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Vrór
It was a rush of events after Vrór and Carl emerged from the tunnel with the two children, and it seemed that things were falling nicely into place as Dorran was found again, alive, and they all discovered that they already had some sort of contact with one of the slaves. They had pulled it off! The plan had worked! And all were breathing. But then two forms in the shadows appeared a ways off, and Dwarf, Elf, Hobbit, woman, and boy were all forced to hide as quick as they could. Luckily these men were not too thorough in their search, underestimating whoever came to the children’s rescue.
Their words revealed just how little they knew. Children…children?! For one of the first times in his life, Vrór felt he really wanted to use his axe. Those two fools. Black-hearted and yellow-bellied, treating children like animals, and calling Dwarves and Hobbits children! Their ignorance came as a real shock for the Dwarf. Would Mordor ever really be a part of Middle-earth? Its inhabitants knew nothing of the world outside it, and seemed to have no desire for the outside world to be brought into it.
The slavers’ ignorance was in a small way, and a more immediate way, relieving, but it was also frightening. To think that this ‘Imak,’ apparently their leader, would be told that it was the slaves who had raided the camp for the rescue. If the slaves were all in the shape of the two children and the woman he had seen, they would be hard-pressed to defend against these ruthless bounty hunters. He shuddered as the two finally disappeared.
“We had best get a move on, then?” he whispered to the others. “The slaves will need our help.”
Vrór could see Lindir nodding, but it was the woman – Shae was her name, he thought he had heard – who spoke up.
“And what do you think four of you can do, with one wounded?” Of course she was offended by the idea that she and the others would need help. The Dwarf suddenly felt very embarrassed that he had spoken without thinking, forgetting that she was there. Perhaps he should not have referred to them as ‘slaves?’
“Well, ma’am,” Vrór began, glad that no one would be able to tell that his face had reddened in the darkness, and with his beard covering almost half of it, “there are three others waiting for us not too far from here… But, regardless of numbers, any bit can help. And that’s what we’re here to do,” he finished matter-of-factly.
Taking as wide a route as possible around the rest of the slavers’ camp, they wound their way as quickly as possible back to the meeting place, where Athwen had bravely waited with the horses, and where Rôg, Aiwendil, Azhar, and Dorran had likely already arrived. Vrór walked carefully and slowly, almost in a crouch, but also with a heavy weight on his shoulders. What could they do? Shae’s reminder of the wounded secured his doubts in place, and he found himself unable to truly think that the Fellowship of the Fourth Age had managed even a small victory.
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