Here is the second half of chapter 17, which I had chosen to cut in two due to ... well, reasons! There is quite a bit more action packed into this, whereas the previous chapter was more of a mood setting (something I only noticed when I re-read it after posting, and nothing much actually happened. Woops!). So, because I apparently have a need to make at least one character SUFFER as often as possible (I'm a nice person), a lot happens now. But I promise Rell gets a moment's rest soon-ish.
As always, your reviews are more precious than gold and treasures, and I thank everyone who dropped a comment so incredibly much. Thank you to 94Spring, Diarona, Guest and A Dream of Fantasy. I hadn't actually planned to update this soon, since I'm still trying to write ahead of posting and I've soon caught up, but you guys deserve another chapter!
Enjoy!
Little Sparrow
Chapter XVIII: A Terror in the Dark
With the first glow of morning, they continued once more. Following the banks of the Anduin north, they hoped to escape the untraversable cliffs and swift-passing currents of Sarn Gebir. Always did they watch for ways to cross the river, but either was the drop too deep on the eastern bank, or there was no way up and out of the waters on the other side. Once, they passed broken stones; like teeth in an old woman's mouth, the last remnants of a bridge of older days. Once, perhaps, they could have passed.
So they headed for the Undeeps further upstream; to the riverbends, where there were many wide shoals and shallow waters.
Rell had taken to the saddle, guiding Luin forward as her eyes flickered from one point to the next. Behind her, snuffling and hissing, Gollum was pulled along by the rope; often she turned to look down upon the creature, though – as she had noticed herself – there was no malice in her gaze, nor in her thoughts. Perhaps she was too tired to dwell on her own hurt. She did not imagine the twang in her chest to be pity; not for something so cruel and vile, rather the soft appraisal of the curious.
Yet Gollum never returned her attention.
Often his pale eyes were turned to the forest. When Rell caught him staring, he was quick to return to the ground below his hands and feet; heavy-lidded, veiled from her, sniffling just a bit louder with his head bowed low. Submissive. For a while after, she would always stare with narrowed eyes into the shadows beneath the eaves. Behind the wall of ancient boles. What do you see? Never did she spot anything, and she would return to the musings of her own restless mind.
Further behind Aragorn made up the rear, wielding his own sword, as well as her bow and arrows.
The ground began to rise, slow-climbing, until suddenly the river swept round a bend in the hills. The banks rose upon either side from wet mud to dark stones, and the silver-foaming water became hidden in a steep drop as the river carved through the rock-hill. Rell leaned out of her saddle, grip tight on the reins, and saw away below them the sweeping river. Grey and pale it gleamed in the thin light. Still the slope climbed, up and further up, until the drop made her head spin. Rocky outcrops poked through the ground, fencing in the waters with stone walls.
For a while after, the hill rose and fell like waves on the sea and ahead they saw glimpses of half-veiled woods, carrying on into the hazes; then and again, there were patches of openness, clearings and plains on the western banks. To the northeast there were brown, sullen stretches of land far in the distance. At length the slope evened out, allowing them to walk quite a drop above the river; the wind came in rushing, powerful gusts. Challenging, it roughed up her face, sprayed about her hair, only to then race away and around the peaks of the hill, to come back for another lark.
A long clammy hand grasped her neck and another tightened around her arm.
Taken off her guard, Rell toppled backwards out of the saddle with a yelp. It was with surprise painted across her face, that she hit the ground hard and there she lay, confused rather than fearful. When – and how – Gollum had loosened his bindings, she could not fathom, but his hands were certainly free. With a hiss, strong fingers twisted around her throat and forced air from her lungs. Instantly, she struggled against the attack.
Rell kicked out, hitting nothing. But this time she was not alone, and with a shout Aragorn sprang forward; as he grabbed and pulled at Gollum, the tighter the creature's hold grew on her. Spots of light danced across her vision. Though, what truly enraged her then, and not so much the sudden assault, was when the gag came loose and Gollum sank his teeth into her neck. Again, she screamed.
Hot fury boiled in her, bubbled over and she turned her own teeth on him. Biting down, she tried to ignore the taste that welled up in her mouth; the scum and the blood. More, her mind pressed her on. He squealed like a stuck pig, loud and terrible in her ear – but at least he had released her. When his fingers left her neck and Aragorn could pull him back, she doubled over. Spitting the filth from her mouth onto the grass. Her actions astounded herself, and had likely surprised Gollum even more. She spat twice more, then rubbed her mouth with vigour.
