"Guests" of the King

“On second thought, untie their hands, they've sufficient warning anything foolish will make them rue the day they were born. Besides,” the voice chuckled softly, “it'd be amusing to see them try.”

They had ridden for what must have been hours. At some point, Lindo had fallen asleep on the horse of the human guarding him. It was possible more than one day had passed on the journey to the prison they were held in now. It had been dark when he’d awakened even though he last remembered late afternoon. His gag had been removed when the group paused for a quick bite to eat at some point. He and Folco had only been given a single piece of bread each. If anything, the pitiful fare made Lindo even hungrier. Mercifully, the gags were left off after the meal because they'd kept quiet.

When they’d exited the Waste of Dré and reached the beginnings of an inhabited region, the group halted again . One of the humans barked "gag them, blindfold them and cover their heads! We can't have them drawing attention." This command had been carried out ruthlessly. The last thing Lindo saw was a fetid-clothed orc pull a dirty cloth from his pocket before the beast tied it as tightly as it could go. Not too far away, he heard Folco protest “what do you think you’re- mmmmph!” before also gagging and choking on the unpleasant taste of sullied cloth. Lindo heard laughter as a bag was pulled over his head. Something tickled at the nape of his neck.

“We ought to pull the string closed!” said a guttural voice that could only be an orc’s. Lindo winced; breathing was difficult enough as was between his covered mouth and the loose sack, meaning he only had his nostrils and whatever air got under the sack as it flapped in the chill morning breeze.

A human demurred, “no, that'd suffocate them, you ignoramus. We need them alive. Jarmir’s orders. They are to live to face the consequences for their crimes.” The jolting recommenced as the group resumed the ride to wherever Folco and Lindo were being taken, leaving Lindo with his fearful speculations on what exactly those consequences might be. What does Jarmir have to do with this? Why are they saying they're his orders and not the king's? This was the second time the elf had been mentioned.

After an eternity, the horses halted again. Lindo felt the man behind him dismount. He could hear a a torrent of footsteps, then a low conversation. Then someone had unceremoniously pulled him off the horse, carrying him none too gently. There’d been a door, then another door, then he’d been dropped to the floor as though he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

“Take off their head coverings,” a detached voice directed, sounding bored. “And their gags, no need to worry about interference here.” Footsteps moved closer. “On second thought, untie their hands. Someone seized his shoulder in a crushing grip. "Let these have sufficient warning that trying anything foolish like escape will only make them rue the day they were born. Besides,” the voice chuckled softly, “it would be amusing to see them try.”

Lindo cringed. This could only mean they were in such a well-fortified area that the guards felt very comfortable having them untied. Someone pulled his arms. Cold metal slid between his hands as the bonds were removed. Blood rushed painfully to the area. Lindo instinctively began rubbing his hands against his wrist to alleviate the pain of blood rushing to the area.

Someone shoved him. Lindo stumbled. “What are you doing?” someone shouted in his ear. He winced at the volume. “Take off the blindfold and gag! Now!” With trembling hands, Lindo quickly acquiesced to the demand, blinking against the sudden bright light. As his eyes grew used to not being obscured in darkness, a colorless Folco came into view. He too, was massaging his hands, flinching in pain as his cuts rubbed against the crude bandages. Two guards flanked him, one an orc and one the brown-faced human. Lindo himself had the red-haired man on one side and the one with the pointy beard on the other. The bald fellow rifled through papers in the basket while the young one with scraggly hair scribbled something onto parchment.

They were in a spacious room in a building all of stone. The wall had several iron rings of different sizes at rather higher than would be comfortable for a standing human fixed into the stone. Lindo shivered slightly, not wanting to imagine what was done with those rings. Several guards stood around the outside of the room, as did several wooden stools nearly as high as Lindo himself, each in the vicinity of two of the rings. There was also a desk, an easel with a large piece of parchment and an array of paints on a table alongside it. A wardrobe stood in one corner, a chest in the other three.

The one in charge of the group was a surprisingly short human. He could not be more than five and a half feet tall. His build was completely unremarkable, neither fat nor thin, neither brawny nor flabby. The man had wavy blonde hair, tanned skin and soft blue eyes that were large in an almost cherubic face. The beam he wore was unnervingly amicable. Were it not for the company he kept, he might easily have been mistaken for a sweet, innocent sort of fellow.

