Chapter Two

The troop that consisted of ten trolls, one elf, one human, and two horses marched through the forest and then out onto rolling hills. Without hesitation, the group made their way up the first one.

Up, over, and down. Up, over, and down. Each hill looked exactly like the next one and the one before it. The scenery never changed. It seemed endless. If they hadn’t known better, Legolas and Aragorn would have thought they were not moving at all but only walking in place.

“Can we stop for some water?” a very thirsty Aragorn called up to the head of the group where Hatch was located. The ranger held the hope that these trolls didn’t want to see their captives die of thirst before they got where they were going. Still, the man wasn’t really expecting to be accommodated.

“Shut up!” Hatch yelled back, as snickers erupted from the other trolls.

“We’re thirsty,” Aragorn protested. “We can move faster, if you give us some water.”

Plainly irritated, Hatch swing around and came back to stand towering above the sweaty ranger. There was murder in his eyes. “Prisoners don't get treated like friends. You might get somethin’ to drink when we get to where we’re goin’. I ain't decided yet." He poked his finger at Aragorn’s chest. “Complain again, and you won’t get nohin’ but a rap on the head. Then we’ll drag the both of you the rest of the way.” Hatch turned around and headed up the next hill.

Neither Legolas nor Aragorn doubted the creature would do exactly as he said. They were actually a little surprised it hadn’t been done already. Trolls loved to have fun at the expense of whatever unfortunate being was in their grasp at the time. They hated anyone that was not a troll.

Aragorn decided not to push his luck. “I guess that settles that.” He gave his elven friend a sympathetic look and then licked his dry lips, though there was precious little liquid in his mouth to wet them with.

*~*~*~*

It was another hour of marching across the hills before they entered another forest, a much larger one, on the far side of the largest hill they had yet encountered.

In the center of the forest was a huge clearing that was quickly recognizable as the trolls’ permanent home. There were more trolls here than either Legolas or Aragorn had ever seen together in one place at one time.

The large creatures all turned to look at the group, as they emerged from the dark trees. Most of the trolls were laughing and pointing at the prisoners.

“I think they are happy to see dinner coming,” Legolas commented grimly. He wasn't smiling when he said it. It was too close to the truth to be even mildly amusing.

Aragorn surveyed the large group that had moved closer to surround them. He hadn’t expected there to be so many of them. Surprisingly, these appeared to be a social group, though perhaps social wasn’t the right word to use. The term mutual cooperation came to mind.

With a sigh, the ranger remarked, “I think it’ll take a little bit longer to gain our freedom than I was hoping.”

Both Legolas and Aragorn surveyed the camp, as they moved slowly through it. Along the outer edges of it were rudimentary huts put together in a somewhat haphazard way. The rough-hewn tree trunks that served as the walls were solid enough, but they were attached to each other with knotted ropes. The wood was laid together at odd angles, some overlapping while others left gaps. More than half were leaning to one side or another.

In the center of the clearing was one huge fire whose flames reached up to the top of the trolls’ eight foot frames.

“I’m not sure I want to stay in one of those huts,” Aragorn remarked. “They look like one good breeze will send them all tumbling down on top of whoever happens to be inside.”

“I do not believe we have to worry about that. Look.” Legolas nodded to a spot between two of the larger huts off to their right.

What they saw was four cages made of metal bars lashed together firmly with chains, indicating that far more care had been lavished on these structures by the trolls than on their living quarters. The cages were sturdy and meant to hold securely whoever or whatever was put into them.

The two friends were gripped tightly around the arm and half pushed, half pulled over to the cages, which, upon closer inspection, looked even stronger than was first thought.

Hatch untied Aragorn from the lead rope but made no move to undo the smaller rope that bound his wrists. He then grabbed Aragorn by the shoulder and shoved him into the cage on the end nearest them. The door clanged shut behind the ranger.

As one of the trolls secured the door to Aragorn’s prison with a large metal padlock, Legolas was untied in the same way and pushed toward the cage on the opposite end and shoved inside. His door was secured with a second padlock.

Hatch looked from one captive to the other and laughed. “There’ll be a guard right in front of these here cages between you two. You try talkin’ to each other an’ you’ll pay. You ain‘t gonna get away, so no use tryin’.”

