A day had passed; one the young prince remembered as an endless scan of unfamiliar, yet unmemorable, landscape. There had been trees and plains, but always the persistent flow of the stream, the rhythmic slosh of water, and the ceaseless journey south.
His small limbs had been restrained within the secure bindings of his harness, causing the joints to grow cramped, stiff, and soon after, laced with a dull numbness. One unpleasantly fragrant back had been traded for another throughout their progress as the men took shifts carrying the elf child.
As the sun bid its final farewell, relinquishing the sky to the more elusive light of the moon, the men prepared their camp for the night. For Legolas, this provided some relief; both in the forms of freedom of movement, as well as reprieve from the odorous proximity he had been forced to endure. Though no longer bound as an infant, he was still not allowed to roam as he would like. His hands were kept tied unless he was eating, and it was, in fact, a surprising treat to be allowed to stand on his own. To his continued displeasure, he was painfully aware of how every move he made was kept under the careful scrutiny of nearly every man in the assorted party. Within the precarious situation he found himself in, he felt stifled; and as time wore on, his restlessness was only magnified by the persistent dread that worked its way through his system.
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The blonde elfling returned from the land of reverie just as the first colors of dawn were beginning to enter the sky. He lay still, staring up at the fading stars and listening to the sounds of men just beginning to stir. He had learned the pattern of these men well enough; soon the fire would be rekindled, and then a broth-like soup would be distributed Not long afterwards, the camp would be packed, and the march would continue.
He stretched his limbs in an unconscious protest to the snug bindings he knew would soon engulf him. How many more days of travel would he be forced to endure? A scowl pulled at the corners of his lips at the thought of countless days to come bound in a cocoon of sorts, tied to the backs of the sweaty men he traveled with. Not for the first time he contemplated their destination – if they did not abandon the stream that had been their companion thus far, he wondered if they would soon end up in the great Anduin, headed for the Great Sea. In his young life he had learned only some of the geography of Middle Earth, and while he knew the Great Sea lay somewhere to the south, he could not even begin to guess as to how far away it was.
While the idea of the Great Sea and the mysteries of far off lands were intriguing to all elflings, in his current situation his heart was filled with the sole longing for the cool forests of his home. He could not say if he was ever destined for great adventures abroad, but every fiber of his being told him that now was not such a time. At the present time he had a duty to his people and to his father, and more immediately, he had a task he had to complete.
Legolas' eyes grew wide as he remembered the Rite, and immediately a wave of guilt crashed over him, carrying in its wake an intense horror that stole his breath away. How had he forgotten so easily? The young blonde bit his lip against the rising tide of anxiety now creeping over him. The Rite was to last 21 days. At the start, such a span of days had seemed incredibly long; now, however, it seemed painfully short. How much time now remained? How long had he been with the humans? It was strange how all thoughts of the test, supposedly one of the most momentous events of his life to date, had slipped away so quickly. He reasoned that being injured, drugged, and kidnapped did influence one's priorities, but the need to rely on excuses of any kind did not sit easily with him.
Taking a deep breath to calm his now frantically beating heart, he attempted to calculate how much time remained of the Trial. He leafed through what hazy memories he could grab on to, but was at last unable to find a satisfactory answer. He could not say how long he had traveled, for the fog of his mind had rendered his memories unreliable at best.
The blonde prince let out a soft sigh, resisting the urge to feel defeated. Although there was much about his predicament that had been beyond his control, he could not accept failure. He glanced around him bitterly, noting absently that the men had indeed begun making their morning meal and packing their belongings. There was only one option, he concluded. He had to escape.
Cautiously he rotated his right shoulder, flexing his arm as he did so. Whereas white-hot pain had rebelliously seared his veins as recently as the day before last, now only a small twinge of pain protested the movement. A small smile lit his fair features, the first in several days. While most things about his situation seemed unbearably dire, here at last one was one positive.
A strange feeling washed over the blonde elfling, and with a different sort of awareness he glanced around. Not too far away, the older of the healers was watching him, a soft smile appearing amidst the dark stubble of his chin and cheeks. Obviously, he had witnessed the prince's tentative movements, and correctly interpreted his reactions as indications the wound was healing well.
The elf froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He was saved from the awkward situation, however, when the man's smile broadened, and he called something over his shoulder. Moments later, the younger man with curly brown hair walked over from the opposite side of the camp and knelt beside him. Apparently uncaring that the young elf was studying their movements with a critical curiosity, they engaged in a short discussion, each in turn gesturing at the elf and smiling.
At times Legolas did not care that he could not understand these peculiar creatures; other times, like the one he found himself in presently, it very much annoyed him. Scowling in a rather petulant manner that did not entirely befit one of his noble upbringing, he watched the two continue their conversation. After a few minutes the younger man left again, reappearing shortly thereafter with arms laden with bowls of soup.
