LOTR

Status
Not open for further replies.
Aruk grimly smiled, and the two made their way down the Lonely Mountain and towards Lake-town, one of the strangest duos. A dwarf, and their species enemies, an Orc, working together. The sun glittered against the clear water. As they arrived in the town, Aruk debated with Vertruk about which way to travel down to Isengard. Wielding a large, old map, Aruk suggested a few ideas.
"Surely we shouldn't risk trying to walk across the Mirkwood, instead maybe get a boat up the Forest River. It would be difficult because it's going the otherway, but maybe we could seek help from the elves, then travel down The Great River to Rohan, therefore Isengard. Or we could try and go around the Mirkwood. But I don't recommend going through it, we would be lost forever," Aruk said, confused and undecided.

((http://freakytrigger.co.uk/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/hobbit-map-wilderland.jpg))
----

Raknath worked the day away healing Boron, removing infection, stopping bleeding, and using wild herbs to help it heal. Slowly Boron came into consciousness, screaming and writhing.
"Shh, your safe now," the Beorning whispered gruffly, yet softly into his ear. The man slowly calmed down, and twisted around the ring now in his fingers. Raknath carried it in a padded bag for fear of touching it, maybe he would be infected with its darkness. As Raknath went outside in bear form, he sniffed the air. Orcs. They were after the ring that man had. Luckily, the wind was in his favour, they probably couldn't scent them out, leaving them time to escape. But where too? Raknath slipped Boron onto his back and carried what materials he could, and the pursuit began
 
Vertruk pondered this. "We could utilise the river to get as far as the Elf Path." He mused, examining a map that had been shoved into his hands. He scrutinised Mirkwood excessively. "Hopefully the vile creatures of Mirkwood will leave us alone in the river. Then we just follow the path. Simple. The only issue is that at the rate we're going, Erebor will be beyond destroyed by the time we reach Isengard. We require mounts."
He glanced toward the Wargs tethered up by an Olog-Hai war camp. He raised an eyebrow. "Should we risk it?"
---
Crossbow bolts flitted toward Raknath at a frightening great, a deadly maelstrom of steel. Raknath managed to evade it, and the orcs howled in frustration.
Boron, clinging feverishly to the meagre remnants of consciousness, giggled. "Tiny little bald man."
There was a slight thumping in the packs, then Boron chimed. "Hehehehhe... tiny little bald man has the ring."
"MY PRECIOUS HAS RETURNED TO ME!"
The shrill, guttural wail reverberated throughout the Misty Mountains.
Balamir, seizing the chance, took aim.
And the cry was cut short.
Balamir scrabbled toward the ring, clasped it in his frosty, ruddy fingers.
And Raknath bore down on him like a locomotive.
 
Aruk turned to the camp, a quintet of the trolls lazily chatted away, preoccupied with their interesting converstation. Aruk grabbed his quiver of sharp, iron edged hand-axes, and inside was a minuscule, hidden pocket. The dwarf cautiously took out a vial of an aqua liquid.
"This is strong enough to knock out even a troll. It won't kill them, just lull them into a sleep, and mix it with this," Aruk started, pulling another vial, full of a congealed red liquid. "This is an amnesiac, which will haze their memory. He carefully smeared each liquid across the edge on the axe. "We have to be fast, and quiet. Don't throw it," Aruk said with a fast vanishing grin, handing over the small axe.

----

Raknath opened his mouth, bellowing as loud as he could into the man's ear, drool blowing onto Balamir's face from the sheer strength of the roar. The massive paw swiped against his face, cutting deeply into his cheek before the man could roll away. That would scar. Raknath stood up on his hind legs, and the orcs started to hesitate, a few of them backing away slowly. The bear brought down his might in anger, attempting to grip Balamir's skull in his jaw to crack it. He missed then waddled backwards to where Boron lay bleeding out on the ground.
"I'm sorry Boron, I have to leave, and kill who was behind this attack. I will have revenge," Raknath quickly whispered into Boron's ear. As Raknath went to grab the ring, and find a way to destroy it, Boron jumped up again with a wretched scream, his hands tightening around the thick bear neck. Raknath roared as he did, trying to escape as they tumbled down the mountain, the ring bouncing after them. The Beorning held back from killing his saviour, but as he delved into unconsiousness, he convinced himself that the man wasn't the same one. Raknath bit down. Raknath landed in agonising pain, hidden from view of those above. His leg was broken and he was bleeding all over, and the mangled carcass of Boron next to him. He bit back his anger as he saw the ring glittering golden next to him. He - would - leave - it. It had betrayed Balamir and Boron, and there was no doubt it would leave him for dead. But it was so hard to resist...
 
