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

'But I don't understand,' said Druluk, as he watched Thrrl grabbing various weapons from the rack on the wall of her chamber and shoving them into a bag,

'You don't want this war,'

'I still don't.' She hefted the bag onto her shoulder and pulled a face. Swinging it down onto her bed, she pulled out a crossbow and tested the weight again. Druluk sat down on the bed himself,

'So why are you going?' he asked.

'I am…I was…supposed to make sure that the best interests of the whole Collective were looked after…'

'Yes?'

'And I failed. The least I can do is suffer the consequences along with everyone else.'

'Get slaughtered, you mean.'

She didn't answer.

In the awkward silence, Druluk stared at the ceiling. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. He had sworn allegiance to these people, and now they had declared war, the thought of which appalled him. And they were willingly binding themselves to another master, just as he had once been bound to serve Saruman, which filled him with disgust. And he still didn't know if Ylfronir was dead or alive, but the balance of probability lay with him being dead, which just made him feel hopeless. And he had no influence over anything, and the one person who had even acknowledged his existence in the whole wretched Collective was joining the army.

Suddenly being a mindless drone following orders seemed quite an attractive proposition.

'Could you lend me a sword?' he asked.

………

'Jorrig!' shouted Ylfronir, as two orcs bound his hands behind his back 'Jorrig, what the hell is going on?'

'Hah, on first name terms, are we?' asked Celidel, struggling to escape as an Uruk Hai did the same to him. Ylfronir ignored him, as Jorrig appeared at last, looking slightly sheepish.

'There had better be a good explanation for this,' fumed Ylfronir

'Ylfronir, we know we can trust you. But your friend here…'

'…He's not my friend,' said both Ylfronir and Celidel in unison. Jorrig sighed,

'Ylfronir, we are at war now. And your…uh…fellow elf would most likely bring a contingent of warriors after us if we let him return home…'

'Correct, orc scum!' declared Celidel. Ylfronir sent him a venomous look.

'He wounded 5 of us as it is!' said Jorrig, pointing to some of the orcs Celidel had managed to injure during the ambush. One was bleeding quite heavily.

'Just a shame I didn't manage to…' began Celidel

'Just…shut…up…' hissed Ylfronir through clenched teeth, elbowing him in the ribs.

'The general feeling is that…um…that we should execute him.'

'What?'

'We'll let you go, thanks to your friendship with Druluk, but…'

'Oh no! No! You can't…'

'I do not need traitors to plead for mercy on my behalf,' said Celidel, but there was a hint of a tremor in his voice. Ylfronir felt as though the world were unravelling around him. He heard himself saying

'If you kill him, you must kill me too,' and almost laughed aloud at the ludicrousness of the statement. From the expressions of some of the orcs around him, it seemed as though they thought this an excellent plan. But Jorrig looked troubled.

'Druluk would not want you to execute prisoners,' said Ylfronir, clutching at straws.

'Druluk's not here,' said Jorrig, quietly, but Ylfronir could see the indecision in his eyes.

'If it wasn't for Druluk, none of you would be here.' Ylfronir declared, hoping that no one was going to start thinking too hard about his reasoning.

'We cannot let you both go,' said Jorrig firmly, though it seemed as though he were convincing himself just as much as Ylfronir. He chewed his upper lip thoughtfully, which had the unfortunate effect of baring the teeth of his lower jaw in an ugly snarl. Ylfronir forced himself to keep eye contact. Eventually, Jorrig sighed heavily, and spoke again.

'For now, we will keep you both prisoner.'

At these words there was a sudden outcry from some of the party. Ylfronir couldn't understand all that was being said, but most of them seemed angry. Jorrig shouted for quiet. When the noise had died down he said

'I have made my decision. Does anyone challenge my leadership?'
He glared around the assembled throng. Ylfronir swallowed hard, trying not to show his fear. But apart from some disgruntled shuffling, no one stepped forward.

'Very well,' said Jorrig, we will take them with us as we march.'

'March where?' asked Ylfronir, quietly

'To Mordor,' replied Jorrig, in the same subdued tone

'Mordor?' exclaimed Celidel to Ylfronir, 'Why couldn't you have let them kill us here?'

