Desideratus
January 29th,2003, 07:26 AM
The horse shifted uneasily, stamping the muddy trail with its hooves. The man who sat atop the mighty beast gripped his sword tightly as he listened intently. He turned in his seat and stared at the six men behind him. All of them studied the trees around them. Every trunk, leaf, and branch was a possible hiding spot, and they would take no chances. Again there came a soft growl from over head. Arrow knotted and bowstring taught Mirax aimed up toward the canopy. Nothing but three beams of sunlight, forcing their way through the leaves, could be seen.
“Keep listening,” Tethelan whispered, “they’re watching us. I know it.”
There came from the tree behind them a shuffle of leaves and rustle of ferns. Mirax spun quickly on his saddle and loosed an arrow. Silently the shaft slid between two tree branches and disappeared into the forest.
“He’s either incredibly lucky, or already dead,” Tethelan whispered to Mirax, as he drew his spear. Both of them surveyed the thick undergrowth and the mighty trees, which rose from the forest floor to tower like palace columns supporting the sky. To the untrained ear a lark called from its nest. Mirax, Tethelan, and Kerċhek responded swiftly, backing their horses slowly towards the man who had called.
Kerċhek spoke first, a rough yet quiet, “what is it?”
“There,” Calódius pointed, “between the birch and the elm.” All fourteen eyes came to rest upon a huddled shadow in the distance. “That’s a shoulder. The clumsy beast did not hide well in his quick getaway.”
Both Mirax and Calódius drew arrows and set their sights on the orc’s shoulder. A terrified howl literally shattered the silence as the barbed tips skewered the flesh. Next came the harsh tearing of bark, and from the depths of the forest soared a tremendous branch, wrenched by force from a tree. The branch collided with Kerċhek and knocked him clear off his horse. From the tops of the trees orcs seemingly materialized, dropping from branch to branch they brandished their sword and hurled spears. Calódius fired rapidly into the trees, taking several lives in turn for Kerċhek’s.
Running the orc completely through, Tethelan pulled his sword free and beheaded a second. A thick crossfire of arrows, crafted by both orc and by man, quickly turned the tranquil path into a deadly fiasco.
“We’re surrounded!” Someone shouted, “we must break through!”
Punctured by multiple shafts, the orc tumbled from behind the boulder and rolled his way down to the foot of the hill. Stepping over the corpse Mirax drew, knotted, and slew yet another. Aiming high above his head he let go of an arrow. The orc fell silently from hiding, only to snag among the brambles and dangle lifelessly above the skirmish. “Tethelan, come quickly!” Merúdin shouted. Spurring his horse Tethelan followed the remaining five, thrusting his spear into the nearest orc.
Stray arrows, unskillfully shot, flew wildly around the fleeing men. At a thunderous gallop Mirax lead the way, his terrified horse tearing through the forest. Arching his back as he rode he fired an arrow into the throng of followers. Calódius did the same. Occasionally an orc could be seen darting back and forth among the trees, contemplating how best to approach the fleeing men. The second attack came suddenly, so quickly, in fact, that no one had time to prepare. From within the bushes on the left of the path sprung a mass of the enemy. They flung themselves upon Calódius and two others before dragging them screaming from their horses and into the woods. Their desperate shouts for help ended unnaturally short as Mirax dismounted in fury.
“Who where they?” Tethelan shouted ferociously as he drew his sword.
“Uther, Calódius, and Årtanaltos!” Mirax shouted back, as he fired arrow after arrow into the trees. “Face me you murderers!” He bellowed into the silence, “Face me and your death!” No response game. Mirax stared desperately into the forest as if hoping to catch site of Calódius.
“Mirax, we’ve no place to run! Help us!”
The orcs who had originally given chase were closing in. Mirax instinctively reached for his quiver and began to pick off the forerunners. Clutching the arrow lodged in his chest, the orc tripped over its own feet and stumbled to a halt face down on the ground. A second arrow pierced an exposed throat, and two more found their way into an unlucky host.
