[Firefoot]

“Grimkul… Grimkul, wake up.” Ulwakh tentatively prodded his companion into wakefulness. “We’re getting ready to move out.” Grimkul’s yellow eyes opened into blaring sunlight.

“Blasted sun,” grumbled Grimkul. “Not natural, marching in the daylight… I wouldn’t mind going back to the old days, when all our raids were at night.” Frankly, Ulwakh agreed, but he said nothing of it lest he instigate another one of Grimkul’s ideas of escape. Ulwakh didn’t want to have to refute it, and in Grimkul’s continued foul mood, he might not listen to reason anyway. Grimkul apparently took no notice of Ulwakh’s silence and continued, “We’re moving out, you say? Where to?”

“They’re saying there’s a little valley a few miles from here… we’re going to ambush the Elves there.” A light of hatred sprung into Ulwakh’s eyes at his mention of Elves. Personally, he preferred the rare captive (there hadn’t been any for him to play with since they had been enslaved), but killing them was fine, too. And they would certainly die today…

Grimkul had stopped listening after the first few words, however. Something else more pressing to his mind had caught his eye – that evil little rodent that had plagued him the previous night had finally ventured from its hole. With surprising stealth, Grimkul pulled his scimitar free of its scabbard and leveled it towards the mouse. In a flash of speed, he speared the mouse on the point of his sword.

“Haha! You filthy rodent scum won’t be troubling me anymore!” jeered Grimkul at the mouse’s lifeless form. Grimkul did not bother to remove the mouse from his sword before ripping into its rather stringy flesh.

His mood thus improved, Grimkul merely grumbled about the Lushurd’s new orders when he came around rather than quietly threatening the commander. Muttering once more about marching in the daylight, Grimkul hoisted up his pack and prepared for the short march to the ambush site, still munching absently. Ulwakh was greatly eased; when Grimkul was in one of his moods, there could be no saying who he would lash out against and Ulwakh was an easy target.

Their march to the valley was short – about three miles or so. After that, they were led up into a narrow pass overlooking the valley. “Now,” explained Lushurd, “we wait. Quietly, might I add, Captain’s orders.” He eyed the company viciously, his gaze seeming to linger a mite bit longer on Grimkul, who returned the look with an even uglier one. Lushurd either didn’t notice or paid no mind. “Then, the Elf scum comes through this valley and we catch them with a rain of arrows. Then we go down into the valley and finish them off. Got that?” Grimkul had stopped paying attention. Ulwakh idly wondered how many times the captain had had to explain the plan to Lushurd before the commander got it straight. The other Orcs in the company seemed to be somewhere between these two states of mind; Lushurd, being perhaps a little larger than Grimkul and only bright enough to repeat the Captain’s orders back to the troops, did not command the respect of his under-Orcs save in lip-service.

So the pair settled in to wait, bows at the ready. Grimkul idly scratched at the wood of his bow with his fingernail, wondering just how long it would take the cursed Elves to get there.