Ugolgrist

[Orc]

Well, this is a story I started elsewhere, but have haven't worked on in a while. I figure by re-starting it here it will encourage me to sit and start on it again. I hope you all enjoy, and love to hear your comments so I can make it a better story! Thanks!



I am Ugolgrist, Uruk-hai of the Red Death Clan of the Orcs of Isengard, eater of things that once had faces, cleaver of Ents, hurler of Dwarves, Elf foe, slayer of men, warg friend, shaper of metal, wielder of Deathkiss, leader of Uruk-hai, Keeper of the Orcish Legends and great Orcish Hero.

On a bad day with a broken foot, I can drop kick a bloated dwarf through the goalposts of life. Even after a week of constant fighting, I can still hurl a hobbit high enough that I can hit him with seven consecutive shots – from a trebuchet. I have traveled the length and breadth of Middle Earth leaving behind me a collection of satisfied wenches and piddled on trees. But, enough about me, you want a story don’t you?

My name is Ugolgrist in the Dark Speech, as you call it, which translates to Swordbreaker in the common tongue of Middle Earth. I was sired in the deepest, darkest pits of Isengard, and while some may claim that the Uruk-hai are the offspring of men and orcs, or a mix of orcs and goblin, I can assure you that we are all orc.

Yes, we are still around, and have been since the dawn of time. Despite the legends and tales of our demise at the hands of the mortal ones (humans, dwarves and hobbits), we are still among you. The elves are the only race to have fled Middle Earth, which of course, you know of as the ‘modern world’. The dwarves have delved deeper than you can imagine, but still occasionally venture up to see the light of day. The hobbits, or halflings, still live among you in the deep wooded places. Of all the ‘old’ races, only we, the mighty Uruk-hai live among you, though you know it not.

We were truly the First Born, The Immortals, and the First Rejected. Illuvator created us and decided we were not fair enough for his liking and we were rejected – tossed back into the void, in favor of the elves. Melkor traveled the secret ways into the Nothing and found the fathers of the Uruks. There he extracted a dreadful oath from our ancestors – in exchange for releasing our fathers from the Void and bringing them to Middle Earth, the Uruks, and all their descendants, would have to serve Melkor and his fellow Mia for all time. Little did we know, that this would lead to the downfall of our mighty race and our disgrace as a people.

What follows is the story of my travels and tribulations during the time know to many as the War of the Ring.

[Illuvatar]

Very well done Sir Orc!!

I escecially like the part of my namesake tossing them back into the void......:) :) :)

/me waits in eager anticipation for the next installment....

[Pil]

Ooo...ok, i'm officially hooked! You r sooo good at writing! The wenches bit is a bit worrying though!

Listen...back away from your computer...now pick up a pen.......
AND CONTINUE THE STORY!!!!!

GOOD LUCK, LOVE PIL! notworthy

[WinterSoul]

'ATTA STORY !
PUTS THE Ainulindale INTO QUESTION JUST IN LESS THAN A PAGE lol GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD WORK! :thumbs:

Ugolgrist kicks all kind of a** and ain't like Lurtz i'm sure.
When you chop off his head, he doesn't lie down and die. No Waaaaay. He takes it in his mighty hands and securely adjusts in back over his shoulders then eats alive the person who has dared to do that. Right?
THAT's WHAT I CALL A TOUGH, WARRIOR URUK-HAI!
looking forward to the continuation :thumbs:

[Beregond]

Really cool story. I like the first two paragraphs a lot. You are a very talented writer. I can't wait to hear more of it . . .

[Mirkgirl]

Your stories make my day, you know!!!

entdraught (more later)

[Beregond]

I can't wait for the next installment . . .

[Orc]

I was sired in the black pits of Isengard, the hot forge my cradle, molten iron my milk, and the black blood of my people ran strong in my veins. Orclings are given no names until they earn one by performing some worthy deed. This usually occurs during the rearing and training of the Orclings and all receive names before the are allowed out of the den. The life expectancy of young males is rather short as the training in weapons and other arts is extensive and brutal. Since many die during training it is unimportant to name them until they have proven that they can live long enough to use their name.

For amusement, the Overlords – often Balrogs and others of that ilk – have always pitted us against each other. This predominantly occurs in the obvious fashion of gladiatorial battles, staged either for their amusement or to eliminate the weaker Uruk-hai. It is also used in a political manner for ascension through the ranks and to select leaders. Orcs are constantly facing off with each other to catch the eye of one of the Overlords in hopes of receiving a promotion or other advantages. The Overlords actually believe that it makes us stronger by eliminating the week of my people. Little can their simple minds comprehend how strong the Uruk-hai are. We alone of the peoples of Arda faced off with the Valar during the first wars, long before the burning sun shone in the heavens. While the Elves hid and cowered in fear, the blood of my ancestors was shed by the likes of creatures that would make even the ‘heroes’ of this world such as Elrond and Aragorn wet themselves.

Strong and quick-witted I was by nature, cruel and brutal I was by need, for that is the only way to gain a name and become someone within the pits of Isengard. Life as an Orcling starts at about 2 years of age with a very simplistic trial. A group of us were tossed into a rather large pit with a liter of just weened warg pups. The pit was left unattended, except for the occasional tossing in of some raw meat, and the Orclings and pups were expected to work out their own differences. The fights were at first just for dominance to determine who gets the most food, who gets the best place to sleep etc. But as both the pups and Orclings grew, the amount of food did not increase. The lower members of the developed pack structure were lucky if they got any food at all, and grew weaker for it. In time, they would either succumb to malnutrition, starvation or become a meal themselves.

At the end of this first trial, only about half of the Orclings and wargs have survived. Those that endure this first test form an incredible bond that lasts a lifetime. Pit mates will often recognize each other even after many years of separation by scent alone. Many of the youths in the pit acquire life long companions in the wargs, most of which never stray from their sides. My Swordbrother, Angrob, was one of these Warg-friends. Frage, the great warg, was his constant companion and went everywhere with Angrob, be it down to the next cavern or out on campaign.

I have little memory of those days of great hardships and trials. What I do remember were the smells, especially of the wargs. To this very day, I sleep the best when curled up with a warg at my side.

The next step of out training began immediately. As soon as we were hoisted from the pit, a sword was placed in our hand and instruction began. The training was harsh, direct, and uncompromising. If you missed a parry, or countered incorrectly, you got hit. At first we used wooden swords, and I only ended up with a succession of bruises layered upon bruises. Later we advanced to rather pathetically constructed metal swords, while our instructors used their own good blades. A day never passed in which I did not return to my sleeping mat unbloodied. At least I was lucky enough to have a rather old Uruk as my trainer, who did not inflict wounds upon me without reasonable cause. Every bruise, every scratch, every cut, and every trail of blood was a lesson learned. A lesson I strove hard to never have to learn again.

Eventually, the sword and other weapon lessons tapered off after we had gotten to a level where we could hold our own against our instructors without being killed. However, we were not given any extra breaks, as other training took the place of the time spent in the weapon pits. We worked, toiled and trained beneath sun and moon, in all weather with out stop. In the winter we were sent to the top of Methedras to collect ice for Saruman’s table. During the heat of the summer, we ran uncountable circles around the perimeter of Isengard in full armor. We learned to track orc, man, elf and beast in all terrains and conditions and find our way by the stars or sun. Many fell along the way, by accident or design of our overseers and instructors. The strong grew stronger, while the weak were cast aside.

Such was the way of my youth.

[Illuvatar]

And the second installment arrives!! :whoohoo: :whoohoo:

Very well done mate!! :thumbs:

I especially like the relating to Saruman and the attention to detail regarding the progressing of your youth!!

Keep it up mate!!:cool:

[Pil]

WOW...LIKE, WOW!!!! This is TOP QUALITY writing! I salute you! :hooray: I've been keeping my eye out for the next installment and i have NOT been dissappointed! Keep going and keep being excellent! entdraught

[WinterSoul]

WOOOOOW!
EXCELLENT WORK. :thumbs:

faultless story. Detail , description, action !
Very nice!
Can't wait to see how the story progresses!
:hooray: :hooray: :hooray:

[Orc]

thanks for the encouragement. More to come - probably monday

[Beregond]

I must say-I really like your writing style. It seems so professional. I can't wait to hear more.

[Orc]

Chapter 2 – Naming

After uncounted years of training and toil, our last trial consisted of a free-for-all pit fight. Each of us was outfitted in armor and weapons of our choosing separately, so as not to know who or what we were facing. I chose the great Adcaragrist (a machete like sword with a large rear pointing spike at the tip of it’s spine i.e. what was portrayed in the movie), the common Uruk-hai shield, armor and helm.

After taking a moment to collect myself and ensure that my weapons and armor where all in order, I trotted down the dark corridor that lead in the arena. The arena was large and deep, with a tier of benches towering above the edge of the arena. Usually only a score or two of orcs came to view these contests, mostly the Company Captains to get a feel for their new recruits, and some females looking for a perspective mate. I was rather surprised to find nearly three times that number peering down into the arena like silent vultures. In an instant it became obvious as to why – seated in his high back ebony chair was Sharkú, the White One, known to many as Saruman. Apparently he was tired of making his magic or perhaps bored of whatever arcane studies he was perusing and had chosen to watch us for sport. Standing at his side were his commanders and aides ready to serve his every whim or need. His attendance, of course, warranted the attendance of others hoping to bend his ear or at least be seen in his presence, or to be seen by him.

