The Spoils of War - Chapter 2
Well, this week saw the end of the peace and quiet in my house for a while. Son & daughter-in-law will be moving out of the apartment and into daughter's bedroom, while she will be taking over the apartment (finances being a key issue in this necessity) and so stuff shifting from one end of the place to the other is going to be quite unsettling for a while. It's a good thing I'm not seriously being pushed on anything at the moment.
Daughter definitely wants me working on Original Fiction (or O-fic, in the jargon) and I have a novel about 3/4s done in first draft that she gave me five hours worth of concrit on, including extensive brainstorming aimed at helping me finish the darned thing. Yes, I do need to do this. No, I'm not certain my Muse wants to cooperate. But everytime I start skimming those 12 pages worth of hand-written notes, the Muse perks up her ears a little. We'll have to see.
All of that as prelude to today's offering: the second chapter of The Spoils of War. Enjoy!
Chapter 2 - Chains
"Aur vae."
Inzilanî jerked away with a small cry of fright at the jostling her shoulder was getting. Her keeper raised his hand carefully and showed her that he was pulling away, but then gestured. A quick look around told her that it was full morning already. Whatever was planned for her would probably happen this day. She had rested better in this huge bed, alone and unmolested for the first night in over three years, but knew better than to hope that this was a turn in her luck, although Destiny normally didn't change for girls like her.
Her keeper gestured again, and she nodded and threw the covers back. It was chilled in the tent, out from the protection of the blanket and furred robe that she had huddled beneath, and without thinking, her teeth chattered. The nimir blinked in surprise, then dragged the fur from the bed and surrounded her with it. Inzilanî didn't know what to do at the unexpected kindness except to clutch at the edges of the fur and hold them tightly. She watched him with wide eyes, not having the slightest idea what to expect anymore - from him or his people.
He beckoned her back to the table, where a plate waited for her in what was obviously intended as "her" place. On it was another slice of that wonderful bread, what looked to be a thin wedge from a wheel of cheese, and more of the nuts and berries that had decorated her plate the night before. And as she cautiously took her seat, her keeper went past her to the pitcher and poured another liberal cup of water for her and brought it back to the table.
He wasn't content to just watch her this morning. He reached and patted his fingers against the table, not truly attempting to touch her, and then brought his hand back to his chest once he had her attention. He said a few words, and then pointed to her. Inzilanî slowed in her eating to watch him carefully. He tapped his chest. "Borongil." Then he pointed to her.
Was he asking her name? Once more she was completely confused, but with her eyes wide to show her uncertainty she pulled her hand back from the plate and tapped herself on the chest as he had. "Inzilanî."
The beautiful face of her keeper broke into an unexpected smile. "Mae!" He pointed to her. "Inzilanî," and then pointed to himself. "Borongil."
"Borongil," she carefully repeated the sounds of his name, marveling at how different the sounds of his language felt on her tongue. Then, embarrassed at looking at him for so long without chastisement, she looked back down at her plate and busied herself pushing the nuts around. The bread was very filling, and the cheese had a tang to it that was unfamiliar but tasty. The water was as sweet as it had been the night before, and as appreciated. But at last the food was gone, and she sat back in her chair, her gaze properly focused on her hands in her lap, to await her next orders.
Borongil, however, evidently knew exactly what was to be done next, and he went to the tent flap and once more spoke words to someone without. After a few moment, he held the flap open for another nimir to come into the tent bearing tools. Inzilanî took one look at the chisel and hammer and fled to the bed and huddled herself as tightly as she could against the wooden headboard, shaking her head vehemently as tears poured down her cheeks. They were going to take off her fingers and toes, she just knew it! She'd been forced to watch the urik do something similar to a captive not that long ago using tools similar to those. She was ready to die, but not be slowly put to agonized torture! Here and she had almost begun to trust Borongil…
The nimir's face grew almost panicked, and he quickly stopped the other from coming any further into the tent and then went over to the bed. His words grew soft and his fingertips touched her hair lightly as he shook his head, but Inzilanî continued to shudder and sob. Finally he lifted a finger and tapped it gently against her cheek until he had her full attention, and then he touched the exposed manacle on one of her ankles, and then made a gesture like pulling the metal ring away. He was going to take them off?
