AN: This is my first try at anything resembling a decent story, so please be gentle.
AN: Got my first review and I took into account what the review said. I hope the chapter is easier to read now.
An: Yup after the third edit, I think it may be ready to be called complete
The wind howled. The wind always howled out here, Aethor noticed. Out here on the plains of Rohan, with the sun sinking towards the horizon and the clouds reddening, the scent of wood smoke on the wind. The only sounds he had to deal with on his farm were the sound of his animals. Oh how he wished for the sounds of laughing children and his singing wife. Aethor shook his head, he had decided long ago that he must not think of his dead family again. But when did anything he say make any difference in his own mind.
His wife had been a young pretty girl of sixteen when they had married. Her name was Elfilde, her hair was bright and yellow as fresh straw and her smile lit up the world. She had been the desire of every unmarried man in the village, and many of the married men as well. Why she had chosen him was still a mystery to Aethor. She was kind and gentle but firm, and if he was ever being particularly stubborn or upset her he often found himself sleeping in the barn. He had never begrudged her for making him do that. She had turned him from a rash young rider into a sensible man who would think before he acted. She had also never complained about his service to the king, and had put up with his night terrors after he returned from the war.
His two children had been young and feisty, always out in the fields playing when they were not helping their mother with the chores. His son Aidan, had been eight summers old, and lived up to his namesake 'fiery one'. He often went and defended the farm from imaginary raiders, Aethor had been beginning to consider trying to find him an apprenticeship in the village. His son's hair was a dirty blond color and he had grown into a strong lad. His daughter, Annis was the mirror image of her mother, and loved helping to do chores around the house, he hair was as yellow and shiny as her mothers and she was just as good at winding her stubborn father around her little finger.
His family had all been killed in a raid by Uruk-hai raiders on their farm, he had been out in the fields that day when he saw the smoke and heard the screams. It had been a beautiful evening and he had been looking forward to a nice pot of stew that his Elfilde had started that morning. He ached, but it was a pleasant ache of a job well done. He had planned that evening to show his wife quite how much he appreciated her and all she had done for him. He had rushed home with but it was too late. His wife was dead and ravished, repeatedly. Her body which was still young and firm was shredded, with her rosy buds torn off with razor teeth and her thighs coated with blood from where she had been forced to take the orcs hard members, her hair was shining with blood from the wound which had ripped across her throat. It appeared her attackers had taken pleasure in burning her body with coals from their fire and had even despoiled the stew with their waste. His young son was split open from neck to groin in the doorway. When he saw that was when his tears had started, the boy was barely eight summers old, and yet he still lay dead on the flagstone floor. He appeared to have died trying to defend his mother from the raiders. Clutched in his hands to the very end was the knife he had been gifted on his seventh birthday. The worst was his daughter though. He had found her upstairs in her room with the door smashed down and her dress torn off. She had been ravished as well. She had been six summers old, her face was turned to the wall as if to block the sight of the monsters.
He was shaken out of his memories of the times long past, when he felt a hard nudge in the ribs and the harsh whisper from Eodrag reminded him of the slavers, which was the entire reason they were out here at the dead of night.
"Come on boys, kill these scum and we can get back to our beds," Aethor tried to shake his head again to look down on the scene before him. Out of the group of men around him, he was the most experienced, as he had fought Orcs and evil men at the battle of Pellanor fields and then at the Black gate. He remembered the feeling of awe when he thundered down the plain at the vast massed ranks of the enemy. The shining figure of his king leading them to battle, a battle they never thought they could win. Each yell had been dedicated to his wife, who waited back home, already swelling with their son. Oh how he missed her. Reaching down he drew his sword from his scabbard and heard the shuffling as the other men adjusted their swords. The quiet grumbling of their horses was the only other sound to disturb the silence.
In a harsh whisper that was passed down the line Aethor whispered "Just remember lads, we aren't aiming to kill em all, we just want to scatter them and drive them off our lands." Most of the older men nodded their affirmatives, but a couple of the younger lads looked eager for some bloodshed. Discounting them and hoping nobody would do anything stupid. Aethor took his horn from his belt and blew a deep resounding note. Yelling at the top of his lungs he kicked his horse into a gallop straight at the fire.
The site that greeted him in the Dunland camp was one of horror. Women, most as naked as the day they were born were spread about, being used and abused by the Dunlanders,as well as several of the runty orcs. Not like the ones that had taken his family from him, but orcs all the same. With a cry of rage, ignoring his own words of caution, Aethor swung with his blade at the head of a Dunlander who was crouched over a woman who was black with mud. The man's head came away in a spray of blood. The other men in his small group came thundering into the camp. The flickering flame glinted from their swords and the sweat on their brows. Yelling and cursing, his men hacked and slashed wildly at the slavers.
