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

Ylfronir was not keen on horses. In his experience they were smelly and unpredictable, and the one he now found himself riding was no exception. The mare, which went by the name of Myrl, seemed also to be suffering from dandruff. But she was carrying him in a matter of days on a mission which could otherwise have taken weeks. With her help he could find Jorrig and be back in Loth Lorien by the time Nathradril had recovered. The potential for a quick getaway was also a distinct advantage if he ever were to run into an elf who might ask annoying questions such as whether he actually had permission from Galadriel for this little venture. Or for that matter, if he had asked before taking Myrl from the royal stable back in the Wood.

He hadn't told Nathradril where he was going. He hadn't wanted to face the barrage of questions or the accusations of betrayal. But he felt an obligation, somehow, to at least tell Jorrig that Druluk wasn't coming back. No more, no less. Deliver that message and end his involvement in orc affairs.

Of course, finding Jorrig was no simple matter. After a day's riding along the valley he reckoned he was now in the vague vicinity of the orc camp, but he had no idea where precisely it was, and he couldn't be sure they had not moved on. In the gathering dusk, Ylfronir decided he stood no chance of finding any signs at all until the morning, so he dismounted and prepared to wait out the night in a welcoming looking oak tree.

Usually Ylfronir found trees comforting, but however much he tried, closing his eyes, to imagine himself back in Mirkwood, before Gollum's escape, before, even, he joined the MEND society, it was impossible. During the day's ride he had managed to concentrate on choosing a path, staying balanced on Myrl's back and dissuading her from tucking into the choice green shoots of whatever plant they happened to be passing, but now, sitting in a tree in the moonlight, there was no such distraction.

Druluk. Even to think the name made his chest tighten. He found himself digging the thumbnail of his right hand into his left palm and clenching his jaw. It took a real effort to relax the muscles again. Druluk…

'How could he?' he muttered under his breath. The only reply was the rustling of the leaves.

'How could he?' he shouted suddenly. A night bird screeched and flapped off from a nearby tree, only just visible as a black shape in the darkness. Ylfronir bit his tongue, hoping there were no wargs in the vicinity.

The moment when he had heard Druluk's voice back in the tunnel kept replaying again and again in his mind. Had he heard correctly? But of course. His hearing was perfect. Had the words been taken out of some wider context, a context which would explain the apparent betrayal as nothing of the kind? It seemed impossible. Ylfronir leant his head against the rough bark of the tree and tried to think logically. Why should he feel hurt at Druluk's actions? He had known the orc for but a week after all. Hardly long enough to forge a lifelong friendship. But he had felt a bond with him nonetheless. And there was something else. Another reason why this disloyalty, and the manner in which he had discovered it, hurt him so deeply.

'Ever the eavesdropper, Ylfronir,' he whispered to himself in the darkness.

And he was back there. Ten years ago. At the foot of that other oak tree, listening. Listening.

………..

Thrrl swept along the corridor, Druluk following blindly, feeling almost as though he were being dragged in her wake.

'Why did you come looking for me?' she asked abruptly, over her shoulder

'I…wasn't exactly…' he stammered.

She sniffed thoughtfully then continued without further reply. Druluk jogged a couple of steps to bring himself to her side.

'I was looking for my friends,' he said simply.

'They are not your friends. You forsook them with your oath,' she said automatically, her mind clearly elsewhere

'You said are'

'What?'

'They are not my friends. Not were. You don't think they're dead…'

'A slip of the tongue. They were poisoned. We will find the bodies.'

Druluk let his pace slow slightly again so that Thrrl drew ahead. He didn't want her to see the expression on his face.

They passed through an archway and entered a new passageway. This one felt familiar. Druluk realised it led to the council chamber. He began to walk even more slowly, letting a wider gap open up between himself and Thrrl, as he wondered for the first time what exactly she was going to do, and more to the point what was going to happen to him now.

As he dragged his footsteps along the flagstones, voices in the council chamber became audible, though it was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying. One voice murmured something, then another, then there seemed to be a burst of applause. Up ahead, Thrrl suddenly broke into a run. His feeling of trepidation mounting even further, Druluk followed.

………..

When dawn broke, Ylfronir climbed right to the top of the oak to look for signs of the Orc Republic. And his efforts were rewarded by the sight of a wisp of smoke rising from a region of the forest about a mile to the west. He dropped to the ground and called for Myrl.

Half an hour's ride later he found the camp. At first sight there was nothing untoward about it. Situated in a large clearing, some rudimentary shelters made from woven branches were clustered around a central fire. The embers from the night before had been carefully covered over so that they still retained their heat, but only tiny tendrils of smoke, like the one Ylfronir had seen, rose up. On one side of the clearing, the side nearest to him in fact, was a dome of earth which he guessed could be some sort of oven or furnace.

Ylfronir dismounted and whispered to Myrl to stay put. He crept nearer, keeping an eye open all the time for an orc on sentry duty. But it wasn't until only a bush separated him from the clearing itself that he noticed a figure sitting on the far side of the banked up fire.