Inzilanî's eyes grew even larger. Why would he do that? Wouldn't he be afraid that she would bolt and run away? Then again… She thought for a long moment, remembering just how far they had traveled in that dark forest the night before. Forests had bad things in them - things the Dark Lord had set free in order to take their toll on the nimîr long before the battle. If she ran, she ran to certain death. Her only chance at life was here, with the nimîr, for as long as it suited them to keep her alive. She gazed warily at Borongil, her tears slowing, not entirely ready to extend her trust again.
Borongil held up a finger again, catching her attention once more, and then began to mimic using the tools that the other one had brought, as if he held the chisel against the lockpin of the manacles and tapped it with the hammer. Then he gestured opening the metal ring and throwing it away. The expression on his face grew hopeful. "Na?" he asked gently, and extended his hand to her.
She looked over at the other nimir and shuddered. That beautiful face was folded into an expression of distaste that she knew all too well. That one was no more pleased at being around her than she was at his presence. Inzilanî looked back at Borongil, seeing his hand extended to her without resorting to just dragging her where he wanted her whether she liked it or not, and she wished she knew whether she could trust him or not.
Obviously, the other nimir had no compunctions about getting her to do what he wanted, because suddenly a harsh, tight hand closed around her leg and dragged her roughly to the edge of the bed. She gave a terrified squeak, but then stared as Borongil shoved his fellow warrior back away from her with harsh words and a deep frown, placing himself between the newcomer and her. While the two argued loudly, hands flying in all direction to punctuate their words, she carefully crept backwards until her back was against the headboard again, with her feet tucked in beneath her and her arms wrapped about her.
A loud voice growled from outside the tent, and suddenly the flap lifted to allow the golden Great One entry. Inzilanî shuddered, realizing that there was no escape for her at all anymore. He was here now, and surely he would have his way. If it was his wish that she lose her digits, she would lose them - and quickly too. A black cloud of resignation descended on her, and she quickly scuttled off the bed to land on her knees in the grass and press her face to the ground as well. The warriors' argument ceased immediately, as one after another was pressed with impatient questions. She curled her fingers into the palms of her hands, knowing the attempt to protect them to be utterly futile. One warrior would hold her down while the other would simply…
"Inzilanî." Borongil's voice called to her, but the Great One was in the tent. Inzilanî had learned the hard way to prostrate herself properly when someone in authority was close by, and she had no wish to repeat that lesson on top of losing her fingers and toes. She whimpered and shuddered hard, but didn't budge.
There was another conference, this time with lowered voices. Then movement came close. "Inzilanî." This time, it was the voice of the Great One, in a firm tone that brooked no disobedience. A firm hand caught at her beneath her arm and pulled at her to straighten. Too terrified to fight, she sat back on her heels, tucking her hands into her armpits protectively, and kept her eyes trained on the bent blades of grass in front of her.
Once more, her chin was grasped firmly and turned upwards, and she found herself looking at the Great One and his frightening green eyes. Movement from behind the Great One drew a quick glance, and it was the angry nimir, pulling a heavy stone through the flaps of the tent. Once the stone was positioned, the angry one turned and glared at her, arms crossed over his chest, the hammer and chisel held at the ready.
Inzilanî looked back at the Great One, her eyes filling and then overflowing with fat tears of dread and fear, and shook her head pleadingly. Implacably, he held out his hand to her. She looked around, but Borongil was no help, being nowhere in sight. The Great One spoke a word, and she was fairly certain she knew exactly what he had said. Her moment of doom was at hand, and she was going to suffer horribly before finally given release to her ancestors. She was shaking so hard she could hardly control herself, but she forced herself to finally put a hand in that large paw waiting to grab it.
Not surprisingly, the Great One wasted no time pulling her to her feet and then pulling her toward the angry one and the waiting stone. No matter how hard she dragged against him, he was able to keep her moving in the direction he wished her to go. The two nimîr consulted, and then the Great One pulled her hand out to rest on the stone, holding her in place by the elbow and forearm. When she began to struggle, hitting his hand and anything else she could reach with her free one, she felt someone come up from behind her and catch her about the chest, capturing her free arm and quelling her struggles. Borongil had betrayed her, just as she feared he would. The angry one unfolded his arms and came toward her with the hammer and chisel, eyeing her extended hand with obvious expertise.
