So Broken.

---

So much blood.

---

Dawn approaches quickly. The night's terror comes to an end. Most of the unharmed forces of Adar's army are taking shelter in the forest, its density keeping the sun at bay. 

The pledged men and women of Tirharad have been rounded up and are waiting anxiously for the day to become night-time once more. A couple of dozen Uruks are cloaked and watching them. 

Scouts have confirmed that the remaining Men of the village are taking a stand against us on their turf. They're using the light of day to prepare. We could have attacked sooner, but that would have spoiled the surprise. Faith is cruel indeed.  

--- 

Most of our wounded are being moved to safety. If our plan is successful, we have no time to lose, and whoever and whatever we can salvage, is crucial for what comes next. 

I spot Adar coming back from having carried a badly hurt Uruk. The pain from the first blow at the watchtower has sharpened into unrelenting focus. This is the leader the Uruk follow; the father they look to. He's the hand that stops internal fights among his unruly children, and they hear the words he speaks to unite them. 

Conflict is found in every corner of the world, and inside every heart and mind. You battle your thoughts, your feelings, your urges. You combat obstacles. You fight with steel and shield. Striking, blocking. You get knocked down, stained with blood, and then you get back up again. You can't stop, or evil will win. 

The conflict I battled was more with myself; how I let my raw lust for Adar consume me, how my lust turned into love faster than an arrow finding its mark. I found someone who embraced my darkness. I found home, and binding myself to a dark elf by spilling blood, an elf once promised power, and children, by a Dark Lord, turned out to be much less of a discord than I thought it would be when I was faced with the choice. Everybody wants power, to do good, to do bad, to control, to master, and to create. Adar's thirst for power, his choice, turned beings into Uruks. Which became his responsibility, his family. He's shown more care for his Uruks than I've seen among elves and their kin. Elves can be ruthless and become enemies; and be just as power-hungry as the next race, we just won't admit it. Men are weak, dwarves are selfish, and orcs are pure evil. That's what we know. 

That was the truth I knew, stalking the woods by my lonesome before I was captured. And for a short time, hanging chained, stripped, and beaten, I thought it true. Then he came, pulling aside the gauze, revealing a form honed from deceit and destruction, but I did not sense pure evil in him. Nor he in me. We've both killed. Countless lives claimed, our hands drenched in blood, and tonight we will stain our skin with ebbing life once again. 

I stand with an accused race. A race once twisted and created into a dark force, tortured to become weapons, to spy and lie for masters so malicious, the very air they breathed doomed life to death. And now, many, many years later, this misunderstood and hunted race is standing on the cusp of possible freedom. Adar can see it, the Uruks dream it, and I believe it. On behalf of Adar and his children, I have hope. 

---

He locks eyes with his wife. Her very aura calling to him across the makeshift camp. He's seen his children die and suffer throughout the night, and even though he knew it was bound to be losses among his ranks, he's hurting hard. And then there's she. A beacon among battered and bruised bodies. A light so lethal, he can't wait to see her shine in combat. 

Drawn to her, he stalks toward her warrior-clad shape. Her curves are enhanced in the fitted armor. The sounds she made before they marched to the watchtower play out in his head, and a growl escapes him just as he nears her. 

He came to the Southlands to find a key and to unlock a plan made an age ago. A plan, a plea, to set his children free from hurt. 
Long has he thought he'd never be unfettered from pain, but with Malwen by his side, he might just rid the feeling of ruin for good. She sure knows spells to conjure a craving so fervent it clouds everything else. She is his salvation. 

When the ashes have fallen and shadow coats the land they are about to claim, he will lay her down and have her against the soil, roll her about in soot and dirt, and have her chanting his name, banishing his haunting past back to where it belongs; in a forgotten time. It is time to forget and to live. 

"Indis," he says, Malwen unable to react before she's in his grasp. "Veru," she purrs, putting a lock of hair behind his ear. He pulls her closer, clashing his lips against hers. He parts her mouth with his tongue, Malwen letting him possess her mouth. She's flush against him, his ungloved hand grappling her neck. She moans. He smirks. Just the sound he was looking for. Just once more. 

"This is hardly the place and time to ravage me," Malwen chuckles when they manage to part from their embrace. "Again."
"Since no one can foresee the night's outcome, I'd say it's very correct to kiss my mate like it might be our last."
He presses a light kiss to her lips. "To endurance," he says. "To blood, ash, flames, and shadows."
He's repeating the words he said before they got married.
"Into darkness," Malwen adds.
"Into darkness," he whispers, all too scared to admit it might be their doom. 

