* * * * *

Rowan was up before everyone else in her barrack, as always. Whether from adaptation or just a natural quirk, she'd never required half as much sleep as the slaves around her, which proved a blessing and a curse. Dreams, after all, are the oppressed's freedom.

The grounds were dewy and quiet as she crept out of the stuffy room, and stopped to stretch just outside. A couple birds had started twittering in a nearby tree, but they were the only motion anywhere. Despite her somewhat aggressive nature, she'd always had a soft-spot for the just-awoken world and the eternal freshness it seemed to emit.

Breakfast --or the plantation's sorry excuse for meals-- wouldn't be served for a while yet, so Rowan decided to take some time to herself. There was a small lake, one could call it, she'd discovered a couple mornings after she'd arrived, a short walk from the plantation and well hid from everything and everyone. This was where she directed herself.

The water was clear and cool as she abandoned her shabby clothing and dove in. The bottom of the lake was quite a ways down, but Rowan had no problem kicking downwards to glide among the moss-covered rocks and small fish. It wasn't all that colorful --mainly just dull browns and greys-- but everything under water felt invigorating and not like slavery, which was always a plus.

Her lungs didn't burn for oxygen and, as far as she knew, never would. Yet the sky and sun overhead, odd and disoriented through the water, looked tempting, so she swiftly pushed herself off the rocky bottom and rocketed through the surface. Then, raising her arms above her head and spinning in lazy circles, she laughed lightly. Yes, water was a wonderful thing.

Rowan continued drifting around for a while, aware of noises as nature grew more awake. She heard the natural and the unnatural sounds, but didn't let anything disturb her peace.

She'd just resurfaced again when she saw him standing near the water's edge, the little boy who'd been awake the night before.

With a calm, unconcerned tone, she reprimanded, "It's not nice to sneak up on women when they're bathing."

"I didn't sneak up on you," he argued, just as unalarmed. At her cocked eyebrow, he continued, "You heard me before I could even see you."

"Really," she replied, swimming around lazily. "And how could I do that?"

The boy shrugged and kicked at a rock, "I don't know. The same way you can whisper to the masters horse and make it throw him down."

Rowan laughed at his observation, shook her head and accused, "What are you, some kind of stalker?"

"I like to think of myself as an observer." Rowan exploded at that.

Once her laughter died down, she asked, "What's your name?"

"Kai."

"Well, Kai, if you don't mind turning around, I think I'll get out now." Kai's eyes grew wide, as if he hadn't quite realized he was talking to a naked woman, and he quickly spun, his face turning deep crimson. Rowan laughed silently, and quickly dressed, then began walking back to the plantation.

Kai hurried to follow, having to take twice as many steps to keep up with her wide stride, and asked, "What are you going to do right now?"

"Work."

"Work on what?"

Rowan looked at the kid with amusement and reminded, "I'm a slave. There's always work to do."

"What's your name?" Kai asked. Rowan gave him an odd look, so he repeated the question.

"I heard you the first time."

"Well, what it is? You have one, don't you?"

"Of course I have a name," she replied shortly. "It's Rowan."

"Like the tree."

"Yes, like the tree."

"What's that mark mean?" he inquired, pointing to her left shoulder, exposed and tanned. Rowan looked what he was referring to her, craning her neck to see the familiar design of thick black lines tattooed onto her skin.

With a shrug, she answered, "I don't know."

"Well, where did you get it?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

"Because I don't," she snapped, then shook her head. Though it was her nature to flare up like that, she perhaps should try and be At least a little civil to the boy. He was, after all, the first person on the plantation to take an interest in her, other than creepy Warian. "You're awfully annoying."

"I'm curious."

"Well, for your curiosity, then: I don't know everything, I don’t care about it, and I’d rather not discuss it."

Kai was silent for a moment, watching her feet on the ground, then offered, "I don't know where I came from, either. So I guess that means we're two of a kind."

This made Rowan smile, but she rolled her eyes to hide any signs of growing fondness for the inquisitive kid, who actually did remind her quite a bit of herself, "Whatever you say, kid."

