Chapter 2
"This has to be it," said Omir. "It looks just like the map, and if it isn't where are we?"
"I've told you a million times," said Omiel hotly, pointing to the map. "We're right here."
"And I've told you that we haven't gone nearly that far yet. Besides, that's ever so much smaller than this river."
"Oh, of course this map was drawn life size."
"Oh, girls have no idea how to scale things in their minds. Dakir," he called to his friend, who was making breakfast, "don't you think this is the place?"
"I think we've passed it," said Dakir bluntly.
"You're both hopeless. But Dad put you in my charge, Omiel, so you've got to do as I say. And I say we turn here."
"Turn then, if you want! I'm staying here and walking. I won't go the wrong direction-I haven't got that much time to waste, unlike you." She jumped up and set off running along the wooded bank.
"Hold up," said Omir, running after her and catching her by the arm. "Man, I wish Dad had let us leave you home. You're not leaving now, anyway."
"What on Middle Earth is that?" said Dakir suddenly. He had followed them as they had run.
They turned to look, and saw that he was staring at Omiel. A bright light was emanating from just below the neckline of her dress.
"What have you got there?" asked Omir, in wonder.
Omiel hurriedly reached up and covered the glow of the Silmaril. "It's none of your business," she said firmly, "now let me go."
A blood curdling yell interrupted her. The three fairies swung around in fright, just in time to see a grotesque figure drop out of a tree several some distance away. Without stopping to think, they turned with one accord and ran.
"What was that?" gasped Omiel as she fled, holding up her skirts as best she could.
"Orc, I think," answered Omir. "It looked just like the pictures in the old books."
"Where's your sword?"
"I left it behind at the camp," he replied. "What about your bow?"
"The same."
Omiel glanced over her shoulder to see that three more orcs had joined the first. She looked down to see that the light from the Silmaril had only grown brighter. Bother, she thought. They must have seen it.
The two boys had already outstripped her by some distance, not having skirts to carry, but the orcs were gaining quickly on all of them, with or without skirts. Suddenly, through a gap in the trees she saw they were heading straight for an insurmountable cliff, which, though they had been able to see it from the river, had been invisible in the thick foliage of the forest.
Omir and Dakir had seen it too, for they were turning to the right. Omiel redoubled her efforts and turned as well. Suddenly there was another yell and several orcs appeared in front of them.
Once more they turned, directly around, this time. But still more orcs appeared in that direction. This wasn't fair. Orcs weren't even supposed to be in fairyland; what had all that been about nobody being able to get in or out?
They once more headed for the cliff, though there really wasn't much of a point. Finally, they burst out into a small clearing to see nothing but a bare rock face before them with a small door in it. Hopelessly, they made for this door, fearing what might be behind it but little less than the orcs following. But it was the only possible avenue of escape.
But soon even it wasn't. For two more orcs appeared in it, staring at them, with horrible smiles upon their cruel faces. The three fairies stopped, gasping and helpless, and turned to face the onslaught.
One of the smaller orcs which had been following them did make a savage leap towards them, but the orc they had first seen pulled him aside and gave him a heavy blow on the side of his head with his fist.
"Hands off!" he growled. "Their ours, we found them." He advanced slowly, eyeing the light that was still emanating from the Silmaril.
"No you don't, Sjambok," barked one of the orcs from the doorway, by far the largest present, stepping forward with his hands on his hips. "The Boss wants all prisoners brought to him before molestation, and you know what happens when the Boss is angry."
"But the Boss needn't know we found these," said another orc, one of the three Omiel had seen join Sjambok. It appeared to be a girl, as far as an orc could resemble anything feminine. "Even you," she went on, looking at the large orc, "would enjoy getting your teeth into such a treat." She sidled up to them and poked Omir rudely in the ribs. "Just see how fat and juicy this one is!"
"I'm not fat!" cried Omir.
"Quiet!" barked the large orc.
"Blast!" snarled another orc next to Sjambok whose name was Chabouk, if they had known or cared, "We've had nothing but stale bread for three stinking days!"
"I can't even remember what pizza1 tastes like," whined the smallest of the orcs. He did indeed look half starved, and Omiel almost felt sorry for him, thinking of her own delicious breakfast. Besides, he was cute.
"Forget it, Kurbash," snapped the large orc, "fairies taste awful anyways."
"Since when did you find that out," Omir muttered, loud enough for the large orc to hear.
"Hold your lip!" growled the orc, giving him a blow on the cheek which nearly sent him reeling.
"I don't care how bad they taste," said the orc who had complained about the bread. "They're meat-that's good enough for me."
He sprung suddenly towards them. Omiel took a step back and tripped over a stone. She struggled for her balance, then fell backwards. The Silmaril slipped out of her dress, swinging through the air on its golden chain. Her head fell through the small doorway they had seen, and suddenly she disappeared.
Omir and Dakir leaped to the door and rushed in after her before the orcs had time to draw their swords and bows. They found themselves in a great cave full of orcs, most of which were rushing towards them. Omiel was next to them, lying on the the ground. Omir quickly pulled her to her feet and prepared to drag her back through the door.
As she got up, she once more uncovered the Silmaril, which was shining, as it seemed, more brightly than ever, illuminating the cavern with a great brilliance. The orcs suddenly put their arms up to their eyes, as though blinded. Omir pulled Omiel towards the door.
