Chapter 2
Mablung held his tongue as Faramir walked around the room. The captain’s rage radiated from his body in waves. “Who, Mablung?”
Mablung’s gray eyes met Faramir’s. “No one, Captain, I swear it. No one entered the cell after you left.”
Faramir completed another circuit before stopping in front of the Ranger. “Someone injured the prisoner.”
Mablung’s concern for the prisoner was limited to the amount of care needed to keep him alive long enough to get him to Gondor. On the other hand, he did not want to see the younger man hurt any more than he already was, especially not while in his care. Mablung shook his head. “There must be another explanation.”
*~*
Teleziel stared mutely at Faramir prodded the fresh wounds on his thigh. “How did this happen?”
The wounds burned where Faramir touched them and Teleziel bit his lip. Not from the pain. The pain was negligible. The pain kept him feeling alive. No, it was Faramir’s reaction that kept his lips sealed.
There were four fresh marks on Teleziel’s left thigh. Each was shallow, no more than skin deep and about two inches long. The blood had dried in thin beaded lines that scabbed over quickly.
“You are in my care, I will not allow any one to harm you while you are here. That is not our way. You must tell me the truth.”
Teleziel’s dark eyes glittered as he stared mutely at the ceiling. He couldn’t explain, for he did not fully understand himself. And, besides, even if he tried, the captain would react just like the others. Maybe worse. Maybe he’d do what the Haradrim had not. Teleziel was not yet ready to test the Gondorian or his luck in such a fashion.
Frustration caused Faramir’s lips to purse beneath his mustache and his grey eyes sparked with anger. Who would defy his orders in this way? And why? Impulsively, he tossed aside the blanket. The old bruises were paler today, making the small cut marks stand out more clearly on the olive skin. “Turn over.”
Jerking his eyes from the ceiling, Teleziel stared in horror at his captor. Did it begin again? His thighs squeezed together.
Faramir saw the way Teleziel tensed, watched the muscles of the boy’s thighs tremble. Had he… But not here. Surely not by his men. “Do it.” He growled angrily.
Clumsily Teleziel turned on to his stomach. He felt more exposed than he ever had before, even when he’d been held down and his legs spread open for all the men of his unit to see. He pressed his face against the blanket and fought humiliated and frightened tears. He could feel the cold stone floor beneath the thin pallet and he shivered as goose flesh rose along his legs and back. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed convulsively. He mustn’t show them how much they frightened him. He must show them no weakness to use against him.
The bruises on Teleziel’s back were not fresh, of that Faramir was certain. He leaned forward and placed his hand directly over a bruise beneath Teleziel’s left shoulder blade. It fit the heel of his hand. Another, also on the left, showed more darkly against the skin. Someone had punched the boy in kidneys. Faramir moved his hand and curled his fingers into a tight fist and pressed until Teleziel called out. To subdue him or to teach him a lesson? More than likely, both. Why hadn’t he seen these last night? His hands ghosted over Teleziel’s hips, where he could still see the handprints left by Teleziel’s tormentors. Because, he said to himself, he did not want to see them. It was enough to suspect what the boy had been through and another to witness it with his own eyes. Forcing himself to remain objective, he put his hands on the smooth round buttocks and felt Teleziel’s whole body stiffen. Hardening his resolve, he pulled open the nether cheeks and felt his stomach lurch. The delicate rectal tissues were bruised and blood crusted. Blindly, he groped for the blanket and once he’d found it, put it over Teleziel.
The Haradrim rolled back on to his side and his dark eyes stared directly into Faramir’s gray ones. The Gondorian was gray beneath his tan and his lips were bloodless beneath his beard. Teleziel dredged up the last of his bravado and sneered. “Do you dislike second hand goods?”
Faramir slapped Teleziel hard, once, twice and lifted his hand a third time before catching himself. Blood beaded the corners of the wide mouth and trickled from his nose. But still those eyes challenged him. “I do not rape my prisoners,” he grated.
