fredbassett

Title : We'll Take the High Road
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : The Lord of the Rings
Rating : 15
Characters : Original Orc characters
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the orcs) , no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : In the chaos of Helm’s Deep, a small band of Orcs are just trying to stay alive.
A/N : A drabble series that follows Last Chance, Second Chance and Taking a Chance.

The horses thundered past as Ragduf hauled the trembling youngling away.

“Stay on yer fuckin’ feet an’ keep moving! Shit’s goin’ down. No point hangin’ around an’ being spitted by the whiteskins.”

The young orc nodded, running with him, one hand fisted in Ragduf’s belt.

“What’s yer name, little un?”

“Ain’t got one, ‘less it’s oi you.”

“That’ll do for now. We stay alive ‘til tomorrow night, I’ll give you a name.”

“What’s our chances?”

“Slim to none.”

“Better than nuffink.”

Ragduf grinned. “Had worse chances and still made it.”

The hail of arrows had stopped. Things were looking up.

**

“What the fuck’s that lot?”

“Trees, boss.” Garash hefted his axe. Scrappy bugger, but not the sharpest spear in the srack.

“Can see that, dickwit. Weren’t there when we got ‘ere.”

“I ‘ate fuckin’ walking trees.” Garash spat on the bloodied ground in disgust.

“You and me both.” They were in deep shit and Ragduf knew it. So did the rest of the lads, but as ever they were expecting him to haul their sorry arses out of the fire.

Riders everywhere, more trees than you could shake a… yeah, forget that.

“North,” he decided. “Get close to the mountain.”

**

They fought to the cliffs, losing five lads to arrows and spears.

Ragduf yelled orders and their ranks closed again.

The youngling grabbed a spear to go with his shield. At least with that he wouldn’t lop his own foot off by accident.

With the battle raging around them, few noticed the orcs making their dogged way north, staying close to the towering cliffs.

The dike was a hard scramble.

Taif took an arrow in his thigh.

Velha hacked the shaft off with his knife and they kept climbing.

It was climb or die.

They all made it over alive.

**

The youngling slumped against the rock, panting hard.

Ragduf hauled him up by his collar. “No time for a kip now.”

The light of the sun flared high above the eastern hills, burning their eyes.

“Where to?” Taif demanded.

Ragduf shrugged. “What makes you think I got all the answers?”

“You usually ‘ave.”

“Up?” The youngling pointed at the cliffs.

Ragduf squinted at the grey, broken rock. He’d heard worse ideas. Trees might walk, but could they climb?

“Follow the kid,” he ordered.

The youngling stared at him.

“D’ya want a name or not?”

The kid grinned and started climbing.

**

At first glance, the rock wall looked sheer, but as Ragduf watched, the young orc jumped high, grabbed a narrow ledge and hauled himself up, bare feet scrabbling for grip.

“Bastards didn’t even give ‘im boots,” Garash muttered.

Ragduf snorted. “None o’ the new ‘uns were expected to survive the first wave. Sharkey didn’t give a fuck about them.”

“Or for us.” Taif grabbed what was left of the arrow shaft in his thigh and ripped it out.

Dark blood ran sluggishly down his stained leather breeches.

“Can you climb on that?” Ragduf asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

**

They discarded their shields, taking only the weapons that were easy to carry.

The youngling was skilled at finding a route and to Ragduf’s surprise, the climb was easier than it looked.

With the battle still raging in the Deeping Coomb, no one even noticed their steady progress up mountainside.

Ragduf brought up the rear, his scimitar slung over his back.

Wouldn’t be the first time he’d saved his skin by an unorthodox and unsanctioned extraction from a battle.

The wizard’s mistake had been to rely on overwhelming numbers, throwing too many new ‘uns against the battle-hardened horseboys.

Crap strategy.

**

Taif cursed as his bad leg slipped off a ledge.

A hail of stones cascaded down the slope.

Velha was quick to get his shoulder under his friend’s flailing boot, getting a kick in the ear for his trouble.

Much to Ragduf’s surprise, they’d not lost anyone yet.

