Cast of additional characters and aliases

Strider Aragorn's alias

Anborn Faramir's alias

Mattias the eldest son of the witch

Gordash the middle son of the witch

Curtik the youngest son of the witch

Bregus the witch, also called Mother, the shuv'ni (another word for witch) and puri dai (tribe elder)

Bäla Bregus' dead husband, a former shuv'ni and puri dai

Kattica Mattias' wife and a shuv'ni apprentice

The Hunting Trip

Chapter Ten: Control and Compliance

He had been struggling, yet now he was still. Flailing and fighting an unseen demon, and then, almost mercifully, lost in elven dreams. Gimli did not understand. Sea-longing, they said. He was having difficulty believing it.

Protectively he held on as the former Ranger and the shuvni exchanged words about his downed friend. Only now did he realize his fingers were still tightly and painfully curled around the shoulder of the elf. He softened his grip and he felt Legolas body shift in his arms, the elf's head falling back. Adjusting himself, he tenderly brought Legolas' head and shoulders down to a reclining position in his lap. Gimli watched his friend's face while anxiety and doubt gripped him. This did not seem right. In all the time he had spent with Legolas, on the many occasions he had actually witnessed the assault of this presumed illness, he could not recall seeing anything like this occurrence. This felt of ill-omen. Unnatural. Surreal. "Ar Strider," he whispered, catching himself as he almost called the man by his rightful name, "Surely this is not the sea-longing we have witnessed. Never has he been agitated and tormented by it so. Nor fallen so quickly or deeply into dream after. I do not concur with your interpretation. I do not believe that is it."

The Ranger frowned at the dwarf and Gimli could see the man too was perplexed by the mystery of the illness. Apologetically, he said, "I know naught else to call it, Gimli. While it seems early yet for this to have happened in an elf so young as Legolas, I do know in advanced stages among Silvan elves, his affliction can have symptoms such as we have seen. Have you knowledge that he has not been affected this way?"

Gimli reddened, and looked down at his friend's face in shame. "He will not we do not I know not of late how he is affected by the sea's call. I am faulted in this as I have not asked, though I am afraid he would be remiss to volunteer this information even if I should. And yet, we do not need to speak on it. When I am with him, and he is plagued, I can see it. Almost intuitively sometimes, but I know it. And this does not feel like sea-longing to me, Strider. He does not suffer like that."

Aragorn gave a knowing glance to the dwarf, agreeing in his own way, then looked upon the elf's face. He frowned. It was plain to see that Legolas was captured in a deep state of unconsciousness, whatever it was that had caused it. His eyes were tightly sealed, and that did not bode well. Yet his breathing was slow and steady and he did not appear to be in any pain. "It matters not what it is for now. We should get him back to our camp. We can treat him there if it is something of greater consequence, and he will feel better to awaken in an environment he knows," Strider said with an authority that came naturally to him. The decision made, he stood and reached out to raise the elf in an effort to carry him.

"What is your hurry?" the old woman said as she stepped to his side. She touched Aragorn, and he stopped where he stood. "He appears to be at peace. It might do him more good to let him sleep. And you have not finished your meal, while I have still yet to dine. Please, I have so much that I would ask you. Come. Sit and talk with me," the elder said with a deep, rich voice that seemed more youthful than her appearance. Aragorn stood in his spot, blinking and looking at her. He seemed to be weighing her words, as if she had a tremendous influence on this decision. She tugged at the Ranger's arm, attempting to lead him away, and to Gimli's surprise, Aragorn was willing.

Faramir blinked, snapping to life, also astounded that the Ranger would not choose this moment to leave. "Strider," he called in a harsh voice, then he reached over to pull the man's other arm. "What are you doing? Have you taken leave of your senses? We should go! Legolas has fallen ill and we do not know the cause. Surely we can not stand about making idle conversation at this time?"