The presence of Sharkú was intimidating. This was the one person in all of Isengard who held life and death in his hands for each and every individual. Even by that young age, I had heard enough tales of the White One striping the flesh from the greatest Uruk-hai with a wave of his hand, or with a wave of his staff, removing the bones from some poor slob who perished quickly in a puddle of goo. If anything, he seemed rather bored, reclining hi his chair sipping some concoction from a golden chalice, a thread of smoke trailing towards the unseen ceiling from his long pipe.

With some effort, I managed to dismiss his presence and concentrate on the task at hand. Before me stood fifteen opponents armed and armored for battle. The Pit Master barked a command and as one, the combatants turned to the White One and saluted him by crossing our weapons and shields over our chests and bowing our heads. Sharkú didn’t even bother to acknowledge our existence, paying more attention to his pipe than to us. Then we turned back in to face each other, and lifting our blades high, saluted each other with the ancient Orcish salute:

“Yours if I can, Mine if I must!!!”

With the pounding of a drum somewhere in the distance, the combat began. I turned in a defensive position to my right and caught they eye of the closest Uruk-hai. With a guttural grunt he trotted forward, wielding a spiked mace in each hand. I bellowed in reply and charged towards my oncoming foe. He brought both maces to bear at the same time, one from the right whistling through the air at my chest, the second hurtling in from the left towards my thigh. I easily caught the first blow with my shield and blocked the other with the back of my sword. For an instant both of us now had our arms outstretched leaving out centers open. I took full advantage of this by using the momentum of my charge to drive my helmeted forehead full into his bare face. His nose splattered in a spray of blood and flesh and he was knocked back several feet, reeling from the blow. I leapt into the fray and with a flick of my wrist managed to catch the head of the mace in his left hand in the crock of my blade, trapped between the sword’s spine and back spike. With a quick upward pull, I sent his mace clattering into the third set of benches in the viewing section.

My opponent had recovered quickly, and stood at the ready tossing his remaining mace back and fourth between his hands while considering his next move. What little remained of his nose was running down his face and raining on the sand of the arena. I had the advantage at this point and we both knew it. I hoped in lightly hoping to draw his attack and he obliged me, attacking high with his mace. I managed to catch it with my shield while striking low towards his unguarded abdomen with my sword. His mace was to far out of position to block it, so he used his left forearm to catch the blow rather than his body. The blade cut through his armor and dug deep into his dark flesh. With only a grunt of pain, he leapt back out of range.

We circled for a moment, until his back was against the wall of the arena when I charged, leading with my shield in a defensive position and waving my sword high. He watched my sword fall towards his head and easily blocked it with the haft of his mace. To late he realized that he had forgotten my shield. With all my might and momentum I drove the twin spikes at the leading edge of my shield into his chest and slammed him up against the wall. The wind rushed from his lungs and with a gurgle he collapsed to the ground, out of the fight and most likely out of life.

[Orc]

I turned looking for my next opponent. Several had already fallen while other skirmishes raged around me. Across the arena was another Uruk-hai, armed with a greatsword, a fallen opponent at his feet. Our eyes met and he pointed to an open area in the arena for us to meet. I nodded in agreement and weaved my way between a few of individual combats to reach the appointed area before my new opponent. When he arrived, he wasted no time in initiating the duel. He started by bringing the large blade in low and fast as a feint, and then reversing the direction of the blade, he brought it high above his head and crashing down towards mine. I was quick enough to perceive the feint and dropped to one knee raising my shield above my head to receive the blow. His sword rang out against my shield, and if I had not been kneeling, I would have definitely been knocked down. As it was, my arm ached from the heavy blow and I had acquired a rather large dent in my shield. I reposted by slashing my sword in a low arc just above the ground aiming for his shins. He easily leapt over the blade but before he landed I launched my next attack. With every bit of strength I had I hurled myself up from my kneeling position driving the face of my shield into his chest. Caught in the air, he tumbled, landing flat on his back, his sword clattered to the ground a couple of feet away.

I wasted no time following up the attack. With my sword reversed, I brought the back spike down hard towards the center of his chest. He was quicker than I expected, rolling out of the way and coming up to a kneeling position with his recovered sword in his hands. I used my momentum to launch the next attack, swinging my blade in a long sidearm arc towards his neck. He managed to block my blade with his greatsword and immediately responded by thrusting his blade point first below my shield at my thigh. I twisted my body to avoid the blade, but not far enough. The edge sliced my thigh as it was thrust, not deep, but enough to slow me down. In a blaze of anger I smote him full in the face with my shield and he rocked back on his knees, nearly falling onto his back again.

As he stuck the tip of his blade into the ground to regain his balance and use as a support to help him regain his feet, I changed tactics. Bellowing a war cry, I attacked his sword, hoping to knock his support out from under him. The poorly made training sword could not hold up to the attack and shattered spilling my opponent to the ground. As he scrambled to his hands and knees I dealt him a mighty blow to the back of his helmeted head with the back of my sword and he collapsed and remained still.

I turned and surveyed the arena looking for my next combatant. Only a handful of Uruk-hai remained standing and all were engaged in combat. I took advantage of the lull in my battling to tear off a strip of cloth from my tunic and bind my leg. The injury wasn’t all that serious, but it was painful and would definitely slow down my movements. I chose an open piece of ground within the arena and waited for my next opponent.

[Orc]

Within a minute one of the other contests finished and the victor sauntered over to my patch of the arena shaking off the mild wounds he had received from the previous fights. He was armored as I was with shield and Adcaragrist, but seemed to be in good fighting condition. We cautiously circled each other, occasionally offering feints in an attempt to draw each other out. His guard was strong and there were no obvious weaknesses in his movements. He started with a classic ploy; attacking the top edge of my shield with the edge of his bade and then twisting it so the back spike could hook behind the shield and pull it away from me. As he began to twist his blade, I smote it up and away from my shield with my sword and drove my shield spikes into the opening. With little effort he blocked the attack with his shield.

Again we circled each other looking for an opening, each of us knowing that this was a battle of equals. This time I lead the dance with a high feint of my sword followed by a quick cut low towards his knee. Even though he followed the feint with his shield, he sill managed to block my blade with his. He came in with a quick all-out attack using both a side arm sword cut and a shield thrust. I managed to evade the blade and deflect his shield with mine. I countered with a reversed blade hoping to catch the edge of his shield with my spike and open up his defenses. His attempt to block my blow succeeded, but my spike punctured his shield and dug deep into his arm. With a howl of pain he leapt back and tried twisting away, but I managed to hold onto my sword. Unfortunately, the blade was not as strong as us, and bent under the strain. He frantically shook his shield trying to throw me off, but I held fast. Finally, with all the effort he could muster, he yanked the sword out of my hand.

We separated from each other for a moment to survey the damage from the last foray. I was without a sword, but otherwise in good shape. Not only was the back spike still stuck in his arm through the shield, but the twisted sword dangling from the shield rendered shield almost useless. Out of the corner of my eye I spied another Adcaragrist beside one of the fallen. I dove for it hoping that he would not be quick enough to catch me unarmed. Luckily, he decided to spend his time prying my bent blade out of his arm and shield.

Rearmed, I approached my opponent once again, and we began our intricate dance of death. I smote his shield with my sword to aggravate the wound I had already given him and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. Again I struck towards his shield, but it was only a faint. As he flinched expecting the blow to land I reversed the momentum of my sword and brought it in a complete arc high above my head and down towards his, leading with the deadly back spike. Almost to late he lifted his blade to block mine. Had we been using real weapons rather than our training blades, his defense might have succeeded. His blade broke in two beneath my blow, but was able to deflect it enough so that only the spine of my blade struck him in the center of his head rather than the lethal spike. The blow was enough to stun him for an instant, which I took full advantage of. As I drew my blade back for another blow, I swept my armored elbow across his face, which spun him nearly around. Two more quick blows to his helmet with the back of my blade was enough to send him to the ground.

[Illuvatar]

Whoo-hoo!!

What a BATTLE!!! and this is all just to get your name? Sheesh!!

Bring it on Orcy ole boy!! Must have more!!!

Huzah for your efforts!! :cool: entdraught :cool: entdraught :cool: entdraught

[Orc]

Life is never easy as an orc or Uruk-hai. :thumbs:

If you want the cushy life, you gotta be an elf:p

more to come

[Orc]

I surveyed the arena and found only one other Uruk-hai standing at the other end, among the bodies strewn across the floor. We slowly approached each other, and I immediately recognized him, despite the helm and armor. My last opponent was my closest pit mate. We had been nearly inseparable since we met in the warg pits, along with his warg Frange. We constantly sparred with each other and knew every move that the other had. I was better with the sword than he was, but not by very much. As I approached the center of the arena, I knew that this was going to be the hardest fight of my life, for only one of us could win and be appointed to a company.

Suddenly with a crack of thunder, a brilliant white light erupted between us. The next thing I saw was the roof of the cavern and realized that I had been knocked flat. I tried to struggle to my feet, but only got as far as my knees while trying to figure out what happened. My pit mate was in somewhat better condition and staggering towards me to finish the fight.

“I said HOLD!” a quiet yet menacing voice commanded.

We both turned to find Sharkú standing in the lowest tier of the benches surrounded by his entourage. Knowing he finally had our undivided attention, he continued.

