Bad Timing
Dournil once again approached the end of the plateau. Hiding from the Troll was hard, they weren't fast in this broken ground but could get a scent right off the rock. Also, being so tall, could look right down, over a rock he was hiding behind. Rounding a rock at the back of the plateau, he came in sight of the path again. Orc's from the other small plateau were reaching the top of the path. The Troll he'd shot was nowhere in sight. This was big trouble, and was going to call for desperate measures!
Reaching the far end, he looked down. A hasty plan popped into his head. He ran back to the rocks. A detonation as if sudden combustion stilled the air momentarily. He didn't have time to wonder at it. The Troll was rounding the outside of the rock to his left front. He crouched, waiting for the right moment. As he rose, there came a second concussion. He sprinted to the right, towards Valandil's position. Orc's began to stream out of the rocks a few rods in front of him, looking to their left.
His plan wasn't going to work, he wasn't going to get back to Valandil anytime soon, if at all! He slid to a stop as the Orc's spotted him, on their right. Reversing his direction, he ran right into the Troll. Knocking his breath out against the great knee and thigh. The Troll had stepped from behind a rock, not sure of where he was. The Troll raised his great hammer and pounded as the lithe elf sprang left and right, like one tries to swat a mouse or insect, but Dournil was inside his reach. Here the weight of the weapon worked against the Troll for he could not lift and swing so quickly. He missed several times.
In a frustrated fit the Troll gave voice to a great cry, and swung a two handed lateral sweep. The handle crashed into Dournil's right shoulder. His bow flew out of his hand. He flew back to the rocks. Landing on his side. His collar bone hurt, dimly he wondered if it was broken. His shoulder didn't hurt at all, it was numb! He lunged to his feet. Blinded by pain, struggling for breath, he stumbled for the edge. Now Dournil had no thought but survival. He stored pain for future retrieval. As he passed his bow he scooped it up, whipped an arrow from quiver to string and drew, as he leapt from the cliff. He rolled sideways in mid air, and curving his shoulders, let fly. The arrow whacked home into the Troll's open, bellowing mouth, disappearing up to the feather. He saw smoke rising from somewhere on the plateau, then the wide sky. There was a brief moment of weightlessness. Then he knew no more.
Time froze for Valandil. His heart seemed to stop. The Troll's small black eyes and smooth black skin held him as if in a geas. A branch in the strengthening fire crackled as he crouched, breaking the spell of a moment in time. Years later he'd remember that moment, again and again. The Troll lunged at him and he lunged also. Right across the fire. Instinct took over. Knocking the pommel of his long sword on the ground, rolling, he came to his feet. He dodged left before even a look or consideration. The huge hammer crashed into the rock where he'd just been. He couldn't think of a good way to fight a Rock Troll. His Numenorean bow was back at camp.
He needed reach. He ran. A huge, bare foot slapped down in the spot he'd just vacated. Into the rocks at the back of the plateau, the Troll right behind. This was no good, the Troll would be on him in another moment. He spun around the rock, using his hand on the rock to help sling him around. Now he was heading back the way he'd come. Passing the fire, he grabbed up a couple burning sticks with one hand and the pouch with the other. A rock the size of his head bashed the ground beside him. The Troll had swatted it, off the larger up thrust one he'd just come around. It served to spur him on.
As he headed towards the Eastern side of the plateau, he saw the machines, covered with liquid from the pouch, and veered left, toward them. The Troll screamed and bellowed with rage. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Troll's hammer cocked back to throw. The hammer whistled through the air as he just dodged, the greasy thong on the handle whipping across his cheek. He thought it probably drew blood. No time to find out.
