Chapter Sixteen

Foothills of Ephel Dúath

Old habits die hard and while the human folk concluded their council and returned to the solemn business of laying their dead to rest - an endeavor which pointedly excluded orcs - Titch had curled up in the shade of a good-sized boulder out of the direct light of the sun. For more centuries than he could count, Titch had worked in darkness. Though the light of the sun was no longer the hateful thing it had once been, Titch found that he still preferred the shadows. Unlike that daft Jabot, who was stretched now atop the warming stone seeking to soak up whatever heat the morning sun could provide. Titch reckoned that somewhere in Jabot's lineage there must have been a lizard or two.

"What the heck's that gormless chuff doin' now?" asked Jabot sleepily. The two orcs had eaten breakfasts that would have satisfied not one, but possibly two hobbits, and the efforts of the previous night and full stomachs were taking their effect.

Titch lifted his head to see Jabot pointing back toward the debris remaining from the landslide. Giving a large burp, Titch propped himself up on an elbow and watched Lugbac pick up a small stone, hold it up to the sun, then obviously dissatisfied, drop it back to the ground. He did this several times. Once or twice, he gave a small nod and carefully placed the stone in a small sack he had tied to his waist.

While Titch knew that he was not the smartest orc in the pack, being nowhere close to Gubbitch's intelligence or even that of Hooknose, he did know he was far ahead of Lugbac. Normally, Lugbac spent his time doing exactly what Gubbitch or Hooknose or Titch told him to do, but now his behavior was a puzzlement to Titch.

Jabot sat up and ran a hand through his mat of thick, spiky black hair. "Well, ah suppose there's only one way to find out."

Leaping lightly from the top of the boulder, Jabot looked back at Titch and said, "Tha comin'?"

The two orcs made their way quickly up the slope to join Lugbac, who gave a wide-mouthed grin at their approach.

"Ah found 'em," Lugbac said with the air of someone who has found a dragon's hoard of gold.

"Found what, tha daft beggar. Let me see what tha's got." Titch reached out a hand to snatch the pouch from Lugbac's waist only to have his hand shoved away with enough force to knock him rolling back down the hill.

Jabot shook his head as he watched Titch reach the bottom and regain his feet. "Tha shouldn't have done that, Lug. Now tha's made him mad."

Lugbac stared down at Titch with concern, then shrugged. Someone was almost always mad at him. Quite often he had no idea why. Titch wouldn't hurt him anyway. Gubbitch had given strict orders that they were all to be on their best behavior.

Titch clambered back up the hillside, eyes flashing with righteous indignation. He wasn't going to take such treatment from that big fool. He had a place to uphold as Gubbitch's lieutenant. With a snarl, he dove for Lugbac's knees in an attempt to bring the much larger orc to the ground.

Instead, Titch found himself knocked sideways and tumbling down the hill again. This time he managed to stop about midway. Pushing himself to his knees, Titch lifted his head to glare sourly up at Gubbitch, who had seen Jabot and Titch making their way up the slope and decided to follow.

The orc chieftain hissed sharply, "Two bigger fools, ah've never seen. Knocking each other around. Ah'll send thee both back to den if tha don't behave thee sens."

Titch hung his head for an instant, then muttered, "Just wanted to see what that gormless chuff has been pickin' up." Then a little louder, "Don't want no repeat of that time with leaves."

Jabot chortled as Lugbac hung his head and refused to meet their eyes. Several months before Lugbac had seen Sevilodorf and Milo harvesting plants and decided that he would do it too. After plucking several handfuls of nettles, the burning sensation had driven the orc to run howling about the woods. Further compounding the problem, he had gotten the dreadful stuff in his eyes. For days, Lugbac was a very miserable orc, and given the nature of his kin had received little sympathy.

Gubbitch studied Lugbac, then the hillside. There didn't seem to be anything that would cause trouble up here; but if there were, Lugbac would be the one to find it.

Holding out a grimy hand, Gubbitch said, "Show me what tha's found."

"It's not plants," said Lugbac earnestly. "Ah told thee ah wouldn't pick no more plants, and ah ain't."

"And ah'm reet glad to 'ear it, but ah still want to see what tha's got."

Jabot said, "'e's been picking up rocks."

