The Hunting Trip
Chapter 25: Freedom of Movement

Then and now. How different life seemed. How much things had changed in mere hours, in a day, or two. Then the strife, the rivalries and the worries all had been a part of the course of life's road. When caught up in triviality as the normal order of things the harsh edge of danger and death was certain to clear the meager pettiness from one's path. Then and now. It was impossible not to see the terrible contrast in this comparison. Legolas had been watching the scene before him evolve and a tickle of nervousness sent his keen intellect forward to discern what was afoot even while he replayed the days past and where it had all gone wrong. But he could not linger long mulling over their deeds as there was danger for which to fret. There was danger now.

In the last few hours since Kattica had affixed the amulet to his wrist, he had been dulled by the listlessness of waiting. He had occupied himself by doing what he could to unravel the binds at his hands. It was impossible. The Romany people, it seemed, were gifted with rope and knot skills and the bounding cords were as strong and tight as anything of Elven construct. Short bursts of quiet conversation between he and Faramir had taken place, and in these he had learned that the Ithilien Prince was having no more success than he at unleashing himself. Legolas had to console himself that at least the man was hale, and the Elf breathed a promise of gratitude for that. He also warned Faramir to be prepared for anything. Perhaps it was Bregus' failure that did it, but none in the camp seemed to be heeding their converse, and except for the random look sent their way, and the patrolling Romany who might walk by on an occasion or two to check their ties, the hostages were left pretty much to their own. With little to keep them from doing so, they had shared all that they knew between them and Legolas informed Faramir of what transpired in the camp since Faramir was at the disadvantage by facing away. Fate would not tell what it had in mind for these two, but Legolas was determined that they would be as ready as they possibly could when their time came.

Yet quietly time passed and patience was needed to make it move along with any sense of calm. He felt certain they would be freed somehow. Kattica was fighting for them, and as the events before him slowly showed, there was a rift building in the camp. Fortunately, patience was a skill bested in the Eldar race, and he had forced his mind to alertness even if nothing was apparently occurring. Like water seeping between stones, he knew erosion was taking place. Outwardly he was eager to be done, though he knew it was not his to decide when action might take shape. Better to be alert to the possible outcomes than to wallow in boredom and frustration. And if he allowed his mind to linger over it, he realized the circumstances were both fascinating and anger provoking.

There was Mattias to consider as well. Legolas had watched the girl enter the wagon, boastful as she did so and creating many a raised brow over the disdainful manner in which she had spoken. Legolas had been witness to the shy nature of Kattica prior to this day. The harsh contrast between the before and the after could not be hidden, even from folk this altered. Their thoughts had been filtered through someone else's mind and therefore he saw reason for Kattica to push her contrived act. Fortunately, they saw the point without seeing the melodrama of her play and a hum of words followed in their responses. They were confused. Legolas smiled to himself, wondering how that might appear to Bregus' mind if it should appear there at all in her dream state. The people of the camp mulled the change in Kattica while the girl removed herself from sight and into the supply wagon where she conferred with her husband. She had remained absent for some time, but when she had emerged, Mattias had followed.

"Please, Kattica. Do not tell her. You must believe me. I was not trying to free them!"

"As her apprentice it is my duty to protect this camp and her hostages. You nearly ruined everything."

"I am her son. She will believe me."

"Silence, unless you wish to wake her yourself!"

Legolas had witnessed more of the saga unfold. Careful, Kattica, he had thought, wincing. There is a thing such as giving yourself too much away. Yet as obvious as he had thought she was, the people did not seem to notice it was a ruse. And Mattias what had been his motivations for the argument? Had he been acting or simply reacting to what he had perceived as real?

Legolas' answer came after a time. He had watched as Mattias took on the barrage of questioning to which the people assailed him. Kattica's disturbing words had moved them. He had felt their gaze slip over him at the mention of 'hostages' and noticed a compassionate twinge in Mattias' eyes when the Romany had looked his way. The consoling answers were confusing, but assuring at the same time. Mattias had appeased their fears. He would lead them he had said. He no intentions of allowing harm to befall them. The camp's mood lightened for the moment, and the people had shuffled away to their respective tasks, leaving Mattias, like Legolas, to wait and wonder. The Romany came to lean on the wagon between where the Elf and Man were kept captive, as if he were on watch, but he kept his back primarily turned away from Legolas. The Elf wondered at the trustworthiness of the man. Long minutes had passed since Kattica had entered the old womans tent, but Legolas remained frustratingly ignorant of both what the girl was doing and the nature of Mattias true role. The truth came as both good fortune and disaster, and Legolas saw that Mattias was true to the girl. Then.