Dutifully, the blonde accepted the bowl that was offered him, and with a moderate effort, ingested its contents. It was not horrible, but he found it to be very bland and disappointingly unchanging from one day to the next.
The approach of footsteps drew his attention away from the meager fare, and in raising his blue eyes upwards, the source of the disturbance revealed itself to be the leader of the group. Legolas unconsciously cringed; he had very unsettling feelings about this particular man. To his growing displeasure, the imposing figure stared directly at him, mirthless green eyes looking him over before at last turning their attention on the elder healer.
"I trust his condition has not deteriorated through the night?" he asked in a bitter voice, dripping with sarcasm. The arrogant smirk he fixed Tewarn with assured the healer he was aware of the elder's disdain, both for himself and his decision, but he was allowing no room for argument. Without further pause, he continued, "Good, then I shall expect his arms to be bound and him to be delivered to me shortly."
He tossed something to the seasoned healer, the movement causing the rush of air to catch its edge, revealing it to be some form of dark fabric. "See that he is wearing this, we want to avoid any unnecessary attention."
For a moment grey eyes met green, and the waves of mutual dislike that coursed through the surrounding air made the young prince hold his breath. Both he and the apprentice sat nervously, looking from one foreboding figure to the next, not daring to make even the slightest of sounds. It was a testament to the true tenacity of the healer that he could pose himself as such a tangible match to the larger man, his own height bringing him only up to the other's chin, and his lean frame a stark contrast to the burly muscles that rippled with each movement the other made. At last the dark haired man smirked, letting out a chuckle that was at the same time a snort of distaste, before turning on his heel and leaving the small group.
Several minutes of silence followed, the younger two scarcely breathing as they waited for the elder's reaction. Oblivious to their uneasiness, Tewarn stared furiously at the retreating back of his adversary, wishing he had the liberty to forcefully remove the smug sneer from the other's face. He knew too well, though, that such action would only be futile, and likely as not, his pupil and the young elf would pay the heaviest price.
When he was certain he had regained his senses well enough, he turned to meet the double gazes. "Sade, pack our things, we leave ere the hour ends."
He was immediately granted a fervent nod, and the younger man was instantaneously busying himself with their preparations. With a deep breath that left his body as a sigh, Tewarn moved to stand before the small blonde. "I fear today will not be easy for you, young one, and I have only my pity to offer." He knew his words would not be understood by the young being, but he hoped the elf might comprehend something from his tone. Indeed, as he laid a consoling hand on the small shoulders, he felt them sag.
He frowned at the elf sadly before shaking out the ball of cloth, revealing a dark shroud that was nearly the same size as the boy. The child instinctively understood what was expected, and did not resist as the cloak was draped over him, adjusted in such a way that it hid his face completely. Using a few of his own supplies, Tewarn hastily hemmed the edges of the cloak so it fell just below the youth's hip. He knew that if the fabric became wet it would get very heavy, and he did not want it impeding the boy's progress if it could be helped.
The older man paused once he had finished, looking over his work. All features were indiscernible beneath the shadow the cloak's hood cast over the youth's face. While bundled up as a parcel and carried, there had been little risk of any potential passersby noticing the elven features, but now that he was to be moving on his own, they could not risk his exposure. A company of men traveling with a young elf would raise far too many questions; better to conceal anything that might give him away.
From an assorted pile beside them, Tewarn selected a long strip of fabric. He bowed his head slightly as he approached the young form, his reddish hair hanging limply in front of his face, but he received no resistance as he took one and then the other of the boy's arms. Compliantly, the young elf allowed his arms to be bound together before him, much to the amazement of the healer. When he had finished, the man at last met the boy's gaze, the blue orbs shining with a strange detached awareness.
The healer frowned as he regarded the boy, sensing for the first time some unknown wisdom within the fair being. He certainly was not behaving in any way that would have been expected of a human child, but ironically he found the calm acceptance the youth responded with more unsettling than the tearful pleading he had anticipated.
Shaking his head against the unwanted feelings that had begun to rise up, the older man turned his attention to his pupil's progress. A few paces away, the young man was just finishing packing the last of their things.
As the grey eyes settled upon his form, Sade paused in his task, somehow sensing the attention that had just been placed on his actions. He said nothing as he turned, taking in the somber face of his mentor, and the eerily composed elf child. With deliberate motions he put the last few items in the pack and sealed it. Saying nothing, he rose to his feet and faced his teacher, hefting the packs onto his back.
Tewarn nodded briefly at his student, his gaze brushing over the young face that struggled against the conflicting emotions that churned just beneath the surface. Sade was young, and though this was a difficult situation, the youth's pure heart was more heavily burdened than most. The older man gently nudged the shoulder of the young elf, and the boy quietly accepted the lead.