“You.” Said the White One while pointing his pipe, which trailed a thin ribbon of pale white smoke, at my pit mate “You gained your feet to continue the fight after I smote you. Very few could do this, and so I name you Angrob, or Ironlegs. I am forming a new company, The Fifth under the command of Uglúk. You will serve him now as you already serve me.”

“And you,” he continued nodding in my direction, “You have ruined several of my swords so I name you Ugolgrist or Swordbreaker. You also need to learn a lesson about treating other peoples property, so in addition to your normal duties as a member of the Fifth Company, I charge you with being responsible for the 3rd Red Smithy. You will oversee the making of swords there, thus repaying me for that which you have sundered.” With that he turned and left, as did just about everyone else.

My world reeled before me. A name! I had a name! I was Ugolgrist! Swordbreaker! A good strong name at that as well. Heedless of who was around me I raised my sword high and yelled.

“Hear me Arda! I am Uruk-hai! I am MIGHTY! I am the Swordbreaker and the Swordmaker! I AM UGOLGRIST!”

I collapsed in a heap of giddiness. At least that is what I suppose you could call it. I had never had such a rush of emotions before nor ever again since that moment.

I was brought back to the real world, by of all things, the lovely voice of a female.

“Hello Ugolgrist the Mighty,” the voice teased “I am Lurach. Would you allow me to tend to your wounds?”

I looked up to admire the body that held such a sonorous voice. It was indeed strong and lovely. Her coal black hair fell about her shoulders like the cascade of a moonless night. Her eyes shimmered with the soft glowing red of a coal in depths of the forge. Her nose was straight and unbroken, indicating that she had probably won more fights than lost. Lurach’s chest was ample and her hips, wide and seductive. She was all a male could want in a female and then some. I think I just stared at her with my mouth hanging somewhere on the ground, which failed to move and make answer to her.

“Ugolgrist the Shy is more like it,” she teased once again; her smile brightened the room like white hot metal in the darkness of a cave.

I must have nodded or acknowledged her request in some manner, for she removed the simple bandage I had applied to my thigh and cleaned the black blood from the wound. With the calm hands of an experienced woman, she stitched the wound shut and slathered a blue-gray salve over it. She then neatly bandaged my wound while humming a soft tune to herself.

I was on top of the world, soaring like a mighty dragon above the tallest mountains, wild and free. I had a name. I was someone. I was truly an Uruk-hai. I felt as if I could best the fearsome Balrog of Moria in single combat, and yet, I could not even begin to form words to speak with the luscious creature with long straight lower canines that tended my wounds. So much I wanted to ask of her. How did she get her name? Where was she housed? When, and more importantly, if I could see her again? My mind was as rattled as if it had been struck by the mighty mace of Sauron. I don’t even think I managed to thank her for her attentions.

As she left, I begged her with my eyes to see me again. Her eyes sparkled in return and said that she most definitely would.

[Illuvatar]

All Hail Ugolgrist the Shy!!!

Huzah!!!roflmao

[Orc]

after a bit of a hiatus, I finally took up pen and got back to work on this one....

[Orc]

Life quickly settled down into some sense of normality after our trial. Angrob and I were assigned neighboring bunks in the as of yet, relatively empty barracks of the Fifth Company. Uglúk was being very picky about who he was accepting into his company and it would take some time before the ranks were filled. My Swordbrother, Angrob had also caught the eye of a lovely female by the name of Suilich and not surprisingly, spent more of his free time with her than me..

As for me, I spent what little free time between training and overseeing the forge trying to catch up with Lurach. I found that females lead as busy a life as we males do, though I have never truly figured out exactly what it is they do. At least they don’t smear their faces with paint like the human and elven females do. Lurach was more than just beautiful; she was quick of wit and had the most nimble fingers I had ever seen. Unlike so many others in the pits of Isengard, she was always of high spirits and quick with a toothy smile that radiated like the dawn. Lurach could brew the most fabulous Orcdraughts this side of Mordor. One sip would warm the soul and drive away fatigue and all hurts. She also brewed an excellent beer, dark and rich and full of flavor. She used to tease me by claiming that some day she would give me the recipe and teach me to brew as well. Unfortunately that day never came to pass.

The 3rd Red Smithy was not overly large, but productive. The snaga that worked there were not bright but at least they were good with their hands. The swords they made were better than the training blades that I had broken in the arena, but were not of exceptional quality. Cracking a whip and driving the snaga got boring after a while, and I desired to make something worthy as a gift for my dear Lurach, so I had them teach me all they knew about smithing. Being quick of mind and with my strong and skilled hands, it only took a matter of weeks before I had mastered their skills and could produce a better sword than even the most skilled snaga of my smithy.

My newly acquired skills did not go unnoticed. Somehow the greatest smith of Isengard was alerted to my abilities and decided to see what I could do. He was an ancient Uruk who had worked the great smithies of Mordor and Oradurin, gaining his skills in the bowels of the dark mountain. He was called Nerchrob or Stickleg, for in place of one leg below the knee he sported a wooden peg. There were more tales about how he had lost the leg than there are hairs on a hobbit, some more believable than others. Under his tutelage I found that smithing was not just a means to woo Lurach, but an enjoyable and practical skill as well.

Uncounted moons passed as I learned much from the old Uruk. Unfortunately, this took me from much of the training of the Fifth and my Swordbrother. Fratgar, the oversear in charge of the Red Smithies wasn’t thrilled by the attention I was getting, but was willing to let it slide because the Red Smithies were out producing the others, mostly through my effort. Uglúk eagerly accepted this as well because he preferred to have his company armed with well-made swords rather than those forged by the lesser skills of the snaga. At least I was an egger pupil and learned quickly from Nerchrob, yet I yearned to patrol with the Fifth.

One morning I entered the 3rd Red Smithy to find it empty of everyone except Nerchrob.

“I have taught you all that I know and you have learned things that not even the brightest snaga could understand. But you are Uruk-hai. You belong in battle, not in a smithy, and we both know it.”

He gestured to an ingot of black steel that had been placed on the largest anvil in the center of the smithy. “This is your final test, and one that I will help you with. This is some of the same black steel that I used when I helped forge the blades of the Black Riders long before you were an itch in your fathers pants. We will not leave this smithy until we have made you the best Adcaragrist in all of Middle Earth.”

With grim and silent determination we set about to our task. Illuminated by only the red glow of the charcoal fed forges and a few feeble lamps we labored continuously. The forge truly came alive in our hands. Our hammers rose and fell in a heart beat rhythm, while the bellows gently breathed in tune, gently coaxing the charcoal glow with a fierce orange heat. The entire smithy sang as the echoes of our hammer strokes reverberated through the cavern. The red hot steel hissed in anger as it was quenched in blood, bathing us in a coppery metallic smell. Only the earth knew how long we toiled there, but not without value. We created a mighty blade, dark as the night, stronger than dragon hide, and capable of cleaving even the toughest armor clad dwarf in twain. I named it Gurduron, or Deathkiss in the common tongue. Even Nerchrob was impressed and said that he had not seen it’s like in many years. To this day I will always remember the last words he said to me as he handed Gurduron to me.

“Never forget that you are Uruk-hai; a mighty warrior. While it is great and noble to be a maker of swords, it is far better to use those swords in battle. It is time to prove both your metal as well as that of your new blade.” With that Nerchrob left the smithy and my life forever.

[Illuvatar]

Another chapter well done mate!

And welcome back! You've been missed. :p

Illu :cool:

[Orc]

A few mornings later, Angrob came bounding into my smithy with Frage at his heels. He was obviously more excited than even when Suilich had first flashed her eyes at him.

“Ugolgrist!” He shouted “Grab you gear! Uglúk just called out the entire Fifth! No one has ever gone out of Isengard in company strength before. It looks like we’ll be the first!”

I grabbed Gurduron and was half way out the entrance when I collided with the corpulent mass of the overseer Fratgar.

“Where in the Pits of Mordor do you think YOU are going?” He demanded.

“The Fifth is preparing to ride!” I replied.

“Well, isn’t that lovely. This is your home, not roaming some horseman infested plain, now get back to work!” He bellowed pointing at the forge with his whip.

My snaga knew trouble was brewing and scattered to the far side of the Smithy. Angrob stepped back into the doorway ensuring that no one else could enter the fray. Frage sensed the tension in the room and growled while the fur on his back stood on end.

“Elf****!” I cursed. “I am Uruk-hai of the Fifth Company and Uglúk has called for us. I ride with my brethren.”

Fratgar sneered; “All Uglúk cares is that you make pretty swords for him and his precious little company of elf-buggerers. Now back to work snaga!” With that he snapped his whip at my face, but I managed to get my left arm up and the whip coiled around it tight. With a fierce tug, I pulled him face to face with me.

“To Mordor with you!” I spat in his face, “When I return, I will deal with your insolence. I am Uruk-hai! To insult me and the Fifth means you will forfeit your pathetic excuse for a life.” Had I been older, and wiser I would have simply killed him then and there and been done with the whole issue. But, I was young, naïve, and in a hurry. So I merely tossed him aside.

