"Black Speech."
Thought.
"Wargs from the north!" A farmer ran through the dirt roads of the small village, "Wargs and Orcs!"
The old farmer continued spreading his warning through the town. Men, women, and children rushed into their homes, the braver of them exiting with weapons and armor rusted from ages of not seeing battle nor proper care. Amid the chaos, a bent figure hobbled, trying desperately to attract someone, anyone's attention. She grabbed tightly onto the belt of a young man rushing to the northern edge of the town.
"My granddaughters! Have you seen my granddaughters? Please, please, help me find them!" The old woman implored, faded blue eyes misting with tears of desperation.
"I'm sorry, I do not know where they are. But, wherever they are," He pulled away from her and began to jog away, "It is far safer than here!"
"The air is heavy today," Krea drawled, turning her mournful green eyes to the cloudy twilight sky. She pulled a ripe berry from its resting place in the bush. "I thank thee, bush, for giving unto me this wonderful fruit of-"
"Oh shut it, you sound like an elf," Maerwynn scowled, pushing her black hair over her shoulder. She did not approve of her sister's strange habits. People were going to start talking of madness, and she couldn't let that tarnish her reputation.
"Both of you shut up," Farfelee retorted from the other side of the berry patch. Her cousins could just be so annoying sometimes.
"I sense ill-omens on the horizon, my kin," Krea set down her basket, turning her eyes skyward. Her dark brown hair swayed in the wind. She lifted her palms to the sky and stared into the still sky.
"Ow!" She quickly returned to Middle Earth.
"What? What is it?" Maerwynn asked, concerned for her sibling's safety.
"I got a raindrop in my eye!" Krea lowered her hand from rubbing her eye to reveal a slightly bloodshot green iris.
"Oh you are so dramatic! Really, you should perform in the Harvest Festival!" Farfelee called from the path to the village. Her cousins ran to catch up to her.
The chatty maidens missed the pair of yellow eyes watching them from behind the copse of oaks at the edge of the berry patch.
Azog ambled through the wreckage of the human village. He smiled in satisfaction at the burning and crushed homes. His white warg padded up to his side, nudging his whole arm in greeting.
"Sir," A scrawny-looking orc called from behind.
"What is it?" Azog growled.
"The survivors have been gathered. We need you to choose who goes to the wargs,"
"Lead on, then."
We are all going to die. Farfelee ran with her cousins, shoes thundering down the path. An orc on a mottled brown warg followed closely at their heels. Krea screamed for the umpteenth time. Farfelee had half a mind to tell her to shut her mouth, but she needed all the air she could get to escape from their pursuer. Farfelee's feet were knocked out from underneath her. She hurtled through air for half a heartbeat before her face made contact with the dirt. She felt two bodies squirming next to her and some sort of net she could feel in every direction. Dread settled itself in her stomach. She had heard tales of what Orcs did to maidens they kidnapped from captured villages. She could only hope the rumors were false.
The orc dismounted and snickered, strutting over to his prize. He hefted the three squirming girls onto the back of his warg and climbed on after them; they headed towards the decimated settlement. Farfelee stared at the ground moving swiftly beneath and to the side of them. She decided to save her energy for whatever was to come. Her cousins continued to scream and cry and flail and protest, but their captor paid them no heed.
He was congratulating himself. His first raid and he captured three able-bodied (as far as he could tell) humans. Azog would be pleased with him, wouldn't he?
The Pale Orc surveyed the captives before him. Mostly women and children had survived the attack, though a handful of men remained. The latter would be who he examined first. He was about to walk closer to the first man, an aging blacksmith, but the sounds of screams and pleas for freedom reached his ears before he could. Brokil rode in from a side road. As his warg slowed to a halt, he tossed down a net filled with three squirming maidens. Well, two squirming maidens, as a blonde one had just slipped out through the open side of the net.
"Farfelee!" A blonde man stepped towards the maiden before an orc brought a blade to his throat.
"Leofrick?" Krea asked in disbelief as she too slipped her way out of the net. Maerwynn soon joined her kin on the outside of the rope trap.
Azog looked between Leofrick and Farfelee. Deciding to have a bit of fun, he stepped towards the fresh captives, he closed the distance between them in three enormous strides.
"Stay away from her!"
Azog looked back over his shoulder at the small man. Small to him, anyway. Tossing a vicious grin over his shoulder, he began to circle the blonde maiden, running the prongs of his prosthetic arm through her hair as he did. The terrified girl stood as still as possible, hoping desperately that he'd move onto one of her cowering cousins.
"What shall we do with his whore?" Azog called to the surrounding orcs.
"Kill her!"
"Take her!"
"Make them fight!"
This final cry earned a roar of approval. The Defiler grinned at his bloodthirsty pack. He shoved Farfelee forward onto the dirt. She and Leofrick stared at each other, wondering what was to become of them. The large white orc returned, carrying a large branch. He snapped it over his knee, creating two sharp points. He examined the points for a brief second before tossing one to each human.
"Fight to the death," Azog growled, turning his back and pacing over to his warg.
Farfelee looked at the half-branch in front of her, then back at her cousins. Krea mouthed something to her. Maerwynn shouted it.
"Fight!"
Farfelee scrambled to grab the branch in front of her, standing just in time to block a strike from Leo. Farfelee remained on the defensive, blocking overhead and backhand strikes left and right and above. In a move she had not anticipated, Leo turned the branch in his grasp and slashed across her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Farfelee's mouth dropped into an offended 'o' shape. She brushed her hand on her cheek then brought it in front of her face. She dropped her branch and punched Leo square in his jaw, snapping his head to the side and knocking him unconscious.
Laughter sprang up from the orcs. It was jarring, harsh and terrible. Azog strode over to the victor and grabbed her wrist, raising her arm in the air and almost picking her up off her feet. He roared, half-amused, half-triumphant. The gathered orcs responded with an even louder roar. Azog dragged Farfelee over to his warg, where anothe orc bound her hands and feet. The white orc tossed her over the back of his warg and made to leave the remains of the village.
"Sir, what do you want us to do with the captives?" A fat orc called after his retreating form.
"Kill the men and the children, gather the women," Azog spurred his warg into a run and was gone, heading back to Weathertop.