That was the moment when Legolas had felt his legs come to life. As if sleeping limbs had been awakened, the lethargic weight that had held Legolas' legs lifted. Tingling nerves came to life riding over the long calves, thighs, knees, toes of the Elf. Where before there had been only the dull sense of connection, that though these were his legs merely attached and not possessing true mobility, now he felt everything. The touch of garment against his skin, the pressure of ground beneath him, the heat of his feet within his boots. Legolas would have laughed had the situation not been so desperate. As it was, he could devote only tentative seconds to appreciate the return of his entirety before he had need to engage it once more.

That was also the moment when Bregus had emerged from the tent, rather than Kattica. A shudder rippled through the Elf at that moment and all his instinct toward survival alerted itself in attention. His nostrils flared and his eyes filled with hate. He was prepared to do now anything he must if he, Faramir, the girl, his friends were to survive.

Then and now. The waiting was over. Action was to commence. Bregus stepped forward with all the drama Kattica had earlier displayed. It took a few seconds for Legolas to register the old woman's new appearance. Where there had once been a stooped and exhausted old woman now stood an aged creature with bearing of regal haughtiness. By the tale of the sun, it could not have been long that the old woman had been in retirement, a mere few hours at best. Yet her recovery would lead him to believe she had been gone a full day at least. It was incredible. She seemed thoroughly rejuvenated, vivacious and almost youthful and the astonishment in Legolas' face belied his knowledge. Only magic could have put this fore.

He heard then Mattias' words. "Kattica, what has happened? Why does Bregus appear?" and the puzzle came together. Mattias and Kattica were in collusion, conspiring together against the old woman. So it appeared that their scheme had gone astray as evidenced by the sudden appearance of Bregus and Mattias' fright. Legolas felt his stomach tie in a knot as his anger towards the witch grew. What had she done to the girl? His eyes followed the old woman then raced back to the tent. Where was Kattica? Why did she not appear? With a darting glance to the Romany, he saw Mattias' thoughts were the same.

When she had left him, Legolas had easily interpreted Kattica's actions. The false bravura, the mock scolding, the aloof appearance they were contrived conveyances and he understood the intent. Stir the crowd. Make them question. Let them wonder. If it could happen to Kattica, who else would fall prey to this madness? Could their own minds have been turned? And as much as Legolas appreciated the effort she afforded to free her people, he knew the danger was immense. Kattica was going by a route that was far from easy. He wished she had chosen a different way. And while there had not been ample opportunity to warn her, he was fairly certain Kattica already knew that she was playing with a wily tempest.

Yet he understood her reasoning. Given that there were other solutions for freeing her people's minds besides this awkward path, he took tremendous pride in her actions. She had chosen the most compassionate way and that was far from what he had been thinking he would do were the circumstances altered.

With a coldness that gave him fright for his own disturbing darkness he thought it. She could kill. It would be so much easier to take Bregus' life then to try to maneuver and weasel the old woman in this contrived way. Kill and be done with it. It was the simplest answer. It was the answer he might have chosen.

Yet he warred with himself knowing well this was a cold response. It was an answer to the harm to which he and Faramir had been subjected. Revenge. There it was. He could not help the anger and hate he felt toward the old woman for what she had done to him. For what she had done to Faramir. For what she had done to these people. And somewhere beyond the periphery of his Elven senses, for what she had done to Gimli and Aragorn. Bilious scorn left a rank taste in his mouth as he considered the fate of his friends. Were they in danger? Were they even alive? He could not know so long as he was prisoner to this witch. His apprehension and fears for those he loved overrode all sense of compassion within him. There was nothing to calm him or allow him to choose otherwise of his emotions. She had harmed and she intended to harm further. There was no room in Legolas' heart for pity. Death would be too kind an ending for Bregus.

Letting his mind linger back to the torment Faramir had endured and those of his own agonies, his anger rose to a fevered level. His jaw clenched as he realized it had been a game to the old woman. There had been no point in either dealing of harm. And even if there had been one, it had simply been to feed her own ego or to ensure Kattica's servitude. Leaning back, Legolas inwardly gave a scowling smile. At least that plan had failed.

