On the way to the Crossroads...

You're standing to the East of the ruins of the bridge which once spanned the great river Anduin, now naught more than a rubble-heap. The ground beneath you is soft and inviting, and speaks of happier days in less troubled times. To the East you see a line of trees encircling the road, with a North/South road passing through it.

Contents:

Keleir

Llachhal

Gorbag

Obvious exits:

Over the broken down, shattered ruins comes a solitary figure. She lopes quickly, frantically, a dim spot through the darkness at first. Soon, however, her panted breath can be heard, and every so often a choked up sob. She tumbles once, quite painfully, to her knees; in the blink of an eye, however, she regains her footing, wincing as once again she takes up the apparent flight.

From the orcish encampment, several gruff voices rise in alarm, their muffled by the dense foliage which surrounds the crossroads. Soon, the sounds of pursuit are obvious through the otherwise silent forest, the trampling of booted feet through the undergrowth and the shouting of orcish tongues to the west. The two foremost Uruk guards run swiftly after the human, her frantic figure still in sight some distance ahead.

Llachhal steps off the edge of the bridge, moving very cautiously now. Strung longbow and arrow are in his left hand, and as he moves to the first bit of cover off the bridge, he slips behind it. A quick glance goes to the scout following him and he waves

the young man to join him; then his eyes go east again as he crouches there, waiting to be sure there is nothing moving ahead of them.

Too fast she runs, too fast for her weakened, bruised form. Yet somehow, she keeps up the pace. Unable to cry out or call, she keeps moving through the broken stones and walls at a frantic pace. Again, she stumbles...more ground lost to those in pursuit. This time, however, more than a grunt escapes her lips. A shrill cry of pain echos in the darkness, but despite the apparent anguish, once again she renews the flight.

A distance behind the man follows a younger figure, carefully keeping the distance between them. The second figure, Keleir, moves as the first does, cautious and moving towards the end of the bridge. When the tall man halts within the cover beyond the bridge and signals to him, he moves forward silently in a crouch run until him joins Llachhal, kneeling a pace behind him.

The two orcish guards sprint across the rough ground with frightening speed, occasionally stumbling over the rubble which lies strewn all around. "Come back!" Calls one roughly as he sees the human stumble once again, "We'll not harm you!" Both of the Uruks raise their spears over their shoulders, shields rising instinctively as the near their prey.

These words bring an even keener sense of desparation to the female's flight. Bronwyn's legs move wildly as the flight ensues. Although the distance has been lessened between the orcish guards and her, she keeps moving. Now, however, there is sound. Now, the cold, winter's night echos with her sobs and the sound of her feet pounding into the uneven landscape.

Llachhal stiffens at a cry, unmistakeably human and not far from where he and Keleir are crouched. His eyes strain at the darkness ahead, but he locates the sound of the cry and what seems to be pursuit of her by the sound. Picking out a spot closer to the cry, he points it out to Kel, then motions that he will go first, and the young scout to follow. As soon as he is sure the scout understands, he moves, heading for the cover in silence and nocking the green fletched arrow as he does so. He slips into the new spot, then listens again.

The pair of Uruks renew their pace as they near the running human, their narrowed eyes flashing eagerly, and fang-filled mouths crooked with hungry sneers. "Gar, Draback!" Shouts the second one, as he stumbles and sprawls to the ground painfully, "Catch her!" The first one remains in the pursuit, his spear's keen point waving wildly at his side from the movement. "I've got her!" He shouts, his long lopes carrying him just yards behind Bronwyn.

Keleir makes no move to fend the cover apart and gain a greater view of the area ahead, waiting on every move of the tall man beside him. Hearing the cry as well, he holds his body still, straining to hear the sounds that lie behind the human cry. Glancing to his left, he nods once to Llachhal and watches as he moves away from their shared spot towards the covering further ahead. Once he is settled, Keleir lifts himself quietly from his kneeled position and moves with quick and silent steps to join

him once more.

