Saerwen Ahhh! You're reviewing backwards! You make me confuse! LOL! All right. Here's Movrak for your experimentation purposes. Don't return him to me until he stops breathing. (Pssst! You know what? No man ever 'hurt' me either. Imagine that, a virgin at 30!)
Leralonde Nope. Leggy would not let that happen to Darion. But something will definitely happen to him. The chapter is coming your way next week!
Rutu He he he…I can still hear your laughter. You put me in stitches. You want to kill Movrak? Get in line, mellon. The other readers have registered earlier than you. Ha ha ha!
Karriya No, it's never too late to watch KOH. How was it, then? Have a good time? (A cesspit is a…err…a hole where the…uh…erm…human refuse goes to. You know, like a sewer. And, no, it's definitely not for swimming!)
Yami Tai : Stay curious. The tomb will make its appearance in due time. There's a story behind it.
Lomeril A fic about the cesspit? Hmm. Let me think. (snaps her fingers) Yes! There is one! Give me a month to work it out!
Delano LOL! That's it! It's 'get-frustrated-with-people-you-care-about' month in ME! Afterwards, I'm going to give you the month of 'clueless-princes-babysitting-troublesome-kiddies'!
Kalayna The rock is too heavy for you. Hold Movrak's head instead. Make sure that Darion does not miss his aim that he hit you instead.
Theo darkstar Right. I haven't written about Kel's first meeting with Gallard. I'll try to come out with something. Oh, don't worry. Those three companions will find Darion eventually. They are sidetracked for just a little while.
Sailor Elf : Spy for the ladies, eh? He he. Could be, could be.
Elemmr Yeah. I understand what you mean about the typo there. Draq might become drag, and that would mean something else entirely, like Drag Queen for instance! LOL!
BitterLee Rest assured, Leggy is not going through that phase again. Nope. No more for him, I swear. (Movrak is like the current time pedophiles. Yikes! This kind of people really gives me the willies! Make me feel like hurting them real bad at the place where it hurts the most!)
LegolasLover2003 Yay! You're back! And you're alive! Look out for Leggy's angst coming next week! (I hope I'm still alive then. LOL!) You watch LOST too? How about CSI Las Vegas? Did you see the season finale where they buried Nick in a box? I haven't seen it yet 'cause it will take the AXN Asia a couple of months to screen it here! I hate waiting! Grrr!
Exiledelf2580 What is Leggy fic without Leggy angst/torture? I assure you, his time will come. (cackles evilly).
Seylin A new comp! What a cool grad gift! Oooh, I'm green with envy! My PC is a year old, and already it gives me lots of headache. I think I need a new one too! Oh, congrats on your graduation!
Hello, everyone. I didn't mean to be late but I just caught a helluva flu. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, my skin burns, and I have a sore throat on top of all that. In fact, I can't even think straight. It sucks when we are sick, truly. I gave my plot bunnies three days medical leave, but they extend it to a full week! So cruel of them.
Anyway, I worked on this fic armed with a tissue in one hand and a glass of water in the other. So, if this one sounds a bit off, please bear in mind that I am still under the influence of antibiotics.
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Legolas was not impressed by the Haradwaith desert. In fact, he hated it on spot.
There was nothing to like about the desert. There were no trees around, only dead bushes and gravel and a vast amount of sand dunes. The days were unbearably hot while the nights were…well, not too bad, actually. The wondrous display of stars in the pitch black sky made up for the vast emptiness of the dry unforgiving land. Still, the elf couldn't help but wish for a quick success to their mission so that they all could rush home where there were lots of trees and water—lots and lots of fresh water.
Not that they didn't bring any water with them. Before the crossing at the River Poros three days ago, Legolas and Gallard worked together to stock up their water supply. All the water skins had been filled, as well as a big wooden barrel which was previously used as a wine container, enough to see them through the journey to Harodem and back. Still, Legolas would pay anything for a nice cool spring where he could bath and wash the grime off his skin. His body felt sticky with sweat, while dust clung to his clothes. And the turban atop his head felt as if it weights a ton!
"Valar. A poor duck can roast alive in this," the prince muttered, glaring at the sinking sun. Even though sitting under the shade of the lean-to they had hastily erected against the wagon, he could not escape the blazing afternoon heat. Wiping the perspiration off his forehead, he glanced down at his brother lying next to him. Touching Keldarion's face, Legolas was quite alarmed to note that the elder elf had a rising fever.
Ai. Not a relapse, Legolas thought, and started to rouse his brother. "Kel? Wake up, please."
Confused, Keldarion blinked to awareness. "Wh…what? Is it…time to move?