"So!" Lugbac sneered at Jabot, "What's it got to do wi'thee? Ah can pick up rocks if ah want. They ain't thine."

"Rocks?" Gubbitch said with confusion. "Now what would tha want rocks for, tha barmy chuff?"

Lugbac shook his head in denial. "They ain't rocks. They're stow-ans."

Jabot hooted with laughter as Titch held his head in his hands. Gubbitch rolled his eyes and slapped at Lugbac's head. "A rock's a sto-wan, and a stow-an's a rock, you pudding."

Lugbac puzzled that statement for a moment, then shook his head again. "Nah, stow-ans is pretty and rocks ain't."

"Like tha'd know what's pretty, thy ugly beggar," Titch said with exasperation.

"Ah do know. Sev showed me." Lugbac reached into the pouch and drew out a handful of stones. "Pretty uns sparkle."

Gubbitch, Jabot and Titch stared slack jawed at the stones in Lugbac's massive dirt encrusted hand. Several were a dark green with tiny spots of red scattered throughout the stone. And gleam they did indeed in the morning sun.

Gubbitch frowned and looked down the hill to the fires where men, elves and the rest of his lads sat. Here was a right problem. Gubbitch knew the men who had taken Nik and Sev captive had wanted most of all to kill his lads. That was nothing out of the ordinary. Gubbitch had been hunted all his long life by elves, dwarves, men, and occasionally by other orcs. He had known the men were about and that they meant them harm, and handled the matter in the best way he knew. Stay away from trouble. He and his lads knew these hills like the back of their hands and had easily kept out of sight and avoided the areas the men were searching. Soon or later, Gubbitch had thought the men would get tired of tramping about in the rain and go on along.

But as he understood it, there had been a second desire driving these men. They had wanted the stones Sev said she could trade for food and clothes and tools for the orcs. Gubbitch was not too certain why anyone was willing to give good food for some sparkling rocks, but then men were strange. Would the sight of these stones cause the men to attack again? Mayhap the best thing would be to put them away until those men were gone.

Reaching his decision, Gubbitch said, "Put 'em away, Lugbac. We'll show 'em to Sev another time."

Lugbac's shoulders slumped with disappointment as the large orc slowly considered the situation. Sev had said that she would take the stones as trade and Lugbac had determined that he wanted a new blanket.

Raising his head stubbornly, he said, "No, ah want to show 'em to 'er now."

Gubbitch grabbed at Lugbac's arm to halt him, but found it was like trying to hold back the mountain. Lugbac paused, removed Gubbitch's hand gently and continued down the hill.

"Get 'im lads," Gubbitch said to Titch and Jabot.

The two orcs smiled with pleasure and tackled Lugbac. Together the trio rolled down the hill, punching, biting and gouging as they went. It wasn't often that Gubbitch let them have any fun and it was not an opportunity to miss.

Landing with a thud at the bottom of the slope, the three orcs found themselves looking up into the impassive faces of a quintet of elves. Aerio, Gambesul, Anbarad and Firnelin merely stared, while the eldest of their little company crossed his arms on his chest.

"Well," said Celebsul wryly. "What have you three found to fight about?"

"Stow-ans." Lugbac said with a grin as he scrambled to his feet giving Titch and Jabot casual shoves. "And reet pretty uns. They won't let me show Sev."

Gambesul dragged a disheveled Titch to his feet while Aerio did likewise for Jabot just as Gubbitch arrived at the bottom of this hill.

"Stow-ans?" Anbarad asked Celebsul.

"Stones, probably quartz." the silver-haired elf replied.

"Aye. Take a look at this," Lugbac said, passing over the strange coloured stone. "Is it worth owt?"

Celebsul took the quartz, holding it his long fingers and flipping it over a time or two as he examined it.

Suddenly, Lugbac's face popped up behind the stone. "Well, wot is it?" he asked impatiently.

Celebsul chuckled, then explained, "It's called a bloodstone and some people do indeed think it very beautiful. If the markings are good, it will have greater value. In the years of my own apprenticeship, I learnt much of the qualities of such stones from the Master of them, Aule."

The other elves exchanged quick glances. Once again a tidbit from their venerable elder's past tantalized them with curiosity.

"Qualities?" Gubbitch frowned. "Like in 'ow 'ard they are?"

