Chapter 4
Anorc
Aragorn shoved another sliced root up his right sleeve, since his left was all ready full. The clear oil seeping from the dead plants soaked in the inside of the Ranger's sleeves, but he ignored it. Bengwiil had a horrible effect on him, but these baby plants didn't seem to have developed such power yet. Aragorn was starting to feel nauseated, but he blamed that on the fever with which he'd arrived.
He tried, as often as possible, to keep his mind off that fever, though. He didn't want to think about just how little chance he had of surviving long out here in his condition.
"Good job, are they all in your sleeve?"
Aragorn jumped in spite of himself, as a whisper carrying some rather bad breath hissed directly into his ear.
"Ruhks, human, don't go alerting the orcs, will you?" the other whispered almost in amusement. "Are the roots up your sleeve?"
Aragorn hesitated a moment, then nodded, still hacking as nonchalantly as possible at the ground in front of him. "What do you want?"
"Pull them out of your sleeve, and put them next to you where the orcs won't see them," the voice whispered quickly.
Aragorn pondered that. Slowly, his hand slid abruptly up his right sleeve, snatching the few roots he'd put in there, and setting them subtly on the ground by his boot, where the orcs wouldn't see them.
"Gabil ai-u," the person whispered, and Aragorn felt a whisper of movement that suggested he had grabbed the roots. "I can't stay here long, get the rest of the roots out, I'll be back."
Aragorn made to reply, but whoever had been over his shoulder was completely gone. He hacked away at the dirt, planting a few more mutilated plants, while emptying his left sleeve to the ground by his boot again.
Finally, his sleeve was empty, and he continued with his work, putting the roots in the pile by his boot now instead. He glanced around to see if whoever that had been was returning, but he couldn't see a sign of anyone making their way to him.
The human apprehensively pressed the roots closer to the dirt and his foot, as though it would keep people from suspecting him. Where was that person? Who was that person?
"Gabil ai-u," he remembered the deep tone telling him. It wasn't Common Tongue, obviously, nor was it Elvish. Aragorn knew he'd heard that sort of voice as well as the language before. If only he could remember…
"I'll take these in two trips, I think."
Aragorn managed not to flinch when the deep voice appeared in his ear again. "I can't leave here, or I'd help you," he told the stranger.
He didn't know why, but he could tell the other person was grinning. "That's all right. I'll be back for the rest."
And he was gone.
Perhaps ten minutes later, he had returned, and Aragorn's root-pile had grown even more. "My," he heard the voice whisper, "you're good."
Aragorn smiled in spite of himself, and then paused, as the being made to leave with the last of the roots. "Who are you?" he murmured over his shoulder.
There was another pause, and then, almost excitedly, the voice answered back, "In about a half of an hour, we all get put back in our cells, or holes, or caves, or wherever it is you're currently being kept."
"Hollow tree," Aragorn interjected dryly, and could tell the being was grinning again.
"Right, your hollow tree then. Well, Mornaeg looks over the Bengwiil himself at noon, so when he's done with that, we'll all come back out, and they put us together to have 'something to eat'." He concluded sarcastically.
"All right," Aragorn responded quietly.
"At supper, I'll find you and introduce myself. Goodbye till then!"
"Wait, how will-" Aragorn looked up. He was gone. Again. The human sighed, and started hacking at the dirt.
"Hold still, Legolas," Aragorn urged for the fourth time.
"I don't want you to help me, Estel, I want you to rest!" the elf protested.
Aragorn ignored him, running the dry cloth over Legolas' split lip again. "If only we had some water, or herbs…anything moist." His eyes darted over the cave, now illuminated by a torch that Aragorn had managed to light with his flint stone. Fortunately, the torch had been sitting, unlit, in one of the corners. Rather easy to find, even.
Too easy. Aragorn had the sneaking suspicion that Mornaeg had left it there on purpose. He didn't want to know why.
"Wet?" Legolas repeated.
"Well, I can't wipe this blood away with a dry cloth, I need- hm…well, nothing for it." Aragorn made to dab the tip of the cloth against his tongue.
"Estel, what are you doing!"
Aragorn looked up, and then burst into laughter. "Legolas, you're face!"
The look of panic was still firmly attached to the prince's features. "You are not going to use your saliva on my lip, thank you."
Aragorn was still laughing. "Well, what do you suggest? I can't do this dry."
"Do you have to spit on it…?" The prince's voice sound sickened, as though he were feeling physically ill.
The human grinned in response, and shrugged. "Unless you can think of something else- and I don't want you to start telling me to go rest again," he added hastily.
"Well- what about the roots?" Legolas cocked his head at the ceiling.
