Names are pronounced phonetically, shouldn't be too difficult
Based off of all five books (LOTR trilogy, the Hobbit and the Silmarillion)
Nestled in the dark and charred plains of Mordor, four miles south of Mount Doom, was the small Orc village of Obeck. Its people were traditional, in that they followed Sauron; they were peaceful, in that they refused to kill their captives, what captives they had; and they were family oriented, in that they valued kinship before Orc or Uruk-hai.
Because the ground was unsuitable for farming, the people of Obeck were surprisingly innovative, for they were not known to create anything good or meaningful, especially in the name of progress. With the use of hanging gardens, by way of elevated platforms, with water drawn from the nearby lakes, they had created their own irrigation system. Because of Mount Doom's treacherous gases and the ash that constantly fell from the sky, they also built their own water purification system, the only one of its kind in all of Mordor.
The village leader was an Orc named Moa, a stout and proud warrior. Standing at seven feet, with broad shoulders and thick tree trunk arms he was a force to be feared. His off white, almost pale skin, a possible sign of lineage to Blog, the Great Goblin's successor. Moa's face however his true nature. His eyes were a smoky grey, romantic, as if they were never clear on what they wanted out of life. Moa's cheek and chin bones were soft, uncharacteristic of Orcs, for Moa was considered at first to be a defect, only rising through the ranks and eventually becoming Chief of Obeck through strength and wisdom beyond his years. Moa's teeth, which had a slight protrusion, like all Orcs of Mordor, were curved in, towards himself. Because of this he was seen as being introspective, despite his relative youth in comparison to other Orc leaders, who were decades ahead of him in age.
Moa was unmarried and he had not taken any concubines, once again uncharacteristic of Orcs. The reason for this was due to Moa's father, the late chief, who was also named Moa. Moa the Greater taught his son many things, to respect and cherish life in all of its forms, to protect and hold all you have, and to give and receive only what you are due and in the proper time and place. Moa did not know where his father obtained the knowledge, perhaps it was from Sauron, which was incredibly unlikely, and more on the lines of a story he told to ease his son. The most likely case, and the one that Moa thought was most true, was that the ideology came directly from the Valar, who had taken pity on the Orcs and their plight of serving the Dark Lord.
The huts of Obeck, like all huts of Mordor, were constructed mainly out of mud-brick, having lacked the wood of the Uruk-hai of Isengard. For ventilation, all huts had a large hole directly in the center, the majority of them having fire pits installed. Moa's hut, on the east end of the village, the entry way facing Mount Doom, was the only exception to the rule. Moa's hut was almost double that of the others, enough for ten Orcs to sit in comfortably. Constructed out of mud-brick and reinforced with lumber directly imported from Mirkwood Forest, costing much of the villager's earnings in Mordor currency, it was the best maintained dwelling in the eastern half of Mordor.
Sitting on a stool outside his hut looking up at the summit of Mount Doom, Moa wondered what it was that Sauron was doing, for the Dark Lord had not been seen in ages, since the day Isildur cut off the Ring of Power. Many thought that he was dead. Others believed he was barely clinging to life. It was rare to find an Orc or Uruk-hai or other Agent of Sauron who believed with a full heart that Sauron was alive, even rarer was the belief that he was planning, scheming, and brooding over the Ring and the means to obtain it.
Due to Sauron's long absence, through whatever means, death, brooding, or silence, the political situation in Mordor was crumbling to say the least. Many, most of them from the northern regions of the land, opted to form their own kingdom, one where they could choose their own leaders and make their own laws. The ones loyal to Sauron, in the west and south, pressured for civil war to smite out the heretics. The east remained overtly neutral, some tribe leaders for independence, and others for eradication. One thing was clear, things could not stay as they were before. Change was coming to Mordor, one way or another.
Moa had been to the Council of Village Elders, he had listened to their plights, their worries and fears.