* * * * * * * * * *

Legolas was anxious to see the sea, and, as when anybody really looks forward to something, the next day seemed to stretch on and on. It was as if the next day was trying to prevent him for visiting that which he'd longed to see for ever. But Legolas was an elf of duties, and of sticking to those duties, and so he forced his foolish curiosity in order to continue with the day's duties.

The morning had been one long meeting, speaking mainly about where exactly the border between Alrianto and Middle-Earth was. It was basically several hours of listening to a bunch of political leaders try to be polite, yet at the same time harbor as much of the land for themselves as possible. "You can have it." "No, you." "You absolutely must." "Well, if you insist." Very boring to an elf of action like Legolas.

After lunch, it was decided that the entire committee should pay a visit to some large estate of a man named Warian's. He apparently had a large say in the goings-on of Alrianto, and the Royal Bureau wished to consult with him on what he thought would be the fair border. Obviously, the thought of having him come to Kirsoden escaped them.

At least the trip wasn't that far, and in little over an hour they'd left Kirsoden behind, traveled over the top of the valley, through a slight forest, and reached a broad expanse of fields. In the center of these fields sat a manor every bit as large as the great hall of Rohan, if not more so, but with less open-ness about it. Large wooden doors and velvety curtains blocked off doors and windows, creating a much more secluded, but every bit as grand residence.

Legolas looked about curiously as they entered the front, a whole troop of people, and waited for Warian to return from wherever he was outside. They were all kept waiting for a good half-hour before the man sauntered in from a large hall, using a gold-tipped cane to help himself along. If Legolas had been looking for anything kingly about so significant a man in Alriantan Courts, he was left groping. Warian was well kept, yes, and definitely rich, but he had a sort of arrogance and snake-ishness that reminded him all too much of Grima Wormtongue. Legolas kept a sharp eye on him.

Warian greeted the Royal Bureau with all sorts of well wishes and suave smiles, shaking hands with everyone. He then invited everyone to sit out on the veranda behind the manor, since it was such a lovely day, and enjoy some tea and biscuits. Legolas followed but stood standing, looking out at the land behind rather than listening to the conversations taking place.

It was a lot of land, to be sure. From there, he could see several short wooden houses, of which he wondered. When Rickon stepped close to join his perusal, he questioned about the houses.

"Slave quarters."

Legolas looked at him with confusion, "Slave quarters?"

"You know, where slaves live."

"Slaves like orcs?"

Rickon laughed with amusement, "We don't have orcs here, Eron. Slaves are slaves, whatever their race. Orphans, criminals, survivors from captured cities."

Legolas was horrified that normal people would be forced into slavery and voiced this, but Rickon merely laughed, slapped him on the shoulder, and walked off, muttering something about sheltered Etrienans.

He watched the slaves he could see, looking for any physical deformities or racial differences, anything to set them apart from the rulers of Alrianto, but none could he find. He didn't understand how it was that one class could rule another when there wasn't anything to set them apart. Why would these slaves willingly stay slaves? Why didn't they rise up? Surely nobody would willingly be a slave.

A while later, Warian offered to show the Royal Bureau some building he'd finished of which they'd apparently, at some point in time, showed an interest in seeing. Legolas noted that a couple (there were seven in all, from the seven major provinces) looked less than eager. Nonetheless, the entire group left the porch and trooped across the yard.

As they went, Legolas curiously surveyed the slave barracks and the people who inhabited them. The small buildings were crudely constructed of long slates of wood, though the mud plaster between the boards had chipped away, leaving giant holes. A tattered cloth was hung over the doorway, preventing his seeing inside. Legolas was eager to see the interior but thought it a slightly inappropriate request/

The new building Warian was so proud of was very beautiful. The gazebo was an elaborate collection of smooth stone pillars amid intricately carved designs and rounded corners. Five steps led up to a fair-sized platform, plenty big for a small party. Overhead, hanging from the very point of the coned-ceiling was a lavish chandelier decorated with crystals, gold lining, and silver candles. It was quite obviously the project of a person with a lot of time and money on their hands.