Fratgar was caught between Oradurin and Sauron. If he let me go my way, he would loose what little respect he had from his underlings, not to mention a chunk of his hide when his production numbers dropped without me present. If he went sniveling to his boss, he would probably have lost his hide for not being strong enough to keep me at the forge. He had only one option, one that would cause him to lose some honor but not all. He could have gone to Uglúk and demand that I remain behind, and it probably would have worked. One Uruk-hai out of a hundred would mean little to Uglúk, and he never left Isengard without one of my swords. This would probably have given him incentive to leave me behind. Fortunately for me, Fratgar’s mind worked about as fast as a standing stone and the thought never passed between his ears.

Snarling a curse, Fratgar grabbed a sword and charged. His sword was held high in readiness to strike, but I was Uruk-hai, bread and trained for battle, while he was a corpulent, butt-kissing buffoon. Before his blade even began it’s downward arc, I silently turned in a quick low spin, my sword sliced across his sagging belly. It bit deep, and with a howl of pain, Fratgar dropped his sword and tried unsuccessfully to keep his entrails from spilling out. Using both hands I raised Gurduron high above my head and brought it’s dark steel down onto the center of Fratgar’s head. The death stroke was so fierce that the blade didn’t stop until it had sliced his head in twain and buried itself in the middle of his chest. Fratgar collapsed into a pile of blood and gore, his brains and entrails spilling out across the floor.

“Are you finished now?” Angrob demanded impatiently.

“Huzah!” I replied whipping my blade clean on Fratgar’s tunic. I stopped on the way out and pointed my sword at the most skilled snaga and announced for the entire smithy to hear; “You, you’re in charge until I return. If our production falls, you’ll end up like Fratgar.” With that I left the forge, not really caring if they followed my instructions.

[Ghâsh]

Exelent, best orc story I've read! You really capture the orc charicter, keep it up!

[Dernhelm]

This is truly an AMAZING story! Your creativity is so awesome. I could clearly see and hear in my mind the story as I was reading it. I'm going to read it agian a little slower next time so that I can really savor the details. Congratulations on achieving an enviable level of excellence in writing! We are all hooked - keep it coming!:)

[Orc]

Thanks for the support and interest in the story. I'm in the process of rewriting the next chapter, as I wasn't overly happy with the way it turned out. Hopefully at least another chapter up with week.

[Ghâsh]

Really looking forward to the next chapter! Your a great writter.

[Orc]

Angrob and I charged back to the barracks to grab our gear with Frage loping along after us. Along the way we ran down a group of snaga, slammed into warg handler sending him into a pit with his charges, and otherwise left a trail of chaos and carnage in our wake.

We got back to the barracks with the rest of the company to find the normally ordered place in utter disarray. Snaga were running amok bringing in armload after armload of newly made armor. An order was quickly pass among us to armor ourselves with the new equipment being carted in by the snaga. What followed could only be described as more chaotic than a hundred starved hobbits at an unending banquet. Snaga continuously brought fourth pieces of armor to us Uruk-hai, though it almost never came even close to fitting. The room rained ill-fitting helms, greaves, breastplates and more than occasional snaga. After much growling, shouting and cracking of heads we were each outfitted in a set of newly forged armor that more or less fit.

Quiet fell over us when we had been properly armored and we simply stood there grinning at each other like a bunch of idiots. Our moment of eager giddiness was cut short by the barked order of a sergeant.

“Wot in Mordor is this? Why, you little snaga look like a gaggle of elves primping before a parade to catch the eye of Elrond” the sergeant snarled. “You have as long as it takes an elf to **** in the woods to get your snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears, elf buggering, snaga love’n, shiny black pimply hinnies into the assembly cavern!!!”

The sergeant had only started into his tirade as we burst into a flurry of activity. We quickly packed our kit, which consisted of a small pack, knife, thin and tattered blanket, a couple of water bags, a whetstone, oil, and a rag for caring for our swords and armor. Finally we armed ourselves and trotted down the winding dark tunnels reeking of freshly oiled leather and metal.

As we hurried along the torch lit tunnels, we entered a long narrow cavern filled with females. By this time in our lives, each member of the company had caught the eye of at least one lusty lass, and here they were, packed into this cavern waiting for us with gifts for the trip.

Amid the chaos I managed to find Lurach, her smile luring me like a moth to a flame. As I stepped close to great her, she pressed her hand, dripping with wet white paint, onto my chest while uttering the ancient blessing; “May the spirit hand of your ancestors guide and protect you on your journey.”

After the blessing, Lurach stuffed a bag of provisions that she had packed for the march into my ruck sack. “I’ve packed you some Narch bread, several flasks of orcdraught, and a pint of your favorite beer along with a some bandages that I hope you don’t need.” Lurach had to almost shout over the noise in the packed cavern to be heard.

Once again, my tongue failed me in her presence. I didn’t even have the slightest idea of what to say. I had to acknowledge this wonderful gift in some way, but my mind was as empty as a blown bellows. As more of an act of desperation than devotion, I grabbed Lurach and kissed her. She replied in kind, clasping both sides of my face in her strong hands. Only the stones could tell you how long that kiss lasted, but when we finally came up for air, we were both a bit stunned. For the only time I ever knew, Lurach was also speechless and we clung to each other, our mouths agape.

Suddenly we both began to laugh at our situation, neither of us knowing exactly what to say. A lone drum beat out the cadence for assembly calling the Fifth to formation in the nearby cavern. Lurach’s eyes promised more as I gave her a final squeeze and pushed my way through the throng and into the cavern.

We fell into formation, four ranks of 25 Uruk-hai each. Angrob stood at my side in the middle of the formation, and after taking one look at me nearly burst out in laughter. I shot him a questioning look and he replied by slapping his hands to the sides of his head and made a face as if he was kissing a goblin. I instantly understood what he meant. By the hairy neither regions of the balrog! Lurach had left a telltale pair of handprints on my face from our kiss. I looked up and down the lines realizing that many of my brethren bore similar marks from our encounter with the females. Even worse than mine, was the pair of bright white handprints on the rear end of Shard, our banner bearer, who was standing oblivious to his condition in front of the formation proudly holding the Fifth’s standard.

Uglúk called the formation into order as we anxiously waited to see if he would tell us what adventure we were about to embark on. Our leader did not let us down.

“This is a great day for the Fifth!” Uglúk bellowed so that not only we could here, but the large throng watching us as well. “Until now, patrols have only been conducted in small numbers with the purpose of foraging off of the land and collecting provisions for our larders. Today we are released as the first display of power from Isengard. We will conduct a raid in force of the surrounding lands and return here victorious with the spoils from our battles!”

The entire cavern erupted cheers and battle cries. Uglúk led us out of the caverns and into the cool morning air. We headed south along the stream Isen at a steady ground-eating trot. We immediately crossed the Isen, which at this point was about chest deep, and running fast with the spring melt. We kept an easterly course across the great southern spur of Methedras, the southern anchor of the Misty Mountains.

[Illuvatar]

Whoo hoo!! Another chapter!!

It almost felt like I was information, primed and ready for battle, and chuckling at our banner bearer with hand prints on his arse! lol

However, you may want to run this one thru the spell checker mate! :p

All hail ORC!!!

The master of the smithies and the written word! notworthy notworthy

[Orc]

Originally posted by Illuvatar
However, you may want to run this one thru the spell checker mate! :p


I did! OK, so I'm using the unabridged Orcish version....

[Ghâsh]

Yet another EXELENT chapter! Keep it up orc! notworthy The part about the handprints was great! lol

[Orc]

As we traveled we took up the ancient chants that told the history of our people. Our feet kept the rhythm and our low guttural chants trailed off into the relatively barren land. There is no way to translate the chants into the human language as both much of the meaning and cadence would be lost. What follows is a loose translation of the histories of my people that have been carefully handed down from generation to generation in the form of song and chant. These chants are usually recited while on the march or while toiling at work to help the long hours pass as well as maintain our history.

As the Music of the Ainur sang the world into exsistance, Illuvatar instructed the Ainur to create his Firstborn Children, the Orcs. But there was contention and disharmony within the Choir of the Ainur, as each wished to shape the Orcs to fit their image and desires. Out of this discord the 11 Orcish Lords were created, and stood tall and proud at the feet of Iluvatar, the Flame Imperishable burning bright within them.

Illuvatar was not pleased, for the disharmony among the Ainur had created something different than he wished for the Children of Illuvatar. Yet, the Orcish Lords held within them the Secret Fire and so Illuvatar desired not to destroy them. Rather, he condemned the Firstborn to the Void where they would sleep until he determined a purpose for them.

The Orcish Lords drifted through the Void for an unknown amount of time, lost in the sleep of ages. They were forgotten or ignored by of most of the Ainur, and even the Illuvatar turned his mind to other issues. However, Melkor had not forget the Orcish Lords. After Melkor had cast down the two great lamps of Arda, and the Valar fled to Valinor, Melkor traveled the secret hidden ways to the Void. There he searched for and found the 11 Orcish Lords and using his arcane knowledge managed to awaken them.

Melkor explained to the First Lords that they were lost to the minds of Illuvatar and the rest of the Ainur and thus condemned to their current fate. The Great Orcs were filled with both dread at their future and anger at the Ainur who had deemed the Orcs as unworthy of being allowed to inhabit the world. Melkor promised the Lords vast lands in Middle Earth, and a chance to avenge themselves against the Ainur, if they took a great sacred vow that the Lords and all of their decendants would serve Melkor and his Ainur servants. Facing Damnation within the Void, the Orcish Lords had no choice but to accept the pledge and swear the fealty of their blood lines to Melkor.

