Chapter 1

Rude Awakening

A sharp lungful of air brought the corpse back to life, startling the men that crowded against the bars of their cells. The unexpected movement of the body making several of them cry out in alarm and others step away from the frightening sight. They had just been muttering their prayers to the poor soul, having watched the orcs dump the lifeless body in the empty cell beside them. The body hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes. They expected a noise from the person or at least a groan but there was nothing. The body as still as a corpse. Which is what they believed it to be.

The light that streamed from an opening in the stone wall above revealed the faint rise and stuttered fall of the person's torso. It was clear with the strange clothing that hung on the body that it was someone from a faraway land. And even clearer from the person's short pants that revealed slender legs that it was a woman. Her long hair, oily and matted, splayed over her face. Obscuring the prisoner's view of the female. She wore thick boots of an unusual design that caught their eyes as she kicked out, her arms jolting in tandem; the motion like the spasmodic reaction of a rubber hammer on one's knee. The sudden movement elicited shocked cries and whispers from the onlookers that broke the heavy silence. Their voices echoing within the cells they were trapped in.

"Alive! How can that be? … Who is she? … Look at her… There's blood on her face…a cut on her side… from a sword no doubt… There's blood everywhere…Why did they put her down here? What did she do? … probably fought against those damn orcs- ugly bastards-"

Their whispers came to a stop as the woman's hands moved, the iron cuffs around her wrists clinking as they brushed over the slick stone beneath her. Her fingers gripping the ground beneath her - turning white in an effort to push herself up. A horrible noise like that of a rusting grate came from her and it took a second before anyone realized it was her voice.

Thoughts jumbled and in disarray shot through the strange woman's head, forming half commands. Breath-in-out- where? pain- Am? breath-in-out- I? It was the flashes of moments coming and going that slowly pieced together the puzzle of who she was and what had happened.

The outline of rippling muscles beneath her skin suggested a strong build as she rolled onto her injured side with a gasp. Her long locks falling to the side to reveal a face younger than they had thought. Her unique features scrunched up in discomfort and confusion as she cracked open her eyes. Hands and legs shook with the effort to push herself up onto hands and knees but she managed through it, inhaling the scent of stagnant water, unclean bodies, and rot which filled her senses and making the woman cough.

The figures hidden in the shadows from the cells beside her own watched in stunned silence as the woman slowly stood to her full height despite shaking legs, and a side wound that looked like it would be the death of her. Yet she was standing- looking around with hazy eyes, her hand rising to feel the lump on her forehead. That's when she froze, eyes widening as she made sense of the faces she saw in the shadows before her. She looked around again, her eyes widening at seeing more of the prisoners. Then her eyes took in her own cell. There were a few bones scattered around along with a dried spot- no doubt blood- in the corner. It was otherwise empty. She looked down at the chains at her wrist and then to the wound down at her side. With shaking hands, she felt the wound through the split in the fabric- which was just a cut now.

"How is that possible?" her whisper cut through the silence, and like a spell having broken, the men shifted and began whispering themselves.

"Why would they send a woman down here? … She's got chains Willard … look at her clothin' its nothin I 'ave seen before Brod … she's a bad omen …. Nonsense!- they must need her for someth'n … nothing good to come from that, you know it…"

The realization of where she was finally registered. Pushing the hair out of her face the woman spoke to the men around her- looking into their eyes.

"Where am I? Where did the orcs take me?" her voice rough and barely audible.

No one answered her. She tried again, louder this time. "Why are we here? Why are we in these cells!" she cried out again- her hands balled into fists at her sides.

A man piped up in a language she couldn't understand. None of them had understood her strange words. He stepped towards the bars and grasped them, his clothing, which had fit well at one point, hung from his thin body, his right eye was covered in a bandage, his other eye hollow from sleepless nights and resignation took in her odd appearance and sighed heavily.

"Woman, we can't understand you. Yelling won't help. Believe me, we have all tried. Those orcs won't be letting us go."

Her gaze snapped up to the man, her body beginning to shake as she pressed her hands to her mouth, head shaking back and forth in denial.

"No, no… NO! This- this is complete bullshit!" She yelled out, the man's eyes narrowing at her outburst.

At her slight movement, her chains clinked together and the metal bands around her wrist rubbed deeper, splitting open the sore. She hissed and ignored the blood that dripped down her hands.

"Look, I know you can't understand what I'm saying.I just- I need to know where I am."

Her chained hands trying to gesture around her. Her voice wavering as she repeated the same phrase, looking into the man's eyes.

"Where. Am. I?" She demanded again. His eyes lit up and he nodded solemnly. He spoke gibberish to her, until he didn't. It just was one word, but it sent chills down her spine.

Moria

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to figure out how to make sense of it all. She turned away from their prying eyes. Moments of silence passed before she hung her head in her hands, rubbing her face in an attempt to get rid of the panic that was building there along with the fear and anger.

She walked to the back of her cell, her chains rattling with each step, and all but plopped herself on the ground, hugging her legs and pressing her face into her knees. Most of the men had chosen to go back to their spots, conversation with her going nowhere. But the man at the bars still watched her- his curious gaze shifting from her and to the entrance of the room.

The minds of orcs were nothing the man wanted to understand. But it unnerved him that they had spared the woman's life. For what. He had no idea. But she was down here for a reason… one he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

I don't own the Hobbit or anything like that! I just want to write something fun and entertaining for y'all to read. :)