Me and Not You 1001: My pleasure! *sweeps into bow* XD Anyway, I decided against the typical appearance in Rivendell or the Shire for a Tenth Walker and went with something a tad more original. As for the Man of Gondor...you shall see. Oh, and your requested scene will be posted next! I'm almost done with it, so it'll be up soon! YAY!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
The silence lingered as no one seemed to know what to do. I took the moment to fire again and it was like the shot to start a race, kicking everything back into high gear.
"Go!" I snap, firing over my shoulder. "Merry! Pippin! Go!" They finally shake off their stupor and sprint beside me along the base of the hill we were on.
"The woman comes, too! Grab her and the Halflings!" I hear an Orc that seems nastier than the others growl and in charge and pale. Why would- -oh. My gun. It was an unheard of invention in this world. And I'd just drawn a target on my back by using it.
Crap. I set my jaw and feel rage and determination rear up inside me like twin beasts. These things would not get what they want.
"What is that thing?!" Pippin squeaks, pointing to my gun with wide, apprehensive eyes.
"It's called a pistol, or a glock. Keep going!" I reply quickly, urging the Hobbits along, while trying to fire at our pursuers. Needless to say, it was hard to keep the Hobbits moving. Merry and Pippin cringed and held their ears whenever I fired, all but halting.
The situation only gets worse when another group runs up from the front. We skid to a halt and I freeze up, completely blanking on what to do. There's no way I can shoot that many Orcs before they get us.
We're screwed, doomed to whatever these Orcs wanted us for. They halt, savoring their victory, slowing just enough to draw out the tense atmosphere. I begin trying to make as large a dent as I can before we're overrun, when out of nowhere comes Boromir, sword in hand and determined, raging eyes blazing as he battled the foul things. I shook off my shock and continued thinning the crowd as fast as possible.
"Run! Take the little ones and run, Rowena!" Boromir calls over his shoulder. I scowl at him, though he couldn't see it.
"No way! No man left behind!" I snap back, felling an Orc just about to slice my friend's back open. Then, just as I'm firing again, I see Merry and Pippin stabbing away at Orcs with short swords I hadn't seen before on them. There are still too many Orcs, however, and I begin to see why Boromir demanded I run. "Where would I even go?" I ask. Boromir doesn't halt his slaying, but looks relieved I'd finally gotten the message.
"Take the Hobbits and find the others. I shall hold the Orcs off as long as possible and, Valar permitting, rejoin you." He replies. I suddenly recoil.
"Wait...no. Come with us, and we'll kill as we go. Together." I suggest, when suddenly, I run out of bullets in the magazine. Cursing, I pop it out and kneel. Merry and Pippin seem to get that Boromir and I need assistance and the three form a kind of ring around me as I scramble to get the bullets into the thrice-cursed magazine, Merry and Pippin slicing with their small swords.
"What are you doing?" Boromir hisses when it takes longer than half a minute. I scowl at him.
"Reloading! This thing needs bullets, and they keep slipping cus my hands are sweaty!" I retort heatedly. Then deflate a little, realizing I was just stressed. "Sorry, I'm just- -got it!" I cry excitedly, cocking the gun, drawing the hammer back, and standing one fluid motion, firing into the Orcs again as we take off, Boromir blowing on a horn at his waist. Unfortunately, we still have Orcs on our tails, so we try to make it to the best guess we had as to where the others were. We'd split up to look for Frodo (and Boromir, but that's beside the point right now) and as such didn't know precisely where they were.
Then, after who knows how long running and firing and slicing and horn-blowing (and rock-tossing from Merry and Pippin- -shockingly accurate rocks, too), the unthinkable happens. Boromir was hit square in the shoulder, the arrow scratching the top of my ear. I didn't even notice the blood or the pain, the glock hanging numbly in my hands in shock, the rocks clattering to the ground from the Hobbits.
Rage slammed into my very soul and I whirl, roaring as I try to kill the scummy filth that had hit my friend. Then Boromir, the idiotically lovable gentleman, decided to keep fighting as if nothing had happened, a hint of desperation in his eyes now. I felt it, too, as Merry and Pippin drew their swords again and charged with him, tears in their eyes and outcries of forced bravery in their throats. Then I realized.
I had to protect them. They could not be taken. I don't care if I die, as long as they are safe. They're too young to go through whatever vile, disgusting thing we're wanted for. So I fire again, and again, and again. But it doesn't matter.
Boromir takes another hit to the stomach, grunting in agony and falling to his knees. This time, my friend's eyes locked with mine and I could see his fear and desperation to protect us in them, even as a different emotion takes those grey-blue eyes. Was it...sorrow? Fondness? ...Resignation? If the first arrow filled me with rage, this one gave me fury to outmatch any rage I'd previously felt. I finally had my target, and I aligned my gun to shoot his smug face.
