CHAPTER SEVEN: Arwen Escapes
They called themselves miri-squaramiri, the Frog-Children. It was a good name for them, Arwen thought, covering a huge yawn with her slim hand. The night of trading dragged on and on.
The daughter of Elrond squeezed her eyes tight shut, then blinked several times. hoping they would stay open. She had never seen creatures as slow and patient as the squat, emerald-skinned swamp dwellers. If one female saw a fine-woven blanket or a brooch worth having, the whole tribe had to inspect it carefully before they agreed to trade.
"The Frog-Children own everything in common," Ling Kray murmured, during one of the endless tribal discussions, which to Arwen sounded just like ordinary bullfrog croaks. It might have been funny if she weren't sitting side by side with a pirate, helping him to sell fine elven goods that weren't his!
When they first entered the long, low tent at the water's edge, she felt like running. Or screaming her head off. The unblinking black eyes of the frog-children were chilling. Neither cruel nor kind, they were simply expressionless. With a shudder, Arwen realized she felt safer sticking to the devil she knew – Ling Kray – than seeking shelter from creatures that were so very unearthly in their appearance.
In any case, it soon became apparent that the bronzed eastern pirate with the insolent smile was something of a favorite with the strange frog-like people of the swamps. When platters were passed around with heaps of crab, crayfish and other tasty saltwater delicacies, Ling Kray got first share, but he made sure his "partner" partook as well. Arwen refused to be ungracious, so she ate willingly. The food her cruel abductor gave her was delicious. And it was the same when the croaking creatures shared their liquor.
"It's called gliss-ta glorp-slorp. The Happiness Drink." The name didn't make much sense, Arwen thought. Ling Kray didn't seem to feel any intoxicating effects. The potent beverage only made her yearn for sleep. But the pride of the House of Elrond kept her upright. Hour after hour, Arwen sat there holding her eyes open while the pirate bartered her goods for precious gems and basic sea-going supplies.
"Thank you, my friends," Ling Kray said at last. There was a small heap of precious stones on the carpet at his feet. The frog-people fished for them in the murky deep. It was dawn, for gray light showed through all the cracks in the stuffy tent.
"What do we do now?" Arwen yawned as they walked outside together. After such a long night, there was no way to preserve her ethereal elven dignity. She was so tired that she stumbled over a tree root and nearly tripped and fell.
"We row back to the ship, of course." Ling Kray caught her arm in an iron grip, steadying her. "My frog-friends were very generous tonight. They still think I'm a respectable merchant." His black eyes rested on hers, and for a moment his harsh expression softened. "Thanks for playing along."
"Hmph." Arwen broke free of his grip. She didn't like the way she felt when the evil man touched her. She lowered her voice. "Somehow I don't think these strange frog-creatures care about the difference between right and wrong."
"Ah, then you judge people by outward appearance. That is foolish, my beautiful slave." Ling Kray smiled a wolfish smile. "Beauty does not equal goodness, any more than passion equals love. Perhaps you're still unaware of the difference. I can show you, if you like. I can awaken your passions fully." His cruel red mouth was strangely enticing.
"I'm not your slave. And I don't need lessons in passion!"
Ling Kray was amused. "Do you think I'm talking about forcing you? I think you already know that's not necessary." His eyes connected to hers in a knowing way. Arwen couldn't help staring back, fascinated.
"I need to make a visit to the bushes," she muttered at last, breaking the connection by looking off into the misty swamp.
Ling Kray laughed, as though he understood the real source of her discomfort. But then there was that look, that softness in his eyes once more. "Don't take too long, stubborn one. Not all the swamp creatures are my friends."
While she was squatting in the bushes, Arwen forced her mind to shake off the fog of weariness and function clearly. The realities of the situation were simple. She had been kidnapped by a remorseless killer, a man who thrived on dominance and power. She was exhausted and in shock. She was entirely subject to the whims of Ling Kray, and she was naturally beginning to feel dependent on her abductor. The thing to do was to escape now, before these confusing and deeply irrational feelings led her to a truly shameful end.
Nothing was easier than slipping into the fog and drifting away from the frog-people's encampment. As she moved silently through the shallow water, Arwen tried to ignore the clinging wetness. It had been days since she had a proper bath. She had to find her way northwards, towards the desert – and the city of Zin Zaraboob. There would be danger there, too, of course, but not this clammy misery. Arwen pushed on, her feet dragging in the mud. Soon buzzing and biting insects descended on her in great clouds.
"Arwen? Where are you?" That was Ling Kray's voice! Arwen immediately began to move faster, though it was hard going in clinging mud and waist-deep water. Strange how the sound of her own name brought a smile to her lips. Now he remembers that I have a name, she thought, foolishly. Now that I'm free of him.
But she wasn't free yet. Arwen heard the pirate shouting commands in a strange language. Was he was calling the other pirates from the ship? Or was he summoning the strange frog-children to his aid? They would have no trouble catching up to her. Those slimy skins, those big webbed feet, and those strange black eyes . . . Arwen tried to swim herself, but the water was too shallow. She tried break into a run, but the mud was deeper and stickier than ever!
"Arwen!" This time the pirate was definitely angry, bellowing her name in a great rage. "Arwen, come back here!" With a huge effort, the daughter of Elrond put herself into an all-out run, her heart hammering and the blood pounding in her ears. Yet she could still hear the pirate's hoarse voice, the words now only coming in snatches as she widened the gap.
"Danger . . . can't see you . . . drag you down . . ."
Arwen was sobbing with fear and exhaustion as she finally reached the ankle-deep shallows. Flowering bushes lined the shore. It was strange how the sweet smell of the tiny white flowers drew her to safety. Arwen flopped down on the black earth beneath the bushes, spent and trembling. She would hide in the thick undergrowth, and let the pirate search elsewhere. She was safe now. She was safe . . .
And then a long, slimy tentacle whipped out of the water, and wrapped itself around her slender ankle.