AN: BOOM! Uploaded on the right day! Yeah! Sorry, but I'm going to use this momentous achievement to boost my ego. Also, this story has been viewed 9,310 times! :O That's loads!
Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story- you guys inspire me to continue to writing this.
A rescue that isn't actually a rescue
The trio stood upon a hill in silence, looking out at the sun rising on the plains. The man was the first to speak. "Rohan- home of the Horse Lords," He declared, "There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us." He turned to the elf. "Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?" Blue eyes scanned the horizon before realising the monsters destination. "The Uruks turn east; they are taking them to Isenguard!" Gimli cursed under his breath. "Saruman," Aragorn muttered, putting a hand on the elf's shoulder, murmuring a few reassuring words in Elvish. We will get them back, Aragorn whispered but got no response from the elf other than a sigh.
Rosalie had finally stopped drifting out of consciousness though her head still hurt whenever the Orc moved. They had kept running but now there were whispers breaking out sporadically through the pack. She had realised that the Orcs had their own language, not that it was that weird in hindsight, which was full of harsh sounding words and strange accents. They spoke in a voice that sounded more like a growl than anything and the word Saruman kept popping up.
Who the heck is Saruman? Rosalie thought to herself and tried to picture him. The image that popped into her head was eerily detailed and surprisingly similar to Gandalf. It was an older man with snow white hair that was almost as straight as Legolas'. He wore matching white robes that flowed around him and carried a slim, black staff with a milky orb at the end. He was stood in a dark room, a hand outstretched over a glowing stone, eyes shut and mouthing something.
"The world is changing," Saruman's voice was powerful, every word ringing with authority in the small circular room. "Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Isenguard and Mordor? Who stands against the might of Sauron and Saruman? And the union of the two Towers?" He declared, his voice echoing. He drew his hand away, throwing a hand outwards and a pair of large doors swung open silently. He calmly made his way out onto a balcony, surveying the world around him with an evil smirk on his face.
The land was bare and grey, the wizard a bright speck in the sky. Shadows of fire danced in deep holes in the earth, some thin, wooden structures swayed dangerously above the pits. Small grey specks of Orcs ran around like ants at the height they were at. There was nothing for several miles all around, as if Saruman had poisoned the ground, its sickness spreading outwards, destroying life. "Together, my lord Sauron, we shall rule this Middle-Earth. The old world will burn in the fires of industry. The forests will fall. A new order will rise. We will drive the machine of war with the sword and spear and the iron fist of the Orc." Saruman's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl. "We only have to remove those who will oppose us."
Images flashed through her mind, some familiar friends, others were strangers. They all vanished as quickly as they came, though one lingered. It was as if the wizard was looking over different view of Middle Earth, like an interactive version of Google Streetview.
They were back on the plains, sparse tufts of yellowing grass sticking up. Small buildings were clumped together but with space in between them, all made of straw and wood. People in woollen clothes were running, scattering in every direction like a herd of animals being chased by predators. Some carried packs, hastily stuffed with food, blankets and valuables, others had nothing, fleeing on horseback. In the distance, Rosalie could hear growls and battle cries, coming from the direction that the people were running from. It was like she was in a dream, one where she couldn't control her movements or interact with anyone- only listen and watch the dreadful scene unfold.
Rosalie focused on a woman in dark clothes, hastily trying to buckle the straps on a horse's saddle. She beckoned wildly for someone she called Éothain. A little boy around the age of twelve darted through the sea of panicking people, clutching another little girl by the hand. He was almost dragging her along at a pace too fast for her, causing the girl to trip a few times. He had dirt smudged across his face, blonde curly locks messy and tangled. The mother grabbed him, hoisting him up into the saddle.
"You take your sister. You'll go faster with just two." She ordered him, reaching back down to get her daughter. The girl's voice was high pitched and dainty. "But Éothain must not ride Gerald; he's too big for us." She tried to protest but her mother pushed her up anyway. "Listen to me. You must ride to Edoras and raise the alarm. Do you understand me?" The mother was getting more desperate with each word and seemed to understand the situation better than his sister. "Yes momma." He said, with only a slight tremble in his voice at the end. The girl had started to cry, tears running freely down her cheeks. She reached out to her mother with both arms, as if expecting her to pull her off the horse. "I don't wanna leave. I don't wanna go without you." She sobbed and the woman's eyes softened, holding her daughters face in her hands. "Freda, I will find you there." She reached up, giving the girl a quick kiss.
