Chapter 2 The Muroks
It was the pain that first told Sam he wasn't dead. At least not yet. Everything hurt, as far as he could tell. His head was pounding and trying to breathe brought burning agony both from inside his lungs and out. Ribs must be broken, he thought to himself. He was lying on something relatively soft, not the hard, jagged rocks he would have expected. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. It was very dark with just a dim light off to the side. It felt hot and the air seemed polluted. Where was he? He attempted to move and sit up, but unseen hands gently pushed him back and a whispering voice uttered something he couldn't quite catch. Sam slowly turned his head, trying to see who was with him and at the same time, prevent the pain from worsening.
"Hello?" Sam rasped. His throat was very dry and sore. He remembered it had been a long time since he and Master Frodo had had anything to drink. Frodo! Where was he? For a moment, all thoughts of his predicament vanished as Sam tried to remember just what had happened. He recalled seeing the great eagles and handing Frodo up to one of the mighty birds. He remembered the relief at seeing his master being rescued and carried away to safety. But that was all he remembered and he wasn't positive it actually happened. It could very easily have been a wishful dream. "Mr. Frodo?" he called softly, "Are you here?" He suddenly became aware of a shuffling noise behind him and his eyes widened in alarm when a small orc bearing a dim candle came into his field of view. Sam felt waves of fear wash over him. Memories of the orc hordes in Moria came flooding back! He was in no shape to escape, much less fight them off.
The orc regarded him gravely, but made no menacing moves. Sam stared back at him, trying to slow his panicked breaths. Gradually, he realized there was something different about this orc. The ones he remembered from Moria were like wild creatures. There didn't seem to be any soul or intelligent thought behind those saucer-like eyes. The eyes of this orc were not like that. They looked at Sam with understanding and even more surprising, compassion. "Do not alarm yourself," the orc spoke with the same whispery voice Sam had heard earlier. "I will not harm you."
Sam gulped nervously, "Who..who are you?"
"I am Kuros of the Murok people. Some of our people found you in a collapsed tunnel near Oroduin as they were escaping its wrath. They brought you to me."
Sam stared at Kuros for a moment and then whispered, "Was I alone? Was my master there?" He feared what the answer might me.
Kuros shook his head slowly. "No," he replied, "You were the only one. They were not sure you were even alive, but believed you had had something to do with the destruction of the One Ring and so brought you along." He smiled, or at least Sam thought it was a smile, at the hobbit's shock. "Yes, we know about the One Ring. It is what made us. Thousands of years ago when the Lord Sauron first made the Orcs from tortured elves, some of our ancestors escaped before the transformation had been completed. We managed to keep some of our consciousness and our understanding. We have inhabited the caves and tunnels under and around Orodruin for eons, held by the power of the Ring. Just as the mountain exploded, we felt the Ring's destruction." Kuros studied Sam thoughtfully. "Did you destroy the Ring?"
Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered Frodo's last moments in Sammath Naur, fighting that evil wretch Gollum. Although, he had to admit that in the end, Gollum not only saved Frodo from the power of the Ring but destroyed the Ring itself. "No." he said finally, "I didn't destroy the Ring. My master, Mr. Frodo, was the Ringbearer. He carried it all the way from the Shire in the West to here. It was destroyin' him, but he was the true hero!" He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. "How long have I been here?"
"Six sleeps," replied Kuros. "We do not have light here, so we go by when we sleep. You have been badly injured and are sick from the poisons of the Mountain. We have treated you with the Elixir of Tidak which brought you back from the brink of death. Unfortunately, you cannot stay here much longer. Although my people can live breathing the foul air in these caverns, above- grounders cannot survive for very long. We have taken you to the very edge of our tunnel realm where the fumes from the mountain are less, but all of the air in Mordor is bad. Your lungs have been injured by the toxic gases, and thus are even more sensitive to the poisons. You will die if you stay much longer."
Sam lay there thinking. He couldn't stay here, but he wasn't sure how badly he was injured. Plus, he had no idea where "here" was. Where should he go? He wondered if Strider and the others were alive and if so, where were they? Who could help him? Then, he remembered Captain Faramir, Boromir's brother. He said he would be returning to Minas Tirith to fight. Maybe he would help a poor lost Hobbit.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sam slowly rolled to his side and with Kuros' assistance managed to sit up. Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him as the pounding in his head threatened to push him back into unconsciousness. He breathed as deeply as he dared and slowly the dizziness began to subside. He felt very shaky and a cold sweat beaded on his brow. He looked over at the small orc who held him. "I won't make it very far like this!" Sam gasped.
"I'm afraid you have no choice," replied Kuros gravely. "Under other circumstances, it would have been better for you to remain under our care until you were stronger, but if you stay, you will die. There is no other choice. I will have some of my people escort you as far as they can and we can provide you with some water and food, but you will be on your own for most of your journey. We have heard rumors of a great army to the north, attacking the Black Gate. Perhaps you would be best served by that route. However, the track through Cirith Ungol would bring you closer to the city of Minas Tirith and the men of Gondor. They could perhaps help you. Either way will be perilous. Even though the power of the Dark Lord has been destroyed, his minions still hold sway in the lands of Mordor. They will kill you if they catch you. "
Sam sighed wearily. He gingerly took inventory of his injuries. It seemed that many of his ribs had been broken or at least badly bruised, his head was swathed in bandages and ached mercilessly. Breathing was difficult and periodically he was racked by a deep, rattling cough that brought up blood. That was not a good sign, he was certain. His entire body felt badly bruised and any movement brought sharp pain. Somehow, he would have to overcome this and make his way out of Mordor and to the West: first to Minas Tirith and then, with any luck, home to the Shire.
