CHAPTER SIX: As Bad As It Gets

"She's dead," said Tuima. "Eicys is dead."

The Immies stared at her

"No, she's not," said Eredolyn blankly.

"How do you know she's dead?" Dilly asked, her tone fierce.

"I heard the two orcs talking," said Tuima. "The one who went off looking for her was muttering something about a waste of time, and then I didn't catch anything until he said dead as a warg's breakfast, blood all over the place."

There was a strange choking noise from Cebu, and then silence again.

"You must have heard wrong," said Eredolyn at last. "That sort of thing… it just doesn't happen. People never really die in situations like this – you only think they're dead for a few chapters. They always show up again."

"I did not hear wrong. I am not like you humans, going around half-deaf. She's dead."

"She's not dead," said Eredolyn.

"She's better off than we are," said Tuima grimly. Before Dilly could ask what was meant by that little piece of cheer, the Elf continued, "Look out, we're moving again."

The Immies were hauled to their feet and forced ahead at a steady jog-trot. The orcs seemed a bit baffled by Cebu, who had turned as pale as a new snowfall. Her eyes looked huge and dark and empty, and she moved along like someone in a dream. She did no more than blink vaguely when an orc shoved or struck her.

Her friends exchanged worried glances. "She's not dead," said Eredolyn again.

Behind them, a broken-off arrowhead lay abandoned in the grass, surrounded by the tiny grey fibers of a half-cut rope.

LCLCLCLCLC

Eicys wasn't sure why she'd run back here, of all places, but it turned out to be a good thing she had. The goblin she'd killed lay sprawled in the leaves like a carelessly dropped rag, black blood puddled around his head and shoulders like a demonic halo. She had seen the dagger still sticking out of him, heard the distant crashes of pursuit behind her, and lost her head completely.

She darted to the body and scrabbled frantically to pull the weapon free. She almost had it when she slipped in the bloody leaves and fell forward, getting the horrible black stuff all over herself. Eicys moaned. The noises were getting closer. She heaved at the dagger, dragging the corpse for several feet before she finally pried it loose. Then, with the pursuing orc practically on top of her, she darted behind the nearest tree, gripped the dagger in nerveless fingers, and waited.

The footsteps stopped only a few feet away. "I know ye're here…" said a soft, growling voice. "Come out an'… Morgoth's bones! Murgash?"

He'd found the corpse. But he seemed unusually shocked, even frightened. That couldn't be right…

Eicys found she couldn't stand the suspense: she peered out of her hiding place, moving as stealthily as she knew how. What she saw completely justified the orc's reaction.

In her panic, she had dragged Murgash's body right up to the roots of a huge and gnarled tree. And now, those roots were winding slowly around the corpse and pulling it inexorably into the ground.

A string of horrified gibberish was spewing out of her pursuer's mouth. Eicys was almost relieved not to understand him: the very sound of the words was dark and foul. He backed away a step, then another, and then turned and bolted the way he'd come.

Eicys waited for several minutes before she let herself relax. The dagger dropped to the ground with a muffled thump, and Eicys sagged down beside it, tears boiling out of her, scalding her nose and throat. She choked them back ferociously: there was no time to cry. Her sister and friends – and Tuima, too, though Eicys didn't particularly care about her – were all in trouble. And there was clearly no one around to help them but Eicys herself.

What was she going to do? If she got too close to the group the orcs would smell her out. She couldn't fight. Running would help no one but herself. So how…

Eicys stopped. She stared at Murgash's partially-buried corpse.

She did not like the direction her thoughts were heading.

Not at all.

LCLCLCLCLCLC

Dilly thought things were about as bad as they could get.

This is not a good thought to think. Somehow, it just begs the universe to try and prove you wrong. In this case, the universe did so in an unusually cruel fashion.

The orcs started to sing.

Not all of them – thankfully – but enough to foul the air for a good half-mile and encourage Dilly and Tuima to exchange their first non-hostile look. In Tuima's case it was an expression of nauseated disdain; in Dilly's, a look of abject suffering.

Both expressions intensified when Eredolyn whispered, "It's all so realistic, isn't it? That song is pure orc."

"I wish I could reach my pack," muttered Tuima. "What was the point of hauling thirty pounds' worth of medical supplies all the way from Rivendell if I can't even fix a knock on the head?"

"I'm almost more worried about Cebu," said Dilly, tripping awkwardly over a root. The Immies' ankles were bound, but loose enough that they could jog a little. "At least Eredolyn is happy the way she is."

Tuima glanced around at Cebu. "But – she must have known this would happen, right?"

A slight frost crept into Dilly's expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well – all humans die. You know you will die. Surely you have learned to prepare yourselves?"

There was a brief silence.