Even in the midst of the battle, Aethor kept bellowing "mind the women you dogs."Against the group of men and boys who had barely held a sword before today the slavers might have been willing to pitch themselves. But they could not stand against Aethor. His blows were not hacks and slashes, they were jabs and feints. Any man or orc who faced him fell. With murder in his eyes, he advanced. Ignoring the screams of pain and cries for mercy he left a trail of the dead and dying in his wake. The slavers recognized that in him they did not face a farmer, but a rider of Rohan. It was over bare minutes after it had begun. The slavers fled, pursued by several of the younger lads including Eodrag. Aethor raised his head and bellowed "Get back here you little fucking maggots." Hearing the warriors voice seemed to snap the lads out of it and they quickly turned their horses around and slunk back to the campsite. Aethor bent over and wiped the blood from his sword on the tunic of one of the wild men. Looking down at the sword, he shook his head, it had belonged in his family for years, and yet here he was. A broken down farmer leading others to battle.
Shaking his head in disgust Aethor sheathed his blade and looked to the edge of camp, where a small huddle of women stood, looking at the sky he noticed how much darker it seemed now. The wind was also picking up and blowing the smoke of the slavers campfires in all directions."Maybe I am just getting too old for this" he muttered under his breath. At this moment in time he just wanted to go home and lay down, but he knew it was going to be a long night, as he attempted to make order of the chaos that the brief skirmish had caused. Aethor began to wearily trudge towards where the women were huddled, he motioned angrily to his men to give them some space and not crowd them. However before he reached the women he heard a quiet sob. Looking to his left he saw Thenas. A lad of fifteen summers who had insisted he was strong enough to join them, crouched over the body of a Dunlander. He was holding his hands over his face, as if to shield his eyes from the empty eyes of the man who lay dead, the Dunlander had a long knife driven into his gut. Aethor crouched down next to the boy and pulled his head into his chest, he felt the sobs wracking the boy's body.
He murmured softly to Thenas "you did good today lad, you held your nerve and you defended your village." Aethor reached to his side where a flask of liquor rested. He had planned on drinking it himself tonight to stop the night terrors that haunted him, but the lad needed it more than him. Motioning with one arm to one of the slightly older lads to come over, Aethor told him in a quiet but firm voice "you make sure he drinks enough of that to straighten his head. And I swear to Beru, if I hear the piss getting taken I will take it out of your hide. Do you understand boy?" Aethor glared hard at the older lad until he nodded. Getting up and leaving Thenas sobbing into the lad's shoulder, occasionally taking a swig from the flask. Aethor made his way finally to the group of women. There were five women left of the seven who had got taken from the neighboring village, Aethor didn't need to ask what had happened to the other two, he knew the things the wild men did to their Rohan captives. The hatred between the two people's ran deep.
Aethor stopped a short distance from where the women they had rescued stood, he bowed his head respectfully to the matriarch of the group, an older woman. Still pretty but also world weary. "Ma'am, I hope you will allow my men to escort you back to your homes, might I enquire what village you were taken from?"
The older woman looked him up and down, apparently deciding he could be trusted, she gestured with him to walk with her. In a quiet voice, so none of the other men could hear the woman said "My name is Eofrol, m'lord. I would appreciate the escort for myself and the others back to our village," she quickly and briefly outlined where the village was located in relation to his village. Eofrol paused as if thinking, and proceeded to say "tell me m'lord, are you a good man?"
Slightly startled by the question, Aethor stared at her for a few moments. He quickly cleared his throat "I like to believe so ma'am." Eofrol looked at him. This tall handsome rider, he could not be more than thirty summers old. Yet he had lines of tragedy etched on his face, but he appeared to be kind, if what she saw of him and the boy was any indication.
Eofrol then asked "are you married m'lord?" Aethor was slightly shocked by the straightforwardness of the question. He shook his head to indicate no. Eofrol kept looking at him, "do you enjoy the company of others on a regular occasion?" Once again Aethor shook his head no. A small smile spread across Eofrol's face.
"M'lord, I ask you this in the strictest confidence, after everybody has gone, please return to the sight of the battle, and..think before you act. Just..think, please". Aethor looked into the woman's eyes and saw pleading and hopefulness.
"I will stay behind" he said gently. Tears flooded the woman's face and she said as formally as she could manage "thank you m'lord." Turning she walked away back to the group of other women. Aethor did not know what to make of this request, but if it brought the woman some peace he would follow through with his promise.
