Kiriaz could feel the weight of the darkness on his soul. He stood his ground as he eyed the Silent Watcher before him. By his feet lay a robe, remains of a defeated Cargul. Kiriaz lowered his gaze to the robe, nudging it with his boot. The defeat of so potent an enemy should have been cause for celebration, but he didn't feel cheer. Perhaps it was just the statue draining him. Whatever the case, Kiriaz knew he had lingered too long.
He swung his shield over his shoulder, but kept his sword drawn: so close to the bastion of evil in Mirkwood, he refused to be caught unawares. The woods were eerily silent here, but that soon changed as Kiriaz marched north. He could see the battlements of an orc fortress before him. His task was to infiltrate this castle and assassinate some of the leaders.
The Malledhrim had warned him to take allies, but Kiriaz knew that with a larger force he would only attract more attention. He felt a cold sinking in his gut and felt hyperaware of his surroundings: adrenaline was coursing through his veins.
After quickly scouting the area, Kiriaz determined the front of the castle would make for a difficult entrance to take, if he wanted secrecy. Instead, he chose to climb up the side of the battlements to a low balcony where several ballistae faced out toward the surrounding forest.
Kiriaz peered over the edge of the balcony, sighting only a single orc. With no more sound than a rush of wind, the orc fell, dead. Kiriaz then stuck to the shadows, listening to the barbaric yelling of the orcs, following behind patrols as he pressed on.
The first of his targets would be the war leader, a black uruk-hai general. As he pressed through the castle, he heard talk of the target being further north, across a bridge and within a tower. 'The bridge may pose a problem,' thought Kiriaz, though he continued forward.
The bridge turned out to be only lightly guarded, obviously the orcs didn't believe anyone would be able to penetrate their defences so readily. And there stood the war-leader, upon one of the battlements. Kiriaz took a shuddering breath, the adrenaline rush began to peak. It was now or never.
Kiriaz broke cover. He dashed across the bridge. Another orc fell as a javelin burst through its chest. He slowed for a mere second as he retrieved the javelin, before speeding up once again.
With a grunt, Kiriaz launched his javelin at the black uruk.
The orc grunted as the shaft flew with such force that it penetrated his shield. It was stunned for a moment. Kiriaz took the opportunity to launch another javelin in the orc's direction, before drawing his sword and lowering his shield.
The uruk-hai shook its head and recovered from the blow, roaring his challenge and drawing his own cruel blade.
Was Kiriaz just imagining the pounding as the orc's feet hit the ground? Or perhaps it was the blood in his ears. Time seemed to slow as the uruk closed the distance between them. Kiriaz managed a single deep breath. He felt calm and watched as the blade flew through the air toward him.
Kiriaz raised his shield. It felt so slow, but he heard the ringing of metal on metal. He knew that this uruk was responsible for the deaths of many elves, some which were renowned warriors. He decided to fight defensively, hoping that he could outlast the uruk's rage and, perhaps, even get an opportunity to drive his blade into it.
How long did the battle continue? It felt like hours. An orc defiler crossed the bridge and gurgled a spell in an attempt to heal some of the wounds of the commander. Kiriaz was forced to turn his assault on the shaman; he could not allow the general to be healed.
The defiler fell, his gutteral chanting dying in his throat as his blood pooled on the stone.
The uruk seemed to be tiring, the many wounds Kiriaz had delt him seemed to be taking their toll. Seeing the battle turn in his favor, Kiriaz lowered his defensive stance and begun an all-out assault on the uruk. His blade moved in blurred arcs, hitting flesh as often as steel.
The uruk screamed with rage and pain, losing ground as Kiriaz's merciless assault drove him back. Within seconds Kiriaz had forced the general against the battlements. He summoned up all his strength and planted his boot against the uruk's chest, driving him backward over the wall.
The sound of a wet thud announced the death of the orc. Kiriaz breathed heavily, gasping for breath after the lengthy battle. 'Now,' he thought, 'now to deal with the olog-hai.' The trolls were hulking beasts, even for their kind. One-by-one they all fell before Kiriaz, each putting up such a fight that it took Kiriaz several hours to defeat them all.
How much time had passed, he wondered. He half walked, half limped, through the woods back toward the ruins which the Malledhrim had claimed in the lands on the doorstep of Dol Guldur. He waved off those who ran to aid him. Silently a host of elves and dwarves gathered and watched him pass. All looked shocked at the state of the elf. He was covered in blood and dirt.
He approached the stable-master and muttered, "Ost Galadh," handing over more coins than were necessary and climbing onto the back of a horse. Kiriaz didn't remember much of the ride to Ost Galadh, the horse knew the way and didn't allow him to fall.
Upon returning to the fort, Kiriaz dismounted and dragged himself to his temporary room. Without even removing his armor, he dropped onto the bed and allowed himself to fall into reverie.
