Story Contest Entry 2010 -A Ranger's Tale: The Legends are A

[Peter Remling]

Not all the orcs summoned answered Sauron’s call. In the Angmar mountains lived a tribe of orcs who chose to ignore the gathering. Many of the growing tribe pleaded with their chieftain to take a force to Sauron but Blatub wouldn’t be swayed. He stood high upon his table in the “Room for Eats” dressed in his finest robe and in a powerful voice said.


“Who does not remember the tales of our youth, Sauron was defeated once and will be again. Our ancestors were forced from their homes and traveled many long days before finding our beautiful home here, when we last answered his call. Why should we join him ? For riches ? Bah we have all the riches we need, plumb for the taking. While the warriors of the other tribes have gone to join his forces and the Rangers have gone forth to combat him , we can take over their villages, pillage and burn out the humans for there are few left who can fight.


First we will attack our neighboring tribes, kill the old, take the females and raise their offspring as our own. Then we will attack the human farms and hamlets, killing all and leaving behind the broken and discarded weapons of our neighboring tribes. Should any human force investigate they will blame our neighbors and head toward their abandoned dwellings. We will grow in strength while our enemies are confused and powerless.


Think of the riches, new females for mating, silver and gold to adorn your ears and arms, bright weapons of iron and steel. If Sauron fails, as in the past, we are no worse, if he wins we will say we didn’t receive his summons, for his messenger lies dead by my spear.”


It is believed that this narration is not a exact quote, as orcs of any rank are not so picturesque of speech or appearance. With that said, all saw the wisdom and greed in Blatub’s words or the bloody spear still in his hand and were swayed to his side.


Sub chiefs were brought together and plans of attack were formed.


******(*****)******


Ratheon had been a Ranger for over 20 years now but no thoughts of retiring entered his mind. Once there had been thoughts of watching his children work his small family farm but that was dashed to pieces when his wife passed away 5 years ago. Death had been a long time coming and he watched helpless as his bright flower faded. None could help her as the cancer grew and stole her life breath by breath. They had no children and he could not bring himself to remarry after this long ordeal.


The Ranger Captain chose him to stay and cover the small waystation, concerned that Ratheon’s depression might cause issue in the field. Instead of riding to battle Ratheon tended the herb garden, battling the ever encrouching weeds, thatched the roof, fed the donkey, chickens and the dairy cow, and patrolled the region. No horses were left to him as they were needed by the Rangers headed for battle. He had several personal projects to keep him busy also. His good high soft boots needed to be resoled and he was finishing up a hand axe haft for his nephew’s naming day gift just a month away.


He had expected a quiet time of it as the males and larger females of the orc tribes were rumored to have already left the mountains to answer Sauron’s summons.


Within a few days of the Rangers leaving a tall lad from the village 7 miles away rode up to the waystation on a too old for plowing horse. It was Gather, an apprentice too young to be taken into the field yet capable of relaying messages while his mentor was away.


"Ratheon!, Orcs have attacked several farms in the north, slaying all!"


"Where and when?" was Ratheon's reply,he was already reaching for the pack he kept prepared just inside the door of the waystation. He added the projects he was working on to his pack, nothing kept one awake, in a hostile areabetter than working intently on something.

" The old Hodger's farm and his neighbors , I'm afraid I don't know their names as they just moved in."

"It's the Russet's from Two Lakes, they were kin to old man Framford !" was Ratheon's reply

"Alright lad, grab a blanket and a blade and let's go."

"Me ?, I get to go too?" Gather was startled, he never expected to be asked to come along as he was only 12years old.

"Yes boy, you. You are riding about the only available horse in 20 miles and I may need you to take a message."

Gather slid down off the horse and grabbed what he thought he'd need from the station's stores. He grabbed a heavy wool blanket and blanket pin, fire kit, small hone and large and small belt knives. To this he added a wood bowl, spoon, cup, small pot, and some dried vegtables and seasonings in a small wood box and he filled the small pot with a handful of hard boiled eggs. Gather rounded out his supplies with several small round loaves of bread and a hunk of cheese. He strapped on the knives to his belt and rolled up eveything else in the blanket secure both ends with a leather strap. He then place the whole thing over his shoulder, securing the ends together at his waist.