Aethor was quick in assigning the young idiots who had chased after the slavers to dig a great pit to hold the bodies of the slavers. He also assigned two of the older men to fetch a cart to transport the bodies of the dead women home. He had breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that there were no fatalities among the men he had led. He did not think he could continue to live if he had the shame of needless death hovering over him as well.
His eyes skimmed across all the activity that was taking place, he did notice Eofrol had walked over to a the remains of an old hut and was leaning against the frame, appearing to look in. Aethor saw her turn and walk calmly towards the rest of the group, who were all mounting up with various riders for their journey back to the village where they were snatched from. Aethor waited, as the woman had asked him to. He had dismounted from his horse and was sitting looking without seeing, into the one fire that was still alight, smoking his pipe. His wife and children were on his mind. His wife had always said that he was a good man. And smart enough to look before acting.
It was not long before he heard the footsteps. They were approaching from the direction of the old hut. Reaching to his waist, he drew his sword and laid it across his lap. Then in a calm gentle voice he called out "If you would not mind, could you approach from where I can see you"? Aethor listened as the footsteps stopped. They started again soon after, however they were taking a route that would lead the maker of the noises into his front arc.
An orc was not what Aethor was expecting. Startled by the realisation that an orc stood merely feet away from him, he stood and held his sword in guard position, ready for the charge he was sure would be coming. However surprisingly the orc did not charge, in a gravelly voice the orc said "Huh, knew it was too good to be true, a man who might help me" the orc looked down at its knees and then stood and looked Aethor in the eye "might as well end it now then, one clean cut and its all over, no more pain, no more persecution" Aethor was shocked. He had never heard an orc speak before, let alone so eloquently.
In a curious voice Aethor asked "what do you mean, 'too good to be true'"?
The orc stared at him, "that woman, Eofrol, said she had found a man who might help me, I just want a place to stay for a while. I can earn my keep and I just want to grow up, then I can leave and never come back".
Aethor looked the orc up and down. And then it hit him. It was a she.
The she-orc was around 5,6, not too much shorter than Aethor himself, her breasts were noticeable but not huge, her legs were well muscled and gleamed in the firelight, and her face. Her face reminded him of his wife, with a blunter flatter nose, and a heavier brow, but certainly feminine. "Eofrol said you might take me in, she said you were a good man who would think before he ran me through. I see she was wrong now". The she-orc dropped to her knees. "just end me".
Aethor looked at where the orc was kneeling. Taking a decision he sheathed his sword at his side and sat down outside the arm reach of the she-orc. "do you have an name, orc"? The she-orc looked at him, with eyes that were misted over.
"My name is Urzoth, and I ain't no snaga, I'm an Uruk. I was sold by my clan to slavers to get them through the winter. All I wants a place to rest until its gets warmer" Urzoth looked up at Aethor, "please, I can work". Aethor looked at Urzoth. Then the obvious question sprung to mind.
"Why didn't you go with Eofrol, she seemed sympathetic to your cause"?
Urzoth shrugged and grumbled "Some kind of fancy fuckin orc hunter lives in those parts, she reckoned I might be safer out of the way". Aethor looked at her, the Uruk appeared to be telling the truth, her face was filled with emotion that she did not appear to be able to hide.
"Why should I trust you orc, your people have caused mine naught but harm and death, my own family.." Aethor turned away and rubbed his hand across his eyes, quickly wiping away the beginning of tears.
Looking down at the ground, Urzoth said "I aint trying to excuse what the others o my kind did, not in the slightest, but you should probably know, it was the wizard". Aethor whipped around and glared at the she-orc. "What has that cursed man got to do with the suffering your kind has caused my people."
Urzoth bristled, "if you must know, the things my kind did have no reflection on what I did, all I ever did was be born and on the day your lot sent a fucking forest after us, I was due my first session with some fuckin Uruk warrior. I aint never been on a raid, I had never seen the sun before then. All I could do was get away, then as soon as I am out, some other big bastard wanted to sell me off to some fuckin dunlander". Urzoth panted after her outburst. "I just want a safe place to rest up, and I thought you might at least offer me a place in your barn or some shit. But I should have guessed men were as bad as they always seemed." The she-orc stood to her full height, and then turned away and began to walk towards the hills.
Aethor called after her "Urzoth, did you truly never hurt any of my people?" The she orc stopped and turned to face him.
"Nah, I never did"
Nodding Aethor said "I have some things that need doing on the farm, provided you are willing to work, I suppose I could supply food and board"
Aethor pushed himself up from the ground "come on then Urzoth, we have a long way to go".
AN: hope you enjoyed it, the next chapter should be up in the next day or so