However, just then, the glock clicks empty again, even as Boromir gets up and charges, roaring as he continues fighting.
That poor, brave man. He knew he was doomed, he knew it, but he would be damned if he went down without one ifrinn (hell) of a good fight. All I could do for Boromir now was charge with the Hobbits, managing to grab a dead Orc's sword on the way.
It did nothing. A fist slammed into my stomach and before I could even properly feel the blow, I was slung like a sack of potatoes over the Orc's shoulder, a loop of coarse rope already starting to cut into my wrists. The diabhal thing hadn't even slowed down. I blearily looked over as I struggled to breath to see Merry and Pippin in a similar position as they protested and beat on their captors' arms and chests, eyes locked on the piteous sight of our friend with his knees in the dirt, defeated and left for dead, a third arrow stuck halfway between the other two.
The indignity and brutality of Boromir's death crashes into me then and I start sobbing in frustration and rage at these monsters and my helpless position. However, my hip grinds into the shoulder of my carrier and all I can do is try to refrain from hurling at the nauseatingly bouncy ride.
=#=#=#=#=
Being tucked under an Orc's arm was not better than being slung over it's shoulder. But at least I didn't feel up to hurling as much. I was now properly tied, with ropes tightly- -too tightly- -bound around my wrists, my ankles, and just above my knees. Poor Merry and Pippin were in a similar position, carried in a kind-of piggyback ride that looked extremely awkward and uncomfortable, but I suppose our captors weren't interested in keeping us comfortable, just alive...I think. Now, it was nearing sunset. Hopefully, that meant that we'd be stopping and resting soon. So far, though, no such luck.
Then, suddenly, we stopped and were savagely dumped on the ground, my knees grinding painfully together and I'm sure my shoulder would have a severe bruise now.
"'Ere! Woman!" It took only a second to realize they were addressing me before a poorly crafted waterskin crashed into my temple. I gave a cry of pain and overbalanced, collapsing to the ground and probably bruising my other shoulder. This apparently was amusing to the Orcs, and there was a lot of rough, crass-seeming laughter amongst the troop.
"Oi! Leave her alone!" Merry roars, trying to stand valiantly, only to be brutally kicked back down. He stayed there.
"Stop! Stop!" I cry, somehow managing to work my slow, awkward way over to my friend as that horrid laughter rang out again. Thankfully, the Orcs had enough sense to move aside and let me look Merry over. Thankfully, he seemed alright, just unconscious. A rage filled me and I glare over my shoulder. "You could have killed him!" I snap. A gnarly, knobbled, iron-shod Orc (maybe the one that's been carrying me) leered right in my face.
"'E's breaving, ain't 'e?" He asks. I narrow my eyes, refusing to give in.
"Only just barely, you monster!" HIs hand slapped my cheek with enough force to send me reeling a few feet.
"Tha's what you get fer backtalking me, yeh hear?!" He roars. I blearily nod my head, spitting out blood from a cut inside my cheek. "Now, you might try sleepin', while youse can." He growls, poking my chest and jeering briefly when I fall before leaving to rejoin his group. Pippin is by my side as fast as possible.
"Oh, Winne, your cheek." He whispers, using the nickname I insisted the Fellowship (as I learned the group was called) use, hand rising to touch it and halting just before his fingers made contact. I automatically flinch away.
"It hurts now, but I'll be fine." Pip's eyes shine with an almost child-like reverence.
"That was so brave! If only I could move faster, I'd have been there to help you!" I shake my head.
"Don't stand up to them, Pip. I don't want them hurting you." I reply. Then, a kick lands on the small of my back, letting me know we were being guarded closely now.
"Oi! Shut it!" An Orc growls before stalking back to his station. Pippin then shocks me by snuggling up to my chest, and I was left to try and awkwardly get my arms around him.
"Well, goodnight, Winnie." I kiss the back of his head.
"Night, Pip." I reply softly before trying to get a little sleep.
=#=#=#=#=
It seems like only moments later that I was grabbed, hauled to my feet, Pippin roughly torn from me, and we were all slammed on an Orc's shoulders like my friends had been yesterday. The ropes on my legs were untied and re-tied so fast, I could barely register that they'd been freed and tugged mercilessly around the Orc's armored waist, which meant I had armor pinching and grinding into my legs, not that I dared complain about it out loud.
It was about half an hour later when I notice Merry has yet to wake up. Pippin calls his name, to no effect and I begin to grow worried. Not as worried as when our captors halt and several more smaller ones come out from behind the rocks.
"You're late. The Master grows impatient." The leader growls. "He wants the Shire-Rats. Now!" He then notices me and grins wickedly. "Ah-ha. Stopped for some sport, eh? Can't say I blame you. She's a nice pick."
"She's not for sport. Yet. She has a weapon that will aid our war efforts." The leader of our group replies testily.