Someone screamed and the mother ran around, searching for the source of the noise and Rosalie's view went with her. Over the hills, black specks began to pour, which puzzled Rosalie but the mother seemed to know what they were. She shoved at the horse, and it moved, cantering off with its two young riders, the girl still looking back to her mother. As the black specs got closer, Rosalie recognised them as Orcs, their growls and crude yet effective weapons more recognisable than she wanted them to be. Smoke began to pour into the air as orange flames licked the sides of houses and some people. Anyone caught by the Orcs were slain on the spot, cut down no matter age or gender. They followed after the runners, killing them if they could until the ground was stained with blood.
Then, as quickly as she was dragged into the scene, she was dragged out of it, listening to Saruman's voice ring out. "Rohan, my lord, is ready to fall."
"Rosalie!" The girl in question jumped when she heard her name. She looked over at Pippin who had been hissing at her, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" He mouthed at her, after the warning growl he had received from a nearby Orc due to trying to get the girl's attention. She paused before answering, actually thinking over his question. She nodded and the Hobbit frowned, knowing that might not be that truthful. She looked away from his eyes, thinking back to what she'd just seen. What's happening to me? A voice in her head screamed, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears as whatever had helped her see Saruman, the wizard that controlled the Orcs, had left when they were still needed.
The trio were still running, Gimli lagging behind as usual. The elf and man had slowed down, trying to let the dwarf catch up but still twitching to run fast to find their friends. They had finally managed to sight the Orc band, the stragglers small flecks in the distance. Even Legolas couldn't see the Hobbits or girl. The elf had actually stopped walking, standing still, trying to focus on the Orc rabble and find their friends. "Keep breathing... That's the keep... Breathing..." The dwarf rasped between breaths and Legolas turned back to face the ranger. "They run as though the very whips of their masters were behind them." He said worriedly and Aragorn nodded in agreement. "They must stop eventually; we will catch up to them." Aragorn said confidently and all the elf could hear was Gimli's heavy panting. "Wish we could stop soon." The dwarf grumbled but only the elf heard. Not before we find them Legolas thought to himself.
The sun rose and waned, the Orcs still running but their panting and laboured breaths became more obvious. A forest loomed in front of them, drawing closer as the day drew to a close. Stars tried to shine brightly in the sky, though it did little for those on the ground. The moon wasn't there to light the way, so Rosalie could only see the vague outlines of the Orcs and two Hobbits. Even in the dark, the forest seemed... different to her. Get over it Rosalie, it's not creepy, it's just a forest, the girl thought to herself desperately, unknowingly shying away from it.
An Orc grumbled somewhere in the group and sat, like a wave, more of the Orcs joined him. The large Orc leading them, Lurtz, stomped over to him, growling. The Orc stared up at him boldly. "We're not having no further until we've had a breather." He wheezed and Lurtz complied. "Get a fire going!" He ordered, watching as a load of Orcs scrabbled to the forest. The monsters carrying Rosalie, Merry and Pippin bucked, throwing them all to the ground, leaving at least the girl dazed as the air was knocked out of her. Pippin wriggled like a caterpillar over to the other little Hobbit who stilled hadn't opened his eyes and a few seconds after, Rosalie followed his lead. "Merry!" Pippin hissed and the girl let out a sigh of relief as the Hobbit opened his eyes lazily. "Think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pip." He whispered hoarsely and he moaned quietly, pushing himself into a sitting position.
