''Leave me some ya maggots!'' a foul voice laced.
''I saw it first, the limbs are MİNE!'' hissed the other orc.
''I was the one to shoot it, so stay back or find your guts in a dish.''
A heavy kick knocked the fighting orc, the brute approached then ''Hurry up boys, this is breakfast, eat or you'll have your own flesh in the menu.'' he roared then, casting a scanning look around with his yellow-eyes.
''It's a big horse,'' the words escaped the already full mouth of the orc, teeth bloodied ''And where's the weakling that rode this?''
''The crows must be feastin' on his eyes now, if they were not eaten by my warg.''
—
Régnwald edged up the slope, and there was a heavy fog in the air. He drew nigh to where he had left his horse until he spotted trails of blood in the grass, darkness growing the pale eyes of the warrior, a hand reached to Nægling's hilt as its tip danced and tapped hanging loose from its baldric on his back.
As he neared, he made out... a small group of orcs lined around something large, feasting and laughing out loud, foully. His eyes found his saddle on the left side of the group.
Thus the scenario became immediately clear to him: feasting Orcs, Gramlic...
He drew Nægling, sword of some renown, glinted in the mist of the moment, and the rider's mood changed, eyes red-rimmed, betraying no life.
''Looks like we've a guest boys, he still has his own eyes.'' one of the Orcs spoke then, pointing at the Horselord.
''Ah, leave him to me. Least the worm at my feet...'' snarled the brute upon unsheathing his heavy sword, and all brandished their weapons thereafter. Soon the Orcs charged to him.
The horselord swore foully in Rohirric as he shifted aside to avoid an axe, hacking the thing off as it passed him. His free hand reached past the orc's shield and into his greasy mane of hair. He pulled savagely on it even as his knee came up, plastering the warrior's nose across his face, and upon the Eorling's knee. A sweep of the Nægling's heavy hilt, then another caved the orc's skull in. Cross eyes and bleeding, he fell. Turning, Régnwald quickly knelt to retrieve the orc's shield, painted in crude colouring in the image of a red eye.
Régnwald screamed his challenge, and a scarred brute of an Orc accepted by rushing the Horselord. For a few blows Régnwald sagged, his shield taking the brunt of the creatures crude blade. Snarling, it lashed out, catching the beast off guard. Nægling bit deep once, twice and a third time, the thing's ribcage a mess of splintered bone glistening organs and dark blood. The thing fell back, and the Eorling pushed on into next Orc who screamed his hate as he whirled twin blades.
He swatted one of the blades aside, even as another drew blood with a flick from his side. Son of Régn hacked a grim smile, his head slamming into the Orc's face as he moved within his reach. He left the ruined shield to weigh down his opponent's blade, only to punch his own short sword into the Orc's side. The map swayed, then was hacked down as the horselord, golden hair now blood spattered moved on.
''Gramlic!'' the word escaped the confines of his mouth before he spat a wad of blood upon the ground, returning once more to savage bladework. Another Orc fell, guts churning about his form as he struggled in the dirt. Nægling soon mercifully ended his suffering, savage glee pouring from the Horselord as he hacked into the skull of an Orc. Brain and bone flew in a wide arc. He fought fiercely until no Orc was left in the group.
—
As the swordwork was done, the warrior stalked over to Gramlic's dead body, its chest bloodied and half-eaten. He sat near his horse for several moments with his deep thoughts, sword buried into ground covered in black blood over grass. He decided to perform a last service for his faithful companion, removed the circle of their braided-together strands of hair tied about his arm at his first bonding. One was of gold colour, the Horselord's unruly hair; and the other was brown and thick, managing the wild nature of the beast. Régnwald cut it to mark an end to the long partnership, and burned it, together with the horse, symbolizing the rider staying behind gave up a part of himself as a gift for a friend. Strong east wind blew once more to him, this time more fierce.
Soon he left to meet his kinsmen in the High-knolls cross...
