Arrangements Broken

Disclaimer: I (rather obviously) do not own Lord of the Rings, that belongs to JRR Tolkien and the Tolkien Foundation.

The four days in Rivendell were days of all sorts of pleasure and awe for the Eorling. Coerheledir and Dinennaur were both more than willing to show him about the town, and the beauty of the architecture and the peace that filled the valley were the stuff of memories that Eofor would carry with him to the grave. Even Farbarad seemed affected by the refuge; his eyes lost some of their hardness and some of the lines in his face seemed softer. Yet a relaxed and happier Farbarad was still Farbarad, and Eofor could normally hear him haggling with a shopkeeper before he drew close enough to see the Dunedan.

The evenings at Tologtirith's house were even better, as the smith had plenty of stories to tell about things beyond Eofor's wildest dreams. The Elf seemed just as eager to hear Eofor's stories, and the two often took up their places in two great chairs by the fireplace and talked late into the night. For Farbarad, the main attraction of the house was Dinennaur's mother Caranmirwen. The elleth was perhaps the best cook the rangy man had ever met, and he almost ate himself sick at every meal. Sparring with Coerheledir and Aralung kept his muscles toned and worked out the last of the kinks in his body that a life of several months of indolence could bring.

The only downside for any member of the party was the discussion that Dinennaur had with her parents, one that she'd promised to have with them she returned. Farbarad and Eofor were decidedly not present, but they saw the redness of her embarrassed face and some moisture in her eyes when she and her mother and father came out of the forge and figured that it had not been a pleasant time for any of them. Her father and mother embraced her and things for those three seemed to perk up from there, but the elleth stubbornly refused to talk about that discussion with either of the men. What they did notice was that she spent far more time with the family then she did doing almost anything else.

Unfortunately, those days flew by all too fast and soon the men found themselves standing beside Dinennaur at the road leading to the High Pass. Halbarad pressed a small sack of silver coins into Farbarad's hands and fixed the former Ranger with a look that plainly said he was not to gamble this money away on pain of death. Farbarad shifted his feet under the older man's stare and glanced away, muttering.

Elrond gave them his blessing and final instructions, and the three were on their way. The trip through the pass was decidedly unpleasant. It was very cold, as most mountain passes are given to being, and the wind set up an awful howl through the pass. It wasn't so cold that one couldn't survive on one's own beside a hot fire and a goodly number of blankets, but it was an uncomfortable state of being. Dinennaur tethered the horses closer together to share some warmth and wrapped them in their warm travel blankets. It wouldn't do to let one of the mounts suffer in this weather.

The Eorling couldn't recall ever being so cold as he was in the pass, and he shivered wildly. The fire made things better, as expected, but it was still very nippy. Farbarad took one look at him and moved closer, drawing the blankets over them.

Eofor started to protest the general oddness of this new state of affairs, but the Dunadan fixed him with a stern gray stare. "Don't be a fool Eorling. You've shaking like a leaf, and you won't get to sleep unless you have some more heat. I don't like this sort of thing much but you can't catch an arrow for me if you're half asleep."

"So I'm just a walking shield? That's comforting." Eofor took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. "Very well, we'll sleep back to back. I used to do this with my twin, so I suppose it's not all that strange."

"So now you're adopting me? Well, your brotherhood is better than that of my surviving kin. Don't try to take more than your share of these blankets." The two huddled together by the fire, and their combined heat was just enough to lull Eofor into a deep sleep. Farbarad turned a pair of sleepy eyes on the elleth. He didn't want to ask the question, but he'd be a poor leader if he didn't.

"Will you be…."

Dinennaur glanced up from her tea. "I have the first watch, Farbarad, and we Elves don't sleep as Men do. Nor is the cold all that bad; it's not pleasant, but not beyond toleration."

Farbarad nodded. "I know. I have the second watch, though, and that means leaving Eofor without extra warmth. He has the third, and that means I will lie about in the cold. I…"

The elleth's eyes turned a little frosty. "Yes, I can help keep him and you warm, depending on which watch you two hold. It's not exactly proper, but if it helps you sleep, then I will do it." She stared off into the distance and was silent for a moment. When she turned back to Farbarad, her expression was lighter and certainly less harsh. "Of course, I also get to share in the warmth, and that's no ill thing."

