Faces Of War
Chapter 30: Salvaging
Disclaimer: The characters and images of LOTR belong to the imaginings of J.R.R. Tolkien...
Iorhael....Please take my Orcs to help Frodo out of any scrape you can conjure up, although your own characters are so wonderfully real...you could easily make your own! Frodo will soon find he has to depend on the Orcs for more than he ever dreamed would be important to him! Thanks for the compliment about vocab....I too learn from reading others stories....
Elanorelle...Thank you for your thoughtful review...I believe as you that the world is imbued with many shades of grey....Frodo is able to see the blending of rights and wrongs because he has lived the melding of good into evil....many are so blinded by their pasts that they cannot see the future....Frodo has a desire to forget his past ( and his memories before the quest were taken by the insidious evil of the ring)...and thus all he really can see with any clarity is the future..now he just has to see himself and where he belongs!
Endymion2....Glad that the story is not predictable....in truth, this story at times takes me by surprise! Yes, even where Galen had abandoned all hope for love...had reconciled himself to a life of hate...even he may find redemption! Alas for poor Frodo and the Fellowship...their world is filled with obstacles!
Shire Baggins....Galen's son may yet be the hope that is looked for....Galen's son was not a part of the orphan group that traveled with Frodo...a "late" comer, he was added to the slaves when Mendal and Galen were out on the hunting party that Gimli and the hobbits came upon! Yes, Frodo would find death a welcome relief and an easy way "out"...but he'll not opt for the easy way when people he loves are in need....what will happen when those he loves are gone?
Aragorn paced the rocky ledge above the river restlessly, his heart felt a wariness he'd not encountered in many months, and though he had no specific reason to feel so, his discomfort was a warning that awoke his former hardened Ranger senses. He found, at times such as these, his mantle as King difficult to bear. The suspicion and wary nature of a Ranger was not proving to be an effective way to rule his subjects, his experiences with the refugee camps had taught him that, but whom should he trust? What events and circumstances deserved his involvement? Where was the tenuous line between who he was and who he was born to be supposed to cross? He stopped his restless steps and looked out over the panorama below him. The second Corsair ship was anchored just around the bend, from his vantage point he could see the mast, it's ecru sail hideously emblazoned with the symbol of the marauders from whom it was wrested, two bloody cudgels entangled in the blood and severed bonds of a lifeless hand. He felt his skin crawl with disgust at the images this flag brought to mind. He'd seen the insides of Corsair slave vessels and camps, he knew the torment that was brought down upon their victims....the lucky ones died before they were made slaves and forced to service the cruel whims of their soulless captors.
His thoughts were interrupted by the brisk sound of hurried feet upon skittering stone and he turned from his river perusal to confront his visitor. "Ah, Faramir....your footsteps told me of your approach, what news have you from the last watch? Has a messenger yet been sighted?".
Faramir nodded his head reverently towards his king and eyes down cast proceeded to speak "My King, the soldier of the watch reports that an emissary of the Quarry camp is approaching, I thought you should like to be the one to converse with him." Aragorn frowned, both in response to the words and Faramir's method of delivery. "Faramir" Aragorn said, his weary eyes saddened further at the deference paid him by a friend "please, there is no one about, we may converse as one worried friend to another, I do not feel the need to be deferred to, it is your sense of kinship, your knowledge of our fellowship I need more than all else during such dark times."
The Steward's son lifted his eyes and stared at the lines of pain etched in the Kings face "forgive me, it is just a difficult time for all, I did not wish to add to your worries with assumptions of friendship My King." Aragrorn sighed and grasped the steady shoulder of his friend "Friendship between us is no assumption Faramir, you have been with us through much these past days." Aragorn watched a dark shadow fall upon the young man beside him "you need not fear that the evil deeds of your former captain have left you in any ill favor Faramir....Anborn's cruelties, past or present are no fault of yours." Faramir nodded after a moment and Aragorn continued "now what news ?".
As they turned and made their way upon the dusty outcropping of rock that crowned the ledges above the river bend, Faramir told of the newest message to come from the camp. "We received a messenger from the Quarry...one who waits to speak with you now, he seems most intent upon delivering this message to you personally." The Steward's son said with a worried frown. Aragorn nodded quickly and they returned silently to the camp, where his soldiers kept a wary eye upon the cloaked figure waiting beside a worn and lathered horse. It was obvious they had ridden hard to reach the camp and Aragorn vowed that his trackers would avail themselves of his Ranger training and find from whence the messenger had traveled.