There was more laughter from the trolls who had gathered nearby and heard Hatch’s warning. The sound was not pleasant and did not bode well for the future of elf and human.

Legolas grasped two of the metal bars beside the doors and shook the cage, trying to test its strength. ‘Too strong,’ he thought. He looked over at Aragorn and shook his head.

Aragorn sighed, knowing that if the structure was too strong for an elf, it was a sure thing that they wouldn’t be able to break out by loosening anything. He sat down on the ground. There was nothing else in the cages to sit or lie on. The two occupied enclosures measured only six feet by six feet by six feet.

Legolas and Aragorn, in their bare feet, were each only slightly under six feet tall. With the added height of their boot heels, they were slightly over six feet, which meant that they couldn’t quite stand up straight without scraping their heads on the metal bars overhead. Neither was willing to take their boots off. They had to be ready to flee, if the opportunity presented itself.

The middle two cages were decidedly bigger than those on each end. They were clearly made for much bigger captives and would have suited the elf and the man together quite well. However, comfort was out of the question, so giving them a larger place to stay wouldn’t have provided the kind of discomfort the trolls obviously wanted them to endure.

Legolas soon tired of having to bend his head down, so he, too, sat down. At least he could stretch his weary legs out.
The elf glanced at Aragorn, who was looking intently at the trolls’ camp and all the other structures in it. Size up the enemy and their surroundings was one of Aragorn’s unwritten rules. Little details could mean the difference between success and failure. And in the world of a ranger that could easily mean the difference between life and death.

Growing bored with watching the captives do nothing, all of the trolls walked away, leaving the two friends to ponder their captivity.

Aragorn wasn’t about to underestimate these creatures. Trolls were fierce fighters, and an out-and- out confrontation with this many of them would be insurmountable. That fact didn’t sit well with the ranger, but it was inescapable nonetheless.

Sheer size and brute strength couldn’t be ignored, no matter how puny the brain behind those traits may be. Even so, this particular species of trolls wasn’t as stupid as most.

Eyeing the imposing creatures that stood around the clearing, Aragorn knew that the only chance for him and Legolas to escape would rest with their ability to outwit them.

At the moment, Legolas wasn’t thinking about escaping. He picked up a small rock and angrily threw it at the ground. He hated being a captive. It had happened more times than he cared to think about. Now here he and Aragorn were, once more in the hands of beings who wanted to destroy them. Did it never end?

The elf picked up the same rock and threw it again, this time slamming it against one of the bars of the cage and shattering it.

Aragorn watched Legolas’s mounting frustration and was about to say something to try and calm his agitated friend, when shouting got the attention of both of them.

Near the large campfire, Hatch was waving his arms and yelling at one of the other trolls. He then pointed toward the cages.

The slightly smaller troll on the receiving end of the tirade opened his mouth in what would probably have been an attempt to defend himself and then shut it quickly. The look in Hatch’s eyes had evidently warned him not to argue with his leader. In obvious defeat, the hapless creature lumbered over
and stood, head down, in front of the center cages.

Aragorn decided to see if he could win a few points with this creature. “What’s your name?” he asked in a mild voice meant to put the troll at ease.

“Pickett,” the troll replied.

Pleased that he was answered, Aragorn continued sympathetically. “Guard duty’s tough, isn’t it? There’s no we could never escape from these well-made cages, so it wasn’t right that your leader yelled at you like that for not coming right over here to guard us.”

Legolas grinned. It was an old trick that Aragorn often used. If possible, make friends with a guard. It usually only worked on very young or very ignorant people. This troll looked to be both.

Pickett turned and looked at Aragorn, who was looking back at him with a very sympathetic expression.

Not understanding that he was being exploited, Pickett nodded in response to the man’s comments about Hatch. “He’s always on me ’bout somethin’. Hatch jus’ don’t like me.”

He was so pathetic, Aragorn could almost feel sorry for him. But, not quite. This creature could possibly be taken advantage of, but he could just as easily turn on him and Legolas and snap both of them in half. Aragorn knew he would have to tread carefully.

Legolas decided to join the conversation. Throwing rocks wasn’t going to help his mood any. Referring to Hatch, he said, “He does not seem like the kind of...uh... person you can reason with.”

