Darkness…..Cold, impenetrable blackness.
Is this what it is like to be dead?
Obviously elves don't die of old age, so what happens to them when they are killed?
Where am I?….. Will I see Boromir?
Darkness….
Orcs…..Running through the night……Bumping up and down, carried clumsily like a sack of potatoes……. Snarling faces, sharp fangs, cruel claws.
Darkness….
I don't know how long I drifted between dreams and consciousness before I awoke properly. My head hurt, a dull throbbing pain that was hard to ignore.
I am alive. For that I suppose I should be grateful... But I'm not.
Boromir is dead.
I know. I can feel it somehow. Besides, no human could survive all those arrow wounds.
I feel...numb... frozen... cold. I haven't cried yet. I haven't made a sound.
I have just existed. My lungs breathe, my heart beats... but my brain refuses to function. I should be dead too. Why am I alive? Why am I cruelly made to live alone when Boromir has gone. I whimper like a puppy and feebly beat the orc that carries me with my fists. Why didn't he kill me. It would be better to be dead than this...this living nightmare.
He just ignores me. I haven't got the strength to do any more. I feel weak...drained of all energy and spirit.
Why can't I just die?
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There's something weird about these orcs. They haven't stopped running yet. Not for longer than a few minutes anyway. Plus the fact that they're all so big. What are they, some sort of Super-orc?
I've got to occupy my mind with something, otherwise I'll go insane. Every time I close my eyes, I see Boromir, kneeling on the floor panting heavily, his eyes beginning to glaze over. I feel it's all my fault. I feel so guilty. I should have done something sooner. I just sat there and let him die.
Oh Boromir, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... honestly.
I love you.
I don't think the hobbits know that I'm here yet. Merry is still unconscious, and Pippin is bouncing around so much on the back of that orc, that I don't think he's noticing anything. I stare at them intently, forcing back these feelings of guilt which threaten to overwhelm me. Focus on something else. Think. Force my brain to work again.
Why did the orcs kidnap the hobbits? Why didn't they just kill them like orcs normally do. Why didn't they kill me?
There must be some purpose behind all this. Orcs don't kidnap people for no reason. They might kill people for no reason...but not kidnap.
At least it gives me something to think about. Something to puzzle over. Something to distract me from the fact that I'm being carried along by a huge slimy orc. The fact that my wrists and feet are tied so tightly that I'm getting bruises and the fact that I'm actually terrified about what they've got in store for me.
A distraction.... probably the only thing I've got to be thankful about.
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We finally stopped running for a while and I was dumped on the floor. I lay on my back and bit my lip to stop myself from crying out as the impact jarred through my body. The orc who had carried me, stared at me intently. He bent over and craned his neck from side to side almost as if he was looking for something. I started to feel uneasy. It was a horrible feeling having an orc stare at me so closely.
A discussion was building up between some of the orcs. I listened intently, perhaps I could discover what was going on. The argument grew fiercer. They were deciding whether or not to kill Merry and Pippin. The big orcs wanted to take them straight to Saruman. The little orcs wanted to kill them and take them to Mordor.
The argument turned into a violent fight. I huddled backwards as far as I could out of the way, and thought about what I'd heard.
So Saruman wanted the Hobbits. Why? He'd never been interested in them before. In fact, nobody had been interested in them before. The only reason that I had anything to do with them was because Frodo was carrying Arwen's engagement ring...
Was that it? Did Saruman want Arwen's ring? Maybe he knew that one of the hobbits had it and ordered his orcs to capture them alive, so he could get it. It was all starting to make sense now. Of course, Saruman wouldn't know that Frodo wasn't here until it was too late. But that didn't explain why I was here...
The battle was over. Lots of little orcs lay dead on the ground. The leader drew himself up to his full height slowly.
"Put down your weapons" he shouted. "See what happens when you disagree with me." He pointed to the broken bodies on the ground.
"We run now to Isengard. No one will touch the prisoners, and nothing will slow us down."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pippin busy cutting his bonds on a discarded sword. So that Hobbit actually did have a brain. I was quite surprised. I watched as he worked quickly. Just a few more minutes and he'd be through. As long as none of the orcs saw him, he'd be fine.
The leader started to turn towards Pippin. I knew I had to do something... and fast.
"Hey!" I shouted. The leader and all the other orcs immediately turned towards me. I desperately tried to think of something else to say.
"Have you got a nail file, I think I've broken a nail!" I cried, and cringed internally. What a thing to say. Here I was, lying tied up on the floor, surrounded by ferocious orcs who murdered Boromir, Perhaps about to be killed myself at any moment.... and I asked for a nail file?? Perhaps my aching head was more serious than I thought.
But it did the trick. Whilst the orcs were still staring at me, Pippin managed to cut through his ropes and looped his hands through so that it looked as if he was still tied.
The leader made his way towards me, his sword pointing at my face.
"What.. is.. that!" he said in disgust. "What is she doing here?"
The orc that had carried me stood between us.
"She's mine" he snarled. "I saw her, I caught her, I carried her. Find your own."
Finally it all made sense. Saruman didn't want me, I wasn't an official prisoner. I should have been killed like Boromir, but the orc saw me and... and.... Ewwww.
I was fancied by an orc!
The two orcs faced each other squarely. The leader, Uglúk, I think his name was, versus the orc that had captured me. I watched in horror as Uglúk ordered my death.
