Chapter Eight

Late Afternoon
Beorning Lodge at the edge of the Wetwang

Aside from the twitching tail of a dreaming Grimm, the only other things moving in the cavernous, darkened lodge were Russ's eyes. As he listened the Beorning could hear the soft breathing of the dogs as they slept before the warm, dim glow of the open hearth and the steady beating of rain upon the roof. No, that wasn't right; there was something else, something important, just on the edge of his hearing. He pushed himself up from his tangle of heavy blankets and looked around. He had the oddest feeling that someone had just been here. Right there in the lodge with him. That couldn't be possible though, the dogs and Grimm the squirrel were still sound asleep. If anyone had been here, friend or otherwise, Russ would have known about it long before they arrived at his door. The door. Russ gave it a quick look. It was still securely closed and latched and only Nik knew where the lever that would release it was hidden. Just a little something Russ had added after the throng of Troll folks had finally left. Not that he didn't trust them; it was merely a matter of privacy.

Ordinarily he would have simply bolted the door from the inside, but lately Nik would often be gone for a day or more. With winter's arrival there just wasn't a lot of work to do and so Russ would let him off to roam the land around the farm or go riding with Warg. Often Nik would go to visit Gubbitch and Titch, and his other orc friends. They were good company for him and Russ didn't begrudge him striking up a fellowship with those who were about as close to his own kind as he would ever likely meet. Other times Nik would just wander by himself. After Nik returned from his first trip out Russ realized that they were going to need a way for Nik to get inside the lodge on his own. This time of year Russ did only three things. Chores, (as few as possible.) Eat, (less than usual). And sleep, (often, deeply, and for as long as he could manage to get away with.) One could say that during the winter months Russ slept the way a hobbit eats. A lot. So Russ installed a hidden latch on the outside of the front door to the lodge. He concealed it by blending its own lines into those of the design on the door. If one looked hard enough, it would most likely be found, but not before Russ had ample warning of visitors. Eventually he would install a lock. But that would mean a trip to a city or town and he wasn't going anywhere just now.

Except that he was.

Without even realizing that he had done so, Russ had risen, dressed and was even now pulling his cloak around his shoulders. 'This,' Russ thought, 'is what my father would call peculiar.' Russ laid the cloak aside and looked around. He still couldn't get past the feeling that someone had been here.

Then there was that important something that was nagging at him. What was it? He stood up and walked quietly to the hearth. Quick raised his head as Russ approached and wagged his tail. Russ bent his nine-foot frame down and scratched Quick's head with one hand, while with the other he took a small log and stirred up the coals in the hearth. He stood for a minute, stooped, watching the small flames dance over the coals. As a child he had often thought he could see Fairies dancing among the embers. Sometimes he still would look for them, but he never found them anymore. He dropped the piece of wood into the low flames and as he did so, stood and took his pipe from its place on the mantle. Then, pulling his chair up to the hearth, he sat and stared into the fire as it licked at the log. The other dog Dasher took no notice of him and Grimm stopped twitching and began to snore peacefully. Russ lit the pipe, tossing the match into the fire, and sat back in his chair. He leaned back and looked at the large carving of Nik and himself above the fireplace. The elves Celebsul and Esgallyg had carved it for him. Russ had been moved by the gift; in fact all the help that they and everyone from the Burping Troll had provided had been enough for Russ to feel that he was profoundly in their debt. He had wanted to return the gesture, but he had little of worth to offer them. So he gave them his horn. The horn his father had made for him back when…

The pipe clattered to the floor, scattering its contents about the foot of the hearth. Russ jumped to his feet. Quick leapt up as well, followed by a suddenly alert Dasher. They whined and danced in circles on the floor before him. Even Grimm was roused, though he was none too happy about it. And said so. Russ ignored the squirrels annoyed chattering.

"It's Nik, we need your help." And then he heard it, drifting to him like the dim memory of a recent dream. Except it had been no dream, it had been the horn. Russ went to the door and threw it open.

"NIK!" he called out, but there was no reply. He turned to the two dogs and pointed out of the door. "Find Nik!" he ordered and in a blink the two dogs were running out into the rain.

"Chirp?" Grimm asked.