"Oh, really?" The other leader asks. "Let's hope this weapon can prove useful to the Master; otherwise, I'll have my fun with her, then slit her throat myself." I gulp, paling in horror.
"Orc-maggots do not decide what is to be done with the prisoners." Our captor growls. "If any may lay claim to her once the Master's through with her, I will be first in line. Either way, Saruman will have his prize. We will deliver them!" We continue on our way, and Merry's breathing grows shallow and rattles in his throat. I pale. That can't be good.
"Merry, wake up!" Pippin cries desperately.
"Merry, come on!" I add. No response. As soon as I get out of these ropes, I swear, I am gonna kill that Orc!
"My friend is sick!" Pippin calls to a nearby Orc taking a sip out of a waterskin. "Please, he needs water!"
"Pip, I wouldn't. We don't know- -"
"Sick, is he?" The leader asks cruelly. "Give 'im some medicine, boys!" He roars, to jeering, grating laughter as the Orc Pippin talked to approaches Merry, pinching his mouth open and pouring what looks almost like blood into his mouth! I buck toward him, crying out in protest, as does Pippin, but then I hear a cough and Merry starts to wake up. However, the liquid is starting to choke him as he wakes fully up. "Can't take his draught!" The leader jeers wickedly, to more laughter. I buck forward again angrily.
"Cut it out!"
"Leave him alone!" Pippin adds. The leader stalks forward.
"Why? You two want some?" He asks harshly. I narrow my eyes, but shake my head. Whatever it was, at least Merry was awake. Pippin, thankfully, follows my lead. "No? Than keep your moths shut!" He growls and heads back to the front of the line. We begin moving again.
"Merry?" Pippin asks gently, not wanting to get the Orc's attention again. Merry looks miserable, but manages a tiny smile for his cousin (as I had learned they were to each other).
"Hello, Pip, Winnie."
"Yer hurt!" Pippin squeaks. Merry shakes his head, smirking.
"I'm fine." Merry replies.
"Like Diabhal you are!" I reply hotly, seeing right through Merry's brave face.
"No, really, Win. I'm alright. It was just an act." Somehow, Pippin seems to have bought it and frowns.
"An act?" He parrots, confused. Merry smiles broader.
"See? Fooled you, too." Merry and Pippin share a small smile at this, and it melts whatever protest I'd been thinking of. Merry was trying to protect Pippin's youthful innocence, so close to being lost already. An Orc up ahead starts sniffing around, frowning in distaste at whatever scent had entered his nose.
"What is it? What do you smell?" The leader demands.
"Manflesh." The Orc reports. The leader scoffs.
"We 'ave one not ten feet back, you maggot!" He roars, clapping the soldier upside the head.
"No, not the female!" The soldier protests, rubbing his head. "There's a male, far away yet, but- -"
"They've caught our trail!" The leader interjects. "Let's move!"
"Aragorn." Pippin breaths before he bites and tugs at something on his chest. Whatever it is, it plops to the ground moments later as the Orc troop scrambles around or over the rocks and start running. I am about to ask what he dropped, Pippin seems satisfied, so I decide to trust him. After all, they'd told me Aragorn was an amazing tracker.
Right?
=#=#=#=#=
It was a long several hours before we were thrust down again. I hiss in pain, but don't do anything more. Merry seems okay, still looking absolutely miserable and slightly feverish. I knew I had only a few minutes to talk to him, so I scoot closer.
"Hey." I greet, smiling. He grins.
"Sorry it took so long to come back to." I shake my head.
"No, it's the Orc that needs to apologize, Merry. I'm just glad you woke up." Merry then leans in.
"Your cheek, Rowena!" He squeaks. I shrug.
"Price for standing up to them." I reply. Merry merely sighs and sits back.
"You know, I'd be worried if we had anyone but Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli tracking us." He says. I can't help but smile. "You don't know them like I do, Winnie. They'll be here to save us in a day or, I wager." I chuckle, but can't tell if he's just putting on a brave face again or not. Either way, he seems utterly confident. Pippin leans over, his eyes shining with hope, as well.
"You'll see, Winnie. It'll be okay." I can't help a chuckle.
"Thanks, now lay down. They're leaving us alone right now, but it won't last long."
It didn't. Within five hours, we were kicked awake and tossed small chunks of bread and small makeshift cups of...I don't want to know what. My body betrays me and I start wolfing down the bread before realizing that it had maggots on it. I nearly gag, but somehow manage to swallow it down. I cough and sip at the liquid. I actually do gag at it. It tastes and feels like straight-up vodka! I hate vodka! However, a wierd, heated energy overtook me and I can't help but wonder what that stuff is. I hate it, but must admit that it's effective. I don't feel hungry at all, but can't help but be disgusted at the method used.
"That's all yer gettin' til the morrow, so don't go wastin' any, yeh hear?" I suck the rest of the vile drink down and nod, desperately wishing for clean water to wash this all down. "Good, now get some shuteye!"