Vardarianna watched tentatively over the valley beneath her. For a day had the maiden Minyelaire been gone.
‘Where are you Mineyalire?’ She said aloud, her voice filled with concern and sadness. The elf had made off in the night, seemingly having left no word that she would be leaving. Daerundros seemed to know more but she said nothing on it. Seeming as though not wanting to answer her questions.
Now that the elf had gone, Vardarianna felt distinctly alone, not liking the Noldor maiden and not caring for her empty chatter. Why speak with a rival at all? There’s no point in it, she thought, frowning at the horizon, another sunset, another dark and empty night.
Glorious rays of light soak the lands beneath her in hues of deep red and gold. The birds of twilight sing their song of goodnight and squirrels chatter nearby, perhaps jubilant for yet another beautiful spring day or perhaps warning of another cold night.
Sighing, the maiden turns away from the beautiful sunset, looking now to the shade where the Noldo maiden had been sitting. But, of course, the elf had wandered off… Maybe to fetch berries, she thinks, or maybe to prance about with her sword, she grimaces. Elves are odd creatures, Vardarianna grins, chuckling to herself.
The maiden laughs but her heart feels like an iron weight; it would seema as if it were to fall from within her chest and onto the earth beneath her, then sighing she turns again to the sunset. Turning to the beautiful pillars of light in the distance, that seem as though they would be holding up the deep red, blue and golden skies.
A movement catches her eye.
‘Hello?’ She calls out in Sindarin, stepping toward the trees from whence the movement had come. Another heavy movement and the chink of a sword as it is removed from it’s sheath.
‘No need for greeting…’ A voice hisses, in Sindarin, broken Sindarin but it is the Elvish tongue none the less.
A face in the shadows appears, it is covered and two white eyes peer from within the darkness, she cannot see it but she knows the creature is grinning, it’s eyes predatory.
‘Who are you?’ She asks, taking her daggers from their sheaths, standing at the ready for any attack. She is sure that she can handle one man until the elf maiden Daerundros arrives.
‘No names are needed for what I have come to do…’ It’s eyes intensify, his eyes?
‘I should tell you that my friends will be here soon, they are elves…’ She pauses, swallowing hard. ‘They are skilled in the art of fighting.’
It steps into a pillar of sunlight that breaks through the canopy above them. His armour glitters in the light and she can see that this creature is too tall to be a goblin or an orc, and too heavily built to be one of those Noldor that Minyelaire had spoken of. He wears almost black silver armour, muddied chainmail and his sword is short, blood soaked and sharp.
The maiden gasps, looking to the fresh blood on his sword.
Had the elf maiden been slain? She grimaces and then trying to wave the thougt away.
The pace of her heart quickens, she feels blood rush through her ears like a torrent, a raging river of fear.
‘Cat… Got… Your tongue?’ He asks, tilting his head to one side. His eyes are cruel and filled with some level of merriment, seeing her fear.
‘No!’ She screams, dropping the daggers to the ground, knowing now, this not to be a fight that she would win. She turns on her heel and makes to run.
Though the man is quick, he comes up behind her, fast enough to take a hold of her hair, he pulls her back. Yanking, roughly, on her hair. Sending an intense pain through her scalp, causing her to let out a scream, she then screams in anguish as she feels an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.
‘You are… Pretty,’ his voice, rasps. ‘Maybe I will take you for another wife eh?’ He seems to chuckle, coughing and as he does he loosens his grip on her. She struggles, breaking free of his grip. ‘No you don’t!’ He shouts.
But it is too late, she runs as fast as she can. She is shorter than he and lighter. He is tall and weighed down by his armour.
She runs and she runs and she runs. Tripping form time to time on small mounds in the ground beneath her, snapping twigs loudly, panting and gasping as she runs, unable to control her sobbing, running for her life.
Then, as she runs, the man is joined by another, this man is on a horse. Fear wells within her as he gains on her. She can hear him, laughing, hooves galloping.
‘No!’ She screams, losing her footing, falling to the ground, groaning, elbow deep in some kind of stinging weed, covered in needles.
‘Ha!’ A man shouts from behind her, she can hear clunking sounds, the sound of boot upon metal as he dismounts from his horse.
‘A game of cat and mouse is always quite fun,’ he says in the common tongue, he sounds well spoken, certainly unlike his companion.
‘We were looking for someone else… Told she had come this way, you do not know where the elf Minyelaire might have gone do you?’ He asks, politely, standing close by but not helping her to her feet. ‘Help the maiden to her feet good man.’ He asks his companion.
She hears heavy feet and the sounds of chainmail, then two pairs of large sweaty hands grab ahold of her arms, pulling her up onto her feet. Her arms feel strangely numb and they are now covered in swollen lumps where the weed had pierced her skin.
‘Poison weed,’ the man notes, looking down to her arms. ‘No need to worry, your arms will be numb and without feeling for a few days.’ He smiles warmly, though his eyes are dark, eager and hungry for blood.
‘I know no woman named Minyelaire…’ She rasps, looking to the man before her. The hands, holding her up, tighten about her shoulders, causing her pain. She wimpers a little, though defiantly she looks up to the man before her. ‘I do not know her!’ She lies.
The man grunts, annoyed now, though again he smiles, stepping forward and placing a finger beneath her chin.
Angrily she pulls her face away from him, looking anywhere but into the cruel eyes of the man.
‘No need to be rude…’ He says, sounding as though hurt. Of course this snake of a man is pretending to be kind, pretending to be polite. ‘We have spies whom have seen you with her…’
Vardarianna gasps, then snapping to look at the man. ‘I do not know where she is,’ she growls, though her eyes show him that she is being genuine.
‘Shame…’ He grunts, standing back again and then looking to her, as though considering what he should do.
‘Let us… Kill her…’ The man behind her rasps, tightening his grip once more.
Pain overwhelms the maiden, she screams aloud and tries to fall to her knees, but he does not allow her to fall, pulling her upward so that she stands straight.
‘Hmmm…’ The man before her strokes his chin for a moment, still considering. ‘Bring her with us.’
The man behind her grunts, turning her quickly so that she is facing him. He raises a hand too quickly for her to protest. ‘Sweet dreams princess…’ He grins, bringing his hand down upon her head, hard.
