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'.

Sorry for the late update, which was lengthened bythe upgrading. And this chapter is going to be a little 'R'.

–The Eagle of the Star –

Chapter 4

All work stopped as everyone turned to look at him, and the men tried to remember when they had seen her last. Finally, Eothir spoke,

"Tamuríl fled with her upon seeing the orcs, part of your instruction perhaps, but I remembered seeing her fighting against the orcs with us later, using a blade that I supposed was from one of the dead men. When battle ended, she was not with us anymore, and we thought that she had gone to find your horse."

Aragorn fought to keep his breath steadily, and to prevent from launching himself at Eothir and shaking him till he realised his mistake of not helping to look out for her.

"Captain! I found something!" Hinad shouted from his position at the edge of the trees, holding a torch.

When Aragorn reached there, Eothir slowly turned to him, "Thorongil, I think you have just found your answer."

Embedded in the soil, and clearly visible in the bright moonlight, were a set of orc prints, and several smaller footprints that belonged to a woman.

And lying in the grass not far away, was a blade stained with blood.

"Brianne," Aragorn uttered, drawing his breath sharply before turning to Eothir, "please, we have to safe her!"

Eothir shook his head slowly, "the men are tired, and we have to take care of this" –he swept his hand over the village and the various dead bodies lying in messy piles, and the pits dug around the village to accommodate the dead.

"You seen what they did to the women down in that cave! Brianne will be suffering the same under their hands!"

A beat passed in the village, and the men looked at the two men, waiting for their decision.

Finally, Aragorn broke the strained silence between the two men, "I'm not asking for all the men to help me. But just a handful or so. The orcs that got away could not be that many, considering the number we had already slew."

Eothir considered this proposition for a while, and nodded his head, before calling out the names of his best warriors to aid him. Aragorn looked at his fellow comrades –a predatory gleam in his eyes that belied his calm exterior –as he motioned for them to follow him into the trees, but was stopped by a hand –Eothir's hand to be exact– on his shoulder.

"For Valar's sake Thorongil! The men need to rest! And I know you have to too. We continue our activities tomorrow, and you," he said, looking rather pointedly at Aragorn, "can start hunting the orcs at dawn tomorrow. If you wish to. But now, please, humor me and have some food and rest. The orcs fear sunlight. You know that. And you will be able to catch up come tomorrow."

Aragorn found himself nodding numbly at the words, and fought back an urge to tell the Marshal that they may already be too late come tomorrow. Though he had argued that he was not tired, and the spirit willing, the flesh was not, for he fell asleep the moment his head touched the ground.

--------------------------------

Brianne was feeling sore all over her body, especially in her abdominal area and heels, since the orc was not too gentlemanly in flinging her over his shoulder and prior to that, was dragged for Valar knew how far. And now, he was grabbing her waist tightly in his none-too-gentle grip, and she could already feel angry, vivid bruises appearing in that area, not to mention the fact that she was thumping against his shoulder with every step he took. The orcs made good pace in the night, with only the light of the moon to help them. Their movement, though hard as they trampled every blade of grass in the way, was rather rhythmic, and she felt herself being lulled to sleep as she watched the ground rush past in a greenish-brown blur.

Then again, that could be due to her multiple wounds.

Closing her eyes, she silently cursed herself for listening to that urge to go into battle. Why did she have to leave Tamuríl? She could have easily stayed on the horse's back, and waited for Thorongil's call to return. Then nothing would have happened to her! And she would not be in this forsaken situation. She repressed a silent shudder as she remembered all those things her parents had told her about women who get abducted by the orcs. She felt herself cringing in fear and wished at she could only turn back time to what happened just minutes ago.

But as the minutes passed, they only served to remind her of her upcoming fate at the hands of those filthy beings.

It seemed like eternity before they stopped, though the moon was but starting to wane a little, and dawn was still a few hours away.

She was dumped rather roughly onto the rough forest floor, landing none to nicely onto a pile of decayed leaves, and bumping her head onto the hard bark trunk of an oak. The orcs, perhaps ten or so at a glance, swiftly advanced towards her, perverted grins evident on their mutilated faces.

Brianne tried her best to break away, but hit hard against the trunk of the oak, the hit almost sucking all the air out from her lungs. She watched, defeated at one orc shoved the others aside to get to the first, giving them a stare that proclaimed her as his, though she never knew why.

The orc slowly held her by the neck, and ignoring the blood flowing rather freely down from her cut cheek. He leaned forward to kiss her, his foul breath making her turn away in disgust. And in time too. For the next moment, she felt his wet mouth latch onto her neck, not much unlike a leech onto flesh. She squirmed under his firm grasp, as his mouth traveled slowly down her neck to rest at her collarbone, and she nearly passed out from the humiliation and horror it was affording her.

