"Nice work, I must say," said Grimbeorn in his human form, and pulled himself inside. "I came to give you a hand, or a paw to be exact, but it looks like you don't need one."

"That's where you're right, I don't need your help."

"But that's what you're going to get, want it or not. If you keep guard until I've fetched help to seal this cave, I'll join you for the search of your friend. Deal?"

"No deal," said Xena wryly and wiped her sword clean on the Orc chieftain's cape, then sheathed it. She walked to the back of the room where her chakram was stuck in one of the wooden poles supporting the roof of the entrance tunnel. She tugged her weapon free and attached it to her belt, then paused, momentarily lost in her thoughts. "Beorn, do me a favor. Find Argo and make sure she gets treated well while I'm gone. Okay?"

"Oo-kay," he said suspiciously. "I can do that. Does this mean I won't get your help in guarding the window?"

"There's nothing to guard," Xena retorted and stepped into the tunnel, but paused there to make a round-about kick at the damaged pole, sending it flying in two pieces, after which the roof came down.

The bear-man sat at the window hole, coughing off the dust. "Xena!? Are you all right?" he yelled. And waited. His keen eyes found a torch on the floor, and he picked it up and lit it. The end of the tunnel had collapsed completely, there was no way anyone could use this place without spending weeks to re-dig the way open. "I guess you are," he said to himself, staring at the fallen rocks, and added, "I hope you'll find your friend. Keep yourself on the good side." Then he sighed, extinguished the torch and tossed it out, watching it bounce down the slope to the path. "Well, there's still that other cave to seal. Me and my boys will have a busy morning." He changed to the bear form and slid down, then headed east where he expected to find his companions.

----

In complete darkness in the tunnel leading out from the Orcs' room of ambush, Xena was running for her life. On her heels the chain reaction of breaking support beams was catching up with her. Beam after beam, pole after pole they snapped under increased weight, and the stony roof came down with them. "Show off! Stupid!" she blamed herself, bumping into walls and stumbling on loose rocks.

As the support beam right over her head cracked, she felt the floor disappear. She fell. Instinctively she somersaulted, then she found ground under her feet again, and tumbled down something what seemed to be a hallway of stairs. Finally she met the bottom, ending up into a stone wall. The chain reaction had ceased, and only a few small rocks followed her, bouncing down the stairs.

Recovering from the forceful encounter with the wall she shook her head clear and stumbled to her feet. Every limb was aching, and she found it hard to keep her balance. But this was not the time to stay in place, someone might have heard the noise. She felt about her way in the dark, sliding her other hand by the wall. Once again she was lucky as she hit a torch holder. She removed the torch and lit it.

She saw she was not in a tunnel any more. It was a room which obviously had once belonged to a Dwarf family. The Orcs had sacked it long ago, taking anything useful and destroying the rest. In front of her she saw the broken door of the original exit, and in the back of the room there was the opening to the stairs from where she had come in. The stairs were not quarried by the Dwarves. The Orcs were capable of molding the stone, too, but unlike the Dwarves, they couldn't really understand its nature, nor could they create anything beautiful from it.

Xena placed the torch back into the holder and went to a granite table standing near the wall to make an inventory of her equipment. Her sword was in the sheath, her chakram was fine. She had lost her bow at some point of the run, and tumbling down the stairs had bent most of the arrows, making them useless. Her armor was as it should be, scratched but solid. The light money pouch was still in her belt, but the little pouch of herbs was not. She'd have preferred it the other way. A knife on her hip, a breast dagger in its place, firetools, and that was it. Out of food, out of directions.

Suddenly there was an Orc head popping in at the door. Xena quickly took cover behind the table, cursing her slowness. Fortunately, the Orc didn't notice her in the flickering torch light, and stepped in, a battle axe in his hand. These miserable creatures had a fine night vision, but when it came to suddenly entering from the dark into the light, they were as poorly equipped as any other race. The same applied with complete darkness; to see they needed at least a little light.

The Orc sneaked to the center of the room, followed by another Orc warrior. The first one pointed at the burning torch on the wall, mumbling something to his companion, who answered equally silently. They threw a quick look around and proceeded to the tunnel leading to the stairs. After them came a whole line of Orcs, moving very silently after the leading couple. Five, six, eight in total. The last two stayed behind to guard the rear.

"They can't know I'm inside," Xena thought. "They're here to check out the noise they heard when that tunnel collapsed." And she was right. As the others had vanished to the stairs, the remaining two came to the table, and one of them sat on it. They were so close that Xena could have touched them, and that alone was enough for her. Both Orcs were facing away from her, so she didn't waste the opportunity.

Standing up she looked calm and controlled, but the black fire of hatred burned strong inside. The Orc sitting on the table never knew what hit him, as Xena unsheated her sword and swung it at his neck, separating the head from the body. The other Orc started and turned towards the attacker, just to get the end of her sword through the soft tissue under his jaw and all the way up into his brains. He froze mouth open into a position ready to yell the alarm. With nearly sadistic pleasure Xena watched the red glow dim in his eyes, then she pulled back, letting the corpse fall to the floor.

At the upper end of the stairs, the Orcs were quarreling about the situation with increasing volume. The warrior woman moved to the end of the tunnel leading to the stairs to welcome them, as they soon were to come down.

The first Orc returning to the room was so focused on yelling insults at the one behind him, that he didn't notice the dead bodies on the floor until he became one himself, as Xena chopped his head off. So powerful was her strike that the second Orc experienced the same destiny with the very same swing. Without a pause she continued into the tunnel and punctured the next Orc into chest, penetrating both his chain mail and his heart. To gain more space, and knowing her advantage of surprise was gone, she retreated from the narrow tunnel. Five down, three to go.

The Orcs fell silent, as they had seen the unexpected and quick death of their companions. A subdued murmur revealed that, in their confusion, none of them had actually seen the lightning fast killer. At last one of them dared to come to take a look at the tunnel end, encouraged by the other two pushing him from behind. What he saw was a single human warrior standing in the middle of the room, a sword in her left hand and the right hand behind her back. Holding a wooden shield on front of him he warily stepped in to the room. The others followed, all armed with axes.

As soon as they all were in, Xena took action. She planned to take them out quickly and safely, so she let her chakram fly. The first attacker lost his axe, the other lost his arm, and the third died immediately, his throat slit. Xena caught the round weapon when it returned to its mistress, then she used her sword to slay the remaining two easily, as they were unarmed and in shock.

Contemptuously she looked down at the dead corpses, and spat on them. Then she took the torch from the wall, and left the room, entering another tunnel. At the door she looked left and right, deciding to go left as it seemed to lead to the direction of the cave. As she jogged through the tunnel she saw other rooms similar to the first one on both sides. "Don't give up, Gabrielle. I'm coming." She knew the Orcs often enjoyed torturing their prisoners before killing them, so there was a slim chance of finding the bard alive. But she had to be fast.

Soon she came to a chamber with three tunnels leading out, and once more she chose the one on the left. A minute of wary advancing, and it turned out to be a dead end, so she returned to the chamber, this time choosing the largest tunnel in the middle. As she continued she saw several other tunnels connecting with it, but none of them seemed to be as much used as the one she was walking on. Therefore, she decided not to stray from her path.

Then she had to seek cover in one of the side tunnels because she heard noises from ahead. This tunnel appeared to be a dead end, too, and she hid behind a corner, waiting for the comers to pass. She heard them coming closer, and identified their footsteps to belong to a pair of Orcs. When they had nearly reached her hiding spot, she became aware of the torch still burning in her hand. She had forgotten to douse it, and cursed silently. "On the other hand," she told herself, "the Orcs should have no reason to suspect anything, unless news travel real fast down here." But extinguishing the torch at this point would certainly draw their attention. So she chose to wait, holding her right hand on the hilt of the sword.

