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*snags a lamp and heads to his tent after a very satisfying feast which was even more satisfying after the usurper Ulforth went to bed and he had his father's full attention is not jealous of the little twerp what?*

*may be slightly drunk, judging by the warmth in his face and the general sensation of Good*

*steps inside, already in the process of stripping off his outer tunic* *as per habit, glances over at his prisoner (lying still and quiet, now perfectly visible in the lamplight)* *as per the norm, is struck dumb by the sheer flawlessness of the creature (even dusty and dishevelled and folded into that awkward position)*

*sets down the lamp and approaches quietly, kneeling down to more closely ogle inspect him (again)* *pauses a moment, waiting for those bright (starlit) eyes to open (and glare)* *is fairly surprised when there is no response at all to his proximity*

*looks at him* *feels a rush of airy lightheadedness (is slightly drunk?)* (*and oh, the want/need/take is so, so much stronger now*)

*before he even knows it, is reaching down to brush his fingers across that smooth, high cheekbone*

*so far, is having a very good time at the Easterling camp!* *has been oohing and ahhing over the many stolen horses tethered nearby while his father and brother were off drinking coffee and discussing Grown Up Matters*

*was a little nervous at first, hoping no one would knock his head covering off or ask him to remove it for whatever reason, but has relaxed a lot while chattering with the men in charge of the horses* (*they seem to think he says certain things funny, though?* *will have to ask his father*)

*is eventually brought to the fire in the center of camp, where he is told a meal is being prepared* *oh good, is starving*

*spots his father and brother approaching and stands on his toes, waving them over* :)

ETA: *slips away while his father is engaged in what sounds like a serious conversation with Uldor*

*is very, very curious about the other half-Elf in camp--Uldor's guest?*

*from what he could hear, it sounded as though the guest was staying in Uldor's tent* *asks one of the men for directions there, mumbling something about being sent to fetch something or other*

*eventually finds himself at the tent entrance* *peeps inside*

*finds the task of hunting down his elder son to be just a bit more time-consuming than he'd originally imagined* *oh yes, he taught the boy well* :\ *is grateful for the guidance of the far-seeing hawk and a reasonable amount of tracking skills* *not to mention intimate knowledge of how a kidnapper's mind works* >_>

*finally gets to the point where he can see the outskirts of the camp and reins in his horse, dismounting*

*is really in a rather hideous mood at the moment*

*is truly awake for the first time in... well, isn't exactly sure how long it's been since he was last coherent (first due to stupid-drunkenness, and then violence-induced unconsciousness, and then a subsequent series of vaguely recollectable incidents involving strange men forcing water down his throat (water which apparently contained one serious fuck-off sleeping agent, since it put his lights out within seconds each time))*

*has finally shaken off the last of the grogginess, but feels as though the entire population of Menegroth is samba-ing inside his skull* *wearing cleats*

*oh, and is tied up, and is therefore sore/numb/mostly sore all over*

*mostly feels like an idiot for letting himself get kidnapped in the first place--is not looking forward to explaining this to anyone* >_<

*arrives back in camp with his prize*

*smirks at the curious/knowing/envious looks from his men* *why yes, has snagged a prettier toy than his father did* >:D

*has no intention of repeating his father's missteps, though*

Pack up and prepare to move out. We must be gone by sunrise.

*leaves the men to it and has the Elf carried to his tent* *lays him out on the bedmat and arranges him just so, taking the opportunity for a closer ogling inspection*

*stands in the shadows outside the local drinking establishment; only the glow of his cigarette giving away his presence*

*nonchalantly watches the prospective victims people coming out and bides his time, waiting for an interesting specimen*

*is very discriminatory in his torturing preferences*

*has been such a good boy recently, what with the not-excessive groping of his former/current/future boyfriend*

*wakes up in the night, slightly panicky because it's raining and windy out and still has bad memories of the last storm** *makes a decision (albeit a split-second one) to get dressed and to race across town to Dior's apartment* *runs up the stairs and knocks on his front door, shivering slightly*

*following a too-close call and yet another night of sizzlingly realistic dreams, is feeling just a little worn out*

*takes a day to himself and cleans up around the apartment, unpacking the last boxes and putting up the curtains and distributing the throw pillows* *by nightfall, can consider himself properly Moved In*

*the next morning, figures he'll go read under one of the trees for a while since the sun is shining* *takes one of his new books and heads out to the big grandfatherly oak he's been eyeing from his window since he moved in* *has always loved big trees* :)

*after many months of proper nomad-ing (broken up by discreet bouts of bandit-ing), parks the horde about a half-day's ride from Tirion*

*Cleans Up¹ and heads into town to catch up on events* *acquires a newspaper and settles down in what passes for a coffee shop (blech) on the fringe of the main park*

*figures he'll people-watch and eavesdrop a while*



¹Takes a bath and everything!

*Gets a somewhat garbled message from an Easterling runner.*

*Something about a beheading, Emeldir and a scruffy Dunadan who calls her "baby."*

*Gathers together a small escort and follows the messenger back to the camp.*

*Calls out from horseback.* Gentlemen! What seems to be the trouble?

*Hears through the grapevine that a Dunadan is being held prisoner in the encampment.*

Uldor. ULDOR! You can't just imprison, try and execute one of our chaps like this you know. There are rules, treaties and and...stuff to do with extradition which I don't completely understand but I think the Boss does and I KNOW the boss' dad does. You can't be judge, jury and executioner, it's not cricket.

We're uhm...*checks a word she has written on the back of her hand*...CONTESTING this in the strongest possible terms.

*lifts a hand to touch the back of his head as he slowly regains consciousness and winces as his fingers come into contact with a lump the size of a chicken egg*

Attacking an Easterling camp when they've got fifty guys and you've got no one but yourself? Definitely not the brightest idea you've ever had, Barry old son.

Well... make that forty-seven guys, now. >:D

*squints, peering around at the cage he's presently confined in*

...And probably one less of me pretty soon, too. :s