Aragorn could still mark the dreary eaves of Fangorn behind them when night fell. The horses grew weary and Gandalf counselled rest. But none slept well in the open, unforgiving plain.

Legolas had first watch. It was his cry of alarm that woke Aragorn from an uneasy slumber.

The orcs came upon them as howling shadows in the sudden flare of Gandalf's staff, and the darkness grew thick with blades. Aragorn arose and drove through them. Acrid blood-stench wreathed the air. When the onslaught failed, Gandalf's staff brightened to reveal a morass of corpses fouling the grass, the White Hand stark on fallen helms. Gimli yet hacked at something over to the right; a final elf-arrow sang, and Gimli's foe gurgled and fell silent.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. Although the cold bite of a wound stung his thigh, their foes were not as many as they'd seemed. It had been a clumsy ambush, even for orcs – unless there were more nearby, and these had been sent only to test the strength of the party before the true battle.

He tried to pierce the darkness beyond the light of Gandalf's staff, but nothing there moved.

The horses nickered. Gandalf strode over to Shadowfax and rubbed a bony hand across his withers. Hasufel and Arod pranced, eyes rolling, and Aragorn made to comfort them too.

He almost stepped over the orc, lying prone in a pool of dark blood. But intuition forewarned him. He leapt aside as a hooked dagger slashed where his ankle had been, and kicked; the dagger flew into the dark. The orc snarled and snatched up an ugly, broad blade. Aragorn backed off, unwilling to strike a fallen enemy, even an orc. But when the creature rose to its full height, his heart misgave him. It was a monster – alike to the one that slew Boromir. The White Hand spread on its face and breastplate. Its yellow eyes glinted. It hissed and spat dark orc-blood.

Aragorn gritted his teeth.

He should have felled it when he'd had the chance. Even injured, an uruk-hai was perilous.

The orc darted forth and stabbed at him. Aragorn ducked and got inside its guard, driving his sword into its thigh. The orc stumbled, swung a blow which smote Aragorn's head. He went reeling.

'No, Legolas!' Gandalf cried.

An elven shaft bit the orc's foot and it screamed: a grating, almost-human sound.

'Use a rope, you fool!' Gandalf commanded. 'Take this one alive!'

The orc snatched the elf-arrow from its foot and rushed Aragorn. He caught its blade with a wrench that burned to his shoulder, but the orc tussled free and bore upon him.

Then the Lórien-rope unfurled in the corner of Aragorn's eye, catching the orc about the neck in a loop of shining silver. The orc bellowed and struggled – but the rope held, even as Legolas was drawn towards the orc's slathering fangs and blade.

Aragorn swept Andúril; the blade flew from the orc's hand and went whirring over Gimli's head.

'Truss the orc,' Gandalf ordered. 'Quickly!'

While Aragorn stood guard, Legolas bound the struggling orc's arms and torso, and snared its legs. He let out a cry of triumph and lobbed Gimli the other end of the rope. Elf and dwarf heaved; their foe fell enmeshed in silver.

'It burns, wretch elf!' screamed the orc. 'Release me! You will pay!'

Gimli secured the end of the rope to a picket stake and stood back. 'That's some pretty quarry we've caught.'

'What do you want with this foul creature, Mithrandir?' Legolas asked. 'Why let it live? Why should it pollute the air any longer?'

Gandalf pursed his lips. 'Alas, my friend. It must survive until you reach Edoras. For Theoden's people need to witness the full extent of Saruman's betrayal. I fear words will not convince all – but one sight of this creature may accomplish a great deal, and quickly.'

'Until we reach Edoras?' Aragorn frowned. 'Do you not accompany us, Gandalf?'

Gandalf looked at the black horizon, where the moon hid amongst cloud. 'No. Orcs freely stalk the fields of the horse-lords; things are worse than I thought. I have been gone too long, and it is only now that I see what I must do. I leave on an errand of my own – one that cannot wait. Meet me at the gate of Edoras two days from now.'

He laid a heavy hand on Aragorn's shoulder, and whistled to Shadowfax. Then he was gone, the heartbeat patter of Shadowfax's hooves lost to the dark.

Behind them, the orc snarled and fought the rope.

Aragorn lay with his ear pressed to the battle-churned dirt, but no other footfalls disturbed the earth. If there were more orcs they were either far distant, or biding their time.

It did not reassure him the way it ought to have done.

Legolas crouched at his back. 'Anything?'

'No. Aside from our prisoner, the ground lies quiet.'

Gimli snorted and took out his whetstone. 'Well, if we need not be silent, I will make myself ready for more of that foul brood when they do come.' So saying, he set about sharpening his axe with long rasps of the stone.

The orc continued to snarl curses at them.

Legolas cast Aragorn a sidelong look. 'I ought to gag that creature. It will give us away.'

'Do as you think best.'

Legolas took a short twist of Lórien-rope from his pack and forced it between the orc's fangs, pulling its head back to secure the length at the nape of its neck. The orc struggled and choked, but with its limbs tied it had no choice but to submit to Legolas' strictures.

Aragon felt a great weight of tiredness settle in his bones as he watched the elf. He feared the fate of Boromir overcoming another of his companions. How long would they need to mind this creature? It would kill them the moment it could – they must not relax their guard, day or night.

He packed the wound on his thigh with herbs and bound it. But his thoughts remained on the orc. Would the stakes they used for picketing the horses be strong enough to hold it? And for how long? And how were they to transport the creature to Edoras?

But he must do it. He could not forget that he had led the Fellowship before without Gandalf, and it had broken. Now, with the wizard once again gone, and an uruk-hai in their midst… He shook his head. It was a childish instinct, to crave the security of another's leadership. He had failed once, but he would not fail again. The orc would be at Edoras in two days. There was no other way.

In the darkness, the orc growled and tested its bonds.

Aragorn tried to sleep, but rest would not come.