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Chapter 3

The band of Orcs traveled hard and fast for three days, stopping only when absolutely necessary.  Since his leg was still sore and would not carry his weight, Aragorn was forced to ride.  With his hands tied behind him, Aragorn sat in front of Felnorvard on his large, black Mordor horse.  He had slept very little for his experience as a Ranger told him to remain vigilant in times of uncertainty.  Very few people, however, can remain awake for such long periods of time. 

            When the land became more barren and rocky, Aragorn had a much harder time staying on top of the beast.  As the steed began to descend the bank of a dried riverbed, he began to slide off, and Felnorvard had to hold the Ranger in place.  Pulling away from the man’s touch, Aragorn shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.  It was almost impossible to sleep while riding.  He could not lean forward for fear of the horse’s strong neck slamming against his face, and he could not lean back with Felnorvard so close.

            “You must rest,” Felnorvard stated, as if he read Aragorn’s mind.  “There are still many days ahead of us, and I can not keep holding you in the saddle.”

            Aragorn had spoken very little since his capture.  Felnorvard had tried to make conversation over the past few days, but he was ignored.  “Why is it that you remain alert?  You have slept no more then myself,” Aragorn finally replied, trying to shake off his weariness.

            “You do speak!  I was beginning to think that you had become mute!” Felnorvard laughed and brought his arm around Aragorn again, holding him steady.  “It is a gift from my master.  He rewards those who are loyal and faithful.  I will sleep very little between here and our destination, which will make for faster travel with the Orcs.  Here,” he said and moved back in the saddle, giving Aragorn more room.  “Lean back on me to rest.  It will be easier that way.”

            Aragorn remained where he was.  He would not be tempted by this man’s deceptive kindness.  “Where am I being taken?” Aragorn asked, changing the subject.  Strange times called for strange approaches.  Perhaps my questions will not bring me to harm, Aragorn thought.  Under normal circumstances, he would not have dared to ask since it was far too easy to anger Orcs' friends.

            “To see my master,” Felnorvard replied simply. 

            It was worth a try, Aragorn thought as the horse climbed over some large boulders.  This time, he managed to keep himself in place without assistance.  However, he overcompensated on their descent, and Felnorvard was forced to support him.

            The terrain grew increasingly barren and rocky and after an hour, all of Aragorn’s strength had left him.  I will need all of my strength when I escape and sleep is the only way to obtain it, he thought.  And the longer I wait to leave, the farther I will have to backtrack.  Putting aside his fear of what was to come, Aragorn allowed his eyes to close and his head to fall back.

            Felnorvard had been watching the Ranger’s internal struggle for sleep for some time.  He knew that it was only the other man’s pride that had kept him awake, and he smiled to himself as Aragorn’s head fell backwards onto his shoulder and his body relaxed.  Now they would be able to make up some lost time.  He signaled to the group to increase speed.

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             Two more uneventful days passed, and Aragorn was feeling his strength return to him.  When the group stopped for meals, he was able to test his weight on his leg and found that he could walk further every time.  According to Felnorvard, they were still several days away from where ever they were going.  More then enough time to escape, Aragorn thought as he was, once again, placed back upon the Mordor-horse.  He had been working hard over the past few day to loosen the ropes binding his wrists.  He now felt confident that when the time came, he would be able to break them.  Everyday, after several hours on horseback, Aragorn noticed that Felnorvard lowered his guard over him.  It would be then that he would strike and escape.

            As the hours passed, Aragorn, once again, leaned back against Felnorvard and closed his eyes.  After forcing his body to relax and allowing his head to fall to the side, Aragorn could feel the man behind him become more relaxed as well.  All he had to do now was wait for the next stop.

            For what seemed like an eternity, Aragorn waited.  Finally, he felt the horse slow its pace and stop.  The air felt cool, and Aragorn knew that the sun was setting.  They were stopped for their late evening meal.  This made it more difficult to escape the Orcs since they were well equipped at hunting at night.  His only hope was to gain enough of a head start to lose them.  That will have to be a risk that I take.  I will get no other chance, he thought as Felnorvard gently leaned Aragorn forward against the neck of his horse.  It is strange how he takes so much care not to wake me now only to have me thrown to the ground later.  He lay very still and listened as Felnorvard moved away.  For a few brief moments, Aragorn would be left unattended before the Orcs came to take him from the horse.  Now was the time to act.