Farbarad's lips twitched into a sour grin. "Aye, I forgot that you're such the great charitable and noble sacrificer for the good of all."

"Yes, it's best that you not forget all you just said on that matter. Sleep, Farlungion. I'll wake you when your watch comes." Farbarad nodded and dropped off to sleep himself.

The next night passed in much the same way as the first, although it should be noticed that the tea disappeared at an alarming rate up there in the pass. Farbarad alone drank three or four cups a night, and he normally took his tea with some of their precious store of sugar. They were desperate to get through the pass as soon as possible and to be free of this bitter cold, and the pace they set in the morning proved the truth of that. Still, there was a limit to how fast one could travel on the harsh terrain, and they ended up spending three nights in the pass.

It was on the third night that all their plans and plots for this mission ended up in the slop-bucket. The night started as the other nights started, with Farbarad grumbling that it was far too cold for any living being to be fooling around in this place and his companions nodding their agreement. Eofor's teeth clattered and chattered a beat that Dinennaur claimed she'd heard in a song for a Haradic folk dance.

"Are you sure about that, Dinennaur?" Eofor rubbed his arms and stared up at the cold grey sky. "Last night you said that my teeth sounded like a dancer's feet on a hard floor."

Farbarad grunted. "As long as it takes your mind off the cold, she can compare your clicking to anything she wants. I've never heard Haradric music before, so I really can't judge between one and the other."

Eofor's teeth redoubled their chattering, pausing only when a strange sound caused his jaw to drop open. "What was that?"

The sound barely rose above the howl of the wind, but it was unmistakably distinct from the sounds they'd heard earlier. This howl was not like the wind's, and it shuddered as it drew to a close before being taken up by several new voices.

"Wargs." Dinennaur's teeth ground together and she rose, glaive in hand. Her head tilted slightly as wild cries and yells sounded down the pass. "There are other voices with theirs. Harsher ones, if that's possible. The Orcs have returned to this part of the mountains."

Farbarad pulled his bow off of Cardolan's back and quickly strung it. "If either of you have bows, now'd be a good time to string and nock them. We need to put down some of these beasts before they get too close."

Eorling and Noldo both nodded and turned to their own weapons, Eofor stringing his old bow with practiced hands and the elleth readying hers with rather less alacrity.

The string slipped in her grip and her features set unpleasantly. "Curse my clumsy fingers." Grumbling, the Elf managed to get her bow strung and an arrow nocked just as the first Wargs came into view, followed closely by a few Orcs.

By the looks of things, they were coming from the pass ahead, so there was no way to escape them except running backwards, and that wasn't the best of plans. It was better to stand and face them here rather than turn tail and hope to outdistance them on this bitter night. The wolves would panic the horses, making riding a fool's quest, and running on foot left them vulnerable to the Wargs and any Orcs riding them. Besides all that, Farbarad was in a rather poor mood and not well given to running away.

"Mark your target. Ready….and….loose!" Farbarad's voice cut clear and crisp through the din raised by charging Orcs. Three bowstrings twanged, and three arrows found their marks. A scarred old goblin dropped with a grey-feathered Dunedain arrow in his eye. A Warg fell, writhing, with an arrow in its throat. Another unfortunate Orc staggered and fell screaming, an Elf-fletched arrow buried in and through the top of his foot.

Eofor blinked. "Dinennaur? I don't mean to insult your aim, sister, but…" Farbarad's voice cut off any words he'd planned to say, and perhaps that was for the best. The way the Elf's face darkened on seeing where the arrow went didn't bode well for any who pointed out the shot.

"Mark targets, ready, loose!" Again, three arrows screamed towards their targets. Farbarad's hit a Warg in the eye, Eofor's another wolf below the lower jaw, and Dinennaur's pierced the throat of an Orc.

"That was a better shot." Dinennaur took a quick breath and drew and loosed again. A huge, broad Orc dropped to writhe its death agonies with an arrow in its guts. "Not as clean a shot, but it killed its mark."

"Aye, and what a mark! The beast was a big one and all you could do was hit its belly." Farbarad's features twisted into a dark grin, and he shot another Orc through the throat. "It's enough to make a skilled archer weep for his craft."