Ratheon watched his selection with care and was pleased with the result. He had heard good things about the lad from his mentor, but mentor;s often bragged about their apprentices, when the apprentices weren't around, of course. So far this lad lived up to the stories.


They set out almost immediately, the boy riding and Ratheon wolf trotting alongside. It would be nightfall before they got to the first of the ravaged holding and Ratheon didn't want to do a search after dark, so they camped about 2 miles south of the Russet farm.
Their meal was without fire to keep their presence masked.


Gather told Ratheon of how one of the farmhands discovered the attack upon returning from the village with the newly repaired plow. The old one had been damaged by a rock while tilling the field. The hand had collected a few items left by the raiders and notified the villaqge council who then sent Gather to fetch Ratheon.

"Mister Lyons said they were made by the Glombat's tribe." handing a small sack to Ratheon. Inside was a decorated headband with the black dagger symbol painted onto the band. A few arrowheads with the shafts snapped off were also distinctly Glombat .


"Yes, they're Glombat work for sure. Were these arrow heads attached to arrows or the headband found on a dead orc?" asked Ratheon


"No, the arrowhead were found scattered about and the headband was found loosely grasped in one of the bodies hands." was Gather responce


The next morning, they headed out, after a hot breakfast and tea, warmed over a smokeless fire made with dry wood as the fog was rising. The smoke would be masked by the fog and the scent would drop to the ground.


In a short time they came within sight of the farm. "Stay here lad, while I go check out the house."

Even with his trainig Gather soon lost sight of the Ranger as he traversed the house in a wide circle. Within a hour he was back,
" I need to check the next farm, something isn't right!"


"Of course it's not right!" Gather was a little indignant, "No one should have to be subjected to this!"


"Gather, you mistake my meaning, I suppose I should explain. The arrowheads and headband are Glombat, no doubt but, the bootprints bear square hobnail impressions, Glombat use round hobnails, taken from a ship that wrecked in a storm 15 years ago. They have more round hobnails than they can use in the next 100 years. These hobnails look to be of Blatub's tribe."

"I was told Orcs were mindless animals with little concern for such things." Gather stated


"While being animals in nature, they bear many human qualties, greed, power, need for respect of their peers. They compete against each other for just about anything from food, weapons or trinkets to mates. They bear grudges for life and if they see an enemy distressed, they take full advantage of it. They treat, even their children as possessions, to reinforce their need for respect and power over others. Needless to say with that upbringing, their young are little bastards in more than just the literal.

"They do not love as we know it, but they do have their own tribal cultures and lore. They can recite their tribal leaders back 20 generations and name their feats. They have stories to frighten their children into being quiet at night."


"Stories? What type of story could frighten an orc? " asked Gather, he had been bored while Ratheon was gone and was looking for any kind of distraction on the trek to the next steading.


"There is one story that is repeated in almost every tribe, or so I'm told." Ratheon wanted to keep Gather's mind off what had happened in the farms and this seemed a good way to distract him and help in his training. "Many centuries ago, the orcs came to these mountains, it is said that there existed in the mountains a creature larger than the largest Orc, all covered in fur, with the claws of a bear and the jaws of a wolf. It is said to have walked upright and slayed many orcs until the rival tribes ganged up and hunted the creature. It is said the creature fled before the might of the combined tribes and was never seen again."

"What's surprising, given the nature of orcs to boast, is that no tribe claims to have killed the creature. Every time the story is told. it ends with the admonishment that, someday the creature will return to claim his territory."


Ratheon had embelished the story a little more than is related here to time it precisely when they arrived at the other farm. Again Ratheon left Gather with the horse. a distance from the house while he reconoitered the area.


