Wárzárz watched as another patrol came into camp. He had received word that another battalion would be rendezvousing near the outskirts of the Dead Marshes near the area of Gladden Fields, west from his location. There were no new orders, so he had stayed near the foot of the Hill. His own battalion was growing in strength and number.
Múrú kept her minions patrolling the different areas of the woods. She had informed him of the coming of the trolls and giants from the south. He smiled at the news. No pointy-eared elvenking could withstand them. The group near the marshes would prevent aid from the Lorien.
It would only be a matter of time.
“My pets tell me of news from near Thranduil’s lair. The traitor has captured another group of elves. “
The huge orc captain grunted, “We need another slave to penetrate the elven lair. Your last one was taken from your clutched.”
“Mornovarion was easily broken! This one, I have a stronger hold,” The vampire hissed at him.
“And when he finds out the truth?” The orc smiled evilly. “It will not matter much. But another failure will displease the Master.”
He did enjoy watching Múrú work her arts. She could twist the mind of any strong elf or man, to bend to do her bidding. But he enjoyed the process even more, the torture, the pain and guile she used. Though it was said her powers came from within the Hill, and she too did the bidding of another.
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