I don't like it when my sleep is interrupted. I tend to get very annoyed, once I realize what's happening, and, as such, I tend to bite. Well, only if I'm scared.
The person who grabbed me found this out rather fast. My brain went from sleep, to barely awake, to thinking it might be Glorfy, to realizing that someone with a beard was close to my face (and his breath reeked), to panic mode, to lashing out with teeth as a hand came close to my face to gag me – all in a matter of seconds. I didn't think to scream, of course, but then, I've never been one for rational thought in a surprising situation.
Thankfully I missed this guy's arm. My Sensei always told me that biting someone is an option that is always last choice. You never know where the idiot you're biting has been, or whether or not he's got nasty diseases of the type I warned Gilly and Glorfy about. Not only that, but, from what this guy smelled like, I'm betting he hadn't even had a sponge bath since the war started. I don't want tongue fungus.
My back hurt as I rolled over on to it and kicked with my tethered feet. They connected with an exposed stomach and the smelly, butt-faced monkey above me grunted and doubled over. But then retaliated with a back fist to my head that left me reeling and sick to my stomach.
And as limp as a rag doll. Whoever this ass is, he knew how to take a struggling prisoner down. I didn't protest much as I was manhandled onto the back of a horse. There wasn't any way that I could. Not only was I hog-tied and gagged, but also they'd probably given me a concussion. I really don't think I should have been moved at all, but, then, stupid idiot kidnappers in the night never think of their prisoner's safety.
In fact, I don't think those scum-sucking bottom dwellers had ever come across women before, at least, any woman stupid enough to let one of them near enough to determine the difference between girls and boys. I dimly realized this when I noticed that they weren't making any effort to avoid, shall we say, 'delicate areas'.
'Areas off limits', is more like it. Oooo…If I'd been in fighting form, their 'delicate areas' would have been mangled and mashed to a bloody pulp with the pike end of a bloody damn rock hammer! Or an ice pick! Or…oooo…freshly smelted steel…
I nearly threw up when the horse galloped away. This was no where near as smooth a ride as my gallop on Minras had been – largely because a horse that beautiful and intelligent wouldn't have been standing for this – and combined with my upset stomach and swimming head, these idiots were asking for spewing session. They used no torches, whoever these smelly Men were, so I couldn't see anything, but on occasion the shine of moonlight off the horse's hooves. I fought to keep awake incase they tried something other than feeling me up. As much as I dreaded what could happen, I wanted to remember each and every moment so I could take it out on them later. So, in order to remain awake I entertained myself with counting the number of ways that Glorfindel was going to kick their asses, and – of course – how I was going to help. I'd reached thirty-seven by the time they dumped me on the ground.
I didn't get any further. Darkness came up and pulled me back down, and it was more welcome than I expected.
"Rhiannon!" Was someone calling me? "Rhiannon wake up!"
Okay…take stock now. Legs? Check. Arms? Check. Can I move them? No. Brain obviously working, much as I'd rather it wasn't…bloody lot of pain behind skull? Check. Now…open your eyes, Rhiannon…
I wish I never had.
You know how the classic description of a headache of epic proportions is 'pain flashed behind her eyes' or 'lanced through her skull' or whathaveyou? Well, they're classic because they're true. After the initial flashing of pain, it quickly felt like someone was driving a sharp stake over and over again into one spot on the left side of my head. It hurt.
"Rhiannon! Thank goodness you're alright!" A face gradually came into focus, hovering right above me.
"Fiona?" I tried blinking, but she was still fuzzy around the edges. "What the bloody fark happened?" Gag? Apparently not. It must have been removed.
She didn't get to say anything. Someone else was talking
"Such an interesting saying you have there." Don't I know that voice? I've heard it before… "No wonder you two are such a distraction. And we cannot be having with such distractions."
Okay…think. I know it hurts, but do it anyway. Where…? Oh…shit.
"Isildur?" Oh boy. Glorfy is going to have his winged hat on a mithril platter. (Sorry…I read that line about the platter in a fanfic back when I was alive, and I've always wanted to use it somewhere…it just fits on so many levels!) And Isildur's stupid fat head would likely still be in the hat. I considered letting loose some of my more…descriptive…words, but decided against it. "What do you want?"
"To get you two out of here so we can concentrate on winning this war," the dumbass replied. He seemed sad. "I am sorry," he continued, "for the treatment you have received at the hands of my men. I will see to it that they are punished."
"Sorry my ass," I spat and winced as pain in my skull increased.
"If you didn't want us to be harmed," Fiona snarled, "you shouldn't have sent those hooligans!"
