"IORETH! God please no. Not her! NOT HER!... NO!"
"IORETH!"
Talion screamed himself awake. Sweat dripped from his brow, his pulse pounding in his head. He shook himself, trying to regain his thoughts in the small wood shack he used as a home. He laughed at the thought of calling it a home. It was nothing but a wooden prison while he was banished from death. His home was with his family, in the next life. Ioreth….Dirhael… how his heart wished to be reunited with them. His nightmares have gotten worse. Reliving the final moments of his family, watching as their life was stolen from them; Unable to move, as a slow blade ended their lives. The memory was a vicious poison that sickened him. How he longed for death, it would be a kindness that no mortal being could grant. He peered around his empty shack, his pathetic shack that held a mat on the ground for sleeping and his weapons at its side. His weapons brought a sense of delight to his heart, one of the few things that bring any sense of joy: The only others being the thirst for vengeance and the promise of death.
He stood up and put on his weapons. He loved feeling their weight on his body, as if they called to be used. His loyal sword, Urfael, hungered with a desire for blood. Permanently stained with a tint of black from the thousands of orcs blood that has been spilled. Despite incessant amounts of cleaning, it refused to turn back to its bright silver. It was as if it loved the taste of orcs blood, and modified itself accordingly. His dagger, Acharn, was jagged at the tip and was imbued with so much vengeance that it is impossible to be dulled. He cringed at the thought of it, as memories often flooded.
He remembered waking up in the darkness, kneeling next to his own son's body. Wondering how he was still alive. Screaming the name of his dead wife and son. He cried into his dead boys shoulder, cradling his head. He couldn't even recall for how long he sat there weeping. He did recall glancing down and feeling the rage and vindictiveness course through his veins at the sight of his son's sword lying broken in half at his feet. He threw his own dagger away and picked up his own son's broken sword, and decided to destroy every orc to ever cross his path. It still pained Talion to remember that terrible day. Reality shook him back to his weapons. Azkar, his wraith bow, shimmered in a manor of elfish beauty that even the orcs found amazing. It spoke with authority and grace, for every one of those arrows marking death for one more orc. It demanded to be respected. It demanded to be the bringer of death.
"Praises amongst the weapons mean nothing while not in use". A deep voice echoed in the shacks room. It was a dark and dangerous voice, one filled with power.
"Weapons are alive in a way, I thought a blacksmith such as yourself would understand… Celebrimbor". Talion replied. Not even showing a hint of surprise anymore. Before he was killed, a curse was put on him. Bounding Celebrimbor the wraith and Talion together, to where Talion is neither alive nor dead. He has been banished from death.
"Weapons that lie useless do not gather stories, nor do they gain abilities. With each kill their power grows stronger. You should be out destroying those who have set this curse. Sauron's forces must be destroyed. Have you forgotten the pain of living? The only way to break this curse, is to find the one who cast it on us." Boomed Celebrimbor's voice.
"You don't think I know that? I long for death! Tell me whom I must kill, and I shall kill. My family has been waiting for me. I wish to be reunited with them once again." Talion replied with a raspy voice.
"There is a warlord in the northern part of Mordor, an orc so feared that he has a direct connection with the Black Hand himself. We must hurt the Black Hand with a blow that will draw attention."
"Then we must go." Talion replied. With that he stood up and started running throughout the morning brisk. He never could get used to the wraith living inside of him, yet taking its own form so he could talk with it. He could not deny the power he had been granted was incredible. The wraith had not only changed his weapons, it was as almost as if he had given them life. In the weeks following his family's demise, he had noticed them change with every orc he killed. In fact, he was known to the orcs. Not a single one knew his name, yet they called him ranger, or his personal favorite, grave walker. They were supposed to be insulting to Talion, but he had taken a fondness to them. His weapons on the other hand, each had only one name. The orcs feared them for their distinctive powers that each one had. Urfael was a swift killer. When enough blood has touched the blade, it turned a bright blue. Talion then feels the power from his sword, and gives into it. The battlefield becomes a slaughterhouse. The ranger becomes one with his sword, fast as lighting, blocking and killing in a blur of smooth combat. The orcs who survived such encounters tell the tales of this terrifying weapon. Urfael in the elfish language translates into fiery gleaming brilliance. Aptly named for its gleaming and dangerous power.
His dagger on the other hand, if it could even be called that, is beyond sharp. Acharn cuts through armor as if it was butter. It is so sharp that orcs who are killed by it don't even scream out. It is a silent killer. The daggers name Acharn, is the elfish word for vengeance.
Azkar is different then the other two weapons. No orc has ever seen it, for Talion can only use it when he is part of the wraith world. Every arrow used is invisible to the orcs, and for that, it breaths fear amongst the orcs who live. Watching comrades fall dead, or scream without seeing any physical form is a terrifying concept for the orcs to handle. The real truth is that Talion is not the one who fires the arrows, but instead Celebrimbor, but Talion sees no need in ruining the fear he generates. Fear is a powerful weapon, one he uses to his advantage.
It took Talion most the day to reach his destination, the castle built upon a steep hill. He found sentries on duty, many orcs, but not who he was looking for. The sun had just come down, and the dark was spreading and becoming the night.
"What is the name of this vile creature I am to destroy?" Talion asked
"He is known as Felgoth the feared. He is feared not only by his underlings, but by other warlords as well. He is the black hands most feared servant. Sauron himself appointed him as the watcher of the north. Do not tread carelessly. Immortality may keep you alive, but Felgoth will learn from your death. He will be able to become that much more powerful. " Celebrimbor advised.
"He shall perish beneath my vengeance. Where is he? I do not see anyone in charge" Talion asked with a small amount of irritation.