It wasn't the gazebo that held Legolas' attention, but rather the garden that was being constructed, along with a pebble pathway, around the structure. The garden didn't exactly exist yet, but he easily recognized the cleared area and the border, consisting of large rocks placed in a line.

Apparently it was actively being worked on. Legolas watched as a young boy, one of Warian's slaves, came shuffling out of the surrounding woods, struggling to carry a large rock. It probably weighed a good forty pounds. The boy lugged the rock over and dropped it with a thud, jumping back to make sure the heavy object didn't land on his toes. He then wrestled to get it in line with all the others. There was sweat dripping down his face, so the boy had probably been at it for a good while.

He wasn't the only one working. Several seconds later, a slave girl appeared, also carrying a rock. She was a bit older than the boy, but still rather young. Legolas wondered at first if they were related, but then decided that, even if they were, they looked nothing alike. He studied them closely, capturing a mental image; these were, after all, the first slaves he'd seen up close.

Then he noticed them.

Coonto happened to be standing next to him, so Legolas grabbed his attention and pointed out in a low voice, "Look at her ears." Coonto's eyes widened as he, too, observed the pointed Elven tips.

Their acknowledgment of something other than Warian's ego-centric and tedious voice was somehow brought to his attention, making the man less than pleased. So he paused his tiresome monologue on where his inspiration for the gazebo had come from and moved towards Legolas and Coonto to see what exactly was interesting them so. The two slaves had disappeared back into the forest, but the boy slave appeared presently, lugging another rock.

"You. Slave. What's your number?" Warian barked out. The boy immediately dropped what he was carrying, which scraped his leg on the way down, and came to attention, standing stiff as a rod.

"49857, Master."

"You're not working hard enough," Warian reprimanded. About this time, the slave girl re-entered the scene. She completely ignored all those present, just as before, and carried her rock to the line.

"16384."

"Yes?" She did not come to attention.

"16384, I'm talking to you. What are you doing? I personally ordered you to be on field duty. Why are you over here?" Warian demanded, clearly peeved that she wasn't showing him the proper respect.

She grabbed the rock from beside the boy and answered, "I'm helping him."

"You're what?!"

"I'm helping him. You've given him a task that he can't possibly finish alone, and then you'll punish him when he fails," she frowned.

Warian shook his head, "He looks fine to me. If he's not strong enough, then I'll just have to--"

"Maybe if you gave him something to eat, once in a while," she retorted angrily. "Or quit beating him enough to let him heal, or let him go in out of the cold and rain. He's starved as it is and you continue to try and work him to--"

"Don't interrupt me!" Warian roared. He took his cane and slammed it against her arm, causing her to drop the rock. "Don't talk back to me!" he continued. "Don't tell me how to manage my affairs! Don't disobey me! Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong! And don't you dare, for one second, act as my equal!"

With every sentence, his cane came beating down on her back. Bright red welts that would absolutely bring bruises sprang up while the surrounding area paled in shock. Skin split wherever the gold tip hit on her almost-bare back. The boy looked on with horror, unsure of what to do, and it was only Thranduil's restraining hand on his shoulder that kept Legolas from springing forward and slitting the throat of the wicked man who dared beat a woman, an Elven woman!

At Warian's command, two of the three big men that trailed the slave lord everywhere hustled forward and bound her hands.

"Take her to the whipping post. Give her a dozen and one," Warian ordered, waving his hand in disgust. As they did so, he remembered the boy and commanded, "You...49-whatever. Get back to work, and remember this if you even think about disrespecting me." The boy nodded and did as he was instructed.

After the episode, Warian seemed to have lost his show-off mood, so everyone wandered back to the porch. The Alrianto natives seemed unmoved by the display, and even joked about it on the way back!, but the visitors were all secretly --or outwardly, in Legolas' clenched fists as he looked around. This time, he really saw the people --the sick and weakly slaves. One woman, holding a tiny child's hand, bowed as they passed, her stick legs barely supporting her. The child just watched dejectedly, its linen dress hanging loosely off of bony shoulders. As they approached the porch, the crack of a whip sang through the air.