'Jorrig?' he called softly, not wanting to wake the whole camp.

The Uruk Hai sprang to his feet at once and stared around intently

'Jorrig, over here!' hissed Ylfronir.

Suddenly the Uruk drew a short sword, and headed in his direction. Confused, Ylfronir stepped out from behind the bush, his empty hands outstretched

'Jorrig, it's me!'

'Ylfronir! Is Druluk…'

'…no…'

Jorrig replaced the sword in his belt and looked at Ylfronir, his state of weary anxiety clear from his expression. He gestured for the elf to come and join him by the fire.

'What happened?' he asked, quietly

'We were captured. In Moria.'

'By…?'

'Some….um…orc...' (Ylfronir debated how much Jorrig really needed to have to deal with right now) '…s' he said.

'But you escaped!'

'I escaped…Druluk….um….joined them.'

'Joined them?'

'He took an oath. It sounded like he meant it.'

Jorrig met his gaze, and held it for a few seconds. Then he sighed heavily.

'So there's nothing to be done,' he said.

'Well, I guess not…' said Ylfronir, uncertain what Jorrig was referring to.

They both stared in silence at the fire for a moment or so. Then Ylfronir remembered something.

'You've got a sword!' he exclaimed, 'how…?'

Jorrig drew the blade and passed it to him.

'It's been hammered out of a breastplate,' he said, his voice cold, 'It's not that good, but it'll do for now.'

'For now…? For what? Didn't Druluk say 'no weapons'?'

'Druluk's not here.'

Ylfronir looked at the sword. It seemed pretty flimsy and the blade was crooked, but when he tested the edge with his thumb it was razor sharp.

'Why?' he asked

'We're going to war.'

'What?'

'A messenger came. From someone called…Sauron…'

'…Sauron!'

'Yes. Calling for all orcs to come and join his army.'

'And you're going? Just like that?' Ylfronir couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice, 'Do you know what Sauron…'

'He says we will get our own lands…'

'And you believe him? He's another Saruman, Jorrig, just worse…'

'Oh yeah? Well I don't see anyone else offering us any lands…'

'But war! These orcs elected you to look after their best interests...How can you lead them to their deaths...?'

'It wasn't my decision!' said Jorrig, with such force that Ylfronir was momentarily speechless. Then,

'but you're the leader…' he said, uncertainly, 'you won the election…'

'Yes! But then when this messenger came…It seemed too important a matter for one person to decide…'

Ylfronir suddenly had a premonition of what was coming. His heart felt like a lump of stone in his chest,

'…so we thought we'd have a vote on it.'

'A vote on it,' repeated Ylfronir.

'You gave us the idea!'

'I…did,' said Ylfronir hollowly

'And guess what! The majority thought this Sauron sounded like a great guy!'

'But…'

'But nothing. We voted. And that was that.'

Ylfronir realised he was still holding the sword. He dropped it quickly to the ground.

' This means that we, uh…' he stammered

'Yes. Perhaps you should…' but before Jorrig could finish his sentence, there was a noise from one of the shelters. An orc stuck out his head

'Hey!' he called, 'It's Ylfronir!'

Other voices started up,

'Is Druluk back?'

'What's going on?'

'Ylfronir is just leaving,' called Jorrig. He whispered in the elf's ear 'really. It's for the best. Go now.' His eyes met Ylfronir's one last time, as he said softly, emotionlessly

'We are, after all, at war with elves and men.'

………

When Druluk reached the door of the council chamber, a faintly ludicrous sight met his eyes. Thrrl had burst into the room moments earlier, and now stood in the centre, breathing heavily and trembling as she pointed an accusing finger towards one of the circle of orcwomen. It could only be Glonya. The rest of the circle seemed frozen in shock, forming a tableau which was almost comical. One had her hand up as though about to ask a question, another's mouth gaped open in surprise and yet another stood on one leg, halfway through taking a step towards the intruder.

'She….' announced Thrrl tremulously, her pointing hand shaking, 'she…'

'Thrrl!' cried Glonya, walking over. This broke the spell of the previous moment, and the other members of the council stood at ease once more. Glonya's arms were outstretched, as she said 'how wonderful! We thought you had perished…'

'Liar!' spat Thrrl, 'Despicable, treacherous, villainous…'

'Thrrl, Thrrl, Thrrl, what are you talking about?' Glonya's voice was so measured, so calm, so soft that Druluk himself began to wonder whether Thrrl had got it all wrong.

'You tricked me! You lured me into a trap and…'

'Thrrl, you're confused…did you get hit on the head in that rock fall…?'

'There was no rock fall!'

'Mmm,' Glonya raised her eyebrows as she looked round at the other council members, 'whatever you say,'

'Don't listen to her!' Thrrl was almost shrieking now, breathing fast and shallowly as she implored the other orcwomen in the room, 'she's got her own agenda and she'll stop at nothing…'

'I can assure you that I have no 'agenda',' interjected Glonya, still a picture of composure,

'You want us to join Sauron!'