Still, he wanted remedy for what Bregus had wrought. He could see how these people were dealt the blows in her quest for power, mindless to the evil for which they acted. His heart went out to them. They were innocents, all of them. He could perceive the good in them and he was saddened that they were held captive to Bregus' will, just as he was. Yet they did not even realize they had another choice.

Yea, how he hated her. He could easily see himself taking sweet revenge on the elder, going so far as to relish each moment of torment he could apply. He was appalled at himself. So unlike his normal mood this was, but it played through his mind all the same. What might it be like to let her suffer as they had? That would be a heady trophy.

He took a steadying breath but the torrent of anger in his chest remained. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to see her cry out. Justice could only be so glorious!

He crushed his eyes shut. This was not right. These feelings were cruel, and he realized he was giving in solely to his desire to seize revenge. Where was his compassion? He knew no one was born to cruelty. There must have been a reason that Bregus was as she was, just as there had been with the dogs. Had she been taught her cruelty? As she had shown Kattica the side of evil and deception, had she been lured to such a mindset in the same fashion?

This was Kattica's motivation. Sympathy. She would not maim because she understood to do so was to relinquish such feelings as pity and empathy. And that would be giving in to the evil and darkness. Kattica was walking in Bregus' path. How she followed it was what would determine the fate of the younger witch and the life she would lead in the aftermath of this situation. It was a terribly considerate gesture, certainly not something the elder deserved and certainly not one Bregus would have offered. Then again, Legolas felt fairly certain Kattica did not do it for the old woman's sake so much as for her own sanity and redemption.

It was a dangerous choice, more so because she was toying with the minds of so many. And those, it appeared, all led back to Bregus.

Time and the luxury of seeking out Kattica's safety, however, were not to be found. She had been swallowed up in the confines of that tent. Was she still there? He could not know. It was now, and action was to commence.

Seeming to have forgotten her need to put on a false front, Bregus scowled and screamed out to the masses. "Now we leave! Gather up your needs and prepare to go! It is time! It is time!"

Legolas heard Faramir whisper to him, "Legolas, what goes on there?" but Legolas ignored it for the moment, instead intensely watching the sudden change that came over the camp.

All heads shot up and collective stares slipped through the crowd. For a minute no one answered, all watching in wonder the old woman, as if trying to fathom the meaning of her words. And then, tentatively, voices began to rise from among them.

"Why?"

"What need is there to depart?"

The look of astonishment that washed over the elderly woman's face was almost enough to make Legolas feel vindicated. He laughed ever so lightly, jubilation coming to him for the stymie of her order. It was clear the old woman had not expected such a reaction from her people. Shock marked her discomfiture, but it lasted only seconds. Legolas felt the smile slide away from his face to be replaced with cold dread. An expression of such supreme ire and vehemence crossed Bregus' brow and he could see it reaching into the heart of those most near as if it were a tangible object grappling with their form. He watched many turn away, consideration of flight from her marking their expression. And then he heard the startling sound of her voice erupting in a seething bellow of quietest vexation, "You dare question me?"

It was terrifying and it held all in thrall. Legolas trembled slightly for it. He felt again fear and he turned his eyes away. Such control. Such power she possessed. To look upon her was to fall. He focused on what grounded him. His friends. His home. He would not let her sway his plan nor would he lose sight of his hate.

"Legolas?" Faramir called out in a hushed voice, concern riding his tone.

"Hush, my friend. A moments pause," the Elf quietly answered, then looked again at the gathering.

There were many with eyes looking away. It appeared they were fighting her too. Legolas felt joyous to see doubt winning. But he knew Bregus would not be deterred.

Gordash and Curtik stepped a foot forward. Gritted teeth showed on the faces of the brothers and the younger of the two swept his eyes about, fists clenching and unclenching as if a message were being sent. "Your authority stands, Mother," he said.

Darkly she turned, boring holes through her people. "I know not that this is true," she answered warily, her eyes flashing from face to face.

"Whatever needs have you, we will comply. Fear not, Mother," Gordash said in a voice that brooked no arguments. Again, eyes fled.

