Fourteen

The ground is hard, was the first thought that went through Legolas's mind after he landed on it.

His second thought was to wonder how the men had brought him down, followed by immediate concern for the woman he had attempted to save. He had not been able to control his fall, but he had somehow managed not to land on top of her.

He found himself on the ground, face down, the woman off to his right. He could hear the men approaching, and he made a desperate attempt to scramble to his feet and continue his efforts at escape. His legs, however, would not cooperate.

He rolled over and found his legs were trapped with a length of crude leather attached at both ends with weighted leather pouches. It was a primitive version of the Silvan corodhraph*, but still an effective tool at bringing down prey.

Or him.

He reached for the cord that had wrapped around his legs, managing to remove it just before the men reached them. There would be no running now, slipping through the trees and disappearing. Now, he would have to fight.

He stepped in front of the injured woman, noting her eyes were squeezed tight in pain or fear, perhaps both. Her breath was rapid, frantic. He reached down, not taking his eyes from the men, and gripped her arm, lifting her to her feet. She gasped, one leg nearly going out from under her again, but he needed her up and able to move if necessary. He wished he could remove her bindings, but the men were now circling him, blocking off escape routes.

It would be easiest to use his bow, but it was strapped to his back and unstrung as his plan had been stealthy escape. With several of the men holding drawn daggers, and the woman injured, he opted instead to draw his long knife. His eyes darted between the men, searching for the leader of this ragtag bunch, and finally settled on a tall, dark-haired man with brown eyes narrowed in anger at them.

"Thought you'd just take our prisoner and escape, did ya?" The man crossed his arms over his chest smugly, the dagger he held sticking out from one fist. "Not today, elf. Now we have you both, and we'll finally get what we came for." He smirked.

What they came here for? Legolas had no idea of what the man referred to, but the words still angered him. They had no right to come into the woods and attack one of his people. He cast a glance about at the other men, focusing his anger on each as he caught their eye. He watched in satisfaction as several of them looked away, unable to bear his furious elven gaze.

But there was one who not only bore it, but returned the look with cold, almost dead eyes. The eldest of the group, the man was full of darkness. Legolas could feel it.

He turned his attention back to the one who had spoken. "What did you come here for?"

The tall man appeared amused and rubbed his chin with the back of the hand that held the knife, the other still across his chest. "What've we come here to find? Why, treasure, of course!" The man's laugh was echoed by a couple of the other men.

"Then you are a fool," Legolas told him coolly. "You think the elves would leave their treasures here, when they have departed these lands forever? There is nothing for you here."

The man's eyes glittered in anger, then subsided as a thin smile quirked his lips "We'll see about that, elf." He turned his gaze towards the woman behind Legolas.

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "I will not allow you to harm this woman, no matter what the cost is to myself." He heard her gasp behind him, but he kept his eyes on the tall man, waiting.

"Whether she comes to harm or not is up to you, elf. Mebbe if you help us out, we'll leave her untouched."

Two of the men, identical except for a scar on one man's face, started to grumble at those words, but the man held up his hand to silence them. "What do you want more?" he asked them. "Treasure or a few minutes of pleasure? I'd rather have the treasure. Then I can buy a night with whatever woman I choose!"

That seemed to placate most of them, though Legolas noted the eldest man's eyes had yet to leave the woman. That man would not settle for a night with a whore to placate his lust. No, men such as he wanted more. Legolas had seen it before among the race of Men; those few who fed on the weak, reveling in the power of forcing another to do their will.

"I'm Brigus," the tall man stated, drawing Legolas's eyes back to the supposed leader. "Who are you, and why have you not left with the other elves?"

As Brigus spoke, several of the men began to move forward, closing the circle. One of them held a length of rope, but Legolas would allow himself to be bound.

He tilted his knife in the men's direction, while in venomous tones, he replied, "I will answer none of your questions, for our business is our own. You trespass on our land, seek to defile one of my kin and you seek things you will never find." Legolas smirked at the men, "I will tell you nothing!"

The man called Brigus and the older man stepped closer, and Legolas tensed, waiting for the attack. It came quickly, the older man and the twins brandishing knives as they advanced.

