The Treachery of Saruman
by SkyFire

Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were. 'Course, *they* seem happy with the current arrangement...
I wonder why? *g* I mean really, just because I make them do strange things sometimes, it's no
reason for them to run away screaming like they do, is it? *g*

A/N: Okay, right. Timeline. This takes place sometime between when the Fellowship leaves Rivendell
and when they catch up with Saruman at Orthanc. That enough time to choose from? *g*

Please review! *g*

The Treachery of Saruman
by SkyFire


It coursed through him from the various minor cuts and bruises the foul raiders had dealt him.
He could feel the wounds burning strangely as well, slowly leeching away his strength, and
guessed that their nasty-looking blades were covered with some sort of potion to make it so.

Piercingly deep blue eyes stung and teared as a breath of wind blew harsh grey smoke into them.
Blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision, it was all he could do to keep his attention
focused on his opponents and not on the destruction of the place he'd called home for so long.

The thick smoke tickled his throat, adding yet another distraction at a time when he needed none-
the desperate *need* to cough. He managed to beat back the feeling of 'cough madly or choke'
with a bit of the same stubbornness that had served him so well in other battles.

Not soon enough.

A crude blade sliced into the forearm of his sword-arm. Even as he unconsciously cried out in
pain, his hand opened and his fine, Elven-crafted sword fell to the dirt.

He looked quickly to his opponents, saw the leering grins they wore as they closed in on him. He
didn't know *what* they were. None of the Elves did. None of them had ever seen anything like
the unusually large, strong orc-kin that now attacked them.

With his left hand, he drew his long knife and slashed viciously across the face of the Uruk-hai
he saw as the weakest link in the circle around him. The orc-kin in question reeled back with a
pained growl, leaving a gap in the line.

Quick as thought, the Elf darted through the gap and ran for one of the bridges into Rivendell.
He could see fighting on the other side as well, and much burning. He hoped to reach one of the
Elven groups there, where he hoped to at least wrap his forearm, slowing the bleeding and making
it at least partially usable.

He was perhaps a quarter of the way across the bridge when a group of perhaps a dozen Uruk-hai
reached it from the far side and started across, coming towards him.

He turned to go back, but the way was now blocked by the Uruk-hai that had pursued him before.

He was trapped.

He looked again to the further group, saw them getting quickly nearer. And... what was that? He
stared, saw it again, recognized it. Finely crafted Elven battle-armor.

Then he was spun nearly halfway around as something hit his shoulder hard from behind. His long
knife went flying. For a second there was only the shock of impact, but then came the pain.
Gasping with it, he looked over to see a thick, ugly black arrow sticking out of his left
shoulder, rendering his knife-hand as useless as his right.

He looked to the Uruk-hai, saw them nearly upon him, saw that the armor-wearing Elf was slung
over one broad orc-kin shoulder, feet bound tightly. Then they were upon him. He expected
nothing but a cruel death, but most passed him by with only hateful glares. As the Elf-carrying
orc-kin passed him by, he was able to focus pain-blurred vision enough to recognize the fall of
dark, silky hair, the gleam of the intricate silver circlet.

"Elrond," he moaned in despair. The Uruk-hai had taken the Lord of Imladris. "No...."

As if roused by the other Elf's words, Elrond groggily raised his head. His dark eyes were dazed,
his strong face cut and battered. His gaze focused on his closest friend just in time to see one
of his captors pull the black arrow ungently from the other's shoulder, hand it to an orc-kin
archer, then lift the golden-haired Elf-lord as if he weighed nothing and toss him over the side
of the bridge to plummet toward the river Bruinen that ran far below.

Concentrating fiercely, muttering the words under his breath, Elrond managed to command the river
to rise enough to keep Glorfindel from death from the fall.

He heard the Bruinen surge below, heard the barely-audible-above-the-roaring splash as Glorfindel
fell in. He heard the orc-kin curse loudly at the river. He continued muttering, asking the
River to carry his friend to safety. Distantly, he heard his captors yelling, but his conscious
mind was focused on the Bruinen.

Which was why it took him completely by surprise when he was hit hard upside the head with enough
force to knock him unconscious.

Within the hour, all the Uruk-hai forces had withdrawn from Rivendell.

They had what they'd been sent for.


Oooooooh! *g* So, what do you think? *g* Leave a review and let me know! *g*