"Well, there is that," the elf conceded. "The hardness of a stone can be important, as may be their beauty. But some stones posses other virtues that are less easy to discern."

Lugbac stared wide-eyed in obvious confusion, so Gubbitch translated, "'e says it's got stuff inside it that tha can't see."

As Lugbac beamed with understanding, Celebsul continued, "When the world was created, some of the rarer stones were blessed with gentle powers so that anyone who comes into contact with one takes with them a trace of the gifts it contains. Nothing dramatic, but it was a way in which the Valar could ensure some good would always reside in the heart of the earth. Different types of stone have different powers."

Gubbitch tugged the stone back out of Celebsul's fingers, "What gifts does this un gi'me then?" he asked, gleefully rubbing his crooked talons against it

Smirking, because he knew the answer, Aerio announced, "Bloodstone grants generosity, wisdom, and idealism."

Instantly tossing the stone back to Celebsul as if it were a red hot coal, Gubbitch snarled, "What the ruddy 'eck would ah want them for? Are there any that 'ud make us bigger or stronger, or failin' that, could give 'im some brains?" Gubbitch jabbed his thumb towards Lugbac."

"See," grinned Aerio. "A bit of generosity has rubbed off on you already."

Firnelin held out his hand for the stone and said thoughtfully, "It is said to have other uses as well. More practical uses for your purposes. Warriors often carry such stones to prevent wounds."

"How can a stow-an stop a blade … or a tooth?" Jabot gave Lugbac a stern look and rubbed at the ear Lugbac had nibbled on their way down the hill.

"By magic, tha twit," said Titch snatching a stone from Lugbac's hand. "Like that time, we done the play acting. Remember when ol' Celebsul here was kilt by the Balrog pretending ta be a Nazgul. And Gambesul, there 'e got to be kilt too." Titch seemed ready to go on to recall all of the death scenes in a theatrical performance staged by the residents last summer.

Celebsul gave a slight grimace as Aerio and Gambesul eagerly joined in Titch's recollections. An itinerant actor had led them all in one of the most unique stage productions in all Middle Earth, but now hardly seemed the time to reminisce.

Holding up his hand, he said, "Not quite the same."

Firnelin passed the stone on to Anbarad who rubbed it softly. Raising a solemn elvish face, Anbarad said, "Such stones are often worn by healers and artists to strengthen their talents. Therefore it would be a fitting gift for Sevilodorf."

"Gift," Lugbac said in dismay. "But ah wants a new blanket for it."

Gubbitch casually whacked the back of the large orc's head. "Tha greedy oaf, tha's turnin' into a dwarf."

Celebsul intervened, "You could suggest to Anardil that he trade with you for a stone. Then he can give it to Sevilodorf and you get your blanket."

"Anardil?" Lugbac said in confusion. To him all the men looked very much alike. Until Elros had grown a beard, Lugbac had been unable to tell the difference between Bob and Elros.

"Sev's man. The one with the missing arm." Jabot muttered helpfully.

Lugbac's eyes widened in fright. "But 'e don't like me. Ah can tell. 'e yelled at Hooknose an' me when we took Dream home."

"Gambesul and I will go with you to talk to him," Aerio volunteered.

Lugbac's face brightened and he gave a wide grin. "Can we go now?"

Aerio winced at the sight of Lugbac's sharp teeth. "Yes, but I would suggest you don't smile at him."

Lugbac's lips pursed tightly together as he wondered if he had not filed his incisors enough recently. He had to admit that he hated the sensation of rough steel on rotting teeth, and that made him a disgrace to his kind, he knew.

"One moment," Celebsul intervened. "Show me all the stones please, Lugbac."

The orc reached into his pouch and pulled out the full handful that he had collected. Celebsul ran his index finger over the shining stones nested in the grimy orc palm. He paused at one in particular. It was the palest of them and almost triangular in shape. The scarlet splashes stood out like wounds on elven skin. He could not only see its beauty, he could feel its power.

"This one, Lugbac. Make sure that this is the one given to Sevilodorf."

Lugbac regarded Celebsul doubtfully. "Are you certain ah can get a blanket for just one sto-wan?"

Anbarad murmured something in Elven then fell into the brief cadence of what seemed a short verse. It caused the other elves to smile widely.

