Red Eyes:

Wanderer


Book One:

Chapter 6

In the black lands of Mordor fires often burned. Millions of little fires pocked the black hills, crowded by orc soldiers.

Just outside of Minus Morgul a large wall of wood and stone and hills separated the Easterling Camp at Minus Morgul from the orc camps.

Sounds of life could be heard inside Minus Morgul at all hours. The Easterling Camp however was for the most part rather quite. Or as quite as a army of Eastern mercenaries can be that is.

Tonight however the Eastern Camp was full of sound and alive with fire to big for one fire set. Or even many close together. Black and white smoke swirled together in a erotic dance. The high flames reach for the dancing smoke casting a artistry of lights like a painting of beautiful, unabashed wrath and despair upon a gray canvas. A battle with no victor for anyone. But the painting was not yet complete.

The horses screamed, and as one, they charged the stable doors, tearing it off its hinges and flattening the two Easterlings that had come to release them from the burning stables. The horses took off trampling soldiers and tents and anything else that was in there path, to crazed and frightened by the sounds and smells and lights to try and go around whatever it was they came across. They charged through the camp site blindly. Luckily there were not many of them. Fifteen horses at the most. But they were strong, war horses and together they caused a great deal of damage, causing even more confusion and panic.

Fire leapt from tent to tent. It had started at a few four or five tents but for some reason no one had put out a call for help until it had spread to too many different tents in various directions. Now several parts of the camp site were on fire and for all their disciplinary training no one seemed to be able to calm down long enough to pull it together. No one seemed to know how the fire had started or what to do to stop it.

General Kurama stood in her tent, fastening on her armor and weapons as quickly as she could. She had lite only one candle. The fire from outside shone through the red fabric, lighting it up enough for her to see.

Kurama had pulled on some black pants, calf high leather boots, a black bra, and her military robe. She had secured some knee and elbow guards and had just finished with her quarter gloves and gauntlets. She dressed quickly, tying her robe shut twice with a red sash. She placed a long dagger at the small of her back, a katana on her right hip, and a set of three throwing knives tucked into the holders on each of her wrist. As she turned to leave she turned back and kneeled before a chest. She unlocked it with the keys she wore around her neck. She searched the chest a few moments.

"Ah ha! Never leave home without you babies. Grandfather would kill me." She said to herself, carefully placing each of the small, papery items on the inside of her robe. She closed and locked the chest, placing the keys back around her neck.

As another after thought she grabbed a naginata(1) from its stand and pulled the sheath away from the blade at the end of the glaive. Kurama was careful to keep the blade of the long weapon down and away from her or anyone else's path.

Kurama walked out of her still intact tent and stopped to take in the scene before her.

The fire was still some ways away from her but it was moving fast in all directions. Her soldiers scrambled about trying to either get away from the fire or trying to put it out. That was no good though, Kurama knew.

It was obvious to Kurama that her oh-so-well trained soldiers were too scattered and panicked to gain under perfect control.

She looked over her right shoulder to two twin brothers that were standing close together. Young and pretty they looked to Kurama awaiting instructions. That was good. At least the Easterlings had enough sense left to listen to orders if not think straight for themselves. But that was what they were trained to do from the beginning. Right? Right!

Kurama turned her head back to the fire hearing the sounds of horses. Great! This just keeps getting better and better.

Kurama turned to the twins,"You two!"

They looked up at her, a new light in there eyes. Kurama's voice was strong and clear and carried even over the sounds of the panicked camp site.

"Save whatever supplies you can and head to Minus Morgul. Tell whoever else you see along the way to do the same on General Kurama's orders. Go now! And hurry."

They bowed quickly and ran to the hills which lead to the orc's part of Minus Morgul.

Kurama turned around and walked to were the fires seemed to be rather strong. There was no logical reason for this, it was just her instinct. Instincts that had made her worthy of her position.

Head held high, features smooth, back and shoulders straight, Kurama walked through the panic and ruin of her once proud military camp. It saddened her a little to see it in such a state but it also made her feel at ease. Her camp smelled, looked, and sounded like a battle field to her. The first familiar thing to her since she had come to this foreign. And this was why she had come wasn't it? For war.

She and her soldiers had done nothing but train, drill, and spar since they had gotten here.

It wasn't so bad. It gave many of them time to cement their techniques. But it had slowly eaten away at them all.

Now here was a enemy for Kurama to fight. Something she could slay with her sword rather than just her mind. She could feel it.

She flexed her muscles. She could feel the strength in them. Her strength.

