Gaining Speed {Lord of the Rings Crossover: Book 2}

Chapter Two

Calypso had never been a lover of the cold, as a cub she tried to pay little attention towards the brutality the bitter elements had upon her bones.

It was an aching discomfort she had been familiar with her whole life, it greeted her every morning as sure as the fresh frost upon the ground, spreading and sticking like glistening spiderwebs in the cheetahs soft fur.

It was that same gripping cold which awoke Calypso first, the second being the sharp pain shooting through her hind-leg. Her mind felt consumed by a thick fog while her body proved too weak to even fight against the violent joserling her poachers gave as they carried her lifeless body.

The band of pilferers crossed the open plains at a brisk jog. The disoriented feline could only watch on as the unrelenting troop marched onwards, the sky turning around them as it slipped from day to night. Three times the skies above rolled over and on each day the feline fort the dark whispering within her mind.  A sickness was creeping through the cheetah, eating away at her reasoning until even the once familiar younglings tied to the troops' backs lost their names.

The two younglings smelt like tobacco and a mixture of fried sausage and eggs. A strange concoction that sparked familiarity with the feline. Their names were lost to the dark haze within her mind but Calypso trusted her senses enough to know they presented her no harm. Mere lost cubs tied literally to the same misfortune as herself.

The troop gave little care towards the wellbeing of the cubs. The scent of fresh blood drifted from the larger cub as he slumped unconscious upon a brutes back. The smaller of the pair called out her name, one of the few reasons she remembered it. He seemed panicked, speaking words to the feline which her mind gave no energy towards hearing. In fact the drumming in Calypso's ears proved far too loud to hear anything but her own panicked and erratic heartbeat. 

Her fears towards the growing void spreading within her like the gripping cold of her youth kept her awake as the troop marched on. She could not recall what they were running from or where they were heading, the last of her memories revolving around her first meeting with Elrond and the later saving of his wife Celebrian some months later. Perhaps the wound which plagued her was the same injury tended to by the elf Elrond. He did seem certain towards his abilities in healing so the feline was sure another manner of misfortune had befell her since their meeting.

Suddenly, the leader of the troop called for them to a halt, sniffing the air. Several more deformed creatures joined the rugged group of brutes, emerging from behind large imposing rocks led by a short, crook-legged imp with long gangly arms hanging almost to the ground. 

"You're late. Our master grows impatient. He wants the Narnian and the Shire-rats now." The troops leader looked amused, staring down at the deformed imp as if he were dirt upon his feet. Narnian? Yes that was what she was, what manner of dark-magic could make her forget such a thing.

"I don't take orders from Orc-maggots," he states to the 'Orc-maggot' before continuing, "Saruman will have his prize, we will deliver them."

"Well have haste, you're late enough as it is already. If that ice thaws anymore then you'll have the beast to contend with." The Orc spat out in annoyance, flicking a chunk of loose ice from the cheetah's side, her half freed tail whipping wildly in reply. It had been the first movement the Narnian had made the whole journey. As non-threatening as it appeared, a few of the troops stepped back in alarm. "Don't worry your little head, as long as ice remains, the beast is harmless."

"Leave her alone!" The small cub cried out, "can't you see she's sick? They're both sick, they need water please!" The leader made his way through the troops ranks towards the two smallest prisoners.

"Sick are they?" He questioned with a smirk, "Give the rat some medicine boys." The brutes laughed as the cub chokes on the foul brown liquid they forced down his throat. Calypso growled at the display willing her body to move beyond the wild thrashing of the tail. "Leave him alone!"

"Why? You want some? Then keep your mouth shut." The brute walked away to the front of the rank, seemingly deep in a new conversation.

"What is it? What do you smell?" The leader gruffly asked, on instinct Calypso inhaled also. The feline could smell hardly anything past the stench of the orcs and the two cubs, her mind was still swimming in a thick fog and even with the brief breath of silence the removable ice gave, the endless evil whispers continued.

"Man-flesh." Grunted the brute, "They've picked up our trail."

"Aragorn" The cub whispered to himself.

"Let's move!"

The troop lurch forwards breaking into a fast run, joserling the cheetah once more and reawakening the ache within her bones and the throbbing of her wound. Her gaze falls upon the skies above as the troop thunders along the open plains once more, rescue for the cubs at least was near.

The Narnian sent a silent prayer to Aslan, Calypso was not one for begging but to her King she would entrust her doubts and fears. To Aslan, she asked for freedom, and begged that whomever should come for them, would find mercy for her too.