The mind's eye

   The orc had difficulty keeping up with the tireless pace set by the man. He ran after them using the plentiful foliage of the darkening wood to hide from discovery. He was angered. Never before had his game been interrupted like this. It was not the first time he had hunted this elf. Time and time again he would force him to flee and then track him down like a hapless deer. At first the elf had fought for his freedom, but as time passed, the orc had seen the hope in him change to misery, despair and then darkness. Clear blue eyes, sharp like a summer sky had become dull and vacant.  The once precise and smooth movements of the beautiful body had with torment and near starvation turned to awkward, ill defined gestures.  The elf was becoming beautiful. With a sunny smile lightening his rough face the orc failed to see that the man and his elf had at last come to the boundaries of the wood.

   There he scrambled to a halt. If he left the tree line the man was bound to see him. He glared at the retreating back of the man and horse. However luck was with him still, for the man was slowing. Trusting to his dark gods to protect him the orc slithered forward until he was less than ten feet away from them. He could attack, but his heart was that of a coward. He felt himself no match for this warrior. With five of his own kind he could take him, but for now he held his breath and waited.

Abruptly the man pulled to the right and began to descend the hill. The orc stayed where he was for what seemed to him a safe amount of time and then crept to the crest of the hill. He watched them as they made their way carefully down hill growing smaller in the distance and then, they seemed to disappear all together.

   With a startled hiss he leapt to his feet.

"Magic!" he growled "Elf magic!"

His muddy brown eyes narrowed as he earnestly scanned the area before him. There was nothing to see but scattered trees and the yellow flowering heads of the long grasses swaying in the wind. Garuk absently played with the short leather switch attached to his belt. A short wicked looking dagger also hung from the tooled leather belt. A pouch with liquid and a tiny sack of stale bread hung from his left hip. But what he treasured most of all lay nestled within the folds of his rough tunic. His gnarled fingers reached for a black cloth folded with care. He undid the folds and brought his treasure up to his nose. He inhaled the sweet scent of stale sweat and rubbed the silky strands against his lips. It was less than a handful of long pale golden strands, hair that he had cut from the head of his elf not two months ago.

   There was nothing for him to do but retreat. He feared that the elven stronghold of Rivendell was near and that spelled nothing but trouble for his kind. Even the bravest orc withered at the names of the elven warriors Elrond and Glorfindel. Garuk had not forgotten the sting of their swords. But he did not lightly surrender his prize, calling upon his dark lord; he poured some of the vile liquid he carried unto the earth forming a pattern of a rune of the black speech of Morgoth. The land groaned in pain as the symbol was burned into the earth.

    He ran all evening, into the swiftly gathering night. Before the moon rose he had reached his destination. His den lay far under the earth, under the harsh rocks of Caradhas. He gasped for breath as he made his way through the labyrinth of tunnels that lay under the mountain. He lived alone now. It had been two years since the last of his kind had moved on. He had stayed behind to guard his treasure. Secure in the darkness, he came to rest before an old rusted cage. This is where he had kept his prize. Pieces of torn, dirty cloth and scattered squares of animal hide littered the bottom of the cage. There his precious one had slept. Garuk absently reached out to touch a long strand of pale gold that was snagged on a bit of fur. His mind reached back in time and he began to hear the noise that had once filled this warren of passages.

  "Out of the way sluggards!" the booming shout came from a large orc, the leader of their pack. He pushed aside onlookers and made his way to the crude table, where a bottle of tasty liquid stood.

"The hunt was successful sir?' a youngish orc asked a bit fearfully.

"More than that!" shouted Uhuru "Forty heads!" He laughed loudly as he poured out drink for his lieutenants who shared in his success. Garuk was surprised, forty elves taken alive…He joined in the raucous celebration. These elves he knew would be taken to the secret chambers in the dark lord's lair to be tortured, mutilated and finally transformed into creatures like him. The celebration went on for two days.

   It had taken one week for the elves to be taken further into the mountains. In that time they had been the subject of incessant beatings and cruel ministrations. Garuk had personally broken the arm of a young elf and had had the pleasure of hearing him scream as he ground his hand under his heavy boots. It had come as no surprise that retaliation had come from Mirkwood. The elves there had suffered heavy losses and many a grey clad elf could be seen among the brown and green clad attackers as well. It was time to move. The orcs had split up into many different bands and fled in different directions hoping to confuse their elvish foes. But the wrath of their enemy was terrible and many orcs were slain.

    Uhuru however had chosen not to run. He retreated higher and deeper into the maze of tunnels and waited. With him were Garuk and three others. In two weeks the elven attacks became less and less. Uhuru smiled as he and Garuk, hidden behind a screen of craggy boulders, watched a party of elves search for them far below.

"Do you know why they search so persistently?" the soft yet harsh whisper reached Garuk's ear. He shrugged turning to his leader in the darkness. He could discern yellowed fangs as Uhuru pulled his lips back in a smile.

"I have their prince!" Uhuru gave a soft bark of mirth.

"Come." He pressed Garuk's arm urging him back into the reassuring warmth of the caves. Garuk followed as Uhuru led him into a set of tunnels he had never seen before. He stopped when they abruptly came to the end of a tunnel that widened into a natural cave. Smoky light from a torch lit the area. There to the left partially hidden in shadow was an iron cage. An unnatural glow emanated from the naked body lying huddled in one corner. The elf seemed to sense their presence and stood quickly pressing back into the far corner.

"Well meet young prince." Uhuru bowed to the captive.

The elf glared at them but said nothing

"He won't tell me his name." he said conversationally to Garuk, but he was not listening for in Garuk's cold heart an ember had stirred to life, never before had he seen such a beautiful creature. He trembled with the desire to strip that beauty from him piece by painful piece. But Uhuru still spoke,

"I will leave his dead body for them to find on the rocks, that should make them howl." Uhuru laughed loudly. His laugh quickly turned to a shocked gurgle as a dagger suddenly sprouted from his neck. Garuk pushed the heavy body off his weapon and it fell to the ground with a heavy sound. He stooped to casually wipe the blade clean on the sleeve of his captain. He stood and stepping over the corpse went closer to the cage. The elf held his head high. His face was a study of contempt. His long golden hair fell over his shoulders to his waist giving him an ethereal air. His lean body was tense. He glared at the orc with clear blue eyes filled with fury.

"Le lumbri yrch!" He spat at the orc with all the venom he could muster.

Garuk was well pleased. 

Notes

Le lumbri yrch, you foul orc