“Eldarion! How many times must I tel you to not fool around near the wall?” Arwen cried.
Guiltily hanging his head, the young prince trudged to his mother. “Sorry,” he muttered, slightly miffed that he was never allowed to go anywhere without some stupid dud tailing him. He had been able to go wherever he wanted to a while ago, but now that his father, the king, got wind that some of the few orcs that were left in the north were gathering and could *possibly* attack the city, the king set in very tight security.
“Let’s go in now, night is coming on,” the queen said putting her arm around her son. “I know you must hate these new rules,” she continued, “but they’re for all of our safety. Your father only wants you to be safe.”
Eldarion’s only reply was to snort.
That night, he slipped out of his bedroom window and crept along the grounds, taking care to stay in the shadows so that no one would see him. Then he climbed to the top of the walls surrounding the palace and enjoyed the night air. He lay there on his back serenely for many hours, not knowing how much time had passed.
Suddenly he heard some clinking noises. Sitting up, he saw a dark, stout figure covered with armor. Curiosity overpowered his instinct to seek for cover, so he just sat there, watching it scale the wall with amazing speed and agility. Without warning, it leaped onto the top of the wall, drew a dagger, and pointed at the prince’d jugular vein.
Eldarion froze, which turned out to be a mistake, for the creature (he had never seen an orc before) took a sack that had been hanging from its belt and stuck it over him. Eldarion began to struggle, but it was too late, for the orc had already completely submerged him in the coarse cloth.
And the orc took him and ran.