Ckeck it out!  I'm actually posting when I said I would!  Go me!  *g*  Well, there are a few more developments here for everyone to enjoy, but uhm otherwise, have fun with it!  Let me know what you think!

Chapter 13

            Aragorn ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting blood.  The Orcs had spent the entire night harassing him, allowing for very little sleep.  They had always found it extremely amusing that he couldn’t see, and when they got bored, would trip or hit him.  And since Aragorn was unable to see the blows coming, they always caught him by surprise.  The Ranger’s face was spotted with several new claw and boot marks though none were severe.  Now, Aragorn was having an extremely difficult time remaining awake while they traveled. 

            The group had been running for a week, going farther and farther on their journey.  Aragorn had not been able to sleep much, as every time he shut his eyes in rest, he received a blow to his head or ribs.  They also insisted on feeding him only a small serving of bread and a tall mug of Orc draught per day.  This kept him sustained but still very faint and tired.

            Thankfully, Felnorvard did not try to taunt him.  Besides, Aragorn did not trust himself to respond appropriately.  His mood was still bothering him.  Strange and disturbing dreams assaulted him every night and haunted his thoughts during the day.  There was little he could do to distract himself since there was nothing to look at except the inside of a blindfold.

            If he tilted his head the right way, Aragorn could see some of his surroundings.  That was not a risk he was willing to take, however, because he knew the Orcs watched him closely.  It comforted him somewhat to know that he had an advantage, though it be minor.

            The group had been making amazing time, spending most of the day running and had covered many leagues.  Aragorn knew that his day before the Dark Lord was quickly approaching, and so far, there had been very little he could do about it.

            Aragorn had been dragging his feet for the past hour or so which forced the Orcs to support his weight.  He found it was the easiest way to conserve his strength.  This is the only disadvantage to it, he thought as he suddenly felt himself being roughly thrown to the ground.  It was time for their midday break.  Like it happened every day, a knife slid under his chin, keeping him still, while another slipped between his bound hands to cut the rope.  Aragorn waited quietly as his arms were roughly jerked in front of him and rebound.  He was always allowed to feed himself, but meals were also when most of the abuse occurred.

            A stale piece of bread was pushed into the Ranger’s hands, and Aragorn braced himself for the blow that was sure to follow.  When none came, the Ranger decided to risk a glance for he was beginning to hear raised voices.

            Tilting his head down so his chin rested on his chest, Aragorn could finally see his surroundings out of his right eye.  Their camp had been set near the base of a large hill, and a line of trees bordered half of the clearing.

            Aragorn could see Felnorvard standing no more than fifteen paces away.  Two very large Orcs were arguing with him.  The Ranger strained his ears to pick up what was being said, but there was too much other noise to hear everything.

            “... over the next rise,” the first Orc was saying.

            “... large houses... too many... along the road,” was all he could hear from the second.

            At that point, Felnorvard nodded before responding.  “Then... split... half of you... northern slope while... south pass.  Afterwards... one hour... rejoin.”

            The two Orcs beat their fists on their chests and dashed off to carry out their human commander’s orders.  Then Felnorvard abruptly turned and began to advance on Aragorn’s position on the ground. 

            The Ranger swore under his breath as he quickly tried to maneuver the blindfold back over his eye.  He did not have enough time however, as the other man had already noticed.  Aragorn braced himself as Felnorvard raised his arm for a blow.

            “Do not start back to your old tricks, Ranger,” the man said as Aragorn’s head snapped backwards.  “We are close to our destination now, and you will find my patience extremely thin if tested.”

            Felnorvard readjusted the cloth over Aragorn’s head and pulled the ends tighter.  He knew a punishment would quickly follow, but the pounding of quickly approaching Orc feet distracted him.

            “My lord,” the Orc growled. “A cart and rider are approaching.”

            With a final shove that sent Aragorn down on his side, Felnorvard responded, “That is well enough.  Wait for it to come closer and then kill the rider.  Inform me when everything is ready.”

            “As you command,” the Orc replied before thundering away.

            Felnorvard found plenty of ways to entertain himself with Aragorn for the fifteen minutes it took for the Orc to return.  The Ranger’s world threatened to collapse in on him as a particularly violent blow landed on his temple.  Aragorn was left coughing as Felnorvard finally returned to his business with his Orcs.  It was a break that Aragorn was thankful for although he knew it would not last long enough.