"I gave the matter to Captain Dúmassë to handle," Isildur said with a frown. He shook his head. "It makes no matter, for I am still responsible for your keeping."
He bent over and I saw the knife in his hand. A moment later and I could move my hands and feet again. I rolled over and tried to sit up. Fiona, hands and feet newly free herself, helped.
I nearly fell over again. I was dizzy and felt sick and quite sure that I had a lovely black bruise on my face to match the healing one on my back. If it hadn't been for Fiona's hands holding me upright, I would have likely passed out again. I wondered if my cheekbone had been cracked, but it was only a passing thought.
"Ereinion is going to have your head for this," Fiona said darkly. Go her! She can be quite spunky too, when she needs to be. Have I ever mentioned that I don't ever want to be on the receiving end of her temper? Well, if I haven't, let the record stand as such.
"The High King will likely thank me for removing his distractions," Isildur countered. Somehow, I doubted this. I know Gilly's jealousy is a pain in the ass, but it has its uses and advantages. One of them being a great deal of protectiveness; almost 'over protectiveness', but…
I'd had my doubts because of his reaction to the Chocolate Incident, but I'm pretty sure the Gil-galad loves my sister with every ounce of his being. Thinking on it, I saw the look in his eyes as he watched her tell her story earlier in the dining pavilion…he may admit to Fiona being a 'distraction', but he sure as all hell wouldn't send us away. At least, not like this.
If he had ordered this, he would have gone about it by first of all: telling us, second of all: telling us again, only more firmly and leaving no option for debate (of which there would be a lot), and third of all: assigning several guards (that wouldn't hurt us) to 'escort' us, because he'd know full well that we'd just escape and boot ass back to the camp first chance we got.
"Where are you going to send us?" Fiona asked. Her voice didn't shake. I am quite proud of my twin.
"To my city, Minas Ithil," Isildur replied. "For it is closest. There you will be given the most comfortable of apartments in which to dwell and await the ending of the war."
"Yeah," I muttered to Fiona. "And become Nazgûl fodder. No thank you," I added in a louder voice. "I think we'll take our chances here."
"You do not have a choice in the matter," Isildur said firmly, watching me closely. I suspect he heard my Nazgûl comment, but he didn't say anything along those lines. "You are to be taken to Minas Ithil as soon as the horses arrive. "
Hah! He was giving us horses? What an idiot! Didn't he know that we'd take the first chance to ride our horses back to Gilly's camp and then squeal like stuck pigs? If he thought us honorable enough that we wouldn't, he was sorely mistaken.
Well, I found out that I was sort of right. For the ride out of the camp, we had our own horse, yes, but we were bound and gagged again, Fiona behind me on the horse and someone else led the animal. At a dead gallop through the night, it wasn't long before the camps of the Last Alliance were left behind, and we were off to Minas Ithil.
Dawn was quite beautiful, I must admit, even rising as it did over that stinking land of Mordor, and the most scenery we got to look at was the nasty, horrible and reeking Dead Marshes.
I'm somewhat confused about the history concerning these nasty, soul-sucking wetlands. I think, back when I was alive, I read something about them being a direct result of a long and bloody battle fought on the Dagorlad (where the camp is), and where thousands upon thousands died. I'm pretty sure it was some nasty battle that the Last Alliance fought to get into Mordor, but whenever it was, the amount of death that occurred on that bit of land was so great and terrible that the place was forever stained with sorrow and nothing except the Marshes would ever grow there again. Now I'm not so sure.
I do know that Oropher led two thirds of his Sindar Elves to death in that reeking place. Not because he went there deliberately, but because he was driven there…because of something. I'm suspecting Nazgûl – they're everyone's problems. I feel a great deal of pity for Thranduil, though. I often wonder if we got here before that happened, or if it's already too late. No one's told us yet.
Then, of course, there's the part of LOTR where Gollum's taking Frodo and Sam though the fens…why didn't they just use the road that we're on now?
Scratch that…they came from Emyn Muil – to get to the road would have meant bypassing the fens all together and going all the way around, down by Ithilien (which they did do eventually, but only after slogging through the Marshes) and…
See? I do know something about Middle-earth after all! I think it's because I spent a great deal of time staring at the map at the beginning of the Fellowship when I should have been reading the rest of the Silmarillion. Kind of makes me wonder why it is I'm so farking clueless most of the time. Oh well…we all have our flashes of brilliance. I guess I just have a lot of short ones that come at odd times.
Speaking of brilliance, the colours of the dawn were quite spectacular, more than likely owing to the copious amounts of particulate matter in the air over the mountains, rather than natural beauty.