Melkor brought the Eleven Orcish Lords to Utumno where they bred and produced many great clans of mighty orcs called the Uruk-hai. Melkor and the other Ainur, especially Saruon, taught the Uruk-hai the ways of warfare and the skills to make weapons and armor. For many years the they labored and bread within the deep pits of Utumno until the coming of the Elves.

The birth of the elves and their intrusion into Middle Earth angered Melkor who had claimed the land as his own. In the early days, the Uruk-hai were set secretly slay only individual or small groups of elves. This eventually gave rise to the claim that orcs were Melkor’s perversion of elves.

Finally the Valar invaded Middle Earth and destroyed Utumno in a great battle. The eleven Orish Lords and most of their offspring were slain in battle at the hands of the mighty Valar. The slaughter was nearly complete, and it was the last time the Uruk-hai were identified as a race until late in the Third Age.

Throughout the age of Trees and into the First Age the remaining Uruk-hai bred in the dark corners of Middle Earth. Like the later Numermorians, most of the Orcish blood lines became diluted, resulting in the Uruks, as well as the common orcs and goblins often referred to as snaga or slaves by the Uruks and Uruk-hai. Being small in number, the greater Uruks and Uruk-hai were often thought of as simply larger, stronger orcs and were often leaders of many of the Orcish Clans. Azog, the great Uruk of Moria was one of these few remaining Uruks.

Yet in a few deep corners of the world, the true bloodline of the original Orcish Lords existed. Both Saruon and Saruman found some of the true Uruk-hai and made sure that they proliferated, and ensured that their blood remained true to the Firstborn. While the terms Uruk and Uruk-hai are often used interchangeably, they actually refer to two different peoples, who are as close as the men of Gondor and Rohon, yet as different in appearance.

There we hid, either in the Pits of Isengard or the dark lands of Mordor until such time that our numbers and strength grew for us to return to the surface. Unlike the other races of Middle Earth we were not free to chose our own fates nor to build great civilizations. Rather we were sworn to serve Melkor and eventually Sauron, never knowing the glorious taste of freedom.

[Ghâsh]

Totaly exelent stuff Orc! Your the best at this! :thumbs: notworthy

[Orc]

Thanks! More to come, hopefully next week

[Tar-Ancalimë]

Wow! I just read it and it's GOOD!

You really write well. Keep writing. It's excellent and I want MORE! (So demanding, aren't I? lol)

[Ghâsh]

Cant wait! I love your writting Orc!

[Orc]

The weather on second day took a dramatic and unexpected turn. Despite being early spring, the heat of that day could only be described as oppressive. The air hung hot and heavy around us as we trotted, our already empty waterskins thumping at our sides. Even the land through which we were traveling was suppressed by the weather. Nothing moved or even stirred, even the smallest blade of grass stood still. The typically vocal insects were eerily quiet, as if they had been crushed beneath the weight of the surrounding air. Our standard hung limp and dead on its pole despite the steady pace we were trotting at. Even Frange, Angrob’s warg, trotted slowly at the side of the formation, his long tongue rolling out of his mouth.

As we crested a gentle rise, we witnessed what nature had in store for us. Stretching across the eastern horizon were great white cloud towers that reached for the heavens, only halting when they collided with the sky-dome, where they spread out forming great white anvils. Clinging to the base of the clouds was a thick hazy darkness occasionally pierced by a stroke of lightning. Even from our distance we could see a solitary small tree being thrashed about like the whip of a pit overseer.

In the open plains north of Rohon there was no place for us to seek any type of shelter from the coming storm, nor would we have halted if there were. With an ominous rumble the heavens welcomed the First Born back to the surface of the world. We put our heads down and headed into the jaws of the storm.

Without warning, a furious wind rose from the east to assault us. Anything that wasn’t securely lashed to our bodies, be it a water bottle or loose strap, immediately became a flail thrashing painfully against any exposed flesh. Caught unawares, Shard and our banner became a play thing for the wind’s amusement. The standard pole was nearly bend double beneath the strain and the black standard emblazoned with the White Hand tore at it’s lashings as if were trying to flee home to Isengard. If Shard hadn’t been swept up by the column of Uruk-hai behind him, he would have easily been blown all the way to Dunland. With a great deal of grunting and cursing the first few ranks managed to collect Shard and bring the banner down without breaking stride.

[Orc]

Leaning forward against the wind we continued to towards the storm. The wind increased as if attempting to hold us back, and while our trot slowed first to a walk, and then a crawl, we did not stop. A bright flash of nearby lightning brought our heads up to see a wall of water advancing steadily towards us. The great Falls of Rauros would pale in comparison to the mighty sheet of water that washed over us with a thunderous roar. In an instant we were soaked to the bone. Yet still we advanced undaunted.

A searing bolt of lightning struck the ground not more than a hundred yards in front of us, the accompanying thunder physically assaulted our formation. Deaf, but undaunted we continued, and as we crossed the scorched patch of ground, the hairs on the back of my neck stood and ghostly fingers tingled along my body.

Despite the assault by wind and rain I felt reborn. The oppressive heat and humidity were gone, the uncomfortable warmth of my armor quenched by the cold rain. I plucked my helm from my head, and held it tightly with both hands above my as if in offering. My upturned helm quickly filled with fresh cold rain water and I drank greedily. As I returned my helm to the sky, I noticed that many of my brethren were following my lead and quenching their thirst as we plodded ever forward. The storm raged around us as we filled our water skins and bottles from our helms while continuing our march.

Angrob grinned madly at me as if to say; “We’re winning, we are beating the storm!” A great tree of lightning streaked over our heads to strike the ground some two hundred paces to our left, as if it was responding to our defiance. I returned Angrob’s grin of immortal youth. The storm could not touch us. We were invincible! We were Uruk-hai!

[Tar-Ancalimë]

:thumbs:
very good. I really like it. :)

[Ghâsh]

Great stuff Orc, keep it up! :thumbs: notworthy

[Lady of Rohan]

Very good story. Please write more soon. :thumbs:

[Orc]

Chapter 5 First Riders

The storm passed to the west, having vented the worst of it’s furry upon us. Very little of what we possessed was not completely sodden from the storm, and weighed nearly double what it had only hours before. Despite the added burden we continued forward as the sky above us first began to lighten, and finally brilliant shafts of light pierced the cloud layer.

Late in the afternoon we finally halted at the first dry spot our scouts managed to find since the storm. As the pickets were set, we set up a simple camp on the south face of a gentle hill that was strewn with large moss encrusted boulders. The rocks, having escaped the storm, were truly a blessing. We removed our wet clothes and baggage as spread them on the warm faces of the boulders where they dried fairly quickly. While our clothes were drying we spread our pruned bodies on the soft heather to soak up the remaining rays of the day. But, as is the life of a soldier, there was no real rest for us. The rain had permeated not only our clothing but our arms and armour as well, and rust had already begun to form in places. The remainder of the sunlight was diligently spent cleaning and oiling our equipment before bedding down for the night.

Hurthag, my Fist leader, rudely awaked me from a rather pleasant dream with a rather lusty wench. Often called Nülks, or “thumbs” a fist leader was responsible for himself and four other Uruk-hai beneath him.

“Be still." Hurthag commanded, “There are a group of riders that have camped nearby. Very quietly arm yourself and follow me.”

Angrob was already pulling on his armour next to me, grinning like a warg who’s just been given a rather juicy bone. Quickly I squirmed into my still slightly damp gear, strapped Gurduron to my side, and picked up my shield and spear and followed Hurthag to the base of the hill. Hurthag quickly summed up the situation. A small contingent of mounted humans, most likely Riders of Rohan, had camped nearby. We, along with three other Fists, were to approach from the south, while other groups were to going to surround them from other directions.

Quickly and silently we slipped through the tall grass towards our prey. The had camped on a rather prominent hilltop and were milling around a large bon fire. Even from our distance of several hundred paces we could here their voices in drunken revelry. They thought they were alone in these empty lands and were about to have a rather rude surprise.

[Pil]

Another brillant installment in this amazing thread...:thumbs: notworthy

My fellow moderator...you put me to shame! :cuddles: :p

[Orc]

Originally posted by Pil

My fellow moderator...you put me to shame!


Bah.

I'm twice you age. I couldn't write as half a good as you do at your age.

[Orc]

Over the next hour we silently inched our way towards the riders. Finally, about three hours before first light we had reached our position, just under a hundred paces from the hilltop. Crouched behind a large rock I could smell the horse sweat, human urine and spilled beer among the wood smoke that trickled down the hillside. Patiently we waited for the signal to attack as the humans finally began to settle down for the night.

Abruptly from our left came the twang of numerous bowstrings followed by the gentle thwack of the arrowheads piercing flesh or clicking off the rocks. Chaos immediately erupted on the hilltop as both man and horse screamed in agony and stumbled blindly into each other. Arrows continued to rain onto the hilltop as we charged from our hidden positions with a mighty war cry. The few horses that could still stand caught wind of us and immediately bolted away, crushing at least two of the riders in the process.

Three half clothed riders fled the arrows falling on the hilltop, heedlessly leaping over rocks right into us. The first one was so preoccupied with what was happing behind him, that he never saw us until my spear found its way into his liver and burst out his back in an explosion of gore. His expression turned from fear to stark horror as two more spears from my comrades pierced his chest and abruptly lifted him off the ground. His eyes faded to dark as we yanked our spears from his fallen body.

