Logfile from Elendor.
Tiar Forod, near Fangorn
A light Spring rain is falling and you pull
your garments closer in an
attempt to stay dry.
*************** You are unable to see the
moon above. ****************
The moon above sheds light across your path
and your eyes can see:
To both the north and the west, the great
[Rukghash{
It is night on the rolling hills and gentle plains of
Rohan, a light breeze washing over the grass causing it to stir ever so
slightly. Yet, the breeze carries on it other tidings. Away in the distance,
crossing rapidly over the plains of Rohan is a large band of Orcs. Their steps
are like a roll of thunder on the open fields, streaming over the ground as
galloping horses that never seem to tire.
There seems among these orcs three distinct groups: Some
bearing the symbol of the White hand, others seemingly from the North, and yet
more bearing a different symbol: a red eye. They move in unison, the orcs
bearing the White-hand at the fore - the others right behind. Among these orcs
are two unlikely creatures, their height about half that of a human, or maybe
less. They ride on the backs of two Uruk-hai - their hands bound and arms
thrust around the necks of the Orcs for easy carrying.
"Halt!" A voice growls, the creature's hand
rising into the air close-fisted. The band of Uruk-hai at the fore comes to a
halt atop a small knoll, quickly dispersing about it. It seems the Orcs are to
take a bit of rest atop this small hill. Quickly, and none-too-politely, the
two Halflings are tossed onto the ground next to each other, a few Uruk-hai
sitting near enough to keep watch on them.
"We'll rest here." The voice growls again, its
owner a towering Uruk-hai from Isengard. "But we won't be here long."
Ugluk of Isengard stands among his troops, eyes steely and scanning out round
the plains of Rohan.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
A short, crook-legged creature runs just behind the
immense Isengarders, wheezing softly. Grishnakh slows with a hiss of indrawn
breath, panting for a moment. He scowls, waving a long, ragged-clawed hand
towards the prisoners; two crooked Orcs bearing the Eye painted in red upon
their shields slink towards the hobbits and their Isengarder guards nervously,
stopping nearby.
Grishnakh rubs his hands together, hungry eyes glinting.
Still breathing hard, he sidles towards Ugluk, trailed by three of his own
bandy-legged band.
"Well," he hisses, "here we are. Just
where is it we are, eh?"
Grishnakh. pages: Hm. Do we have anyone temping goblins
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"You, guard the halflings!" The order comes
from Lugdush, second in command in the Isendrim force, and is directed to a few
of the larger uruk-hai close to the hobbits. This creature, impressive in
posture, bears a grim expression on his face as he with determined steps move
towards Ugluk. Even those of his own kin, the Uruk-hai of Isengard move
slightly to make way. He moves in, standing slightly behind Ugluk and a grunt
resembling to "Cap'n" is all the effort he makes to show his
presence.
[Merry.(#11016)] Despite being dumped like a sack of
potatoes onto the ground, Merry barely stirs. Beneath the grey hood of his
cloak, his face is ghostlike, pale and unflinching. Dried blood surrounds a
bandage crudely applied to his forehead. There is no light in his eyes, he is
unconscious. Hands and legs bound painful tight, the hobbit would be an easy
victim for the orcs, should they try to do him harm.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's hungry red eyes flicker to Lugdush, flicker
back to Ugluk. The short, broad orc licks his cracked lips.
[Rukghash]
The Uruk-hai glares down, his orange-yellow eyes planting firmly upon Grishnakh.
"We are on our way back to the Master,
Grishnakh." The towering Ugluk intones, his voice little more than a
growl. Eyes glancing off towards the Halflings and their guards the creature
continues. "We're in Whiteskin land." Again Ugluk is gruff and abrupt
with his speaking, his tone matter-of-fact. "We will rest only a short
while, so rest up. I do not expect to be slowed by you."
[Rukghash]
Northerners, bow-legged Goblins from the Mines, are
gathered into a cluster of their own - seated and resting from their long run.
"Where are we carrying those halflings?" One of the Northerners
sneers, its flickering red orbs grazing over the Hobbits. "They're
worthless." Another whines, his voice airy, out of breath. They sit and
stand in a fidgety bunch, seperated from the other orcs.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
As he is thrown to the ground aside his companion, Pippin gives a soft moan but
nothing more. His eyes shut tightly against the world, he seems to be little
aware of his situation and simply remains curled on the hard earth as he was
tossed.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
In the distance, yet upon the plains of Rohan, an Eored halts as well, pulled
to a stop by their leader, his mailed fist raised for silence, the great steed
he sits upon tossing head and stamping feet as it senses scent in the air.
Eomer draws his company about him, "Riders, attend.
There is dust rising on our plains."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"Slowed? Oh no, of course not." Grishnakh rubs
his hands together, eyes darting toward the halflings, returning to Ugluk.
As the Northerner speaks, Grishnakh smiles, baring jagged
fangs. "To Lugburz," he hisses. "To the Master. That's what was
ordered." His long arm stretches out, a ragged, chewed claw tracing the
emblem on its front, long fingers curling ...
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush turns to face the northern orcs, a low growl is
heard as he displays his fangs, not doing more, but instead awaitng any command
that might come from Ugluk. A hatred glows in his eyes as he looks at the
uruks, whom to him is of a lesser kind. His attention though is soon again
drawn towards Ugluk and Grishnakh.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Another Morian goblin steps forward, lips curling back
from jutting fangs. "Lugburz?" he whines. "Many, many nights
away. A long r way, and we're tired."
[Rukghash]
Ugluk grunts, casting a cursory nod back to Lugdush.
"Make sure they remain unspoiled." The Uruk-hai growls in order, his
eyes flicking noticeably to the two Mordain guards. Then back to Grishnakh does
the gaze of Ugluk fall.
"Not my orders. We do not go to Lugburz. We go to
the White-hand, our Master." Again Ugluk's voice is matter-of-fact, as if
the others Orcs should know no less.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's eyelids sag, half-covering his venomous eyes.
"That's an interesting destination," he hisses. "Taking us right
through man-country, are you, Ugluk?"
He glances lazily at the Northerners.
[Rukghash]
The Northerners squabble amongst themselves. "The
white-hand. No master of ours!" One of them sneers, his voice a grated
whine. "Yes, we did not come to march all this way." Another
screeches lightly, spitting upon the ground. "Aye! Too far." Another
says, panting and breathing heavily.
[Rukghash]
"By the shortest road," Ugluk responds dryly,
his face uncaring and emotionless. The Uruk-hai's hands come to cross over his
barrel-thick chest, fingers rapping against his chain mail. "We go by our
orders. I lead." Gruff, growling words from the Uruk-hai, his mouth a
terrible sneer.
[Merry.(#11016)]
The cruel voices of the orcs invade Merry's dreams, rousing him from a fevered
sleep. His eyelids flap half-open, revealing blood-shot eyes that stare blankly
into the night. He shivers from the effects of the wound to his head, twitching
a finger as he does so. It seems to grasp in vain at his side, where a sword
was once sheathed. This brief struggle ends quickly, and he succumbs once
again.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"Yes Captain.." Words leave Lugdush lips before
they curle into an evil grin and a hint of satisfaction shines from his eyes.
With slow steps he moves closer to the hobbits and their guards, sending a
grunt towards the northern uruks as he sends an evil glare in their direction.
His attention turned towards two uruk-hais "You heard Ugluks orders.. Make
sure they remain unspoiled.." words fade before he again speaks "..Or
you'll end up a head shorter.. If you're lucky.."
[Garulf.(#26950)] A soft wind blows over the plains, to
the
[Pippin.(#16544)]
Amidst the rabble of orc voices, a tiny whimper escapes from one of the
halflings. Deep in the clutches of some dark dream, Pippin twitches slightly,
struggling unconsciously against his bonds; his lips move as if to render
speech, but the only sound that escapes is another soft sob. Then, quite
suddenly, the dream subsides and the hobbit is thrust back into reality. He
lies still for a moment, frightened eyes silently taking in the scene around
him. Slowly, he seems to return to the present, recalling the horrific events
of the previous days.
Hisippin's eyes widen as his gaze flits first to the
beasts nearest him, apparently placed there as guards, then to the ropes that
encircle his wrists, ankles and legs; their cruel bite seems quite apparent
now, emphasized as he squirms against the bindings to no avail. Vainly, he
tries again but quickly ceases as the ropes threatens to slice into the abused
skin beneath.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh leans slightly forward, the toes of his boots
pressing into the torn turf, his gaze poison. A broad hand gestures southwards.
He speaks again in his soft, hissing voice. "Your shortest road is the
shortest road to trouble, Ugluk. We should proceed towards the
Another expectant glance towards the Northerners;
Grishnakh folds his hands, long fingers twitching. "With all haste."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
One of Grishnakh's Eye-bearing guards takes a step
forward, bending over Pippin. It watches him intently, steps back with a
chuckle and rasps something in the Easterner dialect. His companion glances at
the Uruk-Hai nearby, shaking his head.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"Lazy little maggots, ain't ye, sleeping... And we
have to carry you around..." One of the guards looks at the two hobbits
while speaking to them with mockery in his voice "Well... Maybe we
are..... Getting tired of carrying you around..." Slobber drips from the
left corner of his mouth, and his eyes start to glimmer "You look really
tasty... Maybe..... Meybe we should have a little taste.... We haven't had any
meat for days.."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
A short, scrawny Northern goblin growls, "This way,
that way, what does it matter? Let's get somewhere safe! If'n you'd let us cut
their scrawny throats maybe we would've made better time, eh?"
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Bringing his horse to a halt behind Eomer, Eadmaer's eyes
scan the horizon. In silence he listens patiently and waits, before leaning
down and whispering something to his mount. Straightening to his full height,
Eadmaer continues to watch and wait.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Soon a few more of the guards and the uruks around join
in, several filthy creatures peering at the hobbits, all seeing them as food,
wich is more or less what they are in orcs eyes "Yes.. You filthy little
pigs, squealing, nagging sleeping.. We have no use for you... And you look way
to delicious to waste on some foolish idea Ugluk has"
[Rukghash]
"No." Ugluk states flatly, "We go back by
the shortest road. Not to Lugburz. Orders."
The Uruk-hai glances again over to the Halflings, the
guards around them growing lax and some staring longingly at the Hobbits. Ugluk
moves a few paces away from Grishnakh, closer now to the two halflings. The
Uruk-hai turns at the outburst of the Northerner, eyes glowering from beneath
his steely brows.
"Kill all but NOT the Halflings; they are to be
brought back alive as quickly as possible. Those are my orders. Those are OUR
orders."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
A bigger Morian scowls. "Don't see why we're lugging
them around, anyhow. There might be good eatin' on them. Even if there ain't,
what I'd like to know is why we aren't holing up somewhere safe."
As Ugluk speaks, the Morian raises his hands.
"Right, your orders, but not MY orders."
[Pippin.(#16544)] As the orcs hover over him, Pippin
remains statuesque, gazing from face to ghoulish face. His jaw works, flapping
open and closed again as their conversation turns to making a meal of the
hobbits. He seems about to speak, perhaps a desperate plea to his captors, but
is cut short as Ugluk reasserts his orders.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's blood-red eyes gleam. He straightens up
slightly, baring crooked yellow fangs in a twisted grin somewhere between
nervousness and anticipation.