Gimli watched with confusion as Aragorn's face became rent in indecision. His eyes looked lost, blinking, as if struggling with conflicting thoughts. He perceived a silent war going on in the Ranger's head as he saw gray eyes crawl back to the prone elf, and then on to the old woman, and then back again to his friend. He could tell that a part of Aragorn wanted to leave this place, but something was compelling him to stay. Was it the old woman? Even to the dwarf, to whom the woman's comments had not been directed, there was a pull in her voice that reached into his soul. She stepped between Aragorn and Faramir and touched them both. Then with a smile she turned, including the dwarf in her discourse as she reached over and offered a pat to his shoulder. "Please, my friends. I do not mean to be the cause of quarrel between you. Of course you must go if you perceive your friend truly ill. But I can assure you from what I see, he is healthy and only in need of rest. We can make him comfortable here until he awakens, and there will be no need to carry him anywhere. Kattica can attend to him, as she is almost as skilled at healing as I."

He saw Faramir waver and Gimli too felt his resolve shaken. He hesitated, not wanting to be turned away from what he perceived as his friend's dire need. He looked down to his lap, at the sleeping figure of Legolas, and readily it seemed that the danger was not so great as he had originally thought. Perhaps it was only sea-longing, though it was odd even to him that he should brush off his worries so lightly. Still, he knew there was little he could say or do on it until the elf awoke. Then they could talk and discover the cause. And as for the sudden onslaught of sleep that followed, he knew well that his friend was fatigued, not having slept the prior night, or mayhap even before that. Gimli would not reveal it now, here of all places, but the elf did not find the beauty of Henneth-Annûn as beguiling as the rest of them did, particularly the interior spaces of the fortress. He knew the elf thought it most cave-like, and the ilk of those troubled thoughts seemed to prevent him rest. With these affirmations bounding through his mind, he could see that it might indeed be safe to stay in this camp a while longer while they allowed Legolas his rest. He looked up to Kattica. She was watching him with emotion-filled eyes. The strings of her amulet hung down from a hand held in a curiously tight fist. He could not read her expression, but assumed it to mean she would care for his friend. Thus, making his decision, he lay Legolas quietly to the ground and rose to join his other two friends.

The elderly woman touched him again, speaking her assurances. "He will be well cared for, I promise you. Do not worry. Curtik and Gordash will find a more comfortable place to lay him and Kattica will attend to him Come, now, my friend. All is well. There is food here for you. Come." And even if he had never considered leaving prior to that moment, the dwarf now felt assured, certain that nothing would come to harm his friend. They stepped away, leaving Legolas behind as they joined the old woman moving to her place at the table. Gimli briefly glimpsed back as the two brothers left to prepare a place of rest in the camp for his friend. A jarring pang of guilt struck him as he looked back on the scene and he locked his steps, pausing where he stood. The girl was gazing at him, a single tear hanging in her eye. She looked forlorn and lost as she glanced back down at the prone figure, sitting in the dirt and alone in her watch over Legolas. And then the old woman touched Gimli's arm one more time, and he turned away.

****

The mystery of the sensations that whirled about him left Faramir perplexed. He focused his attention on the old woman, paying strict attention to her appearance to see if it could guide him in understanding what was happening. Like the others in the camp, she was dressed in bright, gaudy patterns, and a glimmer of gold whispered beneath the lacing of her blouse, as if she wore jewels beneath her dress. A shawl about her shoulders was finely embroidered, showing off the dexterity of younger fingers in their skill with the needle. He looked at her hands. Bent and misshapen they were, with arthritic joints and ribbons of veins revealed beneath the papery leather of her skin. A brief compulsion wrought over him to touch the back of her hand and confirm the texture he perceived there, but he fought it. Her body was small, almost frail in its thinness, but he sensed far more strength in her muscles than her body belied. She stood very straight, not stooped like so many at that age, and she held her head proudly and high. Her snowy hair was pulled back into a tightly coifed braid that ringed around her head twice, and her eyes sparkled brightly, with an inner light that he found unique. And yet he could see she was waning, her end drawing near. She was very old, and the lines on her face were confirmation of her ancient prowess, even if she carried herself with vigor. Her nails showed brittle and yellow on shaky hands, and her hair was the texture of cotton, somewhat ragged and dry. Her teeth were barely visible when she spoke, but on closer examination, he detected they were crooked and stained. Yet despite these negative features, her careworn face was swept up with a smile that seemed genuine and friendly, and Faramir found himself enthralled by her. He sat at the table to her left, and across from him was Aragorn, sitting to her right, with Gimli close at his side.

