The Hunting Trip

Chapter Eleven: Shadow of Freedom

Legolas heard a female voice speak in deepened tones and a hand brush his eyes. 'I suspect he will awaken soon, though he will remain fatigued for a time after.'

The musical quality of it was magnificent and breathtaking and disturbing all at once lovely, crystal, resonant and yet false, a forgery of its true sound, and he felt himself being pulled to awaken just from the curiosity of finding who would utter such a noise. And yet so weary he was. He could not recall ever feeling so enormously weighted with fatigue. He could have easily have fallen back again into his listlessness, but the voice was intriguing and beguiling to him and there was something within it that reached a part of him. He could not name its power. Both sound and touch mixed into his dreams and he was uncertain if they were real. Yet the voice had spoken, and he felt compelled to obey it, to awaken as she had said. He felt his eyes begin to flutter and his body to awaken despite being blanketed with weakness. Then the voice spoke again, more distant this time. 'See if I was not correct, Master Dwarf. But do not pry at him too much. I fear his memory of what happened will not be there.'

He could sense that she drifted away, and there was a long while before he could find the strength to do more. His mind drifted back, unmotivated into action and left blank for it. He felt as if he laid there like this for an immeasurable time and he was content for the moment to lie still. But then an impatient voice rumbled near him, and once again he felt stirred. It was not the voice from before, but it mustered him all the same. The familiarity of it drove him away from his stupor. "Strider, why does he not awaken?"

"Peace, Gimli. Hush! He does. Look now. His eyes are coming to focus."

Legolas blinked slowly. True to the words, he was waking. But to what? The world around him was muddled and foggy. He tried to make sense of it, but there was nothing to grab onto. Recollection of where he was would not come to him. Neither would the memory of what had happened to him. His head ached, and his throat stung, but that was all that he could realize. He looked to the faces before him and for a brief moment, he saw nothing that he knew. And then suddenly the faces solidified in his memory and with a gasp, he recognized his friends. Quickly, he tried to rise, surprised at finding himself prone and disabled in their presence. Humiliated to be seen in this weakened light, he fought the torpor that held his body in place, and tried to lift himself from the mat on which he laid. He stifled a soft moan as his head spun with the effort.

"What happened?" he asked weakly as he reached a hand to Gimli's shoulder to pull himself steady.

The Ranger placed a hand under his shoulder and elbow to aid him into a seated position as he said, "We are uncertain really and were hoping you could enlighten us. How do you feel?"

"Unwell," the Elf answered shortly and truthfully, shutting his eyes to ward off the strange sensation as a wave of nausea mixed within his unrelenting fatigue. He did not feel fit enough to offer any other answers, though immediately he regretted giving the one he had.

Without pause, he felt light touches to his skull, and as he reopened his glazed eyes, he was met with a fleeting look of concern on Aragorn's face. Vexed at himself for admitting as much, and too at his friend for thinking his healing touch was required, Legolas raised a hand to object to the prodding of the Ranger's fingers, and shook his head to push them away. "I will be fine," he said irritably, despite the dull throb in his head and the lethargy that seemed to overtake his muscles. Aragorn gave a sly smile to the more typical response as he said to the Elf, "We thought it might be sea-longing. Except that you were crying out about smoke." From the single arc of the Ranger's brow, Legolas could see this was offered as a coaxing means to stir the Elf's memory.

Legolas felt the tickle in his throat and the acrid taste in his mouth, like he had been breathing the remnants of a fire, but he could not remember such a thing. He shook his head in frustration, his mind blank, as if still lost in dreams. Slightly panicked to not have a recollection, he reached back to find the nearest memory. It didn't comply with what he had just been told and with dread, the slow realization came to him of exactly where he was. He sighed and said with resignation, "I recall nothing, save helping with the dogs." And then to brush away the embarrassment that was starting to grip him, he furthered his own investigation. "What more did I say?" he asked.

A grunt from the Dwarf brought his attention to the companion at his side, and he turned his gaze to his dear friend. "You were choking more than speaking," Gimli grumbled, irritation in his voice, but his eyes shone in concern. Legolas felt moved, but averted his glance to concentrate more on pushing his memory as the Dwarf went on. "You then became mute, and fell into unconsciousness. We've been waiting for your return for a good while now."

