14. Klein the Orc

Arwen whimpered in bitter distress as her knees gave way and she collapsed onto the sharp rocky floor. The harsh tongue of the orcs echoed eerily along the dark passageway and circled around her, making her loose the dizzy sense of direction. Her legs ached and somehow she had lost her shoes, so now her feet were ripped and scratched, and bursts of vicious pain shot up fiercely when she put any weight at all on them.

A whip lashed down on her small body and as Arwen squealed from the biting shock an outburst of cruel laughter erupted. Then she sobbed quietly to herself, moaning breathlessly, and curled up as best as possible when her hands had been bound tightly behind her back and were cutting into her bare wrists.

"Get up!" an uptight orc commanded, striking out at her again. But Arwen had no strength left, none at all to bear it, and her gashed stomach was searing unbearably. The sword wound was relentlessly churning out blood, which ran down her stained dress and onto her legs. Now she was not even sure if she was crying tears or blood – it all hurt so much that it didn't make much difference.

Two clawed hands pulled her up and yanked her forward. "Do not stop!" A disfigured face waved a flame torch in front of her eyes and she cowered away in fear. The orc cackled again and grabbed her arm. "The Master is waiting! He will be very pleased to see you!"

He dragged Arwen along and she gave in, letting another orc grasp her and also help. She just wanted to rest; to sleep once more and have peaceful dreams. Why had they brought her along? What more did they want? They had had their fun, teasing her and assaulting her delicate, fragile body. The pain they had given her was something she had never experienced before so badly. She felt so sick and so exhausted; her bones like thin sticks and the deep cut in her tummy stinging so much she wanted to scream. She would if she could, but she was just too weak now. Her journey in the tunnel had been scattered with plentiful blackouts, all strange blurry memories swimming nauseatingly in her eyes. They would kill her if they did much more, and if that was what they were going to do, why had they not done it when they had first caught her? What on earth could she do for them?

The tunnel suddenly opened out into a wide chamber, and Arwen narrowed her eyes in a response to the bright light. The two orcs strode forward away from the others, trailing her limp body behind them. Arwen's chin fell down onto her chest, and she semi-consciously watched her dark curtain of hair brushing over her face. She wished they would just throw her on the floor and then finally leave her alone.

There in the background was a lot of noise, orc voices and crashing of armour, grunts and clashes of weapons, so that it sounded as if it was a main hall where all the orcs were disembarking after their troublesome battle. Rough bodies were jostling against Arwen and shoving her from one side to the other. The two orcs dragging her pulled her up some large steps like a dais, and suddenly a huge silence fell around the cave, only broken by some dumb orc dropping his helmet.

Arwen suddenly felt afraid. She really did not know what they were going to do with her, but she knew she did not want to be killed. There had been so much she had wanted to have with her life, so much happiness and joy, peace and love, and all of it, every single thing, with Aragorn. This wasn't right; it wasn't fair. She had done nothing wrong and yet now the evil orcs were going to take her life away from her like this. What was the matter with them? Couldn't they see she was able to do them no harm anymore? Couldn't they see she had only been fighting so that she would be with Aragorn? Couldn't they see how vulnerable she was? All she wanted was him, his beautiful face, his soft grey eyes, his gorgeous body, his warm tenderness, his gentle love…

Arwen was dropped on the hard floor. She gave a gasp as her wound contracted, but then one of the orcs kicked her as if in meaning to say 'shut up'. Salty tears began to well in her eyes, pain from her body, pain from her heart, pain from her life. Everything seemed to hate her, everything went wrong, nothing was happy, and no one loved her; apart from Aragorn. He had always done everything for her, to try and make her happy, to make her smile, to make her feel special. It was all her fault what had happened; she should never have come, she should never have thought he would be able to have her with him along his journey. She deserved everything that was happening to her, none of it was Aragorn's fault; it was her ignorance which had made this come to be, and she should pay for it.

But she would do anything to lie in his arms once more.

"Master…" The leading orc called out and Arwen was vaguely aware of the orcs bowing before their king, or whatever he was, who was clearly on this platform. "We bring you a gift in this dark hour."

Everything was still, and clearly the orc was hoping his Master would be pleased by this news. Arwen hoped he wouldn't be. It was probably some attempt to hide that they had lost the battle against the Dunedain, and her fit Aragorn!

Arwen stared miserably at the blood issuing out of her stomach. She wondered when it would stop; probably it would keep going even after she was dead, she thought with depression. The sound of a great body getting up with difficulty reached her ears, and she found herself listening hard to its movements.

"Master, I withdrew our forces before we were beaten, and-" the orc took a breath, "-I have a prize for you."

The Master orc began to speak, in a deep, sneering, and almost disturbing voice. "Very well. Where is it? Give it to me!" Arwen immediately loathed his arrogance and pleasure in superiority over others, even if they were orcs. He hadn't even earned whatever it was, for he hadn't gone into battle like his own army. Probably he had just sat here like a pompous brat, lazy and spoilt and heartless. This had to be one of the worst orcs ever to be known.

