With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 2: On the March

Uglúk sent out his command to halt. Slowing to a walk, he listened as his order passed through the company of orcs and watched the scouts return from their search for the Whiteskins. "What did you find?" he barked.

"Just the one scout, Uglúk. No other horsemen to see."

"You took care of him?"

Snaga grinned in response and held up an empty helmet. "Took care of him, well and good! He won't be talking to no one!"

Uglúk nodded. "You get a moment's breather for your work. Then we move again! Be ready!" Uglúk paced down the column as they halted the march, his ears alert for the inevitable grumbling that would erupt once they had something other than marching to do. No matter what those Mordor rats thought, he was in charge. He'd prove that if he had to take every head. Then they'd see what their master said. He'd get these lads and the prisoners to Isengard if he had to kill every one of them.

******

The next day passed nearly wordlessly. Aragorn's ears were filled with the even rasp of their breathing, the rustle of the wind through the short grass of the plains, and the pounding of his feet on hard earth moving in quick time to the beat of his heart.

The thin green line at the base of the Misty Mountains grew, expanding as Fangorn Forest drew closer. Miles passed ere the sun began her descent, and still they ran.

As they trudged into another nightfall, they finally came within bowshot of their prey. Soon they jogged alongside them, using a rise in the land as a shield. But still there was no sign of their friends.

When the land began to undulate with the rolling downs dividing the plains from the forest and the sun's light had fled west, Aragorn's hope faltered. The new night would not help them to gain sight of the hobbits.

"There!" Legolas cried suddenly, crouching behind a new rise. "It must be a hobbit! No orc is bestowed with such a head of curls. It appears they are carried. An orc unable to run would be left behind. It is a hobbit. I am certain of it!"

Aragorn strained his eyes to see them amid the black silhouette of the orc army, but with only a slim moon for light, even a Dúnadan could not see so far.

"Where?" Gimli asked. "Where are they? I have not elf-eyes to see in the dark! Tell me where!"

Legolas smiled, hope evident in his voice. "Near the rear of the column. There are many orcs about them. I have some work ahead of me." Legolas trotted higher on the hill that separated them by sight and smell from the orcs. Gimli and Aragorn kept out of sight but in pace with Legolas and the army.

Their only hope was in separating the group that guarded the hobbits from the rest of the army. Only then could they think to attack. A desperate plan, Aragorn rued that they were without an alternative.

Truthfully, there was much to regret about their situation. Nibbling on lembas bread, Aragorn once again debated the wisdom of his decision to run through the previous night. He had considered the path he believed the orcs had taken, his familiarity with the creatures and their behavior, and his knowledge of the land across which the three had then run. He had heard the arguments of his fellow warriors on the matter. After all those considerations, he had also taken a moment to listen to what his heart told him was best. Aragorn could now only trust he had chosen well, as they had indeed reached the column of orcs, but uncertainty nagged at him. They would soon learn the consequences of their choice.

After Legolas found the opening he sought, he fired several arrows into the crowd of marching orcs, striking their legs and so taking them down at once but keeping the cause unknown to those around them.

Aragorn was gratified to see the bodies on the ground trip up those behind them and cause an immediate halt to the rest of the troop. Those who fell on top of the stricken orcs let them know their feelings on their fellows' clumsiness with their mouths and fists, unaware of the arrows stuck in their legs. A scuffle soon arose, which quickly evolved into a brawl.

But the group of orcs now fighting among themselves was disappointingly large. Legolas had indeed separated the rear group from the rest of the column, but their numbers were still too great to take on. Perhaps they could divide them again.

Aragorn wondered for how long they could continue this plan. He reckoned Dwarves sturdy enough to keep up with Elves and suspected that Gimli would run till his legs were worn to stumps rather than let Legolas know he was weary. He hoped the dwarf had some will left for when his strength waned. They could not make an error now through impatience. They would only have one chance to perform their rescue.

By the time a large orc arrived from further up the column to berate the lingering beasts, several were left on the ground not to rise again. The rest managed to re-form the line and continue the march. The large orc remained with the stragglers to provide the encouragement needed to catch up with the rest of the army, supplied mostly by his whip.

The sun approached the eastern horizon and the orc army continued. The three were forced to follow, though they were weary beyond imagining. Once more Legolas took aim at orcs surrounding the hobbits. Not surprisingly, his shots had the same result. But now the large commander was nearby and looked into the grey predawn as the new brawl ensued. He narrowed his eyes in the direction of their protective hill and sent out a small group of orcs to investigate. The three met them with their blades and cut them down before any could raise a defense or alarm.

"Legolas!" Aragorn whispered, wiping his blade clean of black blood in the grass. He had hoped to rid themselves of more orcs than they had at this point. "We cannot continue in this manner! They will soon send too many for us to counter, and our strength wanes. We must decide on a new course of action."

Legolas looked to Aragorn, then Gimli. "There are still too many to fight, I agree, and my arrows do little to diminish those that yet stand between us and what we seek. I would persist for a time, though. Can you not go on?"

Gimli sighed heavily, and Aragorn prayed his weariness had not shortened his temper. The Dúnadan understood that the dwarf would go on as long as there was hope, from which he drew his strength. The elf had yet to realize that. "Aye, Legolas, I can go on, but how long? You might shoot through the new day and still we could not fight such numbers. Could we not fashion a smaller battle? Then we may yet have a chance."

Aragorn answered swiftly. "We must diminish the numbers that surround Merry and Pippin. It is our only hope of success. If we can create a smaller group to attack, then-"

Legolas looked behind him sharply. "I believe our choice has been made for us. Such a small group as you request now has been sent from the company to find us. They approach this hill, as you will soon hear. But their numbers are greater than the previous band. This will be more of a challenge."

Dwarf and man looked at each other, then to the elf, and gave a stern nod. They had no alternative but to face the coming battle. Leaving it to Legolas to give the sign that their prey was near, Aragorn pulled his blade free. They would vanquish these orcs and all that followed. They must. They were the only hope for the hobbits.