Mahren was at a loss for words when he arrived at the back of the surrounding villagers, all of whom had come to gather around Jorahr and examine his bloodied body. Boromir came onto one knee to support Norwerlas, but upon closer inspection he saw that Jorahr was unharmed. The blood coating his body was not his, just splatters and smears, though black Orc blood also had found its way onto him. He was still visibly shaken and his eyes could not focus on one thing as he trembled in his brother's arms.
"Jorahr, I'm here, brother, speak to me," said Norwerlas beseechingly, shaking his brother's shoulders slightly.
"He's not of his right mind just now," said Grima. "We should take him inside and light a fire, keep him as warm as we can. I do not need to touch his forehead to know that he is most likely suffering from a fever. Come." He, Boromir, Theoden, and Norwerlas lifted Jorahr, carefuly, gently, and carried him downhill, stepping with great prudence. Inside Norwerlas's house, they placed Jorahr on his own cot and Grima set to tending the fire while Eowyn wet a cloth to mop away the blood on his skin. Boromir found a thin blanket that he cast over Jorahr's weary body. Haldir was keeping the villagers at bay outside the door with some rather reluctant help from Mahren. Irlef was keeping watch on the hilltop in case Saruman's messengers returned, leaving five of them to cram into the small house with Jorahr.
"Why did they bring him back?" asked Eowyn, dabbing at Jorahr's face with the cloth. "Saruman would not keep prisoners for ransom and any captives he takes would never leave Isengard. Did your brother escape?" Appealing to Norwerlas, she did not see Jorahr make the sudden movement of seizing her wrist and she gave a start.
"Fire," he gasped in a throaty, gravelly voice. "Screaming…whips…blood."
Grima moved forward to loosen Jorahr's grasp, but Eowyn put up her hand for him to back away. She leaned closer to Jorahr and stroked the clean part of his face with one tender white knuckle. "Rest now, Jorahr, you are safe. Close your eyes and sleep." She helped ease his head back down onto the cot where his eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed until his mouth opened very slighty in sleep. Eowyn gently slipped her wrist out of his grip and lowered her voice.
"With rest he will be all right tomorrow morning."
"We will question him when he awakes, but for now let him sleep," said Theoden. "He has traveled far, that much is clear. While most of the blood is not his, his legs and knees are badly cut from the many falls he took while walking. Whether he escaped or was purposely returned here, I cannot say, but he should be taken to Edoras along with all the people of this village. It is too dangerous to remain here any longer, regardless of whether our companions are with us or not. We must leave now and hope that we will find the others on the road to the capital. If Eomer is alive, he will be leading the others home and it is there that we shall meet again."
"There are some who are none too willing to leave," Boromir pointed out.
"They will leave or be left behind to die," said Grima. "It is foolish to remain here due to a loathing for the king and I speak freeley when I say that Mahren is the only one who would wish to stay now that Jorahr has come back. We will leave on the morrow an hour after dawn, if it would please the king," he added with a respectful bow to Theoden who nodded his approval.
"Pass the word," he told Norwerlas. "I will sit by your brother's side until you return."
When Norwelas had gone, Theoden turned a very grave face towards Jorahr. "Saruman will pay dearly for this."
Boromir said nothing, for unless they could find an army to have at their disposal, Saruman would never pay the consequence for his crimes.
Haldir woke him from a troubled sleep outside of the house the following morning. He had slept while Grima stood watch, but there was no room for him anywhere else so he had had to curl up beside the straw for the horses. It was an hour past dawn and Haldir informed him that Jorahr was awake and prepared to speak. Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, Boromir followed the Elf inside where Theoden, Eowyn, and Norwerlas were gathered around Jorahr as he took a pouch of water for his parched throat. Most of the blood was gone from his face and arms, though some still remained in his hair. The color had returned to his face and now that his eyes weren't quivering, he looked hard-faced and expressionless.