“He ain’t,” Pickett whispered, trying to make sure no one but these two could hear him. He began to wonder if maybe these two captives could be different from the others the group usually brought in. They were so unusual. The dark haired one looked to Pickett like many of the humans he had seen before. But the other one had pointed ears and much longer hair, which was a pretty golden color. He was also a lot cleaner.

“I never seen a human like you before. What’s wrong with yer ears?”

“He’s an elf,” Aragorn replied before Legolas did, not sure how his friend would handle the question.

“What’s an elf?” Pickett asked in total bewilderment.

Legolas stared back at the troll and let out a growl that sent Pickett back a step, which pleased the elf. He couldn’t believe that this creature did not know about elves.

Aragorn burst out laughing. “Don’t mind him, Pickett. He was born that way. We all took pity on him because of his deformity, though he doesn’t believe there‘s anything wrong with him. It’s really very sad.”

The blond archer turned a stony glare on the ranger. “My ears are not deformed.” The elf’s tone was decidedly arrogant.

“See what I mean?” Aragorn sighed, shaking his head. Legolas had a great sense of humor, but sometimes the elf’s pride got in the way, even with him, and at such times the man knew it was best just to change the subject.

“Pickett, can you get us some water? We’re very thirsty.” That was a genuine statement.

“I cain't leave here. I already told you Hatch don’t like me. If I leave, or give you somethin’ he didn’t say to, he’ll beat me.”

It was clear to Aragorn that the troll wasn’t going to be talked into getting them water or anything else, for now at least. He would try again later, if he didn‘t dry up and blow away first.

“Where are our horses?” Legolas asked the troll. He hadn’t seen where they were taken and couldn’t spot them anywhere in the camp or the nearby trees. He had thought about whistling but knew the two stallions would answer him, and he didn’t want to risk any of the trolls hitting them to shut them up.

“They’re behind the fence in back of the big hut." Pickett jerked his thumb to indicate the direction where the captives’ horses could be found.

His voice now had a slight edge to it. All the while he talked, he never relaxed his position, his dark eyes darting furtively toward where Hatch stood. He wasn’t just nervous, he was actually afraid, and considering what he had said about Hatch’s not liking him, that feeling was completely justified.

A few moments later, Hatch walked over and stood directly in front of Pickett, making the younger troll cower before his leader. “Get ’em some water an’ food. We don’t want ’em dyin’ on us ’til we have our fun.” He smiled, revealing black, broken teeth.

Pickett shuffled off, and Hatch stood looking first at Aragorn and then at Legolas. “Why’d you two come here?”

“We just wanted to cross you territory,” Aragorn replied. “We meant you no harm.”

Hatch laughed heartily at that. “You cain’t hurt us.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” the man conceded. “What I meant was, we weren’t planning on trying. We’re just travelers.”

“You shoulda gone around. We don’t like strangers here. You’ll pay fer yer mistake.”

Turning his attention away from Aragorn, Hatch went over to Legolas’s cage and, in a move faster than his size would indicate, slammed his hand against the front of the cage, rattling it loudly.

Legolas slowly lifted his head and glared at the troll but showed no other reaction to Hatch’s sudden move, and that annoyed the large creature, who seemed to want, and was surely expecting, the elf to jump.

Before Hatch could do more, Pickett returned with water and a small amount of what was evidently supposed to pass for food. Hatch held the two bowls down for the captives to see. He laughed when he saw Legolas wrinkle his nose at it.

What Aragorn saw were chunks of meat that looked to be more than half raw and floating in a slimy, bloody mess that was disgusting. "What is that stuff?"

"Black rabbit," Legolas replied, his nose having identified the bowls' contents.

"Black rabbit?" Aragorn echoed, also wrinkling his nose. "That stuff is awful. We can’t eat it."

"We eat it," Hatch said. "So can you."

"I would rather starve," Legolas declared defiantly. The elf had to turn his head away to keep from gagging.

"Fine with me," Hatch replied, throwing the contents on the ground. He shoved the two bowls back into Pickett’s hands. "Give ’em water, but don’t give ’em nothin’ else to eat," he said over his shoulder, as he walked away.

TBC