A hunting trip into the Forodwaith on a dare seems to have gone south for a poacher, as the local's discovery of his trespass quickly turned him from the hunter to the hunted. Will he manage to survive long enough to return victorious to his tribe, or will he face justice for his crime before he can escape the frozen north?
Fang rubbed his hands by the small fire he had started with the last of his wood and swore quietly to himself. “Damn those frost-loving freaks!” This was supposed to have been an easy hunt, nothing more than a show of prowess to that upstart youngster who dared to imply that he, Fang the Wilderer, the greatest huntsman of the Trév Duvárdain, feared to hunt the frozen northern wastes of the Forodwaith. His hunt had been a success, as proven by the snow-beast pelt that now mantled his burly frame, yet somehow the Lossoth, the tribe that called this frozen, forsaken region home had discovered and taken offense to his hunt. Thus had Fang turned from the hunter to the hunted. He had already wasted a week of time and supplies attempting to lose his pursuer, but to no avail. Now here he was, hunkered down two days north of the secret mountain pass that would allow him to return home. Fang had always boasted that he knew no fear. Yet as he struggled to maintain the meager flame that was the only chance he had against the fatal cold that threatened to steal from him the next sunrise, he was truly afraid, his nerves being done no favors by the owl circling overhead and the sound of ice ground together by the distant ocean. Even if he survived the night, Fang knew that he stood no chance should he be caught still in this frozen wasteland come nightfall once again. His only hope at salvation was to traverse the frozen Icebay of Forochel, a reckless plan fraught with risk. There was, however, one fortune to his folly: his pursuer, being a native to the area and fully aware of the danger, wouldn’t dare to follow him… or so he thought.
“What madness is this?” Fang stood frozen, having made it two-thirds of the way across the bay before this… apparition appeared from the wind-blown snow before him. It only took a moment longer to piece together what had happened: his pursuer had guessed his plan and cut him off during the night. An error on Fang's behalf, as he realized that he forgot to account for the Lossoths tolerance for the frigid nights. Now he stood before his hunter at last, face to face… or more accurately, face to mask. His pursuer, donned in the traditional attire of the local tribe’s nomadic hunters, also wore an ivory mask carved in the form of an owl. Cornered at last, Fang’s nerve returned… as did his ego. “Well, I must admit I’m surprised that you came out here just for me. Where’s your friends? Surely you don’t believe that you can best Fang the Wilderer alone?” He had taken the masked hunter for the silent type, so it surprised him when a young, fair-sounding voice replied through the mask.
“Surmâja*, you are known to us. While you may value your title, it is of no import here, as you will have no grave for it to mark.”
Fang’s previously cocky grin twitched in amusement, then quickly shifted into a vicious grimace at the second part of the hunter’s statement. “Listen here, you frost-for-brains little shrakh, what makes you think you can back up that claim?!”
“I am the Silver Warden of the Lumi-väki*, a protector of this land’s balance. You are as much a threat to this balance as a pack of maddened Koira*.” The mask tilted slightly to the left as the hunter… no, the Warden spoke. “As such, you will meet the same fate. Prepare to die like a dog.” With this the warden unslung their shield and spear, assuming a ready stance to weather the enraged onslaught they had just provoked.
Any combatant with some common sense would likely have noticed this shift into a defensive posture. Rage, however, is a powerful impediment to common sense, and Fang’s vision went red as he fully lost himself to his own. In the span of a few seconds, his mind was reduced to that of the beast to which he had been compared, and to which being compared had induced his current state.
The Warden watched their quarry rush down upon them, their calm mind quite the contrast to the Surmâja who had been reduced to nothing but frothing rage so easily. It was a surprise in some ways, but was also to be expected given the vast differences between their cultures. The tribe this Surmâja belonged to was notorious for their cruelty and lack of respect for the beasts they hunted, living by their misguided belief that might makes right was the only rule of nature. The Warden had banked on this when provoking their foe, hoping to mitigate the cunning that shone in the Surmâja’s eyes by indirectly attacking his strength. A gambit that seemed to have worked a bit too well…
Fang smashed his greataxe into The Warden’s shield, causing a chunk of it to splinter off. However, the strength of this attack threw Fang off-balance, providing an opening for The Warden to strike. With a quick thrust and the sound of tearing leather, the first few drops of red stained the snow, Fang now sporting a light wound on his left shoulder. A glancing blow was all the Warden had been able to strike, but being injured at all seemed to throw off Fang for a moment, allowing the Warden to strike once again. This thrust found a more meaningful mark, as it thrust deep into the poacher’s left arm and stuck. A quick backstep to avoid the retaliatory strike Fang attempted to land accompanied with a deft tug and the spear was free, disabling Fang’s left arm for anything more strenuous than perhaps grappling a foe.
Fang reeled in pain for a moment, then recovered as his veins ran hot and his heart pounded. This little shrakh had managed to wound him! HIM, FANG, on whom no man or beast had drawn blood in a score of moons! The adrenaline helped to clear his head of rage, but only slightly, and his vocalizations switched from roars of rage to a throaty, cruel laugh. “I’ll rip out your spine for that!” He recovered his stance and threw off the snow-beast mantle that had been the trophy of his hunt to afford himself a wider range of motion. This upstart’s head would make a far better trophy anyhow.
