By Foul Craft: Redemption of the Fallen
A/N: I've been a lurker since this summer, and I'm so excited about finally being able to make a contribution! There are so many wonderful fanfic writers here. I hope this small offering shows my thanks to you all. This is the first piece I've posted on this website, so be nice with your criticisms, please! (Constructive criticism is certainly welcome, though—it just seems like most flaming is more antagonistic than constructive.) I may not update that often, so be patient with me—I'll get around to it eventually. J
Prologue
Orthanc, Isengard; June 1, 2990, T.A.
Amidst a circle of stones lay an ancient citadel not made by human hands.
The spotlessly stained black spires jutted at sharp angles into the even blacker sky.
Lightning struck the ground, illuminating the desiccated and barren land with a garish white light. Storms had come to this place frequently lately, though not a drop touched the ground.
Deep within the tower, two figures sat together in council. The first: a tall being like a man, dressed in robes that appeared white but that shimmered with the colors of the rainbow when he moved. His hair, long and sleek and white; his hands elegant; his fingers slender; his nose long; his cheekbones and forehead high and noble; his eyes dark and piercing. He was handsome, suave, sophisticated, with a worldly air about him and a charming manner—when he had his way. The second: also tall, though not as much so, with straight black hair, a high forehead, black eyes glittering and beady, a face that would be handsome but for its hideous frowns and more hideous grins. He wore a black cloak over his black garments.
The one in white turned to the one in black. On his face was an expression of utter calm, as if he were discussing the weather. "Are all the arrangements made, Pharanor?" he said.
"Yes, Lord Saruman," replied the one in black. "Project Uruk-Hai is well underway. The gestation, birthing and training centers are ready. Overseers have been appointed for all of them. The volunteer males have been selected, the finest breed of orcs that could be found. They all possess the blood of warriors and will produce excellent stock."
"What about the females?"
"Ah, the human women. Your armies have been sent to procure them, my lord. We have dispatched troops to nearby Rohan, and also to the countries of Near Harad, where you have long labored. They should arrive within a few weeks."
"Is there any chance of failure?"
"No, my lord. Our forces are strong, and their leaders are intelligent—that is, the most intelligent that orcs can be." This last he uttered under his breath in a tone of contempt, and the one in white glared at him. The one in black hurriedly continued. "They will not be discovered. It will be made to look like an accident."
"Good. We are almost ready. Soon I will begin the breeding of a new race, one that will be victorious over Middle-Earth. I will show Lord Sauron that his servant is loyal. And if he does not believe me… well, we shall see." The one in white ended his reflection and focused his gaze once more upon the one in black. "Be sure that the human females are not harmed. They must be kept safe if they are to successfully birth children. And do not let the troops who capture them touch them before the chosen ones do, or the blood of the offspring might be tainted. Bring them to me alive and unspoiled."
"As you wish, my lord." The one in black bowed, and the one in white nodded his head in dismissal.
As black and white mingled together on that fateful night, the earth herself wept.