Chapter Text
An uproar woke him up from what seemed a peaceful slumber. He opened his eyes, but could not move freely. What was that sludge he was buried in? He struggled his way out, sitting up to discover he had been sleeping inside a deep hole of mud. He tried to stand, but a wave of nausea and vertigo made him fall to his knees. He breathed deeply and battled against the sensation rising slowly this time, until he was erect in the center of the chamber.
The thunderous sound that interrupted his sleep continued; that noise had a reverberating quality. ‘Echo?’ He surprised himself with the thought. He knew what echo meant, but he didn’t remember when he learned it or who taught him.
He looked around and realized he was underground. That was a cave, but not a natural one; someone had dug the high galleries, and someone had left the torch that hung from the wall.
Along with the sound of the earth aboveground being stepped on by gigantic feet, he heard distinct cries of pain and fear. ‘Snaga’ was the word that came to his mind, the small, ugly Orcs that served as slaves, the desperate shrieks coming from their disgusting, weak throats.
He was an Orc too, he decided, but not a Snaga; he was Uruk-hai. He shook his head, noticing he had long locks of hair, caked with rapidly drying mud. He extended his long upper limbs before him, remembering again the names of the parts of this powerful body. ‘Arms, hands.’ He said inwardly. Looking down, he did the same, naming his chest, belly, legs, and feet. Finally, he looked in awe at something that hung long and thick down below his navel, and below that limb, two sacks of firm flesh. ‘I’m male,’ he considered this, although it didn’t say much to him, other than that part of his anatomy defined him as a male, whatever that word meant.
The Orc was still thinking about what to do next when a new sound filled the galleries: machines, Saruman’s machines being crushed, exploding. ‘Who is Saruman?’ His head was reeling with thoughts, ideas, and concepts. He groaned; the noise was now closer. The deafening sound and the whirlwind of images inside his head were sickening.
His nostrils caught a sudden whiff of something burning. Fire! roaring, scorching...coming his way. The Uruk ran from the heat; his newly awakened body proved what it was made for. He was fast on his two muscular legs, but the fire moved like a storm of flames, chasing him in its unstoppable flow through the tunnels. He was tireless and kept running, leaving behind the maze of galleries, until his nose smelled it: Sewers! Just ahead!
Those were dirty waters, a repository for all the filth produced by the Orcs and Wargs inside the tunnels. It was revolting and stank, but it served well to escape from the fire. The Uruk-Hai launched forward, his body diving into the dark pond. He swam away, noticing it felt natural to him, even easy. As he was midway to the other side, he stopped, floating lazily in the middle of the repulsive, detritus-filled waters, and he watched the fire extinguish. He decided it was better to continue; if the fire was rekindled, he might not be so lucky this time.
He stood naked, the mud cover washed away, but he was soaked with the vile water from the sewers. The Orc groaned. He was wet, dirty, tired, thirsty, really hungry, and for the Valar, he reeked! “And who the fuck are the Valar!” He roared, honestly pissed off.
Uruk-hai or not, he was scared when he heard a new sound, something was flowing through the tunnels, and this time it was not fire. He had only enough time to take a powerful intake of air, and after that, he was carried away by the current of water. He tried to go with it, but the lack of air made him dizzy, and he felt his lungs burning. Then, when he could not hold his breath anymore, he opened his mouth, and the current came to a dead end. It changed from a horizontal flow to an almost vertical column that made its way through a crack in the ceiling; the force of the water burst open the vault, and the resultant stream rose in the air like a violent fountain.
The orc was bodily tossed up and out by the resultant spurt of water, landing some feet away. He coughed, half-drowned, and bruised all over, but very much alive. He rose to his feet and looked in wonder at his surroundings. Among the debris, many bodies were lying scattered on the ground, all of them were snaggas. Some were drowned, obviously caught by the flood like him. Others were in terrible condition, some mutilated beyond recognition, torn apart, and others were squashed as if a giant had stepped on them.
“Brother, lie down, or they will crush you too.” A nervous whisper, coming from behind him, made him turn around.
It was a Snagga; he was lying among the dead, pretending to be lifeless. The horrid and pathetic creature looked at him in shock as if realizing something was amiss.
“What are you? Did you come with the Tree-monsters? Please don’t kill me, we are defeated, I surrender…”
‘Tree-monsters?’ he thought, then he saw them. Giant creatures, walking through the ruins, crushing under their tremendous feet every unfortunate Orc that crossed their path. He let himself fall to the ground, close to the common orc, stayed motionless, his eyes half closed, and waited.
“What are you?” The pitiful orc whispered.
“I am the Uruk-Hai that will beat you into a bloody pulp if you don’t shut up.”
The small Orc closed his mouth and stayed motionless, faking his demise, yet looking at the Ents destroying whatever was left of Isengard, everything but the tower.
“Look, they are leaving, they are here for the damned wizard. Once they are distracted, we can run”. The little orc whispered.
The so-called Uruk dared a glance toward the gigantic creatures and noticed how they were now reaching the Tower. Somehow, he knew they could not destroy it, but it seemed nothing stopped them from trying.
“Yet, my brother, you need some clothes. You can’t go far in nothing but your hide. The ones from these fellows would do.” The smaller orc said.
This last watched intently at the so-called Uruk-hai. At first, he thought this was one of the Orcs Saruman created, in body shape, demeanor, and dark skin. Though looking at him closer, he was decidedly less dark than the usual, and that face was absolutely no Orcish. Green eyes, straight nose, and high cheeks? Those features were too similar to Elven or human ones, to say the least. And what about that mouth and teeth? The lips were not chapped, even looked full, and although he had big and pointed fangs, a whole set of eight ones long and sharp, there were many others not suited for the Orcish hard food; he had never seen those white teeth on orcs, not even on the very young ones.
“What are you looking at? Have you never seen a naked orc?” The ‘Uruk-hai’ growled while hastily stripping one of the corpses that looked taller and stockier than the common orcs.
The face of the dead one was almost human, and the soaked clothes were not orcish. So that one had to be a half-orc. Somehow, he knew that half-castes existed in the rows of Saruman’s armies. The clothes seemed ill-fitted, as if they had been inherited from a larger family member. ‘Or a dead enemy, no doubt.’
“I hadn't seen a Uruk-hai so close, I dinna work near the ‘nursery’, are all of you that well hung?” The disgusting orc was watching the masculine bits of the Uruk. Regular orcs were not big, not in body frame, nor virile assets, so someone with such endowment was a rarity.
“Stop watching me like that at once!” Dressing in the cold and wet garments was very uncomfortable, but it was better than being stark naked and before the prying eyes of the other orc. He took out the boots of the corpse and noticed they were finely crafted, not commonly found in those lands, and there were some designs in the leather…’These are Elven boots, and the clothes are too.’
When he stood, dressed, and with the boots in place, he noticed, with utter surprise, that everything fit him shapely. ‘It is not good, Uruk-hai are not built as Elves or humans, we are stronger, we are bulkier, we are…’
“You look like an Elf!” the smaller orc declared in a surprised whisper.
“How dare you !” The Uruk roared.
“Shut your trap, or those monsters will kill us. Now, follow me, we need some things for our journey.”
“Journey? Where are we going?”
“As far away from here and the battles as we can. My guts tell me that this war is not going to end well for Orcs.”
TBC