Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just those I think up of in that imagination of lack thereof of mine.

Note: this story is based on the snippets of 'story' about Aragorn serving Thengel and Ecthelion under guise of Thorongil. My apologies for any discrepancies, for the title that is sorely lacking in creativity. Another thing, I'm ignoring the fact that Theoden had 3 other sisters besides Theodwyn. And I'll be using 'Aragorn' went I'm sort of delving into his thoughts, though others would call him 'Thorongil'.

–The Eagle of the Star –
Chapter 3

They reached the village situated near the Nimrais in due time, and though Rohan steeds were swift, they were unable to match with the elven steed's pace. As they neared the village, the smell of burning wood and the overwhelming stench of blood reached them, almost causing Brianne to blanch.

Aragorn, having reached a few moments earlier, led Tamuríl to one of the many trees that surrounded the east of the village not but a few fathoms from the first hut. After cautioning Brianne to stay on his steed and instructing Tamuríl to flee if any orc came for them, left to join the other Riders.

It seemed as though they had already arrived too late, for many corpses littered the grassy ground; and the human bodies were significantly more than those of the Orcs, though some still showed signs of life. The huts had been broken into, and the women and children missing. But there was no sign of their quarry, and the air was suspiciously still.

Frowning, Aragorn lay down onto the ground, while ignoring the curious stares of the Rohirrim, who must have been thinking him mad. He strained his ears for any sign of the thudding of iron shod feet upon the ground that would make vibrations, but all was still. Irritated at not finding any sign of them, he got up, trying to figure out the various puzzles of the riddle in his mind.

"Well," Eothir spoke, sheathing his sword, "since we are too late to kill any orcs, the least we can do for them" –he indicated the dead bodies –"is to give them a decent burial. And perhaps try–" He was cut off as Aragorn raised his palm, and motioned all to be silent.

"I heard something, a muffled scream perhaps," he mouthed, and got understanding nods from the rest. They must have stood stock still for a minute or two before they heard it again. But this time it was louder and clearer. It hung in the air for a few seconds, piercing and shrill, and was suddenly cut off.

Unsheathing his sword again, Eothir slowly walked to the gaping opening of a cave leading into the mountains, where the scream had originated. The rest followed closely behind, eager for battle.

"It could be a trap."

Eothir turned back and looked at Aragorn, some measure of confusion in his eyes, while patiently waiting for the latter to continue, as were the others.

"They could mean to draw us into the cave to seek their hideaway, to draw us to search the many caves that would branch off from this, while they cut off all escape for us by blocking this entrance. We will be forced to fight our way out, therefore wasting many lives. But we may not be able to get past them, for there is a large number of them. At least, large enough to slaughter almost all the males."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"We should be split into two groups. One will seek for the orcs, while the others hide around the entrance and battle with the orcs that come to block the opening."

The idea was quickly accepted and the Riders swiftly split into two groups. Eothir, confident in the newcomer's skill with his surroundings and with his blade, appointed Aragorn to lead his group into the mountains, while he stayed behind and made sure that the coast was clear.

Aragorn slowly led them into the pitch-dark cave, with the only thing allowing them to see was a hastily made torch. The screams had died down, and they could only hear faint cries that sounded further away each time they were uttered.

Not but one and half furlong into the cave, the 'route' branched out into three separate caves. As the enclosed space made the cries echo, it was impossible to pinpoint the exact location on the orcs. The Riders murmured among themselves as they tried to figure out which way to go next. It was folly to split up into three smaller groups, for if the orcs were many, they would be immediately overpowered, and the others would not know it.

Aragorn walked a few steps into each of the various caves and stood there, testing the air for the whiff of the orc stench. At last, having made up his mind, he directed the astonished Riders' into the cavern on their left. The air was stuffy and close in the cave, and before long, even the worse of noses would have easily detected the smell of the orcs. Aragorn allowed himself a small smile, seeing that his years with the Rangers had done him some good after all.

After a few more turns and forks, they could finally hear the cries clearly, and knew that they were not far away from the orcs. Tightening their grip on their swords, they rounded the final bend, and found themselves coming face to face with several orcs on the lookout, who were quickly dispatched of before they could even sound the alarm.

Walking on, they found themselves at the opening to a huge space in the cave, with the moonlight pouring in from an opening near the top. Many Riders, Aragorn included, turned away and closed their eyes in disgust when they figured out what had caused the cries.

All around the area, it seemed as though a mass rape had taken place.

Neither the virgins nor the wives, nor the maidens, the mothers or the old were left untouched. They were lying around the room, in various states of undress; their faces contorted in extreme pain and humiliation as the orcs forced their mutilated selves on them.

The children huddled in a corner of the cavern, trying their best to keep their eyes closed, and not be forced to look at the agony their kin was undergoing. However every time eyes were shut in fright, the child was immediately shaken and beaten by another orc standing nearby, salivating as he waited for his turn.

It was onto this sorry scene that the Riders burst into, their war cries echoing in the massive cavern. They caught the orcs unawares for the second time in a week, and many of those who were upon the women were quickly slaughtered, while the women were quickly helped up and brought to where the children were. It seemed to be quick knife-work as the orcs were killed one by one.

That was, until a fresh group emerged from another cave.

The tide turned against the Riders, as they fought valiantly to stem the black tide that was rapidly increasing, and at the same time, protect the captives. Aragorn faintly wondered whether the orcs were in the cavern from the start or if Eothir's group had been defeated.

Even as the number of orcs dwindled, so did those of the Riders' ranks, till it was clear that the Riders were truly and well trapped in the cavern. Just as they were about to give up hope and surrender, Eothir and about half of his group burst through the first opening; with those armed with bow and arrows quickly felling many of the black tide.

Seeing that they could either flee or die at the hands of the Riders, the orcs quickly gave up and ran away though the second opening, their iron-shod feet clanging upon rock. At Eothir's command, the Riders that started to follow them turned back and helped with the women and children.

By lending their cloaks to the women as a mean to protect their decency, they quickly ushered the captives out of the caves, with some Riders carrying the bodies of their fallen comrades back out.

It was almost an hour since they had entered the cave when they finally exited its depths, and the first things that greeted them were the bodies of the orcs that Eothir's group had slew, before coming to their aid.

Some quickly tended to the wounds of the injured villagers using what medical supplies they could find in the ransacked huts that escaped fire, while the others stacked the orc bodies for burning, and the bodies of the men for burial.

Aragorn stood in the midst of things, helping out when he could, yet he could not fight away the nagging feeling in his mind that something was wrong. Following on his instinct, he turned back to the tree where he had tied Tamuríl to, but there was no sign of either steed or passenger. Trying his best to keep calm, he whistled into the air, and was rewarded by hoofbeats drawing closer. Yet when his steed arrived, the saddle was empty. Slowly, she walked up to her owner and nuzzled his neck, whinnying softly.

"Where's Brianne?!"

Tbc...
Sorry for the late update! Anyway, please review! All flames will be used to burn all my school worksheets from this year in a yearly ritual, since I've unfortunately run out of matches.