It was her voice that had him captured. Her voice was unlike any he had heard among a woman so very old. Deep, rich, lingering, like the resonating tones of a woodwind, almost seductive and hypnotic was the sound. Faramir closed his eyes. Never could he remember having felt this way before, guided solely by the inducement of voice. He was intrigued, and he felt held in a grip of fascination for every word uttered. He blushed. It was almost sexual, the nature of its effect, and had she not the face and body of an old woman, he might have forgotten himself in her timbre, so eager was he to comply with her wishes in order to hear her speak again. He felt shame for that helplessness. Thankfully though, when he opened his eyes, he felt himself regain his hold on himself, and thankfully too, there were Aragorn and Gimli standing by. Without them near, he was not sure of how he might act.

He was confused by this. It did not make sense to him, nor did he think it ever would. This was not right, he knew, and it repulsed him to think she could have him if she desired, but somehow the hypnotic quality of her voice was an inducement to him. He would look to his friends for the support to fight this mysterious pull. He was glad he had them near.

****

Bregus was not happy. This was far more difficult than she had anticipated. Her body shook at the effort, and her head quailed in droning dull pain over the presence of so many thoughts in her mind. She had told Bäla this would be a hard task to accomplish. And now it was proving itself true.

First there was the elf. He was as spirited and difficult as she had expected him to be. And knowing this, she should have gone to him first. She cursed herself for her foolishness. The allure of the one who would play host for her dear Bäla had drawn her away to that side of the camp. Anborn. She silently berated herself for allowing her yearning to guide her, instead of her mind. The face of Anborn was far too compelling. She had trusted the spell to do her job for her, but she would not make that mistake again. Thankfully, the damage was not too difficult to undo. She actually had expected this. She thought he might run. She had made the talisman from the hair of the dead elf for just an occasion such as this. It was easy enough to stay this elf with the spell of the charm to arm her. And had that been all that she had had to deal with, Bregus would have been satisfied.

But that had not been all.

The girl. That vile, awful child! The girl had cried out, and her sound had been enough to waken the camp, to draw them out of a spell of Bregus' make. Powerful magic indeed! Bregus cursed Kattica. Even under my spell she is dangerous. The witch would have to watch that one, and Bregus grew angry. Have I not enough to do on my own? If only I could harness her magic into my own. Then I would be a formidable force. And while she was angry at the other witch for her interference, she was certain it had not been intentional. The girl does not have sense enough to know to what extent she can effect her surroundings. That did not make it forgivable though. Her cry had not worked to Bregus' benefit. She woke them, and far too soon for Bregus' comfort. Some of them had seen the fleeing elf and the smoke that ensnared him. The shuv'ni had had to work fast to wipe away that memory. Her words had had to mingle in their minds to wash the image of the smoke from their thoughts. Her people were easy enough to subjugate this way, although taking on the control for so many minds was a daunting task. A lesser shuv'ni would have faltered. But she had controlled her own people for so many years that plying them to her whims was not so very hard. It was just that she had never taken it on simultaneously before, and it was causing her strain. And then there were the strangers with which to deal. Fortunately the three mortals were newly under the influence of the serpentine spell and their minds were easily moldable this way. How long the effects of this mental coaxing would last she could not say, but it was a strong spell, and she had hopes that it would coalesce into a permanent state for these three quickly.

Hopefully, they would remain suggestive. If only it was not going to be easy. Already there was trouble.

At least she did not have to worry about the elf for now. He had fallen readily enough into sleep, weakened and vulnerable, she supposed, by the suddenness of the snake's attack on his mind. She was very grateful for that. Once trapped in the limbo of dreams, she could keep him there. For a while, at least. It was never easy to hold one against their will, and she knew eventually the elf would awaken on his own. That is, if she found no other way to keep him. But for now, he at least was a compliant captive, and that made her breathe a little easier. And an excuse had been provided unwittingly by the man. She had not considered calling upon the sea-longing as the blame for his actions or sleep, but it was good reasoning, and she had latched onto it hard. She would have to be quick in her thinking if she was to get through this with success. At least there was one less of them to deal with for now.

Truthfully, it was the elf she feared most. Somehow these strange creatures of the forest had a heightened power of perception. That was why she had poisoned the dogs. She could not afford to have them warning the elf of the danger they posed before she was ready. Elves saw and felt danger about them where no mortal man did, and she had not been eager to try and hold this one's mind like the others. She felt certain he would fight her, and then in turn he would try to break her hold on his friends. And as it was, holding them was not an easy task.