Tethelan and Merúdin lifted sword and shield as they rushed towards the orcs. Behind them followed Mirax with a thin, sturdy spear. Before long, three men and seven orcs collided on the path in a tangle of blade and fist. The brawl lasted only a minute. The small band of orcs, though ferocious, lacked the skill of trained soldiers and did not last long.
“We cannot keep this up,” Mirax sighed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “our only sensible option is to run.” The trio stood catching their breath above seven fallen orcs. In the distance they could all hear an orcish war cry. Calling his horse, Merúdin mounted as quickly as he could. With his left hand he shaded his eyes and peered into the distance.
“They’re moving through the forest this time,” he said quietly as the others readied their steeds, “you can see one there,” he pointed, “and there. Let’s go.”
Again they raced through the forest, ducking branches and leaping rocks. A lone arrow passed closely overhead, much like a swooping crow. Mirax turned once again in his saddle and fired into the woods behind them. “Ride!” Merúdin shouted, “Get-” but he had stopped talking. Transfixed by an arrow he toppled from his horse and bounced to a halt beneath the foliage.
“Usires Aedon!” Tethelan swore, “Merúdin, where are you?” The thick flowering bushes in front of him shook as a body pushed its way through. “Merúdin, quickly!” but it was not Merúdin.
From all around them the orcs pounced. Tethelan shouted something to Mirax, but he could not hear. With a gurgling scream Tethelan disappeared under a wave of ferocity and Mirax never saw his again. His mighty stallion trampled those in front of it, churning their flesh into the earth; yet not even that was not enough to save Mirax. Impaling the nearest orc he brandished a knife and hacked violently until his horse collapsed and he was tossed from the saddle.
Down on the ground he battered the crowd around him for the memory of his friends, but he was soon overwhelmed. Multiple blades of steel pierced his body and he fell to the earth in the growing darkness. One swift blow later it had ended, and the skilled archer collapsed in a heap. No longer was the world of man safe from the foul of Mordor. No longer were the forests secure and the fields peaceful and silent. Sauron’s invasion of Middle Earth had begun, and the power of Mordor was soon to be challenged . . .
“Keep listening,” Tethelan whispered, “they’re watching us. I know it.”
There came from the tree behind them a shuffle of leaves and rustle of ferns. Mirax spun quickly on his saddle and loosed an arrow. Silently the shaft slid between two tree branches and disappeared into the forest.
“He’s either incredibly lucky, or already dead,” Tethelan whispered to Mirax, as he drew his spear. Both of them surveyed the thick undergrowth and the mighty trees, which rose from the forest floor to tower like palace columns supporting the sky. To the untrained ear a lark called from its nest. Mirax, Tethelan, and Kerċhek responded swiftly, backing their horses slowly towards the man who had called.
Kerċhek spoke first, a rough yet quiet, “what is it?”
“There,” Calódius pointed, “between the birch and the elm.” All fourteen eyes came to rest upon a huddled shadow in the distance. “That’s a shoulder. The clumsy beast did not hide well in his quick getaway.”
Both Mirax and Calódius drew arrows and set their sights on the orc’s shoulder. A terrified howl literally shattered the silence as the barbed tips skewered the flesh. Next came the harsh tearing of bark, and from the depths of the forest soared a tremendous branch, wrenched by force from a tree. The branch collided with Kerċhek and knocked him clear off his horse. From the tops of the trees orcs seemingly materialized, dropping from branch to branch they brandished their sword and hurled spears. Calódius fired rapidly into the trees, taking several lives in turn for Kerċhek’s.
Running the orc completely through, Tethelan pulled his sword free and beheaded a second. A thick crossfire of arrows, crafted by both orc and by man, quickly turned the tranquil path into a deadly fiasco.
“We’re surrounded!” Someone shouted, “we must break through!”
