The sound, the smell, by all that the Valar had seen, these beasts were close. Far closer than she would have liked for them to be. But what they were, Arathoniel could not tell. These were no Orcs that she had ever seen. They were among the darkest of beasts, to be certain, but they were of a brute strength that she had never encountered before. The evil that was carried within their souls was absolutely palpable. She could feel it as it emanated from them. Of more importance, they carried the mark of the White Hand. The White Wizard. Saruman. Had he truly turned against those who had trusted him for so many years?
Closer she crept to their encampment. What was that smell? It filled the air and sickened her. What was it that they burned? It smelled of flesh. Yes. That's what it had to be. The flesh of man. By all of the Valar, they were roasting man flesh on a spit. Her heart was suddenly pained again. Never had she known a man, but to be reduced to that? The meal of evil warriors. She felt her stomach turn. Had there been food in her belly, she was sure that she would have retched.
She could not allow this grotesque display become a distraction. No. She must learn what these coarse beasts were about. What actions they were to take, for certainly they were to be sent against the Fellowship. What their weaknesses were, for the certainly had some.
A pain racked her suddenly. What these beings were called. Uruk-hai. The Army of Saruman. Built to destroy the world of man. Her stomach turned again.
Her head turned as the Uruks began to move against one another. Battle practice, to be certain. But they would fight until death came to one. For they accepted no weakness among one another. Her eyes focused on the rough hands that fought without battle ready swords. They betrayed their weakness to her almost immediately. If the armor could move, they were easily killed. The weakness was at the neck. At the neck and under the arm. Cloaking herself in shadow and tree, she raised her arrow. As it struck the neck of the beast at which she took aim, Arathoniel's fate was decided. She would not take them all.