Chapter Four/In the Woods
It was after midnight before our captors decided to stop for a rest. My legs ached, my mouth burned as all the moisture had soaked into the foul black cloth that had been stuffed into it, and my hands were so numb I wondered if they had fallen off somewhere a league or so back. Legolas did not appear to be faring any better than I was. We were both exhausted.
The older man motioned two of his men off to stand watch while the others gathered in a circle and began setting up a small encampment. Our handlers placed us inside the loosely formed ring and bade us to sit, which I did, grateful to rest my legs. Legolas and I sat side by side as we watched the men hunt through their packs. We watched with even more intense interest as they withdrew waterskins and small wrapped packages of what I thought must be food. Food. That was something I had not seen since mid-day meal. My stomach growled loudly at the mere thought. I could not help but wonder if they intended to feed us.
The older man motioned to one of his companions. The younger man nodded slightly, pulled two cups from a pack and set them aside as he took up his own waterskin. He carefully poured water into the cups. With a cup in each hand, he knelt in front of us and placed them on the ground. Water. It was clear, wet water and how I yearned for just one sip. The younger man offered us a faint smile of reassurance as he gently pulled Legolas’ black cloth down to let it drape around his neck. He repeated the same with me. Silently, he scurried back to his pack and began rummaging through it again.
I whipped my head around to look at Legolas. "Is this a ritual water torture?" I whispered. "He brings us drink, takes our cloths off and leaves us to look at the cups!"
Legolas was watching the cup of water as if it would disappear if he took his eyes from it. "I do not know," he answered. "Maybe we are supposed to bend over and drink it."
"My fortune," I grumbled, "would be to spill it and have to suck it out of the ground."
"Which I am willing to do at this point," Legolas remarked, still eyeing the cup.
Before we had to lower ourselves, literally, the young man returned holding two tightly wrapped squares of what appeared to be stuffed parchment, similar to the ones the others had taken out. The bundles were tied with a thin cord that wrapped around it in opposing directions several times. I watched him as he deftly fingered the string and let it fall away. The paper parted, and inside I could see that there was some sort of dried food, but it was nothing I could identify. Just like the water cups, he sat it down in front of us on the ground. He sat back on his heels and motioned with his hands, making gestures. I stared intently at him, doing all within my pitiful interpretive powers to understand.
"I think," said Legolas, "he is telling us he will untie us so that we may eat."
"Oh," I mumbled, "is that what it is? I thought he was demonstrating what we might be able to do if we were not being held captive by a band of strangers who have no business being here in the first place." I admit, I was getting rather annoyed by the whole pantomime when he had to know we were hungry and thirsty. I wanted to shout at him to release us before we perished right before his eyes. My nana says that I get cranky when I do not eat on time, and she is right. I was going from cranky to hostile very rapidly.
"Do not offend him, Daeron. I am hungry, and I want that cup of water more than I care about your head at the moment," Legolas snapped.
"He cannot understand a word I am saying, Legolas," I snapped back at him and then smiled at the young man sweetly. "See. I can call him an orc’s back end, and he thinks I am telling you what a fine specimen of humanity he is and how utterly delectable this morsel of Eru-knows-what is."
So far none among them had demonstrated any understanding of Sindarin. As I predicted, he was oblivious. He smiled enthusiastically back at me and untied my hands. After he released Legolas, he went through the motions of entreating us to eat.
"What if it is poisoned?" I asked, looking down at the open bundle of what I could now see appeared to be dried berries and equally dehydrated white meat of some kind. By the striations in the meat, it appeared to be fish.
"Why would they go to the trouble of poisoning us when all they would have to do is slit our throats?" Legolas asked. However, I noticed that he was not making any move toward the offerings.
"It is difficult to say about unknown cultures," I said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps they find it entertaining to watch Elves die slowly." I looked up at him. "They have been wandering around these woods for weeks. That could get boring."
Legolas huffed out a small breath. "Be quiet, Daeron."
When we had not made a move toward the food, the young man delicately picked up a berry from Legolas’ pack and placed it in his mouth. Again, he motioned for us to eat.
