The attack came at mid-day, when they stopped at a small stream. Haldir was left tied to the saddle whilst the horses waded in and the men filled waterskins and splashed cool water on their dusty faces. Despite his earlier resolve and the gift of Trewyn's clasp, he had not come up with any plan for escape, being bound always and with Eomer never inattentive.
Spirits low, Haldir looked longingly at the few trees on the other bank, aching to walk in the woods and fearing he might never again. A small movement between the trees caught his eye. He shifted in the saddle to scan along the bank and had only a moment to yell, "Orcs!" before they came crashing out of the cover of the forest and across the stream.
The men of Rohan startled, but recovered, moving quickly to their horses. They could not mount before the orcs were upon them, so they grabbed their swords, forming a triangle, each protecting the backs of the other two. The orcs attacked with brute force and the men retaliated with skilled swords. The air filled with clang of weapons against armor, growls and war cries, and the moans of the wounded and dying.
Even from his vantage point on the back of Eomer's horse, Haldir could barely track the flow of the battle; he had never seen such violence. Men, swords, orcs, axes and clubs moved in a blur while the horses danced nervously in a tight circle but, accustomed to fighting, refused to leave the battleground.
Attention caught by the immobile figure on horseback, an orc left the fray and came at Haldir with his mace held high. Frozen in terror, I will die here without a bow, without a fight, Haldir kicked at Eomer's horse to evade the blow, but there was no space to move against the other two. Grinning hideously, the orc raised his arm to hold Haldir's leg. The elf braced himself but the blow never fell.
"Mine," Eomer screamed and ran at the orc, sword held in a steely killing grip. Grabbing the hand that had seized Haldir's leg, Eomer spun the orc away from the horse, brutally skewering him through the back. The orc's dead weight brought Eomer to his knees as he leveraged his sword out of the twitching body.
Haldir's throat closed up at the sight of a second, larger orc swinging an axe as he came out from behind the horses. With the sixth sense essential to soldiers, Eomer began to turn, but with his sword not yet in a defensive position.
Without thinking, Haldir lashed out and caught the axe just as it began its descent, the chain from his ankle's double manacle entangling with the blade. His strength was no match for that of an enraged orc but it was enough to interfere with his attack and gave Eomer the precious moments he needed to move in for the kill. In his death throes, the orc's heavy axe flew out of his hand and the blunt end smashed into Haldir's face. The elf's vision wavered, then he slumped over the saddle and slowly slid sideways.
"Haldir. Haldir!" Haldir's eyelids fluttered open for a brief moment, then closed again. He flinched and spluttered as his face was dashed with water. He opened his eyes again and stared at the sky. A beautiful sight, blue and cloudless. It's so peaceful. If only I could lie here quietly...".
"Haldir!" His eyes slowly tracked the voice to Trewyn's worried face. "Can you hear me? Haldir!" A cool, wet cloth was pressed to the side of his face and he closed his eyes in gratitude.
"Camred! Twelve of them, the black-hearts. Twelve against three and now they all lie dead, soaking the ground with their blood." Eomer's voice rang out triumphant over the battleground, hot and hoarse with bloodlust. "It is a good day indeed when orcs are killed."
"Ah, but what orcs are these that are out in the mid-day sun?" Camred puzzled. "Out in the daylight and unafraid to attack. They must be a scouting group for a larger band. No orc is that brave without ten more to back him up."
Haldir flinched at the loud voices. "Sit up, Haldir, and I'll help you drink some water. You took a terrible blow to the head." Trewyn shook him slightly and looked into his eyes. "Haldir, are you with me?"
Blinking, focusing, becoming aware, Haldir sat up. Immediately, Eomer came over and grabbed the leather lead still attached around Haldir's neck. "Surely you are not surprised at this attack. Were these not your kin, come to save you?" He jerked Haldir to his feet. Haldir swayed a moment, then collapsed.
"Eomer, enough. He's hurt; he had no helmet for protection and look what they did to his face. These were not kin coming to his rescue, they were orcs coming to kill us, and you know it." Trewyn spoke angrily. "Give him back to me and let me clean his wound."
Eomer glared at Trewyn and, with an arm around Haldir's back, lifted him to his feet again. Haldir stumbled, dazed. He looked back for Trewyn. That angered Eomer and he shifted Haldir, his back to the armored chest, so that he could hold up his captive with one arm.
"Look at your kin now," he snarled in Haldir's ear. Grabbing his hair in one hand, Eomer shoved Haldir down to look at the dead orc at his feet. "This is what happens to Saruman's forces. This is what will happen to your people. We will kill all dark minions and leave them to rot in the sun."
