Excerpt from Ranger 'Stalker' Hinruin. Sixteenth of February, Third Age 2984.

I write this from Rivendell. I am alone, at present. The Dwarven Travellers who brought me here, a kindness I shan't soon forget, have long since departed and the Elves have retreated silently, presumably sensing that I would rather be left alone with my thoughts. Or maybe they do simply not deem me worthy of their time. I would not think less of them for it. My current worth has been determined in the cruellest of way and my abilities have been found wanting. Yet here I am. I have even spoken with the Lord of Imladris, Loremaster Elrond, himself, about what has transpired on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. I am penning down my experiences, ignoring the ache in my ribs and arms, for they are worth more than I am.

Originally it all went well. Our party were quick to track down our foes and we were gaining on them with surprising speed. Before a full week had passed we had found them, still more than a day's travel away, as the Misty Mountains are treacherous to navigate even for Rangers, let alone for the men of our small party, but we had them within our sights. No Goblins were amongst this raiding party. They were Orcs all, Eleven of them in total. They seemed to posses a skin more pale than I am used to of their kind and normally such a thing would have been a cause of wonder and concern, were it not for the hulking giant that sat amidst them. The creature stood a full head above the others, clad in heavy armour with a thick, if small, shield attached to one leg and a vicious, long sword to the other. Ranger Herthaf motioned me to move forward, to scout ahead and so I did.

By the end of next day I was only a scant ways behind them and when they set up camp for the night I was shocked by their behaviour. These were not the mindless, unruly creatures we were used to face. They acted in unison, much the same our apprentices did under the leadership of a Veteran Ranger. Tasks were split. Guards were stationed while others gathered firewood and set to making a fire for the night. Once that was done, they moved on to preparing dinner. I vividly remember my surprise at the sight of them roasting their meat, rather than devouring it raw. They ate, then switched out the guards while they made ready for the night. Even the tall Orc took up a guard post, despite being the leader. I had spent enough time amongst my kin, as well as amidst the ranks of the soldiery of Bree to recognise him for a good leader who cared for his men. It was beyond belief. I had never heard of Orcs displaying such behaviour. Uncertainty and worry clouding my mind, I slowly made my way backwards, rejoining Ranger Herthaf and telling him what I had seen. His weathered face creased in worry, but in the end our plan was unchanged. We took up positions, slowly as to not alert our quarry, and waited for the first light of dawn.

The song of our bows was the first sign the Orcs had that something was amiss and despite their armour two of them went down, screaming loudly even as life left their bodies. Our men charged and our bows sung again. The enemy reacted with speed, rolling from their mats and jumping up, shields and blades swinging into place. Ranger Herthaf's arrow killed another, further evening the odds, but my arrow only wounded the last sentry. It mattered little, for our men, having learned much from their previous battle, charged him together. The Orc was forced to block the spear with his own blade and that created a hole in his defence. Our Hearth's Defenders made good use of this and stabbed him through the seal of his armour, the shaft cutting deep into the flesh of his neck, never once stopping their charge and forcing the Orc to the ground. With their three sentries and one of the others down, the odds were now slightly in our favour, but neither Ranger Herthaf or I felt confident, given the imposing size of the final Orc.

Our men howled insults and taunts at the Orcs, staying well clear from the campsite and our arrows whisked between them once more, Two more Orcs went down as they charged our men and ignored their own defences in turn. That left five. Black Speech rolled around the forest and I nearly dropped my next arrow in shock. I looked to Ranger Herthaf, whose years of experience allowed him to maintain his composure. Even so, I saw him falter slightly before another arrow went out. This time it claimed no kill. The leading Orc had called the rest of the creatures back and they had reformed, shields at the ready. Ranger Herthaf's arrow had struck true, through a wooden shield and penetrated the arm of its wearer, but the Orc did not falter. Another shout went out and they charged as one, releasing a terrifying warcry as they charged. Our men grew fearful, but held the line. I shot once more and so did my veteran companion. I struck one in the leg and he tripped over the shaft, falling to the ground. Ranger Herthaf somehow shot in between shield and armour and another Orc went down with an arrow in his neck. Then their charge hit, and despite that our men outnumbered them two to one, it availed them little.

The tall Orc left the safety that his companions provided him and slammed his shield into one of our men, forcing him back through brute strength. His weapon held high, it came down on another, who hefted his shield in defence. The vicious blade carved through both it and the man holding it, cutting him open from the throat to the belly. The other Orcs luckily fared less well and crashed into the others. One of our men died in that exchange, but the offending Orc was heavily wounded in turn and the other was brought down as the two men facing him cooperated, suffering only a glancing cut in exchange. In the midst of the melee Ranger Herthaf could no longer fire and he exchanged his bow for his blade, rushing forward to join our men.

Our Hearth's Defenders fought valiantly and with skill. One of them abandoned the line to shove his spear through the fallen Orc, finishing him off, while the wounded Orc was caught in a disadvantageous fight with another, the beast's sword arm hanging limp with half a spear jabbed through it. The other three jointly tackled the tall Orc. A wise tactic, but one that proved to be insufficient. He ignored the first spear, stepping forward and using his thick armour to push it aside and slammed the sharp side of his shield into the man's throat, all but cutting off his head. Before the second man could line up his thrust the sword cut through the air and his head went sailing. The third man faltered and tried to flee, only to be cut down without mercy.