"As you say. I hope you're as good with an axe as you are with your bow, because they're getting too close for this sort of work." Dinennaur set her bow aside and kicked her glaive into her hands. Eofor, are you with me?"

The Eorling drew both swords and whipped them back and forth to ready his wrists. "I'm with you as sure as I live. Farbarad, stay behind us and kill anything we leave. From what I've seen of your axe-craft…." Eofor shook his head and bit in a whistle. "It's enough to make a swordsman weep for his art."

The taller man's grin broadened. "Oh, very clever, very clever indeed! Here you use my own words against me. Well, I'll not pretend that I am Elendil returned to aid you poor sots, provided Dinennaur makes no claim to being a reincarnated Beleg Strongbow."

Dinennaur managed a tight, grim little smile. "Fair enough."

She blocked an incoming strike and swept the blade clear, opening her attacker to a thrust to the guts. The Orc folded with a choked howl. The elleth practically danced about the battlefield, weaving and stepping fast to keep her foes at bay and unable to attack even as that long glaive broke their defenses and cut them to ribbons. A charging Uruk, perhaps a lieutenant of whatever chief these beasts followed, took a slip-thrust to the throat and collapsed with nary a groan. Others fell shrieking with bad leg cuts or thrusts to the chest or stomach. Battle is never pretty work, but the way the Noldo could wreak such destruction and make it look so easy was an art of sorts. Eventually, the sheer press of Orcs and the confines of the pass turned using the polearm into an exercise in futility, and she fell back on her sword.

Eofor's training with twin blades over the last few weeks paid off mightily. In some parts, he worked his swords as a boxer might his fists. A quick block followed by a lightning thrust with the off-hand claimed at least three Orcs. Another had his sword arm removed right after he parried one of Eofor's blows. The Orc's head joined its arm on the ground a moment later. One blade shoved a fifth Orc's shield aside and a savage hacking blow from the other clove through its shoulder down to its chest. One attacking Orc had the misfortune of having his blow parried, his axe swept to the side, and for a blow to strike his skull and another to slash through his leather shirt and open his midsection.

Farbarad followed in the two's wake. While not a good close in fighter, he was competent enough to fell the disrupted and wounded Orcs staggering away from the red head and the brunette. The Elvish axe flashed and thundered down on Orc flesh, leaving terrible wounds and dropping Orcs left and right. A powerful looking Uruk stumbled into his path while trying to escape the Elf's rush and get some room to build a counterattack. The great beast took the axe between his shoulders and collapsed with a growl. The hate-filled look the dying creature gave the Dunedan sent a little chill down his spine, but he shook that off quickly. There was no sense in fearing a dead Orc.

A new sound from behind the little party came added to the ruckus. An enormous Warg came tearing down the pass, snapping at Orcs left and right and generally wreaking havoc off to Farbarad's right. He tried to turn to face the massive wolf, but the sight of what was behind the Warg stayed his hand. A great figure with an equally imposing sword was hacking his way through the Orcs and heading straight for Dinennaur. The Dunedan raised a cry to the Elf, who turned just as Morangmacar cut what looked like an Orcish chieftain in two at the hips. The Orcs, especially after the loss of their chieftain, seemed dead-earnest in their attempt to rip the half-Orc to shreds. Shrieks of "runagate", "rebel", and "Elf lover" filled the air, and the Orcish press focused on the big creature.

Fortunately, if for no one else but Morangmacar, the brute was up for the challenge. The big blade slashed and flashed through the horde, dropping Orc after Orc. Dinennaur ended up caught in the rush of Orcs and pushed her way to the Man-Orc's side. "Do you have any particular reason for breaking your word to me, yrch? Perhaps you wanted your knife back?"

Morangmacar jolted at that. The Elf's words were said with no small amount of venom, but he really couldn't spare his breath. He shook his head shortly and drove the massive blade through a pair of Orcs. He withdrew it with a curse and a heave, and stepped back to block a wild axe blow from an almost Uruk-sized Orc.

"I think he wanted to lecture me about something again. He really likes to speak his piece, you know." Eofor gasped that bit out as he tried to keep his footing on ground slippery with icy blood and melting snow. He hit a rough patch and started to fall, but caught himself with an outstretched arm even as he stabbed under an Orc's guard and into its lower chest. The way Dinennaur looked at him stung worse than any Orc blade could. She was evidently not interested in anyone involving themselves in the discussion, nor did she seem too happy that others were around to watch this little squabble.