Legolas and I looked at each other and then lifted the bundle. The first berry I tasted was sweet, but had a wild tart flavor that reminded me of summer blueberries. The texture was slightly tough from the drying, but it was easily palatable. The flesh of the fish was light on my tongue and tangy with salt. Though it was unlike any fish I had ever tasted, it was quite good. When I had eaten all I was given, I drank down the cup of water quickly and knew immediately the sweet waters of my own home. I wanted to ask for more, but feared they would be offended and never feed us again. Fortunately, the young man noticed me looking wistfully into the bottom of my cup and refilled it. I nodded my gratitude to him and drank it down.
The older man changed the guards so the first two could eat. As I watched him, I spotted my knife tucked in his wide sash. It was all wrong. It did not belong there. As all the others began to settle on the ground for rest, I gazed at my knife, longing for it with an ache that was so real I could pinpoint the pain’s exact place in my chest.
The night air had turned much cooler as autumn had begun to come to the woodlands in earnest. It is true that Elves suffer much less from the cold than mortals, but it was still colder than Legolas and I were accustomed to. We sleep in fire-warmed chambers with soft woven blankets. I am told that as one gets older the cold bothers our kind even less, and the warriors can survive rather cold weather with only a few layers of clothing and blankets at night. But, no matter the age or experience of an Elf, we do get cold if exposed overly long to the elements without protection. The young man motioned to us to lie down and rest. Reluctantly, we settled down onto the cold ground. I pressed closer to Legolas and felt him respond by snuggling into my back. I was surprised to feel a blanket being lowered over us, but was grateful nonetheless. The young man smiled and placed his fingers to his lips in what is apparently an Arda-wide sign for quiet.
As I balled up to preserve warmth, I could not help but wonder about these mortals. Despite having taken us and that was an unforgivable transgression, I admit, they had treated us kindly if you did not count the fact that they had bound and gagged us. I could not understand how they could be an enemy when they were not evil as far as I could see. They were not like orcs who tortured and killed my kind. They were not like anyone I would have given the name of enemy. Yet, they were here for nefarious reasons or they would not be moving in such secrecy or abducting elfings. What did they want? I did not think it was Legolas and me they wanted. We were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the masters were correct and they were scouts, for whom did they brave the wrath of the Woodland king? And the wrath was going to be real when our warriors caught up with them. Retribution would be swift.
I thought of the young man who had shown us such kindness. It made me heartsick to think of him being cut down by the arrows meant to save us. I could not understand why I felt his way about this man who had taken us, bound us and gagged us. I wanted to go home, but these men could have been very cruel to us if they so desired. Would these men kill Legolas and me if they could when our warriors came?
I am no judge of the ages of men, but this man I had come to think of as the young man, seemed quite young, not much older than the leader of Esgaroth’s son. It did not seem right that he should be here threatening us. I simply could not understand, but pondered the whole dilemma no further that night as my eyes glazed, and my thoughts turned to dark paths, and the memory of a blade in my hand.
It was not yet light when I felt a swift but firm touch to my shoulder. All the men were up and readying themselves to resume our march. The young man took the blanket, folded it quickly and neatly, then stowed it in his pack. As I watched him, I realized it had been his blanket. He gave us water and a handful of dried berries to eat and motioned for us to hurry. He did not have to tell me twice. I ate the berries as quickly as I could and drank the water. Legolas did not waste any time either.
We were re-bound and the black cloths pulled back up over our mouths. It was only then that I realized they had left us untied all night. I supposed we posed very little threat to them, and they probably thought us too frightened to try and escape. They would not have been too far off if this was their reasoning, but my fatigue was mainly what prevented me from trying to escape. I fell asleep quickly and did not know anything until awakened. I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of trying to slip off while all but the posted guards slept. Of course, the guards would have been a problem.
We continued on a northwesterly trek for several hours. My eyes kept scanning the trees for the northern border patrol. Where were they? I had been so preoccupied with looking for our missing warriors that we had been underway for sometime before I noticed the older man kept sending out scouts to go before us, and I would assume all around our party to look for anyone else who might be in the area. The men continued to move gracefully and silently onward.
It was mid-day when one of the scouts returned with something to report. The older man signaled a silent halt as he tilted his head lightly as if to listen. The scout motioned to our left, the north, and made motions with his hands that I assume meant something to the older man. My heart quickened as I looked to Legolas to try and discern what he might be thinking. Not that either of us were any good at such things like reading minds, but I had hope that he and I were thinking the same thing: The northern border patrol was near.