Now he understood that some slaves did rebel. And the others? They were worse off than dead: a broken people.

Thranduil saw the disgust on his son's face and, afraid the passionate, sometimes rash young elf would do something to jeopardize their position, asked Warian if some of them might visit his library of which they'd heard so much. He waved them off, ordering another slave to show the way.

"This is repulsive," Legolas said quietly to Thranduil as they walked down the halls. Three others were with them, all looking equally horrified at the collection of weapons hung on walls, all stained with blood and some even with bits of tissue, serving for Warian as grotesque medals of honor.

"She shouldn't have spoken out against her master in that manner," Thranduil offered, trying to teach his son that any good leader has to quiet the nay-sayers, or they lose their control.

Legolas caught the meaning but shook his head, "Better to rule by favor than force. Did you see those people? Starved, battered, frail. No man should have to live that way, slave or not. No child should starve and no woman should be beaten by a man." Thranduil couldn't argue.

Once in the library, everyone split up and began wandering around, picking up and perusing whatever happened to catch their eye. For Legolas, it was the several books left out on a table. There wasn't much there except a worn book written in a foreign language and a book on mythology. Legolas picked the foreign book up and flipped through casually. Though he couldn't understand the words, he recognized the scrawl form the couple pages kept by the Royal Bureau in Kirsoden. They'd no doubt been torn from this very book. He thought to point this out to Thranduil, but the Royal Bureau probably already knew, and, if not, Legolas sure didn't want to cross paths with Warian. He could already him the wicked man: 'This elf made me mad; I think I'll go beat some slaves to death to release my anger."

In the book, amid all the pages of meaningless words, were sketches of plants and animals, objects and places. Most were unfamiliar to him --probably places in Alrianto. One was of a ship larger than he had ever seen. A woman holding a tiny baby was on a separate, smaller paper inserted between two pages. A bit later, there was a large portrait of a man. A name was written in common tongue on the back, "Bill," and from the frequency the name appeared throughout the book, Legolas assumed he was the author.

Legolas wasn't really interested in the mythology book, so he leisurely ambled over to the shelves. The time away from Warian was doing well to calm him down, and it seemed to have a similar effect on those around him. By the time the rest of their party retrieved them to head back to Kirsoden (apparently Warian shared that he was too busy to invite them to lunch.) They passed a group of slaves on their way out, and Legolas whispered a prayer to the Valar for them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Even after the thirteen lashes had been administered, Rowan was left tethered to the post like a horse. This was meant to add a dose of mortification, but it suited her just fine, since it meant she was allowed to just sit and do nothing. Her back was too abused to have anything touch it, so she worked around it, laying on her stomach in the dirt with her head cradled in her arms. The stretch tortured her back at first, but it then conformed, so that when she was finally released around supper and stood, the scabs forming on her back audibly crackled.

Rowan sighed, frowned at the guard, and made her way sorely back to her barrack. She'd been whipped so many times before that her body no longer registered shock and basically shut itself off to pain after the first couple attacks. Still, she winced as the door curtain rubbed against her.

It was empty inside, since everyone was either eating or still working. She wasn't very hungry and she sure wasn't going to rush back to work. If Warian thought that that was talking back...no, he was just angry about it happening in front of his little friends.

"What a baby," she mumbled. Rowan hoisted herself up onto her bunk, making a face. "Okay, maybe it hurts a little." She resumed her earlier position, eyes wandering lazily around the barrack. The life of a wounded animal sure was boring.

After a while, she noted footsteps approaching and sat up, waiting for Kai. After only the kid a day, she could recognized his footfalls, though it wasn't difficult. He stepped harder with his left foot than his right and sometimes dragged his left toe, and his pace was usually pretty consistent, like he knew where he was going. Most people were the opposite in all regards.

Sure enough, Kai pushed his way through the curtain a minute later and walked over to Rowan's bed. He set a plate down beside her.

