Chapter Twenty-five

A New Menace – Part Two –

   Gurim exchanged glances with Hrunas. He knew they were losing time as well as credibility. The Orcs in their group already glanced at them with undisguised scorn. Gurim knew the race could only be impressed by victories, gained in any fashion, but they punished ineptitude relentlessly.

   With a gesture, Gurim ordered Brúnak to give the captive more of the Orc draught, and while he watched the procedure, decided on another approach.

   “Get him up!” he barked when the Orc-chieftain stepped back. Puzzled looks were directed towards him. “I said get him up! We are taking him for a walk.”

   Brúnak bellowed to two other Orcs, and they unhooked the chain from the wall and pulled. The captive did not respond, but made a choking sound. Brúnak knew that tark was awake, but he refused cooperation as far as he could.

   “No killing!” Gurim ordered harshly, and with unintelligible curses the Orcs grabbed the Man under the armpits and pulled him to his feet. Gurim lifted the captive's chin and stared at eyes filled with determination shining through the haze of pain. “You will talk, you stinking rat! I make ya talk!”

   “There is nothing to gain for you,” Strider whispered and hung his head the moment Gurim let go with a grunt.

   The Orcs dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hall. Gurim stayed at the Man's side while Hrunas stepped up to him on the way.

   “Why'd you do that?” he hissed. “He won't be…”

   “Shut up! We did not get far with that scum of Man. It's time to cheat a little.”

   Hrunas but stared at him, his face and mind blank of any idea.

   “Cheat?”

   Gurim smiled grimly and gave no answer.

-o-o-o-o-

   Reluctantly the Orcs half dragged and half carried the captive the way back. On Gurim's order some left the group – meant to be a vanguard – and patrolled the paths further on. They needed to be quiet and careful, but failed to be either. The Dunlending ground his teeth. The Orcs were not open to reason. Apart from their gruesome ability to vanquish their foes by any weapon handy, there was no use of their presence.

   When a sound echoed from the other side of a gorge, which could only be crossed by a bridge thirty paces away, Gurim halted the group for a moment. They had almost reached the stairs leading toward the chamber. He listened, but there was only the low dripping of water and a hollow rumbling deep in the roots of the mountain. He felt the stone tremble slightly under his boots. The Orcs became restless immediately – the word of the monster made of fire had spread – and Hrunas spoke a word of command to calm them. The Orcs lowered their captive down. When Gurim turned he saw Strider being awakened, and his gaze was directed attentively toward the source of the noise. Gurim stepped in front of him – barring the sight - and his stance was threatening.

   “Now we are almost where we found you first. Tell us where to go! Tell us how to enter the room behind the chamber! Or end your miserable life right here!”

   Strider looked up from his kneeling position. He gathered his strength and spoke loudly enough to be heard by all – in the open or hidden – and his voice was steady.

   “There is no treasure, you fool! Nothing you want! The only thing you will find here is death. Durin's Bane will get you!”

   The Dunlending growled deep in his throat. To be mocked at in front of his minions was not to his liking. He was used to getting the answers quickly and killing his prey afterwards. That Man had withstood the threats and beating for far too long. His anger rose when he saw the mocking gazes of three of the biggest Orcs and their chieftain. If he could not break the prisoner to show his superiority they would rebel against him. And he knew they would feast upon his flesh regardless of his position. But the time was not now. Others whined anxiously and turned away, for they did not dare oppose the Dunlendings. Not on their own. Gurim knew that only a single glimpse of fire in the darkness would drive the Orcs mad; he had seen it before, and the captive knew of that unseen threat. He had chosen the right words to make the Orcs cringe with fear. One reason more to break him.

   “You better talk, and you better tell me where the Dwarves hide!” Strider did not flinch, and Gurim lost his temper. “Your last chance, tark!” He unsheathed Strider's dagger and turned it in his dirty hand. “Tell me about their hideout!” Strider held his enemy's gaze, pressing his lips tightly together. The dagger got closer to his head. Two creatures pressed down on his shoulders firmly, making it impossible for him to dodge. “You'll crawl like a beast when I'm finished with ya!”

   The dagger was close to his left eye now. Strider could see the tip of the silver blade that would cut his eyeball any moment. Two hands held his head, and he could not move an inch. He was breathing shallowly, bracing himself for the anguish to come. Bracing himself that after the anguish he would be left blinded. He swallowed, and all his muscles tensed.

   Suddenly a stone whirred through the darkness. It hit Gurim's brow hard enough to make him drop his arm and yell out in surprise and pain.

   “What the…!”