The dwarf was a struggle. She could see he was fighting her, guided by some inner sense of duty and loyalty. Dwarves were stubborn, she reasoned. And she told herself that she would need to discard this one as swiftly as possible once she extracted the information she needed from him. For now, he could be controlled, but it was a slippery hold she had. So long as she touched him, he was held, but her power waned quickly when the contact was lost from him. She could not count on his surrender for very long.

In many ways, the men were easier. But then again not, for their minds stayed focused on their own thoughts more effectively than a dwarf and that could be troublesome. Ultimately, she knew the best solution would be to put them all into a sleep, like she had the elf. But that would not work for her plans. There were questions to ask and answers she needed. She needed to know about their camp, about the Protected Place she suspected was within it, and about the number in their party and their strengths. A sleeping mind would not yield this information, and she needed to know now. She felt certain she had little choice but to proceed as she was.

But she felt shaken. To hold so many in her power was an overwhelming feat, and she was not sure she had the endurance to hold out for very long. Were it just the strangers she were bewitching, it would have been an easy enough task. But they along with all the others in the camp created for her a daunting spell. She was unsure she could do this, and that was not a good thing to feel in the throes of a mystical performance. It would be a battle of wills that she fought multiple wills against just the one that was hers.

Her mind was racing, trying to keep up with all the thoughts running through it. She could sense the presence of the multiple holds in her head. Too many, she thought, but now was not the time to rethink that struggle. She had to go on, to think on her feet. It was difficult.

Where is the girl? she wondered as she searched her mind to find the trace of thoughts that she knew flittered about her daughter-in-law's head. She could not find that child. Too many, she reiterated to herself. I cannot sort them all at once. Never had she tried to sway so many thoughts at the same time, but she had to shake her worries away. She had to trust that the girl was there, somewhere. She had no time to go searching. All her attention at the moment needed to be drawn on the strangers that sat before her.

The serpent smoke had worked its way into their bodies. She had seen it. It had done its job. Coercive they were to her suggestions. Now it was up to her to use its twisting coils to pry into their minds and wrench their wills to her sway. She needed to force them to her wishes. But force was never easy. Subtlety was her weapon for she knew compliance only came if the subject was willing. Or at least they thought they were willing. She was nervous. They were strong. Stronger than she had anticipated, and she knew what she did now was the hardest she had ever worked to force her dark magic upon another soul. She needed to win.

"I am sure you have heard me referred to as Mother, but that name will not do with strangers unless, of course, that's what you prefer," she laughed lightly, trying to ease her own mood and fall into a role that they would find charming. "However for formality sake, I am Bregus, and I am very pleased to be meeting you."

They were gathered about her at the table, and food was before them, though they all picked at it. Everyone seemed to feign hunger though no one was really eating.

The dark-haired man gave her a gentle smile and began to say, "And I am"

"No. Do not tell me," she interrupted, holding a hand up to him, "I believe I already know your names. You areStrider. Yes, Strider, that is right. A unique name, but fitting for you, somehow. Hmm," she said with brightening eyes, then turned them to look upon the dwarf, "And Gimli, of course, for who else would you be? I do adore dwarves, you know. Such charms they possess. I know of many a man who could be bettered from your kind. Dwarves always know how to treat a lady. I hope you two gentlemen will follow his example," she said with a wink. The light-haired man beside her quietly laughed as Gimli turned crimson to the flattery. And then she turned her eyes on him, and she could see he was already nearly hers. She could see into him, her eyes penetrating to his soul and she knew he felt awkward and naked for it. He blushed before she even spoke. "You are Anborn, or so they say, though that name does not sit well on you. No matter though, you are here, and you will have to forgive my stares. You are the exact likeness of my dead husband. And never have I had a love quite like him. You will have to stay here it seems, for it would be hard for me to be parted from this face again," she chuckled lightly, reaching out and flirtatiously cradling his chin, barely repressing her desires. He laughed in his embarrassment.

"My wife might not think highly of me were I to run off and join the gypsies," he protested.