Whether from exhaustion, or from the desparity of it all, the female figure collapses in mid-stride. Another cry; this cry, however, is a mixture of pain and anguish. So close to escape, so close...yet her own body giving way long before she could make good on her moment. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, she does not rise from her spot. Instead, however, she watches the approaching uruk near her, step by step and inch by inch. She struggles to breathe, her chest heaving from the exhertion.

Llachhal raises the bow as the shapes continue to come in his direction. One in the front and two behind her, for it seems to him that the cry is that of a woman, especially the sobs. Rising slightly from the cover, he sends the arrow winging towards the orc closest to the woman, hoping beyond hope that he misses her.

Shouting can be heard once more in the distance from the east, hooting and wild calls from the trees which blanket the edge of the ruins. "Ho, this way! They've gone off this way!" The orcish voices grow louder and clearer, seemingly approaching at a rapid pace.

As the woman once again falls, the first Uruk slows his pace, raising his spear over one shoulder as he approaches her side. "Well, well!" He growls mockingly, turning over one shoulder to glance back towards the second Uruk, who has risen and hurries on a short way behind. "Look out!" Shouts the second one, as Llachhal rises from cover to fire, the arrow streaking past the fallen human to strike solidly into the first orc's chest. Eyes widening in pain and shock, the wounded Uruk reels back several steps

from the shaft's impact and drops backwards to the ground.

Keleir lays a hand to the ground to balance himself where he kneels a pace or two behind Llachhal, looking past his shoulder to the figures that come into their view ahead. His brow creases into a frown, confused by the sight of the slight figure that leads the three, ragged sobs coming from what may be a human female. As Llachhal swiftly rises from their covered spot and aims his bow at the the pursuing figures, freeing it towards the first squat figure, the shot knocking it to the ground. Keleir nearly rises behind the man, but halts his action, remaining kneeled and behind him.

Even as the first Uruk tumbles to the ground, a number of figures appear through the rubble from the east, their black-clad and squat forms obvious even in the distance. "There!" Comes the cry from the first of the three, Gorbag, a broad-shouldered beast clad in a dirty jacket and bearing a spear at his side. At his signal, the two other smaller orcs beside him rush forward, bows ready at hand.

Bronwyn blinks, as the guard stumbles to the ground. This confuses her even more, and her head swivels violently about to look towards the source of the shot. Still, her eyes see little, if anything, except blackened shadows in the darkness. For several moments, she sits helpless, before once again struggling to her feet. There is reluctance to move or flee, for now there are voices from all about; a chaotic maelstrom of sound overwhelms her, and the terror once again sets in. The only true fact she is able to discern is her need to flee, and once again she takes to foot. This time, her loping has turned into little more than a hobbled skip.

And this time, she heads back, albeit unwittingly, towards those who chased her in the first place.

Llachhal reaches back to pull free another arrow, whispering quietly to Keleir. "<Adunaic> If I hit the second one as well, follow me to where she has fallen *** help her back here. I will atempt to **** off any more than follow. Flee with her east, if you ****, but take her not **** to the camp, but to the ******** in *********." The arrow is nocked and the bow raised in a smooth practiced motion. As the woman stands again and limps towards them, Llach takes a step of two away from the cover to bring the nearest orc to her into his sights again and the arrow springs forth with a twang of the bowstring.

There is hesitation again, as the strange voice echos off in the darkness. She stops in mid-stride, turning her gaze towards the strange voice in distance. "<Adunaic> Where....where are you?" she stammers uncertainly, the words coming off her tongue with a heavy accent. Her whole focus seems to now be on this voice, despite the approaching orc guards nearing her with each passing moment.

Keleir keeps his eyes forward as he listens to Llachhal's command, laying a second hand to the hard ground to readying himself for a dash ahead to the disorientated woman, that now suddenly rises and remarkably turns to run back in the direction of her pursuers, "Lady!", he calls out, unable to help himself, to call her attention to them.