As the sun rose over this gray, reeking swamp, I got a better look at our 'guards'. They were lead by one Captain Dúmassë, with Sergeant Lichmé as his second command and a bunch of bearded dumbasses we'd never met before, although I'm pretty sure one of them is the idiot who tied me up in my sleep. I couldn't be sure, however. They all smelled quite foul, and the Marshes didn't help any.
I was not amused. We galloped quickly through the Marshes with absolutely no stop for food until we got to the other side. By that time the sun was well on its way back west, and huge clouds were drifting out from over the Mountains that separated us from Mordor. (I find this to be mildly confusing…unless the land over there is higher than it is here, wouldn't the clouds be stopped by the height of the mountains? Or does that only work for temperate climates? Maybe it just doesn't rain there, so the clouds are mostly ash, and therefore lighter. Would that even work?)
When we finally stopped for a quick bite to eat, I felt like I was going to retch from hunger – I hadn't eaten since midday yesterday – and my head hurt like hell, not to mention I was stiff and sore from riding doubled up with Fiona and with my hands tied in front of me, and gagged too. The number of ways I was going to enact my revenge jumped to nearly sixty and I hadn't repeated myself yet.
They took our gags off when they pulled us down from the horse. I had to lean on Fiona at first before I regained my balance. Still though, these amateurs actually left us ungagged and alone while they went for food and water.
"Fiona," I began quietly while the others were stuffing their faces and obviously not listening. "First chance we get, we're out of here."
"Agreed," she whispered back. "I'm not going to Minas Ithil. Not with these shit heads."
"Nor am I, if I can help it." I looked around, hoping that there would be an opportunity to bugger off now. Unfortunately, Dumbass and Lick-me had other plans. We were shoved back up on the back of our poor horse after only a few moments respite and after only a few bites of something that used to be bread (I think). We left at a quick trot.
By now we were moving into rocky country (closer to the mountains, actually), and there were little evergreens everywhere. I was actually quite glad that the wind was blowing towards the Marshes rather than from them. Now all I had to worry about was being down wind of the idiots who'd taken us. Captain Dúmassë was the cleanest one of the lot – meaning, he'd bathed the most recently of all of them. However much I can't stand that idiot, I wish he'd been holding the reins of the horse Fiona and I were on. The man who held them was unfortunately upwind.
I held onto hope, however, that someone had realized our suspicious absence and was coming rescue our sorry asses. I don't think the Men heard the horns on the wind.
There's nothing like revenge. The immense satisfaction of seeing your 'guards' tied to several thorny trees with gags in their mouths made out of their own shirts, and ties from their trousers, so all they had on were their small clothes, and their weapons and armor just tantalizingly out of reach…there's just nothing quite like it.
I suppose you're wondering how we did it? Well, it involves a certain dumbass captain – who I won't name – leaving his very sharp knife close enough that one of us could grab it without being noticed and then each proceed to cut the other's bonds – and an Elven stealth that one can only really appreciate if one is an Elf, as I learned that night.
We had stopped after riding for some time into the night – I think about midnight, which blows terribly. Have you ever tried to sleep in a saddle? Well, I found out the hard way that you can't. I leaned forward to give Fiona somewhere to put her head after her back got stiff, but she wouldn't do that often, on account of the still-present bruise on my shoulders. And because, well, she's proud. Meaning she'd be damned if she was going to let herself show weakness to this band of apes while she could still keep her head up.
Don't let her shy and modest exterior confuse you – Fiona is not a woman to be trifled with. When she gets pissed, she gets pissed, and when she refuses to show weakness, she carries herself with a dignity that would rival a queen's.
I'd given up on not showing weakness the seventh time I nearly fell off the animal's back. A horse's trot has never been the most gentle of gaits, and when your head and back are throbbing, and you're weak from hunger and dizzy and sick, it's pure hell.
When we finally stopped for the night, I thought I was going to pass out, but I hung on to consciousness when I heard the men talking about rabbits. Food! Two moved off into the night and returned with a few dead bunnies. I faced the other way as they were skinned and dressed (and nearly puked once or twice…I've always found that sort of thought to be horrendously disgusting) but found a renewed appetite (or a reawakened one) when the bunnies started to cook. Food of any description at that point would have done, regardless of how I fell about killing animals, and I held off sleeping until a whole cooked rabbit was shoved towards Fiona and I to share.
We hadn't spoken for some time up until this point, and we didn't after we got our food, on account of having our mouths full of burning rabbit-meat. I don't think I've ever tasted anything quite so good, even though there was a pile of innards on the ground that I pointedly ignored. Not only was I stuffing my face, but I had noticed that the Captain that I will not name (although, if you don't know who it is by now, then you're truly dense) had stuck his knife into the dirt close enough that he could grab it if he had to, but otherwise, the damn thing was just there. I looked over to Fiona in what I hoped was a discreet manner, and saw that she had spotted the bright, shiny knife too. The bare bones of a plan were starting to come together in my head, and I wondered if it would work. After freeing ourselves, I had no idea what we could do, but I didn't get much chance to think of it.
