terribly sorry for the delay in the posting of this chapter. I was just looking at the stats for this story and apparentlyIve lost readers, but no matter, theyre only numbers. But seriously, those who have somewhat enjoyed this story please review, even if you think im butchering Tolkien's work.
Not my best work, but i swear it will get better.
A red glare entered the hall and all eyes were turned to this cruel man in black, and for what seemed like hours silence filled the room. The intruder moved forward and more of his lackeys entered similarly dressed in pitch black robes emblazoned with the red serpent, the jingle of heavy gold necklaces and jewelry made a discordant din in the tent-hall; some bore captured men, others forced the wounded to the ground, spilling blood upon the earth. The hoarse and hallow voice of their supposed leader spoke, it was clear to a trained ear that the tongue he spoke was of similar origin with that of Cidrhali and her people, though the harshness of his demeanor left his mouth and lay upon the sounds Cidhrali made soft and fluid.
"You and your brigands have gotten soft, Tal-anoku. It was easy to follow you after the Red Horn Pass, you should have known better than to choose so open a pathway, my brother. Ahh Cidhrali, how you have grown! Ripe enough to wed and bear children yet?"
His harsh laughter left his lips as he moved forward to grasp the hem of Cidhrlali's skirt; the woman moved as nimbly as she had done that day of the windstorm when she held Lin-galadaer in her hand defiantly against a shadow. This elicited cruel laughter from the other men, who with a certain confidence and brashness lay their swords low, pointed to the ground. No guard of Cidhrali's people moved to defend themselves for in truth they were outnumbered and at a disadvantage since the intruders had their swords drawn and the guards save Tal-ano were sheathed.
Celebrin struggled to sit upright and felt a gentle, ancient hand grasp his arm, helping him to his knees, the woman smelled of Thingolod and of a smell similar to a rose, this was Jzathi-ma-ala the ancient hearth woman. A blade also Celebrin felt in the small of his back, and confusion took his mind until he felt her methodical cutting of the twine rope that held his hands in a merciless bondage. When his hands were free the hilt of the small dagger was left in his hands, he turned his head to see out of the corner of his eye but the ancient figure of the woman sat still a few feet away, as though she had never moved at all.
Two guards entered in the midst of the laughter, their faces covered revealing only their auburn eyes glistening red in the firelight, before them they forced Pallando and Alatar into the tent-hall saying in a harsh and cutted tone,
"These we found bound in the chieftains tent…they are the ones Khamul wants."
The cruel man smiled and gold teeth refracted light in every direction as his wide grin reached, inhumanly, to his ears. Celebrin could see a certain likeness in the face of the Chieftain and this man, he wondered then as the back of his mind found some way to free his comrades if they in truth were related by blood. The task of freedom would not be easy, held as captives by one and as outlaws by others, both of these fates seemed liable to end in death…his gaze went to Cidhrali who looked at him from her position, he knew she was planning something in her mind, her eyes moved around as though they were deer running from a predator, she nodded in his direction as the cruel man moved closer to her father.
"It is good to know you are worth something Kwaretgua. Even your goat herders can catch those who eluded the shadow…perhaps your village will not burn further…"
The ancient man spoke,
"If it is a deal you wish to make Tohopka you should speak to the council, we are equals here, even the exiled."
"You call me by that name father?"
"It is your name…I cannot change that."
The cruel man looked thoughtfully into the fire as Cidhrali motioned to stand behind her father, silently her steps moved, yet not unnoticed for the man whom the Chieftain called Tohopka drew his curved blade up and pointed its sharpened edge toward the neck of the old man. His head shook and his cruel and confident smile returned to his face, gold teeth and all,
"Clever you have become sister…Take the prisoners to the horses! Leave the goat herders be! It is…their reward."