Unencumbered by the hammer, the Troll was faster and more agile. A pile of debris, he veered towards it, grabbing a smaller log as long as his arm. Arriving at the first machine, he slung the pouch over his shoulder while tossing one burning branch on the machine. The Troll made as if to hug him with both it's massive arms, Valandil ducked. Flipping the one remaining branch over his shoulder, towards the next machine an arbalest, he jumped aside as the Troll slapped it's foot down, trying to flatten him. Quick as thought, teeth bared in a rictus of determined effort, he two handed the log, cocked over his shoulder and pounded one big toe, so hard his feet left the ground. The black, ragged nail split and blood splattered in all directions. Foul, black blood seemed to cover Valandil, he gagged, as the Troll bellowed so loud that the very rock seemed to tremble. Grabbing his injured foot, the Troll jumped on one foot twice, face screwed in pain, then fell on it's side.
Valandil headed for the arbalest, tucking the log clumsily under his arm. He snagged the flaming faggot as he passed. With a concussive 'BOOF'! he could feel air move as the first machine caught fire. Valandil reached the giant arbalest, but flaming embers or rope from the first, a catapult, were floating down wind towards it. He hoped it would be enough to ignite the second one. Where was Dournil? He ran East.
The Troll was up and running awkwardly, to see a Troll run was something in itself, the pain and pure murder written on it's face were horrible to see. It covered ground in huge strides, and it was going to catch and kill him, probably by ripping him apart. Valandil was out of breath and out of ideas. His heart hammered madly in his chest, there wasn't enough air. The pouch! There was a little of the liquid left! He had to get rid of the log so he lifted it with both arms over his head, and tossed it, hoping to foul the Trolls feet. Valandil jerked the pouch off his shoulder, or rather tried to, it caught on the pommel of his long sword. He wasn't going to make it! The second machine blossomed into fire just after the Troll passed, staggering it forward, to one knee. This gave Valandil a few more seconds, the pouch came free. He ripped the spout open, splashed some liquid on the burning branch. The branch flared up. Jabbing it through the pouch with all his strength, it passed halfway through. His hand began to throb with pain, the branch was burning him! He took the thong, and with one quick sidearm swing, wound up and let go at the now running Troll.
The Troll fended the pouch away with it's hand. The skin of the pouch, weakened by the corrosive effects of the liquid spilt apart, fairly covering the Troll. Another concussive burst stripped Valandil's hair back. Momentum carried the huge flaming figure forward. Valandil launched himself back out of the charging Trolls way. He landed flat on his long sword, smacking his head down on rock. There seemed to be a scream somewhere in the background. The sky seemed to whirl away, with a stomach clenching quick twist, on the smoke passing over his body.
Huthorin and Elrond stood back to look at their hand work. The had moved enough that a skinny man might get through. It had taken all they had to get it that far. The keen Elvish senses of Elrond caught a whiff of smoke. Elrond jerked around, motion above the inner pass caught his attention. Smoke clouds from up top of the pass! Huthorin's startled gasp beside him brought their glances to each other. "Trouble there is!" was Huthorin's tense comment. "To the horses!" he added. Elrond nodded and they were running. Elrond got there first. He loosened Huthorin's animal as well as his own, and stood ready to assist Huthorin when his shorter legs should bring him along.
Away up the pass came a pounding of hooves on the fly, beating eerie echoes off the rock walls. There wasn't much doubt who that was, but they drew weapons anyway. Gandemere hove into view, and upon approaching them, sat back and stood driving the horse into the bit and slid to a stop. Even as his horse sat on it's hocks, he called out. "Orc's!, half-men!, Ware! We must ride!" With out preamble Elrond jerked out a question. "Quickly, man!"
Gandemere answered in all haste. "Just into the inner pass, over the rise, an Orc camp! I was seen as soon as I could see them! By the one! They were warned somehow to be on watch! They follow!" The sounds of a horde coming down the pass reached their ears. Bouncing echoes hiding the harsh, guttural language of the Orcs. Elrond shoved Huthorin up onto his stout pony. "My pardon, Master Dwarf! We must be quick! Elrond vaulted into his saddle without using the stirrups, just grabbed the saddle horn and jerked himself off the ground, throwing a leg over the animals back. Gandemere added. "Only have they seen but a lone man!, best not to see all, nor a sight of any! They have seen naught for some little whiles!" They wheeled their horses about, facing down pass. Elrond gave word to all their thoughts. Then best we ride! They laid heel to flank, with shouts and oaths, launched away down the trail in a cloud of dust and bouncing pebbles.