Eomer. pats his own steed, quieting the fine mount with a
few pats and a whispered word. His bright glance falls on Eadmaer, and the
[Merry.(#11016)]
Perhaps, it is the guards' foul tongue, or, maybe, it is
their reeking breath that nudges Merry back to the conscious world. The
hobbit's eyes flutter, and his hands again reach for his side, but are
restrained by the binding. He is wearied beyond the imagination a simple
Shirefolk, even one with such a fierce spirit as his own, and the effort proves
too much. Dreams overtake Merry, his body goes limp.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A few uruks are thrown aside as Lugdush closes in on the
hobbits, makeing sure he can act quickly if needed. "You heard Ugluks
orders... Unspoiled..." He peers around, eyes wandering from uruk-hai to
uruk-hai, a most meet his eyes, but few, who probably for just one second had
forgotten their order, nods their heads, then looking straigt into the ground.
[Rukghash]
Among the Northern orcs there is quite the ruckus. Most
stand quickly, gathering in a group, but some remain seated - too tired or
unwilling to stand. "Why keep them?" A northerner says, "We did
not come to march. We came from the Mines to kill and avenge our folk. We wish
to kill, and then go back North." The Northerners seem a bit roused by
this, rattling their helmed heads in agreement - all eyes upon Ugluk.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
One of the Easterners near the halflings growls a curse
in his native dialect, glaring at Lugdush. His fellow jabs him in the ribs with
an elbow.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
The big Morian snorts. "And why's they so important,
eh? Eh, Ugluk? Tell us why those little devils are so important."
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush had moves down towards the hilt of his sword, and
a quick glance is sent in return towards the obviously annoyed eastern orcs.
Again he growls lowly peering straight at the uruk. His chest heaves under his
breath and clearly he is ready to strike, just waiting, hopeing for the order
to come.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
His face grim and still, as if set in rock, Eadmaer's
gaze meets that of Eomer, and he holds it a moment in silence. "As
prepared as I shall ever be." the man says finally, shrugging slightly,
and shifting his grip on his spear slightly. "Prepared enough." He
adds as an after-thought.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"For the war," growls a big Easterner.
"That's what I heard. The Master wants them for the war."
He is silenced by a sudden, venomous glare from
Grishnakh. The broad, long-armed Grishnakh sneers, looking back to Ugluk. His
hands writhe slowly at his sides.
[Rukghash]
"I've heard they've got something." A
Northerner says, as if adding to the rumour mill. "IS that it?" A
lithe Morian adds, "LEt's search them then, and see about it." Making
towards the two Halflings a few of the Northerners begin to move, licking their
lips hungrily.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"What? They have something?" A norhtern orc
shouts, slowly sliding a dagger into his hand as he like a veasel move towards
the hobbits "Then let's see what it is.." he has a focused his
attention on the hobbits as he with slow steps move forward.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"That's a very remarkable suggestion," purrs
Grishnakh in his soft, wicked voice. "I may have to report it. The
prisoners are NOT to be searched or plundered." He shivers, biting his
lip, then points a ragged claw at the speaker. "Those are my orders."
Several of the Easterners go tense, eyes on the Morians,
hands on the hilts of their weapons.
The two Easterners by the halflings raise their short,
broad spears, stepping closer to the halflings. "Not to be touched,"
they rasp together.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"Darn these Isengarders.. Them *and* their so called
master... I say let's get some meat!!!" One of the orcs carrying an eye
rush forward towards the hobbits, raising his sw2ord into the air...
Eomer. reaches out a hand across the scant span between
horses, his grip as iron clad as the mail upon his torso, but far warmer. The
exchange of a commander offering warmth and stoicism for the night to come. It
is a quick grasp, forearm to forearm, swiftly released. "Prepared enough,
aye. So are we all." He turns then to address all of the riders, rising in
his stirrups, sun (or moon) glintig brighting off of hauberk, helm, and mail.
"Let us ride, and see what wonders or evils invade our lands this
day."
[Rukghash]
Ugluk glowers, his orang-yellow eyes hovering over the
Northeners. "You can wish again then." Ugluk growls, "I am
Ugluk. I command. We return to Isengard by the shortest road." The
Uruk-hai's hand wavers over the sword on his left hip, his eyes studying the
Morians.
"Unspoiled." Ugluk says forcibly, his eyes dashing
to those moving on the halflings, "My orders as well" A sense of
finality echoes from Ugluk's voice as he responds to the words of Grishnakh.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"No," hisses Grishnakh. "We should strike
out for Lugburz at once."
You paged Grishnakh. with 'Ok gulp...we'll have a
sparring of words..and then you can disappear and we'll knock some
heads..yes?'.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush hand remain on the hilt of his sword, still he's
waiting for the order to come, and if he knows his captain right, it will not
be long before theyt strike down a few of the pesky uruks, these maggots,
poorly trained and afraid of the sun, clearly no match for the well trained
uruk-hai of Isengard.
[Rukghash]
The Uruk-hai's hand now sits firmly gripped to the sword
on his hip; still sheathed..for now. "No," Ugluk says, eyes shifting
to Grishnakh. "We go to Isengard and nowehere else. We must stick together
in these lands, and not split." The Uruk-hai moves again to place himself
by the Halflings, eyes glaring at those near.
"I do not trust you." The Uruk-hai growls to Grishnakh.
"We are the Fighting uruk-hai! We took these prisoners, and we shall
return to Isengard. Nowhere else." Ugluk sets himself, drawing his sword
slightly from his scabbard, but not fully. "I am Ugluk. I have
spoken."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's hungry eyes flash towards the Easterner
running towards the halflings with sword upraised. His hand flickers down, long
arm snapping out. Metal glitters for a moment in the air and then the hilt of
Grishnakh's long dagger blossoms in the insubordinate orc's back. A second
Easterner picks up the corpse, tosses it like a bundle of rags to land with a
thump at Grishnakh's feet.
The broad-shouldered orc from Mordor hisses something in
the vile language of Mordor, stretching out a long, long arm to draw out the
dagger without so much as bending over, as he raises his head to meet Ugluk's
stare with his own.
"You've spoken, Ugluk," he sneers. "You've
spoken more than is good for you. You suffer from a swelled head, Ugluk.
Perhaps Lugburz will see fit to relieve you of it. There is a Nazgul waiting
for me at the Great River. That's where the prisoners should go."
[Eomer.(#24610)]
As Garulf rides up, Eomer turns from his conversation with the rider,
"What news, Captain?" He asks brusquely, gaze still on the horizon
andthe dust cloud invading the plains' northern bounds.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Raising his spear in a salute to Eomer, Eadmaer son of
Eludion regards the Marshal with a look that mirrors his respect for the man.
"Then ride we shall, lord. We follow your lead." The man announces
with solid certainty, his gaze shifting now to Garulf, silently studying him.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush draws his sword to the half out of the hilt, but
as Grishnakh's dagger ends up in the back of the uruk, he lets it slowly slide
back into it sheath again.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"If we had the strength to cross the bridges,
maybe," screeches a Morian angrily. "But we ain't got the numbers,
Grishnakh. You mean to sail off with the prisoners and leave us all over here
to fend for ourselves! And while you're getting the glory and praise in
Lugburz, we'll be bleedin' out here!"
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Several of the Easterners stir, peering doubtfully at
Grishnakh.
[Rukghash]
Ugluk grimaces, his eyes steeling. "You are swine,
no good outside of your own sties. We will NOT go to Lugburz. Only to
Isengard." The Uruk-hai is imperitnent, his voice purely a growl. His hand
wavers to pull the sword fully from its scabbard, Ugluk's eyes flashing over
the Orcs around him.
[Garulf.(#26950)] As Eomer speaks, Garulf looks to the
east on the plains, 'Eomer Sir, my scout has not returned yet, and the hour
grows late', a worried man speaks, eyes looking tired; But being used to long
rides on the plain; Then he points to the ease, where the dust cloud can be
seen, sweeping up 'I think that is him returning, although i am not certain.'
returning his gaze to the Marshal.
[Garulf.(#26950)]
The scout is on his way now; for quite some time, riding rather far upfront to
the east. Sun already setting; and the wind dying, as the man reign's his
horse, ready to return to the Eored, and his Marshal; Green cloak waving in the
wind, as are the braids, falling and twisting on his back from under his
helmet. As he scans the plains once again, setting his hand above his eyes;
then he spots movements. Far away, to the east, something moves; and something
moving there has to be trouble, he rides a little further, and then sees it
clearly. A orc, probably a scout of some kind. a bend figure, running towards
him, axe in hand, but way to far to do any damage. The scout does not think
twice anymore, and wheels his steed around, heading back west, straight for the
Eored; with all the speed that is with him, throwing up a large dust cloud
behind him.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"Oh, yes, Lugburz will be _fascinated_ to hear
that," sneers Grishnakh. "They'll wonder where Ugluk gets his high
and mighty ideas. Hah! What does that filthy Saruman think he's doing, eh?
Setting up on his own with those accursed white badges. Oh, the powers in
Lugburz'll hear from Grishnakh -- from me, their trusted messenger. And I say
Saruman's a fool and a dirty traitor to the Eye! Skai!"
[Rukghash]
"We serve Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the hand
that gives us man's-flesh to eat! We do not follow you." Ugluk spits upon
the ground, "We do not follow swine that will run away. We are the
Fighting Uruk-hai." The Uruk-hai is on the verge of boiling over, his eyes
more narrowed than ever upon Grishnakh and the Morians around. "We do not
go to Lugburz, to your Nazgul."
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush pulls his sword fully out of it's sheat soon to
be followed by the rest of the Isengarders. One northern orc, whose curiousity
still has not been cured, is pushed away by Lugdush firm grip "Didn't you
hear the order, you little maggot.. you spawn of a pig..." hie eyes peer
back toward the uruk, almost as if they would penetrate the skull of the Morian
uruk. He breathes heavily as he with great force pushes the little uruk to the
ground, but letting it stay there, still he awaits Ugluks orders before using
weapons.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh goes rigid, sinuous fingers closing about the
hilt of his scimitar, face flushing dark -- but his voice is still soft.
"Swine, is it?" he purrs, voice scornful and sneering. "Swine!
Well, boys, how do you fancy being called _swine_ by the lackeys of a dirty
wizard?"
His hideous mouth works for a moment, saliva trickling
from one corner. "It's orc-flesh they eat, I'll warrant."
Eomer. watches east and north, urging his mount forward
at a walk, letingman and beat rest from patrol as they wait upon the fleck in
the distance that must bethe long awaited scout. "Then let us meet him,
and hear what news he brings." Eomer'svoice is grim and dark, his features
set in lines rugged and weary.
[Rukghash]
The northerners seem to have passed the point of waiting.
In a flash their weapons are drawn and held before them, their voices whining
out in the night. "We won't go! Not to Lugburz or Isengard. We will go
North!" They shake they weapons visciously, as if to bolster their own
courage. "We won't!"
[Rukghash]
"Lugdush! Uruk-hai! To me!" Ugluk shouts, his
sword leaping from his scabbard readily, lusting for blood. "You'll go to
Isengard! Or I'll take your heads!" In a flash Ugluk leaps out, his sword
lashing horizontally for the creature's neck.