Legolas felt his brow knit. He could recall nothing and he felt shame for his weakness. How could this have happened? He felt his face redden in humility.

Aragorn spoke again, leaning in close to the Elf to assure him, "Let us talk on this later, my friend. I do not think this is the appropriate place to diagnose your illness. If your are fit enough for it, we should get you back to our camp where you can recover in surroundings you know. Can you walk, do you think?"

Legolas gave a halting stare, huffing in indignation while focusing narrowed eyes on the Ranger. The question was an insult to his elven stamina, and he was prompted to prove it wrong. Forgetting his momentary humility and weariness in lieu of the new slight, he proceeded to crawl out of the tent without further urging, missing the smile playing on the Ranger's face as he did. But upon clearing the flap and beginning to rise, he found his balance off. Immediately the world began to reel, tilting first in one direction and then the other. With fortune, Faramir, stood before him, holding the Elf's quiver and bow in one hand, and grabbing Legolas' elbow in the other. Legolas felt himself wobble and used the support to grow steady as he pulled himself up. He felt weak-kneed and his head still ached as he looked around him to regain his bearings. He stood like this for several seconds, not quite willing to relinquish his hold on Faramir for fear he would topple. But by the time Aragorn, and then Gimli, cleared the tent and came to the scene, he felt whole enough to stand on his own.

The camp seemed empty now, or at least less congested than it had been previously, and he realized, gratefully, that the denizens had moved back into their regular activities. The Elf was no longer the focus of their rapt attention. And while this pleased him, it was also disturbing and strange to him that for all the inhabitants, Kattica was the only one present for his awakening.

Suddenly, he remembered the voice from his dream and he wondered at the source of it. The sound of the woman's voice had nagged him to wakefulness, and now he wanted to see if its owner was indeed as complex as that sound had been, or if it had only been a fabrication of elven dreams. He had half-expected the woman to be present, but she was not, and he began to wonder seriously of her existence. Setting his gaze upon Aragorn, Legolas asked, "Who spoke before?"

"Many have spoken, Master Elf. Can you narrow the field of choices with that question?" Faramir asked with amusement, appearing happy to see his companion whole.

"I heard a woman's voice. She was speaking to Gimli. I heard her. There was something unusual about her. Is she here?" Legolas asked in all seriousness, continuing his search with his eyes as well as his ears.

"He means Bregus, I think," Faramir said to Aragorn, and then turning around, the Prince looked back in the direction of one of the wagons. The wave of a curtain at the door concealed the body that had just entered that dark space.

"She walked back to the vardo," Kattica spoke, her eyes opened wide in shock. "She just left," she continued, incredulous. Legolas could see the girl was shaken, as if she were expecting something more to happen. And then catching herself, as if it could all change in an instant, she quickly stepped forward and touched his forearm. He felt his limb tingle under her fingers, while the penetration of her eyes forced him to look into them. A jolt to his mind, like a splash of icy water, startled him. He could see she felt it as well, but she did not break the contact. Her eyes held concern as she whispered in a voice only he could hear, "You should leave while you can, Master Elf. For whatever reason, Bregus has released you. Use it to your advantage and be glad. Perhaps our paths need not cross again. I will hope it is so."

Legolas' brow creased. He did not move. There was something in her contact that made him feel himself again and his weakness rapidly receded. He did not understand the meaning of her words, but the longer he stood there, the clearer it became to him that she was trying to pass her thoughts on into his head. He felt her fears and he blinked quickly as a flash of memory and his own panic relived itself in his mind. Then she broke her contact, and he blinked again, his mind floating free and his ill feeling gone. Shaken, he looked into her eyes, and she nodded sadly to him, and then she turned away. A look of confusion came over his face.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked at his side, touching his shoulder.

"I am fine," he answered, pushing his apprehensions back. He watched as the girl walked away, and then he quietly said in a steady voice as he stood more erect and sure, surprised to find his revival complete, "I am really quite fine."