"Get some rest," Dúmassë growled at us as he stretched out beside the fire. "And don't bother trying to escape. You won't get far, or survive for long."
"Why the hell did you tie our hands together then, Dumbass?" I snarled around mouthfuls of rabbit. One of the hairy butt-faced monkeys smirked as he handed me a water skin. I guess he'd never seen a hungry woman before. I looked at it suspiciously before pointedly wiping off the spout with a corner of my shirt. I took a swig and passed it to Fiona, wiping my face with my bound hands.
"I prefer not to risk the lives of my men for silly women who will not listen to reason and who will insist upon heading for the hills at any moment despite the innate futility of their actions."
"You could always let us return to the camp," Fiona spoke up, her quiet voice cutting through the resulting laughter of Dumbass' little comment.
"We have our orders," Lick-me put in. "You are to be taken to Minas Ithil and kept out of the way of the Elvish King and his Lieutenant, the Lord Glorfindel. Although I understand how you two could be 'distractions', I do not see what either of them find attractive in you." He shifted uncomfortably under the ensuing stare that we two subjected him to. I would say it was vaguely reminiscent of the way a cat will stare at someone without blinking until they get uneasy and look away.
It worked. We didn't have to say a thing. Lick-me cleared his throat and looked away.
The Men joked amongst themselves for a while as we continued to shove our faces full of rabbit and watch them wearily over the fire. They spoke mostly in a language that sounded a great deal like Old English. If I hadn't been in pain and tied up, I wouldn't have minded listening and making an attempt to decipher what it was they were saying. As it was, I could barely keep my eyes open. But I didn't dare sleep: sleep + head wound = not a good idea.
The soldiers dropped off to sleep quite soon after that, leaving Fiona and I to our own devices. Of course, they posted sentries, but still – remember the one inept guard? Well, now it was two inept guards, and they were both as incompetent as each other. I would have thought that two negatives made a positive, but…well, they apparently didn't figure that two Elf women would be any problem. I guess they'd never heard of us or of our antics, which rather surprised me, considering the public displays of our stupidity.
It was while our 'guards' were looking away that Fiona managed to snark the Nameless Captain's knife (which he had left out after eating his own rabbit for some reason that I'll never know) and cut through her own bonds before starting on mine. She was able to do this largely because the idiots had tied our hands in front of us, rather than behind, and had left our ankles free. So we were quite quickly loose, and after that, simply waited for the right moment. It came when the dumbasses that were supposed to be guarding us fell asleep.
This lot was begging for an Orc attack. So, in an effort of good faith, and to show that we were actually quite good natured and easy to get along with, we decided that we were going to make sure that they were ready for one, and then be a good distance away when it came.
"Cut their clothes off!" I whispered as softly as I could.
"Ye gods!" Fiona answered in the same tone of voice. "What for?"
"Because we don't have enough rope."
I saw her eyes light up in the dark. They sparkled with moonlight. "Right." With the Captain's knife, she began to cut the buckles on all the armor, and the cloth underneath while I went around and disarmed them. Elvish stealth comes in very handy for this sort of thing, even when one has a horribly nasty headache. If Fiona and I had still been human, I'm sure we wouldn't have been able to pull this off, but we had them disarmed, bound and gagged and tied to a thorny tree before they fully realized what was happening.
The knots finished, I stood a good distance away from the lot and sniggered at their attempts to come at me, though I resisted for a time the urge to tease them into serious anger. Never know what pissed off Gondorian soldiers can do. I've seen 'em fight, but…damn, they are stupid. Fiona shook her head at the lot, moved off and started searching through the saddlebags for anything that we might be able to use.
"Hey Rhiannon!" she called out. I looked over. "I found our backpacks!"
"What the hell are they doing here?" I wondered, moving over to where Fiona stood next to the horses.
"They probably took them to conceal the evidence," she mused after a moment. "To make it look as though we ran away."
"But that doesn't make any sense," I protested. "Why the hell would we run away?"
"Of course it makes sense," Fiona replied. "If they'd left our bags, everyone in the camp would know we'd been kidnapped."
"But it doesn't make sense," I reiterated, wondering just exactly what Fiona was talking about. "Glorfy and Gilly know full well that we wouldn't run away – not after what happened the last time we encountered them – so what possible reason would they have for taking our odd assortment of junk with us?"
