Early in the morning, the orcs woke the hobbits. "Ge' up, maggoty mice," the ugliest of the bunch snarled. From sleeping on the ground, the golden-red haired hobbit could not get to her feet hastily enough. The ugly orc was in front of her in a blink of an eye. He bent so that his face was in front of hers. "Ge' up," he snarled. His breath was putrid and it made Bralyan wince. Before she had time to even try to stand, he pulled her to her feet roughly. "Yeh, walkin' and carryin' the cargo," he said untying her hands and feet and handing her three large burlap bags filled with items that dripped and smelled like nothing Bralyan had ever smelt. She walked slowly with the group. Her head bowed and her back hunched. Whenever she would falter or stop, one of the orcs would whip her. By the time they stopped, her back was swollen and bloody and there were countless open sores. She fell down exhausted and cried out silently. Oh, Pippin, I hope ye have found the journal. I hope…I hope, she thought as she went into an exhausted slumber.
Pippin finally slowed his pony down to a stop. He had been riding non-stop for six hours now and he knew for sure now that he was on the right track. A bit earlier, he had came across a field with traces of a recently abandoned camp and by the smell of it, Pippin knew it were the orcs and their prisoners.
Sliding himself down from his pony, he guided the poor exhausted beast to a nearby source of water and let him drink his full. Of course, Pippin was also dried up, so he did not hesitate to fill his water skin and drank what he could from the small beak. After that, he sat down against a tree and began to rummage through his bag. He had thrown in some food for along the way and currently, his empty stomach was shouting for it. His hand brushed across something hard when he grabbed the bread. It was Bralyan's journal. Pippin pulled out the bread and, finding no place to put it, stuck it in his mouth. He then pulled out the journal and put the bag aside. He had taken the journal with him, because when he'd found it, he'd got this feeling that it may help him somehow. Deciding this was most probably the best time to read it, he opened the journal. Making sure he was sitting comfortably, he began to read, slowly chewing on his bread and sipping some water once in a while.
Soundless am I, Bralyan Pickthorn of Tuckborough; daughter of Drom Pickthorn of Tuckborough and Robin Foxburr of Loamsdown. With this journal, my silent life will become filled with voice. Never have I spoken, never have I laughed and it twas but one time that I wept. Soon after that I fell very ill. It made me loose the ability to make a sound. When I became ill, I was only two days old, but that, is in the past.
I live a life filled with noise. I work me parents' stalls selling their wares of leather and cloth. Tis a good job and one I enjoy greatly. I see many people each day – some stop by the stall an' some don'. It don' rightly matter whether or not they do, because I love to hear the conversations. I love to see the faces. One in particular I enjoy seeing. Tis Thain Peregrin Took. My face always feels a bit, well hot when I see him. He ne'er hardly stops. I s'pose he is quite busy an' Thain Took does always seems to be busy. I always notice his eyes – those bright green, sparkling gems filled with liveliness and love for his life – an' then his hair. The way his light brown locks move tis just magic – at least to me it is. Usually after he's passed by, I drop one thing or another; somehow I never make any sound when I do that. Strange isn't it that I can't make noise even when I drop something or walk?
Pippin felt his own face warm up and a slight blush crept up his cheeks. He was glad nobody was around to see it. It was odd to read how someone described yourself as something so miraculous. Especially when that someone was a hobbit lass he himself really liked.
So Bralyan was the daughter of the family Pickthorn, thought Pippin. He should have known, when Bralyan introduced herself, but only now did Pippin recognized those names on the paper and matched the names with the faces of the owners. Mentally shaking his head, the cleared the images before him and turned back to continue reading.
Mother, I do know that I should not fancy him.
(Ye are right, Bralyan. He is Thain.)
I know he is Thain and that I never have a chance.
(Right again, m'dear. Even if he wasn' Thain, ye'd never have a chance. He has been arranged to marry to Diamond Longcleeve.)
He is destined to marry Diamond Longcleeve? Why would their parents, any parent, seal a hobbits fate like that? Neither had any voice in this decision, is that fare?
(It ain't about what fare is and what ain't. It's about protocol. We all have our own places in this community. We can't change that. Bralyan, dear do come back.)
Pippin's ear drooped a bit as he thought about his arranged marriage to Diamond. From what he had heard, Diamond was a sweet hobbit lass with an immaculate background. His parents knew she would be 'perfect' for Pippin, and knowing that he needed to marry one day, they arranged that marriage for him. Pippin did not like it when they told him that.
Work was particularly hard today. The stall was quite busy plus I had to clean up mud an' water. Da will have to change the stall's roof because of that. It's been many years since it was changed an' now it leaks.
Thain Took was strolling through today. I was surprised Diamond Longcleeve wasn' with him, but I s'pose that she won' be until they are married. I wonder what he thinks about this arrangement. It will be a sad day I am sure for the two of them. From what I've heard, they haven' even met. Tis a shame not to marry for love.
