Aloha to all. I know I have no updated this story, preferably any story in a matter of long months. It seems like years to me. Despite time seeming to stand as still as ever, I have undoubtedly finished The Lord of the Rings. Of course, now it is up to me to remember it. Nevertheless, I will try to finish up this story entitled Induction of Loathing. However, I will need your help and support. Yes, I am referring to all who read this story and either appreciate my writing or think it sadly unintelligible. Long hours do I spend on these fanfics, typing away at both my leisure hours and hours in which I should be doing my priorities first. So, although I'm sure you want to listen to my story rather than listen to me gab about this or that, I really would appreciate a few reviews. I will say this as bluntly as possible; it is probably one of the hardest tasks to write a story from a perspective of someone who is not considered a "good guy" and who, in the Lord of the Rings, was presented without feelings or empathy toward others. I don't know even now if anyone else has attempted to write a story from the perspective of an orc either, but to those who have, I give them god's speed. Now we shall carry on. I plan to make this chapter a bit faster moving…
They ran far longer than they had thought. Neither of the two counted their footpaces and neither kept track of which direction they had been going. All they knew then was that their pursuit was in process. And those in pursuit of them were gaining on them. With every step they took, the followers gained twice the distance.
"We shall never out run them," cried Gwain to Sasha, "they are horsed, they are of this land, know the terrain, it would be folly to waste more strength."
"As do I know the terrain, quickly! Now come," she guided him to the left and took the lead. The trackers were taken off guard and paused for a moment before continuing on, still in their directions.
The sound of battle roared as they continued on. It was not from behind them however. It was not upon them either. The sound of this battle was not coming toward them at all, Gwain and Sasha were heading toward it. An icy grasp clenched Gwain's heart in realization. He almost doubled up when he'd analyzed up the truth. She, the woman he was leading now, she had betrayed him. Lead him to a death trap. Seduced him in so many ways. Why were they heading toward the battle? It was all planned, how foolish. How foolish for him to fall into her arms and succumb to her wishes. It was not the knife that lead him to help her find the river. It was out of his will, his grace, and his trust in her that led to his own undoing.
She depicted his uneasiness at once. Swiftly, as they ran, she began to sing. Her song flowed in and out of his ears, his hair, and every joint in his body. Swiftly opening and closing the door. As quickly it had walked in, it left. It was peering at him, assessing him, looking into him like no other had done before in words or songs, and that song would never end. He would always feel the sours of having his body ripped open by words and taken apart, put back together again and never once questioning.
He obeyed her command like a well-trained cur. They ran into the midst of the battle. They passed by invisibly. Untouched although they could peer into every face on that night and see their fear and anguish. It was fabricated, unreal, and yet so alive that every detail that night was a painting, held so in focus and so alive that you swore you might be able to see the breath of the artist. He flipped over all the happenings, every weary eyebrow that cast on an enemy, every sign of distress from a captain, and flick of a horses' ear. And he remembered every happening of that passing.
They passed by unseen, into Fanghorn Forrest.