The second rider was lucky enough to see what was coming and desperately tried to halt his forward progress. Flailing his arms wildly, he tried to back peddle on the dewy grass, only to fall on his backside where he was quickly impaled by several spears. The third human managed to lift his sword in a futile attempt to defend himself, only to be cut down by a pair of sword wielding Uruk-hai.

By the time we reached the hilltop, the skirmish was over. Nearly half a dozen men, and nearly as many horses lay dead amid their simple camp. As the dead that fled the hilltop were dragged up, the count totaled 12 men and 9 horses. Uglúk was furious at the escape of the three unaccounted for horses. They would undoubtedly return home to alert others to their masters’ fates. If we had slain all the soldiers and horses, it would be figured that the patrol got lost or was just late rather than having been cut down. However the return of a horse with our arrows sticking out of it’s hide would tell the tale, and bring larger patrols or a war party to hunt us.

Unfortunately, I ended up being close to Uglúk during his tirade and quickly found myself on picket duty for the remainder of the night. While shielded by two hundred paces of darkness from our leader’s wrath, I was also missing out on a chance to get a good look at the weapons and armour wielded by the riders.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

sheesh... what are you trying to do, make orcs look good??? Well... you're menaging it pretty well... :)

[Ghâsh]

Exelent! Keep it up! :thumbs: notworthy

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Oh Tar, be nice to him. I like the story a bunch!!!

Please, continue the story ASAP Orc.

[Pil]

Originally posted by Orc
Bah.

I'm twice you age. I couldn't write as half a good as you do at your age.

:blush:

But i'll still be taking notes...this is soooo good! There are so many great fan fics here at the mo...don't you agree...all these make my time on the net REALLY enjoyable...this is one of the favs... :) :read: :)

[Tar-Ancalimë]

Oh Dawn, I was! I was saying that he was making orcs look good... which is quite an accomplishment as i am all for Rohan... lol and their poor riders lol

anyway the basic point of that was supposed to be...

keep up the good work Orc because I am really loving your story :)

[Ghâsh]

I like the darker side of ME best :Orc: Keep writing Orc! This is GREAT stuff! :batty:

[Orc]

I managed to find myself a secure spot between two large boulders about two hundred paces away from the hilltop. Even from my secluded position where I could watch for any approaching riders, I could hear the celebrating from the hilltop. Uglúk had obviously granted permission for the celebration as the small camp fire the riders had used was quickly build into a large bon fire that lit the entire area. As the sky in the east began to lighten, my replacement relieved me so I could join the festivities.

I climbed to the top of the hill to find it scattered with numerous small camp fires, each surrounded by a dozen or so of my brethren munching contentedly on freshly roasted meat. I managed to spot Angrob wave me over to the fire by which he was lounging and threaded my way between contented and snoring Uruk-hai to join him at the fire.

“Manflesh gone.” He grinned mischievously as he tossed a cleanly picked bone to Frage who was gnawing on a rather large collection of bones discarded by the feasters.

“Bah!” I muttered in reply. Sharkú had always made a big deal of feeding us manflesh. It was probably the only thing resembling fresh meat that we got in the pits. The truth of the matter was that no one particularly cared for it’s stringy taste and lack of juicy fat. But fresh man-flesh was better than the dried chunks of mystery meat that each of us carried.

“You could always try some of that beast-flesh,” a voice from the dark joked. Several chuckles indicated what was thought of eating the riders horses.

“Just be sure you stay away from the hind end,” Angrob's toothy smile beamed in the dark, “you know what they say about how the riders ride their horses.”

Deep guttural laughing echoed through the empty lands as I wandered from the fire to find a downed horse. Just out of the light of the fires I came across one of the large beasts, obviously slain by the slew of arrows that protruded from it’s body. Examining the horse in an attempt to choose a decent cut of meat, I found a small bag that been missed in the looting frenzy. I untied the cord that had secured the mouth of the bag to find a large filled bottle wrapped in a blanket. While the blanket was definitely well made, it was the contents of the bottle that interested me the most.

Pulling the cork from the mouth of the bottle I cautiously sniffed its contents and was rewarded with the obvious smell of strong drink. I quickly stole a look behind me to ensure that no one had spotted my new find before taking a small sip. The corse liquid burned its way to my gullet where it warmed me from my deepest innards. The stuff was rather foul, especially compared to what my lovely Lurach could brew, or even the potent scotch brewed by the Dunlanders. I was at least content that it’s alcohol content was quite high and took another large swig before carefully wrapping the bottle back in the blanket and placing both into my pack. With a warm fire in my belly, I set to the task of carving off a large chunk of horseflesh and returned to Angrob’s side at the fire.

Amid the chortles of my comrades, I spit the hunk of meat on a broken spear haft and roasted it over the fire while I propped myself on my pack near the fire. Within a matter of minutes the chuckling stopped as the heavenly sent of the roasting meat permiated the air. All eyes were on me when I finally plucked the roasted meat from the spit and brought it to my lips. The taste was phenomenal! Unlike manflesh it was juicy and full of an exotic flavor. I ignored the questions my comrades bombarded me about it’s taste as I began to devour the meat, its juices flowing over my chin. When I was nearly done with the meat, I looked up to find myself alone at the fire as the other Uruk-hai had hurried off to find their own horseflesh.

The feasting continued until nearly high noon. What little remained of the horseflesh had been smoked and stowed in packs, loose arrows collected and the fires doused. Uglúk moved the Fifth several miles from the battlefield where we established camp for the night, our bellies still full from our feasting.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

:hooray: i do like it Orc...you know that I guess...I think you are a fantastic writer. Really I do :grin:

[Illuvatar]

Well done mighty Orc!!

Uruk-hai discovering flesh other than man-flesh!!! lol

Outstanding! :thumbs: notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy

[Orc]

Thanks guys. More to come! Next up.... Tree Demons!!!

[Ghâsh]

Exelent job Orc! I love your writting! notworthy Will he ever try elf meat? Its very good with a dash of salt!

[Bess the Bard]

Orc, I am appalled, amazed, intrigued and most definitely hooked on this story!! Looking forward to the rest.

:Orc: :read:

Bess the Bard

[Pil]

mecry Orcy...more story...pleeeeeeeeeeease.....pretty please....with a dash of salt as Ghash puts it...lol...

I love this...hope there is more to come... :)

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Yes, please do post more!!!

[Orc]

I hope to get back to the story this week. I just spent the last three days up north tracking wolves, so have been out of civilization for a while.

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Tracking wolves? Oh, sounds fun. I love hunting. Did you have fun?

Please do get back to the story!

[Ghâsh]

I'm insanely jealous! Looking forward to your next post Orc! Love your writting! :thumbs: :Orc:

[Pil]

:Orc:....*pil looks pleadingly....*....more....please.....? :(

[Ghâsh]

Musssssnt be hassssty precsssssssiosssss. The more timesssssy we givesss Orcssssssesss, the bettersy heeeesss sssstory chaptersss will be. ;) :Orc:

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

But it'sssssssss hard not to be hassssssssty, pressssssssssssssssssssssssiossssssssssssssssss. Very hard.

:)

Please more! :Orc:

[Orc]

your wish is my command..... I hope to finish this next chapter this weekend between raking leaves and some good old pounding of iron at the forge.

[Orc]

The following morning rose cold and clear. The dew laden sea of grass before us sparkled with the brilliance rivaling the greatest dwarven treasure horde. As we set off to the east once more, our breaths sent small plumes of steam drifting in our wake. While the wet grass tugged at our ankles with it’s chilling grip, the sun warmed our faces and glinted off the armor we wore.

By mid morning the sun had burned off the few low lying patches of fog and dried out most of the grass. To the northwest we could barely make out the tufts of green that would be the tops of the might trees that made up the Fartók Forest – the home of the dreaded Tree Demons. Fierce beasts these demons were said to be, capable of shredding even the largest cave troll like a piece of rotted muslin. It was said by some that they had no purpose in life except to stalk the forest and slay any living thing that moved in their realm. Others claimed that the Tree Demons were but puppets of the elves, set about to protect elven treasures or sent forth do follow the elves’ plans. Either way, we were staying a respectable distance from the forest. Our mission was to harass the Horse Riders, not to become tree fodder.

Mid day brought a gentle breeze from the south as the forest seemed to creep closer. Even from our safe vantage point, we could not see into the dark depths of the forest and what things that may have been pacing us. The company was quite that day, no songs or chants, no boasting or jokes. Every eye strayed north as we traversed the southern reaches of the forest. The occasional copse of trees was avoided by Uglúk, much to our collective relief.

Dusk brought a quite camp on a small hillock space equidistant between three small groves of trees. They were all a bit to close for our comfort, and no one was about to attempt to question Uglúk’s orders. Angrob commented that he thought our captain was purposely placing us as close to the home of the Tree Demons to see how we would react. Angrob was probably right. If we were spooked by tales of walking trees, how would we survive a serious combat with a worthy foe? I put the Tree Demons out of my mind as I curled up in my blanket, with my head on my pack and watched the stars slowly wind their way across the sky.

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Tree demons? I love it! I really do!!!

Please continue this story A.S.A.P!

