It was early in the morning and Snaga was tired; he wanted to go to sleep. The sun was just barely coming up over the horizon; good, comforting night's darkness was slowly fading. The world took on a hazy blue.
Orcs dread this time of day; orcs are nocturnal and they are averse to the sunlight by nature. Most of the camp goes to sleep in the pre-dawn hours, crawling away to sleep in dark corners and nooks to escape the coming sun.
Snaga was just about to make his way to his own dark alcove when Urzug stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going, Snaga?"
"To rest," He stammered.
"Not yet you aren't. Keep digging, you lazy rat! You're not finished until I dismiss you."
"It's morning, " Snaga murmured.
"Shall I whip you, Snaga? Your master is too soft on you. Do as I told you; you can sleep when you're finished."
Snaga lowered his head and obeyed. He didn't want any trouble. Urzug was the over-seer of the orc camp's latest effort to guard against an attack. There was no time to build a wall; instead a hastily erected fence was being built around the orc camp, it was nothing more than a motley collection of wood stakes being pitched into the ground that were laced with wire knotted with shrapnel and other treacherous materials. The way Snaga saw it, it was all too little, too late. As he got to work and as the minutes passed by, the world became slowly brighter and brighter. Each passing minute made him feel more uncomfortable.
An eastward wind wafted the scent of a rotting corpse into his nose. He gazed upward where it hung high in the air on a tall gibbet; swaying slowly. A week ago an orc had tried deserting. He was easily caught. Now he hung as a warning for anyone else who might be entertaining thoughts about desertion. Snaga wondered to himself why anyone would bother to run, since the woods were filled with elves and men. He wished that they would take the corpse down; but keeping order was more important now than ever. The rotting body would stay there for a long time.
Snaga's thoughts drifted back to his own misery. He was tired and hungry; he hadn't slept in a long time. No matter what, it seemed to Snaga that he was always underfed and under slept. He could still feel the stripes on his back from the last time he had been beate-
Urzug screamed a gurgled screech and in the same instant Snaga heard the "thud" sound of an arrow as Urzug had been shot through the neck. Urzug fell to the ground clutching the arrow's shaft. Snaga barely had time to think before an arrow whizzed past his own head. He fell to the ground instinctively. Within the chaos of the split-second moment one clear thought formed in his mind: they're here.
He turned around to see armed figures emerging from the trees. Tall, fair soldiers came striding forward. Snaga gasped in horror: it was the monsters from his dreams. The foremost one raised his arm to grab an arrow; he nocked his bow and emotionlessly pulled back to aim for his next kill. Snaga shrieked and darted to the side just as an arrow hit the ground next to him. He quickly got up to run, half tripping over himself as he fled.
The enemy descended in droves onto the orc camp and soon the camp was awash in a frenzy of men and elvish soldiers slaughtering the orcs who were caught by surprise. All around him, Snaga's comrades were being cut down; amid the chaos he ran for his life. Snaga dove behind the crevice of a crumbling wall. He crouched there in the corner, hand over his mouth trying to keep himself quiet. Amid the killing and the screaming and the ground running with blood, Snaga was whipped into a state of terror. He could barely keep himself sane. An elf or an orc would rush by but he remained unnoticed.
In short time the screams of the orcs became fewer and fewer and the camp became thicker and thicker with elves and men-soldiers who rushed by the spot where Snaga crouched.
Snaga realized with horror that soon they would be completely defeated and the camp would be held by elves and men. They would surely leave no-one alive; the time to run was now or never.
"I have to get out of here," He thought to himself. Fleeing into the woods was his only option. When he mustered the courage, he sat up and looked around the corner, then ran to the next nearest hiding spot.
He dodged behind the edifice of a crumbling wall; heart pounding, wondering if anyone had seen him. The closest escape was to dart through a nearby alley. After taking a moment to breathe several shallow, panicky breaths, he staggered to his feet, he stumbled around the corner and looked behind himself.
His heart stopped, to his horror an elf soldier only a few yards away was cutting down an orc. With his enemy struck to the ground, the elf raised his sword and slashed through the orc's skull; blood splattered everywhere. While Snaga was still standing there, frozen in fear, the elf looked up and spotted him.
The elf warrior was fair, tall, brunette. He had murder in his eyes. The elf stepped over the body of the orc that he had just killed and walked coolly to where Snaga stood. Snaga snapped to his senses; he turned on his heels and ran.
Snaga could hear pounding footsteps behind him but he didn't dare look back. He sprinted down the alley as fast as he could, running for his life. After a short distance, Snaga thought that he stopped hearing footsteps behind himself and he turned around to see that the elf was gone.
Confused, he kept running, and just as he was about to round the corner the elf, in a flash, stepped out blocking his way. Snaga was about to scream when the elf soldier swung his sword and, instead of slashing him straight through, bashed him on the side of his face with the broadside of his sword.
The pain was nothing short of stunning. He fell to the ground hard; he could feel blood running down his cheek. He was dazed and his vision was spinning; he stumbled to his feet and tried to run...only to be tackled back down to the ground. He felt his hands get pinned behind his back as he wrestled against an elf who was twice his height and three times his weight.
"Don't fucking move, filth!" The elf hissed. Snaga felt one of his wrists get released and his own dagger was pulled from his hip and held against his throat.
"Keep your hands behind your back, you hear me?"
Snaga didn't respond, he just whimpered in terror. He felt his other wrist was released but he didn't dare remove it from behind his back.
"I'm going to die." He thought to himself.
Snaga heard the "clink" of a belt buckle and he felt his hands being bound firmly behind himself. He felt the elf soldier get off of him and yank him to his feet by his hair.
"Walk, orc!" He felt the sharp end of his own dagger prod him harshly on his back.
Snaga was confused; this wasn't the quick and brutal death he was expecting. Bewildered, he wondered why he was being taken alive...suddenly he remembered what Grishnak had told him about Gelmir's revenge.
In a snap Snaga became hysteric; he fell to his knees and struggled against the hand gripping his hair; refusing to walk any further, and screaming hysterically. The elf soldier hoisted him up and pushed him against a wall. The elf back-handed Snaga as hard as he could. The first slap was hard enough to make Snaga shut up; his head went dizzy and he felt like he was about to fall over when he felt a second slap to the other side of his face.
Snaga dry heaved; he felt he was about to start sobbing.
"Keep walking." The elf shouted, and continued to march his prisoner forward.
As Snaga was marched, he observed with dizzy, spinning vision that the ground ran with blackish-red blood, littered with severed orc heads and hands. Half smashed faces looked up at Snaga with dead eyes. It was enough to make him sick; he wanted to vomit.
Snaga was marched to a gathering crowd of men and elvish soldiers. In a circle of them knelt, on one knee, an elf; he was dressed like a captain. He was stooping down to where another bound orc prisoner sat on his knees...it was Grishnak.
"Yesterday a company of your warriors left this camp. Where are they going?" The captain asked Grishnak.
Grishnak spat in the Captain's face and cursed him in orcish language. The elf captain wiped the spit off of his cheek with disgust and promptly slashed Grishnak's throat clean open. Snaga almost fainted. Blood squirted out of Grishnak's neck and he gurgled before falling to the ground.
The tall, stately elf stood to his feet. "We don't have time for an interrogation." The captain said:
"We need to move; we'll take this one." He pointed to Snaga.
"Blindfold him and let's go."
The soldier who was holding Snaga responded something affirmative in elvish to his captain. While Snaga was still gawking at Grishnak's convulsing body, a piece of cloth was tied over his eyes and his vision went dark.