"Yes," Russ replied in the odd speech that he used with all of his animals. "And more, I think. There's trouble."

"Cheep?" Grimm asked.

"I don't know where he is." Russ answered, pulling on his boots. "But I'll find him."

"Ack?" Grimm continued to interrogate him.

"I don't know how, I just will." Russ answered, now looking for his cloak and hood. "Where did I put them? Ah! Here they are."

"Ackitty-ack-ack-ack!" Grimm insisted.

"No," Russ said. "You are going to stay here. I need you to keep an eye on things while I'm gone, understand?"

Grimm gave a mournful whine.

"I know," Russ replied, allowing the squirrel to climb up his massive frame. "I'm worried about him too. But someone needs to stay here. I promise I'll bring him back." Russ lifted the squirrel from his shoulder, stroked him and set him upon the huge chair. "You're in charge while I'm gone. Take care of things, all right?"

Grimm acknowledged Russ with an even sadder whine, but let him go without further debate.

Russ pulled his hood about his head, opened the door and stepped outside. The heavy door swung shut behind him and latched with an audible click.

Which way to go? Russ didn't know for certain, so he closed his eyes and started walking. When he opened them again he found himself heading toward the hills in the general direction, or so he assumed, of the dens of Nik's friend Titch. Russ was quite large for pretty much any kind of creature, with the possible exception of an Oliphaunt, but even so he moved with a speed that belied his size. Each of his long strides covered a fair deal of ground and even in the muddy slop of the lowlands around the Wetwang marshes, he still made good time. But it wasn't enough. He knew that much before he had covered a dozen yards. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew. He also knew that Nik and whoever had blown the horn were moving as well. Again, how he knew he did not question. The fact that he did know was enough. By the time he reached the place where the horn had been blown, they would all be gone. That just would not do. So what could he do about it?

He stopped.

Well, there were the horses, but it would be downright cruel to ask them to bear a burden of Russ's size anywhere, even at an easy pace. He could run himself, but it was a good fifteen to twenty miles, perhaps more to where he was headed and…

There was another way. And it would save a great deal of time, but not enough. What he needed were some eyes in the sky to guide him. A hawk perhaps, or a falcon such as his brother Grimbeorn had. But Russ had neither. He simply hadn't been interested in them when he was young and never learned that art. What he needed was a miracle. No, not a miracle, a favor, and a big one.

Russ turned and began to jog back toward the farm. But instead of the lodge, he went directly to the barn. Russ threw the doors open wide, ignoring the surprised looks of the animals there, along with their entirely justified complaints about the temperature of the incoming air. Russ looked around in the dim light of the barn. Stacked high along the rear wall were rows of large bell shaped objects, each nearly as tall as a dwarf. They were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, each on its own shelf, and covered the entire length of the wall. Russ studied each carefully until he found the one that he wanted. Then, lifting the straw cover, he reached ever so gently down inside the hive. At first there came an angry buzzing from within, but a few whispered words from their human master and the buzzing subsided. When Russ withdrew his hand, a single enormous bee sat upon his palm. It was not the queen. The queens of these bees were docile and not terribly smart. Their principle role was to just make more bees. This was the Emperor bee. He was the ruler of all the Hives and Russ considered him as nearly equal to himself. Indeed in the bee's world the Emperor was superior to Russ and Russ knew it. Without the Emperor's consent, there would be no hives, no honey and, eventually, no bees. All the beornings, Russ included, had tried to breed that particular characteristic out of them, but all had failed. It was just The Way Things Were and so they accepted it.

Russ bent his head and whispered long to the great black bee. The bee sat still in his hand, unmoving. Finally, after Russ had finished speaking to the small creature, the bee lifted its self from his palm and flew back into the hive. Russ worried while he waited to see if his plea would be answered. He did not wait long. One at a time, then by twos, threes and fours, the bees began to rise from the hive. The first ones to fly out went directly to the other hives and soon they too began to issue forth in a steady black stream. In moments the hives were all but emptied and a great black cloud sped away toward the east and the hills of the Ephel Dúath. A single bee remained behind, larger that all the others. It now hovered before Russ's face. This was a great favor that had been done for Russ and he knew it. Bees, especially these bees, just did not go out in the winter, and never, ever in the middle of a storm. It just was not done. The fact that it was happening was a tale that he would spend many nights in later years telling to his family during their gatherings in the Misty Mountains.