The Orcs didn't suspect anything, but a faint flickering made them curious about whether some of their companions had found something interesting in one of these dungeons. The first Orc was an easy victim for Xena, who speared him with her sword as soon as he came into sight. The other one stared at her with amazement, but being unusually quick for an Orc he turned to escape, yelling alarms. Xena ran after him, pursuing him through the maze of old mining tunnels.

The Orc saw Xena gaining him and turned to fight. They clashed together, and after a short change of strikes, he lay on the floor, stomach torn and his own short sword sticking out of his chest. Without further pondering, she continued the way he had been running on, suspecting it would lead to his companions.

Her thought turned out to be right. Following the tunnel she soon arrived into a hall illuminated by lanterns on the walls. Several passages led out of the room. Although there were berths and marks of messy living all over the place, the Orcs themselves were gone. Xena put out her torch and entered warily. Examining the room, she found little useful, but at least she got her hunger satisfied. The food was just beginning to rot, but she was in no position to be picky.

Nevertheless, she came to the conclusion that the Orcs would return sooner or later, so she decided to stay there to wait for them. Looking for a place to hide, she saw a dark recess on the wall near the door she had come in, about ten feet above the ground level. She flipped there, finding it safe but not too cozy because of sharp rocks on the floor, so she dropped back down to fetch a cushion to lie on. Then, as another thought came to her, she took a short bow with arrows from the corner, and climbed up to the recess.

Lying in her hideout and waiting, she had time to think. She realized she didn't have a clue about where she was or where Gabrielle might be. Maybe it was the time to ask for directions, since the old tunnels had turned out to be more complex than expected. "This is taking all too long," she thought, as there was no sign of the Orcs returning. She felt remorse for not being faster, and for leaving Gabrielle alone for the second time in the same day. Not that the girl wouldn't know how to take care of herself; Xena knew she could, but this was way out of her class. Grimbeorn, then, he would have been so useful with his sharp nose. He had offered to help, and she had declined. What a self-centered idiot she was. The cushion started to feel warmer and softer than anything she had felt for a long, long time, and with those thoughts, she fell asleep.

----

She woke up to the voices made by the returning Orcs. Realizing she had unwittingly slept for hours, losing valuable time, she gave up the hope of finding her friend alive. Instead of falling into despair she felt the hatred rising once more. After loss there is always revenge.

She took the bow and rose to her knees. There were six Orcs in the room, but three of them were fighting for a blanket. The other three were soon killed or lethally wounded by Xena's arrows, and the three fighters stopped their quarrel, too, turning at her. One of them panicked and began running at a door on the other side, but Xena shot him dead with the last arrow she had.

She dropped down and clashed together with the remaining couple. They were very strong, and wielded heavy maces which they used skillfully. She got a few strikes in, but nearly always they bounced off from their plate mails, doing little damage. She herself received a couple of heavy hits, too, as one of the Orcs was always covering while the other attacked, and she had trouble finding an opening in their defenses. So she decided to make one.

She dodged under a strike aimed at her head and voluntarily took a blow from the other enemy into her side. The blow emptied her lungs from air, but she didn't care as now she had what she wanted - a grip on the other mace. She pulled the mace, and the Orc holding the other end lost his balance and stumbled into the line between Xena and his fellow. She thrusted her sword into his chest, penetrating his armor, and as it got stuck there, she released her grip from its hilt and took the mace instead. She blocked another blow from the last Orc and retaliated with a hit at his mace arm. He dropped his weapon and turned to run, but Xena was quickly over him, and tripped him down.

She pressed the Orc against the floor, twisting his broken arm. "Now, tell me about the human girl you took from a cave at the High Pass," she said using the Black Speech of the Orcs. It was a rude and violent language which had no means to express beauty or hope. The months spent with the Orcs in her past had taught Xena all of its few nuances.

The Orc groaned in pain. "You're gonna kill me anyway, why should I tell you nothing?"

"Yes! You will die," Xena hissed, "but there are many ways to die. I'll make it easy for you if you give me what I need."

"Hah! I am a great Uruk. Torturing can't make me speak."

Xena laughed into his ear. "For many months I led an Orc legion. How do you think I kept them under my will?" That wasn't quite true, but how would he know. Xena pressed her fingers lightly against his neck, and suddenly, the Orc felt pain he couldn't stand. "Now do you believe me? Speak!"

Arrogance was gone from his voice when he answered, "Gristzuk is the one in charge in that area. Maybe he has what you want."

"And where do I find this Gristzuk?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Olog-glob!," he insulted. "You're a fool if you seek his blood. He has an unbeatable host. But don't get me wrong; I'm more than willing to guide you to your doom."

He told her the directions. Xena would have thanked him, but as the Black Speech had no such words, she simply tapped him twice on the cheek with an open hand, and grinned. Then, with a quick move she grabbed his head and twisted, breaking his neck with an audible crack.

As she started her journey, she realized how far she had strayed from her original goal. Finding her way through endless tunnels and countless chambers and halls, she tried to hide from the Orcs, but didn't succeed very well. The problem was not with her skills; it was her bloodlust that got the best of her. So it ended up that she left behind a trail of dead bodies, anyway.

At last she reached the tunnel she assumed was the last one before Gristzuk's place. It was completely dark, full of pits, sharp turns and steep downhills, as it was a tunnel the Orcs had dug to connect separate parts of the dungeon more closely together. Luckily, they didn't use it much anymore, as there were better and wider, if also longer ways elsewhere. Besides, the Orcs didn't feel it necessary to visit the other parties, unless they had a need to exchange food to weapons, or such. After hours of cautious advancing, Xena saw faint light in the end of the tunnel, so she put out the torch before sneaking closer.

The light came from a large hall. A horde of Orcs was hanging out in the middle of the hall around a campfire, roasting large chunks of meat, eating their hearts out, and drinking intoxicating beverages. By the sides of the hall, resting in shadows and gloomy light there lay more Orcs on their berths, passed out for different reasons. By the fire there was a shaft in the floor, fifteen to twenty feet wide, and a similar shaft above it, sucking the smoke from the fire effectively up and out. As the light and the shadows played on the nearby walls and up on the ceiling, Xena made a note that this hall couldn't be the work of Orc hands. Even in this spooky light the Dwarven craftsmanship could still be seen. And then she knew; this was the place she was searching for.

As much as hated them, she didn't allow hatred blur over her judgement. She could never take that many Orcs, unless she could reduce their number before the final battle. Hiding in the shadows near the wall and using the miscellaneous items lying all around as a cover, she sneaked to the nearest sleeping creature and stabbed her dagger between the third and fourth vertebra in the back of his neck. He twitched, and died without a sound. Xena moved on and in a moment she gave the same treatment to the next Orc. Advancing slowly she went all around the hall. Whenever she met an open door leading to another sleeping chamber, she swiftly and silently killed everybody in there as well.

When she had cleared over two thirds of the wallside, one Orc suddenly woke up right before her. It was too late to search for a cover, yet she was too far for a silent attack, so she just threw herself flat to the floor. The Orc scratched his sides drowsily, and yawned, then stood up and walked towards a door which, based on the strong smell clinging nearby, seemed to lead into a poor man's lavatory. Xena sighed for a relief, but then her eyes focused into something horrible lying on the floor.

She crept closer and felt the panic welling up, as she approached the cream colored horse carcass. By its side she saw the saddle, which had her marks; Argo's saddle. She looked at the trunk which was missing large chunks from the sides and both hind legs. She glanced at the Orcs roasting meat by the fire, then turned her attention at the dead steed again. "No-oooo!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, and took the head in her hands. It was Argo.

