Dedicated to: Dinmereth, Dimitri, Elvea, Endomiel and Rilgania, my best
friends, who helped me through the dark days of the past week and stopped
me from doing unpleasant things to myself (self mutilation, suicide, you'll
probably recognize it).
6. My songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains
He left.
I can't believe it. He just left. A sob escaped me as Merry grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from the orcs. An extremely large orc lifted his sword and was about to hit us when Boromir countered his blow.
Merry and I gazed at him, thunderstruck, as he slew orc after orc. An orc- bow twanged and Boromir suddenly fell, a thick, black arrow protruding from his chest. I heard Merry gasp faintly beside me as Boromir stood up again to slaughter more orcs until he got shot for the second time. And still, he stood up yet again killing more orcs, defending us.
A third arrow hit him, and he sank to his knees, never to stand up again. Merry drew out his sword and let out a cry. I joined him in killing a couple of orcs, letting my frustrations out on the abominable creatures. Tears followed each other closely as I swore and stabbed the orcs with all my might; but two arms seized me and I thought the end was near when everything went black in front of my eyes.
I woke up to harsh voices and a disgusting, but enervating drink that was being poured into my mouth. I started as I looked at the one giving it to me. It was one of those huge orcs. These were larger and more muscular than the orcs we had seen in Moria. Their foul skins were black and red, and they bore the token of a white hand on their faces and on their gear. I could see that they were a disordered company having constant arguments. I also noticed a second group of smaller and possibly even uglier orcs, bearing the token of a red, lidless eye.
Suddenly the reason why I was here came back to my mind. I recalled Frodo's pained face as he left for Mordor, Boromir's white face and the arrows sticking out of his chest as he died among the corpses of orcs like these. The anger rose up in me again, and I started to kick and scream until I got hit on the head by a sword-hilt and lost conscience.
I felt sick when I opened my eyes some time later. The sound of trampling iron-shod feet was heavy around me. An orc carried me on his back as they ran across plains. Merry! Where was he? Was he still alive? Where were those orcs taking us? The way to Mordor was a different direction.
My throat felt entirely dry, but I did not feel hungry. Had they fed me? And if they had, what did they feed me? No, wait, I did not even want to know. The orcs ran along, the scent of their sweat heavy in the air. It was intoxicating, and it made me faint again.
The orcs were having another argument when I woke up. Uglúk had to slay two of his own kin and he had trouble controlling his troups. When I felt the edge of a knife slit my wrist and blood trickle down my arm I saw chance to cut the cords binding my hands and tied them loosely around my wrists. An orcs seized me and dragged me off again. I slipped back into evil dreams.
The first time I caught a glimpse of Merry was when Uglúk told me we had to walk ourselves. I was glad to see that my friend was alive, but it made me angry to see that he was severely hurt. He had a large gash in his forehead, in which the orcs smeared dark stuff. Merry cried aloud and the orcs laughed. They kicked him, and as he stood up he spotted me staring.
'Hullo, Pippin. So you've come on this little expedition, too? Where do we get bed and breakfast?'
I managed to smile weakly before Uglúk silenced us.
We had ran across plains for hours when I turned aside from the company in the hope to leave some marks. I unclasped my elf-brooch and dropped it when a whip curled around my ankles.
In the days that followed I lost every sense of time I had. But it wasn't important anymore. I had found out where they were taking us: to Isengard. To Saruman. Fear slowly started to consume me as I pondered this. Gandalf had told me some things about Saruman, and none of those things was a comfort. What would he do if he found out neither of us had the Ring? He would torture us, that was certain. How? Or, more important, how would Merry and I be able to resist it? And what if we couldn't? Horrible scenes started to loom up in front of my eyes. I saw Merry and myself being tortured in the most cruel ways I could imagine. I saw myself finally screaming Frodo had the Ring, and that he was on his way to Mordor to destroy it.
No. I would never betray him.
Wrong. You do not want to betray him. But how would you think that possible, a weak little Hobbit like you, exposed to the cruel torture methods of a powerful wizard?