The nearest Uruk darts a glance towards the rising Llachhal, teeth gritting in anticipation before throwing himself flat behind a low pile of scattered rubble. Further behind, Gorbag and his two orcish snufflers hurry across the rough, uneven ground, eyes

locked upon the disoriented woman.

Llachhal calls out quickly, at the sound of the woman's voice. "<Adunaic> Come **** way, towards me. To the east." Even as he speaks, his hand is reaching for another arrow, which is nocked and the bow raised again smoothly, though his eyes are on the fleeing woman and those who pursue. Once again the bowstring thrums as the arrow wings it way towards the closest of her pursuers, though in this case, it is meant to scatter them at the least.

Uncertain as to what to do...the darkness and the voices indubitably confusing the situation tenfold, Bronwyn hesitates again. Fury rises in her face, mixed with frustration; the words are still foreign to her, so she makes her best (and quickest) assumption. She runs eastward for several moments, then freezes yet again

Keleir continues to remain crouched on the ground behind Llachhal, hands now clenched into fists with a growing frustration. Ahead he sees the woman run once more back towards the east where the pursuers are quickly gaining ground, and glares up at the man beside him with an anxious look. "She'll be taken again...", he hisses quickly.

Gorbag's eyes flash angrily as he spots the nearest ranger, Llachhal, his right hand clenching tightly around the rough haft of his spear. As the human's arrow speeds towards him, the Uruk-hai has barely enough time to drop to one knee, cursing under his breath as the missile glances painfully off his iron helm's side. The Uruk upon the ground once again springs to his feet as Bronwyn nears him, his long arms stretched forth in a wild dive for the woman. Meanwhile, the two orcish snufflers behind gorbag slow to a halt, their own bows rising as they aim towards the bow-wielding human ahead.

The female once again takes up the run...but too late. Gorbag's arms grasp her ankles in mid-stride, and again she cries out. She impacts with the ground loudly, the breath momentarily knocked from her. Through pain, she still tries to claw herself to her

feet, her legs kicking wildly at the cold, orcish hands which grip her.

Llachhal curses quietly as the woman turns the wrong way and as the scout observed, is once again taken. Realizing he can do no more now to free her, he dives to the side careful to hold the longbow up so it will not break if he reaches the cover where the scout waits and rolls. As he does so, he almost holds his breath, expecting to hear the sound of a bowstring before he makes it back safely.

Keleir mutters under his breath, "Perish it.", watching with mixed anger and horror as the woman goes down under the hands of one of the orcs. Seconds later, Llachhal drops down next to him, taking cover once more and just as two arrows come scudding through the brush at them, halted steps from them by the tangle of branches. Crouching lower, Keleir looks to his companion with a anxious and questioning look, "What now? Leave her to them?", he asks in a rush.

The Uruk soldier grasps desperately for Bronwyn's legs, growling loudly in frustration at the thrashing of her limbs. "Hold still, curse you!" He grunts, sucking in a deep breath as one of her kicks connects solidly with his left shoulder. Seeing the ranger scramble for cover, Gorbag hops forward and to his feet, quick steps carrying him swiftly towards the struggling woman and Uruk. The two orcish snufflers fire their darts towards Llachhal, their aim hurried and their shots wild as they scramble forward to find cover and a better chance to strike.

The female, struggling and desparate, lashes out with one foot. Quick, sure of aim, and angry, it impacts harshly in the creature's shoulder. A growl at first can be heard, then a moan from the uruk's lips. Sure enough, however, its grasp on Bronwyn's feet lessen. Once again, she picks up the flight, this time running westward.

"<Adunaic> Don't leave me!" she cries out frantically, her hands outstretched as she tries to make her way towards the others.

Keleir nods and hardens the look he bears as the man turns from him, back to the struggle that continues ahead of them. Now the woman breaks free once more.. now she runs towards them again, crying out desperately in their own language for their aid, and Keleir remains behind Llachhal, waiting.