Haldir struggled against Eomer's unyielding hold on his neck. He had never seen an orc close up, only at a distance with his arrows in their hides. His stomach rebelled at both the horrifying sight and the nauseating scent. Leathery skin, lank hair, hideous faces, deep gashes, blood and entrails. His grip on consciousness wavered and he moved in a fugue state.
Eomer marched him over to another, then a third. "Recognize that one? Did he come to save you?" On to the next. "Heed this well, elven spy, soon this will be you, lying here drowning in your blood."
"Please," Haldir whispered, not to Eomer, who would ignore his pleas, he knew. "Please." He closed his eyes against the gore and tried to take short breaths. His bare feet bumped up against dead bodies, heavy axes, outflung limbs. "Please."
"Oh, mighty Lorien warrior." Eomer sneered. "It's no wonder your people are fading. You don't deserve a place in Middle Earth. Good for nothing but to be Saruman's dogs."
Haldir's legs gave out at the same time that his stomach emptied its contents. Eomer threw him down in disgust. "Cowardly, puking elf." Still in a bloodlust, he stormed off to exalt with Camred in their victory.
"Haldir." Trewyn's soothing voice reached him but Haldir couldn't lift his head. "Haldir, let me get you down to the water."
Haldir merely nodded, even that almost too great an effort. His grasp on Trewyn's armor was ineffectual but Trewyn carried him to the water and gently washed him free of blood and vomit and dirt. Haldir's head throbbed and his left eye was slowly swelling and cutting off his vision.
"Gods, Haldir, what have you done to your foot?" But no answer, as Haldir had finally succumbed to the demand from his body and mind for healing unconsciousness. Trewyn held the foot under water and carefully wiped it clean of dirt and grass. "Eomer! How did Haldir come by his wounds?"
Camred and Eomer joined Trewyn at the water's edge, cleaning themselves off and inspecting Haldir. Eomer related events as he remembered them, beginning with the orc that came at Haldir and ending after he had killed the second one beside his horse.
"If Haldir kicked out at the orc, the axe must have slashed his foot as the chain tangled. And that happened before you ran him through with your sword and it hit Haldir's face." Trewyn mulled over the sequence. "Eomer, it's possible that Haldir saved your life by slowing the orc."
Eomer's face was blank as he considered. "No," he declared. "The elf would not hinder his kin." But it was evident that this made sense to the warrior and it clashed mightily with the way he wanted to think of his captive.
Camred looked closely at the cut on Haldir's sole. "I think Trewyn's right, Eomer," he said. "The elf did strike out against the orc. Why would he do that if he expected them to set him free? Why would he help you? What if we are wrong and the elf is not allied with Saruman's orcs? We have done a terrible thing in holding him against his will."
"No," Eomer repeated, but his voice was a little less sure. "All elves answer to Saruman." It sounded hollow to all three men.
After binding Haldir's wounds and cleaning their own as best they could, the Riders of the Mark set a slower pace for camp, keeping careful watch. The battle had cost them time and they chose the top of a small flat hill as their home for the night, fearing to travel further in the dark.
No fire, so the last meal was cold and quick. Haldir was allowed to sit with the men, but leaned alarmingly, his balance thrown off by his head wound. Trewyn supported him so that Eomer could offer him food, but the left side of Haldir's face had swollen enough to prevent eating. Eomer stiffened, started to protest when Trewyn tilted Haldir's head against his shoulder. Trewyn held the wineskin for Haldir to drink from, glaring defiantly at Eomer.
No amount of arguing with Eomer, however, would dissuade him from chaining Haldir for the night.
The men's raised voices floated over his head. His mind sought escape. He thought of his brothers. They would have taken him to a healing house where the healers would lay him on a soft featherbed, massage his tense muscles with fragrant oils, pack his wound with athelas leaves and bind it with linen strips.
Tears formed against his will, threatened to spill down his cheeks. He was horrified but powerless to staunch their flow. As if he had not yet humiliated himself enough in front of Eomer, this would be his final undoing. But visions of home had been the key and now the door was open. Black and self-pitying thoughts overwhelmed him. I am alone. I am far from Lorien, in the company of warriors who think me pledged to Saruman and seek my death after tormenting me for knowledge I don't possess. I see now that I am not the warrior I thought; I am weak and ignorant of any but elven ways. I am hurt, hungry and weary. I want to see my woods, walk with the guardians, hear the music of the elves. I want Orophin to laugh with, Rumil to tease. I want to go home. Tears now fell freely, despite his best efforts. I am worse than the youngest elfling. But I am alone and I want to be home.
He pressed his hand to his swollen jaw, to feel pain somewhere other than his heart, to control his scattered thoughts. Eomer glanced at his face, but said nothing. His hands gentled on Haldir's ankles, pulling the leggings down so the manacles did not touch his skin.
