Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or Morgan Howell's novel, Orc Queen. (And as I am a big fan of him I do apologize for taking his title, but it was just too perfect not to use.)
First, this story is going to be a bit uncanon. I say a bit only because I will be using Tolkien's second theory on how orcs came into being. Basically, it states that orcs were once elves who were tortured and corrupted by evil.
Second, the story begins in medias res which is why the conversations that happen in this chapter may be a little deeper than normal.
Third, this is a girl falls into ME story, but I do hope you consider giving it a try since, in this author's humble opinion, it is not so cliche. For one, it takes place after the war of the ring but before all the elves leave Middle Earth.
Lastly, if you are put off by religion this is just a warning for you. It will play a role and it's a part of the plot. It's not huge and I won't Bible-thump or anything silly like that, but Tolkien did write LOTR and because of his own Catholic beliefs religion played a key role in his story concepts. (Then again I am sure everyone knows that.) I don't know, it just kind of makes sense that I would include it too, you know. It's kind of like a tip of my metaphorical hat to him. Anyway...
Now that paperwork is over,
Enjoy!
Orc Queen
Lembas was not what she considered food but more of a cheap cracker. Staring at the Elvin bread so politely offered every night since she came to be with them, Anne was deeply aware of three sets of elfish eyes trained on her as she ate. The waif dissolved on her tongue much like cotton candy would. She never liked cotton candy, but unlike the sugar spun treat Anne had to force herself to swallow the bread. It was either that or starve, but more than anything she didn't want to be rude by refusing to eat.
She wondered what was wrong with her pallet. Lembas bread in the novels was described as delicious, but for her the texture was too bizarre. It was too strange, too light to be filling yet it filled her, and she much preferred the food Murhka had served her. These elves were more vegetarian in their tastes, but compared to orcs most people could be considered vegetarian.
"It's good," she said at last looking from elf to elf. As they looked away, their seeming curiosity satisfied, Anne held in a breath of relief. It was unnerving to be watched eating, especially if the ones doing the watching were extremely beautiful and very much inhuman. And though she had long stopped standardizing her own beauty against that of others, Anne couldn't help but wish that she was outrageously beautiful in their company. An elf's beauty was impossible to ignore, and Tolkien's words did the race absolutely no justice. No words she imagined could and her vocabulary was rather vast.
Regarding the trio of male elves once more, Anne felt a pang of longing for orc company. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and she squeezed her hands together as an image of Baghrad flashed in her mind. How strange was she to miss the company of orcs? What manner of human was she?
Anne dug her fingers into the material of her pants but stopped when she felt three pairs of eyes on her again. Looking up, she smiled slightly.
"Is something troubling you, my lady?" Elrohir queried his handsome, bright features soft and concerned.
Anne shook her head. "I'm just thinking. Don't mind me." The handsome elf nodded and turned his attention to his brother Elladan who flashed a quick smile. Glorfindel was the last elf to look away, but when he did it was as if a thousand pounds was lifted off her chest. His eyes were more penerating than the others, more intense in their color and shape, and he oftened regarded her a bit too closely.
Anne finished the rest of her lembas bread in one gulp, keeping her face from twisting in disgust as the bolus slithered down her throat. How did anyone eat this? Or maybe it was just her, maybe it would have been any one from her world, because food in general had a funny, different taste than what she expected. Even what the orcs fed her before and after her enslavement was never very delightful to her pallet.
Anne closed her eyes. It didn't matter, did it? As long as she could continue to live she could deal with funny tastes. She would have killed for a bacon cheeseburger though, or maybe sweet and sour chicken with fried rice and those crunchy cream puffs that cheap Chinese places tried to pull off as authentic. The last thought pulled a tiny giggle from her lips.
Three pairs of eyes were on her once more.
"Erm, sorry."
Glorfindel shook his head, and the movement enhanced the golden hue of his hair. "Do not apologize. It gladdens my heart to hear you laugh."
"Yeah, okay." Anne said unsure of how to reply.
The golden haired elf regarded her momentarily before going back to his food and quietly conversing with the twin elves. She knew they were Elrond's sons from what she remembered of the books. It was funny how she only just learned to pronounce their names despite knowing of them for years. Elvish words and names pronunciations were difficult for her to grasp – they were much too fluid and musical. She much preferred the orcs' Black Speech.
The four of them finished their meals in silence and it was only when Glorfindel stood and held out his hand to her that they all began to move.
"Come," he offered with his soft voice, not completely male or female in quality, and very much not human. Anne stared at his hand. When she made no move to rise his voice softened. "I will do you no harm, my lady."
He did not say it, but the implication was there. I will not hurt you like the orcs. Anne felt herself heat and bit back an angry retort, his silent words stinging her.
