Faces of War
Chapter 28: Agonizing
Disclaimer: These amusing creatures are the property of J.R.R Tolkien...I have only "borrowed" them for a spell.....
Iorhael....hard to believe that the ones we thought most evil....have a streak of compassion, while those we thought as a race to be the saviors, have their wretches....not unlike real life I am guessing! Qurag is truly "one of a kind" among the Orcs....the "chosen" within his constituency....somewhat like Mr.Baggins!
Noonespecial...I must say...that name can't be true...after all, you are experiencing the veritable feast of stories offered by FF.net....that alone makes you unique and special! I am glad you are enjoying the story....there are lessons yet to be learned by all...and of course, much pain and angst to come!
Endymion2....Sorry the last one ended so abruptly....difficult break off point...you'll find this chapter leaves you dangling a bit as well...it's all done to "set up" our characters for a few surprises....Anborn will "miss" his toy...yet...there may be other "opportunities" for him! Yes, my Orc is somewhat of an enigma among a race we believed to be mindless and bent upon the destruction of all in their path....yet, Sauron had plans to rule all of Middle Earth...a task he could not have reasonably accomplished with his mindless minions...thus, the notion of breeding a "master race"....scary how "Hitler Like" this sounds.....I'm sure that many comparisons have been made between Hitler and Sauron....especially when you see the forces behind J.R.R Tolkien...the times he lived in and the times his children were forced to endure....
Shire Baggins....Yes, the whole "creation" myth of the Orcs has been in the back of my mind....sad really that such things take up such limited space...oh well! The Orc draught, in the books...and to a lesser degree in the movies, had amazing restorative properties....I can only imagine it must have been an opiate of sorts.....well, in any case it will sustain Frodo for just a little longer! Anborn will move in and out of the picture a bit from now on....but he's not gone, not by a long shot!
On with the saga.....
Galen struggled to keep the fear from his words and motions as he carried out Dalmer's orders. The strongest prisoners and most nimble orphans had been selected to try and dig the debris from the back tunnel. Dalmer paced angrily about the workers, barking orders or backhanding those whose strength waned. The guard tried to find reasons to stand close to Kylos as often as he dared without arousing suspicion, a look of understanding, a nod of support a rare brief touch of compassion was all he could offer the boy and it was not enough, not near enough. Galen felt as if his own heart was being ripped from his chest and with each moment that passed, each rock lifted with no progress seen, he'd relived again the death of his own little one. He found himself shaken in a way he'd vowed he'd never experience again, all his efforts to harden his heart and hate the world were now for naught for he realized that the Princess and her winsome ways were to be both his undoing and his salvation. He gestured to Toleman to bring dippers of water to all the workers, an action which earned him a scowl of contempt from Dalmer, but he cared not, for all his attention was focused on finding a way to free a blond haired waif and her slight teller of tales from the rubble of the collapsed mine.
His thoughts wandered back to nights of story telling not to long ago when he'd watched in envy as Frodo had woven a tale of such magnificence for the children that they'd gone to sleep dreaming of elven waybread that would magically sustain them, even as stale bread had been their repast. He'd listened enraptured to the stories of the Hobbit, lost in the gentle cadence of elven songs and descriptions of far away places that stirred his curiosity and woke his passion for the future. The children had clustered about him, eyes wide in wonder as their thoughts were turned from their own hardship to admiration for heros of old. The Princess had held the place of honor, cuddled securely in the crook in Frodo's arm. Galen though longingly of the look of joy on her face as Frodo had told the tale of Beorn and his conversing with the animals of the forest, of the bravery of the people of Laketown and the fearsome antics of Smaug the dragon. Tales that had long been legend and fireside myth came to life in the lyrical weaving of words and images that fell from Frodo's lips. The normally steady composure of the hardened soldier of Gondor nearly failed him as he recalled Frodo's attempt to avoid the telling of his own tale, and the burgeoning look of cornered fear he'd seen growing in the wide blue eyes as the Hobbit had tried to steer his stories away from the truths he himself had lived.
Galen had heard the gossip of soldiers, had known men who'd been on hand when the ring had gone into the fire, he'd heard of the horrors of Cormallen and the hope that had hung by the merest of threads as the ringbearer's life had hung between worlds. He'd seen the love of a child sooth the fear and pain of one too deeply scarred to believe in anything but pain. He clenched his fists as his determination grew, he would not allow that spark to go out, he would do all in his power to see the light and life of the gently born Hobbit and his miracle working child restored.
He took a deep breath and took a few steps to the entrance of the cave to find some fresh air to clear his thoughts and as he did so he heard the harried and terse whispers of his boss and his beast of a brother. He slowed his footsteps and tensed himself to listen. "Dalmer, The King is no fool, he'll need proof of the halflings safety before he calls his men away from the ships." Galen heard Dalmer's angry retort "proof he wants? Where then shall we find that brother, I can see from the glare in your eyes have a plan afoot then?". Dalmer snorted contemptuously. Anborn's laugh sent a chill down Galen's spine "aye, I've a plan alright...but first we'll wait and see what the efforts of these useless scum bring us." Galen leaned in to hear of this plan but was startled by the presence of Toleman behind him suddenly. He gestured the old man away, but it was too late, Dalmer and Anborn had finished their conversation and as Galen rounded the corner the two men were nowhere to be seen. He cursed his bad luck and vowed to keep his ears and eyes open to keep afoot of whatever new evil these two men meant to cause.
