Seven Days Previously
Groma's tale.
Groma was a slight orc. He had pale yellow skin, his eyes were small and squinted. His left ear was covered in ring's and he had a tribal tatto on the left side of his face. He had felt honoured when Master Sauron had chosen him to be one of the big groups to frescue Mithrold. The lord of the Moon.
They had first travelled to Rohan, the land of the horse lord's. The foolish-old-man king had turned insane by Saruman. It left the land's of Rohan easy picking's. They had journeyed first to Saruman and had taken several Warg's. The beast's were tempermental and were like to snap at anything that got in their way. It was made easier for them, for the warg's could travel across all sort's of terrain. In less than a day they had gotten to the barrow of the Rohirrim. The foolish men-with-gold-hair had named it the Barrow of The Sun. They weren't there for scouting. No, they were day to find other thing's.
Groma and his crew were under strict instructions not to steal anything. There was the prophecy that the rider of the sun had come and they wanted to make him vulnerable. They broke down the door easily enough and when the first orc's went in, they screamed in pain because of the bright light. One of them went blind, so they fed him to the Warg's.
Then, they had went to the armor of the so called hero of the Sun. They had hacked at it cruelly and angrily and slowly, it broke apart until it was fit for nothing more than kindling. They ignored the armor for the horse. A horse could be killed easily enough.
They turned to the Rider of The Sun's sword and hacked at the horse head pommel cruely. The strange stone fell and hit the ground with a crack. Thankfully, the Pommel remained untouched and in the barrow, they laid down an Orcish sword of the finest craftsmanship.
It had a silvery sheen to it and had backward barb's on the left side. It was curved at the top and they broke through the stone floor of the small barrow until the soft green grass was shown. Than, the jabbed the blade into the grass and did likewise with the pommel of the other-cursed sword.
They began a chant, which rose to a shout and the strongest orc of the group stepped forward's bravely awaiting his faith. He gripped the horse-head pommel and placed it into the hilt of the orcish sword. Slowly, the stone turned black as the blackest night, it seemed to the orc's that the horse was screaming in pain and it's features slowly turned as the black horses neck elongated. The ear's seemed to dissapear, as did the snouth and the mouth. Until it was the fearsome face of the Fell beast.
Then they had travelled further up North. To where the stronghold of the Light bringers were. Only the finest warriors in the land were accepted and even then, they were grilled cruelly until they were the best of the best. The rider of the sun had not visited them in generations, yet it still recruited members. It was there that Mithrold was kept. Luckily for the orc's they met up with another group of Orc's and Easterling's. The Orc's were led by a Orc called Gothmog, a heavily disfigured Orc, who felt strong because he was a high captain of one hundred Orc's.
The easterling;s were led by a man named Isangrim. He appaerently knew these part's and he carried a Rohirrim sword and a Easterling;s curved sword. He was a Rohirrim by birth, yet he still wore the Easterling armor of spikes.
There was deer which Isangrim had caught earlier and they slaughtered them and skinned them. They gave out the pelt's to the finest scout's and Groma was proud to be one of those who scouted and killed their scout's.