She felt light. Strong. Ready! She adjusted her grip on her naginata. The flames roared around her. The Easterlings spared her a glance but quickly decided to just get out of there and wonder about the General's commonly strange behavior later.

Kurama marched on into the burning flames of the Easterling Camp.


Walls of fire surrounded the Easterling foot soldier as he crawled away from the demon child that had slain his kin. His vision blurred. The smoke was getting to him, bringing tears to his eyes and making him gasp and cough.

His breathing was cut short with a gasp and a sharp but brief cry as the blade that had slain his comrades cut deep into his back. His body fell limp with a harsh sigh.

A cruel, but not surreal, smirk came to the boy's face, his sharp teeth just visible. Red eyes sparkled in the fire light.

He was covered in blood. Drenched in it. It felt warm and thick. He could smell and taste it, sending his sense on their own little high. He was shaking lightly.

Blood dripped from the shining blade in his right hand as he walked threw the flaming camp in a daze.

He had started the fires, throwing some of the burning logs from Lee and his comrades fire into nearby tents. Those sleeping in the tents awoke to confront him, and he had slaughtered them all as he had the fools that had brought him to this point. They barley had time to scream. Those that had heard came to investigate and met the same end as their kin.

It had been eating at him even before he had come to Mordor, demanding tribute. The sacrifice of his enemies, guilty or innocent it mattered not. The Easterlings had only been the long awaited excuse.

The flames did not burn him and he did not tire. Not while he was in this state of mind, when he and the demon inside him worked as one.

Nameless stopped. A sneer spread across his face, fangs now fully visible. He raised his head to greet the Easterling General Kurama.

She stood at the ready. Right foot in front, left behind, the blade of her long weapon pointed directly at the boy.

The look on his face was neither angry or crazed. It was amused. Calm. Arrogant. Confident. A dragon in it's territory, looking at the foolish being that had disturbed it. One that could be dealt with easily, but were would be the fun in that? And it had been so long since it has had any company, why not tease it a little first.

Nameless called out to her in greeting.

"General Kurama, good evening to you. I figured you'd be trying to gather what remained of your Easterlings and lead them to safety. I misjudged you. I won't assume anything of you again Kurama."

Kurama looked to the boys left hand. He was holding something, letting it drag on the ground.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Nameless smirked and lifted his arm to show her his prize. He held two heads by their hair. One was Hitomi's, which had been cut clean at the neck, and the other was Ryoko's, which looked like it had been ripped off around the torso, her right arm was still attached, tangling by the skin and bone of her shoulder.

'So then its not personal. For the most part anyway. This kid's just nuts!'

Kurama walked towards she had let go but a week ago with her head bowed. She covered the larger part of the distance between them. Nameless smirked and lifted his chin slightly in challenge. Kurama lifted her eyes. Black meet red and all that needed to be said was said.

Kurama rushed forward! She jumped high into the air hoping that if he maid the parry the greater length of her weapon would whiplash over it and strike him.

All hopes die in Mordor.

Nameless stepped to the left and the son of a bitch smacked her with the heads of her officers! The heads cracked and split with the force of the hit. Blood and bits of bone sprayed across Kurama and her opponent.

The hit was both painful to her ego and her head. Kurama hit the ground, rolled on her side a few steps, and got to her feet quickly.

That. Hurt!

Kurama could already feel the right side of her face beginning to swell. Bits of skull pierced Kurama's cheek, she briefly felt a concern for hygiene, but quickly brushed it aside.

Her opponent-Kurama wasn't sure who or what to call him now- looked at her with mischief and mockery in his bright red eyes.

He threw his prizes off to the sided casually and took a stance, placing his left foot behind his right, he raised the blade even with Kurama's chest. And a hand in his pocket. Damn him!

Was it her, or had he grown some. He had! She was sure of it. He looked about 5' 6 ft. now. He had been smaller before, she was certain. His ears now were now pointed to. And his hair seem to stand rigid with energy his body was letting off. This confirmed Kurama's suspicions. Or at least in her mind it did.

One, this kid's nuttier than a fruit cake! And Two, he was getting help from some kind of spirit. Not a very nice one from the looks of things. But most spirits that required human host were not nice. And usually required a frequent blood sacrifice.

Kurama swept her eyes over her ruined camp. This boy either hadn't indulged his demon in a considerable amount of time, or was mixed up with a very powerful demon. Maybe more than one! Hell, it could be all of the above!

Kurama had to play this smart and fast! The flames were growing more violent, spreading faster and closing in on them both.