Schunk! Blood! Black blood spurts from the headless neck
of a MOrian orc, the body collapsing onto the ground in a heap at Ugluk's feet.
"Show them!" The head rols on the ground a bit before stopping, its
eyes wide and grim, blood still oozing from its neck.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Turning his mount to face the east, Eadmaer's keen gaze
studies the plains and the dust-cloud in that direction. Squinting, the Rider
is silent a moment, before he speaks, as much to himself as to those around,
"If I am not mistaken, he is moving at some pace. I wonder what that
portends?"
[Garulf.(#26950)]
'If that is indeed my scout, he is in quite a hurry, and probably tired too, as
i send him away almost a day a ago' he says nodding to the marshal. and staring
at the dark spot on the horizon. Then Eomer gives the order, and all riders set
out, towards the scout, with Eomer upfront.
As they reach him, the scout gives the news; And indeed
it is not good. 'Eomer Sir!,' the man cries, unmounting and standing there for
a moment, gasping in huge breaths. After a while the Scout speaks up, 'Sir, i
spotted a Orc, way east; long hours lay between us..It looked like they are
heading this way, although i am not entirely sure.', Garulf signaling a few men
close by to ride ahead and keep watch, while a rider gives food and drink to
the scout. 'What do we do now, Eomer sir' Garulf asks.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Followed by the rest of the Isengard uruk-hai Lugdush
moves with quick steps towards Ugluk, letting his sword with one swift move
part the head from a morian body. "Come on boys! Let's show these maggots
what happen if you disobey Ugluks orders!" Following those words are a few
more head beeing parted from their bodies, until they all form a half circle
behind Ugluk, with Lugdush standing right behind him.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
"We ride." it is not a shout, no rousing speach for weary men, for
the
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
For a moment Grishnakh's venomous, hungry stare is on
Ugluk; then he hisses, stepping sideways and vanishing into the milling throng
and thence into the shadows.
The Easterners, relatively few as they are, slip off
after him, leaving Northerners and Isengarders to quarrel and fight. With one
last longing glance towards the halflings Grishnakh disappears into the gloom.
[Pippin.(#16544)] Pippin listens intently to the dispute,
wriggling like a tiny worm in an attempt to reposition himself, and eventually
succeeds in rolling over onto his side to watch. His eyes move quickly between
the dark forms, matching the foul voices with their owners. Fearful as to the
intents of the orcs nearest him, the hobbit lies still once more, not wishing
to draw unneeded attention to himself with the decision of their fate teetering
precariously between the opposing sides.
What happens next, however, takes Pippin by surprise; he
rolls aside just in time to avoid being pinned beneath the corpse of the
Morian, watching in horror as it lands on Merry instead. His thoughts have
little time to linger on the issue, however, as the body of another orc lands
atop the Took; the sudden burden forces a truncated grunt from his lips. The
white-hot bite of steel registers suddenly, evoking a wince and diverting the
hobbit's attentions to a thin trickle of crimson working its way slowly down
his forearm. Pippin's eyes dart to the culprit: a gruesome knife as black as
the soul of its former owner, and an idea seems to dawn on him.
Struggling to free the arms that have been pinned beneath
him, he shoots a wary glance to the scuffle, relieved to see that the
attentions of his guards have been momentarily preoccupied. Biting his lip,
Pippin gives one last effort, finally tugging his hands free and quickly
raising them to the cold steel and sawing frantically at his bonds. After a
moment, the rope snaps into a pair of frayed ends and is furtively retied to a
loose replica of the former knots. Settling back into position, Pippin glances again
to the orcs.
[Rukghash]
A few of the Isendrim Uruk-hai chase after the Morians
standing over the Hobbits. As they do, one of the bow-legged orcs trips over
the prostrate body of Merry, luckily avoiding the wrath of the Isengarders.
Yet, the other Morian is not as lucky. Schunk! His head to released from his
shoulders, the creature's body falling atop Pippin.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Ooof." Merry releases a gasp as the orc falls
over him. "Pip," he winces under the crushing weight of the creature,
nearly twice his height and immensely more muscular. The hobbit is pinned, the
bulk of the orc coming to rest on his flank and legs.
Against this peril, or because of it, the hobbit summons
a drop of strength to shift himself out from under the beast. Without freedom
to move his arms or legs, the task seems impossible, but the diminutive hobbit
is far from beaten. Merry squirms enough to slide his torso free, then uses his
large feet to leverage the orc off of him. "Ah...I..." Fatigue takes
him, and he collapses into a heap.
[Garulf.(#26950)]
As the scout is refreshed, he answers the Marshal's question. 'It bore the
White Hand, Sir!' the man says in a quick voice, 'And it came straight this
way.'
[Rukghash]
"Put your weapons away!" Ugluk bellows, his
voice growling loud. "No more of this! We will go straight on, day and
night, to Isengard." The Uruk-hai holds his sword out to his side, slowly
sliding it back into his sheath.
"We go now." Ugluk turns to Lugdush and adds,
"Should any dissent. Kill them." Moving away Ugluk motions for two of
his uruk-hai to move near the Hobbits. "Gather them up. And don't play any
tricks, if they die, so will you."
[Garulf.(#26950)]
'Sir, what if we await them here, if they are heading towards the wizard, we
can trap them here.' Garulf speaks softly to the Marshal, riding besides him,
with eyes flashing, and spear in his hand, the tip, pointing skywards.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
"An orc." Eadmaer hisses under his breath, his
eyes narrowing. "An orc bearing the White Hand. These are dark days."
The rider falls silent then, running his hand absently
across his mount's neck, his grip tightening on his spear.
[Rukghash]
Though cowed, a few of the Morians still dissent.
"We won't go! Only North, not to Isengard!" They wave their weapons
feeblely, their eyes glancing rapidly at their fallen comrades. "You can't
make us!" Another one screeches, sword held idly before it.
Eomer. nods grimly once more. "We can drive them to
the edges of the forest. It is dark, filled with as dark a sorcery as the
fabled Lady's wood, they say. Yes. Wewill wait, and we will drive them north.
Spread out." He issues orders in a clipped, gruff voice, laying the
ambush, the men thankful for the added rest.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush sword is halted and put back into its sheath, but
only after he licks of the blood. A cruel grin spreads over his lips as he
looks at the bodies fallen to the ground. "Yes Captain..." he replies
to Ugluks order. He moves closer to the hobbits, moving towards Pippin. As he
gets close he grabs the hobbit by his collar, lifting him up so that his face
is opposite the hobbits. he then whispers in a voice so low that noone else
hears "Stay calm, little maggot, and you will live... Atleast until you
have met him.." an evil grin spreads over his lips before his tounge
reaches out and licks Pippin on the cheek, then with a cruel laughter he hand
him over to one of the uruk-hais "Take care of this maggot..."
[Merry.(#11016)]
One of the large Isengarders looms over Merry, preventing any possible escape
should the hobbit reawaken. "Little thing, we're taking you home..."
The words drip from his fangs, rolling into a menacing cackle. Roughly, his
arms swoop down on the halfling, scooping him up and flinging him onto his
back. With Merry's hand bindings wrapped around his neck for support, the orc
marches in line with the others, quickly surrounded by snarling guards, still
heated from the battle. "Home," the hobbit's bearer whispers over his
shoulder, "where your doom awaits."
[Pippin.(#16544)] Pippin does not struggle as he is
heaved once more onto orc-back. Instead, he merely flinches as the soft flesh
of his cheek and chin is grated against the back of orc's thick neck and
silently prays that his trick remains undiscovered. His last thoughts linger on
the knots, slowly lapsing back into his troubled dreamland.
[Rukghash]
Ugluk grunts, beginning to move away. Quickly the other
orcs fall into line behind him, the cowed Morians at the rear and grumbling the
whole way. Through the night they marched and through the next day - the light
bothering only those from Moria. Covering a good bit of ground on the plains of
Rohan, the Orcs continue to speed on their way - eventually coming to a cliff
where the faint sounds of water falling can be heard; a mist hanging over the
air.
[Garulf.(#26950)]
Waving his arms, Garulf cries out orders to his men, while riding along the
whole line of Eorlingas, 'Spread and wait, no sounds!!' that was the last loud
cry heard, as the riders settle themselves near the river, resting; but always
their eyes drift eastward, looking for any sign of trouble, and always ready to
advance within moments, holding their steeds closeby.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Falling back in the line, Lugdush takes a position in the
back, to be able to make sure that noone falls behind. "Keep up the pace,
or I'll bring out the whip!" order is grunted from the large uruk-hai as
he let the uruks pass him.
You paged Grishnakh. with 'Yes, the world revolves around
the goodies. All else is mere intro and pittance.'.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Nodding in grim silence, Eadmaer trots forward, his gaze
moving from the scout, to Garulf, and finally to Eomer. Saluting with his spear
once more, the rider then makes to carry out his orders, spurring his horse
forwards to spread out from the group. Grim and determined his face is, and a
cold fire burns within his eyes.
[Rukghash]
"Hold!" Ugluk says raising his hand into the
air again. "Put down the halflings." With that the two uruk-hai
carriers drop the two Hobbits like potatoe sacks, uncaring for any damage
caused. Ugluk looks away back the way the have come. "Ah! The scouts
return." The uruk-hai murmurs, moving through the crowd of Morians and
Isendrim. "What news, orc?"
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"Captain! Everything is ok now! Only one rider, on
his way towards the west sir!" The scouts report to Ugluk is brief, and a
slight hint of satisfaction shine from their eyes as they feel they have done a
good job.
[Merry.(#11016)]
Merry rolls onto his stomach, groaning and then going
silent. A thin trickle of blood drips from his scalp. The wound has reopened as
a result of the hard landing, soaking the bandage and soiling the inside of his
hood. There is little hope about this hobbit, his fate would seem to be sealed.
[Rukghash]
"Fools! You should have shot him. Now we'll have
every Whiteskin in the area breathing down or necks by morning. We'll have to
make haste!" Ugluk growls, his eyes flashing over to the Hobbits and there
the Uruk-hai moves. Stooping over Pippin, Ugluk intones, "Sit up! We're
tired of lugging you about, so be helpful! No running away or crying out. We
have tricks that you wouldn't like that wouldn't spoil you for the Master. Sit
up!" The Uruk-hai grows impatient, gathering a flask of liquid and a small
wooden box to himself.
[Garulf.(#26950)] The whole Eored is here somewhere,
carefully positioned out of sight; that is what Garulf concludes as he rides on
Hasufel, towards the Marshal, nodding at him, and continuing down the line,
offering a nod of support, sharing a quiet laugh, keeping the spirits up. They
are waiting for some time now, still no sign or sound of beasts or other foul
things.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
Although he certainly should be used to such treatment, the dull impact of the
rocky ground stirs Pippin into consciousness. As the scouts report to Ugluk,
the hobbit listens carefully freezing as the ghastly visage of the Uruk-Hai
invades his vision and commands are forcefully barked. Quickly, he complies,
pulling himself into a sitting position with a stifled groan and steeling
himself for whatever his captor has in store for him within the flask.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Eadmaer son of Eludion maintains a silent vigil as he
watches the east and the north, spurring his horse into a trot from time to
time, careful to keep his movements silent, the rider moving as if impatient. A
frown mars his face, and the grip on his spear is tight enough to turn his
knuckles white.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush stands in the middle of the group, arms folded
infront of his chest as he peers about over the troops, making dure everything
is calm and quiet. He looks towards the hobbits as the recieve treatment from
Ugluk. "That should get them up on their feet" he mutters as his evil
grin is directed towrds the halflings.
