I have made too many observations on Men in my wanderings throughout the lands, and I have found that many are imbued with an instinct of cruelty, if I may call it an instinct. Their hearts are strange to us; and while it is true that there are, in every people, exceptions to the rule, in my travels through the Eastern Wilds, I have found Men who do not possess a natural delight in distress and horror to be woefully few. Many make sport of cruelty and suffering, and find pleasure in it; and, at the least, if they do not devise ways to fulfill their wicked urges, they are entirely indifferent to the existence of such things.
So the Horse-men made sport of us in our captivity, all the while proclaiming us their guests, and then they unexpectedly gave us back our freedom. It was a wicked waywardness sadly typical of their kind. The drunkard Redwick tugged a sack filled with our weapons, jouncing them over roots and rocks as he swore, and from the dark look on Lord Estarfin’s face, I thought he would skewer this man, once we regained our weapons. Yet this was not to be.
The men told us that we had walked far enough into the woods, and bade us halt. Lord Veryacano assured Denholm that we would not return into their lands; his word was not good enough, but Denholm must threaten us, and say we would be hunted down, if we spilled a drop of Horse-men blood. Lord Estarfin was somehow able to keep his temper, which is a credit to his self-restraint, though how he glared! and Nirhen, still senseless from Lord Tindir’s skull-bashing, was quiet throughout this exchange, for which I am thankful.
And then Lord Veryacano must give Denholm his signet-ring! The man spoke rightly that it was too high an honour for him, and said that our lord’s oath bound us all from returning to kill them, and he would have us hunted down, if we dared to spill a drop of their blood. Then Denholm commanded his men to dig false graves in the ground, "for," said he, "our people would come to look at the slain elves, but I will tell them the graves are cursed,” and then they would not come nigh to disturb the dirt. It being close to sun-up, the men grew afraid that the more curious of their people would soon be stirring from their town, and bade us leave at once. But before we left, Denholm said, "Forget not, all of you, that it was men of Rohan who saved your lives this day. Remember the names Denholm, Redwick, Yrminas, Cyliad, and Therwen."
Our captors wished that we know their names, so that we would know that we were beholden to them for our freedom, and, I think, hold them in honour in our hearts. They know nothing of Elves, if they think our memories so short, or our hearts so small, that we would forget how they held us in bondage in a musty storehouse, demeaning us with taunts, and denying us food, offering only water. If not for the Woman with the pig-tails and basket, our hunger pangs would have been sore indeed. Do these men expect us to sneak around their claimed lands, when we return? It does not seem right nor just; but Lord Veryacano gave his word to them: he is grown reckless, and does not expect to return alive from this search. I tire of hearing him foretell his own death, when ours will likely follow, if he falls, but I have other designs for myself.
For my part, I am mighty glad that we were released, and I do not like to be ungrateful to the Horse-men for aid, for we were in sore need of it, but I dearly wish some others to be our saviors, that were not also our captors. Why, it is as if I upset a laden table, and then set it aright again, and declared to the diners that they are lucky I came along, else they would not have any dinner to eat! So these Horse-men proclaimed themselves both our saviors and protectors, shielding us from the ire of their king, who, they say, lends too willing an ear to his counselor, a man known by the uncouth name of Gríma. A very foolish Man he must be, and, no doubt, a terribly wicked one.