Haldir slept fitfully through the night. One man was always on watch; Haldir could tell who each time he awakened. Camred snored lightly. Trewyn kept a comforting hand on Haldir and moved near enough to share his warmth, just as Rumil would do, Haldir thought. Eomer pressed close, possessively, but did not claim payment as Haldir feared he might.
The dawn's light found the men in good spirits, relief at defeating an orc attack combined with their pleasure at surviving another day. Why wouldn't they be happy? They are riding to a safe place, reuniting with their kin. That melancholy thought stayed with Haldir through the morning's ride.
By mid-day, they had reached the camp of the Rohan. A scout had spotted them and sounded the alert. By the time the trio and their captive had reached the small, protected valley, the entire camp had turned out to welcome them.
"We expected you yesterday," one cried as the men dismounted and handed off their horses' reins. "We thought to search for you then."
More shouts and many bodies; slapping of shoulders, hugs, mock shoves. Haldir felt in danger of being trampled, handicapped as he was by his bound hands and wounded foot. Although Eomer had hold of the tether, it was Trewyn who pulled him closer and fended off the more enthusiastic. So many of them and so big in their armor and helmets. He half-turned to press closer to Trewyn's chest.
Eomer felt the pull on the leash and looked back. Anger flashed across his face. "Trewyn, see to the horses."
Trewyn hesitated a moment, clearly torn between following his captain's orders and protecting Haldir. He pushed Haldir gently toward Eomer and turned on his heel and stormed off.
"Riders, look what we have brought back with us," Eomer's voice carried over the clamor and the men felt silent. "An elf, one of Saruman's spies. We caught him at the edge of the wood and tracked him into our lands, then captured him."
Men cheered and moved closer to inspect the enemy. Haldir's blood ran cold as they reached out curiously to caress his hair, touch his swollen face, remove his cloak; he flinched at their angry and derisive taunts. Expecting no mercy, he nevertheless stepped nearer Eomer, hoping that his ever-present possessiveness might repel the onslaught. Is this how I die, then? At the hands of men, not orcs, as I feared?
Eomer's hand took its familiar position on the back of Haldir's neck. He displayed Haldir at arm's length. "We will learn his secrets," he promised, "but first we eat."
This was met with another great cheer and the crowd moved back and circled the fire. Many provisions were brought forth and ale and wine flowed freely. As he drank, Eomer grew rougher and clumsier. At times he seemed to forget the elf, then would remember and possessively run his hands over his captive. Some caresses were gentle, others hurtful, all were degrading.
At one point during the re-telling of the orc attack, during which Camred added details in a drunken slur, his hand closed around Haldir's throat, fingers digging painfully into the swollen flesh of his jaw. By the time he related a much embellished version of the elf mewling and puking over his dead orc rescuers, he needed two hands to illustrate. Men howled and wiped tears from their eyes. Eomer let his arm drop in Haldir's lap, groping and fondling, his growing lust all too apparent. Haldir's gaze fell upon Trewyn across the camp fire and flushed, knowing he could see what Eomer was doing. He closed his eyes in shame.
"Tomorrow, we search out the orcs and strike them all dead!" Loud cheers greeted Eomer's battle cry. "So, tonight we pass around out battle mead and build our strength." More cheers and some men went for the kegs, tankards and wineskins. "Here's to the Riders of Rohan. May our battle against the dark forces be swift and victorious!
"And the elf will help us there." Quietly now, as though to himself.
Battle mead flowed freely amongst the men. At Haldir's refusal and closed mouth, Eomer at first merely shrugged. Then without warning he moved quickly, more quickly than his drunken state should allow, behind his captive, settled Haldir between his legs and forced the wineskin between his lips. Haldir struggled fiercely but Eomer kept him clasped firmly between muscled thighs, one rock-hard arm around his ribs, up between his bound hands, holding his swollen chin still. Haldir spluttered and choked but Eomer stroked his throat until he swallowed the sweet elixir. Again and again, he forced the liquid upon Haldir, drinking twice as much himself.
If nothing else, Haldir thought miserably, it makes me at ease. I can no longer feel the pain of my jaw. Although the fire has died to near embers, I am warm.
The elf glanced around, eyes moving slowly, brain receiving images as though in a dream. The sun had long ago set and light from the fire was not enough to see by, but were men lying with men? Were tunics lifted, pants pulled down? Heavy breathing, grunts, harsh cries indicated that might be so. Is this their preparation for battle? Haldir puzzled. Is this what battle mead is for, to incite lust and excitement? His mind refused to work well and he shook his head to clear the dizziness. He was much too hot now and fine tremors seem to start at his feet and flow up to his ears.
