Hood » LotR ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Nineteen: Desert Battle

Aragorn.

Then a large man bashed the king over the back of the head and he slumped down, feet away from reaching them. Blinking, Robin tried to force himself back to reality. He managed to stumble to his feet.

But the second he got up, he was kicked down again, a leather booted foot sinking into his stomach. Two men swarmed over him-- a blade pressed against his neck and started to press.

"Hold!"

It was the Easterling leader.

The man dismounted from his horse, moving toward them. He paused for a moment, pressing his boot against Aragorn's chest with a curled lip. Then he moved toward Aria's unconscious form, where Legolas was held spitting and fighting beside her.

His glance went from her, to Legolas, lingering on the elf's ears.

He smirked. "A man, an elf, and a skin-changer," he gazed at Robin, tilting his head. "You, archer? Special?"

Robin thrust out his jaw, the blade against his neck slicing a layer of skin. Blood trailed down to his collar but he didn't care. "Only with brains and brawn."

The Easterling snorted. His tongue was rough, clearly only half learned. But he spoke it well enough, while the other men around him spoke shallowly in their native tongue. "Human. No use."

The blade pressed tighter. Robin's breath hitched. "I've got a few."

Bushy brows rose.

Robin's gaze flickered from the man, to the horses, to the carts that they pulled at the very back. There were cages, chains. It clicked then. 

Slavers.

"I can fight," he smirked, gazing back the Easterling. "Good enough to earn you a few coins. So can he--" he jerked his head to Aragorn's unconscious body. If they didn't know who the king was, this just might save his life. An elf would sell well on the markets-- a skin changer would be a fortune. But two Gondorians? 

They would be dead meat.

He crossed his fingers internally and prayed. Good Vala.

The leader looked amused, gazing between him and Aragorn. He had a thick, wild beard, a multitude of scars across his face. His arms were at least twice the size of Thralor's and he stood over six feet tall. "Show."

Slowly, the hands wrenching Robin's arms behind his back let go. Legolas watched the entire unfolding with wide blue eyes, having stilled at fighting back. 

He caught Robin's gaze and nodded, just a little.

Not for the first time, Robin was glad for his appearance. Elves didn't cut their hair, didn't dress as he did. As long as the brutes didn't see what he hid behind his unruly hair, he was just another pawn.

But it was better than risking the black market.

He stepped forward, having been relieved of his weapon and bow when he was knocked to the ground. Raising his hands, he glanced around. "Bare hands? This is how we're gonna do it?"

The Easterling leader jerked his head forward and a man stepped forward, eyes shielded by a helm. He wasn't a big man, but looked strong enough. The necklace of teeth around his neck was testimony to his fighting rank.

Mordor, Robin hadn't missed Rhûn.

The fighter drew two wickedly curved blades, no longer than his forearm. Sneering, he gave them a good spin.

Robin beamed back, shrugging one shoulder. "You'll do."

The man didn't wait, letting out a battle cry and leaping forward. His instincts kicking in, Robin threw himself to the ground and rolled, sweeping his opponent's feet out from under him. The man stumbled but just barely caught himself, whirling back around.