a/n: Thank you for the reviews! I'd love to see more—so please keep it up! Here is another chapter, a rather long one, but hopefully you'll enjoy it all.

Preyed

At first he'd hoped the growling was a wolf. He could deal with such an animal. But the growling grew louder and surrounded him. Eomer searched the darkness. He didn't have to search hard. Eyes glowed back at him, and amidst the snarling, he knew he was in trouble.

He struggled harder against the shred of his tunic that bound him. Somewhere around him he heard the orcs snort at his predicament.

"What have we here?" a rough voice said. Garbled chuckles echoed him. The orcs came closer, and Eomer wiggled his nose at the smell. He pulled at the bindings, harder, even as they began to dig into his skin. He was fine with a cut or two, most certainly when death was the other option.

He wasn't afraid of orcs. He'd slaughtered thousands—well, at least hundreds—in his time. But facing a large group of them, unarmed except for the dagger he couldn't reach, and bound . . . well, the odds weren't in his favor.

"Rohan," one of them said. It came out like venom, and Eomer gulped. "A soldier? Or someone with rank?"

"Who cares."

They moved in on him, and Eomer's heart raced faster than any horse he ever owned. He began to think of all the things he'd seen Orcs do, all the remains of victims he'd found in burned villages.

One of them prodded him with a clawed hand. It clasped around his neck, and Eomer fought for breath against the pressure. He tried to pull away, but felt more of them around him. They snarled and laughed, enjoying the torment they subjected him to.

A sharp kick landed in his abdomen. Eomer wanted to crumple up but that orc still held him by the neck, cutting off his air. Suddenly he was released, and he received another kick, this one in his chest.

He groaned.

"What's your name?" one hideous beast demanded. Eomer gulped but didn't answer. He didn't dare look at them either. Somehow that made it worse—more terrifying.

"Let's play."

He hated whatever that meant. The orcs converged on him, beating him with their clawed hands and feet. The crude armor they wore hit against him too. The pain wasn't there, he tried to tell himself. But each hit and kick made it harder to believe.

One of them brought a blade in front of his face. The orc's sharp and uneven teeth showed in the scarce moonlight. The foul beast slid the blade along Eomer's chest. Eomer sucked in a breath, but soon found himself panting from the stinging pain. The orcs howled with pleasure at his torment. The foul one in front of him grinned, bearing those nasty teeth. He licked the blade.

"We take him to Sarumon!"

Roars of twisted excitement echoed through the forest. Eomer found himself suddenly cut free from the log but not his bonds. They picked him up by his arms, and for a few moments he was suspended by them. The awkward position hurt, straining his arms and almost tearing his shoulders. But soon he was dropped on his feet. The orcs prodded the hilts of their crude weapons in his back.

"Run, Rohirrim scum!" His pride and temper both flared at that, but he had no choice. He ran as best he could, hoping he would survive whatever was in store for him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Selanae could see the log ahead, the place she'd left him at. But Eomer wasn't there. Instead, she saw tracks—hundreds of footprints, a decent sized group of orcs. Selanae knelt by the log, where a remnant of Eomer's tunic lay discarded on the ground. Her fingertips touched it. The cloth was dirty from the ground leaves and bits of bark. It was also cool.

She narrowed her eyes. A faint breeze kicked up, and the trees seemed to breathe a doomed sigh. She bolted to her feet and in one motion swung her sword over her head and turned to face instinct.

"Do not move, sorceress! Or you'll find an arrow lodged in your throat." Whoever spoke was quite confident, and judging by the direction of his voice, he should be. As she glanced around, she saw several shadows emerge into soldiers. The voice came from behind her.

"Where is Lord Eomer!" the voice demanded. Before she could open her mouth, he slammed her in the back and she fell forward on all fours. The soldier circled in front of her.

Eothain. Leave it to the second-in-command to be the most upset about his leader's disappearance, when he should view it as an instant promotion.

"Orcs," she said. She heard curses around her, and felt a blade poke her in the back.

"Tell me something I do not know," Eothain demanded.

"I left him here for you to find," she said quickly. "I guess the orcs got to him first."

"You lie," Eothain seethed. "You were found among the orcs before. No doubt you serve with them, or even lead them." He spit in her direction. Selanae tried not to let her anger cloud her judgment.