"Feeling it now, my slave?" Eomer chuckled much too close behind him. Haldir flinched. "The warmth spreading between your legs? Do you feel the urge to take someone hard just to satisfy your lust? Would it make you a stronger warrior, to impose your will upon another?"
"N-no," Haldir whispered, but Eomer's low whisper insinuated itself in his mind, and the words caused hot spikes of desire to radiate outward from his center. What is this? It is certainly not the ways of the Galadhrim. We do not use intimacy as a prelude to battle.
Then a thought ripped through him. Not love, lust. I have never felt such hunger before. Involuntarily he stiffened and thrust his hips forward. Eomer groaned loudly.
Pulling Haldir's tunic over his head, Eomer wrapped it around his chained hands, binding them still further. Ducking slightly, Eomer brought Haldir's hands back and settled them over his own head, effectively immobilizing the elf. Straightening up stretched Haldir's slighter body taut against him. A rush of heat caused the elf to gasp.
"Ah, but you do feel good, soft and smooth, unlike the rest of us." Eomer mused, "I will enjoy using you tonight."
Horrified, Haldir felt himself harden and lengthen in response to Eomer's heat against his bare back. No, no, this is so wrong. I mustn't want this. Not with him. I betray all that I hold true. Eomer's sword-roughened hands roved up and down his torso. Haldir rubbed and twisted, eager for his touch, body reacting despite his mind's demand to stop. One huge hand pressed his belly, holding him still, while the other grazed his throat, outlined his collarbone, gently pinched his nipples.
Haldir bucked and moaned, eliciting a lusty laugh from Eomer. "Like it, don't you, my own captive?"
Haldir could not have formed an answer if Lord Celeborn himself had commanded it. He panted and undulated against his captor's hard body, begging for relief. If he could just satisfy the burning between his legs, then he would think clearly, stop himself from acting like the worst of men.
Eomer tugged at Haldir's leggings and reached for the elf's shaft. Rather than granting him any ease, Eomer's rough touch heightened and sharpened Haldir's desire. Please end it, I cannot bear it. A traitorous thought formed in the far reaches of his mind: Although it is a most delicious torture.
Setting a pace that was neither hard nor fast enough, Eomer kept Haldir panting and writhing within his grasp. He unfastened his own leggings and liberated his rigid, weeping length, sliding it into the cleft of the elf's buttocks.
"Oh, I will take you now," Eomer gritted out between clenched teeth, desire coarsening his voice. "Then I will take you again, for each must spend twice before the battle mead loosens its hold."
At the feel of Eomer's demanding hardness at his most private part, Haldir's fervor doubled. Eomer's grip tightened and Haldir thrust wildly, arching hard up into Eomer's hand, falling back against his massive chest, feeling his erection seeking entrance.
"Now, my slave, now." The warrior's hand sped up and Haldir was swept into the most powerful surge he had ever felt. His sac tightened painfully and he pushed hard and harder still against the hand that held him, his essence shooting from him in long, hard spurts. His vision blanked, sound faded and Haldir whirled as if a leaf in the wind.
Limp, boneless, he relaxed against Eomer, too spent to even considering pushing away from the man he disliked and distrusted. His bound hands around Eomer's neck were his only support. He wanted to deny what just happened but it was so good. I am lost now, for I wanted it as much as he.
Eomer, however, was still caught in a frenzy. He swiped his hand through Haldir's release and coated his cock, hissing and moaning at the stimulation. He barely remembered to coat his fingers to prepare the elf and spent scant moments hurriedly stretching and loosening, as Haldir, drunk on battle mead, slowly hardened again.
He positioned himself at the elf's opening and pushed for entrance. Haldir shifted at the intrusion but Eomer held him still and slid just inside. Controlling himself with rigid determination whilst the elf adjusted, Eomer had a moment's confusion at the unusual courtesy, not normally granted to other lovers and never to slaves. He waited, then felt Haldir slide back an infinitesimal amount. Eomer's restraint broke and he thrust up hard into the elf's hot, tight channel. Haldir cried out and pushed back, though the impact of his slender body was scarcely felt by the warrior.
"Gods, this is most wondrous!" Eomer gasped. "So hot, so tight around my cock and so, so willing. Who would thought thus, my slave?"
Haldir was beyond hearing, filled as he was with Eomer's rock-hard erection that was rubbing over a most sensitive spot, causing him to jerk and moan. Such ecstasy.
Eomer fell forward, supporting himself with one solid arm, wrapping the other around Haldir's belly. Haldir, hands still slung behind Eomer's neck, hung suspended over the ground, completely at Eomer's mercy. The warrior took no pity upon Haldir's state, now aching and fully aroused as though no release had been granted. Eomer grunted and thrust, breathing erratic as his climax approached. He held tight to the elf's body, arching up hard then waiting, pushing in a little further. Once, twice, the third time giving a ringing cry, Eomer emptied himself into his thrall, groaning and grunting as his body pumped out the last of his seed.