It wasn't Argo. The color matched, the size was the same, but fortunately, it was not her beloved mare. Nonetheless, once it had been a beautiful horse, now it was mutilated and half eaten. Xena felt sorry for it, as if it was her own. She also felt sorry for the rider, whom she saw lying nearby by the wall. His face was turned at her, and she realized that he looked familiar. "Someone's going to pay," she swore, and became aware of the audience awakened by her yell. Taking a furious glare behind, she laid the head to the floor, and stood up, never taking her eyes off the murderers.

The Orcs observed her warily and weapons drawn, as she approached them with deliberately slow steps and stopped only a few feet before the first opponents, a head taller than the tallest of them. A moment of status quo and cautious glaring, then she said, "By any chance, is anyone of you named Gristzuk?"

"I'm Gristzuk," said a bulky Orc from the back, and the others gave him a way as he stepped to the front row. With a huge, two-handed hammer on his shoulder he goggled at Xena, and added, "You don't look like an Elf warrior. Who are you, and where's your army?"

"My name is Xena, but it doesn't matter. You may not know it, but you and me have some unfinished business. Everything that was dear to me, you took. It's time for pay back. When I'm finished, you'll wish you'd have never touched her. No, correction; you won't be wishing that, because you'll all be dead!"

An unnoticeable signal from the leader, and one Orc from the back strung his bow and fired. Xena caught the arrow from midair and prepared to take the first attacker. He came in, thrusting his sword at her stomach, but she turned aside and her left hand took a strong grip from his wrist. She used his momentum and guided his sword by her side at the chest of the second Orc attacking from behind. As the first Orc stumbled into her foot, she pushed the arrow horizontally through his throat.

The next Orc flanked her and attacked with a ball in a chain. She evaded the first strike to the left, and the second to the right, and quickly danced by the attacker, grabbing him from the neck and the hand holding the chain, and breaking his balance. A little twist, and she had rounded the chain around his throat, causing an injury that would suffocate him within minutes.

The fourth came from behind again, armed with a heavy mace. Xena sensed his vertical hit and stepped aside, but he managed to throw his long arms around her after the miss. He lifted her up, holding her arms against her waist, and another Orc took the opportunity trying to spear her. However, she pushed off and wrapped her legs around the spear-Orc's neck, and tripped him down. Twisting her body she got the Orc holding her off-balance. She got her feet on the ground and surprised him taking a step back, and then bending down, lifting him up onto her back, and then straight over. He had to let go from his weapon, and so Xena smashed him on the head with his own mace, then she threw the mace at the spear-Orc, knocking him unconscious.

She let out her war cry, and flipped away to a clear space, as too many attackers were getting too close. Landing behind a scared young Orc who was only pretending to be willing to fight, she overcame him easily. She used him as a shield, and two arrows into his chest killed him instantly. Xena raised his lifeless body above her head and threw him at the three nearest attackers, taking them out temporarily. Then, she took her chakram and threw it into the chest of the Orc shooting arrows.

She used the confusion to flip back into the middle of the closing Orc group, and killed one of them under her feet when she came down, then she snatched the sword from his hands. Drawing her own sword, she used both weapons to parry the nearest attackers, and started to spin around with increasing speed. The swords spread inevitable destruction among all who dared to come within range.

At last she stopped spinning and moved on to finish the wounded opponents lying on the floor. After that she looked around and noticed there was only one Orc left; Gristzuk. He had observed her work in awe, but in spite of the fact that Xena alone had destroyed all of his host, he didn't retreat. His face darkened with rage, he clenched the hammer tighter and charged to attack. Using the heavy weapon with great strength and speed he swung it horizontally at waist-level. Xena flipped up and landed behind him, then tumbled forward onto her back as the hammer fell at her with such force that it hit large pieces of stone from the floor. While the hammer was still down, she quickly changed direction and like a spring, she bounced up at the Orc chieftain, wrapping her legs around his neck. After that, all she had to do was to squeeze.

The battle was over. Xena rose up to her feet, and threw her swords to the floor with disgust. Achieving her revenge left her a bit dull and empty and unable to decide her next move. She walked around the hall, searching for Gabrielle's body, not finding it, though. But she found most of their belongings taken by the Orcs, including the saddle which she had seen earlier, and which indeed was hers.

For the last time she came to the dead rider and his horse. Now that she had better time to look at him, she became sure that she had seen him before. He was young, no more than twenty years old, and his gear had markings similar to hers. Markings of her Home. She had never known his name, but memories of a teenaged boy running around the market place in Rhosgobel were arising. "Such a waste," she sighed, and dragged both of the bodies atop of the pyre. She fed the fire, adding all the wood she could find into the flames, until it burned hotter than a lava pit, casting thick, black smoke that rose up into the shaft and outside.

"Good bye, who ever you are," the warrior uttered, like it was the habit in funerals, but her words lacked emotion. Standing beside the funeral pyre, staring at the burning carcass, she ignored the unhurried stomping from a distance.

Stomp. Her emptiness was starting to fill up with another feeling, and it blocked her senses.

Stomp. Eyes narrowing with rage.

Stomp. Yearning for further revenge.

Stomp!

Even if it would take her life in the attempt.

STOMP!

Finally the big feet stopped at the other side of the hall, and an angry roar brought Xena back from her black thoughts. "Great! A Troll is all I need now," she said, becoming aware of the newcomer. The Troll saw the dead Orcs all over the place, and decided the human by the pyre was responsible. As roaring was all he could do, he roared again and attacked.

The Troll swung his enormous fists but Xena dodged and tumbled under his arms, picking her sword from the floor and sliced him into the stomach. But the sword didn't dig into flesh; instead it sounded like she had hit a rock. As she realized she was opposed to the worst kind of a Troll, a Stone Troll, she was hit by a large back hand, which threw her several feet away.

She shook her head to clear it, and rose up. Once again she clashed with the Troll, taking full advantage of her far better agility. Keeping away from the fists she struck him everywhere, searching for a vulnerable spot in his body. But the constant fighting had taken the toll, and she began to tire. She didn't notice a big foot soon enough, before she was kicked by it. She rolled on the floor, stopped and got up spitting blood. Blinded by fury she attacked again, but this time she badly miscalculated the speed of her opponent, who freely let her come close and strike with her sword. Then he grabbed her with both hands, and threw her across the hall at the opposite wall.

There's a certain amount of pain a human body can take, and this was about the maximum with Xena. Barely conscious, she tried to get up, but fell down as her other arm refused to hold her weight. Hearing the Troll's steps coming closer she compelled herself to her feet, and limped into a nearby tunnel, holding her injured shoulder. On the way her feet started working better, but it's a small relief if the head feels dizzy. So she hid in a room by the tunnel, sitting beside the doorway, out of sight.

She heard the Troll approaching with steady steps, and at the same time light in the tunnel increased.

Closer. Was this her destiny; to die in the hands of some miserable, clumsy Troll?

Closer.

And passed. The Troll passed, and didn't notice her. She blew the breath out and examined the shoulder; fortunately it was only dislocated. She stood up, finding it easier than a moment before. Maybe she could still give a fight.

She inhaled, held the breath, and took a few fast steps before throwing herself against the wall, shoulder first. With an audible sound, the joint popped in its place, along with a striking pain. But she kept the shout inside, even though she wanted to cry with every cell of her body. And then her feet gave again, and she fell down to the floor and gasped.

After a while she moved her arm and found it responding normally. The shoulder felt sore, but she could count on it again. Stretching her limbs she started to get up, taking support from an iron ring attached to the wall, and felt something soft in her hand. At first she didn't pay attention to it, but as the light became stronger she saw that there was a piece of green cloth tied to the ring. Her eyes widened up with amazement. A few feet beside the first ring she saw another one, and leather strings on the floor.

Examining the cloth closer she became sure she recognized it. It was from Gabrielle's shirt. With shaking hands she untied the knot and smelled the fabric, believing she could still feel her friend's scent in it. "You escaped the Orcs! Clever girl," she thought proudly, then looked at the leather strings, and added, "with a set of very sharp teeth!"