"I do not lie!" she hissed at him. "If I were with the orcs, why would I still be here? Why would I come back to check on Eomer? I came to ensure the orcs did not kill him!"

Two soldiers behind her grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. She instantly wanted to struggle against them, but they held her fast, and all others had their swords or bows ready to stop her.

"Listen!" she said, her eyes flashing at them. "They have not killed him. I can track him and free him."

"If he's still alive," Eothain spat at her, "and you better pray that he is!"

Selanae rolled her eyes. "He must be alive, because his body isn't here! And why would they kill him now if they took pains to capture him?"

She expected some quick reply or retort, but suddenly the men were silent. She frowned.

"What?"

Eothain glared at her, and suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her hard.

"You will lead us to him," he said forcefully. "And you will do nothing to deter us from freeing him. He'd better survive, for if not, not only would Rohan lose its Third Marshall, but also the heir to the very throne!"

Their pace began immediately, with Selanae leading the way. Her sword was in Eothain's possession. She didn't care for that, but under the circumstances, she had no choice. There was a degree of irony in this—now she led the way, running with eager soldiers practically cracking the whip behind her. She couldn't help but quirk a smile at how Eomer was in this very position, not too long ago.

She suddenly frowned at the thought. Eomer—she hadn't meant for this to happen. Despite his arrogance, she didn't wish death on him. He and his men were good men, soldiers just trying to protect their lands.

A bit zealously, though, she thought. And he was the future king of the country as well—that was unexpected.

Suddenly she stopped, and dropped to the ground. She felt Eothain's sword at her throat, until he saw what she did.

Then he dropped to the ground next to her.

Before them, where once trees grew tall and proud, was nothing but desolation, fire and orcs. A tall tower stood in the midst of the strange void. The orcs were not few in number—by far it was the largest host she'd ever seen.

"Saruman," Eothain muttered. "There must be ten thousand orcs there." The rumbling of their footsteps and howl of their growls on the wind made Selanae shudder. She wasn't one to fear orcs, but in such numbers . . . why are they here?

Or where were they going? The ten thousand orcs stomped over the desolate land, with black banners bearing a white hand waving over them. Large creatures and carts of weaponry mixed with the host.

Selanae suddenly did not care about the large army. All she saw was a group of orcs heading the opposite direction, towards the dark tower.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Eomer winced as a fresh blow was dealt upon him. He staggered and tried to keep running to his death, but the sight of such a large army of Uruk Hai distracted him.

He knew what purpose such an army would serve. For months the Uruks had attacked his lands, his people, terrorized those under the rule of his uncle. And now, it seemed, Saruman would finally annihilate Rohan.

His heart constricted with the pain he felt. How he wanted to break free and stop this army, to save his people. Eowyn

Fear seized him. He didn't dare imagine what would become of her if Saruman defeated Rohan. And defeat was quite feasible, with his uncle weak and impressionable by the Worm.

A sharp kick at his legs sent Eomer forward and into the burnt dirt around the dark tower. He coughed into the earth and gasped for breath. The dirt went into his lungs, worsening it for him. Suddenly a large hand gripped him by the neck, lifting him up by the painful grip.

Eomer tried to struggle, but his hands were still bound behind his back, thanks to Selanae. The Uruk holding him sneered into his face.

"The White Wizard will want to see you," the Uruk growled. He tightened his grip around Eomer's neck before releasing him. "Take him to Saruman!"

Another ferocious yell from the Uruks, and Eomer found himself being lifted up. Despite the lack of energy, Eomer struggled against them. It was useless. They tossed him about like a sack of vegetables as they entered the dark tower and climbed high into it.

The darkness chilled Eomer instantly. There was no warmth here. Only evil and torment were present.

And then, suddenly, the situation worsened.

The Uruks dumped Eomer on the ground. He rolled a short distance before stopping at the feet of the man he despised almost more than Sauron.

"Grima!"

The ghostly pale Wormtongue just smirked back, his crooked and bluish teeth showing. Eomer wondered why he was here, other than being in league with Saruman.

"Eomer, son of Eomund," Grima greeted. "You cannot imagine how much pleasure this brings me." With a snap of his fingers, the Uruks left them. For a brief moment, Eomer considered it luck. He could defeat Grima, even bound.