His hands roved down her body, from their previous position at her shoulders, and lingered near the curve of her breasts, before continuing down to her hips; sharp fingernails digging into her soft skin, and making marks on them. Then, reaching behind her, he cupped her butt, and she automatically stiffened, her eyes opened wide in fright. Pushing her closer towards him so that she was crushed against him; his mouth slowly started down her neck, licking the blood from her wound.

Before she would react or simply do something to deter him from continuing, his roving hands had already torn the fragile material of her bodice apart, and exposing her breasts to the cold night air. Eyeing them hungrily, he reached forward, but was stopped by an orc blade to his throat.

"Enough, Guzuk! She's the captain's," the owner of the blade sneered, looking at the orc.

"She's mine. I captured her. Our captain," he spat, "can find his own."

"I look forward to seeing your head on the ground then."

Cursing darkly under his breath, Guzuk reluctantly let go of his captive and followed the other orc towards their fire, while Brianne tried her best to cover herself with what tattered pieces of cloth was left on her, ignoring the looks they gave her.

It seemed that the orcs had planned to stay in the 'clearing' of sorts, much as they detested the sunlight. Then again, the canopy hardly allowed any light through. Sighing, she rested against the solid trunk of the tree and tried to sleep.

Thorongil, wherever you are… please do hurry.

--------------------------------

Aragorn trained his eyes on the ground, looking for signs of the orcs. And there were signs aplenty. Footprints clearly showed in the damp mud, add various branches hacked away in order to clear the route, and trampled grass, it was not much of task to stay on their track. Though he knew orcs were easy to track, this seemed almost too easy. The route lacked many twists and turns that orcs often used to mislead their hunters, and they often made false paths. But this? He moved the thought away into the back of his mind. They could just be in a great hurry to escape the wrath of the Riders.

After a certain distance, the drag marks stopped; and the orc prints made more spaced out and they had surmised that Brianne had most probably been carried, allowing the orcs to run more quickly.

As they set out in the darkest hour before dawn, and had been able to keep up a constantly fast pace, they reached the orc campsite in two hours, though their horses had been left at the village. The sun was not yet high in the sky, yet they could already feel its soft heat radiating upon their backs, drawing perspiration.

It seemed that the six of them were just an even match for the dozen of orcs, and they would not be easily outmatched. At Aragorn's signal, they burst into the 'clearing', their swords craving for new blood.

There was hardly any need of tactics, if ever, for the orcs, though prepared, were hardly a match for the swift Riders, and all were soon lying dead on the floor. Aragorn quickly went to Brianne, who opened her eyes blearily and looked at him with unfocused eyes.

"Thorongil," she mumbled rather incoherently, "you came."

And she fainted, her body going limp.

Muttering under his breath, he lifted her up out of the leafy pile she was in, covering her with his cloak in a bid to retain her dignity.

"Come on! Let's go!" he shouted to the other Riders milling about the campsite, guarding the perimeter while he tended to Brianne.

As they made their way back whence they came, a growl was heard, and an orc sitting atop a Warg came out from the surrounding bushes. Backing away, they turned around, all swords at ready, and they fanned out into a circle, trying to protect Aragorn and Brianne, for he was unable to hold a sword and hold onto her at the same time.

But it seemed that they were too late in getting away.

Other Warg riders came out from the bushes and trees surrounding the 'clearing', their steeds snaring in anticipation of their kill, snouts sniffing eagerly for the scent of the enemy. Their captain seemed to be perched atop the largest one of all, and he strode forwards towards the Riders, his jeering grin triumphant. It was undoubtedly clear that the Riders were grossly outnumbered, and they had no where to run.

"No…" Aragorn whispered as they advanced on the small company.

--------------------------------

A bloodied Rider fled into the village as though the Nazgul were on his tail, startling Eothir and the rest. His sword was missing from its place in either his sheath or hand. His leather tunic ripped by something sharp.

"Ambush. Warg attack. Slaughtered us…" he managed to utter before falling into a dead swoon at Eothir's feet, his breathing shallow.

Tbc…
Note:

Our dear Brianne is NOT a child. Thengel calls her 'child' because he's much older than her and therefore, regards her as still young. Actually, she's around 22 or so. Thanks to tracey for reminding me to write down this note.

It took Aragorn and gang two hours to reach the campsite. Some of you may think its quite long, but the orcs actually took more than that. For the battles ended say, around 10, and they reached their campsite around 1 am in the morning, considering that dawn is around 5, so it took them 3plus hours. Which was partly due to dragging of Brianne.

Reviews would be a nice early birthday present.