Disclaimer: This is a new story I created in that little head of mine, on
the spur of the moment. I had been reading this other book, by Tannith Lee,
called "Wolf Tower", so I got some of my ideas from that, and the writing
style. Thanks Tannith! You're a great Help! Most people and things from
this story are from Tolkein's cool brain, so, they aren't mine ... Ah, yes,
I do recall another author that possessed me to write this, I would like to
give thanks to Kevin Crossley-Holland for his most adventurous books about
King Arthur. They are also written in first person.
--WARNING-- my character may seem "out-of-character" (according to how I write) compared to Tolkein's style of writing: My character may seem like they were born in the present time. So if you think my story needs some constructive criticism, then say it nicely, please. Just not as a put-down, al right?
The Black Book
Chapter One: Hello
School hasn't been going too well for you, now that you flunked your math exam, and a Spanish exam too, while you're at it. After your day's hard work and toil of talking in class, and doodling on your papers that you have to turn in tomorrow, you take refuge in your school's library. One thing that really stimulates your brain-juices is reading, and is the only thing you're really good at, except talking. So, the librarian greets you as you step into the large library, and you say hello too, as usual. You sigh as you put down your heavy backpack on a table, and shuffle over to the nearest bookshelf.
A small little black book drops from the bookshelf you were heading to, right at your feet. It had been carelessly stuffed up there, next to a Stephen King novel.
"That's odd...." You murmur, and pick up the book. No indication on the spine says where it's supposed to be placed. The cover it dusty, and you cough as you brush off the dust. There is no title. You place your hand over the cover, and gently pull open the book. The pages are yellowing inside, but that is all that can be shown of old age.
Funny looking runes are pressed into the first page you open, and then, English words appear. The runes remind you of The Lord of the Rings books you had been reading the night before. The script is easy to read, but a feeling of evil thought and feeling rush into your mind.
"The person who wrote this must have had a rough life," you say, and sit down on the floor. You stare at the pages for a moment, and start to read........
Yes.
This little journal. Well, you may be wondering how I got this black-binded thing. I guess I stole it. From him. That retched orc. Ugh! The smell! He left it there, unguarded, on the dark, shiny floor. Well, finder's keepers. I just-- took it. It seemed kind of pretty, blending in with all the-- well, everything. Barad-dur is really just a big, black, blob. A castle some might say, but to me, a "blob" suffices. My home is a blob. A very large blob, though. Barad-dur isn't the friendliest place. You wouldn't know that, would you, my friend?
I got lost in there, many-a-day. Once he found me and asked where I had been. The armies had to be at the meeting hall at some specific hour-- I can't remember. I said I forgot. After that, Shagrat unbuckled his whip. And, well, I guess you know what happened after that.... The scars are still there. My mother tried to heal my wounds, but the ugly orcs wouldn't let her out of her cell. Got to go, sorry. Meeting hall awaits.
Nothing too exciting happening.
Nothing to write.
NTW.
Ah, now I have time to write more of my story. "But, why do you keep her in there?" I had asked them, fighting back tears of pain and anguish, "She's dying!"
The orcs laughed, their evil, wicked voices ringing in the prison cellars. "Sauron only needed her to make you, you stupid thing!" One of them said to me, and cackled.
Yes. My mother was dying. She seemed so young, and yet, so old. A tear splashed down my cheek as I clung back onto the black, bitingly sharp rails. My mother turned her red, tired eyes at me. Creases lined her face. She reached out, and then her shining gray eyes fell. She collapsed. I cried out in dismay.
"Mumma!" More tears ran down my dirty face.
"Mumma!" I screamed and shook the bars to the cell. They cracked and gave way. Bang! The orcs rushed over and grabbed their whips. Crack! A rope lashed around my arm. Another curled around my leg. I cried out, and fell to the ground. I snarled (yes, I snarled) and pushed up off the ground, pulling the particularly strong, hulky orcs along with me, toward my mother. I collapsed next to her and checked for a pulse. There was none.
"Mumma." I mumbled. I whimpered as I heard hard footsteps come up behind me.
Sorry I had to cut that last one short. Duty calls, and It calls loudly! Evil Shagrat....
Too tired to talk -er- write. Must sleep!
Back to the story.... The orcs grabbed the collar of my shirt, and slung me around to face them. I don't really remember what happened to the orcs after I pulled them to my Mumma. I guess they fell down, or something. All my thought and will was bent on my wilting mother. I am actually glad she died, though.
Day-after-day-after-day I would visit her. And I would see in the dim shadows more lines splay across her face.
When the orcs turned me around, one crinkled his face in anger and punched me in the stomach. Like I said, strong orcs. And I was ten at the time. Ouch....