"No, not yet. The sun is still out and we need to wait for Gallard. I also need to check your wound. Your fever has returned," Legolas replied with an assuring smile, parting his brother's shirt to inspect Keldarion's bandaged injury.
"What do you mean, wait for Gallard? Where did the draq go?" Keldarion asked as he looked around, wincing a bit when Legolas poked at his chest.
"Scouting," Legolas answered. Assured that the wound was not festering, he tugged close his brother's shirt and reached over for a water skin. "He flew off over an hour ago, to find out where Harodem lies."
"But I know where that is."
Smiling, Legolas wet a towel and began to wipe Keldarion's clammy drawn face. "Yes, but you are in no condition to give directions anymore. You scared me to death when you passed out all of a sudden last night. Your chest still hurting bad?"
"A little." Grimacing, Keldarion pulled himself upright into a sitting position with Legolas' help. Glancing at the big orange globe in the west, he added, "This terrible heat is not helping me any. I would gladly give up my sword for a long, cool bath."
"And I would give up my bow to get the first turn at it." Legolas grinned. "Here. You need to take some water." He gave the water skin to his brother before climbing into the back of the wagon, looking for some dried food they had purchased at the black market of Poros.
It was the same wagon from the marauders' camp. They had decided to drag it along, for it would help make their disguises a lot more convincing. Keldarion was posing as an ailing weaponry merchant from Haradwaith, traveling home with his two servants. As his wound wouldn't permit him to do much, he spent most of the time sitting in the wagon box and being navigator to Legolas and Gallard who alternately drove the team. His fainting spell last night proved that he was still far from recovery, causing their pace to slow down a bit even though they were all desperate to leave the opened desert terrain behind them.
"Legolas, Gallard has returned."
Alerted by his brother's call, Legolas climbed out of the wagon carrying a loaf of hard bread under one arm, just in time to see a proud golden eagle landed gracefully near Keldarion's feet. Both brothers then watched in awe as the great bird went into transformation, straightening and steadily growing tall, its wings shrinking and disappearing into its back.
Seconds later, Gallard the man stood grinning at them—sans the feathers, beak and talons. "You both better close your mouths before you catch some flies."
Legolas closed his dropping jaw with a snap.
"Show off," he shot back in response, handing a piece of the bread to his brother. "So, tell us. What did you find out there?"
"Sand and more sand, what else do you expect?" came Gallard's smart reply. Brushing dust off his bare shoulders, he took a seat under the shade next to Keldarion.
"Want some?" Keldarion asked with his mouth half full, offering his bread to the draq.
Gallard shook his head. "No, thank you. I've feasted on a wee snake on my way back."
The elves went still. They stared at their friend with identical bugged eyes, their faces turning green.
"Ugh!" Keldarion looked like he was about to gag. "A snake? Please, I'm eating here!"
"Gallard, you are disgusting!" said Legolas, screwing up his face until he resembled a prune.
"What?" Gallard was clearly flabbergasted. "I'm an eagle, mind you. I eat snakes for dinner!"
"Now you've just ruined my appetite," Keldarion put down the bread and refused to look at it anymore. He glowered at the draq. "What else did you see besides sand and…yuck!...snakes?"
Gallard's face brightened. "Oh, I saw Harodem. Interesting city. Dull, but very interesting."
"You did?" Legolas was excited. "How far is it from here?"
"About three hours ride, more or less. But hauling along this thing," Gallard pointed at the wagon, "might double us the time to get there."
"I've told you, Gallard. We need the wagon. It's our prop to get us into Harodem without raising any suspicions," Legolas said.
"But why can't we just act as mercenaries? We won't need to carry with us this stupid junk!"
"Look at Kel. He can't even stand up straight, let alone ride. He looks more like an old man than an elf warrior. Not a very convincing mercenary he will become, I assure you."
Keldarion gave Legolas a dirty look, along with a sarcastic reply, "Why, thank you so much, brother dear. I'm very grateful for the moral support."
"Oh, you know what I mean." Legolas rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. "Come, let's stop arguing and…"
"Who says we are arguing?" His two companions glared at him.
Feeling like pulling at his hair, Legolas sighed aloud instead. "Fine! We are not arguing. Now, Gallard, help me break camp. We need to get moving the moment the sun disappears and the temperature cools down."
"Can I help with anything?" Keldarion asked, determined to contribute his worth to the group.
Legolas opened his mouth to decline, but then he paused. A slow grin broke on his face as he looked straight at Gallard's half naked form. "Yes, Kel. I think you can. Why don't you fashion a turban for our friend here? He needs to look the part as your servant, not an exotic dancer. I'll go find him a tunic and robe to wear."
"Exotic dancer?" Gallard's tawny eyes shone bright in his glare. "What do you mean by that? And what's so wrong with the way I look?"
