Silence weighed heavy in the air, thick enough that the occupants could almost physically feel it. It was broken by a low keening sound from David, who had turned away and could be seen hurriedly wiping a hand over his eyes. Halt's bow hand trembled with rage, his jaw visibly clenched. His dark eyes never left his former apprentice as Gilan slowly propped himself up on his elbows, his head hanging wearily.

"Don't touch-" Halt began as his bow came up at full draw, but the louder, frantic voice of David cut him off.

"I'll fight you! Single combat, like you want." The Battlemaster's eyes flicked hurriedly down to his son before addressing Morgarath once more. "Just leave the Ranger alone."

At his words, Duncan lunged forward, placing a restrained arm on his Battlemaster as Morgarath contemplated David's words.

"Awfully fond of this whelp, aren't you, David? A former prized student, perhaps, before he ran off to be a Ranger? Maybe..." Morgarath trailed off before his eyes suddenly lit up manically. "Maybe even a son?"

David clenched his fist and opened his mouth to reply, but Halt beat him to it. The Ranger's bow was still drawn and unwavering, despite how long Halt had been holding it and Arald's attempts to break Halt's grip.

"No more games, Morgarath." Halt's tone was icy cold and dangerous. "I'll tell you once more, and once more only. Turn him loose."

Morgarath rolled his eyes. "Control your Hibernian, Duncan," he sneered before addressing Halt directly. "We both know that your king believes in the knight's code, which means that right now, I'm untouchable."

"And I think we both know that in the end, it won't matter."

"Enough, Halt!" Duncan barked as Arald finally managed to wrench the bow from the Ranger's iron grip, Morgarath watching with satisfaction. While there was no way he would win the battle, he could at least damage Halt. Halt, who was showing an almost unusual amount of interest in Morgarath's hostage. His brow creasing, the tyrant glanced at the crumpled figure. The Ranger was young, looking to be only a few years out of his apprenticeship... A hysterical grin appeared on the former Baron's face. Was it possible? Had he been lucky enough to score the Battlemaster's son and Halt's former apprentice in the broken young frame at his feet?

It was better then Morgarath could have ever imagined.

"My lord, you must let me fight him," Sir David pleaded as Duncan tried to reason with him. Duncan shook his head and tried once more.

"David, you know I can't. He's trying to manipulate us, which is something that we can't feed into!"

David met his king's gaze, and the utter brokenness in the grey eyes caught Duncan off guard. "You're a father," David said slowly, his voice raw with emotion. "Is there anything, anything, you would not do for your child, my lord?"

Duncan met David's gaze steadily for a few moments before replying, his tone soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry, David. Let me try other options first." David turned away at his king's words, scrubbing his face with his hand as he composed himself.

Baron Arald bit his lip as he glanced at his companions. Halt had furiously snatched his bow back and was currently clenching his jaw so tightly, Arald was surprised it wasn't breaking. David was trying to compose himself as their king prepared himself to confront Morgarath verbally yet again.

Throughout all this, and unnoticed by the others, Arald was pained as well. He liked Gilan, having grown to know him from the boy's apprenticeship with Halt. He was a cheery, bright, intelligent young man, and seeing him in this situation was difficult. "An exchange of prisoners," the Baron of Redmont offered.

"Give up the Ranger?" Morgarath questioned. "I think not. No. I think..." he paused, savoring the tension before bearing his black, snakelike eyes into each of the Araluen men in turn. "I think I'm going to hurt him. For every time I felt overshadowed by Duncan, he'll feel it. For every time I was beaten in combat by Arald, he'll feel it. For every time I've thought about how much I despise David's success, he'll feel it. And for every time Halt has made me feel like a fool, he'll feel it most of all."

Halt's heart felt like it was cracking. At Morgarath's words, his hand was reaching into his quiver. He was going to kill the tyrant known as Morgarath, and no one around him would be fast enough to stop him. Although, judging at the horrified expressions around him after hearing Morgarath's latest blow, he doubted that they would even try.

However, before the arrow could reach the bow, movement from Morgarath's feet made him pause.

Gilan was staggering to his feet, his movements slow and unsteady but determined. Morgarath stared in shock as the Ranger turned to face him, dirtied, bloodied, but surprisingly calm.

"You can't win. Do you realize that?"

Morgarath paused for a moment, taken aback by the bluntness. He internally shook himself for his hesitation before replying in his usual demeaning tone, "Blunt, aren't you?"

Gilan shrugged, his eyes flicking to where Halt, mounted on Abelard, was watching. "I had a good teacher."

Morgarath narrowed his eyes. "Ah, yes. I thought you were Halt's work. You agitate me the same way he does."

Gilan eyed him for a moment, and Morgarath shifted uncomfortably under the steady blue gaze. "What's the point, Morgarath? So much loss, so much death, and for what? You've struggled for so long to gain power that everything else has become clouded. I know that. And you know what? I almost feel sorry for you."

Morgarath grabbed Gilan's collar. "You know nothing," he snarled.

"I know enough," the young Ranger replied softly.

Morgarath roughly shoved Gilan back down, who crumpled with a groan. "You're pathetic," the tyrant sneered, giving the broken figure a kick. "All Rangers are. Hiding and sneaking..." Turning his gaze to Halt, Morgarath gestured down to his enemy's fallen former apprentice. "You see, Halt? What is a Ranger, without his cloak to hide behind?" Without waiting for an answer, Morgarath screamed, his voice suddenly raising, "PATHETIC!"

Both Gilan and the group of Araluen officers flinched at the shout. Raising his eyes to look at Morgarath's maniacal expression, Gilan instantly thought that the man wasn't fully sane.

"Skandian! Get the Ranger out of my sight - make sure his friends can hear his screams!" Morgarath's voice was a high pitched shriek, the sound of someone who wasn't fully in control. Hauling the young Ranger upright, he hissed, "Walk. Now."

Gilan, his whole body trembling, replied, his voice soft but defiant. "No."

Morgarath slapped his face. "Walk."

Gilan's blue eyes met Morgarath's black ones, and the man could see the rebellion that had kindled in them. "Drag me. Carry me. Make a scene. I will not walk like a hooded turkey to the chopping block."

Morgarath's eyes flashed with rage, but before he could answer, a young voice broke through the air.

"Morgarath! I challenge you to single combat!"