Broken - Chapter XI

Fate

The Plains beyond the Isen, April 12th, 3018 T.A.

When they finally stopped for the night Théodred sank down on the cold ground, exhausted and hungry. However, when Ósle offered him a piece of bread, he simply shook his head. He was too beaten up and tired to care. Rest was rarely granted him and sleep was more welcome than food. Too weak to mind the shivers that shook his body, his thoughts drifted off to another place and time. A time that felt like a lifetime ago...

Absent-mindedly he reached for the pendant hanging around his neck and grasped its cool surface. Surprisingly, the Orcs had never tried to rip it from him, and for that he was grateful. Being constantly reminded of his father left a bitter taste in his mouth, but still he was glad to have this one little piece of home left.

Gently he fingered the irregular round shape with its carved horse-head, his hands turning into fists as he thought of its significance. It was proof of his birthright as heir to the throne of Rohan... now nothing more than a simple piece of jewelry.

"Dred?" Théodred jumped as Gwyn's sudden voice brought him back to the present. "I've brought some stew..."

Théodred looked down at the steaming bowl in her hands. It was a rare treat, but still he couldn't bring himself to reach out for the bowl.

Seeing his hesitation, Gwyn sighed. "Please, Dred. You should eat at least something."

Théodred tore his gaze from the stew and looked her in the eyes. It was because of her that he was still strong enough to walk. And how did he repay her? With silence?

"I'm sorry." He finally managed to say. "It's not your fault that…"

However, before he could finish the sentence, Gurlúk's deep snarl cut through the air. Gwyn jumped at the sound, and as she turned around she bumped right into the tall Orc, spilling the hot contents of the bowl. With a hiss Gurlúk roughly shoved her aside and dragged Théodred to his feet.

His anger flaring, Théodred instinctively made a defensive move and managed to wring himself free. Surprised, the Uruk-hai barely had time to realize what was happening before Théodred had aimed a well-measured kick at the Orc, forcing him to the ground while reaching for the short blade hanging by Gurlúk's belt. In less than a heartbeat Théodred had the blade at the beast's throat...

"Not another move or the female dies."

Théodred froze, his heart skipping a beat. Slowly, he looked away from Gurlúk and found Gwyn on her knees, her head pulled back with a knife to her throat. The Orc that held the blade looked at Théodred with malicious eyes. "You may be valuable to us... but she ain't."

For a long moment Théodred just stared at the Orc holding Gwyn in his grip... and then, slowly, he lowered the blade and let it drop to the ground.

Gurlúk picked it up and got back to his feet. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, were now afire. And as he spoke, his voice was pure venom. "You will regret this, manling..."

A lesser man would have sunk away from the Uruk-hai's stare, but Théodred didn't flinch. And when he saw the whip, he simply closed his eyes. A few seconds later the whip struck his back and he suppressed a scream as he fell to the ground. From the corner of his eye he could see Gwyn's horrified expression and futile attempt to interfere. Théodred, however, didn't struggle. He simply counted. As he always did... he counted. Counted the times the whip hit him. Counted the minutes until he slipped into unconsciousness - that all too sweet and familiar darkness.

The last thing he knew before passing out, was his fingers reaching for the pendant around his neck...

But it was gone.

-0-0-0-

People die out here every day...

Dríana had tried not to think about it, but the fact still remained: she was lost and alone, and riding across lands she did not know. She had long since run out of food and after having crossed the Isen, she had had a hard time to find fresh water as well. But still she rode on, further and further... though so far, her journey from the Fords of Isen had been a fruitless one.

Refusing to believe that Lord Théodred had left the realm, Dríana had ridden back the way she had come, heading for the West-march. It had been risky since both Wildmen and Orcs raided the western borders frequently, but it was her best option. Going north towards Isengard would have been stupid, and Dríana somehow doubted that Théodred would have made it east across the wide open plains of Rohan.

However, as the days had passed, Dríana had begun to lose hope. She had asked almost every traveller and villager she had come by if they had seen Théodred, but truth was that none of them would have recognized the Prince even if he had walked right past them. The only news they had been able to give her, was that a large band of Orcs had been raiding nearby a fortnight past and had then headed north. Apparently they had then crossed the river somehow because no traces of them had been found by the patrolling riders of Rohan...

As such, a reasonable person would have headed in the opposite direction, but Dríana had turned back towards the river and crossed it. A mad idea, but one she couldn't regret. Having ventured past the borders of Rohan (into lands that had once been Dunland), Dríana had come upon the very thing that kept her going now. It was a small thing, but a significant one.

A bronze pendant with the head of a horse engraved in its middle.

It had been lying in the dirt, its leather cord broken. The glimmer of metal had caught Dríana's attention as she had looked down at the mess of footprints surrounding an abandoned campsite. Curiously she had picked it up, and as she had rubbed off the mud she had gasped. She had seen that kind of ornament only once before. It had been in Lord Théodred's tent when she had brought him food. He had worn it around his neck when she had looked at his bare chest...