Before the men could react (and what that reaction might have been, I have no idea) a group of Dwarves came through the trees with their axes at ready. Hope was just not working out for us. I was beginning to think that, if I wish to curse any thought or action, all I had to do was to pull out my tattered bag of hope. The men pulled their blades out with impressive speed. Legolas and I backed into each other and held our breath.
A Dwarf in the front of the group stared intently at the men, his eyes staying cooly on the older man. There must be something about leaders that they immediately recognize another with power, for these two locked onto each other in a fierce battle of eye contact. The Dwarf demanded in a gruff rumble as to what these men where doing in these woods in Dwarvish, of course. It caused me no small amount of irritation that I was gagged and could not answer, or at least tell the Dwarf my side of the story. Still, we were all facing each other in a stand off. Neither group wanted to look friendly nor did they wish to appear overly hostile. This could escalate in a hair’s breadth.
"Who are these strange men?" asked the Dwarf to the leader’s side.
"And what are they doing in these woods?" asked another.
"An even better question would be: What are they doing with two elflings?" the leader said. The others nodded.
The men were likewise exchanging a few words about this most unexpected development and probably asking themselves how a group of noisy, clumsy Dwarves had taken them unaware, but seeing as I did not speak the unknown language Borgil did not teach us, I had no way of keeping up with them. My frustration was building until I wanted to shout, Try the Common Tongue!
But the older man had been down this road before and did not need my advice it seemed, for he asked the right question. "Do you speak Common Tongue?"
The Dwarf raised his chin slightly and nodded. "I do."
"We know not you. We not mean you harm. We will go," the older man said as if this pronouncement took care of everything.
The Dwarf looked the older man over and finally let his eyes slide over to us for a moment before he returned his gaze to the man. "We do not know who you are either, and we have no quarrel with you, but I do know what you have there," he said, nodding toward Legolas and me.
The older man apparently knew the Dwarf was talking about us, but he did not cast a glance in our direction. His eyes never left the Dwarf. "We go and fight not you."
The Dwarf lowered his axe and leaned heavily on it. None of the other dwarves lowered their guard, just in case. A wise move, I thought. "It will not be we who cause you problems if you take those two. The Elves will not let you take their children."
The man looked slightly puzzled. "Elves miss children?"
A muffled chortle blew through the Dwarf’s lips. "I would say that not only will they miss them, they already have." He shifted his feet as if getting a better hold to deliver his news. "If I can give you a bit of advice, I would tell you to leave these two and remove yourselves from these woods as quickly as possible."
"You say Elves come for children?"
The Dwarf nodded. "They will not take kindly to you being in their woods, but they will kill you for taking these two."
Obviously, the old man had not considered this, but it was not fear that I saw on his face, instead he seemed confused. "If female dog losses pup, she look for it, but she soon forget."
I knew I was insulted, and I was relatively certain that Legolas would be offended at being referred to as a pup. However, I was surprised by the looks on the Dwarves’ faces; they seemed to be slightly offended on our behalf. It was a small thing, but I appreciated it nonetheless.
"You do not understand," the Dwarf said slowly. "I have no great love for the Elves, but I will tell you this: The Elves will not appreciate being referred to as dogs. But if you must, think of them more like wolves, vicious, angry wolves. They will hunt you to the ends of all Arda if you take these two, and they will destroy anyone who gets in their way." He nodded at us again. "If you take them, you will bring the wrath of not only the Woodland King down upon your head and those of your kin, but you will see the forming of an alliance of all Elven realms to see your people pay for what you did." Now, that was an intriguing thought. I wondered if the Dwarf was correct or if he was merely trying to add weight to his argument by threatening the men with the wrath of all Elven realms. Whichever it was, I liked that thought.
The older man began to converse rapidly with those he usually consulted with. Since their conversation was of no use to me, I turned my ears to the Dwarves.