The darkened tunnel was narrow and oppressive in it's closeness. Frodo coughed weakly and stumbled as his hand had difficulty holding pressure to his side while manipulating his crutch as well. He was aware of Durzak's presence as a muscled arm shot out to support him. Frodo looked gratefully to the broad features and scowling countenance of his Orc guide "thank you" he whispered and then coughed more forcefully. The cough ripped through his chest and left him shaken as a stabbing pain gripped his side. He clutched his stomach to still the heaving motion of his ribs as his cough shook him, he raised his hand to wipe the spittle from his cracked lips and was horrified to see pink tinged fluid come away. He looked quickly to Durzak, who had seemed only to notice that the Hobbit had stopped his coughing and was waiting to see how much help he would need to continue walking. Frodo slowly motioned that he was ready and they continued their slow pace forward into the dark and twisting tunnel.
Qurag held to Rosetta's hand and felt along the wall of the passage, it seemed that the blast had opened up natural openings in the cavern that led back further into the mountain. Though they had been walking for several hours, the ringbearer's weakening condition was not allowing them to move quickly and they'd covered very little ground. He stopped walking forward and gently gestured for Rosetta to sit and rest a bit while he waited for Durzak to catch up. He turned to walk towards them but was stopped by a tiny hand upon his knee "don't go Qurag, I'm scared" she whispered. In the dark he could see only the fairness of her hair but he squatted before her "no worry, me stay, we wait" the Orc grunted softly. They had only moments to wait and the sound of Frodo's coughing could be heard, growing louder as they neared the seated pair before them. Qurag listened intently to the cough, it was getting worse and with each cough now a gasp of pain and the wheeze of shallow breaths could also be heard. He frowned, they had very little draught left and he did not know how much farther they would have to travel to be safe from further cave in's near the blasting site.
The darkness of the cave hid from Qurag's observant eyes the true depth to which Frodo's strength had sunk. With a moan Frodo allowed Durzak to guide him to the floor near to his Princess, he reached out a hand to reassuringly grasp her hand and felt the warmth of her returning squeeze. "How is my Princess holding up?" he whispered, his breath hitching as he fought to suppress yet another cough. "I'm scared of this big dark Sir Frodo" she said, her voice sounding very small indeed. He sighed and searched his mind for a tale filled with light and hope to chase away the shadows. He told her tales of Lothlorian, seeking the brightest words to describe the most beautiful place he could think of. Soon he felt Rosetta's breathing become quieter and quieter until she was fast asleep, her head nestled on his lap and her hand clutching his. He leaned his head down to kiss her dirty curls, and sighed, he was so very tired and he did not know how far back these tunnels ran, he wondered how he would find the strength to keep going. He soon felt his lids growing heavy and his head dropped to his chest as he dropped off to sleep. Qurag, who'd listened and watched from nearby crept forward and gently laid the Hobbit down while wrapping one of Frodo's arms about the fair haired child. He marveled in his head, in his own language with which he had many more words, at the strength of this little man like creature. He'd seen Orcs three times his size felled from similar hurts and he wondered where such strength came from in one so small. Vague images of moments filled with respect and words of support, times of warmth and comfort came to him and he recalled the Snaga that was his birth mother. "She would like this ringbearer" he thought to himself.
Qurag sat down beside his companion and motioned that Durzak should rest. The larger Orc grunted and grumbled in his black speech "you rest, your turn" but Qurag shook his head and with a hand motion that would brook no defiance told his handler that he would rest when ready and not before. Durzak grumbled but groped along the wall and found a spot away from the threesome to stretch out and sleep. Qurag nodded his approval of Durzak's obedience, he had been trained well in the breeding camp and had followed all his orders with little resistence up to now. Even when commanded to leave the camp and accompany a band of Snaga to lands outside of Mordor, Durzak and Muglaz has complied. Qurag spared a moment to think of his dead companion, a feeling near to grief, a sensation of loss, an emptiness without the pull of sadness took him and he sighed heavily in remembrance of the dead Orcs brave deed. He wondered if the remaining Orcs of Mordor had fared any better than he and his companions. There had been precious few of them left, many had run to the caves, some to their allies in the south and some had stayed to continue their jobs with the Snaga of the camp. He feared that those who had stayed had met their end when the the King's men had come to give the camp the freedom the ringbearer had spoken of. 'What is this freedom ?' he found himself wondering 'and why die to find it?'. He listened to the rasping breath of the ringbearer and wondered if the small one too would die in search of this freedom.