The King stepped forward and eyed the man before him with contempt " What news have you of the Ringbearer, we have waited these two days past for your message." The cloaked figure moved forward and turned a gleaming eye upon the King "That 'tis not the way ta be greetin' the ones that hold yer halfhigh now Sire....there's no tellin' on my part what's contained in this here letter, but I'm bettin' a little courtesy will get it to yer hands faster." Mendal sneered as he held the parchment close to his chest. Aragorn's eyes blazed in anger, but he controlled his scathing remarks and turned to one of his guard "see to it that our 'guest' has some liquid refreshment while he awaits my reply to his message." The soldier nodded curtly and with that Mendal laughed "Aye, that 'tis much more mannerly...more 'regal' ya might say...here 'tis then...words fer ya to ponder" he said as he held out the scroll to Aragorn.
Aragorn snatched the message and unrolled it quickly. His frown deepened as he scanned the words.
The half high you seek has taken ill...it seems that he was not fully recovered from his previous travels...so in his weakened state has not fared as well as we'd hoped under the careful 'ministrations' of my men. Do not fear however, we have taken it upon ourselves to see that he is given an ample opportunity to rest. After all, the 'entertainment' he has offered my men, while a pleasant diversion, has been a strain to all....most especially to my brother. I will keep the Ringbearer from further harm, and within your sights until the gold is exchanged. He will remain bound, gagged and blindfolded upon the peak of the Kings bluff as your men place the gold in a series of bags bourne by several of my messengers. Starting with Mendal, you will place pouches of gold coin in his saddlebags and continue until all the gold has been sent. I will send one messenger each hour to carry the gold to me. Your Halfhigh will remain not just within your sights, but within the sights of my archers as well until all gold has been delivered. If we see from our hidden vantage point that you are following the messengers or seeking to release the halfhigh, your precious Ringbearer may once again feel the attentions my men are more than anxious to pay to him...then he will be skewered before your eyes by four of my best archers. We watch you from afar my King, and wait to see the intentions of your actions.
Dalmer
Aragorn looked above him to the distant hills, shading his eyes against the glare of the late day sun he scanned the horizon anxiously. His heart nearly stopped as he looked upon the ridge far above and a half mile or more distant to see the small form suspended roughly between two twisted trees. The dusky green cloak covered to some extent the glare of the brilliant mithrial shirt beneath, the dark curls sagged as the head lolled forward, face covered by both blindfold and gag. There was little doubt that this unconscious body, hands tied by tethers to the trees on either side, was not faring well under it's restraint. Aragorn, with a burning hatred in his breast turned to leap upon the messenger, to rend him in two with his bare hands.
He was stopped by Faramir, a strong pull of his arms and Aragorn felt his body twisted to face his face his friend. "No Sire, he'll bear no more strain" he hissed cocking his head in the direction of the still form far above them "we can do nothing but wait this out" he said curtly through clenched teeth. Aragorn's eyes grew hard and narrowed to dagger like points as he nodded and tuned to the messenger "If he is harmed further, there will be no place in Middle Earth for you to hide....I will make it my life to hunt you." The King growled as he tossed the first bag of gold coin to Mendal. The messenger from the quarry laughed "e's had 'es share of harm already, 'e's not a screamer, I'll give 'em that.....and yet, there's some, like meself who'd give plenty fer the chance ta find a way ta make him voice his pleasures" Mendal laughed with a lascivious gleam in his heavily lidded eyes. Aragorn's clenched fists loosened and one began to reach for his dagger....."there t'aint much left 'o him now...but we'll leave ya what's left" Mendal continued with a sickening gleam in his eye as he hoisted himself to his saddle and cantered slowly from the King's camp.
Qurag picked his way carefully through the rock strewn landscape, his toughened feet feeling the heat of the sharp rocks as they made their way across the barren desert. He looked with worry upon the sun reddened face of the child in his arms. The sun haired one was suffering from the heat and the strain of near two days without water was beginning to tell. The Orc growled his displeasure as he noted the dryness of her skin and the lethargy with which she had carried herself over the past few miles. A quick eye to the Hobbit that Durzak bore and Qurag could see that soon they would have nothing living to bear. He looked up to the sky, the sun was nearing it's apex in the cloudless expanse above him, shade was becoming more difficult to find. They trotted on a few more moments before Qurag spotted a trio of scrub bushes that with careful arranging of their cargo, would serve well his needs. He grunted several series of short syllables and tilted his head in the desired direction for emphasis.
Durzak acquiesced to his leader's commands and moved Frodo to a spot beneath the brush. Soon the Hobbit and his Princess were laid, one lightly sleeping, the other dangerously unconscious beneath the scanty shelter of the brush. Qurag looked intensely to the eye of his Orc companion "water we have, or they die" he said, his voice sounding strident and harsh in the echos of the vast desert. Durzak nodded but remained squatting on his haunches...even as he had when they'd first arrived. The larger Orc, accustomed as he was to deprivation and torment, was not showing the effects of their trek. Qurag quickly sorted through his choices, leave Durzak with the ringbearer and the girl child and go for water himself, or send Durzak. A sudden gasp of air and gagging noise from behind him caused him to look to the spot where the others lay.
