The sound of steel meeting steel could be heard from afar as the hammers were falling on the anvils, shaping metal into swords and spears. Ost Cyrn seemed to be busy; all the orcs were working hard under their lieutenants’ leashes. The tall dark brown orc moved about, looking at his soldiers as they worked hard with the others and shook his head in disapproval, they came to fight, not to become farmers and make carts. Tightening his grip around the whip he walked to the Mess Hall to have a drink, waiting for another day to pass. The cook a short dark green goblin grimaced as he saw his disapproval while giving him a mug, revealing his teeth in a sinister grin. “What’s troubling you Captain?” he asked in a half-mocking voice, the Captain didn’t respond, he just grunted and walked away to a table to finish his drink.
Not long after he sat he heard that there was a commotion outside, some of the orcs were fighting each other, having trust in his men he snorted and continued drinking indifferently while others around him ran outside. “Osgash!” shouted an uruk in armour, the commander of the fort and the Captain ran outside to see his men fighting with the others. They were shouting and insulting the others and drew their weapons. “We are no farmers to repair carts! We came to kill!” said one of his company. “Kill them all!” shouted another and stabbed a half orc in the chest and some came to his side and started attacking the others. The lieutenants started whipping them but the company was resilient to their whips and they kept fighting.
“Osgash!” the commander shouted again and the orc snapped out of that and straightened his body, he raised his right hand, holding the whip ready to strike and shouted, “Silence pigs!” and his men stopped and turned to look at him. The uruk narrowed his eyes and looked at each one before calling Osgash to his office. “What was that about?” he asked punching the desk angrily. The Captain remained unmoved and replied in a serious emotionless tone “We are warriors, not workmen.” And tugged the whip into his belt. His response enraged the uruk that drew a deep breath and measured him, as he was going to charge at him. “Orders are orders!” he said after some moments that seemed like hours. “We want to fight too but the master wants us to supply Angmar with weapons and soldiers.” and shuffled the desk with his right hand and let a paper bearing the symbol of the White Hand be seen. Osgash, who couldn’t read, nodded, seeing the symbol, he only asked one thing “When will we supply them then?” and smirked, showing that his was eager to get into business.
The uruk moved forward to the window and looked at five carts loaded with weapons. “By nightfall… We can send five carts now, filled with sword and spears. You will go Northwest to a camp and protect them with your lives or I will skin you alive! Now begone!” and motioned Osgash to leave. The Captain smirked slightly and bowed his head gratefully at that and left without a word to give orders to his soldiers.
When the moon appeared in the sky the gates of the fort flung open and two companies of fifty orcs each marched out of them, they formed two lines, left and right and five carts were in the middle. One was company was led by Osgash, the tall, dark brown orc, the other by a pale half orc with gleaming eyes. Osgash kept left of the third line in the back as his company was on the left of the carts, the other company was right and the half orc was ahead, leading them. They would remain in the dark but the half orcs lit lanterns on each cart, making it seem like a caravan from afar. At first the marched quietly and obediently, knowing that Osgash wouldn’t keep himself from whipping them.
They had reached Weathertop and a patrol stopped them almost violently, aiming their weapons towards the caravan, despite being outnumbered. They didn’t recognize the half orc in the front at first which angered him and whipped them, saying that they had no respect for him, soon they attacked him, their blood boiling for a fight, and his men joined against the patrollers. Osgash narrowed his eyes and snorted loudly, “Halfwits all filthblooded half orcs!” and his men laughed. “What did you say?” snarled an orc from the other company. “You heard me filth!” responded Osgash with a growl and whipped him after spitting on the ground in front of the half orc with contempt. The fighting company stopped and joining forces they attacked the others, Osgash growled and his orcs charged.
Soon the fight became more serious and blood started spilling, one or two heads flew on the carts and limbs were cut. Osgash took his greatsword out and pommeled a short orc on the face to keep him back, at that moment two more attacked, the patrollers jumped on the carts and started swinging their spears, hitting anyone they could, sometimes even those whom they fought with. Within minutes everyone was fighting everyone without paying attention to whom they were hitting, until Osgash swung the whip and grabbed a patroller with it, he pulled him, causing the orc to fall on one side of the cart, taking down some of the fighting orcs. Another swing hit the face of the leader of the other company, striking him out of his bloodlust. “Stop or I will cut you all down!” Osgash growled angrily, his loud voice made everyone freeze on the spot.
He gazed around at them, counting, six died, one of his company, one patroller and four of the others, the blood that soaked the sand caused the back wheels of the cart to sink and when he saw it he narrowed his eyes. “I am in charge now!” he shouted and his whip-gripping hand pointed at the wheel. “Look what you idiots did. Now push it!” he said and using his left hand he grabbed one of his company, the one closest to him and violently pushed him on the cart, making him hit his head. “Push it out!” he growled and two more joined at once and started pushing, Osgash started whipping them mercilessly and one dropped to his knee, the Captain kicked him away and ordered two others to join. Now four orcs pushed, under the Captain’s whip and managed to release the wheel, causing some swords to all off the cart, just Southwest Weathertop, a little over the road.
“Now move! We have orders!” he growled and abstractly whipped here and there, some orcs choked their groans, other groaned loudly, but all started walking obediently. The night was reaching its end and Osgash looked at them, smiling to himself, satisfied that he managed to discipline them, more so the patrollers and the others. They left the swords and the bodied where they fell and continued Northwest to pass by the Midgewater Pass, straight into the North Downs, into the place called Dol Dinen. The Captain wanted to get as far from the road as possible, so that daylight would find them in a relatively safe spot, away from as many eyes as possible.
“Faster!” he shouted but this time he didn’t’ whip anyone, instead he tug the whip into his belt and continued walking on the usual spot, near the third row from the end, on the left side. His mind was fixed on what is to come, battles, plundering, death; nothing could please him more than that. For a moment he almost laughed, but kept himself from doing it, not wanting to ruin the discipline he managed. Soon he would have all that in the amounts he wanted, his company now had twice the size than when they set out. He could only do better, he felt it…
