Chapter Three-Silver Tears

When I woke the sun was rising in the east and we were tied to a tree. As the light splashed across my closed eyelids I smiled ever so slightly. Even when all seems dark the sun still rises. The stars forever shine above the clouds.

A stirring beside me pulled me back to the present. Mithwe moaned softly, still not quite awake. Burning pain in my shoulder asserted itself but I ignored it as I looked my younger companion over.

Blood stained his tunic, trickling from a deep ragged gash running ribs to hip in his side. He also had a shallow scratch across on cheekbone and what looked like a broken finger. After assuring myself he wasn't going to die anytime soon I turned my attention to my own wounds.

They were minor. My shoulder hurt but there was no major damage done. Even the bump on my head, which throbbed, wasn't as bad as the one Mith had received. Whichever one of those creatures had knocked him out had been a little overzealous. I could only assume it was the reason I had woken first.

Mithwe stirred beside me and mumbled something I leaned in closer to hear.

"I'm sorry my friend. Forgive me please. This is my fault and there is nothing that can atone for it but your forgiveness would mean life to me."

He trailed off into a heartbroken please that was more of a moan than anything else. Tears ran down his face and his slim shoulders shook with silent sobs. I tried to bump him awake but we were tied too tightly for that. So I leaned over as far as possible and yelped in his ear. He jolted awake.

Mithwe's green eyes held confusion as he gazed around the tiny clearing. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Where am I?" His voice was soft, lost.

"You are in central Greenwood. We are prisoners."

Mith's brow furrowed as his dream drugged mind struggled to place me.

"Prince Legolas, forgive me"
"My friend there is nothing to forgive. I can think of nothing you have done that you need ask forgiveness for."

"This is my fault. I should not have come. If not for me you would still be free. You ought to have taken one of your own people, rather than a failure whose very presence brings ill-luck."

What could I say? Mith sounded nearly as distraught as he had when caught in the dream. I could not understand. He had done all he could.

"Mith, you are not ill-luck and you are certainly not a failure. I am the best archer in the Greenwood yet it was you, not I, who brought down the first orc. No one could have done more than you did; some things are fated."

"Yes, some things are fated. And I am fated to bring danger upon those I care about. Had I been paying more attention I would have noticed the orc behind me. You paid for my freedom with yours. And you are not the first to fall for my mistakes."

He must have seen the question in my face. When he spoke, his voice, though still soft enough to avoid detection by any but elvish ears, was brimming with emotion.

"Do you think after what you saw that I wear my hair down because I can't fight? I was a warrior in my home, known for my talent with the bow. But I still couldn't save my friend when she needed me most. I was too busy paying attention to what was in front of me to notice her danger. I thought nothing could happen without my knowing it. We were a team, one mind, two bodies.

"I do not think your friend would blame you."

"You are right. She would not blame me for anything. Not when things were normal at least. But perhaps she blamed me as she screamed. Surely someone must take fault for such pain. It was my mistake and that makes me the proper one on which to lay blame. And perhaps-" His startling green eyes met mine. "- Perhaps when you can no longer hold back cries of pain you too will say my name with anger."

Mith turned away. I called his name but he ignored me. Again, this time louder, I tried to get him to look at me. He didn't say anything but one of the orcs heard me. Our conversation until this point had been in whispers just loud enough for an elf to hear. I paid for catching their attention when a heavy boot connected with my ribs. The goblin grabbed my hair and tilted my head back to look into its face.

"You'd better be glad we ain't allowed ta do any harm ta ya, Elf brat. But there ain't no restriction on yer friend. So youse best keep yer mouth shut.

The creature released me and clumped back to its companions. I sucked in a breath of air that wasn't contaminated with the thing's stench. For Mithwe's sake I'd be silent; but only until I thought of words that would convince him that neither I, nor his friend, blamed him.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

As soon as the sun began westering the orcs moved on again. Neither Mith nor I had slept and his wounds had been left untended. Thankfully he had not bled much as the cut in his side had closed over early in the day. It was becoming painfully apparent, though, that the orcs had come for me. They wanted me alive.

We ran all night and the next day dawned cloudy and dim. The orcs kept on, anxious to make use of the extra time. I worried about Mith as his stumbles grew more frequent. We continued on as night fell again.

By morning I was nearly ready to collapse; only pride kept me standing. My mouth and throat were on fire from lack of water and my empty stomach was complaining. Mith swayed on his feet.

Our captors tied us to a thick tree off to one side. The place they had chosen to camp was oppressive, with thick tree cover that hid the sunlight. There was a dark thicket on one side and I felt sure something would come out of it at any second, and not necessarily something good for our health.

One of the orcs walked up to us. In its paws it held a water skin. I knew he wouldn't just give us a drink, there was no way it'd be that easy. I was right.

"Thirsty, Elf scum?" It laughed, an unpleasant sound like gravel grating against steel. "I know ya are. If youse want a drink all ya gotta do is ask."

I glared at the hideous creature. There was no way I would ever lower myself to ask it for anything. Judging by the sneering grimace I took to be a smile, it knew this as well as I did. It turned to Mithwe.

"How bout' you, elfling?"

"Amin feuya ten' lle, ulund."

The thing grinned, showing its fangs, and hit him. The blow was hard enough to whip Mith's head to the side. When he turned back blood ran from his temple where it had connected with the tree trunk.

"Nadorhuan!"

The orc hissed and stumped off, taking a long drink of water as if did so.

"Are you okay?"

Mithwe smiled grimly.

"Better than I was."

He turned away.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "

"I don't see why we can't play wit da prince."

"Cuz booze brain, orders is orders. No playin' wit da elfy prince."

I had been close to sleep when the words caught my interest. My father had insisted I have at least a rudimentary grasp of the language the orcs in Greenwood used. Though I'd hated learning it I'd blessed Ada for his stubbornness on several occasions. But the next words made me wish I'd forgotten my lessons.

"da other one ain't part of our orders. Why not sport wit 'im?"

There were mutters of agreement from the other orcs around the fire.

"That's all well an' good, but 'e's too weak. The maggot'd die before we was finished."

"Ah, we wouldn't 'urt 'im too bad. Just a little fun?"

I cringed. The orc captain was right. Mith was weak from dehydration and injury, not to mention half-starved. If they went too far they could easily kill him. And I was afraid that with the proper excuse he would surrender his soul to Mandos and be done with it.

The argument apparently settled, several of the creatures got up. They were nearly to our tree when the first arrow hit.