☨ Chp. XV ☨

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Aslathyn (Ker) Verdrian

Everyone has a past, some darker than others, though sometimes evil can spiral its way into even the purest of hearts.

By the time he had reached his teenage years, the half cast had already come to experience three important stages of his life. As a mixed blood living on the outskirts of Bree, he came to know the sour taste of discrimination from a young age. From his human father, the young boy was taught the labour which comes with a simple life. His mother, a descendant of Rivendell, taught him kindness, along with a hand in archery.

Though, like many who came to find themselves in Eretria's academy, disaster struck in a wave of fury and fire. Orcs ravaged their small village, butchering villagers as though they were livestock in a slaughterhouse. The young boy's father managed to bring his small family to safety within a dim-lit cave, though fortune and grace had abandoned them upon that dreaded afternoon.

"Asl, come here." His mother cooed, a slight tremor in her soft voice as she brought the small boy into her loving arms. He sobbed, burying his fair face into her dark locks.

"Keep low." The father ordered, approaching the entrance with a cautious stalk. Aslathyn did not see the arrow which tore through his father's body, though the heavy thud and disheveled cry of his mother spoke enough.

He whimpered, grasping his mother's cotton shirt as howls of pain threatened to escape his trembling mouth. The elf maiden cradled her son, ushering words of comfort as her own tears wet the soft hair upon his head.

"Eh, what do we av' ere?" A dark, pestering voice croaked. The young boy dared not look at the owner, and instead buried his face deeper into his mother's shirt.

"Please-" His mother pleaded, though her soft voice was overpowered by the orc's grizzy screeches, along with ghastly growls as a gathering of gruesome creatures stalked their way into the cave.

"Stand up yapping bitch!" The monster ordered. She obeyed, placing the child behind her and taking a defensive stance.

"Please, do what you want with me, but do not harm my child." She whimpered. Her words were answered with a harrowing cackle.

"As you wish." The beast replied, before sweeping her head off clean with its jagged blade. The young boy didn't scream, nor did he cry. He was frozen in both fear and grief, his small mind unable to process what in Middle Earth just happened.

The monster stalked towards him, its blade lifted high, dripping with his mother's blood. The boy cowered in fear.

"No! Not the little mutt!" One of the orcs growled, shoving its way forward.

"What? Taking orders from a wrench are we?" The attacking orc hissed in reply.

"He is small and cowardly, a perfect slave for Sauron." The leering beast growled back. A tear fell from the child's blue eyes as he whimpered for his mother.

And that is what he became, a slave for Sauron. From the midst of his childhood the boy was smuggled away from his home and forced to work under the Dark Lord. Within the smoking lands of Mordor he was trained to be a ruthless soldier, beaten and tortured by his heartless captors. By his hands, pure-hearted lives were slain, destroying his mind mentally. His emotions hardened, and his confidence faded, leaving a strong, corrupted body, yet a quiet and fearful mind. Though, even under the orders of Sauron, he never became a monster. The morals his mother had implemented from a young age overcame any sense of evil or destruction.

One day he managed to escape, taking down several grotesque orcs with the skills he had been tortured to learn. Rivendell was where he had set his mind to, and within a year of searching, he finally discovered the hidden refuge.

The elven oasis was not all he had come to believe. His mother had displayed love and kindness, though the elves of Rivendell stuck up their noses, disinterested in an orphaned half-cast. Elrond had come to show him acceptance, along with his three children, though the young boy's heart knew this was not where he belonged.

And so he fled one night, not telling a soul as he expected none to care. Somehow, within the following months he came to find himself in Mirkwood. Thranduil had noticed his skill in navigation, and assigned him to the role of a messenger. It was then that the young boy befriended the prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.

Their relationship flourished, and the boy looked up to the prince as though he were an older brother. They would share everything, even the darkest moments of the half-cast's past. However, to the surprise of none, Thranduil took a disliking to their friendship.

Without the knowledge of Legolas, the Woodland King ordered the half-cast to leave. And once again, all was ripped from the young boy's grasp.

And that was when he found himself drifting through the Woodland forest, his head hung low as red leaves fell from above. His heart had sunken so deep, it was almost deemed unreachable. He truely believed his life was meaningless, as though he were a small toy within the cruel grasp of whoever decided the fortune of those in Middle Earth. However, it was in this bleak moment that he came to find a spark of hope within the form of a mischievous outlaw.

Eretria had just conducted a successful Mirkwood raid, a wide grin on her face as ravaged her hand through the newly stolen goods, her attention drawn to the gold and jewels rather than the track ahead. With his head lowered and loud thoughts drowning out the world around him, the young boy was unaware of the outlaw striding in his direction. The two collided, and Eretria drew in a sharp breath as contents from her sack clattered to the ground.

The young boy uttered a quiet apology, before continuing on his way with a defeated stance. He was well aware of who he had just ran into. The great Robin Hood. Wanted posters displaying her face had been plastered all around the Woodland realm.

"Hey!"

He came to halt at the voice. Turning hesitantly, he slightly tensed at the outlaw's sharp gaze whilst she lowered to pick up the fallen goods.

"What's with the long face?" She questioned, lifting herself from the ground and tossing the sack over her shoulder.

"Nothing." The young boy answered, rather confused as to why she bothered to ask. He turned and continued to saunter away, though slightly jumped as the outlaw appeared by his side.

"What's your name, kid?" She inquisited.

"Ker." The boy replied. It was rare for someone to show this much interest in his character, let alone one of Middle Earth's most spoken names.

"Well, Ker, care to explain why a young child such as yourself is sauntering around the border of Mirkwood as though someone just kicked his puppy?"  The outlaw questioned.

Unwillingly, a tear fell down his cheek. His emotion was threatening to spill, though he managed to contain all but one drop of despair.

"Thranduil banished me." Is all he dared to say, worried that any other words would unleash his bottled pain.

Eretria noticed the deep sadness within his eyes and slouched her shoulders, her expression softening at the sight of his grief.

"Yeah, Thranduil is a bit of a wanker." She chimed, causing a humoured grin to grace the young boy's lips. "I don't know if you're aware, but I myself am also banned from visiting the kingdom. Why worry about one little forest when all of Middle Earth is at your doorstep?"

The young boy took slight inspiration from her words, though his mood once again dampened.

"Yet nowhere to call home." He muttered, tears once again threatening to spill.

"I know a place, if you're willing to trust me?" The infamous outlaw suggested, raising a brow.

It startled the boy that she was so willing to help his situation, especially after only a moment of conversing. And with the little faith he had left in his sinking heart, the young half-cast decided he would give happiness one last attempt.