Russ's debt acknowledged, the Emperor bee flew off to lead his swarm in their search for Nik and the others. Russ waited a moment and watched them fly into the pouring rain. 'How did one repay a debt to a bee?' he wondered, then realized that it didn't matter. When the time came, he would know.

Now there was one last thing to do. Quickly, Russ began to remove his clothes until he stood completely naked in the barn. The animals did not care. They had always thought clothes were a silly custom anyway, but had grown accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of humans over the years.

Russ stepped out into the storm and shivering, closed the door to the barn. Then he turned and began to run in the direction the bees had gone. Before the animals had finished grumbling about how rude it was to have thrown open the doors of the barn in the middle of winter, the man was gone and a great, black, shaggy bear was racing across the soggy lands near the barn. A pair of dogs stood and stared at the sight. They turned and began to follow after him. Russ stopped. Someone besides Grimm had to look after the barn. There were still wolves and who-knows-what out and about. Quick and Dasher would have to stay behind. Russ gave out a loud roar, except that it wasn't precisely a roar. It sounded almost like the words a bear would speak if he could talk. Except that it wasn't words either, but whatever it was, the dogs understood it and both turned and went back to the farm to wait with Grimm and the others.

In the mountains it began to snow.

xxxxxx

Evening
In the hills of the Ephel Dúath

All that long afternoon, Sev delayed as much as she could, using a headache from the blow to the back of her head as an excuse for occasionally taking the wrong turn. Of course the rain had helped tremendously, making every decline a slippery slide to catch the unwary and causing every incline to become a scramble for footing. Going was slow at the best and she made every effort possible to insure there was no best. Selecting the narrowest and steepest trails as often as she could and always moving at least as far east or west as she did north. However, they seemed willing to believe her repeated claims that dizziness and foul weather were befuddling her bearings and recollections of landmarks. The fact that orcs were supposed to be elusive may have in fact played in her favor, for frequently Darien would call a halt and send a man or two forward to scout a shadowed passage.

As they entered a narrow pass, they heard the sudden echoing cry of a distant horn. Deep-toned and hollow, it seemed to come from far away, in no particular direction but every direction.

Darien immediately swerved his horse around to face the woman. "What was that?"

Nik had felt it too, but one thing was certain, he didn't like it at all. Not from the way the orc crouched and growled through his gag at the sound of it. Grady glanced at the creature as he turned his horse, and then shot Sev a look dark with suspicion.

Sevilodorf shrugged and replied dismissively, "Hunters, I suppose. There are occasionally wargs in this region. Men hunt them."

Darien's eyes narrowed. "And this you don't disapprove of, though you claim to have a friendly warg?"

"'Friendly' is the important word," Sev enunciated with ill-disguised contempt. "If men hunt creatures that are vicious and dangerous, wargs or orcs, then they have my gratitude."

Darien shook his head in despair. "All orcs are vicious and dangerous. They were bred to be so - cunning, cruel, evil. They possess no redeeming features. They are without souls. These have you fooled, by guile or some fouler means. And if we leave them alive, I assure you that some day they will turn on you like a pack of wargs, and destroy you. We deserve your gratitude."

The blank stare of the woman showed the very opposite. Darien gave up. Turning his horse he remarked in a lighter note, "Anyone who would choose to hunt wargs in this weather -."

Sevilodorf gleefully and loudly completed the sentence for him, "… is a complete fool." She smirked as the man's back stiffened when the implication of her remark hit home.

The sound of the horn faded and the attention of the men returned to picking their way along the slippery path. Sev had only been partly joking in her remark to Darien. Anyone would be a fool to be out hunting on a day like this. It was wet, cold and altogether miserable. The footing was bad and the trail was nearly obliterated by the rain. Even a seasoned hunter could get lost in these parts without knowing the area. And that was on a good day. The only creatures she had ever heard of going hunting in this kind of weather were, well, Wargs. And if one wanted to go from predator to prey and in short order, this was the weather for it.