Aragorn nodded slowly, "That might work." Pulling his stolen knife from his boot, he began slicing at one of the healthier-looking tree roots. Slipping the torn cloth in his hand under the root, he managed to collect three or four precious drops of faintly brown liquid.
Legolas hissed as the cloth touched his cut lip. "I don't know what Mornaeg's problem is, honestly, Estel. I think he's simply lost his mind."
"Hm," Aragorn answered vaguely, rubbing the damp corner against the cut across Legolas' forehead now.
"He says things that make no sense, and then expects me- he's under the delusion, maybe, that- I just don't understand why he does what he's doing. It's not logical, it's not- there's no method to it."
Aragorn paused in his work for the first time. "Did he hurt you, Legolas? More than these bruises?" It was a personal question, and Aragorn knew it, but it had to be asked.
"Maybe…if only a little. I'm all right, though, it was- it was mostly jibes at Edren…it- I…" Legolas shook his head. "I- don't want…I'm trying not to think about him, Estel, I'm trying so hard."
"I know you are," the human answered gently, continuing to clean the cut on his friend's head.
"I can't bear to forget him, but I…can't stand thinking about it either."
"It?"
"His death…It's as though I keep seeing it replayed in my mind." The elf shut his eyes. "I said…I told him not to leave me, that he couldn't die for me, and he said- that I was worth it."
"I know. I know, Legolas, I was there." Aragorn paused again, watching the elf tenderly. Wishing he could step into his memories and put something else where Edren's death was.
"And he said that he loved me, and I said I loved him as well, and I…and…" Legolas' eyes opened, and glimmered in the dim light. "There were so many things I wanted to say to him before I never saw him again, Aragorn…I don't think I ever said more than three of them all his life."
Aragorn was quiet for along moment, picturing Edren's death in his own head, and trying hard to understand a fragment of how much it must be hurting his friend to see the same thing.
Edren was piled on by two as well, but one clung to each arm, holding him to his knees instead. Legolas almost flinched to the side to avoid them, but two of the orcs latched onto him as well, one grabbing his left shoulder, and one his bound wrists.
Aragorn's eyebrows furrowed as he thought…"The third orc that grabbed onto Edren, Legolas…where did he grab him?"
"Why?"
"Do you remember?"
The prince looked up in confusion, and then thought hard himself. "…the first two had him by the arms…the third one grabbed his shoulders," he said definitely, and then repeated, "why?"
"And one grabbed your left shoulder, one your wrists in front of you, and the other…the other had his hands on your shoulders, correct?"
Legolas thought, remembering what the bruises on his arms and shoulders felt like. "Yes…the third one was huge, and he was standing in front of me-"
"In front?"
"Yes."
Aragorn shook his head, laying the blood-stained cloth in his lap a minute while he thought.
They don't want me to see Legolas. Why! His body was telling him to work harder, to force the orcs away, but he couldn't shake them…
Edren held from the back. Legolas from the front. And Aragorn unable to watch…
Er…
Atta…
Nelde!
…SHWOONT
And then his face slackened with realization, and he met Legolas' gaze steadily. "So it was set up."
"What was?" Legolas demanded, confusion obvious on his face.
"Edren's death, Legolas…it was set up. He was held from the back, you from the front. He swerved forward out of the orcs' grip, and slammed right into your unprotected back. The orcs didn't want me to watch, but I turned my head that way once or twice, and- Mornaeg didn't fire on 'nelde'. He fired when Edren made his move."
There was a silent moment, during which Legolas didn't seem to even breathe. He just kept staring at Aragorn, as though the human had gone mad, and then his eyes fell away, focusing on the floor, and it was clear he trusted his friend. In a horribly cold way, he trusted him.
"It was…all just so he could attack me in still another way," he said emptily. "He killed Edren on- on purpose. He knew he'd try and save me if he could. He meant to kill Edren all along, and I just…just let it happen." And here he'd thought Edren's death couldn't hurt him more than it did…
"I'm sorry, Legolas," Aragorn shook his head, not bothering to address the fact that Legolas couldn't have prevented that. He knew it all ready anyway, it was just so much easier for him to make it his fault. That, at least, made sense.
"I really wish I could have known him better," the human said quietly. "He was the very best a friend could be, that I know, Legolas. Better than I could ever be to you."
Legolas didn't say anything, but simply put a hand on his friend's shoulder, not looking at him, but squeezing warmly to say more than he could have in words. And then he let go, unwilling to talk about it anymore.
His eyes shone with a counterfeit cheerfulness that is brought on by sudden change of a sullen subject. "So- where did you ever acquire that, Estel?"
"What?"
Legolas gestured to the knife.
"Oh," Aragorn shrugged innocently, "I took it."
"In the midst of a mob of orcs?" Legolas challenged skeptically.
"I'm good at it."
"How's that?"
"Well, I'd tell you Legolas, but I would probably have to kill you."
