A Silver Lining (Lord of the Rings) [Legolas]

VI. "Welcome Home."

VI. “Welcome Home.”

            I could not remember the last time I had really bathed. Ugh, if my odor got any worse, I would smell like a corpse. Quite honestly, I was sure I was the only one who could not tolerate the smell. The Men were used to stinking; their noses were probably immune to their foul body odor.

            Even though I had been with them for far too long, my nose did not acquire the immunity it desperately needed.

            We traveled through woods now; the only light given to help us was the few lit torches some of the scraggly, dirty Men held. Our formation was always the same: a rider and his horse in front with a torch, most of the group squished in the middle, a few carrying torches, and then there would be another horse and rider picking up the rear. It would look like, from a distance, that those walking were slaves. However, I knew that I was the only real slave in this group.

            “We should just rest here for tonight,” one of the Men complained. It was always the same one every time, who complained. Though he was a strongly built Man, he groaned like a little child.

            I debated on whether or not to agree with the Man, but I remembered past experiences with talking when I was not supposed to, so I reluctantly kept my mouth shut on the issue.

            “Why, you scared?” another Man taunted. Yorin never seemed to want to shut up nor miss a chance to pick on anyone. How he was still alive, I was not sure. Normally, Wild Men did not appreciate bullying each other, which was ironic considering they bullied others on a more extreme level.

            “Don’t tell me your feet aren’t worn out,” the complainer, Delvin, retorted.

            Why can we not just stop so that these two shut up? If we do not, something is going to happen, I thought. This was fact. On occasion, things escalated dangerously, sometimes to the extreme point of where we had to leave a body behind and continue on. It was rare for the Wild Men to bury one of their own when they fought amongst each other.

            “All right, to save all your hides, we’ll stop,” the rider in front, Jace, decided.

            The Men groaned, thankful to be resting their sore feet. Immediately, a fire was going and food was being made. Like always, the menu consisted of one item: stew. To be honest, I was glad for the little rations I was given, even though the stew was not really good. It was sad to say that I preferred deer meat over stew any day of the year. I would even prefer leaves and tree bark over the stew. When I was little, I almost never ate meat. Now, that was all I wanted to eat, being that I was with these Men—and many generations of them—for years.

            For being in their captivity for so long, it was amazing how long I had survived. It even shocked me, because I was sure that I would not survive very long with them, with strange people I did not know. The only way I was surviving was because I observed and took notes, learned from experiences on the best way to keep on the Men’s good side, and how to not tick them off.

            Jace and the other rider dismounted as the rest of the Men gathered around, getting the stew that they apparently loved. I wrinkled my nose at the food, wondering when change would come along.

            Even though I was amongst their company, the Men acted as though I did not exist. Quite honestly, I was content with that. If I kept this up, being quiet to where they forgot about me, one of these days—or nights, night was my better shot—I would slip away from these Men once and for all and seek refuge far away from them.