This fanfiction is something I wanted to try, it's a little different from other fanfictions I have ever read before so, you know, I got thinking about all the characters you usually read about, has anyone ever done an orc based character before? Probably but I haven't seen one so here we are! When you read about Rana, you need to really imagine the most vile, ugly boar like creature you can imagine. It's all part of the moral of the story but I hope you like her, she has been incredibly fun to write about. Anyway, R+R! Thanks!
"Speak." - Black Speech.
"Speak." - Normal.
There are two ways you can look at me. You can look at me and see the ugliest elf, with dark patchy skin, yellow eyes, strong arms and slightly pointed teeth. Or you could see a beautiful orc, with long raven hair like spun silk, pointed ears, defined jawline and skills that could match any other elf you ever met.
My mother, raped by an orc for her incredible beauty, raised me. At first she hated me. She allowed herself to give birth to me to have the satisfaction of killing me, to ease her conscience. However when I took my first breath, I did not scream or cry. No, I sang.
My mother told me it was the beautiful sound she had ever heard. I was ugly, yes, my skin was mottled with the alabaster tones of an elf with the black hide of an orc. My eyes were wolfish but in different lights, they could look slightly golden and they were just as good as any other elf. As I grew I grew tall but broad, muscular arms that I had never worked for simply sprung on me however my overall figure remained like that of a typical elf maid.
When my mother found that she did not have the heart to kill me, that she did in fact love me, she ran away and hid in the mountains with me so that I would be safe from anyone who attempted to kill me. When we were found by a mountain tribe, the chief married my mother and allowed me to stay. However I attracted all sorts of beasts, good and bad. I could speak to any of them, and they taught me the languages they had learned over the years.
Birds sang to me, wolves howled in the night at me, wargs came seeking my presence like I were their master and all kinds of other people searched me out. Orcs and elves alike. When I was fifteen, I was tossed out of the tribe, for that was when my mother died in a landslide. I couldn't save her.
I regret that I could not save my mother when I should have been there for her. I often dreamed of rescuing her in my sleep, racing in and swatting the rocks aside like bugs before lifting her up and carrying her to safety. I had always felt that I owed her my life, since she did not take mine when I was a baby. I roamed from place to place, learning from the animals and teaching myself how to survive. I was skilled with a bow and sword but since I could not afford either, I fashioned a bow myself, albeit poorly compared to the real thing but it got me through the hard days.
My name is Rana, and this is my story. It began with a normal day. I had been walking for hours, drawn to a strange presence, one so overpowering and strong that I could not help but want to seek it out. It tasted like raw power, if that were possible to explain then I would have, but I cannot. It is a taste so sweet and strong that you both want to draw closer and recoil.
I travelled along the back roads, always hidden from sight until I found it. A Halfling, hobbit they are commonly known as, a race I have always found great pleasure in learning about. Whatever it was, it came from one of the hobbits. There were four of them, sitting in The Prancing Pony, looking weather beaten and tired. I took a seat in a dark corner then sat down, watching them.
There was one hobbit who I felt most drawn to by the power, I heard his louder companion calling him Frodo Baggins. He seemed the quietest of them all, with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes that seemed continually petrified but I could not smell any fear from him. I watched with great amusement as he raced over to the other hobbit to stop him from talking but tripped, falling to the ground. Finally I saw it. The object was a ring.
Not just any ring, but the One Ring, Sauron's Ring of power. The moment I saw it, I felt both fear and hate. I did not yearn for it like other mortals might but that might have been because of my mother's immortality running through my veins. I have lived for eight hundred years now.
The hobbit suddenly disappeared from sight the moment the Ring slipped onto his finger. In an uproar of shock everyone jumped away and began to whisper. My eyes darted to the bar where the hobbit sat alone, his heart beating profoundly. I slipped unnoticed through the crowds and grasped his jacket, clapping another hand around his mouth as another group of men tried to move over to him.
They had not stopped watching the four hobbits since they had sat down. "Be quiet, let me help you." I said softly and I felt him relax slightly. I ducked my head and swung my dark cloak around him, completely shielding him from view. I walked forwards behind the wooden columns then watched as a ranger dragged the other up the stairs. "Go after him." I told him then pushed him into his fellows. They instantly darted up the stairs, grabbing various weapons along the way.
I blocked the stairs with my body, watching for anyone trying to get past. When no one tried to follow, I left. I knew that ranger, he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The hobbits were in safe hands. I waited and waited, climbing up onto the rooftops and pulling my hood down to gaze up at the moon.
It was not long before it was cloaked in shadow, the loud shrieks and pounding of Nazgûl thrumming like drumbeats in my ears. My bowstring creaked back as I tensed slightly. I knew what this Ring was, what it could do, I also knew that it was vital that those Ringwraiths did not get their filthy hands on it.
