The Family Line Part 32 – The Weakest Lynx

Part 32 – The Weakest Lynx

The warmth of the sun beat down on Theomin’s neck as he inched himself close to the pile of boulders strewn about the dry river bed of Eregion. Humidity made for an uncomfortable trek from tree to tree, closing in slowly to where the vile half-orcs were killing the lynx in their den amongst the rocks. From outside the den, Theomin could hear the slaughter of the poor animals and the laughter of the vile orc men, enjoying the carnage. Theomin could almost imagine the vile men yelling in lust as they slathered themselves with the blood of their kills.

With every step closer he could not wait to end the lives of the half-orcs. Their sick and twisted bloodlust had to end. He finally inched himself all the way to the edge of the den of the lynx. The boulders made for perfect cover as he kept himself close, not wanting to foil his ambush. So he crept slowly toward the enterance of the enclosure, passing the smashed head of the poor lynx the half-orc smashed with his boot. Blood stained foot prints of the half-orc trailed off into the lynx den, revealing the path it took back to the den.

When he finally reached the enterence, not even what he imagined was enough for the horror of what he found. Blood splattered everywhere, across the boulders, on the ground, about the enterence. The grasses that were once green were stained with the blood of the poor animals that once lived there in peace. Among the death and blood, he saw them. A group of four half-orcs coaxing another lynx, goading it on as it cowered weakly in the crevaces between the boulders. They started fighting amongst themselves about who was going to claim the dead animal. They pushed each other and shoved at each other, arguing back and forth. One of the four had none of that. He was collecting the dead carcases of the lynx family and driving them through a pike by the head, preserving the rest of the pelt. “Listen, filth,” the half-orc told the others. “These’ll fetch a fine price with those Dunland people.”

Another quit pushing the others and spoke up, “How do we know they’ll buy our stuff? The Dunlandings who were on our side went south.”

“They’ll take ‘em,” the half-orc holding the pike with the dead carcasses said confidently. It appeared he was the leader of the group. They all seemed to cower to him. There was no telling them apart, though. Their faces seemed deformed, nostrils flaring and their red eyes were piercing. The white hand on the face of their armour told they were from Isengard. Probably one of Saruman’s dirty henchmen as he probably tried to broaden his influence throughout the many regions. “Besides, we have quite the bounty here. Twenty-four of these filthy animals. Their skin will give us some nice coin, I would say.”

The others laughed a sinister laugh and continued trying to coax out the last of the lynx. “This one’s weak. He’ll die before he even thinks about running away.” They laughed and prodded at the last lynx.

Theomin heard enough. His blood boiled, sick with rage at what these half-orcs were doing. He could not believe their apparent disregard for the life of the poor creatures. Finally, he raised his staff as the head half-orc walked away, picking up another lynx carcus. With a blinding flash, four of the half-orcs fell to the mighty lightning. The half-orc wielding the pike dropped it and drew his long sword. He ran toward Theomin, as did two others where behind a boulder. He backed up, not expecting the three enemies coming at him. As the lead one came within range, he struck it hard. Another flash of lightning struck the leader, he fell but Theomin could not tell if he was dead.

The other two held their crossbows at Theomin, about to shoot him. He ducked around the entrance just in time to hear bolts whizz past. He gave a quick glance inside as the two ran toward him. He only had a couple of seconds before he decided to use the rising dawn on one of them. Light from the sky beamed down as he then struck the second one with his staff. He finally set the two aflame and watched their bodies’ burn to cinders.

He gave a sigh. It appeared he was finished. A second later he was hit hard over the back of the head. He fell forward, almost blacking out but not completely. All he remembered was hitting the grass and trying to stand back up. He was forced back down by the boot of the lead half-orc. The the filthy thing screamed in all of his rage was, “DIE!”

A second later he heard the half-orc scream and fall infront of Theomin, a surprised look on his disgusting face. A moment later a hairy ball of fur leapt over Theomin landing between him and the half-orc. It scratched at the half-orc, mauling it as it screamed in pain and then slit the throat of the half-orc. Not long after, gurgling sounds came from it until finally it was silent. Theomin flipped to his back, and while still down, crawled backward, away from what was happening before him. The fear he felt turned to gladness. Gladness that the orc received its comeuppance as it screamed in pain while the little lynx tore at it, and finally, as the screams stopped, killing it.

The lynx then turned. Its fur was filled with the blood of its victim. It came toward Theomin, leaving a trail of blood soaked paw prints behind it. They both, then, staired at each other. Theomin felt tense as it almost looked through him. With Theomin still on the ground sitting up, it came to his hand and licked it. It licked it many times and rubbed its head on Theomin’s arm. It cuddled up next to Theomin, curling up into a ball and purring like it was a cat with its owner.

Theomin placed his hand on the tiny lynx, rubbing his hand along the blood soaked fur of the now orphaned lynx. He pet the poor lynx trying to put back the horrors the lynx must have seen. Its family was gone. Its home was ravaged, filled with death. Every one of its family members were dead. Theomin could not imagine that happening to his family. He pet the lynx, shaking his head as a tear fell from his eye and onto the fur coat of the lynx as it lied there. What pain was it going through? What horrors did it see?

As he sat there, late morning turned to late afternoon. The hot sun started falling into the western sky past the dried river beds. Theomin had to finally stand. The lynx had fallen asleep next to him. It did not move when he stood up. It just lied there, its stomach moving in and out, peacefully. He then stepped toward Bragga, feeling guilty for leaving the poor lynx behind with no family, no food, and no home. It was so small amonst the backdrop of the whole of Eregion.

Thoemin pushed aside the thought of the lynx, not wanting to bring the lynx on his dangerous journey and started to climb Bragga. He only pushed himself up with one foot when he heard a small sound from behind him. It was the lynx. Theomin looked at the sad animal, its once white fur filled with blood, just stairing at him. Theomin looked back. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by the sorrow the poor lynx must have felt and still feel watching the one who saved him abandon him. He shook his head and turned his back and started to climb Bragga again. He then heard another meow sound from the lynx as it came up to Theomin, running its body along his torn boot.

He did not want to risk the life of the lynx. He did not even want it to grow up away from its home. But then again, it had no home. It was not safe there. How many other half-orcs were going to come killing? In his mind, he already knew he was going to bring the lynx with him, anyway. He could not stand leaving the poor lynx alone. Theomin searched in Bragga’s pack, pulling out the water bladder, walked over to the lynx and knelt down to the lynx and rubbed its fur and with the last remaining water washed away the blood from its fur. At first the creature winced but then allowed Theomin to wash its fur. The little creature let out a purr as Theomin then stroked it. He then picked it up and the two looked each other in the eye. If it could, would it smile? If it could, would it say “Thank you?”

Theomin held the lynx in one hand as he mounted Bragga. He placed the small animal in front of him as he then continued along north, away from the boulders. It crawled up to look behind Thoemin at its home. It watched as the rocks that were its home faded away in the thickness of the trees that started to cover the landscape. As soon as its home faded away into memory, the lynx crawled back to the space just infront of Theomin. In the little cacoon Theomin’s legs and the saddle made, the little lynx curled up into a little ball like it did before and fell to a deep sleep as he traveled through the thick of trees.