Blood and Honor
Okay folks this is an experimental story ;), crossover of Gladiator movie and Lord of the Rings universe with a little nod to great game Lotr: War in the North. . With main characters of said game. I'm not owning any of this from the movie or Lotr franchise. Characters of Agandaur, Andriel, Farin and Eradan belong to Warner Bros, rest to J.R. R. Tolkien and Ridley Scott.
Chapter I:
He felt only pain, before his eyes was only darkness.
,,Soon I'll see my son and wife again. Soon." The only thought that was clear within his troubled, clouded mind. Maximus Decimus Meridius former general and gladiator was nearing the end of his life. But the bliss of death did not come. From the blurry images, mixed sensations he emerged to his great surprise to be alive though wounded still. Maximus felt the hard rocky ground beneath him, clear starry sky was above. In next moment he felt a relief, but then in just fleeting seconds, it turned into rage.
,,Gods must be cruel! I was almost there. Why?! Why don't you let me meet with them? AAAAhh." The cry of despair filled the silence of night. In this violent spill of emotions Maximus violently rose and immediately fell on the stones, unconscious again. Mere minutes later a groan escaped his lips. He opened eyes to a new world.
,,Where am I? This is madness, I was in Rome. What is this place?" Wondered aloud, while trying to stand on his shaking legs. He got up and looked around amazed. The wood below surrounding his lying spot, reminded him rather of the harsh land of Germany, than warm pleasant Latium. Confusion was visible on his face. Memory of his last fight, sense of dark satisfaction when Commodus died from his hand. His vengeance achieved. He couldn't help but smirk ironically at this strange throw of fortune.
,,I avenged my family, but still I can't reunite with them." He said to himself bitterly. Emotions were overwhelming the warrior's heart. In attempt to express frustration, gladiator fell to his knees, futilely beating the stones in act of blind rage. The first thing that brought him to his senses was sharp pain in the left side. The wound, though seemingly less serious and non-lethal, was still troubling. The blood loss was weakening him. Maximus begun to pull off the armor, setting the breast-plate aside. With some effort he was able to stop the bleeding, using straps of leather. Breathing heavily and shivering out of cold, exhausted former general fell asleep.
No peace came upon him though. Horrible nightmares started to haunt his dreams. But the nights of Rhudaur in the eastern Eriador, too were full of horrors. In these lands roamed freely many creatures of darkness. Orcs sometimes came down from the mountains, trolls ventured south from their homeland in Ettenmoors, the ruins of ancient castles of Hill-men were more often than not, inhabited by even darker and fouler things. Those ancient strongholds were the monuments of dark sorcery scarring the world with their very presence. Hidden across the land, unexplored, untouched since the demise of it's creators.
Unnamed evil dwelled there born of abominable practices, and then there were those creatures who fled there from the fall of Angmar waiting in the dark for any foolish ones, travelers and adventurers alike to venture closer, and to their gruesome deaths. Maximus though, knew nothing about the perils that awaited him, not even the name of the land he was stranded in, unaware of the role he will play in it's history. Moon was high in the sky, when the Iberian finally emerged from slumber.
The winds were blowing stronger and several clouds appeared, signifying oncoming rain. Shaking and soaring on the left side, he got up and tried to arouse the stiff limbs. When he stretched a little and exercised to ward off the cold, Maximus strapped the armor and again paid more attention to the surroundings. The rocks he landed on immediately after mysterious arrival were one of the higher points in the landscape, very old and weather beaten. Fir trees closed in tight ring about them, in the distance seen within the clearing of this small wood, even bigger rocky hills were clearly visible. Maximus again pondered about this strange situation, repeating questions over and over again in his mind.
,,I don't understand! How is that even possible! To be in one place and then in another?! Without even moving! I could have sworn I was lying on the sand of Colosseum! I was…dying." he thought completely bewildered.