Their leader never let his eyes leave the man, but he said to the one he had spoken to earlier, in Dwarvish, of course, "I do not know what these humans are up to, but they do not seem to know exactly what they are up against." He scratched at his chin with the dull edge of his axe. "It seems to me that they would be here looking for something. Scouting maybe. Looking for information. If that is the case, then they are carrying this information back to someone. From the looks of them, they are from somewhere in the East. This not only does not bode well for the Elves, but it would not be happy tidings for us either. If someone wishes to weaken or destroy the Elves here, then we could very well be next."
"There have been rumblings that the Dark Lord is gaining power again, and he has found alliances in the East in the past," the other Dwarf said.
‘That would be my guess," the Dwarf leader said. "I cannot see why they would take the younglings unless they intended to control Thranduil through them or ensure Thranduil pursues them and thus weakens his forces, making these woods ripe for an invasion." Legolas shot me a panicked look. The leader never cast the slightest glance in our direction, but he did not need a second look, it seemed. "How many Wood Elves do you know with that light-colored hair?" he asked.
"It is said that the king is golden-haired," his companion answered.
"That is my point," the leader agreed. "At least one of these younglings is one of the king’s own, maybe both."
My heart fell to my feet. One of the lessons we had been taught since I could remember was that we were to never tell a stranger who we were. Legolas, especially, would be fine prize for someone who thought to do harm to the king. Of course, Aldamir and Erelas would be, too. Even Seregon and I held value for someone wishing to strike at Thranduil.
The other Dwarf shook his head slightly as if he were in disbelief. If I could have, I would have assured him that he was not the only one. "Then what will we do if you cannot convince them to leave the elflings? I would not see harm come to any child."
"Nor would I. Nor would I see the Elves invaded, leaving us open for the next attack from the enemy. In this case, we share a common foe," said the leader. "But we cannot engage these men in battle for these two. If we do and something goes wrong and the children are killed or harmed, then you know as well as I do that Thranduil will hold the Dwarves accountable. We cannot risk war with the Elves either." His mouth twisted slightly to the side. "Especially not over a good deed gone wrong."
The other Dwarf shook his head again. "I feel bad for the little ones. They look frightened. We cannot just stand aside as children are taken from their parents."
"We will not leave them with no hope," the leader said. "There were signs several leagues back of the border guards. They are looking for these two, I am certain. We will go back and find the warriors and tell them what we have seen. It will be in their hands to get these little ones away unharmed."
Before any further could be said by the Dwarves, the man turned back to them. "I know not Elves and what say you about them true, they not what told us."
"What were you told?" the Dwarven leader asked.
"Lower than animals. Care for nobody. Greedy. Take best for self and leave little for others. Treat men bad," the older man said.
I did not have to think this over, I was definitely offended. I whipped my head around to see what the Dwarf would say. Surely he would defend us. We might not always be friends, but even he knew we were not as this man described. Though, come to think of it, the Dwarves might not find all these traits a fault. They were known to be a bit greedy themselves. Common ground is good when looking for allies, and I was hoping for someone to come to Legolas’ and my aid. Instead of being properly incensed, the Dwarf laughed aloud. I failed to see the humor.
"I would say that there is a bit of truth in all lies and a bit of a lie in all acceptable truths," the Dwarf said. "As I told you earlier, I am not overly fond of Elves. They can be difficult to deal with, but they are not our enemies either. What you have described is not what we know about the Elves, and we have been living near them and working with them for countless years. No matter what else you can say about Elves, you cannot say they do not raise their children with great care." He dipped his axe in our direction. "Leave the young ones with us, and we will see them home to their family. They are of no use to you."
The older man shook his head. "My speak not good in Common Tongue, but know what you say. I cannot change what master has give me to do. I told to bring home Elf for master to see. Master gain knowing from Elf. I cannot do against master. Not for me to ask questions."
"If I were you, I would tell my master that I could not find an Elf to bring and tell him that whoever told you about the Elves was mistaken." The Dwarf dipped his axe at us again. "If you do this you will bring war to your people. Many lives will be lost."
The older man looked as if he was thinking this over. I was hoping again, hoping he would listen to the Dwarf and leave us. Surely, he would not want war. But, he merely shook his head. "My people not fear death or war. We die honorably. We fear dishonor. Dishonor come from not obeying master. Cannot lie about Elf."