Neither man said anything as they led the elf child to the opposite end of the camp, though beneath his loose grip, Tewarn could feel the prince's muscles tighten with each step they took. A glance down confirmed his suspicions; the boy was staring intently at the back of Prevos, his steps dragging as he was brought nearer the loathsome man.
Masking any emotions he might have felt, the healer forced his face to an impassive front, and only eased up on the boy's shoulder once they stood immediately behind the solidly built leader. He cast a glance to his side, noting the myriad of dark emotions that clouded his young companion's normally jovial expression, and gave him a quick nudge with his boot. He responded to the quizzical look he was granted with a stern shake of his head, hoping his apprentice would catch on. To his credit, Sade seemed to understand, and in spite of the tremendous effort it took, managed to school his own features just before the hulking figure they both despised turned around.
"Ah, we are ready then," Prevos exclaimed, looking down at the golden haired elf with a possessive leer. His lips curled into a menacing smile that nearly made even the old healer shudder with revulsion. After studying the elf's cloak for a few moments, taking in the elf's profile from several angles, he turned to mutter a few last instructions to the two men beside him. A few words were exchanged amongst the three, before the other two, Estaf and Voern, picked up the few packs on the ground and moved out of sight.
Turning back to the elf and his escort, Prevos carefully regarded each of the healers in turn. He nearly smiled in spite of himself as he noted the weak veil of control the younger had attempted to use to hide his true feelings. The boy had a lot of spirit, but was young, foolish, and above all, naive. Though easy enough to maneuver into cooperation the majority of the time, Prevos saw that the heightened level of agitation the youth was struggling with currently was severely taxing his self-restraint. It was no matter to him, however. He almost hoped the young man did step out of line; he would relish the opportunity to teach him a life lesson he was not soon to forget.
The older healer presented the more difficult challenge. Though he was cooperating in body, the contempt he kept carefully in check was ever present in his steely gaze. Unlike his young companion, Tewarn had traveled Middle Earth every bit as thoroughly as Prevos had, and possessed skills in the sword that rivaled his gifts with healing. Tewarn was also generally well-liked, and that combined with his value to the group as healer and his own cleverness made him a much more dangerous liability. Tewarn was not easily manipulated, yet his cooperation at this stage was indispensable. It would not sit well with the men to lose his expertise as they entered more treacherous regions, even with the younger healer as a backup, and any physical dispute would likely result in as much damage to his men as the healer. It was a dilemma he'd been contemplating since he had first formed the plan to take the elf child. For now it seemed the healer would not cause any problems, but he well knew that that might change. Unfortunately, after days and days of thinking on how best to deal with the situation should something need to be done, he was no closer to a solution.
At last Prevos turned his attention back to the hooded figure of the elf. He knelt down so his eyes were even with those of the child's, hidden though they were beneath the ample cloak. "From this day onward, you will be traveling with me. Your kind is hearty and fleet of foot I am told, so I shall expect you to keep pace. I have no pity for you, and no mercy will be afforded you should you falter."
The boy met his gaze evenly, not flinching from the sheer malice that was channeled through their visual link, nor offering any other reaction at all. Of course he understood nothing of what had been said, but he gathered enough to know that he was being threatened with consequences he did not wish to explore.
A rope seemed to suddenly appear in the hands of the large man, and he securely tied one end around the already bound hands of the elf, looping it several times and attaching it to his belt. Once he had finished, 4 feet of rope, reinforced several times, connected the elf to the man's belt.
Standing up, Prevos raised a hand to silence the young healer, whose lips were pursed with words he was about to voice. He was certain the youth was preparing to annoyingly remind him that the elf could not understand his speech, and he was in no mood to hear it. Ignoring him, Prevos directed his attention to the older of the two.
"He will carry his own weight. The life that awaits him will not be easy, and it is better he begins to learn that now. I will also not have him burdening any of my men; they have loads enough to deal with. But do not think I do not appreciate the value of his well-being. Since you sympathize so much with him, Tewarn, you alone will bear him should it be in his best interests." His final words ended in a sneer, the derision with which they were delivered a palpable barb. He knew the healer would hold his composure against his scarcely hidden taunt, but with the entire party now raptly focused on them, he also knew that should the time come, the older man would be honor-bound to comply.
He allowed the silence to ring through the air for a few minutes longer, before giving the elf's ropes a solid tug and heading towards the awaiting stream. The men needed no further instruction, and quickly fell into step.
At the back of the group, Sade followed numbly, shocked and simultaneously overwhelmed by the forces of rage and powerlessness he felt.
Beside him, his mentor remained rigidly unexpressive. Beneath the carefully constructed exterior, however, his blood boiled with outrage at his treatment. His grey eyes bored holes in the back of Prevos' head, and his fingers twitched as they danced only a hair's breadth from his empty sheath. At the moment there was little he could do aside from follow, but instinct told him that in the not-so-distant future there would be time enough to deal with the man who so thoroughly irked him.