My life isn't as good as some people may think. Well, many people don't know me either. You even don't know my name! Here, I'll print it for you:
Medri.
My father is a different breed of orc. Now that I think about it, he really was a disgusting creature. My mother, Letoste, had to marry him by force. He is not a great father, because of his "background". (As you can guess, he is still living. Oh, joy.)
My father's name is Virakhu. He is a little Warg, Uruk-hai, Goblin, and some Human. An ugly combination, I know. With the elvish from my mother, the end result was me, poor Medri.
I am the only one of my kind, and should always be. (I hope....) Sauron calls me a Vampyre. He said it came from some elvish word for a bat- creature, but I don't have wings, do I? (Like a great burning eye can talk, more like a disembodied voice that rattles even my cold heart.)
I guess you really don't know what I look like; being some person I made up to talk to. Shall I describe myself to you? Yes, I think I will. No sense reading a book you probably found hidden among pretty leaves scattered on the ground, and not know what the author looks like. Hmm......
I have the structure of an Elf, and pale skin, but my eyes are not the usual gray, or blue, like an elf. They are a piercing blood color, with cat- like slits for pupils (from my Warg and Uruk side). I am quite tall, for an elvish and Uruk-hai mix. I am slender, kind of like a runt orc, limp and willowy, thanks to Letoste. My face is slim, and I have a somewhat rounded chin (I hate my chin.....) I am particularly strong, because of the Uruk, Goblin, and Warg blood that courses through my veins. No leathery bat-wings pop out of my back, now, do they? Sorry, this may seem a little boring. You don't really have to read anymore. Just writing my thoughts........
A Vampyre. I guess that name will haunt me forever. I am really quite likeable, once you get to know me! Anyways, I am immortal. I do have pointed ears, and fangs. Long ones. When I smile, instead of looking happy, I look menacing and scary (Sharke likes that. Well I don't!). I snarl and sometimes roar if I'm really angry (Warg). It's a good thing that I am the only Vamp. I know of, because if the Eye would order more Vampyres to be born, that would be a very scary army he would have (I wonder what the males of me would look like?). Actually, I think the Eye told me that if I bite anything living, with my fangs or course, the thing would turn into a Vampyre too! (Eeewwww..... I don't want to bite anyone's neck!)
Enough with my past, time for the present.......
I walked down the black, dank hallways and really wondered what sunlight is. Mumma used to talk about the brightness and purity of the sun. Maybe the darkness broke her. I bet I would break if I was a pure, beautiful creature, like Mumma, kept in the dark for so long. I pulled my ugly canvas backpack higher onto my shoulder. As I strode down the hallway further, I passed orcs, goblins, and Uruks heading their way to the stinking eating halls. They muttered under their breath as they passed. I'm sure they were definitely talking about me. Great. A rumor. One rather ugly Uruk growled at me, and barred his yellow teeth.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and continued walking. His breath stank really, really bad. He seemed to take that as an insult and grabbed my shoulder, holding me back. The Uruk twisted me around. Its sharp claws digging into my bone.
"What was that?" It said in a deep, gravelly voice.
I growled at him, and pushed him into the wall. "Stupid Uruk," I said, "I need to get to the Eye."
I'm actually not sure if the Uruk-hai was male, or female, because they all look the same, at least, to me.
The Uruk shook its head, " Vampyres.... Bad mother that one...." It said "'Vampyres'" as if it were that acurssed bread the elves make, Leeeeeeeeembas. It started to walk away. I lashed out, and clutched its throat, from behind. I let my pack slip to the ground, and jerked the damned thing around. The Uruk was clawing at its throat like a writhing spider. It made tiny grunts and squeaking noises as I gripped harder on its meaty neck. It was gasping for breath. I had taken out my set of talons. Warm blood washed over my fingers.
"Don't you ever talk about my mother that way, Ever!" I whispered ferociously. I let go of Orc-Elf. It clutched its throat in one final attempt to save its own life. I watched its vain attempt to gather back its blood into its flesh, and then it collapsed with a dull thud. It had no reason to live.......
Other orcs were crowding around us. They stopped to look at the commotion. I glared at them.
"You all better no talk that way about my mother either."
They seemed a bit intimidated. Just a bit.... Oooh.... Scary Medri ... Well, I am really "interesting" looking.
A hulking figure with brawny arms and a Wargish face pushed through the crowd toward me. He had black hollow eyes and a frown creased his already wrinkled face.