[Rukghash]
"You'll walk from here on." Ugluk says with a
snarl, crouching down and producing a small knife. Slip! Cut! Slip! The ropes
binding Pippin's legs are cut loose, falling to the ground useless. "Now,
drink some of this." Quickly, Ugluk forces the flask between the lips of
Pippin, pouring a healthy serving of the fierce brew into the Hobbits mouth.
"That'll do, and now for the other!" Ugluk says
rising, gathering up his box and flask and moving to Merry. As he reaches the
Halfling, Ugluk gives Merry a short kick in his side to rouse the small
creature. Bending down, Ugluk swiftly cuts through the Halfling's ropes and
then pulls Merry up into a sitting position.
"You too." Eyeing the bandages wrapped around
Merry's head, Ugluk tears them free and tosses them to the ground. "This
will heal the wound quicker than those bandages." Opening the small wooden
box, the uruk-hai produces a small glass jar of a brown paste - opening the jar
Ugluk pulls out an small amount with his finger. Then, the uruk-hai smears the
brown paste over the head wound, making sure to hold the Halfling a bit tighter
as he does so.
[Merry.(#11016)]
The kick digs painfully into Merry's belly, and the
hobbit moans. Soon, he is forced up by Ugluk, abruptly torn from his slumber by
the grasping claws. His mind struggles to comprehend what is taking place, as
his eyes open to the sight of hundreds of orcs surrounding him and an
especially large and hideous one nearly in his face.
"Aieeee," he cries as Ugluk rips the bandange
from his brow. Merry's arms and legs suddenly jerk as he calls upon hidden
stamina, but Ugluk's grip remains fast. "Let go! Get your filth away from
me!" he shouts, his voice seeming louder and stronger than one might
expect given his condition.
The struggle is to no avail, however, and Merry's wound
is slathered in the disgusting salve. It stings horribly, but the halfling
chokes back tears and contests to protest. As forcefully as he can, he wriggles
his body against Ugluk's grasp, even while the orc-draught starts to take
effect, enlivening him.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
As he is pulled to his feet and the ropes cut free of his legs, Pippin suddenly
falls forward, collapsing against the enormous Uruk-hai before being hauled
once more to his feet. He struggles weakly as a portion of the flask's contents
are emptied into his unwilling mouth. It feels as if liquid flame is making its
way down Pippin's throat, evoking a brief, but uncontrollable shivering to
wrack his tiny body. Despite the foul taste, the draught seems to revive his
senses; the pain in his limbs subsides and he now stands firmly on his feet.
As his senses sharpen, he becomes aware of a slick film
on his cheek, the drying residual saliva left from Lugdush earlier taste.
Screwing his features into a grimace, he almost removes a hand from his
loosened bonds to wipe it away, checking the action at the last moment and
instead cocking his head to the side to spread the sticky stuff across the
cloth of the elven cloak that hangs on his shoulder. Merry's wild struggles
call his attentions and Pippin calls out before he can manage to restrain
himself. "Hey now! Leave off of him..."
Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery
lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.
[Rukghash]
Packing away his medicines Ugluk stands, staring harshly
at the two Halflings. "Now up with the both of you! We're going." The
Uruk-hai marches a bit away to Lugdush. "Make sure they're ketp apart as
we march. Don't need them trying anything." Ugluk pauses, looking down
into the mist filled plains below. "We'll march down that pass into the mists.
From their to Isengard."
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A few of the surrounding orcs applauds, and shouts in a
mocking voice "Hahah. The little onece cannot take their medicine? Ohh. we
will have fun with them later!"
[Merry.(#11016)]
Before they are separated, Merry catches sight of Pippin.
"Cousin Took! How nice of you to join me," he greets in a cordial
manner, despite the awful circumstances. "Do you know where I can draw a
bath, I seem to have been a bit careless on our journey?"
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Now taking the lead Lugdush gives a short but loud grunt,
making his way down through the pass followed by orcs and the two halflings.
[Rukghash]
Turning back to the Halflings, Ugluk growls loudly.
"None of that! No talking for as long as we walk! If you do I'll report it
at the other end and he'll know what to do with you." Ugluk grunts,
turning with a nod to Lugdush. "Now, let's get a move on."
Ugluk moves away down the ravine and into the mist filled
plains below - the other Uruk-hai and Northerners following him down. At the
bottom, Ugluk stops turning to the still descending Orcs. "To the west and
a little North from here! Follow Lugdush!" Ugluk waves his hand for
Lugdush to take the lead across the mist filled plains.
[Pippin.(#16544)] The Took's lips curl into a slow smirk
at his cousin's comment, beginning a reply before being shoved forcefully from
the other hobbit by strong hands. Given no other choice, he descends into the
ravine, occasionally peering through the jostling bodies of the orcs, hopeful
for another glimpse of Merry.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A nod is send as reply to Ugluk as Lugdush takes the lead
of the orcs. Running towards the west, towards Fangorn and Isengard he is
followed by the rest of the orcs. Some running with great pace, some starting
to show signs of fatigue, soon the pace increased further.
[Rukghash]
The Northerners, still annoyed at their current plight,
begin complainign again at the notion of more marching. "What about the
sun?" They whine, Ugluk staring up at them. "You'll run! And with me
behind you, runts! Mountain-maggots like you don't deserve to rest!" Then
the whole troupe begins to march away, Ugluk on the heels of the Morians
spurring them onwards. Soon, the Orcs begin to meld into the mist.
[Pippin.(#16544)] As
the orcs descend into the mist, an idea enters Pippin's mind, manifested by a
queer hope that seems to shimmer in his eyes. Glancing tenetively at his
guards, he edges to his right. This would be risky, to say the least but
maybe... Just /maybe/ there was a chance of success . Without any further
hesitation, the hobbit swerves out of the group, darting madly out into the
shielding cover of the mist. He throws a glance over his shoulder, well aware
that his is being pursued.
[Rukghash]
"Halt!" The word echoes up from the back of the
marching Orcs, Ugluk's voice gruff. "After him!" Two Uruk-hai break from
the lines and dart quickly after Pippin, hot on his heels and quickly catching
up.
[Merry.(#11016)]
Color is returning to Merry's face, and, though it
remains as a horrible scar, the injury to his forehead has stopped bleeding. His
faculties have returned, if not fully, and his ears now strain to catch the
orcs' grumblings. When two from different tribes are near, they speak in the
Common Tongue, however mangled it may be. All the hobbit gathers from their
talk, however, is that he is headed into trouble. He does not catch wind of the
sighted Rider or of Pippin's breakaway, which surely would have brought hope to
his heart.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush and the rest of the group halts. He turns around
quickly to see if he can gather any information of what's happening around him,
but the mist is to thick, and instead he just stands there, waiting for the
next order from Ugluk
[Garulf.(#26950)]
A few hours before Nightfall, a scout returns to the Eored, send out by Garulf;
send north, to see when the orc's pass. The riders approaches quickly. reigning
his horse, unmounting, and speaking up, 'Garulf Sir, i've spotted th orc's.'
pointing north-west, 'they go with great speed' the man, laying his hand on the
hilt of his sword. 'They seem to be heading towards the forest, sir'. With that
information, Garulf rides up to Marshal Eomer, 'Sir, they are heading for the
forest', 'Let us Follow them!'
[Pippin.(#16544)]
Heedless of the command Pippin quickens his pace, though escape his clearly
impossible. Turning mid-stride, he squints against the white mist, attempting
to discern the location of his pursuers to no avail. As his gaze shifts ahead
once more, he finds his way blocked with a handful of snarling orcs, crooked
forms looming out of the midst and he lets out a shriek as he darts desperately
to one side. His fingers grope at his neck, searching for the brooch that
secures his cloak. He manages to unfasten it, letting it fall to the moist soil
as cruel hands carry him back to the group.
[Rukghash]
"Enough! He still needs to run quite aways. But that
won't be all he'll feel once we reach the Master. Yes, payment is only put
off." Ugluk glowers as he reaches the Hobbit. "Now! Back to the
march!" So Ugluk fell back into line at the rear, keeping the Morians
running at a healthy pace - the two uruks who recaptured Pippin forcing the
Hobbit back into line and into a run.
On the Orcs went for quite some time, stopping only
briefly to deal with some arguments that arose from the Morians. But still the
Orcs rush forwards, never halting. After a time, some of the Orcs pointed away
Southwards and some to the East. At this the Morians grew quickly anxious to
leave.
Ugluk spurred them on, taunting them to leave if they
would, and so the Morians left - headed along the same road at as great a pace
as they could muster. Headed for the woods.
"Now we'll deal with Grishnakh," Ugluk says
gruffly, turning to the east at the sounds of the Easterners. "Hold here,
boys! We'll go again soon."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
With a rattle of mail and a thud of iron-shod feet
several-score broad, crook-legged orcs jog into view from the east, Grishnakh
at their head. The new arrivals have red Eyes painted on their shields and
broad, flat faces. They slow as they approach; Grishnakh raises his
ragged-nailed hand.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Watching the movements of Garulf and Eomer from afar,
Eadmaer remains still and silent a moment, before he glances to a nearby Rider,
and speaks. "Perhaps the time has come to move." He mutters, his gaze
passing momentarily over the area to the north and east. "It has been long
enough already. I am eager to press on."
[Rukghash]
"You're back!" Ugluk calls with a chuckle,
"You left in a rush, did you leave something behind, Grishnakh?" The
Uruk-hai sneers, his eyes leering on the creature of Mordor.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"I left a fool," sneers Grishnakh. "But he
has some good lads with him I'd rather not see wasted. I've come to make sure
orders are carried out. I'm here to make sure the prisoners are safe."
[Rukghash]
"Good!" Ugluk chuckles, "But you'll only
find fighting. The whiteskins are coming and will soon be on us." The
Uruk-hai pauses, "What about your precious Nazgul? Did he have another
mount shot from under him?"
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush let's nothing but a smile pass his lips as he
looks at Grishnakh. His voice does not utter any words but his eyes shine with
mockery towards the uruk.
Eomer. nods to Garulf, turning his steed to listen, to
watch the dustcloud rising and shimmering across the plains in the
distance."Ride, Eored. We will drive them to the fell forest, and we will
smite the vileness that mars our lands."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh shudders. "Nazgul! Nazgul! Don't scoff at
what you don't understand, Ugluk. You speak of what is far and away beyond the
grasp of your muddy little dreams."
[Rukghash]
"Bah! Don't stand slavering there! Get your rabble
together! We move now. The other swine are legging it to the forest and you
should be right behind." Ugluk smirks beginning to move again, "You
wouldn't make it alive back to the river, so move! Off the mark! Now! I'll be
at your heels." Ugluk quickly falls in behind the Mordain Orcs, spurring
them onwards with calls and taunts.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
"Ride! Ride! Too long we have waited for that
order!" Eadmaer says to the Riders to either side of him, and for the
first time in hours the man smiles - a smile born of the blood-lust that he has
been struggling to keep at bay. "No orc may pass through our lands
unchallenged! Ride!"