              Testing the strength of the ropes one last time, Aragorn pulled hard and broke free.  Quickly reaching for the horse’s reins, he commanded the creature forward.  Racing through the Orc-camp, the horse dodged and jumped its way around the startled Orcs.  They had suspected nothing, and Aragorn quickly used it to his advantage.  He even managed to grab a small sword and strike out, defending himself and the horse from the Orcs. 

            He was making remarkable progress while meeting with minimal resistance.  The edge of the camp was in sight.  The horse bounded over the last remaining sentinels and escaped into the darkness.  Aragorn knew he had no hope of escape being out in the open so he guided the animal toward a nearby clump of trees.  He desperately hoped that it was thick and dense enough to conceal him from the Enemy.

            Aragorn road hard, but in the darkness, he had no idea which direction to travel.  Going against all of his instincts, Aragorn had to flee blindly, only hoping that he was not heading in the wrong direction.  He swore softly as he began to make out the thunder of many feet behind him and to his right.  Having quickly regrouped, the Orcs were close behind him, and Aragorn could not travel as fast as he would like.  There were many small trees that blocked the path, and the horse slowed too much to round them. 

            He could see them in the shadows now and could feel arrows flying past, some coming dangerously close.  Aragorn had a sinking feeling that this would not end well.  He urged his horse faster and faster, but it was still too slow.  Arrows were flying all around him now as they drew closer.  Aragorn quickly wondered if he should abandon the horse.  Even injured, he could make better speed alone, but he would not get the chance to act.  Aragorn cursed his luck as he heard the unmistakable sound of arrows connecting with flesh.  They had hit the horse.

            The beast crashed to the forest floor in mid-stride, and Aragorn was thrown, landing face first in the dirt and rocks.  He could feel the blood begin to flow from his nose and mouth.  Ignoring his pain, Aragorn struggled to his feet and ran, not having any time to waste.  Unfortunately, his sense of direction had been lost and within minutes he was, once again, surrounded by Orcs.  Even though he was becoming dizzy, Aragorn took a defensive stance.  As Orcs tend to do, they came one by one, and Aragorn was able to defeat several of them, though not as easily as he would have liked.

            Suddenly, a voice called from the darkness, “Hold!  Completely surround him but remain still!”  It was Felnorvard.  “That was very foolish, Aragorn!” he growled, moving to the inner edge of Orcs.  “Drop your sword, surrender yourself, and no harm will come to you!”

            I find that very unlikely, Aragorn thought as he weighed his options.  Thirty Orcs against one injured man was a lost cause, and there was no where for him to flee.  He would have to surrender. 

            Aragorn allowed the heavy sword to slip from his fingers and fall to the ground with a dull thud.  Immediately, the Orcs were upon him.  Aragorn expected to be beaten or whipped for his failed escape attempt, but they just held him, waiting for further instructions.  He kept still and allowed them to grip his arms, waiting to see what would happen next.

            Felnorvard came and stood in front of the Ranger.  “That was very foolish,“ he repeated.  “Luckily, we have more horses that…” Aragorn suddenly spit a mixture of saliva and blood in the man's face, causing him to stop mid sentence.  The Orcs’ grips tightened as Felnorvard stood glaring at the Ranger.  He slowly reached down and taking Aragorn’s cloak in his fist, wiped his face. Aragorn had little time to react when the man quickly drew his dagger and pressed it dangerously against his throat.  The Orcs began to snicker as the Ranger’s head was forced back, revealing more and more of his throat.  As the blade bit into his skin, Aragorn could feel a small amount of blood slide down his neck to his shirt. So far, he had not been able to provoke any violence.  Perhaps now I will see their true face, Aragorn thought. 

            But Felnorvard checked himself and lowered it.  Instead, he brought his hand up and touched the Ranger’s dirty and bloody face.  “The rocks have not been kind to you,” he said as he probed the other man’s blood covered nose and cheekbone. When Aragorn did not pull back or cry out, Felnorvard continued. “I do not think you have broken anything, for which you should be thankful.”  With a sly smile, he turned and nodded to the Orc-group.  “Perhaps now it will be a bit more difficult for you to escape.” 

            Aragorn did not struggle as his arms were pulled behind him and bound, nor when a cloth was placed over his eyes.  For the time, he had fought and lost.  Now, he wanted to keep whatever dignity he had left.  He was, after all, more then just a common Ranger.  He had lost this battle, but luckily the war was not over; it had only just begun.