"Father--", I said, and raised my finger, wishing that he never had showed up. Virakhu grunted, "The Eye awaits." The crowd hushed, and every yellow, green, gold, and black eye bored into me. I nodded my head, flicked my black cloak about me, and shouldered my pack once more. I pulled my hood up, and walked forward into the crowd. They followed my black figure with there eyes, as it disappeared into the shadows.
--WARNING-- my character may seem "out-of-character" (according to how I write) compared to Tolkein's style of writing: My character may seem like they were born in the present time. So if you think my story needs some constructive criticism, then say it nicely, please. Just not as a put-down, al right?
The Black Book
Chapter One: Hello
School hasn't been going too well for you, now that you flunked your math exam, and a Spanish exam too, while you're at it. After your day's hard work and toil of talking in class, and doodling on your papers that you have to turn in tomorrow, you take refuge in your school's library. One thing that really stimulates your brain-juices is reading, and is the only thing you're really good at, except talking. So, the librarian greets you as you step into the large library, and you say hello too, as usual. You sigh as you put down your heavy backpack on a table, and shuffle over to the nearest bookshelf.
A small little black book drops from the bookshelf you were heading to, right at your feet. It had been carelessly stuffed up there, next to a Stephen King novel.
"That's odd...." You murmur, and pick up the book. No indication on the spine says where it's supposed to be placed. The cover it dusty, and you cough as you brush off the dust. There is no title. You place your hand over the cover, and gently pull open the book. The pages are yellowing inside, but that is all that can be shown of old age.
Funny looking runes are pressed into the first page you open, and then, English words appear. The runes remind you of The Lord of the Rings books you had been reading the night before. The script is easy to read, but a feeling of evil thought and feeling rush into your mind.
"The person who wrote this must have had a rough life," you say, and sit down on the floor. You stare at the pages for a moment, and start to read........
Yes.
This little journal. Well, you may be wondering how I got this black-binded thing. I guess I stole it. From him. That retched orc. Ugh! The smell! He left it there, unguarded, on the dark, shiny floor. Well, finder's keepers. I just-- took it. It seemed kind of pretty, blending in with all the-- well, everything. Barad-dur is really just a big, black, blob. A castle some might say, but to me, a "blob" suffices. My home is a blob. A very large blob, though. Barad-dur isn't the friendliest place. You wouldn't know that, would you, my friend?
I got lost in there, many-a-day. Once he found me and asked where I had been. The armies had to be at the meeting hall at some specific hour-- I can't remember. I said I forgot. After that, Shagrat unbuckled his whip. And, well, I guess you know what happened after that.... The scars are still there. My mother tried to heal my wounds, but the ugly orcs wouldn't let her out of her cell. Got to go, sorry. Meeting hall awaits.
Nothing too exciting happening.
Nothing to write.
NTW.
Ah, now I have time to write more of my story. "But, why do you keep her in there?" I had asked them, fighting back tears of pain and anguish, "She's dying!"
The orcs laughed, their evil, wicked voices ringing in the prison cellars. "Sauron only needed her to make you, you stupid thing!" One of them said to me, and cackled.
Yes. My mother was dying. She seemed so young, and yet, so old. A tear splashed down my cheek as I clung back onto the black, bitingly sharp rails. My mother turned her red, tired eyes at me. Creases lined her face. She reached out, and then her shining gray eyes fell. She collapsed. I cried out in dismay.
"Mumma!" More tears ran down my dirty face.
"Mumma!" I screamed and shook the bars to the cell. They cracked and gave way. Bang! The orcs rushed over and grabbed their whips. Crack! A rope lashed around my arm. Another curled around my leg. I cried out, and fell to the ground. I snarled (yes, I snarled) and pushed up off the ground, pulling the particularly strong, hulky orcs along with me, toward my mother. I collapsed next to her and checked for a pulse. There was none.
"Mumma." I mumbled. I whimpered as I heard hard footsteps come up behind me.
Sorry I had to cut that last one short. Duty calls, and It calls loudly! Evil Shagrat....
Too tired to talk -er- write. Must sleep!
Back to the story.... The orcs grabbed the collar of my shirt, and slung me around to face them. I don't really remember what happened to the orcs after I pulled them to my Mumma. I guess they fell down, or something. All my thought and will was bent on my wilting mother. I am actually glad she died, though.
Day-after-day-after-day I would visit her. And I would see in the dim shadows more lines splay across her face.
When the orcs turned me around, one crinkled his face in anger and punched me in the stomach. Like I said, strong orcs. And I was ten at the time. Ouch....
My life isn't as good as some people may think. Well, many people don't know me either. You even don't know my name! Here, I'll print it for you:
Medri.