"I heard they let you go," he said. "So I brought you dinner."

Rowan gave him an odd look and asked, "They let you take more food?"

"They weren't watching."

"You shouldn't have done that. If you got caught, you know what happens," Rowan warned him, accepting the food nonetheless.

"You did it for me."

Rowan shrugged, "It wasn't just for you. You're not the first person I've risked my neck for."

"You did it for your rebellion?" Rowan raised an eyebrow at him, as she was wont to do when amused. "I've heard you talk to some of the other slaves about fighting back. It's not going to work, though. Not with them. They don't care about freedom anymore." As he said this, he climbed up to sit on the bed beside her.

"If you live in a cave, the dangerous stops looking so dark and your eyes adjust. When you're thrust out into the light, you're blinded at first, but then you begin to heal. As long as you're in that cave, maybe all you can think about is your fear of those blind moments, and you can't remember just how great the sunshine is."

"You say that as if you've been through it all," Kai observed. "But you aren't free."

Rowan shrugged, not really wanting to get into the story of her life. Kai was obviously curious, but had quickly grown to respect her and on this did not press further.

Instead, he offered, "Well, I've never known anything except this place."

"You've been here your whole life?"

"As far as I can remember," he nodded. "But my method is a lot different than yours. Just be. You saw Warian didn't even know my number. He sure knew your number, though."

Rowan laughed, ate the last bite of food, and agreed, "I guess. I'm pretty memorable."

"You seem to get into trouble a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kai shrugged, "You do. Everyone says you're a troublemaker."

"Maybe I am."

"Oh, you are."

"Thanks."

"Any time."

Rowan slid the tin plate under her mattress, earning a curious look from Kai.

"You never know," was all she offered. They sat in silence for a couple more minutes, Kai trusting Rowan's senses to alert him if someone was coming --nobody did. Finally, Kai forced himself off the bunk.

"I better get going. I'm supposed to be getting a bonfire ready."

"For what?"

Kai paused in his exit and replied, "Nobody told me, but after the Royal Bureau left, I heard him say something about burning a bunch of books."

He left, but Rowan's mind was fixed on this bit of information. What reason would Warian have for burning books? Even if he had no use for them, there was plenty of room in the library. There was no reason for Warian to destroy the books unless...

"Unless there's something in that library he doesn't want found," Rowan inferred.

It was still relatively light out, which meant her chance of being seen was multiplied. She would rather wait until darkness, but there was no telling how much time was left. She wasn’t even sure the discarded books were still in the library, nor what exactly she was looking for. For all she knew, she could be risking her life for the records of the rebellions.

Nonetheless, there was a chance she could find something good. Rowan sighed at her stupid sense of justice and adventure, but painfully got off the bed anyway and stuck her head out the doorway. The library was on the other side of the house, and she had a greater chance of being seen outside, which meant she would have to sneak inside. Not a problem.

Rowan looked to make sure no one was watching --there weren't very many people around-- and then streaked across the yard, biting her tongue and telling herself her back didn't really hurt, she was just imagining it. She pressed herself against the wall and listened for any motion inside. There was nothing; Warian had probably eaten a long time earlier. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and ducked inside.

She couldn't remember the way except to run her hand along the wall. This she did, and her hands remembered the passage. She'd made it maybe halfway when ,looking up, she came face to face with one of the maids. She'd been so focused on remember the way that she stupidly hadn't been on alert.

The maid regarded her suspiciously, obviously trying to decide whether she should call for help.

"I was sent to get some books for burning," Rowan lied.

"Why are you in the back ways?"

"Slaves don't belong in the main halls." The maid seemed to buy into it and continued on her way to the kitchen, no doubt complaining to herself about stupid smelly slaves. "Bunch of snots," Rowan shook her head.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rowan quickened her pace and was able to make the rest of her journey without seeing anyone else. Inside, she was glad to see that the books to be burned were kept here. They were thrown in an disorganized pile by the door, silently awaiting their death.