She came to sit in the grass, dazed but unharmed.
Aragorn had little trouble binding Gollum once more, for the creature appeared too distracted by her attack. He whined, clutching his face as he trashed about like a petulant child for the first time scolded by its parents. "It hurts, it hurtss! Nasssty thing bit us!" At his words, Rell started.
"You bit me first!"
At that, Gollum wailed even louder.
While he was busy with the ropes, Aragorn did manage to look at her with tired bemusement. "I believe you will win very little by arguing with him. Come, help me instead if you are without injury." She chewed back any remaining words of indignation, standing to help with a glower on her face directed at Gollum. She spat again. Her fingers trailed the new wounds, finding small puncture holes that dripped beads of blood into her shirt. When her uncle spoke again, he had turned to Sindarin and his eyes were tired. "It seems we must be more vigilant in our watch."
When Rell found the torn cords in the grass, it was clear that Gollum had slowly but diligently worked them apart during their journey. "It would seem it," she replied and showed her findings. Her brow furrowed as she turned the ropes over in her hand. "Though why did he not flee in the night? He would have made it farther with one of us asleep, rather than come at me now. It was a foolish attempt, and he cannot have believed much would come from it."
Both glanced at the captive between them. Gollum hissed and whispered to himself, but it appeared that he was pleased. Their unease grew. "Let us not dwell on such matters," Aragorn said. "Madness or some other ploy, only he knows. At least we will make sure it does not happen again – and perhaps glad of it we should be, that he did not escape in the darkness!" He walked to Luin, securing the long coil of rope that tied Gollum to the horse.
Meanwhile, Rell crouched and came to sit before the pale creature. As she watched him, it was difficult to see what went on in his wretched heart, though she could sense a change in him once more. Far too obedient and tame ever since they had left the rocklands behind, there was now a strange look in his eyes that had not been there before. Of some wickedness she could not read; and that wickedness was now turned upon her. "What?" She growled. "Poor, unfortunate little thing, did I hurt you?"
If Rell had expected anything from Gollum, it most certainly was not the smug leer that came to him then. "Ssshe fell all by her own sself, yes, gollum gollum! Climbed high and fell ssso far ..." Rell paled at his words, once more reminded of that horrible drop and the long, agonizing wait for death. The terror that had seized her heart. "Sssnap went the bone!" She pulled the gag back in place with force, and her hand skimmed her own teeth-marks left in his skin.
They stared long and hard at one another, until at length Rell drew away and came to stand.
Despicable creature!
It was with a deep frown that Rell set out once more, fuming in the saddle as they traversed a land of hill and tree, and it took many hours for her seething anger to subside. The forest grew denser here, not so beaten back by the unrestrained waters of the Anduin; the river churned a deep drop below the cliff. Glad she was for it, for now they could find some shelter within the woods. Too exposed they had been on the naked, climbing hilltop, black figures clear from miles away, and there was no bite from the wind to gnaw at her skin. Instead, everything seemed peaceful and quiet.
They stayed under the cover of trees until nightfall.
The cold increased as darkness came on. Around them, they could see nothing but a grey land vanishing into shadow, and they found rest in a hollowed-out dell large enough for both Rangers. The ever-constant roar of the Anduin rolled like dimmed thunder through the ground. Rell shared the mushrooms between them. The sky above was clear and filled with twinkling stars, slipping in and out of view with every passing cloud. Rell wrapped herself in her cloak and huddled against Aragorn. They did not risk a fire that night, just as they had not for many moons now; and so they readied themselves against the biting chill, and another night without warmth.
Rell watched for a while the mists swirling between the trees, a slow and alluring dance with the wind leading; then, after several deep breaths, she closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. Too tired for dreams, her rest was deep and black. And far too soon the watch changed, and she was roused by her uncle. The wind was then howling without mercy, bitter in the Winter months, and she hunkered further down into the dell – though it was of little use. Her fingers prickled.
