Part 3
Larza followed the group for three days. Keeping up with the swiftly moving boats and living off little food pushed her dangerously close to collapse, but she refused to stop. She had begun to look forward to the evenings of muted conversation and comfortable comrade between the mismatched group. Sometimes she could almost imagine herself part of the warm circle of companions. Larza had grown bolder over time and had risked keeping closer to their evening fire. All common sense screamed at her to pull back, but Larza soaked up their presence.
By watching the group, Larza learn a great deal about them. She was also careful to mark their potential threat. All too easily she could be discovered. The elf was by far the greatest threat. His enhanced hearing and sight would pick up her slightest mistake. The dark haired human was the second greatest risk to her discovery. The dark human's ease in the forest marked him as a practiced woodsman. Larza had no desire to test his, or the lighter haired human's skill with the sword. They had spent several evenings teaching the small ones, which she learnt were called hobbits. Watching their mock battles, she had found both humans formidable. She had not seen the dwarf's skill with his axe, but Larza knew he was most likely to be just as dangerous. The hobbits seemed almost out of place beside the warriors. Indeed, the warriors seemed to spend a great deal of effort in making sure they were protected. This seemed strange to Larza. Orcs would quickly kill the weaker or less skilled of their number. The Uruk-Hai were little different. Strangely, the group's care for their smaller members gave Larza hope.
If they cared for those different and weaker than themselves, might they not come to accept her? Certainly her skills as a fighter were considerable. Uruk-Hai were made for battle and were proud of that fact. Larza shook her head. Such thoughts were folly. The other races hated Orcs and she would be killed on sight. Loneliness stabbed through her and she suddenly felt cold. Against her better judgement, Larza moved closer to the group, hiding in a patch of thick bushes. The smells of their cooking made her stomach ache. The berries and nuts she eaten earlier were bulked up by the lucky find of a stranded fish but she still hungered. Repressing the desire, she listened carefully to their talk.
"I fear we must soon come to a decision as to where out travels will lead us come midday tomorrow," the dark haired human was saying.
"All the better when we walk on our own feet, I say. Dwarves were not meant to ride in boats," the dwarf grumbled.
"Have you given thought to our course, Frodo?" the dark haired human asked.
"I have Aragorn, but I fear I am still doubting which is better route. What if I choose wrong? It was my decision to go through Moria and look how-"
"No more of that, my friend. It was not your fault that Gandalf fell. He would not wish you to feel guilt over the matter," Aragorn replied gently.
Larza pondered what she had overheard. It was pleasant to finally have names for some of the group. The conversation had been informative for other reasons, too. If they began travelling by foot, then it would be easier to keep up. This gave her a sense of relief. The Uruk-Hai were made to endure hardship, but Larza had not wish to test her limits the hard way. She also wondered at who this 'Gandalf' might be. The memories that the master had given her had nothing of a 'Gandalf'. Shaking her head, Larza decided to worry about it later. Whoever he was would not trouble her from what Aragorn said.
Making a quick decision, Larza silently pulled away from the small group. Her body cried for rest, but she ignored it. Travel would continue tomorrow and she doubted she would be as lucky as she had been in finding the fish. Moving through the forest like a shadow, Larza sought out the few sources of food she could identify. Acorns and pine nuts were sadly not as plentiful as she could have wished. Larza stripped briar patch of their tangy berries. These she ate right away as they would be easily crushed during travel. Further away she found some withered rosehips. These she tucked away with the acorns and pine nuts. Having exhausted the immediate area, Larza decided to search further afield.
At a slow jog, Larza moved back the way she had come. She remembered passing another briar patch and a large oak not long before the group came ashore. Finding the oak tree, she searched the ground for acorns. This tree was far larger than the small grove near the campsite and she found several handfuls of acorns. The berries were just as plentiful and Larza was grateful. She thought them very tasty. Wandering through the forest, Larza paid little attention to where she was going. Her strong legs had taken her far from where the group camped. It was the sound of a barking laugh that froze her.
Heartbeat thrumming in her ears, her legs locked. Fear howled a cacophony of urgency in her mind but Larza could do nothing but tremble. The master had found her! The sound of orcish laughter was familiar to her ears. He had sent them after all. How foolish she'd been to think herself safe! The surge of terror quickly became a wave of anger. Legs once again obeying her command carried her to the safety of the undergrowth. Cautiously moving forward, Larza crept forward to spy upon the orcs she had heard. They would not catch her ignorant of their presence!
The large forms of her brother Uruk-Hai were strangely compelling. A strange urgency rose up within her, with indescribable force. It told her that her place was with her own kind. The sounds of the black tongue and deep growls called to her most primal instincts. Her hungry eyes drank in forms so similar to her own. Looking upon the other Uruk-Hai, Larza did not feel so strange, or quite so alone. Her place was with her kind, not with elves, men, dwarves or hobbits. Her place was to fight, not hide like a frightened rabbit! Her place was to follow the orders of the master.
