A/N It's friday! I love fridays because I get to post, it is no joke that I spend half my week wondering why it isn't Friday. :) Thanks!

Disclaimer: not mine.

Chapter Two

Aragorn groaned and lifted his head gingerly, gazing dazedly at the blurred object in front of him. Blinking sluggishly, he brought the figure into focus. Crying out in disgust and fear, Aragorn lurched back, only to hit his head against the tree he was tied to.

The orc laughed harshly and smiled down at him with a leer that showed his yellowing and pointed teeth.

"It's awake!" it jeered in a strangely high pitched voice that set Aragorn's teeth on edge. The voice trigged a wave of memories that crashed over his already hurting skull and the man stifled a groan, now remembering what had happened to land him in his less than pleasent situation.

He had left Mirkwood and had made good time, traveling quite a distance, when it had happened. He remembered everything going unnaturally still and quiet, and that he had froze, listening intently for whatever had made nature silence herself. He had drawn his sword.

Then the dart that flew out of nowhere, embedding itself in the back of his neck. Everything else after that had gone fuzzy, but he dimly remembered hitting the earth as his knees gave way and that same high-pitched voice echoing in his ears before all went black.

Opening his eyes, Aragorn returned the small orc's sneer, baring his teeth in a snarl. The orc growled, snapping something out in the black tongue.

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you," Aragorn hissed sarcastically, looking around. He was in a valley of sorts, resting at the base of a steep hill that was spotted with gnarled and old tree stumps. Over the orc's shoulders, the towering fortress of Dol Guldur could be seen, and it's dark power was tangible even from the distance.

He was in the midst of the orc's home. He was in the place that the evil of Mirkwood was spreading from, he was in the place that the elves dared not even speak aloud for fear of it. His stomach gave a lurch and Aragorn fought down the urge to be ill. He was in so much trouble that he doubted that even Legolas would have trouble understanding how he had got into it. He didn't even know himself.

The filthy creature raised a hand, no doubt to deliver a sharp back slap, when it froze. Its eyes widening with what could only be fear and it cringed, cowering down next to Aragorn, who looked wildly around. What could frighten have frightened the creature so?

A low rumble began far off in the distance and the man shot a writhing glance at the orc, who had buried its head in its arms and was rocking back and forth.

"What is happening?" Aragorn asked loudly, craning his neck in attempt to see over the hill. The rumbling was rapidly increasing in volume and the ground began to shake before Aragorn realized what it was. Feet. It was the sound of many, many, feet marching in rthym. His own heart began to beat along with them as he realized that he was about to come face to face with a whole bunch of angry orcs. The corse and uncouth voices of orcs began to filter in with the tramping and Aragorn caught his breath, waiting.

A mutilated orc appeared at the hill line, outlined by the light of the fading sun, and began to march down. Orcs began to dot the hill behind him, their numbers quickly swelling until the hill seemed to be heaving with the dark creatures. By now, Aragorn was sure that to an eagle the ground looked like it was crawling with ants. It was not a comforting thought.

The leader shouted something out in the black tongue, and the orcs stopped abruptly, leaving a deathly silence in their wake. It shouted something out again, and the orcs dissolve into smaller groups, spreading out over the whole face of the land. The valley that had only a few minutes again been almost deserted now seemed to shrink on itself as the orcs crowed for room.

The mutilated orc began to thread in and out of the crowds and Aragorn had the sinking feeling that he was going to pay him a visit. Sure enough, the dark creature appeared a few minutes later, staking straight in their direction.

Aragorn raised his head and glared defiantly at him. He wasn't going to be intermediated; he wasn't going to show fear. The small orc next to him whimpered, dragging itself upright.

The orc stopped in directly front of them, his dark eyes cunning as it examined the human from toe to head. Aragorn smirking, drawing a lazy smile across his face that he pleaded with the Valar didn't show the fear that was running through his veins.

As the orc's eyes reached his face, and the craftiness in its eyes changed to anger more swiftly than Aragorn had time to blink, making both the human and the small orc jump in surprise.

"This is no elf!" the orc snarled in a lethal whisper. The lesser orc shrunk back seeming to try and disappear into the earth once more. Aragorn almost felt a pang of pity for the creature. Almost. He was too busy feeling sorry and scared for himself.