The clouds had been torn apart in the wind, setting every branch and tree alight with glimmering white and silver frost, as the moon hung naked in the sky. Gollum looked pale, almost translucent in its light; just as his eyes were shining, cleverness and excitement whirling together. Glowing with triumph. At once Rell sat up straight. The creature was not looking at her, despite her movements, but instead his gaze was turned to the forest. A chill crawled up her skin.
At first she remained rigid on the ground, attention flickering from Gollum to the woods.
A branch snapped somewhere within the forest, some distance away, but still she felt her back and shoulders seize with dreadful fear. Her breath hitched in her throat, stilled to listen to any sound that followed. An animal ...? It was too dark to see anything, despite the moonlight. Her eyes flickered to Luin, finding the horse awake and alert. With rapt attention on her surroundings, Rell carefully drew her sword from its sheath; pulling it so slowly not even Gollum noticed her weapon. In her hand it gleamed.
Carefully, she rose to her feet. A terrible thought came to her mind, making her grip tighten until her knuckles turned white. Fingers curled around the hilt, and she suppressed the sudden urge to strike their captive down. Does he have allies within the forest? Has he been in reporting without us knowing? The secret glances, the submissiveness. His sudden attack not long before came to her mind; his squeals would have been heard from miles away! Another rustle; the crumbling sound of wilted leaves, rattled through the silence as a boot met the ground.
"Uncle," she whispered through clenched teeth. "Aragorn."
Instantly, he became awake.
Concern transformed to sudden awareness, for his eyes soon found her sword drawn; at once he was standing, unsheathing his own blade with one fluid movement. Rell crept to Gollum's side, yanking quickly and harshly against the rope to turn pale orbs to meet her hardened gaze. "One word from your mouth, and I will take your life – be of use as it may be to some, I will kill you." Her voice came as a hiss, lower than even the muttering wind and the distant river. But heard her he had. She turned her head, nodding towards the forest as she addressed Aragorn. "We are not alone. Twice I have heard movement within the woods."
Rell yanked Gollum with her, the strain harsh through her arm, until he was shoved into the dell. Then she stood before him; half turned to watch their scheming captive, and half with her attention on the dark forest. Anger burned clear in her eyes, and Gollum hunkered down with quick obedience. Her threat was certainly real. It was too dark to see anything beyond the first trees, and so they stood listening.
"Are you certain?" Aragorn asked, voice low as he glanced to her.
With a nod, Rell tightened her grip on Gollum's ropes. Whatever creature was lurking within the forest, she prayed it would carry on and that they had passed unnoticed. Cold sweat coated her brow, and her mouth was dry as she swallowed. Her heart hammered at a rapid pace, threatening to break through her chest when her uncle motioned for her to stay; alone, he crept into the black forest.
For a long time, endlessly stretching it felt to her, Rell waited. Her grip on the sword was tight, held with every ounce of courage she could muster. A prayer repeated in her mind; be safe. Dark eyes peered ahead into nothing, hoping to see Aragorn return through the thicket. To bring with him words of encouragement and reassurance, battling away any thoughts of enemies within the forest. But the moments stretched further, and doubt tore shreds into her resolve until her hands trembled. She shifted from one foot to another.
All around her was seeped deeply in silence, deafening; a roar was in her ears, from the great river below the cliff-drop or from blood rushing through her veins – thunderingly loud. The air did not move. Normally, they would have made their way away, run off some time ago, with the threat of danger to their camp. Gollum made such a thing impossible. And Aragorn was now out there, searching, listening.
The first touch of fear began as but a small seed; but soon it spread, filling her heart and mind with chilling dread. It was not for herself, nor her chieftain. It was for their quest – for every hardship and injury, every solitary step taken that had brought them to Gollum. To have come this far, endured so much, only to now fail. Rell bit her lip, allowing the sharp pain to wash away the whispers of defeat. She focused her mind on what was before her.
Waiting some minutes more, the second Ranger returned at long last.
Breathless, in a hurry he came to her side. Blood coated his blade, dripping into the grass as it rested by his side; dark splatters stark against the paleness of his face, it was clear he had encountered something within the forest. He did not delay, but spoke at once as he took the rope from her hands. His words solidified her thoughts, the ones that had imagined the worst. "Orcs. Scouts, but I fear more are not far behind." He pulled Gollum up, disregarding the low growl he then received.