She looked past her middle son, like he was a shadow, and she said in a slow pitying voice, "What has come of us? I had no premonition I would need to right such as this. It appears much has occurred while I've slept. What has happened to their duty and faith?"

For a brief moment she came to act on her hurt, bending her head as if to cry. Curtik and Gordash again stepped forward as if to console her, but Bregus held them back with an upraised hand. She paused. Her gaze came up and the intensity of her sad stare did not fade. She closed her eyes, sealing herself from the trepidation that permeated the gathering. Standing stock still, she swayed ever so slightly as she took up place at the inner folds of her mind. Slowly Legolas saw the slightest of motions. Her lips began to move and the soft whisper of breathy words flickered upon the air. It was barely sound, and Legolas could not hear the words exactly, but it was the essence of a prayer. No, not prayer! Spell!

Without thinking he cried out, " The witch casts a spell! Cease to listen! Flee her!"

Bregus' eyes flared open, and without hesitation she flung out, pointing her gnarled fingers in his direction while shrieking a black curse. The words he did not recognize, but they felt of dire malice. A heavy blow sent him back, forcing him onto the wheel, putting pressure upon his chest and throat as if he were being dragged backwards by a team of horses. A weight immeasurable seized upon his rib cage, choking off all air and sound. He sputtered for breath, but his chest would not rise. His face began to redden as veins stood out at his brow. Squinting his eyes, he fought as tears came. He sucked in bare trickles of air, choking sounds passing his lips as his eyes fell to the crowd. It was his only weapon. Nervous shuffling met his actions and many looked as if ready to cry out for his sake. His agony reached others as well, and this too was working for his cause.

Behind him he heard Faramir struggling against his bindings again. "Legolas! Legolas!" he called out, no longer worried about the weight of his voice. Yet the Elf could not answer to appease his friend's fears.

Bregus resumed where she had left off. The breath of a cool breeze lifted the hair that fell away from her coif. Gentle wind swirled about her skirt, spreading the fabric in a balled flutter over her legs. Muttered sounds whispered from her lips. She swayed. The gust of wind moved about, circulating the gathering and the crowd swayed with it. Legolas saw Mattias sway as well and nervousness fell over the Elf. The Romany man blinked his eyes as if a new thought had occurred to him and he was now mulling it over. The majority of the people also appeared this way but a few shook it off.

"Legolas!" came Faramir's cry.

She snapped open her eyes and shot her gaze in the direction of Faramir's voice. The crowd responded to her actions. Instantly, in compliance, heads bowed. Faces turned away. Shameful glances were sidelong taken as the people stood about without direction.

Bregus then stepped forward. She patted Gordash's shoulder as she stepped into the crowd, directing her eyes on her subjects one by one. "Go now," she said, her voice softer, more soothing. "Prepare to leave. Take only the barest essentials for survival. If all goes well, we shall return to this camp ere long."

The pressure on Legolas' chest ceased instantly. He gasped for breath, quick rasps taking in his need. He did not wait. He could hear Faramir fighting the bonds to free himself. He blinked back tears, but he did not end his fixed look on the people as he answered, "Here, Anborn! I am here!"

Bregus' eyes shot at him again. It was as if he was contesting her will. He would win. He was determined he would win. He turned his gaze on those who had seemed to waver, and he saw them blush and glance his way, as if he saw into their souls and they saw his. They shook their heads, muttering at first, then finding courage in these small vocalizations. They glanced about, first looking at him as though he was confirming something for them, and then seeking others who questioned. These tiny doses of assurance allowed their voices to gather nerve and speak. Legolas leaned back and breathed more readily as he heard it, his hands twisting to find means of escape from his binds as they did.

A voice meekly spoke out, "But what right have you to tell us this, Bregus?"

A murmur of a few voices echoed the sentiment and another voice rang out, somewhat stronger,. "You are only puri dai, Bregus. Such a decision belongs to the tribal leader, not you."

Again a small ripple of concurring voices flowed over the crowd/. Bregus' face screwed in rage, though she said nothing. He had to worry for that. What means of retribution Bregus would unleash?

She seethed. An angry glare smote down those who had spoken. Instantly, though, it was gone. Instead Bregus' eyes turned icy and went to Mattias, as did everyone's who had been watching the scene. "What say you then, Mattias?" she crooned.