She caught the hurt look on Eofor's face and grimaced even as she spun around and away from an Orc blade and clove its skull as it tried to press the attack. "My apologies, Eofor, but this is between the waste of flesh and myself for the moment. I'll be happy to discuss it with you after I argue it out with the oathbreaker whose word of honor is not worth a single celebbarad.."

"And you're na' doin' that until this scrap's over." Morangmacar finally chopped his attacker in two from head to mid chest and glanced around himself for another foe to kill. The almost frantic way he searched for one showed that he either desperately hated Orcs, desperately wanted to avoid the coming conversation, or both. Unfortunately, the last Orc willing to make an attempt at fighting lost his head to Farbarad's axe and so the half-breed found himself surrounded by three very annoyed enemies. Being a savage brute didn't mean he was a fool. Fighting now and here was not a wise plan, and he had a better than average chance of surviving if he could call in a certain favor. He placed his slaughter-sword on the ground and raised his empty hands

The Elf approached the half-breed, a fire burning in her eyes. Her free hand, soaked in Orc blood, flew up and dealt Morangmacar a ferocious backhand. His head flew to one side and he cursed, rubbing ruefully at the mark. The Elf tossed her sword aside and another backhand on the other side of his face followed the second. Soon the Elf was shouting and raining blows on a Man-Orc too unsure of his own position to even think about retaliating.

"You broke your word to me. I thought better of you than that. I shouldn't have, I knew you were a filthy, wretched Orc, but I thought having some Edan blood in you would give you some sense of decency. I should've known better!" The Elf's tirade continued as she reigned punches and slaps down on a rather shocked half-Orc. Eofor and Farbarad watched the scene unfolding with wide eyes.

"Did you know that she had a right hook as vicious as that?"

Farbarad shrugged, his mouth still a little agape. "No. I suppose that's incentive for me not to truly anger this one. When do you bet that this Morangmacar will lose his temper and start hitting back, and how much do you want to bet on it?"

Eofor shook his head and lunged for Morangmacar. He grabbed hold of the brute's waist and pulled, but it was like grabbing a tree trunk and trying to uproot it by main force. The Half-Orc broke free and spun, eyes blazing. "Do'na' get in the way, fire-head."

That was all the opportunity that the elleth needed to slip her foot between Morangmacar's legs and jerk it out from under him. Farbarad grabbed her right after that, but she struggled like a wildcat, and the Noldo's strength matched than her companion's. The result was that the Dunedan was stuck holding on for dear life. He just barely managed to get her on the ground but keeping her there was another matter. Eofor sprang on top of the prone Morangmacar, or would have if the Man-Orc hadn't caught him at the waist mid-fall and held the much smaller man above him. Big muscles flexed, and Eofor found himself bouncing and rolling through snow and blood. The Man-Orc was no longer shocked, he was angry instead; all his plans of going along peacefully went out the window.

"Gerroff 'er!" Rage made the beast's words was almost unintelligible, but Farbarad caught the meaning as a meathook hand grabbed him from behind and hauled him up and away. The half-breed jerked Dinennaur to her feet, and she repaid him with a particularly nasty blow to the face. He took a step back, and Eofor and Farbarad threw themselves on top of him.

Even with two men, the conclusion was far from sure and it only ended when Eofor pressed his dagger against Morangmacar's neck and told him to lie still. Even the furious Man-Orc could see the futility of trying to continue the fight, and he lay still. All four lay or stood there, breathing heavily.

Morangmacar caught his breath first. "Did you learn to throw such tantrums from yer father or yer laird? I've never seen ye act quite this way, Elf. While I'm na' a model of restraint, you acting this way seems a wee bit unseemly to me." The perorch's newly bruised face twisted in a savage grin. "Unseemly or na', I do'na' half mind it; of course, I do and did mind the fact that you were hittin' me pretty hard and I'm na' all that interested in going about bruised from head to toe."

The Elf's eyes met his, and something in that unsettled him. He glanced away with a near-violent shudder. He was no coward, but nothing of Orc blood could face the eyes of a Noldo or any Elf without being a little afraid.