Then her investigations were interrupted by a roar at the doorway, as the Troll had returned. He had a burning log from the pyre, which now lit the whole room to bright light. But Xena felt no longer weary or injured. Tying the cloth with two overhand knots to the shoulder strap on the left of her armor, she glared at the enemy steadily with a self-confident grin and an eyebrow arched. She was a woman with a new, strong hope.

Then another four Orcs came in, and they started a quarrel with the first ones, using a brutal sounding language she didn't understand. She thought they had forgotten her totally, until one of the newcomers kicked her hard. The pain striking her leg was unbearable. It twisted her body and made her eyes roll up, her mouth opened to scream, but there was no audible sound - not at first. Her torturers laughed when she finally got out a long and agonized howl. Then one of them, the leader probably, as he was the largest one, commanded everybody out, and the young woman was left alone to sob in the darkness.

For hours she just lay there, apathetic and dull, staring into nothing. She was badly beaten and bruised, her left eye was swollen shut, and her other ankle was badly twisted. A long cut in her left arm was carelessly dressed with bands made of her own sleeves. Every part of her body was sore, her spirit was low, she was cold and tired and unable to see her surroundings. A little wonder was that the leg which the Orc had kicked didn't appear to be broken. Not that it would have made any difference, as it didn't seem likely that she was going to use it for walking for a while, anyway.

Finally, a couple of Orcs came in with a torch and a bucket, and thereby roused the young woman from her lethargy. "Why am I still alive? What do you want from me?" she asked.

The Orcs didn't answer. They came to her, and while one of them held the light, the other took a dipper from the bucket and brought it in front of her. "Eat," he said in ill-pronounced common language, holding the dipper so that she could reach it.

The stuff in the dipper was kind of a thick, lumpy broth which looked disgusting, smelled terrible, and tasted even worse, as she took a small mouthful of it, just to spit it out immediately. The Orc reacted with connecting his knuckles with her jaw, the punch nearly knocking her out. "Eat!" he said once more and pushed the dipper at her mouth.

But the bare smell of the broth made Gabrielle lose temper, and she kicked the Orc in the stomach with all she had, sending him to the middle of the room to catch his breath. The Orc holding the torch growled furiously and drew his mace to finish her. The young bard turned away, anticipating the lethal strike which fortunately never came, as the dipper Orc seized his companion at the last second.

But then they both grabbed her, and while the torch Orc forced her mouth open, the dipper Orc poured soup into her throat. She coughed and struggled, but strong hands kept her still and she had no option but to swallow. When her feeders finally let go, she was so stuffed she thought she would die right there for overeating.

The Orcs left and took the light with them. Gabrielle's stomach was protesting strongly against the meal, the taste of which had been beyond her worst imagining. She convulsed to throw up, but miraculously it all stayed down. She was shaking and sweating heavily, until the cramps finally settled, and she passed out into the land of anxious dreams.

----

She was awakened by her own scream. Expecting to see Xena's comforting, if yet a little worried face, and expecting her to show up to embrace her into a warm cuddle, Gabrielle felt most depressed to find herself alone in a dark dungeon. "Xena," she whispered, and forced her thoughts to a peaceful scene, where she was waking up into a beautiful morning as Xena was setting a campfire to roast a rabbit that she had caught. It helped a little. She pulled herself up, and stretched. A million tiny needles stung her fingers as she moved them to get the blood flowing again.

"Well, Gabrielle," she said to herself. "This time you really got yourself deep into trouble. Your dream foretold that Xena was going to die on Misty Mountains, and now look who's the one on the edge. I wonder what they're going to do with me."

Her thoughts were interrupted by another two Orcs coming in. They were not the same ones as before, but they brought a torch -- and a bucket. "Oh no! Not again."

"Food. Eat now," said the first one with the torch.

"What do you want from me?" she cried, knowing what was to come.

"Shut up. Eat." The Orcs didn't waste time, as they had brought a bottomless waterskin which they filled with broth from the bucket, then put the nozzle into her mouth, and squeezed the food in. It didn't taste any better the second time. The bright side was that they didn't beat her, probably because they gave her no chance to resist. When both the bucket and the waterskin were empty, they left.

"Oh, Xena. I know you're coming, but please, hurry! I can't take this much longer," she sobbed before passing out from exhaustion again.

----

Once more she woke up from the middle of a nightmare, screaming for Xena to help. She felt the taste of blood in her mouth, as she had bitten her lip when asleep. Some of the blood trickled down her chin, and she tilted her head to wipe it on her shirt at her shoulder. Then she froze, noticing a pair of pale gray spots in the dark in the direction of the doorway. She was sure they hadn't been there before. Then they blinked, and she knew they were eyes, but eyes of what? They were not human, nor orcish.

The spooky eyes swayed from side to side, tilted, and disappeared. "Who's there?" asked Gabrielle, whispering. And the eyes came back a little bit closer than before.

"What is it?" said the creature behind the eyes, almost whispering as well. "It's no Orc, hisss, we hates Orcses."

The eyes blinked and came still closer. "Yesss, precious. We have seen its kind before. A girl it is, pretty girl, gollum," he said, letting out a funny sound from his throat. That sound gave Gabrielle shudders.

The creature sat down right before her. His appearance was closest to that of a Hobbit, but he moved on four legs. He was hairless, his skin gray and wrinkled. Large, pale eyes watched her closely as she drew back. "What on earth are you?" she yelped.

"Hisss. We is lost. Poor, poor Smeagol. Lost."

The curious little creature seemed sad and confused, and a faint hope was taking shape in Gabrielle's mind. She didn't know anything about him, but at least he didn't look threatening or dangerous. "Smeagol, is that your name? My name is Gabrielle. Can you free me? Maybe we could find our way out together."

He tilted his head, talking to himself, "Is it safe? Maybe it wants to hurt us, like those Elves, hisss. We hates Elves. Pretty girl. Elves pretty, too, but they hurt good Smeagol."

"Well, I don't feel especially pretty right now, but I won't hurt you, I promise. I don't know where I am, either, but together we could find the way, I'm sure of it. Please."

"No, no! Smeagol knows the way. Precious lost, stolen. Gollum."

"Precious? Have the Orcs taken something precious from you? A treasure?"

"Not Orcs! Baggins! Hisss, thief! We hates Bagginses!" he spat, showing his teeth in anger.

"Hush, keep your voice down. We don't want anyone to hear us, do we?" she said, as her mind tried to digest the unexpected information. "I know something about Bagginses. Release me, and I'll tell you all about it."

"It knows the thief?" A sparkle flashed in his eyes. "What does it know? No, she is smart, she tries to talk herself out of troubles. Smeagol is smart, too. She tells Smeagol about Baggins, then we decides."

"Well, where should I start." Gabrielle was in trouble, since she didn't actually know much, but she wasn't going to give up easily. "First, he is small, about your size."

"Yesss, she tells more."

"He is a Hobbit."

The creature remained silent, eyeing her sharply.

"He has a lot of gold and money and stuff."

But Smeagol didn't seem to be impressed, and Gabrielle was getting desperate as her knowledge was draining out. The last, skeptical try, "He can vanish at will, just like that. Puff. Gone."

"Precious!" yelped Smeagol, burning in excitement, and crawled over her feet. "Where is the thief? She must tell more."

His touch was cold and sticky, even repulsive, making her want to recoil, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady. "No, first you must cut my fetters."

"She tells everything, then she goes."

"No. Release me first, and help me out. Then I will tell you the rest."

Fear and need battled in his mind, and his whole appearance reflected that fight. At last the need seemed to win, as he hastily began to gnaw on the leather strings around Gabrielle's wrists.

----

"Faster now," urged the little creature. "She must haste."

