Vengeance is Mine by chrissystriped

Vengeance is Mine

Written for the Middle-earth Olympics prompt: Rhythmic Gymnastics

"Yes I am prepared
To stay alive
And I won’t forgive,
Vengeance is mine
And I won’t give in
Because I choose to thrive"
Muse — Survival

Tamwe ran, the hilt of the sword he’d taken from one of the tunnel-guards he’d killed slick in his sweaty hand. Since he’d been taken captive and brought to the forges he’d never been closer to above ground than today, when the guards of the tunnel he was currently running through had decided to pass the time on watch with some sport and chosen him.

There’d been three of them, heavier and more healthy than him, but he’d known if he could overpower them, the way to the surface would be clear and who knew when a chance like this would present itself again.

They hadn’t tied him up, too sure that he was cowed. The orc who’d tried to fuck his mouth hadn’t even taken his sword-belt off. Tamwe grinned as he remembered the look on the bastard’s face when he’d gutted him with his own sword. The second one had been still too surprised to put up much of a fight — and he had taken off his weapons — but the third had been ready.

Tamwe touched the stinging cut over his ribs with his free hand. It was still bleeding and by the feeling of it at least one of his ribs was broken, but he couldn’t stop now to tend to his injuries. He needed to get out of the tunnel and hide. Their relief would only arrive in a few hours, but they’d made a racket, who knew if someone had heard, they might be hunting him already.

Tamwe laughed when he felt fresh air on his face and saw a square of lighter darkness in the distance. He stumbled out, climbing over boulders to get off the small path and lay panting on the ground. The stars were above him. Sometimes he’d feared he’d never see them again. He took a gulp from the water-skin he’d scavenged from the guards and hurried to get a bit further away from the tunnel end.

The hunt was on, but who was prey and who was the hunter had reversed now -- the orcs just didn’t know it yet. Tamwe had left the mountains, had gone to where the land was greener and he could regain his strength, but he was back now.

He would not forgive what they’d done to his kin, what they’d done to him, what they were still doing to the enslaved elves. He’d pay them back, he’d show them that years of slavery hadn’t cowed him.

He’d watched them for a while now, he knew there were small patrols moving on tracks through the mountains. He also knew they weren’t very watchful, there was no need. Who would attack them in their own land, after all?

They sat around a fire, roasting meat of questionable origin and drinking. Tamwe was hiding close to their camp and waited for them to fall asleep. When the fire had burned down and he was sure that no one but the lone guard was awake, he crept closer, slit the guard’s throat silently and dragged him away.

Tamwe took the orc’s armour off, it would be ill-fitting, but it would give him more protection than the hides he was wearing. He took a deep breath.

‘He’s dead’, he told himself as he started to put the skinning tool he’d made to use. ‘It’s no different from skinning a deer.’

But he still had to shove the memory of seeing this done to a living person back into the dark pockets of his mind.

When he overheard the orc-patrols sent to search for him call him ‘Rog’ — demon —, he grinned. What he was doing to the orcs he killed was fulfilling it’s purpose. They were starting to fear him. They would come to fear him even more! He would have his revenge.