[Arry]

Gromwakh took the lead with Snikdul following close. Toward the rear of the ragged column they moved, the remainder of their companions trailing along behind them. They were just thirteen in number now, one of them having met the brutish death at the hands and foot of One Eye . . . and him, the poor dead Orc, in the midst of a winning streak with the dice. The little group kept well out of sight of the troops marching toward the Elven forest as they made their way in the opposite direction. And it was not until early afternoon that the supply wagons came into view.

Snikdul was all for running hurriedly toward them, as were the others. But Gromwakh growled at the group and urged them on behind the last of the lines. ‘They may be cooks and servers and water-fetchers but they aren’t all stupid. They’ll wonder why were running towards them from the front and some idjit’s bound to let slip to someone about Orcs that were running away from the battlefield.’ The group looked at him dumbly, no light of understanding in their eyes. ‘Just follow his lead, boys, old Grom’ll get us through. And best yet he’ll do the thinking for it.’ Now a flicker of comprehension glinted in the depths of their yellow eyes, like a small taper lit in a vast cavern.

As if by mutual agreement they all nodded toward him and waited expectantly for an order. He sighed, then belched, as if he had made up his mind. Seeing the dust from the wagons in the distance now ahead of them, he took off his pack and fished about in it until his fingers found what he sought. His whip! Braided from the hides of two tough old mountain goats he’d pursued and brought down in the Misty Mountains.

Gromwakh drew back his arm and snapped the lash with a quick snap. His companions eyes grew wide and they snarled at him, thinking he might hit them. Grom shouldered his pack and sent them shuffling off before him with a few words as he ran behind, the scourge snapping at their heels.

‘Oy!’ he shouted loud as they neared the wagons. ‘Get on you maggoty lot,’ he cried as they neared the wagons from the rear, in a voice great enough to be heard by the Orcs in charge. ‘I’ll not have you lagging behind. Some of you take up that wagon tongue, you lazy louts, and give those others a breather. The others run along beside and spell them once in a while.’

The Orcs who were pulling the wagon were more than happy to give up their work to the fresh crew. Gromwakh walked alongside his companions nudging them now and then with his whip handle for effect, all the while telling them to keep their heads low and their gobs shut . . . they’d make it through yet.