Rowan listened for any signs of activity --none-- before kneeling beside the pile and sifting through. She read titles and flipped through each of the twenty or so books, but she saw no reason to be destroying them.

Two interest her: the mythology one that used to sit on the table and one book of poetry . She pulled the two out and had just stood when she heard several approaching footsteps paired with the 'tap...tap' of a cane. She inhaled sharply and quickly ducked behind the curtains.

After a couple minutes, Warian and some other man entered the room.

"These are the books?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now remember what I told you. If anybody asks about the maps..."

"They were accidently burned," the unknown man supplied.

"Yes. You've made sure no good books are in there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Start taking those out to the fire, then," Warian ordered. He paced the room once, then left, his obnoxious cane announcing his exit.

The man kicked a book back into the pile and grumbled, "'Take these out!' he says. Well what's he got slaves for? Just because some people do actual work for a living." Still ranting, the man left.

All this Rowan heard and made note of. Once she was positive both were gone, she slipped out of hiding and walked back to the pile.

"So he's not really destroying the important stuff. Just making it look like he did," she thought aloud. Her eyes landed on the table where the foreign book was. She was trying to decide whether to snatch it or not when she heard footsteps.

"Not again," she sighed and rushed back to her hiding place. It was the same guy, only this time he had Kai with him, and a wheelbarrow. And he was still complaining about Warian.

"Load those," he ordered. As Kai did so, he paced the library, poking at statues and prodding shelves books. "He's such an arrogant monster. Always ordering me around, treating me as if I'm a slave like you," he complained. He noticed the foreign book and casually turned a couple pages. "Hmm...this looks important." Kai pretended not to be paying attention. "I bet his highness would be pretty upset if it got lost."

Rowan had to bite her lip: she wanted that book! She noticed, upon peeking out, Kai looking around the library, most likely in awe. Hoping it would work, she moved the curtains. Nothing, so she did it again. It worked! She could hear Kai moving over.

"Rowan?" he whispered, pretending to look out the window.

"Get that book for me," she whispered back. Kai didn't completely understand, but he nodded and walked back over to the pile.

Motioning to the book, he asked, "Do you want me to burn it?" The man studied it in his hand for a moment, weighing his decision, and Rowan was truly afraid he would say no. But he didn't.

Tossing it to Kai, he nodded, "Yeah, burn it. But! You better not say a word, because I know you're the one who's burning it."

"I won't say a word," Kai swore. Once the man's back was turned, Kai slipped the book inside his shirt.

Rowan waited until both had loaded all the books and left. Grasping her two books, she next made her way quickly but quietly back to the barracks. By the time she returned to the empty building, the sun was almost completely down. She clambered to her bunk and shoved the contraband under the mattress with the tin plate and several other items she had lifted. With a heavy sigh, she fell onto her stomach and squeezed her eyes against the bonfire dancing on her back.

It wasn't until late that Kai returned, carrying with him the foreign book. Many people were already asleep or ambling around preparing for bed. Rowan was one of the former, so that Kai shook her to wake her.

"You barely ever sleep, but when you do, you're really out," he spoke to himself. Her back made his own hurt. He hadn't been whipped in a while, and never with the nine tails that they'd used on her. He could still see a couple specks of iron embedded in her skin. Grimacing at what he was about to do, he reached out and quickly picked the several pieces he saw out and tossed them onto the floor, then shook his hand madly in the air and shivered.

Once the pieces were gone, she was easily awoken, almost as if the metals had been a sleeping powder on her eyes.

"Here," he climbed onto her bunk and handed the stolen book over. Well, semi-stolen. "This better be appreciated. Do you know how hard it is to carry a book under your shirt?"

Rowan sat up and gently reached behind herself to touch her feverish back, "Consider us even then."

"Yeah, well, you can go back to sleep now. You need your rest before another day of trouble-stirring," Kai teased, hopping off her bunk. He was in an awfully cheerful mood, but Rowan was still half asleep and didn’t care enough to ask. She merely shoved the book among the others and did as the kid suggested.

Chapter One || Main || Chapter Three