As they raced for the mouth of the pass, Elrond shouted to Gandemere. "How many?" Gandemere shouted back. "More than we have!" The brief look he'd had, didn't allow for much estimate. Gandemere knew there were more Orcs in that camp than they had in their army. They reached the mouth of the pass, and they let the horses stretch out.
Dournil swam back to consciousness. "Must be alive, hurts." he mumbled. He felt cold or numb, he couldn't figure out which. Slowly he opened his eyes. The light revolved sickeningly, throwing an arm over his face, he tried to keep breakfast down. After a few minutes, he tried again. This was more successful. He lay stretched out on his side, half up against a dark, shadowed wall of rock. The cliff above overhung the ledge he lay on. The ledge itself rose at a steep angle, and stuck out past the overhanging cliff. He'd landed on his shoulders/back and rolled down to the inner wall. It was a long time before he tried to move.
Valandil spun back to reality. The reek of burning flesh mixed with a bubbling and popping close at hand served as a wake up notice. Gingerly he rolled on his side and saw the Trolls body. The stench became ten times worse. He looked around. He spotted a troop of Orcs, to the southeast, in a group, looking over the cliff edge. His mind was starting to function again. Dournil? Over the edge? It seemed the only answer. They might be looking for or at him. Not much activity over there, must be looking for him. His situation crashed down on him. I'm laying here in full sight! He drew in upon himself, hoping that by not paying attention to them, he wouldn't attract their attention. He got up slowly, not looking in their direction. He limped and drug himself back to the cover of the rocks, and sat against a boulder, to gather his wits and breath. They'd probably come looking soon.
Elrond, Gandemere and Huthorin pulled up at the western lip of the valley. The sun stood straight overhead, Valandil and Dournil were nowhere in sight. The three exchanged worried glances. Words weren't necessary. They faded out of sight, just back into the edge of the timber. They waited for a while before dismounting and settling into watch the valley towards the pass mouth and along their left front for Dournil and Valandil. Elrond naturally took unspoken command. "We shall wait! Gandemere, Huthorin, get some rest. When wars start happening, rest becomes a weapon in itself! I shall watch."
Just more questions
Elrond lay in a depression, just at the tree line, underneath a bramble. To his front lay the valley, open to the mouth of the pass, to his left he could see the crest curving away into the distance Huthorin wormed up under the other side of the bush. "How long do we wait?" He asked. "As long as possible, though we must needs return to camp fore the westering of the sun." Elrond replied grimly.
Overhead the sun stood well past noon. Elrond slid back into the timber, stood and started toward Gandemere. Gandemere sat up as he approached. "What is your wish, Master Elrond?" He asked. He didn't look one bit sleepy, rather he looked wide awake.
"I wish you to ride for the camp, I expect an attack by those Orcs. They never showed from out of the pass, you know as well as I their hate never wavers! Prepare the camp. Stay put as long as possible. Pull out if you have to. We shall stay and wait here, for Valandil and Dournil. I plan to return by dark."
Gandemere walked to Myras and started tightening the girth. Then checked the other gear, lifted her legs and checked shoes and feet. He returned to pick up a couple pieces of stray gear where he'd been laying. "I shall ride." Gandemere clasped Elrond's forearm. The look in Gandemere's eyes told Elrond that the Guard Captain was worried. "Be at peace my friend, I will yet live long and so too, our missing friends!" Elrond said, smiling a little.
"I hold you to that!" Gandemere didn't smile at all. He held Elrond's eyes a long moment. Then without a backwards glance mounted and rode back in to the timber, out of sight. Elrond turned back to the bush, only to meet an unreadable glare from Huthorin. With a sigh he slid back under.
