On the Wings of the Storm

Chapter 18

I did not have to wait long. Torches approached, their bright light making me squint.

"A wench!" one of the orcs exclaimed.

I levelled my arrow at them. "Halt! The first of you to come near me dies."

Caught off balance, the orcs hesitated. My only opportunity to act. "Let me go and you can have the treasure I've found," I called.

"Treasure?" They milled about uncertainly, forming a loose semi-circle around me. Fighting down my panic at the sight of their leering faces, their claws clenching and unclenching, I forced myself to stand straight and keep my voice level.

"Gold!" I told them. "And a king's ransom in precious stones. Rubies, diamonds, sapphires..."

Greed ignited in their eyes. "Gold!"

Then the leader shouldered his way through the crowd. "What's going on?" When he spotted me, his lips parted in a grin, revealing a pair of yellow fangs. "Well, well, well. What have we here!"

Large and heavily muscled, he looked as strong as a bull, a picture reinforced by the horned helmet he wore, and his eyes glittered with evil intelligence. Was it true that Saruman had mingled the blood of orcs and men to create this new breed of Uruks? This one certainly looked as if he combined the worst of both races, the cunning of men with the hatred of all living things that orcs displayed.

"Gubrak, the wench claims there is gold hidden here somewhere," one of the orcs said.

I trained my arrow on the leader's throat, willing my voice to remain steady and not quiver with fear. "Stay where you are if you value your life! You can have the treasure, but that is all." Would they take the bait?

"She's making it up," Gubrak snorted. "Who would hide their gold down here of all places?" He did not seem particularly impressed by the arrow pointed at him.

"Helm Hammerhand," I told them, "King of the Golden Hall." Remembering a tale from one of the books in Meduseld's library, I lowered my voice, the way the storytellers at home did.

"He hid his treasure in these caves during the Long Winter, and when he died, nobody knew where to find it. All the gold and gems that his forebears won from Scatha the Worm, a dragon's hoard of riches!"

That moment one of the orcs at the back stooped to snatch something up from the floor. He gave a shout in their vile language and at once an ugly scuffle erupted. They must have found my coins! I bit my lip to keep from crying out as they tore at each other's arms, yelling curses and snarling like a pack of wolves. Some of the orcs were bigger than the others, and they simply hurled the smaller ones aside, claiming the booty for themselves.

Then the orc captain snapped an order and slowly quiet ensued again. At another snarled command, one of the orcs reluctantly handed over his find. Gubrak turned the gold coin over in his claws, his nails clicking against the metal in the sudden quiet.

"This is all? A few paltry coins?"

"There is more where that came from. Mountains of gold," I answered. Where in the name of the Valar was Éomer? It seemed like I had spent an age in this cave already. My arm ached from holding the bow taut, but I did not dare show any sign of weakness. If only these animals could kill each other off! That gave me an idea.

"You will have to decide how to divide the treasure," I told them, "after all it wouldn't be fair if the weaker of you got the same share as the stronger ones."

As I had hoped, that set off another argument.

"We are Isengard's best, the fighting Uruk-hai," one shouted. "We deserve much more than these mountain maggots."