If this orc wanted an elf, well, he was far from that.

"It's an elf! It's an elf!" the smaller orc squealed, groveling at the ground.

"Elf is it! This is a human, you idiot! You stupid piece of lard!" the orc bellowed, his voice steadily growing louder. The other orcs turned from their duties to watch, and began to laugh cruelly as the orc leader slammed its foot into the its underling's chest and smashed him into the ground. A shrill wheezing filled the air and Aragorn swallowed thickly, watching in disgust as the large orc ground its foot in harder.

"It-it was traveling the elven road! How was I supposed to know! It reeks of the elves!" the lesser orc sniveled in a pricing shirk between fought for breath.

The orc mimicked the small one, making the others of his kind laugh, some of them hard enough that they clasped to the ground, or leaned heavily on their weapons.

"Quiet!" their leader called, forcing sudden and complete silence from his followers once more. He leaned back over the small orc, pressing his face directly into the others as it whimpered and pulled away. "You need a lesson," he growled. Yanking the orc upright by the neck, the orc thrust him into Aragorn so that their faces where squashed together. The human almost gagged on the other's rotten sent and tried to pull away, but the tree stump at his back stopped him.

"See his beard, huh, see it!" the orc snarled at a yell, grinding their faces together. Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut, revisited the urge to be ill. "Elves don't have beards! Elves also shine their filthy bright lights! He's not doing it, is he?" He dropped the lesser orc atop Aragorn before grabbing the human by the hair and jerking his head so hard to the side that the man thought his neck might snap. "And look, look! His ears. are. round."

"It was traveling the cursed road!" the small orc panted again, curling up in a ball and shielding his head.

"I don't care! I wanted an elf. An elf will teach that their stinking king a lesson! A human, though, won't even cause him to blink an eye!" The massive orc smashed the comparatively tiny orc into the ground with a crack, breaking its already misshapen nose. Straightening, it snarled at Aragorn, gnashing its teeth in his direction.

"I won't kill you…yet," it growled, striding menacingly towards the human. "You may still hold some use," it added as an afterthought, practically purring with sadistic delight. The man grimaced and spat in the orc's eye.

The orc howled, slapping the human. Aragorn took the blow, and raised defiant eyes. This earned himself another stinging blow.

After the first night, Aragorn was left well enough alone. The orcs scuffed him up a bit, but never did harm enough to draw blood or cause excessive damage. It seemed that the orc leader did indeed have a purpose for him.

He spent most of his time by himself, waiting. Legolas would come for him, that he knew as well as he knew the back of his hand. The elf would check with the border guards to make sure that Aragorn had left safely, for Aragorn knew that the elf wouldn't be entirely comfortable until he had that knowledge.

Aragorn had never been more grateful for the prince's concern.

His waiting finally ended at dusk the third day of his capture.

A medium sized, bulky orc was stalking towards where the human sat, bound, when Aragorn had caught a flash of movement behind one of the dying trees in the far corner of the land the orcs had claimed for their own. Raising his head, the human tried to squint into the depths, hope flaring brightly in his heart. Orcs couldn't move as swiftly or as nimbly as whatever, or whoever, he had just seen in the tree.

He was so busy concentrated on the foliage that he was caught completely by surprise when the orc struck him. Hard. Aragorn's head snapped back and blood began to pool beneath his nose as stars appeared in front of his eyes.

"You son of Morgoth!" he cursed softly, trying to clear his vision. His blood began to speckle the ground, but he took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. It would only get him into more trouble.

"Uglk wants to see you." It growled, leering down as the human wiped his face on his shoulder. The orc grabbed him by his arm and yanked him upright. His legs faltered and he stumbled, but the orc began to walk anyway, heading towards the steep hill.

Glaring up at the orc, Aragorn gritted his teeth, sure that whatever was to come wasn't going to good.

Before anything else could happen, however, a soft whistling filled the air and Aragorn found himself staring with wide eyes as the orc dragging him gave a gurgled shriek, and then toppled forward to land in the dust. A green fletched arrow was sticking out of its back. Legolas' arrow.

TBC...

Well, now they really are in a pickle. This should end well...right?