Chortling, Legolas threw some clothes at his friend. "I'm not going to answer that for fear of sounding like a pervert or something. Now get dress! We have a decrepit master to serve."
As soon as night had fallen, the three companions continued with their journey towards Harodem. As Gallard had predicted, it took them almost half the night to get there. Legolas grew more and more excited when the grey walls of the city finally came into sight. He repeatedly flicked the reins in his impatience, yelling out loud to the two horses that were pulling the wagon to urge them to move faster. Next to him, Keldarion sat hunched in his blanket, looking haggard and exhausted. He had refused to lie on the wagon bed as Legolas suggested, saying that he was not ready to collapse yet. But he was indeed very quiet the entire time. Obviously, he was in too much pain to react to the racket around him, even when Gallard wouldn't stop complaining and cursing about the confining attire he had to wear.
"Shut up, Gallard!" Legolas hissed at his friend as they steadily approached the gate. "You can carry on with your grumblings later. We need to get past these guards first, and I don't think they would let us through when they see you twitching and jerking at your clothes. They might think you have a plague or something."
Through the opening slit of his turban, Gallard's eyes were glinting like burning gold as he glowered.
"I hate wearing this! I can't breathe!" he shot back, his voice muffled behind the thick cotton cloth. He was riding Legolas' black stallion alongside the wagon, leading Keldarion's white mare behind him. Sensing the draq's disgruntlement, those two horses shied nervously, yanking sulkily at the reins. Gallard would have none of it.
"Stop that!" he scolded them.
"No, you stop that!" Legolas hissed again. "Really, Gallard. I feel like jamming your turban down your throat to shut you up!"
Keldarion moaned, holding his head miserably. He wished he was a draq like Gallard so that he could change into an eagle and fly far away from these two!
But they immediately fell into silence as Legolas reined in the wagon to a stop next to the guard post, just before the raised portcullis. Three guards had already taken position in the middle of the road to bar their entrance. One of them strode forward, a loaded crossbow at the ready.
"State your person and your business," the Haradrim guard said, his eyes cautious as he surveyed the team.
"This is Lord Meldor, with his two humble servants. We bring supplies of weaponry for Lord Movrak," Legolas replied, roughening his voice as he slipped into the tongue of Harad.
"Lord Meldor?" The guard was quite skeptical as he exchanged glances with his comrades. "Never heard of him."
Indeed, no one ever heard of Lord Meldor. Legolas came out with that fictitious name only several minutes ago. Obviously, though, the guards knew who Movrak was, for they instantly snapped into alert attention.
"You've never heard of me?" Grunting a bit, Keldarion straightened and stared down at the man, hard. "Shame on you then, soldier! I was here when you were still suckling at your ma's tits. I help defended this city during the war and built it up from the rubble and now you tell me you've never heard of me? What kind of a Haradrim are you? I'm going to report this to the governor! I will even tell my friend Movrak that you are jeopardizing a highly confidential and precarious affair, barring us from entering like this. He will not be happy if his goods arrive late because of your ineptitude! Bah! I think he will pull back the endowment he's given to the city to pay for your salary or…!"
His face red, Keldarion broke off into a coughing fit. He clutched at his chest, looking to the world as if he was in great pain—which indeed he was.
"Can't you see? My Lord Meldor is not well," Legolas harshly said, wrapping a supporting arm around his brother. "He has been injured in an attack. He needs medical attention immediately. We cannot linger. Lord Movrak will have your head if you let his good friend die out here!"
"We…we need to inspect the wagon before we can let you through…uh…Sir," the guard added in an afterthought. He sounded quite apologetic. "That is, if you don't mind."
"Of course, I do mind! But…" Legolas shrugged. "Oh, well. Procedure is still procedure. Go ahead, check inside. But make it quick! And don't touch any of those weapons! Lord Movrak will not be pleased if he has to pay for broken goods."
The guards scrambled to the back of the wagon and made a quick look. Satisfied with their findings, they returned to the front. "You may pass, Sir."
"Thank you." Legolas nodded. Then with a flick of his wrist, he snapped the reins and the team moved through the gate.
As they ambled down the street into the heart of the city, leaving the guard post further and further behind them, Gallard glanced at Keldarion and broke his silence, "Suckling at your ma's tits?"
Legolas snorted in amusement and looked at his brother. "If Aislinn hears that, she is bound to wash your mouth with lye soap!"
Keldarion managed a weak grin. "Don't tell her I said that, or she will wash other part of me with lye soap!"
"That gives me all the more reason to tell her!" Legolas guffawed. When his laughter died down, he asked his brother, "All right. Where are we headed?"
"We need to find a place to stay. Turn left here." Keldarion nodded. "I know a boarding house that offers nice sleeping arrangements, as well as a clean barn to stable our mounts and store this stupid wagon."