What would happen if she defended the Orcs? She was no coward, but what could she say to someone who hunted orcs and, she didn't want to think it, but hunted them for good reason? There was no outward hatred, he did not even say their name, but Anne felt herself clamp shut. Mordor ruined the person she'd once been and she clung onto the only thing, the only creatures she had come to trust. The orcs. Her family.
"I know you will not." Anne wiped her hands on her loose, dirty pants to keep her silence. "But I am capable of walking without your assistance. There are no mountains or dangerous looking hills. We're in a flat forest, I'll manage, but if there are any dangerous looking roots I will consider calling upon your aid."
There might have been a slight quirk of a smile on Glorfindel's face, but she was certain that one of the twins snorted. Glorfindel bowed to her. "Very astute, but I shall make sure when we do arrive at any such dangerous impediments I will be there to assist you."
His meaning went unspoken: He wanted to keep an eye on her. They did not trust her. It was natural and she did not blame them.
Anne wanted to laugh, to be as open and friendly as she remembered herself to be, but here with this race she felt open and naked. She'd been ripped away from the orcs, a people she felt comfortable amongst, into a race that was considerate and kind to less pigmented humans, weary of darker, but the enemy of her adopted family. If she were to make one wrong move it would be over.
Her skin was not light like theirs, not like the Gondorians or the Rohrrims, but olive hued. They were already weary of her because of her skin color. They were kind to offer assistance, their innate goodness would not allow them otherwise, but if they knew who she was and whom she was associated with they would not understand. She was unwilling to take a chance and think they would.
In the end, Anne chose not to say anything and followed Glorfindel to a small stream where he told her in the most inoffensive yet efficient fashion that she could use this time to relieve herself of any physical discomfort. If he thought she would take offense or be embarrassed, of which Anne was neither, his surprise went unnoticed and he left her with an "I will be near".
Quickly relieving herself, Anne looked towards the river not yet ready for the elf's company.
The solitude was lonely. Orc camp fires could be heard for miles on good nights, safe nights where they would camp where no other race would dare to go in the dark. They were wild and reckless, filled with fighting and roaring of all types. More so after the war when they knew no human or elf was near. This silence was terrifying, the elves were terrifying, and as much as she wanted to throw herself in the river and float away Anne knew that she was safer with a group of elves then alone.
The idea loomed in the back of her mind as she padded lightly into the river. It was shallow as far as she could see in the moonlight, but she refrained from wadding any deeper. The cold current wrapped around her ankles gripping them in a soft, yielding hold. Moonlight play along the ripples bouncing off indiscernible objects. She breathed in the cold, textured air from the nearby mountains and felt her muscles uncoil and thoughts wander to places better left untouched.
"God, please send me home."
It was neither the first time nor would it be the last she would ask, but just saying the words comforted her. The moon was wide and white, very different from how it appeared in her bright city, and she knew deep down that she would probably never see such a sight again. Maybe would never be able to go home. Her place was here. For some reason, she belonged here. For how long or why she could not discern.
Home.
Anne wondered if time here was the same as over there. It was a thought that usually passed her mind. She'd lost count of how long she'd been in Middle Earth but she supposed that a little over two years had passed. A tight feeling gripped her heart. Two years. Her parents, her friends, everything gone, ripped away that strange night some two years ago.
The pain had eased because she remained focus on the future, but at times when she let the thought linger the edge of strained pain was still present. For her family, for her own sanity Anne was determined to persist. She had to move on and try to be happy, but doing that was much harder than she ever expected.
The river churned and swirled in the dark and the sound of lapping waves pulled her deep into a memory.
Anak's ugly face swam before her.
"Break!" A harsh, hoarse growl shouted into the purple air of Mordor.
Everyone stopped, fell to their knees or leaned against whatever was near, and Anne awoke from the stillness of her mind. She let herself sink down to the pliant earth digging her bleeding hands into the semi-fertile soil and breathed in the smell of Mordor. The scent of death around her was too much to bear.
The smell of earth, the smell of black fresh water, was pleasant enough to overcome the others. Sweat dripped down her nose and sunk into the ground. Her chest heaved unsteadily with rapid breath. She felt more than saw people stepping around her, their avoidance a particular cut in her side, as they left the fields. She could barely stand and yet they did not wander near her.
Above her the clouds rumbled with either thunder or the strange magic fire from Mount Doom she'd often see at night. Exhausted she stood and walked back towards the slave camp but did not stay after she received her meager meal of bread and water.
She found her place in a shady corner of the fenced camp and sat against the wood. It rose twenty meters above her and along the upper edges there were planks that orcs could patrol and watch. What she liked best about them was that they provided shade, and since trees were sparse the planks were welcomed.
"Mag'har," a familiar orc voice called out. Anne turned at the name and found an unwilling smile come to her lips.
