Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

Embers

He was lying crumpled on the hard stone floor, cheek resting on the cool rock. A single torch glared brightly off to the left occasionally dropping burning embers onto the bare skin of his arm. Once he would have flinched but now he welcomed the fleeting warmth they brought.

Food was thrust into his chest and he feebly grabbed at it. Before he could it was snatched away from him. Crying out he sat up grabbing for the food blindly. Cruel laughter grated against his ears.

"Oi, Blund, give it ta 'im!"

"Aw, c'mon, Harcog. Lemme 'ave some sport."

"He ain't gonna give ya sport," Harcog spat. He kicked the elf curled pitifully at his feet. Zaharias didn't move. "See? Ain't nothing left in 'im."

"We could give 'im some of that drink."

"Oh! And I suppose you would know where it be, whelp!" Harcog said. The smaller goblin hung his head.

"Nuh, but I bet it wouldn't be hard ta find. We could 'ave a bit o' sport fer us and nobody would 'ave ta know."

Harcog was sorely tempted. He hadn't had anything to play with for a moon cycle. He thought for a little while and at last gave in.

"All right. But you ain't goin' ta tell no one ya hear?"

"Yeah." Blund nodded.

Harcog began walking out but the smaller goblin stopped him.

"We can't leave 'im behind!" he exclaimed.

"Well bring 'im with ya," Harcog said without stopping. Blund grunted and tossed Zaharias over his shoulder and trotted out after Harcog. They ran down twisting paths with no light to guide them for they did not need it. They were creatures of the dark, born and raised in darkness. As it was they still made plenty of noise going through the tunnels, anyone could have heard them and have hidden in time to escape their cruel black eyes.

Zaharias groaned once as they dropped down a deep hole, landing heavily on their feet before taking off again. He was vaguely aware of the air growing staler as the descended deeper into the caves. It pressed against his lungs with every breath he took, foul and moldy.

Something heavy was shoved aside, a low curse uttered.

"Ain't nothin' in 'ere." Harcog growled.

"Look closer," Blund insisted.

"I did, ya useless mutt!"

"All right, all right. Try the next one." The next door proved fruitful. Behind it were several dusty bottles of the liquid their king would give the elf to make his blood boil. No one knew what was in it but rumor was a small sip was enough to make a man drunk for a week. Men were weak. Zarahias was dropped onto the floor and he came to his senses and saw a single bottle laying just beyond his reach. As quietly as possible his extended his hand. His fingers just brushed the side, sending the bottle spinning slowly. The two goblins were too busy admiring their find to notice as his slowly pushed himself forward and barely grasp the neck. Quickly he cradled it next to his body, out of sight of the goblins.

"Oi! here one!" Blund triumphantly held up a bottle. Harcog snatched it from his hands.

"I'll give it ta 'im. We don't want 'im having too much or he'll kill us both."

Zaharias curled up thinking he might just kill them anyway, exhausted or not.

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Remember that bottle.

Sorry about the short chapter and lack of updates but I felt like I needed to have this chapter for later reasons even if it is really short. Also, school happens and I managed to catch a cold in less than twelve hours... :'( So there's that to deal with. Yay.

I should have the next chapter up fairly soon though! Happy!