His arms felt like some sadistic fucker was busy pulling them out at the roots, and the muscles in his legs were cramping from the effort of the climb.

According to a message passed down from the youngling, they were approaching a big ledge, somewhere they could rest.

And about fuckin’ time.

**

Ragduf slumped to the ground in the cool dark of the cave.

He could tolerate full sun, they all could, but he’d felt far too exposed on the long climb.

The only things in their favour had been the fact that the walking trees couldn’t climb, and the fuckin’ horseboys were too busy slaughtering anything that moved in the Coomb to bother looking up.

Caught between the trees and the riders, the rest of the army didn’t stand a chance.

The Dunlendings were desperately begging for mercy and getting it, but no Orc would be given quarter.

They never were.

**

“Save your water!” Ragduf ordered. “And we share everything, remember!” He pulled his own flask out of his jerkin and handed it to the youngster. “One mouthful.”

The kid took one gulp and handed the leather flask back. “Ta.”

Ragduf nodded. “You done good.”

“Do I get a name?”

“I said tomorrow night.”

“What now, boss?” Velha was winding a strip of cloth around Taif’s thigh.

“No fucker’s on our tail, so we stay here. We rest, see what happens down there.”

“Nowt good for our lot,” Garash said.

“Since when were we ever allowed to drag our wounded away?”

**

They waited and they watched.

The dead piled up and, as expected, no Orc was allowed to leave the field of battle.

They fought and they died. Some bravely, some piteous wrecks cowering in terror.

The injured were dispatched like wounded animals.

Eventually, the cries died down and silence hung heavily in the air.

The sharp copper tang of blood drifted up on the breeze, mixed with the stench of shit and fear.

Like every fuckin’ battle Ragduf had ever survived.

He’d lived too long and fought too often.

He’d had enough.

Sharkey could fuck himself with a rusty spear.

**

The day wore on.

Their hiding place went unnoticed.

Below them the horseboys piled their own dead carefully and reverently beneath two mounds of earth and stone.

The Orcs they dragged from the mud and blood of the battleground and heaved them into even bigger heaps close to the eaves of the threatening forest.

They had bugger all wood to make pyres unless they started chopping down the walking trees, and even Garash could see that wouldn’t end well.

There’d be a right stink if they didn’t do something, but Ragduf couldn’t work out what that was going to be.

**

Ragduf and his lads sprawled out in the cool of the cave, taking it in turns to stand watch.

They had water for one more day and could go at least two more without if needed.

They each carried hard tack for two weeks and had four flasks of liquor between them.

Ragduf never let his lot go into a fight unprepared.

It was his job to get them out again.

The Higher Ups never fuckin’ cared, so if they wanted to survive, they had to look after themselves.

And on his orders, they all spared enough for the youngling.

**

“What the fuck’s that?” Taif hissed.

Ragduf came awake in an instant in the pitch dark.

The rocks around them trembled and stones rattled from the cliff face above them as a sound like a strong wind rushed through the valley.

“Don’t know and don’t like it,” Velha muttered.

“More shit’s goin’ down,” Ragduf said. “Stay quiet and stay put.”

At his side, he could feel the young orc shaking in silent fear.

“Easy, brat. Trees can’t climb, remember?” He unstoppered his small flask and passed it over. “Take a swig, it’ll help.”

They all ended up taking a swig.

**

When the sun rose, they looked out over the valley.

The trees had gone, and so had the dead Orcs.

The grass was crushed and trampled and a mile beyond the Dike it looked like a huge pit had been dug and then stones piled up into a hill.

“Reckon our lot are under there?” Garash asked.

Ragduf shrugged. “Gotta be somewhere.”

“So what do we do now?” Velha said. “They’ll see us if we try to climb down. Fifteen of us ain’t exactly inconspicuous.”

“Might be a way up,” the youngling ventured. “At the back. Could see a light.”

**

Ragduf stared up a narrow rock chimney, feeling a cold draught around him.

“Reckon we can climb that?”