Another hour went by before he returned. "By the footprints, it looks like Blatub's tribe. " stated Ratheon to Gather

"Two tribes involved, this is worse than we thought!" Gather responded

"I think not, " was Ratheon reply," there were several other items found here of the Glombat tribe, but carelessly strewn about, as if they wanted them found. For some reason the Blatubs want us to think the raid was done by the Glombats."

"So now what do we do?"

There was a grim look on Ratheon's face, "We head to the Blatub encampment."


Four days of hiking and one of furtive sneaking brought the Ranger and his young friend to a ledge overlooking the entrance to Blatubs' cave enterence. Voices low, so they wouldn't be heard, Ratheon told Gather, " That is the entrance to their system of caverns. You can tell they are Blatubs, by looking at the entrance keepers shields, they bear Blatub's personal emblem, a red spear"

"When a chieftain is slain, there is a trial by combat for the open chieftain's position. With the orcs natural aggression this generally results in the tribe being in an uproar for a year at least, with a goodly portion of their best fighters dead or maimed. In the confusion, the weakened tribe is then raided continually by it's neighbors. It takes years before the situation is stabilizied and the tribe goes back to it's previous state."

"Gather, I want you to go back to that box canyon we stabled your horse in and wait there, if I'm not back in 7 days, ride to the village and inform the council of everything you've seen. Have them gather all the outlying farmers and their stock into the village walls and send word to the Ranger Captain or if possible to Aragorn himself for aid."


"But Ratheon, what about you?"


" I have a plan, actually suggested by you."


"By me? But we discussed no plan of attack, I don't understand." Gather exclaimed


"None the less it was your question that started me on this train of thought and if I succeed it will be to your credit and if I fail, it shopuld at least buy the villagers some time! Go now!"


Gather left quietly, even Ratheon was impressed at how skillfully the boy blended in and was soon gone from sight, even with Ratheon knowing the boys' route, he was undetectable. Fishing through his pack, Ratheon found the things he needed and started working on his plan.

He collected some more fresh pine boughs and cut them down the center, pine scent assailed his nostrils, this would masked the scent of man as he dabbed some of the heavy sap against his exposed flesh. In the past his skin proved sensitive to the stuff and would cause a rash and itching with prolonged exposure but the rash and some discomfort was well worth the security the heavy scent gave him.

For hours that afternoon up till dusk, he worked on fashioning some of the heavy leather he brought along to resole his boots. After dusk he moved a mile away and began useing a rock to tap in the nails through some off the leather so the sharp ends of the nails protruded a 1/2" . Finding a stock length of wood for a club, he countersunk several of the nails so that they lined up in a slight curve on the club, again with the sharp pionts facing outward.


"Now I just need some suitable orc clothing and then to try out my plan." Ratheon normally didn't talk to himself, but he had to admit, since the first time his wife passed away that he enjoyed talking to someone and he missed the lad already.


He slept most of the next day and awoke at dusk, grabbing some dried fruit and meat for a dinner, he washed it down with some stale water. Eventually several orc hunters left the caverns to hunt. Ratheon knew they hunted indivually usless ordered to hunt together, such is their aggressive nature, so it was without surprise that as soon as they left the trail leading to the cavern that they broke up to hunt by themselves.


Ratheon picked the largest, and trailed him. Several miles later and far from any of the others a swift arrow took the orc in the eye soundlessly. Ratheon stripped the orc of his heavy fur robe and rolled it's body into a hollow by a tree, invisible from the casual eye.


Donning the robe, Ratheon headed back to the caverns. Once close enough to the caves, Ratheon pulled on the leather footwear he constructed over his boots. He jumped down off the rock he was sitting on into the fresh mountain snow and moved forward staying in the light snow so his tracks were very visible. The tracks were unusual, for instead of the normal prints left by his boots, there clear to the eye, were what appeared to be the prints of some hybrid bear or wolf walking on two legs, complete with clawed toes.

