Chapter 2: The Visitor
Matthis walked to his own hut near the edge of the camp and waited for his mother and Fallothen to join him. They ate, and Matthis shared what he had learned.
"I overheard the Serpent talking to one of the orcs," Matthis said. "He's coming."
Camilla sharply drew breath. "How soon?"
"The orc said in a couple of days," Matthis answered through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," Fallothen interjected. "Who are we talking about?"
Matthis stared at the wall of the hut. "Lartzgàsh," he said, full of dread.
"Ah," said Fallothen, his voice faltering. "I've heard about him from around the camp."
"No doubt you have," muttered Camilla. "There are few families here who he has not caused pain." Her eyes closed, and she bowed her head.
"But he's only murdered so many thanks to the Serpent and his cronies," spit Matthis. "I promise, I will never become like them. I will never let a fellow slave die because of my actions. Not even the Serpent."
Suddenly, a loud thump came from outside - like something heavy hitting the ground. The three slaves listened, and less than a second later, they heard a second thump. Then another. And another.
The whole event took less than three seconds, and the three were very curious as to what had happened. Matthis and Fallothen ventured outside the hut, alongside others who had heard the thumps. Camilla stared out the doorway. A couple slaves were staring in the direction of the black perimeter wall. There, the three spied four orcs lying in a pile, each with a single arrow sticking out from their chest.
Matthis wondered who could possibly have done this - to do four times in three seconds what many slaves had dreamed of doing their entire lifetime. Not only this, but the visitor would have needed to somehow bypass the sentries and the wall to get the vantage point needed to accomplish this feat.
Matthis did not need to speculate long. A rope dropped from the wall, kept in place by a grappling hook. A single figure silently slid down the rope and reached the ground. The being was clad in a green, hooded cloak that blended perfectly with the grass. The cloak was quite a sight to the slaves, who simply dressed in rags around their abdomen, and for the women, one around the chest.
The figure ran inside the hut village, out of sight from the perimeter patrols. Once it was within the village's confines, it removed its hood. The sight was so startling, that Fallothen went to Camilla, and bade her come closer to the mysterious being.
A man with long red hair stood tall, his face now unconcealed. His features were young, but there was a firmness in his jaw, a furrow in his brow that told of someone who had aged far too quickly. He held a bow in his hand, and a green quiver hung from his back. At his side was a sturdy short sword. The strength and pride apparent from his stance shocked the Field Thralls, with their hunched positions and defeated faces. Simply seeing the man brought renewed vigour in the slaves.
"Please," began the man, "do not run. My name is Alledmir, and I am here to help you."
"I have seen your folk before," said Fallothen excitedly. "You are a Ranger of Ithilien, are you not?" Fallothen spoke of the southern order of men committed to preventing Mordor's armies from invading the kingdom of Gondor.
"It does not matter," Alledmir said with haste. "One of you - where is your leader?"
"His name is Field Thrall C-3701," said one slave. "He is in the large hut in the centre of the camp."
Alledmir ran off with great speed. Matthis, Camilla and Fallothen ran after him, but their undernourished bodies could not keep up.
"Wait!" Matthis called, careful not to alert the camp guards.
The Ranger paid no heed, and stormed into the food hut.
"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed the Serpent.
"Please, keep your voice down," came the voice of Alledmir.
"Seize him!" barked the Serpent.
The Serpent's orc guards must have taken hold of the Ranger, for he cried out, and there were sounds of a scuffle. Alledmir howled in pain, and then the sounds stopped.
Fallothen was the first of the three to return to sense. "We better be going. If they see us out here after what just happened, who knows what conclusion their feeble little minds might arrive at!"
Camilla and Matthis saw the wisdom of his words, and raced back towards their hut.
When they got back, however, Fallothen's thoughts turned an altogether darker shade.
"The orcs the Ranger killed must have been armed," mused the elf. "Ah-hah! Let's pinch the weapons, quick!"
"What would you have us do, Fallothen?" asked Camilla. "Fight a three-person war against an army of orcs?"
