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Gorluk
Lying completely motionless, Gorluk was completely invisible beneath the tall grass that silently swayed above his head in the morning breeze. It had been hours since Gorluk had been knocked unconcious, and in those long hours of the night his body had not moved. Yet, his mind had been locked in an endless dream. He had been flying through blue skies and soaring through white clouds, gazing down on strange green lands he had never seen before. Right as Gorluk felt as though he had never felt so free in his life, all of the colors vanished. He began to fall into blackness, and try as he may he could not get himself to scream as the darkness engulfed him. It all changed again, and he was running wildly towards an ominous tower in a black land where the top surpassed the clouds. He was not alone, yet he could not identify the dark figures that ran by his side. Right as he reached the base of the tower, he could hear a gentle and familiar voice. "You will meet many people that will be eager to help you along the way, so do not turn them down."
"Hey! Who are you?"
The vision faded away as a harsh voice woke him. Without moving, he could feel a sharp pain that erupted from his side and made his head spin. He could also feel his shoulder being prodded with a stick.
"Hello! Are you there? My eyes aren't as great as they used to be so you need to say something to let me know you're awake."
"P-p-please... Don't kill me." Gorluk rasped. After a few moments, his vision faded completly as he could feel himself being lifted off the ground.
Fourteen hours later...
"Hey sluggard, you need to wake up now."
Feeling a strong hand on his shoulder that violently shook him, Gorluk awoke much faster than he previously had. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw a warm, orange glow reflecting from a straw ceiling. He tried to lift his head, but soon realized that he didn't have the energy.
"Whoa there, don't even think about trying to get up yet. You need to eat first."
Gorluk slightly tilted his head in the direction of the voice, and saw a man's face staring at him. He tried to jump, but instantly regreted it. The sharp pain returned at his side, but it seemed less intense than before.
"I told you not to move, you'll mess up the bandages!" the man snapped. "I used the last of my potatoes to make this stew, so you better eat it!"
The man shoved a spoon into Gorluk's mouth, and out of fear the Orc had no choice but to obey. It tasted absolutely terrible. The broth was watery, the potato that Gorluk bit into as he chewed was still raw, yet everything else tasted burnt. He couldn't even identify the rest of the ingredients, nor did he want to know.
"T-thank you." Gorluk said as he repressed a gag.
The man just shrugged and shoved another spoonful of the nasty concoction into Gorluk's mouth. "Don't mention it. I've been warming ya up all day because you were covered in frost when I found your body this morning. Because of that and yer nasty wound, you would've been dead if I had found ya any time later."
Gorluk widened his eyes in shock. "How did I-"
But before he could finish his question, the man shoved more stew into his mouth. "Leave those questions for when you have more strength."
Nothing else was said as the man continued to feed him, so Gorluk used this opportunity to scan his surroundings. He was lying on the dirt floor of what seemed to be a tiny hut, with a straw ceiling and wooden walls. There was hardily anything in this small space, other than some chairs, a pile of blankets in one corner that served as a bed, and a tiny storage shelf. He spotted his bag and sword lying in the corner close to a firplace, and he nearly wailed in dismay at what he saw; the man still had plenty of the awful stew in a pot that hung above the fire, so much that the broth was leaking over the brim as it boiled. Gorluk was instanty terrified that the man would make him eat all of it.
That was when he started to look at the man and wonder. The man seemed to be just at the brink of old age, with bags beneath his eyes and a few streakes of grey hair on his dark beard. Even so, he looked as though he had been a strong warrior in his youth; he had the muscles on his arms to prove it. That made Gorluk's fear and confusion grow. Judging from his surroundings, the old man seemed to live alone. Why would a strong and able man be living alone by himself, in a place like this? Plus, Gorluk thought to himself, Why on earth is he trying to take care of me? What happened to me anyway?
That was when he suddenly remembered: Galadriel's gift!
"Wait!" Gorluk nearly screamed as the man was about to give him another spoonful of stew.
The man jumped back in alarm. "What? You don't like my stew?"
"N-n-no, your stew is absolutely delicous..." Gorluk lied. "But there's something that I need out of my bag. Can you bring it to me?"
The man narrowed his dark eyes suspicously. "What would you need at a time like this?"
Gorluk sighed. "You may not believe me, but in that bag is a healing potion gifted to me by Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien... If you give it to me, I'll be out of your way much faster."
The man leaned back in his chair to consider this story. "So you're saying that the magic fairy lady is real and she gave you a healing potion?"
Gorluk had to use a lot of the little strength that he had to nod. "Yes, but she's an Elf."
