[Grimbold]

The cavern was dark--only shattered fragments of the torch-light glinted on its uneven walls. Handorth was in an unknown region: these cool green woods were strange to him, and the sounds and smells were bewildering, although he always had a keen ability to adapt quickly to difficult situations. The Orcs of his brigade were as cruel and vicious as any he had ever known: he detested them, and terribly wanted to kill them, but he was working with them for the Dark Lord.

Handorth looked over his belongings, and fingered the teeth which he hung around his neck on a string. Handorth was a pillaging warrior by nature--his people had survived in this manner in the deserts for centuries. He had slain countless beings and seen more murder and horror than anyone he knew, except for perhaps these Orcs who had been bloodying themselves in the dirty-work of Barad-dur for long years.

The gnashing and horrible voices of the Orcs echoed in the stone chamber. Handorth rose and lifted a flaming torch. One of the younger goblins was prying at the carcass of a boar which Handorth had slain earlier in the day. Handorth struck him hard on the head with the torch, sending the beastly fiend howling away to another dank recess of the cave. Handorth surveyed the other Easterling fighters: he was more content about their worth in this war.

And yet they were the ones who represented more of a threat to his position of power within the Easterling ranks. The one named Findorak was young and proud--Handorth could see that he had lived for as long as he had by relying on the restraint and patience of his fellows. If the boy tried anything Handorth would beat him into the ground.

Meanwhile, there were those with more sense, those who feared Handorth and stayed out of his way. The hierarchy within the brigade was important to respect--without it, the Easterlings would drop to the organizational level of the Orkish hordes. Handorth was particularly impressed with such fearless fighters as Jerika: they recognized their duty's call and never put it out of their minds. Yes, the young woman was good: Handorth looked forward to putting his arms around her strong body. It had been long weeks since he had made the beast with two backs! He laughed silently.

Handorth slid his iron helm onto his skull as he walked out of the cavern's darkness and made his way into the forest. He found a number of his own men holding a truly strange being--one of the Elves, and an enemy of Mordor. Jerika was there and a small guard of Easterlings: surely the Orcs would want to tear this cold-eyed demon to shreds, but certainly it would be more worthwhile to keep the prisoner alive. Handorth also could not help thinking that a force would be sent to reclaim the elf they had captured, and they would be coming soon. They would have to be quick.

Handorth approached the woman.

"Jerika, this pale-faced messenger will be missed by his kin. He may be carrying news for his master. We must bring him into the cave. He must tell us his message so that we may be merciful captors. Bring your men, the Orcs must be held at bay. Meanwhile, I suggest that we send out a part of the brigade to defend the surrounding woods. I will go with them. What we find out could be of great interest to Barad-dur and may further our cause."

Handorth put his arm around Jerika and whispered in her ear.

"The blood of our enemies will be shed upon the bare rock this day. The strength of our bodies will likewise be put to excellent use this night."

Handorth smiled his vicious smile and departed.