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

Druluk had long given up asking where he was being taken. He concentrated on matching the pace of the orc guard exactly so that she didn't end up kicking him. Her metal toed boots had gashed his shin once already. So when she suddenly stopped dead he carried on walking forwards,

'Oh no you don't!'

With surprising agility she dragged him to her side and forced him into a headlock before he could even speak

'Mmmf! Mmmf!' he struggled, but she only gripped harder. So he felt extraordinarily relieved to hear Thrrl's voice saying

'Release him,'

'He tried to escape…' protested his captor

'He's not going anywhere.'

Druluk felt the pressure released. He staggered, gasping for air, and said hoarsely

'I wasn't…'

'Silence!' came the order in unison. Druluk clenched his teeth.

'You are to come with me, now,' Thrrl addressed him, 'the Collective wishes to question you.'

'All fifty thousand…?'

'Insolence will not be tolerated…'

'…sorry, sorry...'

'…you are to be interrogated by 10 randomly chosen members of the Collective.'

'Randomly chosen…?'

'…to make decisions on behalf of us all. No more questions.' Thrrl turned away, and, 'Agna,' she addressed the other orcwoman, 'you can return to the cells now.'

The other orcwoman nodded, and set off back down the corridor. Thrrl turned back to Druluk, and gestured towards the archway which framed the other end of the passageway.

'After you,' she said.

The room he entered was a perfect circle…or as near to a perfect circle as could be achieved with chisels. Stationed at exactly equal intervals around its walls were nine orc women. A push from Thrrl behind him sent him stumbling into the centre. He looked round and saw her take up a position standing in the doorway, so completing the circle of orcs inside the circle of stone. Their ten pairs of eyes bored into him.

'You are Druluk of Isengard?' came a voice. He spun round, trying to locate the speaker and face her, but then another voice spoke

'Answer the question,' and another

'Time is of the essence,'

'I am Druluk of the Orc Republic,' he said, turning his head to try and speak to all of them at once.

'But you once served Saruman.' This was Thrrl's voice, and it was more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway,

'I was once forced to labour for Saruman, yes.'

'Who is Sauron?' This was a voice which had not spoken before, a soft voice, yet a voice laden with authority

'I…'

'Have you heard the name before?'

'I think I have…' Druluk racked his brains, 'I think that…yes…Saruman has spoken of this Sauron. He is lord of a place called …Mordor I think, which lies to the East.'

'A powerful lord?'

'Growing in power certainly.'

'A friend of Saruman?'

'Um…I believe they are allies, yes…'

There was a pause, as Druluk's voice trailed off and no new questions were forthcoming. Then the soft voice spoke again,

'This Saruon has sent word to us. To the orcs of Moria. He calls for our support. He wants us to march with him in the war which is coming.'

Druluk slowly digested this.

'And are you…?' he asked

'We are considering it.'

'You would willingly let this Saruon use you, just as Saruman used me, and others of your kin?' Druluk felt shock ripple around the room, but whether it was at his words or at his boldness in saying them he could not tell. Then someone replied,

'In alliance with Sauron we could claim Middle Earth for ourselves, send the Elves and men running for their lives as they have done to us so many times before…'

'…no!' interrupted Druluk, 'it would not be an alliance, it wouldn't be an equal partnership! Sauron would…'

'…why are we listening to this elf loving traitor?' broke in yet another of the orcs, 'of course he wouldn't want us to go to war against his friends!'

'He may know things which will help us,' remonstrated the soft voice,

'But we can't trust him!'

'What if,' Thrrl spoke over several protesting voices, 'he was one of us…'

'We know he's one of us!' exclaimed another voice in frustration, 'but he's been corrupted by Saruman and now by elves…'

'No,' said Thrrl, 'I meant, what if he became a member of the Collective now. He could take the oath.'

A whisper went around the room. Druluk saw heads nodding.

'What oath….?' he asked, slowly turning to look at Thrrl.

'You would have to swear allegiance to the Collective, and renounce all enemies of the Collective.'

'I...might consider that…' said Druluk slowly, 'but can I just say that Ylfronir and Nathradril…'

'Your friends no longer enter into the matter,' Thrrl interrupted him, 'they will be dead by now.'

'Dead?' Druluk stood stock still, looking into Thrrl's eyes, was this a trick? But there was no deceit in her gaze.

'The water we gave them was poisoned.'