I did not move, merely watched as the creatures entered the pub, a situation that could have been considered amusing if circumstances were different, then waited. When they had finished decapitating the bed sheets, screaming in anger at the loss of their goal. They left with no further trouble.
With no need for me to wait around, I found an empty stall then settled there for the night before setting out on my journey. This was my chance, my chance to prove that I was not a monster.
The wilderness was harsh and brutal to those who cannot survive on it, the hobbits were a race suited to comfortable homes and roaring fires, not boggy marshes and flesh eating flies. I followed them at a good distance behind. There was no need to be so close as to alert Aragorn as I could see them perfectly well from miles away.
They tramped through the quickest, albeit not the most easy, routes before finally reaching Weathertop. That was where they rested for the night. I scouted around to the other side then began to climb up, keeping a close ear out for any predators. However I found I was too late since the Nazgûl had reached the hobbits first. leaped up the last few feet with all the speed I could summon before I leaped up onto the ground and looked up. I watched in horror as Frodo was stabbed, the dark poisonous blood in my veins allowing me to see his slight shadow on the ground and hear his scream of pain.
"No!" I roared like an animal, a trait I had grown to like very much. The Nazgûl whirled around as they saw me leap at them, my cloak just as dark as theirs. I drew an arrow and shot it at them, barrelling around to stand between them and the hobbits.
"Undur kurvrim." (Fat whores) I spat at them. They bellowed their anger then flew at me with their swords. I flicked up a broken end of a branch with my foot then clapped it around one of their heads, ducking low to avoid their blades. I used the make shift weapon as both a club and a staff to avoid their swords. I jumped and leaped out of the way, insulting them in every language I knew. I turned to one of the four and lifted my staff, whipping it back then jabbing the creature sharply before moving to block the blows.
I sensed the another coming up at me from behind so I twisted around, wrapping my hand around the blade and grunting as the sharp cold pain shot through my right shoulder. I gripped on tighter, holding the blade in place as my lips tugged up into a snarl.
"Nice try." I muttered then lifted my club. I hit it so hard over its head, the log shattered. At that moment Aragorn chose to show up, whirling his sword and flames like a Valar, wielding both weapons like some sort of warrior god looking both fearsome and majestic. I pulled away then looked to my wound, finding no real worry with it. It wasn't deep at least.
"Stand back Halflings." I growled at them as they crowded around the gasping victim.
"Don't you dare touch him!" Samwise yelled, leaping up and running at me with his sword. I grabbed his sword arm and flung him aside as gently as possible. He landed about seven feet away on his back.
"Move." I snapped and Merry instantly shot up, dragging Pippin away.
"If it wanted to kill us, it would have done." Merry hissed as I leaned over Frodo. I lifted his shirt away and looked at his wound. Suddenly a blade was shoved under my throat.
"Good evening, Strider. Or would you prefer your real name?" I asked casually, not looking up to face him.
"Who are you?"
"I am called Rana, you may want to remove that shiny stick before I shove it up your ass." I growled at him sharply however Aragorn did not move but endeavoured to place it even further into my throat. Seriously, did he not just see me fighting to protect those idiot halflings?
"What is your business here?"
"Right now? I'm trying to help this fool of a hobbit." I stood then pushed Aragorn away. He was a solid man but I sent him stumbling a good couple of steps before he regained his balance. I picked up my rough knife then slit my hand.
"What are you?"
"A half breed. That is all you need to know." I told him curtly as I dropped black blood into the wound. Orc blood is already fairly toxic, mixed with my elven qualities, it should provide a substantial antidote until he could get to proper healers. The poison in my blood could fight against the poison from the blade.
The orc's blood is the reason I was not affected by the Morgul blade, poisons have little to no effect on me. Right now the most I would feel is a little drained but still, I need to treat the wound properly just to be sure.
"Half of what?" Pippin asked. "I don't understand why you're helping us." I growled at him then stood, pulling back my hood. Everyone either gasped or flinched in horror and disgust, except for Aragorn, he remained still and managed to cover any shock or fear. "Orc. I'm half orc, half elf. I'm a hideous monster who has been hunted for eight hundred years. I would like for people to stop chasing me with flames and pitchforks for just one moment and try to see what I really am."
I glared at them then returned to Frodo. I picked him up then pulled my hood back over my head, covering my face. "Now, you have nine Nazgûl out there, I suppose you're going to need all the help you can get." I said stiffly and the ranger paused before nodded.
"Alright, but I carry Frodo." He stepped towards me and took Frodo from my arms. I noticed how careful he was not to touch my skin.
What do you think? Let me know, please!