As I spoke, Fiona opened up her pack and then held it away from her face.
"Nasty!" she remarked. "I'd forgotten about the pineapple."
"Apparently," I added dryly as the stench of rotting tropical fruit came at me suddenly from her open backpack. "Your 'odd undergarments' are going to smell quite bad for some time."
She glared at me, and looked towards the bound and gagged soldiers of Gondor. I decided that it would be wise for me to just shut up on that point – I was already wounded, after all. No sense in inciting the Wrath of Fiona. I grinned suddenly, though, an idea coming to me. "Think we should shove rotten pineapple all over Dumbass' face?"
"More than likely, but…I think we should save it."
I stared at her. "What? You actually want to keep that thing? It reeks more than the Bog of Eternal Stench!"
She frowned, dismissing my reference to Labyrinth. "I honestly don't know," she said. "I've just got a feeling we're going to need it."
I shrugged. "Whatever then," I conceded. "But it's staying in your pack."
"Okay," she agreed, and handed me my own pack. I slung it on my back and went back over to the tied up Hermes look-a-likes. Fiona came over to stand next to me, while I delivered my last statement.
"Well," I said cheerfully to the infuriated stares of the idiot soldiers of Gondor, "it was fun while it lasted, but, well, we have a camp and some hot Elves to be getting back to, not to mention some serious Orc ass to kick. So we'll be seeing 'ya around!"
Fe and I took our pick of the horses and left, our laughter high and merry.
"So how did you get captured?" I asked Fiona as we trotted quite cheerfully back in the direction that we'd come from. The moon was up and shining clearly, and even with the faint reek of the Dead Marshes drifting towards us, things were looking up.
"Nabbed in my sleep," she answered. "They gagged me first so I wouldn't scream and then started to ask where you – the 'short one' – had gone. One of them even had the gall to say you'd gone off with 'that prissy Elf'."
I contemplated it. I really did. Suddenly, our revenge didn't seem anywhere near as fulfilling as it had a moment a go, and it took a real amount of will power not to turn right around and go have some more fun with the idiots.
"Rhiannon?" Fiona asked. I guess she was getting worried about me. I heaved a sigh.
"It's alright," I said. "I'm not going to go kick their asses. We've already got our revenge. No need to get all angry again. Nope. No reason at all." I bit off the bout of curses that was threatening to come to the surface and blow our good moods completely. Still…I couldn't resist a muttered 'bloody stupid shit heads'. No one gets off without some form of curse when they say my Elf is 'prissy'. Most of those idiots wouldn't know nobility if it bit them six times on the ass, chased them off a cliff and then danced on their bloody corpse at the bottom of the ravine.
"How did they get you?" Fiona asked. I was thankful for the distraction, since I knew I wasn't going to get a chance to go back and play some more.
"Got me right after I got in from my walk. Nearly bit whoever it was." I was suddenly cheerful at the memory.
"Why didn't you?"
"Didn't want some sort of nasty disease. I don't think that ape had washed in…well, since his mother last gave him a bath."
"Yuk!"
"I know! And I'm not even sure if his mother bathed him! It's disgusting! These idiots go on about how their honor is everything and blah, blah, blah, but then they don't bathe. They're walking contradictions! Had a nice chat with Elrond just before, though."
"He actually spoke to you?" She sounded skeptical.
"I know. Seems he's forgiven us as soon as Gilly did. Said that the 'king's word was enough for him' or something."
Fiona raised her eyebrows. "Good. I feel a great deal better about that than I did."
"Me too," I agreed. "It was fun though. I'm not going to say otherwise."
"Yes, I know, Ms. Hormone," Fiona replied teasingly.
"Hey," I said indignantly, blushing. "I'm not that bad. At least my Elf-drooling is confined to Glorfy now."
Eyebrow raised, all she had to do was look at me.
"Well," I began, face now a bright red. "There are one or two that are…pretty cute."
Her face didn't twitch.
"Really cute," I amended.
Silence, came the swift reply.
"Fine then!" I yelled. "Damn hot!"
She broke down into giggles and I had to join her. Our laughter carried around us even as the rot of the Dead Marshes drifted on the wind towards us.
It was at that point that the Orcs attacked.
In the name of all things holy, you'd think we would have noticed that we made lovely targets! Two unarmed Elf-maidens on a couple of horses, trotting a long and making a great deal of noise...even an Orc could have picked up on that. But we were so caught up in our triumphant escape from Dumbass' clutches and our Elf drooling that we hadn't even noticed their smell.
Rather, we had. We'd just figured that was the Dead Marshes and that we were closer to the camp than we'd thought previously.
