Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Authors Note(s): Thank you Nietta, Lina, Dreamer11563, viggoisagod, Lilandriel, SiriusBlackFan2 and Elfinabottle for the reviews. You shall most definitely all be going to heaven.
The kind people who send feedback for this chapter will be rewarded with virtual sherbet lemons and cookies :)
Beta: Nietta, who hearts semi colons in an unhealthy way but who I still love anyway :)
Carry On My Wayward Son
Chapter 3
Buried Myself Alive
Estel mentally congratulated himself for successfully sneaking out of Imladris, it was a job well done. Now the only problem was finding somewhere to sleep, it was still raining heavily and Estel already felt like a drowned rat. Not that he really knew what a drowned rat might feel like. He decided that his best bet was to make his way over to the forest as quickly as possible, partly because he didn't want to be seen after he'd just gone through so much trouble to actually get out of Rivendell and partly because he just wanted some shelter from the inexorable downpour.
As he half walked, half jogged through the swamp like fields towards the forest, his mind wandered back to when he had first been taken in by the elves. He had been too young to really remember anything of it other than his parent's gruesome murders, that image was planted firmly in his mind and Estel had no doubt that it would stay with him for the rest of his life.
He remembered how Elrond used to hold him and rock him to sleep to protect him from his recurring nightmares. At first Estel had thought he would never get used to calling Elrond 'Ada', but he quite quickly fell into it as Elrond proved to be just as much a father to him as his real father had been. Not that anyone could ever replace his real father, but if anyone could ever come close to it then it was the dark haired elf lord Elrond.
He also loved his brothers dearly and didn't know what he'd do without them. If only they'd stop being so absurdly overprotective!
Estel cast his mind back to a few months after he'd arrived at Imladris, Elladan and Elrohir were giving him a thorough tour of the entire area. All the elves had made him nervous at first, but he had soon got used to them. They all seemed to know the twins as well and were always very polite and friendly, they called his brothers "my lords" sometimes and it made Estel giggle, though he didn't really know why. Anyway, on that day an elf by the name of Ferinder had come to speak to the twins. He had looked down to Estel and said, "Who is this little chap?"
Elladan had promptly replied, "This is our new brother Estel."
Estel had felt his mouth drop open, no, but they weren't his real brothers were they? It was then he realised that it didn't matter that they weren't related by blood, it just mattered that they were brothers. From that day onwards, Estel had always considered Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir to be his real family, despite there being no actual blood ties.
He had arrived at the forest and suddenly felt a strong sense of unease. Maybe this was a bad idea… Maybe he should turn back and go home.
Water was dripping down his neck and he shivered involuntary against the cold.
He carried on walking slowly but the doubts were still niggling in the back of his mind. Perhaps he had been overreacting after all. Maybe he should just go back and see how he felt in the morning. He could talk to his Ada because he always fixed everything.
He turned around to leave and his breath caught in his throat, there was someone coming towards him. He quickly hid behind the nearest tree and watched with baited breath as a man walked past muttering profanities under his breath. Estel recognised him instantly; he had been one of the men in his Ada's office yesterday. He hadn't liked the look of him then, and he most certainly didn't like the look of him now. He needed to get out of here fast.
He edged around the large tree and peered about so he could watch the man until he was out of sight. But he wasn't there. Estel's breathing was getting faster and a stab of anxiety clenched in his chest painfully. His eyes frantically scanned around for the man. Where had he gone?
Estel slowly backed away from the tree but he bumped into something solid. Before he could turn around, two large hands clamped themselves roughly on his shoulders.
"Where do you think you're going my lad?" the man said dangerously.
Estel froze for a moment, paralysed with fear. If his heart had been beating any harder, he feared it would be in danger of beating right out of his chest.
"Well?" demanded the man, giving Estel a rough shake.
Suddenly coming to his senses, Estel hit out to escape from his captor's grasp. He struggled furiously and turned around to aim a kick at the man's leg. His foot struck home and the man cried out in pain as he felt a hard blow to his shin. Then taking advantage of the man's temporary distraction, Estel wrenched himself from his grip and took off as fast as he could into the woods.
It was dark, too dark to see properly. All Estel could make out where fuzzy outlines of things, but he kept running. His heart was pounding and his breath was escaping him in heavy gasps.
