The roars of noise coming from Isengard was unbearable to some ears, especially those of the Wildmen that were not used to such loudness. They kept to themselves, only thirty strong this particular night, around a large bonfire that burnt brightly to warm their skin underneath their furs and leathers.
Amongst these, was Pren, talking to one of his closest brother-in-arms, Brychan, who was as stout as an ox with a face as wrinkled as the leather of one.
"Those Uruks have been staring us down since we arrived.", Brychan grumbled out in the native tongue of the Wildmen, harsh yet melodic to the ears.
A dead tree, its once rich brown-ness of the trunk now a stained black and all signs of life, or leaf, wilted away from it. Upon it were a group of Uruk-hai, with their yellow fangs showing against their grubby skin. They nudged each other with their metal covered fists, pointing and letting out a laugh that sounded more like a bird in pain than anything of joy. Nearby, goblins and their warg pets couldn't help but snicker at the comments made.
"If they want a fight, they can have one.", Pren grumbled out as he sent a glare towards one of the leaders of the group, his bear-hood cast to the side of his head. He spat to the ground, with a growl before looking to Brychan.
This simple glare was enough to send the Uruk-Hai from their resting places, advancing across towards the Dunlending party and barging through towards Pren and the others towards the center of the fire. Uzgaut, the self-proclaimed leader of the small group of Uruk-Hai was soon sizing up the opposition, a growl coming from his throat as he inspected them all.
"What do you want, filth?", Brychan spoke out as he puffed out his chest, leaning his shoulders back.
"To taste the flesh of a Wildman..", Uzgaut grinned grimly, and without a seconds warning he gripped onto the neck of Brychan and this was enough to set off the rest of the dunlending party..
Blows were being sent by both teams, gripping and pulling wherever they could and sneaky knives being drawn to slash and stab. Brychan fell to the floor after receiving a few fists to the head, curling up in a ball to protect himself before in swung a large fist..
With a crack, it connected to the square jaw of Uzgaut, and another hammer-like fist followed after into his nose. Pren was now in the fray, beating fist after fist onto Uzgaut's head and back, sending him stumbling into a pile near the goblins. The Wild-Warrior was quickly after him, getting down on his knee and swinging his fist in such a wide arc that he hit a goblin, and knocked it to the ground to send the others and their wargs into a frenzy.
The wildmen fought well against the Uruk-Hai, until the goblins came and stabbed at their legs with their spears, though the Uruk-Hai were grabbed at by wargs, dragging them to the ground and allowing boots to stamp and smash.
Black blood was pouring from Uzgaut's face as calloused knuckles dug into his flesh repeatedly, his thrashing body coming to a slow halt in its movements as he took his last breath through swollen lips. A spear cut across Pren's arm, and he reached out to grab the goblin-wielder by the neck and throw him to the floor underneath a falling Wildman.
The brawling carried on, until a horn blast from a larger Uruk-Hai, with a group of others with their black yew bows drawn at the crowd. All settled down, sending glares and spitting to the ground before each returned to their portions of the war camp.
"Well done, Brychan. You hid bravely.", Pren managed to grumble out as patting his companion on the back.
