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dreamflowerHere is the fourth chapter in my story of Bilbo's long-lost uncle, Hildifons Took.
Rating: PG
Chapter One: Unlucky at Love
Chapter Two: Beyond the Bounds
Chapter Three: Terror in the Night
Among the Brigands
The rest of the night was a true nightmare. They drove poor Porridge on with blows, and I heard them boasting of the coin they’d found in my purse, but complaining that nothing else I had was of use to them, being too small.
I also heard them describing another victim they had waylaid previously, and what sport they’d found in tormenting him. I am afraid I swooned at some point during their boasts of the atrocities they had committed.
I was awakened by being hauled from the pony’s back like a sack of grain, and flung to the ground. I heard many more voices cursing and laughing. Apparently we had arrived at the base camp of this gang of thieves.
“What’ve we got here?” A large hand hauled me up, and I found myself gazing into the dark eyes of a new Man. I had never seen an expression so dead and calculating on anyone before. He drew me close, and I flinched at the smell of his foul breath. His dark hair hung lank and greasy. I tried to look away, but he shook me until I turned my face back to him.
“Shire rabbit,” he said finally. “Looks like a rich one.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked me over carefully. Then he pursed his lips. “No, too much trouble to ransom him. We’d never get a message to his family, not with the borders being watched like they are these days. Shame; fat pickings in the Shire.” There was loud muttering at this, and I shuddered at the thought of these dreadful Men descending on my peaceful home. He snarled “Enough!” and there was silence--it seemed he was their chieftain.
He flung me to the ground. “Well, rabbit, we won’t slit your throat for you yet. You can make yourself useful around here until we’re ready to move on. But you’re young and well turned-out enough. I think I know where we can fetch a nice price for a sweet little piece like you.”
His words and his look made me feel filthy, although thankfully enough, I still had no idea of what he meant, and was only grateful not to be killed out of hand.
He turned to one of the other Men. “Bart! You know how to tie him so he’ll still be useful.”
Another Man, this one old and grizzled, with a short scruffy beard shot with grey, and an evil-looking puckered scar where one eye had been, grabbed me and untied me. But the relief was short-lived. He looped rope about both my wrists, and then wrapping it around my waist, he tied it in the back. My hands and arms were free to move about to a certain extent, but I could not reach the knots digging into the small of my back. Then he secured my ankles, hobbling me like a pony.
I looked down, and wondered if I’d be able to at least untie my feet and run if ever I was unobserved, but he leered at me, and said “I hope you do try to run, little rabbit. It will be a lot more fun if you do.”
I shuddered.
For the next several days, I found myself their servant. I fetched water and tended the fire and carried the wood, and did what cleaning they thought needed doing although that was blessedly little. All of it I did bound in that awkward manner, and I often dropped things, which gained me curses and blows, or tripped over the hobbling rope, which gained me only mocking laughter. They did not trust me to cook for them, though.
When I was not doing some menial task they wanted done, I was tethered to a post at the back of a cave they used for sleeping. It stank of their filthy bodies. I wondered how any beings could live that way, and I often wept silently, wishing I had never left home, and longing for my family. I often daydreamed that my father would send Gandalf to rescue me, and that he would blast all these evil brigands into dust, and carry me home. I would not even mind the humiliation if only I could feel my mother’s embrace once more.
Daily, groups of the Men would go out on some evil errand of thievery, and would return with their booty. I lost track of how long I had been among them--more than a week I was certain--when their leader decided they had enough loot to go and meet the person who would buy it from them. It was plain that I was to be considered one of the items to be sold.
I realised I would have no choice but to attempt to flee. Better to be killed trying for freedom than to be a slave to ruffians all my life. The entire camp broke up, and the few horses--and my pony--were laden with their loot, and we began to tramp northward through a dreary and miserable landscape.