"How far?" Rell asked.
"I know not how long it will take before they notice the deaths of their scouts, soundless as they may have been; we must be away before then." There were creases of worry in his gaze then turned to Gollum. They would not make it far like this – not against Orcs in the darkness of night. This was the hour of all evil in the world, and their own senses could help them very little in escape. Behind them, the river gurgled and bubbled in the silence, and before them the endless forest stretched into deep shadow.
But for how long? The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her ears strained for the first sounds that would warn them of their discovery. Rell clicked her tongue once, low and sharp, and her horse turned clever eyes to her. Luin came trotting over to her at her command, and she wrapped her uninjured arm around the reins. The idea had settled in her mind, nestled and made itself at home, as she had waited for her uncle's return. Waiting had given her time to think, to come to terms with what was likely to happen.
To her, it felt as if the choice was already beyond questions and doubt. There were no two ways about it, not if they should ever have a chance to bring Gollum to their destination. They could set him free, and make the path their own – then the Orcs would be of little concern. Mayhap, her decision was foolish at best, and, at worst, lead her to her death. But, strange as it was, her heart was steeled and there was confidence in her voice as she spoke. "I will go."
Her eyes were hard with certainty, yet Aragorn would not hear it. "No, that I cannot allow."
"It has to be done, or not even one of us will make it through the night." Again, they glanced to the forest; a distant screech carved through the silence. Long-drawn and dreadful it echoed, soon swallowed by the roar of the waters. They were running out of time. Soon, they needed not decide, for the Orcs would be upon them. "Let me do this, uncle. I came because I felt you would need me, yet all I so far have done is delay you. Allow me this chance to be useful! Only I am responsible for my own fate."
Aragorn did not look at her, not at first, but peered deep into the trees and to Gollum. Torn he was, between duties; to forsake his task or abandon his kin. Another hoarse cry rose from the canopy, this time closer. He gripped her shoulder, and she could feel hesitation radiate off of him in waves. Then he stepped back, bringing Gollum after him by the rope; the creature watched them both with odd curiosity, though not entirely without dark joy. For a long moment he strove with the choice, until at last he nodded. "Five days. Five days I shall wait under the eaves of Lóthlorien, but no more."
Rell gave a thin smile, before she swung into the saddle.
"Little one," Aragorn said, "I hope that I shall see you once again."
She drew the reins to her, tightening her grip as she could ride only with one hand. But she trusted her horse; Luin would guide her safely through the woods. "Be it under this sun, or another, we will meet again. Now go, I will draw them away from the river as best as I can." As Rell watched him leave, she felt a cold dread creeping over her heart, yet she dared not question her choice. All she had to do was earn her uncle enough time to slip away, and then with Luin's speed make her own way through the forest.
We will meet again. Over the lip of the hill, upon which they had rested, she saw the shadow of Aragorn rise and disappear. Slowly and cautiously he moved without sound. Gollum was pulled after him, reluctant but wary of her uncle's sharp blade; with one last look back at her, Rell saw the glint of malice clear in his eyes. Then, they were gone entirely. All seemed quiet and still, and for a moment a pale light appeared above the trees and hills that overshadowed her; the waxing moon had reached its peak. The shadow of the forest grew long across the stony ground, and she watched them intently.
Rell thought she heard a faint hiss and low voices.
With one deep breath, she knew it was time. Spurring Luin forward, the large beast tore through the line of trees; branches snapped beneath its hooves, and Rell felt twigs rap her face and arms. There was nothing to be seen in the forest's darkness, and above their own noise she could hear nothing else. In fast succession, her heartbeat drummed loudly, pressing against her throat. Further, and further still, they ventured in with haste. Too quick for her to begin wondering why she had been so eager; for a brief moment she wondered if Aragorn would make it.
She released the reins, allowing Luin control of their path. The long sword of her father was drawn, shimmering in the half-lights cast by a moon through filtering leaves. As they rode, she swung her weapon one way and another against the frosted boles. Each thud rang hollow throughout the forest. If this would not lure the Orcs to her, rather than her uncle, Rell knew not what to do. A tremor rolled up her arm for every hit, but she forced her grip to tighten with all her strength. Let them come!