After a moment, Eomer recovered enough to push himself off the ground, still embraced within Haldir's trembling body, and sat back on his heels, holding the elf in his lap. They both were breathing hard, albeit for different reasons.
"Eomer. Eomer!" Eomer blearily turned in the direction of Camred's voice. Camred had the look of a well-satisfied man, but one without his second release. "Eomer, how is it with the elf? Is it different?"
Eomer pulled Haldir closer to him, his possessiveness coming to the fore. "No and yes. The action is no different but the feel is incredible."
Camred's eyes glazed over in lust. "He is beautiful. Never have I seen anyone as fair, as smooth, as... " He groaned and touched himself. "Please, Eomer, let me have him."
"No." Eomer's grip was now painful. His cock, still inside Haldir, stirred and slowly filled. That intense feeling served to turn Haldir's erection to stone. He thrust forward, helpless to do anything to relieve his turgid flesh, his arms still bound around Eomer's neck.
"A taste, then, just a taste," Camred moaned.
"A taste, but only if you help me first."
"Anything, Eomer, just hurry."
Eomer withdrew from Haldir. He lifted the elf's hands over his head and directed Camred to unwind Haldir's tunic from them. Eomer fumbled with the key, then unlocked the manacles, only to pull Haldir's wrists behind his back and quickly clamp the manacles back on. "Take him now, Camred, but just a taste."
Eomer pushed Haldir's knees apart and eased his way back in, angling the elf's hips forward towards Camred. The warrior moaned with desire as he ran his hands down the slender torso. Haldir's sex strained and pulsated, dark red at the tip and weeping with desire.
Camred at first only held it in his hand. "So beautiful!" he breathed. Lowering his head, he gently took Haldir into his mouth. Haldir moaned and shuddered at the new sensation. Never would I have known such pleasure existed. He arched into Camred's warm mouth and gasped as Camred's clever tongue twirled over the throbbing head and his large hand fondled the elf's sac.
Haldir felt Eomer's hard stomach muscles shifting under his chained hands as he slowly stroked in and out of Haldir's warmth. Helpless in the grip of such stimulation, Haldir rose to meet Camred's mouth and fell back to impale himself on Eomer's length, nearly delirious with wild pleasure. Lost in his passion, he barely noticed when another warrior fell to his knees behind Camred and begin rubbing the heavy, swollen flesh between his legs. Camred shifted and rocked at the new sensation. Soon he groaned around Haldir's erection once, then spent for the second time and slid to the ground, passed out from ale, fatigue and lust satisfied.
Haldir writhed and pleaded, every nerve alive and overwrought. Eomer gave a low, vicious laugh and plunged into the elf's body all the harder, holding his hips still but not touching him to give release. He instead licked the elf's sensitive ear and nipped at his neck, then glided a hand up to play with Haldir's swollen nipples. The elf moaned and whispered constantly, begging for completion.
Eomer pumped faster, sensing ecstasy fast approaching a second time. He cried out, felt his slave's body tighten around the thickness impaling him and he spurted, hot and wet, deep into the lithe body writhing in his embrace.
Having climaxed a second time, Eomer, like Camred, slid bonelessly down. Haldir was trapped under the relaxed and heavy warrior. He gave a cry of protest, desperation giving him strength to push back against Eomer's weight. The larger man grunted at the hard lump of Haldir's bound hands in his stomach, making it too uncomfortable to sleep in that position. He pushed the elf onto his back, then laid a thick arm across Haldir's chest and laid a heavy leg across his thighs, thus effectively immobilizing his captive.
Haldir looked up at the stars, trembling with desire. His erection was still hard as rock and aching, exposed to anyone still awake. His hands were bound behind him and Eomer's deadweight pre-empted him from moving or even rubbing against the warrior's unconscious body to end this torture. With every turn, I am surprised the next can be worse, but it is. He prayed for relief, then laughed at himself. Who would help you in this situation? And what would you have them do?
"Haldir?" A whisper to his right. The elf turned his head slowly and saw the familiar face of Trewyn. He flushed and looked away. Trewyn knew what he had done and would see him hard and still wanting. The pain of unsatisfied lust was preferable to pity.
"Haldir, I know. Let me help." Trewyn's large hand gently stroked Haldir's hair, carefully caressed his bruised face, then rested on his shoulder. "It won't go away, Haldir, until after the second time. Let me help you."
Haldir shook his head and kept his face turned away, ashamed of his need in front of a man not so afflicted himself. Trewyn was not to be denied. He lifted Eomer's arm off Haldir's chest and pushed his leg away. "Roll this way."
