Chapter Five: To Isengard!
A/N: Annoyed TPS fan: Grûsbálk was a named I invented especially for Amy; no name-generator there! Yes, the main idea is that no girl could get dropped into Middle-earth near the Fellowship without screwing up canon one way or another. Anyone notice how Boromir failed to attempt to take the Ring due to Amy's indirect interference?
Andtauriel: *pat pat* Simmer, fangirl, Frodo will be safe from the orcs, I promise…Saruman ordered the halflings undamaged, didn't he? Canon is still trying to fight against all the damage that Amy's presence has done, so expect to see Grishnákh and the Riders of Rohan in future chapters.
And now, on with the show…
Another Disclaimer: Some orc conversations are taken directly from the third chapter of The Two Towers, "The Uruk-hai." Please do not sue for this. I do not claim this conversation.
"On, you lazy maggots!" Uglúk barked. Amy winced at Uglúk's harsh tone, but she was already running at top speed. Her orc's body was much smaller and weaker compared to Azrat and the other Uruk-hai. They had been running for barely ten minutes, and she was already tired.
"Come on, Grûsbálk. There's no time for rest, according to Uglúk, at least," Azrat said, taking Amy's arm with his hand and attempting to lead her on. "Come on, come on…"
"I'm trying," Amy panted. "I'm sorry; I'm really not good at running."
"It's a wonder you survived at all in the East," Azrat said with a hint of scorn. "Now, if you had been born in the WEST with that kind of endurance, you'd be dead before you were up and walking. No, it doesn't pay to be slow over here. Why, just the other month, I was out hunting with some others over near the Horse-country, right? All we wanted was a little bit o' horse-flesh, so we got some young, sort of sickly ones…and these filthy Whiteskins attack us! I thought we were doing them a favor, getting rid of the sick ones, but no: to them, every single horse can grow up into a great war-horse for orc-killing, even the sickly lil' runts. Bah. I only escaped…"
Amy tuned Azrat out. She honestly didn't want to hear about his encounter with the "filthy Whiteskins", as he had called them; she had to get back to her Inner Monologue.
Now what's going on? Are we going to that Barad-dûr place? Or……I'm hungry.
For the rest of the day, Amy struggled in silence to keep up with the other uruks, and to compose a stirring Inner Monologue, with little success in either. On occasion, they ran through full sunlight, during which Amy kept as close to Azrat as possible to keep herself out of the light, with Uglúk cracking his whip over the line every five minutes or so. On all sides, orcs grumbled and muttered about different things in different tongues. But Uglúk's voice bit harshly into her ears again, and she tuned everything out, except for one thought: Run.
*
They ran non-stop until the pale, slender moon rose in the night sky. When Uglúk finally gave the order to halt at the edge of a cliff overlooking a pale, misty plain, Amy collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting gratefully for the rest at long last. Sweat trickled from what seemed like every pore on her grimy body in steady streams; she could almost see hot mist escaping from her in undulating vapors. Other orcs, similar in body structure to her, collapsed by her. Amy could see that they were tired as well. She didn't blame them.
Someone threw something down on the ground beside Amy. She would have thought little of it, if the bundle had not gone "Oof!" as it hit the ground. Curious, she crawled over to the bundle and began to examine it.
"The scouts have come back at last," an orc said to Uglúk, who stood nearby, overlooking the plain.
"What did you discover?" he snarled.
"Only a single horseman," the orc said, giving the misty plain a passing glance, "and he made off westward. All's clear now."
"Now, I daresay. But how long? You fools! You should have shot him. The cursed horsebreeders will hear of us by morning. Now we'll have to let it—hai, you! Get away from that!" Uglúk strode over to Amy and knocked her away from the bundle, which she had been about to open.
"So, four great warriors weren't good enough for you, eh? I'll tell you the same what I told my lads: these are to be brought back ALIVE, and UNSPOILED. So keep your filthy thieving hands to yourself, you rat!" He gave Amy a kick and she scuttled away. She watched as he bent over the bundle and tore back the grey-green blanket that covered it to expose a small, bruised person with brown hair and exceptionally large, hairy feet. Amy drew in her breath sharply. So that was a hobbit.
He looked much different than the hobbits she had seen in the movie. For one thing, he looked…natural. Like a very small adult, but like a child at the same time. She could see the difference in height ratio to surroundings when tricks of camera angels were not involved. His features didn't suggest that some sort of gland had malfunctioned inside him. He looked comfortable with his body—or, he would have, had he not been tied up, bruised, and bleeding from the lip and wrists.
The hobbit blinked at Uglúk, who barked at him in some foreign tongue. He cut the cords around the hobbit's legs with a wicked-looking knife, then dragged the poor thing to his large feet by the hair. Uglúk's ghastly hand had scarcely left the brown curls before the hobbit fell to his knees again. Uglúk dragged the battered hobbit to his feet again and shoved a flask between his split lips as the orcs laughed heartily.
Uglúk strode off to another bundle nearby as Amy continued to stare at the hobbit. He turned his face away from hers, a mixed look of contempt and fear written on his features as he noticed her eyes upon him. She felt her orc's heart breaking. She had loved the hobbits so much in the movie: they had been her favorite characters after Legolas (a moot point by now), and she wanted more than anything to baby the hobbit at this time: the cuddle him like a mother would and tell him that everything would be okay. Besides, he was cuter than a teddy bear.
