The party of men trudged through the knee-deep waters of the small river; each at turn glancing at the sun's progress, marking its decent through the sky. Despite being in contact with the water, it seemed that few, if any, had bathed in several days. Dirt caked onto clothes and skin, in places so thick that the garments were rigidly stiff, only cracking to allow movements. Though they traveled at an acceptable pace, each man was laden with a large pack, with the hilts of a variety of daggers, knives and swords peaking out from belts or under folds of cloth.
In the center of the group, a particularly stocky man carried on his back not the typical traveling pack, but the still form of a young elf. Allowed some view of the party's progress, the Elven prince allowed his gaze to lazily wander the edges of the surrounding forest. At times the steady progress would lull him to sleep, though he found the heavy gate of the man to be far from smooth. Still, there was little he could do in this position apart from watch.
He was attached to the man by a large cloth that had been molded into a harness of sorts. His body had been snuggly wrapped in a similar sheet, securing his limbs to his sides should he decide to lash out, and from there he had been encased in the larger cloth that supported him.
Shortly after their departure, Legolas had been able to discern that they were heading in a southerly direction. Confounded by his inability to understand his captors or reach out to the surrounding trees, he was unable to discover anything else about his present situation, or what the men intended. For the moment, they appeared to be content to follow the river's course. It seemed a very unusual decision to the young elf, but as he factored this in with other observations, such as the very secure bindings on his limbs, doubts and fears began to creep ever more pressingly into the fore of his mind. With nothing to do but sit and watch as he drew further and further from his home, he found his thoughts to be poor company.
The sky was now a brilliant orange, with yellow and pink at its far edges surrounding the golden orb that now kissed the far horizon. The young face frowned as he beheld the magnificent sight. In his mind he could picture sunsets similar to this one, viewed from within the comforting boughs of his favorite trees. Unbidden, the memories enveloped him, assaulting his senses in blissful reverie: the heavy pine scent of his forest, the familiar chatter of creatures in neighboring trees, the companionable presence of the tree that held him. Slow tears began leaking down his cheeks as he returned to his present situation. What would become of him now? Would he ever see his home again?
Beside the elf, the young healer tiredly marched through the stream, his focus never far from the young woodland being. His gaze caught the wet glint that appeared on the young cheek, and his stomach sank. He clenched his fists to avoid reaching out to the sorrowful youth. Likely as not, the boy would flinch away in fear if he attempted to console him, and truthfully, what form of comfort could he offer? Sade was, after all, one of the boy's captors, even if it was not willingly.
It was not long before the group again made their camp. Moving towards a more normal travel schedule, they were allowed to rest for the night. Although the men were still tired, the mood had substantially improved, and this evening there was considerably more conversation. Dried meat was passed around, and soon flasks of ale and other spirits were being lifted around the warm light of the fire.
In their usual position off to the side of the commotion, Sade and Tewarn kept up their typical routine of monitoring the elf. To Legolas' relief, both had decided to bathe that evening, a trend he hoped the rest of the men intended to follow. Now that they were no longer moving, the constricting cloth had been removed, allowing him some movement in his limbs. He could tell himself that his wounds were healing, but his injuries still hurt enough for him to not be tempted to wander away. His attention moved from the two humans at his side, to the rest of the group, and back again. He wasn't certain how true these humans were to the rest of their race, but for the most part he found himself rather appalled. The two he had deduced to be healers were not so disagreeable, but the rest of this group were crude and slovenly. In a small corner of his mind, he decided that it was no wonder his father seldom welcomed their kind into the palace.
After the two humans at his side had spoken to each other for a short time, the younger of the two left, returning soon after with several slabs of a strange dark matter.
"Is it alright for him to eat this now?" Sade asked, motioning towards the elf with the chunk of preserved meat in his hand.
"Aye," the other nodded, glancing down at their blonde charge with a warm smile. After his examination of the boy when they had made camp, Tewarn was confident in his continued recovery. "Though he may not like it, it would do him well to have something heartier in his belly."
Legolas' ears pricked, drawing his attention more fully to the two men. Somehow, he knew they were talking about him. The younger of the two came to kneel at his side, still holding the strange dark slab.