The more he was reasoning, twice the more serious was a realization of his predicament. Without warm clothes, with nothing to eat or drink. Fate seemed to cruelly play with him. The only thing he had was a sword, a typical short weapon used in the fights on the arenas of Roman Empire. He could not hunt with it nor use it as a tool of any kind. The situation was hopeless, and like in his last fight with Commodus, certain doom awaited. Yet this time his heart hardened. The prospect of death from hunger only filled him with resolve.
,,I will find out the truth behind all of this! Only then I'll end my existence, on my own terms. If I was somehow, miraculously saved then there must be a good reason for it! I'll solve the riddle!" He thought, and added whispering: ,,The favor of reunion was not given to me yet. Be patient my love.. and you my son. We'll meet again, I swear to you both!" He was a warrior, he preferred to make choices of his own, not slowly succumbing to death in resignation. He would fight any adversity and obstacle that the world would throw at him, and he strongly promised this to himself. New goal lightened a little his mood.
,,First to find clues about my whereabouts, then a shelter. Maybe some people live nearby." He said loudly to himself.
After a slight hesitation he jumped from the tall rocks to the lower ground. Sudden movement responded in new wave of pain in his side and ankles. Maximus had no idea what to do next. Unfamiliar territory and harsh climate warned him to be wary. At the closer inspection it turned out that this land wasn't as similar to Germania as he thought before. It was more rocky country, with the lesser but very overgrown wooded spots, it seemed this land was untouched by man's hand. Soon he also beheld far before him in the still bright light of moon, an open space full of highlands and empty plains stretching eastward to the faintly looming line of the river where more lush forests spread. The Lone-lands started here but the roman warrior naturally couldn't know their name. Not even did he realize how vast they were from this brief first sight.
Maximus felt awe and confusion with the passing time it become ever greater. He travelled much and seen most of the provinces of the Empire and beyond, both as a general and as a slave. Yet here in the wild, looking on the landscapes he never saw before, a new kind of respect towards the nature begun to stir in his heart. This land was somehow more majestic than anywhere else and seemed incredibly ancient, a feeling he had never experienced.
,,Maybe the shock is the reason why I feel this way!" He joked half-heartedly and smiled a bit, trying to find some light in this dangerous situation.
Going on his way he carefully observed all the tiniest detail of the land, memorizing any remarkable spots in case he had to return to the beginning. The wood of his landing location, ended quickly, but on the horizon spread small patches of trees of many different kinds. Pines and firs slowly gave way to more outstretched ones. Clearly those were deciduous kind but mostly naked now. Almost leafless branches with very few yellowed leaves still hanging sadly on the wind.
,,So it must be autumn. That's why it is cold!" he declared silently. Having nobody to speak to Maximus felt no constraint to openly talk with himself, he couldn't bear the hanging silence anymore.
Far in the western direction (as Maximus assumed judging by position of North, indicated by the moss covering trees and looking in the opposite direction from the far away river) were rising ever higher, hill ranges with one especially distinctive peak looming on the edge of sight. Te same he saw early on. These were the Weather Hills, ancient border between Arthedain and hostile Rhudaur kingdoms which sprouted from division of great northern Kingdom of Arnor.
For centuries these hills were holding a line of defense against the hordes of Angmar and Rhudaur which after the rest of Dunedain died out or fled, turned into an enemy, by the cause of barbaric chieftains of Hill-men. The people who seized the opportunity to gain power for themselves. Living in these lands even before the Numenoreans came, at first they acknowledged the High Men as their rulers, allowing for colonization and establishing their base of power in this harsh area. But when Witchking of Angmar arose, they turned into darkness, learning arts of foul sorcery and using this evil knowledge for their own gains.
The southernmost peak was a Weathertop where remnants of tower and watch post of Amon Sul were located, housing one of the three palantiri of the North in the ancient times. Nothing of this was known to the former general, but he started to feel even deeper the ancient aura of this land and was humbled by it's vastness and dark mystery.
