Manacle

[Leviathan]

"How dare you defy the will of the Black King?" Izbak's heavy iron clad fist rang down upon Grembol's skull as he spoke.

The small goblin dropped to his knees trembling, blood running the length of his cheek to drip on the torch lit stone.
Izbak's thugs, the Royal Marshall's as they had recently named themselves, laughed approvingly, rousing Izbak to punctuate his statement with a kick to the ribs.
Grembol reeled onto his back, his large yellow eyes catching the Uruk's devil sneer, presented all the more terrible in the torchlight.

"The circumstances of our station here are fairly blunt worm," Izbak dragged little Grembol to his feet, then lifted him to eye level, "your breed are tolerated so long as you keep to the mines. It's as much as you're good for. Don't want to end up like Ol' Oglim now do we?"

Oglim had been the elder of Gemtown, before the Uruks came and he'd put up a valiant fight, rallying the few scores of Goblin's that remained since the mines had stopped yielding the treasures it had in the rich days of Oglim's youth. Riches that had made it a goblin's paradise for a long while, the only mine in the Grey Mountains to produce diamonds of such value. Oglim had fought the Uruks to a standstill, even produced a treaty, by which trade with Gunabad contributed to the wealth of both societies. Then the Black King had taken control, and his forces were a terror upon the Goblin Hives. Those who would not bend to the Black King were broken by him. Chieftain after Chieftain bowed or fell before him. The resistance of Gemtown was once again upheld by the greed and resolve of Old Oglim, by this time bent upon a cane and nearly blind. He held Gemtown against the siege but it had been in vain.
Oglim was brought before the Black King, with his tall crown of Iron bejeweled in mockery or honor of the Dark Lord of Long ago, the Great Master who'd given life to them all long ago in the recesses of his dungeons in the north. Oglim was sentenced then to labor in the Roost House high on the peak above the Black King's hall. There the King kept his selective breed of vicious carrion birds, the Agual, enormous vultures whom served his will.
Oglim never returned to Gemtown, but the Marshalls boasted to the remnants of Gemtown that he had been thrown from the window of the Roost House by the ravenous birds in their frenzy of hunger and his body was broken on the rocks below.
"But not before one of them Agual took a good taste of him... bit the ol' fools hand right off before sending him on his flight," Izbak had laughed recounting the tale.

"Back to the mines with you vermin," Izbak growled half shoving, half tossing little Grembol down the stone hall, "and remind the rest of your worthless breed that these halls are now the station of the Marshall's of the Black King."
Grembol hurried down the hall, not daring a backward glance as the Marshall's jeered him and beat their iron clubs together.
As he rounded the corner leading to the mines Grembol fell against the wall with a sigh of relief. He drew two loaves of stale bread and a chunk of salted meat from his ragged tunic.
It had been close, when he'd been rolled onto his back one of the loaves had nearly slipped out, revealing the fullness of his violation against the Black King. It was a desperate attempt, nearly a failed one, but it was necessary. The miners were starved, the Marshall's didn't take this into consideration in their schemes. Scant food found its way down into the shafts where they were forced now to dwell, but each passing month they were expected to meet the high quota of the long gone days when gems poured from the mines by the cartload.
Izbak referred to these old logs which Oglim had kept when rations were handed out, convinced that this was the goblins method of rebellion, assured that the numbers could not have declined so quickly. It was obvious they weren't trying hard enough...

On a time Vingawel, a young goblin woman, who in Oglim's day had been the Keeper of Scroll's, tried to reason with Izbak on this matter, even offering to lay the situation in the mines down for him, and the Black King, the Marshall's commenced to beating her to near death. To make an example of her insolence, Izbak had claimed.
Despite his secret affection for Vingawel, Grembol had stood by and watched this, helpless to resist the Marshalls and their lessons of pain. This had marked the Goblin's soul deeply, being unable to stand against their oppressors even in light of such brutality to the woman he loved. In his heart he knew Oglim would have done more than stand idle, Oglim would have taken action and stood up for his people.
More than anything Grembol wished to be more like Oglim, but if Izbak only knew of the connection Grembol had with Oglim it would only be the death of him, for he was after all Grembol son of Oglim.
Still he did what he could for his people, and stealing food was only the least of his rebellion against the Black King's Marshalls. If he could slip out through the Waste Gate in the dead of the night, along with a few trusty lads, they might hunt deer and boar in the snow fields at the mountains feet. Then of course their was the secret store, and Grembol was the only one with a key to this place, something his father had entrusted him with ere he was taken by the Uruks. The secret store housed mostly heirlooms of little value, save to the people of Gemtown, but also in this vault was a small store of weapons, some old and strong, along with a few secret treasures, many of which Grembol alone new the secrets of.

Returning the stolen food to his tunic Grembol descended into the mine shaft.

"Are we well?" Vingawel whispered from behind a pillar as Grembol approached.

"I've got my score," Grembol croaked back, "a few broken ribs and some missing teeth for my trouble."

Vingawel stepped forth, cloaked in her black shroud, but a green fire burned in her eyes, "wisp and bitterbones," she snarled, "may the wraith of Carcharcoth despoil their dreams."
Taking Grembol's hand the pair descended deeper into the dark shaft.

[Earniel]

Moved to Writer's workshop.