[maikafanawen]

“Oh for the love of Aragorn,” said Dûrvagor, killing the orc with a swift, merciful thrust to the neck.

“Let's get going now that you’ve ruined our only source," Islist said as he left with a smirk.

“Only source?” said Dûrvagor, looking up to see Islist turn his back. “What in the—you were torturing him! That is illegal. Do you see what you hold in your hand?” He ran up and kicked the ranger’s sheath with his toe. “That’s a weapon. It takes lives. I can’t tell what you’re more proud of! Wielding that sword for your king, or wielding it for the pleasure it brings you to see your rival die, or in the last case, suffer?” Dûrvagor shook his head. Islist didn’t answer.

Dûrvagor fumed, his patience, usually immeasurable, was growing short. Words swarmed in his head. Words he’d like to scream at the neophyte ranger. Listen here little boy. I don’t know what exactly you have in mind but let’s get a few things strait. As much of a hot shot you think you are, save it for someone who cares, understand? That little trick with the bow: touchy, if you’re a fool in Gondor for the solstice festivals not if you’re answering a call from Lord Aragorn. Further more, I’d like to point out that a ranger never torments another being, no matter how evil it is. This being made clear I trust we shall encounter no further problems? Mm? Instead he shouldered his pack and kept his words inside.

The orc’s blood was spilled on the ground and Dûrvagor could not help but feel a bit sorry for his manner of death. Torture was cruelty no matter who it was inflicted upon and no matter who did it. Dûrvagor hoped that Islist would see someday. He didn’t much feel like walking with the group. When he got angry, which was rare, his face got flushed and his mind jumbled. He wasn’t quick or witty, and a terrible socialist. Instead, he walked in the middle of the company, head bent, trying to calm down.