Not wanting to watch, knowing she'd feel it the moment the chisel bit into her flesh, Inzilanî closed her eyes and turned her head, already keening. The Great One spoke again, a single word, an order, and the tent filled with the sound of metal striking metal. But the sound wasn't accompanied by agony, and she cut off the keening abruptly in surprise when she felt the metal ring about her wrist manipulated and then, miraculously, loosen. She opened her eyes to stare as the angry nimir gave another hard twist on the two halves of the manacle, which then fell away.
The Great One immediately let go of her arm, and Borongil let go of her entirely. She slowly pulled her hand back disbelievingly, staring at her intact fingers and cradling the one hand in the other. Unable to think clearly, she dared look up into the terrible and beautiful face of the Great One, only to find those green eyes gazing back at her with shock, compassion, and sorrow. When he again stretched out a hand to hers, and indicated with a nod that he wanted the other hand, she didn't shake quite so badly when she gave it to him. She didn't need Borongil to hold her still, for this time she didn't struggle. She didn't look away either, and it was soon made clear that the angry one was very good with his chisel and hammer. Once more, it took only a single blow and then some twisting to have her other wrist free as well.
This time, when she looked up at him, the Great One was genuinely smiling at her in encouragement, and Inzilanî snapped her mouth shut and looked away in embarrassment to be so closely under his scrutiny. However, the moment her mind began working again, she dropped to her knees and put her forehead into the dirt at the Great One's feet. Even if he demanded that she service him now, in front of these others, she wouldn't fight or struggle. The horror of torture had been lifted from her; now all she had to do was endure until it was time for her execution. But he still deserved proper respect…
"Baw." The word was said kindly, and strong hands once more lifted her from the ground and held up her from beneath her arms until she put her feet down to hold herself. Confused, she glanced back up into the Great One's face, only to see him shake his head at her, along with shaking a finger before her nose. He didn't want her to prostrate herself? But…
Borongil had brought over one of the chairs, and a pointed finger from the golden one had Inzilanî moving quickly in answer to a wordless demand that she sit. One by one, she lifted her feet willingly to the stone as directed; and each time, the manacles fell away from her ankles with a single blow of the hammer to the chisel and some determined twisting of the metal. The Great One oversaw the entire process, standing aside silently now with his arms folded over his chest.
The deed finished, the angry one tucked the hammer and chisel into his belt and began to man-handle the stone from the tent. Inzilanî could only stare at him, and then hesitantly back up at the Great One as that one spoke briefly to Borongil and then, with a shallow bow and a hand to his heart, he turned to leave.
"Pharazôn!" she cried, unable to think of any other name for him but one that spoke of his golden hair and the golden light that seemed to surround him. He turned, his face clearly surprised, and Inzilanî stood and walked over to him. Hoping beyond all hope that touching him without being asked would not offend or insult, she sank to her knees before him and bore his hand to the top of her head, offering herself to him freely. Better to be the bed comfort of one such as this than of any uruk captain or even of one of her own people. In those startling green eyes, the color of the first leaves of spring, she had seen kindness, and she didn't want to leave it.
"Sidh," was the reply, and the hand slipped gently from her head to once more lift her from the grass. Pharazôn then brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek before looking back at Borongil and speaking words that were clearly directions. The warrior nodded agreement and then pressed his hand to his heart and bowed. Then, gifting her with a brief but warm smile, Pharazôn turned and left the tent.
"Inzilanî." Borongil's summons broke through her reverie about how all the stories that she and her people had heard told about the nimîr had to be utterly wrong. She turned to gape at the sight of him pulling more clothing from the wooden box - this time leggings and a tunic, and boots, of all things - and placing them on the bed. When he pointed to them, she nodded and smiled at him. He hadn't betrayed her; he'd merely served his General or King - or whatever Pharazôn was to the nimîr.
Maybe she could trust him after all.