The Ranger was not appeased, the healer in him growing concerned again by the sudden change, but Legolas cut him off before more questions could be asked. A sense of dread pervaded the Elf suddenly, and he felt it tied to their presence in this camp. He fretted that he had not sensed it sooner but decided swift departure would be the wiser move. "Let us set off now," he said, postponing the examination he knew he would have to endure when they cleared the camp.

With a nod, Aragorn grunted agreement, staring long at his friend before taking up his weapon. With little more fanfare than a wave at their passing, the residents of the camp uttered their goodbyes. Barely any noticed, and it was much the opposite of what the four had experienced upon their arrival. Only Mattias came forward to offer a heartfelt farewell. And then they exited, unobserved, and they walked into the darkness of the forest to their seeming freedom.

****

It was only seconds after the strangers had left her view that a strong hand grabbed her arm, and Kattica felt herself being turned to face the new danger. She had known this was coming. Despite Bregus' withdrawal, the girl had little reason to doubt her own troubles were far from over. The momentary elation she had felt at the release of the Elf and his companions was fleeting, and a fell dread ladled itself upon her soul as she realized just what trouble she was about to face. Fear gripped her, and she would have screamed it out, but she knew the strangers were too near, and with her sound, they might return only to be dragged back into this fray once again. No, better that they leave. Whatever the danger here, she would face it on her own. Despite the appearance given her by her pregnant condition, she was not a feeble maiden. She had done much in her life to prove herself, and she would fight back against Bregus, if that is what it took.

She stiffened her stance as the arm pulled her, steeling herself to what she might face. As she pivoted around, the hard stare of Gordash greeted her. His bland eyes told her he still was held in the elder shuv'ni's power, and she knew it was pointless to try and breech it. She chose not to fight him for such a thing would not bode well. The burly man was nearly twice her size, and though she knew him to be a gentle soul, his soul at the moment was not his own. She gave him a questioning smile, feigning innocence.

"You have been weary today, Kattica," the large man stated, emotionless. It was not a question.

"Earlier yes, but I feel well now," she answered perfunctorily.

"It would not do to get yourself ill. Not when a little one is so near to seeing the light of the world," he said his eyes skimming down her torso, resting to where her baby lay sleeping within her. The look he gave her sent shivers down her spine, and she reminded herself again, this was not something Gordash would say or do. This was Bregus.

"Truly I am fine, Gordash," she said, knowing that this reassurance was not what he sought.

"I think you would do best to rest for the remainder of the day," he said. His grip on her arm grew tighter.

Her natural tendency would have been to argue this. After all, she was a shuv'ni apprentice. No one would ever in their right mind tell her her own business. But her circumstances at the moment were far from normal, and the flat manner of Gordash's statement brooked no comment. She was a prisoner, she saw, and fighting that in any way beyond the subtle method of Bregus' ploy would get her nowhere. So despite the quick beat of her heart, Kattica met Gordash's eyes with only a timid smile. "Yes, of course," she said in a kindly tone, and for a moment she saw his eyes soften.

But then he turned her and pointed her in the direction of her tent, and she knew that is where he meant her to go. Stepping forward, she felt his grip loosen, and she was happy to see he meant not to prod her further. And though she could have attempted to flee the camp right then, she opted not to. In her condition, even if she could somehow make it past the giant who was her brother-in-law, the men in the camp would find her quickly enough, and drag her back here. That would be far worse, for then she would be guarded ever more closely under the watchful eye of Bregus. No, better to be compliant. With her gentle acceptance there was hope that in the passage of time, Bregus might relinquish her scrutiny, and the sentinel posting that Kattica knew was coming would not be so intensely guarded.

Besides, she did not wish to leave Mattias. Not without trying, at least, to free him from this spell. She loved him so. As much as she loved her baby, if not more. And though fearful, she was almost willing to risk everything to take him away with her. In his rightful mind, she knew him well, and she knew if he understood what was happening, he would fight this. She must reach into him and make him see.

Standing before the tent entrance, fear once again took her, and a new panic set in. What if he was beyond reaching? What if the Mattias she knew were no longer there? She could not fathom such a thing, and yet she felt fearful that it could be true. To think that he could be ripped away from her so viciously, it brought tears to her eyes. Her resolve hardened, though her panic too increased. She must see him as soon as she could. She must determine if there was anything left to fight for within him while she still had the chance.

