Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

9

"You too," the orc captain snarled. Aglahad dismounted and held his hands up like the others.

"On your knees! Hands behind heads."

The rabble began to advance. They cackled and chattered in their own tongue. As they drew closer, Aglahad saw their reddish eyes and pointed teeth. And a smell preceded them, like a cesspit on a hot day. A half-dozen or so of the orcs lowered their bows and drew jagged, twisted daggers before roughly searching them. One stunted, bow-legged abomination held out its arms and the others piled up the confiscated weapons. Aglahad glared at them as his sword, Bregedúr, was stacked with the others. Anything else of interest was passed to their captain.

"Who are you?" he said, inspecting Aglahad's flint and steel. Aglahad failed to realise he was the one being addressed. He couldn't help staring at the captain's bald head. Someone in the past had tried and failed to cleave it in two. Now a deep groove ran from its forehead back over its pointed ear.

One of the captain's subordinates kicked Aglahad in the hip and he supressed the urge to jump up and throttle the beastly thing.

"Eärnil of Belfalas."

The captain didn't seem too interested in Aglahad's reply; he sauntered over to the twins as they glared down at the ground.

"And a brace of Dwarf scum," it said. It turned to Finduilas, who glared at him defiantly. "Take them to the latrine. The Ranger bitch we'll ransom when we reach Annúminas." The captain walked towards Bronweg. "You can gut the others," it said, stroking her neck, "after we eat this pretty horse."

The rabble cackled and squealed with glee as the captain strode back to the bonfire. Aglahad felt strong fingers around his upper arms then cold, hard iron around his wrists before being yanked to his feet. He joined the others as they were frogmarched across the square towards the ruins of a small, square building – what seemed to have been a house or a shop. The Dwarves were herded in front of Finduilas and Aglahad.

She drew close and leaned in. "Do not fear," she said in Sindarin.

He wanted to tell her that all was well and that he had no fear but he knew that it wouldn't ring true.

Any doubts he had of the captain's sincerity in imprisoning them in a latrine where dispelled when the orcs bundled them through the doorway. The stench was even more pungent here. Aglahad gagged as the orcs dumped them like sacks of wheat against the back wall. A large, black rat scampered away from them into the shadows. The evening had been growing steadily cooler and now a fine drizzle was falling.

Two grunts were given the task of guarding the doorway. After the clamour of harsh voices had receded, Aglahad heard the Dwarves whispering in Khuzdul. The guards started chattering to each other and before long their voices became raised.

Finduilas sat upright with her legs crossed. "Shuffle over here," she whispered in Sindarin. She glanced at the guards, who were now jibing and pushing each other.

Aglahad rocked and twisted his body and soon he was kneeling over her. She looked up at him. "There is an iron bar concealed in my thigh pocket."

He looked down at her hips, thinking he would need to pull her tunic up to access such a pocket.

She noticed his gaze and said: "My inner thigh." Her knees parted and to Aglahad's consternation, he felt himself blushing like a little boy. "Turn around and sit between my legs."

"My lady, I –"

"Do as I say if you want to see the dawn."

Aglahad followed her order, staring at the orcs. They were now wrestling in the mud beyond the doorway.

"Good," Finduilas hissed. "Now, reach back with your left hand. Up a bit. There. Can you feel it?"

"I feel it," he grunted. His arms were stretched out unnaturally and he was forced to bend his wrist against the cold iron of the shackle.

"Use your fingertips to pull it out."

Now the larger orc was astride the other. It wrenched the other's helmet off and threw it away before setting about pummelling its head with its fists. Soon, the smaller guard stopped struggling and lay inert underneath his comrade. The victor rose up, gave his opponent one last kick then returned to the doorway.

"Sit down, you," he spat as he drew closer. Aglahad did as he was bid by dropping to the side and leaning against the wall. This seemed to appease the guard and he turned towards his cohorts, undoubtedly eager to see what he was missing out on.

Aglahad turned away. Lóni was standing bolt upright in the shadows with his arms crossed. His brother was leaning on his shoulder with his gloved fist in his mouth stifling a laugh that shook his body.

"We could've watched this all night," Lóni whispered. "But we have work to do." He stepped silently forward and dropped to his haunches before easing the iron bar from Finduilas's thigh pocket. He passed it back to his brother who inspected it before creeping towards the guard.

Finduilas rolled away from Lóni who set to work on her shackles. The Dwarf glanced back at Aglahad as he worked. "Orc smithing," he whispered, rolling his eyes.

Within a few more moments, Finduilas was free. She sprang to her knees while Lofar planted his hand over the orc's foul mouth. The iron bar caught the firelight as Lofar held it up. His arm jerked as he drove the bar into the orc's neck. The guard struggled for a moment then became limp. The Dwarf pulled the body into the shadows where his brother set about searching it.

Lofar handed the bar back to Finduilas. "Did you see where they took the weapons?" she said.

"Over by those barrels." We all looked at the spot beyond the bonfire. The barrels were stacked against the highest section of wall in the square. Beside them was a pile of arms gathered from whoever they had murdered prior to our arrival. A sapling grew out of the stonework near the top of the wall.

Lóni held up the orc's dagger. "Well, now we have this." He looked up at Finduilas and offered her the weapon, hilt first. "Care to do the honours?"

She took the dagger and tucked it into her belt.