The Orcs had scattered, running through the fringes of the forest, taking axes with them. The sounds of hacks and falling branches rang out before a groaning sound started. "What's making that noise?" Pippin asked, his head darting around, looking for the source. Merry and Rosalie's eyes were trained on the forest. "It's the trees." Merry muttered and Rosalie's head spun around so fast her neck cricked. "What?" Pippin almost screamed at the same time Rosalie said "... Run that by me again?" Merry rolled his eyes and moved his head closer, as if he didn't want the Orcs to hear him. Rosalie and Pippin both mirrored his actions, like he was going to tell them a secret. "Remember the legends of the old forest on the borders of Buckland? Folks use to say there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall and come alive."
Pippin gulped. "Alive?" They all looked over at the forest again, the trees still groaning, the Orcs still hacking down wood. "Trees that could whisper, talk to each other, even move." Rosalie's eyes widened. "Move?" She squeaked and two pairs of eyes turned to her and they both grabbed her hands, squeezing it reassuringly before turning back to the forest of trees that could come to life.
Their captors were hunched around a large fire, scarlet flames rising high enough for the girl to see over the Orc pack. "I'm starving," An Orc growled. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days." Another Orc spoke up, one with paler skin, big yellow eyes and large drooping ears. "Yeah! Why can't we have some proper meat?" He spoke up, loud enough for a few heads to turn in the direction of Rosalie and the Hobbits. Yellow eyes looked at them, narrowing. "What about them?" He asked and the trio turned to face them, paling considerably. "They're fresh." He licked his lips, spit flying from between his sharp teeth. The larger Orc stepped in at this point. "They are not for eating." He said defiantly, a few of the other larger Orcs walking around him, dragging the captives further from the pack before putting themselves between the trio and the rest of the Orcs.
Another Orc, this time with a long face and pale blue eyes peered round at them. "What about their legs? They don't need those." He said, his gaze never wandering from Rosalie. "Just a nibble, around the edges..." Rosalie fought the urge to retch. "Oooooh, they look tasty." He said, smacking his lips. The leader pushed him back roughly into a few other Orcs that had come too close. "Get back scum!" He shouted and the other Orc growled. Weapons were drawn, the sharp metallic ringing breaking up the growls and snarls the monsters were making. Orange light glinted off the metal, and Rosalie cautiously moved closer to the Hobbits. "The prisoners go back to Saruman alive... and unspoiled." Rosalie shivered at his words but ice started to trickle down her spine when she heard a hiss from behind her. The yellow-eyed Orc's breath was foul against her neck. "Just a mouthful," He whispered, almost like a promise and she flinched away from him, reaching for a knife before realising she didn't have one. The leader charged forward, swinging his sword, and Rosalie cringed at the small dying screech and the 'thunk' noise as a head hit the ground.
"Looks like meats back on the menu boys," He shouted and there was a deafening roar. Rosalie and the Hobbits staggered backwards, trying to keep away from the surge of Orcs rushing to eat the corpse of one of their own. Blood, guts and small scraps of skin were flying in every direction, one coming far to close too Rosalie than she liked. "Pippin!" Merry whispered and motioned with his head. "Let's go!" Together, they wriggled as far as they could, the Orcs too busy with their meal to care. Suddenly, Merry let out a groan and Rosalie turned to see a foot pressing him into the ground and a hand grabbing Pippin's chin. It was blue eyes, glaring right at her. "Go on. Call for help. Squeal." He held up his knife, letting it drag across Pippin's skin. "No one's gonna save you now." He smirked before raising the knife and Rosalie shut her eyes. Suddenly, the Orc let out a scream, and turned to let the Hobbits and the girl see a thick spear piercing it's armoured flesh. He fell forward, narrowly missing Merry and Pippin and all the Orcs were on their feet, staring straight at the newest threat.
It was chaos; riders on horses charged into the group, the Orcs spreading outwards like insects. The trio took their opportunity, wriggling around, trying not to get in the way of Orcs or horses. One reared beside Pippin's head and he screamed and rolled out of the way. Still crawling, they made their way towards a fallen Orc with an axe by his side. Quickly, the Hobbits managed to cut their ropes but Rosalie was having more difficulty. The Hobbits were just stood there and Rosalie shook her head. "Run!" She hissed at them but they stood their ground stubbornly. "We won't leave you!" Merry replied, and Rosalie kicked her foot out at them. "Just run! I'll be right behind you." This time, they hesitated before Pippin nodded, dragging a furious Merry. At least that way, some of us might get away... She thought gloomily before getting back to the task at hand.