Vocabulary (A) Adúnaic (S) Sindarin
aur vae - (S) good morning
baw - (S) no, don't
mae - (S) good, well
na - (S) yes
nimir - (A) Elf (sing)
nimîr - (A) Elves (plural)
Pharazôn - (A) Golden One
sidh - (S) peace, calm
urik - (A) orc (nominative case)
uruk - (A) orc (objective case)
Daughter definitely wants me working on Original Fiction (or O-fic, in the jargon) and I have a novel about 3/4s done in first draft that she gave me five hours worth of concrit on, including extensive brainstorming aimed at helping me finish the darned thing. Yes, I do need to do this. No, I'm not certain my Muse wants to cooperate. But everytime I start skimming those 12 pages worth of hand-written notes, the Muse perks up her ears a little. We'll have to see.
All of that as prelude to today's offering: the second chapter of The Spoils of War. Enjoy!
Chapter 2 - Chains
"Aur vae."
Inzilanî jerked away with a small cry of fright at the jostling her shoulder was getting. Her keeper raised his hand carefully and showed her that he was pulling away, but then gestured. A quick look around told her that it was full morning already. Whatever was planned for her would probably happen this day. She had rested better in this huge bed, alone and unmolested for the first night in over three years, but knew better than to hope that this was a turn in her luck, although Destiny normally didn't change for girls like her.
Her keeper gestured again, and she nodded and threw the covers back. It was chilled in the tent, out from the protection of the blanket and furred robe that she had huddled beneath, and without thinking, her teeth chattered. The nimir blinked in surprise, then dragged the fur from the bed and surrounded her with it. Inzilanî didn't know what to do at the unexpected kindness except to clutch at the edges of the fur and hold them tightly. She watched him with wide eyes, not having the slightest idea what to expect anymore - from him or his people.
He beckoned her back to the table, where a plate waited for her in what was obviously intended as "her" place. On it was another slice of that wonderful bread, what looked to be a thin wedge from a wheel of cheese, and more of the nuts and berries that had decorated her plate the night before. And as she cautiously took her seat, her keeper went past her to the pitcher and poured another liberal cup of water for her and brought it back to the table.
He wasn't content to just watch her this morning. He reached and patted his fingers against the table, not truly attempting to touch her, and then brought his hand back to his chest once he had her attention. He said a few words, and then pointed to her. Inzilanî slowed in her eating to watch him carefully. He tapped his chest. "Borongil." Then he pointed to her.
Was he asking her name? Once more she was completely confused, but with her eyes wide to show her uncertainty she pulled her hand back from the plate and tapped herself on the chest as he had. "Inzilanî."
The beautiful face of her keeper broke into an unexpected smile. "Mae!" He pointed to her. "Inzilanî," and then pointed to himself. "Borongil."
"Borongil," she carefully repeated the sounds of his name, marveling at how different the sounds of his language felt on her tongue. Then, embarrassed at looking at him for so long without chastisement, she looked back down at her plate and busied herself pushing the nuts around. The bread was very filling, and the cheese had a tang to it that was unfamiliar but tasty. The water was as sweet as it had been the night before, and as appreciated. But at last the food was gone, and she sat back in her chair, her gaze properly focused on her hands in her lap, to await her next orders.
Borongil, however, evidently knew exactly what was to be done next, and he went to the tent flap and once more spoke words to someone without. After a few moment, he held the flap open for another nimir to come into the tent bearing tools. Inzilanî took one look at the chisel and hammer and fled to the bed and huddled herself as tightly as she could against the wooden headboard, shaking her head vehemently as tears poured down her cheeks. They were going to take off her fingers and toes, she just knew it! She'd been forced to watch the urik do something similar to a captive not that long ago using tools similar to those. She was ready to die, but not be slowly put to agonized torture! Here and she had almost begun to trust Borongil…
The nimir's face grew almost panicked, and he quickly stopped the other from coming any further into the tent and then went over to the bed. His words grew soft and his fingertips touched her hair lightly as he shook his head, but Inzilanî continued to shudder and sob. Finally he lifted a finger and tapped it gently against her cheek until he had her full attention, and then he touched the exposed manacle on one of her ankles, and then made a gesture like pulling the metal ring away. He was going to take them off?
