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━━━━ »•» act three. age of anguish

32. broken hopes  «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; northern border

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HOUR AFTER HOUR THEY SPEND RUNNING ACROSS THE GRASSLANDS. Had she visited Rohan under different circumstances, she might have loved the wide-open plains. In some way the rolling hills reminded her of the ocean surrounding her home. But now the landscape looked endless without hope in sight. Dangerous and lonely.

Elgarain was bruised and exhausted and it scared her. Never before had her Elven body felt this weak and it hadn't taken her long to find out why. The Orcs had forced her to drink some sort of medicine in order to heal her. It kept her broken arm from hurting and kept her legs strong enough to run along with the pace of the Uruk-Hai. But it weakened her heart, her hope and left her feeling small and weak. Their medicine wasn't made for Elves and she feared what the potion might do to her if she kept having to drink it.

She hadn't caught sight of the Hobbits again since they resumed their journey. But she'd often heard Pippin's fast and frightened breathing and Merry's hushed whispers as he told himself to stay strong. It wasn't much, but at least she knew they were alive and that had to be enough for now. She didn't dare look over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of them.

Instead, in order to distract herself, Elgarain kept busy pondering the mystery of her ring.

It was far too simple for Saruman to just want the ring for its power. The White Wizard was powerful and so was the Dark Lord he served. She couldn't imagine they would need Vilya for its healing capabilities either. And so, the one conclusion she kept coming back to was that they needed Vilya for one very specific thing. She had tried to think about what else Vilya was capable of beyond assisting with healing. But she hadn't had enough time to study the ring to think of an answer.

And whenever her thoughts hit that dead end, she started pondering the other thing that kept her mind busy; the strange dream she'd shared with Gyda.

By now she was convinced that they had indeed shared the same dream. She couldn't explain it but she just knew she'd truly spoken with Gyda. But the answers to the questions surrounding that were even harder to guess. So, her mind kept on spinning in endless circles and never seemed to get any closer to real answers.

The land was beginning to slope upwards and, in the distance, Elgarain could see a dark and vast forest drawing nearer. If she remembered the maps of this part of Arda correctly it was Fangorn. The Orcs couldn't be foolish enough to enter those woods. And if they did dare to disturb the forest, Saruman had grown more powerful than any of them might have feared. Which was a thought she rather didn't dwell on, for it made her fear for what lay ahead of them that much bigger.

Even if a small part of her dared to hope anyone would come to rescue them, even if they somehow found Pippin's brooch, Elgarain still forced herself to abandon those thoughts. Thinking of her friends, of him, was too painful. They had all sworn to protect Frodo and his quest. She wouldn't blame any of them for choosing to follow him into Mordor. Who knows what she might have done had she been given the same choice. Or perhaps they'd all been slain and the quest had failed.

No, it was best to prepare herself for whatever would await her once they reached Orthanc. She knew she couldn't do anything against Saruman's power. All she knew was that she would try her very hardest to protect the Halflings, even give her life if need be. Just as Boromir had done.

By the time they reached the forest edge, it was dark. But even the stars seemed veiled and cold and couldn't comfort her.

"We're going no further, till we've had a breather!" one of the Orcs snarled.

"Get a fire going!" Uglúk roared.

Her entire body was trembling with exhaustion and she welcomed the rest. Elgarain sat down on the ground, cradling her arm to keep it in a correct position to heal. She could feel the effects of the last amount of potion she'd been given starting to wear off. Her arm was burning and her legs felt heavy.

As the orcs busied themselves with searching for firewood, she searched for the curly heads of the two Hobbits. Even when resting the Orcs made sure to keep a distance between the three of them. Perhaps they feared a second act of rebellion.

She winced at the sound of an ax hitting a tree. Her worst fears were proven true. The Orcs were bold enough to disturb Fangorn. Saruman had indeed grown powerful enough not to fear the wrath of the forest. She turned her back towards the forest so she wouldn't have to witness the trees being harmed by these foul creatures.

Instead, now that they had finally come to a halt, Elgarain started busying herself with creating a makeshift sling for her arm. The best thing to do would be to wear a splint but the Orcs probably weren't foolish enough to give her a knife to carve one out of wood. So, to make sure it would at least heal somewhat properly; the second-best option was to make a sling.

Since her hands were still bound, Elgarain used her teeth to open the brooch holding her cloak together. As if the green cloth from Lothlórien understood her intentions, it slid from her shoulders and landed perfectly in her lap. A small smile found its way onto her features as she silently thanked Galadriel.

Careful not to move her arm too much, Elgarain rolled her cloak up as tightly as she could. But while she worked, she felt something tucked beneath the supple leather of her body armor. Her breath caught in her throat...The paintbrush Galadriel had gifted her. The Orcs hadn't searched her well enough to find it. The brush was no weapon but it was something.

The smallest of sparks seemed to have been ignited within her chest. With renewed determination Elgarain tied the two ends of her cloak together and pulled the loop over her head. A painful hiss escaped her lips as she gently lifted her arm into the sling. At least now it would be protected from movement when they would continue on their way.

By now the Orcs had managed to get a fire going. Their bickering had become insignificant background noise at this point but it was because of the familiar soft and cruel voice speaking that Elgarain stopped to listen.

"Why can't we have some meat? We ain't had nothing for stinking bread for three days!"

She felt sick when she saw the red eyes of the creature going towards the Hobbits.

"What about them? They're fresh."

Uglúk snarled. "I told you, maggot. They're not for eating!"

An Orc with sharp yellow teeth stepped forward. "What about their legs? They don't need those."

With all their attention turned towards the Halflings, Elgarain saw the opportunity to carefully shift a little bit closer towards Merry and Pippin. The paintbrush seemed to burn against her skin but she resisted the urge to grab it. It was too much of a risk right now.

