Chapter Eleven: In the Horde Again
We ran through the night, the horde and I, under moonlight and shadow. Normally I would have paused every so often to marvel at the beauty of a silver-edged blossom glistening with tiny beads of dew, but under the present circumstances I could not. My companions trampled every flower that lay in their path, even the ones I tried to avoid. Lunk and I were at the front of the horde, running side-by-side.
"So, you caught the halflings," Lunk said conversationally. "Saruman's gonna be really happy with you. Wonder what kinda nice reward he'll come up with? Maybe you'll end up being their personal guard or something. I had my doubts about you before, y'know. But it looks like you proved your worth."
I nodded automatically, but my mind wasn't on Lunk's words. My attention had drifted to Merry and Pippin, who were speaking to each other in hushed voices, literally behind our backs. Both of them sounded terrified. And for good reason, I thought.
"What d'you think will happen once we get to Isengard?" Pippin whispered fearfully.
"I don't know, Pip," Merry replied softly. "But I can tell you it's definitely not going to be good. Saruman's not going to be nice to us. He'll kill us when he finds out…" He faltered, and drew a steadying breath. "When he finds out about us."
"What about Isilden?" Pippin wondered aloud. "And his sister… what's her name?"
"I think he mentioned it once," said Merry. "El… something. I can't remember."
Elennar, I thought, inwardly cringing at the feeling of guilt and fear tugging forcefully at my heart. Her name is Elennar.
"No talking back there!" Lunk snapped over his shoulder. "Save your breath fer when we get you to the tower! You'll need fresh voices fer answerin' milord's questions."
Both hobbits fell silent, and I gave a soundless sigh. My friends' voices had given me something to concentrate on besides the dull thudding of the orcs' footfalls. Now they echoed painfully in my ears, causing me to wince. Lunk frowned at me. "Is something wrong?"
I shook my head no, and Lunk shrugged and looked away, calling back to the rest of the horde. "Let's pick up the pace."
We sped up, with dawning sunlight spilling like a flood of liquid gold over the grass behind us, licking playfully at our ankles. It surged up like waves over the sea, breaking over my body and slowly warming me.
But as hot as the day would grow to be, no ray of sunshine could thaw out my heart. It was frosted over with the dark ice of hatred, fury and revenge… of bloodlust.
----
Lunk continued his one-sided conversations with me as we kept on our course. The topic had gradually turned to why the orcs were drawing together. This time I listened raptly, intent on gathering as much information as possible for Lord Denethor.
"Lord Saruman's plannin' something," Lunk told me, grinning. "Most likely we're gonna wage war on some dumb bunch of humans. Wonder where?"
"Helm's Deep is what I've heard," a croaky voice spoke up somewhere behind me. "Do you reckon we'll be enough? Them Rohan lot are tough."
"Yeah," another orc agreed. "You got a point there, Zharag. Lord Saruman wants the biggest army he can get. Thousands, I've heard."
"You mean tens of thousands, Gorlen," said a strange whispery voice, this one right behind me. "Helm's Deep is a strong fortress. Outer wall's solid rock, 'cept for one little drain. Near unbreakable. We'll need something serious to get the job done."
"Like what?" asked Gorlen.
"Maybe the Wolf's Head," suggested the orc behind me. "Whaddaya think, Snagra?" The orc's hand thumped my shoulder, and I bit my lip to keep from replying.
"Don't bother talking to that 'un, Tharv," Zharag told him. "He ain't got a voice. I heard his throat got slashed 'cause he talked back to an officer."
"Yeah," snickered still another hidden voice. "Or maybe he insulted Lord Saruman."
"Glob!" (Black-speech: 'Idiot!') muttered Tharv. "If he insulted Saruman, he'd be warg's meat. You know that, Braghûl."
"All of you are wrong," said Lunk, in an irritated voice. "Snagra never spoke since he became one of us. His throat was slashed while he was in the pit. And about the Wolf's Head," he added, "we won't need it for this fight. We can take that old King's lot easy."
"What makes you so sure?" Tharv snorted. "You know how the horsemen fight. They'd kill a hundred of us without looking. We'd be nothing but gunk stuck under their horses' hoofs after they – gaaahhhh!"
"When I want your opinion," Lunk snarled, turning around and squeezing Tharv's neck with strong, thin fingers, "I'll ask you. Got it?"
Tharv let out a gurgle, his dark eyes bulging out from his pale, veined face. A dribble of blood left a black streak down his chin as it burbled up out of his mouth.
With a final gasp, the orc went limp. Lunk let him fall lifelessly to the ground, and left him there. The other orcs were gazing hungrily down at the carcass.
"We ain't had a thing to eat but wormy bread for four days," Braghûl spoke up, inching forward. "Can I 'ave his leg?" The orc was slavering at the mouth, his yellow-green eyes glinting.