"I will infer otherwise from your expression," said Tuima. "I am – sorry. I am not… accustomed to the thought of death. I have never… never known anyone who…" She shook her head. "I don't know how humans manage, with something like that hanging over them."

Dilly was impressed. Tuima was being very nearly civil. She must be under more stress than Dilly had thought. "I'm still not going to believe Eicys is dead until we have proof," she said.

An orc shoved her. "Less talkin', more runnin'!" he snarled. "Almost to the tower, now. Home sweet home." He grinned nastily. "Yeh'll love yer new rooms. There's only one pris'ner what's survived Sharkey's dungeons fer more'n a few months, an' everyone sez 'e's as crazy as a warg wiv 'is tail afire."

A nearby orc bared his teeth. "Thought I told yeh not ter talk about the tark," he said.

"Scared?" the first orc jeered.

"Yeah, I am," said the second. "An' yew would be, too, if yeh'd been there the day 'e got out."

"Takes more'n a crazy tark ter scare me," scoffed orc number one.

"Yeah? How 'bout a crazy tark what's faster'n an Elf an' madder'n a troll, an' doesn't even blink when yeh cut 'im? 'E built a barricade outta all the orcs 'e killed an' held the rest o' us off fer two days. Two days." The orc shivered. "Yeah. I'm scared o' him, sure."

"What's a tark?" Dilly whispered to Eredolyn.

"Orcish for a Gondorian," said Eredolyn. "A bunch of orcs in the third book thought that Sam was a tark when he came to rescue Frodo."

"Ah…" Dilly tripped over another root. Her Stoic expression was settling over her face again.

"Dunno why Sharkey didn't kill 'im," the first orc was saying. None of the orcs seemed at all out of breath, though they'd been jogging for nearly an hour now. The Immies' conversation at this point was conducted in short, panted phrases, but the orcs looked like they could chat and run for hours more.

"Politics," the second orc grunted. "'e's the son o' some bigwig from the South. I jest hope 'is daddy doesn't come a-lookin' fer 'im, that's all. We got enough problems, what wiv armin' an' trainin' all the new uruks and ungrathik."

"Yeh hear about the big ungrath what killed the trainin' master?" asked the first orc. "The one what went all flower-blooded a month or two back? They say…"

Dilly stopped paying attention. Listening to orcish gossip was about as pleasant as a case of stomach flu. She put her mind to work on escape plans, instead. Half of her was convinced this was all a particularly realistic and unpleasant dream, but the other half was getting steadily more terrified the closer they got to Isengard. It was this same half that was also coming very close to snapping under the strain of determined denial. Eicys couldn't really be dead…

Dilly threw another worried glance at Cebu. The redhead hadn't made a single sound since hearing the news, not even when she tripped and gashed both her palms on a hidden stone.

Biting her lip, Dilly looked away again. Now would be a really good time to wake up, she decided. But they got closer and closer to Isengard, and the nightmare continued relentlessly. As the huge gates swung open to admit them, Dilly began to realize that she hadn't honestly believed things would go this far. Stuff like this just… just didn't happen. Not in real life.

Eredolyn, apparently, was thinking along similar lines. Sort of. Bar the 'real life' bit.

"Hey!" she said, as their party made its way through the thick stone tunnel that was Isengard's great gate. "Hang on just one second. We didn't get away! We got taken all the way to Isengard without escaping! That can't be right."

"Why not?" asked Dilly, wondering if she actually wanted to know the answer.

"I know how this works," said Eredolyn, still with that air of puzzled indignation. "We get captured, one of us manages to get free of her ropes, she frees the others, and we all wait for the Opportune Moment and make a run for it. That's just the way it goes. No one ever finds an arrowhead and saws halfway through her ropes and then doesn't escape! That would be silly. It's a sign of bad editing, that's what it is."

"I realize I may regret asking this," said Dilly, "but… editing?"

"Of our story," said Eredolyn.

"Our story?"

"Well, obviously we're in some sort of fanfic," said Eredolyn. "Why else would we all be going by our screen names? Why else would orcs tie us up instead of just killing us? Why else would we be in Middle-earth in the first place?"

Dilly thought her friend had a point, but she wasn't about to admit that to herself, let alone anyone else. "We are not in a fanfic," she said. "It's weird enough being inside The Lord of the Rings. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"No way would Tolkien write the kind of story we've been in so far," said Eredolyn. "If this were the real Middle-earth we'd all be dead. Or worse."

Dilly expressionless expression would have made a rock envious. "Thank you, Eredolyn, for that uplifting little thought."

"Thought I told yeh teh shuddup an' walk!" snarled the orc just behind them. "C'mon, my liddle beauties, move it along. There's a wizard what wants teh see yeh. I wouldn't wanna be in yer shoes…"