The night was airless and windless, but then she heard it. From somewhere beyond the hidden trees, a sound like faint drums. For a moment she drew Luin to a halt. She lifted her head to listen. The faint pulse ceased suddenly and then started again from another direction. First nearer, then further off. It was difficult to tell, and she could not see them in the low darkness, but now, with certainty, she had come to the end of her folly. The daunting thought scared her little; fear would not take her heart, not now, when all depended on her.
The hunt had begun.
"Now, Luin, it is time to show them the speed of Elven horses!"
And away they sprang again, this time faster and more reckless; no longer did Rell need to draw their vile thoughts to her, for surely, she had all their attention. The orcs were quick on her tail. The screeches thundered between the darkness, weaving around the trees and sprang forth from all about her. Most came from the side away from the river, soon so loud that the roar of the waters became deafened. Where earlier it had been but indiscernible shrieks and howls, now she could hear garbled words. Though worst of all – and, at this, she paled – the sounds now also came from ahead.
Faster! With a cry to Luin, the horse broke through bush and bracken, heedless of any sharp-digging cuts that followed. With her grip on the sword, she commanded the great steed through words; soon her own shouts mingled with that of the orcs. Out of the formless stream of malicious cries, sometimes strings of words would now and again shape themselves; grim, hard and heartless. Everything passed by her vision in a blur of black and dark-green, touched only faintly by shimmers of moon. But at times she thought she saw the hue of orange eyes flicker between the trees, blinking in and out of her sight only to soon disappear. Torches.
The air dug into her skin, cold against her heated breath. Like a grey arrow whirring through the night, the Ranger carved a path through the forest with little idea of where to go. Yet there was no time to linger on her own thoughts. Rell had lost all clear sense of direction, no longer knowing which way was the river and, with it, her uncle. Would she lead them straight to him? They were being headed off by the dark trees and the glowing flames of torches, simply following a course chosen for her. Into the heart of the forest, she hoped, and not out of it.
It was difficult to tell time. Whether she had ridden for hours or mere moments since the breaking of her company, it could just as easily have been the same to her. The forest seemed endless; the hunt even more so. All she could do was follow the path. Forwards and backwards, then suddenly down as the ground sloped before her – led by the sounds of the orcs, the ground grew soft and again, she could now hear the flowing river. Strong and noisy. At this, her heart clenched in fear. Had she returned to the banks of the Anduin?
She jerked Luin away from the roaring sounds, forcefully tearing through trees this time directly toward the flames. Swiftly the ground went downhill, falling rapidly, over-arched by trees that stole away the moonlight. She would not lead them to her chieftain and their captive. Suddenly, appearing as if out of nothing, a large black figure coalesced from the darkness.
The orc snarled and reached for her.
It was luck, and not skill, that severed his arm clean from his shoulder as Rell swung her sword in a panic. The enemy crumbled to the ground with a dreadful screech that traveled far; yet Rell did not linger, nor finish the fight. Away she was, pulled forward in sheer terror at their closeness. She pressed on, heartbeat loud and her pursuers gaining on her. They were far too many; many more than she had expected to encounter. The torches were closer. Faster.
Coming to an opening ahead, she found that they had made a way to a high steep bank, almost a cliff overhanging the river. Luin reared to a sudden halt and snorted. At its feet were turbid waters, churning white foam as the waves beat against the rock. The drop was deep. At once Rell looked around, searching for an escape; the glowing eyes in the darkness of the forest gleamed and blinked. In and out they flickered, moving with the trampling boots of the orcs. Any hope of escape soon changed to comprehension, for always it seemed she was led back to the river.
Fear was about to take her, yet Rell would not allow it.
She climbed from the saddle and came to the stand in the narrow patch of grass, the river on her back and the forest ahead. Her sword gleamed black. This, she decided, would be her final stand. Her eyes came to Luin, for a brief moment softening, and her voice shook with a tremble of farewell when she spoke. "You have led me so far, but no further can you take me. Go find a home with the Elves!" Then, with a quick rap, she sent away her greatest friend – her most loyal and steadfast companion. The horse bolted away and vanished within the mist.
Be safe, she prayed. Alone she then stood, staring and straining into the gloom.