“Welcome back to Drémeadow,” he said. His voice sounded as kind as his smile. Only the frostiness in his eyes suggested malevolent intentions. “I do hope you’ve had a pleasant journey.” He began pacing around the pair. “Now, this could very well be called the welcome desk of your ah…accommodations. Before we show you to your rooms, however, we have some business to finish here.” The man strode over to the desk and took a seat behind it. The guards flanking the young hobbits pushed them towards the front of the desk and the fair-haired man, who gave yet another seemingly pleasant grin. The petrified adolescents stood silent.

“No worries though, you may find yourselves spending rather a lot of time with me. If you choose to, anyhow. That decision is entirely up to you.” Lindo and Folco exchanged a glance. What did he mean by that? “First though, I really would love to remember your visit since it means so much to me. Khalil!” The dark-skinned human stepped forward, an orc replacing him on Folco’s left.

The blond-haired man continued, “I’d like you to do the sketches of these two so we can have this moment preserved for posterity. Get these two onto stools- make sure they cannot move. It’s always a shame when a portrait is ruined by someone being unable to stay still.” He looked at Folco, a falsely sweet smile crossing his face. “Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness? I know you're familiar with how they work.” The prince remained quiet. “Well?” Still an obstinate silence. “Dear, dear, and here I am thinking royalty was supposed to have the best manners of all… "Perhaps the right methods have not been tried on you. Know what I mean?” Folco muttered a few choice words. The fair-haired man looked to his charges, shrugging his shoulders. “Dear me, very uncouth language, no? No matter. I 'm confident we'll persuade him to be cooperative soon enough,” he told them as casually as though he were discussing the weather. “Now then, carry on.”

Lindo found himself being half-carried, half-dragged over to the stool against the wall just opposite from the easel, then lifted by his arms and roughly placed on the stool. The men did not relinquish their grip once he was seated. Instead, they held his arms fully extended at his sides. Several feet away, Folco received similar treatment. He looked even paler than before. As the hobbits were held unable to budge, the bald-headed human moved to a chest, opened it and began moving things around. Lindo heard a series of metallic clinks and clanks before the man withdrew two pairs of iron shackles and proceeded towards him. He wound the shackle through the metal loop closest to Lindo’s stool, took his left arm, jerked and twisted it up behind him so his wrist would reach the shackle- the hobbit moaned slightly at the uncomfortable angle- and clamped the iron shut on it. The same was done with his right.

“What do you mean by doing that to him- oy!” the prince protested as the same was done with him. “This is not how you ought to be treating prisoners…” He began strruggling, face twisting in pain as his every movement pulled on his arm in a direction no arm ought to have force on it.

The men laughed. “You ought to be careful not to squirm too much,” the light-haired man said with the air of a parent addressing a mischievous toddler. “You might cause the stool to topple. Your shoulders could rip right out of their sockets. I wouldn’t want anyone hurting themselves now…” Lindo shivered, revolted by how cavalier the man was about it. “Now, mind you lads behave yourselves now. The sooner we immortalize you in your portraits the sooner you can retire to your bedchamber for some rest while you can... you'll need it... so I really do advise you to stay still... Now, Khalil, everyone knows royalty does not like being kept waiting so I suggest you do Prince Folco first... leave nothing out, we need accuracy.”

Lindo gave a sympathetic wince. Between the dried blood in his hair and the mottled bruises marring his friend’s ashen face, this was not exactly going to be Folco’s best-looking portrait.

The artist settled upon his seat, unstopped a bottle of black ink, then picked up a quill and set to work on the sketch. At intervals, he'd rise and get uncomfortably close to the prince to study his face. Every time the artist did this, Folco's nose scrunched up in disgust. That happened several times before the artist noticed. "I'm aware you're of royal blood, Your Highness, but don't expect to be treated the same as you're used to here. You can look at me like I'm beneath you all you want, but as a traitor you're less than dirt." Folco looked outraged. "The rats and roaches here are held in higher esteem than you." Rats and roaches? Lindo shuddered.