Kurama looked to the demon-boy. He didn't seemed to be too bothered by the heat of the fire, or the pungent orders riding on the billowing smoke. He seemed right at home. Great! Just peachy...

"What's wrong now!" the demon-boy said loudly, voice confident and condescending," Lost your nerve already? I thought you were here to kick my ass!"

It was Kurama's turn to smirk. Kurama embedded the blade of her glaive in the ground. The demon watched her closely. Something was off. He could feel something nipping at the back of his mind.

Kurama advanced until they were ten feet apart. She drew out her katana, taking it in both hand, she raised it before her and bent low into a sword fighting stance.

The boy's smirk returned, red iris small and cruel in wide almond eyes. A sword fight then.

No doubt this brave- or else very stupid - woman had something in mind. Some daring plan. Well, let her try. He was in the middle of his groove, and he'd be damned if he would let some Easterling bitch stop him now, damn it!

'Hn, this will be short. Shorter than I would like, I suspect.' He sneered.

The boy was the first to attack. He lounged at Kurama with great speed, covering the distance easily. Kurama just had time to block.

The demon-boy went on the total offensive, attacking rapidly at any open area he could find. Kurama couldn't block them all but swerved and dodged to avoid the blade, but still it nicked her. Kurama was able to just barely block the fatale blows. The demon-boy was relentless in his attack, forcing Kurama back into the fire, which was still, steadily growing.

Kurama noticed this and in a bold move she came in close and decked him right in the nose with her left fist.

Shocked, the boy stumbled backwards, and landed hard on his rear. Kurama took this chance to run into one of the larger, burning tents, that had yet to fall.(3) The boy got up in enough time to see were she had gone. He couldn't understand her reason, but he was curios, and still high from his earlier kills.

He rubbed the heal of his left hand into each eye, got up, and took off after her.

Inside the heat was intense, and the smells overpowering. Earlier he had enjoyed these smells, but now he cursed them, for he could no longer distinguish the sent of that twice damned, eastern woman.

The fire licked away at the tent, and often burning hunks of something or other would fall to the ground. He dodged them, searching for the woman he had persuade.

He looked about wildly, starting to get agitated. He heard a slight flapping sound and looked up just in time to dodge the flaming top of the tent. He dropped to the ground and rolled forward. But just as his feet had settled he was grabbed from behind in a strong embrace. The two haves of Kurama's uniform robe incased Nameless as she pulled him close to her chest, head bent over his left shoulder. Her green hair fell in front, hiding her face. Behind the green veil of hair she gritted her teeth, face screwed up in concentration.

She mustn't let go! She mustn't let go! No matter what! If she let go, if her grip faltered for even a second, the demon in her arms would brake free, and she would die! She would not let go! She would-"Gughaaa!"

Agony shot through every never of his body. Watching, one could almost see it rase across his skin, like small blots of lightning, cracking and popping as it seared its way through his body.

Desperate, he gathered up his fading strength, pushing it to the surface and letting it surround him in a sudden blast of heated black energy. It burnt through him and the Eastern General.

Kurama was thrown off him by force. Some invisible force had grabbed and pushed her with a incredible strength. The force of it sent her flying off the boy. Kurama landed some feet away on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She rolled to her side trying to get to her feet as quickly as possibly.

Nameless dropped to the floor, heaving. He looked behind him to were Kurama was already getting to her feet. Her black coat fell open, the red sash and the weapons it once held had been discarded at some point during their fight. Kurama had managed to hold onto her katana though, and now wielded it, but that had not been the source of the pain. His almond shaped eyes widened, pupils shrinking it the bright red irises.

Surtras. Scriptures. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. Holy ruins and prayers on paper had been attached to the inside of the coat.

With a growl he shakily got to his feet, hand clasped firmly on his sword. He searched the now spinning and dizzying room. His eyes focused on Kurama, right in front of him!

But she was not going to give him any time to retaliate. She cut at him across the chest, slicing open his shirt and drawing blood.. He had jumped back quickly so the cut was shallow. The demon-boy stumbled some. Kurama took advantage of this.

She pushed the boy down, placed her left foot were his chest connected with his stomach, and plunged her sword into his right shoulder.

"YYAAAAAAAHhhaaaannnAAA! Gauuuh!"The boy gasped. At first the sound seemed inhuman but towards the end he really sounded like a hurt, young boy.

Kurama kicked the weapon from the demon's hand and stood on his left shoulder with her right foot, placing her weight behind it. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out more written spells on paper. She threw them at the boy and they attached themselves instantly to his wrist, biceps, ankles, knees, and elbows.