--- 

We know Tirharad is prepped for an attack, that they're waiting for us, so there's no need to delay what's coming, for both sides; death.  

A smaller army of Uruks make their way towards the village, torches held high and weapons at the ready. Adar and I stand and watch from afar. With keen our sight, we will oversee the outcome of our plan, and be at the ready to move in with more force. 

The Uruks cross the bridge. The townlet is a bit too quiet for my taste, knowing the villagers must have something up their sleeve. 

Suddenly a burning cart comes rushing towards the Uruks, but it misses its mark, but a second cart does not, crashing into a throng of Uruks, and several go down. I hear Adar growl beside me, and I take his hand.

Then the villagers, Feiron, and that elf I do not know, start shooting arrows at their enemy. Several more are killed, but the Uruks manage to shoot back, taking down their share of bodies. I snarl at the sight of Feiron shooting an arrow through a Uruk's neck. As much as I want to bring him down myself, I wouldn't mind Adar's children getting some revenge as well. 

The fighting gets more intense and some Uruks carrying a battering ram start heading for the tavern to break down the door. Women and children must be hiding in there, and I feel a sudden pang of guilt. Then the guilt evaporates. There are female Uruks and younglings in Adar's horde, and countless of them have been killed along the way too. 

A vision's back side painted black, outshone by the light of its final goal, sacrifices be damned. Adar and his children are ruthless, but Men can also be very cruel if they want to, their hearts weak and lusting for power. It will be their downfall.

As the Uruks rally to crash through the door of the tavern, the villagers attack with full force. "Fight for the Southlands!" I can hear them shout. It's a bloodbath and countless bodies fall. I see Feiron engaging in a fight with a large, heavyset Uruk named Borzog. At one point it looks like Feiron's going to get killed, but that other elf sneaks up on the Borzog and stabs him in the neck. The Uruk goes down hard, black blood sputtering from his open mouth. I hear a deep rumble of hatred come from the back of my own throat. I played dice with Borzog once; he was a fun Uruk. I once had him as a sparring partner during drills, and he was a maniac with blades, but not crazed enough to take down an elven warrior cheating death. 

Beside me, Adar turns to face his forces. "It is time," he nods, stirring action down the ranks. We start marching upon the townlet as the victorious villagers shout "The land is ours!"
Their triumph will be short-lived, and when they discover what they've done, a new terror will spread. 
I can hear it already. The men and women exclaim their anguish. They've killed their own, the ones that came to swear loyalty to Adar. Their town might have parted in a political dispute, but they've known each other, and lived side by side, for years and years. 

Adar sent the recently sworn to their deaths, letting them fight and pay the toll, not wanting to lose any more of his children than necessary. 

As the shock spread among the humans; Uruks scattering all around us, nocking arrows to their bows, letting them fly into the center of the village, bodies falling among the fooled crowd.
A woman is shot in the shoulder, going down. A boy yells "Mother!" and the other elf is making his way over to her. "Everyone, to the keep!" he shouts. 

I try not to feel anything. I don't want to feel anything. War is merciless, and I will show none. 

Feiron is helping the villagers inside the tavern, but soon several Uruks surround him, and he starts engaging in several fights. That will keep him occupied, I think to myself. I can't have him in our business. We must find the key.  

The elf carrying the woman gets inside the tavern, and the door is closed. We got them right where we want them. 

While the Uruks chant "Nampat!", Feiron disappears behind a house, being chased by several opponents. I revel in it. I want him to suffer. 

The Uruks break down the door to the tavern, screams erupting from within the walls as they step inside and attack. 

When Adar and I enter, I see a Uruk got hold of the boy, two others the elf, and another hovering a cruel blade above the neck of the woman who was shot in the shoulder.
The tavern falls silent as Adar gazes around the room, walking up to the restricted elf.

"What I seek. Give it to me," Adar says in Quenya.
"Let them go," the elf replies. "I will consider it." 

Adar doesn't have to give further instructions to his Uruks, they just start stabbing some of the men and women. "Why sacrifice their lives for such a little thing?" Adar asks, his voice low and raspy. A couple more humans are stabbed, the onlooking crowd whining and whimpering, scared and unsure of their fate. 