'Poisoned,' repeated Druluk, feeling a growing numbness spreading through his body, 'poisoned...?' He dropped to his knees on the stone floor and swallowed hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He heard Thrrl say,

'I'm sorry…' and then the soft voice spoke with icy precision:

'It was a collective decision. We do not take lives lightly, but in this instance…'

Druluk screamed, and scrambled to his feet, but before he could lunge at any of the circle two pairs of arms caught hold of him. As he struggled, he saw that one of those restraining him was Thrrl. She looked right at him, and whispered,

'Druluk…please…Your friends are gone…' he kicked her hard, but she held onto him, and continued in the same tone, 'we need your help. I need your help. Please. Just swear the oath…'

'Swear in with those who killed my friends?' he spat,

'Swear in with your people,' she countered, 'your knowledge is vital, but they have to trust you in order to listen to you…'

'Oh, like they'll trust me!'

'If you swear, and mean it, then of course we will trust you. So what's it to be, Druluk? Back to your cell, or will you help us?'

Druluk stopped struggling, and Thrrl and the other orcwoman slowly released their grip, and returned to their places in the circle. He stared at the floor, felt the urge to hurt someone diminish, and even in his grief part of him hated himself for having lost control in that violent outburst. He took several deep breaths.

'Well?' came the soft voice, expectantly, 'what is your decision?'

………….

Ylfronir halted, listening intently. He was aware of Nathradril beside him by the warmth radiating from her body alone – she was making no sound. They were both using all the skills of concealment they could muster to make their way noiselessly and swiftly from shadow to shadow in the stone passageways. So far they had been lucky, but they still had no idea whether they were getting any closer to where Druluk had been taken. But now he thought he could hear raised voices nearby...

Nathradril nudged his arm. She had pressed her ear against the wall of the passageway itself. Ylfronir did the same, and the voices became clearer. He strained to hear what was being said…

…and heard Druluk's voice, unmistakeable among those of the orcwomen,

'I, Druluk…' Ylfronir heard him say, 'swear allegiance to the Orc Collective of Moria…renouncing all…'

Ylfronir jerked his head away from the wall as if burned.

'The traitor!' he heard Nathradril exclaim, 'I knew he wasn't to be trusted since he stopped me firing on those orcs back when they captured us! I don't care if he once saved your life, I…' she stopped talking and swayed slightly on her feet. Ylfronir turned to her

'Are you OK?'

'I…I just felt a bit dizzy, that's all...'

There was a sudden noise from the end of the corridor. Both elves froze,

'Come on,' hissed Nathradril, 'we've got to get out of here,'

'But Druluk…' protested Ylfronir weakly, still trying to come to terms with what he had heard.

'But nothing.' She darted back the way they had come. Ylfronir looked from her to the blank wall in anguished indecision. Had he heard correctly? Had Druluk really betrayed them? The noise from the other end of the corridor came again, closer now. When he looked back to Nathradril she was already out of sight. There wasn't really any choice, was there?

Two hours later, they saw the glimmer of daylight at the end of a tunnel. Ylfronir's heart leapt. Their method of navigating had simply been to choose any route where the floor seemed to slope upwards, or else where the air currents seemed cooler, and at last this seemed to have paid off. They had been lucky, only one orc had noticed them, and she had been alone so they managed to overpower her between them and seize her weapon – a short sword – after which they felt they were in a marginally stronger position. They had passed other groups of course, and patrols had marched past them as they hid themselves in corners, holding their breath, but none had detected their presence. And now it really looked as if they were going to make it.

As they left the tunnel, the smell of fresh air was almost intoxicating. Ylfronir tipped his head back and closed his eyes, breathing it in deeply and gladly. Beside him, Nathradril dropped to her knees. He looked at her, and saw in the daylight that her face was deathly pale.

'Nath…?'

'I …feel…'

Ylfronir crouched down beside her, in time to see her eyes roll upwards in their sockets. She collapsed towards him, and he caught her and laid her gently on the ground.

'Nathradril?' he said, shaking her shoulder, 'Nathradril?'

Her breathing was almost imperceptible, and when he found her pulse it was weak and slow. He stood up again, and looked down at her lifeless form, gnawing at his thumbnail in fear and frustration. What the hell was he to do? His knowledge of the skill of healing was limited at best, and her startlingly white face and cold skin hinted that whatever ailed her was certainly beyond his ability. He looked around in desperation. They were right by the entrance to the mines of Moria, they couldn't stay here. He crouched down once more, to hoist her into his arms, and stood, looking down the mountainside. Far in the distance, across the Great Anduin, lay his own home. Not for the first time, he wished that he had never left.

He began to notice a sound…the sound of rushing water. Was there a river or stream nearby? Looking around he spotted the telltale glint of water between the trees over to his left. He headed towards it. He didn't know where he was exactly, but there were only two rivers which ran down from this region of the mountains – the Silverlode and the Nimrodel. Any stream would surely be a tributary of either. And if he could find one or the other, it would lead him to the woods of Lorien. Not his own home of course, but the border should be within a day's walk if he was swift. And there surely someone would be able to help Nathradril.