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

They had marched through the tunnels of Sauron's underground realm for hours, in a heat which had grown steadily until it was almost unbearable. Their weary feet were constantly tripping on the uneven floor, but still they kept up the relentless pace. Druluk had no energy left to speak. Instead he simply caught Thrrl's eye. She looked back, eyes grim, mouth set. But he could read neither regret nor fear in her expression.

Was this it then? Her fate and his? To be one of thousands of subordinates, to relinquish his very sense of self to the massing power? He had thought he wanted to be led. He had thought that the groaning uncertainty of making his own decisions was too much to bear, that nothing was worth the crippling culpability of being accountable to himself. Far better to let it all go. But now, as he went through the motions, he couldn't numb his mind.

'Faster!' came a harshly shouted order, 'faster,' and Druluk was aware of those around him picking up the pace. Despite the exhaustion he was feeling, he was forced to march more quickly.

'Who the hell….' he panted, not really directing the question at anyone, 'is giving these orders?'

'Don't know,' replied Thrrl, shortly

'But we…obey…just like that?'

She merely grunted an affirmitave. Druluk elbowed his way to the edge of the marching column, and stood to one side, watching the orcs hurrying past – heads down, focussing on keeping the pace. He noticed several limping, but no one was helping them. No one was sparing him a second glance either.

And he could not help but feel disgusted at their apathy. At the way they were merely cogs in this great war machine. And he was disgusted at himself.

………………

Ylfronir fingered the hilt of his sword, feeling sick. Up ahead he could see the shore where they were going to land, and beyond that the plain where the battle for Minastirith was already under way. The screams; the clash of metal on metal; the great thuds as chunks of masonry fell from the city walls - launched by catapults within or dislodged by siege engines without - the plumes of smoke rising from where burning missiles had fallen; the lumbering form of an oliphaunt scything through troops with its tusks…all this he saw and heard, but with senses muted by his own dread. He barely noticed when Legolas laid a hand upon his shoulder.

'What are you thinking of, Ylfronir?' he asked, softly

Ylfronir swallowed, and turned his gaze from the battlefield. But he couldn't help but see it still, even as he looked into the other elf's face.

'Mirkwood,' he said, the first thing that had come into his mind. The prince smiled,

'Aah, Mirkwood,' he said, 'I miss it too. But we shall return there some day.'

Ylfronir did not reply. There was a sudden scraping jolt as the boat ran aground. On either side, men started clambering over the rail to splash knee deep in the river water and scramble ashore. Legolas vaulted nimbly over the barrier then stood in the river for a moment, looking back up at him

'Coming, Ylfronir?' asked a female voice. He turned to see Nathradril, smiling questioningly, her bow slung over her shoulder along with a quiver bulging with arrows. She had plaited her hair into a tight braid and pinned it into a circlet round her head. It looked almost like a crown.

He felt strangely like weeping as he saw how the pale daylight made her skin seem nearly translucent, how the determination in her eyes juxtaposed her almost ethereal appearance. He stared at her hopelessly, wanting more than anything to undo all he had done in the past days, in the past year, that had brought it all to this.

'Are you?' she asked again, softly, taking a step towards him.

He took a sharp breath in and nodded his head. He waited until she had turned away before letting himself breathe again, not trusting his own voice. Then, without stopping to let himself think, he swung himself over the ship's rail and ran towards the fray, water splashing everywhere.

……………….

'I still think this is a huge mistake,' complained Thrrl, trudging along the path behind him.

'You said that already,' grunted Druluk, short of breath after the long ascent.

It was the day after they had arrived in Mordor. The regiment from Moria had slept, exhausted, in a roastingly hot cavern the night before. Upon awaking, the pair of them had slipped out unnoticed. They had been roaming through the mountains bordering Mordor all day. A pair of orcs wandering around looking vaguely purposeful, they had not met with any suspicion yet.

'I still don't understand what you think this will achieve,' said Thrrl, stopping to adjust the strap on her boot.

'I told you,' said Druluk, glad of the excuse to sit down on a nearby rock, 'I'm not trying to achieve anything. I just wanted to see where we'd ended up. To have a bit of a look round.'

Thrrl looked sceptical. Druluk continued

'Look, it's not like anyone ordered us to do anything.'

