[Belin]

Hithduiniel followed the others miserably, thinking only of the water dripping from her hair and the constant ache in her muscles. She hated horses. She hated being silent, and she hated the languages of Men. Come to think of it, she also hated Men. Especially these ones.

The day did not pass quickly. The brigands insisted on keeping the horses at literally dizzying speeds. Hithduiniel rode with her eyes closed, trusting that her horse would follow the others.

The day did not pass quickly, but it did pass. They were nearing the forest again when Thorondruin called a halt. Gratefully, Hithduiniel slid off her horse. With some effort, and the aid of her elvish grace, she managed to remain standing, and within a few moments was struggling to resume some semblance of her customary look of scorn.

"Ready for dinner?" asked Himelilek, with a sneer. Hithduiniel turned a pale face and a rather vacant stare to her, as Thorondruin roughly pulled the sack off its own horse and opened it.

Livia, bruised and discouraged, stared out, unmoving.

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The rain had abated into a drizzle, nothing serious enough to prevent them from making a small, furtive fire that they'd carefully extinguished before sleeping, and only the light of the brightest of stars shone through the clouds. Hithduiniel lay as still as she could, staring up at that one bright spark in the restless darkness and listening to Ozracles walk back and forth on the watch, which Thorondruin refused to leave to Himelilek any longer. She shivered in the thin blanket they'd provided, planning. Livia was once again in a sack, at a distance from her that would have seemed short under other circumstances. But Hithduiniel had great confidence in her own quiet feet, as well as the wooden knife she carried in her boot to fight off unfriendly beasts.

In the distance, another pair of travelers had used less care in making their fire. Ozracles stared suspiciously into the distance as the delicate odor of far-off smoke came to his nostrils. What would anyone be doing out here? He moved toward the smell, frowning. He knew that elf-girl would be nothing but trouble, and surely she was somehow responsible for this.

Hithduiniel silently got to her hands and knees and crawled over the wet stones to where the strange girl lay. Her knife was out before she got there, and, as carefully as she could, she sliced the bag open.

Livia started. The wet air came in upon her suddently, and a figure was leaning over her, whispering something she didn't exactly understand, and the next moment she was being pulled to her feet and a knife placed in her hand. "Who are you?" she hissed.

"Come on," answered the Elf, in a language that was almost Sindarin. Livia sighed suddenly, remembering Tannor, and the lessons he'd given her in that language. Home seemed infinitely far away, and she wondered if she would ever see him again. Bit Hithduiniel was tugging on her arm. The presence of mind Livia had picked up living in an inn did not abandon her. "Horses?" she suggested, pointing. The Elf only made a face and tugged her along, but Livia clicked quietly at one of the horses, and it came up behind them.

"Had enough of our company already, have you?"

Ozracles stood before them, glowering. Livia tried to suppress her sharp intake of breath as Hithduiniel seized her wrist and hesitated. The wind changed, and the sky rumbled.

It was impossible to say whose impulse had driven it, but suddenly Ozracles was much closer to them then he had been, as if he'd lunged forward, and the knife had leapt forth to meet him.

He wore no armor. The knife buried itself between his ribs. Two pairs of eyes in two pale faces stared at him in the suddenly pouring rain and the startling flash of lightning, as they all stood frozen and silent. Hithduiniel had never looked at the barbarian's face closely before, and was suddenly afraid of his clenched jaw and glazed eyes, barely visible in the close-pressing darkness. Livia's fingers loosened from the knife's hilt, and the barbarian tumbled forward with a horrible gurgling sound.

"You're a murderer," whispered Hithduiniel.

"Me? You were the one that--"

"O Oromë, he's still alive."

The bulky figure, prone and struggling, reached toward them. More moments passed. The lightning flashed again, and Hithduiniel hoarsely whispered, "Run."

They ran.

[ November 22, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]