Then he rode towards the next town, under the guise of a Merchant. Wrappings of the dead Easterling saved him many times in the face of the danger but speaking in the local language was not easy for the elf. As some words of the easterling language was very hard to cope for him. Extensive use of throat in speaking was annoying and sometimes giving hints about his true identity. Nevertheless, Anglachelm tried to speak Rhûn as well as he could.
Locals fortunately were used to see merchants time to time. Besides, they were one of the few means of communication and rumor circulation across the land of Rhûn. If a Merchant of Rhûn, -if not killed instantly- manages to reach his destination unharmed, he would be interrogated briefly by the local militia and the cruel men of the landowner, after then his fate would be decided by many parameters, such as his appearance, his behaviour, demeanor, the weight and contents of his baggage. It was not seldom at all to see merchants were put to sword for the simplest of misbehaviour to the feudal landowners, if they need a reason to kill that is... So the guardsmen had to be bribed and pleased by the Merchant. Adding further burden on his purse. Then the chieftain could force the Merchant to buy whatever he carries for ridiculous prices. But he had to feel very lucky under these circumstances as the chief pays still instead of putting him to death. Hence the Merchant had to recalculate all the prices once more by adding his life on the merchandise. He had to survive, pray to their winds (four winds were a popular sacred being among the easterlings) reach to his destination, sell his merchandise wildly underpaid and still he had to hope for a safe return. So prospering was not easy in these lands, where centralized authority lacks since the beginning of the time. However merchants were still influential in their society. As they were the only ones bringing rumors from the outer realms, and keeping the society somewhat together.
Anglachelm and his companion Qublai rode eastwards to a town called Ugrhumchi, a place known with is notoriety. Just two weeks before their arrival, locals reporting an inn brawl expanded into a street fight, then to some tiny battle within the city, caused by a minor sect difference. Leader of the Variags realized that they were unable to contain the unrest, reportedly charged into the crowd with the heavy horsemen and slaughtered around fifty people randomly. Their bodies remained in the open field for at least a week and only by the labour of the townsfolk they could be burned “properly” before an epidemic wipes the town off the map.
The town was indeed sad, as the elf heard echoes of screams in his mind in the main street, Qublai told the story of the place. And soon Anglachelm realized the magnitude of brutality and poverty these people might bear. There was basically nothing aesthetic and beautiful in the scene. Death was a daily part of their lives. Leaders were considered leaders as long as they keep cracking the whip of brutality over the common folk. Rumors of riches and fertile ground in the west was not unheard of, but a unity was lacking to go there and invade. That was a common belief.
The companions then advanced to the main square of the town. A forty meter radius wide hall among the mud built houses, and a waterwell was in the middle. They saw a platform in the center and a crowd gathered around it. Yelling and cheering. On the platform Anglachelm saw a man introducing another to the crowd. This was rather awkward to see as the one being introduced had a chain on his neck and looking downwards in a behaviour –what would the elf consider as embarrasment. Then Qublai the eaterling stated:
“-We have found what we have been looking for master. It is the slave market!”
He looked at the easterling. Qublai was a short, yellow skinned boy in his early twenties and always eager to help. Like the rest of his people he was overly superstitious, suspicious and conservative. It was the fear of the unknown which made him follow the elf, and he too didn’t know who or what he was. Deep in his heart however, Qublai knew there is no evil in this new master. Around year ago the elf saved the boys life in the desert and he has obliged himself to follow him ever since. Elf too was in need of a local for better knowledge of the land, and someone to practice the language without arising suspicion.
Anglachelm nodded as a response, and felt sorrow for the burdens of the life. As Children of Ilûvatar committed yet another sin, selling each other like a merchandise like this, the things were not going as good as Manwé Sulimo predicted. At least not in this part of the world. He then focused on the slave, a man in his early thirties. He said no word and stared to the sun till the crowd stopped yelling and his price is set. It was done. He was sold to a Merchant which was known with his cruelty. The elf then realized the misery of the slave, whose fate was already set. Probably he would pray for his life spared, and he would do things against his will –carrying boxes would be the easiest of all- until he is again sold or died. He would set the tents of his master, defend him against wolves or brigands, or would die trying. Every single day that the slave prayed for his life spared to him, he would be underestimated, laughed at, whipped and sworn and Eru knows what else tortures he would endure. And when he will be unable to endure anymore the master will simply buy another slave. This was how it works.
Elf and Qublai stared at the simple ceremony. Slave master and the Merchant shook hands in a exaggerated fashion like their hands went upwards and downwards half a meter whilst they pose a very fake grin. It was signalling that both parts of the agreement were happy and declaring it to the outside world. The slave however was not smiling. Soon, his chains were given to the Merchant and he pulled him in the streets like if he was a beast of burden.
Afterwards, the companions noticed another slave, way too much different than the previous one. It was a girl as it seemed to them. A slave to drove the crowd into madness. Slave master started yelling and cheering to the crowd as the girl stood in the middle of the platform like everyone in the square. She was stunning indeed! Clad in purple silks and presenting and outstanding contrast of colors with her skin. Her feet left bare. Anglachelm then gasped. It must be the most extravagant slave ever reached to Ugrhumchi, a pale kidnapped she slave seemingly in her early twenties. Her upper body was expertly clothed but her legs were deliberately left open, probably to trigger the lust of men. She was beautiful beyond the imagination of Easterlings, and by all means they were showing it very openly now.