"Come at me!" She shouted with all the power she had left. From some way off, or so it seemed, she thought she heard a solitary cry. Rell called again, and kept on calling more and more frantically; issuing a challenge for the orcs. For some time she heard no answer, but then it seemed faint and far ahead at first. The drumrolls had started once more. The lights came closer. From one place and another, the screeches and hoarse cries grew in strength and numbers, until at last the first dark creatures crashed through the trees and into the open.
Tall dark figures like shadows against the pale moon. There was a rush of hoarse laughter. They seemed to lean over her, axes and swords raised to strike; their eyes gleamed, lit with a light of evil. They were wretched to behold, behind their iron helmets and large shields. But she met the orcs head on, despite her injuries, her own weapon ready. Rell was on them at once. The blade wedged itself into the ribcage of the one closest to her, sinking deeply through flesh and bone, only to soon be drawn back as the orc tumbled down. Surprise was still in its face as the head was separated from its body.
The helmet rattled and rolled away.
"Do not think me an easy target," she hissed, taking swift steps back and away. Her sudden bout of bravery unsettled the orcs, uncertain of the one before them, though it only gave her the upper hand for a brief moment. Though Rell made use of it. Taking in their numbers – far too many – she jumped into the fray, vowing to take as many as she could before the end. One dove to avoid her blow, only for the Ranger to strike at the next without pause; in quick succession her attacks fell, hacking, carving, all the while she dodged their weapons as the orcs came to retaliate.
She was quicker than them, yet outnumbered. Never did their laughter drown from their lips, and soon Rell found herself retreating; pushed back step by step as they advanced. Blood oozed from her nose and brow, and her sword-arm trembled with exertion. The river's roar rose to meet her as she felt the ground disappear behind her, halting her feet from going further. The orcs encircled her and their voices reached new heights.
From the forest came more, carrying with them torches and spears, and they were led by a huge orc-chieftain that soon carved a way to the front. Clad in black mail and almost man-high; his face was flat and his eyes deep and black as coal. With a thrust of his huge shield he turned the orcs from his path to her. Rell wiped the blood from her sight, one swift movement to clear her vision. His followers howled, gleeful and with exhilaration, thumping their shields and chests. They heeded not the fallen, slain by her hand. The large orc came to stand before her, a wickedness in his gaze and a snarl on his swart lips.
Rell would not give him the chance to strike first.
At once she rushed forward, faster at a close distance, with a sturdy swing of her sword only to watch the orc dive under her blow; his own blade caught her on her right. Only a quick step to the side had saved her from injury, leaving her with a scratch across the skin of her stomach. Though it was enough to surprise her. Again he swung his weapon, wild and without reason. Sweeping to the side, avoiding his attacks to instead follow in quick succession with her own, Rell noticed with growing frustration that she did not land any blow to the orc.
Disheartenment and increasing terror crawled across her mind.
Their swords met head on, locked in a battle of strength and will. The smell was fetid and mingled with the rust of her own blood. Rell kicked his knee, hoping to bend him forward, only to have her force go wide and skid along the armor instead of crippling him. Instead, she found herself stumbling at the missed opportunity; she skipped two steps back to clear the distance. The sound of movement alerted her to the next attack; she lunged at him with the blade, though from the angle of her attack and the shortness between them, Rell only managed to graze his chin.
With a screech, her sword scraped the helmet, and the sound rang clear above the noises of his comrades.
This time she took several steps back.
It was only the briefest of moments, a pause in the fray, where she breathed deeply. Her head was swimming, disoriented from an earlier blow that made it hard to see. Her gaze danced from her adversary and then to all the others, surrounding her; she caught movement from the corner of an eye, and the orc-chieftain was upon her again. Rell barely managed to dive to the side. The blade swished past her ear, howling, so close she could hear it carve the air where her head had been only a blink before.
A mail-clad hand shot out and hit her clearly. Air rushed from her chest by the sudden force, and Rell was hurled to the ground. With a cry, she hacked at the sword just as it came to meet her neck. Its sharp edge dug into the frozen ground and lodged stuck, a mere hair's breadth from her gaze. The hit would have killed her. Before the orc could pull the blade out, Rell rolled over once to gain distance. Dirt stung her eyes, though halted her not. Her breathing fell hard, heart hammering in fear and survival as she attempted to regain her feet. She struggled to keep her hand on the sword.