There was a moment when no one spoke. Druluk stared around at the circle of councillors. Several of them were looking decidedly uncomfortable. His gaze returned to rest on Glonya, where he caught a glimpse of a flicker of a smile. He began to feel sick.

'It isn't a question of what I want,' said Glonya, in her characteristically soft tone, 'It was a collective decision.'

'Too right! And I am part of the...' Thrrl suddenly stopped short and asked, 'what did you say?'

'It was a collective decision.'

'It…was…a collective decision?'

'We made the decision just now. We will send 20 thousand to join Sauron's army.'

'Oh no! No, no, no, no, no, the decision has to be unanimous!'

'It was.'

'But I'm vetoing it!'

'When we decided, you were thought dead. All proper procedure has been followed.'

'You can't…'

'It isn't up to me. The Collective has spoken.'

'I…' gasped Thrrl, 'you…'

'Perhaps it would be best if you went to lie down for a while…'

Thrrl leapt forward, furiously clawing at Glonya's face with her fingernails. Three other members of the council grabbed her to drag her away. She struggled for a moment, then slumped wearily to the ground.

'Leave her,' said Glonya, who had not moved, or put up a hand to the now bleeding scratches on her cheek, 'we have an announcement to make.'

She turned, and swept out of the council chamber. The other council members followed, some looking reluctant, others looking scared, but all looking resigned. A couple of them looked surprised to see Druluk standing in the doorway as they passed, but since Glonya had not halted, none of them stopped to question what he was doing there.

When they had all gone, he walked over, hesitantly, to where Thrrl knelt, alone, in the centre of the floor.

'Thrrl?' he whispered. She was staring intently at the ground whilst gnawing the thumbnail of her right hand. He slowly reached out and touched her gently on the shoulder. She twitched slightly, but did not lash out. He crouched down to her level, took hold of her right wrist and pulled it firmly away. He tried to let her hand rest by her side, but she clutched at his fingers, so he let her grasp them tightly.

'It's not your fault,' he murmured, knowing how empty and useless the words sounded, 'you did all you could…'

'Did I?' she snapped, pulling her hand away sharply, 'did I?' Her voice was so harsh that Druluk flinched involuntarily. She screwed up her face as though about to scream, but no sound came out. Then she leant forwards, elbows on knees, head in hands and wept, her whole body shaking. Druluk turned away. There was nothing he could do.

…….

With a heavy heart, Ylfronir made his way back slowly through the trees to where he had left Myrl. But when he reached the spot, the horse was nowhere to be seen. He stared intently at the trees. This was definitely the place. And a coarse hair caught on one of the lower branches could only have come from Myrl's mane…

…Something lunged up from the undergrowth and hit him squarely in the stomach. Winded, Ylfronir staggered unevenly to one side, tripped over a root and fell flat on his back. He had barely managed to breathe again when a knee pressed into his chest and someone punched him hard in the face,

'Traitor!'

The voice was familiar, though the pain pulsing through his brain was making it hard to place.

'This…' (the knee dug in further) 'is how you repay…' (another knee joined the first for good measure) '…the kindness of the lady Galadriel?' (more blows to his jaw added extra emphasis). The metallic taste of blood started to seep onto his tongue.

'I saw everything! I tracked you after you stole that horse. I thought that would be the worst of your crimes, but to consort with orcs…'

'It's no' wha' you thin' he managed to whisper, still half suffocated. He squinted up at his assailant. It was another elf. One with distinctly recognisable features. Ylfronir snatched a gasp of breath, and

'Celidel! Please! Jus' hear me out!' he croaked.

Celidel's fist hovered in mid air

'I…I was honour bound to deliver a message to those orcs…'

'Honour bound by whom?'

'It's hard to…explain….when you can't breathe…'

Celidel released the pressure on his chest slightly

'By whom?'

'It all began 2 weeks ago. I…sort of…befriended…this orc…'

'Traitor!'

'Hang on! He had deserted Saruman, he hated the wizard, he was on our side!'

'Impossible.'

'It's true! He wanted to kill Saruman. I went with him to the Tower of Orthanc…'

'But Saruman lives,' said Celidel slowly, 'and you are here unscathed…' Suddenly he drew his knife 'This treachery runs deeper still!'

'Celidel! Just…listen…'

'I've heard enough…'

'No,' hissed Ylfronir, 'I mean, really, listen…'

For a moment Celidel froze, and the silence of the night was broken only by...the nearby clink of armoured plates knocking together…

There was a moment, a pause where all parties concerned drew breath…then orcs burst out of the trees on all sides. Celidel leapt to his feet and Ylfronir saw the blade of his knife flash in the sunlight as he stood, defying the onslaught. Ylfronir himself scrambled upright too, his head spinning, but before he could draw a weapon someone cannoned into him and knocked him to the ground again. He just about registered that it appeared to be an Uruk Hai when he heard a voice shouting

'Take them alive! Alive!' Ylfronir felt his last reserves of strength ebbing away. The voice had belonged to Jorrig.