There was nothing we could do except run, which is precisely what we did. Horses don't like Orcs very much, just like pretty much anything sane, so they took off at a rampant gallop down the road at the appearance of the first one.
Of course, these being battle horses, they also kicked the crap out of anything Orcish that came near and still managed to do so even with us clinging to their backs. When we finally managed to get up speed, I thought that we'd be safe, for the time being. This hope got dashed, however, when I found myself lying on my back, unable to breathe – and looking up at the greasy, manic faces of an Orc horde.
"Fiona?" I called out. Goddamn that had hurt! Not as much as the Mack truck, mind, but hitting the ground at high speeds hurts no matter how you do it, and being dragged off the back of a horse is just one way to find out just how much it does hurt.
The first indication that she was alright came in the form of a rather mushy pineapple sailing through the air and bursting all over an Orc. It squealed as it wiped the unexpected mush off its face.
"Still alive!" she coughed back. "For now," she added.
I dragged myself to my feet and hoofed one of the Orcs in what I hoped was its genitalia. It doubled over and I pushed it out of the way before it could wave its scimitar at me. I made it to her side, just as she pulled the coconut from her bag.
"Let me!" I yelled, making a grab for the fruit.
"No way!" she retorted, trying to get the coconut out of my reach. "This one's mine!"
"But you got the pineapple!" I yelled back.
We didn't get to argue any more; Orcs kicked our feet out from under us and we landed hard on the ground.
"Nice going!" Fiona fumed, ignoring for a moment our imminent death. "I could have seriously wounded one of them if you had just let me throw the damn coconut!"
I bit back my repeated retort of 'but you got the pineapple' because Fiona screamed as one grabbed her by the hair and forced her to stand.
"Let her go, you god-be-damned bunyips!" I yelled instead, trying to stand myself. It was slow going – I found scimitars pointed at me, ready to skewer me if I tried anything. I looked over to Fiona, but I could see by the light of the moon that she fared no better.
A greasy hand pulled me roughly to my feet and shoved me towards Fiona. We collided and nearly fell again, but managed to stay standing. I realized suddenly that what I had thought had been some sort of grunting was actually their language – they were speaking the Black Tongue. I never really realized how ugly that language was.
I had thought for an instant that they would have bound our hands together, but they had a better option. Collars - with small spikes on the inside, to discourage tugging. Well, to discourage us from tugging. They didn't seem to have any problems with doing it themselves.
They kept us on short leashes, made of iron links. Crudely made links, but they were heavy and dragged the collar down. Small streams of blood trickled down my shoulders, but there was nothing I could do about them. Or the matching ones that trickled down Fiona's shoulders. They seemed to find delight every time we fell and caused more blood to run down our necks. I wondered if I could get tetanus now that I was an Elf, or if I was exempt and wouldn't have to worry about shots ever again.
I realized grimly that needles were likely going to be the least of my worries. Orcs hate Elves, and we were now Elves. What it is they do to the female Elves they capture…well, I know it sent Celebrían over the emotional edge. I don't care to experience anything like it.
WANTED: SWF Elf seeks tall, golden haired Elf to kick the living shit out of some Orcs and get her and her sister's sorry ass out of danger before something so nasty happens that she won't forget it for the rest of eternity.
Wouldn't that just make a wonderful add in the classified section! It's a pity there's a) no way to get an add in from here, and b) no news papers. Although, really, it's not quite so much a pity, because all those trees won't be used just so some stupid company can tell us what to think through the media.
Whatever. Isn't it odd the sorts of things that go through your mind when you've been kidnapped by Orcs? You'd think I'd be too scared shitless to think, but…well, I was too scared to think rationally. That doesn't mean I'm not going to think irrationally.
I don't know for how long we were marched stumbling and tripping over rocky terrain – but that march brought me out of my stupid thoughts right quick...those collars hurt – until the sun rose, but the dawn was gray in the sky over Mordor again when the wind brought us the far-off sounds of horns once more. I wondered if they were hunting horns, or horns of battle, but only in passing. I was too busy trying to keep my footing in the increasingly rocky terrain, and trying to keep near Fiona incase the Orcs tried anything, and trying to keep from slitting my own throat or choking myself. We were driven quickly, heading for the Mountains of Mordor and further from the road.
Not long after the sun rose completely, hungry and tired, we were shoved roughly to the ground in a small hollow, sheltered from the sun by trees and a rock overhang that formed a rough cave where the Orcs could hide during the day and not have to put up with the sunlight. Wind brought the horns again, closer than before but still far enough away that I don't think the Orcs heard them, or understood if they did.
