Woodland Prince

Chapter 9

Arthon

Two burly elves forced me down several winding staircases and threw me into a cell. They said no words and never made eye contact. At least I was allowed to walk on my own after I stopped struggling. They slammed the bars right behind me and roughly twisted the lock into place and left without a word. Well trained dogs.

The roaring waterfall near the cells is deafening almost to the point of madness. The waterfalls and rivers in Rivendell were never so loud. Perhaps it is the anger of this place. The spray of this fall has left the area within and around my cell green and slick with moss, no doubt a concern to prisoner safety. I can smell the wine from the cellars beneath me. The aroma of the sweet grapes and the strong scent of the potent alcohol is intoxicating itself. Many men would pass out from a single glass if I were to guess. Few elves pass the cells, fully dressed for combat with masked helmets and full shields. I wonder if this place ever knows peace.

I pace around the cell for what feels like hours before the Prince approaches. He eyes me warily and mumbles something about answers before unlocking the door. I keep near the far wall, posing no threat to the captain with wicked knives, knives very similar to my own. He closes the barred door behind his back while keeping two eyes on me. No stranger to betrayal apparently.

After the door is secured, he faces me fully and leans against the bars, casually stabbing me with his glare. He pulls one blade from its cover and starts turning it, catching the flow of the amber lamps and reflecting it at my feet.

"I will ask you this again. What other family do you have?" the prince says calmly, not making eye contact.

"I do not have any other family. What do you really want to know?" I answer quickly, mirroring his casual lean against the wall. The prince smirks at the ground and grunts, that sarcastic laugh all too familiar to my ears. My uncle has the same one.

"Why is it that when the creatures attacked, they were focused on you as much as they were my father and myself? Normally, whenever a stranger fights with my Guard, they are left alone. Why would they come after you, an elf of Rivendell?"

"Perhaps it's because my father was from this accursed place," I spit at him, my own eyes daggers toward this high and mighty elf barely older than I.

"What is his name?" The prince is watching me intently now, probably trying to work out who I resemble. He slides his dagger back into place beside its twin on his belt.

"I was never told. He and my mother died in battle before I could remember their faces. No one ever told me more than that." My uncle rarely spoke of my father. And when he did, there was no kindness in his words. I always felt that Harthor blamed my father for the death of my mother.

"If you tell me your name and any remaining family names, I might be able to search through some records to find you. If you refuse to tell me, you can choose to stay in this cell until I torture it out of you, or you can leave and never come back. It will be my father's decision." The prince paused, probably thinking of all the different ways he would try to torture it out of me. "Which path shall you follow?" He asks finally, probably hoping I keep quiet.

"My name is Arthon. Can I get out of this disgusting cell now?" The prince visibly faltered. His face contorted in what must have been pain, because the moment he came to his senses, he slammed into me hard enough to crack my head against the stone behind me.

"What is your name?!" He screams in my face, shoving me harder into the wall with every word.

"I told you my name!" I shout back at him, shoving him off my neck and back into the bars of the cell door. He kicks my foot from under me while pushing my chest back, forcing me to the ground where he quickly crawls onto my back and pins me to the missy floor, arm hooked around my neck. I get my arm out from under his knee and pinch his thigh and he helps and tumbles off me. The air flows back into my lungs and I jump into a fighting stance, ready for the next assault.

I can see tears in the prince's eyes, along with extreme pain and anger. "Tell me your real name or I will cut your tongue out! Arthon is dead!" He yells at me, pulling his blades free of their sheaths.

"I don't know who you speak of, but my name is Arthon and I am alive and in front of you!" I yell back at him, pressing myself against the barred door and away from those wicked knives. The prince shakes his head and lunges at me, but stops just short of disemboweling me.

"I shall speak to my father of this. Until then you shall remain in this cell. I will know the truth of this," the prince pants. He throws me toward the back of the cell and slams the door shut behind him.