"Then you can only go back to your master and tell him what you have learned. Beseech your master to return these little ones to their home. But I can tell you that it will not mollify the king. His wrath will be great," the Dwarf told the older man.
The older man bobbed his head at the Dwarf. "We thank you for what you say. We be swift in leaving forest. They no follow us."
The Dwarf sighed heavily and switched back to Dwarvish. "Yes, they will." Then, he returned to the Common Tongue for his last words. "Then we shall take our leave of you and continue our journey."
As the men led us past the Dwarves, I saw Legolas turn a pleading looking to the Dwarven leader. I was sure he saw it and saw my look of raw panic, but the only sign of his knowing was in his eyes; he tried to offer us reassurance. Never in my life did I ever consider for a moment that I would beg to be given into the care of a Dwarf, but I would have fallen on my knees and pleaded if given half a chance. I had no pride, no old prejudices or insulting Dwarf jokes to offer. All I did have was a poor imagination that could not even fathom what was waiting on us when we were taken to the older man’s master for questioning. And, there was nothing Legolas or I could do but go where the men prodded us.
The reality that these men meant to take us from our home and into some foreign land where we would be held for whatever reasons brought the thought of my naneth to mind. I would never see her again. What was she doing at that exact moment? Was she with Auntie and Thranduil? I hoped so. I did not want to think of her being alone. I knew Seregon was looking for us and was not there to comfort her. I hoped she was not crying. I did not want her to cry over me. What I did want was the feel of her arms around me, to smell the unique fragrance that was her and to hear her voice saying soothing things to me. I wanted to hear her tell me she loved me. My eyes grew misty and a big lump formed in my throat. I wanted to go home.
The men changed course and turned to the north. Occasionally, I caught a quick view of the Grey Mountains through the trees. It would not be long before we were out of Mirkwood. Then I could only guess what they were going to do. The logical thing was to then turn east and skirt the foothills until they had to adjust their course again. All this was assuming they were from the East as the Dwarves thought. I had no idea how far it was to their home, but it must be far away. How long would it take us to get there? Maybe they had another place in mind. One thing I do not like is not knowing. It was this selfsame curiosity that had gotten us into this predicament to start with. Legolas and I had been dying to know what was going on and now that we knew, we might end up dying for knowing--or worse.
It was almost dusk when we stopped to rest. If we continued at the pace we had been keeping, we would be out of the woods by morning light. I was hoping the older man would stop for the night and that would give our patrols more time to catch up with us. That is if the Dwarves found them and delivered their message.
We had not stopped at mid-day to eat and, as the men began to pull out their repast, I began to hope for something more substantial than a handful of berries. The meal turned out to be the same as the one we had the night before, but I was not complaining at that point. I was so hungry, I would have eaten the parchment and chewed the string for my after-meal sweet. I was tired and sore, and Eru knows it is not like me, I wished for a bath. I envisioned a tub of hot scented water and day-dreamed of settling into it with a great sigh of pleasure. Nana would be so surprised to hear me say that. I wished I could tell her.
As Legolas and I finished our meal, he whispered, "What are we going to do? If they manage to take us out of the forest, we will be harder to track."
"I do not know," I said, but I was thinking. Suddenly an idea came to me. "Perhaps if one of us pretends to be violently ill. That would at least slow them."
Legolas’ eyes widen. "Elves do not get sick."
"I know that, and you know that, but these men thought we were dogs! I doubt they know anything accurate about us. Can you make yourself throw up?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities.
"Not usually," he answered, slowly, as if thinking this over.
"Me either," I said, feeling somewhat dejected that neither of us could vomit on demand.
"Maybe one of us could just act like we are in pain. Cry, roll around on the ground as if something they gave us to eat has made us ill," Legolas suggested, a hint of hope in his voice.
I thought this over carefully and nodded. "That could work." Then another thought crowded out my hope. "Or, it could get us killed. What if they simply put us out of our misery? The older man said they were to bring an Elf back. One Elf. They have a spare."
Legolas looked slightly shocked and mightily alarmed. "Do you think they would kill us?"
I shook my head. "I do not know. They have treated us fairly well, but I do not know what they would do if forced."
