to Lom without flinching in the slightest and shoved the other around, forcing him back up the cave tunnel. Lom went, but before he disappeared he turned back around and leveled Arahil with a knowing smirk.
"Arrogant fool. He knows not of what he speaks." Arahil turned sadly away. Lom may have thought he had found something, but Arahil knew full good and well it wouldn't do him any favors. Shaking his head, he sighed and checked the door to be sure it was secure, then followed the path Lom had taken to the surface and gain further instruction from Ralorn.
Outside, Ralorn was standing just beyond the entrance, watching the brightening sky closely. The rest of the guard was inside the cave, working on the projects assigned to them. Most of the horses had gone in the cave as well, but Asfaloth had refused to follow Arahil into the depths of the earth. Rather, the powerful stallion was content to wait outside for his master, and Arahil trusted the horse to not wander away and come when called.
"Arahil," Ralorn spoke without moving from where he stood; knowing full well that the other elf was listening. "Since you will probably have better luck than the rest of my men, I need you to go hunt. Much of what we have brought with us is gone. Take your horse, and take down a deer that we may eat. I know not how long we will be here as of yet."
"Where shall I go to hunt? The earthquake seems to have driven away much game from this area."
"Head back the way we came. I do not think it will take you more than half a day to find a herd of adequate quality. I would send someone with you to help, but I feel that would be unwise. There is much I need to prepare for and I can spare no one else. Keep an eye out though. Orcs are rare in these parts but they are not uncommon either, so don't get caught by them."
"I will, and I will go where you bid." Arahil looked up hesitantly, unsure of how his next question would be responded to. Carefully, he watched Ralorn's reaction.
"What of the man, Strider? Who will watch over him while I am away?"
Ralorn turned a little tense and cold. "Do not concern yourself with the older human. He will not leave the room you have put him in until he is needed, of that I can assure you. Now go Arahil, and return swiftly. I may have need for you as well, before this is over."
"As you wish." Arahil whistled for Asfaloth and the stallion came right to him. As he mounted, Arahil wondered about what Ralorn meant about Strider not being bothered until he was needed. He wanted to know when the man would be of use, but Ralorn's mood had turned sour and Arahil knew it would be unwise to ask. So instead he faked an air of indifference and nudged Asfaloth the way they had come, hoping Ralorn would suspect nothing was amiss. Concern filled him though. Speed would be needed if he was going to make it back before darkness fell.
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Aragorn was still glaring after Arahil shut the wood door and left the windowless room in utter darkness. Lom infuriated him and surprisingly enough he could admit that he was not afraid of the elf. Wary, yes; but afraid, no.
He heard muffled voices of the two elves arguing on the other side, but he could hear enough to know what it was that they spoke about. He was aggrieved that Arahil had to defend himself in such a way, but the elf had been right the day he had taken on the responsibility of being Aragorn's guard. None of the other elves had even guessed that Arahil was not who he seemed, and even though Aragorn had no idea who Arahil really was, nothing said ever went in that direction of thought. Arahil guarded himself very well. Quickly however, the voices faded away and he was left completely alone.
The ranger backed up into one corner of the room, pressing his back against the walls and bringing his knees to his chest. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, and the darkness was crushingly harsh. He was blind as much as the young boy was.
Nervous curiosity came with that line of thought. Where was the boy right now anyway? Aragorn hoped he was all right. He had grown quite fond of the teenager in the short time they had been together, and the boy seemed quite attached to him. Aragorn was a bit surprised to find that he was rather fond of the boy and seemed to have taken upon himself a title and a burden he had never had before – an older brother.
Relief came to him with that thought. Aragorn finally knew what to call the blind fifteen-year-old who had made such a mark in his heart.
"Little Brother," The ranger spoke into the darkness of the room, and it didn't feel so crushing anymore. "... Little Brother."
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Silore roughly shoved the blind boy into a corner of an unfamiliar room. "Don't move from that spot boy," the elf hissed at him before turning away, returning to the others to take care of their horses.
The boy listened to the footsteps fade farther away and then suddenly stop, near to where he could hear the horses and perhaps two other elves. Sounds of the beings immersing themselves in their work began, caring for their horses with a gentleness that was never laid on him. The horses were a bit uneasy for being in a cave such as this; the boy could sense it in the gentle sounds they made. The elves attempted to soothe them as they worked, though it did little good.