But luck was not on his side. His eyes flickered to a new person in the room.

"Saruman," Eomer muttered. He tried to steel his resolve and courage, but he'd heard many tales of this wizard. And he'd seen what mayhem and death he was capable of. Theodred, Eomer thought. He'd carried his wounded cousin back to Edoras. Theodred was no doubt dead by now.

Now was not the time for grief. Saruman stepped forward, his hands clasped unnaturally in front of him as he moved.

"So this is Rohan's heir," the wizard said. "I must say I expected more. Why, I know not. Theodred proved little challenge at all. Why should his cousin be any different?"

Eomer gritted his teeth and sat up. He pulled at the strip of cloth that held him back. How he wanted to kill the men in front of him, slaughter them like they'd had orcs slaughter Theodred's men.

Grima slithered forward a step. "With Theodred gone, you are the next in line to the throne," he said, a fell grin on his black lips. "But if you are gone as well, Eowyn would be queen." Even as the mention of Eowyn, Grima's eyes flitted. It sickened Eomer. He got to his feet, stumbling a bit, but charged at Grima.

Before his shoulder could barrel into the Worm, Eomer felt some force hit him back. He flew across the dark room and hit the far wall. His body slid down it and impacted with the floor. Eomer grunted and winced at the pain that seized his body. Whatever it was that threw him so was dark.

He managed to open his eyes enough to see Saruman staring at him, amused.

"Your anger is so easy to predict, son of Eomund," he said. "Imagine how Rohan will fair without you, and in your place Eowyn as queen . . . with Grima leading as king."

Eomer wanted to scream and slaughter anything in reach. His breath was still short, and his body ached from the powerful attack from Saruman. He just shut his eyes, praying that Eowyn and all of Rohan would not suffer such a fate.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Selanae grew impatient as the tower's land emptied of orcs. Well, it wasn't deserted, but the ten thousand were almost out of sight. She gripped her sword and swung it for good measure before sheathing it.

Eothain raised an eyebrow at her.

"You put away your sword as we go to battle?" he questioned. She glared at him.

"I put it away so I can move faster," she said. "Just remember to do you part, and do not worry about me."

"I don't," he said quickly with a scowl. "I worry for the Marshall."

Selanae sighed.

The tower's land was as empty as it would get for some time. Shrieks of orcs and beasts below the surface could be heard. Selanae could only imagine what was going on down there. She'd heard tales in her travels of the breeding of armies. The pit in front of them had to be for such a purpose.

Eothain whistled softly and signaled forward. The Rohirrim moved forward, their swords drawn. Selanae glanced over her shoulder and almost stopped. She hadn't realized how great their number really was. Perhaps this plan would work . . .

Suddenly a cry went out and Selanae knew they'd been seen. The Rohirrim readied themselves and charged their enemies on foot.

Selanae darted for the tower. As soon as she entered, she ran into three large orcs. She quickly dropped to dodge an attack and spun around with her elbows out. She slammed them into their guts and followed with a chop at their necks. She moved on, leaping over their bodies and climbing a staircase with no end in sight.

More orcs were ahead, no doubt running to join the battle she could hear from the Rohirrim. Selanae again defeated them, and climbed quickly. Her legs burned from exertion, but her resolve did not falter. Whatever place this was, it was evil, and she would not leave Eomer or any soul to suffer.

The staircase branched off to a level in the tower. She wasn't sure where to go now, but her body was already in rhythm to go up, so she continued. It was a minute or two later when she heard someone speak.

"The foolish Rohirrim," she heard. Selanae came to a dead stop and listened.

"They will die here and at Helm's Deep," someone said in a deep, hypnotic voice. "Do you want to watch, Eomer, son of Eomund?"

Selanae's breath caught in her throat. She heard nothing in reply. She moved closer to the room.

Ever so slowly, she peered around the corner. She was just in time to see an old but tall man swing his staff at Eomer. It didn't hit him, but Eomer was flung across the room. He yelled out as his body slammed against the hard floor.

Selanae drew her sword.

She ran into the room, a circular room with a balcony that yielded no light. The old man's back was to her, and she moved to run him through.

Another person in the room gasped, and Selanae realized she had two enemies. For now, she focused only on the wizard. He whirled around, his staff raised and his eyes dark.

