2 - Youth - Drums in the Night

Drums!

Drums rolled in the distance and the squealing and grunting of orcish throats could be heard in the distance, quickly approaching. Drums meant trolls – this her father had taught her. And trolls meant lethal danger! Rómeniêl steadied herself, fear flickering in the young girl’s eyes.

She was tall and slender, no sign of war yet on her though always taught to wield a weapon since she could hold one. A grave elderly man stood by her side sternly nodding in silent acknowledgement – her father. This was her test, her first test of strength and will, which he had set her on.

The girl was not yet grown into a full woman, but no child either. "Rómeniêl, straighten your back and never lower your sword. Trolls will bring the world down upon you, ward your head, and move quickly… they are slow to turn but quick in swinging their arms." She nodded, Rómeniêl's heart pounding within her. Her knees shook slightly, but she was determined not to let it show in front of her father. His only child, his heir, the one that was brought up to fulfil the oath that her family had pledged! Only now she began to understand what that oath would mean to her life. Yet she was to decide, if she would follow all those that preceded her, after this battle. All her life's thread hung at this battle, this one test.

Rómeniêl turned her head to each side, seeing the stern complexion of her father's men and their readied bodies. Sweat of anxiety trickled from her forehead, down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt of the plains. The sound of drums now pounding in her ears, the trolls now seen not only heard. The odds seemed not good, for her father's rangers were but a dozen men against 5 trolls approaching, followed by at least twice the number of orcs as they were. Yet she knew that those men were able and had survived worse. This was a sport for them, even if it was a deadly one – for either side.

It would be seconds until they would engage into battle, but they seemed to stretch into eternity. An elderly soldier, whom she had known all her life, laid an encouraging hand on her shoulder and smiled. She returned the smile and her heart seemed to calm. "Kill the orc drummers first. You'll manage my dear child." This man had always been a kind mentor to her, whenever her father was stern and scolded her for minor mistakes.

Now the drumming filled all the air and shook everyone to the bone. Her father's men let out battle cries and Rómeniêl joined into them. They stormed forward into the darkness of night screaming. The clashing of steel upon steel, steel upon bone soon filled the air and the sound of drums.

All her fears were forgotten and she wielded her sword against an orc that ran onto her, thrusting it deep into his throat. Black blood gushed from his throat and mouth and covered her blade and hands. Orc stench filled the air and burnt her nostrils. Within the darkness of the night she wielded her blade, soon half blind by the blood that covered her face. Orcs fell around her as she heard the rangers raging. Some of her father's men were already badly wounded but still fighting on, wielding their weapons fending off trolls. The trolls, the huge, bulky, grey creatures, soon were not accompanied by drumming anymore, for the orc drummers that had urged them forward were dead.

The minutes stretched even more as the battlefield was quenched from the drumming. A huge troll approached Rómeniêl and she ducked, uppering her sword to fend his blow off. The huge hand of the troll swung to one side and hit her, sending her flying through the air. She landed hard and felt that some of her rips were broken as she heavily drew breath, unable to move for a second. The troll rushed at her and lifted his hand for a final blow as the figure of a man towered above her all of the sudden, swinging a halberd to defend her. She moaned and tried to stumble to her knees, searching for her sword that she had let go. As another troll came up from behind. Rómeniêl screamed on top of her lungs, making her chest throb with pain. It was too late. The second troll crushed the man that had just saved her from the final blow. He fell, slowly it seemed for Rómeniêl's widened eyes, to the ground his body broken by the stone that the troll had landed upon his head. His helmet was dented and blood flooded down his face as he fell back upon Rómeniêl, burying her beneath him, warding her one last time from the trolls, who now turned away, thinking both of them dead.

A wave of desperation ran through Rómeniêl's body and she looked into the veiling eyes of her beloved mentor. "You'll manage my dear child," he muttered under his last breath, with a last smile upon his lips, placing his halberd into her hand as the light left his eyes.

With a scream of desperation and anger Rómeniêl gathered all the air and courage that was left in her and lifted steadying herself upon the halberd. Then she rushed forward with full speed and thrust the halberd into the back of the troll that had just thrown the stone at her friend. No fear was left there and as she once more struck the troll from behind; screaming still the first light of the sun came up and reflected on the tip of her halberd. The battle was over as the sunlight touched the remaining trolls and turned them to stone.

Stopping all the sudden at this sight Rómeniêl fell to her knees crying. She sobbed and looked into the light of the arising day. Incredible pain surged through her slender body. As the light of the sun hit her water filled eyes she knew her destiny.

Slowly and carefully she raised herself, wiping the tears away. Noble and grave as hewn stone her figure could be seen standing against the dawning sky until the light was fully up. She walked over the battlefield, tending to the wounded. She ignored her own pain, her own wounds and her own sorrow. Then walked over the plain looking for her fallen friend. Lifting him up from the place the rangers had placed him and burying him on top of the hill where the first light of day had saved them all. Then she took up his halberd, tied it to her back, turned and an air was about her as she walked back to her father's camp knowing that there was an oath to pledge.