Cold dread drenched her. Shocked, Larza gaped at what she had been thinking. Her place was to be free! The master was wrong! Her 'brothers' would kill her if she stepped forth. The mark of their creator was blazoned on their flesh and they were nothing more than the master's puppets. Memories sodden with suffocating darkness and bone deep pain, rushed through her mind. Lurching and jerking in her chest, her heart beat out a staccato rhythm. How could she have come so close to squandering her freedom?
Sickened by her reactions to the presence of other Uruk-Hai, Larza wished to creep away. She stilled this desire savagely. Cowering would solve nothing. She had to know if they came for her. Long moments passed and she followed the conversations of the group. Little that was said was of use. They spoke of man-flesh, battle and sport. Gleaming in their eyes was unleashed savageness. Was blood and death all they thought of? Larza knew of pain and fear. She had felt it firsthand. Disgust and pity tainted her thoughts. She would be slave to nothing, whether it was the master or her own urges.
She waited nearly an hour before she heard anything of use. The largest Uruk-Hai, the leader of the band, had said little during the evening. He did not join the jest of the others or the squabbling over dried meat. Larza shivered when she watched him. The others dared not defy his authority. Only when the talk of torture became too vivid did he stir.
"Remember the master's orders! Satisfy yourselves with the others but the halflings are to be unspoiled," the leader snarled.
"Why must we not play with the halflings? If we are careful, the master will not know!" one foolish Uruk-Hai boasted.
Viciously, the leader spitted the rebellious Uruk-Hai with a long knife. The others jumped away and regarded him uneasily. With a snarl, the leader pushed the still twitching Uruk-Hai from his blade. The body of the rebel jerked and clutched helplessly at the ground for a time before growing still. The others dared not make a sound. Finally, a low growl issued from the leader's throat. Yellow eyes glared at the rest of the group. Larza could read the challenge in the leader's glare. None of the others dared take it. When the leader resumed his arrogant recline, the group returned to its earlier activities.
Larza left as the lesser orcs began pulling the dead Uruk-Hai into the forest. Their awkwardness in manhandling the body, covered any sounds she made as she retreated. Head spinning with more thoughts than she could track, Larza numbly returned to the small unwitting group. All but the dwarf were sleeping the rest of the travel worn. Their bundled forms were frighteningly vulnerable to Larza. Why did the master want the hobbits? Larza pondered over what she knew. Something about them had to be important to warrant the care of five warriors, and the pursuit of so many Uruk-Hai. Growling softly to herself, Larza pushed those questions out of her mind. Perhaps more importantly, she should be wondering what she would do.
It was inevitable that her 'brothers' would attack the group. Larza doubted that the group could outrun healthy Uruk-Hai for long. The warriors of the group were skilled and strong but they were outnumbered. The knowledge of tactics that had been implanted in her mind, offered Larza a hundred different visions of their deaths at the hands of her kin. Such visions wound through her mind making sticky trails. Death at the hands of her kin would not be easy or painless. The thought of the sport her kin would have, made her stomach clench in unfamiliar and unpleasant ways. Yet, the question remained. What could she do?
The instinct of self-preservation warred with the odd twisting in her guts. She was but one warrior. There was little she could do against the might of the master. Raw anger rose at that thought. Larza swallowed the harsh growl that came with it. She'd escaped the darkness and the torture. The master was *not* infallible. Exactly what she could do, she didn't know but she would help the group. The master would not do what he'd done to her to the hobbits.
* * *
The group's return to the shore was all too soon for Larza's peace of mind. Roaring and sucking, the waterfall had announced its presence from miles away. The currents had also grown stronger, accelerating the speed of the small boats. Keeping up had been difficult but her renewed determination had not failed her. She had also eaten what she had gathered through the day. What energy her body could mine from the tough nuts would be needed soon. Her kin would inevitably find the group now they had stopped. Already scouts had pinpointed the party's location. Larza had watched all this from the protection of the trees.
Watching the group light a fire and rest made her want to growl in frustration. Could they not sense the danger they were in? Ignorant of the threat the woods concealed, one of the hobbits, Frodo, broke away from the group. Prickles of anxiety worked through Larza. Why had they let the hobbit go out alone? For a moment, Larza felt split. She wasn't sure if she should remain watching over the group or follow the hobbit. Instinct told her to let the small creature go. If he did meet danger, then the weak would be culled from the rest. Roughly, Larza shook her head. The group had protected the hobbits. Aragorn, the dark haired human, had looked to this hobbit for advice. She had thrown her lot with the group, although they did not know it and she should act as one of them. Decision made, Larza followed the small form of Frodo.