            The entire camp suddenly became active.  Aragorn sorely wished that he could see what was going on for his instincts screamed danger and caution.  When Felnorvard gave a shout, strong Orc hands pulled Aragorn to his feet and dragged him across the clearing.

            Aragorn tensed as his feet were lifted off the ground, and he felt himself thrown onto a wooden platform.  Where are we going that would require us to use a cart?  Aragorn thought, but as he attempted to roll onto his back, Felnorvard restrained him. 

            “Now, you will listen to me very closely,” Felnorvard growled as he leaned closer to the Ranger.

            Aragorn heard the thud of a large object just above his head.  A chill went down his spine as an Orc wrapped its arm around the Ranger’s bare chest and pulled him close. 

            “You will lie very still and completely quiet.  Understand that my orders are to bring you to the Dark Lord, and it matters not if you still live.”

            “What is happening?” Aragorn asked.  An Orc blade had found its way to his upper chest, and its owner was lightly pressing it against the Ranger’s skin.

            Aragorn heard the other man sigh before replying.  “We must pass through a village that has too many sentinels on its borders.  You and I will go through on the main road before meeting back with the Orcs.”  Then he said to the creature at Aragorn’s back, “If he makes a sound, cut out his tongue.”

            Aragorn felt blankets and other bags land on top of them, completely covering both beings.  The man groaned as the cart jerked forward.

            The noises of the village were steadily growing louder, and Aragorn carefully shifted his weight at the bottom of the cart.  The Orc at his back was trailing the knife dangerously over the Ranger’s mouth, down to his throat, and back up again.  Aragorn tried to suppress a shudder as he felt the Orc’s warm breath on the back of his neck.

            Aragorn froze as he heard a man’s voice from the road.

            “Good day to you, stranger,” the man said.

            “Good day, sir,” Felnorvard replied calmly.  Aragorn could tell that his captor was trying to remain cheerful and friendly though he knew it was a pretense.

            “You’re a traveler, I see.  Where are you headed?” the villager asked.

            “Minas Tirith.”

            “Ah yes?  Are you a trader?  I am always looking for a good trade.  Perhaps I can take a look at some of your goods...”

            Felnorvard cut the other man off before he could finish.  “No.  I am traveling to meet an important buyer, and I’m afraid everything I have is spoken for.  Now, please, I am already behind schedule.  Good day, sir.”

            Aragorn had been holding his breath.  Part of him wanted to be discovered and perhaps freed.  But he did not want to push his luck with Felnorvard and his ‘orders’.

            The cart began to speed up as they neared the edge of the village.  Aragorn shifted again and tried to shrug off his Orc guard. 

            “You make too much noise, Aragorn,” Felnorvard called quietly from his front seat.  “We are not out of danger yet.  It will be another fifteen minutes at the very earliest.  The more cooperative you are now, the better you will be treated for the rest of our journey.”

            Emphasizing his commander’s statement, the Orc pulled Aragorn closer and dug his blade deeper into his exposed flesh but not drawing blood.  The Ranger merely groaned quietly and relaxed into the creature’s embrace.  All he wanted to do was see this situation through to the end.  He had a much higher chance of escaping while in the larger group.  The more Orcs that were in one place and in one group, the more attention they would draw.

            The cart jolted as it rolled over a particularly large rock, and one of the large sacks shifted above Aragorn’s head, falling onto his temple.  Excellent, he thought.  One more thing to add to my suffering.

----------

            After what seemed like an eternity, the cart finally came to a stop, and the objects were lifted from the Ranger and Orc’s body.  Without the creaking of the wagon covering all sound, Aragorn could hear many feet approaching from all directions.  The Orcs were returning.

            “My lord!” one of the Orcs called.

            Felnorvard forced Aragorn down onto his knees, thus keeping him still and at his side while he dealt with the Orc.  The Ranger was content to simply wait and listen.  He had discovered very early in his life that you could learn more when you were silent.

            “We were attacked as we rounded the village,” the Orc continued.

            “How many of you were lost, and how many assailants were there?”

            There was a long pause as the Orc counted up the losses. “Seven did not return and four came back with arrow wounds.  The attackers were not seen.”

            Aragorn’s heart skipped a beat during the conversation. 

            “Then we must move on quickly,” Felnorvard said.  His voice not being able to disguise his fear and anger.  “Send scouts ahead.  I want two on either side of the road.  Keep the area clear, and kill anyone you find.  Go!”