"Details can come later - we must at least fetch their swords!"
"No," declared Matthis. "They will look for the weapons. If we steal them, they will find them; we have no place to hide them."
Fallothen's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. If you won't render assistance, I will act alone. Keep your promise, won't you, Matthis?" The elf ran to where the orcs' bodies lay.
Camilla moved to call him back, but Matthis put his hand on hers. "When Lartzgàsh arrives, he will be executed - probably tortured first. I couldn't bear it if they did that to you, Mum."
The woman nodded, though a scowl spread across her face. "And I would be the same for you." The two of them retreated to their hut, hoping for Fallothen's safety and thankful for their sense.
At the same time, they walked with great shame, for Fallothen was doing then what neither Matthis nor Camilla had the courage for.
They sat in the hut in silence, listening to orcish voices searching for any other intruders. There was a hideous cry when the orcs came upon the corpses of their fellows - and then a gross sound of crunching and gnawing.
"Filthy orcs," said Camilla. "Consuming their fallen."
Then, they heard a yell from the centre of camp. They peered out the door, but saw nothing.
"Did they find Fallothen and his weapons?" wondered Matthis.
"Or, perhaps Alledmir has escaped!" exclaimed Camilla.
Other slaves were looking out of their huts as well. The orc howling grew louder and louder as the chase came closer to their area of the village. However, no one except Matthis and Camilla noticed when the hut they lived in shook as though a tremor had hit it. They also didn't notice the few strands of grass that fell off as the tremor continued to the top of the hut.
The two of them, feigning ignorance, returned inside their hut. Smart, mused Matthis. The huts are so close together that no one can see the top of one from inside the camp.
Then, Matthis frowned. But the sentries will spot him eventually. What is he planning to do?
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Matthis spotted Alledmir's short sword stab itself through the roof into the hut's interior. The gap widened, and the Ranger lowered himself through the crack and positioned himself on the hut's thatched rafters.
He looked at Matthis and Camilla and put a finger over his lips. They nodded.
Moments later, an orc poked its ugly head into the hut. Seeing no sign of Alledmir, it moved on.
The orcs' hunt ran far into the night, and they searched each hut in the village many times over, but they could not find the escaped Ranger. Still nervous about the missing Ranger, the orcs resumed their patrols around the perimeter, with swords and bows at the ready and ears listening closely. Their lit torches brought a slight fear to the slaves every time they passed by.
With the chaos at an end, Alledmir stealthily dropped himself down from the rafters of the hut.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I knew you were the right people to trust."
"What do you mean?" asked Camilla.
"I saw the elf go to you. I reasoned that any friend of an elf was a friend of mine, and I memorized the location of your house so I could speak to you and try to find him later.
"However, I foolishly assumed that the leader of the slaves would be someone trustworthy and knowledgeable - not a pawn of the Enemy! I escaped using a knife in my boot, and ran here. I trusted an elf's friends would not betray me. I was right, and for that, I thank you." The Ranger bowed.
"Why have you come here?" asked Camilla harshly. "Do you mean to become a slave yourself?"
"I am on an intelligence mission for His Lordship Denethor the Second, Steward of Gondor," said Alledmir. "He wishes to know the layout of the Enemy's land, and what his activities are in Núrn. I believe I have discovered that well enough. You are slaves, correct?"
"Yes," said Matthis. "This place is called Central Fields Camp. My mother, Camilla, myself, Matthis, and every being in this camp that is not an orc are Field Thralls," he finished contemptuously.
"We grow food for Sauron's armies in the northeast," elaborated Camilla.
"Hmm..." mused the Ranger. "My main objective is intelligence, but my commanding officer told me that any damage to the Dark Lord would not be discouraged. I wonder..." He began pacing back and forth. "Since I have been discovered, and my rope presumably torn down, I have little hope of escape on my own," stated Alledmir.
"Therefore, I need your assistance, not just to help me escape, but to strike at Sauron.
"We are going to stage a revolt."