Inzilanî's eyes grew even larger. Why would he do that? Wouldn't he be afraid that she would bolt and run away? Then again… She thought for a long moment, remembering just how far they had traveled in that dark forest the night before. Forests had bad things in them - things the Dark Lord had set free in order to take their toll on the nimîr long before the battle. If she ran, she ran to certain death. Her only chance at life was here, with the nimîr, for as long as it suited them to keep her alive. She gazed warily at Borongil, her tears slowing, not entirely ready to extend her trust again.
Borongil held up a finger again, catching her attention once more, and then began to mimic using the tools that the other one had brought, as if he held the chisel against the lockpin of the manacles and tapped it with the hammer. Then he gestured opening the metal ring and throwing it away. The expression on his face grew hopeful. "Na?" he asked gently, and extended his hand to her.
She looked over at the other nimir and shuddered. That beautiful face was folded into an expression of distaste that she knew all too well. That one was no more pleased at being around her than she was at his presence. Inzilanî looked back at Borongil, seeing his hand extended to her without resorting to just dragging her where he wanted her whether she liked it or not, and she wished she knew whether she could trust him or not.
Obviously, the other nimir had no compunctions about getting her to do what he wanted, because suddenly a harsh, tight hand closed around her leg and dragged her roughly to the edge of the bed. She gave a terrified squeak, but then stared as Borongil shoved his fellow warrior back away from her with harsh words and a deep frown, placing himself between the newcomer and her. While the two argued loudly, hands flying in all direction to punctuate their words, she carefully crept backwards until her back was against the headboard again, with her feet tucked in beneath her and her arms wrapped about her.
A loud voice growled from outside the tent, and suddenly the flap lifted to allow the golden Great One entry. Inzilanî shuddered, realizing that there was no escape for her at all anymore. He was here now, and surely he would have his way. If it was his wish that she lose her digits, she would lose them - and quickly too. A black cloud of resignation descended on her, and she quickly scuttled off the bed to land on her knees in the grass and press her face to the ground as well. The warriors' argument ceased immediately, as one after another was pressed with impatient questions. She curled her fingers into the palms of her hands, knowing the attempt to protect them to be utterly futile. One warrior would hold her down while the other would simply…
"Inzilanî." Borongil's voice called to her, but the Great One was in the tent. Inzilanî had learned the hard way to prostrate herself properly when someone in authority was close by, and she had no wish to repeat that lesson on top of losing her fingers and toes. She whimpered and shuddered hard, but didn't budge.
There was another conference, this time with lowered voices. Then movement came close. "Inzilanî." This time, it was the voice of the Great One, in a firm tone that brooked no disobedience. A firm hand caught at her beneath her arm and pulled at her to straighten. Too terrified to fight, she sat back on her heels, tucking her hands into her armpits protectively, and kept her eyes trained on the bent blades of grass in front of her.
Once more, her chin was grasped firmly and turned upwards, and she found herself looking at the Great One and his frightening green eyes. Movement from behind the Great One drew a quick glance, and it was the angry nimir, pulling a heavy stone through the flaps of the tent. Once the stone was positioned, the angry one turned and glared at her, arms crossed over his chest, the hammer and chisel held at the ready.
Inzilanî looked back at the Great One, her eyes filling and then overflowing with fat tears of dread and fear, and shook her head pleadingly. Implacably, he held out his hand to her. She looked around, but Borongil was no help, being nowhere in sight. The Great One spoke a word, and she was fairly certain she knew exactly what he had said. Her moment of doom was at hand, and she was going to suffer horribly before finally given release to her ancestors. She was shaking so hard she could hardly control herself, but she forced herself to finally put a hand in that large paw waiting to grab it.
Not surprisingly, the Great One wasted no time pulling her to her feet and then pulling her toward the angry one and the waiting stone. No matter how hard she dragged against him, he was able to keep her moving in the direction he wished her to go. The two nimîr consulted, and then the Great One pulled her hand out to rest on the stone, holding her in place by the elbow and forearm. When she began to struggle, hitting his hand and anything else she could reach with her free one, she felt someone come up from behind her and catch her about the chest, capturing her free arm and quelling her struggles. Borongil had betrayed her, just as she feared he would. The angry one unfolded his arms and came toward her with the hammer and chisel, eyeing her extended hand with obvious expertise.