[Garulf.(#26950)]
As the morning had broken, and the Eored is in pursuit, hoofs thunder on the
plains, wind blowing their green cloaks up high, spears are raised, glimmering
in the sun, as the tension grows. 'No orc can outrun rohirrim horses!' Garulf
shouts to Eadmaer, 'Let us hasten even more, Battle lies before us!!' and he
shoots forwards, spurring his horse, spear raised, following his marshal
closely.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Whether by Grishnakh's design or the longer legs and
better pace of the Isengarders, the orcs from Mordor fall behind, Isengarders
pulling ahead.
Grishnakh's e gaze rests alternately on Ugluk; on the
halflings; and, craning his neck to peer back over his shoulder, on the dust
rising behind.
Eomer. rests his spear upon the stirrup, and
leaningforward overhis trusted mount, leads the charge after the hated orcs. No
more words doeshe speak, for words would be stripped awy by the winds of the
day, by the thunder of hooves upon the plains as the Eored breaks into a ground
eating stride.
Thud-thud-thud-a-thud, the sound fills vale and hillock,
rolls beforethe, grass bent and bending further as the ride the orc down.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Stil in the front of the troop, Lugdush increases the
pace further, now laying eyes on the norhtern orcs, rapidly closing in on them.
[Merry.(#11016)]
Merry lets out a yelp as he is slung from orc-back to
orc-back once again, his carrier changing several times during the march.
Searching through the horde with his eyes, he tries to pick out his cousin, but
loses him among the jostling bodies. The orcs press tight, moving at a fearful
speed over the plain, those behing him jabbing into his body with there knees
from time to time. Bruised and battered from the ride, he slipss into a sleep.
[Rukghash]
The orcs of Isengard and Mordor continue at a quick pace
through the mist, their footsteps thundering over the plains. Quickly they
overtook the Morians, jeering at their rabbled troupe that moved so slow.
"The whiteskins are coming you maggots! Pick up your
pace."
The orcs continued on, pace redoubled and speeding for
the trees. Soon they had passed some of the outlying trees of Fangorn - the
Riders of Rohan behind them moving like a tidal wave over the plains.
[Garulf.(#26950)]
They close in on the Group of orc's rough and foul beasts, running madly
towards the dark forrest, seeking to escape along the forrests border. Their
persuit takes almost half a day, as the sun slowly begins to sink behind the
misty mountains; a great shadow falls over the land. Garulf has send out bowmen
upfront, skilled, and good aimed, perstering the orc, riding swiftly within
range, and shooting some down; quickly wheeling to the side, and this goes on
for quite a while.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh runs at a steady pace, breathing slowly. He
inhales, exhales, moving towards the middle of the orcish column.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Not last of all the Riders comes Eadmaer, the man's
features twisted between grim determination and a fierce joy, a joy born of the
chase. Confident in the saddle, the man moves forward at a frightening pace,
faster than many of his companions, for his is a horse bred for speed above
power. The tip of his spear gleams brightly as he thunders across the planes,
now loosening his shield from his back and taking it in his free hand, all
without faltering in his charge. Whilst the archers attack the orcs'
stragglers, Eadmaer and the other Riders come ever closer to their foe.
Pippin. sprints forward, spurred on by an occasional lash
from the whip of his guard. Panting heavily, he manages to twist his neck
enough to glance over his shoulder: breathlessly, he watches as the Riders
close upon the straggling orcs, desperately hoping that a horseman's arrow
should not go astray and find rest within hobbit instead of orc. Pushing the
thought from his mind, he presses on.
[Rukghash]
Night comes again to the plains, many orcs having fell to
the arrows of the Rohirrim. Yet still they press on, coming evntually to a
small hillock on the plains - very near the eaves of the forest. However, the
orcs can go no further, encircled now by the riders of Rohan. Even as the Orcs
come to a halt, a small number of Isengard disobey orders and run for the
forest, few ever returning to the group.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And asnight falls, the
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush curses after the few Isengarders that leave the
troop, he speaks with a coars voice, dry from the running and the dust, while
he peers at the rest of the Isengard uruk-hais "Anyone else of you want to
run away? anyone else who is not a worthy servant of the white hand?" his
eyes are but thin slits, revealing the eyes, glowing with hatred few would dare
to release. He walks slowly back and forth, his majestic chest still heaving
under his breath, as he continues to look at the rest of the uruk-hais. After a
few minutes he adds "I though so..." before he moves closer to Ugluk.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"Well, Ugluk," calls out Grishnakh,
"you've led us into a fine mess. What now?"
[Rukghash]
"Put down the Halflings!"Ugluk orders, the
Halflings being placed upon the ground next to each other, though still heavily
watched. "Lugdush, get two others and stand guard over them. They are not
to be killed unless the Whiteskins break through. Bind their legs!" Ugluk
growls his orders, taking little notice of Grishnakh. The Uruk-hai moves away
from them then, mingling a bit amongst his troops and telling them to get a bit
of rest.
[Garulf.(#26950)] The eaves of the forest are very close
now, as it gets darker and darker. The orc's have stopped, and are gathered on
a hillock infront of the forest. The rohirrim have made camp not far off,
tent's have been erected, as many of the men are quite weary of riding all day.
In the deep of the night, Garulf and some of his men, have crawled up to the
east side of the knoll, to the camp of orcs, surprising them, and killing of
quite a few in their sleep; quickly returning to the rohirrim camp to report to
Marshal Eomer, in the tent, Garulf speaks up, 'Eomer sir, we have thinned out
the orcs even further', 'I'll make sure the Eored is ready at first light'
nodding to Eomer, and returning to his own tent for a bit of sleep.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
The fire within Eadmaer's eyes has not lessened, and
still it does not, even when he comes to a halt as ordered by the Marshal.
Circling part-way around the group of orcs as directed, Eadmaer soon finds the
place where his patrol will take their rest. Swinging down out of the saddle so
as not to make a target of himself, he leads his horse to a safe resting place,
though his eyes never once leave the surrounded orcs. The Rider sighs, but it
is the only sign of weariness he shows, as he mutters under his breath,
"And now, we wait... and rest."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"Hope you'll lead us out again," sneers
Grishnakh, loosening his scimitar in its sheath and gazing southwards,
squinting. He moves into the midst of his Easterners, hissing to them in the
dialect spoken by the orcs of Mordor.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
"Aye Captain!" Lugdush grunts in reply of the
order. He points at two of the larger uruk-hais "You two, Bind their
legs... We'll stand here and watch them.. Only kill them if the whiteskins
break through. Either of you dare to think about leaving them, and I'll
personally make sure you end up one head shorter.. Do I make my self
clear?" He needs to wait but a few seconds before he gets the answer
"Ayeh Captain!"
[Merry.(#11016)]
Finding himself near Pippin for the first time since the
march, Merry's blue eyes brighten, though his tone is grim. "We are in a
rather cheerless position, Pip. Even if I could slip these bonds somehow, I
don't think I would have enough strength left to get very far." The hobbit
tightens his fists into tiny balls, trying to wriggle his wrists free, but the
bonds are too tight. Gnawing at the ropes, he mumbles to Pippin between his
teeth, "I could sure do for hardier food than this, but I'll chew my way
out it's the only way."
[Rukghash]
The night wore on, the Orcs wasting a good number of
arrows trying to shoot the Whiteskins at their watch fires. This stopped,
however, at Ugluk's command.
"They'll wait for the sun!" An orc calls out,
"What's ole Ugluk think he's doing, I would like to know."
"I should say you would." Ugluk grumbles,
"Curse you! You're as bad as those maggots and apes from Mordor! You'd
just squeal and bolt at the sign of a fight!" Ugluk pauses in his tirade,
no more of an external dialogue with himself.
"There's only one thing the maggots can do and the
is see like gimlets in the dark. but the whiteskins have pretty good eyes
themselves, I've heard. And their horses! They can see the night-breeze! No
worries. Mauhur and his lads are in the forest and should be here any time
now!"
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh paces, keeping well within the periphery of the
orcish band, his long arms nearly dragging on the ground. His blood-red eyes
are intent, tense.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
"Indeed, Cousin," Pippin replies, casting an apprehensive glance to
the pair of Uruk-Hai that remain at their nearby post. "I don't think that
you need worry about gnawing through, though.."
Cautiously wriggling his way toward Merry, he lowers his
tone. "You see, I've managed--"
The abandoned words hang in the tense air, thought left
unfinished as a booted foot delivers a savage kick to Pippin's ribcage.
[Rukghash]
Ugluk's words seemed to calm the Isengarders, but the
other orcs stirred nervously. The guards that the orcs posted did not do their
job as they lie on the ground in a fitful rest. After a while, all seemed well
around the camp. Yet, there suddenly came screams and cries from the edge of
the camp. Lo! Riders had snuck into the Orc camp, riding close and then
crawling the rest of the way to kill a few of the orc guards whom had grown to
lax. Hearing this, a number of orcs rushed away to help or see what had
occured. Ugluk ran that way as well, calling his Uruk-hai to him in order to
stop the stampede.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush and the two guards rushes towards the rest of the
Isengard army, following Ugluk towards the dead guards to prevent chaos.
[Merry.(#11016)]
The hobbits are suddenly left alone amidst the confusion
of battle. "Pippin, do you think you can..." Before he can finish,
Merry's words are cut short by a heavy breathing sound and an all too familiar
stench. He could sense that Grishnakh was nearby.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh slips through the shadows bent nearly double.
Time is short; he moves quickly, slithering towards the halflings like a viper.
The guards have gone to investigate the disturbance! All is clear! The orc's
eyes gleam bright with hunger, expectation.
All is lost! An Isengarder shuffles conscientiously
towards the hobbits, his back to Grishnakh, short, broad sword drawn.
Grishnakh rises like a viper, his dagger plunging between
joins in the Isengarder's hauberk and sinking deep into its back even as his
left hand catches the orc about the throat. There is not so much as a gurgle as
Grishnakh releases the Isengarder to sag to the ground. He steps towards the
hobbits, knife coated in black blood. Licking the orc-ichor from the weapon he
bends over the halflings ...
[Garulf.(#26950)] As they rider with full speed towards
the orc's; panic can be seen setting in as the thunder nears. Garulf, and his
riders lower their spears, and crack into a band of orc's, running they
through, and riding out of sight again; And again, full speed, some now have
their longswords drawn, swinging them wildly, as the try to prevent the orcs
from escaping. blood, and brains are splattered on Garulfs face, as he hews yet
another head from a foul beast. cries are lost in the night as the battle is
being fought in it's fullest now.
Again Garulf leads a small band of man through the host
of orcs, close by the forest now, some poking their spears, ripping through
mail, and helmets, skin shredding, bursting, blood flying around.
[Rukghash]
Ugluk strives to calm the orcs, keeping them grouped
together and quickly moving them back towards the center of the hillock.
"You run away and you will die! Stick together now!" The Isengarders
work feverishly to hew up the edges, trying to keep all those they can
together. Still though, some escape or rush off in small groups to try and
fight their way through the Rohirric line.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Moving close to Ugluk, Lugdush repeats the order to the
other orcs "You hear what Ugluk say! Stay together, or die!"