Fang threw his entire weight behind his next swing, attempting to bait the Warden into blocking it with their shield. Not having much choice, the shield was interposed, and moments later a thunderous CRACK sounded out and echoed over the ice. The Warden’s shield now had a significant fissure running laterally across it. Another hit like that and it would be done for, leaving the Warden completely vulnerable to the vicious strikes of Fang’s greataxe. The Warden took only moments to assess this, but that was long enough for Fang to strike their mask with a fist that hit with the strength and fury of an avalanche. The Warden was thrown backwards, sliding along the ice towards the boundary where the solid ice anchored to the shore was finally broken into gnashing floes by the relentless onslaught of the waves. Their spear, knocked free from their hands by the force of the impact, skittered to a stop well before the Warden did.
The Warden took a moment to recover, the sheer force of that blow having stunned them. A quick touch of their mask confirmed that it was now cracked, yet by some miracle it was still intact after having faithfully taken the strength of a blow that would likely have shattered lesser bone into splinters. As they returned to their feet they looked back at their foe, noting that he was bent over like he was grabbing something. The Warden wondered what he was doing and where their weapon was, but both questions were promptly answered as the Surmâja lifted The Warden’s spear out of the snowdrift that had arrested its slide, then promptly broke it in twain over his knee. That would complicate matters. A new plan was needed, and fast. A stock of their remaining inventory showed two javelins and a half-broken shield, and a quick survey of the situation showed that they were now less than thirty paces from where the ice was known to become thin. The Warden grimaced beneath their mask as a plan came to mind. It was stupid, but it was the best chance they had of defeating the Surmâja.
Fang had just barely dropped the broken spear and begun to search for the corpse of The Warden when he was suddenly struck in the back by a javelin. He staggered, then whipped around to stare down the thrice-damned Warden. It was impossible! He had killed powerful beasts in a single blow with a punch like that! HOW WERE THEY STILL ALIVE?! Pure rage set in once more as his mind was consumed by only one thought: KILL.
The Warden stood his ground as Fang rushed him down once more, the distance between them closing rapidly. Twenty paces, then ten, then five… and then, at the last possible moment, The Warden leapt to the side, Fang’s momentum carrying him past his target and throwing him off balance. The Warden took this chance to pursue, using their last remaining javelin to take a stab at Fang’s leg to further unbalance him. Though glancing, the blow found its mark, and Fang continued to stumble for a few more paces before recovering and slashing his axe at the Warden in an attempt to repeat his earlier attack. Having expected it this time around, the Warden simply moved out of the way instead of blocking, throwing Fang off once more and making another quick thrust. This intricate dance of attacks, dodges, and feints continued for what seemed like an eternity to the Warden, until finally their position was where it needed to be for the Warden’s plan to work.
The Warden, now positioned inland from the Surmâja and barely three paces from where the ice thinned, grinned under their mask. It seems that their gambit would pay off after all, Eldar willing. One final thrust, a quick stance change, and the Surmâja was off balance once again. He flailed his axe in an attempt to recover, finally managing to land another hit on the Warden. They staggered slightly, their shield dropping as the Surmâja took advantage of the opening and swung his greataxe around one final time…
A look of shock flashed across Fang’s face as the Warden suddenly raised their shield and perfectly caught his blade, the force of the impact causing the axe to stick. The Warden trapped the axehead against the shield with their last javelin as they leveraged the remaining power from the axe swing to spin and pull Fang off-balance. A final kick to the torso at the right moment and Fang felt as his grip on his weapon faltered, then failed as he fell prone and careened towards the ocean. As he finally started to stop, he became aware that the Warden had stabbed into the ground with the javelin that had been used to expertly disarm him mere moments ago. Fear flashed across Fang’s face for the second final time in his life as the Warden spoke to him the last words he would ever hear.
“I am Lostir Vanha-väki*, the Silver Warden of the Lumi-väki. With this, my duty this day is complete.” An otherworldly crack sounded across the frozen bay as the ice shelf that Fang had been knocked prone onto broke free of the ice shelf and slid into the frigid sea. Lostir barely paid it a second glance as he walked to and gathered up the Pitkä-hammas* pelt that the Surmâja had discarded. “Kalpa-kita*, I am sorry that your life was wasted for the sake of vanity. Have peace in knowing that I shall work to make your death have purpose, and have joy in the knowledge that the Surmâja who wasted your life has paid the price.”
Notes:
This was supposed to be a short warmup to get back into creative writing and practice combat scenes, but I got carried away. Translations for Lossoth words marked with asterisks (*) are below.
Surmâja - "Killer," typically used for servants of Angmar, which includes the Hillmen of the Trév Duvárdain. Also used in this instance as a stand-in for "poacher".
Lumi-väki - The Lossoth's name for themselves
Koira - "Dog"
Vanha-väki - "Old-people," The Lossoth's term for elves
Pitkä-hammas - "Long-tooth," the strongest type of sabercat found in Forochel
Kalpa-kita - "Sword-tooth," a more general term for sabercat
Translations source: https://lotro-wiki.com/wiki/Forochel_-_Lossoth_-_Finnish_-_Nomenclature
