Disclaimer:I don't own Lord of the Rings, or anything affiliated with Lord of the Rings or the wonderful world created by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, nor will I ever try to take credit for his glorious work.
This is a heavily -what-ifish- story. I have read some stories trying to portray orcs in a better light, but most of them have made a story that's no longer about orcs. They're creatures that look like orcs, but in reality are more peaceful and loving than hobbits in the attempts to make them good. The problem is that orcs are evil, or at least actions we judge as evil are in their nature. We wouldn't buy a brand new Mercedes just to run over an old lady and her dog; it's not in our nature. An orc wouldn't spare a prisoner his torture. It's in his nature to cause pain.
(I have yet to learn what the term AU means, but if it's anything akin to 'Heavily modified by the writer! Read at your own risk!' then this story fits pretty well with that.)
I have no idea where this story will go, if anywhere. I'm entering the turf of the man who literally introduced the fantasy genre to the modern world and I'm terrified I'll desecrate his works.
Anywho the point of this story is to try to implement orcs into the story from a different side than just enemies, while still keeping them orcs. Expect all of them to be evil by instincts, expect some to be truly malignant as individuals. And please forgive me for any Mary Sues.
*******************************************************
(Takes place after the formal founding of the Fellowship, when all the servants have departed and the Ring is back in Frodo's pocket.)
*******************************************************
No sooner had Bilbo left the gathered crowd and closed the door behind him that a lone figure toppled down the roof with a startled yelp. As to the identity of this new arrival, Frodo could not tell, for everyone had risen from their seats with their weapons ready. The elves strung their bows, the dwarves assumed battle stances and Aragorn and Boromir swiftly did the same. Gandalf stretched his arms out to the side and pushed the hobbits behind him.
"Ashes of elves and slime and slugs!" The being cursed a coarse croak as it stood up, immediately adopting a perplexed expression at the dozen weapons focused upon his throat. Now Frodo literally recoiled, and Gandalf held his staff forward. This terrible cretin, for Frodo could find no other word to describe it, stood crook legged and with long, hairy arms and a face that looked like it had been pushed against a paved road during infancy. Its eyes were red and the blood from its split lip was as black as tar. Its teeth were yellow, misshapen fangs and at its belt was a curved sickle, turned into a weapon of death and torment.
"A goblin!" The terrified whisper came from Peregrin and so pale Frodo had not seen his cousin since their encounter with the barrow wights. But yes, forcing himself to look again, the creature matched Bilbo's bedtime stories perfectly and he was dearly grateful Bilbo had been spared the sight.
One of the elven envoys spat in disgust and let loose an arrow at the intruder who only barely avoided certain death by throwing himself to side, cowering into the shadows. "Hold!" The voice held such command that none could refuse. Striding forward with his arms outstretched Elrond spoke again and even GlĂ´in sank back into his seat on reflex.
"Hold my kinsmen and guests! Stay your anger and sheathe your blades. Blood has not been shed in Rivendell in many lifetimes of men. No enemy can pass into my domain without my knowledge, as you all should know. This," he paused momentarily as if uncertain what words to utter next "creature has not come before me unexpectedly. In fact I have been aware of his arrival for quite some time, as is the custom of welcoming," again he paused, biting his lip with deep regret at the next words to come "of welcoming envoys."
The scene exploded in outrage, anger and frustration etched into every face and voice. Elrond tried in vain to placate the crowd as voice upon voice assailed him, demanding reason, demanding explanation and uttering such words as are better left forgotten. The hobbits all called and shouted for the wizard as the feet of the tall folks pushed them further away from him. Distraught and caught in the chaos, the hobbits fled to the nearest archway, and came face to face with three new arrivals, all as hideous as the one trying to wrestle free from the grasp of men and dwarves. "Gandalf!" Frodo called at the top of his lungs, and the grey clad wizard forcefully pushed his way through the crowd.
Turning his head around, Frodo immediately wished he had not, for the shortest among the three looked back and forth and grinned, a most terrible sight. It was cruel and malignant and relished in the chaos. With a harsh laugh it barked a single word that was unlike anything the hobbits had ever heard. It reminded Frodo vaguely of the Black Speech, but bore no resemblance to any elven words he had ever heard, but more horrifying than anything was its effect.
With their arms wrapped around their ears, every elf crumbled to their knees with tear stained cheeks, screaming as if in great pain. The dwarves and men were stricken as well, but their reaction was not one of pain, but fear, pure and unadulterated. Even Gandalf seemed shocked and took a step back. Only the hobbits seemed unaffected by the horrors of this, surely a cruel and dark spell from the darkest corners of Mordor. The lack of reaction did not go unnoticed, for the being that had spoken it seemed disappointed. That however quickly changed as it eyed the others about him. Walking over to Elrond, the orc knelt down beside the half-elven lord and grinned viciously. "My apologies, Lord Elrond." There was no compassion or regret in his voice. "It seemed necessary at the time." Frodo expected to hear more, but the orc held his tongue, drinking in the pain and suffering he had caused with venomous glee and for a second, Frodo feared he had come face to face with the Dark Lord himself.