Arwen wondered what it was that was to be given to him. The Rangers didn't have any treasures; it was known that this was the case. They had no rich clothes, or gold or jewels. In fact anything they owned was practically worthless. Orcs certainly wouldn't bring a sword, seeing as it was probably inscribed with something in Dunadaic or elvish saying 'forever I shall fight the forces of darkness and slay every single one', which would just anger them like a bumble bee. She was distantly aware of the two orcs parting around her and standing at her side. Arwen doubted whether Aragorn even had anything worth a lot. He had always said that she…

Arwen caught her breath as the realisation hit her. In the same moment she was yanked up and violently thrust forward. The sudden movement made her stumble and she felt her head swim in dizziness, and sensed her legs were yet again unable to hold her weight. But she wished to Valar she would fall over, wished that nobody would catch her, wish that she could just be happily forgotten and be happy to be forgotten, so that she would know it wasn't true.

Someone caught her.

She was the prize.

"Now what do we have here!" Arwen shivered as the silky voice washed over her and she cowered away as best as she could, despising the foul hands touching her arms. Refusing to look up she frowned while she glowered at the revolting black fingernails on the lumpy fingers that seemed to be moulding on the surface right there in front of her eyes.

"Such a beauty, Vîplot!" The Master ran his hands down her arms and Arwen scowled. "You have done well. I now name you leader of our army, seeing as Lartzin was killed. But this is priceless!" Arwen heard the orc who had captured her mutter thanks as he went back down the steps, and the other orc scraped his feet sulkily along the ground because he had been forgotten a reward.

"I see your hands are bound," the horrible orc commented, and Arwen stared down at the ground, saying to herself in her head in the most sarcastic voice she could imagine that this showed he was a complete idiot and only the most foolish person in Arda would say something as obvious and pointless as that.

A herald-orc rushed forwards, making to untie the burning cords on Arwen's wrists; but the Master jerked Arwen out of his way, scowling and saying that he would take them off. He gave an evil smile as he pushed Arwen round, forcing her to stand vulnerably with her back to him. He was clearly pleased with his prize, and not going to let anyone take it away from him or steal his wind. Although she could see nothing of him she could feel his thick, sticky fingers scraping over her soft skin, making her flinch wherever he touched her. As he tugged the ropes off her hands, he laid one hand on her buttocks, sending howling screeches of laughter up among the watching orcs. As Arwen sensed herself blush she noticed even more orcs filing into the massive room to watch her. This was so unfair.

Suddenly the Master orc spun her round and she was pulled forward, pinned against this huge disgusting ragged thing which Arwen had no idea what it was. The beastly orc began touching all of her body, tracing his fingers all down her side and over her back. Arwen felt herself fuming as he treated her like this, some kind of prostitute for his game. It was not as if she had any strength to pull away, but she hated his fingers even more when the orc stroked them over her sensitive chest. Only Aragorn was allowed to do that, not this revolting random orc!

"You are one gorgeous mortal," he admired. Arwen almost yelled out to be called a mortal; she was one bloody elf for Eru's sake! She hadn't thought before that orcs were this stupid. Now she also knew they had no manners either.

The Master carefully tipped her chin up, Arwen's hair falling either side of her face as she was forced to raise her eyes. She nearly screamed again as she saw what he looked like. Arwen was pressed against, not a strange wall as she had first guessed at, but his massive fat belly, so big she had never thought it possible that way. As it was she was just at arms length from his ugly face, and she had no desire to get any closer.

But the sight just made her want to throw up all over him, it was so utterly nauseating. The smug expression on his podgy pug-like grubby face repelled her even more, tiny red slits peering through folds of black fat. His chin was set into four rolls of flab, completely hiding his neck and setting heavily on his chest. The stomach was so big he could no way have put his own arms round it, and it stuck out, a round, sagging bulge of fat, over a metre in diameter. It stank awfully and Arwen was literally just amazed that anyone could get so overweight and not die from it. No way was she ever going to get any closer to the obese evil orc.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked her, a rhetorical question which Arwen thought must seriously be some kind of orc joke. If it was then she had certainly grasped orc humour by the whole. She did not meet his eyes, and was rather preoccupied by annotating how many of herselfs could fit inside him- five or six? Maybe it was something that should be left unanswered.

"I am the Master of the Nhaxûn orcs. But you may call me Klein." There was a large intake of breath around the hall. This was apparently something very unusual. The orc forced her chin up further so that she had to look into his eyes. She decided to look sulky.

"What is your name, mortal?" he enquired pompously, his face perched on top of his body quite some way away. Arwen decided not to reply. She would definitely not tell him her real name. He deserved nothing at all. She would bet he was full of lies himself. So she stayed silent, staring with full malevolence into his fiery eyes.

"Fine," he sneered, obviously never having been disobeyed before. "I shall give you a name anyway." Arwen nudged his hand off her face and glanced over behind him, sincerely hoping there was no black mark left there behind. Unfortunately he used this as a sign of wanting him to wrap his arms round her and push her even more intimately against his immense belly. She cringed as her stomach-wound gave another sear and she also realised his greasy face was focused down on her cleavage. Immediately Arwen tried to pull away but he held her closer.