Balamir rolled, ceasing his rotation at the side at the little beast he had shot. Gollum. And for once, he had the opportunity to stare into the face of the murdered.
Glazed, barren eyes, frozen in their last moments of consciousness. Mouth in the process of wailing, serrated teeth protruding from Gollum's lower lip. He may have been writhing at the time of death, arms extended, body undulated.
This creature was a wretch, but the solemnity was overpowering. This was a testament to Balamir's own evils. He had killed so many, most much more worthy than Gollum. And for what? For Saruman's undisclosed gain.
He felt his gaze wrenched to the ring, embedded in the snow. The beorning loomed, entranced above it. The ring had generated a frightening, tenebrous aura that waxed and waned. A curling maelstrom of caliginous vapour, snapping and hissing like a creature in its own right. For your family as well, Balamir, son of Faramir.
And what would my family think if I returned home with the blood of many on my hands?
They would love you, praise you as their saviour.
THEY WOULD HATE ME!
"Beorning! We do not see eye to eye, but the ring must be destroyed! It beguiles us at this very moment! Manipulates us!" Balamir sobbed. In saying those words, he had abandoned his wife and children to death.
Maybe.
---
Vertruk reclined against a table, elbows extended. "Excuse me? Olog-Hai?"
The colossal troll turned, deceptive reptilian intelligence coating his aureate eyes. He grunted in acknowledgement.
"I'm looking to find the restroom at this war camp. Can you help me?"
The Olog frowned. "Were you not the puny little orc that conversed with our leader?"
Vertruk gulped, petrified. "Uhhh... no. That was my alter ego."
"Alter ego?"
"Yeah, he comes on in some extreme situations. He's a bit of a jerk, absolutely hates Olog-Hai, and his hobbies include poetry, advanced jerkery, gourmet wine brewery and despatching Olog-Hai."
The behemoth of an orc frowned. "Despatching Olog-Hai? That's a peculiar hobb-"
Vertruk stroked the hatchet across the Olog's fingers. Miniature obliques opened up in his joints, and the strong sedative burst inward. The orc's veins seemed to pulsate for a moment, and he collapsed.
Then Vertruk flipped the axe to its other side, the one with the amnesiac, and lathered the liquid along the orc's lip. If the Herculean orc woke up and called for help, he would ingest the amnesiac and forget everything.
Vertruk strode off.
 
Aruk chuckled quietly, a small grin on his lips. The single Olog-Hai tending to the Wargs was out in seconds, as growls arose from the canines, the troll started to sedately turn, before a axe was buried into their thick leg, and collapsed on the ground, smashing the Warg enclosure. Wrenching it free from the leg, the dwarf held it up in warning to the wolf-like mounts. He smeared the amnesiacs in a similar fashion to Vertruk's approach, then slowly approached one. It growled showing its teeth, but Aruk held out his hand, the animal scenting the blood of its cruel captors. The Warg bent its head in submission, and the dwarf slipped on, gesturing hurriedly for the Orc to come.

----

Raknath heard the sobbing yells of Balamir echo inside the small cavern he had tumbled into. With a groan he outstretched a maimed arm and dragged himself slowly towards the entrance of the of the cavern. Raknath glanced back to the ring, gleaming and shining despite buried in the bleeding, fleshy remains of Boron's carcass. A deep growl rose from his throat. This was his choice. Leave it, for some other unfortunate to be trapped in its spell. Take it to be destroyed, and risk death, destruction, and insanity from the ring itself. Raknath hated himself for it, but his hand slipped towards the ring and plucked it from Boron's remains, stuffing it deep inside the padded pouch. He never wanted to touch it again
 
And come Vertruk did. He trotted over to the enclosure and tentatively saddled one of the colossal wolves. It had stiff, ruddy fur and intimidating eyes which terrified Vertruk to the bone.
Aruk frowned. "Why are you so nervous? You are an orc, are you not? You must be used to Wargs."
Vertruk shivered in trepidation and, though he wouldn't tell Aruk, he urinated in his uniform. "I'm a janitor, not a soldier."
Anticipation made the Wargs quiver, as they prepared to rush.
Vertruk glanced at Aruk. "If I die, I will kill you."
"Good luck with that." Murmured Aruk.
And the Wargs burst forward, warped streaks of fur.
 