I shivered unwillingly.
You do not know? I expected that. Lucky for us that I do.
How?
You will have to banish Frodo from your memory. There is no other way.
I bit my lip. That would be impossible. My memories were all that I had left.
Exactly. No hope, only memories. But what use are memories when you're dead? Because die you will, and it won't be a pleasant death.
No hope? Not even that Strider would find my brooch and save us?
No. Think, you fool. If Strider survived, he would have gone after Frodo. No, no hope for us.
~*~*~*~
A red sun rose that morning, and I still couldn't believe we had escaped. Help had come unlooked-for the past night; Horsemen from the riddermark. They had slaughtered the orcs that held us captive and Merry and I had crawled to the borders of Fangorn forest. Only Uglúk had escaped at first, but he was slain in a sword-to-sword fight by a blonde-haired man who appeared to be in command. When the raid had ended the men piled the corpses and burned them. I did not pity them. The Uruk-hai deserved that.
It was over. We wouldn't be taken to Isengard unless Saruman himself came down from his tower to get us. I turned around and my gaze met Merry's. He smiled at me comfortingly, and I heaved a sigh before I collapsed into his arms and broke down to sobs. Merry rubbed my back and whispered to me soothingly, but I couldn't stop myself from crying over all the misery we had been through the past weeks. When my sobs finally subsided Merry held me at an arm length and wiped away my tears.
He talked to me about where he thought we had to be according to the maps he studied in Rivendell, and it appeared that we were close to the river Entwash.
'Let's have something to drink first, and then we'll decide where to go next.' He pointed out a direction that led us deeper into Fangorn.
Even though Lord Celeborn had warned us against the forest, I still agreed with that.
'Lead on, master Brandybuck.'
~*~*~*~
A/N: Another (very short) chapter finished. Up next: Frodo and Sam stuck in Emyn Muil. Poor Frodo. ::snicker:: I can't update much these days, cause I have some problems at school and stuff, so my parents kind of forbade me to write, except for in the weekends. Not fair. Ah well, I wish you all a very good day. Aurian.
6. My songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains
He left.
I can't believe it. He just left. A sob escaped me as Merry grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from the orcs. An extremely large orc lifted his sword and was about to hit us when Boromir countered his blow.
Merry and I gazed at him, thunderstruck, as he slew orc after orc. An orc- bow twanged and Boromir suddenly fell, a thick, black arrow protruding from his chest. I heard Merry gasp faintly beside me as Boromir stood up again to slaughter more orcs until he got shot for the second time. And still, he stood up yet again killing more orcs, defending us.
A third arrow hit him, and he sank to his knees, never to stand up again. Merry drew out his sword and let out a cry. I joined him in killing a couple of orcs, letting my frustrations out on the abominable creatures. Tears followed each other closely as I swore and stabbed the orcs with all my might; but two arms seized me and I thought the end was near when everything went black in front of my eyes.
I woke up to harsh voices and a disgusting, but enervating drink that was being poured into my mouth. I started as I looked at the one giving it to me. It was one of those huge orcs. These were larger and more muscular than the orcs we had seen in Moria. Their foul skins were black and red, and they bore the token of a white hand on their faces and on their gear. I could see that they were a disordered company having constant arguments. I also noticed a second group of smaller and possibly even uglier orcs, bearing the token of a red, lidless eye.
Suddenly the reason why I was here came back to my mind. I recalled Frodo's pained face as he left for Mordor, Boromir's white face and the arrows sticking out of his chest as he died among the corpses of orcs like these. The anger rose up in me again, and I started to kick and scream until I got hit on the head by a sword-hilt and lost conscience.
I felt sick when I opened my eyes some time later. The sound of trampling iron-shod feet was heavy around me. An orc carried me on his back as they ran across plains. Merry! Where was he? Was he still alive? Where were those orcs taking us? The way to Mordor was a different direction.
