Garinor wanted to go see the king in the north, but he wasn’t sure if he could find his way there safely. He also assumed the roads would be protected in some way and it would be an unsafe path to travel. He opted to take a more circuitous route to the east and then he would venture north when he felt he was out of harm’s way.
Maintaining a brisk pace was easy. The air was fresh and clean and the sun was bright but not too warm. The added motivation that people were after him kept his feet plodding along swiftly. All the while, he scanned the area to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He sank into a routine and he kept along his way.
As mid-afternoon approached, a caravan appeared in the road. There was an older man sitting up front with a young girl and he seemed to be teaching her how to control the horse, for she had the reins in her hand but the man looked ready to take them at a moment’s notice.
“Ho there,” called the man as they crossed Garinor’s path.
“Fine day, sir and lady,” he responded gallantly. The little girl giggled.
“A fine day, indeed, to be on the road,” the man replied cheerily. “But hearken my words, young master, further east you’ll find two camps and I’m not sure you would likely want to stumble into one of them.”
“Are they dangerous?”
He shrugged. “They don’t bother folks much but sometimes we hear them shouting. But you never know. They’re not looters, at any rate. Never even popped out their heads to see what we were transporting here today. But keep on your toes and let your eyes take in the sights before you wander in without knowing it. Good day.”
“Good day, and thank you.” Garinor waved as the caravan drove away.
He didn’t like the idea that he would run into two camps up ahead but he held to his conviction to head east a while before turning north. And from what the driver had said, they didn’t seem like they were all that bad, so he might be able to walk right past them. Still, he sharpened his senses and remained more alert as he continued.
Before long, he saw the two camps in the distance. A line of brown tents on one side of the road mirrored dirty-white tents on the other side. Each camp seemed independent, with small groups of people huddled together, occasionally laughing or shaking their heads.
Garinor fixed his eyes forward, determined not to look to either side of the road, hoping they wouldn’t accost him as he went.
“Eh? Lookit that,” said a woman from the brown camp.
At the same time, a man from the white camp piped up, “Hey, gang, take a look.”
Before he knew it, Garinor was surrounded by men and women. They stood an arm’s length away from him as if they were afraid to touch him, but they closed off any path of escape. “Good day,” he greeted, though his voice warbled in the attempt.
“Seems a might friendly,” one voice said.
“What you think we should do?”
“Wonder where ‘e’s ‘eaded.”
“Surely can’t be lookin’ for ‘arm.”
The crowd’s words gathered into a growing chaos and other campers came forward, poking their heads in and muttering their own comments.
“Please,” Garinor called out above the din. “May I pass?”
A universal gasp echoed through the crowd before they fell silent. Two people pushed their way forward, each clad in a long, flowing robe, and they eyed Garinor coldly. “You stumble your way among us and then you make requests?” asked the brown-robed woman.
The white-robed man added, “And not without even making an offering.”
Garinor looked between the two. “I haven’t got much on me,” he said. “Maybe some rations.”
The robed coupled glanced at each other then laughed. “We have no need of your rations. No, you will give to us that which burns in your pocket.”
Reflexively, Garinor’s hand went down to the stone in his pocket. He wondered frantically how they could possibly have known it was there. “What do you want it for?”
They laughed again and the crowd surrounding him tittered in response. “Its use is for us to know, not you. But we would have the stone.”
Garinor stepped back a pace but could go no further with the rest of the people around him. “This belongs to me. I can’t give it up now.”
“We will see.” Hands reached out and grabbed him, binding him effectively so he couldn’t resist.
The brown-robed woman turned to the man and said, “We’ll take him and watch him.”
The robed man replied, “You will not. We’ll watch him.”
Back and forth they bantered, growing angrier and louder with each exchange. Soon the campers took up the argument and a rowdy brawl ensued. Garinor was restrained by two men from each camp and he was pulled away from the melee, which he watched in awe.
Men and women pounded on each other with abandon. Fists flailed about, scoring hits on those who opposed them. Garinor had no idea how they were able to keep track of sides in the brawl. There was nothing obvious about what they were wearing that could allow him to follow what was happening. Little by little, the clouds of dust being kicked up in the fray settled back down again and the shouts and angry cries died away.
The robed woman hobbled away from the mess and dusted off her robe after wiping blood off her lip. “As I said, we’ll take him and watch him.”
Garinor was shuffled away to one of the brown tents on the southern side of the road. He saw the mob untangle itself and all the people went back about their business as if it was a very normal day in their lives, brawl and all.
Ropes were tied to his feet and hands and a gag was wrapped around his mouth, removed only when it was time to eat. He wasn’t treated roughly, but they made certain he didn’t run away or cause any sort of trouble. He was even given a small lump of hay to serve as a pillow when night came.
The next morning, Garinor was sore and stiff. His hands and feet were oddly numb from being tied up overnight and he wanted nothing more than to stand up and stretch. His captors crammed food down his throat and then a few sips of water, but they didn’t explain anything at all.
It was a few hours later when Garinor was finally brought outside again. Six men and women joined the two leaders, forming a circle into which Garinor was set on the ground. The eight of them kept their distance but the two leaders in robes eyed Garinor as if they didn’t know how to communicate with him.
“We want the bloodstone,” said the woman.
Garinor shook his head, unable to speak with the gag in his mouth.
The man spoke next. “We will exchange the bloodstone for your freedom. Give us the one and we will give you the other.”
Garinor shook his head again. Elder Dorin wouldn’t have sent him to find the stone just to hand it over.
The woman rose to her feet. “Fine, then we’ll let you stew a little longer.” She motioned the others around her and they took him back to the tent.