"It is time for us to make our own way" an elder Uruk-hai, Gortbog, exclaimed, "The Age of Sauron was well and good in its time. But the land is changing now. We have become free thinkers. We must act on it, if we are to survive."
Gortbog was met with cheers and snarls alike, for there were some in the Council, like Basarat, an Orc from Khazad-dûm, who openly defied such radical action.
"To go against Sauron is to go against everything Orcs stand for" Basarat declared, "If we abandon our ways we will have nothing left. We have no concept of self-government, this council alone is heresy. We should disband now, continue as we've always done. Work, enslave, and serve. That is our way. Anything else is cause for ruin!"
At the time Moa did not know what to think, he wanted to believe in old Gortbog, for he respected and admired the Uruk-hai, but at the same time he knew that Basarat had a point, they had been under the old ways for too long and change now would be difficult, long and tedious. They had always been servants, even the leaders were never accustomed to being leaders for long periods of time, for they were either killed in battle or by ambitious opponents. Sauron and the Witch-King of Nazgul were the only true permanent holders of power in Mordor, it was a wonder that those such as Gortbog survived for as long as they did. Moa presumed that it was due to unanimous respect and Gortbog's prowess both with sword and tongue.
Moa could smell the scent of man flesh in the air that brought him out of his daydream like state. He knew it to be Consular Nicholas Tremaine, his personal slave. Tremaine was the former advisor to King Théoden of Rohan, but a string of events, mostly having to do with Théoden's niece Éowyn, caused him to step down from his position. With his dark scraggly hair and uneven beard he looked like he had been crawling through the underbrush and forests of Gondor, the ash and dirt that covered him told otherwise. He was a shorter man than most, often times he was called a tall dwarf amongst his kin, for the Hobbits of the Shire were so isolated that their kind were not known to most of Middle Earth.
"Good evening sir" Nicholas exclaimed as he walked up, the potato sack that served as his clothing a bit cleaner than most, signifying his status.
"Or is it morning?" Nicholas continued, "I can never tell here."
"It's morning Tremaine" Moa answered, "But you do have a point. If the ash from the Mountain would ever subside perhaps telling time would be easier."
Nicholas shook his head, he could tell that Moa was thinking about something important, for the Orc never talked so formally unless it were on important issues or his mind was clouded and, like his eyes, searching for clarity.
"You are not well master" Nicholas declared as he began tearing at his sack, making a makeshift rag, "Here, take this I implore you."
Moa took the rag and wiped his face more out of kindness than anything else. He often thought about Tremaine, if perhaps under different circumstances if they would have been friends.
"Can I ask you something?" Moa began, his voice calm and collected, still in deep thought.
"Anything" Nicholas answered, "Anything you want, just ask and it is yours."
Moa nodded and continued.
"What do you think about a kingdom of Orcs?" Moa replied, "One where we govern ourselves?"
Nicholas shrugged, for he had no opinion on such matters and did not think anyone valued his say in anything, much less politics.
"What are you asking my opinion for?" Nicholas asked confusingly, a bit of surprise in his voice, "I am in some high regard to you that is it valued?"
Moa nodded, for in truth he valued Nicholas' opinion a great deal. Locally, meaning Obeck, Nicholas was not even considered a slave, more on the lines of indentured servant, which although not a significant improvement, was still better than the alternative.
"Your opinion matters a great deal" Moa admitted, "Your strength and courage astounds me, most men in your position have already broken and yet you still find reason to stand."
Nicholas nodded in agreement, for he would not doubt that he was standing, but that might have been because he was grateful that he still had legs and the ability to use them.
"Yes sir" Nicholas said proudly, "And I shall stand by you until you say so otherwise."
Moa raised his eyebrows at this, for his statement was unexpected. It was quite possibly the strangest thing he had ever heard, for even Orcs when declaring loyalty always did so with the idea that the position was temporary. Here, Tremaine spoke of permanence.
"Why?" Moa continued, "When we have taken so much from you, a man who had everything, do you stand by me until the end of time? What reason do you have to live in a place such as this, when we ourselves, who have lived here all our lives, can barely tolerate it?"