The elf tries to break free, roaring in Adar's face. Adar just turns his head, looking at the woman lying on the table.
She's weak and severely wounded.
"The woman next," Adar commands. 

The elf turns frantic in the Uruks' hold. It's brutal but effective. I can see the horror in the boy's eyes, even on the elf I do not know. He loves her. It's in his every move and muscle.
The woman is defiant. I respect that. A tough one. Sad to see her go, but she's trouble.
The Uruk holding the deadly sword above her neck is ready to strike, but the boy held at blade point shouts, telling us to wait. 

"It's under here!" the boy says. "It's under here."
A quiet no escapes the elf. We got them. What Adar seeks. We got it. That must be the boy mentioned back in the tunnels way back. It's all been leading up to this moment. 

The Uruk lets the boy go, the elf pleading with him. "Theo!"
"I'm sorry," Theo says, unlatching a stone on the floor. 

Adar kneels, reaching in, grabbing a swaddled item, untying the string holding the fabric. I kneel beside him. And there it is, the key, the blade, to unlock it all. Ruin. And rising.
Adar looks at me, his eyes misty. Finally. It's written all over his face. I'm so happy for him, I want to kiss him, but the moment is lost as loud rumbling sounds outside. 

We get up in a hurry, Adar rushing out of the tavern. "Waldreg, I have a task for you," Adar says.
I hardly have time to observe the threat riding in full stride towards us. Countless warriors on top of horses.
The Uruks growl, readying themselves. "They must all die!" one of them shouts in black speech. 

I look at Adar, who's watching Waldreg running away from the townlet. There is still hope. There has to be.

Adar reaches for me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "Fight, Mordo Nehtar! Fight for your life, for our future. Fight and find me again, indis. I love you."
Tears pool in my eyes. "I love you, Veru. I will find you!" I kiss him back, hard and desperate. 

Uruks storm out of the tavern, readying themselves for the attack of our new enemy. I see them falter momentarily. None of us saw this coming, we thought we had the victory in our hands. Adar had the key in his hand. And now he's covering a plain tool in the same cloth the dark sword had. A decoy. He looks at me, and I nod. "Do what you must," I tell him. "You too, Malwen. Do not hesitate. They will not understand your choice," Adar says. My choice to follow this scarred warlord and Lord-father of the Uruks. The Southlands' dark destroyer. 

---

The riders smash into the Uruks, taking down several of them with a long chain. I nock an arrow to my bow, taking down several fighters. They haven't seen me yet, so I take advantage of my position, fighting from the shadows of a building. Dawn is approaching fast. An enemy to the Uruks just as much as the legion storming the village. 

I fire my last arrow. I need to get closer to battle, to help my chosen family. They do not deserve more strife. This was supposed to be their hour of triumph. I draw my sword, my heart beating too fast, too hard in my chest. 

A very known being rides into the battle, her skills with weapons and horses superior to any other. A sight to behold; her golden blonde hair braided, her silver armor shining in the first rays of light. Galadriel, the commander of the Northern Armies. I know better than to take her on. That would be foolish. And I do not wish to fight her. I might stand with Adar and his children, but I do not want to clash my shadow with her light, the star on her cuirass, the symbol of the house of Finarfin, shining too bright. I know my limits. 

I seek Adar, trying to find him in the throng of chaos. And there he is, readying a horse. Galadriel spots him as well.
Adar gets on the horse, turning his head to a split moment, finding me in the melee. Our eyes lock for a slit second. That's all we have. For now. And then he rides off, faster than lightning. There is hope."Ride, Heru! Ride for your life, for our future. Ride and find me again," I whisper-shout in his direction, watching his long, dark hair fan out in his haste to draw Galadriel away from the fight.  

--- 

I gather myself. No time to worry about Adar. He's a survivor. A powerful being with untapped skills. He knows what to do. 

I turn a corner, ready to join the Uruks.
"Where do you think you're going, whore?"
I stop in my tracks, Feiron's words like a cold, hard slap in the face.
"Your husband is done for," Feiron growls. "Do you think he can escape Commander Galadriel, the scourge of the orcs? She will slay him, just like the other filth she's cut down in her time."
"You shut up!" I yell at him.
"Make me, you depraved doxy!" Feiron shouts back, drawing his sword. 