"He is not only feared, but cautious, he knows he will become a target eventually. You must brand his second in command to draw him out. Replied celebrimbor.
"What do the call this orc?" Talion asked
"His name is Pagor the vile" Celebrimbor replied.
Pagor was short for an orc, only about 4 feet 11 inches. What he lacked in height he made up for in aggression. Being the shortest orc, he understood that speed and aggression was the only way to make it to the top of the hierarchy. He walked around the castle courtyard, harassing and pestering and sentry that looked like they could be nodding off to sleep. The orcs knew better then to mess with pagor, He had been known for mercilessly slashing at people who talked back to him. In the orc society, fear was what kept orcs in power. Pagor looked around and noticed a sentry with his head hung low. Furry swept through him and he stormed at the poor orc. As soon as he reached the orcs back he grabbed his helmet and pulled back roughly. The body followed the head and ended up pulling the entire weight on to Pagor. With a growl he kicked the orc off him and as he stood up and pulled out his sword, he realized the orc had a long gash from shoulder to hip in its chest. He was about to call out the alarm, but that was when the hell began.
Felgoth was a massive orc, and almost human in appearance. 6 feet 9 inches tall, and he wielded a massive sword that he often used with only one hand to show his power to foes. He marched through the door to the courtyard and walked straight for the orc kneeling in the middle. He ignored the orc bodies flung all over the place, and paid no heed to the blood scattered throughout the courtyard. Felgoth recognized the orc kneeling. It was Pagor. He shivered and whimpered, yet not because of his presence. His curiosity bloomed and he took out his sword. He grabbed the chest shirt of Pagor and stabbed him in the stomach, non-lethally for an orc, but very painful. He lifted the orc up using the sword and held him to his eye level, not even noticing the weight he was supporting.
"My lord, he…." Stammered Pagor.
"SILENCE!" Felgoth interrupted. It was then he realized the handprint burned onto the orcs face. "He has left his mark on you. As we left ours on the ones he loved….. WHERE IS HE? I hunger for his death!"
"He wants the same thing as you, oh yes. He keeps rising from the grave with the spirit that burns inside him. I didn't see him move, he was everywhere! He was like a ghost. He fought like the devil himself! He killed relentlessly. I tell you I saw him! Face to face! He told me, to tell you,….. your….next!" Pagor exclaimed.
"You would do his bidding!" Felgoth yelled incredulously. He stabbed him a little harder, making it more difficult for Pagor to speak.
"You… will….. too!" Managed Pagor.
"Rahhhhhhh!" Felgoth yelled. He flung Pagor away and watched as the orc rolled away from him.
"GRAVE WALKER! ENOUGH OF YOUR GAMES! SHOW YOURSELF AND I WILL KILL YOU!" Felgoth Bellowed.
Behind Felgoth a dark but quite voice rose out of the shadows.
"I wish you could…" Talion answered in a sad voice. He really wished he
could be killed. Felgoth turned around and eyed the ranger for the first time. He slowly stepped towards him. Shoving orcs out of the way. Talion partially entered the wraith world and drew back his bow. Aiming at the big orc's heart. Felgoth put both hands on his sword and continued forward. A blood-curling smile etched upon his face. Talion released his arrow and watched as it sped towards his target.
Felgoth watched the ranger pull back his the air in a motion that looked like he was holding a bow. He felt his blood rushing, fire burning in his eyes. He would show these orcs that everyone who defies him dies. He brought both hands to his sword and moved forward with a purpose. He smiled in delight as the prospect of watching the ranger suffer before he ends the pathetic creatures life. He watched the ranger's fingers released the air and then felt a surge of power. Years of battle had taught Felgoth to follow his instincts. At that moment, his instincts screamed for him to flatter his blade parallel to him.
The arrow flew through the air, screaming its death song, as it grew closer to the target. The air was silent except for whistling wind as an arrow raged through the night. The arrow shimmered as it made contact. A large ting, like a sword clashing on a sword ripped through the night. Felgoth crashed onto the ground, shaken from the velocity of the sword.
Talion watched his arrow strike the sword of his target. Just my luck, he had to be holding his sword perfectly like that. Talion took advantage of the fallen orc and drew his sword.
Felgoth hit the ground hard, it took him a second to realize an arrow had hit his sword. His instincts had once again, saved his life. He rolled into his back and roared a yell of surprise as Talion appeared from thin air over him with a sword already coming at his head.
Another roar echoed through the courtyard as steel met steel. Felgoth had just barley managed to bring his sword up and block the rangers attack.
Talion fully jumped into the wraith world and moved as fast as the arrow itself. He brought his sword up and started to swing right as he re entered the human world. He was surprised to see how quick Felgoth moved and blocked his attack. Few orcs realized that part of being cursed with a wraith, was the ability to use what he called a shadow strike. He would jump into the wriath world, were he is able to shoot himself at the target. Although he could not kill with his sword in this world, he could prepare his strike and appear right before the strike hit. Celebrimbor had many secrets and powers that the orcs did not realize.
Talion quickly kicked the armored orc in the armpit, where no armor covered. Felgoth yelped in pain, and swung his massive frame in a circle, clipping Talion's legs. Talion rolled away and stood up, sword in hand and ready to go. He watched as Felgoth jumped to his feet, and took his massive sword with both hands and charged at Talion. He brought his own sword up and again, the air sizzled with sound as metal struck against metal. Talion starred up into the eyes of the massive orc, and found only death and suffering lay behind them. Still stuck in the block, both Talion and Felgoth drew their heads close to the swords, locking eyes and trying to breathe fear into their opponent. The air shivered around them, as the two broke away and started their deadly dance.