With a smirk, Aerio said firmly, "I know just the thing to tell him. And if Anardil won't trade for a blanket, I will."

Lugbac still looked doubtful, but at Gubbitch's frown, carefully tucked the other stones back into his pouch; then clasping the one Celebsul had indicated tightly in his fist, he looked impatiently at Aerio and Gambesul.

After a glance toward their master for approval, Aerio and Gambesul headed across the clearing to the fires with Lugbac's lumbering form between them.

Gubbitch frowned, "Tha shouldn't be encouraging Lugbac to do 'is own thinking. Every time 'e does, 'e gets into trouble, tha knows. We're all a lot better off when ol' Lugbac just follows orders."

Celebsul regarded the orc leader solemnly. "But, my friend, isn't that just what you are trying to break free of? Following orders without thought. It is the very essence of free will to make mistakes. It is how all rational beings learn."

Titch rolled his eyes and muttered to Jabot, "Rational. They think Lug is rational."

Jabot just stared and scratched his mat of black hair. "What's rational mean anyway?"

Gubbitch slapped at Jabot's still bleeding ear as Titch cackled with laughter. "Rational means smart, you fool. "

"Actually, it means able to think," said Celebsul hastily, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. "And to learn from your mistakes. Which I believe Lugbac does."

Gubbitch nodded and yawned. Like Titch, Gubbitch had lived more centuries than he could recall and until recently had conducted all of his business in the dark, the bright sun made him sleepy more often than not.

"Well, 'e's better'n some and worse than others."

Nodding his head to Firnelin and Anbarad, Gubbitch reached out a long nailed hand to Celebsul. "Will tha tell Sev to send me a message when she's ready for us. Them sto-wans she were trying to fetch before all this mess ain't going nowhere and neither are we."

After shaking Gubbitch's hand, Celebsul watched with a determinedly straight face as Titch and Jabot pushed and shoved each other like small children until Gubbitch reached casually behind him and smacked both of them to the ground.

As the orcs slowly and boisterously departed, Firnelin shook his head and said, "It is not just the time of the elves that is passing. What will become of them?"

Celebsul frowned, replying, "I don't think anyone knows."

"For most of their kind, death will be a mercy," Firnelin mused. "But for these ..."

The three elves looked on as the receding figure of Gubbitch gave Jabot a viciously friendly kick.

"At least they won't die in darkness," Anbarad said quietly. Seeing the others' questioning looks, he added, "We know their end will also come. One day. Somehow. But at least they will have had their time beneath the Sun. That is more than most of the slaves and servants of the Enemy ever had."

In silence, then, the elves continued to watch the strange spectacle of an ancient foe at play.

xxxxxx

Horus stood silently as Carrick and Monroe gently laid the last of the bodies, that of Landis, into a grave. He saw Neal approaching with a limp. The youth had witnessed many such burials, far too many. Though the same was true, Horus supposed, of most of the survivors of these past years. He smiled grimly at Neal as the young man took his place alongside him. Soil was now shoveled upon the corpses; Neal winced and swallowed, fighting back tears.

Horus sought to divert him, "Will you and Evan go back to the Blackroot Vale?"

With a confused expression, Neal stared at him for a moment, then he shrugged and replied, "I suppose so, though how we will get Evan there with his broken leg, I don't know."

"Don't worry about that," Horus reassured him. "We'll find a solution, one way or another. What is it like at Darien's settlement?"

A small frown creased the young man's forehead. "I forget that you never saw it. You seem to have been with us so long. When we left Silverbrook - that's what it's called - it was a mess. Most of the buildings were damaged if not destroyed, the crops were ruined … graves were freshly dug." Neal gestured to the still open graves before them. "I guess those who stayed behind might have it in better order, now."

"And before the orcs came? What was it like then?" Horus asked.

A sudden smile lit Neal's face as warm memories replaced current misery. "Horus, you should have seen it! It was not a large holding, but the soil was rich and the land fair as an elven place, or so I imagined when I was little. Darien's house was a tall building set up on a small hill. He used to say it was placed there so he could keep his eye on us, to make sure we were behaving. He often joked so with the youngsters … before the war, and everything else."

Cloud again dimmed the youth's eyes. Horus pressed him for more memories; "And your own home?"