Now that he'd gotten his breath back, the reality of what he'd survived came crashing down on Valandil. And where was Dournil? What had happened to him? It seems pretty obvious. He was probably gone, Valandil might never know what happened to him. More immediate, he had to move! Those Orcs weren't going to stand about very long. He levered himself to his feet, and peered around the rock. The Orcs were busy still. Good time to go! He trotted towards the trail that led to the ledge around the mountains wall. With a last look around to make sure he wasn't needed by Dournil or being chased, he half slid down to the ledge. He sat next to the trail head, back against the mountain side. Looking out over the pass and farther, he thought about the situation. A glance at the sun showed him he was late to meet the others, at the western end of the valley. Dournil was missing and the area was crawling with Orcs and Trolls. Stay and wait or look for Dournil or go to meet the others? The life of one person couldn't be allowed to stop this report. A combined army's security could very well be at stake. The best he could do for his friend now was pray and hope for a better outcome. He swore he would come back when he could!
"Great Iluvatar, The One, hear the plea of your humble servant, Valandil. Watch over my beloved Uncle this day and all days. Keep him safe on his travels in this world and the next. Being merely mortal, I ask nothing for myself, only for my friend and mentor Dournil. From the heart I thank you." Valandil raised his head and looked over the great open vista in front of him. An eagle soared on the wind, far away and the scream of it's voice seemed to be a message from The One. Hope and feelings of certainty that Dournil still walked the land brought a sudden burst of strength and joy. Firming his jaw, he rose to read the breeze with his senses. Time to continue on, no matter what had passed.
Elrond and Huthorin lay under the bush, moving as little as possible so as to not attract notice. Something was happening at the mouth of the pass. A little while back, evil looking men had passed between them and the mountains, going into the pass. They'd been a good distance off to the right, and caught no scent, nor heard them. It was better to know such were about than to be surprised. It was getting late. They'd have to leave soon. Elrond thought there'd be something to see down in the pass soon. Elrond's senses tingled of a sudden. There was no sound but Elrond knew that someone or something was behind him. He turned very slowly.
Just in sight, back in the timber, two elven scouts crept noiselessly from tree to tree, through the underbrush. Elrond gave a short, quiet recognition signal by pulling his lips in tight against his teeth and blowing sharply. They looked in his direction, and moved in. Crawling up beside him, one of the scouts, Adenelle, spoke. "Master, Well met! Captain Gandemere hath sent us to relieve you and Master Huthorin. We brought no horses and are prepared to stay here as long as needed. What is the situation?"
"We wait and watch. Prince Valandil and Captain Dournil have not returned from a scouting foray from the top of the pass. Doubtless, the Captain has told you what we observed while in the pass. A short time ago dark men rode in to the pass. I believe they reported on our forces for they came from that direction." filled in Elrond. "Aye. For we found sign of observation on our journey here." reported Adenelle.
Elrond nodded and continued "Now something goes forward in the pass, we won't have long to wait for activity." finished Elrond. Adenelle nodded. They settled down to wait. They noticed all the creatures of the wood had fallen silent, there was no sound but the sighing of the breeze. There was an expectant feeling laying heavily over the valley. After a span of time, Orcs and a few Rock Trolls began to issue from the pass at a trot. Which way would they turn? Still they came straight on, and still no end to them. Moments passed in trepidation.
Finally they swung to the left or North. The four watchers exchanged looks of surprise and consarnation. "North?" The four watched them go up an intersecting, smaller valley, that wound through the foothills. After a time all had disappeared from sight. "There are more of them than of us!" Adenelle bespoke the obvious. "But why North?" Elrond reached over to Huthorin. This we needs must find! Come good Huthorin, we must to camp! "We will probably follow with our forces." Elrond spoke to the two scouts. "We shall continue the vigil!" answered Adenelle. "Go with The One!"
"And yourselves." was Elrond's rejoinder. Elrond and Huthorin slid to the rear, out of sight. After readying their animals, they led them out of sight, into the woods.