"Sorry, I can't do any better with only one leg," Gabrielle responded, limping painfully and taking support from the wall. "Oh, wait, I must go back. See if you can find me a walking stick in the meantime."

"What? No! She mustn't return. Too dangerous, many Orcses near." But the woman had already turned around and limped back to her prison cell. Smeagol heard her shredding something, and when she came back, her shirt was an inch shorter.

"Now we can make haste," she said, obviously pleased with herself. "Where's my stick?"

"Plenty of sticks on the way. Long way it is, precious. Gollum."

"And stop making those gollums, would you. How long do you think it will take until they discover my escape?"

"Soon. Too soon. Pretty girl must hurry. Must be far when that happens."

As Smeagol had promised, the tunnels were filled with trash, and easily Gabrielle found a broken spear to use as a walking stick. They were afraid to use any light, so she had to trust his abilities. Constantly they paused to listen, and every time Gabrielle tore a little piece from her clothes, made a knot in it, and left it somewhere by the wall. At first Smeagol didn't pay attention to it, but when it happened for the third time, he couldn't keep from asking, "Why does she leave marks behind? She wants the Orcses to follow?"

"No, not the Orcs. My friend is coming after me. With any luck she will find my marks and the Orcs won't," Gabrielle answered. He watched her suspiciously, and maybe he saw the woman had made up her mind as he didn't object, even though he was most uncomfortable with her actions.

They walked on, hour after hour. Gabrielle's leg slowed them down, and she was getting tired. "Smeagol, could we have a break, please," she plead.

"No time to rest yet. Still close, are the Orcses."

"Whatever, but my leg can't take it any longer, so I'll stop right here." She dropped down to sit and gave a quick massage to her ankle, which had swollen up from the strain. "Besides, we need to talk."

Smeagol saw she was in a bad shape. "We knows a place. Not far. Can't stay here." He tugged and urged her, threatened to leave her alone, and got her to go on after all. They walked about half a mile, taking numerous turns at crossings, then at last he led her into a recess by a narrow passage, behind a large stone blocking half of the tunnel. "Now we can rest a while," he said, and Gabrielle didn't need to be told twice.

She sat down, swept the floor clear from old bones which lay there like in a nest of some beast, and hoisted her feet up on the wall. "Now it's safe to talk?" she asked.

"No, not safe," he said. "No safe place in here, 'tis just a little better."

"Tell me about the exit. Is it far?"

"Not far."

"You couldn't be more precise?! A day's walk? Two days'?"

"Yesss. No. Don't know. Many doors lead out. One is near, we try it first."

"What do you mean 'try it first'?"

"It may be closed. It may be guarded. It may have changed place. Doors do that in here."

"Oh joy." Then she fell asleep.

----

When she woke up, Smeagol was gone; left without a trace. At once all kinds of horrible thoughts came to her. Maybe that repulsive creature was in fact working with the Orcs and now he wanted to lead them to her hideout. Or maybe he had seen through her bluff and left her to cope alone in the dark. Or something worse. Gabrielle didn't like him, as something in his presence made her uneasy. She'd leave him in the second she had any hope of finding a way out on her own. Warily, she crept out to the passage, and was nearly frightened to death as she ran into someone as soon as she rounded the rock blocking the tunnel.

"Good, she is awake and ready to go. Yes, we go," said Smeagol's voice.

"Smeagol! Where have you been?"

"Investigating. Sees many Orcses all around. Great many Orcses indeed, gollum."

"And they're searching for me?"

"Smeagol knows not. Afraid they are, talk about an Elf army. Hisss."

"Elves! Did you see Elves?"

"No, we sees no Elves, no Men, no nothing. Just Orcses. Dead Orcses. Living Orcses. Many, many dead Orcses. But enough of talk, must go now. Must go back a little, then turn to south and down. Too many enemies on the way to the first exit, we try another."

But the second exit was there no longer, and they decided to continue further to south. Gabrielle got tired up easily, and she had to let her leg rest several times, and once they both slept for a few hours. After the sleep the bard found out that Smeagol was making his 'investigations' again. She couldn't fall asleep again, and the wait seemed longer than it was. At last she saw him creeping back to her -- yes, she saw! It astonished her, as it was really dark in the tunnels and there was no light source in evidence. She realized then that, actually, she had been able to see little glimpses for some time; Smeagol striding ahead, tunnel outlines, some of the larger objects on the way, things like that. When she told about it to Smeagol, he said, "Dwarf stone."

Later she learned that it really wasn't completely dark in the tunnels. The Dwarves used to coat the walls with a very special substance which made it possible to see in the caves, even without a light source. For races other than Dwarves it took a few days to get their eyes used to this new kind of darkness, but most of them could eventually do it.

----

It was one of the countless breaks since Smeagol had released Gabrielle. She woke up after an uneasy dream, and wasn't surprised to find him gone again. She tried to get some more sleep, but in that chilly environment it wasn't easy. Besides, being there all alone was a bit scary. Even though she didn't fancy Smeagol's company, he seemed to know the tunnels, which gave her at least some security.

This time it took an unusually long time before the little creature returned. "Where have you been so long? I was afraid because of you," Gabrielle whispered.

"Fishing," Smeagol answered, dropping two white and blind fishes at her feet. "Nice fishes. Good fishes. We makes a long way to catch these. She must eat and get stronger."

Gabrielle took a fish, smelled it, and found it repulsive. She hadn't eaten for a long time, but nothing could make her eat raw fish. She wasn't that hungry. In fact, she wasn't hungry at all. To his confusion she pushed the fishes away, but he didn't say a word. He had learned that the woman would do things the way she wanted, and changing her mind was seldom worth the effort. So he sat down beside her and began to gnaw one of the fishes in silence. Besides, he had something else in his mind, and Gabrielle saw that.

"Now what is it? More trouble?" she asked.

Smeagol took his time to finish the fish, and answered, "We makes a long way to get food. Saw lots and lots of Orcses. All very wary, yesss."

"What does it mean then?"

"All doors are closed from us. We checks the few nearest."

"So we're stuck in here?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"You have a plan?"

"There is a way never guarded. The Orcses don't know about it."

"And why didn't you tell me about it in the first place?"

"It's dangerous. It's far. Perhaps she can't walk that far?"

"All the exits are dangerous, as far as I know. If you're so sure that this exit is unguarded, we'll go there, unless you have a better idea. Don't worry, I can walk there. I must. Anyway, it's better to choose a certain exit far than make many uncertain guesses nearer."

"We sees she has decided. She mustn't say Smeagol didn't warn."

He took the other fish, put half of it in his mouth and bit the end off. While she watched him eating, she remembered the countless questions that she had wanted to ask from the beginning. Like, "what exactly was the thing that Baggins stole from you?"

He nearly choked to the fish. "She doesn't know?"

"Hey! I said I know where Mr. Baggins is, I didn't say I knew anything about your precious treasure."

Smeagol pondered her words a while, swallowed the rest of the fish, and said, "Very well. We tells her. We tells her a riddle, yes."

"A riddle?"

"Yes, yes. We loves riddles. If she can't guess it right, she must tell about Baggins at once." He hadn't forgotten how riddles were how he had lost his precious in the first place, but maybe he could get it back in the same way.

"And if I do know the answer, then what?" asked the bard.

"Then she gets to know the answer. That should do in this case."

"No way. All I want is to get out of here, and we already have that deal. Don't you try to wiggle yourself out of it. You may ask me a riddle, but I won't bargain about getting out."

He showed a bitter face as the plan that he thought was cunning got shot down. "What does she suggest?"

"Well, how about this? Where I come from, I'm a popular story teller. If I don't get it right, I'll tell you the best tale you've ever heard." It was easily promised as she loved telling stories.

"A tale? Smeagol used to like tales. Wise terms. Fair, yes. A deal we have. So this is the riddle." He cleared his throat, and recited.

