"Did ya see him?" the short one asked as he drank from his tankard, his companions nodded eagerly,"Howled like a mad man when he got into a big group of them, laughing and roaring at them. Something ain't right with that one, seems broken in the head if ya ask me. maybe it was good they knocked him out, kept us from having to deal with it."
they laughed at that, for they didn't notice him sitting in the corner with his head down, nursing his own tankard of ale and picking at a plate of cold meat, he just shook his head slightly, and sighed softly. It's not worth the trouble he thought, but part of him knew they were right to think that, but he was not mad, for he had laughed at the death he caused and roared his defiance at the Orcs that still came at him, even with one arm he could still fight, and better then those drunkards that called themselves guards. He thought back to the battle they had all been part of, losing himself in it...
They had built a wooden fort, enough to hold four hundred men, they had gathered men from Morlad, Celembel and as many as they could from Dol amroth itself they even had a party rangers from Ithilien only fifty or so, it was hard to count their number, as they kept coming and going, scouting the enemies ranks for the forts defenders and hindering their supply lines.
Uruk-hai and Orcs from Mordor, and a few trolls to make matters worse.
They gave him command of some new recruits, some of them didn't even look old enough to shave yet, he made them train day and night, rain or shine, they fought with axes,swords, spears, shields, they ran in full Armour, they fought hand to hand, knocking each others teeth out, he made them fill their packs full of rocks and run up hill, he made them dig ditches and fill them in, he made them tough, and they hated him for it.
No one could be spared, and those who deserted were flogged. those men who didn't learn the first time were flogged again, first offenders only got ten, those who didn't learn got twenty five.
the day of the attack it started to rain hard. in some spots a man would sink to his knees from the mud, it wasn't the best place for a battle, but it was better then endangering the farms and villages.
The rangers made it back before nightfall, the enemy right behind them, the men had no horses, so it would be an infantry battle, the rangers took to the forts eastern walls, the spearmen forming ranks in front of the walls behind pits they had dug the day before with spikes in them, he lead his men to their position on the right flank, swords, maces and axes, some of them had skill with their weapons, when they weren't swinging them like a farmer swatting flies.
He let out a whistle, as he saw the enemy horde move into sight, the men to his left shuffled, someone in the back started to sob softly, looking back at them with shook his head, none of them would make it, these boys who should be the future of gondor, would all die here, maybe he would too, "No" he said to himself,"You made a promise, and you will not die here, not tonight or tomorrow, you'll make it back to bree, you have to..." he rolled his shoulder, and unsheathed his sword, looking at it as it caught the dying light from the sun, the blade blazed as if it was on fire, he smiled. and flexed his sword arm, he looked at the stump of his left, and sighed, how he missed bree, and wished it was his old companions by his side, and not the boys he stood with, Fiontann, Dataak, Hardoleth, Embeth, Falarthin, Deorgast, Fastdred, Xelp, Hell he even thought Burly would do better then those he stood with.
He missed the Bloody Dawn, he nodded to himself, muttering after,"Guess I'll look them up when I get back to bree...whenever that is."
A horn sounded, and it began, the rangers picked there shots well, and dropped a great man Orcs and Uruks before they hit the pits and companies of spearmen. he watched, shaking his head, but quickly snapped back to his task, he looked at his men, raising his voice to be heard over the clash of steel."GET READY BOYS HERE THEY COME!"
They charged into the Orcs, that tried to take the flank, cutting them down, and being cut down themselves, the old soldier parried and dodged what he could, not being able to block anything with out a shield, he thrust, cut, slashed, punched with the pommel of the sword, he couldn't hold it back anymore, he felt good, he laughed, and roared at the orcs, his men dying around him, some lasted longer then others, some lost arms, legs, heads, the rangers joined the fight, some coming to his mens aid, the others reinforcing the line elsewhere, he snarled as a speartip cut his left shoulder open, another scar to add to the list, he kept pushing forward, never going back, some of the rangers were cut down, but they held. only eight of his twenty men were left, he rallied them to him, yelling for all he was worth to be heard over the screams of the dying, he sank in the mud, finding one of the deeper spots, and earned a broken nose with a knee to the face, he repayed it with a sword in the belly, the orc died trying to keep its insides from spilling out, spitting curses at him in its own dark tongue, a horn sounded from the north, he growled trying to pull himself out of the filth, a shadow fell over him, something hit him and his world turned black as he fell forward.
He awoke hours later, the battle had ended, they had won. the enemy was pushed back for now, he reached up and touched a nasty lump on his head, a soft groan escaping his lips,"That makes sense, what the hell hit me..." someone must have heard him because the next thing he knew he was holding a tankard and being led out of the tent,"Drink that, you'll feel better, now get out of here." he didn't even see who it was, everything was blurry, he grunted and shook his head, before the world tilted and he was on the ground, ale spilling all over him."Just my luck...." he pushed himself up and crawled in the direction of his bedroll, catching what sleep he could before the men started back for the city.
He shook his head, and looked up from the memories, touching his head lightly,"Bloody orcs..." he let his gaze shift back to the three men, for they were now men, boys no longer, forged in the fire of war, he smiled to himself, and got up, moving over to join them, they nodded, the one who had spoken going a little pale. he looked at him."It's alright lad, I just enjoy this far to much sometimes and let my bloodlust take over." the three nodded once more and they talked about what they wanted to do after the war was over.
It was dawn when the older man left, looking up at the stars with his good eye, he pulled his cloak tight around him, and grunted feeling the familiar pain in his shoulder again."Going to be cold today." he turned and looked to the north, and wondered what his friends were doing, and how many still lived, life as a sell sword was never easy, he sighed and turned heading for the barracks, walking slowly, enjoying the sunrise. he kicked the odd man who hadn't made it that far yet, and sent them off ahead of him, shaking his head,"Can't even handle their ale yet...such a waste...."
he stopped outside the barracks, and whistled a tune he used to play on his lute all the time, and that his wife had told him she liked, he stopped,"Ber will never hear it unless I teach it to him...." he looked down, his fist clenching,"Please be alright lass...this old fool needs you."
he made his way inside and to his bunk, not bothering to kick his boots off, he passed out, ready for another day, and another fight, life for this old soldier has never been easy, he paid his dues and then some, but he keeps going, to protect his friends and family, and to make sure his boy never has to fight, he'll do what ever it takes.