'We didn't really hang around to find out if they would, did we?'

'You didn't have to come.'

'I'm beginning to wish I hadn't. I already had blisters from the march here…'

Druluk stood up, and surveyed the surroundings.

'Let's just go and see what's happening at that tower,' he pointed up to where a jagged black silhouette interrupted the skyline.

'But there'll be people there! We'll get caught!'

'No, we'll get asked what we're doing, and we'll say we got lost. And then we'll ask them if they have any food.' He turned to look at her directly, 'I mean, we are all on the same side.'

'Not if we're dissidents,' mutered Thrrl

'Are we?' asked Druluk. 'Do you want to be?'

She didn't answer, but started walking up the path again. Smiling grimly to himself, Druluk followed.

As they came close to the tower they heard a sudden scream. Thrrl froze, and stared at him questioningly. Druluk gestured for her to stay still. He took a few more steps towards the tower, and squinted at the wall facing them

'I can see a door,' he whispered

'So what?' hissed Thrrl, through clenched jaws, 'we're not going in there! Didn't you hear…?'

'A fellow orc in trouble?'

She exhaled loudly through her teeth,

'I'm going in,' said Druluk, drawing the sword Thrrl had lent him

'Have you gone completely insane?'

'No. At least, I don't think so. I realised something back in the caves last night…'

'Oh,' said Thrrl, her voice heavy with sarcasm, 'oh you realised something! I'm so pleased for you! Care to share it with me?'

'Later. When we've found out what's happening here…'

'…I can hardly wait,' muttered Thrrl.

Druluk headed towards the tower door, sword in hand, Thrrl trailing reluctantly behind. He wasn't altogether sure what was driving his curiosity, but he needed a short term purpose, and this was as good as any.

They surveyed the wooden door

'You don't have to come,' said Druluk, a little belatedly

'I know,' sighed Thrrl, 'but there's not much else to do now, is there?'

Druluk grinned at her, then took a step back and hurled himself bodily against the wooden barrier…which opened inwards suddenly. He fell to the ground, and felt a boot press into his shoulder

'What the?' came the surprised voice of the orc who had opened the door, quickly stepping backwards.

Druluk dragged himself up onto his hands and knees, groaning

'Hi,' said Thrrl, 'we were just…'

'No time!' cried the other orc, 'run for your lives! There's an elf warrior…'

'Elf?' interrupted Thrrl, 'where?'

'Where do you think?' exclaimed the orc, climbing over Druluk and pushing past Thrrl. Druluk managed to pull himself to his feet in time to see the orc's retreating figure disappear around the outside corner of the tower wall.

'Elf?' he said, slightly dazed, 'in the tower?'

'Perhaps we should…' she started,

'Oh, I'm seeing this elf!' said Druluk, stumbling into the passage before Thrrl had a chance to respond. He steadied himself against the wall, then broke into a run, heading for the clamour of raised voices which seemed to be coming from above.

……………

The battle was a storm at sea, a hurricane tearing through a forest, a landslide ploughing its way down a mountain… Ylfronir clung to his sword as though it were the single immovable object in the swirling chaos. They had charged forwards from the boats at an insane pace, straight into the thick of the fighting. He had lost sight of Nathradril, Legolas and Aragorn, but he was still with a group of Dunedain warriors…

'Look out!' one of them yelled suddenly. He spun round, to see an orc leaping towards him, a jagged edged blade weaving through the air. He lashed out wildly with his own sword, slashing into the orc's belly before he had even thought where he was aiming. There was an anguished scream, and the orc collapsed.

Warm, dark liquid bubbled onto his feet. Fighting the urge to vomit, Ylfronir stepped away, but as he did so he saw the orc's body twitch slightly. A grasping hand clutched at the turf, and the fingernails dug into the ground. Agony was written into every line of the posture. Shuddering, Ylfronir took a deep breath, and reached down to roll the orc onto his back. The eyes were sqeezed tightly shut, the jaw clenched, the cheeks smeared with blood and sweat. But the orc was still breathing: shallow, agonising breaths. Ylfronir knew what he had to do. A single slash across the throat. A fountain of blood spurted into his own face. Half blinded, Ylfronir stumbled away, gasping for air. His hands, his legs, his whole body was shaking. But he was still holding the sword.

