DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc

Tending the fire with one hand, Ylfonir massaged the back of his neck with the other. He felt raw. Raw inside his head. Now that he had time to think, it was becoming clear that the comfortable, reassuring certainties of his life up until this point had been all but stripped away. He still had his ideals, but these were a skeletal framework about which the remains of what he had thought he knew hung in tatters.

Still, he was still alive, which given the events of the day was bordering on miraculous. He still didn't know how he had found the strength for that mad rush from the tower. Saruman's servant had been old but even so, outrunning him with Druluk in tow was some feat. Once they were clear of the tower they had headed to the west, steering well clear of any ents which came into sight. But a single elf and an orc fleeing the battle were hardly prime targets. Now they had reached the foothills of the mountains, and felt it safe enough to stop for the night.

He glanced over at Druluk. The orc had been lost in thoughtful silence all evening. All of Ylfronir's attempts to strike up a conversation had failed, but eventually Druluk spoke:

'Ylfronir? You know…this morning…in the armoury? With the sword?'

'Yes.'

'I forgive you.'

Ylfronir looked at Druluk in astonishment

'I believe it was you who swung the sword at me!'

Druluk looked at him levelly.

'You ducked.'

Ylfronir opened his mouth, but could not think of an adequate reply. This was beyond credit, was this Druluk's idea of a joke? Suddenly he found himself feeling infuriated

'I saved your life today!'

'I forgive you for that as well…'

Ylfronir took a deep breath and managed to restrain himself from lashing out. Instead he said calmly

'You would never have killed Saruman. And you didn't want me to, not really…'

'Is that why you missed?'

'I didn't miss.'

'So you never meant to kill him…'

'Like I said, you didn't want to. I could see it in your face…'

'Oh I wanted to...'

'But you couldn't bring yourself to. You dropped the knife for Iluvatar's sake! And if we're in the mood for some apologising…'

'…I'm sorry! I'm…sorry…'

Druluk's voice trailed off and he slouched forward where he sat to let his head hang wearily between his knees.

Ylfronir sighed.

'I'm sorry too,' he found himself echoing.

They sat for a moment in silence. Then Ylfronir remembered something:

'Have you got any more of that entwash?'

They drank in silence, watching the last vestiges of the sunset disappear. The fire hissed and popped. Ylfronir wondered whether having such a blaze was wise, given the attention it might attract…but then again it should keep other kinds of attention at bay. Staring into the flames he let his awareness of the rest of the world ebb away, and tried to think of nothing at all…

…Druluk was shaking him by the shoulder

'Wake up!' he hissed,

'What is it?' mumbled Ylfronir, embarrassed to have been caught unawares

'I don't know, but I'm sure I saw something moving up there…'

Druluk pointed up the hill at whose foot they had set up camp. Ylfronir squinted in the direction he indicated, but after staring at the fire his eyes were useless in the darkness.

'I can't...' he began, as Druluk suddenly stiffened and grabbed his arm,

'There it is again!'

'Shall I put out the fire?'

'That won't do any good now, they've seen us for sure. You had better draw your bow…'

'Shouldn't we run?'

'I don't know this country, and I'm exhausted….I certainly wouldn't get far…'

Ylfronir knew that Druluk was right, and did not feel up to carrying him again. He nodded his agreement. Then he realised that Druluk was weaponless, having left his knife on the floor of Saruman's passageway. He drew his own knife, and offered it to the orc. For a moment Druluk stared, as if he had forgotten what it was….then he gingerly accepted it, nodding his reluctant thanks.

Ylfronir set an arrow to his bow and moved to the other side of the fire so that it was between him and the hill. Druluk joined him, still holding the knife awkwardly.

A voice called out of the darkness:

'Druluk?'

Ylfronir involuntarily turned to stare at his companion in surprise, keeping his bow trained in the direction of the hill, not that he could see anything in particular to aim at. Druluk seemed just as astonished as he, and opened his mouth but no sound came out.

'Druluk?' came the voice again…

'It must be the others!' said Ylfronir in delight, 'Jorrig must have got them out alive!'

Druluk was still staring blankly, so Ylfronir nudged him

'Say something!'

'Who's there?' shouted Druluk, at last, looking up at the hillside even more intently. The reply was instantaneous

'Your revolution!'

Ylfronir felt his face splitting into a wide, relieved smile as he heard the words. He relaxed his bow and turned to his companion to celebrate, but his face was still grave. The orc wordlessly picked up his pack and began to stamp out the fire. Ylfronir shrugged and turned back to the hillside. At last he saw the elusive figures appearing out of the blackness – two of them, an orc and an Uruk Hai, neither of whom he recognised. As he moved forward to greet them the thought briefly occurred to him how strange this was, that the sight of those who but a week ago were his enemies now filled him with such gladness…

The newcomers, Nlug and Skelthor led them back up the hill.