"It has been long since last I heard that language," The hobbits turned around and their hearts immediately rose to see their cherished wizard regain his composure. "I had hoped I never would again." The orc merely stepped away from Elrond and shrugged his shoulders.
"Happy I could reacquaint you with it." But Gandalf completely ignored the orc and knelt by Elrond's side, carefully helping the recovering lord back into his seat.
"If you are done with your little playthings, perhaps you would like to release them from your hold so we can be done with this damnable business." Came a voice, dark and impatient, from one of the orcs, large and covered in thick plates and black warg furs. He wore a crown of wild hair and a large beard that made his head seem little more than a face peeking out of a bush of black, unwashed hair that fell over broad shoulders and a fat belly. In his hand he held a hammer too heavy for a man to lift with one hand, but a handle too short to wield efficiently with two. And with what fangs he had left, and they numbered less than a dozen, he sneered at his companion.
"They are under no spell, Mobdush old friend. The master's language has great power, as you would do well to remember." Retorted the short orc and indeed, all around them, the elves and men and dwarves stumbled to their seats, albeit still shaken and mystified. Legolas was the first to speak. He knew well the temper of dwarves and was certain they would only make matters worse.
"Milord Elrond," he paused briefly to inhale with a soft breath. "Never before have I questioned your intentions or your state of mind," Again he paused and everybody lent him their ears. "But you give me little choice when you accept emissaries from Mordor, let alone at this hour."
"I am too am forced to share his opinion, milord. Nothing good has come from Mordor and their actions here today clearly testify that." Spoke Aragorn and the whispering from the crowd echoed his opinion."
"I admit I am puzzled by the trust you place in these wretched orcs." said Gandalf, his voice lending reason and calm to the bewildered crowd. "But I have never known you to be rash or make any decision without thorough consideration."
"I thank you, Gandalf, and no, this decision has not been taken lightly. But times come that calls for unorthodox actions, and a time such as now has not been seen in an entire age. I tell you Sauron's strength only grow, not wane, and thus I am forced to explore every possibility to halt the tide, no matter how little they appeal to me."
Tired and uncertain, the elf lord lowered his shoulders and let his words sink in as a discomforting silence ensued. Gandalf was in his seat and supported himself wearily against his staff with the hobbits at his side. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged concerned glances and the envoys of men sat in incomprehension. Only the dwarves seemed remotely calm, but each of them had a pipe in their mouth and such amounts of smoke rose one would think Rivendell was caught in a blazing inferno.
"My pardon, milord." Elrond let his gaze fall to the origin of the voice and Samwise Gamgee took a deep breath as the elf lord's eyes fell upon him. He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity and inclined his head for the hobbit to continue. "It's not really my place to say, I suppose, milord, for this is the first time I've seen an actual goblin and,"
Now the little hobbit had caught the attention of everybody present. To calm down the frightened hobbit's nerves, Elrond leaned closer. "Yes?"
"Well, as I said, it's not really place to say. I've only heard stories of them and suffered none from them myself, so I'm not sure which are true," He looked over his shoulder, and his face paled at the sadistic grin from the shortest of the orcs staring directly at him. Swallowing loud enough for all to hear, he whimpered and managed to stutter a barely coherent sentence. "b-b-but why d-do you trust them?"
If not for the seriousness of the situation, Elrond would have smiled warmly in gratitude. It was just the question he had been waiting for. He placed his hands on Sam's shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly before sending him back to Gandalf, and away from the orcs.
Rising to his full height, Elrond lifted his arms above his head to get everybody's attention.
"You ask me why I trust them, and I say I do not. I more than any of you would like nothing more than to see them dead." He lowered his arms and let them relax at his side and began walking slowly and looked each of them in the eye for emphasis. "You ask why I accept envoys from Mordor, and I say I have not. Had they come for the Ring, I think none can now agree that they could have done so already. They have come under another banner, with a cause I have heard and found sound, as reluctant as I am to admit it."
Boromir raised his voice quickly, only barely avoiding interrupting the elven lord. "Then whom do they serve?" He all but demanded.
Before Elrond could respond the orc who had fallen from the roof strode forward with a long pike, a black bundle of cloth tied around the top. He was both taller and thinner than his companions and clothed in leather rags with bits of torn mail underneath and on his head a tall helmet with a nose guard, obviously ancient elven in origin. "Lo and behold, unworthy cretins! For you bask in the presence of the true Dark Lord!" And with those proud words, proclaimed in a voice zealous and fanatical, the orc untied the bundle and revealed a war torn banner.
***************************************************
That's the first chapter. I hope you'll read it and tell me what you think and that it's not too scandalous.And for the record, Gandalf is not struck by the 'spell', only shocked at hearing a word from a language he thought dead. If I fall into the trap of Mary Sues, Gandalf will never be weaker than them.