"Most likely not," Bregus said flatly, a twinge of jealousy hitting her at the mention of a wife. But it did not matter. She leaned back in her seat and crooked an eyebrow at them, saying, "And the name of your sleeping friend is Legolas. He seems very regal, does he not? But then all elves do, or so it appears. My knowledge of their kind is limited to what I can recall from childhood, but that I do remember. Their pride." Though she tried to hide it, a hint of disdain penetrated her tone. She hoped they would not notice it.

Strider spoke. "How is it you know our names?"

The old woman leaned forward and whispered, as if to tell them all a secret, working hard to beguile them with charm, and easing her way quietly into their souls. "Would you believe me if I told you I found the answer by gazing into a crystal ball?" Then reaching around and tickling Anborn's ribs, she laughed as he squirmed and said, "No. That would be foolish, when all I need do is use my ears. I can hear quite well, you know, despite my advanced age. I'm proud of that too. And my ears picked up your names as they were batted about our camp. Strider, Gimli and Anborn, I welcome you!" she said with a bowed head.

She directed her gaze on Anborn. "So tell me, for what purpose are you here?"

"We come to hunt," The man answered without thinking. Bregus was pleased that he was so easy to give.

"Large game, I presume, for the four of you to hunt as one."

"Stag," he volunteered. She smiled again.

"And what of the others in your camp? Do they hunt for stag as well?"

Bregus caught the glance of warning Strider flashed at the younger man. Anborn looked down with a small smile as the dark-haired one answered, "You might say the others in our camp have greater targets for their focus. They are brilliant in pursuit of their prey. Quite stealthy." Gimli chuckled at the joke, but Bregus was confused. She silently cursed, So there are others!

"And what would that mean?" the old woman asked with a sweet smile, her eyes fixed on Anborn, discouraging his mind from wandering away from her now.

"Our" the young man started, but stopped as Strider jumped in.

"It would mean the others stay behind and tend to our sight while we hunt," he answered smoothly. Bregus noted that Anborn looked embarrassed and pulled back from the table, blushing slightly. He was going to tell her, she was certain. But that one, Strider, had stopped him, and now the fair one was squirming away. What was happening here? What were they hiding? Was her hold on these strangers not as tight as she thought?

"Is it a large camp then that it needs such maintenance?" the shuv'ni asked them both, continuing and trying not to look flustered.

"It is large enough to hold a small troop, if need be," Anborn bragged, forgetting himself once again. Ah, he is still mine. But she could see Strider shaking his head to this, and she grew worried.

"Is that how many you travel with?" Bregus asked with a quick smile and her own secret dread, fixing her eyes again on him.

"There are"

"We travel with others," Gimli answered quickly, interrupting, and Bregus whipped her eyes at him, silently cursing him for his interference. This was difficult. "That's all you need know."

"Many?" she persisted gazing again at the younger man.

"Why do you ask?" It was Strider who said this in a curt tone, and the stern sound of it indicated that she had gone too far with her questions.

Bregus hesitated and her mind was panicked. Her hold on these men was not as strong as she would have liked. They were breaking away, and she was not done yet. She frowned for a brief second, then regained her confidence. The matriarch's face broke off with her most charming of smiles as she reached out to touch Strider's hands lightly. "Merely curious, my friend, that's all. We have so few visitors. You make it sound as if hunting is a rare thing for you," she said, gazing again at Anborn, though she also glanced at Strider to see if he had been swayed. To her relief, his stance had relaxed and eyes appeared vacant for the moment.

"We do not do it as often as we would like," Strider answered, his voice dimming to a whisper.

"Why is that?" she said lightly so as not to startle his daze, sudden interest in the dark-haired man grabbing her attention.

"We" Strider softly began, blinking, but was cut off.

"We are city-dwellers," Anborn said, his brow knit as if he were trying to recall some far off thought. She looked into him. She could almost read him. He was rebelling. He was sensing her presence and he was trying to protect his friend. How strange to be so drawn to his friend's need. She reached out and touched him again, and she saw the glimmer of strain fade away from him too.

"And what do you do in the city? You are not very good hunters it seems." Such pretense, she thought. She hated it. If only she could pry out the information she needed without going through these ridiculous roundabout methods. But if she took any other tact, they truly would rebel. She needed them to give her this information in a way that they found more natural. Non-aggressive. Freely given. So that their minds would not perceive their bend to her will. Too quick, and the spell would break. Manipulations would have to guide them to the answers she desired. But they were breaking away even with the care she was taking. This was not what she had anticipated.