Teeth gritting in pain, the uruk soldier rises after Bronwyn, heavy boots stumbling over the rubble-strewn ground before him as he once again begins the chase. Gorbag's quick, loping strides carry him past the soldier, his spear's haft darting outwards to

lightly smack the other Uruk's helmeted head as he growls, "Move it, worm!" The two bow-wielding snufflers reach a high heap of broken stones, hurriedly moving behind to keep cover against their enemies' missiles. Black-fletched arrows are knocked hurriedly, the strings drawn as the two orcs aim and prepare to fire at the humans.

Llachhal's heart leaps as he sees the woman manage to break free again. With a muttered, "<Adunaic> Be ready." to Kel, he steps out away from the cover again. "<Adunaic> To us!" he cries out to the woman and takes careful aim at the spear carrying orc just behind her, then releases the arrow swiftly.

Frantic, heated pace she takes up; her legs move desperately, but with each step she casts a worried look over her shoulder. The uruks near her, their breath almost felt on her shoulder. Still, however, she makes her way towards the others...the humans. Quick and fast, and as sure-footed as she can be in this rocky and broken landscape.

Keleir half rises as Llachhal steps from the cover, calling the woman to them. Readying himself at the man's words, Keleir keeps his eyes to the female, mentally willing her towards them, and mouthing the words silently, "To us.. to us.. faster!"

The uruk soldier scrambles forward after his lieutenant and their prey, Bronwyn, his eager eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the rising Llachhal. His attention placed almost exclusively on the woman who is now almost in his reach, Gorbag does not notice the ranger or the speeding missile, which flies true to strike his left shoulder. His lips curl in a disgusted sneer, right hand releasing the spear and reaching across to grasp at the shaft which now portrudes from his shoulder as he drops to the ground in a painful heap.

The two orcish snufflers yell out eagerly and take aim towards Llachhal as the ranger rises from behind cover, eyes narrow and muscles tensed. Nearly at the same moment as the human fires his own, the two small orcs release their darts, the short shafts spinning rapidly over the rough ground towards their target.

Morgon comes west from, beneath the trees...

Llachhal grunts with pain as one arrows skims next to his head, cutting a furrow along the side of his head, while the other strikes him solidly in the left shoulder. Stumbling slightly from the impact, he steps quickly towards the cover Keleir waits behind and hisses. "<Adunaic> Flee! Back to the camp or garrison and raise **** **** you can. Go now! I will follow as I may." As he slips behind the broken stones, the longbow is slid over his right shoulder and his right hand reaches for the longsword at his side.

One of the orcish darts impact with Bronwyn's shoulder as she hurries forward. With a grunt, she goes down; landing on her knees, her hands outstretched to break her fall, she whimpers. Her breath weak, the hunger and wounds on her taking utter control.

Gorbag remains crouched upon the ground for a short moment, right hand grasping painfully at the arrow in his left shoulder. With a low snarl, the lieutenant of Minas Morgul reaches for his spear and springs to his feet, running forward to reach the fallen Bronwyn. The Uruk soldier reaches the woman before his officer, hands reaching for her shoulders as he drops his weight over her and attempts to pin her to the rough ground.

Keleir sucks in a breath as his companion is struck twice by the orcisharrows, and he nearly reaches out to make a steadying grab as the man stumbles back. With quick harsh words, Llachhal speaks to him and hesititating to argue with them, Keleir remembers his former promise and allows one quick and grim nod to the man. Glancing quickly out beyond the cover, he checks for a moment that will allow him to slip away westwards. Finding a pause in the fire of arrows, he rests one hand on his companion's shoulder and without looking back runs from the cover back in the direction they came.

Another uruk falls behind Gorbag, a tall orc, an orc with strange tatoos scattered across his body, he appeared in the distance and runs with an elven grace toward the humans, his one red eye blazing and a grin apon his face, "In the name of the eye, you humans shall not see another day."

Keleir has left.

The two orcish snufflers immediately reach for the arrows in their quivers, scrambling forward several steps over the heap of broken stones as they search for targets. Their bows rise, strings drawn and shafts ready, though they hold back from firing while the humans lie behind cover.