   Shouts and anxious cries were uttered, feet shuffled over the ground, weapons were drawn. Strider was pressed down flat on the ground. One Orc knelt on his back while others pivoted to aim their arrows at the darkness across the abyss. Torches were dropped. Arrows hit the sheer wall on the other side of the gap with a clacking noise, angering the Dunlending: they hurt no one. Whoever had waited to attack them was gone. Probably searching for another point to assail them. Gurim cursed viciously, and in his fury kicked the creature standing next to him. The Orc howled and stepped aside.

   “Those filthy Dwarves are trying to save you, miserable rat!” Gurim spoke through clenched teeth and poked Strider's collar. Two of his minions pulled Strider roughly to his feet again and shoved him back the way they had come, seeking cover. A torch was taken up to show the way, but the Orc holding it, almost shrank to the ground, thinking he would be an easy target for the attacker. Gurim made him run faster. Strider was pushed forward, but when he stumbled Hrunas and a tall Orc grabbed him and dragged him along. Gurim hid behind him, growling deep in his throat.

   Strider hung his head. He was too weak to be jubilant, but a grim smile broke through the strain on his maltreated face. Whoever had hidden in the darkness had been an enemy of the Orcs. He did not dare hope that more aid would come, but for the moment he had escaped the threat of being blinded.

-o-o-o-o-

   Daevan woke with a start. He realised he had fallen asleep in spite of his attempts to stay awake and take any chance granted. He cursed himself for his laziness, yet he could not deny that he felt wretched with the lack of sleep and the labours he had undertaken. The noise from the outside was deafening. Orc cries, bellowed commands, clanking of swords, and wild curses in different languages. Above all a Man shouted,

   “Tie him up! Guard him! Shut up, you fools! There's no army out there attacking you!”

   Daevan crouched even deeper into the darkness of his little hideout. It was narrow, and he could hardly stretch his long limbs. He dared to peep around the corner and saw frightened faces of Orcs, scurrying back to the kitchen. They pulled Strider with them. Daevan grimaced at the sight of his companion. Once more his anger flared. The Dwarves had left the Great Warrior alone. They had concerned themselves only with their hoard and placed metal over friendship! Daevan cursed under his breath. There had to be a way to get to him.

-o-o-o-o-

   Hrunas lifted his thick brows and snorted. The water-skin in his hand was empty, but he did not dare leave the kitchen. Like the others he had been startled (and frightened, he had to admit) to find the enemies so close and so bold! Though he did not think that the attack had been meant as an attempt to free their captive, it had been a daring action. Gurim had taken it as a sign the Dwarves had not yet abandoned their ally, and with a grim smile, he had added that there was still a chance to capture those, who were left in the tunnels. He had sent more sentries to man the paths and every way branching off, and had even promised them a reward. Hrunas denied himself any such hope. The other Dwarves had resisted to the death. And even that Man, who had allied himself with the Dwarves, kept them in the dark. He shook his head. They could try and pretend to have caught a Dwarf, but the only chance that the captive would talk, lay with the other Man, who had not even been spotted.

-o-o-o-o-

   Daevan had only a little experience in fighting, and his ability for warfare was non-existent. Not good omens for an attack against heavily-armed Orcs. But though he repeatedly told himself that he would be of no use to his friend dead or captured too, he was about to leap up and scream at those creatures tormenting that brave Ranger from the north again. But the voice of reason held him back. He had to rely on Strider's strength and resilience. He had to wait for the right moment. Silently, he moved out of his hiding place, peered into the near darkness where only a few torches were set in holders. He needed a distraction, something that would lure the Orcs out of that big room and make them search for the reason. He watched one goblin emerge from the room with a bucket in his hand. He looked frightened. He was even hurrying. Daevan understood that something had already been set in motion.

-o-o-o-o-

   Strider lay panting in the darkness. Cries of Orcs came from the distance, and through a haze he could hear the low murmur of conversation between Gurim and Hrunas. His strength was fading fast now, but it was certain the Dunlendings would not leave him alone. Nothing he could say would satisfy their greed. The wanderer had made many mistakes in his long life, but none had led to such grievous consequences. When Gurim stood; Strider braced himself against another assault. Hrunas came straight behind him, but held the other man's arm suddenly.

   “Did you not listen, Gurim?” he hissed. “That foul slime of a spy will get ya killed if you spoil him too much!”

   “Shall I watch that maggot take him south? Do you want to stand aside and end up with nothing? Remember, there's only two days left for us now, and then he'll be out of our hands forever!” Gurim broke the grip, cursing under his breath. The dagger shone dully in his hand. “I do not want the sorcerer to put his fingers on that tark and have his way with him! You know what he can do! I heard that he chains his victims up against the walls and tortures them just by his spells!” He shuddered visibly, as did Hrunas. “After that he'll say what he knows! Every little thing, I tell ya!”

   Yet the second leader tried once more to keep his fellow from maiming their captive.

   “Aye, but did you not listen? He knows everything that goes on in here! Everything! How else should he have known of that bony beast and the Men getting here in the first place? And why should he want them all?”