"Commander Anak," Anne whispered in acknowledgement placing a piece of hard bread into her mouth. It cut the roof of her mouth. "How are you this fine day?" It was both sarcastic and truthful and Anne did not look up at the orc as she spoke.
"You are sad." He said not kindly or cruelly, but his horrible voice was cold and the Black Speech he used was more so. His yellow eyes pierced her skin, and she tried her best not to show him the effect he had on her. But he knew, he must have known.
Orcs were portrayed as stupid in the novels she read as a teenager, but many were not what one would consider dull. They were different. They viewed things differently, thought out things slowly, but were far from dimwitted. They were good at sensing sadness, hatred, and loneliness and were called to it almost as if like bred like and misery attracted misery.
"Yes, very." Anne answered honestly pushing back the hair from her face. In front of orcs, Anne never had a reason to lie. They didn't care one way or the other.
"Sad but you smile." Anne nodded again straining to understand his Black Speech usage. "You make no sense, Mag'har. Tell me why you smile."
"It's hard to explain, Commander." She replied in his language, and he dug his booted foot into her side painfully, a sign of a threat. Colors exploded across her eyes as he picked her up only to throw her roughly back down.
Anne knew he would do nothing more than push her to the ground, but the fear still tingled down her spin. It hurt, but it wouldn't kill her. Still, being knocked to the ground was not pleasant.
"I smile because frowning won't make me feel better." Anne chewed on her bread feigning indifference to her throbbing body.
"You could kill one of the other men," he said as if were the easiest thing to think of. "I would not care, and they do not like you."
"Does killing make you feel better? I don't think it would make me feel better about this." She said motioning around her.
Talking with Orcs was like trying to explain the ideals of vegetarianism to a lion. They did not mix, and strangely she could not blame them.
Their natures were different, and she was willing to be open to them so she could try to relate, to understand. Knowledge was power, and besides what else was she to do when her own kind hated her? If trying to relate to an orc was a sin then so be it, because she would rather do that than do nothing but hate them. Hate only birthed misery.
"There is no such thing as feeling better for us Orcs, Mag'har," Anak explained, but his words were hard to get a hold on and she had to struggle to understand him. She blinked up at him as he stared at her with his large yellow eyes, protruding and bug-like. "There is only what there is to do. If we hate, we kill. Simple."
"I wonder if life can be so easy." He did not answer her immediately but when she did there was a strange note in his horrible voice.
"We hate, and that is all. Hate is simple and easy."
"Hate is easy," Anne agreed with a shrug. "But why chose hate, why not freedom?"
And then Anak laughed long and hard and spoke in a way that she never heard any Orc speak.
"Can you be free with the other slaves who hate you?"
Anak.
His words struck a cord in her that day so long ago. Who could be free in a world such as that? What the orcs faced was much greater than her own problems and yet they persisted as they always did. Their souls were indomitable almost in their ability to push forward be it evil or not.
That day she began to understand them more than she would have liked, but that knowledge had proved invaluable. It helped her survive with them before and after the war when the other humans tried to hurt or abandon her. Not that she could blame them. They had been scared and out of their minds after months and years of torture, of living in the shadow of Mount Doom, and unlike the orcs, so used to darkness, most of the humans couldn't cope. She had barely remained sane.
Yes, compared to others her troubles were nothing. She was human, a darker skinned one, but human nonetheless and could survive in this world. Orcs would forever be hunted down like animals, unable to be free or have a moment's peace. She had a choice - she could be free, but that freedom itself would be difficult to grasp.
Anak's face and countless others swam before her vision.
"God, help them." The prayer escaped from her lips before Anne could stop herself.
"God," a luminous voice, for there was no other way to describe it, spoke softly behind her. Turning she saw Glorfindel leaning against a tree, looking at her with that unwavering, deep expression Anne had come to associate him with. "What is god?"
Despite herself, Anne felt a familiar quirk in her lips. "I'm not too sure myself." She felt suddenly mysterious, puzzling. When he looked at her, his beautiful face was titled and his eyes were steadily focused on her. She turned away.
"I do not have much contact with humans," Glorfindel shared pointedly, almost apologetically stepping closer to the river's edge. He held out a pale hand to her. "Do you often speak to yourselves?"
Anne walked back up the small slope of the river bank. "We all do at times," and she replied lightly.
"Ah," he breathed noticing her distance from himself. "And do you speak to this god often?"
Anne bent her head down and kneeled on the river bank. She reached into the cold spring fed river and felt the slippery moss on rocks. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Only when I am uninformed." Glorfindel answered without hesitation. "Is this not the same for you?"
It was. Ever since she was a child what came out of her mouth most was questions. She thought in questions and rarely had answers, but she would not say that to him.
