It had begun to rain heavily aswell, which was an added bonus. Groma crept forwards, an arrow in his short bow that was strong enough to kill a man from long range. From short range it would pass through him.
As Groma made his way to one of the location's where the scout's where, he heard the snuffling of a hound. He paused. Isangrim had told them that if the hound's saw them, they would begin to bark, alerting the other's. Groma slowly pulled out another arrow and brought it with him until he was almost upon them. The hound was a brindle color and Groma pulled the bow string back. Groma licked his lip's and released the arrow.
The arrow tore through the hound as if he was butter and killed him. It's master turned and pulled a horn up, but Groma's second arrow punched into his stomach and he crumpled to the ground, his chainmail having failed to stop the arrow.
Groma slid down to the campfire and grabbed onto the dog, from which he tore out a piece of flesh with his teeth. He grinned happily as blood poured down his mouth happily. Then he noticed the other bed.
Groma spun around despreatly as the cold steel cut open his cheek. He fell back with a screech and hit the ground as his attacker blew the horn. With his last act, Groma leapt up and stabbed at his attacker with a knife. They both died in each other's blood.
Maros
Maros ran up and down the battlement's as the men mustered. He could see the Orc's charging toward's him on their warg's. It was too risky to send out his horsemen. Instead he turned to a group of men near a large group of ropes. "Cut the ropes! Release the boulders!" He shouted out. With a grin, the group of men hacked down at the ropes and a group of boulders scattered down the hillside. He was shocked to see only ten fall, there was meant to be fifty. Only three warg's and their riders fell and he turned to his right quickly, "Release the trap!" He shouted out, desperation finally cracking his voice. As he expected, only three boulder's fell. Orc's couldn't do this. Then the Warg's leapt onto a group of Tree Trunk's and came closer. He ripped out his longsword, the sword that his ancestor's had used and brought it down sharply. A rain of arrow came from the battlement's and below and rained onto the Orc's. Several fell with scream and with a grin from under his half helm, he saw only three warg's made it out.
Before they could renock their arrow's, the warg's leapt onto the battlement's and wrecked havoc left and right, Their rider's leapt off and placed harpoons onto the gap's between the stones and dropped the ropes. Maros hacked down cruelly and angrily as one of the orc's ran at him. The orc fell over the battlement and Maros realised they were destined to fall. The rocks and tree trunks should have been cleared away, that was how the warg's got there. "Hack at the ropes! Hack at the ropes!" Maros shouted despreatly and as he hacked down at one rope. A rohirrim blade blocked his own. Maros wanted to know why one of his men had blocked his own blade. He turned to shout angrily and he was forced to bring his blade up as Isangrim hacked down with his other sword. He heard the dying cries of the warg's and the shuffling feet of the Orc's and he glimpsed Easterling's running down from the sides.
While he was distracted, an Orc's arrow smashed into the side of his body. He staggered in pain and dropped his sword and clutched the arrow as havoc wrecked all around him. Without hesitation, Isangrim slammed the flat's of his blades into Maros' face.
Maros fell over the side and luckily, he landed on the stairs and it was cushioned by his chainmail, unluckily. The arrow shaft broke and he slid back to the ground from twenty feet up. Maros hit the ground with a painful thud and he lay there in the mud, hardly daring to breath. Finally, after what seemed an age, he stood to his feet and looked around him. He heard an Orc crying in his tongue and he looked up to see a diseased Orc pointing at him. Behind him was a platoon of archer's which drew back their arrows and released.
Maros' body jumped and staggered as twenty arrows hit his body at once and he fell to the ground, arrow shafts covering his chest. He didn't know how he was still alive. But the diseased Orc was walking perfectly. Now was his chance to kill him, before he died. His fingers flew over the mod and he grasped on a broken sword. Blood dribbled from his mouth as Gothmog stood above him. Gothmog raised his sword, preparing to bring it down and Maros slashed with his right hand.
The arrows tore his muscles as he slashed upwards, yet he continued and he cut through the muscle of Gothmog's leg. Although it didn't kill him. It would leave him with a limp and as he fell, he luckily missed the barrage of arrows flying their way. As arrows pounded into his arms and legs, chest and midriff. He collapsed backward's a smile on his face.
Isangrim
Isangrim ducked under a side slash and brought his two blades up into the belly of his attacker. He slipped them free as the man's entrails fell and he blocked another blow, before kicking his opponent over the battlements. As the battle came to a close, Isangrim looked at his broken easterling sword. He dropped it in disgust and picked up the sword of the fallen commander. It had runes on the side and Isangrim jogged down the step's, sheating his rohirrim sword and holding the Gondorian Longsword in his right hand. He glimpsed Gothmog writhing on the ground, holding his left leg as Orc's bandaged it. His Easterling's were laughing and he glimpsed the fallen commander. Arrow's peppered his body and without any compassion, Isangrim undid the scabbard and tied it to his own belt. As he strode along the ground, towards a small keep, he glimpsed a huge orc holding the longsword for Mithrold. He remembered that they got the blade from Rohan and with a stab of guilt, Isangrim missed his home country and his son and wife.
As they passed into the keep, beyond the throne was a huge metal door. His easterling's followed him as a group of Orc's tried battering down the door with a table. "Move" Isangrim muttered and the orc's stepped aside doubtfully. Isangrim simply reached forwards and pushed open the unlocked door. The Orc's stared at him in dumbfounded curiousity and his men laughed as they made their way into a dark room.
Isangrim gasped as the torches were lit along the wall. It was a huge cave, littered with rock's and he realised he was in a dark pool of water. But infront of them, was a huge rock pillar and when Isangrim looked up, he gasped in horror. There was a huge metal box which was glowing darkly and the huge orc stepped forward's. He drew the blade and delibrately slit his wrist. As the blood dropped into the water, he smeared it across the blade and jogged up a set of carved steps in the wall of the pillar. When he stood infront of it, He roared in triumph and jabbed the blade of darkness into the prison.
Slowly, the wall began to melt and the Orc screamed in pain as it wrapped around his feet and solidified. He despreatly tried to get free and raised the sword intended for Mithrold in the air to strike away the darkness, but a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed the hand.
Mithrold ripped his new sword free easily and beheaded the orc. Isangrim dropped to his knee, as did his men and the orc's filing into the room. Mithrold let out a piercing scream and said "I am the sword of the darkness! Come forth once more!" Then, Isangrim included, everyone shouted in triumph.
Chapter 8
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