The orcs do not stop as the sun sets and darkness begins to settle over the dense woods. Glorfindel's muscles ache despite the fact they have not even progressed past a swift walk the entire time. Each inhale burns past his swollen throat and coughs wrack his exerted frame more frequently. He wants nothing more than to rest until he can breathe freely but knows even a week of slumber would not cure his symptoms.
His mind wanders to Elrohir and if the young elf is already headed towards Imladris. It has been many hours since the bridge incident so he should have been able to cover a decent amount of ground by now. With any luck, Elladan will have made it home and his father already has people out searching for them. Elrohir may be spared the walk back. Although I may not be so lucky, he thinks with irritation when the orc pulls him forward to quicken his pace. He is exhausted and the orcs do not seem like they are going to stop anytime soon. A part of him hopes it is because they are nearing the main camp, but then again he's not sure he's ready to see what will greet him there. Despite nearly choking him to the death the orcs did not lash out as he had expected leaving him with the grim knowledge that the worst likely awaits him.
He wishes he could see the stars but the large, gnarled branches of the trees above block out the beautiful lights. All he has are his memories to keep him company and even then they are not enough to break out the incessant noises these foul creatures seem to constantly make. He never knew he could hate a living being so fiercely. Sure he has always despised them with a sort of disgusted regard but he has never felt such strong anger focused on a being since the fall of Gondolin.
They travel for many miles more until he worries they may walk until he simply can not anymore when the glow of a fire can be made out in the distance. As they grow closer he bristles upon the sound of orcs laughing and eating reaching his elven ears. The pungent smell of grog and some kind of cooked meat that he suspects isn't animal wafts through the air nearly making him gag. He holds his composure though, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead paying no mind to the jitteriness growing among the orcs surrounding him.
He reminds himself that these beings are nothing compared to the dark power he's faced once before. As long as he's alive he will handle whatever they throw at him until Lord Elrond or a troop of Imladris elves come to save him. He just hopes he can live that embarrassment down when the time comes. He can hear the stories now. Glorfindel the timeless knight, who let some orcs give him such a fright it sent Lord Elrond into flight, so he may save his friend from his plight. A thin grin spreads across his fair face as he softly shakes his head stifling a chuckle. Bards and scribes. They try so hard to impress any willing to listen that their words always end up ridiculously exaggerated.
So distracted, is the golden-haired elf, that he nearly doesn't realize they have broken away from the trees and the stars are once more shining above him. Various tents and quickly built structures are scattered around a large circular clearing that obviously had once lush grass that has been burned away by the vile creatures now residing here. He also feels a jolt of panic course through him when he realizes there are at least another fifty orcs swarming about the camp making them a small army combined. He prays to the Valar if Elrond does seek him out he has the foresight to bring enough reinforcements.
The Vanya is roughly lead towards the center of the camp where a long-dead oak tree sits barren of any leaves with its wide and once-grand branches still reaching out into the dark sky like whithered boney fingers. As they near it an orc that had been following closely behind shoves the elf roughly causing him to stumble into the ground at the base of the tree. Two orcs near his feet with more rope and he kicks out vehemently hitting one of them in the nose cause it to back up with a squealing cry. Although this only angers them causing others to assist as they tie his ankles together tightly all while he throws venomous curses in his native language their way.
They laugh above him large hands digging into his arms as they force him against the tree in a sitting position. He jolts in slight panic when the rope tightens around his throat again but loosens slightly a few seconds later, he quickly realizes they had wrapped it around the base of the tree. He struggles madly as they also wrap some around his torso efficiently pinning him against the rough bark. At least I'm sitting so my legs may finally rest, he thinks glumly watching as the foul creatures leave for the time being.
His eyes raise towards the stars and he finds a small amount of solace wash him over as he hums a tune Lindir often enjoys singing in the Halls of Fire. He nearly gives into the exhaustion gripping his cold bones when someone roughly kicks his legs pulling his attention away from the sky above. An orc stands before him with a cup and bowl held in its hands a sinister glint in its beady yellow eyes. "The Capn' don't want you dying of starvation so open up little elf," it growls causing Glorfindel's jaw to harden in resolve. He does not speak but instead looks back up at the sky ignoring the pathetic being before him. It hisses low and angry, an ugly sound that has little effect on the warrior.
The creature retreats only to return moments later with a few orcs causing a slight feeling of defeat to already pass over the golden-haired elf. They step forward; gripping his face, jaw, and hair roughly. He struggles much harder than he had last time when they poured grog down his throat, trying to shake his head free of their bruising grips. Although it is a fight he can not win as a hand moves to roughly cover his nose forcing him to make a decision that should be much harder. He could keep his mouth shut and allow them to suffocate him into unconsciousness, maybe even death. Or he could let them force whatever gross concoctions they consider food down his throat. Again the decision should be much harder.
But as the golden warrior's chest begs for oxygen his brain makes the involuntary choice for him as his lips fly open to gasp in sweet air. He's only allowed a few lung fulls before fingers are digging into his mouth forcing it to remain open while a disgusting slop is poured down his throat. He can hear the orcs laughter swirl around him as he forces his vision back on the stars trying to choke down the foul mockery of food. The cup is next tipped to his lips and he's surprised that, while it tastes strange, it is certainly not grog or liquor of any kind. The orc who had first approaches seems to note his confusion as at laughs down at him.
"That was for the poison. We wanna keep ya around as long as possible elf," the creature spits before leaving with the other orcs, for what he hopes is the rest of the night. While he is somewhat relieved they have given him something to counter the sickness plaguing his body, it also worries him because it is exactly as the orc said. They want to keep him around as long as possible. He still doesn't know what their true intentions are, what he does know is he will not let them succeed in whatever purpose they think he may serve them.
Sleep evades him for many hours and it isn't until the moon's pale light shines upon him that he finally slips into a deep slumber.
He awakes from a nightmare of the past to the sound of orcs shuffling about the camp as the morning sun casts the beginning of its rays on the land. He sits and observes silently for what must be at least an hour until an orc he has not yet seen before approaches flanked by two others. They are all three much larger than the rest of the creatures among them, the one in the middle strides the obvious gate of authority above all. Its dark eyes bore into the elf's as it comes to a stop at his feet, he knows instantly this is the captain of this small army. It has a more intelligent glint in its eye but the hungry, sadistic smile looks no different than any other disgusting orcs.
"I'm sure you are wondering why we have not ended your pitiful little life already elf. You know something I want, the location of Imladris," it growls with a triumphant smile as if it already has all the information it wants.
"You will get nothing of use to pass my lips that I can promise," and I don't take those lightly, he adds in his own head bitterly glaring fire at the orc that could rival the flames of a balrog. He should of known these despicable beings would want to know the whereabouts of the well-hidden Homely House. It is a secret he will never let fall upon the ears of any but his kin.
"If you answer my questions we shall give you a quick death. If not we will make you suffer until you are begging me to kill you," the orc threatens its own dark eyes staring at him with uncontrolled mirth and excitement.
"Do your best you foul thing I have bested a Balrog, your words and petty forms of torture do not scare me," he spits back keeping his gaze steady and chin high despite the tree behind him hindering his movements. The orc laughs glancing between the two beside it who also chuckle with their own sadistic forms of amusement.
"You hear that boys, I told you this pretty elf would want to have fun," he shouts gaining the attention of some of the other creatures who gather to watch eagerly. "String him up," he orders stepping forward with a large grin before swinging a heavy fist into the elf's temple forcing darkness to swallow him whole.