She falls, long and hard, upon the cold stone ground. Two figures loom over her now; Bronwyn's escape route is thwarted, it seems, at the last moment. With one creature's hands grasp her shoulders, the other hurries in and flanks one side. She struggles frantically, shoulders desperately trying to shrug off the orcish hands which bind her, but to no avail...at this juncture. One hand...trembling...reaches out, towards the human voices which still can be heard in the background.

Llachhal watches the scout make it to safety behind the cover on the bridge to the west, then reaches to break off the end of the arrow, gritting his teeth with the pain. Taking a deep breath, he finally draws his sword, peering carefully around the stones again towards the orc's and their fallen prey. Unable to tell where exactly the arrows came from, he stays there, waiting and hoping for some kind of opportunity to aid the woman the orcs once again hold.

Morgonnow runs directly at the recovering manling<Llachhal> and charges directly at him, obviously intending to rip him apart with claws and strength, "YOU, must die, for you are but dirt compared to the dark ones servants," he sputters through cleched teeth as he nears the human.

Gorbag halts abruptly as he reaches Bronwyn and her Uruk captor, cunning eyes scanning the rubble around where he last saw the human ranger. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He growls, glancing over one shoulder towards the approaching Morgon, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The spear rising over one shoulder, he drops to a low crouch and returns his attention towards the human, teeth clenching angrily as one of his orcs charges forward.

Llachhal reaches to his left hip and draws his ancient blade swiftly out of it's battered sheath.

Now thwarted in her escape, Bronwyn cries out; a pitiful wail can be heard from her crumpled form, as the orcish hands once more try and drag her into their fold. Her hands, bloodied and raw from her falls, dig into the ground, but to no avail. Clumps of dirt and stone fly up, as her hands sadly find nothing to grab hold of.

The Uruk soldier grins cruelly as he presses his claw like hands firmly down upon Bronwyn's back, crouching forward to place on knee over her legs. "You're going nowhere now, are you?" He rasps, stooping forward over her head, "You're all mine!" The two orcish scouts creep forward steadily over the rough ground, their bows raised and ready to fire in case the human target should appear from the rubble ahead.

Morgon finally relizes his folly just as he is within sword reach, his opponent will get the first strike...

Llachhal watches from the behind the stones, the woman's despairing cry causing his knuckles to whiten as his grip on the sword tightens. Still he stands there, hidden for the most part, though running at him like a crazed beast is one of the orcs. Stepping back from the stones enough to give him room to strike, he still keeps them between him and the archers, or so he hopes. As the orc reaches him, his sword darts out to thrust at the running figure's chest in the hopes of skewering him on the first blow.

Morgon spins with a grace rarely found among orcs, narrowly avoiding the main blow, but instead takes a deep cut apon his side...in a fanatical fury, the orc shrugs it off, and ducks, aiming to trip his human oppnent, but falls on his face as his strength

fails him...he attempts to roll away.

You say in Adunaic, ""Nowhere," Bronwyn rasps, as the uruk's hands grasp her legs. "Nowhere." This last word, this last syllable, sounds utterly lost. Her breath gone, her energy lost, she falls back limply as the uruk's hands grasp and tug her away.

All the while, the only last memory of her being there are the sobs, which slowly disappear into the ruins of the landscape."

Gorbag laughs hollowly as Morgon rushes the human, hurriedly drawing back beside Bronwyn and the Uruk soldier who holds her to the ground. "Move it!" He snaps, transferring the spear to his left hand and using his right to pull Bronwyn's left shoulder and

raise the woman to her feet. "And no funny stuff, this time!" Growls the soldier, who scrambles up and reaches out to help Gorbag carry off their prey.

Gorbag laughs hollowly as Morgon rushes the human, hurriedly drawing back beside Bronwyn and the Uruk soldier who holds her to the ground. "Move it!" He snaps, transferring the spear to his left hand and using his right to pull Bronwyn's left shoulder and

raise the woman to her feet. "And no funny stuff, this time!" Growls the soldier, who scrambles up and reaches out to help Gorbag carry off their prey.