~ The company makes a strange and unexpected discovery. ~

19. Mysterious Footprints

For two full days the elves searched the area where they had found the footprint but with no trace of its owner. But on the third day Bronedir, their best tracker, finally spotted something. A single file of tracks, running straight over a boggy part between two hills.

"At least there seems to be only one of them," Nodir said.

That made them all relax a bit. One uruk-hai wouldn't be too bad, if that was what it was.

Bronedir said he thought these footprints looked fresher than the first one, but it was still very hard to tell how long ago they were made. It had not rained for several days.

They followed the tracks between the hills and came out on a flatter expanse, covered in purple heather. The air smelled sweet and hundreds of bees were humming.

"This is beautiful," Legolas exclaimed, and flashed one of his rare smiles at Wynne who was last in line. Whenever they tracked monsters she preferred to fall behind.

"It's lovely!" She smiled back, immediately deciding there would be heather around their cottage in her next daydream.

"Here are more footprints. Two sets of them!" Bronedir waved to the others from a small pool under a cliff face. "This seems to be their water hole; they have come here many times."

The others joined him and dismounted.

Thranduil dipped a finger in the water and tasted it. "Sweet and clear. Maybe we should take the opportunity to refill our waterskins."

"I could do with a washing," said Galion. "It has been a while."

"They might be near; it is not safe to linger." Legolas looked tense. "And we should keep our voices down."

"I agree with Legolas." Wynne glanced around her anxiously, imagining a huge orc jumping out from behind every thicket of brambles.

"We find the owners of the footprints first, then we come back," Thranduil decided. "If this is their regular watering place then their den cannot be too far away."

Bronedir had been following the cliff face a bit further. "There is a path over here."

Everybody drank their fill, including the horses, and then began to follow the narrow track. They rode slowly, the elves alert and wary, with Wynne tagging along a few yards behind just to be on the safe side.

The moorland ended and the ground grew rocky and rough. The path still went close to the cliff, which now had a slight overhang. Underneath it the ground was boggy and they found new footprints, going in both directions and partly covering each other.

"This is odd." Bronedir had lowered his voice to almost a whisper. He dismounted to take a closer look at a very small print, no more than the size of Wynne's palm. "I have never seen an orc that small."

"Could they have captured a child?" Nodir looked aghast.

A chill trickled through Wynne. What would they find when they finally came to the orc den? Appalling images of dismembered and broken children came before her.

She almost wished not to continue, but of course they had to. If there was a kidnapped child somewhere around they must try to save it.

They went on, Wynne even slower than before, allowing the others to gain a few extra yards still. Then the track ended abruptly with a steep wall of huge boulders and everybody came to a halt.

The elves dismounted and spread out among the rocks, searching for an opening or a cave. Wynne remained seated on Vatna as usual, ready to gallop away if any orcs would attack.

The summer air was hot and very still; the cliff overhang and boulder wall on two sides shielded the place from the wind. Insects buzzed and birds chirped, and there was a sweet smell of herbs. Wild rosemary perhaps, or thyme. Under different circumstances it would have been a lovely place.

A slight movement made her turn her head to the cliff side they had been following. An immense juniper bush grew a few yards above her. Had it moved? She strained her eyes to see better.

Yes, there definitely was movement. It trembled slightly, and since there was no wind something else must have caused it.

Wynne went cold with trepidation, wishing she could alert the elves somehow, but they were too far away. If she called out to them she would draw attention to herself, and then the presumed uruk-hai hiding in the bush would jump on her before she could flee.

Very slowly she made Vatna back away, all the while staring intently at the juniper.

It moved again and something emerged, equally slowly and silently as Wynne.

A woman!

Wynne's eyes popped open in surprise. It was a brown-skinned, black haired human woman, dressed in old, frayed clothes. She stood with her back turned to the cliff and edged sideways, away from where the elves were searching the boulders.

There seemed to be something behind her, something she shielded with her body.

Their eyes met. The woman instantly stopped, fright filling her face. She held her palms out to show she had no weapons, and then put a finger against her lips. Her dark eyes had a pleading look.

It was obvious she didn't want to be found by the elves. But why? If she had been captured by orcs, the elves could help her. Did she think they were dangerous too? That Wynne was their prisoner?

"It's okay, we don't mean any harm," Wynne said in a low voice, trying to look as friendly as possible. As the woman had done, she held her palms up.

The woman shook her head vigorously and again motioned for Wynne to be silent, but the elves with their exceptional ears had already heard her and noticed who she had talked to.

"It is a woman!" called Galion.

They quickly spread out around the cliff, surrounding the woman.

"Do not be afraid," said Thranduil. He had put down his two swords in their scabbards again and the others had lowered their bows. "We come in peace."

"Leave me alone." The woman's voice was deep and heavily accented.

"Of course. We are not after you. But have you seen an orc around here? A big one, human sized or larger."

"No."

"No? We saw tracks, footprints just here. Are you sure–"

"I said no. Now go."

The woman scowled and Wynne noticed her eyebrows were almost up to Thranduil standard. Impressive.

Thranduil seemed perplexed at her fierce reaction but then shrugged. He was just beginning to turn away when a weak wail caught everyone's attention. It had come from behind the woman.

"What was that? What are you concealing?" There was a dangerous edge in his voice now and his body had tensed.

"Nothing." She began to tremble.

"Step aside." His voice was cold as ice.

Legolas, Nodir and Bronedir drew their bows again.

The woman must have realized she had no option but to obey and very slowly moved aside, tears glittering in her eyes. "Please don't hurt them."

There was a collective gasp when they saw what she had been hiding. Two tiny orcs stood there, hand in hand, thumbs in their mouths. They were barely more than babies.

A/N:

I never believed Peter Jackson's version in the movies where orcs are born out of slime or something. In my headcanon (and it's supported by Tolkien, too) there are orc women and they give birth to orc babies. 

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Image Credits:

Public domain (Pixabay), photo by Goi. Source: https://pixabay.com/sv/photos/blomma-ljung-lila-natur-v%C3%A4xt-f%C3%A4rg-2832900/