Chapter Two: Into the Woods

Disclaimer: I bow before Tolkien's powerful intellect and his estate's powerful lawyers. Nothing you recognize is mine, unless you're recognizing it only from the previous chapter. Alas.

Tuima took back everything nasty she'd ever said about this place. She had discovered chocolate shakes.

"Well, at least it keeps her quiet," Dilly muttered to Eredolyn as they sped away from the local Sonic Burger.

"But that's her third one!" Eredolyn hissed. "They were supposed to be for all of us!"

"Except Cebu," Tuima put in calmly from the backseat, tipping the cup upside down and scraping out the last dregs of chocolatey goodness. The other two exchanged glances: Tuima had freakishly good hearing. "I notice you haven't fed her anything but gruel all day," Tuima continued. "And her sister keeps singing that song through the closet door at her."

Eicys had indeed been singing Oliver at her sister on and off all day:

"Food, glorious foooooood!

Hot sausage and mustard!

While we're in the mooooood!

Cold jelly and custard!"

"I don't understand what she hopes to accomplish by it," Tuima finished.

"Um… it's funny," said Dilly.

Tuima gave her a slow stare.

"Unless you're someone utterly without a sense of humor," Dilly grumbled to herself. "I keep forgetting about that."

"It's torture tactics," Eredolyn explained with relish. "We've got to let Coralie know how much her friend is suffering, so that she'll be properly motivated to write."

"Your other 'torture tactics' seem to be of a… dare I call it humorous?... nature as well," observed Tuima.

"Just because they make her laugh doesn't mean tickling or Fluffy Pillows are funny," said Eredolyn. "Cebu was absolutely begging us to leave her alone and go send Coralie the ransom note."

"Think it'll work?" Dilly asked.

"Coralie hasn't written yet," sighed Eredolyn. "Maybe we should use spiders. Cebu hates spiders."

"We could play number 11 on the RotK soundtrack while we did," Dilly put in with a grin.

"Ooh. Nice," said Eredolyn as they pulled into Cebu's driveway. She and Dilly discussed demi-tortures all the way down the stairs to Cebu's bedroom, where her closet-prison was being guarded by Eicys.

Who was currently fast asleep.

While the closet door stood open.

With no sign of Cebu in sight.

A small pile of limp grey rope and a bowl of congealing oatmeal were the only signs their captive had left of her imprisonment. Exploding with rage, Eredolyn grabbed one of the burger bags and began beating Eicys over the head with it.

"No! Stop!" Dilly cried. "That one has the onion rings in it!"

"Of all the careless, stupid--!" Eredolyn yelled.

"Ow! Ow! Stop!" Eicys squealed, shielding her head. Onion rings or no, being awakened by Sonic-bag-beating is not a pleasant experience. "What did I do?"

Eredolyn pulled her upright and pointed towards the empty closet.

Eicys gaped. "Oh, uh… that."

"Yes, that!"

"But… but how did she…?"

Dilly examined the empty bowl and the plaster dust littering the carpet. "Her oatmea – gruel spoon," she said. "She dug into the wall next to the lock and pushed it back, see? But how did she get out of this?"

Dilly held up the limp silver rope, which still held one intricate knot. Eredolyn grabbed at it and gaped angrily when it fell apart as smoothly as if it were a slipknot. She whirled on Tuima. "Well done, really brilliant," she growled. "Didn't you ever learn how to tie a knot?"

"It's Elven rope," said Tuima. A chill radiated off her words as from the basement of a morgue. "It tends to be… sympathetic to those in need."

"Elven rope, my eye," Dilly said. "Just admit you made a mistake like a normal human being, okay?"

"No. I am not normal, I do not make mistakes, and I am most emphatically not human. Thank the Valar."

"All right, that's it!" snarled Dilly, while Eicys muttered, "Well, she got the 'normal' part right at least."

"Dilly!" Eredolyn interjected, trying to break up what promised to be a very nasty fight. "We don't have time for this. Cebu has escaped, but she can't have a very big head start. Where would she go? She couldn't have gone out of the front door, because it was still locked when we came back."

"Back door, then," Dilly said, grudgingly distracted from her quarrel. "Into the woods!"

"All right, gang! Forget the next batch of oatm – gruel and fluffy pillows for now!" Eredolyn cried."We're going on a hunt! Let's suit up and move out!"