Legolas gave the woman a quick shove towards the space between the younger men who had stood uncertain in the face of the standoff. Those two were out of place with these hardened men, and she would fare best with them.

She stumbled forwards, but managed to keep her feet, lunging herself now to the opening and possible freedom from the circle.

Legolas, satisfied she was out of harm's way for the moment, fought off the efforts to disarm and restrain him. He might be outnumbered, but these men were little match for a warrior of Eryn Lasgalen! He ducked under the older man's arm and brought his blade up and around, connecting with the man's shoulder. He quickly drew the knife out again and danced away from another who lunged for him.

Brigus motioned the two younger men forward. "Torel! Prem! Help them! We can't let him escape again or we'll never find the treasure!"

The younger two men hesitated a moment, but seeing one of their own injured, they moved into the fight. They tried their best to try to grab him, but Legolas was an elusive warrior, and they were young and inexperienced in hand to hand combat. Legolas had mercy on them and danced around them just out of reach, engaging only the three older men with blades.

He lost sight of Brigus as the fight drew Legolas away from where he had shoved the woman. He needed to find a way to end this insanity and get her away from these crazed men, but their numbers were against him in that they were able to angle him away from where he had last seen her. He could not pull his eyes from the attack to locate her, but he could sense where she was.

The trees were screaming at her. Run! Run!

Legolas continued to elude the men, shoving away one of the younger, then blocking the arm of another with a knife, but he could not manage to get back around to where he knew the woman was.

Then as suddenly as they had attacked, it stopped.

The men pulled back, and Legolas saw Brigus with his hand upheld to get their attention. He had the woman by one arm, as he glared at them.

Legolas let his gaze slide over the other men quickly, using the respite to catch his breath and take stock of the situation.

The younger men were breathing hard, looking mostly confused. The older one Legolas had stabbed was pressing a hand to his shoulder, blood oozing through his fingers. The other two were also winded but eyeing him with hatred.

Brigus glared at him, then turned his eyes to the terrified woman he held. The man grabbed her and lifted her, swinging her easily over his shoulder. He grinned at Legolas, backing away.

Legolas's anger blazed at the man's bold move.

Then, with a slight shrug Brigus said, "It's up to you, elf. Come willingly and help us, or…" He shrugged again, bringing one hand up to caress one of the woman's legs.

Nothing could have angered Legolas more. Momentarily distracted from those surrounding him, he took a step towards Brigus…and was tackled from behind by one of the men.

He hit the ground hard and lost his grip on his dagger. It skittered across the bed of leaves and was snatched up by one of the men. Before he could roll the man off, there were several more on him, holding him down, tying his hands behind his back.

He cursed himself inwardly. His mistake had been a crucial one, and yet, it did not mean this was over. He decided to bide his time. Instead of fighting, he could cooperate, or at least seem to do so. It could buy him some time to come up with another way to get them away from these men and into the safety of the wood.

He ceased struggling and allowed the men to drag him to his feet and back to the clearing. Brigus laughed, the woman still draped across one of his shoulders.

To Be Continued…

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Author's Notes:

* Corodhraph – Sindarin for "ball rope"

Based on the bola, a primitive hunting tool that was used by the gauchos in Argentina. They were also used in battle by the Inca armies. But the tool was not limited to use in South America. The Inuit also use a tool with three or more weights called a Kiipooyaq. And the surujin or suruchin is one of the traditional weapons of Okinawan Kobudo. It is a weapon of war.

Basically, the bola is a throwing device made up of weights on the ends of interconnected cords, designed to capture humans or animals by entangling their legs. Depending on the exact design, the thrower holds the bola either by one of the weights or in the middle of the cord(s). The weights are given momentum by the thrower swinging them and then releasing. The bola is usually used to entangle the intended target's legs, but if thrown with enough force, they have been known to break bones.

The bola used by the men in my story is a simple braided leather cord with two leather pouches weighted with stones attached at either end. My version of the Silvan elves had a much more refined tool called a corodhraph, made of several strands of braided spider silk with heavy weighted balls at each end.