In what seemed years later, Folco was finished. The man began to give Lindo the same treatment. The first time the artist invaded his personal space to look for details, a wave of nausea assaulted Lindo. The man's breath reeked of fish, onions and unidentifiable smells. Goodness. I knew humans don't usually clean themselves as much as us, but this is ridiculous! No wonder Folco had wrinkled his nose! What did they, especially the males, have against proper hygiene? So what if baths took a long time? Lindo, Folco and their fellow refugees had missed those dreadfully. Indeed, cleaning up was the first thing on their minds after food and warmth. It was uncomfortable being dirty. How could humans- and dwarves and orcs for that matter, stand it?

A sudden laugh in his face cut Lindo's thoughts short. "What?" he said irritably.

"If I were a criminal like yourself and having a prison sketch done," the artist replied in a tone as though he were talking to a five-year-old, "I'd at least make sure I did not look like a complete idiot." Lindo frowned. "That vacant expression you had just now. Then again, considering you'd HAVE to be a complete idiot- or crazy- to go against His Majesty, I can't be surprised." He stared at the glowering youth as though daring him to reply before resuming the sketch.

After a long time, during which Lindo’s hunger pains reached a crescendo before subsiding into weakness, the portraits were finally finished. The blond-man gave orders for the two young hobbits to be escorted to their accommodations. “Unless you choose to cooperate when the time comes to answer our questions, we shall certainly see each other again," he informed them jovially. Lindo shuddered. How was he so calm? "I’d love to accompany you to where you will be staying, see, but I have some other business to attend to with my other guests." Other guests? "Blindfold them, unshackle them from the wall and take them away!”

The guards adhered to the command with eagerness. They were guided an indeterminate distance down what seemed to be a hallway. At one point, he was lifted off the ground and carried as though he were a small child. From the feeling of the jostles beneath his body, the hobbit suspected they were going down a flight of stairs. He tried to listen for clues to his surroundings, but the only definite sound was the slaps of shoes on stone. At long last, Lindo and Folco were set on their feet, unchained and shoved forward so hard both landed sprawling on the ground. “In!” barked the voice. A metal door slammed shut, encasing them in darkness.

"Seems we're really in a tight spot this time," Lindo said weakly. Folco did not reply but shifted closer. Lindo did the same. While they huddled together, he whispered "I thought that'd NEVER end." Folco still said nothing. "And he smelled like orc. I knew humans don't like baths or cleaning their teeth but that was really something special! Was beginning to wonder if he meant to kill us with his breath!"

Folco smiled wryly. Lindo returned it. He had a bad feeling this would be the only time either of them would smile in here.

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© 2014 SpeedyHobbit Armstrong

Author's Note

Please give me any constructive criticism you can think of as well as comments on strengths you notice. I hope to be a published author one day, so I want this book and all of my books to become awesome and as close to perfect as is humanly possible.

9/1/14 Made some edits based off both tweaks to the previous chapter focused on Lindo/Folco (Twice Fallen) and from C. Rose, who's up there with Nusquam Esse being the most reviewer on site, commenting on my proclivity for runons. In this edit, I tried to shorten some sentences. Please let me know if you see anything else that can be shortened or cut.

My Review

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Featured Review

Cynthia Ann Varady

I really like what you have here. It is imaginative, and detailed. The two things I would suggest are to watch out for repetition of phrases and words in the same paragraph, and to double check to make sure some of your dialogue shouldn't be in its own paragraphs (ie. paragraph 8). This sort of grammatical thing trips me up all the time. Other than that, great job! Keep it up.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 10 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Reviews

NoelHC

Well done, the only edit suggestion is to capitalize the first word inside quotation marks, otherwise the story moved along well.
Orc. I hate orcs.

Posted 10 Years Ago

jjwilbourne

I liked what happened here.
I do wish that, instead of doing a scene/line break, you just added a paragraph or 3 about the sketching process. My main reason for finding it odd is because you only have 2 paragraphs to follow.
Maybe one of them joked: "lets see a smile, ay?" or maybe the artist got real close to their faces to spot detail and Lindo glared him down. I think you can pants your way through that line break so we feel like the time had passed without the break.
I'm curious what's going to happen to the pair. I'm frightened for them. I want them to survive, but I'm afraid what Falco's dad's gonna do when he gets his hands on them.
notes here: https://diigo.com/04j6tx