AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry for not uploading sooner! I... have this medical condition called procrastination which means I take one look at the Word document and then surf Youtube. BUT, because I have taken 20 days to upload, the next chapter comes up on the 30th. Promise. Pinky Promise. Seriously, I will.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story or favourited it- I love reading the comments and watching (usually) the numbers go up. You guys are the reason I'm still writing this Fanfiction. So to everyone else, remember to reviewed, follow and favourite this! Okay, adios!
Bad Dreams
Feet pounding. Laboured breaths. Rosalie drifted in and out of consciousness like driftwood in the sea. Sometimes, she heard the voice of a little Hobbit that she knew. Other times, she could hear Abby's vibrant tones, as if she was right next to her. Her head was pounding, stinging whenever she was jostled. All she could smell was death and sweat.
The rest of the time, she dreamed. Sometimes she heard Gandalf's last words echo around her head; that look in his eyes burning into hers the seconds before he fell. Other times she dreamt of Frodo and Sam. They had left the last of the Fellowship and struck it out on their own, slowly trudging through Middle Earth losing themselves amongst bogs and rocky outcrops.
Rosalie blinked sluggishly, her head bouncing off something every few seconds. The world slowly started to come into focus, a pair of little concerned eyes staring at her from a few feet away. Soon, the rest of Pippin's face and body appeared, his tiny frame clutching desperately to something she couldn't make out. "Are you okay?" He mouthed at her and she tried to raise her head, and shook it slightly. She cringed, realising that she shouldn't be doing that. Just like the Hobbit, she was being cradled roughly to something's back. Whatever something was.
The something was large, sweaty and smelt like rotting flesh. Her face was pressed into dark, ropey, greasy hair, sticking to her cheek as she pulled herself away from the something. She almost recoiled in horror. The something carrying her was an Orc. Just like the thing Pippin was holding onto was an Orc. On her other side, was Merry, also being carried by an Orc though he was unconscious, mouth opened, drooling slightly. The smell was overpowering and every movement the Orc made caused ripples of pain to flash through Rosalie's body. She winced and the creature growled, as if sensing she was awake. It grabbed her legs, tightening its hold on her painfully. Her head was still throbbing, the pain tripling and she let out a groan before losing herself once again.
She floated in and out of consciousness; somewhere in the in-between. At times, she heard the thundering of feet, the damp smell of the Orc carrying her, a flash of the green of a Hobbit's cloak. Other times, she saw the people she'd lost like Zeke, Abby, Gandalf and her family.
They came to her as memories usually, letting her take a stroll down memory lane. She would relive the happiness at her birthday parties, the embarrassment at that school disco and the smiles of all the people closest to her. But they reminded her of the heartache that she probably wouldn't see them again. Some of them were more recent- the Hobbits stealing food when someone turned their back, listening to Gimli snore, the calm, soothing presence of Legolas. Others merged with reality, a strange mixture of fiction and truth that would tie her gut in knots. In the brief moments of clarity, Rosalie would see them lining the plains, looking down at her with blank expressions as if they didn't recognise her. It was like they were playing a cruel game with her.
One time, she was back home. Rosalie was stood at a pair of wrought iron gates, looking over the small park a few blocks from her flat. Zeke and Abby were already there, sat opposite each other at one of the benches. The sun was shining for once but Zeke was still wearing one of his stripy beanies, blonde curls sticking out at all angles. They were talking, something that made the girl smile, but frown a little as well. She walked over to them. "Should I be worried that you two are actually being nice to each other?" Rosalie joked but stopped smiling when neither of them turned or acknowledged her. "Guys?" She asked quietly, reaching to touch her friends' shoulders. Abby turned to her, pink glossed lips twisted into a grimace.
"Rosy? What are you doing here?" Abby asked, her usually kind tone missing from her voice. Rosalie opened her mouth to speak but Zeke cut her off. "Seriously? You disappeared! For like, almost six months! What the hell Rosy? I thought we were friends?" He demanded, getting louder with each word. She flinched and tried to answer, but no sound came out. "Wow, guess you don't need us anymore." Abby said sarcastically, "What a great friend you are. Did you honestly expect us to believe you were in a magical different realm? We're not idiots." Zeke was stony faced as Abby continued her rant, each word slicing into her heart. She huffed, staring down at the wooden table, hands clenched into fists. Zeke was still staring at her, but it was like he didn't actually see her, as if she was a stranger in his eyes. "I hate you."
The park melted away before her eyes, her stomach tightening sickeningly and she was back in Middle Earth. She was at the little valley where the Orcs ambushed them, the last place she remembered. A few feet away, she saw the recognisable glimmer of metal in sunlight, and approached it, realising one of her own blades. She bent to pick it up but froze, not quite knowing why. She felt the air behind her shift and she turned, hesitating when she saw Boromir. This was a different Boromir though. He was pale, eyes sunken in with dark bruises underneath them. The dark red of dried blood was splashed across his tunic, the arrows removed but the gaping holes still there. His eyes held no trace of warmth or friendship.
