Chapter One
She licked her cracked, dry lips with her black tongue and tasted blood. As the overgrown male orc advanced on her once more, she rolled her shoulders. Only one of them would walk away from this fight.
"You think you can best me?" the male asked in Black Speech as they circled each other.
"Yes, I do think that. And I know that I will, dirtbag," Lukanrat spat back at him in Common Tongue. She hated using Black Speech.
The other orc roared and charged. Lukanrat ducked his wild swings and charged too, bracing her shoulder for impact. She slammed into him with all the force she could muster and knocked the foul breath from the other orc's lungs. They landed with a loud thud on the cold ground and the male's head cracked on bare stone. Dazed, he was unable to react before Lukanrat's strong hands wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze.
The other orcs of the tribe stood back as they watched their leader struggle with this ferocious attack by the pale-skinned female orc. None of them were sure how the fight had started, but they all had figured that Gulog could handle one female. Until he tired and she did not. They watched in a sort of awe as their invincible leader's struggling slowed and finally halted altogether.
Lukanrat only released her grip when she was sure that the brut's heart and stopped forever, then she stood up to her full height throwing back her broad, white shoulders and wiped the black ichor off her chin with back of her hand. "Anyone else want to try to lay a hand on me?"
Her challenge was met with silence as the other orcs coward away from Lukanrat. Now that she had killed the leader of the group, that meant that she now had all of the power, but she didn't issue an order to follow her when she spun around on her heel and ran. She looked back over her shoulder a few times to see if she was being followed, but she was alone which was good. Lukanrat had to reach the mountain before Azog's army did and warn everyone of the danger.
Even though she was an orc, she felt all her life as if she'd been born into the wrong race. She'd pretended to fit in, but she knew that the other orcs were evil creatures and they repulsed her. Human flesh was disgusting to eat as was everything else the orcs ate and did. Her twin was the perfect orc, a hardened killer and unusually intelligent. And so was she. She could kill an other orc without batting an eye and her wits had saved her life many times, but she had never killed a member of any other race. Men, elves and dwarves she had seen as good and therefore did not try to kill them. But since she was so obviously an orc, they had tried to kill her many time. She held it not against them, it was to be expected.
Lukanrat ran until her legs gave out. She usually had a lot of stamina, but not this night after that fight. She collapsed on the ground and cursed her lack of energy. Time was running thin for the ones she wanted to help, the ones she longed to be like.
(Break)
The Lonely Mountain loomed above her and Lukanrat sighed in relief. She had ran as fast as was possible and arrived just as the sky in the East began to lighten, but now she had to talk to either the leaders of the Men and of the elves or the dwarves. Which would be more likely to try to kill her on sight? Tough question. Lukanrat decided to go to the dwarves who resided in Erebor. Maybe one would listen before she was killed. Death was one thing she was sure of.
She crept around to the barred front gates of the mountain kingdom and looked up. There was a light on the top of the wall which meant that there was someone on watch. She smiled and picked up a rock, throwing it as hard as she could towards the light to gain attention.
The attention she wanted was given to her when a young looking brunette looked over the edge. "Who's there?"
Lukanrat took a deep breath and waved her arms. "Here. I wish to speak to your leader."
The dwarf did a double take and just stared. "Azog the Defiler?" he asked in disbelief. The she-orc rolled her eyes. "No, I am not he. My name is Lukanrat and I need to talk to Oakenshield."
"You look like an orc from here. How do I know that I can trust you?"
"You don't know. Just tell Oakenshield that there is someone who wishes to speak with him urgently. I mean you no harm, but you don't have to take my word."
The dwarf hesitated before answering. "Alright. Stay right where you are, I will get him."
Lukanrat nodded and sat down, cross legged, on the ground. That could have been a lot worse. The young one could have shot an arrow at her, but he didn't. He could have got others, but he didn't. Maybe he thought she was just some incredibly pale woman. She shook her head. Unlikely, but it was a flattering thought.
She waited patiently for a little while, but soon began to grow tiered. Right when she was beginning to contemplate scaling the wall, a deep voice spoke through a hole in the wall. "I am King Thorin of Erebor. Who are you and why do you demand to see me?"
Lukanrat stood and bent over to look into the hold from which the voice came. Her bright blue eyes met the gaze of Thorin. "Let me in. I am unarmed and I come with news."
"What do you call yourself? Speak quickly," Thorin snapped. Lukanrat bit back a sarcastic reply and kept herself from rolling her eyes. "My name is Lukanrat. Let me in."
"What sort of name is that?"
"Let me in first."
(Break)
There was a collective gasp when the dwarves saw her and then, after the initial shock wore off, they reached for their weapons. Lukanrat had already figured that they would respond that way and raised her hands over her head.
"I am unarmed and I mean you no harm."
"Why should we believe an orc? I say kill it now," said a bald, tattooed dwarf who was favoring an axe.
"Because I have news that could save your lives. You can kill me now and die later or hear me out, then kill me with a chance of survival. Whichever you prefer," she answered.