Long minutes passed as the hobbit wandered. Undetected, Larza followed him. He seemed to have no destination that Larza could perceive. Indeed, the hobbit seemed consumed by his thoughts. Brows furrowed and his shoulders hunched, Frodo emanated waves of distress. Larza felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. She did not know what pressed upon the hobbit's mind, but she understood his despair. It was something she wouldn't wish on the young hobbit.
Larza had just tucked herself behind a particularly bushy fern, when the lighter haired human approached the hobbit. Although the human also seemed preoccupied, he was far more aware of his surroundings than the hobbit. He was also a greater threat, if he discovered her. Larza silently pulled back deeper into the forest. Reassured that the hobbit was protected, she decided to return to the rest of the group. Moving from patch to patch of cover, her return was halted by loud voices. Instantly she recognized the voices of the human and the hobbit.
To her astonishment, the human and the hobbit were struggling with each other. Bewildered, Larza wondered if humans and hobbits fought for dominance like Uruk-Hai. Should she intervene? Before she could decide the hobbit vanished. Barely able to stifle her bark of astonishment, Larza found her eyes riveted on where Frodo had once been. The human yelled out but she wasn't paying his words any attention. Fear prickled up her spine. Did the hobbit have powers like the master? She did not think so but how could she be sure? Flicking her eyes to the human she gasped. He was sobbing!
Anguish and shame carved their presence upon the human's face. Amazed, Larza watched. He called out to the absent hobbit and cried out his sorrow. Such rawness of emotion almost frightened her, yet she was rooted to the spot. No Uruk-Hai would dare show such vulnerability. Death would quickly follow any such weakness. The undiluted strength of the human's emotions was astounding. A kindred flame ignited in Larza. These emotions she understood too. She had felt bone deep shame and sorrow. As she watched the human, she noticed the shame transform to determination. That too she understood.
Transfixed by the man's outpouring, Larza had missed the sound of heavy booted feet and the first clash of metal against metal. The loud war-cry of the Uruk-Hai answered by a strident shout from an elven throat woke Larza to danger. Spasmodically, her hand clutched at her sword. Her kin had made their attack. Horror drenched her in cold sweat as Larza realized the small hobbit that the man had tackled had run off alone. Her first impulse was to run and hide but she controlled it. The man unsheathed his sword, roughly wiping away his tears. He hurried away and Larza made up her mind to follow.
Both she and the man met the large forms of the other Uruk-Hai as the pressed deeper into the forest. Larza kept to the shadows and the trees but seeing battle before her, her blood heated. Stealthily, Larza drew her sword and crept behind one of the Uruk-Hai. A strategic swipe with her sword and the male's head rolled to the ground. Baring her teeth, Larza gave a low growl of satisfaction. This was what she was made to do! This time Larza dared to leave the shadows as she followed the human. Chaos allowed her to strike while remaining mostly undetected. Several times her brothers saw her before she delivered a fatal blow. Their stunned and angry expressions made her snarl with ill-contained derision. Slaves that they were, they could not even comprehend freedom.
While she was preoccupied with her last kill, the man had stopped his frantic search. About him were the piled corpses of her brother Uruk-Hai. The littered the clearing's floor like wind tossed leaves. Nestled within a thick clump of bushes, Larza could not help but be impressed. Such a warrior was worthy of her respect.
Two smaller forms stood behind the man. They were like rabbits- stunned with fear. More Uruk-Hai faced off against the man and the hobbits still did not move. Why did they not run? Larza shook her head. Mighty as the man warrior was, he could not hold against his foes. He too seemed to realize this and blew upon the horn at his waist. Surely the others of his group would come? Uncomfortable moments passed and still none of the others came. Larza fingered her sword. Even as she watched the man began to tire. Desperation worked icy tendrils through her belly. She itched to leap from behind the trees and do real battle but she did not dare. If she revealed herself, it would be death at either the hands of her brothers or at the hands of the man's companions.
Much to her horror, the bulky form of the Uruk-Hai's leader stalked into view. The large male sneered at the pile of fallen Uruk-Hai. Casually, he drew his bow back and with relish he took aim at the man. Larza felt her insides clench and twist. The arrow was loosened before she could even blink. A meaty thunk told her it had met its mark. The scent of man blood hit the air. Rage and frustration rose up in Larza.
She wouldn't let the master win! She'd sworn they would not take the hobbits. Memories of her pain and humiliation rose up and choked her with her own cowardice. Another wet sound of flesh being pierced made her see red. Never again! With a primal roar, Larza leapt from her hiding place. The timber of her bellow was a challenge to all that heard it. Immediately, the leader's gaze snapped towards her. The amazement in his eyes was quickly stifled with disdain and anger.