"Well, then I would say that we try it and, if it looks like they are angry, we will get well again." He made it all sound so simple. Now that I had come to the realization that we could not trust how these men would react, I was sorry I had brought the whole thing up. Still, I could think of nothing better. Legolas nudged me slightly with his elbow. "You be the one to get sick."
"Me!" I yelped as quietly as I could considering I had just been sentenced to death by my best friend and close relative.
"It was your idea," he pointed out.
"Since I thought it up, you should be the one to do it," I argued. As far as I could tell, I had done the hard work. It was his turn to participate.
"We will draw sticks. The long one wins and does not have to be sick," he announced picking up a slender twig and snapping it half. He snapped off the end of one of the halves and when he was satisfied, he put them into his hand and made a fist.
"I get to draw first," I said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you know which one is the long one."
"I do not!" he hissed.
"Of course, you do!" I protested, leaning closer to him to make my point.
"Then I will mix them up more," he said as he rolled them around in his hand.
"That did not change anything," I snapped. "You just rolled them in your hand. They are in the same order."
"Oh, for wizard’s sake, Daeron, just pick one!"
Before I could decide which stick held my fate, the men began to pack up their belongings and set them in the way meant for travel.
"Hurry up!" he whispered anxiously. "They will bind us again in a moment."
Still, I could not decide. Important decisions like whether you will live or die should not be made hastily.
A faint bird call sounded to the west of us. Both of our heads snapped up, and Legolas grasped my arm tightly. "Something is happening. They have found us!" It was then that I noticed the men suddenly becoming alert as if they had heard or seen something, too.
The men were quickly reaching for weapons and pulling razor-sharp blades. We were grabbed so suddenly from behind and lifted to our feet that Legolas stumbled. The men did not even bother to bind us, but merely started shoving us toward the center of the group and to where the older man was making quick hand gestures to his men. Within a few seconds, the first arrows flew. Four of the men fell quickly. The were Elven arrows, fletched by Mirkwood warriors. I knew them. My heart raced as I looked to the trees. I could see nothing, but I knew with certainty they were there.
Everything happened so quickly, I am not sure exactly what did transpire in the next few seconds. The men began to try and take cover, but more arrows flew and more men fell. The older man rolled on the ground as he dodged the incoming arrows and then, lightly leapt back to his feet. As he came up, he grabbed Legolas and pulled him to his chest, placing a knife at his throat. The remaining men were still trying to find shelter in the underbrush. None were archers and could fight only if the warriors dropped to the ground. I knew they would not do so unless they ran out of arrows. The best vantage point was from the trees. All they needed were clean shots.
A few of the remaining men made an effort to defend themselves by lobbing short knives into the trees. I saw a thin line of blood well on Legolas’ neck. In the next second, I saw my dull blade had fallen from the man’s sash. In a blind panic, I dove for it. As I came up next to the man, I shoved it as hard as I could into his lower back. The knife did not go in easily, but I was so lost in the terror of the moment, I pushed with all my weight and with a strength I did not know I possessed until I felt the hilt stop with contact to his body. He arched back with the pain, and when he did, an arrow caught him in the side of his neck.
I was caught so suddenly from behind, my breath flew from my chest. Then, I was lifted so quickly that I did not know what was happening until I found myself on a branch in the arms of Erelas. He hugged me tightly, then ran his hands over my body, looking me over with an intense look in his eyes I had never seen. "Are you hurt?" he asked, a tinge of fright in his voice.
"No," I muttered. My heart pounding, I grabbed his tunic. "Where is Legolas?"
He pointed to the ground. "He is safe." That was when I saw all the men lying on the ground. In the center of the carnage, was Aldamir kneeling on the ground with Legolas safely and very tightly held in his arms as warriors checked all the men to be certain they would cause no more problems. Legolas still held the sticks clinched tightly in his hand.
"Come," Erelas smiled. "There is an Elf who is anxious to see you."
My feet had barely touched the ground when I was swept up into strong arms and held to a broad chest. I threw my arms around his neck, wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face into a mass of auburn hair like my own. "Seregon," I whispered, feeling tears hot on my lids.
"Daeron, Daeron," was all he could say, but by the intensity of the embrace, I knew all he wanted to say, but could not. I answered back in kind, holding on to him as if he were the last Elf I would ever see. And this Elf was my brother.