Corruption

"I settled in a village of South Gondor after much hardship on the road. But behold my fortune: a band of orcish slavers invaded from Mordor a few days after! I killed many with my bow, but the cowardly dogs nicked me with a poisoned arrow. When I awoke, the village was in flames, and the survivors were headed to the fields of Núrn! The orcs had given me the antidote while I was sleeping so I could still serve as a slave. 'The Eye greatly prizes elf-folk like your bloody self!' one said. 'You never die, so he can work you like a mule for the rest o' his days!' The filthy monsters!"

Fallothen confused Matthis greatly. His mother, Camilla (officially known as Field Thrall C-4185) told him stories about the elves. She knew these tales because she had been captured by orcish slavers along with his father, and had not been born in the camp, as he had. Her stories depicted the elves as wise, majestic, serious folk.

Fallothen, meanwhile, was a carefree sort, whose spirit had never been broken by the orcs. He called himself by name in front of them, and suffered great lashings for it. Some days, he outright refused to work, and the orcs beat him in response. He was always forming plans of escape, but no one dared to follow them. Matthis thought it was only a matter of time before the elf would be executed, immortal or not. He and Camilla had been the only two to offer Fallothen a place in their hut, as the other slaves were afraid of their name being linked to the elf's.

But Fallothen gave Matthis courage, especially in the face of an enemy deadlier than the orcs.

Some of the slaves were not of Matthis' sort, nor of the kind without a sense of self. Fallothen was their complete opposite.

These slaves had grown loyal to their orcish captors. As such, Lartzgàsh had rewarded them with absolute power over the other slaves. They operated the food stores and reported disloyal slaves. The orcs spared several guards to act as their personal thugs, beating any who resisted their rule and dragging the traitors they reported to the Guard Quarters to await Lartzgàsh's judgement.

Their ringleader was Field Thrall C-3701. He refused to call himself anything else, such was his devotion to Mordor. Many of the slaves, however, called him the Serpent. Grey-haired, he was one of the oldest slaves in Central Fields Camp, yet he was kept healthy and strong by the extra rations he allotted himself. Many a slave had been slaughtered or sent to mine in the Black Pits thanks to his corruption.

Rather than stopping at his own hut, Matthis made straight for the food hut. Thus, he was among the first there. As he approached, he listened with the other early-comers. The Serpent was speaking with one of his orcish guards.

"...made sure of it. He's coming in a couple days," stated the orc in its repulsive voice.

"You're sure?" demanded the Serpent. His voice carried authority, but there was a touch of honey to it as well. Many slaves had condemned themselves answering that honeyed voice's questions, and trusting its wisdom.

Matthis's father had been one of them.

"Positive. The boss is coming. And apparently, he's thirsty."

Matthis imagined the Serpent smirking. "I'm sure I'll have something to satiate him."

A sudden image appeared in Matthis's head. A massive scimitar was thrust clean through his father's kneeling body and slowly pulled out. The naked, broken man fell to the ground. The scimitar's owner brought the sword up to his dark lips. A dirty tongue licked the blood off the steel.

And then, his lips and fangs arranged themselves into a smile.

Matthis was shuddering and staring at the ground when one of the orcs came out from the hut.