Mattias' face was a mask to his thoughts. He stood silent a long while, and for a minute, Legolas was unsure the man had even heard the question. "Is there a reason you would wish it, Mother?" he finally asked with great innocence.

She took a step forward to close the distance between them. "I seek only to defend our people, Mattias. I seek to bring them now to the Protected Place," she said in a sweet voice that hid nothing of her ire.

Again, echoes of those words, "Protected Place" whispered among those in the crowd.

"But why is this reason to leave?" he continued, his voice wavering uncertainly.

"Because, Mattias," she said, closing the distance between them, "The Vision that came to me told me such things would I lead. You know this, my son." Her voice was no longer malicious,. It had become pleading, but that was done for the crowd, Legolas realized. The kindness was removed. She stood face to face with her child, and her tone took on an edge. She lowered her voice and spoke in a whisper that was meant only for Mattias' ears, though Legolas clearly heard. "Consider this as reason as well," she said with a sweet smile,. "I could kill her now." Legolas flinched at her words. She knows! She knows! he thought but he pulled himself from panic as he watched Mattias' reaction. The man was completely unmoved. She stroked his cheek and Legolas detected something malevolent and depraved in the motion. He shuddered. Mattias visibly stiffened as well, but what that meant, the Elf didn't know. Legolas could not determine the man's thoughts but he felt great fear all the same. "Surely you would not betray me, Mattias," Bregus continued in a cooing, seductive voice while her craggy hands fingered a single lock of his hair.

Legolas felt all his hatred burn a new fire in his chest. They had been healed, he thought. Kattica and Mattias, though hidden from her, had been whole again! Yet Bregus could not let them get away. She had to pry. She had to twist. Such dominance of rule she possessed. And worse yet was the answer that followed in the wake of this thought.

"You would kill who, Mother?" Mattias asked.

Horror filled Legolas' mind as he absorbed the meaning of Mattias' question. Has he forgotten her? Has Mattias forsaken Kattica in the wave of that simple spell?

"No!" the Elf cried out through clenched teeth.

Mattias' eyes darted down. Ignoring the Elf, Bregus' smile was evil as she crooned, "You are loyal to me, are you not?"

Mattias did not bring up his gaze. A long moment passed to silent contemplation. Slowly then, he answered, raising his head to meet her eyes. His voice was flat, emotionless. "I am loyal, Mother," he calmly said.

"No, Mattias, no! What of Kattica?" Legolas called out, reminding the man again of his loyalties.

The old woman smiled, laughing as she released her son. "Then as you will," she said, speaking louder and waving her hand to those who had watched the scene.

Mattias dropped his head and let out a silent sigh, shutting his eyes as if making a decision. As he brought his head up again, his troubled eyes looked to hers. He asked, "You are certain this is right? What if trouble awaits us?"

She smiled a dark gleaming grin. "It is right for you to worry, my son. But fear not. It is all part of the Vision. I will find out now exactly what awaits us. I have stalled long enough. And if there is trouble, we have them," she sneered nodding toward the Elf, "to use as pawns to our admittance."

Mattias gave no reaction to this. He simply nodded, then called out to the camp, "Make ready. Prepare yourself lightly, but be sure to take weapons and food. We know not for certain what we might face."

"Not yet, but we shall momentarily," Bregus promised and her eyes shown brightly as they went to where Faramir was kept. Smiling briefly at Mattias she reached over and patted his cheek before departing for the other side of the wagon.

Watching Bregus depart, Mattias made a slow spin surveying the doings of the camp. He watched carefully the activities, seeing to it that all were occupied. If he felt anything, his face was schooled well not to show it. This made Legolas all the more confused by what followed.

In three broad steps, Mattias was at Legolas' side, quickly and surely setting to work. Squatting down to ground level, he whipped out his knife with deft skill and cut the binds in two swift flashes. Still nothing gave away the man's emotions. "Can you move?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Legolas gave a light tug of his chin as he watched Mattias' face, uncertain.

His eyes stole down. The Romany placed his curved knife in the Elf's hand without words passing. Gazing up, Legolas met the other. Mattias' eyes were unreadable still. "Try to be merciful," the man offered and Legolas nodded. Then the Romany rose and walked away to aid one of the men with weapons. It had taken less than ten seconds for the entirety of the exchange to be said and done, and none seemed the wiser among the people in the camp.