Blinking back the tears, she turned around and looked unflinchingly into Gordash's face. Reaching out, she touched him, squeezing her hand into his, smiling wanly in askance. Somewhat surprised, the large man took a small step back, but regained himself quickly. Without thinking of his ill ease, she let her mood guide her as she said, "Gordash, would you find Mattias for me? If I am to be confined to my tent, I wish him not to worry, and I would like to tell him myself that I will be well."

The large man looked down at the hand that held his, and an expression she could not read briefly brushed across his face. For a moment, it seemed, he looked himself, and Kattica thought only of the puzzlement she saw there. In a whisper she plied, "Gordash?" and with lost eyes he looked up at her. She recognized him then, and he too seemed to recognize her, and quickly she mustered her heart to find courage to say more.

A scream of rage interrupted their interlude. It erupted from Bregus' wagon and caused the girl to flinch. Gordash startled too, but then he pulled away. From the corner of her eye, Kattica could see others in the camp stiffening at the scream, but then resuming in an instant to the activity that guided them, as if nothing had occurred. Quickly Kattica looked back at her brother-in-law. To her chagrin, she saw that the person she knew was no longer there. Bregus' abettor had returned.

Realizing she would not reach him now, she resumed her original plea. "Gordash, find Mattias. Please," she said with more authority. And then she backed into the tent and let the flap fall behind her before he could say anything to dissuade her.

Now in the confined space that was her prison, she wondered what it was she should do to occupy herself in the time she was to remain here. Doubtless, she was to be kept until Bregus was ready to see her. How long that would be she did not know. She dreaded that encounter, though a part of her looked forward to it too, for if nothing else, she felt sure that then she would learn of the shuv'ni's plans. Not knowing had been a torture for the girl.

She hoped it would not be long before Mattias came. She felt new hope surge her, and she knew the reason for it was from her encounter with his brother. Somehow, she had touched into Gordash's soul, just as she had the Elf's, if only briefly. She had reached him. How, she was unsure, but she suspected it had something to do with the power she found in herself when she wore the amulet. Through her clothing, she fingered the stone resting at her chest. She felt the figures of the two females standing side-by-side there, and she remembered her grandmothers words to her when she had given it, though the years had been long since it had passed. "Keep this close to you, child. It will protect you from harm and bring you strength, determination and good judgement."

Kattica had always assumed it was a standard charm, one like so many worn by the folk in the camp. Amulets and talisman were commonplace among her people, and her job as a shuv'ni apprentice often required her to make these devices of protection to ward off most any affliction imaginable. To wear a charm could mean anything for her people, from calling upon the gods to help find love, to chasing away headaches and bad dreams, to easing teething pain in infants. It never dawned on the girl that this could be anything more those everyday tools.

She pulled out the stone, careful to make sure she was completely alone before doing so. Then looking down on the carving, she fingered the two figures. Two women. "Is this you, Puromämus?" she asked, touching the taller of the female figures. "Is this me?" she said, brushing her fingers over the other. "Did you pass me your strength when you died?"

Even without the answer, she knew she felt better for having it with her. It had rescued her from Bregus' hold, and for that alone she was grateful. Maybe it held the secret that would save Mattias as well. "I will take whatever you can give me, Puromämus. This gift is even greater to me now than I had known, and I will not let it leave me again," she said quietly. Then she kissed the stone, and slipped it back down her front to hide under the folds of her dress.

Kattica looked about, doing an assessment of her situation. She had to escape this. She did a mental inventory of what she had with her and what she would need to make it on her own until she could find help in these lands. In her putsi, she had her choori, some cooking herbs, a few leather ties, a small bag of crushed rock salt, a flint and steel, and the Elf's hair. In the deep pocket of her dress she carried her eating utensils wrapped in a towel, a small cord of rope, and a leather compartmentalized purse with clean rags and the stronger herbs she used for medicinal purposes. This was a good start, she was sure, but she would need a few more items if she were truly to be prepared. She needed a water skin, though there was none here in the tent. A blanket she had and she rolled one into a tight coil that she could tie into the sash at her waist. She would need a pot into which she could boil water if needed, and while a kettle sat on the small stove in the corner of the tent, it was larger and more cumbersome than she would have desired. She was uncertain this would suffice. Perhaps if she could retrieve a water skin, she could steal a pot as well.

