I felt countless arms pushing me through the crowd of Uruks who parted as I walked into the centre of the circle. As I reached the open space one of the Uruks at the front pushed me to the ground, I landed face down upon the dirt and rubble breathing in the damp which surround the cavern. I climbed to my feet, my eyes darting around the circle only to find that I was alone. The brutish merriment continued in the crowd from which something came soaring through the air, landing a few meters away from me with a soft clatter. It as a crudely forged blade, even I had produced better in my time within the pits. Its hilt was clumsily wrapped with leather and wire holding it together. I lifted it from the ground, already feeling the wire claw against the burnt skin on my palm, ripping and tearing as I tested the blades weight and strength. Soon the jeering came to a pause, I could see in the distance that Uruks began to part from the opposite side making way for perhaps the largest creature I had ever laid eyes upon.
I stood with the blade held loosely at my side. My strength had already left me; imprisonment had taken its toll. Had I been the man I was several months ago I would have charged the large Uruk the moment it emerged. But then I recalled the evening we were captured, when the mighty creatures of the White Hand descended upon our small camp with such force I found myself overwhelmed. They were strong, fast and freakishly resilient to fatigue. All I could do was stand and stare at my opponent as he strode out into the centre to meet me, a sword held at the ready in his hand.
The crowd began to cheer the name ‘Bogtrol’; this Uruk must have built quite the reputation amongst his kind. No doubt by slaughtering half-dead slaves for sport, very courageous. I thought, feeling my lip curl at the unspoken chide. I took a moment to examine my foe; he was almost twice the size of me in height and in width. He wore no armour, no doubt to display his fearlessness towards his so called opponent. His dark flesh was scared and rough; chunks were missing from his arms, ears and nose which made him even more repulsive if that were possible. His teeth were long a pointed as he bared them at me with a low growl, muttering something in a tongue I could not understand. We continued to stand and stare at each other amongst the thundering applause until the advisor upon the wooden scaffold at last waved his arm.
Within a blink of an eye the large beast lunged at me, pushing down with his right leg to jump slightly, his blade descending upon me with a heavy strike. Caught by surprise I only had enough time to lift my own blade and deflect the blow, its power sent me falling backwards onto the dirt. The Uruk’s blade hacked down towards me as I lay, our steel kissed as I flicked my wrist to send his sword to one side giving me time to rolled away and climb back onto my feet. The jeering and roaring grew louder and louder, I took a deep breath of damp air in an attempt to gather my senses. If I am to die I will be sure to take this beast with me. I thought as I felt blood dripping from the scared tissue of my palm where the wire of the hilt had buried itself into the wound. Switching into a two-handed stance I was able to meet Bogtrol’s second advance, his sword aimed at my right flank which I parried, aiming my own strike at his chest which he oft left exposed with his brutish hacking. Our steel continued to sing as I pushed an advance of my own, mustering strength that I thought had long since been depleted. Eventually Bogtrol pressed his blade down against me, we stood locked for a moment between the scraping of steel before I yielded, receiving a spiked pommel to the face as a reward for my failure.
The world seemed to spin before me, the light from the touches blurred as I landed upon the ground for a third time. I lay the for a split second listening to the chaos which surrounded me, the low rhythmic thumping of Bogtrol’s footsteps growing closer while a hot sensation spread from my cheek where the pommel has struck. Quickly I blinked, rolled onto my back and raised the flat of my blade to block the beast’s would-be finishing blow. His steel was inches away from my face. He continued to push down hard as if to cut me with my own sword. I felt sweat pouring down my face as I pressed my palm against the flat of the blade refusing to yield this time. At this the Uruk roared out loud, sending a series of frantic hacks down upon my blade as if to break the steel in two. Eventually he succeeded in breaking my defence by which time I rolled to one side, his blade burring itself into the dirt where I lay as I climbed back onto my feet to press what I thought to be my final advance.
I charged forward, bringing my sword down with both hands in an attempt to cut across Bogtrol’s shoulder. His blade met my own and our steel sang once more, blocking, swiping, hacking and clashing, a sound which seemed to give me focus and mustered something within that gave me strength. I sent a swift uppercut towards the creature’s face which severed his flesh and even cut through his left eye. As the Uruk clapped a hand to his eye he swung a blind swipe at me which I simply evaded to run my steel across his throat, sending a cascade of black blood pouring down his chest onto the ground. Bogtrol fell to his knees, his blade falling from his hand. I kicked the beast onto its back and continued to hack at his body. For Milawyn! I thought, as I sliced at his chest. For her child! I thought again, now hacking at the body as though pulverising a piece of meat. For me! Not until Bogtrol’s body was a mass of pump and blood did I step away and throw my sword to the ground. The crowd continued to cheer franticly at the surprise carnage though one voice seemed to ring out greater than them all. Bring him to my chamber! shouted the advisor upon the wooden scaffold.
