Høød ➵ Lord Of The Rings

† Chp. XLVII †

Straight ahead stands the evil piece of shit who drew the dagger through Koda's heart. Ivory piercings protrude from the thick skin of his painted face, resembling the hide of a wicked serpent. Black tattoos brand his dark arms, much like the markings which embed the skin of Koda. Many textures of cloth adorn his broad frame, and upon the devil's hideous face sits a sickly grin.

My blood boils at the pure sight of the wretched man, and the pride in which he holds towards the death of my beloved companion.

"He deserved to die." The vile being hisses, his coarse words laced with the pure hatred of Sauron himself.

My jaw tenses in resentment, pain still racking through my chest and causing the sensation of weakness to clasp my trembling body. I feel completely and utterly helpless.

There is nothing I can do to bring him back.

"Traitor scum!" The harad spits out.

"He was fighting for the sake of Middle Earth and all the innocent people inhabiting it!" I utter, my voice slightly trembling, though I mask the pain with narrowed eyes and a bitter scowl. "Unlike the rest of you Haradrim, too weak to hold yourselves so you crawl up Sauron's ass instead."

A hiss of anger sprays from the leering man.

"Waarkrayr died." He roars with a harsh renounce, stepping forward and lifting his blood stained blade. "Now you join him."

My chest burns, though it is not in fear. It burns with a soaring flame for vengeance.

♪

Slowly standing to my feet, I unsheathe my daggers, leaving my tears to dry as a new expression hardens my features. My blood burns as if it has been ignited, coursing through my veins like the thundering rapids of Mirkwood. With a few steady blinks, my vision clears, and my eyes narrow upon the Harad who leers in front.

I may not be able to free Koda from the clutches of death, but I can sure as hell take down the bastard who killed him.

"How about you give him a wave on your way down to hell?" I bite back, stepping away from Koda's body and bringing myself closer to the wretched Harad.

Adrenaline surges its way into my veins, replacing sorrow with anger and a desire for blood. My knuckles turn white from my steel grip upon the handles of my daggers.

Another harsh cackle emerges from his cracked lips as he assesses me with a mocking glare.

"Foolish girl." The serpent barks, his hoarse voice seeming to echo throughout the fields of Pelennor. "Waarkrayr was my apprentice, do you think a little girl could defeat the great Hikram? Mighty chief warrior of the Haradrim!"

What is with people constantly calling me a little girl?!

I grit my teeth, raising an unimpressed brow as my blood boils within the veins beneath my skin. It's as if my mind has gone blank, as if another force has taken over my body and is controlling my actions. Never before have I held so much anger and resentment towards a single being.

"No." I remark, observing the Harad who stands only metres away, his posture ready to pounce. "But I can take down an asshole yielding a bent kitchen knife."