Argibel The Orc : The Bitter Romantic Chapter 1

     He felt the cold breeze of the early morning stirring through the caverns, despite it being summer. ‘Oh curses, I need another pee,’ he swore under his breath. Why was his life so irritating? Why was it always him who woke up before anyone else and could not complete his sleep before he had been again? Why did this not happen to the other Orcs as much as to him? For sure life was unfair. Why had the great Dark Lord himself singled him out alone for this irritation. It made him still tired when the others of his people forced him to begin the day. He never seemed to get enough sleep, so he never got through the day very well.

     He rolled off his pallet swiftly. He knew by hard experience that he would not sleep again if he just lay there and did nothing. The only way was to get up quickly and get it over with quickly. Then he could go back to sleep and he wouldn’t feel so bad when the others got up. Argibel stood quickly. At least he was fully dressed from the night before to keep the worst of the morning chill from him, ready for action at any time. He tried not to disturb his sleeping wife Gruby, who lay next to him. There was no point disturbing her, or he’d just get some whiplash from her tongue, which he didn’t want at this time in the morning, particularly as his aim was to return swiftly to sleep. There was no point her losing sleep, she’d only be more annoying than normal during the day to come. Sometimes he wished she weren’t there, because there was no peace when she was awake. She was ugly too, she was getting older, but she was still worth an occasional prod, and she looked after his bit of cave pretty well. He expected a square meal when he returned and he usually got one.

     The little ones were close by too. He did not want to disturb them either. Most of his orclings had left his part of the cavern now. They were old enough to make their own way, but most of them were still with their own people in this cavern system. A few were dead by now of course, as life was hard for the Orcs of these mountains. There were always fights going on. If the tall men of the valley didn’t catch you, the terrible dwarves, with their axes, might, or the proud elves of the forest. If these enemies of his people did not catch you your own kind might, in a war between chiefs or a brawl over some slight or other. Then there were always illnesses or the cold to get you if not. Garnash, his firstborn, had died in battle to an Elf of Rivendell, that stronghold of those cold and comfortable beings who never die unless by chance an Orc gets lucky. Argibel had been with him at that battle, a small one by the size of battles in this time. Argibel’s people had managed to catch them as they came up the valley towards their home, while they were still some distance from it and would not be able to get reserves out from their fortress easily. They had them on the run, but the proud ones fought bitterly for their very lives, although surrounded. Argibel could see them now, the terror in their eyes as they faced a likely death. For beings who expect to live forever, other Orcs say it is worse for them to die, than for an Orc. For an Orc they say death is a welcome end to a life of constant struggle, but for the Elf life is comfortable and he never wants to leave it. But Garnash did not want to leave life either, Argibel knew. He saw the look in the face of his first son as the arrows passed into his body. He had looked down and screamed as the cold spread and his tough limbs refused to function.

   Argibel once captured an Elf woman, with his band. She was beautiful. They all had their way with her, but others wanted to kill her after, so they tortured and killed her. He could see why the elves love life so much because their females were so good to look at. He was jealous of elves and felt it was right to kill them, to make them pay for their beauty and their long and easy lives. He would like to find other elf women someday but they were not easy to capture. They had more often captured human women and men. Often they did play with them, and have kept them enslaved for a period or years. Argibel liked human women better than female Orcs, but you could have a good time with Orc females and he was always keen when he had the opportunity. If he ever captured an elf female again he would try to keep her as his prisoner so he could enjoy her when he wanted. He would not have her killed – that was a great waste of the one which was captured before. He prized elf females, even more than the human women.

   One of the elves had been crippled nearby by a sword blow to the left leg. This was the chance for Argibel to take out vengeance for his son. The elf seemed to plead with him as Argibel approached sword in hand, probably for a swift death. On any other occasion Argibel might well have given the elf his wish, for there were other enemies to contend with. But Garnash’s body was still warm on the earth, and Argibel felt anger he could not explain. He had not known he cared so much for his son. Garnash had been a pain to him from birth to death. They had often fought, sometimes attempted even to hurt each other in anger or irritation. However the need to avenge had been intense at that moment, even in the heat of battle, when Argibel should have put his own survival above all else. Instead he had felt the deepest hatred he had ever felt. It had taken him over. Elves should not live, all of them should die. They should not be allowed to live forever. Their comfortable lives should be taken away. They should be made to feel pain and suffering, such as was the experience of Orcs. Argibel pricked his sword into the elf’s side, not enough to kill, but enough to start the bleed, which would end the creature slowly, painfully. He laughed at the prone elf and read the creature’s fear and pain in its eyes. He proceeded to pierce the elf’s helpless body in other places, oblivious to the battle, nearly done, which went on around him. Then he had turned to the elf’s eyes, one of them he gouged slowly with his tool as the elf still screamed helplessly. He had been deciding whether to leave the other eye intact, so the elf could see the mess he made as the rest of his body was being carved up, when the shout went up that elves on horses had arrived and it was time to get out and save their own skins. ‘It was lucky I heard the call,’ thought Argibel, ‘because in the mood I was in I didn’t care about anything else but to kill the elves who had taken my son away, as painfully as possible.’ He had run the elf through straight into the heart, he thought. Certainly the life had seemed to go instantly from the elf. No orc could have survived that blow, but he had to leave the field and was denied the pleasure of seeing the hated foe depart his ruined body. Thankfully he had saved his own skin and lived to fight those bastards another day. The next time he fought them the madness had passed and he was back to normal. He was not going to take unnecessary risks, and the elves were just the enemies of his race and the Dark Lord’s, hated and feared again.

    One day his clan did capture some humans of Rohan. The General ordered them slain but he rode off on his beast, to oversee his other soldiers. The orcs argued amongst themselves about the orders but quite a few desired to keep the humans alive as slaves, to play with or torture. Male and female. They were divided up between their captors. Argibal got his share, a human woman, who he looked after and preferred sexually to his wife. He fought other orcs to protect her, not that he treated her particularly well. She tried to escape once, and he had to beat her and punish her. He certainly left a few marks on her that time, but it taught the human bitch a good lesson and she never tried to escape him again. When another orc tried to borrow her he fought to keep her. He wounded the other orc, but they were kept apart by his comrades in arms. He later betrayed that orc in a future skirmish by refusing to aid him, but it served him right. He felt no regrets over that. His other sons had their way with her, which annoyed him at the time, because he wanted her all to himself, but he accepted it after a few words and a couple of knocks, because he would have done the same if they had got a female captive. She was growing older and not so attractive, but still he found her more attractive than his wife. She caught some disease and died, he looked after her for as long as he could, then put her out of her misery. A shame. He liked her and came to care for her. It upset him more than if his wife Gruby had gone, partly because she was quieter, and because she got him harder. The band once caught some Easterlings once, but were ordered to give them up because they were Orc allies, with the Dark Lord. There were some nice looking females in that group, but it was never to be.

    He wanted another one after that, particularly he would like an elf female. One day he finally got to almost get one, he fought for her, unsuccessfully, and bore a grudge against the winner.

   One day he finally did get one! Elves do not age, so the better they last and stay more attractive than humans. He looked after her, used her too.