Day 15:

Challenge - Shire: The cuisine of the Shire is unsurpassed. Write a story or poem, or create a work of art, featuring food.

Eat Like There's No Tomorrow

Thorongil watched the man walk away without looking at him anymore, his hope to explain what happened vanishing like the mist in a morning. But in this country, there were no mists. Even if he got a chance, nobody would listen to him. He was a stranger, a northerner. Was there any hope for him at all? Even if it seemed like waiting for a miracle, he refused to give up and admit there is none. For if he does that, it will become true…

He could not move in his bonds, but he turned his head to see what his guards are doing. Their leader told them to make sure he is ready for something – and he better didn't want to imagine for what. But since he left, they didn't even look at him, apparently trusting the ropes he was bound with. As he tried the bonds, he found out they had no reason not to – his hands and feet were already getting numb, but the ropes held fast.

The guards meanwhile built fire from the dry palm leaves and wood. First when the flames were hungrily licking the wood, they looked at him, their expression unreadable. He returned their look, showing no fear.

One of them stood up, and walked in his direction. The other followed soon, but neither of them looked into his eyes. The first drew a knife.

Thorongil felt his heart beating faster. The fire, the knife… He sent a quick prayer to Elbereth, preparing for the worst. The knife neared. He could see the flames with the corner of his eye, winding around the wood like hungry snakes. They reflected in the blade, reflected in his captors' eyes. The knife neared. He did not close his eyes. It lowered…

…and cut his bonds.

He blinked in surprise, but soon he was too busy stifling a hiss of pain as blood rushed back into his hands and feet, stinging unpleasantly. The guards gave him some time to recover, but watched him carefully with weapons ready. He massaged his wrists and looked at them questioningly. Something was going on, but he wasn't sure it's good for him.

One of the guards pointed at the fire, and so he stood up… staggered, but regained his balance… and headed there, limping. They spoke no word to him, nor did they look into his eyes. But their gestures and the naked blades in their hands were eloquent enough.

He sat down by the fire as he was ordered to, and he was given a full water skin. There he needed no encouragement – he drank deeply, as if it would be for the last time. Which he realized could be very well true. So far, however, his guards' intention seemed to be restoring as much of his strength as was possible. Knowing that he will probably need it all very soon, he did not protest, and even allowed them to look at the wound on his leg and clean it, although he would better like to do it himself.

He only hesitated when they put a pan on the fire. What was in the pan had too many appendages for a decent meal…

Locusts.

At least they have removed the legs and wings, he thought as the meal was presented to him. He gulped, and reminded himself that he hasn't eaten for two days, and he would really need his strength. With that thought, he picked one of the insects, and almost burned his fingers on it. Did one of the guards snicker? No, he probably just imagined that…

He forced himself to put the… meal… into his mouth. Chew, swallow. Not that bad after all, he thought, although it could be just his hunger speaking. He ate slowly, as if he could delay what would come next. Yet it seemed to him he was finished too soon.

Just a last mouthful of water, and then the guards seized his hands firmly, and forced him to his feet. They led him somewhere deeper into the desert, behind the dunes. The sun set behind the horizon, and the first stars were already in the sky. He could hear the slow rhythm of a drum beating in the distance, heavy like the pounding of his own heart. He took a deep breath and walked with his head proudly lifted.