Anborn looked lost in his thoughts, and she thought that perhaps she had sent his mind too far. But then he shook his head and slowly turned to look at her with blankly non-expressive eyes and said, "We are not successful at the hunt only because the dwarf and elf would not stop interfering."

That was not the answer Bregus expected. It was comical and it threw her for the pure innocence of his reply. For once her laugh was truly heartfelt. She saw him smile, like a child who has pleased an adult, in response to her mirth. He did not understand and yet he wanted to see her happy. So willing, she thought. She turned to the dwarf. "Ah, so you are opposed to the hunt?" Gimli looked tense under her gaze, passing a glance to both the dark and light-haired men, his brow screwing up in question to their lost expressions. But then he shrugged, as if deeming her query innocent enough to look to the others for askance. He did not take his eyes from the men.

"I believe in it only when need requires it," the dwarf growled.

And then an idea occurred to Bregus as a small smile crept upon her face. She continued, "And you, Strider, how do you feel?"

The dark-haired one smiled weakly as his eyes came ack to focus. He nodded toward his human companion. He said, "I side with my friend. I like the sport. Especially if we find the stag we have been seeking on this holiday. We both want to take it as our trophy."

The old woman leaned back and chuckled. She could use this, she decided. She was losing them. She saw that. But it need not be a permanent loss. If she could only plant the idea in their minds. Again she reached over and touched both men, coaxing them once more. "Then why not split up your party? Go your separate ways and see what you may accomplish apart."

"That we could do, but the elf and dwarf prefer not to hunt, and Strider and I contest for the same stag," Anborn said, his eyes slightly glazed again, as if drugged, but laughing in spite of it.

"Ah, I see. Then why not pair up in another way? The elf with one man and the dwarf with another?" Bregus said, a large grin forming on her lips.

"Strider and Legolas would have the advantage if they teamed up. Legolas is an excellent bowman, as is Strider," the light-haired man freely volunteered.

"Have you no prowess in this arena?" Bregus asked him with intense curiosity. Now she was learning somewhat of their skills.

"I am fair, but not a match for those two together. Legolas and I would make a better pairing to Gimli andand Strider," he answered, his voice trailing off, as if suddenly realizing he was telling too much.

The old woman's gaze left him and focused on the dwarf. She must hurry now. Prodding him with her hand, as if in a tease, she said, "And I imagine this contest would suit you as well, Master Dwarf. To best an elf seems a mighty challenge."

"Hm?" the dwarf answered with distraction. Then realizing the question, he answered with pride, "I could beat him." His face grew solemn as he considered his words, then he said, "Perhaps we should look in on him now?"

"He is fine," she said reaching over and squeezing his hand once again, and then she changed the subject dramatically. "Tell me about the others you travel with."

"Tell us about what Curtik was trying to say," Strider said, changing the topic again as his eyes focused on her. He was breaking away. Her loss was coming even faster than she had thought.

"Ah my youngest. Sometimes he still acts as a child, though he is clearly a man. What did he do that was inappropriate? Whatever it is, I apologize in advance," she said reaching out to touch the older man's hand.

He pulled it away, moving it to his lap, and sitting straighter. "He told us you needed an elf." His gaze was penetrating and Bregus momentarily shuddered. He would not surrender easily. His mind fought back. This was a very powerful man.

She grew solemn, the smile receding from her face. She paled and did not answer. She was unsure how to answer him. She did not want to answer him.

"Is this true?" Strider continued.

She smiled coyly, trying to regain her hold. "You do not need to know this."

"Is it true?" he firmly asked again.

She was being pushed. Answering their questions was not in her agenda. But this one was most certainly pulling out of the spell, and she needed to cover herself before she could rouse more suspicion. If she could just touch him again. "Yes. And no," she quietly stammered.

"What do you mean?" he continued, also in a quiet voice, yet the stern tone was one of interrogation, and it did not ease.

The old woman paused long before answering. She pondered this, her eyes glancing from side to side taking in the faces and expressions of the threesome. She did not know what to do beyond delivering the rote words she had told her own people. She saw no way around it. They would fight her if she tried to overpower them otherwise. She smiled with apology as she explained. "It is my visions, you see. They tell me my people will find solace when an elf is found."