………

As Druluk pounded up the spiral stone staircase, another orc shoved past him on the way down, nearly overbalancing him.

'Is the…?' he began, but the other orc was gone. The terror in his face had been apparent. Druluk began to wonder whether this was a good idea. But he had come this far. He took the last few stairs at a slower pace, and peered cautiously through the archway at the top.

He found himself looking into a stone flagged room, with numerous slit like windows. It was lit by a couple of sputtering torches fixed to the walls by brackets. On the floor lay the bodies of several orcs, blood pooling round them. He looked away quickly. But as he did so, he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Could one of them still be alive? He forced himself to look again. No, they were most definitely dead. But...

'What the…'

In the ceiling of the room, accessed by a long ladder reaching to the floor, was a trapdoor. A trapdoor which had just opened, apparently by itself. Druluk took a step forward, craning his neck to see if someone had opened it from above. But there was no one there. Shivering slightly, he looked around the room again, in time to see Thrrl stick her head cautiously around the edge of the doorway

'Is there anyone left?' she hissed

'I don't…'

'Any sign of this elf warrior?'

'Um…'

'What's up there?'

'I don't…'

But she had already started climbing the ladder. Druluk hovered at the bottom nervously, willing her not to make a sound.

She climbed until she could peer into the room above, then stood stock still, staring, for several minutes. Druluk was forced to simply watch, in an agony of anticipation, trying to guess what she could possibly be seeing. His gaze bored into her back. Then, when it seemed as though he would explode with the effort of not rushing forward, she began to make her way back down. She took each rung slowly, deliberately, then tiptoed back across the floor towards him, her finger on her lips.

'Wha…' he whispered, but she glared him into silence, and beckoned for him to follow her out of the room. As soon as they were out of the doorway she pulled him to one side,

'What the hell was happening up there?' he hissed

'Druluk…they've got… the ring…' she said, her voice trembling

'Huh…who?'

'A pair of Halflings…'

'…Half what?...'

'The ring, Druluk! The one ring…'

'…to rule them all, yes, I have heard the story…Again, what are Halflings…?'

'...Druluk, it's up there…' she breathed, squeezing his arm, 'just think…'

'…oh no. Oh no. We're not taking it.'

'Druluk! They're clearly prisoners, it certainly doesn't belong to them…'

'…last I heard it belonged to Sauron…'

'Druluk, we can use this! You were saying only yesterday how stupid it is for us to keep taking other people's orders. With this kind of power we can write the rules ourselves, we can make a new Orc Republic, we can…'

'It's a piece of metal, Thrrl,' said Druluk, quietly. 'That's all.'

'Are you sure we're talking about the same One Ring?'

'Yes. Just a piece of metal…'

'…you're mad!'

'Maybe. But I won't take orders from someone just because they're wearing some fancy jewellery.'

'You wouldn't have a choice!' she exclaimed, then seemed to hesitate, as she heard her own words. Druluk said nothing.

'I know it's more than a piece of metal,' she repeated.

'Maybe,' said Druluk.

………….

Ylfronir swung the sword as if in a trance. It was now a matter of survival. He had no energy left to think beyond the next parry, the next swerve to one side to avoid a blow, the next leap backwards out of the way of a missile. No time to think about who the blood dripping off the sword belonged to, no time to consider his own blood seeping through his sleeve.

He caught fleeting glances of his companions in the fray – Aragorn grim faced, standing firm against the onslaught; Legolas darting here and there, keeping up a constant stream of arrows; Gimli swinging his battle axe. And Nathradril, her sword reflecting what sickly sunlight there was as it wove a deadly pattern through the air. He noticed that her hair had come undone and was whipping around her face as she spun to thrust the blade into an unsuspecting orc to her right. He turned round himself, looking out for anyone about to attack him, then glanced back over. But she was gone.

His heart suddenly leaden with fear, he ran towards the place she had been…only to see her lying sprawled on the muddy ground.

Thanks for the review Azla! And Druluk and Ylfronir will meet again, in a couple of chapters, I promise...

Also, I think this chapter got a bit violent, do you reckon it's still OK for a PG rating? I'm never sure about these things...