  When left alone,
    there is no core.
  You fill the hole,
    left out is four.

It wasn't the easiest riddle she had heard, it was a real challenge. She could think of numerous things with a 'core' of some kind, but it was harder to come up to something that does not have one. "How many guesses do I have?", she asked to buy time.

"One, only one."

"Then at least you should give a chance to think about it. Say, until the next break?"

He was reluctant but nodded at last, and got up to his feet once more.

Down they went through the tunnels even the Orcs had forgotten. Gabrielle pondered the riddle, but couldn't get the answer. Her ankle was aching again, distracting her thoughts time to time, and then suddenly, she stumbled over her own feet and fell. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she whispered to the worried Smeagol, and began to get up, when her hand hit something soft and furry on the floor, making her to yelp in disgust.

"What's that?" asked Smeagol.

"Eww! A dead rat, I think," she answered, feverishly trying to clean her hands to her skirt.

To her horror she saw how he held the rat and smelled it silently, and looked like he was about to eat it. But then he froze, looked up, and yelped, "Back! Back. Go back. Up! Up!".

"Now what," the young woman asked, but followed the advice.

"Bad air," Smeagol said, and explained when they reached safe ground a little further, "The rat still warm. Died only a little time ago. Bad air."

"So the air in that tunnel is poisonous? Great." She sat down with a painful grimace, and waited for her breath to settle. "Lets stay here for a while, my leg didn't like that running around at all."

"We can rest for a while," Smeagol said and sat by her side.

"Thank you. So, what now? We must find another way, I guess."

"Yes. We will climb up a little, and soon we'll get back onto the right way. But before that she must give the answer to the riddle."

"What? Now?"

"That was the deal. She must answer now."

She had forgotten the riddle when her foot began aching. Besides, she had thought that she would have plenty time to figure it out before the break, and so she had decided to let her subconsciousness do the work. On the other hand, she didn't have much to lose, as telling stories was what she did best, though somehow this place suppressed her stream of tales. Something without a core? With a hole, that is. An apple has a core, what happens if you take it out? But then what are the four? The four seasons of year? No, no! There's four left OUT, so the actual number must be five or more.

Then suddenly, it occurred to her. It was so obvious she couldn't believe it had taken so long to figure it out. "A ring," she said, and looked at Smeagol triumphantly. The way she came to that answer was a bit unsophisticated, but it was the right answer and that's all that counted. From the four seasons she remembered her mother's advice about always wearing something on her head in the winter. A hat is worn on the head, and a hat has no core. Then she remembered how she once had smuggled Xena's chakram inside a prison, hidden under her headpiece. Chakram has a hole. Chakram is a ring of some kind. And then the idea just struck her.

Smeagol was obviously unhappy with this turn of events, as he had already prepared himself for a story. "Yes, she is right," he admitted bitterly.

"You mean we've seen all this trouble because of a ring!? I thought it was something like a magical sword or something..."

"It's not just any ring," he cried, "We must have it back! We must..."

"Okay, okay, chill out. I just can't see what's so special about that ring, but if the Ringwraiths are after it, then it must have some importance." But he refused to speak any more.

The rest of their path was full of dangers, but somehow they managed to avoid the Orcs and make their way around the traps. Gabrielle couldn't say if she had spent days or weeks under the mountains, as she had lost her track of time completely in the darkness. However, at last they came to a point where the tunnel broadened and connected to a rapid underground river.

"There, this is as far as we'll come," said the little creature, and sat on the river bank, putting his feet into the cold water.

"What? This is the exit? I see no door?" said Gabrielle.

"It's not far away any more. Now she must tell about Baggins as she promised." And Gabrielle saw a strange glitter in his eyes, similar to the one she had seen when she was still in chains and made the mention about knowing Mr. Baggins.

"I guess that's what I promised. But if this is a trick, you'll be sorry if you betray me," she said, and waved the stick before his face.

He whined, and she thought it was because of her intimidating behaviour, but as he pressed flat against the floor, she realized there was another reason. She swung around and saw a flickering light coming closer behind a corner. An enemy? She looked for a place to hide, but there was no shelter in sight, so she retreated against the wall and raised her walking stick into a battle stance.

She headed right towards the funeral pyre which was still burning, now at lower rate, but still strong. A few steps before the fire she flipped, somersaulting over the fire. The Troll followed with arrogance, sure that soon he would get her, and ran through the fire, reckoning it wouldn't harm his stony skin. Too late he noticed the shaft, and in the middle of the pyre he had no room to brake or change direction, so he jumped as well.

Xena landed on the other side of the shaft, but backflipped immediately and met the Troll right over that bottomless pit. Time itself seemed to stop as she placed her feet to his chest, looked him in the eyes, and said, "So long, sucker." Then she pushed off. His weight was far greater, but her kick had enough power to throw her to the ground safe, while the Troll stopped midair, swinging his hands and feet as if he was learning to fly. And then he fell.

Xena listened to his yell fading away as he went down. Then she rose and took a last look around to pick up some important things, and returned to the room where the Orcs had kept the bard. She searched for hints of how Gabrielle had gotten away, but there were not many to see. Back in the tunnel she came to the conclusion that in order to escape, Gabrielle must have headed away from Gristzuk's troops.

Following the tunnel she soon came to a crossing where none of the paths seemed better than the other -- until she found another piece of Gabrielle's shirt lying on the floor a few yards into the tunnel leading left. She picked it up, hoping silently that her friend was smart enough to leave it there.

She walked on, keeping her eyes on the ground. Soon she came to a place where the floor was moist, and she could see Gabrielle's footprints in the dirt among the Orc tracks. The bard was limping. Then she noticed that there were other footprints, small and flat, reminding her of duck's webs, going in the same direction with Gabrielle. At first she thought the other prints followed the bard, but on closer examination she realized that, in fact, they went together with the bard.

In the neighborhood of every crossing she found a new piece of cloth with a knot, until suddenly the markings vanished. Suspecting she had made a false turn somewhere, Xena retraced her steps to the point where she had found the last piece. What she discovered there made her very thoughtful, so she traced further back until she was sure she saw Gabrielle's footprints again. It took a lot of time, but she became convinced that someone was trying to mess up Gabrielle's marks to lead her in the wrong direction. And that someone was the same person or creature that walked with the bard.

And that left Xena with a new problem. She couldn't trust on the cloth pieces any more, and trying to follow the rarely visible and even then very faint footprints would take a lifetime. There had to be another way.

----

Gabrielle was unaware of the problems Xena faced a few days earlier. She stood on her good foot, prepared to take the opponents who were just coming around the corner. She wasn't surprised to find out that they were Orcs. Perhaps the Orcs were more surprised to see her, as they were rather expecting to find someone like an Elf warrior.

The enemies came closer, but stopped at a safe distance, anticipating a trap of some kind. They goggled at her suspiciously, until one of them gathered enough courage to approach her. "Who are you?" the Orc asked in common language.

"None of your business. Stay away! I'm not alone," the bard retorted defiantly.

"Could this be the prisoner who escaped from Gristzuk?" said another Orc from the back.

"Yes," said the third, letting out a noise resembling laughter, and continued, "She has made it a long way just to get caught again. Gristzuk will pay us well."

The nearest of them wasn't prepared for serious resistance, and when he came too close, the young woman smashed her stick over his head. Her already fragile weapon cracked into splinters from its other end, but the Orc fell hard. Soon he rose up to his feet again, wearing an outraged expression. While his companions stayed behind, he came in again, this time swinging his axe. Even on one foot Gabrielle was able to dodge the strike, and she countered with a sting to his stomach, forgetting that her stick was broken. A sharp splinter went through a link in his chain mail, a surprised expression arose on his face, and he fell to his knees. Then he passed out, and eventually died.