"No, I didn't learn this from my parents or my aran and perhaps it is a little unseemly; but you cannot deny that you deserved every bit of it. What possessed you to go back on your word? You've never done that before, and I always thought that that made you something more than the average run of the mill beast."

Morangmacar grunted. "I thought that savin' your hide made me something more than your average Orc. I came this way because I'm na' all that sure I could trust yer word, Elf. Ye might have gone ahead and tried to grab a Ranger or two and send them after me, or ye might have turned about after a few days and taken my trail up again. And then there was what I heard from some travelers a ways back. The Orcs are gettin' restless again, and I thought I could get some good sport up here."

"Good sport? I see. It's a little coincidental that you show up in the pass around the same time that Orcs attack us. You could be a spy or…" Farbarad's voice trailed off as he spotted the giant Warg padding slowly towards them. He tensed and scrambled for his axe, but the Warg turned away to lie down by the campfire. "What in the name of all that is right and good are you doing, Warg!"

Morangmacar sighed. "Spoiled wretch. He could run or find somethin' better to do with his time, and he heads straight for the fire for a nap." He whistled and the Warg looked up quickly, and then laid its huge head on its paws again just as quickly. "I'm na' a spy. I'd sooner die and na' have anything to do with these Orc beasties then turn a spy for them. I can tell that ye'd na' believe that, though, so I put myself at yer mercy. Or rather, at the Elf's mercy."

Eofor blinked. "At our mercy? Are you sure you have nothing else to say than that? You're not going to curse us or try to escape? You're a strange creature, Morangmacar. And why are you throwing yourself on Dinennaur's mercy?"

"He's throwing himself on my mercy because I owe him my life. He saved my life when I was in Mirkwood on business for my lord Elrond. Killing him when I owe him that goes against my grain."

"Which is why you should never owe anything to a creature of the Enemy." Farbarad quipped. "I'd kill him even if I owed him a favor, but I am not you. We can't let him leave now. If he is a spy, then he may well bring more Orcs on our heads. We'll tie him up for the night and then release him in the morning."

Morangmacar growled at that, but a look from both the elleth and the Eorling reminded him that resisting would not be in his best interests. They bound him hand and foot and laid him at their feet under the covers. Dinennaur originally wanted to leave him with his own blanket on the other side of the fire, but Eofor pointed out that having him under their feet gave them some additional control over the beast. The pleasant side effect was that Morangmacar made a very a good foot-warmer

A/N:

I apologize for my long silence. Real life has been insane, what with my last year of university and getting ready for grad school. I hope you all enjoyed this chappie. Battle scenes are

Okay, the plot is gelling. The next few chapters should draw things along pretty smoothly. Hoped y'all enjoyed the battle scenes. Those are not always easy to write.

Oh, one more thing. Celebbarad is sindarin for "silver tower". I thought it up while trying to imagine the sort of money that one might find in Tolkien's world. The Professor didn't spent a lot of time on the economy in his works, but these societies would need one to function, and money is mentioned

The celebbarad is a silver Gondorian coin, accepted most everywhere among Free peoples, though Dwarves and Elves likely have coin of their own. It's a coin of medium worth, perhaps the equivalent of a day or two's wages for a laborer.

If anyone has any better information on money in Middle Earth, I'd welcome it, because I want to stay close to the Professor's work within the scope of this story. AU is AU but alternate universe doesn't grant a license to fart at the canon.

Oh, and about Dinennaur's relative strength. I'd imagine that Noldor Elves are really some of the stronger creatures in Arda (Trolls, Dwarves, and Ents aside). Dunedain are close physically to the Noldor, at least to my understanding, but I think there might still be a difference between the two. For the purpose of this story, Noldo Elf males are somewhat stronger than Dunedan males, and female Noldor are normally weaker than Dunedain men. Dinennaur is an exception because she's worked in a smithy from an early age, and she's fought for quite a while. She isn't stronger than Farbarad, but neither is he more powerful than she. (And he is strong even for one of the Dunedain)

Morangmacar's strength mainly relates to hybrid vigor and the relative power of his parents. His father was a massive, abnormally strong Black Numenorean and his mother was large and strong for an Orc. He's also had to fight and scrap from when he was old enough to walk, and I'd imagine that he spent a lot of time trying to get stronger and stronger to defend himself from those around him.