And that horn. That was no hunter's horn, of that Sev was sure. And the way it lingered... Nothing like any of the others she had heard before. If Nik knew what it was, he wasn't telling. Instead he kept his eyes on the trail before him with an occasional quick glance about the trees. 'Now who,' Sev thought, 'would be out blowing a horn in this kind of ...' The thought ended abruptly and she smiled. 'If you fools only knew,' she thought, looking around at their captors, 'if you only knew.'

xxxxxx

The world had become an endless realm of naked black trees and elbows of dark stone thrusting through a carpet of grey winter leaves. The irregular plod of the horse's strides jarred into Anardil's bones as if he and the animal had become welded together, but there would be no rest, nor did he wish for any. There was room for but one thought, one purpose, and the faces around him mirrored his resolve. Elros' face was in shadow beneath his sodden hood, only the trim beard at his chin visible, but he had not spoken since Celebsul blew the Beorning horn. Bob's voice now and again rumbled quietly against the lighter tones of the elves, but his laughter was long forgotten. They rode together again, his Ranger brothers passing with dire purpose through a silent wood, and time seemed to slip unsteadily, past and present like panes of glass one over the other. Almost he could forget the passage of years, the changing of an age, the loss of an arm ... almost. Then the dark, hunched form of the orc Lugbac stumped into his view and he turned his eyes away.

Yet the nature of their purpose drove sharp edges into the mantle of calm Anardil sought to keep wrapped around himself. The lowering clouds swallowed both light and shadow, leeching color and sound into the eternal whisper of the rain. Drops spattered endlessly on the wool over his head and he hoped Sev was not suffering from the cold - then wrenched his mind back to the task at hand. Hoof prints bled one into the other down a muddy slope that ran with brown water, but now those they followed were too many to be easily lost in the storm. It was not the rain that worked against them now, but rather the deepening gloom as the day slowly died around them.

As if guessing his thoughts, Bob slowed his horse and looked over at Anardil. "They'll have to stop at some point," he said. "If these men know anything about orcs, they will know it's folly to wander about these hills in the dark. Then we will have them." A flash of white teeth was without humor as he added, "Since this time, the orcs are on our side."

Anardil simply nodded. He had little interest in the doings of orcs, nor truthfully in these men who hungered so for the gems the creatures grubbed from the earth. For that matter, he would care not if both parties cheerfully slaughtered each other, when all was said and done, if only Sev were safe with her own folk, once more.

"Dil."

At Bob's low voice, Anardil turned his head.

"We'll get her back," Bob said quietly.

"Yes," said Anardil, and set his face forward once more. "Oh, yes we will."

Bob said no more, and let his horse drop back.

xxxxxx

Evening
The Orcs' Cave

Darkness had long since wrapped the world in a sodden, inky cloak, when Aerio halted against the rough bole of a tree, giving a sharp signal to Gubbitch and his lads to stop. The clumping and thudding of slow hoof beats ahead had stopped, and now he heard low men's voices.

"It's a cave, Cap'n. It's been lived in, but not for a while."

"Ah, then our lady has guided us truly. You are certain it is empty? It would not do to have the residents appear to slit our throats in our sleep."

"No, Cap'n, it's deserted, lots of dead leaves blown in and not one track."

"Very well, let us secure the horses and see about some firewood."

The rustling and thumping resumed as the group moved away, towards the frowning shoulder of a tall hill that rose beyond a clearing. In gentler days it was doubtless a comfortable haven, with green meadow waving in the open and trees whispering above the mouth of yonder cave. But as Aerio peered through the deep gloom, his elvish sight saw only flattened dead grasses and bare trees that marched up-slope into a dark haze of cloud.

"What tha see?" Gubbitch's harsh whisper rasped beside him.

Without turning his head, Aerio whispered, "I believe they're making camp. They seem to be tying their horses in the trees there."

"Ah knows that place," Gubbitch replied. "We stayed a while, but left when rocks started talkin' like."

