Sadly, I was correct-- but not in the way I was expecting.

All was quiet on my property that night. Not so, a few miles away during a late-night raid by Orcs on a farmhouse belonging to some neighbors I knew at least obliquely. According to the media (before all reporting mysteriously vanished from public broadcasts a day later), Orcs killed and apparently ate a family of four, including pets. They stole a few things (mostly obvious food items and kitchen knives), but importantly left a single survivor. She escaped the attention of the marauders by hiding in a small compartment under a linen closet which, at a glance, appeared to be just another blank patch of wall. This easily- overlooked compartment definitely saved her life, along with her commendable ability to remain completely silent during the worst night of her life.

There were a few things that went unreported. During the raid, the father and son both fought back with shotguns, killing several Orcs and apparently wounding several others. It was noted that the Orcs appeared to have no regard for their dead and made no attempt to retrieve their fallen. The dead Orcs all wore red cloth somewhere on their bodies, as was documented in the reports and photos. That this was a significant element and appeared to go uncorrelated by the investigating officers. The house itself was left intact rather than being torched. This is not at all typical, as Orcs often will destroy human dwellings as an apparent act of defiance or spite. Another distinctly odd detail was that these Orcs were mostly armed with commercially produced machetes rather than the usual crudely made wooden or stone weapons. Several were recovered at the scene. As these weapons were unmarked, efforts to determine make, model, manufacturer and point of sale were still undermined at the time he reports were written.

How did I learn of these things? Apparently, I have a new friend in the Sheriff's department who saw fit to anonymously provide me copies of everything, including crime scene photos, maps, sketches plus unredacted investigative and medical reports-- apparently, complete copies. The reporting was thorough and professional and described a level of bloodshed and brutality common to Orc attacks and hence under-stated by the media. Clearly, I owe my new friend beer and a steak dinner for taking the time and risk to provide this information. I believe the implication is clear-- I'm being asked to do something about this most recent Orc problem. I'm finding it hard to reject this suggestion after this especially bloody raid. I was even given a suspiciously named email address for communications (your basic burn-mail address).

I attended the funerals a few days later. All closed casket for obvious reasons. Most all the neighbors were in attendance and it was somber and quiet event. The lone survivor sat through most of it silent and stone-faced. She clearly had not yet begun to process the sheer, unimaginable magnitude of the trauma she survived. Her few family members paid her little attention and seemed to mostly bicker over who was going to get the land and house. Clearly, this poor kid was not surrounded by people who had her best interests at heart. I felt bad for her, but it's not like there was anything I could do to help.

I left the funeral feeling not somber, but annoyed. Orcs attacked my neighbors instead of me. Had I been killed, the world would have barely noticed. But now, some poor kid is being forced to cope with having her entirely family wiped out and her life left in shambles. Her family doesn't appear to care much and her chances of having a normal life after this were pretty much zero. Does anyone ever really “recover” from this kind of trauma? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t. With some luck and the support of the right people, however, she has at least a small chance of being able to survive and carry on despite it all. Time will tell, I suppose, but it seemed like not much was working in her favor. I was also facing the rather odd sensation that I was missing something. In all the hero stories, an eager sidekick would have shown up my door already and their training would be well underway. In retrospect, this should not have surprised me; I'm no hero and I've never been the type of person that attracts sidekicks. Looks like I'm still doing this alone.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I returned to my house where workers were still in the midst of installing my security upgrades-- improved infrared flood lighting, extra cameras plus microphones, advanced software updates and additional local and cloud data storage for the increased digital audio and video load. They'd made good progress and even the dog seemed happy. No doubt, the presence of an especially friendly worker (who clearly loves dogs and had the foresight to bring treats) helped a great deal. As the work was wrapping up, I logged back into the computer and started reviewing my existing data on my unfriendly neighborhood Orcs warren. It was clear that more information was needed before I could arrive at a decision on what I might do next. Tackling the “Orc Problem” alone is still a bad idea with a non-trivial probability of getting myself killed. But I can continue to collect information and get some planning started.

Weeks passed and all was quiet. No reported sightings or attacks. Clearly, something major has changed and waiting on them to come to me wasn't accomplishing anything. Even my mysterious law enforcement contact was silent. As much as it pains me to say this, I need to get back out there and find out why. Retracing my steps to the Orc’s warren seemed like a good place to start. I would observe all the usual precautions while taking a close look at the area for recent activity. Admittedly, even as generally messy as Orcs were, finding meaningful traces of activity weeks after-the-fact seemed like a tall order. But you can't win if you don't play, right?

I was able to get back into a position near my original observation point without any difficulty. This new spot was just slightly higher off the ground, affording me a somewhat better view of the warren entrance. Like before, I used my scope to give the entire area a long, hard look. Nothing. I noted that the red totem previously seen was gone and no sentry was present, either. I spent the next hour quietly watching the area of any sign of movement or activity. Nothing.

A closer inspection was needed. I moved through the underbrush slowly and quietly, avoiding any established path and using an arc-like line of movement. I felt exposed and very paranoid, but this was probably the best way to avoid any traps left by the Orcs. Twenty minutes later I had a much clearer view of the warren entrance and the large footpath they had been using. Still nothing-- No movement, no sounds, no scents. Even the footpath seemed clear of any recent signs of use. I took the opportunity to get more pictures and notes.

Investigating the caves themselves was still out of the question. I retreated home as quickly and quietly as I could, feeling unsure about whether I was happy about an apparently abandoned warren or not. I had no idea how to proceed-- they could be anywhere, and they left me nothing to follow. I was unable to shake the uneasy feeling that this situation was still unresolved. Something else was going to happen. I just didn't know when or where, yet. In the meantime, I had planned a nice quiet dinner with my dog and his deep and undivided devotion to table scraps. A hot shower afterwards sounded like a great way to end the evening.