We ended up chained to a scrubby little tree, and the Orcs backed off to taunt and jeer and laugh manically whenever we showed any sort of reaction. And a couple of them could speak our language.
"We should have them now!" One snarled. I backed away from it, keeping Fiona behind me.
"No! Master said to bring any pretties to him!"
"He's not going to like the little one – she's already damaged." The first Orc whined. I guess it meant the bruise on my face, although I was interested to know why it didn't consider what the collars had done to our necks as 'damage'. "Let me have her!" the creature snarled. A grubby paw with talons reached out. Fiona was faster in kicking it away.
"Thanks," I whispered, even as the Orcs argued back and forth about whether or not they should 'have' me. The very thought disgusted me to my very soul. But if it could keep them distracted long enough to get Fiona out…
"No problem," Fiona replied in the same tone.
The Orcs fell back to their original taunting, mostly in their own Black Tongue. I slumped against the tree we were chained to and ignored the jeers, except when any grubby little fingers got too close to either Fiona or myself. Their efforts were usually rewarded with a kick to the closest exposed area of Orc flesh we could reach.
I seriously wanted to sleep – I hadn't for the longest time and it was beginning to affect my brain. I had time to think of an escape plan, but I couldn't – my head hurt. Not even my stupid thoughts of before made it through the pain. I stopped trying to concentrate on my thoughts after the rueful admission that these Orcs were, unfortunately, more skilled at kidnapping than Isildur's men had ever been, even if they smelled worse than the Men and I had questions about how inbred the lot of them were. Darkness hovered deliciously close, but then Fiona was talking, so I couldn't sleep just yet.
"Rhiannon," she whispered. Most of the Orcs had forgotten we were there, and had begun fighting – and killing – one another over the best spots to hide from the sun. I don't know if these creatures sleep, but it wouldn't surprise me if they didn't.
I grunted a response. It was the best I could manage.
"Ereinion and Glorfy are coming for us."
"How do you know?" I mumbled, a little more awake.
"Listen."
So I listened. First, the grunting and snorting and shouting Orcs. Past them, the total silence in the evergreens (I think it was the presence of the Orcs that did that), wind in branches and… Feet? Breathing? Whispered orders in a beautiful tongue…
Suddenly happy and much more awake, I looked to Fiona and tried to keep the grin off my face. "Thank all things holy and sacred!" I whispered back. "How close do you think they are?"
"I don't know. These new ears of mine take some getting used to."
"You're telling me," I muttered. "I'm just glad we haven't been raped."
"That's probably because it was so close to sunrise when they got us," Fiona answered. "Although, the time between felt like a small eternity."
"In hell too," I added. I started trying to wedge my hands under the collar, but to no avail. I tried sneaking a peek or two at Fiona's, to see how they worked, but some stupid Orc noticed what I was doing and pulled on my chain, and down I went. I restrained my desire to rush him – it would only have resulted in some serious neck injuries. Instead, I gave it a death glare and crawled back over to Fiona and crouched next to her. "I am going to cut its head off and gut it with a herring," I muttered darkly, wincing as the movement of my neck hurt both my nasty bruises and the numerous cuts along my neck from the collar. I refuse to give these vile creatures any sort of personal pronoun beyond 'it'.
"Patience," Fiona murmured. "When Ereinion and Glorfindel come, you'll likely get a sword."
"Swords are too quick," I growled. She nodded in agreement.
It turns out that our rescue party didn't bring swords. Well, some of them had, but I didn't notice at first. Swords are a little harder to use in forests on account of all the trees.
Fiona and I had lapsed again into silence, watching the Orcs warily as they ate their own dead (dead from their own fighting too, the sick bastards), a sight most disgusting, if you ask me. After a horrible moment in which morbid fascination would not release me, I looked away and tried to block their noisy chewing out of my head. That was why I missed the first arrow hit its target – but I heard it, and recognized the horrible noise it made when it struck home.
I looked up and around quickly as an Orc keeled over, only to hear another arrow loosed and another Orc dropped to the ground, an arm of its comrade still in its mouth, feathers protruding from its eye.
All at once, there were Elves and Men everywhere, killing Orcs, shouting and cursing and flailing swords. Arrows came from the trees, and then…
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I've never seen a more beautiful site than Glorfindel the Golden, glowing in the early morning sunlight. Well, maybe Glorfy standing in full sunlight. Or perhaps the Glorfy-vision presented to me the night before last, when he was sitting in the lantern light. And then there was that night we rode together on Minras' back, after our first escape, and the absolutely glorious spectacle he made riding through the our first battle towards me to save my sorry arse from death…
Okay. Can we just agree that Glorfindel is damn farking hot? The point of that little bit of musing was that the sight of Glorfy is a sight worthy of my female self. And I loved every moment of it, made sweeter, of course, by what we'd just gone through.