And then she quickly grabbed Strider's shoulder and reached over to touch Anborn's hand in a gesture that conveyed conviction with an emotional charge, but really it was a means to touch them again and regain her sway. She squeezed and did not immediately relinquish her hold. "I saw our deaths beyond," she continued, her eyes growing large in the telling, seeing it herself in her mind. "I saw a crowd of villagers, angry and scared. They were out to destroy us. They wanted to see our deaths." Anborn's eyes grew larger, as if he could see it too, and she mentally guided her thoughts to him. This one is mine, she thought. She would not let him slip away if she could help it. She sensed the coils of the snake tighten further in him.

"So you are in flight?" Gimli asked skeptically from his seat.

"Only from a future that may or may not come. If we are cast away, I fear we will meet with this fate. But if we can stay, my family has hope. Do you see now why my son was so moved? Finding you here you with an elf tells us we have journeyed well. We can be safe now."

She saw the young man look into Strider's eyes, his sympathy apparent. She thought he might say something on her people's behalf. But before he could, Gimli spoke again. "It is not ours to grant this." With finality, the dwarf rose. There was something in that motion that stirred the other two. She saw a sudden change in the fairer one. He dropped his gaze, as if pondering his thoughts, and she felt him slipping away from her again. She tried to reach out to him, but he pulled back, and she felt saddened. She was losing him. Like Bäla.

"Of course not," she said to the dwarf's comments, but her mind was on the one named Anborn. Her heart was breaking.

The dwarf ended it all for her. "I tire of these questions. They go on too long. I think we should go look in on Legolas. Now. I do not like leaving him alone when we do not know what ails him."

Anborn stiffened, blinking and glancing about as if suddenly realizing that the elf was not with them. Strider shook his head, clearing his thoughts as well, and he stood to follow.

The only one who remained seated was Bregus. She frowned, watching her captives leaving her, feeling tears welling up. Her sense of the snakes' holds was loosening instead of tightening. She glanced about the camp, surveying her people, assessing their power and whether to use them. She could force these men to stay, capturing them as prisoners, but she didn't know enough about them for that to make sense. What if there wore more in their camp? Many more? The Romany would be overpowered. Her people were not fighters. They were not prepared to be her protectors. And she was still vague about the waterfall and the presumed cave within it. Was it truly the Protected Place? Bäla had said it was, but she had not confirmed this herself. And, to her chagrin, they were hiding facts from her. Like Anborn's name. That was not who he was. She could tell when she looked into him and saw the slight stiffening at that word. There was a hesitation from him to answer. Why did he disguise himself? And what affect did these lies have on her? She scowled and felt a stifled cry gathering in her throat. She may never know. He was leaving her! She was not prepared to concede her loss. She shook her head, feeling herself slowly sinking into a bitter mire of her mind's making. "Very well," she said in a withered voice. "Let us look in on your friend."

****

Kattica sat alone in the bender tent with the sleeping figure of the elf. Hopeless and lost, she wondered at Bregus' plans.

She opened her palm and looked at the amulet that she'd held so fiercely since retrieving it. The lines that defined its edges and shape were etched in her hand through the pressure caused by her fingers. Knowing she was susceptible without it, the girl held it up by the strings. It whirled for a moment before her, coalescing into an unrecognizable blur to her eye before she stopped it by placing it to her chest. She could not afford to be without it again. She draped the strings around her neck and quickly tied it about her. With this quiet power to aid her, she felt safer and stronger. She hid the evidence of it beneath her clothing and allowed herself to think fully on what was occurring.

She was grateful to be quietly cloistered away with the elf. It was easier this way to think on what was happening about her. It allowed her to cry openly though quietly as her memories of everything that had occurred since last night came back to her. There was extreme danger here. She now knew it.

Bregus wanted her baby. That in itself was frightening enough to make her want to run from this camp with everything her spirit could muster. Nightfall would come, and the dogs were still recovering. She knew this was probably the only opportunity she would get to flee flee now before it was too late.

But then there was Mattias. Kattica felt tears well in her eyes when she thought about leaving him behind. He was an innocent in this. She knew that. She knew he was not responsible for what he had done last night or what he was doing now, as an accomplice to his mother. The girl shook her head. It was powerful magic indeed if Bregus could alter the morality of those under her spell, especially someone as highly principled as Kattica's husband. She would have never conceived such a thing possible. Such blackness! Kattica repressed a shudder.