            Aragorn heard the creature scamper off to carry out his commander’s orders.  With seven Orcs dead, four wounded, and four others far ahead as scouts... Aragorn mused.  The odds were slowly shifting in his favor.

            Their speed was no faster however Felnorvard kept the group much quieter now.  The only sound was the pounding of their feet on the ground. 

            They traveled this way for another twenty minutes before the group suddenly came to a grinding halt.  Aragorn heard Felnorvard shout a command, and a small smile formed on the Ranger’s lips.  Four Orc bodies had been discovered near the side of the road.

            Aragorn was quickly pulled to the base of a large tree trunk and secured to it.  Felnorvard was not willing to risk loosing the Dark Lord’s gift to a few hunters in the forest.  They had to be dealt with before any more Orcs were lost.

            The Ranger waited and listened carefully.  Something was different now; hunters would not leave the dead Orcs by the side of the road.  They had been left for a specific reason, as a sign.

            As the Orcs scattered to track down the hunters, Felnorvard had made his way over to Aragorn’s position.  The Ranger could hear the other man’s breath coming in short gasps. 

            Felnorvard’s hand closed around Aragorn’s throat as he began his threat.  “I swear to you, Ranger.  If...”

            The man never finished his sentence.  An arrow whistled through the air and buried itself deep in Felnorvard’s shoulder.  He stumbled forward and nearly collapsed on Aragorn before reaching for the wooden shaft protruding from him.  The tip had pierced through the front of his tunic; the attacker was close.

            Aragorn heard Felnorvard cry out and pull his sword from its sheath as he turned to defend himself.  The Ranger could only hope it would not be used against him.

            He renewed his struggle to free himself for he was beginning to hear more sounds of battle, the whistling of arrows and the clanging of sword against sword.  Aragorn did not know who the attackers were and wanted to be able to defend himself if the need arose.

            He worked the ropes binding his hands back and forth, trying to create enough slack to pull them free.  At the same time, he rubbed the back of his head against the base of the tree in an attempt to pull the cloth away from his eyes but was unsuccessful.  The trunk was too smooth and the blindfold too tight to catch. 

            The attack continued for several minutes, and from all that Aragorn heard, the Orcs were on the loosing end.  Above the battle cries of the Orcs, the Ranger heard Felnorvard call for his company to fall back and retreat.  Apparently he thought regrouping was his best and only option.

            Aragorn heard several feet running toward him, and he could smell the foul breath and sweat of an Orc.  They had moved to untie to rope binding his arms to the tree when Aragorn caught the unmistakable sound of a swinging blade.  He heard the weapon connect with the Orc’s flesh and the creature fall to the ground.

            Felnorvard repeated his call for retreat, sounding more desperate and farther away.  He did not know that the Orc sent to retrieve Aragorn was dead.  The Ranger’s heart was beating faster now.  He would meet the attackers very soon now that the Orcs were pulling back.  The only thing that worried him was that he would be too weak to defend himself if they turned out to be unfriendly.

            Aragorn continued to pull at his bonds until he heard a soft voice next to his ear. 

            “Be still,” the voice commanded. 

            The Ranger froze as he felt cold steal slide between his hands and cut through the ropes.  His numb fingers barely had time to pull the blindfold from his face before he felt a strong hand behind his shoulder pushing him forward.

            “Move forward into the trees,” the man said quietly.  “It is not yet safe here.”

            Aragorn could not see the person who was guiding him toward the forest, and he did not want to risk turning.  A few hours before, Felnorvard’s beating had aggravated his old leg wound, and the cart ride caused it to cramp.  Now, his leg refused to obey his commands.  He stumbled as they reached the edge of the small clearing, and the stranger offered his support.

            Having to rely almost completely on the other man, Aragorn was forced to move much faster then his hurting body would have liked, but his companion was strong and sure of his step, so Aragorn did not fall again.

            After going a considerable distance from the fight, the stranger finally halted and said, “We will wait here until my companions return.  Then we will see to your wounds.”

            The man stayed protectively close to Aragorn but did not seem too concerned about him escaping.  A good sign, Aragorn decided as he slowly eased himself down to the forest floor.  He massaged his wrists to bring blood flow back to his fingers.

            Looking over at the stranger, Aragorn saw that he had an arrow notched to his bow, ready to fire should a fleeing Orc happen upon them.  So, there was no point in trying anything foolish.  He could make no safe decisions until the intentions of his rescuers were known, and the area was still too dangerous for vocal distractions.  He would have to wait.

TBC