Near dawn, he was rewarded by one of the hunters returning with a kill over his shoulder. It appear to be a small deer, as he got closer, white dots were evident upon it's hide. When the orc walked past his hiding place, the club came crashing down on his head. Long claw marks, left by the nails could be seen even in the dark.

Ratheon made no move to mask his movements until he was a goodly distance down the trail. He stopped by a tall boulder resting against a similar group of stones. Jumping up to the top, he bent down and removed his spiked footwear.

Taking a roundabout way and sticking to the rocks, he came back to the ledge overlooking the entrance.

When the females came out to fetch water a short time later, the body of the orc was discovered. An incredible uproar was heard and it took all of Blatub's personal guards, with whips and clubs to quiet the orcs down. "Quiet you fools! A hunter has been slain, what of it? Many hunters are slain, hunting is a dangerous business and many die, it is nothing, go back to your work!" Blatub declared.


Ratheon understood a little of the Chieftains' outburst as it was stated in the foul black speech of the orcs. If he were closer, he might have seen a tick in the right eye of Blatub, that had never been there before.


That night 2 more hunters were slain with yards of the entrance. The next morning, the uproar was even bigger than the day before. It was 2 hours before Blatub could speak and even then outbursts could be heard, regardless of the threat of a clubbing.

"Tonight we shall station a squad well outside of the entrance and nearer the trail, if anything comes up the trail our squad will kill it or signal the rest of us. Either way we will be rid of whatever it is killing our hunters." Blatub didn't even make a pretense of pawning it off as anything other than a planned assault.


The females and children were pleased to hear this and quietly went inside. The males however, each gaveanother furtive glances, wondering if they would be chosen for the squad of watchers.


This was exactly what Ratheon wanted for he had observed on his first day here, that directly above the entrance was a very climbable section of rock.


Sleeping the rest of the day, he again awoke a little before dusk and prepared himself. By dark he was ready and started the trek to the rock face above the entrance. Shortly before midnight he reached it. Slowly and quietly Ratheon inched his way down the rock face. Belly down he swund over the edge and dropped quietly to the ground. He could hear the squad of orcs yards away down the path. A bend in the trail kept them from sight.

Ratheon entered the cavern and at the first opportunity put on his new footwear, donned the robe and took up the club. An Orc chieftain is not only the leader, boss, bully but also the protector of the tribe. He or she (in rare occasions) needs to be the first in defense of the tribe and therefore will reside in the first large cavern in a cave system.


Knowing your enemy is half the battle, Ratheon's own mentor had instilled in him as an apprentice. True enough Blatub was sitting up in the chamber, a 1/2 eaten haunch of something or other grasped in his left hand. He looked up in time to see the large club descend on him. He attempted to bloke the blow and partially succeeded as the club claws scored his left arm and broke the bone beneath. Blatub attempted to scream for help and in sudden pain but his mouth was full and only a muffled hrrummph came out. With Blatub grasping for a weapon with his right hand and a broken left one, there was nothing to block the second blow. Blatub's skull was crushed and his lifeless body dropped to the floor of the cavern.


Ratheon returned the way he had come, jumping up to grasp the overhanging ledge he pulled himself up and quietly left the ecampment environs.


It wasn't until about 10 the next morning that he met up with Gather at the box canyon. They quickly left with many questions still on Gather's lips. It wasn't until late that night that Gather heard the entire tale.

[Eric C]

There is strength in numbers. But when the numbers aren't there, there is strength in the covert actions of a single Ranger. Good story. Very interesting to see how Ratheon defeated the threat to the region and threw all of the tribes into chaos in the process as they would be interested in tearing down the one weakened tribe.

[Cleddyf]

i like the idea, is there anymore to come?

[kaelln]

Just read it. Love all the details about orcish culture! Utilizing a folk-tale to confuse and terrify the enemy was a great idea. Good job, sir!

[Greg]

I'll echo Kaelln here. Excellent writing, and a great story premise, Pete.

[Mirimaran]

Excellent read! Some very good choices in the writing competition this year!

[Jon]

Nice work!