"A cottage, with a garden on three sides and my father's forge on the fourth, though set slightly aside. Apparently my grandmother had insisted on that when it was built because of the heat and the noise. But I liked the heat and the noise, and watching my father work. I wanted to be a smith too. I'd started to learn the craft, but …"

'But his father was killed,' Horus silently concluded. Aloud he said, "You can still learn."

"Perhaps." The young man sounded unconvinced or maybe just distracted.

It was unusual for Horus to be this communicative, so Neal risked a question of his own. "What about where you came from, and will you go back there or come with us?"

A gentle smile creased the dark man's face. "It was very different to anything you know. Much hotter than these climes, with plants and animals you would not recognize. But I will not be going back. Unlike your Silverbrook, there is no single place to return to, only my own kindred, and they are no more."

Neal had not known this and his own worries yielded for a moment. "Then if we are going home, come with us and live in Silverbrook."

With a slight shake of his head, Horus replied, "Maybe, maybe one day, but I want to keep an eye on Darien. I would have wished to join him in what he has chosen to do, but that would not help. In fact, it would make things more difficult."

"How so?" Neal could not make any sense of the last statement.

"Ah, that is a tale too long to tell now. It is time for us to place the stones on the cairns and lay our comrades to rest."

Neal nodded. There was a natural order to their lives. Fight while the enemy is present, when they are gone tend the wounded, then bury the dead. Eat and sleep whenever the opportunity arrives. All else can wait.

xxxxxx

Nesh and two other orcs ambled into camp. Gubbitch stared at the new arrivals in disgust. "Where's tha been? Tha were sent to fetch Russ. 'e's been 'ere for 'ours."

"Din't find Russ," Nesh whined. "We looked all o'er. Only found 'is clew-as and boo-its. Look. Ah brung 'em."

Nesh waved a lumpy sack at his leader who hooked a talon to open the top. Inside were indeed very large garments and two extremely big boots.

Lapsing back into broad dialect now there were only orcs to listen, instead of his 'proper' talk when men and the like were around, Gubbitch signaled to Titch and ordered, "Tek these ter Russ. 'e'll be reet chuffed ter ger 'is kecks and coit on. Bin walkin' round nithering like dee-ath warmed up."

Titch grabbed the sack and shuffled away.

"Tha's all clarted up like muck tubs," Nesh observed primly of the mud-encrusted orcs who had helped in the rescue.

"So would tha be if tha'd bin diggin' a ruddy oil all neet instee-ad er wanderin' abaht like a barm pot." Gubbitch sounded angry.

Only then did Nesh glance around and notice the landslide. "By gum!" was all he had to say.

One of Nesh's companions, Masher, urged, "Tell Gubbitch abaht that goo-ass."

"Aye, ah will." Nesh dragged his eyes away from the hill. "We found clew-as in bahn an' when we went back out, Russ' mad goo-ass attacked us. Flappin' an' 'issin' an' peckin'. Ah'd uv wrung its ruddy neck, but ah din't think Russ'd like that, so we ran like clappers instee-ad."

"Aye we did," Masher agreed, nodding his head frantically. "Then there were bees. Tell 'im abaht bees."

Nesh held his hands up in a gesture of horror. "Tha'd not believe it. Tha'd be gobstruck. We were comin' back ' and we 'erd this row. Loud, it were, an' gettin' louder. Ah thought ah were gonna go dee-af. Then we looked up an' wot it were were a massive swarm of giant black bees, an' Masher fell on ground an' Muggin fell on top er 'im an' ah fell on top er 'em both."

"Aye tha did," Masher confirmed.

"Aye that's reet," Muggin felt the need to contribute to the discussion.

Nesh went on, "We thought they'd fly down an' sting us to dee-ath. Tha's never seen owt like it."

Gubbitch grinned. "Oh we 'ave. They'd bin 'ere. Must 'ave bin on their way 'oo-am when tha saw 'em."

Nesh's face drooped in disappointment at this news, then he remembered he had not eaten in ages. "Well ah'm jiggered an' 'alf-starved. 'as tha got owt to eyt?"

"Nah," Gubbitch lied smugly. "We et everythin'. Seeing as tha din't throttle goo-ass, tha'd best go an' catch tha sens some fish or summat."