My father is a different breed of orc. Now that I think about it, he really was a disgusting creature. My mother, Letoste, had to marry him by force. He is not a great father, because of his "background". (As you can guess, he is still living. Oh, joy.)
My father's name is Virakhu. He is a little Warg, Uruk-hai, Goblin, and some Human. An ugly combination, I know. With the elvish from my mother, the end result was me, poor Medri.
I am the only one of my kind, and should always be. (I hope....) Sauron calls me a Vampyre. He said it came from some elvish word for a bat- creature, but I don't have wings, do I? (Like a great burning eye can talk, more like a disembodied voice that rattles even my cold heart.)
I guess you really don't know what I look like; being some person I made up to talk to. Shall I describe myself to you? Yes, I think I will. No sense reading a book you probably found hidden among pretty leaves scattered on the ground, and not know what the author looks like. Hmm......
I have the structure of an Elf, and pale skin, but my eyes are not the usual gray, or blue, like an elf. They are a piercing blood color, with cat- like slits for pupils (from my Warg and Uruk side). I am quite tall, for an elvish and Uruk-hai mix. I am slender, kind of like a runt orc, limp and willowy, thanks to Letoste. My face is slim, and I have a somewhat rounded chin (I hate my chin.....) I am particularly strong, because of the Uruk, Goblin, and Warg blood that courses through my veins. No leathery bat-wings pop out of my back, now, do they? Sorry, this may seem a little boring. You don't really have to read anymore. Just writing my thoughts........
A Vampyre. I guess that name will haunt me forever. I am really quite likeable, once you get to know me! Anyways, I am immortal. I do have pointed ears, and fangs. Long ones. When I smile, instead of looking happy, I look menacing and scary (Sharke likes that. Well I don't!). I snarl and sometimes roar if I'm really angry (Warg). It's a good thing that I am the only Vamp. I know of, because if the Eye would order more Vampyres to be born, that would be a very scary army he would have (I wonder what the males of me would look like?). Actually, I think the Eye told me that if I bite anything living, with my fangs or course, the thing would turn into a Vampyre too! (Eeewwww..... I don't want to bite anyone's neck!)
Enough with my past, time for the present.......
I walked down the black, dank hallways and really wondered what sunlight is. Mumma used to talk about the brightness and purity of the sun. Maybe the darkness broke her. I bet I would break if I was a pure, beautiful creature, like Mumma, kept in the dark for so long. I pulled my ugly canvas backpack higher onto my shoulder. As I strode down the hallway further, I passed orcs, goblins, and Uruks heading their way to the stinking eating halls. They muttered under their breath as they passed. I'm sure they were definitely talking about me. Great. A rumor. One rather ugly Uruk growled at me, and barred his yellow teeth.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and continued walking. His breath stank really, really bad. He seemed to take that as an insult and grabbed my shoulder, holding me back. The Uruk twisted me around. Its sharp claws digging into my bone.
"What was that?" It said in a deep, gravelly voice.
I growled at him, and pushed him into the wall. "Stupid Uruk," I said, "I need to get to the Eye."
I'm actually not sure if the Uruk-hai was male, or female, because they all look the same, at least, to me.
The Uruk shook its head, " Vampyres.... Bad mother that one...." It said "'Vampyres'" as if it were that acurssed bread the elves make, Leeeeeeeeembas. It started to walk away. I lashed out, and clutched its throat, from behind. I let my pack slip to the ground, and jerked the damned thing around. The Uruk was clawing at its throat like a writhing spider. It made tiny grunts and squeaking noises as I gripped harder on its meaty neck. It was gasping for breath. I had taken out my set of talons. Warm blood washed over my fingers.
"Don't you ever talk about my mother that way, Ever!" I whispered ferociously. I let go of Orc-Elf. It clutched its throat in one final attempt to save its own life. I watched its vain attempt to gather back its blood into its flesh, and then it collapsed with a dull thud. It had no reason to live.......
Other orcs were crowding around us. They stopped to look at the commotion. I glared at them.
"You all better no talk that way about my mother either."
They seemed a bit intimidated. Just a bit.... Oooh.... Scary Medri ... Well, I am really "interesting" looking.
A hulking figure with brawny arms and a Wargish face pushed through the crowd toward me. He had black hollow eyes and a frown creased his already wrinkled face.
"Father--", I said, and raised my finger, wishing that he never had showed up. Virakhu grunted, "The Eye awaits." The crowd hushed, and every yellow, green, gold, and black eye bored into me. I nodded my head, flicked my black cloak about me, and shouldered my pack once more. I pulled my hood up, and walked forward into the crowd. They followed my black figure with there eyes, as it disappeared into the shadows.