Teleziel blinked the tears from his eyes. In his humiliation he’d lashed
out at the captain.
“Perhaps we just missed the marks last night, Captain,” Mablung offered. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen. He felt sick to his stomach and he’d had to turn his head away when he’d seen the condition of Teleziel’s body.
“No, I do not think so.” Faramir responded. He clung to one final hope. “Did you enjoy ..?”
Teleziel’s dark brow arched upwards even as Mablung snorted. “Yes, Gondorian, I enjoyed the abuse.”
“Some enjoy this sort of thing. I thought you might have—wanted it. I see now that I was wrong. I apologize. Yet, you said nothing last night and even now keep your own counsel. We are not so cruel as you think, Teleziel of the Haradrim. I would not allow a prisoner to be abused. And these,” he traced around the edge of the cut on Teleziel’s thigh, “were not there last night. I will punish the one who did this to you. Have no doubt of it. Nor should you fear retribution should you reveal the identity of the one who did this to you.”
Mablung prowled the small room and scowled. He could not explain the marks on Teleziel and he did not wish to take the blame for them. “Captain,” Mablung started and then stopped. He knelt at the edge of the pallet and dug around. His sharp eyes found the rock and held it up for Faramir to see.
“What is this?” He took the sliver of rock and stared at the blood on it. He turned from Mablung and looked hard at Teleziel. “Is this what was used?”
Teleziel closed his eyes and refused to speak.
Faramir clutched the rock in his fist and labored to his feet.
“As you wish, Haradrim.”
He motioned to Mablung and together they left the cell.
*~*
“Captain,” Mablung said as soon as they were out of earshot. “I think the boy did that to himself.”
Faramir opened his fist and stared down at the sliver of rock in his cupped palm. “I know. But I cannot think why.”
“To cause trouble.”
Faramir puzzled over that for a moment. “No, Mablung, I do not think so. Had he wished to cause trouble he’d have at least said he did not see the man’s face or pointed a finger at you.”
“That rules out all reasonable explanations.”
“Somehow, I do not think what prompted this was reasonable.”
*~*
Teleziel chewed his lip after the men had left him. Damn the one with the sharp eyes, anyway. Had he not instantly recognized the freshness of the marks on his thighs, the captain would never have come and seen what they’d done to him. His secret would have remained safe. Now he’d have to find another rock and make sure it remained hidden.
He sat up and winced as pain lanced through him, running in a straight path from his rectum to his kidneys How long had he lain in the forest before the Gondorians found him? There was no way for him to know without asking, and he was not about to do that. He stood up and swayed a little on his feet. He couldn’t stand straight, but he could at least walk and that counted for something. With one hand on the wall, he paced the perimeter of his cell, gingerly placing one foot before the other.
“Well, Little Haradrim, you are moving around a bit, I see.”
Teleziel stopped and stared at the new comer. His dark eyes flickered over the handsome man with his gray streaked brown hair and gray eyes. Were all the men of Gondor gray eyed?
“I have come to bring you food and sweep your cell.” The man placed a bowl with something hot and steaming in it on the floor. “You’ll feel much better after you’ve eaten.”
Teleziel’s stomach growled and he felt his face grow warm as the guard’s frank appraisal swept over his battered body. Teleziel went back to his pallet and sat down. The stew smelled of rabbit and herbs. “I cannot eat this.”
The man had retrieved his broom and walked to a corner to begin sweeping when he paused. “What? Why not?”
“We do not eat the flesh of the dead.”
Damrod stood for a moment with his mouth open in a round little circle of surprise. Then he lowered his broom. “I did not …I mean. Can’t you just pick out the meat?”
“It is still made from the animal.”
Damrod came forward and took the bowl. “I’ll be back in a moment with something else. Bread? Can you eat that?” Teleziel nodded and Damrod seemed relieved. “Good.”
Once Damrod was gone, Teleziel rolled from his pallet and began frantically searching for another sliver of rock.