Yusulf saw the odd couple obviously make plans and then ride off on the wargs. He painfully shrunk the olog hai to a hobbit size, before summoning his deep brown stallion. He jumped on, and it unfurled its murky wings, racing after the dwarf and the Orc, easily catching up.
 
Vertruk glanced back. "Hm, there seems to be a-"
Yulfus barrelled past them, and Vertruk yelped. He unsheathed his mace and swiped it around in a unmethodical manner. "THAT HORSE HAD WINGS!"
 
Okren was backing away from a huge olog hai when it shrunk to hobbit size. He roared with laughter, and promptly decapitated the stunned olog hai before it could return to its senses. The now sober and larger dwarves charged with more moral into the small olog hai. The orcs found they could not hold their massive maces and their helmets drove them to the ground. The olog hai were quickly finished, their tiny bodies strewn across the square. The dwarves returned to celebrating, obviously not learning from their past mistake. Okren, however, gathered a few of his close friends and geared up, marching slowly to Isengard.
 
Aruk rode stunned for a few moments as wind rushed past him, the wolves careering side to side. A horse... With wings? Aruk gasped as he realised what the peculiar thing was hosting. Yelling over the wind, Aruk shouted, "He's a Maiar!" A wizard! The dwarf would of never thought he would see one. And it seemed to following them
 
Yusulf continued to follow the couple until they stopped or arrived at their important destination.
 
Sunlight filtered through the trees in flickering, feverish beams over the Elf Path. The brilliant rays seemed almost palpable.
This did nothing to relieve Vertruk's stress. "There was a wizard back there... what does he want?"
An arrow lanced into his warg's leg. The beast hollered and plunged into the forest, leaving Vertruk on the leaf-strewn path.
An elf strode gracefully from the treeline and regarded Vertruk with malevolent interest. "An orc on the Elf Path..." He gestured to Aruk. "You are excused and may leave... but the orc must die."
"Thranduil!" Cried a voice from further down the track. Yulfus fizzled into existence.
Thranduil's stony face released a faux smile, for evidently he wasn't capable of conveying happiness. "Yulfus. What brings you here?"
 
Aruk hand had slipped to his axe as the elf approached, and with a single flick could throw the axe to dig into the elf's chest. As the wizard approached, the dwarf gently got off his horse to the Warg. It was writhing in pain on the ground, blood seeping from the arrow wound. As Aruk prised the slender projectile out, the canine leaped up with a growl and pounced on Thranduil, thick claws waving frantically in the air as the creature buzzed through the air.

----

Raknath breathed in an uneven, shattered breath and fell back with a hacking cough. Mud and dirt coated his body, infection seeping through his wounds, and flies swarmed around him, waiting patiently for the small strand of his life to fade away. Halluctionations overran his vision, and the Beorning slowly started to lose hope. He would die out here, alone and in pain, with the dread of a horde of vicious orcs coming for a single, and insignificant ring, where no-one would find him except for pale, white bones that the wolves and vultures strip clean.
 
An orc bore maliciously down on Raknath. It's harrowing bellows battered the beorning's fur.
A sword became lodged in its thick, robust, leprous neck. The wielded of the sword rotated it in a sawing motion, and the orc's head was relieved of its shoulders. Balamir shouted at the orcs. "COME AND GET ME, SCUM!"
His sword, Valarhathol glittered like a compacted flame as it cleaved through orcs like they were wet paper. "FLEE, BEORNING!" He cried toward Raknath. "DESTROY THE RING BY ANY MEANS POSSIBLE!"
The writhing, roaring plethora of orcs descended on the man, and he was swallowed in the fray.
 
