Coward
Angrinc sat, and the fruits of his labour were scattered about him. He glanced toward his mailed gauntlets, soaked in blood and gore, shaking in terror even now that the danger had passed. He could feel the pounding of his heart, each fierce beat both a welcome relief and cruel reminder of the terror he had felt scarce minutes before.
You’re nothing but a coward
Words of an unhappy jilted suitor, a bitter cry determined to lay low his pride. Such jibes troubled Angrinc little. He had been sorry for her, sorry for her pain and the part he had played in it. Yet he knew well enough that, whatever faults he may bear responsibility for, her speech to him had been in service of naught but the desperate need to wound him in turn as she felt he had wounded her. She had named him coward, and he had not quarreled with such, for there had been no need on his part. His pride was not so great that he could not pity her. He knew he was not craven, and thus had taken no hurt from her baseless accusation.
Yet you were afraid. You feared to do battle, and you felt terror in the heat of it
It was true. Angrinc looked at his blade, and even now, now that he had passed unhurt through the fight, he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. His head spun, and bile rose bitter to his mouth. Today Angrinc had feared to meet Death, when before he had considered it but a friend to be. Never before had he felt so great a dread, so crippling a terror; though oft had he been in battles more desperate and less hopeful.
You’ve become soft, unwary. Accustomed to life in Bree, comfortable in a smoke-choked tavern
It had indeed been long since Angrinc had sallied forth for war, the longest in months. Yet he had been sure that he would relish the thrill of battle moreso than usual, not less. Bree had become stifling to him, a nest of gossip and ill-will, a hive of wasps swarming and stinging him. He had been sure, so sure, that his unchecked emotion was to be blamed upon the town, that once he departed he would be relieved. And so he had escaped into the wilds, into what he had thought to be the safety of bodily peril. And so he now knew the truth of the lie.
Bree was never the problem, the problem is you
Why? Why fear, why now? Never before had he dreaded death. Never had he dreaded falling unremembered in some distant field, or wished to come again to home. Never before had he ridden forth to war, hoping that he would return. He had no wish for death, yet also had he no zeal for life. Long ago had he foreseen his grim fate, and never had he questioned or doubted it.
Never before did you have something to return to
Angrinc cursed. It was nothing, it had to be nothing. She was comfortable, happy, content. It was an idle fancy, the dream of a thoughtless mind. He knew full well that it could not be, should not be. He had deceived himself, allowed himself to confuse a passing friendship with something else. The fault was his, and now he was to pay the price for it.
She’s the best person you’ve ever met
That could be true, and yet it need not mean anything. He had met many worthy people, many wise and kind people. And even if it were so, then all the more reason to turn aside from her, to ensure no hurt came to her. Surely he could do so without danger, without changing aught between them. There was no call, no need to be more than friends. He was so sure that she wished nothing more. He had to be sure, for if he doubted…
You need to be stronger, to put aside indulgences
Aye, that was true. He had to do better, to be better. Such follies were but the product of undiscipline, a sign that he was failing in his duty. He had to prune such childish notions, as he had determined to do long years prior. He could not do what he must, fight as he knew he had to, if such petty fears persisted. And so the answer was simplicity - it was his doom to strip himself of such weaknesses, as he thought he had already - only then could he fulfil his duty. Only then could he conduct war without fear or favour, and perish alone and content.
Yet you will not, you will cling to your weaknesses as a coward does
I will not.
But Angrinc knew himself better now, and as he slowly stood and began the dreary work of dragging corpses into a heap, piling them near to the still-smoking campfire, he knew already the lie of the words he spoke to himself. He was not so easily deceived by himself as once he had been, and he hated himself for it. Hated himself for the simple lie he spun to comfort himself, and hated himself that it was a lie and not truth. He wished it were true, but he was wiser now. Wiser, and afraid.
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Angrinc stood at the foot of the hill, flames dancing bright in his hard eyes as the hilltop camp blazed. Idly, he wondered what other Orcs in the lands around would make of it, of the destruction of the small outposting.
Maybe they would read the fire as being a warning, and that suited Angrinc well, for then the foul creatures would fly back to their holes and their masters, and Angrinc would dogged follow them, and slay them in turn and their masters also. And so he would learn what masters their masters served, and pursue them in turn, and ever and ever would he do so, each triumph bringing unheralded safety to good folk, each victory but a forestalling of his own death in pursuit of that impossible goal.
Yet it might be that they read the fire not as a warning, but as a beacon - a sign that they were needed of now. And that would suit Angrinc also, for then he would be spared the trouble of tracking them as they fled. They would muster, bolster their numbers, and he would be waiting. He would be ready, as ever he must be. They knew him not and yet they feared him, and this gave him a power over them. It was a fragile, fleeting power, maintained only as long as his armour held true and his sword struck swift, but power it was.
Angrinc sighed, turned, continued walking. Either way, he had work to do, though he had little wish for it. His mind turned sudden back to Bree, to nights under starlight and days spent in talk...no. He had work to do. However little he now cared for it.
And so Angrinc hardened his heart and strode onward, his mind turned toward his fell and deadly errand - though he knew well now the peril he was in, the danger that had sprung unheralded upon him. The last bite of winter’s wind wailed about him, chilled him. The scent of spring was gathering sweet in the air.
Winter - Angrinc knew that winter was to be feared. Only now had he learned terror for the dreadful power of Spring.