The bard had never killed before. She was shocked, realizing what she had done, and the stick slipped from her powerless hands. The other Orcs overcame her easily, and two of them held her still while the third came to finish her. She saw him raise his axe, and turned her head away.

And then she heard some of the sweetest noises ever. First, a sound of a chakram screaming, then an axe breaking. Two ricochets from the walls, a snap as the weapon was caught, and then the drawing of a sword.

As the Orcs let go of her, she sat down to the floor, where she believed she would be most useful by being out of the way. Standing would have been too hard, anyway, as the shock of taking a life, even a low life of an Orc, had drained all of her strength. And then, watching her favourite warrior at work made her feel a little better. The battle was soon over.

"Hi Xena," she hailed the tall woman who stood panting in the middle of dead bodies.

"Are you all right," Xena asked, and knelt beside her to embrace her.

"No, I'm not. I just killed a living, thinking, feeling being and -- "

"Gabrielle, it's all right to kill Orcs. They are evil from tip to toe."

"Are you sure? Maybe some of them could still have hope, and maybe I just killed one who had."

"I know only one good Orc, and that's a dead Orc. It's all right, believe me. I've seen enough of them to be sure."

"But if it's all right to kill Orcs, how about half-Orcs. And if it's all right to kill half-Orcs, is it all right to kill Haradrim or Easterlings? Where will it end?"

Xena remained silent, looking sadly into her teary eyes, and understanding what she was going through. Finally she said, "I don't have an answer for that. But I found you before they got you, and that's all I care about."

"And how did you find me? Did you follow my marks? I knew it was a good idea."

"No, Gabrielle. It was a terrible idea. You don't know how great risk you took with that action. The Orcs may be rude and arrogant, but they are not stupid."

"But you did find me in time..."

"And your marks had little to do with it, as I couldn't trust them. At first I did, but then I noticed they led in the wrong direction. That creature walking with you moved them to lead me away from the right track."

"Smeagol! That little rat! I'll show him if I ever get my hands on him." She looked around for him, but he had vanished at the first sign of the Orcs. "But how did you find me then, if you didn't follow my marks?"

"You left other traces behind you. Your walking stick leaves a clear print, if you just learn to read them."

"Just how could a wooden stick leave a print to a stone floor?"

"Every time it hits the ground, the stone gets sort-of polished. Keeping a light source at the right angle the prints reflect light, glittering clearly enough to follow. But that's enough talking, we must get out of here. You have a sprained ankle, let's fix that first."

Xena told Gabrielle to take off her boot and took a good grip of her foot. She massaged it awhile to ensure the leg was fully relaxed, and then pulled to make sure it was not dislocated. "There, try walking with it," she said, and Gabrielle stood up.

"It still hurts, but I guess it'll be all right," the bard said, and grimaced.

"It will hold if you're careful. Don't twist it again for some time," said Xena, and used her pressure point techniques to kill the pain. "Now you should be able use it. How does it feel."

"Uh -- it doesn't. It's totally numb."

"Good. Then we go. I suppose you were trying to find the way out, so you must have a clue about an exit. Right?"

"Not exactly... You see, Smeagol was to show it to me, but he disappeared when the Orcs came."

Xena sighed, and looked away thoughtfully. "Okay, this is what we'll do. You try to contact this Smeagol. I'll search for the exit other ways."

But when Xena stood up and turned to leave, she noticed some figures trying to hide in the darkness of the dungeon. "Gabrielle, don't move," she whispered, and picked up a still burning torch from the floor. As it got more air, it started to burn brighter. Suddenly she threw it up the tunnel, thus revealing a large bunch of Orcs armed with bows ready to fire.

When the Orcs realized that they had been discovered, they quickly uncovered their lanterns and illuminated the place so that they could shoot. As the first arrows whizzed at the two women, Xena judged the situation as too dangerous. She grabbed Gabrielle, took a few long steps, and dived into the river. There they were overtaken by the strong current which drove them into a hole in the southern wall. Clinging to each other, as getting separated could mean death to one or both of them, they helped one another reach the surface for breathing in turns.

And that was the way Xena ended the silent war known to Orcs as the 'War against the Elves unseen'. It's not known how the Elves connect to this battle. Maybe it was the only way that the Orcs could explain the deaths of nearly two hundred of their kin.

----

"Come on. Breathe!" Xena shouted, hammering her unconscious friend on the back. Gabrielle inhaled greedily, then started to cough out water from her lungs.

"Am I dead?" she asked between the coughs. "I guess not. Dead don't feel this awful."

"You're very much alive, Gabrielle," Xena replied, holding her against her breast. "Though for a short time I was afraid I had lost you again, so soon after finding you."

For a few minutes they sat there still, on the river side under the cloudy sky. A drizzle showered the earth, but as the women were already wet, they didn't mind. The day wasn't the prettiest possible, but it was a day, after all, and they were finally out of the sunless dungeons. The Orcs would hardly come after them before nightfall, even if they believed them to be alive.

Then they broke free, had a good look of each other and -- burst into laugher. As a matter of fact, there was nothing to laugh about, but maybe all the tension had to be released somehow. Xena had a long scratch on her forehead, and she was still covered with dried blood which even the strong current had been unable to wash off completely, and she looked so wild and bestial she'd have scared to death any human but the woman sitting in front of her, busting her gut. But in spite of all this, she was still as upright and impressive as ever. And Gabrielle was a sight for herself. The swelling on her eye had diminished, now it had turned black. She was dirty, blood and grease stains decorating her front, with a few small scars and bruises all over her body completing the image. Moreover, her green shirt and brown, knee-length skirt were shortened near to minimal and barely decent.

At last they calmed down, and Gabrielle asked, "You have noticed, of course?"

"What?"

"The arrow sticking out of your side."

"Oh, that. First things first, I thought, and that meant saving you from drowning. It's not bad, anyway."

"Sometimes you're such a -- I don't know what you are."

"Adorable?"

"More like stubborn. But adorable is fine, too. Let me have look at that thing."

Xena turned and let Gabrielle check the wound. "Can you take it out?" the warrior asked.

"I believe so. It was stopped by a bone in your side, and didn't go too deep. Piece of cake."

"So, what are you waiting for? Remove it."

"Okay, but this will hurt a bit, as you know. So don't bite your tongue off. Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. Get on with it."

"On three. One..." Gabrielle began the count.

"...one," Xena repeated, rolling her eyes. She really didn't need this, why couldn't the bard just snap it off.

"Two..."

"...two."

"Three..."

Xena clenched her teeth together and got prepared for the pain.

"Four..."

"Four! You said on three... Hey!"

"Sorry, but you taught me yourself how to distract the wounded before the operation. There, I've removed it. It didn't hurt much, did it?"

"No."

"And, of course, if it did, you wouldn't admit it." Gabrielle tore a few bands from her already short skirt while Xena removed her armor, and then she tied the wound.

Suddenly Xena sprang up and jumped into the river. When she swam back to shore, her face turned into a bright smile as she held up a backpack. "When was the last time you ate?" she asked, and laid the pack at Gabrielle's feet.

"A couple of days ago, I guess. A little before Smeagol rescued me from the Orcs. But I'm not too hungry."

"Gabrielle! That's five days, not a couple! And you claim you're not hungry?"

"Uh, not really. They stuffed me with some slimy ooze, and I was close to dying with the treatment."

"Brown liquid with hard, pea-like things in it? It's called 'dagrot'. Great stuff! One portion keeps you going for days."

"You actually like that stuff? I can't believe my ears."

"I don't like it. It tastes like vomit, but you can't deny it's effective."

"If you say so. I just don't get it. Why go to so much trouble? Why didn't they just kill me?"

Xena couldn't help grinning. "I'd say you were too skinny for them?"

"What's my appearance has to do with -- oh!"

"You've got it."

"OH! Eww! They were...? Oh."