The boy didn't like it here either. It was the first time he had been in a cave in his life, and this was no experience he relished in. The cave was damp and dank. Edges of fear filled his heart. He didn't like it here. If he had anything to give he would have given it to not be within the depths of the earth.
He wished for the protection of the ranger. He was worn and tired, but he could find no rest outside the watchful eye of the older man. His body remained very awake, in fear of what may happen should he try to take his rest alone. The guards were routinely cruel, even when he tried to sleep. The boy suddenly made the decision that he would not stick around long enough for these elves to finish. If he was going to go search the cave for the man or even a way out, he best leave now when the guards were working and distracted.
Recalling the directions he had come from, the boy had a pretty good idea as to where he needed to go to get out. It mattered not if he escaped to the clutches of the wilds or the protection of the man, either way meant placing that much more room between the abuses of the guards. He didn't care if he died for it nine years was a long time to be in the captivity of another and he was sick of it. It had probably been too long already, but chances like these did not happen often and the guard was lax. It was fatal for them and an opportunity for him.
Pressing his hands against the ground he adjusted his stance until he knelt on all fours, ready to depart. Listening frantically he waited until he was sure the guards' attention was not on him. Even though he felt he had nothing to lose, he was still afraid of what would happen if he were caught. Keeping one hand on the wall and the other on the ground, he silently made his way back in the direction he was sure he had come.
The guards paid him no heed. One of the horses had split his hoof, and the guard working with him had requested the others to help keep the animal still while he took care of the problem. Their attention was on the task at hand and off of him for a moment. The moment was all the boy needed. He figured being beneath the earth had dulled some of the senses they never failed to remind him of. The boy was smirking slightly as he slunk away.
Keeping his hands on the cold earthen wall, the boy turned left down the main tunnel and gained his feet once he was sure he was in the doorway no more. Keeping his body steady and his ears open, he crept down in the direction he was sure the entrance laid. Better to die free than in bondage. Suddenly, he caught the sounds of a clear elven voice, speaking somewhere close by.
"... here soon. Send out two of the guards to keep watch some distance from here, Mayroniel. I want to be ready should anyone come, there can be no surprises. I've already sent out Arahil to hunt. Pity really, he's strong when it comes to fighting, but I don't know exactly where his loyalties lie. Some of his actions unsettle me."
The boy stopped dead. Ralorn! The voice sounded a little muffled, as though it were coming through a wall. Ralorn must have been in another cave room, talking to Mayroniel. The boy followed the direction of the voices, getting as close as he dared before stopping to eavesdrop. They were talking about Arahil and that would most certainly lead to Strider. The boy knew very little about Arahil, but he knew where the elf's heart lay, and it was not where Ralorn and Mayroniel would have wanted it to be.
"Yes, I've noticed it too. He has quite a bit of spirit but I don't think he agrees with you entirely. He protects the human and I don't think he likes the idea of you hurting him."
"Parhaps if he knew the whole story of why I desire this revenge so much. Alas, he does not yet know. Many do not know. Not even those fool twins of Rivendell know."
There was much bitterness in Ralorn's voice. In all the years the boy had been under the elf's thumb, he had never heard Ralorn speak so. Beneath the words were many emotions – many feelings Ralorn allowed few to see. There was much anger yes, but also frustration and hurt. These confused the boy. Mayroniel had been with Ralorn for many, many years, the most loyal guard the elf had. They shared many of the same views on life, worked together for centuries, and if possible, Mayroniel was much colder in his regard for existence in general. When Ralorn had finally told Mayroniel about his past, the second-in-command had taken it upon himself to help Ralorn in his quest for vengeance. Vengeance that would most certainly end in many deaths.
"Do you plan to tell them when they get here?"
"Yes, I'm sure as I watch them die slowly I will tell them the story of their ignorance. They proclaim to be so good and wise. Liars, the both of them."
"My lord, I have been meaning to ask you. When will the man be given back to me?"
"It will not be long at all now Mayroniel, I know you wish to punish the human for the loss you have suffered. All I ask is patience my friend. You will have your chance. Today even, if all goes well."
