With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice. Both were hardened hunters of the Trév Gállorg, but they were still children of the wilderness in comparison to the Ranger.
“Where is he?” A voice snapped.
“I do not know, yet I have to respect him. He certainly has skill with the hunt.”
“Whether it’s skill or luck, I do not care. He has a day left to go, let us see if we can catch him then.”
And the voices shifted away to the distance, and he heard no more even with his keen senses. Nenusidh allowed himself a quick smile, before masking the smile with grimness and pressing onwards. His goal was simple enough – for four days and four nights, he was to last in the fields of desolation. It sounds simple enough for a hunter, yet the twist came from the Chieftain: “Three hours later, we shall release our best hunters after you. You must best them for the duration of this challenge, to prove your survival; otherwise they have the orders to kill.” He cannot be seen by the eyes of the hunters, otherwise he shall die. This may seem simple enough for a mere Ranger, yet do not mock the danger of this task. For, there were very few trees and rocks to use as cover, and they were too few in between. This meant that Nenusidh needed extra care, for if most of these lands were a barren wasteland, then he needs to use his skills to the best of his level.
He trudged away from the few trees, and as he walked northwards, he began to see the bareness of the lands taking a toll on him. For, he felt nothing but remorse and anger for the wastelands that troubled Angmar. As, it could have quite easily been a beautiful land of fields and grass, with a sun and moon, and stars and happiness. Yet, if that were ever the case, then corruption and greed and power has destroyed it to the point where it was hard to believe that this land could have ever been beautiful. But that sounds far too grim for my liking, even though I am talking about one of the grimmest kingdoms to exist in our lives today! The dark skies were silent today, which was a change from the last three days, for rain and thunder troubled the land on his wandering. One must wonder if the weather aligned with Angmar’s evil to simply throw Nenusidh into failure, yet he smiled grimly underneath the terrors of the weather and pressed on. He did not care for the weather, and if he was able enough to walk through it, he had no reason to be scared of it.
Hours had passed, and a cold chill wrapped itself around Nenusidh’s heart and squeezed all signs of warmth, and hope. For, with every step, he saw how this land could be difficult to live in – and, he has not even come across many dangerous creatures yet, or the orcs he had hoped to find. Winter was visiting earlier than usual in the northern lands, and that troubled him greatly. For that may make survival even harder in Angmar, and he wondered how much harder indeed. Soon, he arrived at an isolated spot on a hill – where rocks and large boulders became the norm. Weariness overtook him, and he had to sit next to a boulder and take a couple of winks of sleep. A couple of winks – no more, no less.
‘The hunters shall constantly be on their feet, and track you as much as they can. Thus, you may or may not have much rest. It is not only a test of survival, but of patience and endurance.’ It was clear, from the beginning, that he would not gain rest. Many a time, he has nearly been spotted or found by the hunters, or came across prowling wargs. Many a time, he had wanted to sleep but there was never a good spot to sleep safely. A rest, aye. But his rests were considered no more than an hour or two – hardly enough time to sleep, and only enough time for him to eat to ensure he can keep going. I dread to think how he must truly feel – for three days without sleep, may not sound like much but it can do much to one’s mind. It is perhaps great luck that he is strong, and that the Rangers are meant to be accustomed to this kind of harsh survival. But it is also peril, for since he was alone, he cannot trust himself to sleep for fear that he will end up dead, when his desire to have six to eight hours of slumber controls him.
He snapped his eyes opened and grabbed his bow – he placed an arrow on the bowstring and stood on the hill, in the shadows of the boulder, watching and listening. He licked his lips, and under the cover of darkness, his eyes spotted a shining glint down below. The glint came from a weapon, and from the look of things – multiple weapons, perhaps five or six. Perhaps for the first and only time in his life, Nenusidh showed a genuine smile upon noticing who these were. Do not think him to be paranoid, when I say they were orcs. To him, he has finally come across his first chance to get information and take out part of those who seek to endanger his home and people. As his father often said: “It is better to react than act, sometimes.” And that is what happened, without even thinking, he let loose of an arrow, and a moment later, an orc dropped dead with an arrow sticking out of its thick, yet vulnerable neck.
The five other orcs turned to the warrior in the hill, and roared in frenzy before running towards the tall man to avenge their lost warrior. He positioned two more arrows on the bowstring, and let loose – taking down two more orcs in the process. It ensured that the orcs got angrier – there were three more left. ‘Good.’ He put away his bow, and took out his sword, before jumping down the hill (which thankfully wasn’t very high) and landing onto flat, soft ground. He gripped his sword, and waited for the orcs to arrive. He plunged his blade into the closest orc, before drawing the blade out and beheading another – he moved and attacked with such speed, that the orcs were put in such a big disadvantage. Now, there was only one. This orc growled in both anger and fear, but Nenusidh didn’t give a damn.
He slammed his blade into the orc’s right foot, rendering him a cripple. The Ranger growled: “Where are the rest of you?”
The orc spat: “Fuck… ‘ye… Man…”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Perhaps, I wasn’t clear enough.” He slashed his sword at the remaining foot – the orc was now unable to walk or move. It howled in pain and blood seeped out: “Tell. Me.”
It grunted with pain and agony: “Me… people… will kill ‘ye…”
Nenusidh didn’t give a thought, so he took out an arrow – bright green, a gift from Lagoron – if you remember, before stabbing it in its eye. The orc roared and finally said with a grimace: “N-north…”
“Be specific!” He said with rage.
“I…” Before snarling: “Angmar will triumph, foolish one!”
The Ranger said: “You are no use to me.” He stabbed his blade into the orc’s chest and ended its pitiful life. He cleaned his blade, and picked up his arrows. He has gained a piece of information – a clue that shall have to start him off. He has now forgotten of his task of survival and endurance, and focused more on finding these orcs. His love and loyalty to his homeland drove him northwards. In the far distance, he saw a small village of wooden houses and campfires. Even with his keen-sight, he could not seem to see any orcs, but he did saw… Shadows. For lack of a better word. They looked humanoid, but it was hard to tell. He was about to press forward when a voice cried out: “Halt.”
He grimaced with disappointment, and stayed dead in his feet.
“Finally…” The hoarse voice said.
Another Hunter said: “You are good.”
Nenusidh muttered: “I guess you shall be killing me now, then.”
Gwalch, one of the hunters, grumbled: “We would. But thanks to the dead orcs, you left lying around… We’re not so sure.”
Maetu took over: “It is not the orcs to come this far south, or west. Right now, that is the most pressing concern. For, if there are these…”
“… then there are more.” The Ranger finished.
“Indeed.” Gwalch said, with his glowering dark eyes and his gaunt face: “Therefore, from what it seems, you have proved perfectly capable of survival.”
Maetu said: “We shall say that you have managed to stay away from us for the time that was needed.”
“And…?” Nenusidh asked, knowing full-well that there’s always something that was wanted or needed.
“If you let us join you, to find where these orcs are.”
Maetu stroked his dark hair: “And if we can – end them.”
Nenusidh pursed his lips, as he generally preferred to do things alone, he did not wish to rely on other people that he’d have to watch out for (aside of his kin of course) but then again, he expected there to be a lot of orcs. He finally spoke: “Very well.” He turned to the village in the distance: “I say – we start there.”
“Agreed.” The two said in unison.
The three, a new-found group with common goals, begun trekking to the settlement of wood. In the outside, the Ranger was grim and silent, but on the inside – he felt hope renewed. He was one step closer to ending the orc-threat, and if he had to do with associates in order to protect his home ‘so be it’. But, it is time for this chapter to be ended, for this chapter’s story has been told. And let the next continue the mantle.