Aerio was not sure what talking rocks had to do with anything, but it pleased him that at last Sev and Nik's captors were stopping. He had no doubt that Master Celebsul, Gambesul and the others were following, but foul weather would make tracking tedious work, even with the signs he left ever and anon. Now that it was dark they would move even slower, and restlessness stirred gratingly within him as he kept watch. Minutes passed in dark, steady rain until a ruddy flare of light appeared, as someone found materials to light a torch. Among the dark figures of horses and men he saw a shorter one, Sev walking ahead of someone. His lips turned in a thin smile as he saw her twist sharply from under the hand guiding her shoulder. The man simply let his hand fall and followed her into the cave. Good. Despite cold, rain and mishandling, her spirit remained unbroken. Of Nik he saw only a glimpse, the little orc's bound form stumbling in the grip of harsh hands.

"Gubbitch," Aerio said softly. "Do you think one of your lads could bear word of the situation back to our comrades?"

Night and shadow had long been the friend of orc-kind, and Aerio felt certain that despite their dubious domestication Gubbitch's 'lads' had not lost that knack. Nor did the orc leader's reply disappoint him.

"Aye," the orc grumbled. "Thinkin' that me sen."

Even in the raining dark, Aerio's eyes gleamed. As a brief scuffle moved wet leaves behind him, and low voices murmured almost below mortal hearing, the young elf nodded slowly in keen satisfaction. Soon these knaves who sought to wreak their mad vengeance at the expense of innocents would face the wrath of the Burping Troll, and never yet had the folk of the Troll failed to prevail.

Heavy orc feet pattered away into the night, the messenger sent, and Aerio settled himself to wait.

xxxxxx

Night

Blowing on her hands to warm them, Sev cursed silently. Despite all of her delays and the unexpected paths she had led them on; despite repeatedly claiming that headaches, rain and uncertainty baffled her sense of direction, somehow, she had done the very thing she did not wish to do. Nmad. How in blazes had she accidentally stumbled across one of the orcs' dens? Landis was right. Sorcery of some kind was at work.
The only saving grace in the whole horrible afternoon was that this den was empty. The men who poked about the low-ceilinged cavern while making camp found only fire-blackened stones, scattered ashes, and the broken, charred bones of small game animals. Unfortunately, if she had found one, she might find others. And they might be occupied.

To add to her list of woes, her headache was growing worse. The nausea was returned. Her toes were numb. She was wet clear through. And they had spent the last hour of riding in the pitch-black raining dark, demanding she find them a cave. Her only comfort was that the fires that Darien's men had been coaxing for the past two hours warmed the air somewhat above freezing, and they had miraculously produced from their packs the makings of a hot soup. The previous tenants had left a mid-sized heap of dry firewood in the cave - a surprisingly civilized touch for orcs - but that could not last the night. Her concern now was that these fools would decide to go back out into the storm as soon as the wood ran out.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rested her head and closed her eyes. She could hear Darien arguing once again with Grady about whether or not she was simply leading them a merry chase. Ironically, it seemed that her finding of this abandoned den had served to further convince both men of their opposing views. Darien thought this proved her true, while Grady insisted it proved her treacherous. Ah, well, let them argue. It merely served to delay them further. Surely, if the weather worsened, as the dark grey clouds moving ever lower foretold, they would give up the whole expedition.

Landis nudged her arm and held out a bottle of water. With a sigh, she said, "You wouldn't happen to have any hot tea would you?"

When the grey-bearded man shook his head with a glint of amusement, Sev shrugged and accepted the water bottle. Holding the bottle between her bound hands, Sev drank deeply, then returned the bottle with a nod toward Darien.

"Any chance of us calling it a day?"

With a slight shrug, Landis said, "We'll rest here a while."

"Good. My head hurts, and I have no idea where to find anymore dens."

Landis gave her a calculated stare. "I don't think we could convince the men of that."

"You'll have to try. I really do not want to be out there in the dark."

"Daylight will come," said Landis calmly. With a glance about the cave at men bearing swords and bows, he added grimly, "At least nothing can get behind us, here. None of that orc's friends."

He nodded towards the mouth of the cavern. Just beyond the flickering light of a torch could be seen Nik's slumped form, securely tied to a solitary elm tree outside the entrance, head bowed against the cold rain. The men did not want an orc inside with them at night, and the creature's health or comfort was of no interest.

"These are not called the Mountains of Shadow for no reason," said Sev. "And orcs are not the worst of what one might meet after dark."