Aragorn's face was so needlessly serious, it made Legolas laugh, but then he stopped, because it hurt his lip. The human couldn't help his own grin, and went to see about getting the now blood-stained cloth a little more wet.
"How about you, Estel? What have you been up to, exactly?"
Aragorn explained about the Bengwiil and the orcs, and then finally, the strange person he was going to meet up with in about ten minutes.
Legolas seemed rather unsurprised that Mornaeg was growing Bengwiil. "I said he had gone mad," he had pointed out quietly, but it was clear the fact that there was just so much Bengwiil growing not five seconds' running away from him was unnerving to the prince.
At last, there was a loud groaning, and dousing the torch, the two friends faced Brog and Gamdag, and were split up to their separate destinations once more.
Needless to say, Aragorn was much more worried for Legolas than Legolas for him, as they started parting ways. Please be strong, was all he could convey with his eyes, when Legolas was shoved up the ladder leading to Mornaeg's room. Because if you can hang on, I can help repair the damage later…but you have to hold on first, Legolas. You've got to.
Aragorn made no protest to being shoved and pushed all the way back to the clearing. But instead of walking into the "Bengwiil Tent" he was jostled past it a ways to what appeared to be a large, log corral.
The minute he reached the fence's gate, he was shoved inside so hard, that he fell flat forward, and had to scramble to his feet to avoid getting stepped on. His head ached, but he suspected that had more to do with Bengwiil than the fall.
Hastily, he darted across the wooden corral, and braced his back against the far wall, as other orcs and the three elves were shoved inside.
Orcs?
It was then that it dawned on Aragorn that some of the orcs weren't doing guard duty; they were being shoved in with the elves, and then, locked in. The orcs on the outside of the corral, surrounded the fences, hauling themselves onto the logs, to keep anyone from climbing over, and started jeering at the orcs inside.
Aragorn saw how the system worked the instant the orcs started throwing moldy bread at the prisoners. There was a barrel of spring water in the center of the enclosure to drink from, and the captives had to scrounge what bread they could that was being thrown at them. Aragorn noticed the elves didn't move around much, but kept to any side lacking in orcs. Harder to be targeted with moldy bread, that way.
Aragorn wasn't very hungry either, which was handy, because he wasn't particularly interested in getting food thrown at him. As it was, the orcs climbing onto the logs behind him were started to pelt him with crumbs.
"It makes them more powerful-feeling. Keeps the peace."
Aragorn couldn't help but jump, and then felt silly as he realized it was that "secret friend" yet again.
"Easy, now, don't keel over…" the voice jibed with a chuckle.
"What makes who more powerful-feeling?" Aragorn asked over his shoulder, still not looking at the other person.
"Keeping some of the trouble-maker orcs prisoner with the rest of us. It makes the other orcs feel powerful, as well as make an example out of the trouble-makers. That villain elf sure is a smart one. It all works very smoothly, and his Bengwiil gets planted."
"Do I get to figure out who you are, now?" Aragorn asked quietly.
"Of course, but- well, you'll have to do something first."
"What?"
"Turn around. Can't see me otherwise."
Aragorn rolled his eyes, and turned. His eyes widened. "You're-"
"A dwarf?"
"Well- yes," he replied stupidly. "Usually dwarves stand out a mile away." Aragorn's eyes slid up and down the creature before him. Typical dwarven height, as well as the same sort of apparel. "You're voice is sort of higher than a dwarf's," he pointed out, almost in defense.
The dwarf shrugged his stubby shoulders, and then poked Aragorn in the chest with a short finger. "Well, you're hair is sort of scragglier than a human's, don't you think?"
"No," Aragorn replied easily, and then smiled. "So what do I call you?"
"Anorc," the dwarf responded without missing a beat.
"Anorc? It doesn't sound dwarven to me," Aragorn mused.
"It's not," Anorc replied. "My real name is Pinwen. But if you call me Anorc, you can tell the truth about me later. So what's your name again?"
"Estel."
"Estel! That's right, I remember. Good to see you again!"
"A- again?" Aragorn felt silly for asking, but his visitations with dwarves were limited, and he was pretty sure he'd remember a dwarf like this one. "Have we met?"
Anorc looked offended. "Have we- yes we've met! Remember?" And to Aragorn's surprise, the dwarf began to sing. "The Road goes ever on and on, out of the door where it STARTED!" His voice was loud and piercing, and his key was way off. Plus it seemed that he didn't know the lyrics. Despite this, Aragorn was intrigued.
"Now up ahead the Road is disappeared, and I will follow it if I can! The Road goes-"
"Anorc, what do you mean?" Aragorn asked quickly before the dwarf launched into the next line.
"We sang that song in the Û ndu Tunnel!"