"They look tasty," the yellow-toothed Orc said, stalking forward.

"Get back, scum!" Uglúk roared, pushing him away. "The prisoners go to Saruman and that is the last of it!"

Her eyes flicker towards the Hobbits and she almost screamed. The Orc with the soft and cruel voice had appeared behind the Hobbits, sword raised and eyes hungry.

"Just a mouthful," he snarled, licking his lips. "A bit of the flank."

But as he raised his weapon, Uglúk stormed forward and cut his head off clean. His body fell to the ground, still convulsing.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

Her stomach clenched painfully as the Orcs started tearing into one of their own. She could taste vomit on her tongue but forced it down, eyes searching desperately for Merry and Pippin. But in the frenzy, they had, once again, disappeared from her sight.

But then she saw the yellow-teethed Orc as he slithered through the crowd, eyes focused on something on the ground. And that's when she saw them. Clever as they were, they had started crawling away from their captors. But the Orc who called for their deaths stopped them.

She was about to abandon all caution and jump to her feet to help them, when the distant galloping of countless horses reached her ears. With a wild beating heart, she let herself fall flat against the ground and made herself as small as possible. Then, like ghosts in the night, the riders of Rohan descended upon them.

Chaos erupted all around her as the Orcs were taken completely by surprise. The thundering hooves of the riders of the mark made the very ground shake as the soldiers charged through the camp. They slaughtered the Orcs left and right, their aim from horseback eerily precise.

Elgarain tried to lay as still as possible, hoping the riders would mistake her for either a dead body or a rock. An Orc ran by her but was brought down by a spear thrust into his back. The creature fell down screaming and then went quiet. A silver glimmer in the moonlight caught her eye. With determination she started crawling towards the body and reached for the knife on his belt.

While trying to keep as close to the ground as possible, she started cutting through the rope binding her hands. She winced as a horse charged past her but the rider paid no attention to her. Her hands were trembling and just as she was starting to grow frustrated, the ropes were cut.

She held on tightly to the knife and, while carefully looking around, she got to her feet. While the riders lay waste to the camp, she desperately searched for Merry and Pippin. Beneath the pale moonlight she saw them disappear into Fangorn but they were followed by the Orc with yellow fangs.

With gritted teeth she broke out into a sprint. Evading horse and Orc she charged straight towards the trees and left the fight behind. She shouldn't have been out of breath from such a short sprint, but the Orc potion was still burning in her veins and made her movements feverish. She was sweating by the time she found herself beneath the trees. Lucky for her, she didn't have to try too hard to keep following the Hobbits, for the Orc was yelling loudly at his prey.

"Come here, maggots! I'll skin you!"

Her legs were trembling as she ran between the trees towards the noise. As soon as she caught sight of the Orc, her eyes widened. Merry lay on his back, the Orc towering above him with his knife raised. Elgarain had no idea where her body managed to get its strength from but she quickened her pace and charged at the Orc with a yell.

Noticing her presence, the creature started to turn which caused her knife, that she had meant to stab in the weak spot of his armor by his neck, to hit his shoulder. The Orc roared in pain and shoved her aside, making her stumble back. The Orc pulled out the knife and she instantly realized her mistake. She'd lost her only weapon.

"Fine, I'll skin you first, she-elf!"

"Run!" Elgarain shouted at the Hobbits as she charged towards the Orc once again.

She barely managed to evade his aimed stab at her neck and instead slammed into his side, making him stumble. But she wasn't fast enough to jump away before the creature could recover. He managed to grab a handful of her hair and pulled her face towards his.

The Orc snarled at her with menacing pleasure burning in his eyes.

But then a stone hit his head, making him turn to look at where Merry and Pippin were standing. They had each gathered a stone and threw them at the Orc as hard as they could. He cursed in his own language and then hit Elgarain against her head before throwing her aside, like a useless doll.

Black spots were dancing before her eyes and a pained scream left her lips as her broken arm slammed against the ground. She blinked to try and clear her vision. Through her tears she watched as the Orc grabbed his sword and walked towards the two Hobbits.

"Run!" she screamed once again, desperately trying to get back on her feet.

But foolish and brave as they were, the Hobbits kept on throwing their stones.

By the time she finally managed to get back on her feet, the Orc had almost reached them. She felt dizzy and close to throwing up but forced her body to move. She jumped at the Orc but she wasn't stable enough to move silently. The Orc heard her coming and turned around, his sword held high.

The steel sunk into her stomach, deeper and deeper, until it came out through her back.

She gasped.

Her body trembled and she could taste blood on her lips.

Yellow teeth came dangerously close towards her face, grinning victoriously.

No, she refused to die without making absolutely sure the Halflings were safe.

In one last moment of clarity, her hands wrapped themselves around the brush tucked away beneath her armor. She snarled, blood dripping from her lips. Then she slammed the paintbrush through his eye.

The Orc shouted in pain and stumbled backward, clawing at his face.

Taking a steady breath, Elgarain grabbed the sword and pulled it out of her body with a scream. Before the dark could take her, she used the Orcs' own blade to stab him through his heart.

Orc and Elf fell to the ground.

Blood colored the grass red.

"Elgarain!" Pippin cried, tears streaming down his cheek.

"Go," she whispered. "Be safe."

Merry wiped away his tears and took Pippin's arm, pulling him along as they disappeared into the forest together, out of reach from the Orcs.

With quivering breath Elgarain clenched her fist, silently praying for Vilya to grant her strength. The ring lit up softly, a soft and silver light. But darkness pulled at her vision, threatening to pull her under. There was no time to try to heal herself and Vilya flickered as if knowing it too.

Accepting her fate, Elgarain closed her eyes.