A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 21

After fighting a few other orcs and goblins along the path, Dandelion and I found Candaith once again. The hobbit rushed to his side upon seeing how he looked. Even I had to say that the Ranger had me worried as to his health and safety. I moved to his other side and helped Dandelion support him, given his larger size made it awkward at best for her, and asked, “Candaith, what happened?”

He offered a faint smile to us. “You have done well, Morchandir, better than I, it appears. Uruk-hai and Orcs nearly bested me and my wounds run deep.” Dandelion began to protest when he waved her to silence. The top of the hill lay just in front of us, gated at the path’s end, and the sounds of orcs and worse could be discerned behind it. “But you must not concern yourself with me now. Beyond that gate is the Uruk who leads this force. Pass through the gate and defeat him. We cannot allow these Orcs to have a hold in the north.”

I didn’t recognize the term. “Uruk?”

“Orc. Goblin. Another name for them,” Candaith offered quickly. “The strongest of the Dark Lord’s soldiers.”

I snorted. “Great. As if the ones up to now haven’t been hard enough to kill.”

He smiled faintly again, but Dandelion shook her head. “Young man, we have to get you help. I can’t let you die of your wounds while we faff about with these orcs.”

“No, Gammer,” Candaith replied somberly. “Even if my injuries were mortal, I would ask you to finish this. I would die in service protecting these lands, just as my forebears have since the fall of Numenor when we first came to these shores.” He looked toward the gate. “We press on. I’m in no danger of death at this point, and we have a duty to uphold. These creatures should not be here in the Lone-lands.” He stood on his own and loosened his grip on us so that we could walk forward, and we let him do so.

We didn’t get far before the Ranger wobbled and collapsed to one knee, clutching his side. “I fear my injuries are greater than I expected, friends.” His mouth thinned into a line. “I had meant to help you fight.” He struggled back up to his unsteady feet. “I will open the gate and hold the rear guard. I will remain here to stop the enemy, should they decide to flee.” He laid hands on the latch to the gate and looked toward us. “Be prepared for anything.”

“You keep saying that like we’ll forget,” I replied with an arch of one brow.

We didn’t move right away. The voices beyond the gate increased in volume as Candaith eased the latch free. A deep, harsh voice ordered, “Pick up the pace, you sluggards!”

A much less harsh one answered him. “What’s the hurry, Rigûl? The hill’s ours….”

The first voice, most likely the uruk Rigûl, answered, “That’s the half of it, toad! We’ll not keep Sharkû waiting!” There it is, again, I noted, startled. Even Candaith hesitated for a moment in his actions when he heard the name. Rigûl then demanded, “Get down the hill and bring up the logs. We’ve a pyre to build.”

The second orc snarled back, “Get them logs up with what? You talk too big, Rigûl.” Just like a commander, I thought with a slight smirk. As long as they aren’t doing the heavy lifting, they don’t care how it’s done so long as it is.

But I was in for a shock. We all were. Rigûl said, “Use your head. you worthless slug!” Candaith freed the latch and stepped aside as he pulled the gate loose with a whispered, “Be cautious!” We stepped through even as Rigûl finished by saying, “Get Olog-snaga down there and put him to work!”

Candaith suddenly hissed from behind us, “No, wait! Abort the mission!”

Too late, one of the orcs had spotted us in the opened entrance. He drew his weapon and that, in turn, drew the uruk’s attention toward us. A sharp-toothed smile cut across his features beneath his helm as he lifted his head to sniff. “Man-flesh? Let’s take a look, boys!” His weapon, a hammer, matched the shield he lifted from the ground as he paced toward us. “And a little bite-sized creature, too. A pet?”

Dandelion bristled. “I am no pet. He’s just very tall. And he’s a Hobbit, not a Man.”

That seemed to amuse the uruk if his sudden guffaw was any indication. “Saruman will reward me for your heart! I’ll skin you both alive.”

They attacked immediately, the two orcs coming in from the sides and Rigûl charging toward us from the center. “Feel the might of the Uruk-hai!” he bellowed as he swung his hammer toward us. He meant to split us apart so that his lesser orcs could face us directly, but Dandelion stood resolutely and blocked the hammer-blow with her own shield. I ducked slightly aside, scored a hit on his hammer-arm, and whirled to slash at the White Hand orc moving in from my side of the fray. The uruk’s roar of pain masked Dandelion’s grunt from the force of the hammer landing on her shield, but it gave her time to block the second orc’s attack on her as well.

