8 - Rohan Years - Passing of the Night

The night was dark and thick like black ink and no moon shone in the cloudless sky. A tall woman wrapped in a cloak sat on her horse and gazed down from a hill. Her figure seemed to blend in with the night. Her heart was heavy and she had ridden by night only for days now, she felt more comfortable to blend in with the darkness - the same darkness it seemed, that had taken over her heart and soul. Faintly she remembered that she had had a name.

She dismounted and whispered to her horse in a low voice. The mare sped off into the night, while the rider slowly made her way to the valley. Her feet found hold on the slippery ground easily with speed and ease she found the bottom of the valley where she stood for a moment pricking her ears.

The chill wind carried faint whispers through the night - low whispers, almost like grunts. She knew well, what these whispers meant. With a quick flick of her hand a halberd was unstrapped and she stood armed. Her figure blended still in with the darkness, but the tip of her halberd glittered even with the lack of moonlight. She looked up and frowned. That glitter once had been a comfort to her, but recently it had begun to annoy her. As the darkness of her heart and soul had increased and as she felt herself dying from within every spark of light had begun to annoy her. She shook her head and peered into the dark. She was hunting and nothing else mattered now.

The whispers became louder and were not whispers anymore. A grim smile crossed her face and a distinct smell caught her attention. Orcs!

A band of orcs were headed straight at her and by their whispering and their way of moving they had hostages.

“Poor creatures! Tonight their doom will come.” Hearing herself speak almost startled her, she had almost forgotten her own voice and it sounded unfamiliar – cold, low and coarse. For a moment she realised that she did not know if she spoke of the orcs or those that were forced to move with them. She shrugged and loosened her muscles, she did not really care. The woman who would have cared had died during the last few days.

Silently she stood, her muscles strung like the string of a bow. They were coming!

Grunts and sniffling came closer and became louder. “Snarak! Menstink!” One of the taller orcs yelled out and turned to his company and made them come to a halt.

“Arrggggh, ‘tese ‘ere stink, yer nose’s misleadin’ ye, Urukar. Let’s be rid o’hem and have their flesh! I don’t care if master will punish us. We haven’t had flesh as tender in a long time.” Snarling a smaller orc had pushed the prisoners together and poked his finger into a merchant woman’s side.

The huntress’ eyes flashed in the darkness and she heard herself growl. She had grown strange to herself, but also had lost any interest in that fact. Only the hunt mattered, although she had decided to go to the Shire, the way there was long and it was filled with prey. A prey she loathed!

Her own growling grew and it caught the attention of the orcs. One of them pointed into her direction and almost squealed. “Wolves?”

At that she sprang out of the darkness and ahead of the group. Her laughter roared over the company and before first orc could draw his blade his head fell. Her blade was darkened by his black blood and the glittering faded. She was pleased now and with a swift circle turned on her heel and swung her weapon around with a scream.

Orcs now came rushing at her and they shoved and pushed the prisoners to all sides. Soon all the place lay in confusion and the woman with her halberd slashed and thrust about herself, felling what came towards her with her blade. The taller orc came at her and with a mighty swing of his sword knocked the halberd out of her hand. Jumping at him she took him by the neck and knocked her head against his, sending him toppling backwards. Something warm trickled down her forehead, but she cared not, but withdrew a dagger from her boot and stuck it into the orcs throat. With a last effort and a gurgling sound he yelled one last time at the lesser orcs. “Kill them all! Let her see her kind bleed to death like pigs!” His voice and gaze broke and suddenly the orcs turned from her and rushed to gather the prisoners.

Wild screams of panic filled the night and the squeals of joy and excitement. “Flesh!” A woman fell to the ground and a child screamed. The woman got to her feet and didn’t bother to pick up her halberd but rushed forward with her dagger and drove it deep into the flesh of an orc who held a young girl at the hair and tried to cut her throat. He turned at the pain, just to find a fist in his ugly face and with a second stab fell mortally wounded.

The young girl fell to the ground and held her neck, but the woman next to her looked down upon her merciless and without emotion. She turned immediately to find her next victim, her next prey. Her dark hair hung unkempt on her shoulder and into her face and her green eyes had a mad glitter.

Once more she was upon the orcs and forgot all about herself, not minding who fell around her. Soon the ground was covered by fallen orcs and prisoners. She panted and felt her strength fade. Suddenly something grabbed her by the shoulder and she wheeled around and held her blade up. The blade of her dagger raced towards the neck, but the wild and frightened look of a pale girls face stayed her hand. The point of her dagger halted at the neck and touched the skin lightly, sending a single drop of blood out of it. For a moment that seemed to stretch to eternity she did not know if she should drive the blade deeper.

The girl shivered and her eyes were filled with fear. Suddenly she realised the deafening silence all around her. Dead silence filled the night.

Finally a soft, fearful but kind whisper cut the silence. A whisper which seemed to wipe the tension away. “We should thank you? Who are you?”

Her name? The woman loosened her grip and the dagger fell to the ground. She stood and stared at the girl. Slowly she remembered that she had had a name, she remembered who she truly was. She looked around and realised that all orcs lay dead, but also that some of their prisoners lay mortally wounded. Suddenly it struck her: “Have I hurt any of you?”

The girl shook her head, but trembled. “But I thought you would.”

The tall figure of the woman seemed to shrink and her knees gave way, she sunk to the ground and looked up at the girl. Finally she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t think you should thank me. But my name is Róm...” She knew she could no longer give this name of light away easily anymore. “I’m Roamer.” She covered her face with her bloodstained hands and began to weep.