Dalmer paced the site of the cave in, his eyes glinted with an anger born of frustration and the disappointment of dreams long planned cast asunder. He watched with gradually cooling detachment as the clearing of the cave in bore no fruit after 12 hours, then 20 hours had past. After a day and a half of digging he went in search of Anborn. He found his brother taking inventory of the gold they'd dug thus far and ordering several scrappy orphans to bundle and pack it into small barrels labeled "ale" or "Meade" or "wine". Dalmer nodded his approval and clapped his brother upon the shoulder "Well done brother, it will be necessary for us to disguise the goods and I can think of no better way to drink to our fortunes!". Anborn laughed and curtly dismissed the three orphan boys who'd been loading the small casks. Dalmer grew serious and shook his head as he said "there will be no digging to release that cursed Hobbit, the cave in was too large, we must have a plan to meet the King to delay our transfer of the Hobbit." Anborn stroked his chin thoughtfully and studied his feet but a moment before replying " he shall have a glimpse of his ringbearer...but only a glimpse for we shall show him from a distance, enough to satisfy the curiosity, but not enough to satiate completely eh brother?" he asked , the grin upon his face cast an evil light upon his features.. Dalmer frowned, not entirely trusting his brother's schemes " why do you speak in riddles" he grumbled. Anborn laughed "ah my brother, you show little imagination....I shall take a like sized orphan with dark curls and place upon him the halflings mithrial shirt....the King shall believe that we have the ringbearer....and we shall stall for enough time to gather our men upon one ship and defeat the guards before we sail to the Corsairs as we have planned. Now, we shall have a little 'accident' with our quarry work, one which shall, alas, seal the cave and all it's secrets from those wishing to find ways to get us on the bad side of our sovereign King" Dalmer quirked one eyebrow and mulled over the plan in his head. He was loathe to admit it, but it had some merit and he slowly nodded his approval as his lips twisted upwards in a smile that changed the demeanor of the cold face upon which it rested. The cruel hardness of the man of Gondor was transformed and in the place of cold hard steel was found instead the laughter and warmth of a bright Spring day. "Ah my brother, if mother could only see the men we have become...." he said, leaving his words unspoken and unchallenged in their truth. Dalmer sent Anborn to find a suitable orphan as he rummaged his chests for the mithrial shirt he'd discovered upon the halfling several weeks before as they'd first arrived at the quarry.
Sam and the other hobbits circled about the area of the woods that Galen had told them of. They were waiting for a signal, a sign that they'd somehow hear the rumble of gentle explosives that dictated their intended escape. Yet, no escape came. In fact the ridge woods were silent beyond all reckoning and Sam became nervous. He looked about him, the depth of the distant blue sky, the warble of a nearby bird, the mindless drone of bees set to a stand of daisies, the usually soothing sounds of the earth brought him no comfort. He felt his sense of dread heightened, a cold sweat upon his brow and a tightness in his chest. He exhaled forcibly, trying to shake from his mind the images he'd woken with this morning....Frodo, hobbling with a crutch, gasping for air and clutching his side in pain as the massive scarred arm of an Orcs guided the direction of his movements. These pictures in his mind were coming more frequently and each image was more disturbing than the last. He looked to Merry and Pippin, admiring the ease with which they supported and helped one another. The sight of their camaraderie brought only pain and longing and he vowed if he were reunited with his Master, he'd never let him go again.
Sam found a fallen log, a softened and wood rotted section had covered it's wounds with moss and he settled himself in nature's armchair to wait the next move.
Dalmer gagged the scrawny brunette they'd selected. They'd placed the mithrial shirt, Frodo's old elven cloak and the soft leather boots of Rumeil upon his feet and dragged him unceremoniously to the waiting cart. The slight ten year old boy landed with a painful "thwump" in the back of the wagon and without looking back once Dalmer ordered them to move out.
Anborn handed the reins of his grey stallion to Mendal and lit the long fuses they's hidden on either side of the cave's opening. His self satisfied smile was tinged with a small degree of loss, he would miss the softness and wonder of the fair halfling. For a moment he was lost in moments of pale flesh, gasps of pain and trembling lips and he felt his growing excitement and he shifted his stance amongst the boulders by the entrance of the cavern. He took one last look about the quarry. The prisoners, the disgruntled soldiers and the Orcs from Mordor had all disappeared upon the far horizon and he knew it was at long last, his time to go. He turned his hard grey eyes to Mendal and said " well, this tis the burial site of the the rattling from the shire and all his sniveling friends, 'tis time we set out after the others...we have a King's ransom to collect after all " he laughed as he clasped the guard upon his back and nimbly mounted his stallion. As the two men urged their horse to a trot and turned up the narrow path to the top of the quarry they turned in time to see a great billowing of dust even as the ground trembled beneath them and their horses reared in fear of the shattering noise of the explosion. Anborn reined in his mount roughly and pulling hard to control his horse, gave the quarry one last perusal before setting off after the others as a heavy silence descended upon the mountain pass.