Her reflection was a shadow on the water compared to Glorfindel. The elf beside her glowed and radiated confidence and peace. Anne had force herself to remain wary, to not trust these elves though she knew, without a doubt, she could because they would be good to her so long as she remained honest with them. Honestly was hard for her especially as lies became easier to spin and tell, especially since she knew they wouldn't understand why she chose to remain with orcs. Thankfully, she was able to play off lies as easily as truth. Her memory was long, her stories sort and direct. Lying was too easy at times.
Anne turned away from him feeling herself uncoil, a desire to actually speak with Glorfindel rising up within her. She felt momentarily like that girl she had once been.
"God is Eru, but it is much more complicated than that."
"Eru is Eru, what is there to question?"
She shook her head, but the simplicity of his statement caught her attention. "It is that simple," Anne agreed, "and it is that difficult. I come from a very different place with very different views on Eru."
"Such as?" She turned to look at him. His face was thoughtful and interested. He smiled encouragingly. "I am always interested in hearing about Eru."
"Well," Anne said stretching out of the water. "That's good to know. At least, we have a topic to talk about. That's something I guess." She smiled trying to be polite, funny even though she was not sure if he would catch her dry sarcasm.
Then the elf did something unexpected. He threw back his head and laughed, loudly. His golden hair glowed in the moonlight, his skin softly illuminating the ground, the brush, and trees around him, and inexplicably Anne felt the gap between them widen.
Glorfindel was almost too beautiful. She remembered a Bible story: when Moses visited God in the form of a burning bush he grew older each time as if his body could not stand the presence of such power. She did not care if the story was allegory or truth, she felt as if her body grew weak and old in this elf's presence. He was too bright, too intense, too real.
"You do not seem so excited about finding that we share something in common." He said noticing her faraway eyes.
Anne stepped out of the water. "Why?" she shot back not unkindly. "Are you?"
He held out a pale yet golden hand to help her out of the muddy embankment for the second time, but she shook her head and trudged to the top. "I have to say that I am." He smiled gently. "We can speak of our beliefs while we travel. It will ease the boredom of long days."
Anne looked away from the golden lord. The forest was dark and she was not quite sure of the path they had taken. It was somewhere off to the right, and she was sure she could find it but she let Glorfindel lead the way. His softly glowing figure was easy to follow.
She was about to bite out that she would prefer not to discuss personal beliefs before she could stop herself. She didn't want to be a big jerk. Smile, be pleasant, be funny and clever and gain their trust. It was just much easier to be contrary, too ingrained into her nature for her to ignore, but Anne managed to do so.
"You are so very quite." Glorfindel commented slowing down his gait and walking next to her. He looked at her with silver green eyes, like an emerald river in moonlight, his face no longer laughing but neutral and serious at the same time. "Are you well?"
"I could just be quiet person." she returned quickly her dark eyes piercing his silver green ones.
"No," he shook his head, his voice firm and confident. "Your eyes say much." At her questioning glance he explained further. "You have laughing eyes."
"Excuse me?" Glorfindel was looking at her intently.
"Your eyes," he began his fingers waving before them. "I see much laughter in them, yet I am an old elf and I feel more aptly than most of my kind. I know you have much sorrow but even still..." His expression darkened and his voice deepened. "For one so young you hide much, Anne."
Her real name. Not my lady. Anne swallowed and prayed that that was all he saw, that he didn't see her lies or fear.
"It's natural to be sad about many things, but life is too short to waste on sorrow." Anne found herself saying dryly, a smile playing along her lips.
He nodded. "These past days you have been with us I've see you look at everything around you, even me," he admitted sounding a little put off, "with the slightest trace of humor. Humans are indeed strange, so emotional and yet so emotionally detached."
"Some more so than others," Anne whispered under her breath. "Is it not the same for elves? Are you always not so composed?"
Glorfindel fell silent for a moment before speaking. "When we are young are emotions rule us, and it is a struggle to master them. Elves feel the pull of our emotions strongly, more strongly than humans do." At this he fell silent for a moment. "I have lived long and have mastered my emotions, but even still I am not as apt as I would wish. That is why I find you young humans who can control such powerful emotions, as I know they are for you, astounding."
"Where I come from people would call me indifferent." Anne replied scratching her head, unsure if he was complimenting her or just commenting.
He grinned. "You have that mocking look in your eyes again."
"I sound like a terribly disagreeable person." She teased.
"Not at all, my lady."
When they got back to camp, Anne quickly said her goodnights and made her way over to her pallet. She stared up at the moon for a long time, unable to rest, because her thoughts.
Anak.
Her family.
Her laughing eyes.
She wondered what would happen to her once they reached Rivendell, what she would say to Elrond or if she would say anything at all. It had been years and she never once revealed her true origin. Did it really even matter anymore? The war was over, the fellowship disbanded, Aragon now rightfully king, and she had no great knowledge of what happened now.
The future was unwritten and she was lost within it's pages.