Frodo was leaning up on one elbow, his other arm gently supporting Rosetta's quivering shoulders as her body shook from the force of her illness. She cried weakly and coughed as a vile liquid was expelled from her body. "Shh Princess, shh...just let it all out lass...there you go." Frodo murmured gently as Rosetta's breathing evened out and her vomiting ceased. Qurag approached and examined the weakly sniffling child now burying herself in the crook of the ringbearer's arm. Her sun colored curls were snarled and plastered with sweat to her head, her face reddened from the sun and her eyes opened only as tiny slits against the dark shadows beneath them. "She 'tis burning up Qurag." Frodo said softly his wide blue eyes mirroring the fear that lurked in his words. He soothed his Princess to sleep with some softly sung elven lullabies and with a grimace of pain disentangled her from his arms and struggled to sit up. Qurag reached to help and felt the fragile thinness of the ringbearer's arms through his tunic, "too thin" the Orc thought "must have food soon." With a grateful smile Frodo accepted Qurag's assistance and sat up weakly, holding his side in pain and trying to stifle his need to cough. He ran his hand idly through the matted curls lying beside him "she will die without help Qurag...you must leave me and go, you will travel faster without me as a burden." Qurag frowned and shook his head 'no' saying "not time yet, life is here still for you." Frodo smiled sadly as he continued to run his dirt encrusted and work roughened hands through his Princess's curls "yes, life is still here....and this life must continue Qurag." Frodo paused and looked from Rosetta to the Orc "she must live, she is the future of the world of men, and I am but a part of the passing of the worlds evils" he whispered sadly. Qurag saw the despair in the Hobbit's eyes and felt a strength of purpose come to him "not yet your time" the Orc growled curtly.
The Orc grunted a command to Durzak and the larger Orc shuffled over to where the others sat. "Durzak go, he take sun haired one to your King." Qurag said as Durzak stooped to take Rosetta from Frodo's gentle grip. Frodo's eyes widened in recognition of the fact that he'd likely not see his Princess again and he bestowed a quick kiss upon her curls as Durzak slowly straightened. Qurag grunted a few more sounds and Durzak gently adjusted Rosetta in his arms, the scarred and pitted face of the Orc looked to Qurag and then to Frodo as he said in a harsh raspy voice "I take care sun child". Frodo sighed, his eyes filled with tears "I know Durzak, I know...." Frodo felt his heart breaking and he was tired, he felt empty of anything but pain and weariness and he feared that without his Princess by his side, he'd soon give in to his deepest fears and desires. He sighed and said knowingly "head to the river, Anborn boasted of his plan to sail away with the treasures of Gondor...I know not where, but they have planned to travel by water...and that is where the King will be". The Hobbit, suddenly exhausted felt the arm he was leaning on begin to shake and Qurag grasped him gently by the shoulders and lowered him to the ground. Frodo covered his eyes with one trembling arm, refusing to see the figures of Durzak and his Princess fading into the distance.
Sam awoke to a cold sweat and pounding headache. His mouth was dry and his eyes gritty, he felt as if his sleep had brought not rest, but deeper fatigue and worry. He sighed and rubbed his dusty sleeve across his eyes, his dreams had been worse than ever and he knew he'd need to seek a way to find his Mr. Frodo soon for his dreams and images were more than his heart could bear. He stood and stretched, the stiffness in his neck slowly abating as he worked out the kinks. Looking up to the night sky above he was lost in the vision of the stars above and he said a prayer to the lady 'please protect 'em lady...he's done naught but good fer this world...he deserves his reward, but just seein' him again would set jest right with me...and if you were ta grant me this...well, I'd see to it that I didn't ask ya fer no more".
As Sam stood, leaning against a giant spruce, it's irregular and rough bark digging into his back, he heard a scraping sound. Just a small noise at first, one he dismissed as wind or the rustling of leaves, but the sound grew steadier and louder and he looked about him wondering where and what that was. His eyes frantically looked about, darting from tree to bush to rocky outcropping until in a crevice of the ridge, the earth began to shift. Sam moved closer and watched as the earth shook and finally the point of a small shovel appeared. Sam watched in awe as the shovel's point grew and more dirt was moved aside. Within a minute the shovel was all the way out and the person wielding it saw fit to push through the remaining dirt and reach a filthy hand to help push the remaining soil out of the way. One hand became two and soon a head of lank reddish brown hair, coated with dirt and pebbles and twisted into some semblance of a braid, was pushing through. Sam found himself staring at his feet to the twinkling green eyes of a wee lass "Good day to ya master Hobbit" she said with a grin. Sam, caught off his guard continued to stare as the lass started to squeeze herself from the hole. With several twists and a few grunting noises to accompany her efforts she was soon standing beside Sam and extended her hand "I'm Mela master Hobbit....and from Ada's stories you must be his Sam."