And then he froze. His eyes widened and he just stood there, gaping at her. Selanae didn't hesitate to use that to her advantage. She leapt off one foot and twisted her body in the air. Her limbs lashed out, stiff when they connected with the man. He fell, and yelled out as Selanae's blade slashed at his arm.

The other man screamed and ran at Selanae. She turned to face him. His ugliness and gaunt features made him almost pitiable, but she had no time to ponder that. Selanae ducked his initial swing of a fist. She popped up on her feet and kicked him in the chest, once, twice and a final time as he hit the ground.

The wizard was getting up now, and Selanae had no desire to push her luck. She flung her sword at him. It whooshed in the air until the man saw it. Suddenly it diverted its course, leaving the man intact. But the diversion sent the blade into a pillar of sorts. The blade cut through some material draped over it, and suddenly a black blanket of fabric descended over the wizard. He shouted out some dark curse as he was temporarily covered.

Selanae turned back to Eomer. He lay on the ground, his eyes half open. She quickly went for the dagger in his boot, grateful she'd decided to return it and that no orc had removed it.

With a quick slash, she cut the bonds on his hands. When he didn't jump up immediately, Selanae yanked him by the arm. His body was half dragged as she headed back for the stairs.

He groaned and finally got to his feet when she paused to retrieve her sword.

"Hurry," she whispered as she pushed him past her. Her eyes were still on the wizard and his gangly minion. The wizard was getting back up, clawing at the fabric that draped over him.

Selanae turned back to the stairs and descended after the marshall. As they ran down the stairs (Eomer more stumbling down them), Selanae gave him the dagger. He held it tightly in his hand.

He stumbled and fell forward. Selanae quickly caught him by the arm and righted him. They stopped their pace for a moment.

"We have to run, Eomer," she said, glancing up the stairs. She expected Saruman to follow soon. His chest heaved and his eyes winced with pain, but even so, he nodded.

He placed a hand on the wall, sliding it against the surface to steady himself as they descended. Selanae's body was tense the whole time, and she could have sworn the stairs were just lengthening.

But suddenly a bit of light from the outside could be seen.

The neigh of a horse startled her, but to Eomer it was encouragement. The two ran out to the land. The Rohirrim held off the orcs, but it was getting desperate.

"Retreat!" she heard Eothain yell as he saw his lord. Eothain slaughtered an orc and then turned sharply to the one horse they'd brought for this: Eomer's horse. Eothain slapped the horse on the rear, and it darted ahead for Eomer.

He seemed to smile at the horse even as it charged towards him. Suddenly it stopped and Eomer reached for the saddle to pull himself up. His ginger movements told Selanae it could take awhile. A couple of orcs were coming towards them, with no other Rohirrim around. They were already retreating. Selanae groaned, but stepped forward. As the two orcs attacked, Selanae maneuvered her sword with quick speed, a quick jab at one and a long slash at the other. Both orcs gurgled their last curses.

"Selanae," she heard behind her. She turned, her sword out and ready for the next. But it was Eomer, atop his horse and slightly hunched over. Even so, he held out a hand to her. "Hurry."

She nodded and grabbed his hand. As soon as she was on the horse's back, Eomer urged the horse forward. They galloped away from Saruman's tower and from the orcs yelling after them.

It wasn't long before they caught up with the Rohirrim. They disappeared into the forest, with Eomer's horse quickly finding the lead. But the Third Marshall wasn't aware of this. His body slumped forward. Selanae steadied him as the horse ran ahead.

Eothain yelled a command and the horse stopped. Selanae almost fell off, and Eomer too. She quickly slid off the horse's back and eased Eomer to the ground.

He was unconscious, or if awake, barely so. Eothain knelt at his lord's side.

"Eomer!" He turned to Selanae. "What happened?"

Selanae shook her head. "I don't know. I think Saruman tortured him." She grimaced as she took in the blood on his shirt across his chest. "And the orcs had their fun."

Eomer suddenly mumbled something, but neither Eothain nor Selanae could decipher it.

"Eomer?"

The man slowly opened his eyes. They looked so tired, and even full of pain, but not just physical. Eomer swallowed dryly and opened his mouth.

"Helm's Deep."