"What's the matter? Aren't you happy?" he mocked, and an outburst of savage laughter shot out all around her. The Master laughed too, running his dirty finger over her bare chest.

Arwen began to feel tears of humiliation seep into her eyes. She hated this, it was even worse than being whipped and beaten and Eru-knows-what. This was breaking down her emotionally, taking everything she had, her pride, her dignity, all the things that mattered, away from her. Soon she would be left with nothing, nothing except her heart and her love for Aragorn; but what could that do in here? Even though it was the most comforting thing she could have whilst being alone with these fat orcs, it was the also the most worthless she could have. Even her dignity would do more for her here, wouldn't it?

The obese Klein orc still clung onto her, tightly against his body, with all the orcs' wills urging him on to touch Arwen very intimately. His oily hands, which matched his voice, slid down her back and clasped her behind firmly, the orcs yelling and chanting something Arwen could not and did not want to understand. It sounded horrible and it felt worse, trapped within her, aching to escape and run like the wind. Something inside was suffering so much it felt like suffocating, even though she was still managing to breathe. It entered her head that it was her spirit, crying out to be let free, begging to be released, screaming desperately for help. And her spirit was her love.

Again the movements of the defiled orc sent her almost weeping to her knees. He was accentuating his touch even more so that all the hundreds of orcs could see what he did to her. Now he brought one hand up to her bust and, holding her firmly to his belly with his other arm, he began to roughly knead her there with his black noisome fingers. The cavern erupted in top-volume screeches and hoots which hurt Arwen's ears, but that was the least of her worries. There was that mean, sordid creature howling with laughter, his whole body trembling and shaking his fat, continuing to do this dreadful thing to her. It was unbearable, she wanted to slap him full on, she wanted to rip him apart, she wanted to wring his filthy neck for doing this to her.

No words could ever explain her hatred then, the strongest abhorrence she could and would ever experience. Something like this could never be undone, could never be made right. Something like this was, it was so unbelievable, so disgusting, so dreadful, so unfair; he was using her so much like a prostitute that she could die from this, this evil… How she needed Aragorn… he was so good, she loved so much, he was wonderful to her, and she wished he was here, just once more. Even if he could not help her, heal her panging heart like he had done so many times before, she would like to be with him one more time, one last gaze, one last kiss…

The horrible orc finally released her from the torture and Arwen gasped, her body heaving as she tried to breathe properly again after suffering like this.

"Don't you know what's going to happen to you?" the Klein orc asked her, typical orcish sarcasm breaking through. More sniggering echoed through the chamber. In feigned concern the Master stroked her white cheek gently, with Arwen wishing she could tear away. She guessed they were going to torture her or something like that. This had been why they had not killed her immediately in the battle, they wanted a bit of fun with a girl. Well now they could stop!

"Oh," he said carelessly, "you're going to be my wife."

Arwen made a choking noise and blinked in shock, the fat orc's hands holding her tightly as her body wanted to crumple up on the floor. What! She hated him, she hated the guffawing orcs, she hated this place, she hated the smell, she hated their clothes, and she hated him. She was not, repeat NOT, going to marry him. Ever ever ever!

"Don't worry," the Master said, pressing her body's imprint into his ton-weight fat. "You only have to wait until tonight." Howls of laughter pulsated into Arwen's ears, the disgusting image of the dreadful orc imprinted in her eyes, and the repulsive smell from his body stinking all around her.

Tears started to sting in her eyes, her breathing became difficult, her vision hazy. Nothing had ever gone as wrong as this. She would prefer to die than to be bonded with such hatred and filth. No one would ever find her here; nobody came up to the top of the mountain and would enter the murky depressing tunnels. She would be left to fester among the darkest evil, tied to the sickening Klein orc's heart, compelled to do his wishes.

Arwen now realised that hot tears were falling down her face, her nose hard to breathe through. Aragorn was the one she was meant to be with, the one she loved and would bind her heart to. Aragorn's soul was the one which she had fallen in love with and wished she could do anything for. She wanted to marry him, to show him that she really did care for him, that she would always look after him and care for him, whatever happened.

She was nothing without Aragorn. Her heart was in two if her Estel was not with her. Her soul ached for his, her eyes yearned to wander over his wonderfully tanned skin, her fingers strove to touch his hard muscle, her soft lips needed to press to his. Only Aragorn could ever heal her pain, only he could make her happy, only he could fill her love.

And as she closed her watering eyes, more tears pinched out of the corners, trailing down to her chin and slowly dripping off. She began to feel really sick, really tired and ill. How she would do anything for Aragorn, do anything to make him grin at her, do anything to make him sigh contentedly, do anything to make him kiss her… And then suddenly there he was in her dreams, his loving face smiling to her, whispering her name, holding her hand and leading her away…

And then there was just darkness, nice cool hazy darkness, sweeping over her, making her sleepy, taking her somewhere indiscernible. At last, some peace, some rest, some pain relief, and some freedom away from the black-hearted Klein orc…

maybe it would take her to the Halls of Mandos…

maybe it would take her home…

But maybe it would take her to Aragorn…