Chapter Seven

The sight that greeted the two pairs of eyes as they adjusted to the dim interior was incredible. There were all sizes and type of bones, some still with shreds of meat attached, littering the blood-stained floor. Along one side wall was a large pile of bones that had been stacked up like cord-wood. It was the only ‘neat’ thing in the room, and appeared to have been set up as some kind of trophy of Hatch’s kills.

Neither Legolas nor Aragorn looked too closely at what they saw, not wishing to be able to identify any that may have belonged to people rather than animals. They just didn’t want to know, since these victims were far beyond any help.

The horrible stench nearly made the two friends pass out right then and there. It had to be experienced to be believed.

“Rotting orc carcasses don’t smell this bad,” Aragorn commented, though it was only a slight exaggeration. He put one hand over his nose and mouth while his other hand went to his stomach almost protectively. It was hard for him to suppress his gag reflex.

As bad as it was for Aragorn, it was even worse for Legolas. Vision and hearing were not the only things that were more sensitive in elves. The foul odor hit Legolas’s nose like a physical blow, and he had actually taken a step back, fighting not to sway on his feet.

To top it all off, huge black flies buzzed all around them. They seemed to be examining the new arrivals. They evidently found their previous occupation more to their liking, so in short order, they had settled back on the bones.

Both Legolas and Aragorn took a moment to overcome their instinctive reactions. The need to hurry was pressing in on them, and they had to fight their bodies’ desires to flee out into the open air.

Forcing aside the offensive sight and smell, Legolas turned to his friend. The look he gave the man spoke volumes. Neither wanted to get close to, much less touch, anything in this filthy hovel but touch things they must.

Aragorn didn’t say anything. He just shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

A crudely made bed sat along the rear wall. It was hard to tell if what lay on top were bedcovers or just a pile of dirt and grime. Whatever it was, it added its own offensive smell to the putrid air inside the hut. So it was with great reluctance that Legolas and Aragorn headed for it to begin their search. Both were batting the flies that were still airborne out of their way.

Aragorn spotted a tattered corner of what he decided must be a blanket. Taking a deep breath, he reached for it like someone who was trying to avoid being bitten. He clamped his forefinger and thumb over the filthy fabric and pulled. It didn’t move, as his fingers came loose from it. Aragorn pursed his lips and tried again with more fingers and more force. Still the cover didn’t budge.

Legolas regarded his friend with amusement in his eyes. “Having any luck?” the elf asked needlessly. He had seen what had happened.

“Yes, and it’s all bad,” Aragorn grumbled. He finally grabbed the blanket with both hands and yanked it as hard as he could.

The resulting shower of dirt and dust filled the air around them. Both backed off to get clear of the now suffocating air.

“If I wanted to be choked to death, I would have let the trolls catch me,” Legolas said between coughs.

Aragorn glared at the elf. “You and your superior elven strength could have helped, you know.” He fought the urge to cough, so his stinging words would have more impact.

The elf was still amused. “But it was so much more fun watching you do it.”

“Then don’t complain about the outcome.” Those words were punctuated by a sneeze, quickly followed by two more.

The verbal exchange may have bordered on the humorous, but the circumstances were far from it. The weight of the situation was soon pressing in on them once again.

Legolas ran to the doorway and peered outside. It wouldn’t do for a passing troll to hear the sneezes and come running in. He saw no one. Relieved, the archer returned to where Aragorn stood looking down at the bed.

Until the dust settled a bit more, all that was visible was a thick layer of the stuff. Then gradually the scene became clearer. Under the dirt on the bed were lumpy clumps of dried grass that didn’t look as though they had been changed since the bed was built, and who know how long that had been. Under the grass a row of crooked boards holding it all up was barely visible. Despite the haphazard look of the bed, it was strong or it never would be able to hold a troll.

“What is that?” Legolas asked, pointing down into the mass in the center.

Aragorn peered where Legolas was pointing but could see nothing that might have drawn the elf’s attention. He just shrugged.

Sticking his face down closer, Legolas made a small noise that Aragorn couldn’t quite interpret. “What did you find?” the man asked.

The elf didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure what he had seen was what he thought it was. He reached down and curled his fingers under the side board of the bed frame. “Help me turn this thing on its side.”

Knowing Legolas had found something worth investigating, the ranger moved up and grabbed the side board a couple of feet from where the elf’s hands had been placed.

Together they pulled the heavy bed up until they could get their hands under it. With a strong push, they succeeded in turning the bed onto its side. It hit the floor with a heavy thump. Most of the dirt and dead grass was trapped between it and the wall.

The two companions stopped for a moment and held their breath, listening for the sound of running troll feet. When only silence greeted them, they examined the bottom of the bed.

Legolas smiled while Aragorn’s eyes went wide. “I don’t believe it!” the man exclaimed.

There, lashed to the underside of the bed with rope, were Legolas’s twin knives. It was the flash of one of the blades that had first attracted the elf’s attention. It didn’t take him long to untie the knots and free the knives. He examined them carefully to make sure Hatch hadn’t damaged them with careless handling. He sighed in relief, when he saw that they were in good shape. He quickly stuck both in his belt and then turned his attention to the ranger. “I am sorry, Estel. Your sword is not here. I imagine Hatch has it?”