The boy withered and screamed at the touch, and the more he fought, the worse it become. Soon, the boy's energy was spent, he lay back, exhausted and gasping for breath.

Kurama stood back and watched without pity. She spread her legs apart in a stance, and clasped her hands as if in prayer. In her right hand was a string of brightly colored beads. She began a sort of chant.

"!#!#&!&!"(2)(snickering)

The boy could not understand the words or even guess at their meaning. But he was so very, very tired. He closed his eyes unwillingly. He was afraid to sleep for he feared what he would find when he awoke. But the blackness behind his eyelids was grasping at him, pulling him under wether he was willing or not. Still he fought it until his body gave out before his will.

The sound of Kurama's chanting grated on his nerves, but the heat of the fire, and the smells, they comforted him as he was forced to submit.

He could feel himself coming down off his adrenaline rush. As he came down he realized just how utterly exhausted he was.

The demon in him screamed and growled and demanded that he get up! That he was set free! That he burn this Easterling bitch to the Black Pits and beyond!

But his mind and body was tired, and in the end, the demon too was worn down from the energy los the struggle took. Energy they no longer had.

Their breathing was heavy, but it evened out some as they relaxed. The boy lent his head back and they fell to sleep within seconds.


Red. He lay in a poodle of thick red liquid. The grass and mud was tainted with it.

The color looked stark against his pale white skin. His blue eyes stared dumbly into space.

He felt like nothing. Nothing at all. He felt no pain, no warmth, no cold, sorrow or anger. Just there, and nothing more.

He wanted to get up but he couldn't. He didn't know why he had to get up, he had no reason to get up, and it was so much easier to just lay there. Still he wanted to get up. And the more he lay there the more he wanted to rise.

Red, sticky, boney fingers ran threw his hair. Caressing his cheeks, rubbing the small of his back and hands and upper arms, all the while whispering to him bitter, sweet endearments.

He was vaguely aware of his lips moving, just barely.

Then the hand was at the back of his neck. Grip firm but not painful, it pulled him off the blood soaked ground.


Nameless's red eyes snapped open, his head bowed. His vision spun for a few moments before becoming clear.

He was being literally dragged down some long hall way Nameless did not recognize, by two uruk-hai; one on each side, each with a strong, numbing grippe on one of his arms. They were armed and armored. They walked with their backs straight and stiff.

The hall was rather large, arching upward till it was too dark to see, decorated by broken furniture and old, worn out carvings of winged creatures and other beings Nameless didn't recognize. Soft, glowing, blue orbs were placed along the walls, allowing the uruk-hai to see, but they only hurt Nameless's eyes.

Uruk-hai eyesight was not awful in the dark, but it still wasn't as keen as orc's.

Nameless was still too exhausted to stand on his own, so the two uruk-hai continued to drag him down the dark and poorly lit hall.

The orcs had seen the huge fire that had destroyed the Easterling's Campsite, but had not approached. If something had happened that was out of the Easterling's control, they would come to Captain Shagrat.

As they had, some stumbling, some running for their lives. Many were injured. They would have to request more troops from the East to make up for the ones who had died in the fire and for the others, who would not last long in Mordor, with such siris injuries.

Some of the Eastern soldiers claimed they saw a demon among the flames, wielding a sword, laughing like a mad man, and eyes that glowed redder than any flame.

This had frightened the orcs, being prone to believe in demons and superstition. But it also confused and intrigued them.

The uruks were skeptical though. It seemed more likely to them that the 'highly disciplined' worriers had been wound to too tight. With the aid of strong drink, they may have temporally lost their minds and had started the fire while fighting amongst themselves.

On Shagrat's command, they were ordered to help put out the fire, but having a short supply of water, and no means to get it to the Easterling Camp is enough time and quantities, they had to settle for keeping it from spreading any further.

With stone and sand they had built a sort of wall around and upon the hillside that separated the Easterling Camp from the main building and the other Camps outside.

They need not had bothered though. Had they been thinking clearly, they would have realized there was nothing outside of the Easterling Camp to fuel the fire. The lands of Mordor were made of little more than burnt rock, ash, and dirt. Still better safe than sorry. The fire had them all worked into a frenzy.

As the fires burned higher, the female General of the Easterlings, Kurama, had come running out of the burning camp, scrambling desperately up the hillside. She was covered in sweat and black ash, breathing deeply.

There were questions as to why she had been the last to leave the burning camp, but upon seeing she carried something over her shoulder, wrapped in her uniform jacket, it was assumed she had gone back to retrieve whatever it was.