Nesh and his two comrades glared, then stomped off in disgust. When they were out of earshot of the others, Masher asked evilly, "Is that giant tow-ad still in our den?"

All three cackled gleefully at the idea of eating Gubbitch's pet toad, but Nesh had second thoughts "Mebbe not. Din't kill goo-ass 'cos din't want a giant bear comin' after us, an' all 'e could do is slash us to dee-ath with his claws and mebbe take a few nasty bites. Hate to think what 'ud 'appen if we et Gubbitch's tow-ad."

Crestfallen, Masher admitted, "Aye tha's got a point."

"Aye, tha 'as," Muggin agreed.

xxxxxx

Clad now in the clothing Nesh had brought at such effort, finally the time had come for Russ and Nik to depart. To Elros, Gubbitch and the others he gave his thanks for their coming to Nik's aid and rescuing him from that cursed hole. He extended a grudging hand to Halbarad.

"Peace to you Ranger," Russ had said. There were still many other things he wanted say to the man, but with a word Nik had managed to render them all as pointless as hunting fireflies with a catapult.

"And to you Beorning," Hal answered, his hand disappearing into Russ's own.

Russ looked hard into the man's eyes, but Hal did not flinch, instead he stepped in close and in a voice too low for the others to hear whispered, "A year and a day Russ, he must come."

It was an order Russ noted, but it was also a plea. Russ nodded. "We will," he replied. "Nik has given his word, and now you have mine as well."

Satisfied, Hal withdrew his hand and then, stepping back and giving a short bow, went to help the others make ready to leave.

For Sev he had but few words, though to her his debt was greatest. In the end he simply bowed and thanked her for everything that she had done, for her patience with him, for her kindness and for looking after Nik.

"My doors shall always be open to you," he told her, "and in my house you will always be a welcome and honored guest." Though he rather doubted he would be seeing her anytime soon, he hoped none-the-less that one day she would venture out to his farm.

Nik said farewell to Sevilodorf only, and even that was brief. He was simply too tired and hurt too much to seek any of the others out. Before he left Sev looked one more time at his wounds and applied fresh bandages and salves. She gave Nik a bit of willow bark to chew.

"For when the pain becomes too intense," she told him.

And Nik was sorry to leave her, for he had learned much of her in the short time that they had been held as captives together and he told her so.

While Nik and Sevilodorf said their farewells, Russ went to Milo and with the hobbit's leave he packed into a bundle of blankets enough food for two fine meals. It was more than Russ had asked for, but of course to Milo's hobbit sensibilities it was hardly enough.

"Why you have only just had breakfast!" he had exclaimed. "There is barely enough there for second breakfast and elevenses, not to mention lunch, dinner and…"

Milo argued long and hard, and in the end Russ relented and allowed him to provide enough for an extra meal. They were traveling by foot and it was a long trip to his farm. The extra food would be welcome as neither Nik nor himself had so much as a stick of butter or a stale biscuit between them.

The day was cold and clear and though they had no horses to ride or wagons to carry them, it was still a fine day for traveling. With luck, the weather would hold until they arrived home. Fortunately, the orc Nesh had arrived from Russ's farm with his clothes and boots and Titch had delivered them with his usual aplomb. It would not make the long journey pass any faster, but at least he would make it in some small comfort.

Russ secured the bundle at either end with a bit of rope and, slinging it over his back, he and Nik slipped quietly away while the others finished their preparations to leave. They had only gone a short distance before Nik, wounded, tired and still heavy of heart, stumbled a little. Without saying a word Russ scooped the small Uruk into his arms and, wrapping him up in the cloak Nik had borrowed from Titch, continued winding their way out of the hills. Nik was thick set and solidly built, but to Russ he seemed as light as a feather.

He had gone scarcely half a mile before Nik's eyes closed and his breathing became regular and deep. Lines faded as pain and care slipped away from him and as Russ looked upon his face and saw plain old Nik. Not a prisoner or a fugitive or a person awaiting judgment, just his friend. One for whom Russ would gladly lay down his life.

Nik slept, and it was just as well, for an alert Nik usually meant an endless string of questions and the Beorning had many things on his mind. Nik's own future being the foremost among them. A little further on Russ found his own trail and without a further look behind him struck out for home.

xxx

TBC ...