Knowing now what she needed, all she could do was wait for the opportunity to present itself to escape with stealth. Night would come, and surely Bregus did not intend to post sentinels when the camp would sleep. No, most likely, Mattias would be her guard. Impatiently she listened to see if she could hear his voice nearing. Nothing. Please, Gordash, she silently prayed, do not disappoint me. Bring me Mattias.

As she quietly sat, she considered what else she could be doing to occupy her time. She supposed she really could rest, as had been suggested. And yet, she wasn't so willing to give in to this option just yet. Waiting could be exhausting, she knew, but in rest she would be far more vulnerable and her trust that Bregus would not use sleep against her was little.

Idly, her mind returned to the events of the day and she remembered the puzzled look on the face of the Elf before he left. She felt certain she had met his mind in her contact, and she was glad, for it had been intentional to do so. She had wanted him to know of his danger, and so she had shown him what she knew with the warning to get away. And so it had worked. She supposed she need not fear for him again. Still

She reached into her pouch and pulled out the coil of golden hair. It felt like silk to her fingertips. She considered it, realizing that she no longer had need for this, yet a nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that perhaps she did. There was no evidence that the Elf was a part of Bregus' plan. Still, the girl knew there was little evidence he was not, and Kattica reminded herself she knew nothing of the witch's scheming at this time.

A familiar stirring rolled across her abdomen, and she recalled she did know this one thing: she and her baby were in mortal danger.

Thinking perhaps, if she could manage her escape, there was the ever so slight chance she might see the Elf again. In that case, Kattica thought Legolas would be a powerful ally against Bregus. But only if he were he able to ward the elder witch's magic away. Nodding and sighing, she decided to construct the amulet for the Elf. She debated this issue with herself, for it truly seemed an unnecessary thing, but in the end she concluded that, if for nothing else, she would do it to keep her mind occupied until Mattias arrived.

Tying off an end with a leather strip, she began to smooth out and separate the hair into sections. With dexterity and grace, her fingers began plaiting. Closing her eyes and shutting out all thought, Kattica began repeating the familiar words of the blessing spell, her voice matching the rhythm of her actions. "Mi Duvvel opral, dik tele opré mande. Sharraf si inoxn baxt sadullos.Mi Duvvel opral, dik tele opré mande" she said over and over again.

****

Bregus threw her gathering basket across the interior of the wagon. It landed dully on her cot, a scattering of dried petals raining down on the sheets. She howled in her anger, and the owl jerked back at her roar.

"Why did it not work?" Bregus screamed. "It should have worked! It was a powerful spell! It should have worked!" she repeated as she shook in her anger. She stared with glaring eyes at a point off in space, reliving the moments that led up to her failure. Then, in her despair, she sank into a chair.

"Oh, Bäla!" she cried, dropping her head into her hands. "Why did it not work?"

She sat glumly like this, for many long minutes, working the magic again in her mind to see where it failed her. Then shaking her head as if realizing her error, she sighed with a pained sob and said, looking up at the owl, "It was too much. I tried to do too much. I could not hold so many. My power was not great enough."

Then with a sad laugh, tears filled her eyes as her gaze fixed into space once again. Her mind went blank as her thoughts strolled through the camp to see that she still held her people secure. There was no trouble in this, and so she gave herself the luxury to crawl into her misery.

She sat there like that for a long while, hands hanging at her side, slumped half upright in her chair, staring listlessly at a point on the wall. Time moved on, but she was unaware of it. And then a voice spoke to her.

"You are not giving up?"

Her eyes lifted dully to see him standing before her, his face twisted in a grimace. "You are not giving up?" he said again, louder.

"I cannot do it, Bäla," she whispered.

In blinding speed, iron fingers dug into her shoulders as he pulled her out of her chair. She cried at the pain. "You will not give up!" he said with ferocity.

"No, I have not the power to do this!" she cried.

"You will find another way!" he screamed in her face, his fingers squeezing tight on her arms.

"You are hurting me! No! No! You are only a dream!" she sobbed, looking down at his pressing hands on her limbs.

