AN: I would like to apologize for the delay. You see, I have had problems with depression since I moved (the end of March). The past six or eight weeks have been really rough, and I have been unable to do any writing of any substance for most of that time. But now things are looking up, so I should be back to a regular update schedule from here on out. Again, I apologize for the delay, and thank everyone who has stuck with this story through these last few weeks.
Warning: A bit of a cliffie (not much of one, in my opinion), and some off-screen violence
Chapter Thirty-One: Prisoners
Thilator disappeared into the darkening evening, leaving a whispered word with the men standing on guard.
Carmian glared at the blond elf and stalked over to the mouth of the cave. "Did the master say anything about out payment?" he muttered to one of the men.
The man glanced at him, and shook his head. "He said he still needed us...something about wanting help with the prisoners. He was a little angry we'd brought the boy along."
"Did he expect us to kill him?" Carmian snorted. Killing elves was one thing...they were the ones who locked themselves up in their perfect sanctuaries and ignored the problems of men...but he drew the line at killing children for no apparent reason. Granted, the boy was more man than child, but Carmian wanted to avoid that death if at all possible.
And something about that boy reminded him of his own brother. He caught Corben's eye from the other side of the cave, and nodded. Corben was younger than most of the men, just reaching his twenty-third winter. Carmian had raised him since their parents' deaths nearly a decade ago...a death he blamed on the elves. Plague had swept through the village, and the elders had sent for a famed elvish healer to come to their aide.
The elf had come, but had been unable to save many of those who were ill, mostly the very old or very young.
Carmian flicked a lock of dirty blond hair out of his eye and looked back toward the mouth of the cave. It irked him to be working for an elf now, but the dark-haired being had promised more wealth and power than Carmian could imagine.
"You will regret this."
The man whirled about, pinning the elf with a glare. He was a bit shocked to notice that the elf's gaze was directed elsewhere.
Then he noticed it had been the boy, not the elf, who had spoken.
"Corben, leave him," he called to his brother as the younger man started to challenge the prisoner. "Who are you?"
The boy glared up at him, though Carmian could see pain and just a hint of fear in his gaze, though he remained silent.
"What were you doing with the elf? Are you his servant?" Carmian demanded.
"No!" the young man nearly shouted, his gaze growing more contemptuous. "We are friends."
"Friends," Carmian snorted, nudging the wound in boy's leg with the toe of his boot. "Understand this, Boy, it is far better to walk unarmed into a bear's den than to befriend an elf."
"But you work for one."
Carmian snorted. This boy was wise for his youth...he could not have been more than fifteen summers, perhaps fewer. "You'd be better off with your own kind."
The youth opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced at a touch on the arm from the elf. Carmian's eyes narrowed. Were the elves trying to corrupt children now? It wasn't enough that they could deny aide when the human villages around them were failing, did they have to turn this young man against his own kind?
He grabbed one of his men by the tunic, pulling him a few steps aside. "Go find Lothram," he hissed. "I have something I need him to do."
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A slow hour passed, Carmian still pacing like a caged animal the entire time. Legolas had managed to scoot next to Estel again, and had occupied himself with checking his friend's wound.
Estel did not seem to notice him much. The young man had weakened over the last hour, though whether from blood loss, infection, or simple exhaustion Legolas could not be sure.
"I wonder if they plan to feed us," Estel suddenly whispered, his voice faint.
Legolas glanced at him, frowning when he noticed the striking pallor to his friend's face. "Estel?"
"I will be fine...it just hurts."
The elf saw the young human grit his teeth as he shifted position. He had not spent enough time among men to recognize any signs of illness in Estel, but his friend did not seem particularly feverish, nor had his wound bled for very long. "We have to find a way for you to escape," he said quietly.
"No," Estel shook his head. "Legolas...I cannot walk, not very far. It would be better if you escaped."
"They will hunt me down again," the elf stated. "Thilator was after me...if you were to escape, he might not notice your departure."
Estel sighed. "Maybe we should wait to decide," he suggested. "We don't know what Thilator is planning to do."
Legolas bit back a snort. He could figure out what the older elf was planning, considering the former tutor's connection with Amarthwen. "Thilator was after me...if you were to escape, he might not notice your departure."
"No," Estel shook his head. "Whatever happens, we shall face it together."
The elf started to protest, to make some argument to convince his friend to leave, but did not speak. He glanced up toward the men keeping them prisoner, studying the way Carmian paced around the small chamber. He could tell the man was dangerous...something in his bearing hinted at restrained rage, as though it was only Thilator's commands that kept him from exacting misplaced vengeance on Legolas and Estel.
"Estel," he whispered, nudging his friend. "Watch him."
Legolas glanced over, noticing Estel's eyes following Carmian's movements. The young human's brow wrinkled as he tried to see why Legolas had told him to do such a thing, then his eyes suddenly widened in understanding. "He's angry...but we already knew that from the way he was talking earlier."
"Keep watching," Legolas abruptly broke off his explanation, straightening up as a cloaked figure entered the cave. It conversed with Carmian for a while, then sat next to the fire.
Throwing his hood back to reveal a young man of about twenty, he held his hands out to warm them. "I expect the master will return soon," he said conversationally, glancing up at Legolas and Estel. "What's your name, Boy?" he asked the young human kindly.
Legolas felt Estel straighten up slightly, though his friend stubbornly refused to answer.