'We've set up camp a few miles from here,' explained Nlug, 'We didn't know if we had come the right way, we weren't even sure of where the Gap of Rohan was…'

Ylfronir remembered that he was supposed to have been providing that particular information, and bit his lip in embarrassment,

'We're just so glad to have found you!' finished the orc. His Uruk hai companion, Skelthor, nodded his agreement but said nothing. Druluk too seemed disinclined to comment, so it fell to Ylfronir to make conversation,

'Well, we are very grateful to you for finding us…' he began, 'Though at first we had no idea who you were, so sorry about the bow and all that…'

'That's OK,' said Nlug, 'But I thought we weren't allowed weapons…' He looked questioningly at Druluk.

'I think that's something which Druluk might be going to, ah, re assess…' said Ylfronir conspiratorially…

'No,' Druluk's voice came cutting across, 'I stand by what I said before.'

'Not even for self defence?' asked Ylfronir in exasperation, 'you were happy enough for us to be armed just now!'

'I was wrong just now. I wasn't thinking straight,'

'You're not thinking at all! This is a war, for Middle Earth's sake!'

'No it's not!'

The sheer force with which Druluk spat out these words silenced the elf, but did nothing to ease his mind.

Eventually the flickering light of more camp fires appeared out of the gloom, as the foursome drew near the orc camp. Their approach was greeted by a flurry of activity and raised voices, and as they came within a distance of about 20 yards, cheers rang out, echoing off the hills.

'Are they trying to get themselves killed?' muttered Druluk.

'At least act like you're pleased to see them,' replied Ylfronir, harshly. He regretted his words when he saw the expression on the orc's face. He opened his mouth to apologise, when a deep voice rumbled

'Druluk!'

Jorrig was striding towards them. Something he held in his hand swung from side to side as he walked, and Ylfronir could not help but be reminded of the occasion when they first met, all of four days previously.

'We thought you had surely perished! We saw the dam breached and water flooding into the caves! We sent out searches, but hardly dared to hope…'

The Uruk hai's voice trailed off, this having been one of the longest speeches Ylfronir had ever heard him make. Druluk stepped forward and clasped Jorrig's hand,

'You did well.'

Ylfronir hang back, suddenly acutely aware of how much of an outsider he was here. But Druluk too now seemed lost for further words. It fell to Jorrig to break the awkward silence

'Come and eat!'

After tucking into the rather dubious looking stew which Jorrig had produced (Ylfronir stuck to his lembas bread), Druluk seemed more energetic. He started talking to the other orcs and Uruks gathered round the campfire where Jorrig and Ylfronir also sat. Nlug and Skelthor were among them.

'A lot of decisions need to be made,' he began, and the response was instantaneous

'Where are we going?'

'What are we going to do?'

'What about Saruman?'

'What about the Ents?'

Druluk waited for the clamour to die down again.

'The most important decision to make is…' He drew a deep breath,

'Who is going to make the rest of the decisions?'

There was a brief silence. Ylfronir looked at Druluk in admiring surprise. The rest of the company were still coming to terms with the significance of this.

'Who…?' Nlug said slowly, 'is going to…'

'…lead us,' finished Druluk

'You, of course!' exclaimed Jorrig,

'No. Not I. Not necessarily…'

Druluk's audience waited expectantly

'We should, ah, elect our leader, um…'

Ylfronir could hold back his excitement no longer,

'…democratically!' he cried, finishing Druluk's sentence for him.

'That's right,' agreed Druluk, 'Ylfronir, would you be so kind…?'

Ylfronir sprang to his feet, the exhaustion of the day disappearing with the adrenaline rush that came with the idea of an election.

'O.K, we're going to need a returning officer. Um, nominations please?' He looked round expectantly, and was met with mere bafflement.

'You can nominate anyone! Anyone at all! Orc, Uruk, elf,' he hinted.

At last Druluk said

'I nominate you, Ylfronir,'

'Why thank you! Are there any objections?'

Nlug raised a hand. Ylfronir nodded, and he said

'I haven't a clue what's going on…' but before Ylfronir could reply Druluk whispered frantically in the orc's ear, and he quickly said 'objection withdrawn.'

A quick glance around the assembled throng revealed no further raised hands, so Ylfronir continued,

'So I am duly appointed returning officer.'

A sudden thought struck him, and he bent down to ask Druluk quietly,

'Um, do you think we should have someone taking minutes?'

Druluk did not reply, but was starting to look more than a little annoyed, so Ylfronir thought it best to gloss over that issue. It wasn't as if anyone had any paper anyway.

'Right, all nominations for the post of leader of…um….'