Ylfronir just looked at the ground, too depressed to formulate a reply.

……………..

Druluk was on the march once more. To have a sword in his belt and a helmet on his head was reassuring in its familiarity. And as long as he concentrated wholly on putting one foot in front of the other, he didn't need to think about anything. That had been his mistake in the first place, after all. Letting contemplation come between him and the steady rhythm of his pace. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

He was part of a column of the Collective's army, making their way through the passages of Moria to…he didn't actually know. And he wasn't going to speculate. One-two, one-two, left-right, that was the way…

'…Druluk!' Thrrl's insistent voice could not be long ignored.

'What?' he asked, cautiously, not letting the rhythm of his steps falter. Thrrl was marching just behind him, but he did not look round.

'Have you been listening to a word I've said?'

'Um…'

'Make sure you get on the same boat as me…'

'Boat?' exclaimed Druluk, craning his neck round to see if she was joking. This was a mistake. He tripped and nearly fell forward. Thrrl grabbed his arm to steady him, saying 'Yes, we will be travelling to Mordor by boat.'

'But how?'

'There's an underground river…' she said dismissively, 'now…'

'…an underground river?' interrupted Druluk, 'How…?'

'Druluk! Please, there's something I need to tell you…'

Something in her voice made him turn round to look at her once more. She avoided meeting his eye, and fiddled guiltily with the strap of her pack.

'What is it?' he asked

'It's about…your friends.'

'Ylfronir?' He made no effort to hide the emotion in his voice – a mingling of fear and desperate hope,

'When they escaped, we found that they had extinguished the torch in the passageway,'

'So?'

'They used a cloth that had been soaked in water.'

'In water…' repeated Druluk slowly. Then he realised, 'the poisoned water! They didn't drink it!'

'Well, obviously we don't know…'

'But you never found any bodies?'

'…No. Look, I'm sorry…I should have told you before…'

'Yeah, yeah, I guess you should…' said Druluk, distractedly, the new hope filling his mind.

………..

The orcs marched non stop all day, Ylfronir and Celidel stumbling along in their midst. Their arms were bound tightly behind their backs and a pair of Uruk Hai made escape impossible by way of two more ropes that were looped around their throats. Walking too fast led to a sharp tug on the rope that brought them to their knees in the mud. Celidel's tunic was soon in as sorry a state as Ylfronir's own.

Ylfronir was surprised at the pace the orcs managed to keep up, not even stopping when the sun was highest in the sky. But they were shaded by the trees in the valley still. Jorrig did not call a halt when night fell, and they pushed on by moonlight.

'Do they plan to reach Mordor by the morning?' muttered Celidel

Ylfronir glanced over at his fellow prisoner. Despite the mud which now streaked his face and smeared his clothes, Celidel maintained an air of haughty superiority, looking down his nose at their captors. As he looked at him, Ylfronir could not help but feel a pang of guilt. If it had not been for his own misguided efforts to do the right thing by the Orc Republic then neither of them would be in this predicament. But then, had Celidel not been such a prying, interfering busybody then they wouldn't be in this situation either.

As if reading his mind, Celidel spoke

'I may have been a little hasty to condemn you, Ylfronir,' he admitted, 'since the way these goblins…'

'…orcs…' muttered Ylfronir under his breath

'…are treating you does not imply you are in league with them. However, it could all be some sort of elaborate trick…'

'A trick? To trick you? Because you are so important, Celidel…'

'...There's no need to be like that,' said Celidel looking pained, 'and you still haven't explained what you were doing meeting Sauron's allies…'

'I didn't know that they were Sauron's allies, I would never have…'

'Enough talking,' snarled one of the Uruk Hai guarding them.

By this time, they had reached the forest's edge and were marching on open grassland. As Celidel turned his head round to glare at the Uruk who had interrupted them, he caught his foot in a rabbit hole and fell awkwardly to the ground with a cry of pain

'Celidel! Are you…?' began Ylfronir

'I'm fine,' he snapped through clenched teeth, though he had gone white. The Uruk Hai tugged on the rope and he struggled to stand up, Ylfronir trying to help; but just as they managed to balance upright all the rest of the orcs and Uruk Hai threw themselves to the ground

'What the…?'