Nicholas shrugged and sighed indifferently, for he had often asked himself the same questions. Even he at times had difficulty believing that he was still living, but yet there he was, alive. Something kept him going.
"In Rohan I had everything" Tremaine answered, "Anything I wanted, anything I commanded, was mine. Now all of that is taken from me. I am forced to look at the world differently, through fresh eyes."
He stopped, giving himself time to breathe, the air was rank with Orc stench but he did not care, for he had become used to it.
"When I first came here I thought about how horrible it must be, to live in such squalor, such misery. I thought to myself, 'What else can they do? What else can they be but who they are, living in a place such as this?'"
Nicholas laughed as if he remembered something funny, Moa shifted his body, making himself comfortable as he became invested in the consular's words.
"One single look at this place told me so much about your people" Nicholas continued, "About how little we, Men and Elves and Dwarves alike, actually know."
Nicholas hung his head, as if he was afraid of speaking the next few words, lest they anger or upset Moa. The Orc, seeing this, leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the account.
"Go ahead" Moa urged, "Finish it."
Nicholas nodded nervously, his body began to shake in fear, a sudden chill swept over him as if he were sick or about to faint.
"M-m-May I speak freely?" Nicholas stammered, doing the best communication that his body would currently allow.
Moa raised his eyebrows curiously, part of him did not want Nicholas to continue, but curiosity had taken hold, he was hooked on the account, interested in what the servant thought of his land, of his people. Before Nicholas had courage to speak again Moa already knew that it would not be favorable, for he had already called them weak by taking pity on situations and circumstances they had not thought of before. To them, Mordor was home, just as Rohan was once home to Nicholas and countless others taken into Orc servitude. It was not something talked about in hushed voices or in disgust, it was praised in battle cries and village drinking halls, it was loved, for it was all they knew the world to be. Moa could not think of any other place to live, he could not think of a life as something other than an Orc, for he had no wish to be a human or an elf or a dwarf. As far as he was concerned to desire to be something else was beneath oneself, for he believed, as his father believed, that all things have a place and that place should fulfilled to the best of one's ability.
"I pitied you" Nicholas continued after some time, "That's why I suggested irrigation…purification…I thought that if you had something, a chance, that maybe peace would-"
"Peace?" Moa exclaimed as he stood, "You think your fancy machines are going to bring us peace!"
Moa slapped Nicholas as hard as he could, bringing him to the ground and landing his face in mud, looking up Nicholas accidentally stared up what clothing Moa had, the Orc's genitals, the ball sac in particular, could be seen swinging from side to side as Moa moved from left to right.
"Please" Nicholas exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet, moving backwards in the process "Have mercy on me, I meant nothing by it!"
"There is no peace" Moa declared, "There can never be peace. There is only war and with it senseless death and meaningless violence. No side is guiltier than the other, for Men have committed just as many crimes against my people as we have against yours. And that is only the beginning. If Sauron rises to power again there will be a reckoning, of that there is no doubt. A war, one for the ages. One that even the Valar, with all their might and power, cannot stop."
Nicholas questioned Moa's knowledge of the Valar and why he spoke of them in such a way, To his knowledge, the Orcs had no concept of higher beings, much less beings who brought the world into existence. It was against everything he had not to mention it, for just as he was about to do so, Moa made his way towards the village square.
Nicholas, more because Moa was his master and to have something to do, followed himself without question and in complete silence. As he walked, he thought about Moa's actions and came upon the following revelations-It was understandable that Moa was angry at Nicholas' pity, for he did not ask nor wish for it. It was also understandable why Moa both loved and hated the irrigation and purification systems, for it was good for the tribe and its survival and yet at the same time promoted violence and destruction due to the traditions of Orc society- Nicholas knew that Moa was different, that he did not truly follow the ways of his ancestors, but he also knew that many others did and that Obeck was only one in a sea of a thousand villages, a single drop in the ocean.