"Why would we believe that?" the brunette that had been on top of the wall asked, but before Lukanrat could respond, an older looking dwarf with a white beard said, "It would do us no harm to hear what he has to say."
Lukanrat smiled which probably didn't look too good what with her pointed, yellow teeth. "Thank you, my lord. But I must correct you. I am no 'he'. I am a she-orc."
"Are there such things as girl orcs?" the young brunette whispered to another young-looking dwarf that was blond. Lukanrat fixed him with a look. "Why would a male lower himself to the rank of a female? Do you want me to strip?"
"No! That is not necessary," a dwarf with an odd hat and drooping mustache said. "It's just that we didn't know there were female orcs. We sorta all thought that the orc population grew by the corruption process. That's all."
Lukanrat shrugged. "Reasonable, I suppose."
"I still say kill it. It looks too much like Azog for my liking," the tattooed dwarf put in again.
"Ah, I knew you'd bring that up. I'll give you that detail after I tell what I came here to say if you don't kill me first. Do you want all the details or shall I condense it for you?"
"Condense it. If it interests me, then I will ask for the details," said Thorin Oakenshield.
"May I put my arms down? They're starting to ach."
Thorin grunted. "Dwalin, Kili! search her first."
Tattoo Dwarf and Brunette Boy stepped forward. The poor young one looked rather nervous, so Lukanrat tried not to smile. "It's okay, boy. I hardly ever bite."
"Very reassuring," the boy muttered as she was patted down. Lukanrat chuckled, but it sounded more like a growl. "Just don't get frisky and we'll be fine."
She heard the boy gag a little and bit back a full outright laugh as the other dwarves glared at her, especially the blond.
After a thorough search, the two dwarves were finally satisfied that she was indeed carrying no sort of weapon. The only thing she could use to harm was her body, but she was being closely observed by all thirteen dwarves and one… What was that curly-haired creature? Oh, well. Not important.
"Alright then," Lukanrat said as she plopped down into her cross legged position again. "A condensed version of my story would be this: Azog has gather a large army and is marching a big, old frontal attack right towards this mountain to hopefully take you by surprise and slaughter you all, dwarves, Men, and elves alike. But his son is the one leading to main attack which will come from the North and crush you completely. If you make a treaty with your pointy-eared, barry-crowned not-so-much-of-an-ally and that man they call Bard, you may have a slight chance of winning. A slight chance, I repeat."
"And the details?" several asked at the same time.
Lukanrat smiled again. "I knew you'd care. Azog is not just working by himself in this. It is a whole big plot formed by the Mastermind of Evil himself; Azog is only his pawn. The one you all thought was defeated has returned and with vengeance on his mind. He will capture this mountain and use the victory to gain strength to take back the one thing he needs to take a physical form. The One Ring. Sauron the Deceiver is very much alive and he has his eye fixed right here. If he can take Erebor and all her riches and wipeout the Line of Thror at the same time, well, he's basically won before the war's begun. I did not mean to rime, by the way."
"If this is true, why are you telling us? You're an orc, you should want us to die," the blond said.
"Smart question. Do you love orcs? Neither do I. I hate my people more than anything else in this world and I want my brother to suffer humiliations galore. I want to see him die by the hand of his worst enemy."
"And who is your brother?" asked the white bearded dwarf.
The she-orc sighed and closed her bright blue eyes. "You all thought I was he. We are twins, both tall and pale, both intelligent and strong. He marked me with the same scars that he put upon himself, thought it was funny when snagas were confused about who was who. We've tried to kill each other many times over the years, hate each other greatly. My brother is Azog."
There was a silence and Lukanrat opened her eyes to look at the dwarves, her gaze landing and Thorin. "You hate my brother like I do, therefore I hold you in the utmost respect, for what that is worth. You were the one who stood before him with only an oaken branch for protection and took away his left arm, the hand he favored. You deserve to stand over him as victor and that is a sight I would like to live to see. I know that because I was born this creature, you want to kill me and I probably need killing, but I beg you to let me live to see my brother die. If he reaches the Abyss before me, it would humiliate him even in death. Keep me locked up and chained if you like, but please let me live until he has died, then do to me as you like."
All the dwarves and the furry-footed creature looked to their leader. The young blond cleared his throat. "Uncle?"
"Take her away and lock her up in a room that she cannot escape. Set a guard by the door at all times and make sure her hands are bound behind her back. I do not trust her, but I believe that last part. She looks like him," said Oakenshield. Lukanrat stood and bowed her head. "Thank you, King Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."
End Chapter
A/N: Hello! So I really have no idea where this story came from, but I hope you like it. I know that it's impossible for an orc to be good, but hey! this came from my imagination and that is a weird, weird place to be. Tell me what you think in the little box below and I'll get back with you as soon as possible! Hopefully I will finish this story. Once I figure out where I'm going with it, anyway. Ideas are greatly appreciated.
Again, please leave a review, I love to read them. :)