Lunk nodded. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys! Have at him!"
With a tumultuous roar, the horde erupted into chaos. All of them were pushing and shoving each other aside to get a hunk of flesh from Tharv's corpse. All but me. I turned away, gagging at the reek of blood.
"Hey, Snagra!" yelled Braghûl. "You haven't had any yet! Want some?" He leered up at me with blood-spattered lips, holding something out to me.
My stomach lurched as I stared at what was in his hand: Tharv's heart, torn from his chest. Revolted, I hurriedly shook my head.
"No?" Braghûl frowned slightly, then grinned. "Ah, well. Your loss!" With a cackle, he promptly shoved the organ into his mouth; blood spurted out between his teeth as he chewed. I staggered backward, praying I wouldn't throw up.
I leapt aside as a pulpy eyeball flew past my head, followed by a string of intestines coming from another direction. The orcs were having a food fight.
After ten more nauseating minutes, the horde was through with Tharv. What was left of his body wasn't even fit for worms. Lunk waved to the orcs, and we were on our way once again. Now I had a myriad of new images to haunt my nightmares.
----
Eight hours and over ten thousand steps later, dusk settled gently over the shoulders of the land like an ebony cloak, with the bright silver moon as a clasp. Merry's body was limp against my back, and I could hear his slow, deep breaths as he slept.
I wished I could do the same. Running with the horde was exhausting in itself, but with the added burden of Merry's body I felt like I would soon collapse. But I struggled onward, the thought of Elennar's liberation bringing me hope and strength, both of which I needed abundantly.
It seemed the orcs shared my fatigue. I heard many of them panting and complaining in loud voices as we halted near a thick forest.
"We ain't going no further 'till we've had a breather!" cried Gorlen.
"Get a fire going!" Zharag croaked. "And keep an eye on those halflings – they're not for eating!"
I sighed silently as Merry's weight left my back, and I could relax my shoulders for awhile. Lunk assigned me to watch the hobbits, and was glad of it. That meant that I could protect Merry and Pippin without looking overtly suspicious.
The evening was relatively quiet; the only sound other than the low grumbling of the orcs and the crackling of the campfire was the lonesome howl of a wolf in the distance. I shivered at the eerie call.
"You cold?" Lunk asked me, turning away from the fire he was standing by. "Come on over by the fire. I'll look after the Shire-rats."
I hesitated, reluctant to take my eyes off the hobbits for any length of time. But the fire did seem welcoming, more so than my companions. I nodded slowly and took Lunk's place between Zharag and Braghûl. The orcs were discussing the unfortunate Tharv's fate.
"I never much liked him," Zharag said disdainfully, spitting into the flames. "Always shoving his nose in where it didn't belong… not that he had much of a nose to shove."
"Yeah," Gorlen agreed from across the fire. "Slimy little worm. He deserved what he got."
Braghûl sniffed. "I enjoyed him."
"What, you liked his company?" Gorlen cried, incredulous.
"Nah," Braghûl grinned, picking at his teeth with a long, clawed fingernail. "I enjoyed him. He was quite a meal!"
Raucous guffaws met the orc's remark. I forced myself to nod and smirk along with the rest; my face felt as if it might crack.
Braghûl was ardently re-enacting how Tharv had looked when he had been throttled. Letting his tongue hang out of his mouth, he clasped his hands about his throat and made exaggerated gagging sounds. I grinned half-heartedly, but inwardly I wanted to vanish from the face of the earth.
The night wore on and on, every hour stretching to linger for an age. Glancing warily over my shoulder, I caught Pippin's anxious gaze. I managed to give him a reassuring smile, and then turned my gaze away before Lunk could become suspicious. The last thing I wanted was someone like that on my case.
----
The next day was even hotter than the previous one. Pushing sweat-soaked locks of hair out of my eyes as I ran, I cursed the breastplate I wore, which absorbed the sun's heat and burned any exposed skin it touched. I was glad for the tunic concealed beneath it, for it helped somewhat to minimize the searing effect of the metal. That came as a little relief.
My tunic… I had almost forgotten about it! If Saruman ever told me to remove my armor, he'd see the White Tree embroidered there, and slay me for my treachery. I had escaped swearing allegiance to him by feigning my own muteness, but the emblem of Gondor was a different matter altogether. How could I possibly bluff my way out of that?
Worry about that when the time comes, whispered a voice in my head. For now, just keep running.
Keep running. Well, that hadn't worked too well the last time, had it? I had ended up a prisoner, and then… I shuddered as a terrible thought struck me: did I really want to do this? I was going back to the place that had doomed me forever to a captive existence, like a firefly sealed in a black jar. That jar was my orc body; the firefly was my elven soul, futilely beating its wings against the unyielding glass. Trapped.