[Merry.(#11016)]
Merry shudders as a few droplets of orc blood drip from
Grishnakh's knife and onto his cloak. He is still only vaguely aware of the
fight between the orcs, and less so about their motives, though he is beginning
to guess. "Grishnakh has some purpose in this," he thinks to himself,
"though I know not what. I hope that Pippin has a better idea of what is
going on."
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And as the orcs are drawn into two groups, the rest of the riders, not inactive
through the night, their tents merely decoys, havecircled about the orcs,and
now, upon the marhall's signal, they ride forward. Thesignal is repeated around
the circle, and men move in unison with beasts, in unison with one another,
archers ready arrows, spearmen race spears...
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Amongst Garulf's band is Eadmaer, the tall, broad-shouldered
man plunging into the group of orcs with his spear extended before him. With a
mighty battle-cry, the Rider attacks and strikes true immediately, his
spear-tip penetrating an orc's chest, the sheer power of the charge attack
knocking the orc off his feet and backwards, where he crashes to the ground
lifeless. Letting forth another call, he spins his spear momentarily before
driving it through the shoulder of a defenceless orc. The hideous creature
gives an equally hideous cry of dismay, which is soon silenced as Eadmaer's
second blow finds the creature's face, silencing it instantly. Breaking free of
the press, Eadmaer turns his horse and makes for another pass, his bloodied
spear before him.
Pippin. shoots a brief, but meaningful look with the
other hobbit as their guards hurry off, leaving them unattended. He stirs,
rising up awkwardly on one elbow as if preparing to spring to his feet but
pauses as Merry's query is cut short. Immediately, the explanation for his
cousin's sudden apprehension is clear: he is gazing directly into the foul
coutenance of Grishnakh. Shivering as the orc's tongue flits across the knife's
edge, he draws back.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh leans over Merry and Pippin, grinning toothily;
his teeth are stained now with black orc-blood. "Sleeping well, my
pretties?" he hisses. "Enjoying your beauty rest? Perhaps not. Spears
on one side, swords on the other! Little people should learn to mind their own
business and keep themselves out of trouble, mmm? But you're in trouble
now." He sheaths his knife, extending long, ragged-nailed fingers which
shake with anticipation, eyes hungry as he begins to paw at Merry.
[Rukghash]
"Archers!" Ugluk shouts to those Orcs gathered
near him. "Gather arrows and shoot at any Whiteskin you see! But do not
run into the night! Stay together." Ugluk's eyes peer out into the night
catching the faint glimmer of spear tips and metal helms, his lips twisting
into a sneer. "Shoot as many as you can!"
[Eomer.(#24610)]
Arrows already rain down on the orc encampment, the horsemen shooting as they
ride. The sound of hoofbeats, the whitle of green and black fletched arrows
alike, fills the preternaturally still air beneath forest's eaves.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Until you interrupted it, yes," retorts Merry,
gazing into Grishnakh's red eyes with determination. "Although you might
have afforded us some pillows or a bed to be comfortable. But I suppose we
can't blame you too much, you probably didn't plan on being here, did you? You
are trapped, it seems." At last, the hobbit sees the spears and arrows of
the Riders, rejoicing silently, but not from hope of freedom. He still does not
see how their flight can be possible, but would rather die from a stray arrow,
quickly and painlessly, than from the tortures that doubtlessly awaited them at
the orcs' destination.
[Garulf.(#26950)] As the orc's try to scatter all over
the place, Garulf, and the other captains do their best to keep all the orc in
the same place, most of them succeed, but not all. as few orc escape towards
the forest. Bowmen, in the back keep their fire constant, taking care not to
hit and of their fellow riders.
Seeing clearly now, that the orc's and uruk's in charge
are gathered on the knoll, Garulf prepares his riders for yet another attack.
They advance on the signal of the Marshal. Riding straight for the orcs, the
first fall, horribly, skulls split, ribcage cut open, though mail, guts jumping
out, as longsword and spear, cut, saw, and thrust at the orc's, slaughtering
the beasts as it should be.
[Pippin.(#16544)] Watching as the vile hands search
Merry, Pippin is at first confused. After a moment, his eyes flash with the
sudden rush of an idea. 'The Ring!' he thinks. 'Of course! Grishnakh wants the
Ring!'
Drawing a deep breath, the little hobbit summons up as
much courage as will answer his call and raises his voice in a whisper,
desperately trying to keep the fear from intruding into his tone. "You
won't find it that way.. It isn't easy to find."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's hands convulse suddenly, nails digging for a
moment into Meriadoc's back. He jerks them away, placing a paw on Pippin's
shoulder. His eyes are intent, a bead of saliva trickling from the corner of
his mouth. "Find what?" he hisses. "Find what, little one?"
[Merry.(#11016)]
Merry winces as the orc's sharp nails slice into his back,
then looks on Pippin. "Good old Pip, he must have a plan. Grishnakh seems
to know what he's talking about, too. I'll watch and see what I can
discern." These thoughts cross his mind, as he waits excpectantly for
Pippin's reply.
Pippin. remains silent for a moment, peering up at
Grishnakh with clear, undaunted eyes. A hoarse choking sound issues from his
throat: *Gollum!* *Gollum*. "Nothing," he adds, as if the horrid
sound wasn't hint enough to his intentions. "Nothing, my precious.."
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush stands in the middle of the camp. With his Short
Broadsword in his right hand and a shield in his left he is prepared for
battle, his face carries a grim smile as he watches over the troops, an
encouraging nod to some of the uruk-hai closest to him gives the beasts new
hope and the same grim smile starts spreading over the faces of the remains of
the Ugluks army.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Following Garulf's lead, Eadmaer makes to carve through
the enemy; but this time they are more prepared, and as his spear shoots
forward, it is deflected away by a shield, and it is by sheer instinct alone
that he brings his own shield up to deflect the orc's sword. The Rider's second
blow is more precise, however, for it avoids the orc's shield and plunges into
his chest. Yelling in barbaric joy, Eadmaer withdraws his spear, its victim
falling to the ground lifeless.
"Come! Who shall challenge Eadmaer, son of
Eludion?" he calls out, a challenge to any who would hear it, and rides
forward once more to catch up with Garulf.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's grip tightens, claws like talons now, eyes
fierce and hungry. "O-ho. That's what you mean, little one, is it? That's
what you mean." The other hand snakes towards Pippin, pawing at the
hobbit's back, his flanks. "Very dangerous, little one. Very, very
dangerous. Veeeeery. "
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Aha!" Merry finally understands Pippin's
strategy, then voices aloud, "Dangerous, indeed, to all of us. I suspect
you know that all too well, or else you wouldn't have snuck away from your
kind." A stern face addresses Grishnakh. "Just how important is it to
you, anyway?" he states plainly. "You obviously want it, what will
you give in return? I heard your enemies advancing, there isn't much time to
decide."
Pippin. flinches as the hand searches him but the hobbit
retains his courageous expression. A fleeting glance is shot to Merry with the
hope that his cousin has caught wind of his plan.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
"Give in return?"
Grishnakh looks blankly at Merry. "What will I give
in return?"
[Pippin.(#16544)]
"What we mean," Pippin puts in, speaking in a slow, careful tone.
"What we mean is that it won't do to go groping for it in the dark. We can
save you the trouble..." He pauses. When he continues his voice lilts
slightly in a negotiational tone. "But we won't be able to do anything
unless you untie our legs. Until then, you'll get nothing from us.."
Eomer. rides forward, hard down upon the tangle of orc
and hobbits, his men flanking him on either side as they seekto close in around
the orc encampment. "Don't let any escape!" He roars overthe din of
sword and spear and knife and hoof.
[Garulf.(#26950)] Then, as they break through the
defenses of the Knoll, a huge orc, obviously mad with fear and anger, swing
their axe at the legs of Garulf, the horse, Hasufel sees this, and quickly
sweeps to the side, but alas, too late, as Garulf's upper leg is cut open;
trying to hold on to the reign is useless, and he feels Hasufel slipping from
under him; and with a loud crash, Garulf falls to the ground, surrounded by
orc's
He regains his posture quite quickly, and manages to lift
himself up, limping, leaning on shield, blood streaming out of the leg wound;
and horrid it is, a cut, from upper leg to knee. Standing there, he is spotted
by the huge, nasty and angry looking Orc; Quickly he glances to the side, to
see if Hasufel is safe, and seeing that is so, he draws his sword, and cries
with a loud voice, 'Eorlingas!!', hoping some men will hear him, and starts
running, if running it can be called; towards the orc, sword raised, arrow
dropping besides him, screams and cries al around.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh's eyes blaze. "Untie your legs!" he
hisses. "Untie your legs! I'll untie every last little cord in your filthy
little bodies! Do you have it or don't you?"
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Can you spare the time to search?" Merry
responds calmly. "As I see it, you have only two options, my dear fellow.
You can untie us, as my cousin has wisely suggested, and we can quickly find it
for you, or you can spend the last moments of your life with us on this hill,
groping about for it, yourself. I think it unlikely, however, that you will
choose the latter, since you would probably end up speared before long, and
then it would be in the hands of your enemies." A broad smile caps off the
hobbit's speech.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh calms himself slightly, but his eyes are bright
and baleful. "My dear little fools," he purrs, "There'll be
plenty of time later. Every least thing you possess, every scrap of knowledge
you know, will be got out of you in due course. Everything. And you'll wish you
knew more so that you could babble it out. We shan't rush it, either. Kindness
isn't one of our faults. Not even that fool Ugluk has _that_ particular
problem." His fingers convulse, digging like claws into Pippin's shoulder.
"I don't need your help to get away with it, or your legs."
And he springs up, scooping Pippin under one arm, Merry
under another, the bristling hair of his arms thick and greasy, the stench of
his body acrid with sweat.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
How it is that the call of Garulf carries across the
battle to Eadmaer, none can be certain: but, for some reason, the single cry of
the Rider carries over the din of combat, and Eadmaer turns to see the charge
of Garulf, and the wound on his leg. With a voice like thunder, Eadmaer cries
out and charges forwards, impaling an orc who gets in his way, and without
losing a single moment, the Rider releases the spear, maintaining his speed
past the toppling orc and withdrawing the longsword at his side.
"Garulf! Garulf!" he cries, making for the aid
of the man: but, alas, an orc lunges at Eadmaer from the side, and the Rider
feels something heavy crash into his side - luckily only an orc's body, but he
falters in the saddle, somehow remaining in the seat, but his horse comes to an
unsteady halt, and it is all that the Rider can do to bring his shield up in
defence as the orc attacks with his sword.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A grim smile appears on Lugdush face as Garulf falls to
the ground, and with a raised sword he moves towards the human with slow but
determined steps, at all on his guard.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Quite a hustle," Merry squeaks from beneath
Grishnakh's armipit, "but I can't figure out where you are running to. Do
you really think Saruman will greet you kindly when you arrive at his
abode?" A muffled laugh comes from the hobbit, "I doubt the wizard
cares much about might Grishnakh."