I had to keep an eye on the uruk over the orc. Both lesser minions had axes, one double-handed and the other single, but I could let my armor take a blade over a hammer’s force. Leather armor wasn’t meant to soften that kind of blow. My bones would crush just as readily even if it took a bit more than not having armor at all. I grunted with a wince as I avoided another of Rigûl’s swipes and came into contact with an axe across my back. It staggered me forward and I used the momentum to my advantage. I turned it into a rolling dodge that left me behind the uruk, who had found himself beset by a tiny little terror in armor.

Dandelion had disarmed her opponent and left him sprawling, half-conscious, so that she could body-check the uruk. It looked hilarious, actually, and seemed to confuse the leader that she could get him to step backward with the strength of her impact. I took that moment to stick a knife in the back of one of his knees to help bring him down and slow him so that the Guardian could get in a few more shots. In, then out again, the blade bloodied, and I twisted away from the axe-wielding orc’s blow after. I had learned, given my size compared to others, that my knees and other joints were my weakness with smaller opponents. Bring the stronger, taller, faster enemy down to the ground, though, and things went in your favor. I’d had it used on me enough in training to use it against others, even if they were smaller than I was, because the theory worked regardless of their size. I kicked out at his closest knee as a result to get him crippled just like the uruk who led them.

With Rigûl distracted by Dandelion, I focused on the White Hand orc instead. He couldn’t use his broken knee; that didn’t mean he wasn’t ignoring the pain and trying to do so regardless. Orcs, I saw, seemed impervious to things of that nature and somehow used it to their advantage to fuel their rage. Even if it meant their death, an orc would lean into a mortal blow if it would allow them to kill their opponent. I got to my feet just in time to avoid a close call from the uruk, who was still upright despite my knife to the tendons and had sent Dandelion flying backward several feet. With the second orc stirring from his hobbit-induced stupor, I knew I needed to thin the playing field fast. Thankfully, with one orc down to one leg, baiting Rigûl to charge and swing was easy – and so was moving so that his minion missed me with his axe, but Rigûl bashed in his orc’s head instead.

The movement did have Rigûl’s leg crumpling beneath him, though, so I got out of his range to focus on the other orc. Dandelion was getting back to her feet at that point, too, and I knew we would win. “Get him, Gammer!” I called to her as she shook her head and squinted at the enemy. I rushed past her to deal with the minion, who was slowly getting to his feet, in a fast and lethal way. The Guardian took only another moment to do as I’d said and dashed for Rigûl.

The uruk seemed to realize his perilous position. “I’ll not be beaten by you!” he defied us. “I’ve a little surprise!”

We hadn’t spotted the large cage off to one side in the chaos of battle beginning, but we most surely heard when one of the orcs still not in the fight threw it open and the mountain troll inside howled out its rage. Swinging its fists, it sent its captors flying and stormed toward us. “Now you die!” Rigûl crowed and swiped at Dandelion with his hammer.

I brought my knife up from where I’d put it into my victim’s throat and stared at the monstrosity they’d unleashed. I got up from where I’d been kneeling on the orc’s chest and skittered backward. I had heard legends of trolls even if I’d never seen one. Terrifying, strong, able to rip apart a man with their bare hands, and frozen into stone by the sun. Too bad it’s night and stormy, I noted with fatalistic shock. I could only savagely curse before moving to help Dandelion with Rigûl.

Calling for Candaith wouldn’t help. He was too wounded to be of any use, even if he could work on cleaning up any orcs who might still be trying to escape. The troll reached down as it came to the end of the chain binding its legs to its prison and began to wrench himself free of his bindings. We only had a few moments.

Rigûl knew it too. Even as he struggled to get back onto his feet, I feinted at him and Dandelion crashed her shield into the back of his good leg to put him back on the ground. “Saruman will find you!” he snarled just before my blade took out his throat.

I had no time to feel anything from his words. Saruman the White? Why would an uruk care if he found me? I wondered as the squealing noise of chains being torn off their hinges interrupted my thoughts. Dandelion looked at the troll, too. We were both panting and sweating; rain-drowned and bloodied. “What do we do?” I asked her.

“Grab that one-handed axe just in case,” she explained. “I’ll keep its attention. Bleed it and harry it. Bring it down bit by bit.” She flashed me a quick, sharp grin. “Like eating an oliphaunt.”

I rolled my eyes. “Leave it to a hobbit to make it about food,” I replied. I did nod after, though. “Fine. I’ll be after its legs and attack from behind while you keep it facing forward.”

“Watch the arms,” she told me as she moved forward. “It has a long reach, especially with that weapon it’s picked up. And use the fire, if you can.” Sun, fire, light, it made sense to me.

I nodded and darted toward the campfire they had going, searching for a torch, while the hobbit moved in with a yell. “Hey, ugly!” Dandelion taunted the troll. “Your face makes an onion cry!” I blinked at her insult attempt. An onion? I asked silently as I poked a large branch meant for tinder into the fire to get it alight.