She pressed her elbow into the ground.
Then a grip stronger than iron seized her.
Iron-clad fingers dug into her shoulder, and Rell felt a sharp spike of pain run through her body as she was hauled upright. A hiss of breath rushed through clenched teeth, but she had time for little more; the orc chieftain smacked her across the face. Her mind darkened at the sudden hit, shattering her nose and senses all in one blow. Blood pooled in her mouth, drippling down her chin, while she dangled bewildered an inch above the grass. Despite the warning of her mind, the sword slipped from her fingers. With a dull thud it hit the ground.
A putrid, foul stench filled her nostrils.
The horrendous face leered at her, black teeth shining in the clouded light of the moon; she blinked, dull and slow, barely conscious enough to understand what had happened. His blade was still lodged in the frozen dirt. Her fingers stretched, scraping inches from it before she felt the world around her spin once more. She was tossed away from the roaring waters, to the gathered group of orcs that stood waiting. Black, malicious eyes gleaming.
Rell hit the ground and scrambled backward at once, frantically searching for her weapons – a way out, an escape – something. A mere crack in the endless row of dark trees, something that could give her a chance against the swiftness of the orcs. But the blackness was absolute. Every part of her was hurting, and the raw taste of blood mingled with the blows to her head made her almost vomit. The ground was frozen, cold against her hand. From the corner of her eye she glanced about, the calmness of a fight taken by growing fear that muddled her thoughts. There was no clarity.
Where was her father's sword?
Heavy boots shook the ground, and she became frozen, rigid. An involuntary shudder trembled through her body as the orc stepped closer. Trapped. There was no way out. Some dark thought in the back of her head noted the limp in his step, gleeful malice she could cling to against the overwhelming hopelessness that drowned her mind. One blow, at least, had hit its mark. Then his boot stomped down hard into her back, and Rell was pressed flat into the grass. Cackles of laughter rang into the silence.
"Where is the other one?" The voice was but a growl, harsh and dark. More pressure was added against her spine, and cold slush seeped through her clothes and the linen on her broken arm. Rell bit her lip and held her tongue. A brief moment of relief as the boot was lifted. Then it returned, closer to her head and only inches below her neck. She stiffened, eyes pressed tightly shut and her breath stolen away even if she wished to speak.
The orc spoke in the foul language of Mordor, something she could not – and did not – want to understand. Though, despite her unwillingness to know, it soon became clear to her. Another scrambled by in a rush, and a hollow screech followed; the previously discarded blade was returned to its owner's hand. There was no repeated question, no time to steel herself against what was to come.
Clear-cutting pain tore through her as the weapon carved into her leg. Rell writhed in agony, attempting to fight her way free as fingers dug through soil, grasping for anything, but the weight pinned her in place. She bit back a scream. The howling of the orcs surrounded her, loathsome and vile and everywhere. It took all her might not to cry out. To withhold that malicious joy from them. The blade sank further into her leg, tearing through tissue as hot blood bubbled. Once more she was met with the foul breath of rot and flesh so close to her ear. "Scream, cry for help. Call your friend."
But Rell did not scream, not even when bone met blade; instead she curled in on herself, away from the pain and the darkness that consumed everything around her. She cried silently, choking back sobs of terrible pain. Screeches and harsh laughter pressed against her ears, yet she willed her mind to focus on something that lay beyond. The roar of the river. It was hard to breathe, and with every heaving sob came blood. Rell swallowed. Fury, pain, fear. Survive. The weapon was slowly, agonizingly so, drawn from her flesh and she hissed in relief.
For the briefest of moments, the orcs halted. Perhaps anticipating an answer.
Her hand found the hidden knife in her boot.
Rell jerked back, pulling the blade out with her, and slit the orc's leg just beneath the knee. It was enough to cripple; with a howl of pain and anger, he fell down hard and, in that moment, an opening presented itself. Before the remaining orcs had time to react, Rell rolled across the ground, swift and heedless of her injuries, away from the company that held her surrounded. Her body was consumed with pain, yet her mind clear and constant – forcefully so, the will to live clinging desperately tight. A hold on her heart that urged her forward. Another roll, and Rell tumbled off of the cliff.
A roar surrounded her, deafening and everywhere.
Then came the sudden plunge into icy waters.