[Arry]

‘What’s that?’ asked Snikdul, shading his eyes with his hand. He and Gromwakh had been assigned the honor of packing up the Captain’s belongings and were now just stowing them in the small compartment beneath the wagon. There in the distance, from the perimeter of a small stand of low growing trees came the sounds of Orcs shouting their battle cries and the pounding of feet running toward the trees.

Gromwakh pulled his companion down and they sprinted in the opposite direction, throwing themselves beneath the cover of some densely packed bushes. Hearing no pursuit, they peeked out carefully from their cover. ‘Are we being attacked,’ whispered Snikdul, tugging on Gromwakh’s arm. He had his iron bar gripped firmly in his hand, his eyes wide with apprehension.’

‘Shhh!’ hissed Gromwakh. ‘Let me just creep a little closer.’ He bent low and eased forward to a better vantage point. ‘They’re dragging some one in,’ he said to Snikdul who had followed him like a shadow. ‘Is it one of us?’ croaked Snikdul, his gaze sweeping about for hidden attackers in the shadows. ‘Not unless one of us has suddenly sprouted long yellow hair,’ returned his fellow hider.

They both stood, their heads just peeking over the low bushes. A group of their fellow Orcs surrounded a single Orc who was dragging a blonde headed fellow in by his ankles. An Elf, Gromwakh said, by the looks of him. As the group neared the camp, the Captain came forward to look at the sorry prize. He poked him hard in the ribs with his boot, and when the Elf gave only a faint response, Gâshronk, rolled him over on his back and had several other Orcs hold him down.

‘He’s taking something off ‘im,’ Snikdul said, watching as the Captain’s hand reached down and came up with some shiny, yellow necklace he’d pulled from the Elf’s neck; something red on it, like a drop of shining blood, winked in the sun, before it was tucked into the pouch at the Captain’s waistband. Next, the pretty pin that held the captive’s cloak was undone and found its way into Gâshronk’s pocket. ‘Ooh, I’d like that cloak he’s wearing – looks like a nice warm one.’

Snikdul started to leave the hiding place, drawn by the promise of a possible prize for himself. Gromwakh caught his arm and hauled him back beneath the bushes. ‘If there’s one filthy Elf, there’s bound to be more.’ He looked toward the wagon where the three other captives were bound. ‘They seem to come in sets, I think. And they have those nasty bows with their biting arrows.’

He pulled two strips of dried rat from his breeches pocket and handed one of them to Snikdul. ‘Settle in for a bit . . . chew quietly . . . let’s see what else shakes out of the trees . . .’

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Bleeding and unconscious, the new Elf was dragged to the wagon. His hands and feet soon bound with thin, plaited rope. Three Orcs picked his limp body up from the ground and flung it unceremoiously atop the other captives . . .