Then to Estel's horror another man stepped out from behind a tree right in front of him, but it was too late to stop. With a crash the two humans collided. Estel stumbled backwards but the man wrapped his arms tightly around the boy's waist.
"Oh no you don't. Fenneth, I've got 'im!" he yelled.
Estel struggled against his new captor in vain; he was obviously stronger than Fenneth.
Fenneth himself came jogging over, "Well done Morfran," he panted, "Take him back to camp. Don't lose him; we are going to use him to put the elves of Rivendell in a more cooperative mood. I'm sure Elrond will feel much more obliged to negotiate with us if he knows it's the only way to save his sons life."
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Estel shouted, struggled, kicked, bit and elbowed his captor but nothing was working. The man's vice like grip remained around his neck and torso as he was dragged through the woods.
"Let go of me! You're hurting me!" Estel cried.
An orange light was looming in front of them, Estel realised it was a fire. There were other men and tents scattered around the small clearing they were headed for. A very tall man looked up at them curiously and then walked over.
"What are you doing? Who's that?" the bewildered man asked.
"Fenneth told me to bring 'im 'ere. It's Elrond's son 'pparently and we're goin' to use him to get our land," Morfran replied, dislike evident in his voice.
"You kidnapped Elrond's son?" Polinthor replied disbelievingly.
"No, we found 'im runnin' about the woods."
"Let me go! Now!" Estel suddenly shouted, thrashing out again.
In response, Morfran pushed him hard onto the floor. He then grabbed a handful of Estel's hair and yanked him up to his knees, "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up."
Estel whimpered in pain but said nothing.
"All right, make sure he doesn't escape then," Polinthor said slowly. He then spun around and walked directly into what Estel assumed was his own tent.
Morfran grinned horribly, "Oh don't worry," he said quietly, "This ones not goin' anywhere."
Estel didn't like Morfran's tone of voice and he suppressed a shiver. He really wished the man would let go of his hair too; his head was beginning to throb.
People were beginning to look at them and he tried to turn his head in the opposite direction so they couldn't see his face. No such luck though, as soon as he tired to move Morfran's clutch on his hair grew tighter. Now that it was lighter because of the campfire, Estel could see the man's features properly. He was quite a short stocky man with scraggly shoulder length black hair. His eyes were a steely grey, much like his Ada's. Except unlike Elrond's they were small and seemed to be constantly repressing some sort of manic glint.
Estel shuddered as the man's eyes swivelled down to meet his own. Morfran grinned horribly and jerked Estel forward; he lost his balance and toppled to the ground.
Morfran let out a bark like laugh and grabbed him by his hair again, "Come on lad, why don't we go and sit over there and have a little chat?"
Estel's protests were becoming weaker and weaker as the man dragged him over to a large tree and pushed him down into a sitting position in front of it. He noticed dimly that it had stopped raining.
"So," Morfran began menacingly, "Who are you? You're definitely no elf."
Estel stared resolutely at the ground. He wasn't answering anything that crazy man was going to ask him. He flinched as the man let out another bark like laugh.
"Oh, so you're tryin' to be a tough guy are you? Well, we can soon fix that I think."
His hands found Estel's shoulders again and squeezed them tightly, and though Estel flinched, he still did not look up.
"Who are you?" Morfran said with a pause after every word.
Again Estel ignored him and kept his eyes desperately fixed on the ground. He was forced to look up however when Morfran's hand came crashing across his face. Estel cried out in pain and surprise as his head snapped sideways from the force. Before he could recover, the man stood up and delivered a swift and hard kick to Estel's stomach. He groaned in pain and tried to roll away from Morfran. The man was having none of that though, he bent down and dragged Estel up into a standing position.
Estel tried to struggle away from him while trying to catch his breath but the man pulled him forwards so their face was only an inch or so apart.
"I said," he paused, "who are you?"
Estel was fighting back tears, that manic glint in Morfran's eyes seemed to be shining with enough force to light up the entire area now. He was not going to be weak though. He would not let his Ada down and give this man the answers he wanted. So apart from his ragged breathing, he stayed silent.
"Wrong answer!" the man shouted.
Consumed with fury, Morfran threw Estel against the tree behind him with all his might; Estel could have sworn he heard all of his bones crunch together on impact. He tried to get up without whimpering in pain, but the man was quick to literally kick his legs out from underneath him.