While he stopped and observed the area, finally prevailing, black clouds were extinguishing all light of moon and stars. The rain started to pour, at first faintly, next it turned into real deluge. Immediately as if made by a spell a small streams of water run down the rocky cracks. The winds were raging, madly smashing the tree branches and scouring the bushes like sea waves during the storm. The whole area seemed hostile and uninhabited, which wasn't a good sign for him. No sign of any settlement nor any activity at all. Upon entering the wide grasslands he noticed to the south a line of trees too straight to be arranged by nature. These marked the presence of a road.
,,If there is a road, there must be people here who use it!" Thought Maximus with excitation. After a terribly long time of hard walking, half running, he finally reached the road. The smile faded quickly. It was very old and unkempt, now mostly covered in dirt which turned into mud in the onslaught of rain. Yet still the signs of wheel-rut could be spotted. It seems that it was in use. Nonetheless it was well made, it's construction like that of roman road nets spreading throughout the empire, would be a real merit for the builders, carefully marked with stones running far into the distance, in both direction of east and west.
Maximus was puzzled. He did not know where to go from here.
,,If I choose wrongly, I can be in real trouble. There's no knowing where does it leads to and fro! I can turn away from nearest settlements not even knowing! Eh, what a dark night and foul weather! If only the moon would came out again, I could have seen something more. Maybe I should wait here for a while, someone might come this way, or at least for the rain to stop. So I won't have to trod through mud."
The situation was more dire than he thought. Unknown to him, he was closely watched by unfriendly eyes.
,,Garn, I'll be damned. Barzum, Raakhuga, Lagurz! Hehe we have something here!" growled one of the mysterious surveyors. ,,Get ready lads! Tonight we feast, hahaha!"
…
Four of the creatures sneaked through the thick bushes on the southern side of the great road. Carefully and stealthily they crept towards the lonely man, deeming him an easy prey. Their weapons and armor clanged a bit but in heavy rain it was muffled.
Maximus felt something nearby, an unexplainable feeling of being watched. Alone in the darkness of the night, in rain he was vulnerable and quite aware of that. His hand strayed to the hilt of a sword. For a moment he stood still listening trying to pierce the noise of raindrops in search for any unwanted attention. The deep rumbling echoed from far away. It seems a storm was getting close and the rain was just the beginning. Over the hilltops sudden flashes appeared, lightning smote the peaks. In the meantime four hostiles observed the movements of the man and whispered among themselves.
,,He looks strange for one of the Whiteskins. Not like those peasant simpletons from villages East from here, or even those dirty rats from Bree-land. And his garb is unlike any I ever saw before!" Hissed the first, who spotted the stranger on the road in the first place, frowning at the stranger's odd appearance.
,,Oh shut it. The Whiteskins all look the same, it's a perfect occasion to start attack. I for one would like to taste a man's flesh. I'm starving! Maybe he also has some good loot handy or useful news! And since when you're such an expert on Men, Sharghun? Eh?!" answered one called Barzum with mockery. ,,Hey lads, this one thinks he's very smart. But I ain't listening to this foolery! It's just a man!"
The others openly laughed in their screeching voices, like an avalanche of rocks falling down into the pit, but careful to not attract the attention of their target.
,,There' be no loot from him. He ain't have any bag. Stupid blighter! In this wasteland travelling without supplies, even half-wit would know that Lone-lands ain't place for unprepared. But what's worse, is that it might be one of those filthy tarks!" Hissed fearfully Sharghun, not in the least convinced. ,,Yes, it might be one of those. They travel light! And have strange powers, so maybe they can survive anywhere!" He mused further lowering his voice, awed and frightened in the same time.
Barzum sent him a pitying look, taking Sharghun's rumblings as fears of superstitious fool, but once again glimpsed on the man in question. He was now trying to find some shelter under the trees, but magnifying lightning forced him to leave this place and search for hideout in the bushes. He dangerously closed in to the attackers waiting in ambush, and did not take the hand from hilt of sword, looking around warily as if knowing of the incoming danger.
Tales and rumours about strange tark's ways and powers were whispered fearfully among Barzum's kind. Their swords and piercing grey eyes, terrifying to behold, great strength and endurance. The gifts of a race, once a bane of the orcs. And those who were now watching the stranger on the Great East Road remembered them well. The four of them were scouts from a bigger horde waiting nearby, hidden deep in woods of the Angle between two rivers, the old Trollshaws. Alone they would be in great trouble, as tarks were mighty warriors, very dangerous to face without advantage in numbers.
