Arwen found them after roughly thirty minutes of walking.
They'd been kept in cages like animals, chained and left in a way that ensured that though they did not die, they also did not have the strength to ponder escaping.
Most of the captives were beggars; two, however, were not.
"Arwen." Melita breathed out in disbelief as the young lady with silver colored hair approached.
Besides the young Henosian lady was her grandfather, Theoren, who, despite being into his late sixties, still had the vigor of a forty-year-old, truly enviable.
"And here I thought that we were done for," Theoren said, clearly grateful that their days of captivity were over.
"You don't have to worry, you are safe now," Arwen said with a warm smile in a bid to calm the hearts of those who would surely be tense at the sight of the undead beings trailing behind her.
Soon, the beggars were free, and they did not hesitate to flee, partly out of fear of the undead.