Raknath shuddered as he heard the thud of the orcs head hitting the ground. He violently tugged forward away from the battle, Balamir slicing and cutting like an angered bear through the horde of dark creatures. In a feeble attempt to rescue the man from impending doom, he transformed into a bear, and howled to the sky, his call spreading for miles across the mountains. Raknath collapsed onto the ground as hundreds of growling wolves slowly stalked from shadows, followed by bears, even Wargs. Then they attacked.
 
Yulfus swung his staff in an arc. Brightly coloured vines reached out from the trees and hung the beast attacking the elf under a tree. He waved it again and the beast morphed into a wolf form. The lone wolf scampered away, whimpering. He helped the elf up. "Let the Orc pass, friend, he saved Erebor." The elves eyes widened and stared at Vertruk. "Leave us be, I have much to discuss its these two" he said kindly. The elf ran off, and Yulfus turned back to the others, turning the other warg into a wolf. Yulfus conjured a wooden desk and chairs from the trees around them, seating them all at the table. He took out an ancient map, filled with the knowledge of the wizards of Middle Earth. He unrolled the map onto the table carefully, and looked at the odd pair closely. "Now, I assume you're going after the arkestone?" He started
 
Vertruk paused, unsure whether to trust the wizard. The power they possessed tended to corrupt and unbalance them. They were an unnerving race of people. "Yes. P-presumably it's in Isengard, with Saruman.
He absently drummed his fingers against his thigh in concern. Now he knew how people felt around him. An inept denizen of Mordor, part of a bloodthirsty race.
But he wasn't like that... was he?
 
Last edited:
The beasts charged forward, ripping apart the mob of orcs attacking the man, the doltish creatures feebly trying to swing a sword at the 'traitor'. Animals of all kinds were spread across the battlefield, wolfs, Wargs, bears, even deer fought valiantly against the thugs, and slowly more animals trickled in. The Army of the Wild. The orcs numbers dwindled, mangled, mottled green carcasses strewn across the grass as Balamir stood shocked. Silence finally overcame yells, screams and shouts, and Balamir stood hard-faced, surrounded by wolves. Slowly he sheathed his sword and lay it on the ground in front of him.
"Whoever you are, thank you," Raknath croaked from some distance away, wounded and lying on the ground. Suddenly, a much larger, glittering golden stag trotted gallantly and gracefully from the forest, an astounding rack of horns held fast on his proud head. It turned its thoughtful, rich with intelligence eyes towards the Beorning and nodded his head slightly. A group split off from the throng and nuzzled Raknath, slowly lifting him onto their back. The deer continued leisurely towards Balamir, observing the man closely. With a flash of anger, the deer flicked his head back and the group charged at the man.
"NO!" Raknath screamed out, slowly to become coated in the furs of his carriers, and knocked unconsious
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Aruk stared in an inquisitive awe as the furniture materialised around them. He regained his composure and politely said "Thank you, wizard," adding a slight, awkward bow. "We are indeed travelling to Isengard like Vertruk said -" moving his finger to where the tower was nestled, between the Misty Mountain ranges, "- and we intend to travel through the Elf Path, then either ride beside or boat along the Great River of Wilderland. I hope you could help, we do need new mounts." Aruk stopped with a glance towards the fallen Warg. The dwarf addressed the wizard with a manner of respect, both in fear and wonder of their power. He remembered the tales of the King of the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield, and noted that he was accompanied by a wizard of considerable power
 
Thranduil was swift in his return. He re-entered the clearing, glacial glare focused fully on Vertruk. The elvish lord had restless ire broiling about within him, and this aggression was not easily constrained, with rivulets of it encircling his stare. He regarded Vertruk with utter disgust, like an unsavoury paste on the sole of his boot. Vertruk stared back, in periodic glances.
He was sandwiched between unnerving presences. Both Thranduil and Yulfus emanated a power, Thranduil's more regal and dignified, and Yulfus raw and consuming.
Vertruk frowned. He must write some of this down. This was some phrasal mastery he was coming up with.
On one of his glances, Thranduil scrutinised him heavily. "Your eyes. They are civilised, yet regardless they are the eyes of a beast. No matter how far you go, no matter how fast you run... the beast will find you. And when it does, you'd best drag your vile, deformed self back to the black lands."
Vertruk frowned. "Likewise."
Rage spring forth from Thranduil, and his gaze intensified. His undignified glare told Vertruk he had best be silent.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back