Legolas looked at the knife as he fingered the blade. It was sharp and well-balanced, but he did not linger over it and instead slid it into his boot. His mind pondered those words he had said. He desperately wanted to see Bregus dead and now he had the means and the freedom to do it. Yet killing for vengeance was not in his make. Quietly, he pledged to himself, "I only kill out of necessity, not for trophy or pleasure."

This lingering was wasting time and Legolas scolded himself. His ears alerted him that Bregus conversed with Faramir on the other side of the wagon. She had evil in mind for his friend, and now was not the time to muse on his own intentions, only hers. Now was the time to free his friend and to escape this place. Now.

Glancing about and seeing he was again unnoticed, stealth movement helped him rise and speed off like a graceful beast of the forest. The Elf darted, barely noticing the stiffness of his legs. To his fortune, no Romany was present to see his departure, nor did they notice his disappearance until several minutes later.

****

Faramir had heard nearly every word as the old woman had drawn near and apprehension gnawed at his gut, clenching him tightly. He had been warned to be prepared, and he knew well of what the old woman was capable, but he had not expected Bregus to appear so vibrant when he next saw her. The old woman held her carriage high, her chin jutting forth, and except for her body, which was indeed time-worn and unappealing, her stance, her demeanor, her vitality was much that of a young person. It was enormously incongruent, and Faramir restrained a shudder as he caught sight of her.

She seemed not to pause when she saw him, heading straight to his side with purpose. She did not linger over words but broke into converse as if they had been at it for some time. "Tell me," she snarled, "Tell me about your camp."

Faramir recoiled as she neared him. He remembered her touch and he was loathe to feel her repeat this act again. Yet, he had fought her off before, and he would not let her take him now. He did not answer, instead finding moisture enough on his tongue and in his throat to hurdle spit in her face.

She was not deterred, letting the liquid roll down her cheek unnoticed. She grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look into her eye as she straddled his body. "Tell me how many in your company! Tell me who you are! Tell me how you gained access to such a secret hold!" she demanded.

Faramir merely laughed.

She slapped him hard across the face and he could feel the evidence of a welt drawing up from the sting. "TELL ME!" she screamed, pulling ever more fiercely on his hair as she did.

"I would choose death before I gave you any such information," he glibly answered, calmly watching her.

She froze with widened eyes, barely breathing, so strong was her rage. She spat out her next words with a menace that made the hairs at his nape stand upright. "When I am done, you will wish you had," she said in a venomous whisper.

Throwing his head back, she released him as her head shot around. An ugly spray of laughter sprang from her lips as she rushed to the bowl near the steps of the wagon. She examined the contents, lightly touching the implement within to assure it was clean of residue, then she gazed up at him. A wicked smile filled her face, as she looked again to the bowl's contents and then to him.

Faramir's eyes went wide as he realized her intent. The vile contents of the bowl were what she had taunted him with earlier, and Kattica's reaction and concern to it made him reason that it may not be beneficial to be too near it. Yet he had no choice. He had been fighting against his ropes for hours and was no nearer release than he had been when he first started his pursuit of freedom. And now she was nearing him. He could see the creamy matter within the bowl, a large globule balanced on the ball of the pestle.

She spoke. "This should ensure your cooperation, I would think. Do you know what I might find when I open your mind to this potion?" she asked, her voice acid.

Faramir did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the rounded mass of grayish lotion rolling off the tool and into the bowl. It seemed potent somehow, alive, moving of its own volition. The smile never left her face as her eyes traded glances between watching his face and balancing the contents on the pestle. The gelatinous liniment rolled languidly over the tool and around the mortar, tipping back and forth across the instrument with each severe turn. Her eyes caught his and he could see evidence of the madness he had earlier witnessed still within her. His fear grew greater.

She smiled, reading his apprehension. "There will be no secrets between us then. Your mind will become mine and every cognitive gesture will be won through my direction. You will tell me everything. I will know everything."

Faramir held her gaze. He was terribly frightened, being very uncertain what she really wanted with him, but certain she needed Legolas somehow to complete her task. He willed her to stop, screaming in his mind out of fear, but he would not show it outwardly. She would not know his horror over what she proposed. He would tell her nothing.

