Grûglach spoke a command to Gorurk in a low growl. Unfortunately, the lieutenant had returned from his inspection of the barracks. And soon thereafter, the Captain made his own inspection, giving his orders directly to his troops. They had moved out at nightfall, and dawn was nearing, Grûglach could feel it, an acute hatred and mild fear of sunlight giving him the ability to sense its coming. He had wished before that it were the same way with Men, that his hatred for them would allow him to feel their presence. He would never admit it, but he feared what would result from his actions.
“Spread the word, we camp soon.”
The Captain listened to the growls and mutters among the ranks as he watched them pass by. Some of the troops snuck glances at their Captain as they ran by, while others boldly stared at him. They had been running since they left the night before, and Grûglach knew that such a thing never went well with them. They had all seemed enthusiastic, screaming and growling with the bloodlust as he had given them their orders and informed them that they would taste Man-flesh again. He was sure the excitement would return when the battle began.
His own excitement was more of a nervous energy, and he fidgeted with his various weapons. His finger slid along the blade of his axe then went to test the point of his hook. His eyes passed from one goblin to another among the ranks, and his hand tightened into a fist whenever his eyes met another’s. The Captain began to wonder if he should have waited for orders. It was uncertain that his orders were what the king wanted, and even more uncertain that they were wise. His luck hadn’t failed him yet, though, much less his skill.
Grûglach started to run again, keeping a small distance between himself and the troops. He couldn’t stand watching the goblins as they ran by, nor could he stay still without his mind wandering and wondering. Its machinations often made him proud, but other times he cursed them. But most of the time he cursed the goblins under his command. If the battle that was to come ended with Men triumphant, it was their fault. Gundabad would be held as long as Grûglach’s orders were carried out. So far, they were being carried out, and they had little more than a day’s journey left till they reached the Mountain of Gundabad.
Maybe the Captain had reason to consider the fate of the goblins, but for now he only considered his own fate. He was going to determine his own fate, and keep his fate separate from the fate of his troops, as well as the fate of the goblin remnant in the Mountains of Middle-Earth. Perhaps they had served a master, Sauron, as well as a king, but Grûglach had never served either. He served himself and his purposes, which mainly consisted of staying alive. And, for now, finding a good place to set up camp for the day.
The Captain suddenly cursed himself, realizing that he had left Gorurk at the head of the ranks. He hoped by some luck another one his lieutenants, preferably Skagrun, were up there with sniveling Gorurk to hold the dimwitted goblin’s hand. Grûglach hated that that creature had become a lieutenant by some accursed stroke of luck. It angered him greatly to think that the lieutenant had seen several battles, and not managed to die in a single one of them. The Captain laughed a low, snarling laugh that was barely distinct from a growl at the thought of Gorurk’s end. But his happy thoughts left him as he realized the ranks were beginning to slow. He picked up his pace, preparing his anger for his favorite officer, and hoping in the back of his mind that things would continue to follow his plan.
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