But she knew that, as an orc, hobbit-cuddling was strictly out. Cuddling hobbits would probably look very odd to her companions; it was very un-orc-adox. She giggled at her little mental joke.
A yelp of pain behind her made her turn, where she saw Uglúk attempting to smear some foul, dark substance from a wooden box on the bloodied forehead of another hobbit. The hobbit was putting up a terrific fight, considering the little amount of strength he had left. Too little to fight off Uglúk. Amy wanted to grab a rock and dash Uglúk's brains out more than anything right at that moment, but she restrained herself.
The orcs were hooting and jeering as the hobbit struggled against Uglúk's ministrations. "Ai, he doesn't know what's good for him and what isn't! If he did, he wouldn't be fighting. Can't take your medicine, can you?" they mocked as the great Uruk managed to hold the hobbit still and smear the substance on his forehead. Then he shoved the same flask between the hobbit's lips, forcing him to drink of whatever draught that it contained.
When the hobbit had drunk, Uglúk split the thongs around its ankles before moving on to the next unlucky prisoner. Amy sighed and moved back into the crowd of orcs, trying to block out the hobbit's protests and Uglúk's determination to do whatever he had to do. The orcs cheered and laughed as the hobbit protested. Uglúk was barking something at the hobbit in his hideous voice, but this hobbit was putting up an amazing struggle.
"Arg! You little maggot!"
Amy looked back towards the hobbit. Of the two remaining hobbits, one had had his legs unbound. Once they had been unbound, he had sprung between Uglúk and the last hobbit and was attempting to keep the great uruk away from the hobbit on the ground.
Sam.
The thought came into her mind unbidden, but she knew who the hobbit was: Samwise Gamgee, the most devoted hobbit she knew of. And the hobbit he was defending was surely Frodo Baggins. She knew of no other friendship between hobbits that was so strong.
She watched, wincing, as Uglúk gripped Sam around the waist, lifted him into the air, and handed him to another uruk. Then he split the ropes around Frodo's ankles and dragged Frodo to his feet by the hair, and he had done to Merry and Pippin (now she knew the two other hobbits, though she couldn't be sure which was which). After Frodo was standing uneasily on his feet, Uglúk shoved the flask into his mouth as Sam kicked at the uruk that held him captive, crying out something in another language as the orc cursed at him: "Pipe down, runt!"
As soon as all the hobbits had been taken care of, and the hobbits had been separated from one another by a dozen orcs or more apiece, the orcs began to descend the narrow ravine, down towards the misted plain. Amy had managed to place herself near Frodo, who looked at her in fear and doubt. She tried not to let his affect her ability to climb, and the ravine was very steep. One false move, and she would topple towards the soft grass at the bottom.
So, of course, Amy could only sigh and curse the Powers that Be as her foothold cracked, snapped, and she was sent tumbling, head-over-heels, to the bottom of the gully.
"Ow, ow, ow, OW!" Amy shrieked as her wildly flailing body kicked up a stream of dust and rocks that followed her towards her final destination. She vaugley heard Uglúk yelling something at her, and she thought bitterly, Hey, sure! Hang on a second! Just let me finish PLUMMETING TOWARDS A PAINFUL STOP!
"AUGH!" she yelled as she finally bounced to a stop on the plain, the torrent of rocks she had kicked up falling down on all sides of her. Her face was towards the misty grass; she heard scuffling noises as the orcs descended with care where she had been hasty.
"Ow. Note to self: dun do that again," Amy grumbled, sitting up and putting her hand to her head, where she had received a deep cut from her fall.
As the party descended the wall, Uglúk was the first to approach Amy. His face betrayed his emotions at once: he was positively livid.
Amy closed her eyes. Great. Bye-bye, world.
"OOF!"
Uglúk walked away, leaving Amy to breathlessly clutch the section of her stomach where he had kicked her. Gasping for air slightly, Amy managed to drag herself to her feet. As the orcs passed, they each made sure to give her a slap on the back of the head, save Azrat, who checked to see how badly wounded she was.
"Now straight on!" Uglúk shouted as the last orc crawled down the ravine. "West and a little north. Follow Lugdush!"
"But what are we going to do at sunrise?" The orcs who were akin to Amy in appearance and body structure looked nervously at the eastern sky.
"Go on running," Uglúk replied, exasperated. "What do you think? Sit on the grass and wait for the Whiteskins to join the picnic?"
"But we can't run in the sunlight!" the orcs protested. Amy was among them.
"You'll run with me behind you," Uglúk snarled, "or you'll never see your beloved holes again. By the White Hand! What's the use of sending out mountain-maggots on a trip, only half trained., or not trained at all." He glared in Amy's direction.
"Run, curse you!" he barked, urging the uruks on. "We've a lot of ground to cover before the Whiteskins learn of us. Run while night lasts!"
Coming Up: Lots more running. Amy sees that the green grasslands of Rohan actually ARE green, NOT gold.
Remember the Fords,
Simbelmynë
~Simmí~