Finally, the rope fell freely away from her hands, and she rubbed her wrists. Around her, more riders had appeared from the other side, apparently waiting in ambush for the Orcs. More of the monsters fell, eyes wide to the moonless night, glazed over in death. Something grabbed her neck and hauled her upwards and instinctively, Rosalie thrashed, trying to hit her attacker. With another screech, the Orc fell forwards, on top of her and she crawled out from under him but felt something snap. Rosalie shrugged it off, lurching to her feet to try and run away from the Orcs and the riders, who she wasn't sure of. Her gaze was darting wildly, trying to spot her two Hobbits and cringed when a spear whistled past her face.
They were dead, all of them and Merry and Pippin were nowhere in sight. The riders had gathered around her, all still holding their spears, a few pointing them at her. The horses were pawing the ground, as if anxious to leave and some of the riders had already left, Rosalie could just make out their shadows lugging Orcs into a massive pile. A rider stepped forward, directly into her line of view and took off his helmet. Straggly blonde hair fell and a rugged beard hung from his chin. He said something and Rosalie frowned at him, wondering why he wasn't speaking English, or as it was known here, the Common Tongue. The man frowned back at her, and spoke again, this time sounding more agitated.
"Er... Hello, I was... um... held captive by the Orcs that you just killed, which thank you, by the way for... but I had two friends, Merry and Pippin... they were with me... there about four feet tall with curly hair and green cloaks... Why are you staring at me like that?" Rosalie knew her own words sounded strange but the man's frown had changed, his face hardening and he said something to her in his own language. Why can't I understand them? She thought to herself then it hit her. Her hand flew to her neck, searching for a small chain that wasn't there and her eyes widened. Gandalf's necklace! Her brain screamed and the man said something else, sounding a lot more frustrated, wary and suspicious all at the same time. He muttered something and slowly took the weird hat thing the Orcs had forced her to wear off. Her blue locks shone in the firelight and he jumped backwards, shouting something and more spears were raised in her direction. Slowly, she raised her hands above her head, looking pleadingly at the man without a helmet. Please let this sign be universal, she begged with any God listening. The man studied her for a few seconds and then started talking to another person in his group. Another man jumped down from his horse, holding some ropes and gingerly started walking towards. "Nooo..." She pleaded, wanting to move away from him but knew they would still try and put the rope on. She shook her head at the man approaching and he shot her a sympathetic look and murmured something. Her shoulders slumped and the man deftly tied her wrists together before leading her away.
Éomer jumped off his horse and approached the strange woman. She was shaking slightly, her head darting all around, looking at all of the different riders. She saw him and started speaking and he frowned, trying to find sense in her words. The woman seemed to realise he couldn't understand her and fell silent, frowning at him. "Who are you?" He asked, his voice ringing with authority. "Why were you with these abominations?" The woman's frown deepened and he realised she could understand him about as much as she could understand her. Suddenly, her hand went to her neck as if she was searching for a necklace. Woman, he huffed slightly before the fire gleamed and something caught his eye. Slowly he walked towards and gently tugged the bag off her head and jumped back. Her hair was blue. "A witch!" He shouted, and around him, the Rohirrim raised their weapons threateningly. It was like he could see her crumpling into herself, scared by his reaction and she raised her hands above her head, saying something in her strange, witchy language. Why hasn't she attacked yet? Éomer asked himself and looked at her properly. She was still shaking, obviously scared and he couldn't see any weapons but he knew she could still cast a spell over him and his men. "Tie her up," He ordered one of the newer recruits. The man didn't move, gaping at him and he repeated his words. Slowly, the man moved closer to her and she made a strange whiny noise. "Sorry, but it's really for everyone's good." The woman continued mumbling but allowed the man to tie her hands together and he led her away, helping her onto his horse and the Rohirrim left, letting the Orcs burn for their crimes against Rohan.