When it was discovered to be the unconscious human Head Blacksmith, the Easterlings began pointing and screaming in their foreign tongue. Apparently this had been the demon that had set fire to their camp. Some had been ready to panic and Kurama was to tired from her up hill jog, and unknown to them until later, battle with the demon-child. Her other, surviving commanders were also ready to panic, or where to injured or badly burned to help her. So Captain Shagrat took command.

Nameless now focused on keeping his breath steady while the two uruk-hai continued to ignore him. He was nerviest and frightened and could feel his panic starting to rise in him but was still to weak from his fight with Kurama to do anything about it.

His mind was wandering to all the different possibilities, what could happen to him, what these orcs could do to him, what they would do to him. What if the Witch King were to suddenly arrive, or some other being of the Nine Black Riders, would they then see to his punishment personally?

Breathing suddenly became a challenge to him again. He ruthlessly put a stop to all other thought and focused on breathing. In, out, in, out. Repeat, repeat.

His vision spun and his head lolled from one side to the other every time the two uruk-hai would turn. Nameless was dimly aware that they were going up but was desperately trying to keep himself from spewing his last meal to realize what up meant.

Up meant towers, and the towers were reserved for elite fighters, commanders, and special prisoners.

'Huh? We've stopped.

Breath.

But why?

In,...a little more..., and out. Slowly!

Why breath, or why have we stopped?

Must breath.

Don't worry about a future you can't change. Just breath. You're to weak to do little else. Breath now. Live. Live, heal, get stronger. Then you can worry about the future.'

Nameless opened his eyes. His vision had cleared, he could see straight, but he still felt ill. They stood before a iron door in the stone wall. In one hand, the uruk-hai on his right held a lit torch, while the one on his left fumbled clumsily with the keys in it's thick fingers, obviously to the locked door. Eventually the uruk-hai with the keys had to let go of Nameless's left arm in order to sort out the right keys needed with both hands.

Nameless knew not what was behind the iron door and did not allow himself to neither guess nor care.

The uruk-hai with the keys growled in frustration, the one still holding onto Nameless's right arm sighed heavily in waning patients. Finally his comrade seemed to have found the right key and had managed to unlock the door after figuring out which way to turn it.

They hastily flung Nameless into the stone cell. They quickly closed it and all light left the 'room'.

Nameless's chin smacked hard against the stone floor as he was literally thrown into the cold cell. He turned his head to the right and laid there, not moving until he remembered he had to keep breathing. He gasped and panted until his heart beat returned to normal and he had enough oxygen in his body to breath normally again.

Nameless closed his eyes, letting the cold stone against his skin sooth him. He was nearly asleep when ghost fingers slide over his check and through his hair, bringing him back to attention.

He opened his eyes and looked about the room lazily. He listened and could hear indistinguishable noises coming threw the stone beneath him. But that could be anything, rats, other prisoners, soldiers, his own heart beat.

The flesh behind his left ear twitched and he decided to lift his head up and listen. He froze. Breathing. And not his either. This breathing was out of sync with his own, which he had momentarily forgotten to do again.

Slowly, he laid his head back down to the stone. After remembering how to breath evenly again, he calmed himself down some and turned his head to the right of were he lay.

Green eyes glowed in the dark. They stared at him, unreadable.

Nameless focused his vision, but still he could not see the orc- for what else could it be -from this far away. Not until the demon was back. Then his strength would return to him. Until then, he was helpless. In a stone prison. With a orc.

Suddenly Nameless felt very cold and frail.

To Be continued...


To the Readers of the Fic:

(1) Sort of like a japanese spear, but bigger.

(2) I know! I know! I saw this somewhere, I forget, a manga or something and I just had to try it. Just to be corny in the middle of a violent scene.

(3) Think Circus tent.

I was actually going to make this more of basically a mainly slash fic, but I don't think I will anymore. Rest assured our main character will still get molested by both genders whenever possible.

Well, actually he's MY main character but since I am choosing to share him with you I use the term 'our main character'.

This chapter took me a bit longer to get out didn't it? It's also a bit longer than the others are. Eight pages including this AN.

This chapter didn't really go anywhere in my opinion. Well that's not true, it went further into the story, so it did go somewhere!

And a special thanks to Sandtrout who has been reading each chapter and telling me how I can improve it. I mostly write for myself but if I'm going to post it on a public site I may as well make it so other people can enjoy it too.

So, as always, I encourage you to be brutally honest in your reviews and if you have any suggestions, please leave them in your review.

Semper fi, motherfuckers!

-Sneere

Mar., 31, 2005