Written by Gordis, Angmar, and Valandil
Algeirr calmed his men, who were muttering darkly, angry and disappointed, and sent them to tend to the horse. They obeyed reluctantly, as they knew that no one of them could best their leader in fight. But they were far from content, and still shot angry glances at Algeirr and Griss and lustful ones at the girl.
While the young tark, aided by Kvigr, was busy with the wounded mare, three other mercenaries with drawn swords stood guard around them. Griss and Algeirr were holding the girl's arms, Algeirr's knife firmly held at her milk-white throat.
The distraction left Algeirr time to think and observe the others. He noticed that Heggr, Griss's companion, was as disappointed as his own men, if not more. He stood nearby, sucking his bad teeth, his dark hungry eyes riveted to the wench, as a cat watches a fat mouse.
Even Griss himself looked distracted: he was holding the left arm of the girl and was using his right hand to stroke her buttocks, when he thought nobody was looking. When the girl squirmed and kicked Griss's knee with her foot, cursing under her breath, Algeirr made his decision.
He grinned good-naturedly at Griss and received an answering smile: the man seemed relieved that Algeirr's anger had passed.
"I must have a word with you, Griss," Algeirr whispered conspiratorially. "Bind the wench's hands, so we can talk"
Griss drew the girl's hands behind her back, and Algeirr passed him a piece of rope to bind them together. When the girl started to struggle, Algeirr put some pressure on the knife at her throat, drawing a trickle of blood. Then he took out of his pocket a large dirty piece of cloth, which normally served as a kerchief. But this time Algeirr used it to gag the girl. Struggling frantically now, she tried to avoid the dirty cloth that was being pushed in her mouth. But Griss held her firmly from behind, pressing her body to his with both arms.
When the girl opened her mouth to scream, the gag finally found its way into her mouth, and the only sound that came out was a low moan. This time, it was Griss's turn to take out his kerchief which they tied firmly over the girl's jaws, securing the gag in place. The two outlaws apprised their handiwork, smiling with satisfaction.
Algeirr looked back at the group near the mare. The three outlaws were still gawking at the operation and effectively screened the scene from the Tark. Heggr was the only one watching him and Griss, and his shrewd grim gaze made it quite clear that he wished to be a party in whatever was going to be discussed. Algeirr nodded towards the side of the road and they made their way through the low shrubs, pushing the struggling girl between them.
"Let us bind her to a tree," Algeirr said to Griss and Heggr, once they were safely out of earshot from the road. Caelen was soon bound to a pine-tree, ropes securing her wrists and her still bleeding neck. Algeirr sat on the thick carpet of pine-needles and grinned at Broggha's men.
"I have a proposal, gentlemen," he said amiably. "Let us have fun with the tark wench now and kill them both afterwards."
Seeing that Griss was about to protest, Algeirr stopped him, saying, "Broggha needs not be told of this, I gather he has wenches enough. Of course, all the other lads should be let to have their part of the fun, that will help them keep their mouths shut."
"What say you to that?"
As Griss listened to Algeirr's words, Heggr kept telling him with sharp glances that he liked Algeirr's plan to use the woman now and after the sporting was concluded, kill the both of them.
"Why shouldn't we have a little fun?" Griss told himself. Broggha always had the best of everything - the best women, the best ale and wine, the best food, the best horse. All men like Griss and Heggr could do was cast lustful looks at women like Aewen and Maleneth and hope their leader didn't notice. When Griss had been holding the girl, he couldn't keep his hands off her, and now he wanted to do a lot more than stroke her rump with his hand. Just looking at the girl made him ache. He caught her eye and his bold expression said, "I hope I am first!"
Broggha didn't even know this girl existed. This would be simple; Griss was the head of Broggha's spies. Oh, Broggha thought up the missions sometimes, but it was Griss' sharp mind which kept the records of the activities of every last one of his spies. They would bury the girl and her brother deep so that not even the scavengers could dig them up, and no one would ever find their bodies.
Algeirr was speaking to him now, "What say you to that?"
Griss had already decided. "Let's all take a tumble with her and kill her and her brother. Now who is going to be first?" Griss eyed Algeirr. There was no point in getting the man any more angry than he already had been, but it had been a long, long time since Griss had had a woman!
---
There was a loud THWACK on the tree where the girl was tied. The men looked sharply toward the sound, and saw a steel arrow, sunk deep into the tree, about an arm's length over the girl's head.
They wavered for just a moment - instincts telling them to flee, but their better sense telling them to hold still. Then a voice called out from the forest, "HOLD! In the name of the King!"
Eryndil strode forth, drawn sword before him, five men behind him with spears extended.
"Now... MOVE!" he commanded, "Out onto the road."
One of them had a better idea and dove for cover. "Fool," thought Eryndil, just as an arrow struck the man's thigh. Then he signaled for two of the fellow's comrades to help him out into the road.
Eryndil paused before the young woman at the tree as his men passed him, leading the others now right onto the road. He watched as the other two young ones who had been apart were brought forth by his three other spearmen. That left him four archers in the woods - and two of them were Narwaith and Nimloss - who wouldn't miss their mark with a clear shot on the road.