My throat felt entirely dry, but I did not feel hungry. Had they fed me? And if they had, what did they feed me? No, wait, I did not even want to know. The orcs ran along, the scent of their sweat heavy in the air. It was intoxicating, and it made me faint again.
The orcs were having another argument when I woke up. Uglúk had to slay two of his own kin and he had trouble controlling his troups. When I felt the edge of a knife slit my wrist and blood trickle down my arm I saw chance to cut the cords binding my hands and tied them loosely around my wrists. An orcs seized me and dragged me off again. I slipped back into evil dreams.
The first time I caught a glimpse of Merry was when Uglúk told me we had to walk ourselves. I was glad to see that my friend was alive, but it made me angry to see that he was severely hurt. He had a large gash in his forehead, in which the orcs smeared dark stuff. Merry cried aloud and the orcs laughed. They kicked him, and as he stood up he spotted me staring.
'Hullo, Pippin. So you've come on this little expedition, too? Where do we get bed and breakfast?'
I managed to smile weakly before Uglúk silenced us.
We had ran across plains for hours when I turned aside from the company in the hope to leave some marks. I unclasped my elf-brooch and dropped it when a whip curled around my ankles.
In the days that followed I lost every sense of time I had. But it wasn't important anymore. I had found out where they were taking us: to Isengard. To Saruman. Fear slowly started to consume me as I pondered this. Gandalf had told me some things about Saruman, and none of those things was a comfort. What would he do if he found out neither of us had the Ring? He would torture us, that was certain. How? Or, more important, how would Merry and I be able to resist it? And what if we couldn't? Horrible scenes started to loom up in front of my eyes. I saw Merry and myself being tortured in the most cruel ways I could imagine. I saw myself finally screaming Frodo had the Ring, and that he was on his way to Mordor to destroy it.
No. I would never betray him.
Wrong. You do not want to betray him. But how would you think that possible, a weak little Hobbit like you, exposed to the cruel torture methods of a powerful wizard?
I shivered unwillingly.
You do not know? I expected that. Lucky for us that I do.
How?
You will have to banish Frodo from your memory. There is no other way.
I bit my lip. That would be impossible. My memories were all that I had left.
Exactly. No hope, only memories. But what use are memories when you're dead? Because die you will, and it won't be a pleasant death.
No hope? Not even that Strider would find my brooch and save us?
No. Think, you fool. If Strider survived, he would have gone after Frodo. No, no hope for us.
~*~*~*~
A red sun rose that morning, and I still couldn't believe we had escaped. Help had come unlooked-for the past night; Horsemen from the riddermark. They had slaughtered the orcs that held us captive and Merry and I had crawled to the borders of Fangorn forest. Only Uglúk had escaped at first, but he was slain in a sword-to-sword fight by a blonde-haired man who appeared to be in command. When the raid had ended the men piled the corpses and burned them. I did not pity them. The Uruk-hai deserved that.
It was over. We wouldn't be taken to Isengard unless Saruman himself came down from his tower to get us. I turned around and my gaze met Merry's. He smiled at me comfortingly, and I heaved a sigh before I collapsed into his arms and broke down to sobs. Merry rubbed my back and whispered to me soothingly, but I couldn't stop myself from crying over all the misery we had been through the past weeks. When my sobs finally subsided Merry held me at an arm length and wiped away my tears.
He talked to me about where he thought we had to be according to the maps he studied in Rivendell, and it appeared that we were close to the river Entwash.
'Let's have something to drink first, and then we'll decide where to go next.' He pointed out a direction that led us deeper into Fangorn.
Even though Lord Celeborn had warned us against the forest, I still agreed with that.
'Lead on, master Brandybuck.'
~*~*~*~
A/N: Another (very short) chapter finished. Up next: Frodo and Sam stuck in Emyn Muil. Poor Frodo. ::snicker:: I can't update much these days, cause I have some problems at school and stuff, so my parents kind of forbade me to write, except for in the weekends. Not fair. Ah well, I wish you all a very good day. Aurian.