Rhtalk watched the crippled elf meditatively. Besides the obvious one, he saw no defects. He had good arms and sound wind; he might be useless in the army, but it could add efficiency if there was more strength on the machines. No, he'd set the elf to smithying; it would free up an abler body for the Master's army.
"Hold!" he ordered the orcs dragging the subject of his scrutiny. "Bring him to me."
Reyn struggled a little, but previous tests of the strength of his captors had taught him it was useless. The orcs felt like they were made of the same stone as the tower. His arms bore mute testimony to their might in the form of several already purpling bruises. The abomination jerked his left arm out of the grasp of one of the two, and looked measuringly into his face.
"You can use a hammer." It was not a question.
"I could do many things, most of them require two legs." Am I trying to get myself killed? Reyn wondered abstractly.
"You will be in the forges. I do not tolerate slaves who don't pull their weight." He smiled coldly. "I don't like backtalk either." His nails dug into Reyn's arm, feeling remarkably like claws, cutting off the circulation. Reyn bit his tongue on the remark he would have liked to have made and kept silent save for a muttered "I hadn't noticed."
The half-orc leaned in, his breath hot and foul on the elf's face, his squinty yellow eyes looking directly into Reyn's defiant grey ones, a cruel smirk on his face. "If you don't keep up, it will be my great pleasure to slit your scrawny throat. I've always enjoyed stewed meat..."
There wasn't much Reyn could say to that.
****
It near broke Reynion's already bruised heart to watch Taurėwen try to heal Talas. He didn't think that she would be able to; her brother's eyes had all the life of the stone he slept on every night. Less, actually, for the stone was at least warm, from all those who lay on it, and d.ead. Talas' eyes were just d.ead.
On the fifth night, he tried to pull her away from her brother. "Taurewen, you'll kill yourself!"
"No! Let me try, please. I have to try..." her eyes pleaded with him, and his resolve melted. He let her go, and watched with aching heart as she tried to wake her brother back to his former life.
****
His arms ached, the stump of his leg was rubbed raw from the rough leg that the orcs had supplied him with, and his eyes were watery from the smoke in the forges. Consequently, he didn't see the orcs who decided that a lame elf would make a good target for sport. His first indication of trouble was the fact that his wooden leg was suddenly no longer underneath him and the ground was approaching his face with frightening speed.
The impact knocked the wind out of him and felt like it might have broken his nose as well. He tried to roll over, but found that the thick leather boots, thankfully not armored, of his attackers were finding tender places to rest in his back and sides. And his already aching head. He held back a groan, wondering when the abuse would stop this time. It seemed that a different set of orcs tormented him every day...
A shriek of rage interrupted and the kicks of the overseers suddenly ceased. Reynion rolled over and looked up in time to see Gilbereth smash in their skulls with a piece of scrap metal. He tried to wince in sympathy and grin in relief at the same time and ended up doing neither. His ribs felt like they were about to stab through his heart and his chest felt like it would collapse.
So of course when Gilbereth asked, "You all right?" he answered with a weak "fine." Compared to some of the others, he was fine. Compared to his condition before this mission, he was nearly d.ead.
The younger elf helped him to his foot, and they slowly trudged back to the Cage...
[ October 02, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]
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