That night, they made camp, and tethered me to a tree. For the first time, I felt myself unobserved and unnoticed, and I turned my attention to the rope tying my ankles. It had been a source of discomfort and irritation from the beginning, sometimes tripping me up as I tried to do my assigned tasks--which always brought a chorus of raucous laughter from my captors. I could not reach the knots at my back, but if I sat down and pulled my knees up, I could work on the knot at my ankles. And the rope tying me to the tree would be simple enough. They always had trusted to having me at the back of the cave to prevent my leaving. But tonight, the tree I was tied to was near the edge of the encampment. If I waited until they had settled in to sleep for the night, I might be able to slip away.
I worked as silently as I could, and in a surprisingly short time, I was free of the ropes on my feet and to the tree, though my arms remained bound. But it was still not a good time to run. Too many of the Men were still sitting about the fire, boasting and laughing at their own crude jests. I began to despair of their ever going to sleep.
What was worse, I felt myself growing drowsy. I could not afford to sleep. If they should find me untied, I would be in dreadful trouble.
Suddenly, there was a commotion by the fire as two of the fellows came to blows. It was not the first time I had witnessed such a thing. Men seemed to be such violent creatures. Perhaps this was the distraction I needed. I readied myself for flight, just as all the other Men gathered ‘round the combatants. While they shouted and jeered and wagered, I stood and began to slowly edge away, out of the firelight.
Suddenly, I heard a shout coming from the other direction--out of the woods beyond the clearing. I heard the thunk of an arrow hitting the tree where I had been tied. I found myself backing up, as new Men came crashing in on the others, and I tripped. Suddenly, one of the brigands grabbed me and held me in front of him, like a shield.
But it was of no avail. One of the newcomers came at him with a sword, and he flung me aside. My head hit a tree, and I knew no more.
Rating: PG
Chapter One: Unlucky at Love
Chapter Two: Beyond the Bounds
Chapter Three: Terror in the Night
The rest of the night was a true nightmare. They drove poor Porridge on with blows, and I heard them boasting of the coin they’d found in my purse, but complaining that nothing else I had was of use to them, being too small.
I also heard them describing another victim they had waylaid previously, and what sport they’d found in tormenting him. I am afraid I swooned at some point during their boasts of the atrocities they had committed.
I was awakened by being hauled from the pony’s back like a sack of grain, and flung to the ground. I heard many more voices cursing and laughing. Apparently we had arrived at the base camp of this gang of thieves.
“What’ve we got here?” A large hand hauled me up, and I found myself gazing into the dark eyes of a new Man. I had never seen an expression so dead and calculating on anyone before. He drew me close, and I flinched at the smell of his foul breath. His dark hair hung lank and greasy. I tried to look away, but he shook me until I turned my face back to him.
“Shire rabbit,” he said finally. “Looks like a rich one.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked me over carefully. Then he pursed his lips. “No, too much trouble to ransom him. We’d never get a message to his family, not with the borders being watched like they are these days. Shame; fat pickings in the Shire.” There was loud muttering at this, and I shuddered at the thought of these dreadful Men descending on my peaceful home. He snarled “Enough!” and there was silence--it seemed he was their chieftain.
He flung me to the ground. “Well, rabbit, we won’t slit your throat for you yet. You can make yourself useful around here until we’re ready to move on. But you’re young and well turned-out enough. I think I know where we can fetch a nice price for a sweet little piece like you.”
His words and his look made me feel filthy, although thankfully enough, I still had no idea of what he meant, and was only grateful not to be killed out of hand.
He turned to one of the other Men. “Bart! You know how to tie him so he’ll still be useful.”
Another Man, this one old and grizzled, with a short scruffy beard shot with grey, and an evil-looking puckered scar where one eye had been, grabbed me and untied me. But the relief was short-lived. He looped rope about both my wrists, and then wrapping it around my waist, he tied it in the back. My hands and arms were free to move about to a certain extent, but I could not reach the knots digging into the small of my back. Then he secured my ankles, hobbling me like a pony.
I looked down, and wondered if I’d be able to at least untie my feet and run if ever I was unobserved, but he leered at me, and said “I hope you do try to run, little rabbit. It will be a lot more fun if you do.”
I shuddered.