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            Several more days passed and Aragorn continued to grow stronger.  He was now forced to ride with Felnorvard.  There was no getting around it.  The Orcs would not carry him, by the order of their commander, and the Ranger could not keep their pace with his vision restricted and arms bound behind him.

            So, Aragorn spent his days in silent thought.  He hated not being able to see and more then once, wished the Orcs had just beaten him instead.  He felt completely helpless, something the Ranger was not accustomed to.  He went where the horse led, and no amount of twisting or leaning made any difference.

            Aragorn was always tense when they rode for he strained to hear everything around him.  Felnorvard could sense the other man’s uneasiness and smiled inwardly.  In two days, they would reach their destination, and even he didn't know the Ranger’s fate.

            Felnorvard attempted to make conversation with his prisoner, but Aragorn never responded.  He was lost in his own thought and concentration.  Even though he was never permitted to remove the blindfold, his instincts told him that they were still traveling east, though he knew not whether northward or southward.  He could also tell that they occasionally passed under trees, but never for any length of time.  With two more days of travel, Aragorn knew they would not be able to reach the confines of Mordor. 

            Could we reach Rohan in two days?  he asked himself, but mentally shook his head.  But I know those people, and they are not open to evil, Aragorn argued.  He had been doing a lot of that lately, arguing with himself.

            He had tracked the Enemy in that part of Middle Earth for several years, and he knew of no strongholds this far from Mordor.  These are strange times indeed.  If the people of Rohan have given in to the shadow, then Gondor will also fall, followed quickly by the rest of Middle Earth.  That can not be allowed.

            Aragorn also had time to think on the strange behavior of his captors.  He remembered when his many wounds were tended, and the words ‘false kindness’ came into his thoughts.  They acted not like a changed Enemy but a restrained Enemy.  He could still feel their evil and hatred every time they came near him.  Aragorn felt certain that Felnorvard was the only thing keeping him safe from torment and abuse.  They were trying to deceive him, and the Ranger had no idea why.  Now, there was no chance of escape.  There were very few Rangers this far south and the Riddermark had enough troubles on their eastern borders.  Aragorn knew that his chance had come and gone.  There was nothing left to do but wait.  So, two more days passed uneventfully.

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            The company slowed their pace for the last hour of their journey, and Aragorn was forced to walk.  Since his arms were bound behind him and his eyes covered, the Ranger’s steps faltered often, as his feet managed to catch on every rock and branch on the path.  An Orc’s strong grip, however, was never far behind, forcing him back to his feet.  But, Aragorn also had to deal with the pain in his legs from ridding horseback for so many long days and nights.  He generally enjoyed hours on a horse, but those required muscles had been inactive too long to deal with the present abuse.  The pain would pass soon enough, and all Aragorn could do was hope Felnorvard didn’t notice his slight limp.

            “At last, you will know and feel the power of my master,” Felnorvard whispered to him.

            Felnorvard had stopped him in front of something large, for Aragorn could feel that the wind had shifted.  It was somehow colder now and seemed to swirl all around him, as if it was circling something; even the rays of sun were cold.

            Aragorn could hear that most of the Orcs were falling back and leaving the group.  They were filtering away; away from whatever building they had come to.  Felnorvard placed his hand on the back of Aragorn’s neck and guided him forward.  Everything grew quiet and still as they climbed up a long staircase.  Aragorn could hear nothing except the rapid beating of his heart and his own shallow breath.  If Felnorvard’s hand had not been on him, he would have believed himself to be alone. 

            For ten minutes, they quickly made their way up the corridors.  Aragorn longed for the blindfold to be removed.  He would never be able to find his way out and escape.  I can not afford another failed attempt, Aragorn thought as they turned another corner and stopped.  Perhaps now I will find out the truth.  I can only hope the cost is not too high.

            Two great doors were opened, and Felnorvard guided the Ranger inside.  After several paces, Aragorn’s legs were knocked out from under him, and he found himself on his knees, bowing to whoever was in the room with him.

            Aragorn began to struggle until a deep voice rose from the far end of the room.  “Wait!  Let him rise and remove his bonds.  That is no way to treat a guest.”  So, Aragorn’s arms were quickly freed and his vision returned.

TBC...