Nan Wathren was a perfect spot for extort information from the foul beast.
"Let's make this quick'n easy lad" Vholrat said.
The two men looked at each other and one of them pointed a dagger right at the throat of the creature.
"Talk." Said the elf.
Just a raucous laugh in return.
A fist smash the mandible of the beast. "You like pain? I can bring more!", said the warrior with his voice more like a growl than a elvish one.
The creature spits black blood on the ground. Raises slowly his head, looking at the warrior in front of him. No force in his arms. Just hatred. "You call this pain, you inbred?- the creature hammered in the head of the interlopers - these are caresses!"
"From Highropor; when?" Roared Vholrat. His hands grabbed the creature by his scant hairs.
A spit on his cheek. The creature would not give him anything more.
Another laugh. Another punch. It was more pathetic than serious.
"You deem yourself a mighty one I guess... - Vholrat said -and yet your camp is in ruin, your beasts killed and your food spoiled" An harsh laugh made him stop talking for a second. "You are so idiot that you cannot even see defet, even when is in front of your eyes.. Valar's save me!"
"you could... - another spit on ground - have won today, pansy one. but I recall Threstlebridge suffered a worse fate than my encampment, is it not?"
That was enough. Vholrat turns toward his two men. A nod. The two rangers place him on the edge of the ravine. The water below bringing testament of a painful death.
"Cast him in!" the only words that the creature heard before the two rangers tossed him literally on the void.
A crackling howl was accompanying the fall of the beast. A sudden splash with a humid cracking noise of shattered bones. Too bad the two men could have not heard it. Pleasing indeed.
"What now, Vhol?" one of the two rangers said.
No reply. He was already conceiving a plan. The goblins and orcs in the mountains surrounding Melluinen were too much organized to be a retaliatory force from Angmar. They attacked right at dusk with utmost precision and direction. No squandering of forces, like they usually do. No looting and no suicidal charges, even for orcs standards that was plain unbelievable.
Something darker was leading the fouls during these times.
"Vhol! Ya hear me?" Pressed on the ranger.
"Ost Chithlanc, tomorrow evening": Said Vholrat. His eyes looking the void toward the span. That zone was a no go area for all free peoples, and it meant that some answers were there.
"We will travel light and during dusk, to avoid unnecessary attention. Prepare rations and swords". The two rangers nodded and disappeared in the wilderness, heading back to their camps to alert the others.
Vholrat took his medallion, the last and only memento of his past on his hands. He felt hatred grapple his hearth. He smiled at the idea of more butchering.
"With this hatred - He murmured - all things are possible...." Before following the trails of the rangers who left earlier to their camp.
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"Did you heard that?" Said Rahdril, his voice clearly alarmed.
"Yeah!" the scared woman replied back
The two men shivered in fear. A distant howl. Not the one of wolves or bears. No. This was much darker.
After the raze of the town, Trestlebridge had improved the watch as best as an abandoned city could. Days passed with fear and impatience. That howl increased the agony of a lost settlement.
The guards shouted from the bridge. Some men fobade to their women to go out, instead pushing them into the houses and ordered to close and bar the doors.
In a matter of minutes , ten peoples were standing in the middle of the bridge of the Trestlespan.
A guard pointed toward a pair of rock holding something between them.
That claw revealed the horror like a wedding gift to the terrorized men; frozen in agony and ravaged by the turbulence of the rocks and waters of the span, the lone, severed head looked upwards toward the living. Even the poor men could not fail to perceive the malignant hatred spilling over those dead eyes, asking for vengeance towards those who still walk the earth.
The crowd fell silent before leaving the span and going back to the little city; the residents entered in their homes and hugged their families.
Death was halted for another day in Trestlebridge.