Trewyn lay on his side facing the elf and placed Haldir's head on his shoulder. "Hush, I know, Haldir, I know," he crooned soothingly, rocking back and forth. Taking his time, Trewyn massaged Haldir's tense shoulders, leaned in to kiss his neck and ghost across collarbones.
Shuddering, Haldir relented a little, trusting Trewyn as he trusted no other man. Trewyn smiled and tongued the small pink nipples to hard points. Haldir pressed hard against the larger body, embarrassed by his urgency but needing release more. He was still half naked, his tunic tossed aside by Eomer, and his leggings were pulled to his knees. With his hands bound behind his back, he was unable to reciprocate Trewyn's caresses.
"No, no, Haldir, this is just for you," Trewyn whispered, as though he could read the elf's thoughts. "Just for you."
Haldir moved closer and pressed his face into Trewyn's neck. The heat of the big body felt good against his abused face and Trewyn's scent comforted him. One big arm went around him and held him close.
Trewyn's other hand reached down and closed over Haldir's length. Tracing its shape, he explored it from base to tip, squeezing slowly, then faster. He swirled his thumb over the head and collecting the fluid there to smooth up and down the shaft. Haldir's hips moved in shallow thrusts under Trewyn's light touch.
"Ready?"
Haldir gave a small nod, then nearly sobbed as Trewyn's fingers closed firmly around his hardness and set a pace that had Haldir bucking and arching and thrusting. He moaned and gasped, twisting in Trewyn's knowing hand, almost missing the quiet command, "Haldir, come for me now."
Relief, oh blessed relief as Trewyn held his hand still and let Haldir push into the tight channel, coming hard and vigorously, convulsing until he had at last emptied himself, breathing in harsh, panting gasps. Trewyn waited until Haldir was calm, then wiped them both with the edge of someone's discarded tunic. He tugged up on Haldir's leggings and pulled another tunic over his bare back.
"Sleep now, Haldir, get your rest," Trewyn whispered. "I'll stay with you here." Like the others before him under the influence of battle mead, Haldir fell into an immediate deep sleep, murmuring "Trewyn," just before unconsciousness claimed him.
Dawn's mists were still swirling above the ground like spirits when the men of Rohan began to stir. Battle mead did not leave behind aching heads, but instead a sense of strength and well-being. As men groaned and stretched and reached for tunics and leggings, bloodlust swept around the campfire like a wild wind. Someone started a war chant, low and ominous in its intensity.
Haldir awakened earlier but feigned sleep, comfortable in Trewyn's warm embrace, knowing this would be the last good thing he would feel all day. He thought Trewyn might know he wasn't sleeping. They both flinched at hearing Eomer groan and start to turn over. Trewyn pulled Haldir close, then reluctantly pushed him away and sat up to straighten his clothes. Haldir rolled to his other side to appear as though he slept next to Eomer.
"Up, Eomer, the morning's almost here and we want all day to slaughter orcs," Trewyn said with a laugh. "Come, Camred. Here's your undertunic."
Trewyn continued to make cheerful comments and handing clothing back to half-naked men, so it did not seem unnatural then to add, "Haldir, here's your tunic. Eomer, lend me the key so that Haldir may put his tunic on. You don't want him this way among these men!"
Eomer grunted at Trewyn's good humor but did hand over the key. Surprised at that, Trewyn pressed a little more. "I'll take him over to the stream and let him wash. Up, Haldir. Where's the cloak that I gave you yesterday?"
Haldir scrambled up, wincing as he put weight on his left foot, not trusting Eomer's acquiescence to last for long. Trewyn steadied him and together they stepped over and around waking bodies. "I lost my cloak when we arrived, someone took it off and I've not seen it since."
"No matter, we have the key. Can you walk, Haldir? Can you run? This may be your only chance, for I fear what Eomer plans for you today."
His foot ached fiercely but Haldir could ignore the pain if it meant he had a chance to escape.
"There is only a short time before the sun is up. You have that much cover to gain distance. Once it's light enough to see your tracks, they'll be on horseback after you. Follow this stream down through those hills. Then you'll have an open plain to get through, but there is a wood just beyond. Can you get that far, Haldir? If you can, mayhap you'll be home before long."
Trewyn unlocked the manacles and shoved Haldir's long suede boots into his hands. He held the elf close for a moment. "Do not think badly of all men, Haldir, there are those who respect the Firstborn and know them innocent of Saruman's taint. Now, go!"
Haldir bent to pull first one boot, then the other one. The traces of battle mead worked in his favor. He felt ready to run for days, invincible, never again vulnerable to the whims of men. He turned back to Trewyn, the one source of constant kindness in his miserable captivity and gasped.