The ranger was glad that Legolas had found his treasured knives, but he was disappointed that his sword had not been found. He couldn’t really say that he was surprised, though, considering how much the troll leader had admired it, when they were first captured. “I wonder why Hatch didn't keep your knives, though, of course, I'm happy he didn't."

"I have no idea what goes on in the head of a troll," the elf replied. "It would be much easier to escape, if we could predict what those creatures had in mind."

"So, we’ll just have to get my sword from Hatch.” Aragorn said with determination.

When Aragorn walked around the front end of the upturned bed, he saw the end of the elf’s bow lying under it. “There it is!”

Another strong effort was required to pull the heavy bed far enough away from the wall for Legolas to reach behind it and pull the bow free.

The archer ran his fingers down the carved wood. Every inch of the bow was as familiar to him as his own hand, so he would easily be able to detect any damage, even minute, that it may have sustained. “It is all right,” he declared with immense relief.

Aragorn smiled and put his hand on the elf’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. He had discovered and then picked up Legolas’s quiver while the elf was checking his bow. He handed it to the elf. “It looks like all your arrows are here, as well. I’m sure we’ll need them before this is all over.”

A quick search of the hut followed but none of their other knives were found. It was logical to assume that the trolls must have divided them up among themselves. That was not good, because it meant they would have to overpower several trolls to retrieve the small blades. Worse yet was the fact that they had no idea which trolls had them. Even so, the next priority was Aragorn’s sword. Hard as it would be, if the need arose, the knives could be left behind.

“We had best be on our way,” Aragorn said. He wanted to be sure there was nothing that might prove beneficial to them left behind here, but he was also anxious to leave.

*~*~*~*

Pickett heard the sound of a heavy tread approaching his cage. He was sure it was Hatch, coming to inflict some kind of harsh punishment on him. He assumed that the captives had made good their escape, and he was now about to pay for it. He kept his head down. It would be all too soon before he had to look into his leader’s angry face.

“Look who’s in the cages now.”

Pickett’s head came up. The sarcastic voice was not that of Hatch. When he looked at the troll that now stood in front of him, he saw it was the one that considered himself the third-in-command. His name was Nater, and for some reason, Pickett had never been afraid of him.

“What do you want?” Pickett asked in a derogatory tone.

“I came back to get somethin’ fer Hatch. I saw you was in here. Yer in big trouble.”

“Not from you,“ Pickett spat, before turning away. He wasn’t going to give this troll any more of a reason to ridicule him.

When Nater saw he couldn’t get a rise out of Pickett, he also turned away and headed for Hatch’s hut.

*~*~*~*

Just as Legolas and Aragorn were finishing up their search and about to leave, a dark shadow began to grow in the bright sunshine coming in through the doorway. Legolas caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and saw a troll approaching. There was no chance to make it outside of the hut and out of sight before the troll reached them. They could have slipped behind the bed, but there was no way the fact it was upturned could go unnoticed.

Grabbing Aragorn’s arm Legolas whispered, “Troll coming.” He then reached down and picked up a large piece of board and handed it to Aragorn before pointing to the near side of the doorway, indicating the man was to go that way. He himself grabbed a large bone and quickly darted to the far side. When he got into position, he indicated that the ranger should swing low.

Aragorn nodded his understanding. He mouthed the words, “How many?”

Legolas held up one finger before flattening himself against the front wall.

The troll didn’t even hesitate before entering the hut. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. When they did, he spotted the overturned bed. He took a couple of steps toward it before stopping, a broad frown creasing his face. He didn’t see the two beings behind him.

In true troll fashion, the creature stood and pondered why Hatch would turn his bed on its side. He scratched his head in bewilderment.

While the troll was totally preoccupied trying to figure out the puzzle, Aragorn took the opportunity to strike. The ranger held the board sideways to concentrate the force of the blow. The resulting vibration traveled up the man’s arms, causing him to wince. It was offset by the satisfying sound of the crunching impact.

The troll took a few seconds to react, but when he did, he bent down to see what had caused the pain he now felt.

Legolas wasted no time in raising the piece of bone he held, which looked like the thigh bone of a cow, and bringing it down hard on the back of the troll’s neck.

The creature dropped like a rock and lay motionless amid the filthy debris on the dirt floor.

Aragorn didn’t think a troll would be able to reason out the concept of playing dead to lure an enemy in close. Just to make absolutely sure, though, he kicked the beast several times. “Well, if he was faking, I doubt he is now.” He stepped back and turned toward the door.

The elf grinned in agreement. “Let us leave. We can work out later how we will get the rest of our weapons.” He picked up his bow and quiver and took one step toward the door. The next instant Aragorn was flying backwards past him, his body slamming into the back wall. The man slid down next to the overturned bed.

Shocked, Legolas looked toward the doorway and saw the huge form of Pickett filling the entrance.

TBC