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Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Rodaìn's gaze jerked from the blood-stained ground that was sure to grow in size when she heard the sudden snapping of branches and an eager and frantic cry. "Wait! We were just exploring. We're back now! Don't hurt her, you rotten orc!"
Rodaìn's head turned fully to see Merry and Pippin scrambling from nearby foliage and into the circle of orcs. Oh no, I have failed them now. They surely cannot make it out of this. Stupid girl, always thinking you can save them. Rodaìn's brain frantically skittered from berating herself to hurriedly thinking of a new escape plan. Obviously, the hobbits would not leave without her. Why couldn't they just save themselves? No one seems to listen to me. If there is a chance before I die I will have to confront them over their foolishness.
"Oomph, get off me, Merry," Pippin complained as they were simultaneously thrown to the ground. The recent pain from the whipping kept Rodaìn's senses sharp. However, as her body slowly drained of blood, her energy and consciousness progressively dissipated.
"Please hold on, Miss Rodaìn," Merry whispered, reaching out for Rodaìn's nearly limp hand. Pippin, meanwhile, stared at Rodaìn's shredded back in horror as his face paled.
"I'll be all right Merry, Pippin. We just need to get out of here," she replied. Rodaìn gave a warm but strained smile to comfort the concerned hobbits.
"Now, quit your talking. Looks like we found the halflings, time for more fun," an orc smirked as the pack gathered in closer to the three captives.
A startled screech and the clash of metal interrupted the orcs' encroaching movements. They turned, only to be faced and caught unprepared by valiant soldiers battling stunned orcs on horseback. The grace and skill of the armor-clad horsemen greatly contrasted the crude and disfigured orc warriors.
"Quick, we must go," Rodaìn barely noticed the slight tugging on her wrists as Pippin cut through the ropes with the use of a fallen sword. Pippin grabbed Rodaìn's forearms and helped to drag her up. Rodaìn struggled. She bit her tongue to distract herself and heaved her draining body upright.
Rodaìn urged the hobbits forward. "Come, hurry. Lead the way you two," Rodaìn urged, stumbling slightly and putting a weak hand to each hobbit's back. Merry and Pippin rushed forward through the woods as Rodaìn did her best to follow behind, stumbling over stray sticks and roots. "Keep going," Rodaìn whispered over and over again.
She noticed the hobbits dashing through the forest, adrenaline driving their large feet onward, stomping away from the evil that had grasped them. They ran until they were suddenly grabbed by a gargantuan and rough hand- an ent. As the hobbits were carried to safety, slipping into sleep after a tiring experience, Rodaìn stumbled blindly on, far behind the hobbits, nearer to the entrance of the Fangorn Forest.
A coarse hand grasped Rodaìn's shoulder, setting the wounds afire. Rodaìn fell to the ground, but was quickly picked up and thrown over the shoulder of a figure. However, this figure was not an ent, but an orc. The orc had chased after the escaped captives shortly after the armed horsemen appeared. The orc trundled through the trees, away from the fighting, and Rodaìn's swimming mind finally sank into an exhausted sleep.