He turned then to the girl. Some would have fainted at an arrow strike like that, but her eyes looked at him levelly - without fear, with no expression at all.
"My sword is a bit clumsy for this, but I dare not set it aside," he told her, and then walking around the tree, reached his left hand to support her shoulder as with his great sword he cut the ropes binding her to the tree and tying her hands. Those hands freed, she quickly reached up and pulled down the kerchief holding the gag in her mouth and began to cough and spat as she rubbed her wrists and throat.
"Now that one," Eryndil said, indicating Callon, "Is he your husband?" He had to be sure the man hadn't brought her here to them, though he doubted it by the matching bloody marks on their necks.
Her eyes opened wide as she turned her head sharply toward him. "He... cough, cough, ... is my..." but then she just turned and ran toward the young man in the road. Eryndil's men let her pass, and she threw her arms about him and the two embraced.
Eryndil signaled for the two to be led out of the circle of spears, then turned his attention to his own captives. From the forest he had seen that they now numbered seven instead of five - and that the two additions were likely from Broggha's camp. This complicated things, so it was best not to acknowledge it. And he had given the brothers a strict command, though Eru knows they have a score to settle - and Eryndil wasn't sure if he could keep his own bowstring in check, were he in their places.
"So... deserters from Malvegil's Army? He hangs such, doesn't he? Now... lay your weapons aside - in a pile - here!"
The men complied, wordlessly, but with venom in their eyes. Eryndil then had them lie face-down on the road, with two ranger between each. He commanded his men, "If one moves, stick 'im!" as they began to search them in turn, drawing out not a few stray daggers and other things. Then he addressed them further.
"You have fallen into the hands of Taurenol, Servant to King Tarnendur of Rhudaur - and I do not do the office of Malvegil of Arthedain. If you heed me, you will survive our first meeting, otherwise..."
"Deserters do no one any good. But kidnappers, thieves, murderers... and other such," he said, looking back at the girl, "these break the laws of our land. As it is, my timely intervention has spared you men the disgrace of breaking our good King's Laws, and falling into his disfavor - for this you can be thankful. If I had come later, I would have no choice but to slay you all."
Oh - double fool! Just at that moment, Gwaerod - the slowest-learning of his men - was searching the last of the captives when the man swung about with a dagger. Gwaerod warded off the blow at the price of a sliced forearm. This just wouldn't do, thought Eryndil, as he rushed forward with his sword. But as Eryndil drew close enough to strike, and Gwaerod tried to rally himself and spear the man, two arrows met their marks, one in the chest and one in the throat, and the man slumped back and lay still. Eryndil smiled grimly to himself. That one in the throat came from where Narwaith was posted - 'he might be better than me now' thought Eryndil. He noted that the man was one of the apparent deserters - not one of Broggha's men. That at least was good.
The rest of the men seemed more cooperative from then on. Eryndil noted that the sun would be setting soon. While Lothrond tended to Gwaerod, Norumar and Ceruvar gathered up the weapons of the brigands. "Now," said Eryndil, "give each one its own special hiding place in the woods yonder," indicating the forest on the south side of the road. "Maybe these men can find them in the morning." But if Norumar and Ceruvar did their jobs right, it would take all the next day.
To reach Broggha's camp - a likely destination - one would take the road east. Eryndil and his men had come from the north, and he intended to depart to the northwest. He called down Hithirion and Griblung from the woods, keeping his two best archers in hiding. Then he commanded his captives to rise. "Now... walk!" he said, pointing westward. "You two," indicating the ones who seemed to be leaders, "help your wounded comrade." He instructed six of his men to walk behind them, to the next bend in the road, as far as they could still be seen. Then his men were to stop and watch their captives go at least another two furlongs beyond. By then the sun would be setting and it would be almost dark. As they walked away, he looked to where his last two archers were hiding and motioned for them to follow.
Now was just the wrap-up. The young couple explained about their wounded horse, so he gave them the weapon they asked for. The pair walked the animal just inside the woods and the deed was done. Then the slain man was dragged to the edge of the road and covered with a blanket, weighed down by stones, left there for his own comrades to bury. The horses belonging to the bandits were hobbled to keep them from running far - Eryndil checked the knots to make sure they couldn't be untied, so that the men would have to find sharpened steel to cut the ropes before the horses could be ridden.
They made ready to depart. Eryndil asked that his wounded man could ride one horse while the young couple doubled-up on the other - explaining that they would just walk, and over rough terrain. He asked in part so that the pair wouldn't decide to flee. It was turning dusk when his six men returned from their walk. Ceruvar and Norumar had finished their work, so they all departed. Eryndil and nine of his men walked - one of whom led the horse that carried Gwaerod (who had never sat on a horse before) - and Callon and Caelen on another horse in their midst.
Narwaith and Nimloss joined them about half a furlong into the woods. On they marched - due north at first, after Eryndil had extracted an oath from them that they hadn't harmed Broggha's men.
It would be useless to try to gather more information on the riders seen headed toward Broggha's camp, Eryndil sighed. Now... despite all this other precautions, he still only needed to make sure that they were not followed.