"So, even if that magic fairy lady in that magic fairy forest isn't a myth, how am I supposed to believe that you, an ORC, is carrying around some magic fairy's booze as a gift?"
Gorluk bit his lip in silence. After a few moments, the man stood up and walked towards Gorluk's bag (It was then that Gorluk realized that the man had to walk with a cane). He grabbed it, reached inside, and retrieved the green bottle. "Is this it?" the man asked. Gorluk nodded quickly.
The man came and sat back down. "I'll give it to you... but only if you answer a few questions first."
For the first time, Gorluk noticed that the man carried a sword at his side, one that was twice as long as his own. The man held it up to scratch some dirt off of it with his fingernail, then set it down on the floor. "A precautionary measure. I haven't used this in years, but that doesn't mean that I've forgotten HOW to use it."
The man leaned back in his chair yet didn't break eye contact. "Now talk."
"Ab-b-bout what?!" Gorluk stammered.
"Let's start with why you're here."
He just had to ask the hardest question first, Gorluk thought. Not only was it a long story, but Gorluk wasn't sure if he should reveal everything to someone who technically now had him as hostage. He closed his eyes in thought, when fragments of his dream came back to him. He realized that the voice in his dream was Galadriel's, back when she gave him the gift and her advice in Lothlorien. You will meet many people that will be eager to help you along the way, so do not turn them down.
Gorluk stared at the man that was patiently awaiting his answer. Could he help me? Is that whom Galadriel was talking about?
"I'll tell you," Gorluk finally replied, "But only if you answer my questions too."
The man nearly rolled out of his chair with laughter. "Questions? For me?"
"Well, of course." Gorluk went on, "I do need to know your name."
The man immediatly stopped laughing. Picking up his sword again, he set it down on his lap and leaned forward with a fierce glare in his stern eyes. "Who sent you here?" he whispered.
"What?" Gorluk whispered as he tried to shrink back in fear.
"Well why else would an Orc need to know my name?!" The man suddenly roared.
"N-n-no! It's not that at all!" Gorluk suddenly understood. "I just want to know the name of the person who has done such a generous act of kindness for me," he whimpered.
"Oh!" Why didn't you say so?" The man relaxed again and began to look around the room. "You can call me... Aaahh... Broom! That's my name! Broom it is."
Gorluk glanced around and saw the broom that was leaning against the door. Fantastic, Gorluk thought, He still doesn't trust me.
"Okay then!" Broom continued. "Now that your question has been answered, now you need to answer mine. Wait... I asked you two questions! Why are you here, and who sent you."
With a sigh, Gorluk decided to give Broom the entire story; if he was going to try to learn more about Broom, it would be easier if Broom knew everything about Gorluk first.
"It all started one morning when I was picking flowers during a patrol through Mirkwood..." Gorluk began. He went through everything, from his misadventure in Mirkwood, being sent to the Misty mountains and discovering the fellowship, deciding to abandon being an Orc under Sauron's rule, meeting Faroth, running from the Balrog in Moria, hiding in Lothlorien, floating down the great river, being ambushed at the falls of Rauros, running again into Fangorn forest, getting out with the help of Gandalf, and then...
"And then? And then what?" Broom demanded. He had been sitting at the edge of his seat for the past hour that Gorluk told his story, and squirmed with impatience when Gorluk had to stop to think.
"Well, that's when everything gets a little fuzzy. Faroth and I were just running through the hills, and then..." Gorluk suddenly gasped. "And then we saw fire! And these men, running out of nowhere with flaming torches, shouting battle cries! And I was so scared, I just... didn't run."
"Did Faroth run?" Broom asked.
"Faroth? Oh no... Oh no no no..." Gorluk whispered. "Surely, he did. But... I NEED TO FIND HIM!"
Gorluk tried to sit up but bellowed in pain. "Lie still, you can't have your wound open up again!" Broom jumped out of his chair and held down Gorluk's shoulders.
"Please, just give me the potion, I need to find my friend..." Gorluk wailed, "Why... Why didn't I run?" The Orc stopped struggling beneath Broom's strength and began to cry.
Broom sat back in his chair and held his face in his hands. "I can give you the healing potion," he said slowly, "But you can't go out there. I know those men more than anyone else in Rohan, and I know that they'll stop at nothing to kill any living thing, and burn down every home here to get their lands back."
Gorluk stopped crying for a moment. "But... the other night... I was in front of your house when they hurt me... why didn't they burn your house?"
Broom straightened his back and stared at his sword. If the pain wasn't giving him a spinning migrane, Gorluk would've seen Broom mouth the words Not again.
"Let's just say..." Broom sighed, "The Dunlendings know me pretty well."
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