As had become their custom, the brown haired youth took a small bite of the meat, and then offered it to the elf. "It is dried, but will fill you up," he explained, knowing the elf could not understand him, but feeling the need to say something.
Legolas curiously regarded the proffered substance. He easily gathered that this was a form of food, but it certainly did not look very appetizing. Glancing up at the expectant faces before him, he let out a soft sight before reaching up his good arm to accept the strange fare.
The two men watched as the blonde elfling hesitantly accepted the meat. His small fingers ran over the rough surface tentatively, before bringing it up to his nose. They both smiled as the boy wrinkled his nose at the scent, but it seemed the smell was not overly offensive, for he next took an experimental bite.
Though dried and preserved in a manner he was unfamiliar with, Legolas recognized the substance to be meat. The taste, though, was far from anything he had ever tried, and he grimaced as he forced himself to swallow the dry flesh. For a moment he turned the piece over in his hand, sniffing it again to see if he could tell what had been used. The meat had been heavily salted, but whatever else had been added had given it an undesirable acrid flavor.
A chuckle that had not been successfully suppressed drew his attention upwards, and he frowned upon discovering the two humans' amusement at his displeasure. The stern glare he fixed them with only served to further incite them, however, for they were soon laughing in earnest.
The small blonde head shook in annoyance, and he turned his gaze away from the men, forcing himself to eat more of the strange meal.
"The two of you are having quite the time over here," a voice interrupted. The heads of all three whirled to face the newcomer, who had come to stand only a few feet away.
"It appears the rest of you are having your own merriment this night," Tewarn remarked with a nod in the direction of the drunken mass at the other end of the camp. His tone was kept purposefully neutral, masking the annoyance and contempt that colored his thoughts. "Is there something you require, Jarek?"
Jarek smiled in amusement at the older man. "I've only come to inquire about the health of our young friend here." His green eyes settled on the young elf, and he paused for a moment, gazing into the blue eyes that were flickering in the light of the fire.
"His injuries are healing well, as I have reported," Tewarn replied somewhat coolly.
"Will he be able to travel on his own tomorrow?" the short man asked, finally tearing his gaze away from the elfling.
Comprehension dawned on the older healer as the true nature of Jarek's visit was revealed. "Nay," he said, shaking his head. "It is too soon. He will not last half the day if he is expected to walk."
"Very well," Jarek nodded. He was quiet for a few moments, staring at nothing in particular as he seemed to come to some internal decision. "He shall be carried again tomorrow. After that, though, I fear Prevos will not coddle him any longer. Be prepared to leave at sun up," he informed them. Contrary to his words, there was no emotion in his tone, and though Tewarn worried for the elf should he be forced to march for an entire day, he sincerely doubted Jarek shared any such concerns. After glancing once more at the elf, Jarek nodded at the healers and returned to the other side of the camp, already drinking greedily from the flask at his side.
"They expect him to keep pace on his own so soon?" Sade exclaimed, his irritation apparent. "And through the water?"
Tewarn laid a calming hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "They care not for his well-being, my friend. They see only the wealth they will soon have." Inwardly, he was surprised by their shortsightedness. Even knowing what they intended to do with the elf, it was foolish not to take care of him in the meantime. If they pushed him to exhaust himself, he would most assuredly be in poorer condition when they finally reached the markets to the south. A weak or sickly captive would certainly fetch a lower price than if he was healthy and well cared for.
"We should retire," he said with a sigh. "It will be another hard march tomorrow."
The younger healer wordlessly nodded his agreement, and went to his own bedroll. His mind was racing with a jumble of emotions and wild ideas. He hated Prevos, and everyone who had aligned themselves with him. He hated what they had in mind for the elf, and that his tutor, the man he most respected, did not really oppose the idea. He also hated himself, because he was not doing anything about it. Part of him wanted to try something, anything. Release the elf; take him and run as fast and far as he could. But he knew that it was no use; he would only be caught, and he had no doubt that Prevos would not have any qualms about killing him.
Feeling frustrated and useless, he stared up at the night sky, drawing some small comfort from the twinkling lights decorating the endless blanket of darkness. Not far away, two sets of eyes gazed up just as he did; one brilliantly blue, the other a misty grey, and each as equally conflicted this night, if for different reasons.