A/N This is my first LOTR Fic, so I apologise if anything is incorrect, enjoy! :)
Just beyond the gentle flow of the river Grey Flood, and between the gentle slopes that the rough pasture offered, lay the small town of Lond Daer. Resting half-dormant, and isolated in the fields of Enedwaitch, not many acknowledged the settlement.
A darkness was crawling throughout the lands, its tendrils silently seeping into the roots of the peaceful hillsides, and striking the more desolate areas of Enedwaitch.
Many men knew of its existence and attempted to fight the hands of the menacing opposer, but with no success, the enemy continued to relentlessly overturn the small villages that slept towards the East and South.
Black unruly hair, and dark orbs of brown met the face of Halbarad, his father. Hallas, freshly turned sixteen and living the blissfulness of adolescence, entered the door of the wooden shack. He sat down at the oak table where
a small supper was being served.
"A good stroll, Hallas?" Asked his father, who sat at the head of the table smoking his pipe.
"Indeed, the moors are quiet most in the early evening. Clouds are not far behind, rain is coming." He replied, glancing at the open-shuttered windows that showed the darkening sky.
Halbarad smiled, and relaxed in his chair, looking around the table at his small family. His two young daughters and wife also sat around him, chatting and serving out the small feast that lay beheld in small wooden bowls.
A steadily growing wind whipped at the shutters, and eeriness grew in the air amongst them. A hesitant silence came about the table, as shouting could be heard not too far away.
"I see Orcs over the hills! Orcs! They come in many! Orcs!" Yelled a small group of men, banging on nearby doors. "The evil has spread! Prepare your weapons, take the women and children!"
Hallas stared in disbelief at his father, who had gone a ghostly pale.
"They have come," he stuttered, almost brokenly, "The darkness has spread to Lord Daer."
Halbarad tied his knives to his back, and grabbed his leather scabbard, all the while barking, "Stay in the house! Do not move, they will find you, chase you down, go no further!"
Hallas tied his twin knives onto his back and unsheathed his blades. Forged of polished steel, they glinted up to the up to the sharpened-hooked tip.
"Hallas"
He turned round, and his eyes met his fathers for a second time as he kneeled at his height.
"Look after your mother and sisters, protect the house" he paused, "And stay strong." With that he left, tearing through the door with his sword raised above his head.
Hallas looked behind him, and saw the rest of his family before him. His sisters' eyes were glazed with fear, and they held tightly onto their mother. She, stood protectivly over her daughters, and nodded at Hallas.
"My son, you are my brave soldier, the only light that can seem to penetrate this corrupt evil. Your father will be so proud of you" A solitary tear rolled onto her cheek. "You can do this."
She departed, and took his sisters to the back room to stay concealed. Hallas closed the door behind them and kept himself on alert.
The shouts were even louder now, and faint screaming could be heard. A shiver grappled down Hallas' spine.
"These are no Orc-folk!" Shrieked one, who held a pitchfork and a torch.
"They are Uruk-hai, from the hands of Isengard from the North!" Yelled another, who wielded a longsword.
And they came, like raging beasts they hurdled into the village, marches turning into rabid running.
They held pikes and five foot swords ladled with gruesome spikes, and their black speech dripped with every word.
"Burn it down! Ruin the town!" They roared, killing any man they saw within their range.
The men of Lord Daer were outnumbered helplessly, and blood curdled cries echoed around every door and wall.
In horror, Hallas watched as a beast crashed through his door with a five-foot torch in his grasp. His face, riddled with grotesque scars and splashed blood, stood on top of his unhuman-like six-foot frame.
With a battle cry, the small figure in front of him charged with speed, identical swords held in a cross above his head.
An evil chuckle escaped the troll-like lips, and the Uruk-hai troop swung his giant knife with ease when the boy came within range.
Hallas dodged the heavy swing, and struck at the Uruk's exposed legs with as much force as he could muster.
As if with barley no effect, the beast once again swung at the boy, and this time met with his swords. Hallas was thrown back, and hit his head hard on the wall behind him.
The Uruk twisted its lips into a smile, and lit a wooden beam of the house on fire. Flames crept up the beam, and reached the roof in a matter of seconds.
He left, bounding out of the door and continuing his onslaught.
Hallas could feel blood trickling down the side of his head, as he gazed at the fire swallowing the hay roof above him. A choking fog swirled around the house, blinding his vision and becoming entangled in his lungs.
With a final conscious breath, the sound of screaming, shouting and death left him, and instead darkness enveloped him.
"This one's alive" Someone growled, picking up a loose plank of burnt wood that had fallen on the small body.
"Wake him up" Growled another, shoving his counterpart.
Hallas his head snap back and forth, as his body was being shaken with brute force. Peeling open his lids, he knew he was not yet dead.
"Grab 'im, take him to Uglúk"
Hallas, only half conscious, was hauled up onto his unsteady feet, and dragged out into the weak daylight.
Before him, lay mountainous piles of ash and rubble, creating new hills in the west of Enedwaitch.
A large hand was clamped around the collar of his shirt, and was forcing him into an upright position before the Uruk-hai leader, Uglúk. The beast's face was painted black, and jagged teeth protruded from large cracked lips. His
eyes were a bloodshot yellow, and large pointed ears sat in front of a small mane of dirty blonde hair. He stood at a grand six and a half feet tall, and loomed above the adolescent child that was hauled in front of him.
"He is alive" Said the one holding Hallas, "And the only one."
His gruesome companion sniffed the air, "And he reeks of fear."
Uglúk snarled, and shoved the young boy back from him. "Tie him up" He barked.
Two uruk's came from beside him, and bound Hallas' hands together with thick rope.
He could feel the rope cutting into his wrists, as they pulled it tightly.
This is where the long march would begin, and seem to never seem to end.