"We?"
"You, me, your friend the elf, my brother, and all the other dwarves in Gabil Gûndu!"
"Gabil Gûndu!" Aragorn's mind sparked. I must be getting tired, that I didn't think of that, he marveled silently to himself. "Anorc, you are from Gabil Gûndu?"
"Yes!" To Aragorn's increasing surprise, the dwarf lurched forward and gave the human a squeeze around the middle. "You remember me!"
"I- I had-" Aragorn managed to pull the smaller being off of him, and then with a slight smile, continued, "So you were there that night we sang in the tunnel? When we went to Bodruith?"
A sound like a growl came from Anorc's throat. "Bodruith. Oh, we took care of his trouble. And we're- we're reforming a little bit every day, now. Everything in Gabil Gûndu is changed, Estel, everything!"
"Well, I'm glad to hear it, Anorc. Are- are the Light Stairs still there, or have you-"
"Oh, they're still there all right," Anroc nodded. "We've told the tale of how you and your friend walked the Light Stairs of Gabil Gûndu, and were never seen again, ten times over! Now, of course, that dramatic ending will have to change, but it's worth it to meet you again!"
Aragorn laughed, and shook his head in wonder. "Well, of all the people I'd expected to meet today, it wasn't you."
Anorc beamed, and then went almost serious again. "I guess I shall have to ask about you. You're not here on purpose, are you?"
Once again, Aragorn was perplexed. "On- purpose?" he asked incredulously. "No, very much not, why?"
"Oh, well I just wondered. I am."
"You're- here on purpose?"
"Yes!" Anorc proclaimed proudly. "I'm here to-" he dropped his voice lower, and leaned on tiptoe towards Aragorn's ear. "I'm here to sabotage the Bengwiil growing. The orcs think I'm mad, which helps a great deal."
To prove his point, Anorc swung his head off to the side, slapping eye-contact on a nearby orc. He smiled stupidly, and flitted a few fingers in hello. The orc glared daggers back, and then continued to munch on the moldy bread he was clutching. Anorc grinned, and swerved back around to Aragorn, as the same piece of moldy bread was heaved at his head. "I'm also here to monitor the prisoners, in case anyone needs to leave especially. Do you?"
Aragorn still felt lost. "Who are you working for, Anorc?"
"Umn…" the dwarf hummed aimlessly for a moment, then shrugged. "Doesn't exactly matter. The point is, if you and your friend need to get out, I can help. It'll be hard, because I'm in a pit, and you are under the evil elf's tree, but I think we can manage. Do you need to leave?"
Aragorn only nodded blankly. "Well, yes. Yes we do."
"How badly?"
"Well, I'm ill currently, and getting just a bit worse all the time," Aragorn admitted quickly, then added, "and my friend, Legolas, keeps being dragged to Mornaeg's room. He's- he can't take much more of that, Anorc. He's holding now, but I know he can't keep it up."
Anorc nodded, and jerked on Aragorn's coat in confidentiality. "I'll see what I can do."
And with that, the short being danced wildly off to one of the log-walls, yelling, "That's what I get for conversating with a dirty old HUMAN, hm?" He leaned almost drunkenly against the wall, blearily running his eyes up and down Aragorn's form, and then swung his head back to look up at the orc leaning on the wall above him. "Stupid things, humans, don't you think, Glorwalk? Though, you probably know all about stupidity, don't you- can I call you Wallrack?"
The orc, who Aragorn assumed probably wasn't Glorwalk or Wallrack, chucked a piece of hard bread at Anorc's head, which bounced off, and hit the damp ground dull thud.
"Skai-búbhosh, sharkû ash…" the orc muttered, while Anorc stared curiously at the sky, as though he thought it was raining stale bread.
Aragorn couldn't help but think Anorc was partially putting on the act to show off his reputation to the human. Aragorn found it rather humorous, just how enamored with him the dwarf seemed to be.
Now, he just needed to find his own way to blend. He tried to look uninteresting as he crossed to the other side of the corral, feigning a look of unarguable defeat. Slowly, he began making his way to the two elves, who were standing off to the side, avoiding the orcs and the food as well as the water barrel in the middle.
Unfortunately, Aragorn never reached them. It was difficult as it was wading through the food-fight going on between the orcs (who had started soaking stale bread in dirty water, and throwing it at the orcs outside the coral) as well as the general commotion of having so many people in such a close space. But just as he reached the right side of the cage, a horn sounded, and he was being shoved and prodded out the gate again.
"Good luck, Estel!" he heard a voice mutter from somewhere by his waist, though when he looked down, Anorc was all ready gone.
I don't need luck, Aragorn couldn't help thinking, as the group went blindly on to the Bengwiil canopy again. And, Valar, I hope Legolas doesn't either.