“Yeah. Not worse than the cliff.” The kid sounded confident.

Ragduf clapped him on the shoulder. “Show us the way, Spider.”

The kid stared at him, part scared, part hopeful, part proud.

“Said you’d get a fuckin’ name, didn’t I?”

“Spider.” The youngling grinned. “Never ‘ad a name before.”

“You’ve earned it. So, see what’s up there and where we can go.”

The young orc reached up, grabbed a handhold and pulled himself up, then started climbing, bare feet sure and confident.

**

The kid’s scrawny body disappeared up the chimney as he thrutched wildly, using every part of his body to stop himself from falling.

Garash, almost twice the youngling’s height and more than triple his weight, said, “Boss, you’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“See me laughing?”

“Nah.”

“If he says it goes somewhere with no whiteskins and no fucking trees, you can take yer chances up there or down below.”

The big orc sighed. ”Fuck it. You’re a hard bastard, boss.”

“How many times have I saved your thick neck?”

“Too fucking often,” Taif muttered.

Garash kicked his bad leg.

**

The sun rode high in the sky as they waited in the dark, with cold air rising around them.

The afternoon was well advanced when a few small stones pattered down the chimney.

“Kid’s not dead,” Velha remarked. “Good start.”

Spider finally dropped out of the shaft, looking way more fucking cheerful than Ragduf had expected.

When the youngling finally caught his breath and swallowed a few mouthfuls of water, he panted, “It goes! There’s a waterfall and I reckon there’s a way round to the north. No one’ll see us.”

“What’re you waitin’ for?”

The kid started climbing again.

**

As expected, Garash had the most problems.

The big Orc got wedged twice, only getting free by standing on Ragduf’s shoulders while one of the others pulled from above.

He finally popped out like a cork from a bottle, cursing and groaning.

By the end, Ragduf could barely move for laughing.

The climb was easier than it looked. Even Taif managed to haul himself up, using Velha as an extra foothold when needed. Joined at the hip, that pair, Fuckin’ good fighters, too.

The sun was riding low over the ridge by the time the last of them were out.

**

The kid was right. There was a clear, cold stream where they could drink and fill their flasks.

After a hard strip of meat each, they started out along the ridge, following a wide ledge.

The going got tough sometimes but nothing they couldn’t handle.

One of the lads had been stationed in Gundabad for years and was used to mountains. Ragduf let him and Spider find the best routes.

They spent two nights working their way north, well away from prying eyes. Water wasn’t a problem, and they were a long way off needing to decide who to eat.

**

The small fire burned brightly, well away from prying eyes in a high valley in the snow-capped mountains.

They’d found a narrow pass leading west and were now looking down at a wide, forested plain between two rivers south-west of the Gap of Rohan.

They couldn’t risk aiming for Dunland. The Gap would be teaming with Sharkey’s troops and one thing they were all agreed on was that they’d had enough of mad wizards.

They just wanted somewhere they could set up camp, hunt deer and stay out of trouble for a while.

Not too much to ask, was it?

**

The way down the mountainside was easier than the way up.

Spider found animal trails that led them safely down grey, broken slopes littered with loose rock to reach gentler inclines where they could use slender, white-barked trees to break their precipitous descent.

Velha fashioned a crutch for Taif and the injured orc was able to make reasonable progress.

The wound showed no sign of festering and Ragduf reckoned he stood a good chance. Better than he would have done stuck between the horseboys and the fucking walking trees.

He’d had enough of wars that he didn’t even fuckin’ understand.

**

“What now, boss?” Garash sat on a rock chewing a strip of dried flesh.

“There’s water, there’s a cave, bound to be sommat to eat around ‘ere, so we won’t have to chop Taif’s bad leg off an’ roast it.”

“You’re all heart.”

“So you lot keep sayin’. The horseboys will go after Sharkey but we’re far enough away. We keep our ‘eads down and we stay out of trouble. Reckon you lot can manage that?”

They nodded, looking shifty.

As plans went, Ragduf had known worse.

The only problem was likely to be the staying out of trouble bit.