"That's how they like humans. Fat and tasty. Anyway, in this bag I have something I picked up from your captor's lair. There should be some food, too, if the swim didn't melt it completely."

Gabrielle dug into the bag curiously. "Yuck. I assume this was bread once," she said, shaking light brown substance off of her hands. But dried meat, although not that dry any longer, was edible, and the women shared it with pleasure.

During the short and light meal they discussed what had happened to them after the meeting with Beorn. "And they came out of nowhere," Gabrielle explained. "I tried to fend them off with my staff, but every time I knocked one down, another took his place. And the first one always joined back in the fight too soon. They were just too many, and even Argo's kicks didn't help much. Then one of them hit Argo's side with a spear, and at the same time I broke my staff. Then everything went black." At this point she was nearly weeping.

"So you don't know what happened to Argo?" asked Xena.

"No, I don't," the bard replied, and sniffed. "I hope she was able to escape. But the wound was bad. I can't keep from thinking that this was my fault."

"Stop that. Just how could it be your fault?"

"Like, if I hadn't insisted that you should help Beorn, maybe Argo would be fine. Or if I hadn't been such a nuisance and followed you from Bree, or if I hadn't been hit by that Ringwraith on Weathertop, of if I hadn't seen that stupid dream, or -- if I didn't babble myself into awkward situations..." She realized she had let the cat out of the bag.

"Hold on! What dream?"

"It's so stupid I didn't want to talk about it. But if you insist." Xena's sharp gaze told her that she insisted. So, she told all about the vision that she had in the morning when Xena left. "But I'm sure you would have gone through any situation, despite of what some stranger tells me in some idiotic dream," she wrapped up her story.

To Gabrielle's surprise, Xena didn't find it idiotic at all. "Maybe so, but how could we know for sure. Maybe I'd have walked straight into that big Orc bow, or had met my end in Beorn's claws. We're alive now, and that's what's important. The funny thing about predictions; if you do something differently because of them, you'll never know what would have happened otherwise." Xena poked her friend gently in her side and grinned encouragingly. When Gabrielle returned her smile, she turned the conversation off the topic, saying, "And what does it tell you having Prince Eomer in your dreams again? How many times have I told you to forget him."

"Just because he's handsome and brave and royal, doesn't mean that I couldn't get him. He practically eats from my hand!"

"Oh sure. Last time in Edoras he didn't even notice you because you were too frightened to go near him. Yeah, he's yours. In your dreams, maybe."

"Easy for you to say. You can get any man you want. Besides, you should support me, not tease me."

"I'll support you, but if you really want him, you need to get a grip and go talk to him. Royal or not, inside he's just a man. Next time; go and introduce yourself to him! Be yourself, talk, smile and -- show some skin."

"If I show any more skin," Gabrielle retorted, referring to her new style, "they'll arrest me and ban me from the town for good."

The rain ceased and the sun appeared from between the slowly dissolving clouds. Xena measured the sun and the surroundings. "This river must be Gladden," she stated, and continued, "Rhosgobel is straight east from where Gladden joins to Anduin, so all we need to do is build a raft and drift with the river. It's both the fastest way and the easiest."

Not needing talk about how to divide the tasks, they automatically went their own separate ways to collect material needed for the raft. A sword may not beat a good axe in cutting wood, but it was their only suitable edged weapon, and soon the sound of falling trees was heard from the direction where Xena had gone. Gabrielle cut down small willows growing on the river bank, and used them to tie Xena's logs together. First she removed the bark, and then softened them by twisting the stem longitudinally, thus making them more flexible.

When she had tied the first five logs together, and waited for the sixth, she noticed that she needed more tying material. She waded to the river as she was unable to reach the most suitable willows from the shore, and suddenly something attacked her from behind and pulled her under water. Cold limbs clenching around her body, she floundered to reach the surface, but sank deeper instead. Finally she got her feet on the river bottom and pushed up. Even though she got her face above the surface and had a quick gasp, her move drove her away from the shore at the same, and to the deeper water. It gave her opponent another advantage, and once more she was pulled under water.

The attacker was not very big, weighing maybe no more than forty pounds, but the water element was not on her side, and even a little extra weight like that could turn out to be fateful. She tried to get free from the hold, but the attacker's fury gave him strength over his limits. So she changed tactics, and instead of struggling to get free, she attacked to harm him. It worked, and just a little before all her breath was out, she managed to break his hold and reach the surface to breathe. After that she sank once more due to her opponent's new attack.

Next she felt a new grip on her hair. She was pulled up, and the constricting force around her body eased.

Xena let go of her hair, and gave a powerful shake to the little creature whom she was holding up, to suppress his resistance. Gabrielle recognized him as Smeagol as soon as she had gained her balance again.

"Hisss! She promised to tell us, precious! She promised! Gollum" Smeagol yelled before Xena's grip moved onto his throat, cutting his talk short.

"You know this -- thing?" Xena asked Gabrielle, and looked at her captive like she had never seen anything like him before. Which was true.

"Yes, I know him," said the bard. "This is the Smeagol whom I told you about. Why did you attack me, you loathsome freak?"

"We saves you. We leads you out. We shows the exit. And what we gets? Nothing! She promised, but she doesn't keep the promise. Where is the thief, precious! Where! We hates you! You promised!"

"What is he talking about?" Xena asked.

"We made a sort of a deal. Our Mr. Baggins seems to have taken Smeagol's most valuable thing, and I promised to tell him all I know about it, if he showed me the way out," Gabrielle answered, and continued, turning to the little creature, "But after today's attack, I no longer think that I owe him anything."

"I second that," said the warrior wryly. The creature's appearance was getting on her nerves. "Besides, I wouldn't want him anywhere near Baggins if he has managed to reach Rivendell."

"Thief! He's near?!" yelped Smeagol, and surprised Xena by biting her wrist, which made her drop him down, and in a flash he dived under water.

Xena cursed, and was about to go after him, but Gabrielle seized her and said, "Let him go, Xena. If you catch him, you'll end up hurting him badly. I don't want that."

"That thing tried to drown you and you're willing to let him go?!"

"I don't think he's truly evil. Not completely. And he did save me from the Orcs. Please."

"But I just spilled Baggins's position to him."

"I know. Very not you. But still."

Xena looked at her in astonishment. "You are unbelievable. Fine, I let him go, but if he still bothers you -- or me -- that's the last thing he'll do." She rose up to the shore, followed by her friend, and they went back to finish the raft.

Working together, they attached the remaining logs together, talking casually while working. "So, this Smeagol is the former owner of the thing that Baggins is bearing," Xena said. "I don't suppose he told you about it."

"Sure he told me. It's -- oh, wait! He asked me a riddle about it. Let's see if you can get it."

"I don't like riddles."

"Oh, come on. You're dying to know what that thing is, aren't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't use those words, but..."

"I thought so. Solve this and you'll know. I think it went like..."

  When left alone,
    there is no core.
  You fill the hole,
    left out is four.

"There. It's not easy, but you're clever, so you should get it eventually."

"A ring," Xena said, and something flashed in her eyes, but she covered it quickly.

"Just take your time. I mean, even I had to -- excuse me?!"

"It's a ring, isn't it?"

A deep silence fell as Gabrielle dropped what she was doing and just stared straight ahead with a phlegmatic face. Then, "Ooh, I hate you so much!"

"I hate you too, Gabrielle," said Xena, and smiled crookedly.

When the raft was ready, they covered it with branches and leaves, and pulled it to water. Xena was the first to jump onto it, but she barely managed to keep her balance when it unexpectedly slid away.

"Are you all right?" Gabrielle asked.

"Never felt better. Now get on," the warrior retorted, perhaps slightly ashamed of her clumsiness. Gabrielle took her hand and stepped on board, and Xena pushed them off the shore with a long rod.