[Garulf.(#26950)] having stood up, Garulf is now limping
towards the Uruk, he raises his shield, and swing his sword high above his
head, letting it arc towards the head of the Uruk, pain enters his mind
instantly, as the cut in his leg begins to burn.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh claps a hand over each of the hobbits' mouths
with a soft, wicked chuckle; then he slips through the gloom like an evil
shadow, crouching low with the hobbits clutched beneath him. Swiftly he slips
along the edge of the hill, westward down the slope. The river sparkles in the
distance. If he can make it there ...
Pippin. squirms slightly in the orc's grasp, doing his
best to give a nod to support Merry's assertion. "My cousin is quite
right, you know.. No praise will come to you. Best let us hel--" The rest
of the statement is muffled by the stifling hand.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A grim smile spreads on Lugdush face as he with ease
parries Garulfs attack with his shield. His eyes glow with hatred as he with a
swift movement arcs his sword high, a quick glare into the eyes of the human
infront of him, before he sends his sword towards the neck of the fallen rider,
hoping his head will be as easy to cut off as those of the lousy morian uruks
he slaughtered earlier.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh steals downslope, going perhaps a dozen yards
before he drops low, tenses in preparation for a dash to the river. He springs
upright, grip on the hobbits tightening.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Eadmaer is thrown on the defensive, and he is forced to block
three furious sword-blows with his shield, and then a fourth with his
longsword, the two weapons ringing, locking together for a moment: and a moment
is all Eadmaer needs, for he charges forwards, knocking the orc to his back.
Too intent on his mission to turn and finish off the fallen orc, Eadmaer pushes
on into the press of orcs between he and Garulf, his shield in front of his
body and his longsword swinging wildly, cleaving a head from a body before
parrying an attacking orc's blade. The Rider is not even given a moment long
enough to check on Garulf's state.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
The three men, having ridden around the circle, comenear again, horses leaping
over the littler hillocks, bearingdown upon thebattle at a full gallop, the
Marshall and his standard bearer and his right hand captain. Towards Grishnakh
and the hobbits, they charge, without notice of anything but the battle ahead.
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
Grishnakh hisses, eyes going wild; he falls flat on the
ground, hobbits beneath him, and jerks his scimitar out of its sheath. There is
murder in his eyes. But as he raises it, aiming to draw it across the throats
of the hobbits in a single rapid sweep rather than risking their escape or
capture by the foes of Mordor, the blade rings softly ...
[Garulf.(#26950)]
being weakened by bloodloss, Garulf barely can avoid being hewn down, by the
uruk, as he tries to dodge to the side, but is stopped right away, by the
limitless movements his leg can make. Raising his shield in a desperate attempt
to block off the attack; But Alas, it is too late, one last loud cry escapes
the captains mouth, as the sword enters the side of the neck of Garulf,
breaking bone, and tearing flesh; his cry is lost in the noise and hustle of
the battle; heard by few men, as he is send back to his forefathers, leaving
his body behind for orc's to mutilate.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A low gutural sound leave the lips of Lugdush as his
sword connect swith the neck of the human, sending him away from this world.
His eyes glimmer with satisfaction as he licks the blood of the blade, and when
his lips again curl open to display his grim sl
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And the soft riging of the blade draws the attention of the
[Merry.(#11016)]
Grishnakh's intent is clear. For an instant, Merry braces
himself for the cut, thinking of his home and the easy life he'd left behind.
"'Though wind may blow and rain may fall,' we told Frodo, and now it seems
to be falling," he recalls in that moment. "I just hope Frodo and the
others won't fail as we have."
[Grishnakh.(#29406)]
The first spear transfixes Grishnakh's hand; he wails,
flailing wildly. The second punches through his mail and sinks deep into his
chest, the momentum of the horse carrying the spear out of him encrusted in
orc-flesh. He wails, a high, shivering screech of pain and rage, and shudders,
the life leaving him in one final convulsion.
[Rukghash]
"Damn it!" Ugluk yells, his eyes looking off to
the distance - his ears catching wind of Grishnakh's scream. "The
Halflings! He took them, that idiot!" Ugluk steams, quickly drawing his
sword from the scabbard again.
"No time to catch them now. Probably dead. Bloody
fools, Saruman will not like this." The Uruk-hai mutters, moving about his
troops. "Uruk-hai to me! We will fight our way to the Forest! Form a
wedge!" Assembling around Ugluk are a good number of the remaining Isengarders.
"Let's move!" The black wedge begins to move out from the center of
the Orc camp - at its pinnacle is Ugluk.
Soon the Uruk-hai of Isengard are moving and pressing
into the closing circle of the Riders of Rohan - cutting a few down as they
press for the forest.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A low gutural sound leave the lips of Lugdush as his
sword connect swith the neck of the human, sending him away from this world.
His eyes glimmer with satisfaction as he licks the blood of the blade, and when
his lips again curl open to display his grim smile, it's the same, cruel smile
as he always had, but now his teeth and lips are covered by human blood. It's a
feeling of satisfaction and blood lust that rushes through his body as he
prepares to face another human, this one by horse.
Lugdush tries to parry the spear of the human, but is
only partly successfull. The speaar aimed for his throat is parried to the
side, but not far enough as it connects with his left shoulder, cutting trough
muscles and sinews aswell as pushing the should out of its socket. A loud groan
is heard as Lugdush drop his shield to the ground. His left shoulder is nothing
but an open wound, blood slowly pumping out through it, running down the arm.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Cutting down the attacking orc finally, Eadmaer lets out
a ferocious cry, as his head turns to face Garulf... and the cry dies on his
lips as he sees the mortal blow fall.
"No! Garulf!" He cries out instead, his face
torn between anger and despair. He is given only a moment of peace, however,
before another orc launches itself at him. But he is taken by adrenaline now,
and he knocks aside the blow with ease, the sword crashing into his shield, as
he once more pushes his horse into the group of orcs. His sword swinging
wildly, an arm and a head are seperated from two seperate orcs before he
emerges near Garulf. The Rider seems bewildered a moment as he looks at the
man's lifeless form, before his gaze slowly moves to Lugdush, even as the orc
is attacked by one of his fellow Riders. Eadmaer's confusion turns to anger in
the blink of an eye, and he charges towards the orc, his shield in front of him
and his longsword whirling towards the top of the creature's head, all with but
a single, muttered word: "You."
[Eomer.(#24610)] No goo dwill a spear do him with an orc
impaled upon it. Eomer drops the weapon, bearing down upon the remainsof the
orc forces, reining in his mount, drawing sword now that spear is gone. He
wastes notime entering the fray, weilding rein and knee and sword all at once
in the precision of birth and practice.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Saved!" Merry's grim thoughts are interrupted
by the Rider's spear. Before he can ponder this development, the falling body
of Grishnakh forces him onto the ground, and the hobbit instinctively curls
into a ball. The hue of his elven-cloak picks up tinges of earth-color and
twighlight reflections, making his small form difficult to see.
[Rukghash]
"Kill the whiteskins!" Ugluk booms, his sword
cutting across in front of him to dismount a Rider. Schunk! Blood! The fallen
Rider is given a deep, mortal wound to his chest by Ugluks sword - red blood
spurting up over the body of the Uruk-hai. "Push for the woods! Keep at
it!" Ugluk's words are hurried, his body in motion again as he hurtles
ahead with his few remaining troops, still in a wedge, cutting for the forest.
Pippin.'s eyes remain tightly closed, bracing, as his
cousin is, for certain death. When the shrieks of Grishnakh fill the air
instead, he cautiously opens one eye, peering out just in time to witness he
finally skewering. As the orc drops to the ground, his prisoner wastes no time
in wriggling free from his grasp, looking fearfully to Merry.
"Are you alright, cousin? Please tell me that the
spear caught only him and not you!" Pippin accentuates his point with a
quick nod to the fallen Grishnakh.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Lugdush takes a sip of the potion in the flask hanging at
his right side, and soon he regain some extra strength as he turns around to
face Eadmaer. He grins again, most of the blood washed away from his teeth, but
still some traces can be seen. He arcs a brow towards the human comming at him
as he hisses "Yes.. Me...." another grins spread on his face as he
keeps full focus on the human apporaching him. A loud grunt is all that follow
as Lugdush readies himself for another attacking human.
[Merry.(#11016)]
Whether by luck of miracle or the properties of the elven
cloth, the hobbits are spared during the turmoil. "I am fine, dear cousin,
but we shan't be for long if we don't get out of here." He peers out from
under the hood of his cloak, barely raises his head above the ground.
"What can we do?" he whispers to Pippin.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
Three uruk-hai that have so far managed to survive rush
towards the forrest, following Ugluk, as they see it as the only chanse to
survive. With their last energy and a joint effort they fight down two humans
on their way, before arrows penetrate one of them, allowing only two to
continue.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
Figuring his momentum to be his best weapon for the
moment, Eadmaer continues his charge towards Lugdush, longsword still whirling
before him. Blinded by rage, the Rider disregards tactics for the moment,
instead attacking in a fashion suitable to his mood. As he nears Lugdush,
Eadmaer aims a solid, overhead blow at the foul beast, letting out a roar as he
does so.
[Pippin.(#16544)] A clever grin crosses Pippin's lips.
"We /can/ escape.. I was trying to tell you: I've managed to get my hands
free!" As evidence, he raises his hands, briskly slipping the rope from
his wrists. "Now we simply need to free yours.. But that free hands and
feet will still be useless unless we have some strength in us."
Reaching a hand into his pocket, he draws out a packet of
lembas, crumbled and cracked but certainly still edible. He stuffs a small
piece past his lips, placing the remainder in Merry's palm. "Best have
some of this, Cousin Brandybuck."
[Eomer.(#24610)] "After them!" Eomer shouts,
catching sight of the fleeing wedgeoforcs, signalling his men to circle
tighter, to cut off the straggling force.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Lawks!" exclaims Merry. "I'd almost
forgotten about the lembas." With a delight rarely seen even in the Shire,
the hungry hobbit munches on the waybread. Neither the battle raging about them
nor his own bonds seem to trouble Merry, as he crunches through three pieces
with tremendous speed.
[Rukghash]
Closer and closer do the woods of Fangorn seem to come -
Ugluk and his remaining band of Uruk-hai continue to push for the wall of
trees, but their progress is slowed. "Keep on them boys! We'll see the
Tower again before it's through!" Ugluk looks back over his shoulder - the
Riders of Rohan continuing to push ahead and through straight for Ugluk's band.
The Uruk-hai's orange-yellow eyes go wide for a moment, but then narrow.
"Keep at them!" Ugluk turns back to the
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And yet still the Rider'scome. Eomer andhis little band, another group, their
foes wholly smitten, bleedig upon the ground. Still, their great steeds churn
through earth and blood and orc, bearing down on those fleeing, driving thim
into the dark brooding depths of the fell Fangorn.
[Lugdush.(#31351)]
A faint grin yet again appears on Lugdush face as the
human arcs his sword, aiming for an attack, The foul beast thoug manage to pull
his last strenght together and with a loud metallic sound the two swords meet.
Lugdush takes two steps back to gain some distance, and get a few seconds of
extra rest. His wound is making itself know now, even though Lugdush drank the
last of his potion, it's not enough to keep the pain and blood loss away for
long.