So much sweeter that I watched our rescue party kick some serious Orc ass, whooping and yelling and cursing, through a haze of relief that made my eyelids droop and my knees turn to jelly. I sank to the base of our tree and glanced sluggishly over at Fiona – she had her eyes on Gilly, of course, and I spared a glance to see what the Elf King was up to before turning back to my own beloved. Gil-galad was slicing through Orcs with a deadly calm, only a slight hint of cold fury in his features. He still moved like a cat. Fiona's eyes tracked his movements as I turned back to Glorfy and the glinting of his golden hair in the sunlight.
Nearly as fast as it began, all the Orcs were dead and the Elves were panting in the little hollow. Still horribly sluggish, I turned back to Fiona to make sure she was okay, but I didn't get a chance to utter any words, and neither did she.
"Minaimîr," Glorfy spoke behind me. He sounded relieved, and my own relief heightened. Sounds seemed to come from further away than before, and I could almost feel the darkness that had been waiting for me all this time on my back doorstep. We could go back to the camp now! Go back and I could get some well-needed sleep... Glorfindel stood close and the Orcs were dead and I could finally get this god-be-damned collar off…
I turned around and looked at him, saw the Orc blood staining his armor and his sword, and his brilliant golden hair plastered to his head with sweat. I noted in passing that it was rather odd that his sweat didn't make him look dirty or greasy, but the thought passed as he moved quickly towards me. I managed a smile, but it was small one. I resisted the urge to greet him with 'Yo! What took you so long?'
"Melyanna, are you –" He froze mid sentence. I actually shrank back against the tree as he practically flew the rest of the distance between us. Gently, he turned my head to the side, his fingers cool against the swelling of my face. "I am glad that I have found you, mel nîn," he whispered. I noticed that Gilly was coming for Fiona. She looked about ready to pass out, and was regarding him with the strangest expression. She looked like she was talking to him. What the fark? "I am glad too that the Orcs that did this to you have perished." He was taking the collar off as he spoke and gasped when he saw the state of my skin underneath. I didn't want to look, and couldn't, but still…
I tried to stand, but didn't get very far. I couldn't even speak my relief was so great. He scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing – which I know isn't true – and carried me back towards where he had left the white vision of Minras and away from the results of the carnage.
"I am never letting you out of my sight again, Minaimîr," he murmured as he held me close. Never have I been so glad to hear a voice! I fought to keep my eyes open – that need to sleep was overly pressing, and now that I knew that Fiona and I were safe…
"I don't plan on leaving again," I managed. I buried the undamaged side of my face against his chest. "Just don't let any of those stupid smelly Men near me – I might kill them."
"Men?" Glorfindel asked quickly. "What men?"
I pulled back a little to look up at his face. "The ones who took us from our tent. You didn't know?" I continued when he didn't answer immediately. "They got Fiona first and then came back for me after I went for a walk. Some smelly bastard almost got his arm bitten, and then he decided a back-fist would make a meek woman out of me." I gestured weakly at my face. "It worked – I haven't been able to stand properly since, although that might also be hunger."
His voice, when he spoke, was devoid of everything except anger. Yet another person to add to the list of people I intend to stay on the good side of.
"Who did this to you?" He asked. 'Cold fury' doesn't cover it.
"Dunno," I answered slowly, suddenly wary. "Didn't see his face – it was dark. But he sure did smell awful." I didn't tell him that one of them had called him 'prissy'. I didn't know quite how he would react, and I didn't want to make him any angrier.
He opened his mouth, but Glorfy was interrupted before he could ask his next question.
"Where are my men?" I looked around at Isildur, noting him for the first time. Why the hell had he come? To cement his alibi? There was really no other reason for his presence – we weren't supposed to have disappeared from his camp. I didn't bother to keep the belligerent, smug satisfaction I felt out of my voice as I answered him, though. In my mind, he didn't deserve politeness.
"Tied up by their own clothes a while down the road," I said, gesturing back towards where we had come from. "You might want to get there before any Orcs do."
Isildur didn't hesitate. He gathered his Hermes-lings with a shout and they rode off into the bushes, without so much as a 'by-your-leave' thrown in the direction of Gil-galad. I also noticed that Gil-galad himself hadn't been paying attention to anything that didn't have the name Anórmír. The High King therefore missed Isildur and his minions galloping off through the trees towards where we'd left the road, and likely then on to Captain Dumbass and his sidekick Lick-me and their band of hooligans.
Isildur and his men gone, I slumped again against Glorfy's shoulder.