She posed over him a minute longer and when he did not give response, she sighed and lowered the pestle. Stirring the mixture, she glanced at him one last time, a light hum passing her lips as she readied it. A moment passed in the stirring and preparation before she deemed it ready. She found mirth in his gained trepidation. She raised the tool to his eye level and then began to near him with it, the intent to douse him in the noxious substance. The implement drew nearer and in his mind he could almost feel the cold touch of it on his cheek. He pressed back against the tree, attempting to push away, but there was nowhere to go. Her weight came down harder on him, her knees grinding into his thighs where she kneeled upon him. He grimaced as the pestle came inches away from his skin. He could not bare the thought of its touch. He shut his eyes to it, and then . . .

Her weight abruptly left him, sliding off with a violent shuffle, heels skidding across him and bodies rolling over. Faramir quickly opened his eyes to see the tangle of two forms fighting before him. Relief leapt though him as his heart pounded mightily. The old woman was caught in the throes, but it took a moment for him to realize it was Legolas who had engaged her. He saw the bowl fly away from where they wrestled, the contents oozing out as the mortar landed rimside-down. His heart gladdened for that, thinking that peril now gone, and he turned his eyes to watch the Elf masterfully take the old woman down.

She appeared ready to shout out but Legolas drew a knife from his boot. He held it before her face and she froze. Light flickered on its broad surface. Legolas pondered the blade for a moment. Faramir heard him mutter, "I should kill you, vile creature."

Without a minute to think on the matter, Faramir encouraged, "Do it, Legolas! Kill her!"

A minute paused in which no words were spoken and the Elf and old women stared coldly toward one another. Then slowly Legolas shook his head, seeming torn and Faramir began to understand. Although her death might free them, taking justice upon themselves was not in either of their make.

Seeing his distress, Bregus taunted with a mocking smile and an expression of rage once again passed over the Elf's face. Ending the dilemma, Legolas balled his fist and slammed it into the old woman's face, quelling any desire on her part to further rile him. Her eyes grew dazed to the punch.

The sound of voices pulled Legolas' attention away. Looking back at the old woman, he considered his private thoughts for a moment longer, and then he shot up and was instantly at Faramir's side.

A flash of light caught the edge of the blade as the man's legs came loose from the cords. At his back he felt a sudden pressure. The ties were cut. He was free.

Rubbing his wrists and gathering wobbly legs beneath him, he let the Elf aid him in rising. Changing momentum, Legolas commanded of the other, "Follow the stream to the river and let it lead you to the soldiers' camp. I will find you there or along the way. Hurry!"

Panic tinged Faramir's voice. "Where do you go? Why separate?" he asked.

"I will lead the dogs away from your path. Stay with the water. It will cut your scent," Legolas demanded.

"Nay! We must stay togeth "

Faramir's thought was interrupted as the empty bowl that had housed the vile potion was flung at them, bouncing off the tree trunk just over their heads. The little remaining contents within sprayed out upon impact, raining droplets of the oily mixture upon them. They looked up to see Bregus awkwardly standing in a wobbly pose. Catching their attention, she screamed a bloody shrill pitch and a gathering group of the Romany people began to run from the camp.

Faramir had just enough time to register that three small globules of the ointment had landed on his wrist while another had hit the cheek of the Elf and a sprinkling showed itself upon both of their clothing. Legolas grimaced and wiped it away, then turned, pushing Faramir in the direction he need follow. "Go!" he yelled. Then he darted away in the opposite direction.

There seemed little choice as he heard the dogs' barks and the Romany seemed to gather up speed seeing he and Legolas freed.

"Stop them!" Bregus shrieked, further awakening their actions. No more incentive was needed for Faramir to flee.

A host of the men charged him, but he saw Mattias turn them away. "The Elf! Get the Elf!" the man called and they changed their course.

Another voice rang out, "I will get him, Mother!" and light steps quickly followed Faramir's path. Faramir did not stop to look back, afraid for how near the voice had been. And then the worst thing that could happen did. His legs, weakened by remaining in the same posture and bound tightly for so long, did not respond well to his demands. With a lopsided gait, he leapt, attempting to dodge a fallen limb, but his foot caught a tree root instead and clumsily he tumbled. Rolling quickly to his side, he tried to regain his footing, but too late, for instantly the one in chase was upon him. He was plowed back to the ground, rolled over and about. Dazed momentarily, he looked up to see he who had pursued him. He was astonished to see Mattias' eyes meet his own.