   Strider forced his eyes to remain open. The Dunlendings were trembling with fear; he could see their restlessness. Their dark eyes bore a haunted expression, rooted deep in their twisted minds. Yet the tidings brought no solace. If Strider did not reveal his knowledge to the Dunlendings he would be taken away to face an ever greater enemy: a sorcerer. He swallowed dryly and thought about his options: would the journey grant him a chance to escape? Much could happen if they took him out of the mine and down the dale. And of whom were they talking? Due south lay Isengard and the Tower of Orthanc. Though Gandalf had been wary of Saruman, the wizard was still the head of the Council and his order. He was considered a wise and learned man. Did a threat exist no one had known of before? Had Sauron placed one of his minions near the mountains to conquer Rohan first? Or had Saruman finally left the road of white wizardry and turned to Evil? It was impossible to imagine. Yet whoever the sorcerer was: if Strider passed into his domain there would be less hope for him to ever set free again. He strained his nerves to stay conscious and listen.

   “He won't send many of the White Hand,” Hrunas said, trying to hope against wisdom. “We could still…”

   “I bet you would! But there's Grima also! And he'd not even get down here! He’d get all he wants to know from him! Nay, once he's here we are lost.” Gurim stared down at their captive. The dagger turned in his hand and his jaws ground as he thought about his daring decision. The wanderer knew by his look that his life was about to end if he remained silent. “Either it's now or…”

   There was great commotion resounding from the hall. Hrunas and Gurim looked up. An Orc came running up the stairs.

   “Dwarves!” he cried out of breath and spittle flew. “There are Dwarves up the ledge near the outer hallway!”

-o-o-o-o-

   “Did you corner them?” Gurim shouted back and was running out of the kitchen the same instant. Drawing his sword he eyed the errand-runner.

   “We know where they are!” the Orc retorted and delightedly licked his thin dark lips.

   “Very well! Up, you lazy pack! Up and run!”

   And the pack scrambled to their feet and ran.

   “You there!” Hrunas pointed to one stout goblin, who was about to follow the rest of the horde that were rushing out of the hall. “You stay and watch over the prisoner!” He did not wait to see the Orc's deep disappointment, but hurried after Gurim.

   Strider rested the back of his head against the wall. He did not dare hope that the Dwarves would escape the cruel force unleashed upon them. The Orcs were many; he had seen them fight. And he had seen Uruks of Mordor among them, lusting for flesh. If the Dwarves had been too bold they would get themselves captured or killed. Wearily he glanced at the entrance of the kitchen. The Dunlendings had only left one guard behind. It would be the time to attempt to break free, but his strength had faded. With his hands and feet bound and the collar around his neck he would not even be able to stand up, let alone leave the kitchen.

   The Orc sniffed the air. The noise of feet on the hard ground and clattering weapons died away. The drums sounded in the distance. Dull rang their doom! doom! through the cavernous halls. Some jeers were to be heard, and the minion left behind without a task peeped around the corner. He licked his lips in anticipation. Maybe his fellows would bring back fresh meat for the night's meal! Quickly he shot a glance back to the captive, but the Man did not move and he thought him to be unconscious. Sniffing again, he carefully - afraid of Hrunas’ wrath if he was caught negligent - ventured out of the kitchen. He had his scimitar ready and pricked up his ears to get the tidings first if his companions had caught those nasty Dwarves. One step more he dared to go, whining with uncertainty.

   He never saw the shadow loom.

-o-o-o-o-

   Gurim heard the rolling thunder first. It was a deep rumble as if an avalanche had started at the peaks of the Misty Mountains. Pebbles took up speed down the stairs, and cracks appeared where only small holes had been. The walls trembled, and while the movement lasted the Orcs were wild with terror, whining pitifully in their throats. They looked here and there, but found nothing to point their arrows at, and during the confusion they grouped together, shielding themselves against a threat unseen and unheard. The Dwarves were forgotten; the word of the monster from the unknown depths got around. Of fire they spoke, and the weakest amongst them threw themselves on the ground. The pointy ears of the goblins trembled, teeth clattered. They were close to fleeing when suddenly behind them large stones tumbled from above. Some Orcs were hit and fell with the rocks into the abyss. Amid the roaring the Orcs shrieked: the way back was barred! Dust whirled up, stones broke and jumped. Cries of pain resounded through the deafening clamour. The Orcs fled into the opposite direction, seeking shelter beyond the next branching of ways.

   Amidst the heedless escape of nature's wrath Hrunas and Gurim tried to be heard. No goblin heeded their shouts; like wild beasts they shoved aside their minions, thinking only of themselves. Gurim cursed. The way back to the hall was long and difficult; he had once trod it and did not like the memory. But at the moment the Dunlendings had no choice; they must follow the lot.

-o-o-o-o-