For the next several days, I found myself their servant. I fetched water and tended the fire and carried the wood, and did what cleaning they thought needed doing although that was blessedly little. All of it I did bound in that awkward manner, and I often dropped things, which gained me curses and blows, or tripped over the hobbling rope, which gained me only mocking laughter. They did not trust me to cook for them, though.
When I was not doing some menial task they wanted done, I was tethered to a post at the back of a cave they used for sleeping. It stank of their filthy bodies. I wondered how any beings could live that way, and I often wept silently, wishing I had never left home, and longing for my family. I often daydreamed that my father would send Gandalf to rescue me, and that he would blast all these evil brigands into dust, and carry me home. I would not even mind the humiliation if only I could feel my mother’s embrace once more.
Daily, groups of the Men would go out on some evil errand of thievery, and would return with their booty. I lost track of how long I had been among them--more than a week I was certain--when their leader decided they had enough loot to go and meet the person who would buy it from them. It was plain that I was to be considered one of the items to be sold.
I realised I would have no choice but to attempt to flee. Better to be killed trying for freedom than to be a slave to ruffians all my life. The entire camp broke up, and the few horses--and my pony--were laden with their loot, and we began to tramp northward through a dreary and miserable landscape.
That night, they made camp, and tethered me to a tree. For the first time, I felt myself unobserved and unnoticed, and I turned my attention to the rope tying my ankles. It had been a source of discomfort and irritation from the beginning, sometimes tripping me up as I tried to do my assigned tasks--which always brought a chorus of raucous laughter from my captors. I could not reach the knots at my back, but if I sat down and pulled my knees up, I could work on the knot at my ankles. And the rope tying me to the tree would be simple enough. They always had trusted to having me at the back of the cave to prevent my leaving. But tonight, the tree I was tied to was near the edge of the encampment. If I waited until they had settled in to sleep for the night, I might be able to slip away.
I worked as silently as I could, and in a surprisingly short time, I was free of the ropes on my feet and to the tree, though my arms remained bound. But it was still not a good time to run. Too many of the Men were still sitting about the fire, boasting and laughing at their own crude jests. I began to despair of their ever going to sleep.
What was worse, I felt myself growing drowsy. I could not afford to sleep. If they should find me untied, I would be in dreadful trouble.
Suddenly, there was a commotion by the fire as two of the fellows came to blows. It was not the first time I had witnessed such a thing. Men seemed to be such violent creatures. Perhaps this was the distraction I needed. I readied myself for flight, just as all the other Men gathered ‘round the combatants. While they shouted and jeered and wagered, I stood and began to slowly edge away, out of the firelight.
Suddenly, I heard a shout coming from the other direction--out of the woods beyond the clearing. I heard the thunk of an arrow hitting the tree where I had been tied. I found myself backing up, as new Men came crashing in on the others, and I tripped. Suddenly, one of the brigands grabbed me and held me in front of him, like a shield.
But it was of no avail. One of the newcomers came at him with a sword, and he flung me aside. My head hit a tree, and I knew no more.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 06:11 pm (UTC)Lovely detail!
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Date: 2009-04-06 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 08:13 pm (UTC)As for who the newcomers are, I will have to remain mum for now! *grin*
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Date: 2009-04-06 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-07 09:05 pm (UTC)Spoken like a true Took. Even though he's never had a real adventure, and he'd like it if Gandalf came to rescue him, he's going to take action, if he can manage it. He reminds me a lot of Bilbo in these passages: more of a reluctant adventurer, now that he knows some of the nasty things adventures include. But there's also a shade of Pippin in him, working out how to free himself from the ropes, and waiting until the time is right to make his escape.
I can only hope Rangers are coming to the rescue here, and will escort him safely to Rivendell, although more adventures may be in store.
I was also struck by the way the Ruffians are aware of the Shire and the good pickings there, but are cowed by the guard upon it. I imagine not all the brigands that invaded the Shire during the Troubles were sent by Sharkey - some might just have been waiting for the Dunedain to lessen their watch.