Handorth glanced around. His brigade had fallen into disrepair. They were stationed here on this wretched rock-pile in the woods and were becoming quarrelsome. It made him sick to see strong arms and sharp blades lying idle while other servants of the Dark Lord were busy cutting the throats of Elves and foolish misguided Men. Handorth determined that it would be necessary to form a pact with a group of loyal fighters to command the rest with an iron fist.
Handorth was pleased that so many were loyal to him and his brigade: the marching armoured soldiers from the households of the Far South were well-disciplined and deadly, the members of the barbarian legions, and the swordsmen who bore the black tooth markings upon their collars; they were in league with Handorth and his battalion, who were named the Iron-Blades by the Orcs who had seen them at work opposing the foe.
Handorth approached two men he recognized: Kane and Vlad. They had seen war and were wise in its ways. Handorth addressed them:
"My friends: this army is cutting itself apart the longer we linger by this cave. Some may desert, and they will be slain or they will perish, one way or the other--I mean that we must hold together. I think we can command some respect even with the Orcs if we act together. First, the prisoner must be protected. Next, we must send out a part of our force to secure the area. We are lying here blind and confused. Finally, we must agree that an attack on any one of us will be regarded as an attack on us all. If the Orcs try anything, they will get to see the Iron-Blades work on them. Do you understand?"
Handorth looked over his shoulder at Findorak.
"If that one will join us, let him join us. If not, leave him to the Orcs. I am sure he will fare well with them."
__________________
Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west. Behind the hills, into shadow.
How did it come to this?
|