Cynraede hung quietly, mouthing the word 'easterling' quietly over and over again. He remembered as he sat there in his dazed state, pondering the first real task the she-elf gave him. Tracking down the east man that took one of their own, he would never again forget his scent. He licked his cracked lips, closing his eyes as he prepared himself for the pain yet to come.
Cynraede growled and hissed as he pulled on the anchor that held his chains to the post, trying to ignore the pain that surged through his body with each movement. He watched as one of the pins started coming loose, forcing the chain down even harder and feeling his wrist scream with pain in reply with each tug. With a clank the pin released as the young hunter fell to the ground, landing upon his left shoulder in the wet grass and mud, the rain pelting him softly as he laid there writhing in pain. Tears rolled down his face as he tried to stand but instead fell to his knees, looking up at the next anchor.
He thought for a moment of what would happen if the east-man found the order, what would happen to the people whom he called family, but would never openly admit it. What would become of the fair skinned woman he traveled with, should they find her? The elves had her in their protection, he knew she was safe. It was his responsibility to make sure she stayed that way, for this was his oath to Alkawen. He stood, his face covered in mud and dried blood as he climbed the post, pushing off the post and tugging at the anchor as hard as he could in an attempt to break it. Images rushing through his mind of the beautiful home of Arrowhaven in cinders, the only home he truly knew.
Cries and howls echoed around the rolling hills of Eregion as he forcefully tugged with each thought that raced through his mind, his shoulder out of place and his body aching for him to simply lay down and sleep. He paused for a moment, taking a painful breath as he hunkered down and jerked at the chain as he pushed off, landing in a heap as the chain gave way and broke, sending the beaten hunter laying upon his chest.
Cynraede shook his head, trying to clear the blur from his eyes but finding no relief as he made his way to his feet. He slowly shuffled across the small area where not so long ago sat a camp, softly muttering 'home' upon the quiet breeze. The chains rattling behind him as he drug his arms, only making it a few steps from the poles before collapsing upon the ground and laying there. The rain softly pattering against his bare skin that bore the black markings of Angmar and the tattered wrappings, as a softly spoken prayer asked from broken lips, was whispered to a cold and lifeless breeze.
"Please forgive me."