And sadly, Pippin agreed with Bralyan. He also though that is it a shame not to marry for love and he also had his own reservations about this marriage. Pippin sighed. No time to dawdle on that now. Keep on reading.
I'm terrified. There are foul beasts everywhere. One of them carries a whip. Every time one of us falls or stumbles, we are whipped. I have been licked with the whip at least twenty times. My back screams from the pain. I fear it is only going to get worse. I heard talk that the beasts would be takin' us to Mordor as slaves. I don' know why they want us hobbits. I'll drop this along the way so that whomever, if there is anyone, searching for us, then perhaps they will.
Pippin's heart filled with rage and clenched with pain at the same time. He hated orcs. He hated those wretched creatures that abuse and torture other people. He hated those monsters that have taken nearly every hobbit in Tuckborough captive. He hated those demons from hell that had captured Bralyan.
With new determination shining in his eyes, Pippin stood up and tucked the diary back in his pack. Grabbing his water skin, he walked to the small beak and filled it. After that was done, he stood up again and jumped on his pony. No orc was going to take away any hobbits from under his wing and get away with it. Pippin would make sure of that. They won't get to Mordor. They won't become slaves. Pippin will not allow it to happen.
Bralyan woke soaked and freezing. She had not heard the rain fall as she had slept. Bralyan had been too tired to hear anything at all, except for the bellowing of the orcs. Before anyone could whip her, she hastily got up. Bralyan felt horrible. Her chest felt heavy and she felt very weak. Bralyan coughed and it hurt, but she ignored it and went on with the rest of the group, carrying the bags as she had the day before.
She did not complain nor could she and onward she went with the heavy bags. As they walked, she would glance occasionally at Myrtle, who was tied by the wrists and walking in a line with the rest of the captives. She would never let her glance linger for long. Bralyan did not want the elder hobbit to notice how pale and clammy Bralyan looked.
Little did she know, that Myrtle had already noticed her pale complexion. Myrtle's heart went out for the younger hobbit, but she could not do anything herself. The orcs were anything but merciless. The bruises on her arms were throbbing, but compared to the slashes on her back, they were but a mere tingle. Plus, with her hands bound, she could do nothing but offer the poor hobbit lass mental support, for as much as she could through the mere connection of some eyes locking once in a while.
With each slowly passing hour, Bralyan felt worse and she was vaguely aware they were going a lot slower then they had been. "Something's ahead," Bralyan heard the captain of the orcs say and the small band of orcs draws their swords. Bralyan looked around. Her eyes swam and nothing focused. She coughed and swayed slightly, but she did not collapse.
Peregrin Took sat with a straight back on his pony, his stance was one ready to fight. His bright green eyes were dark with the intensity of his rage and his readiness to slay the orcs. Light reflected off his sharp blade and the whole pictured screamed danger to the orcs. Seeing the battered and bruised hobbits, his anger intensified tenfold and a growl erupted from deep within his throat. "Thought you could get away with it?" He snarled at them. And then, without waiting long enough for their response, he charged.
"Caela ie'lle, Nadorhuanrim! (Have at thee, cowardly dogs!)" He shouted while he slashed away. STAB - One down. SLIT - Two. But the surprise on the orcs side quickly wore off and they began to fight back. It was too late reaction however. JAB JAB JAB. Three down.
Some hobbits that weren't tied up because they had to work, threw down whatever it was that they were carrying. They then joined in the fight for their freedom. Some helped the others who were tied to break free. The orcs were too occupied to notice.
Myrtle breathed a sigh of relieve when her bonds fell to the ground. She brushed her wet curls from her face and growled at an orc that came too close for her liking. Two other hobbits jumped on the orc from behind. Startled, the orc lost his balance and fell to the ground. Myrtle reacted quickly by grabbing his weapons and hit him on his head. Bad orc. Bad, bad orc.
"Gurth gothrim lye! Death to our foes!" yelled Pippin to the others.
Bralyan had wide eyes and she stood completely still. Her breathing came out shallow and sharp and not only because she was ill. Tears brimmed in her eyes when she saw Peregrin. The temporary immobility wore off and she threw one of the two heavy sacks she carried at an orc that was trying to attack Peregrin from the back. It fell sideways into a mud puddle. The orc was pinned by the bag and mud. Taking the second bag, she hurled it at a second orc, hitting it in the head and knocking it cold.
The orcs were afraid from their odd tactics. "Leave now," the leader of the orcs shouted to the five remaining orcs. Muttering and nodding, the orcs lumbered away.
'Pippin,' Bralyan mouthed. It turned into a small cough and she covered it up. The hobbit ran as best she could over to her savior. Bralyan threw her arms around his neck, fatigue taking over for a moment. She left the embrace and backed up slightly so that she could look upon him. The world swam in front of her and the last thing she remembered was noticing how Pippin seemed to have gotten further away. It all went black.