Legolas followed Keldarion's further directions, guiding the team down well-lit streets between the double-storey town houses and shops. The people were still busy at their businesses, rushing importantly this way and that as if the entire affair was conducted in broad daylight.
"Hmm. The Haradrim are nocturnal kind of humans, aren't they?" Legolas remarked with raised eyebrows as he watched some small children playing noisily in an alley.
"Not really. They do sleep at night, but they also find it best to carry on with their activities after the sun goes down. Less of sunstroke and dehydration that way," Keldarion said, his voice sounded a bit strain.
Legolas stared worriedly at his brother. "Are you all right, Kel?"
"The wound is throbbing again." Keldarion ground his teeth against the pain. "I can hold on, though. Take this street. If I remember it correctly, there's a bakery about twenty yards ahead. Turn down the alley in front of the bakery and you'll see a tavern. The boardinghouse is above the tavern, you can't miss it."
"What does it call?" Gallard asked to make Keldarion keep talking.
"The tavern?" At this, the elder prince chuckled, his voice slightly slurred. "You are not going to believe this. They call it 'Minas Tirith'."
Legolas snapped his head so fast he thought he had a whiplash.
"They call it what!" he cried out incredulously, staring open-mouthed at his brother.
Keldarion did not answer. He was already passed out cold.
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"Move it, you little scum! Pick up your ass and start making yourself useful!"
The whip came again, hitting Eldarion across his shoulder blades. The boy hissed, willing himself not to succumb to the pain. Sand and pebbles felt warm under his cheek. The thick dust of the quarry was heavy in his sweat-soaked hair. The sun felt hot against his unprotected back. A dark haze was clouding his vision while his ears rang, causing him to lose equilibrium for a moment.
He blinked.
Slowly, his teeth gritting, Eldarion pushed himself onto all fours and staggered to his feet, his shackles rattled aloud from his clumsy movements. And then, his grey-blue eyes flashing, the crown prince of Gondor glared defiantly at the tall, burly Haradrim in front of him.
"What are you looking at, boy? You want another taste of this?" Movrak's head guardsman sneered, lifting the whip.
Eldarion didn't answer. His welts-filled back was screaming with agony, but still he stood without flinching, meeting the other man eye for eye.
None of Movrak's guardsmen scared him. None. These men were just stupid, brawny lots who follow the merchant's orders because they were paid handsomely to do so. But this particular guardsman—Eldarion named him 'Baldy' due to his shining, bald head—irked him the most. Always quick with his whip, Baldy love to lash at the slaves for no apparent reasons. He liked to hear their scream of anguish. The slaves' begging for mercy was like music to his ears. Be it young children or women or elderly men, no one was spared his abuse. In short, Baldy was a complete sadist.
Eldarion had grown tired of Baldy's sick game. Only just now, the young prince had exploded. He had tackled Baldy to the ground when the man happily punished a slave woman for taking a rest without permission. Because of his interference, Eldarion had received a black eye and more welts on his back, but he felt damn good about it. Now Baldy and Movrak knew that not all the slaves were afraid of their master, and that not all the slaves would fully submit to this disgusting circumstance.
"Now back to work!" Baldy now yelled, throwing him the pick-axe. Only Eldarion's quick reflex enabled him to catch the tool before it could impale his foot.
"And no more heroic stuffs!" the bald man warned. "You disturb me again, and I'll gladly put you under the rock!"
'The Rock', Eldarion learned, was a kind of punishment where a disobedient slave had to be tied face-up on the ground before a large, heavy boulder was placed on top of them. Suffering the weight for long hours was one thing, but suffering the afternoon heat without being given any water was another. Most often than not, the slaves were dead even before they were released from their tortured state.
Movrak didn't think much about the lost of his slaves due to his guardsmen's cruelties. If he lost one, he could get another at such a low price. Easy replacement. Slavery was indeed a profitable venture in this part of Middle-earth. Life was cheap.
Eldarion grew sick just thinking about it.
After almost a week living among them, the prince found out that most of the slaves were fervently praying to be sold off in the city's slave market. They would rather have a new master than spending another day within Movrak's clutches, sweating to death under the sun as they labored in this marble quarry of his, which was only a league outside the city gate. They commuted on foot everyday, leaving Movrak's keep at daybreak and returned to it at dusk. No one dared to escape during the long walk, though, for they knew they had nowhere else to go. Even if they managed to break free, the cruel desert would definitely kill them first.
Eldarion himself had one particular mission to accomplish. Movrak had vowed to break him, in physical and spirit. Eldarion would see him fail.
And in the end, when opportunity arose, Eldarion would kill him.
TBC….