The soldiers who brought Pallando and Alatar in gave them to other men and moved forward to their leader, their gait was unsteady, as though they were bent from some unknown pain, it was a walk Celebrin knew well and under his breath he growled one word that was heard by the woman Jzathi-ma-ala,
"Yrch…"
When they came to the side of their leader they spoke in voices harsh and alien to all respectable things that lived upon the earth,
"You promised us fresh meat and slaves, and none you let us take! Khamul will not be glad about this…no indeed."
"Then take two of the children, I care not, only that they be an easy load."
Came the reply as inhumane as the very rocks of that desert land, a tone that set fire to the breast of Tal-ano, so much so that, despite being guarded by two men he burst forth and drew his sword to the bent men hidden in the mask and with one fell swipe of his moon carved blade severed the head of one, whose squeal was released into the night air. This elicited a laugh from the dark captain as he turned to exit the doorway where numerous squeals and growls permeated the air, a sign of their unearthly anger. The other of the pair snarled as his comrade fell to the ground and his head rolled near the fire, he drew a scimitar of pounded iron and flung himself to cut at the man, yet his blow was made fruitless as was his life, which ended by that same blade.
Celebrin at this time arose and ran toward the intruders who grasped hold of his companions and with that small, rugged blade of stone sliced their throats with the skill he had been long loathed to learn as a youth. For a small instant there was a semblance of calm as the man called Tohopka stood in the doorway surrounded by his men, staring at the blood of the masked men who now lay dead upon the floor of that tent-hall. A smirk came to his face, as though it brought him joy to see blood flowing upon the earth; his men, seeing their comrades slain so quickly, drew their swords quickly to pare for battle, yet their commander's ring-clad hand ordered them to cease their attack.
The howls of unearthly creatures began to fill the air, and silent were all the voices of men; the lips of Tohopka's men began to curl into a sign of fearful glee. The elf's ears pricked as the sound of those creatures came closer and began to surround the tent-hall; the sound of arrows were heard in the din and the roof of the tent was lit aflame. As it quickly burned the intruders ran from where they stood, Celebrin heard the whine of horses and remember his own friend who he had left abandoned in a foreign country. He looked for the white steed in the chaos yet could not see that glimmer of nobility the steed took from his forbearers. All the chieftains and men fled the burning tent and were soon surrounded by what seemed to be hundreds of masked, bent figures, made more gruesome in the light of the burning village. At their head sat Tohopka upon a black horse, weighed by decadent bronze and gold, and who bore, painted in what one could only hope to be red paint, the symbol of that monstrous band, a red serpent. His voice cracked as he shouted,
"Forgive me father! Your son's actions have made your life forfeit; there is nothing I can do…"
Looking upon Celebrin, who stood beside Pallando and Alatar, he sneered and said,
"As for you, well, there was no sense in keeping you alive…Death would have been your fate…"
The man dared one last look upon the erect figure of the old chieftain, and a pain struck him deep in his heart it seemed, and in the tongue of Cirdhali he spoke in a voice that betrayed his confidence and smug exterior,
"May your death be quick…and painless."
And with that he turned and allowed the circle of scimitars and torch brands to encircle that small gathering of people; the cruel beings that surrounded them squealed as though they were swine, gleeful to enact revenge. One stood forth from the mass that gathered, he lifted a head into the air, the very severed head that lay by the hearth of the tent-hall; and in a voice that was a broken remnant of a once fair song shouted, and to the ear of the elf the word was familiar, though he had not heard it in many centuries,
Burzum-u thrakuluk!
And the sound of drums resounded in the elf's ears as the phalanx of snarling figures moved toward them; unmasked they became and the truth was indeed revealed that the elf had feared, for to his eyes came the familiar face of the orc.
Kwaretgua- Qaletaqa-(Hopi) protector of the people
Tohopka- (Hopi)- Wild beast
Burzum-u Thrakuluk- Bring them all to darkness!- Actual words in black speech( not much is written about black speech so I gathered what I could and tried my best. What are Orcs doing in eastern Middle-earth? Well, Sauron and Morgoth must have had some way of controlling hteir empires, and what better minions than orcs, right?