[Tar-Ancalimë]

:grin: dont we all ;)

[Ghâsh]

Yet another exelent chapter :thumbs: Keep it up Orc, I love this! :Orc:

[Bess the Bard]

Great chapter. Looking forward to more!!!

[Orc]

The quiet starry night was scattered by the blood curdling scream of an Uruk-hai in agony that abruptly tore me from a sweet dream of my beloved, Lurach. I quickly donned my plated jacket and grabbed my helm and adcaragrist as another cry echoed through the hills.

“Tree Demon! Tree De…” a picket bellowed, only to be cut of in mid shout by a mighty blow that we could hear crush and shatter bone even from our distance.

The cry of “Tree Demon” was taken up by others as we quickly armed ourselves. Uglúk was in the middle of the camp directing people towards the demon as he bellowed for us to grab axes. He knew as well as we did that our swords would be of little, if any, use against the foul creature. Swords, bows and spears were tossed aside as Uruk-hai dug though their packs to fetch the axes that one member of each Fist carried for cutting wood.

Suddenly the Tree Demon strode into the perimeter of our camp. It had taken the form of a great oak that towered close to thirty feet tall, shoots of the first leaves of spring jutting from it’s limbs. With a grand sweep of one of it’s four main limbs, it sent two Uruk-hai hurtling through the air and out of sight. Arrows zipped through the air and bit harmlessly into it’s bark hide.

One of my brethren dove beneath the reach of the Demon and hewed at the it’s trunk with his sharp axe. The axe barely bit into the Demon but obviously caused it a great deal of pain as it let out a mighty “WHOOT” and plucked the Uruk-hai off the ground by both his arms and one of his legs. The Demon raised him high into the air as if offering the soldier to the Demon’s gods as some sort of sacrifice before pulling the Uruk-hai apart. With a scream of terror and pain, both of his arms were torn from his body as a child would pluck the wings from an annoying insect. As gouts of blood spouted from the Uruk-hai’s empty shoulders, the Demon tossed him into the darkness where, with a heavy thud, he screamed no more.

I turned to Angrob and his eyes reflected my own thoughts. Fire! We needed fire! As sword brothers we knew each other’s thoughts, so without a word he dove towards the hot coals that were left of our campfire while I began to frantically dig through my pack. Angrob tossed some kindling and a couple of small logs onto the coals and began to frantically blow on them to as they began to smoke and finally catch fire. I managed to find what I was looking for, the bottle of spirits I got from the riders and a pair of the highly alcoholic Orcdraughts that Lurach had prepared for me.

I rushed to the fire picking up a blanket and a pair of spears along the way. The kindling and smaller branches had already caught fire and Angrob was encouraging a small blaze fanning the fire with a shield he had snatched up. As he tossed even more wood onto the now roaring fire, I tore strips of fabric and wrapped them around the shafts of the spears just below the dark metal tips. I dashed some of the Rider booze onto the fabric and thrust the tips of the spears into the now raging fire.

I looked over at Angrob who was sitting back on his haunches admiring the fire he had so quickly started. I nodded my head towards the Tree Demon which was wreaking havoc on our brethren, and Angrob flashed me a toothy grin in response as he plucked the two burning spears from the fire and set off towards the fray. Collecting the bottles of potent liquor I chased after him bellowing to my comrades to bring more fire.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

wow! thats so awesome, Orc, you are a fantastic writer.

[Illuvatar]

Right on Orc!!:thumbs:

I was kinda wondering if these "Tree Demons" were Ents! lol

How kewl to see them from another perspective!

As always Sir Orctster earns himself the title "Master of THe Written Word" notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy notworthy

[Ghâsh]

Exelent!!! :Orc: Keep it up Orc! notworthy This is some awsome stuff!

[Pil]

*pil grabs balloons and party poppers* :hooray: :stomper: veryhappy

MORE STORY! :)

That was fantastic Orc! :thumbs: It has a very unique view that is lovely to step into. :Orc: I await the next bit in antici..........pation! :)

[Orc]

Thanks for the support! I'm really enjoying writting this. Unfortunately, I don't know if I'll have a chance to get back to if for the next couple of weeks. I'm preping for a craft fare at the beginning of Dec and hope to sell lots of blacksmithing stuff. So I'll be at the forge rather than the computer for a bit.

[Pil]

Good luck with that man! *orc is working hard...pil won't disturb him...shh...*

We'll be back in a few weeks time to gawp in wonder i assure you! :)

[Ghâsh]

Good luck Orc! :Orc:

[Orc]

Well, unfortunately not much sold this year at the craft sale, so at least I have plenty of presents to give out for the holidays instead. Time to get back to the story....

[Orc]

Angrob and I rushed to the increasing carnage created by the Tree Demon. Numerous Uruk-hai bodies lay strewn about as even more charged the raging tree beast. Uruk-hai with axes were desperately trying to get close enough to bring the sharp blades to bear, only to be swatted away like annoying insects. The Demon had caught up two of my brethren and was in the process of dismembering them as Angrob and I slid to a stop just outside the reach of its thick limbs.

I deposited my payload of bottles gently at my feet and grabbed the bottle of Rohon booze by the neck and prepared to launch it at the Tree Demon. With all of it’s waving branches, trying to hit the main body with the bottle at that range was going to be nearly impossible. I began hopping back in fourth looking for an opening to toss in my bottle as Angrob shadowed my every move, waiting for the same opening.

Suddenly three axe bearing Uruk-hai rushed in from our right trying to get in beneath the swinging branches to get to the trunk of the demon. With the creaking groan of twisting wood, the Tree Demon plucked the first Uruk-hai off the ground and with the audible crack of his neck, sent him hurling off to our left. Another mighty branch swept low along the ground sweeping the two remaining axemen off their feet back into the dark night.

The actions of my brethren gave us the opening we so desperately needed. With the Demon’s limbs spread open I managed to catch a glimpse of it’s twisted fungus speckled face and huge gaping maw. Aiming for it’s ugly face, I hurled the bottle with all of my might and watched it tumble end over end to shatter just below the demon’s mouth, splattering it’s contents and glass shards over it’s trunk.

The demon paid the bottle little heed as it turned it’s attention to another Uruk-hai to it’s rear that had managed to cut into the demon's trunk with a large headed axe. I felt a flash of heat as a flaming spear whooshed past my face and arced towards the Tree Demon. The head stuck firmly in the twisted bark of it’s massive trunk and the flames flickered against it. Both Angrob and I held out breaths hoping beyond hopes that the flames managed to catch the potent alcohol. Just as I was about to give up hope, the middle of the trunk suddenly burst into a light blue flame with a rather large ‘whoomph’.

The sudden burst of light shook us from our stupor and we lept back into action quickly throwing our remaining Orcdraughts and lit spears which only added to the growing flames. The Demon stood still in shock for a second, and then let loose such a vile screeching noise that paled anything we had ever heard in the pits of Isengard. The demon began to thrash wildly in and attempt to put out the growing fire, but only succeeded in fanning the flames into an even greater frenzy.

Uglúk came trotting over a low rise with at least twenty torch wielding Uruk-hai. He quickly barked a series of orders and the sky rained with lit torches that fell into the demons branches and on the ground about it’s feet. The Demon continued it’s frenzied death dance for several minutes as we scrambled to keep out of reach of the flaming limbs. Finally, with a last pitiful ‘hoot’ it fell over sending a shower of sparks high into the air to rain about the warn out victors of the battle.

[Bess the Bard]

Chilling, but very exciting. Still, poor Tree Demon, er, Ent.

mecry

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Poor Tree Demon? He purposly attacked them. He deserved it!

Way to go :Orc:!!!

[Tar-Ancalimë]

cool! i love this story... go Ugolgrist lol

[Ghâsh]

Exelent work Orc! Yet another enchanting part of your story! :Orc: Yay Ugolgrist!!! Huzzah :Orc:

[Ghâsh]

Dont meen to be rude & double post or anything, but what happened to this story? I know I havent been here in months but it apears that I havent missed anything while I was gone. mecry Still, this was such an exelent story to read, thanks Orc! :Orc:

[Pil]

Unfortunately Orc is going to be away for a while so he wont be able to continue his fanfic for a bit.

It's great that he has some really devoted fans though, his fanfic is really good. :)

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Yeah, I've been wondering where the story was too...I guess I know now... :(

[Orc]

Now where the heck was I with this story....

Finally got a chance to get back to this one. It's been a while and I have a lot of ideas for things down range. Hope you have fun with it.

I've done some rewritting on it as well, but not posting all of that here. If you are intersted you can see it on the Fan Fic part of the site: Ugolgrist (http://www.warofthering.net/storyline1.8/story.php?no=185)

I re-wrote most of chapter 6 as I somehow lost it on my computer and forgot it was buried here. I'll post all of it. Sorry if there's any confusion...

:Orc:

[Orc]

The following morning rose cold and clear. The dew laden sea of grass before us sparkled with the brilliance rivaling the greatest dwarven treasure horde. We set off to the east once more, our breaths sending small plumes of steam drifting in our wake. While the wet grass tugged at our ankles with its chilling grip, the sun warmed our faces and glinted off our armor.