"I am Skrakrut the Despoiler" my orc shouted. "I will not give up my elf" He held his sword up high. "No one will touch her!"
At that, other orcs leapt at him. Knives and swords flashed in the starlight. Steel clashed and orcs fell.
Skrakrut roared as he fought fiercely. I watched mesmerised. If he won, I'd be carried off as a trophy. If he lost, I'd be killed. Both options sickened me, I no longer wanted to die, especially not hacked to death by orcs. I didn't want to be a trophy either.
Suddenly, I felt a cold, steel blade slide against my throat. One of the smaller orcs had managed to creep up behind me. I couldn't move, my wrists and ankles were tied too tightly. The little orc leaned over me, his face spread into a wide grin.
"Don't make a sound" he hissed. His eyes roved over my face.
"I can see why Skrakrut wants you" he snarled, stroking my hair. Now I really thought I was going to be sick. I screamed. Skrakrut turned... and sliced off the smaller orc's head.
Lots of orcs lay dead on the ground, the rest had given up, they decided to leave me alone. Skrakrut hauled me up over his shoulder again and joined the rest of the orcs running down the hill. I bounced around on his back uncomfortably. At least I was still alive. I felt another twinge of guilt as I thought this, but I forced it out again. I was determined to escape from these creatures. But I would need all my wits about me, I could mourn for Boromir later.
The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that he wouldn't want me to mope around and long to die. He'd want me to be strong, to carry on. He'd want me to be happy again.
Huh, there wasn't much chance of that, but I knew one thing.
I was going to live.
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Daylight was fading again, another day had passed. I was battered, bruised and tired. I was also beginning to lose hope again. Merry actually saw me today. He blinked and stared as if he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Don't worry Arwen, We'll save you!" he cried before orcs ran between us and I lost sight of him. It actually made me laugh for a moment. What on earth did he think he could do? And why was he still calling me after my sister? As if she would ever get in this mess. She would just stay safely tucked away at Imladris. I bet she doesn't emerge until this whole thing is over.
I saw him excitedly tell Pippin who he'd seen. Pippin obviously told him he was hallucinating or something because every time he caught my eye after that, he screwed his eyes up tightly and muttered something to himself. It was quite funny actually.
Pippin was busy leaving tracks. I saw him drop his elven brooch in the hope that someone would find it. I don't know who. The chances of Aragorn and co. following are quite slim. They will probably continue travelling to hide Arwen's ring instead.
There is trouble brewing though. Riders, loads of them are approaching. The orcs are uneasy, running for the forest as fast as they can. I don't know who they are, but they don't look friendly. I can see the last gleams of sunlight reflecting off their shields and swords. They are obviously preparing for a battle. This doesn't look good.
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The riders are coming closer, loads of them.
The orcs are getting scared now. The pace has kicked up even faster, but the safety of the forest still seems a long way away. Some of the orcs panicked and broke away from the travelling mass, desperate to save their own skins. Each one was immediately picked off by an arrow from the riders.
They're closing in, cutting us off from the woods. The horses can move faster than we can. I can see further than the orcs in the dim twilight. I can see what they're doing. Enclosing us in a wide circle, It won't be long before they close in completely.
Is this it? Have I survived everything so far, only to be killed by riders?
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The orcs finally realised that they were surrounded and stopped. The moon was hidden behind thick cloud, and even I could see very little. The orcs huddled together uneasily. We were surrounded by a ring of little fires. The riders were there... somewhere.
Every so often, some of the riders would creep up, unseen in the darkness. They'd kill a few orcs, then melt away in the gloom again. This was the scariest battle tactic I'd ever encountered. An unseen enemy who could kill you at any time.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hobbits talk to an orc. Suddenly it grabbed one under each arm and crept out of the protective circle. I watched, desperately straining my eyes in the gloom.
Without warning, a rider charged through the darkness and skewered that orc on the end of its spear. I heard the orc shriek, followed only by the beat of horses hooves.
I held my breath, I couldn't see the hobbits at all. Were they alright? Had they been killed as well? I couldn't see anything.
The orc's shriek roused the rest of the orcs. They noticed that the prisoners had gone and panicked. At that point, the riders attacked properly. Thundering hooves, flashing spears and battle cries. I saw the leader of the riders dismount from his horse and fight Uglúk sword to sword.
Instantly, Skrakrut grasped me and started to run. One last desperate attempt at escape. The forest loomed up out of the gloom as Skrakrut ducked and avoided the riders. We were going to make it.
Suddenly, Skrakrut collapsed to the ground with a low groan. I was pinned underneath him, the spear that had killed him just missing my arm as it emerged from his chest, burrowing deep into the ground.
I lay without moving for a moment, my chest heaving with fear, cradling my eyes with my other arm. I heard, rather than saw the rider and horse leap over our crumpled form and thunder off into the distance.
When the noises had faded further away, I tried to push Skrakrut's huge corpse off me. I couldn't move him. He was too big and heavy, and pinned to the ground by the spear. I struggled for some time, hating being trapped by a dead orc, detesting the smell of orc blood trickling down from his wound.
In the end I gave up in exhaustion. I hated feeling helpless and pathetic, but there was nothing I could do. My head was pounding again, I could hardly move. I closed my eyes and allowed the image of Boromir to fill my head. Then I must have slipped into unconsciousness.