"I am not satisfied to be a dream! Bring me back! You are supposed to bring me back!" he said, the hiss of his breath brushing her face.

"But I cannot. I failed. I could not control them. They broke away from my spell," she softly sobbed.

"Did they? Or did you simply let them go?" he sneered, relinquishing his grip on her, pushing her back into the chair.

"They were too strong. They fought me," she wailed, hiding her face in her hands.

He paused, and for a moment, with her eyes closed to him, she thought he might have gone. But then he spoke again, more tempered now. "Yet you held them for a time. You may hold them still. There are other means to take them, you know. They need not be completely bendable to your whims. What of the idea you planted?" he queried, a quiet menace ringing in his voice.

She opened her eyes, the idea dawning on her again. "Tis true that they seemed not to notice my ploy," she uttered, encouragement weakly coming back into her glistening eyes.

"There is hope then. Let us see if it takes. And you still have the others to fall back on, if need be," he offered gesturing with his hands to indicate the members of the tribe.

"But they may be overpowered if I go to that measure. I could not learn of the stranger's reserves. I know not how many they have," she said, shame once again riding over her at her failure.

"You are too timid when it comes to being the aggressor, Bregus," he chided. "So preoccupied are you with the pitiful details that you notice not the most obvious way to break through and take possession of what you want. She nearly stands before you. Can you not see her?" he asked, a disdainful tone lingering in his words.

"The girl?" Bregus asked, unsure.

"The girl! Yes! What will it take before you use her as you should?" he asked, his voice mocking.

"What am I supposed to do with her? She is compliant. I could not follow her movements so I had her isolated in her tent. She will not get away from my dictates again. She will sacrifice her life and give me the child without trouble. Is that not enough?" Bregus asked in a tired voice.

"She will betray you. She nearly already has. She has broken away from the spell. Ah, but you did not know this, did you?" for clearly the expression on Bregus' face said exactly that she had not seen or noted this. "Did you not see her when you entered the tent? She was hiding something from you." With realization, Bregus came to understand the look of fear she had seen on the girl's face when the elder had appeared in the bender tent as the Elf slept. Anger crept up on her brow. Her eyes narrowed in her hatred, and she was glad she had had the foresight to imprison the girl. Kattica would pay for her treason!

But Bäla taunted. "When it comes to Kattica, you are too blind to see! Your hate makes you ignorant, Bregus! Are you so jealous of the pull she has over Mattias that you think she can usurp his love for you? You are a fool!" Bäla spat out.

Shutting her eyes to the insults, she growled out, "What would you have me do with her, Bäla? Tell me, and stop belittling me with your words."

He dropped the menace his tone had held, and pulled her back to his chest in a gentle embrace as he answered her with a slow whisper in her ear, "She could help you if you would enlist her powers. You would be very strong with her inner spirit to aid you."

"This discussion is pointless. We have spoken before of this. She will not come freely into the black arts," Bregus said with quiet exasperation.

"I offer you solutions, and what do you give me in return? Insolence! Worthless you are!" he shreiked, pushing her around to face him. Untouched, she backed away, and slowly he began to advance on her. Her eyes widened in terror as she slowly receded to the small space of her cot. "Do you not see! I offer you your last chance at salvation, and you give back only excuses and pitying mews. Cur! Go back to your pointless wallowing! See if it will better you after. The black hosts you have seen in your dreams are fierce, yes, but they are NOTHING compared to the wrath I will bear! I will not make it so easy for you, Bregus! In the World of the Dead you will have reason to fear me. Can you fathom this possibility? Do you begin to understand how far my power reaches?"

She nodded, fearful and completely dominated by his will. "Hhow?" she stammered, "How do I get her to help me?"

He smiled, and the menace in his demeanor disappeared. In its place came the gentle side of his personality and she tentatively she allowed him again to take hold of her and embrace her. As he nuzzled into her craned neck, she felt her fear for him recede. Her ease and willingness returned, and as it did, he told her exactly what to do.

Puromämus Grandmother

"Mi Duvvel opral, dik tele opré mande. Sharraf si inox, baxt sadullos" "My God above, look down upon me. Bless this charm and keep its bearer whole"