"Challenge! Challenge, snaga (slave)!" Larza grated out in the tongue of Mordor.
The Uruk-Hai paused in their battle. They were stunned by both the appearance of a female of their kind and that a challenge has been issued at such a time. A few snarls resounded in the clearing but that was all. By their own custom, they could not interfere, no matter what. The man regarded her with pain glazed eyes. Confusion was in them but he seemed to steel himself for another attack. Clearly, he could not understand what was being said. Larza quickly turned her attention back to the leader. He had dropped his bow and had taken out his sword. His eyes were hard with anger. By issuing a challenge, he would have to defend his position. If he didn't, he would loose status and the rest of the Uruk-Hai would descend upon him like wargs.
"Who challenges Lurtz!"
"Larza!"
"Hope I kill you female, or you will entertain us with your screams tonight!"
Lurtz hurled himself at her. A heavy blow that could have split her in two streaked from above. Larza dodged away, hoping to catch the Uruk-Hai before he could recover but Lurtz was crafty. Just as she thrust at his exposed side he turned his blade mid swing. Larza caught it with her own blade. For a moment they tested each others strength. The male snarled at her, after finding that they were evenly matched. Only Larza knew that she could not sustain such an effort for long. Still, she refused to back down. Larza hissed with spite, barely reining in the desire to forsake her sword and gouge at him with her claws. Did he think she would shrink back? She had faced the master's wrath! She would not shrink from one of his slaves.
Swiftly, Larza pulled away from their futile lock and attacked. Their swords met with the scream of ill-made steel. Again and again they lunged and twisted, hoping to catch the other off guard. The male was strong and skilled. He was also fresh and had not endured the trials she had recently experienced. Larza could feel her stamina begin to fade. She would surely die if she could not end their contest.
Lurtz blocked the attack she made to the left, but already preoccupied could not counter the kick she let loose to his knee. The blow landed and was strong enough to negate the protection offered by the male's armor. Her pleasure at her successful attack vanished as his blade slid down her arm with vengeful might. The wound was less than nothing as she reveled in battle fever. Lurtz's backpedaled as he struggled to regain his balance, his knee not supporting his weight. Viciously she struck again and again. The male endeavored to meet her blows but he was pushed back. Tasting victory she bared her fangs in delight. Her sword leapt forth hungrily and she cleaved him from shoulder to hip. The leader's flesh sucked at her sword as she pulled it free. Glaring at the other Uruk-Hai she roared her triumph and dared them to attack her.
Uneasily they backed away. Larza growled as they loped off. Swiftly she turned her attention back to the man. He tottered unsteadily on his feet but the number of fallen Uruk-Hai at his feet had increased. To her fury, the hobbits were gone. The fight had lasted mere moments, but as she had fought the hobbits had been taken. Rage tore through her and Larza slashed her sword at the trunk of a nearby tree. The man raised his sword awkwardly. Larza snarled. She had saved his pathetic life and he would raise his sword to her? Angrily, she parried his blade and swept his feet from under him.
"Can't you discern friend from foe?" Larza growled in Westron.
"Lying beast!" the warrior panted.
"Lie still, fool man."
The race of Man was fragile and easily harmed compared to the Uruk-Hai. One of her kind might shrug off two arrow wounds if properly treated but Larza knew the warrior was badly injured for a man. That was the only reason she did not follow her instinct to beat curtsey into the warrior. Rifling through the small sack of field provisions Lurtz had carried, Larza took out a small leather bag. The knowledge that had been imparted in her mind told her exactly what she would find and how to use it. Larza quickly opened the bag. Inside was a black resinous tar. It stank of rot and something unpleasantly sharp. Larza turned back to the man to find he'd ignored her order and was struggling to rise. Crossly she pinned the man, with a knee to his chest.
"You'll die if your wounds are not... attended," Larza said, struggling with both the newness of speaking.
"How do I not know you'd poison me?"
To that, Larza took out the thick tar and spread it over her wound. It stung for a moment and then numbed. The master had created no small number of foul things to aid his newly birthed soldiers. The tar would help heal the man if he would allow it.
"It will help," Larza replied awkwardly.
"Who or what are you that you would do this?"
Larza took that as a yes. As quickly as she could, she pulled the arrows from the man's chest, not bothering to answer his question. She doubted he would believe her, anyway. His pained howl echoed off the trees. Blood welled up in thick rivers where the arrows had been removed. This surprised Larza a little. Uruk-Hai did not bleed like that. Hurriedly, she smeared the tar over the man's wounds. Then she ripped off the hem of her cloak as a bandage. Tossing aside her sword, she put pressure upon the wounds. Just as the bleeding slowed a blow from behind took her by surprise.