His eyes are growing dim as he prepares for a final
attack on the human, seeing it as his only chanse, however small, to get back
to Isengard. He's lets a loud growl leave his lips and starts to raise his
sword, but before he gets the chanse to attack, a spear ram into his back. Eyes
widen and the mouth remains open as this once so fearsome beast falls to the
ground. Low gurling sounds is the last that is ever heard from Lugdush before
he closes his eyes one last time, blood and spirit still pouring out from his
wounds, the last one in his chest. The tip of the killing spear has gone right
through the chest, and about one to two inches has gone fully through him.
Another of the Isengarders falls as they reach the edge
of Fangorn forest. "Keep it...Skai!" Even as Ugluk tries to spur his
troops onwards a rider swoops in to block their escape into the woods.
"Force your way along the edge of the woods boys! If you go in, don't go
too far." Zip! An arrow flies past Ugluk's head, latching into the dirt
not too far from him. "Damn whiteskins!" Ugluk turns from the forest,
his sword held at the ready as he awaits the human's charge.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
The lembas is indeed a treat; Pippin relishes his portion, letting himself slip
into pleasant memory of bright days and fair faces, now seemingly so far away.
For a handful of moments he remains silent, dallying in his thoughts before
forcefully pulling his attentions to the present.
He turns toward the sounds of battle, noting with horror,
the advancing line of Uruk-Hai. "We must be on our way, cousin! We've
lingered far too long.." With that, Pippin rises, darting swiftly toward
the borders of the forest and relative safety.
[Eomer.(#24610)] But the human's do not halt their
charge. More swords are drawn, spears are lowered, the last few orcs of Ugluk's
band sought out one by one. Until none but the
[Rukghash]
One. Two. Three. Ugluk's band of Uruk-hai steadily
dwindles down to one: himself. "Skai! Bloody whiteskin snagas!" The
Uruk-hai shouts in defiance, his shield and sword held at the ready. Zip!
Another arrow dashes by, but this one manages to nick the Uruk-hai's left leg.
"Skai!" Ugluk growls, his slanted eyes narrowed heavily, the orange
orbs peering out like glowing embers within a sea of black ashes. Bearing down
upon Ugluk is a single Rider, sword in his hand. "I'll fight my way
out."
[Eomer.(#24610)]
Now that the opponents are gone, more men wheel their steeds around,the better
to aid their
[Merry.(#11016)]
Merry finishes the last crumb of lembas, then darts after
his cousin, strength renewed. He soon catches up and leads the two towards the
forest, until the encounter the sharply sloping banks of the river that borders
it. "I don't think we can cross, Cousin Took, but let's refresh ourselves
here. That lembas is filling, but I need some water in the throat." Then,
as if reliving a painful memory, his face twitches and he adds, "It looks
considerably more pure than the orc-draught." The two hobbits drink
quickly, fearful that they may be pursued by orcs that yet survive. A short
respite it is, but it puts heart into the two, and the soon resume their course,
following the line of the river.
[Eadmaer(#22005)]
As Eadmaer moves to make a finishing blow, his eyes open
wide in surprise as a spear plunges through the uruk-hai, his sword halting
half-way to the creature's neck as it plunges to the ground. The Rider looks up
to see the grim face of one of his companions, and the two exchange a
meaningful, silent greeting, before the Rider withdraws his spear and turns to
chase after the few that remain.
Eadmaer's attention is drawn not to the fleeing enemies,
but rather, to the fallen form of Garulf. Dismounting in a single, fluid
motion, Eadmaer checks once more for nearby foes before placing his sword back
in its sheath, slinging his shield onto his back, and knealing down beside the
fallen Rider, searching for signs of life. He winces when he sees the wound,
and mutters a quiet farewell, before standing and surveying the area around
him.
[Rukghash]
Up raises the shield of Ugluk. CLANG! The resounding
clash of metal on metal echoes over the steadily silencing plains, and among
the trees of Fangorn. The shock shakes the arm of Ugluk, but the Uruk-hai does
not halt in his attack. Indeed, the Uruk-hai swings his short broadsword up and
over from the right, cutting across and trying to knock the rider from his
mount.
[Garulf.(#26950)] As the battle draws to a close, the few
rohirrim following Ugluk and his fellow beast, are run though by Eomer, and the
men around him; Letting the Marshal face the last orc alone; but keeping close
by, for if help is needed. The rohirrim are swift in the gathering of the dead
orc's; piling them up in a great mount, dark with blood, and reeking utterly
foul; and burning them. Also, the fallen men are buried not far from the
forest, together they lay there, a special mount, enclosed with spears; and
among them is Garulf, captain of the West Mark, slain by a huge orc, who also
perished a gruesome dead on these field.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And the mount dances out of the way, Eomer's hand steady on the reins as he
turns ina tight circle, halting for another blow, the motion of his Rider's out
of the corner of his eye as those already bereft of mount begin to slip in
around the battling Uruk.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Master Took," says Merry after a while,
"you played quite a trick back there. I dare say that old Bilbo will put
you in his book, if you aren't careful. However, I'll not be left out, dear cousin,
for it is Meriadoc that will lead us to safety now." He points up ahead
along the river, in the direction of a dense forest. "There lies the
Fangorn you have heard so much about. I have seen it on Elrond's maps (which I
don't suppose you bothered to take notice of). We are traveling West along the
Entwash, and should soon come to it." As he speaks, the first rays of
morning creep over the horizon, illuminating the tops of the towering trees.
[Rukghash]
Schink! Metal rings tear apart at the seams, giving way
to the blow from Eomer's sword. The blade cuts into the shoulder of Ugluk's
shield arm. "Skai!" The creature cries, turning round again to swing
at the mounted rider, or horse - one cannot tell as the swing is rather
misguided. Still, the sword descends at a fast clip, cutting through the air
for Eomer.
[Pippin.(#16544)]
"Where would I be without you, dear Merry?" Pippin shakes his head
slowly, a bemused smirk gracing his lips. "Little did I know that while I
was lax and careless back in Elrond's House, you had planted your nose within
his books and maps!"
Following his cousin's finger to the great stand of trees
that looms ahead, Pippin continues. "Fangorn! My, my.. We have been warned
against this place.." Here his voice takes a slightly sarcastic turn.
"But surely one so knowing would not have forgotten such a thing."
[Eomer.(#24610)] Again there is the clang of metalto
metal as scimitar and longsword meet, Eomer's sword brought down to parry the
blow from Ugluk's blade, his horse dancing narrowly out of the way of the nasty
curved weapon. Up again the sword goes, the movements smooth and unconcious,
weakness sought to exploit.
[Rukghash]
Slice! Ugluk's exposed chest is cut, and
none-too-shallow. Metain links explode and disperse over the ground at the edge
of Fangorn. The Uruk-hai breathes deeply, his chest heaving.
"Aaahhhhh!" Ugluk growls, pushing any sense of pain from his mind.
Quickly his sword comes overhead in a vertical chop for Eomer, or anything
within its path - anger fuels the speed of the blade, and hatred drives its
wielder.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
And thistime,the horse does not dance fast enough, the Uruk's blade finds its
flank, and there is a loud squealing whinny. Eomer's sword swings backwards,
nevermind that it will be the dull edge that hits the Uruk's head if it
connects.
[Merry.(#11016)]
"Surely he would not have, but even Elrond can't
forsee everything, I suppose." Merry slows enough to chat with his cousin
at a more suitable pace. "You know, it occurs to me, Pip, I'm not quite
sure how we got here. I remember Boromir coming to our rescue - poor Boromir -
and slicing off a few orc limbs, but then one of them scratched me and gave me
this," he points to the scar on his brow. "I wonder if it shall ever
heal. Nevermind, though, do you remember what happened to us after that? I have
the vague recollection of being carried like a sack of potatoes, but more than
that..."
[Rukghash]
Thud! The blunt, flat edge of the sword connects a
glancing blow against Ugluk's helm; sending his head turning and body stumbling
away from the horse and rider. "Skai!" Ugluk spits, a bit of black
blood flying from his mouth towards the ground. "I am the
Fighting....Uruk-hai!" Ugluk says defiantly, his chest heaving and his
body having trouble with his motions now - the loss of blood mounting.
Straining, stretching, stiffening Ugluk forces himself to stand erect again.
Then, the Uruk-hai rushes in with a shout, back towards Eomer
[Eomer.(#24610)]
Just as the Marshall himself is dismounting from the blood maddened horse, who
whinnies and dances off towards the gathered riders. His reins are caught, the
horse stilled as all eyes fall upon the Marshall - grim ad tall, his helm lost
some time earlier in the battle, his sword dripping the blood of orcs, his
armor still immaculate, shining in the new born sun. His eyes narrow upon the
foe, the world itself narrows, into that battle-silence, the one clear momet
when you sense the strike, the one motion of your arm that will be just
perfect, will topple the enemy like a tree ready for felling. And he moves
forward, sharp and swift and sure.
[Rukghash]
Slip! A gurgling of blood. Silence...
Ugluk's eyes swim in a see of confusion, his attack
having missed and the attack of Eomer having struck. The Whiteskin's strike had
come in from a low position - a stab straight of Ugluk's thickly muscles neck.
Out of the back of the Uruk-hai's neck does the blade stick now; dripping with
the fresh blood of the Uruk-hai. "Garasgashhf" The Uruk-hai's voice
is but a gurgle of blood mixed with air, and no sense can be made of it.
Slowly, light disappears from the orange eyes of Ugluk,
his body relaxing and finally collapsing to the ground. There, Ugluk's eyes
continue to move about, searching through the darkness that descends upon his
vision. Twitch! Snap! The Uruk-hai's body convuleses once more, and then goes
still - the creature's eyes fading from this world.
Silence. A pool of blood seeping into the ground below
the Uruk-hai spreads about the creature's body - its vile smell as potent as
any stench. Whoosh! A last breath escapes the creature, broken and distorted by
the blood in it's throat - then all is still. The Fighting Uruk-hai have died.
[Eomer.(#24610)]
Eomer pulls his blade free of the Uruk's body, and looks about into the
silence, into the grim faces of his remaining men. "Captains. Report.
Where is my horse? Are the men gathering the dead? The swifter we flee from
this fell wood, the better.
Swiftly, indeed, and with a calm, bleak stoicism, the men
begin their grim tasks. The pilingof dead Orc bodies, the building of fire and
the working of deadfall into litters for the wounded. The quiet aftermath of
battle.
Pippin. considers the question, brow furrowing as he does
so. "Yes, I do remember the feeling of being lugged about, but not much
else. Not until those brutes finally set us down for a rest. I woke up slowly
from a strange dream to find you lying there beside me. You looked frightfully
pale, cousin; I do say, you gave me quite a fright." He pauses, shaking
his head. "Although what scared me even more was the conversation I
overheard! There was quite a fuss about what to do with us: whether to eat us,
or take us... somewhere. Outside of 'Isengard' and 'Saruman', I'm afraid the
names were quite foreign to me. Odd language, their's."
A silence interjects itself amidst the account, in which
a queer, far-away quality creeps into Pippin's eyes. He smiles, the follow
words rolling thoughtfully from his tongue. "Looking back on it, I must
say it seems eerily like one of old Bilbo's tales; the one about the arguing
trolls.. Though I must say, I never used to put much stock in that story when
he used to tell it."