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It was getting late and he had yet to find their tracks. He knew they had come this way, for there was no other means of crossing the river. Sword slung across his shoulder, Mablung continued along the riverbank, scanning the ground for any sign of the orcs passing.
An hour later, the sun had set and he was sitting by the small fire he had lit. He was taking a chance lighting a fire, seeing as how he knew there were orcs nearby, but he hadn’t had a hot meal in over a week and the rabbit he had caught earlier that day would taste much better cooked than raw. Captain Boromir had sent him on this mission alone, knowing that his skills as a Ranger were sufficient to get the job done. There had been reports of a band of orcs raiding nearby farmsteads. He finished the rabbit he had caught earlier in the day and quickly put out the remnants of the fire. Then he sat back against the tree and with his sword across his lap, he closed his eyes to get a few hours rest. Sleep would not be in his cards this night, but he was adept at resting while appearing to sleep.
Morning came all too soon and he rose, stretching his arms above his head to work the kinks out of his bones. He went down to the rivers edge and tossed some water over his head, then cupping his hand, he lifted it to drink. It was in that moment that he heard the snap of a tree branch off to his right. He quickly rose and made his way quietly through the trees in the direction of the sound.
The sun was just coming over the horizon when he found them. A small band of only four, which meant they were a scouting party and not the main force. Although four orcs could cause a great deal of damage to a farmstead, it was clear that there had been many more involved than just these four. They were preoccupied with the dead deer they were eating and so they didn’t hear Mablung as he edged closer to their position. He lay down behind a bush, making sure he was upwind of them, for he didn’t need them smelling him out just yet. He wanted to see if he could find out what they were doing in this part of the forest. There were no homesteads anywhere nearby and therefore, their presence here was a mystery.
They had finished off the deer and had gone down to the river to drink as Mablung watched them. It was then that one of them pulled an object out of a bag hanging from its’ waist. Mablung strained to see what the object was, but he was too far away to make it out clearly. The fact that it caught the sunlight and caused a reflection made Mablung think it was made of some sort of metal, yet small enough to be held in the palm of the orcs hand. The four orcs gathered around the object as the one held it in its’ palm and for a time they all stood silent and still as statues; their attention solely focused on the item. He knew he could easily take these four, but he debated on the merits of following them to see where they were going as opposed to killing them and not having anything tangible to take back to Captain Boromir. As he was debating with himself, the four seemed to come out of their trance-like state and he heard the one who seemed to be the leader of the group say, “We are to meet them at the fork of the river.” That was all Mablung needed to hear and he leapt up from his hiding place and with sword in hand, he ran towards the unsuspecting orcs.
The first went down before it even knew what hit it, his sword entering its back and coming out through its stomach. He blocked an attack from the leader by kicking him in the stomach as he steadied himself on the still dying orc. Pulling his sword from its back, he swung around, sword held straight out in front of him as it caught a third orc across the chest. Blood sprayed out from the wound and covered Mablungs clothes. There was no time to think as the fourth orc came at him, sword in hand. Metal clashed as the man and orc traded blows, but the man won out and a third orc fell to the ground. Within minutes, the leader lay dead on the ground as well and Mablung was searching his body for the mystery item. Finding it, he placed it in his pocket and headed back to Minas Tirith to deliver his report to his Captain.
An hour later, the sun had set and he was sitting by the small fire he had lit. He was taking a chance lighting a fire, seeing as how he knew there were orcs nearby, but he hadn’t had a hot meal in over a week and the rabbit he had caught earlier that day would taste much better cooked than raw. Captain Boromir had sent him on this mission alone, knowing that his skills as a Ranger were sufficient to get the job done. There had been reports of a band of orcs raiding nearby farmsteads. He finished the rabbit he had caught earlier in the day and quickly put out the remnants of the fire. Then he sat back against the tree and with his sword across his lap, he closed his eyes to get a few hours rest. Sleep would not be in his cards this night, but he was adept at resting while appearing to sleep.
Morning came all too soon and he rose, stretching his arms above his head to work the kinks out of his bones. He went down to the rivers edge and tossed some water over his head, then cupping his hand, he lifted it to drink. It was in that moment that he heard the snap of a tree branch off to his right. He quickly rose and made his way quietly through the trees in the direction of the sound.
The sun was just coming over the horizon when he found them. A small band of only four, which meant they were a scouting party and not the main force. Although four orcs could cause a great deal of damage to a farmstead, it was clear that there had been many more involved than just these four. They were preoccupied with the dead deer they were eating and so they didn’t hear Mablung as he edged closer to their position. He lay down behind a bush, making sure he was upwind of them, for he didn’t need them smelling him out just yet. He wanted to see if he could find out what they were doing in this part of the forest. There were no homesteads anywhere nearby and therefore, their presence here was a mystery.
They had finished off the deer and had gone down to the river to drink as Mablung watched them. It was then that one of them pulled an object out of a bag hanging from its’ waist. Mablung strained to see what the object was, but he was too far away to make it out clearly. The fact that it caught the sunlight and caused a reflection made Mablung think it was made of some sort of metal, yet small enough to be held in the palm of the orcs hand. The four orcs gathered around the object as the one held it in its’ palm and for a time they all stood silent and still as statues; their attention solely focused on the item. He knew he could easily take these four, but he debated on the merits of following them to see where they were going as opposed to killing them and not having anything tangible to take back to Captain Boromir. As he was debating with himself, the four seemed to come out of their trance-like state and he heard the one who seemed to be the leader of the group say, “We are to meet them at the fork of the river.” That was all Mablung needed to hear and he leapt up from his hiding place and with sword in hand, he ran towards the unsuspecting orcs.
The first went down before it even knew what hit it, his sword entering its back and coming out through its stomach. He blocked an attack from the leader by kicking him in the stomach as he steadied himself on the still dying orc. Pulling his sword from its back, he swung around, sword held straight out in front of him as it caught a third orc across the chest. Blood sprayed out from the wound and covered Mablungs clothes. There was no time to think as the fourth orc came at him, sword in hand. Metal clashed as the man and orc traded blows, but the man won out and a third orc fell to the ground. Within minutes, the leader lay dead on the ground as well and Mablung was searching his body for the mystery item. Finding it, he placed it in his pocket and headed back to Minas Tirith to deliver his report to his Captain.