Eomer's short dagger was cutting into the side of Trewyn's neck. A thin trickle of blood ran down below his collar. "You seem to be preparing for flight, my slave."
Haldir glanced at Trewyn. His eyes were tightly shut and his throat moved convulsively against the point of Eomer's blade. Turn and run, Haldir's mind screamed. He's not on horseback, he can't run you down himself. You owe Trewyn nothing now. Go, go! His feet felt planted in the ground. Run!
"I want to believe that you are not," Eomer continued, "for we would hunt you down like a rabbit before you could reach your master's castle. You, I would keep for the pleasure of owning an elf and bending him to my wishes. But for those comrades who aided you..., I am torn between having them dragged to death behind their own horses or confining them in a small dungeon cell for the rest of their days."
Trewyn looked at Haldir with eyes open and steady, no fear in them. "Go," he mouthed. Eomer pressed the dagger harder and Trewyn's eyes closed again.
A hundred thoughts raced through Haldir's mind; his blood ran cold. Without a bow, I am defenseless. The wound on my foot impedes me. I know not this country at all. All of those risks Haldir was willing to take for a chance to escape. But if I am caught again, my life is forfeit and Trewyn will surely die a painful death either way. Is it wiser I wait for a better time and know that he lives? Panic sluiced through his nerve endings. What if that time never comes?
Knowing that he could never live, free or in captivity, if he deliberately caused Trewyn's death, Haldir bowed his head miserably. "I sought only to protect my feet with boots. Trewyn freed my hands so that I might dress, not so that I could flee."
"Oh?" Eomer quirked an eyebrow. "And how say you, Trewyn? Is this true?" At the man's reluctant nod, Eomer went on, "Then I have you to thank that my slave is still here. You're a good man, Trewyn, to see that he could not escape. I knew you could be trusted to look after my interests."
Eomer lowered his knife and shouldered his fellow warrior out of the way. He grabbed Haldir, who tried to turn his head, and dealt him several open-handed blows. "Stupid slave. You seem determined to die at my pleasure. Perhaps I shall make you live instead." The next blow was direct to Haldir's bruised nose and the pain knocked him to his knees.
Eomer roughly yanked Haldir's hands behind his back and chained him quickly, then pulled the second set of manacles from his belt, attached one around Haldir's ankle and clasped the other end to his hands. "There, that should keep you in one place until it's time." He looked at the elf who now could neither stand nor sit and grinned.
Anguish flickered across Trewyn's face and he made an effort to reach out to Haldir. But Eomer, intentionally misreading his gesture, stayed his hand. "No, Trewyn, no need to beat him further, I'm sure the slave has learned his lesson this time. Let's go prepare for battle."
Leaving Haldir chained at the stream made him vulnerable to every soldier who came to wash. Every one of them was ablaze with battle lust, and while some only favored him with a glance, many stroked his hair, so unlike their own; others, watching for Eomer, roughly fondled him through his leggings.
Eomer called for a gathering near the fire. Haldir watched as the warriors received orders from their captain. A few ran off, to collect supplies, he supposed. The rest mounted their horses, the war chant, like an ancient drumbeat, started again, quietly at first. The men yelled and cheered and brandished their swords until the whole valley rang with their battle cries.
"Scouts, go now. Look sharp along the river and give us fair warning, that we might set the trap that kills orcs this day!" Eomer's soldiers cheered again and the small band of scouts set off.
The Riders of the Mark circled like a flock of birds, led by Eomer. The thunder of horses' hooves made the ground shake as they rode straight for the kneeling elf. Surrounded by snorting, stamping horses, unable to move, Haldir looked up at Eomer, wondering if this was the moment he would forfeit his life.
Eomer's smile was small and cruel. "Trewyn, free the elf. Do you still have the key? Yes? Good, keep his hands bound behind his back, but undo the other chain and hand him to me."
Stiffly, Trewyn moved to Haldir's back and undid the chain binding ankle to hands. He guided Haldir to a standing position, waiting until circulation returned and Haldir could put weight on his injured foot. "Stay strong, Haldir," he whispered as they stepped toward Eomer's mount.
Eomer reached down and pulled Haldir by his hair and one arm to the saddle. Today there were no lewd touches or whispered threats. Eomer ignored Haldir as he turned and shouted for the men and they rode out of the valley and out to the top of the first hill. From there, the company split up.
By mid-afternoon they were waiting at the top of a small rise at the mouth of a narrow passage between sparsely wooded hills. Eomer was alert, awaiting a sign, casting an experienced soldier's eye in all directions. His body tensed and he silently signaled the others. A scout appeared in the pass and a rider rode to meet him. When he returned, he reported to Eomer, "This is the place and it will be soon." Eomer nodded.