Eicys rooted through every closet in her house for warm dark clothing, while Dilly stuffed hamburgers into backpacks and Tuima argued about having to find room in her elegant but overstuffed pack for the flashlight Eredolyn had given her. Eredolyn gave up on the argument when her primary point ("It lights up when you push the button, see? Sheesh, where are you from, anyway?") failed utterly: the batteries were gone. Tuima raised a single sarcastic eyebrow and Eredolyn was left to deliver her motivational speech in a rather disgruntled mood:

"Fellow torturers! The hunt is on!" she declared. "We must retrieve the Cebu or we will have no power to make Lady Coralie write, and we will never see the next chapter of her incredible story!" There were winces. "Oh," Eredolyn finished, "and the next time someone wants to feed a prisoner, forget the spoon! Just FLING the freakin' gruel at them!"

With these inspirational words, Eredolyn flung open the back door and bounded down the steps. "Hit the backyard lights, would you, Tuima?" she called over her shoulder.

Tuima looked at her blankly. There was a long pause.

"Oh, boy," groaned Eicys. "I'll do it." She flipped a switch and they all blinked as the backyard was flooded with light, casting the tangled forest of scrub oak into sharp relief. Tuima threw up a hand, squinting at the bright lanterns. She had never gotten used to the strange methods of illumination these even stranger mortals used.

"So," said Eredolyn, "let's spread out and comb the woods, moving… what's it?" She hazarded a guess: "North?"

"West," Tuima corrected her with a long-suffering sigh.

"Whatever," said Eredolyn, waving them onward. "Move out, troops!"

"Valar preserve me," muttered Tuima, and followed.

There was relative silence, save the snapping and crunching of twigs and dead leaves on the ground. It broken by a cry: "Ow!"

"What? What happened?" Eredolyn whispered.

"I stubbed my toe!" Dilly muttered furiously. "I swear, I can't see a thing out here!"

Tuima glanced at the night sky. "There is a quarter moon already risen," she said. "Apparently, mortals have dim mental and visual acuity."

Eredolyn's exclamation fortunately came before either Dilly or Tuima could wither to ash under the force of the other's glare. "I can see Cebu's tracks!" she cried.

"Where?" The others crowded around.

"See! A footprint!" said Eredolyn enthusiastically.

"And look here!" said Tuima, crouching to examine the prints. "See, she's moving this way." Tuima followed the tracks, bent over and pointing out signs of Cebu's progress through the woods. A broken twig, some displaced leaves, an indentation in the moss… The others began to look increasingly bored. When Tuima smugly showed them the fourteenth bent grass blade, Eredolyn groaned loudly. "Wow," she said, dripping sarcasm all over the forest floor.

"Thrilling," commented Eicys, adding to the puddle.

"Ooh, ooh, look, it's a piece of grass!" said Dilly, flooding them all out.

"Well… Tuima's enjoying herself at least," said Eredolyn. And she was.

"It's just like Haldir taught me back home in Lorien!" Tuima said happily. "I've never had a chance to do any real tracking until – " She broke off. They were staring at her again. She muttered something nasty under her breath and went back to tracking.

"Weelll…" said Dilly finally. "While Tuima's on her fantasy trip… I'm hungry."

"Me too," said Eredolyn. They watched Tuima a while longer. "She seems to be on top of things." There was a pause. "Eicys, go find us some more oatmea – uh, gruel."

Eicys stomped off grumbling. Why do I have to bring the oat – the gruel? I don't even like gruel! Just because I accidentally let Cebu escape, I have to do all the work. Why does the youngest always get left behind?

She trudged through the forest until it began to thin out and she could see her house's backyard light. She stomped inside still muttering dire imprecations against selfish older fanatics.

She started some water boiling, then sat down at the computer to check Coralie's story for updates. She gasped. There was an author's note! Eicys dashed to the stove and poured in the oatmeal mix, then frantically skimmed the writer's message:

I am busy and still trying to hunt down my muse. If you see her, send her my way, quick smart!

"Hmph," said Eicys. She wondered if Coralie had even gotten their ransom note. She stomped back to the stove, spooned the goopy grey glop into plastic baggies, and stomped back outside again.

That's when the screaming started.

lclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclclc

It only happened because they were bored. Eredolyn hadn't realized that tracking would be so dull. Tuima seemed pretty entertained, but Dilly and Eredolyn were left to trade yawns over the top of her head.

"I'm going to go look ahead," said Eredolyn.