Another pull on the rope brought the elves to their knees. Celidel groaned in agony. Ylfronir looked desperately from side to side trying to figure out what was going on…and then he heard it. The wing beats in the sky. And the unearthly howl which made his blood run cold.

'Nazgul!' he gasped, and pulled Celidel so that they both lay flat on the grass. A cold rush of air blew through their hair as the winged beast past right above them. Then a dull thud seemed to signal that it had landed nearby.

Ylfronir forced himself to raise his head. A monstrous, scaly reptile with huge bat like wings -still outstretched - had settled on the grass about 15 metres beyond the head of the column of orcs. And sitting atop this nightmarish creature was a spectral figure clad all in black, with a voice that rasped out from beneath its cowl

'Rise, fools!'

Ylfronir saw a lone figure scramble hesitantly to his feet. Even from behind he recognised Jorrig, and had to admire his guts.

'You march to join Sauron?' demanded the Nazgul

'…Yes…' said Jorrig, without much enthusiasm

'Why are there two elves among your number?'

'We've…uh…taken them prisoner. They came upon our camp…'

'Why not kill them?'

'They might…know something…useful?' hazarded Jorrig desperately

'They slow your pace.'

Jorrig digested this. Before he could speak again, the Nazgul announced

'Perhaps they do know something useful. I will take them to Mordor.'

'You…?' exclaimed Jorrig. Ylfronir was suddenly aware of the orcs and Uruk Hai near to him shuffling away. He saw the beast in front of him rear up and flap its wings, jumping into flight. He heard the thwump thwump of the wingbeats getting faster and faster. And he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, so he only felt the talon encircling his waist, the ground disappearing from under him and the cold wind whipping against his eyelids...

…When he forced himself to open his eyes again it took a monumental effort not to be violently sick. Shutting his eyes again quickly, he took a few deep breaths, then asked, hesitantly,

'Celidel?' His voice was swallowed up by the rushing wind. He swallowed, then tried again,

'Are you there, Celidel?' he shouted, as loud as he dared.

He thought he heard a sort of grunt in reply, but couldn't be sure. He gritted his teeth and made himself look over to his right, where Celidel had been when they were on the ground. And, sure enough, before another wave of nausea made him turn his head away, he caught a glimpse of the elf, clutched in the monster's other claw. His eyes closed again, Ylfronir gradually inched his arm away from where he had been holding it tense against his chest, and reached across the gap between them, trying to ignore the howling gale. Eventually, his blindly questing fingers brushed against Celidel's arm. He followed it until he found the hand, and grabbed hold of it. He felt Celidel squeeze his own hand weakly in reply. The other elf was still alive then, and conscious. That was something. Though given where they were going, it might have been better if they were both dead.

As the terrifying flight continued, Ylfronir lost all track of time. All he knew was the bitter cold and the constant expectation of falling to his death. So it could have been 5 minutes or 5 hours later when they suddenly swooped downwards. If it hadn't been for the pressure of the claw still around his waist, he would have thought that he was in free fall. His eyes snapped open involuntarily, and he caught a glimpse of the ground below, at a lunatic angle. They were still very high up, but he was almost sure he saw a river down there, glinting in the moonlight, before they suddenly lurched upwards again, and all he could see was a blur of stars. He had barely drawn breath before the Nazgul turned a sharp corner, which made him and Celidel swing outwards as they dangled underneath. He heard Celidel cry out in fear, but so far the creature still had hold of them. But what was making it manoeuvre in this way? Was it some sort of sadistic game, before they really were abandoned in mid air? But as they suddenly swooped upwards, he caught sight of another shape in the night sky. He only saw it for a moment, but the silhouette was surely unmistakeable.

'Celidel!' he cried, 'Did you see that? I think I saw an…'

But he stopped mid-sentence, in shock, as an arrow suddenly shot past his face, to embed itself in the monster's thigh. The scaly leg convulsed, the claw which held him opened, and suddenly he was falling. His own screams blended with the otherworldly howl of the Nazgul's steed in pain as he hurtled down.