Suddenly she got a crazy idea. "No!" she cried, yanking her arm from his grip and setting off at a run. "We can go this way!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Omir called to her, but she ignored him. After a brief moment of indecision, he ran after her. Dakir dutifully followed.
They soon caught her up, and the three ran together. Everywhere they went, the orcs shrieked and cowered back against the walls or ran away down the side passages. Omiel led the party, running slightly ahead, turning this way and that, but always heading upwards.
Suddenly, they came to a place where the path suddenly dropped steeply downwards. As far as they could see by the light of the Silmaril, which had been growing dimmer, it continued going down indefinitely.
"We'll have to turn back," said Omir. "If we go back to that last fork, we can take the other path. They both went up about the same amount."
"No," said Omiel stubbornly. She was sick of him ordering her around, and it didn't occur to her that he hadn't successfully made her do anything yet that day. "It's going to go up again," she said. "We'll only have to go down for a little while."
"How do you know?" asked Omir incredulously.
She did not deign to answer him but set off by herself.
"You done nothing but ruin this whole journey!" said Omir in frustration. "Why'd you have to come in the first place?"
"Why did you have to come in the first place?" asked Omiel, turning around. "I didn't want you to come. You can leave now if you want."
"I think I will!" cried Omir angrily.
"We can't," said Dakir, practical and blunt as always. "The only thing that's kept us alive so far is that thing around your neck. What is it, anyway?"
"That's none of your business," said Omiel, turning quickly away. "And I'm going on, so you can either come or leave."
Omir reluctantly followed her, with Dakir in tow.
What seemed like hours later, they were still going down. The Silmaril was only giving a faint glow now, and all around the small circle of light the darkness closed in. Deep in the shadows beneath them, they thought they heard great booming drums, but Omiel still led tirelessly on.
Slowly, the air, which had, up until that point, been steadily getting colder, began once more to grow warm. It was so gradual that at first they did not realize it, but soon it was as hot as a summer's day, and still growing warmer. Also they saw a light far ahead, a hole of gold in the immense darkness.
They walked forward with renewed hope toward the light, for it appeared that they had found the way out at last. The light grew brighter and brighter, and the heat grew stronger, until suddenly Omir stopped.
"Wait!" he said, "that's not the way out-there's a fire down there!"
"Impossible!" said Omiel, stopping nonetheless. "There's nothing down here to burn."
"But us," said Dakir, who had also paused.
"Thanks," replied Omiel. "That was encouraging."
"It is a fire," insisted Omir, "since when has it ever been this hot?"
Omiel realized he was right. Anyhow, the light was too red to be daylight. "Bother," she said turning. "We'll have to turn back."
"That's not fire," said Dakir suddenly, "but it's not daylight, either. It's moving-this way."
They spun about to look, and saw that he was right. They had not noticed while they had been walking, but the light and heat was quite definitely moving towards them.
"What do we do?" asked Dakir.
Omir shrugged. "What can we do? Run!"
They accordingly ran. Back up the steep path they hurried, feeling the scorching heat on their backs acutely. Whatever was pursuing followed tirelessly, slowly gaining on them.
Once only did Omiel look back to see a vague black shape, flashing red and yellow fire. She thought of the stories she had heard and the pictures she had seen. A dragon? She had never heard of a black dragon2. Or was it just the bright light about it that made it appear black?
They had almost given up hope of escape when from a smaller side path rushed a small figure. He was dressed in a crimson robe and hat, carrying a queer twisted staff, with red hair falling to his shoulders and some red scruff on his chin that could have been called a beard. "Follow me!" he cried.
Omir and Dakir accordingly followed. Omiel hurried to catch up.
"Why are we following him?" she cried to Omir as she came alongside of him. "You've no idea whether he's a friend or not!"
"I'm following him," replied Omir, panting, "because he's going the way I meant to go anyhow."
The red figure ahead suddenly stopped. "Keep going! Keep going!" he cried. "I'll hold him up."
They did not have to be urged. They galloped past, as he stood to the side of the path, shouting for them to hurry. Omiel glanced back for a moment and saw the seemingly tiny red figure standing in the middle of the pathway, facing a huge black beast with a flaming whip.
"He'll be killed!" she cried out in distress.
"Well there's nothing we can do about it," said Omir, though he looked back as well.
"Go on!" cried the figure, "I have it under control!" Suddenly a bright white light flashed where he had been. Omiel turned and fled.
Gradually the heat and light grew less and the cold and darkness closed in once more.
1 Allegedly, pizza was first introduced to orcs by Saruman the White, and it's popularity quickly spread throughout the entire orc world. It was the national food of Mordor, and pizza peddling was the prefered occupation of orcs who were not forced to work for Sauron. For more information on orcs and pizza, see 'Lego The Lord of the Rings-Nintendo Wii'.
2 Fairies were not familiar with the film "How To Train Your Dragon", which was not popular at this time anyways, even among men, having only a cult following. King Thranduil of the elves banned it from Mirkwood, for its implications that dragons were not evil, an unpopular sentiment among practically everyone but orcs. It is rumoured that it was very widespread among orcs, and even, by a few of the malicious, made by orcs, though the truth of both statements has never been proved.