'the orc republic,' prompted Druluk,

'The Orc Republic, yes, all nominations must reach me by midnight tomorrow.'

Ylfronir sat down, feeling pleased with his efforts.

'Midnight tomorrow?' hissed Druluk, rage starting to become apparent, 'are we supposed to sit and wait for a leader until midnight tomorrow?'

'Well, actually no, it'll be more like the day after, because we'll have to have the hustings and then the election itself…'

'Are you out of your mind?'

'Come on Druluk, it's only fair to give a decent length of time for the prospective candidates to prepare their manifestoes…'

'Manifestoes?!? Ylfronir, if we stick around here until midnight tomorrow the chances are we'll be slaughtered before we even hear what's in your precious manifestoes…'

Ylfronir paused for a second. Druluk did have a point. And it would be a terrible shame for Middle Earth's first democracy to be cut down in its prime. He stood up again.

'A slight change of plan,' he announced, over the conversations which had sprung up. Heads turned to listen.

'Nominations are to be made…' he caught a glimpse of Druluk's expression and suppressed the last of his desire for proper procedure, '…now.'

Everyone was looking at each other, unsure what to do. Once more, it was Druluk who eventually raised a hand...

'Yes, Druluk?'

'I nominate…Jorrig.'

The reaction to this had barely started before Jorrig jumped up and shouted

'I nominate Druluk!'

'Are there any further nominations?' asked Ylfronir quickly, as the exclamations and discussions among the crowd threatened to rise to a roar. There was no response.

'No more nominations? Then we have two candidates. Druluk and Jorrig. Would you both join me?'

Jorrig was already standing, and began to make his way over to Ylfronir's side. Druluk reluctantly rose to his feet also.

'I could give you five minutes to think about your manifesto…' whispered Ylfronir,

'…no manifestoes,' hissed Druluk

'but what are you going to say in your speech…?'

'…no speeches, just get this over with…'

A glance at the exhausted pair of nominees and a quick scan over the bedraggled throng clustered round the campfires persuaded Ylfronir that now was not the time for hustings. Instead,

'OK people,' he said, 'let's vote!'

It was as secret a ballot as Ylfronir could devise. He took the leaves which wrapped his lembas bread and tore them into small pieces, then, realising that this would not be sufficient, he sent a party of orcs to strip some nearby bushes of their leaves. Every member of the company was issued with a small green fragment. They were to make two small holes in the leaf if they wished to vote for Jorrig and one small hole if they wished to vote for Druluk. A fragment with no holes at all would be considered spoilt. (Strictly speaking Ylfronir would have preferred to include an option to 're open nominations', but a trial run he had performed showed that the fragments tended to disintegrate if more holes were made).

As he stood, holding open his pack which he had hastily emptied of its contents so it could serve as a makeshift ballot box, Ylfronir felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Every crumpled leaf dropped inside it by a bemused looking orc represented to him a step towards the empowerment of all the dispossessed of Middle Earth. This muddy hillside, the flames, the darkness and above all the voters were not how he had pictured this moment, but nevertheless this was his dream become reality.

'Are you sure this is going to work?'

Druluk dropped his own leaf into the bag.

'Absoultely.'

Ylfronir spoke with utter conviction. He knew that he had never been more certain of anything. The concept was too elegant, too beautiful, too…perfect…for it to fail. Druluk looked up at him with the eyes of one who finds themselves hanging from a thin and as yet untested thread.

'Trust me,' mouthed Ylfronir. Druluk turned away.

Ylfronir himself abstained from voting. He was not entirely sure whether he was exactly a citizen of the Orc Republic or not. He was also fairly sure that the others were unlikely to want to discuss this issue right at the present time. So when everyone else had cast their votes he took the bag over to the edge of one of the smaller campfires, and started to lay out its contents on the ground. The other orcs and Uruk hai nearby instinctively drew back to give him privacy.

All 623 orcs and Uruks who had made the escape from Isengard had cast their votes. It was hard to make out how they had actually voted, squinting at the tiny green scraps in the flickering firelight, but Ylfronir counted and re counted again until he was certain. Then he rose and returned to the main fire. All fell silent.

'I, the official returning officer,' he began, 'as appointed by the Orc Republic, um….about 2 hours ago…'

623 pairs of eyes bored into him. Ylfronir's voice trembled

'I am able now to announce… the result…. of the election for leader…'

Ylfronir took a deep breath

'Druluk received two hundred and seventy four votes. Jorrig received three hundred and seventeen votes. There were thirty two…'

But the end of his sentence was swallowed up by the roar as all present realised what this meant. Jorrig was forced to his feet by those around him, and propelled towards the front of the crowd. Ylfronir decided that it was probably now time to take a back seat. As he made his way to sit down he spotted Druluk. And for the first time that day the orc was smiling.