Mentha tried to get her hands free but the robes were tight and secure. Around her was the entire group of bandits gathered, together with their enormous drooling dog.
“I think it’s a hobbit, Gordon!”
The big balled bandit who clearly was some sort of leader smacked the other bandit in the face with the back of his huge hand.
“I know it’s a hobbit, you moron!”
Mentha was tired of stupid smelling humans who tied her up.
“Let me go!” she yelled and wriggled in the robes.
The chief bandit, Gordon, stepped forward and kneeled to get closer. With an eerie sound he drew his long wicked dagger, which had seen a lot of action according to the deep notches in the blade.
“I don’t think so, hobbit.” He made the last word sound like an insult. “You see, this ugly fello’, Bastard, is very hungry. And while I don’t think hobbit would taste good in a stew, I don’t think Bastard would mind.”
It was far past noon and Mentha had been walking all morning. She didn’t even pause for a lunch break but kept walking while eating. Now her legs began to feel heavy and she wiped her forehead and took another sip of water.
Mentha was determined to see the elf again. The fact that she didn’t even knew his name was painful, a reminder that maybe she wasn’t so close to him as she wanted to be. He was ever present in her mind and thoughts. Everything reminded her of him, the sky was the colour of his eyes, a fern would look like one she had been staring at while afraid to look into his eyes. It was stupid and too sugar-sweet, and she couldn’t help it. She was exactly as awful as the silly girls back home, she used to roll her eyes when they talked about crushes and now she was just as bad. Maybe even worse.
Thinking about him all the time, made her feel connected to him, and it felt weird to consider, that maybe he had forgotten all about her. Or maybe he entertained the other beautiful elves with the story of how he had to save a plump and foolish hobbit from something as mundane as humans. And the tall blond elves would all laugh. And one of them, exceptionally stunning, would lean in and- No! There was no point driving herself crazy like that.
Mentha pushed herself through another bush and tried to keep up with the swift elf. She was used to go through the forest off road, but this. This was something else. Panting she stumbled forward wondering where they were headed. She had completely lost her sense of direction and as she looked up to locate the sun, her foot was caught by a nasty root and she fell hard to the ground. Again. She was like a noisy and clumsy boar next to that elf.
“Wait!” she called from the ground as she pulled her foot lose and got up.
With a few light steps he came back to her.
“You have to slow down,” she said and felt awfully embarrassed. “I can’t… I can’t follow that speed. Short legs you know.” She stretched her leg at him, and he stared at it like he had never seen a leg before.
A fanfic about an adventurous hobbit and her elf rescuer.
As far as hobbits goes, Mentha had always been peculiar. It seemed like she was always missing and nor fences, duties or excellent company could keep her at one place for more than a minute. She was drawn to new places, her heart sighing for adventures and her feet itching to go.
“Who would be surprised? It runs in the family,” the neighbours would say to one another over the hedges. “One day she’ll get herself in trouble, that silly girl.”