"They dragged us on for days," he began, closing his eyes as if to recall the image of his captivity. "They didn't beat us more than the occasional strike from behind with the blunt end of their weapons to get us moving faster. When we arrived in Isengard, we saw nothing but mud, fire, and death. Below us were caverns of awesome height that they took us into and stored us behind thick metal bars until Saruman decided that it was time to question us. Every day we saw creatures called Uruk-hai being pulled alive from the mud and outfitted with armor. I lost count the first day of how many soldiers Saruman was marshalling. Two of the children hadn't survived the journey and upon our arrival another two women were taken away, leaving just five of us. We never saw the women again. One of the children, a boy nearing manhood stole a poker from the fire and skewered an Orc with it. I attempted to defend him, but he was struck down before my eyes and fed to the Wargs which they keep in an even deeper pit. We were fed scraps of some unnamable sort until the fourth day of our imprisonment when we saw the wizard. He asked us for news of our king, asked us if we had heard anything regarding a trinket of gold, but when we couldn't yield the answers he desired, he had Briares beaten, tortured, and killed. I saw it all from my cell and it happened close enough that Briares's blood splattered all over me. This repeated every day until I was the last captive left alive. I was dragged before Saruman, forced to kneel, and look up into his cruel, evil face. He told me that I was to be set free, that his Orcs would lead me home, and he said nothing more. When last I saw Isengard, the place was alive with thousands of these terrifying soldiers. I was bound to a Warg's saddle and made to run after it for all hours of the day and sometimes into the night until my feet bled. They forced blood and raw meat upon me to eat and several times they had to hold me down to make me stomach their foul rations. But they never struck me more than a clout every now and then to my shoulder blades with the flat of their swords to make me move faster. I feared to sleep, feared to stay awake, and dreaded the day when I would no longer be able to run. In my every waking moment, in every flash of a dream, I saw the other captives being slaughtered, I heard their screams. Soon I began to hallucinate as I ran, almost drifting into unconsciousness until I no longer heard the words being spoken around me. Once or twice I was dragged along the ground over rocks, weeds, and thorns until the Orcs noticed that I had fallen and then they picked me up again. I came out of my stupor on the hillside."
"Why would Saruman release you?" asked Norwerlas. "Isn't there anything he said? He must have had a reason to let you free. If he showed so little regard for human life so as to murder women and children, what is one more peasant man to him?"
"There is something much more sinister at work here," said Haldir gravely. "I fear that Saruman may be using Jorahr in a way similar to how he used to use Grima."
"What does that mean?" asked Eowyn.
"It means that we must be leaving now," said Theoden. "Is the cart ready to transport your brother, Norwerlas?"
"It is, my lord."
"I do not requre a cart to travel," said Jorahr, pushing himself up into a position that would enable him to rise. "I can walk."
"Brother, have you not seen your legs and feet?" said Norwerlas quietly. "They are swollen and bruised. If you ever wish to walk again, you must allow them time to rest and heal. Put your pride aside and do this for me; ride on the cart."
"I will not, not when the young or elderly might take my place. I have no right sitting through the journey when others have walked much farther than me and not had a proper chance to rest. My lady," here Jorahr bent forward at the neck and bowed to Eowyn, "you shall take my place on the cart."
"I am quite capable of walking, kind sir, but if you wish to do me a favor, I would ask that you ride upon the cart until our healer claims that you are able to stand. This is no shame to your honor. You have traveled for many days and have had to endure countless hardships to bring us this news. Without you, we would not know of Saruman's army, but now that we do know, we must make all haste for the capital and having you walk would not help our cause."
Jorahr looked quite dejected and Norwerlas told her in a low voice, "As I have mentioned before, my lady, my brother is an unbreakable man and even if his legs were cut out from underneath him, he would still try to walk."
Eowyn leaned forward and kissed Jorahr's scarred forehead. "For me, Jorahr, take this time to heal and then I shall see to it that you restore your honor in whichever way you find most fitting."
"I would protect you, my lady," said Jorahr with close to no emotion in his words. "I would ask that you allow me to be your sworn sword. Regardless of what my attire may lead you to believe, I can handle a sword."
"You shall have this honor if you deem it worthy and if you ride the cart. Do you agree to these terms?"
"For you, my lady, I do."
Boromir and Norwerlas carried Jorahr to the horse-drawn cart just outside the door which was already loaded up with Irlef's two daughters and wife who was a sickly thing quite pale in complexion. Jorahr sat upright, legs dangling off the side of the cart as he hung his head in shame. Irlef, Mahren, and Grima were strapping the last of their supplies to the horse's saddle. Norwerlas led the horse up the muddy road towards the spot where the villagers had gathered to await further instruction. Theoden spoke his piece, advising the people to keep a wary eye on the horizon and to protect each other. He gave them hope, but Boromir kept none for himself since the majority of the villagers were the elderly and very young.
"This puts a delay on our journey," said Haldir as they began their long trek South. "If Lord Elrond and the others happen upon this village and find it abandoned, I hope that Aragorn will examine the ground and find our trail. This is the only way that I believe we will be united unless Eomer has already chosen to lead them to Edoras."
"That is what we must pray for, my friend. Even with such time constraints as the ones we are under now, we must set even more time to assist these people. They are my people and yours, for they are people and innocent ones at that. They deserve better than what they have received thus far. Their situation cannot exist in such poverty any longer and we cannot be so selfish as to abandon them here while we continue on into Mordor."
"The path that we lead them on takes us further from our destination and closer to the one location we cannot afford to go."
"I do not plan on being taken or travelling to Isengard. Throw that thought away and focus on the task at hand." Telling Haldir this was easy enough, but once they set out from the village, Boromir realized that his words were more of a command to himself than anyone else.