I saw an opportunity amidst the death and shot at the wounded Orc, hoping to take out the last remaining threat in order to let us fully focus on the leader. Somehow the tall Orc knew it and stepped in front of the arrow. The arrow penetrated the plates covering his arm, but the Orc behind him was saved. The tall Orc spoke again and pointed to the forest behind him, before he took a short step forward and broke through our Hearth's Defender's guard with a brutal blow. The smaller Orc seemed confused for a moment, then shook his head. Our last man charged the tall Orc with what I can only ascribe as fanaticism, but found his spear shoved aside by his foe's shield, and lost his head shortly thereafter. The tall Orc shouted again, more insistently this time and the other Orc nodded, before running off towards the woods, intending on fleeing.

None of this made sense and for a cursed moment I could only gaze at the scene unfolding before me when Ranger Herthaf's orders brought me back into the fold. I brought up my bow and shot the retreating Orc in the back.

The tall Orc seemed to freeze for a moment and in that moment Ranger Herthaf struck, his sword dancing in the light of the early dawn, but the Orc reacted with more speed than I thought possible and brought him his shield in time. He bellowed a furious warcry and charged him. Ranger Herthaf knew I was still nearby, knew that I still had three arrows left, and fought accordingly. I waited patiently as my friend and leader fought cautiously and kept himself out of my line of fire. Even so I could tell that he was struggling, for the Orc's blows were sharp and calculated. I shot again and my arrow lodged itself in between the plates on his side. The Orc roared and lashed out with a dangerous slash. Ranger Herthaf ducked underneath it, but was slammed back by the Orc's shield. Rather than further engage him, however, the tall Orc turned around and ran for me. Despite his armour the beast ran fast and it seemed to know exactly where I was hiding. I threw my bow to the side and drew my sword and steadied my hands, bracing myself. We were with two, I thought to myself. The beast was alone.

My duel with the creature was thankfully brief. Never in my life have I taken blows that heavy. I could barely muster enough strength to keep my sword in my hands. Every attack I parried, every blow I blocked, I could feel the strength behind them. It was inhuman. Then Ranger Herthaf caught up with the beast and the duel intensified. Despite having him outnumbered, the Orc possessed considerable skill and although it had two arrows lodged within his flesh, it still kept fighting on, without succumbing to pain or tiring. Ranger Herthaf's blade found weak spots in the beast's armour and cut him at every opportunity, while I failed to penetrate the thick plates all together, only serving as a distraction.

Time seemed to slow down and it felt as if the duel was neverending. Soon enough my arms were burning from exhaustion and sweat was dripping down my body. How the Orc, encased in armour and bleeding from a dozen wounds, still kept on fighting, I did not understand.

Ranger Herthaf seemed to realise this too, that the Orc was tiring less fast than we were and that we would lose if we could not alter this fight. The light in his eyes told me that he had a plan. If only I had known what it was. I might have been able to save him.

'Vile beast!,' he spat, taunting him. 'You'll not leave this place alive!

'Neither will you, Ranger!' the beast growled from underneath his helmet. 'You will pay for killing my brethren! You are growing tired, I can see it! I can smell it!' He lashed out with another vicious attack and I could only narrowly bring my sword up, the sheer force of the blow knocking me back into the tree behind me and I felt my ribs break.

'Your welp will die with you! You will not stop me! You will not stop us! We will come down the Mountain and reclaim what was ours!' the Orc continued as he turned away from me and focused on Ranger Herthaf, who only smiled in return. Then he charged the Orc. The beast roared and slammed his sword deep into Ranger Herthaf's side, whose smile did not waver. Only then did the Orc seem to realise his mistake, as the dying man brought his own sword up and shoved it straight through the creature's heart. Both fell down and I raced to my fallen brother.

I was too late. Life had already left him, the cut too deep. I could only gaze in his eyes as the last warmth left them. A Veteran Ranger, an honourable man. One who contributed so much to the safety of Eriador and asked nothing in return. A brother. A father. A hero.

The gurgling of the Orc drew my attention and I turned to face him, sword in hand, rage clouding my thoughts and desires for vengeance drowning out my conscience. The beast saw the hate in my eyes and laughed, even as blood dripped out of its mouth.

'You have beaten me, Ranger, but you cannot stop us all,' it groaned, its voice growing weaker with every syllable. 'More of my kin...' it whispered, the wind howling around us. 'Will come.'

A group of Dwarven Travellers found me after I had lit the funeral pyre for Ranger Herthaf, and carried me down to Rivendell, where I reside now. Since then I have spoken with the Elves about this Orc and I have learned much. They were thought to be a creature from legends, or times long past. Durub, they are called. From up north, past the treacherous realms of Angmar. From Mount Gundabad. Loremaster Elrond has told me that the Snow Orcs who reside there are of a different breed than their kin to the south, far more monstrous and dangerous, and the Durub the most of all. They have survived countless trials to attain that rank, having scaled the walls of Gundabad itself while their fellows assail him, both on the way up and once he had reached the top. A violent, vicious cunning that sees only the toughest, most dangerous of their kind survive. If it was only that. If it was only their strength, their armour, then they would have not worried me so. No, their true threat is that they are disciplined. The Loremaster has opened my eyes and made me see the truth, even if in my hate I did not wish to, for in their way, the beasts too form bonds akin to our own. They care for their kin as they lead them into battle. They inspire them to greater feats, fill them with courage no matter if they lead them from the fore or the fray. Having witnessed such a beast care for the Orcs under his command, I am truly frightened and hope that I can deliver my report to the Council of Rangers as soon as I am able. For they must know of this threat from the North. And of my own failure to save Ranger Herthaf.