Punctured by multiple shafts, the orc tumbled from behind the boulder and rolled his way down to the foot of the hill. Stepping over the corpse Mirax drew, knotted, and slew yet another. Aiming high above his head he let go of an arrow. The orc fell silently from hiding, only to snag among the brambles and dangle lifelessly above the skirmish. “Tethelan, come quickly!” Merúdin shouted. Spurring his horse Tethelan followed the remaining five, thrusting his spear into the nearest orc.
Stray arrows, unskillfully shot, flew wildly around the fleeing men. At a thunderous gallop Mirax lead the way, his terrified horse tearing through the forest. Arching his back as he rode he fired an arrow into the throng of followers. Calódius did the same. Occasionally an orc could be seen darting back and forth among the trees, contemplating how best to approach the fleeing men. The second attack came suddenly, so quickly, in fact, that no one had time to prepare. From within the bushes on the left of the path sprung a mass of the enemy. They flung themselves upon Calódius and two others before dragging them screaming from their horses and into the woods. Their desperate shouts for help ended unnaturally short as Mirax dismounted in fury.
“Who where they?” Tethelan shouted ferociously as he drew his sword.
“Uther, Calódius, and Årtanaltos!” Mirax shouted back, as he fired arrow after arrow into the trees. “Face me you murderers!” He bellowed into the silence, “Face me and your death!” No response game. Mirax stared desperately into the forest as if hoping to catch site of Calódius.
“Mirax, we’ve no place to run! Help us!”
The orcs who had originally given chase were closing in. Mirax instinctively reached for his quiver and began to pick off the forerunners. Clutching the arrow lodged in his chest, the orc tripped over its own feet and stumbled to a halt face down on the ground. A second arrow pierced an exposed throat, and two more found their way into an unlucky host.
Tethelan and Merúdin lifted sword and shield as they rushed towards the orcs. Behind them followed Mirax with a thin, sturdy spear. Before long, three men and seven orcs collided on the path in a tangle of blade and fist. The brawl lasted only a minute. The small band of orcs, though ferocious, lacked the skill of trained soldiers and did not last long.
“We cannot keep this up,” Mirax sighed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “our only sensible option is to run.” The trio stood catching their breath above seven fallen orcs. In the distance they could all hear an orcish war cry. Calling his horse, Merúdin mounted as quickly as he could. With his left hand he shaded his eyes and peered into the distance.
“They’re moving through the forest this time,” he said quietly as the others readied their steeds, “you can see one there,” he pointed, “and there. Let’s go.”
Again they raced through the forest, ducking branches and leaping rocks. A lone arrow passed closely overhead, much like a swooping crow. Mirax turned once again in his saddle and fired into the woods behind them. “Ride!” Merúdin shouted, “Get-” but he had stopped talking. Transfixed by an arrow he toppled from his horse and bounced to a halt beneath the foliage.
“Usires Aedon!” Tethelan swore, “Merúdin, where are you?” The thick flowering bushes in front of him shook as a body pushed its way through. “Merúdin, quickly!” but it was not Merúdin.
From all around them the orcs pounced. Tethelan shouted something to Mirax, but he could not hear. With a gurgling scream Tethelan disappeared under a wave of ferocity and Mirax never saw his again. His mighty stallion trampled those in front of it, churning their flesh into the earth; yet not even that was not enough to save Mirax. Impaling the nearest orc he brandished a knife and hacked violently until his horse collapsed and he was tossed from the saddle.
Down on the ground he battered the crowd around him for the memory of his friends, but he was soon overwhelmed. Multiple blades of steel pierced his body and he fell to the earth in the growing darkness. One swift blow later it had ended, and the skilled archer collapsed in a heap. No longer was the world of man safe from the foul of Mordor. No longer were the forests secure and the fields peaceful and silent. Sauron’s invasion of Middle Earth had begun, and the power of Mordor was soon to be challenged . . .