This is it then. The encounter I've been waiting for, dreading ever since I learned my betrothed was still alive. I know only one of us will walk away alive today. It might not be me, but for Adar's sake, I will give this unescapable confrontation my all. 

Feiron's frothing at the mouth. "How do you think your husband will react if he returns, finding your head on a pike?"
"He will return, and we will watch your carcass burn," I growl.
"Ha! You can't kill me, darling. You don't have what it takes," Feiron mocks. 

At the speed of lighting, a dagger flies from my hand, embedding itself in Feiron's thigh. Not even close to being fatal, but judging by his look, it hurts.
"Bitch!" he shouts, running at me, my dagger still stuck in his flesh.
I raise my sword, blocking his strike, steel clinging hard and loud for several moments; my old moves coming back to me, fighting him with a mix of my elven training and my deranged assassin skills.  

He looks surprised, and I manage to cut him in his upper right arm. He's only got a wooden cuirass, similar to the other elf's carved armor, for protection.
"I will hack away at your meager armor," I snarl at him. "Chop you up into tiny pieces!"
"Look at you, beautiful, yet a brutal beast. Your ugly husband is rubbing off on you. Soon you will be nothing but beastly yourself!" Feiron taunts.
"I rather be a beast than be a glorified symbol of righteousness. You are just as cruel! Crueler even!" I shout back.
"I didn't just kill several men and women," Feiron says.
"I didn't just kill several misunderstood and hunted beings," I counter.
"They are hunted and killed because they are an abomination," Feiron roars, his sword clashing against mine yet again. 

We dance around, our moves familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I was to marry this elf. I was to spend the rest of my life with this sinister soul.
He might have saved me once, but I will not spare his life. Fight for your life, for our future. Adar's words sound in my head.
I get closer to Feiron, pulling the dagger from his thigh, blood flowing freely. He shouts in agony, and I use the advantage to stab him in the side, breaking open his cuirass.
I'm about to stab at the opening, but he grabs my wrist, wringing it at a very hurtful angle. I scream, dropping the dagger. His unhurt leg kicks me hard in my stomach, and even in my solid cuirass, I fall backward. He's on me in an instant, holding his sword under my chin.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask. "I know you want to. Kill me!" 
"Too easy," he tuts, sheathing his sword. I use the moment to turn around to get up, but he kicks me in my back, and I fall forward. He straddles my back, pulling my hair hard, and tilting my head backward. "I'm going to have fun with you first!" his voice gnarls by my ear. 

Dread spreads through my body, muscles tightening with adrenaline. "Fight!" my mind roars at me. "Fight and find Adar!" Fight for your life! 
I push upwards, Feiron losing his balance momentarily. It's all I need. I grab my sword and ram it into his stomach.
Feiron laughs, but no blood's coming from his mouth. "Thought you'd learned by now, I'm not that easy to kill." He pulls my sword out of his body and unsheats his own as well. I swallow hard. I'm out of arrows, and I've lost a dagger. But I got several more. I fling one at him, but he blocks it with my sword. I need to get closer. I need to go for his throat. 

He comes at me, but I block his attack with one of Adar's daggers, pulling strength from it. "My sword does not belong in your hand," I hiss at him.
"It brings me no joy to hold a blade forged by Uruks," Feiron says. "But it will have to do. It's poetic really, to kill you with steel made by your monstrous family." His face is vicious as he hacks at me, the blade slicing my hand, but I do not drop my dagger. But I am losing my ground, being forced closer and closer to a wall. I need to get around him, get some space between us, catch my breath. 

"I should just cut off your head right away, but what will be the fun in that? I want to spoil you for your Uruk first."
My back hits the wall, my arms aching after fighting off the swords, but I don't stop. I rather want him to kill me on the spot than have him rape me.
I give it my all, stinging my blades into his arm, and his thigh; I even manage to slice it across his cheek. Through crossed swords, he roars in my face. I smash my head against his nose, and it makes a nauseating cracking sound. 

"You fucking slut!" he yells, smashing the pommel of my sword against my temple. I see stars shaped like sinister-looking spikes. He hits me again. I try to grab his wrist, but I am no match for him at the moment. Fight! I can hear Adar commanding, demanding, in my head. Fight and find me! 
"I will find you, Veru" I mumble as Ferion hits my head repeatedly.
I sag towards the ground, a terrifying darkness taking me.