"Just tell us your name," the young man urged. "Maybe Carmian can return you to your family...the master will have no use for you, surely."
Estel started to reply, but Legolas nudged him sharply. He did not know that it would be wise to let this man know that Estel was part of Lord Elrond's household.
The young man chuckled. "My name is Lothram," he said, tossing a stick on the fire. "I can't keep calling you 'Boy', can I?"
"Lothram!" Carmian called, dropping to sit on the other side of the fire, studying the young man intently. "What did you see?"
Lothram shrugged. "Scouting parties scour the forest...looking for our friends, no doubt. We should tell the master, the searchers could find us in a few hours if we don't move on."
"Then I suggest you get your men ready to move."
Legolas barely felt Estel start, and glanced up to the mouth of the cave. Thilator had returned, his cloak slightly spotted with dampness. "There is another place we can go," the dark-haired elf continued. "Further out of the valley. Near a human village, I believe, so your presence will be less noticeable."
"What about the prisoners?" Carmian demanded.
"We'll bring them," Thilator replied, ice-cold eyes lighting on Legolas and Estel. "The boy will be no trouble...he cannot escape with that wound. And as for the prince," the dark haired elf flipped his cloak back to free his shoulders. "We will make sure he is no position to run."
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"The tracks stop here," Elladan huffed in frustration, clenching one fist in the fabric of his leggings.
"My Lord? Over here."
Elladan rolled his eyes, sharing an annoyed glance with Elrohir. They had been unable to keep Palandil from referring to them as lords, no matter how many times they pleaded.
"What did you find?" Elladan asked.
The Mirkwood elf was intently studying a tree, brow creased in thought. "A wound...from a boot."
Elladan looked at the trunk of the tree. There was a slight scuff in the bark, like a man had dug his toes into the tree to climb—or to resist being pulled down. "Estel?"
"Perhaps," Palandil nodded, pushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes. "Did you find anything?"
"A few boot prints," Elrohir called from further up the path. "It looks as though the prince and Estel were attacked by several men...the undergrowth on either side of the path is trampled."
"They did not all cover their tracks," Elladan mused, kneeling to study the ground around the tree. "It would seem there was a group of men, but not all were experienced hunters...what does it mean?"
"It means we should hurry," Elrohir suggested. "It will be night soon. We do not know how far ahead of us they are."
"Do you think we're on the right track?" Palandil asked softly, brushing the trunk of the tree in a gesture of farewell.
"I hope so," Elladan replied.
"We have to be," his twin agreed. "Or we may not find them."
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Estel stumbled, biting his lip to keep from crying out. His leg was throbbing with pain, the hasty bandaging Legolas had been able to do in the cave having stopped the bleeding, but none of the men had seen fit to tend to his wound any more. A rough hand grabbed his arm, jerking him upright and pulling him along the path.
"Careful," the man whispered, tugging Estel sideways. "There are rocks littering the path. If you fall you will anger Carmian."
The young human swallowed a hasty retort, pulling his arm free. He feared he would not be able to walk much farther. His entire leg was throbbing, the pain shooting up his back to his shoulders.
"How much farther?" he asked softly. The man who was helping him seemed more sympathetic than the others, and certainly less devious than Lothram.
"Another hour," Estel could tell by the man's voice that he was shrugging. "If you swear not to run, I will see if the master will let me free your hands."
Estel swallowed again, this time fighting a sudden welling of nausea. He straightened up, determining trying not to limp as he walked. He wanted nothing from Thilator or Carmian, not after what had happened.
Memory flashed, and he winced. Thilator's way of keeping Legolas from escaping had been simple. He had pulled a leather strap from one of the packs and given it to Carmian, and the man had beaten the elf. Not severely, not enough to draw blood, but severe enough to give Legolas several bruises.
What stung Estel the most was that he knew the beating was not meant to weaken Legolas so much that he couldn't escape. It had served as an example...an example of what would happen to Estel should Legolas escape. Carmian had said as much, and had said he would not hold back if the prince ran.
Estel shivered, rubbing his face with his bound hands. He stumbled over another rock, a soft yelp of pain escaping. He nearly fell, jerking away as the man beside him tried to help him, and ran into another man. Estel froze, glancing up into Carmian's hate-filled eyes.
"Say the word and you can join us, Boy," the man sneered, holding Estel's shoulder in a bruising grip. "Why share the punishment of the elf when you can be with your kind?"
"If you are my kind," Estel managed to reply, "I would rather die with my friend."
Carmian's eyes narrowed. "So be it," he snarled, shoving Estel forward. "But remember this: the master can do no greater hurt to your friend than to harm you. When you see him beg the master to spare your life, remember that you could have saved him that pain."
With another shove against Estel's shoulder, Carmian slipped back to the rest of his men.
Estel stumbled again, and this time did not pull away when the man beside him took his arm to help him. Darkness was falling around them, but in the distance he could see the glow of lantern light.
The village, he realized. A human village, as Thilator said.
The barest of plans was forming in his mind. He had to speak with Legolas...there just might be a way for them to escape after all.
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
Palandil was originally created for another story...one I will eventually finish and post. So he will serve some purpose, I just decided to use him here since I needed an elf who wasn't already part of the whole story.
If you recognized a name in this chapter please bear in mind that this part of the story is set only about forty years before Bad Company. If you didn't that's okay...it's just a few things that are going to tie together in Company's sequel.