From behind him, Haldir could hear several other riders canter down the hill. At their whistle, Eomer jerked his horse's head around and joined them. Trewyn called out to him, but he paid no heed.
At the head of the pass, its narrowest point, his soldiers had erected two wooden stakes, about a shoulder's width apart. Eomer dismounted and inspected their work. "Good job. Hurry, we haven't much time."
Haldir was yanked from the saddle and pulled toward the stakes. Struggling was in vain, as the soldiers held him in an iron grip. "This is where you earn your keep, captive," Eomer told him. "Lift his arms up and slide them over the stakes. Hold his legs whilst I chain them, too."
Within moments, Haldir was immobilized, wrists behind the two stakes that reached to his shoulders, ankles chained in front. From a distance, with the stakes hidden by his body, he would look as though he was standing there of his own accord.
"Call your orc kin to you now, elf," Eomer taunted, "we wish to spill more of their blood today." And with that, he and his men rode back to the small rise.
Haldir's mind was flushed with panic. I am here as bait. Out in the open, unable to run, without any means to defend myself. Fear threatened to undo him and he nearly capitulated to some very un-elflike wails. Steady, Haldir. Remember who you are. That worked for a moment. But orcs!
Shadows were just beginning to hit the valley when a distance rumble began. Haldir's limbs tensed and he quaked in fear, despite his best intentions. He turned his head to either side but could not see any horsemen. Had he been abandoned here? He thought not, but knew Eomer cared nothing for his well-being.
The sounds grew stronger and Haldir's attention was fixed at the curve into the pass. Between one breath and the next, movement could be seen, and then it all happened very quickly. Three huge orcs were leading a pack, setting a strong pace; they covered ground quickly. As they drew closer, the lead orc, largest by far, held up an arm. The group waited as he and the other two sniffed the air and cocked their heads, listening.
Hearing nothing to alarm them, they bounded up to Haldir, giving him hardly time to cry out. Dead orcs had nothing on the horror that was a living orc. Haldir could scarcely breath, his chest constricted so tightly against the pounding of his heart. They were huge, muscular, terrifying. Haldir watched in horror, frozen, as a hand reached out for him. The claws tangled in his hair, pulled some free, then traced across his face, leaving red scratches in their wake. The second orc leaned in and sniffed him from ear to chest, then lapped a trail up his neck. Their saliva-flecked mouths opened over small pointed teeth and Haldir prepared to be ripped to shreds. They dealt the elf several blows to determine if he was indeed alive, then for the joy of hurting him, and the last few so that they could lap up his blood.
Apparently sensing no danger, the lead orc motioned the others forward. "We'll take him, too. The master will be pleased." He puzzled for a moment over the chains binding Haldir's limbs, but then shrugged and begin to pull one stake from the ground.
His attention was focused for the moment on his task, but there was a small, human-like cry from within the pack. Haldir, though stiff with fear, turned at the sound and saw a small band of horsemen riding down the hill, yelling and gesturing towards the orcs. They all tensed, dropped whatever they were carrying and grabbed spears and maces and axes, prepared for battle against these few foolish men.
Movement from the left caught Haldir's eye and he went boneless in relief at the sight of Eomer's band approaching from behind the orcs and the third contingent surging up the narrow pass.
The orcs were slow to realize the threats were three-fold and the men had the advantage from the start. The battle ebbed and surged around Haldir and he was helpless to move away from horses, bodies and weapons. Blood spurted across him and he flinched away from the worst of the blows.
"Haldir, Haldir!" Relief surged through the elf's body at the sound of Trewyn's voice. An emotion that might be akin to love, as elves understood it, welled up for the kind warrior. "I still have the key, Haldir, let me unlock your feet first."
"Yes, yes," Haldir whispered. How glad I am that I waited, this offers better hope of escape: confusion of battle, night approaching, the prospect that Trewyn will not be blamed. And, thank you, Elbereth, there are woods within sight."
He felt Trewyn's hands easing off the manacles and rubbing his legs quickly for circulation. He stood up then behind the elf and worked at the lock at his wrists. "Hurry, Trewyn!"
Trewyn's hands grasped Haldir's tightly, too tightly, it hurt, then his big body fell against the stakes and shuddered. Loud, liquid breaths sounded in Haldir's ear. "Trewyn? Trewyn? Trewyn, please!"
Haldir frantically tried to turn. Trewyn's large hand rested on his shoulder briefly. "I am sorry, Haldir," he said faintly, then his hand slipped and Haldir sensed his body clumsily sliding to the ground. An emotion as unfamiliar as love for a man permeated Haldir's soul. Such overwhelming sadness, deep, endless despair, grief beyond Haldir's experience. He howled to relieve the pain in his heart. The battle faded away from his consciousness. Trewyn! He bowed his head and prayed for the end.
|
