Stranger in the Forest by chrissystriped

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Chapter Two

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“Rog!”

The elf shouting his name walked up the hill, struggling through the brambles.

“Rog! Let’s talk!”

He sounded breathless, the hill was steep.

“Rog! I don’t want you ill!”

Rog grimaced. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to talk with him. Their first meeting hadn’t been so bad but it had ended on a sour note – but then, that had been the Sindar’s fault. Had Turukáno just not noticed what he was or did he not care?

“Rog!”

He knew he could get the answer only from him and he needed him to shut up in any case. If he continued yelling around like that, he was bound to attract the attention of something evil. Rog crept closer, wound his arms around his chest and pressed his hand over his mouth. He felt Turukáno tense and smiled grimly. He hoped, he taught him a lesson.

“Are you crazy?”, he hissed into his ear. “You can’t walk around yelling like that!”

Turukáno’s answer was muffled by his hand and Rog took it away from his mouth.

“I didn’t know how else to find you”, Turukáno said and turned around when Rog let go. “I’m sorry for how we parted ways the other day. Galdor shouldn’t have threatened you.”

Rog growled. “My kind isn’t welcome in the villages of the elves here – and that surely was exactly what the enemy wanted when he sent his Maiar to them feigning to be escaped elves. I can assure you that I escaped by my own efforts and nothing would be further from my mind than aiding the enemy.”

Turukáno met his eyes with an earnest gaze. Rog wondered if he was searching something similar to what he had searched in the eyes of the orcs he had killed. Those, in whose eyes he had thought to still see a last bit of awareness of who they had been, he had given a quick death – they’d suffered enough – the others he had made pay for his suffering.

“I believe you”, Turukáno said and pulled him out of his dark thoughts. “Your eyes are honest and Galdor is prejudiced. He thinks even my cousin might be a traitor.”

“Your cousin?” But even as he asked the question, Rog realised who Turukáno had to mean. “The son of the jewel-smith? With the fiery hair?”

“You know Maedhros?” Turukáno looked surprised.

Rog shook his head. “I know about him. I was still a slave when they caught him and...” ‘...all of Angband talked about the King’s new plaything.’ Rog bit his lip. He couldn’t say that. “The enemy held a feast when he was taken captive. And later... I knew where he hung. I saw your brother – and the eagle. I followed the eagle. I want to fight with you, if you let me.”

“It would be my honour to take you into my service.”

“I’m no one’s servant”, Rog hissed before he could stop himself. But the thought of having to bow to anyone ever again, galled him. Turukáno winced at his sharp tone.

“I’m sorry, if I insulted you. You would not be a servant. You’d be a soldier, fight at my side. But I’m a prince and you’d swear to follow my orders. That is, what I meant. It would not be demeaning, you would be treated with all honour.”

Rog nodded slowly. “We don’t have this kind of hierarchies, but I think, I understand. I’m just a little sensitive after...” He might have overreacted. “You don’t want to know more about me, before you accept my... vow?”

It surprised him. Were all the Noldor this trusting? No wonder that the enemy had managed to outsmart Maedhros.

Turukáno smiled wryly. “Oh, I’d like to hear a lot more about you, but if Maedhros can serve as a rule, you won’t like to talk about that time. I won’t ask that of you. Tell me, how you live now. Are you alone?”

Rog felt his suspicion wake despite Turukáno’s sympathetic words – or maybe because of them. He felt responsible for the elves he lived with hidden in the mountains. They’d be driven away again, if the other elves found out how close to them they lived.

“There are others”, he said warily. “Not all of us can fight.”

“I’m not only interested in military power. I don’t want to believe what the Sindar say, that you all are in league with the Moringotto.” Turukáno shook his head. “I’d be willing to take your people under my protection.”

Rog nodded slowly. His heart beat quicker with hope. They were surviving, but barely. But wasn’t this simply too good to be true?

“I have to speak with them about it. I can’t decide for them.”

“Of course.” Turukáno nodded. “Would you like to come to our camp and look around? You can tell your friends about it.”

Rog thought about it for a moment. A part of him was sensing a trap, it told him that Turukáno only wanted to get him out of his familiar surroundings and bring him to a place where he’d be helpless and at his mercy, but he pushed the thought aside. No, he’d wanted to fight alongside them from the moment he’d found out about this newcomers from across the sea. He’d take the risk to trust Turukáno and maybe win a new life not only for himself but also for as many of his friends as would come with him. Rog nodded decisively.

“I’ll come with you.”

Turukáno smiled pleased and lead the way.

 

The camp was overwhelming. It was huge, he’d already seen that when he’d followed the eagle and watched from afar, but to be inside it, between all these elves who nodded respectfully at the prince, was intimidating. Rog walked beside Turukáno, his hood pulled down to hide his face – he’d insisted on that, he knew what he looked like and how elves reacted to it – but he looked around warily.

It was obvious that the elves had a rough journey behind them. Their clothes were threadbare and their faces thin with hunger. But the houses that were in various stages of construction looked solid and the smell of food was in the air. Everywhere craftsmen could be seen going after their trade. He’d never seen that many elves in one place – not free at least, not as a village community – he’d always been solitary and although he’d travelled with his tribe before he was caught, he’d stayed for himself. He didn’t know if he could live like this, but everyone seemed to know what their task was and he liked that.

Turukáno showed him the bakery – he was allowed to taste some bread that seemed to melt on his tongue in an explosion of taste – and the kitchen. They walked on to a place where many elves where sewing clothes, singing and talking while they worked.

The armoury and the smithy – the sound of the hammers made Rog shudder but it also fanned a longing in him. Before his captivity, his tribe had traded with the Khazad, they’d taught him a lot and he’d loved the work – in Angband he had been forced to it and he thought he felt the burn of the whip on his back. He'd have liked to talk with the smiths, but he couldn't stand the sound, it made his skin crawl.

“Let’s go on”, he mumbled and Turukáno nodded without asking. Rog was surprised but glad that he didn’t question his quirks.

Turukáno started to explain the layout of the camp and describe what they were building and Rog listened politely, but he’d already seen enough. The camp was protected by a sturdy palisade, there were guards who watched the surroundings - they had good armour and weapons - and Turukáno told him of their plans to build houses of stone as soon as the recourses were there. They were settling in for a long war – the dark one was strong, it would be foolish to think it would be easy to bring him down, Rog was glad they could see that. This was a safe place. He could fight with these elves and those of his friends who would never fight again, would be safe here.

“You will make sure that my people are treated well?”, he asked softly.

“I give you my word”, Turukáno answered earnestly. “Swear fealty to me and you and yours will be under my protection the same way as my other vassals.”

Rog nodded. He’d made his decision.

“I'll talk to them. Meet me in two days. At dusk, in the clearing where we met the first time.”

“I’ll be there", Turukáno answered.

They were on their way to the gate when a blond elf called Turukáno’s name.

“We wondered where you are!”

The elf threw Rog a curious glance.

“Findaráto, this is Rog. I met him in the woods and he is interested in joining us. Rog, my cousin Findaráto.”

“An honour”, Rog mumbled from under his hood, he couldn’t bring himself to mimic the bow he’d seen others in the camp make when they saw Turukáno.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Rog.” To his credit, Findaráto didn’t try to look under his hood. “Turukáno, Itarille asks for you.” He sounded worried. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but...”

Turukáno’s face told Rog that this was something serious.

“I’ll see you in two days, prince", he said. “I’ll find my way out.”

Turukáno nodded absentmindedly, already turning away. Findaráto gave him an apologetic look before they walked in the direction of the palace and Rog turned to the gate. He wouldn’t be in the way of what looked like a familial matter.