Receiving no response, Sev looked up to see Landis staring into the darkness beyond Nik. Narrowing her eyes, she looked past the torchlight as well. Nothing revealed itself to her. Just the inky gloom of night, though it seemed the rain had stilled and glints of white flickered beyond the reach of torchlight.

"Did you see something out there?" Sev nodded wisely before continuing. "Shadows that appear and disappear for no purpose. Better keep your men close or a few might simply disappear."

After giving her another solemn look, Landis motioned to Neal to come stand guard, then moved to speak softly to Darien. From the glances the two threw her way, she was certain they were speaking of her. Suddenly her own words repeated in her mind, 'I really have no idea where to find anymore dens.' Nmad, had she just made herself completely disposable? Blast this headache.

'Concentrate, you loof,' she told herself. 'Your life depends on it and so does Nik's.'

She took another look out at the darkness. Had Landis seen something? Someone? Aerio, she knew, was still out there watching. By this time, the others should be as well. Soon, it would have to be soon, but until then she needed to guard her tongue.

xxxxxx

The rain seemed to have lost its spattering voice, growing oddly hushed even though thick wetness continued to splat the faces of shadowy figures that slipped among black trees and stone. Men, orcs and elves paced silently upon wet carpets of leaves, as they closed in on the faint, ruddy glimmer of distant firelight. The orc that Gubbitch had sent back to guide them performed his task well, even in the dark of night. Now their horses were tied well behind, for they dared not risk the clacking hoof that might give them away. A rank whiff of wet animal smell was all that marked Warg's passing as she slunk past the guiding orc into the lead, her keen nose now testing currents of air for proof of their quarry. Wood smoke, scents of cooking, sharper odors of unwashed bodies and wet woolen clothing, all were recognized and dismissed without a second thought. Warg stopped, nostrils daintily sampling the damp air, and all halted in the breathless hush behind her.

A light hand touched her damp ruff and Firnelin whispered, "What do you find, sister?"

"Sevi," Warg said softly. "The soap for her hair."

A sharp exhalation of breath indicated Anardil's presence behind them. Firnelin's fingers briefly tightened in her thick fur, a gesture of thanks, and then they moved on.

Here the ground was broken and treacherous, fallen logs and great rocks heaving from the wet earth to trip the unwary, whilst tight-crowded little trees clawed at faces and shoulders. In times not long past these mountains had known powerful geologic disturbance, quakes and slides and ancient boulder that fell shattering from black peaks above. Yet if walking were made treacherous, the jagged angles of stone and ranks of thin trees created good cover for the approaching company. A whisper of motion, and suddenly Aerio was among them, speaking soft greeting as he gripped Gambesul's arm and looked to his master Celebsul.

"They are all resting within," he whispered. "Sev's hands are tied but she appears unharmed, or at least undaunted."

"And Nik?" Celebsul asked.

Aerio's tone tightened. "They leave him tied out in the storm as I would not leave a mangy dog."

A low rumble touched their ears, which they then realized was Warg, growling softly deep in her chest.

"There is a clearing just ahead," Aerio added. "You will see." Then the young elf paused, his eyes on Celebsul's face. "Master ... I failed - I was not with her when she needed me and this harm came upon her because of my negligence. I allowed myself to be delayed, and because of -."

"Aerio." The young elf's mouth snapped shut as Celebsul spoke quietly. "Sev knew of your delay and she chose to leave without you."

"I should have stopped her!"

"Stop Sev?" Even in darkness Aerio was well aware of the wry look his mentor gave him. "She is not a child to answer to your demands or those of anyone else."

Aerio's head dropped. "I know that, master, but she counted on me to be there, and I was not."

"You are not the master of fates, Aerio, neither hers nor yours. But you did assure that we were guided to her and now we will liberate her."

Turning, Celebsul said, "Come. The clearing will offer unobstructed vision -." He glanced at the Men with one eyebrow cocked in the dark. "At least for those night-sighted - and we can find cover along the tree line. Let us have a look at our foe."

Silent as shadows they moved, and hearts leaped to a galloping pace. In the darkness, swords were loosened in their scabbards and bows were drawn from their waterproof coverings, quickly strung for readiness.

xxx

TBC ...