Not wanting to watch, knowing she'd feel it the moment the chisel bit into her flesh, Inzilanî closed her eyes and turned her head, already keening. The Great One spoke again, a single word, an order, and the tent filled with the sound of metal striking metal. But the sound wasn't accompanied by agony, and she cut off the keening abruptly in surprise when she felt the metal ring about her wrist manipulated and then, miraculously, loosen. She opened her eyes to stare as the angry nimir gave another hard twist on the two halves of the manacle, which then fell away.
The Great One immediately let go of her arm, and Borongil let go of her entirely. She slowly pulled her hand back disbelievingly, staring at her intact fingers and cradling the one hand in the other. Unable to think clearly, she dared look up into the terrible and beautiful face of the Great One, only to find those green eyes gazing back at her with shock, compassion, and sorrow. When he again stretched out a hand to hers, and indicated with a nod that he wanted the other hand, she didn't shake quite so badly when she gave it to him. She didn't need Borongil to hold her still, for this time she didn't struggle. She didn't look away either, and it was soon made clear that the angry one was very good with his chisel and hammer. Once more, it took only a single blow and then some twisting to have her other wrist free as well.
This time, when she looked up at him, the Great One was genuinely smiling at her in encouragement, and Inzilanî snapped her mouth shut and looked away in embarrassment to be so closely under his scrutiny. However, the moment her mind began working again, she dropped to her knees and put her forehead into the dirt at the Great One's feet. Even if he demanded that she service him now, in front of these others, she wouldn't fight or struggle. The horror of torture had been lifted from her; now all she had to do was endure until it was time for her execution. But he still deserved proper respect…
"Baw." The word was said kindly, and strong hands once more lifted her from the ground and held up her from beneath her arms until she put her feet down to hold herself. Confused, she glanced back up into the Great One's face, only to see him shake his head at her, along with shaking a finger before her nose. He didn't want her to prostrate herself? But…
Borongil had brought over one of the chairs, and a pointed finger from the golden one had Inzilanî moving quickly in answer to a wordless demand that she sit. One by one, she lifted her feet willingly to the stone as directed; and each time, the manacles fell away from her ankles with a single blow of the hammer to the chisel and some determined twisting of the metal. The Great One oversaw the entire process, standing aside silently now with his arms folded over his chest.
The deed finished, the angry one tucked the hammer and chisel into his belt and began to man-handle the stone from the tent. Inzilanî could only stare at him, and then hesitantly back up at the Great One as that one spoke briefly to Borongil and then, with a shallow bow and a hand to his heart, he turned to leave.
"Pharazôn!" she cried, unable to think of any other name for him but one that spoke of his golden hair and the golden light that seemed to surround him. He turned, his face clearly surprised, and Inzilanî stood and walked over to him. Hoping beyond all hope that touching him without being asked would not offend or insult, she sank to her knees before him and bore his hand to the top of her head, offering herself to him freely. Better to be the bed comfort of one such as this than of any uruk captain or even of one of her own people. In those startling green eyes, the color of the first leaves of spring, she had seen kindness, and she didn't want to leave it.
"Sidh," was the reply, and the hand slipped gently from her head to once more lift her from the grass. Pharazôn then brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek before looking back at Borongil and speaking words that were clearly directions. The warrior nodded agreement and then pressed his hand to his heart and bowed. Then, gifting her with a brief but warm smile, Pharazôn turned and left the tent.
"Inzilanî." Borongil's summons broke through her reverie about how all the stories that she and her people had heard told about the nimîr had to be utterly wrong. She turned to gape at the sight of him pulling more clothing from the wooden box - this time leggings and a tunic, and boots, of all things - and placing them on the bed. When he pointed to them, she nodded and smiled at him. He hadn't betrayed her; he'd merely served his General or King - or whatever Pharazôn was to the nimîr.
Maybe she could trust him after all.
Vocabulary (A) Adúnaic (S) Sindarin
aur vae - (S) good morning
baw - (S) no, don't
mae - (S) good, well
na - (S) yes
nimir - (A) Elf (sing)
nimîr - (A) Elves (plural)
Pharazôn - (A) Golden One
sidh - (S) peace, calm
urik - (A) orc (nominative case)
uruk - (A) orc (objective case)