It was the pain that first told Sam he wasn't dead. At least not yet. Everything hurt, as far as he could tell. His head was pounding and trying to breathe brought burning agony both from inside his lungs and out. Ribs must be broken, he thought to himself. He was lying on something relatively soft, not the hard, jagged rocks he would have expected. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. It was very dark with just a dim light off to the side. It felt hot and the air seemed polluted. Where was he? He attempted to move and sit up, but unseen hands gently pushed him back and a whispering voice uttered something he couldn't quite catch. Sam slowly turned his head, trying to see who was with him and at the same time, prevent the pain from worsening.
"Hello?" Sam rasped. His throat was very dry and sore. He remembered it had been a long time since he and Master Frodo had had anything to drink. Frodo! Where was he? For a moment, all thoughts of his predicament vanished as Sam tried to remember just what had happened. He recalled seeing the great eagles and handing Frodo up to one of the mighty birds. He remembered the relief at seeing his master being rescued and carried away to safety. But that was all he remembered and he wasn't positive it actually happened. It could very easily have been a wishful dream. "Mr. Frodo?" he called softly, "Are you here?" He suddenly became aware of a shuffling noise behind him and his eyes widened in alarm when a small orc bearing a dim candle came into his field of view. Sam felt waves of fear wash over him. Memories of the orc hordes in Moria came flooding back! He was in no shape to escape, much less fight them off.
The orc regarded him gravely, but made no menacing moves. Sam stared back at him, trying to slow his panicked breaths. Gradually, he realized there was something different about this orc. The ones he remembered from Moria were like wild creatures. There didn't seem to be any soul or intelligent thought behind those saucer-like eyes. The eyes of this orc were not like that. They looked at Sam with understanding and even more surprising, compassion. "Do not alarm yourself," the orc spoke with the same whispery voice Sam had heard earlier. "I will not harm you."
Sam gulped nervously, "Who..who are you?"
"I am Kuros of the Murok people. Some of our people found you in a collapsed tunnel near Oroduin as they were escaping its wrath. They brought you to me."
Sam stared at Kuros for a moment and then whispered, "Was I alone? Was my master there?" He feared what the answer might me.
Kuros shook his head slowly. "No," he replied, "You were the only one. They were not sure you were even alive, but believed you had had something to do with the destruction of the One Ring and so brought you along." He smiled, or at least Sam thought it was a smile, at the hobbit's shock. "Yes, we know about the One Ring. It is what made us. Thousands of years ago when the Lord Sauron first made the Orcs from tortured elves, some of our ancestors escaped before the transformation had been completed. We managed to keep some of our consciousness and our understanding. We have inhabited the caves and tunnels under and around Orodruin for eons, held by the power of the Ring. Just as the mountain exploded, we felt the Ring's destruction." Kuros studied Sam thoughtfully. "Did you destroy the Ring?"
Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered Frodo's last moments in Sammath Naur, fighting that evil wretch Gollum. Although, he had to admit that in the end, Gollum not only saved Frodo from the power of the Ring but destroyed the Ring itself. "No." he said finally, "I didn't destroy the Ring. My master, Mr. Frodo, was the Ringbearer. He carried it all the way from the Shire in the West to here. It was destroyin' him, but he was the true hero!" He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. "How long have I been here?"
"Six sleeps," replied Kuros. "We do not have light here, so we go by when we sleep. You have been badly injured and are sick from the poisons of the Mountain. We have treated you with the Elixir of Tidak which brought you back from the brink of death. Unfortunately, you cannot stay here much longer. Although my people can live breathing the foul air in these caverns, above- grounders cannot survive for very long. We have taken you to the very edge of our tunnel realm where the fumes from the mountain are less, but all of the air in Mordor is bad. Your lungs have been injured by the toxic gases, and thus are even more sensitive to the poisons. You will die if you stay much longer."
Sam lay there thinking. He couldn't stay here, but he wasn't sure how badly he was injured. Plus, he had no idea where "here" was. Where should he go? He wondered if Strider and the others were alive and if so, where were they? Who could help him? Then, he remembered Captain Faramir, Boromir's brother. He said he would be returning to Minas Tirith to fight. Maybe he would help a poor lost Hobbit.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sam slowly rolled to his side and with Kuros' assistance managed to sit up. Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him as the pounding in his head threatened to push him back into unconsciousness. He breathed as deeply as he dared and slowly the dizziness began to subside. He felt very shaky and a cold sweat beaded on his brow. He looked over at the small orc who held him. "I won't make it very far like this!" Sam gasped.
"I'm afraid you have no choice," replied Kuros gravely. "Under other circumstances, it would have been better for you to remain under our care until you were stronger, but if you stay, you will die. There is no other choice. I will have some of my people escort you as far as they can and we can provide you with some water and food, but you will be on your own for most of your journey. We have heard rumors of a great army to the north, attacking the Black Gate. Perhaps you would be best served by that route. However, the track through Cirith Ungol would bring you closer to the city of Minas Tirith and the men of Gondor. They could perhaps help you. Either way will be perilous. Even though the power of the Dark Lord has been destroyed, his minions still hold sway in the lands of Mordor. They will kill you if they catch you. "
Sam sighed wearily. He gingerly took inventory of his injuries. It seemed that many of his ribs had been broken or at least badly bruised, his head was swathed in bandages and ached mercilessly. Breathing was difficult and periodically he was racked by a deep, rattling cough that brought up blood. That was not a good sign, he was certain. His entire body felt badly bruised and any movement brought sharp pain. Somehow, he would have to overcome this and make his way out of Mordor and to the West: first to Minas Tirith and then, with any luck, home to the Shire.