[piosenniel]

Fordim Hedgethistle‘s post

The sounds of chaos died down from the courtyard above and Grash slowly emerged from his hiding place in the storeroom. Casting furtive glances about for the guards he walked down the dark hallway past the cells, looking neither right nor left at the prisoners. He had long ago ceased to regard the folk who passed through this place as actual beings. Rather, he thought of them as creatures like himself: dead already, without the formality of having their breath stopped or their hearts stilled. A few of the prisoners spoke to him, asking him to free them but he passed on as heedless as wood. He reached the stairs and climbed slowly, his every fibre tensed and reaching outward for signs that his captors were still alive. All he could hear, however, was the unnatural wailing of the Silent Watchers as they screeched their warning to the listening mountains.

He had been climbing these stairs for two years now, and did not need a light to find his way. He soon reached the top and marked without emotion that the door, which was normally locked and barred as tightly as steel, had been left open. He poked his head through the door into the lowering gloom that lay upon this land always and looked about. The courtyard was filled with bodies and body parts. There was no movement. He stepped out of the door and picked his way through the courtyard toward the gate. Once, from somewhere high above, he thought he heard a cry and he fell immediately to the ground for fear of having been seen, but there came no other cry to interrupt the wailing of the Watchers. He continued and soon got to the Gate, but he found his way barred by some unknown and invisible will. It held him back like a huge black hand and try as he might he could not move forward. Finally, panting and gasping with the effort he fell back from the gaze of the watchers, defeated.

The last time Grash had cried he has been but a boy, and a sound whipping at the foul hands of an orc had cured him of that weakness. But this was almost more than he could bear. His guards were dead, and before his very eyes he could see the road that lead to his freedom stretching out, but he could not reach it. Once more he threw himself forward but this violence seemed only to increase the resistance and he fell back into the court once more. As he lay there he thought about the freedom that was so tantalizingly close, and realised that it really was nothing more than an impossible dream. The wailing of the Watchers was sure to bring more orcs soon, and there was already, no doubt, one of the Dark Lord's Screechers already winging toward this place. Grash turned from the gate and crawled back to the cells on his hands and knees. Better to hide in the storeroom again and await the orcs than be caught out here. If he plead ignorance of the events he might escape with only a whipping.

As he slunk into the hallway once more, however, he heard the calls of the prisoners and a new idea occurred to him. Alone and naked as he was, escape was impossible. He knew the ways and paths about Cirith Ungol well, and could easily find a way down from here to the road that lead westward to Minas Morgul. But beyond that he was lost. Even to get to that point alone and unarmed would be impossible…but with the help of other folk, it might just be possible. He sat for a moment and thought this over. He had never in his life considered the possibility that other people might be able to help him, but as hard as that thought might be, in this circumstance it actually made some kind of sense.

His decision suddenly made, Grash rushed down the hall to where he had seen the jailer’s body lying in a bloody heap. He pulled the keys from the beast’s belt and began unlocking the cell doors.