The man slave was sold to seventy silver chunks, but the price put on the girls head started with two hundred and soon it reached to seven hundred and fifty. Everyone in the square had a dream on her, either in this way or that. Slave master was proud of his slave. Smiling ever on as the price increased. It was enough already to let him liedown and relax for two years without dealing with bloody kidnappings and ransom. And through his dirty clothes a tanned hand reached upwards to scratch his nastily oiled beard. He looked at the crowd and then shouted in even more joy, “A thousand chunks! Any more?”
Anglachelm sighed. And behold! The girl turned her head towards his direction. Like she heard something in his mind. This drove the crowd into insanity, now their baby doll was moving freely in front of their lusty eyes and her price increased ever on. But the elf remained serious, he did not miss the girls gesture. And standing on the bridles of his horse, he shouted in Rhûnnish :
“-Five thousand!”
All heads turned towards him sharply and a long silence followed. Five thousand... Gods. The crowd then began murmuring. Five thousand, that was enough value to arm a light horsemen gang tip to toe or buy an army of less exquisite slaves. Besides, if this strange accented Merchant does have this much of gold on him, and reached to the town safely, then he could be someone important or protected.
“-Five thousand they say!” added the slaver in a shaking voice. He was in disbelief and almost drooling, realized that he will at last be able to retire after this. He has never thought that a slave could worth that much. And of course he never has believed that his particular one would be different than the ordinary. He looked at the girl and tried to understand why. She was beautiful no doubt. Muscles were good enough to do heavy work, fingers were slim to weave to the eternity and she wasn’t apparently eating much. Yes! She could be a rare merchandise, but five thousand? Then the slaver turned to the audience to conclude the trade, within his thoughts, her mind was alarming that the Merchant could withdraw himself from the lucrative offer anytime as he keeps delaying. “-Sold!” he shouted in joy. It was done. He laughed and spit to the platform. Then stepped backwards for the trading ceremony.
Anglachelm sighed. He had no idea what he has done. Like a secret power overrun his thoughts and took control of his actions, he remembered his shouting. But it was not him! It couldn’t be! Together with everyone in the square, the slaver and the girl was looking at him curiously. They were wondering if he could pay, which he too was not certain at. He took a deep breath and had to play well now. One minor mistake could ruin everything from that moment on.
He opened the chin of his wrappings and dismounted slowly. Then beckoned to Qublai and witnessed his companion’s excitement. They walked both on the platform and climbed rough wooden stairs which were blood stained in time and smelling awful. But they kept moving. And stood a meter afar from the slaver. In absolute silence Anglachelm nodded to Qublai and he brought forward a sack made of black horse tail. A fingersnap was heard and Qublai emptied the contents of the sack on the platform with exaggeration. The voice and light of the gold chunks falling on the platform made everyone gasp for a moment. But no! Slaver then seemed unsatisfied. At first glimpse he understood that there was no more gold than three hundreds on the platform.
“-Hold on master Merchant!” he said. “-There is less here than you have offered.”
Anglachelm raised his hand to stop him. Then turned his gaze on the slave. As he felt something strange with her. She was not talking or responding to the audience like other slaves who were now doing. She was instead… staring at him. Without a sign of fear or emotion, she was looking directly at the elf behind her purple veil. Elf lord then stepped forward and pulled the silk cloth off her face.
Crowd cheered to him as her face was now revealed her true beauty, wiping the last doubts about her huge price from their minds. Whoever this Merchant was, he clearly was understanding of his trade. The slave would worth much even, she was one of the Fey. Little known features of the west, cruel beyond imagination and faster than deadliest of enemies. Stil they were beautiful and long living… Longer than any Rhûnlander might know. A fey girl captured!
But Anglachelm did not say nothing, or had responded by any way. In fact it was clear that he had stunned. Looking longingly at the fey girl, he smiled and touched at her cheek. Thus, the elf lord found her sister Anguirelm after a long road and through many adventures, untouched and unharmed in the land of Rhûn.
Thoughtfully, he turned to the slaver slowly and reached to his belt. Then suddenly, revealing a little brown leather pouch, he made the slaver gasp. Then looked at the pouch whilst holding in his palm. It was simple as it seems. But then suddenly raised his head and threw that to the slaver with a faint sigh.
Dirty slaver caught the purse in the air and with a visible lust and expectation he opened it. Then he stunned as well, pouring the contents of the purse on his palm he made the audience move in wonder. The shimmering stars of a previous age, yellow green and red gems of Noldor he was looking at. Some coming from the uttermost west, and some were made in the dim light of Beleriand, their beauty were beyond compare. Nothing the slaver knew, in the land of Rhûn were more valuable than what he is holding. Then he quickly poured the expertly cut gemstones into the purse and they are vanished from the tales of the Eldar. Ardavilion, Uviyermé, Nanotamo and Hustavilye, they were gone, never to be seen ever again in the west.
“-These would compansate the missing gold” he added. To which the slaver nodded in fear.
“-Yes master” he said. “-The Fey is yours”
Then the siblings descended from the steps together. Anguirelm was not speaking. Even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to add anything on the matter, regarding the circumstances. For the price they had set on her were unheard of for these lands. But the price that was paid was beyond imagination. Rhûnlanders would talk about this not only for a day but for years. She was freed for such a price.
She was not speaking. Like her brother had feared. But at least her life was spared. If there was a medicine for Anguirelm’s condition in the Middle-earth, it could not be found in the plains of Rhûn. It would be in the west. Then under the curious gaze of the audience, Anglachelm tied the hands of his sister and almost gently he placed her on the back of the saddle. Briefly staring at the crowd, he then mounted on his horse.Then they rode out together, slowly exiting the town despite the curious gaze and murmurs of the townsfolk.
They were united once more riding to the west...