By mid morning the sun had burned off the few low lying patches of fog and dried out most of the grass. To the northwest we could barely make out the tufts of green that would be the tops of the mighty trees that made up the Fartnag Forest; the home of the dreaded Tree Demons. Fierce beasts these demons were said to be, capable of shredding even the largest cave troll like a piece of rotted muslin. It was said by some that they had no purpose in life except to stalk the forest and slay any living thing that moved in their realm. Others claimed that the Tree Demons were but puppets of the elves, set about to protect elven treasures or sent forth do follow the elves’ plans. Either way, we were staying a respectable distance from the forest. Our mission was to harass the Horse Riders, not to become tree fodder.

At mid day a gentle breeze crept up from the south as the forest seemed to creep closer. Even from our safe vantage point, we could not see into the dark depths of the forest and what creatures that may have been pacing us. The company was quite that day, no songs or chants, no boasting or jokes. Every eye strayed north as we traversed the southern reaches of the forest. The occasional copse of trees was avoided by Uglúk, much to our collective relief.

Dusk brought a quite camp on a small hillock spaced equidistantly between three small groves of trees. They were all a bit to close for our comfort, but no one was about to attempt to question Uglúk’s orders. Angrob commented that he thought our captain was purposely placing us as close to the home of the Tree Demons to see how we would react. Angrob was probably right. If we were spooked by tales of walking trees, how would we survive a serious combat with a worthy foe? I put the Tree Demons out of my mind as I curled up in my blanket, with my head on my pack and watched the stars slowly wind their way across the sky.

The quiet starry night was scattered by the blood curdling scream of an Uruk-hai in agony that abruptly tore me from a sweet dream of my beloved Lurach. Frange was up and on guard in half a heart beat, growling at some unseen foe, his tan and brown hair at the scruff of his neck standing on end. I quickly donned my plated jacket, grabbed my helm and adcaragrist as another cry echoed through the hills.

“Tree Demon! Tree Demon!” A picket bellowed, only to be cut of in mid shout by a mighty blow that we could hear crush and shatter bone even from our distance.

The cry of “Tree Demon” was taken up by others as we quickly armed ourselves. Uglúk was in the middle of the camp directing people towards the demon as he bellowed for us to grab axes. He knew as well as we did that our swords would be of little, if any, use against the foul creature. Swords, bows and spears were tossed aside as Uruk-hai dug though their packs to fetch the axes that one member of each Fist carried for cutting wood.

Suddenly the Tree Demon stalked into the perimeter of our camp. It had taken the form of a great oak that towered close to thirty feet tall, shoots of the first leaves of spring jutting from its limbs. With a grand sweep of one of its four main limbs, it sent two Uruk-hai hurtling through the air and out of sight. Arrows zipped through the air and bit harmlessly into the bark hide of the dark menace.

One of my brethren dove beneath the reach of the Demon and managed to hew at its trunk with his sharp axe. The axe barely bit into the Demon and apparently caused it a great deal of pain as it let out a mighty “HOOT” and plucked the Uruk-hai off the ground by both his arms and one of his legs. The Demon raised him high into the air as if offering the soldier to its feral gods as some sort of sacrifice before pulling the Uruk-hai apart. With a scream of terror and pain, both of his arms were torn from his body as a child would pluck the wings from an annoying insect. As gouts of blood spouted from the Uruk-hai’ empty shoulders, the Demon tossed him into the darkness where, with a heavy thud, the screaming abruptly ceased.

I turned to Angrob and his eyes reflected my own thoughts. Fire! We needed fire! As sword brothers we knew each other’s thoughts, so without a word he dove towards the hot coals that were left of our campfire while I began to frantically dig through my pack. Angrob tossed some kindling and a couple of small logs onto the coals and began to frantically blow on them to as they began to smoke and finally catch fire. I managed to find what I was looking for, the bottle of spirits I got from the riders and a pair of the highly alcoholic Orcdraughts that Lurach had prepared for me. Frange clung to the heels of his master, alternately growling and barking not sure what to do with the crazed intruder invading our camp.

I rushed to the fire picking up a blanket and a pair of spears along the way. The kindling and smaller branches had already caught fire and Angrob was encouraging a small blaze fanning the fire with a shield he had snatched up. As he tossed even more wood onto the now roaring fire, I tore strips of fabric and wrapped them around the shafts of the spears just below the dark metal tips. I dashed some of the Rider booze onto the fabric and thrust the tips of the spears into the now raging fire.

I looked over at Angrob who was sitting back on his haunches admiring the fire he had so quickly brought back to life. I nodded my head towards the Tree Demon which was wreaking havoc on our brethren, and Angrob flashed me a toothy grin in response as he plucked the two burning spears from the fire and set off towards the fray. Collecting the bottles of potent liquor I chased after him bellowing to my comrades to bring more fire.

[Orc]

We quickly reached the carnage of the battle in time to see the Demon pluck a Uruk-hai that had been hewing at its trunk. It lifted my brethren high into the air and with an eerie “Harumph” dashed him to the ground. As it swatted away another attacker, it lifted a mighty leg and crushed the writhing Uruk-hai to a bloody paste.

Grasping the bottle of rider spirits by the neck, I took two short steps forward and launched it with al my might towards the towering flailing tree. The bottle glittered in the moonlight as it tumbled end over end and shattered high in the Demon’s trunk. As I tossed one of my Orcdraughts from my left to right hand, a flaming spear streaked pass my head through the dark night. The spear stuck fast into the creatures bark midway between the base and branches. The fire had a maddening affect on the Demon and it flailed its limbs in an attempt to grab the spear. I held my breath and prayed to the ancestors that the beast would catch fire before it could remove the sputtering fire on the spear. Just as the Demon grasped hold of the spear, it touched off some of the alcohol that was running down the side of its trunk. A blue tinged flame streaked up it’s trunk as the rest of the potent liquor caught flame.

The Tree Demon hooted and hummed as it danced in a circle desperately trying to put out the slowly spreading fire. With a triumphant war cry, I hurled my two Orcdraughts into the flailing mass of branches and was rewarded by a sudden fireball as the spray from a shattered bottle burst into flame. Angrob added his second flaming spear to the growing conflagration with a furious curse. With a quick yip, Frange was caught off guard by the sudden explosion of light and warily backed away

Uglúk abruptly arrived leading a large contingent of fire wielding Uruk-hai. The sky rained fire upon the Tree Demon as burning brands fell around it, many of which were caught up in the fire tipped branches of the demon. Anything even remotely flammable was hurled into the growing conflagration from deadwood and brambles to blankets weighted with rocks to weight them for throwing. The Tree Demon writhed in agony in a crazed death dance, hooting and screeching as it thrashed in a vain attempt to stem the hungry flames. As it trashed through the camp, fire rained down from its flaming limbs igniting several small fires among our packs and gear. With a long final pained “Harooooot” it collapsed in a crackling heap and quiet fell across the dark land.

We stood there stunned, gazing across the carnage in the flickering light of the burning Tree Demon. The camp looked like a horde of flaming dwarves had stampeded through it kicking up bedrolls and kits while setting numerous scattered fires. Angrob and I stood there grinning like a couple of elves that had just spotted Elrond running naked through the woods. Frange remained wary of the scattered fires and promptly planted his butt on the ground between us, most likely wondering what these two crazy Uruk-hai were so proud about.

Uglúk strode up and abruptly brought us back to reality. “Wot in Mordor do you two dwarf-munchers think yer doing standing here grinning like the elf that ran off with Saruon’s monocle!?! I s’pose yer wanting a metal or someth’n.” He pointed a black finger at me and continued; “Hurthang’s short his head and there aint enough of Lugzurh left to send home in a fraggen waterskin. You’re in charge of Lugzurth’s Grish ‘cuz he leading nothin’ but the lost souls of those poor bastards to the Land of the Ancestors. Fig’ger out who you got left and meet up with me by that damned burnin’ beast.” With that he stormed off to survey the damage to his troops.

An Grish or Arm is essentially a squad of troops consisting of a pair of Hands plus a squad leader. Not only were Lugzurth and Hurhtang dead, but so was Lanstol, his head crushed like a rotting melon. Nalthoth was puking up blood and wouldn’t see the light of dawn. That left seven of us in what was now known as Ugolgrist’s Grish. Shard had managed to hang onto the standard despite being drop kicked by the Tree Demon half way across the moor. Amazing how far that little bugger got tossed. Troll, who definitely fit the nickname applied to him; big, ugly and about as bright as a Rider’s horse. He bore no wounds, but had tossed his entire kit onto the flaming Tree Demon to feed the fire. Goth was in pretty good shape despite having had all the hair singed off. Gashk and Tukar faired as well as Angrob and I and were combat ready.

I rallied with Uglúk and the rest of the squad leaders at the smoldering remains of our foe. The total headcount was ugly. Of the 111 Uruk-hai that left Isengard, 19 lay dead. Another five would not make it through the night. At least two score more were wounded bad enough to be out of commission for some time. We needed a place to hole up and tend our wounded for a couple of days. In our current state a company of mounted riders would run us down and make elf-meat of us. Within a couple of hours we managed to burry our dead and re-equip those that had lost their kit from the equipment of the fallen. As the dark sky began to lighten in the east, we limped our way to the south.

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Yeah!

An Update for Ugolgrist! ;)

Glad to see ya :Orc: !

[Eledhwen]

Great stuff Orc! :thumbs: A great description of what happened to the Ent - ahem - Tree Demon.

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

He who defines the terms wins the fight/debate/whatever...


Tree demon.

That's what they are...Attacking the poor, innocent Uruks...