"Thank you lord, you are most kind. It was wise of you to send Arahil away to hunt, he would not have liked it, possibly rejected it."
"Why do you think I sent him? He may be the best hunter of us all surprisingly, but there were more reasons to him going than just his skill. There's something wrong with him, something just doesn't work out the way it should."
"I'll keep an eye on him when he returns my lord. If anything is amiss and I have proof of it, I will inform you immediately."
"Good. Now, about the human..."
"Yes lord?"
The boy froze again, pressing his head to the wall and listening intently now.
"From here on out, if anything goes wrong, he is to be killed. No exceptions. The only way he walks out of here alive is if the twins do not. I also want any disobedience to be taken care of with swift harshness, understand? He must know, as the twins will find out, what it means to cross me."
"My lord, I-"
"There he is!"
The boy spun around, his heart jumping into his throat. The guards had realized his disappearance and come to search for him. He could hear their harsh breathing and the sounds of their feet on the ground. He could do nothing, couldn't even run as a normal person would have to escape a threat. He had waited too long. He was caught!
Hands were suddenly all over him, lifting him from his crouched position and into the choking grip of one guard. The elf that held him was speaking in his native tongue, the sounds of the elvish language not a soothing sound but a curse to the boy. He flinched and recoiled away, shutting his eyes tightly. Every time he heard it out of the mouths of these guards it sounded dark and evil. They knew it had that kind of an affect on him, and used it to infuriate him when he did wrong in their eyes.
Sounds of more beings came to him. Ralorn and Mayroniel must have joined the small group of the three elves that had just recaptured him. The boy was endlessly frustrated with himself for not even getting far at all, but now he knew what they were planning to do to Strider. The knowledge came back to him and he shuddered, not out of fear from his situation this time, but fear for his friend. He had to find the man!
"The boy tried to escape again my lord," one of the guards informed Ralorn. "He did not get far but this is not the first time."
"How did he get by you?" Ralorn's tone was flinty, but he would listen to the reason.
"Forgive us lord, one of the horses had a split hoof and we were trying to make him more comfortable. The boy snuck out on us while we were working."
Ralorn sounded angry but the boy could tell it was all directed at him. For all his hatred and faults Ralorn was a smart leader. He did not punish any of those who were loyal to him unless they directly crossed his wishes, and the elf could understand becoming distracted while taking care of an injured horse. The guards would be reprimanded harshly for letting their attention slip, but the full brunt of the boy's attempt to run away would fall to the perpetrator himself - and right then.
The boy had no warning as someone smacked him hard across the face with an open palm. "Trying to run again, boy? You think that after nine years of you trying to escape while dead blind would ever succeed?"
It was Ralorn, always Ralorn... but this time there was something different in the elf's voice. Something that sent terrifying chills down the boy's spine.
He had changed much in those nine years, growing from a small six-year-old to a strong fifteen-year-old. Much had changed, but not the elf's perception of time. These nine years had been almost nothing to Ralorn, but he knew now was the time to do something or else he would be waiting on the boy for the rest of the child's life. He wanted something only the boy could give.
"You probably thought that with all I'm trying to do right now that I'd forget about you. Well, I've got news for you boy. I'm not playing your little games anymore. I want to know where that treasure is that your father made or you won't live to see the end of the fortnight. I suggest you get your tongue working before then or you can trust me on this if you don't on anything else – you will beg for death before the end!"
A hot slick of rising fear filled the boy's stomach at those words. Ralorn turned his attention to the other guards present, speaking clearly so the boy would be sure to understand.
"Mayroniel, you and the others take him and teach him well. You know the new rule. When he has learned, take him to the room where the man is and lock him up as well."
"Yes, my lord."
The boy began to struggle again violently, but the elf who held him twisted his arm behind his back until he was just short of breaking it. The boy cried out at the abuse, clenching his teeth in a grimace and still refusing to open his eyes... or his mouth. He had sworn to himself, on his dead father's grave, that he would never speak to Ralorn or any who worked for him and that wasn't about to change.
Ralorn noted the defiance that was still in the boy's actions and made one last request to Mayroniel before the elf left. "Oh, and Mayroniel? Make sure he will never be able to run again."