Now she was clutching that little piece of jewelry tightly, as if that alone could bring her to the person it belonged to.

Knowing that Lord Théodred was a seasoned warrior and rider, Dríana continued as long past nightfall as she dared, and then rested a few hours before heading off again at dawn. Her mind told her that it was a wild case, but her heart kept on hoping. Théodred couldn't be more than half a day's ride ahead of her now, and as he didn't know that Dríana was following his trail, she had the edge on him.

Two nights later, Dríana was trotting Léoma through a cluster of trees when the mare suddenly stopped and flared her nostrils. Dríana put a calming hand on the horse's neck, but the mare remained tense.

"What is it, Léoma?" Dríana narrowed her eyes and swept her surroundings anxiously. The mare gave a low snort, her stamps becoming more and more frequent.

A rustle in the bushes turned Dríana's attention back to her surroundings and she instinctively reached for the dagger. It would be useless against anything bigger than a fox, but it felt safer to hold the carved handle rather than holding nothing at all.

As she looked up again, two pairs of golden eyes were staring back at her from the darkness, and she screamed before she could stop herself. Startled by the sudden noise Léoma reared, throwing Dríana off her back. She hit the ground hard, but managed to stand up on shaky legs just as Léoma gave one last neigh before vanishing into the night. Paralyzed, Dríana watched the golden eyes move closer with a snarl.

"Look what we have here."

Dríana swung around at the sound of the voice in her left ear and found herself looking into another pair of golden eyes and a drooling mouth. By now her heart was beating so fast that she half expected it to tear out of her chest. She took a step back, but stumbled on the hem of her gown and fell down onto the ground again. The Orcs came closer.

"You know it's not very safe to wander the plains at night." The Orc in front of her said, licking its teeth.

Dríana had completely lost her ability to speak by now. She had never been so afraid before. Not even during the attack on her village. Images of ravaged and abused dead bodies filled her head and she was at the brick of fainting. Everything her father had taught her was forgotten.

The bigger Orc grabbed her arm and pulled her up roughly, disarming her from the dagger. "Now let's not make a mess of things."

With that the Orcs pushed her into the awaiting claws of the other Orc. "Take her to the others. I believe they are longing for some amusement."

Dríana's face drained from what little color it had left as the Orc started to drag her through the darkness. However, the hoarse voice of the other Orc cut through the air again.

"On second thought, take her to the other prisoners. We'll be moving again in a few hours. And…" He had come up to Dríana and stroked her roughly over the cheek. "We don't want to leave her behind so soon."

They proceeded through the darkness and all Dríana could do was to keep up and pray they wouldn't do anything indecent with her.

After quite a while of stumbling through the darkness with two Orcs at her side, Dríana found herself facing a small alcove of rocks among the trees. All around her, Orcs were either snoring or digging their teeth into the day's catch. She was relieved when none of the other Orcs seemed to be aware of her presence.

"I'll take her inside." Said the Orc that was constantly licking its teeth as if drooling over some delicate piece of flesh.

The other one left and Dríana was roughly pushed into the alcove. She winced as her knees and palms hit the hard stone, but to her surprise the Orc made no attempt to bind her.

Seeing the mixture of relief and questioning on her face, the Orc chuckled. "If you think you can escape, go ahead. But I can assure you that you won't get far…" With that he left and snarled something to another Orc that was standing guard outside.

As there apparently was no point in trying to escape, Dríana decided to turn her attention back to her surroundings. A quick look around showed her that she was not the only person in the Orc camp.

A young woman with dark blond hair was sitting a few spaces away from her and to Dríana's great surprise she was looking at her. "So they've picked up another one." The woman said with a sigh. "Those cursed creatures. You can't be old. Twenty?"

Dríana swallowed. "Twenty-two."

The woman smiled, although it wasn't a warm smile. "And what got you into this mess?"

Dríana wasn't sure whether to answer or not. Her fingers moved to grab the pendant that was in the leather purse hanging by her hip. And as she looked at it she said, "I was looking for someone..."

The woman raised an eyebrow at her. "Looking for someone? Dear girl, what made you ever think you could find anyone out here? Do you even know where you are?"

"Well… I did find you, didn't I?" When there was no response Dríana continued, albeit hesitantly. "The man I'm looking for is… well, he's..."

Heavy footfalls suddenly broke the silence and Dríana quickly moved away from the other woman. Seconds later, two large Orcs came dragging on a bleeding, half-unconscious man. They threw him unceremoniously onto the cold stone and left after having snarled at the other prisoners.

Dríana looked at the man, the color of her face draining for the second time that night. He had shoulder long dark golden hair and although she couldn't see his eyes, she knew what color they were. His clothes were ripped and bloody and he was thinner than the last time she had seen him, but there was no doubt.

Gwyn rushed to his side and started tending to his wounds, but Dríana simply stared at the man. Of all the situations she had expected to find him in, this was the last... but it didn't matter now.

She had found him...