"You killed me." He whispered softly but Rosalie still heard it loud and clear, as if she was right in front of him. Slowly, she shook her head. Boromir didn't like that. "You did though. If you could protect yourself, I wouldn't have died." He stated simply, still glaring at her. The girl opened and closed her mouth, trying to move away from him when the man started to advance on her. "You shouldn't have come with us. It was a mistake. Why on earth did Elrond believe you would be a help and not a hindrance? You are a woman, one that does not even have any suitable skills with weaponry. You bring nothing of use to the Fellowship. Why? Why did you think it would be good to join us? YOU GOT ME KILLED!" He roared, spit flying from his mouth and Rosalie stumbled backwards, her body unlocking from its frozen state at the worst possible time. He kept coming near, stalking forward like a predator, glaring at her like she was lower than an Orc. "I died in pain," He spat at her, fingers curled into claws. "Now, you will feel what I felt!" He lunged at her, and she screamed, flinching away as he turned to smoke just before reaching her, floating away to the sky. She awoke, drenched in sweat, the Orc beneath her grumbling and shaking her almost violently.
Merry was still out, the blood had dried and cracked on his forehead, seeping down the side of his eye. The Orcs hadn't stopped running yet, a pack that kept speeding towards an unknown location. Pippin always seemed to be awake whenever Rosalie was, always clinging to the Orc but he looked uncomfortable there, leaning away from the monster. The girl wasn't fairing much better. Every so often she blinked; she could feel flecks of blood fluttering away in the wind. Her stomach screamed for food and Rosalie groaned inwardly, not wanting to ask for it.
As if they knew what she was thinking, a smaller Orc ran alongside her ride. It growled at the smaller one who quavered under the glare. With a shaky hand, it thrust a piece of stale bread at her before moving onto Pippin and Merry. Rosalie's stomach clenched in disgust but she nibbled at the edges, knowing they wouldn't give her anything better. It had been around two days since they had taken them, maybe more, Rosalie wasn't sure. But when she hadn't been unconscious, she had studied the orcs.
The hunting pack was made of two types; the larger orcs and the smaller ones. All wore a white paint handprint but they had become cracked and rubbed away over the past few days, leaving tiny white speckles that stood out on their dark clothes. All wore dark leather and sharp rough armour. They all had slimy skin and yellowing fangs with grey, putrefying flesh. But the larger ones had more similar features, as if they were all siblings. The smaller Orcs were like the monsters that attacked them in Moria, a thought that made Rosalie's gut clench. Their faces varied, some flatter, some thinner, some greyer, some with beaks, some with piercings but all shared the power to make her recoil in horror.
Night had fallen, the stars looking down at the three captives, yet doing nothing. The stars faded as the sun began to climb through the sky but the Orcs did not stop. Merry had spluttered and coughed a couple of times, but hadn't woken up, causing both Hobbit and girl to become more frantic. "Merry, Merry!" Pippin hissed at his friend and Rosalie's shoulders slumped in relief when she saw the Hobbit's eyes fluttered. However, her heart sank as she looked at his pale face, his usually bright grey eyes dull. He smiled weakly that looked more like a grimace to Rosalie and she looked at him sympathetically.
Suddenly the Orc a head of them lurched to a stop, holding up a fist and signalling the others to stop as well. Rosalie frowned, lifting her head slightly, trying to see what was going on. Another of the larger orcs stepped forward. "What is it Lurtz? What do you smell?" The Orc asked, his growl travelling through the group, all the way to the trio. The Orc that had been leading them, Lurtz, was still scouring the plains around them. "Man-flesh," He snarled loudly, sending a ripple of chatter through the Orcs. A smile grew on Pippin's little face. "Aragorn," He whispered and Rosalie sighed in relief. They're coming for us; she thought happily, the faces of her friends floating into her head, one staying fractionally longer than the rest. The Orcs though were less than happy. They rumbled and snarled and the one at the front growled loudly as the monsters hushed instantly. "They've picked up our trail! Let's go!" He barked the order and the Orcs jumped into action. Pippin started fiddling with his cloak, and she watched as the little leaf shaped clasp flashed furiously in the sunlight as the Hobbit wiggled it free. He tossed it to the ground and from the corner of her eye; she could see it being squished into the mud and the girl prayed that they will find it and find them. He will come to get us... to get me... right?
The sun blazed above them, illuminating Rosalie's head to new levels of brightness. She was a beacon, anyone and everyone on the plains could see her blue glow. For the past few hours, she had been uncovered until the leader Orc, Lurtz, had realised how visible she had made them. Now, there was a raggedly, smelly blanket tied tightly around her head, masking her hair.
Further in the distance, a trio of runners slowed. The man had stopped, inspecting the ground, looking at prints in the ground. "Their pace has quickened." Aragorn murmured, looking in the direction the Orcs had run. "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" He shouted at his companions. The elf smiled briefly, before speeding up and turning to the last of the trio. "Come on Gimli!" He called and ran to catch up with the man. The dwarf sighed, grumbling under his breath. "Three days and nights pursuit. No food, no rest, no sign of our quarry that bear rock can tell."
Later on, the group stopped again, the dwarf using this time to catch up to the duo ahead of him. The man picked up a brooch from the ground, holding it up to the light for his friends to see. "Not idly do the leaves of lórien fall." Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. "They may let still be alive." He murmured, his eyes searching the plains around them, as if he would see them pop up from behind a cluster of rocks. "Less than a day ahead of us," Aragorn confirmed before motioning with his head for the elf to start running again. "Come Gimli! We're gaining on them!" The elf called to the dwarf. Gimli growled, his chest heaving with exertion. "I'm wasted on cross country! We dwarves are natural sprinters- very dangerous over short distances!"He shouted to the elf, before cursing under his breath and speeding up, much to the anger of his body. The elf was relieved, the running allowing his mind to wander. We'll find them, he thought, we'll find her.