Barzum held his breath and scrutinized the man carefully approaching their position. Finally he spoke to his companions with surety in voice.
,,Nahh. He's not a tark. Look at him, skin more swarthy, not tall enough! Heh clothed like to a much warmer climate, bare legs, only this funny chest plate. A southerner perhaps! And besides, I travelled to the south and seen those, they ain't that impressive. Yes Southerner, it must be!"
,,That far North!" Asked incredulously, previously silent Rhaakuga. ,,What would be he doing here, eh?!"
Barzum did not answer to that question, but growled angrily and hissed ,,Now or never! Get'm!" taking the initiative in his own hands. ,,Debating is not a way of the orcs! Iron fist, sword and spear, time to act!" He called out with disdain in voice. His fellow comrades had no choice but to follow.
…
Maximus was wary from the beginning, when this strange feeling crept on his back, but nonetheless was surprised at sudden attack. He cursed under breath, chastising his foolishness. Waiting in this desolate place for any possible travelers was not a good idea after all. The first thing that flashed in his mind was that some robbers are trying to loot him, even though it was plain visible he has nothing of value. Then he saw in the flash of lightning a dark shape lounging on him like a beast. He was amazed at it's speed and agility. Before he could have say rocks and blocks, three of the unknown foes knocked him to the ground releasing new wave of pain from his wound.
He kicked madly and felt that hard hands keeping him, finally let go with a yelp. Rolling on the muddy ground he immediately regained his footing and drew sword. Then in another flash he saw the face of one of his attackers and involuntarily jerked back. His features were grotesque. Flat nosed, slant eyed, sallow skinned, fangs visible in the leering mouth, long hairy ears, pointed a bit. Ugly and vaguely man-like figure, similar in stature with strong arms and legs, dark thick hair in disarray, but definitely not belonging to any known peoples he knew of rather to monsters of legends. Two others standing now before him openly were similar, they were all wearing armor, a chainmail and plate elements here and there, like vambraces, iron collars, round shields, curved swords glimmering cold in rapid lightning flashes, helmets and long spears with wide blades.
They were all glaring at him and sneering, finally one of them impatiently jumped on him with blade poised to strike. Quick blow was parried by gladiator's sword. Then two others viciously joined in assault. Maximus was dealing blows and received them in time parrying or dodging. The stroke exchange was fast and furious. The creatures were fighting well, but one of them slipped in the mud and fell to his knees. Former gladiator saw his chance and made a fatal blow right under chin, shoving the blade through the head. The creature lied dead beneath his feet. Others roared in anger.
,,You killed Lagurz! Well, well. You'll regret that scum! You'll regret you were born! We avenge our fallen folk!" hissed dangerously the tallest one, seemingly their leader. ,,Even if they're imbecils!" He added croaking loudly, addressing his fellows and pointing at the corpse.
Maximus was quite surprised. Voice of the creature was strange and accent was indeed alien to him, but he understood well the meaning. He was up to some unpleasant fate now.
,,We meant to eat you. Taste some man flesh but now you'll ain't going to the pot, oh no!" The obvious leader continued, hissing and licking his lips, at which (and words he uttered) Maximus shuddered. Who would eat a man's meat?! He was sure now that he found himself in some uncivilized land beyond the empire. Only savages, barbarians from primitive tribes, could do such atrocities.
He was prepared to face them once again, two were after all better than one, when dark shadow loomed behind him. Fourth opponent, previously hidden, joined the fight and before Maximus could react he was hit with something hard on the back of his head.
Darkness overwhelmed him while body fell to the ground, unconscious in jeering of the savage foes.
To be continued
Notes: So what do you think? Is it good, worth of continuing? Hehe, if you have any remarks feel free to write in reviews, by the way for those who don't know tark is an orcish word describing Numenoreans (or Dunedain).