"No!" Tuima called after her. "You'll disturb Cebu's – Ah, never mind. I don't know why I'm helping you two anyway," she added. "I've already kept my side of the bargain."

There was a strangled yell from up ahead, then a louder shriek. Dilly's head came up fast, and she was dashing off through the undergrowth in the skin of a second. "Ere?" she called. "Are you okay? Eredolyn!"

Tuima growled something unrepeatable under her breath, unsheathed her knife, and followed.

She caught up with Dilly just outside a clearing, and stopped dead. That smell… And sure enough, when she crept closer, there they were, standing in a rough circle and looking puzzled. The biggest of them – and he really was enormous – had Eredolyn by the ankle.

"They're orcs," Dilly mumbled. She was pale with shock. "Orcs."

"What did you expect?" hissed Tuima. "The borders of Fangorn are crawling with the foul things."

"Fangorn isn't real!" Dilly whispered. "Orcs aren't real!"

"I'm sure they'll appreciate your explaining that to them." Tuima edged a little closer to the clearing. Dilly followed, and earned herself a scathing look when a leaf rustled at her passing. She ignored Tuima, concentrating on her friend.

"…I can't believe it," Eredolyn was saying, the words curiously indistinct. "This is so cool! I mean, you look exactly the way I always imagined – you even smell bad!"

The orc holding Eredolyn dropped her unceremoniously on the ground and unsheathed his scimitar. "I don't think ye're takin' this too seriously," he growled. "Let's see what we ken do teh change that, huh?" The other orcs snarled eager agreement.

"We have to do something -- she's hurt!" Dilly hissed to Tuima. "They hit her on the head!"

"Hm," said Tuima. "I don't think I'd have been able to tell a difference."

Dilly set her teeth. "You are an absolute jerk, you know that?"

The point of a scimitar descended toward Eredolyn's face. Eredolyn batted it away with reflexes born of a decade of karate, and sat up a little. A trickle of blood was running out of her hair and soaking the collar of her shirt. "This is amazing!" she slurred. "I mean, you're even bigger than the Kiwis who played them in the movies! Hey, Uruk-Hai! Can you do that whole head-butting thing?"

Dilly winced. "Maybe if we just back away slowly – "

"From the orcs or the madwoman?"

"--We can go find the police and…"

"There's no time!"

"What are we going to do, then?"

A voice cut into the whispered conversation: "Well, whadda we 'ave 'ere?"

Tuima whirled, moving unnaturally fast. Her knife scythed through the air and deep into the throat of the orc behind them. The creature fell backwards, gurgling, an expression of astonishment stamped eternally on its ugly face.

"It worked?" Tuima said numbly. "It worked!"

"Yes, good, well done," said Dilly. "Now run!"

The girls turned – and crashed full into the waiting grip of another uruk. Tuima brought her knife down savagely; the monster howled and stumbled back.

Dilly winced at the inky orcish blood spattered across her shirt. "Oh," she said. "Yechh."

"It's pronounced 'yrch'," said Tuima, now in a fighter's crouch. "Do you have a weapon?"

"No!"

"Of course not," sighed the Elf. "Get your friend; we've got to get out of here."

"Mmp!" was all Dilly said. Tuima turned to see the human wrapped in an orc's meaty arms, fighting viciously. The Elf growled something that does not bear repeating. She darted forward, ducked neatly around the orc, and buried her knife in its ribs.

It made a noise Dilly would never forget, however much she wanted to. Black blood went everywhere; it scalded her skin and soaked her sweatshirt as the orc spasmed and keeled over, almost landing on top of her.

Tuima grunted. She was kneeling next to the still-shuddering body, tugging at something. "Uh… Tuima?" said Dilly, as the remaining orcs advanced on them. "Tuima!"

The Elf didn't look up.

"What are you doing?" Dilly shouted at her.

"My knife is stuck! It won't come – " An orc backhanded her so hard that she flew three feet and hit a tree. It made a noise like a baseball bat against old plaster.

Tuima sat up groggily. She only made it halfway before turning a funny greyish color and clutching at her head. "Oh…" she mumbled, and passed out cold on the forest floor.

Dilly stared at the limp body, then at Eredolyn, who was watching with appreciative horror, and then at the group of Uruk-Hai advancing on her, weapons drawn. "Oh, that's just perfect," she said, and did the only sensible thing to do at that point, which was to whirl around and take off running.

She didn't get very far at all.