Estel crashed to the ground again with an agonised yell as the man kicked him in the stomach again, this time so hard that Estel couldn't breathe anymore. He gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath again.
Through his stinging and watery eyes Estel could see that some men around the camp were watching and laughing at him. He felt a surge of anger and he tried harder to catch his breath.
Morfran laughed manically and aimed another kick, this time at Estel's face. He tried to roll out of the way, but all that did was make Morfran kick him in the back of the head instead. Estel tried to shout out but he felt like he was choking. He couldn't breathe. His world was going black.
With an unpleasant jolt, he was heaved onto his feet and felt Morfran hit him on the back making him cough. Suddenly it was easier to breathe again. But before Estel could feel any sort of relief, another fist slammed into his face.
Estel tried to fight back. Honestly he did. But the man was too strong. He easily overpowered the boy. The most Estel could do was not to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry, scream or beg for mercy, regardless of how much he wanted to do all three.
He kept his mouth clamped firmly shut and tried to avoid the relentless blows to his legs, stomach, chest and head as much as possible.
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Polinthor was growing incredibly vexed now. He had been sat in his tent trying to keep warm for about twenty minutes. Now that he finally felt that his body had heated up slightly and he was not still shaking, he was loath to go back outside and see what all the laughing and cheering was about.
The men were cheering about something and, as second in command while Fenneth was away somewhere, it was his duty to make sure the men weren't getting out of line.
Many of the men had questioned Fenneth's decision to make Polinthor their second in command; they would have preferred someone stronger and better at fighting. But no, Polinthor hadn't been chosen for his ability to fight, because if he was being honest with himself he was definitely no fighter. He had been chosen because he was smart and he could strategise. He could even read and write, something Fenneth had decided would be a useful attribute for his second in command, as he himself could do neither.
With a resentful sigh Polinthor stood up, his blankets pooling around his feet. He stepped out of his tent just in time to see Morfran kick the young boy so hard that even over the din, he heard one of his ribs break. The boy cried out in terror and pain and Polinthor felt a wave of pity.
"What is going on?" he demanded of the nearest man.
The man laughed, "Morfran is just teaching our guest a lesson because the insolent little worm wouldn't answer any of his questions."
"I see," Polinthor replied disdainfully.
He walked over to where Morfran seemed to have finally calmed down a bit. Polinthor suspected that the shock of having actually managed to break one of the child's bones had snapped him out of his rage.
"Where's Fenneth?" Morfran grunted when he reached them.
Polinthor eyed Morfran warily, "He's not back yet."
Morfran grunted again and jerked his head in the direction of the trembling heap at the foot of the tree they were stood next to, "What am I s'posed to do with 'im then?"
Polinthor pursed his lips, he was most definitely not happy with the treatment of their prisoner. Granted the boy was their bartering chip, but there had been no need to beat him to a bloody pulp. He was only a child after all; a human child no less. Not an elf like he would have expected the alleged son of Elrond to be. It was all very peculiar.
"Put him in a tent and make someone stand guard over it so he doesn't escape, and for God's sake give him a blanket or something. It will be no good if he dies of a chill."
"Fine."
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The shorter man stalked over to where Estel cowered on the floor. He squeaked as the man grabbed a fistful of his tunic and bodily threw him into the nearest empty tent.
"Unless you want a repeat of what just 'appened – Don't try an' escape," Morfran threatened before letting the flap down, leaving Estel cold and alone in the dark.
Estel pushed himself shakily into a sitting position and drew his knees up to his battered chest. Everything hurt so much. He was finding it especially difficult to breathe.
This was all his fault, he thought desperately, they were going to use him to take land and food from his Ada and the rest of the elves. How could he have been so stupid? Estel had caused all of this because his brothers knew he wasn't old enough to protect himself and cared enough to want to keep him from getting hurt. He knew this now. They had been right all along. Estel suddenly couldn't hold back the emotions that had been threatening to overwhelm him all night; he let out a howl of anguish and shaking racked his body. Tears began to make smarting tracks down his face.
"Please, forgive me—" he sobbed, rocking slowly back and forth. And nobody was there beside him to comfort him. Nobody woke him from his nightmare. Nobody's fingers entwined themselves with his own, or wiped away his tears. Nobody gently scolded him, and then smiled tenderly. "Please, Ada…"
And nobody replied softly, It's okay Estel.
To be continued…