The troll just looked at her with its mouth slightly agape, not quite understanding the taunt. Dandelion tried again. “You can eat apples through a fence!” That made it growl at her and lift its large axe, but it still seemed perplexed by her words rather than full of rage.

She grew frustrated. “Oi! You look like you were drawn with my left hand!” It stepped toward her, and I mentally hurried the branch to catch on fire already. “You’ve the brains of a waterlogged sack of taters!” I pulled it from the fire and started to move to my right as the troll moved left and up, following Dandelion’s path as she backed away. She had to turn its back to me for this to work. “Your mother was a turtle and your father was a slug!” I hurriedly moved in to set its loincloth on fire with the burning end of my branch. As it smouldered into life, Dandelion paused, pointed at the troll, and then declared triumphantly, “You serve Eru Ilúvatar!”

That did it. The creature bellowed and charged in, swinging its weapon at the Guardian. The fetid cloth it wore around its waist would burn rapidly enough. Dandelion ducked away from the swing to keep its attention while I looked for a bow. I wasn’t the greatest of shots, but I had an idea that would help us. Spotting one leaned against a raised plinth of stone, I ran and snatched it up as well as the quiver beside it. From my position, I nocked an arrow, aimed for where the fire had begun burning the troll’s underside, up to its waist, and let fly with the first missile. It ended up in the heavy behemoth’s behind, where the flames could start burning it. The wood would burn longer than the cloth, for sure. It snarled and reached back to swipe at whatever had stung it, breaking some of the shaft, but Dandelion bashed it on the knee so that it once again turned toward her.

I let fly with two more arrows before I moved in again. Bleed it, the Guardian had instructed, and I meant to do just that. It swung its weapon overhand to crash the end into the place where Dandelion had been standing a moment before. I took the chance to hack at one of the mighty thews in an attempt to hamstring it on that side to only partial success. It had very thick skin that required quite a bit of force to penetrate. Even so, blood spilled from the gash, and I had to dive for cover as it swung around to try and backhand me.

This became our dance routine, with Gammer taunting and bashing the troll so that it would strike out at her, then I would come in and stab or slice its legs and knees and calves so it would turn to me, and Gammer would wound it with her own weapon or her shield. Once, I took its attention for long enough that Dandelion could take up the bow that I’d abandoned — and she proved a most accurate shot with it as she set several arrows in its chest and shoulders. She was no elf, though, and her accuracy was simply better than my own as a result. The fire had begun to die off of the troll when I finally spotted my chance: the creature sagged in exhaustion at last, its motions grown slower, and I used one of the great stone plinths to my advantage. Bouncing off of it, I swung the two-handed axe I’d taken from one of the dead orcs and planted it into the back of the troll’s head from behind. For a moment, it grasped wildly at the large weapon’s haft, tugging at it, and I feared that not even a battle-axe could find its way through the thing’s flesh or that it actually had no brain to speak of in its skull. Slowly, though, Olog-snaga released it, stepped forward, and fell bonelessly to the ground, dead.

Only silence reigned in the orc camp crowning Weathertop. I, who had landed on my feet and rolled away, lay on my side just breathing while Dandelion did the same a short distance away. The storm had passed while we fought. The rain had lightened and stopped while the lightning had grown distant. Finally, Candaith limped in from outside the gate.

Dandelion was the first to move, again, but I wasn’t far behind. “You should sit by the fire a moment,” she instructed him. “We have the time, now, and I can bind up the damage they’ve done.”

He shook his head. “I’ve taken care of that already. My wounds are grievous, but I shall recover.” He motioned for us. “Come, we shall return to my camp.” As we approached him, he said, his voice abruptly wavering and then fading, “You did very well, friends.” By the end, he had collapsed with a gentle, “Unh….” that left him mostly unconscious.

Dandelion checked him quickly and then noted where he had been hurt. “Morchandir, we need to get him down the path, and he’s not in the proper shape to help us help him.”

I made a noise. “Better and faster if I go down to where the warg-keeper was and break down those tarps they had up. I can bring those and the ropes back up here to make a sledge for him. It’s easier for me to pull him down than carry him and much easier for you to help if we need it, that way.”

She nodded. “Hurry, grandson. We don’t know if we’ve killed all of the orcs, wargs, and goblins on this hillside. I’d rather not find out the hard way that we’ve not.”

I left her to guard Candaith’s prone form and headed back down to fetch our needed materials. I’d be more than ready for some hot tea and an equally hot bite of food to eat from the stores by the time we arrived. You’ll regret being alive tomorrow morning after the beatings you’ve taken tonight, I mused privately, knowing I was lying to myself. Mostly. At least, I would be alive to regret being alive.