She wondered about Gordash and Curtik. They had gone off with Mother on an earlier adventure. Considering it now, they'd reported nothing happened, though surely something had for Bregus to have come back so changed. More youthful, in a way, the elder now stood. Kattica wondered. Had the shuv'ni cast a similar spell on the younger men to help her in whatever had caused that transformation? The older witch had cast an enchantment on the camp already, years ago, but the girl had assumed it was simply to disguise the dark turn she had taken. Had the power of the long-standing spell made the residents of the camp more susceptible to their moral failing? It was all she could think, for tarnishing the heart, even in black magic, was most difficult to do without aid. Never had she considered how dark Bregus' turn might have been. Now Kattica realized it was much worse than she'd ever suspected. How much had Bregus hidden from them over the years? How much did she hide from them now?

Never before had she known how corrupted Bregus' heart was. But the horrors of last night, and now of this day were telling of just how desperate and depraved the elder had grown. She should have known it. She should have seen. But Kattica knew in her heart that the darkness had been there long before she had entered Mattias' camp.

For a moment she wished she had not known. She wished she could have remained ignorant and placid, like the rest. At least then she would have lived with a peaceful mind. Like a sheep before a slaughter, she told herself. She realized how foolish that would be. Ignorance was not fair compensation. She should know, and she did. At least partially she did. And she would not go willingly into it. And neither would she allow Mattias to go without a fight.

She sobbed lightly in fear for a few moments before gathering her strength. And then she looked hard at the figure that shared the tent with her. The pain that she felt over Mattias' betrayal came back to her as she thought about the look on the dwarf's face when he walked away from his friend. Pitiable. He did not want to leave, she could see, but he was helpless not to follow Bregus, at war with himself but not knowing why. She had felt so alone at that moment, but somehow looking at the sleeping elf, she knew she was not.

She made up her mind in that instant. "Very well then, Master Elf. I will help you. I know what she wants from me, but I cannot discern why she has snared you, and your friends. I will have to pretend to be under her spell if I am to succeed, but I will do it so long as I am able to save my child and myself. And you, I think. Somehow, I think, our fates are linked. And so I will help you."

In sympathetic gesture, she touched Legolas' smooth cheek with the back of her hand. It was cool, but not lifeless. She felt the whisper of his breath grace her wrist in exhale, and she was moved as she saw his brow crease lightly, as if telling of a dream. She pulled away softly. Immediately he stirred, changing positions, and she thought this was a good sign that he might be waking. And then his eyes opened without fluttering, swiftly, revealing the blue depths that had been hiding there. She gasped at the suddenness of it. He looked at her, and she recovered herself, smiling with a kindly expression. But her smile froze as she realized there was no light there. His eyes were open, but he did not see. "Legolas?" she called out, but he did not answer her. She frowned. Was this more of Bregus' work? Kattica touched his wrist. His pulse seemed normal, if not a little slow, and his breathing had not changed. She shook her head in wonder. If she had not known better, she would have guessed he was sleeping. With his eyes open. She waved a hand before his face and tilted her head to scrutinize him more closely. Perhaps he was sleeping?

"Can you hear me?" she asked, but still he did not answer. And then she pressed her thoughts on in a whisper. "If you can hear me, Legolas, then know my pledge. I will help you as best I can. But I have to put my family first. Know that too. I mean to save Mattias, although I don't know how. Perhaps we will think of something together."

Pausing a moment to look behind her, she turned back to him and then reached into her pouch. Pulling out her choori, she lifted his head. Propping him up with her knee and with a deft move, she pulled a thick lock of his hair from the underside of his head, where no one would see it was missing, and cut it free near his scalp. Lowering him back down to the mat on which he slept, she said, "First you must be freed from her enchantment, like me." She coiled the long strand about her fingers and looped it into a loose knot before placing it into her putsi. She finished and turned. An unexpected sight met her glance and she jumped back in fear. A craggy hand held back the tent flap. Kattica's eyes widened immediately as they connected the hand to the eyes of the elder shuv'ni hunched before the entrance. Bregus half-emerged into the tent. She stared at the girl with narrowed eyes.