Megania had been running for some time now, maybe an hour or so. Despite the fact that most people don't normally run fifteen minutes at a time, let alone an hour, he was not yet tired. Maybe it was the fact that (s)he was physically fit back on Earth. Or maybe it was his new Orkishness. Uruk-hai were built to run.
"Hey, you, Elf-boy. What's your name?" asked one of the Uruks who had so rudely put an end to Megania's Elvish fantasies.
"Megania," he hissed.
"Meg-ahn-ya? What kind of manly Uruk name is that? Oh right, you're still on that Elf kick eh? All right then Me-Megania." It was clear that the Uruk-hai wasn't used to stringing so many vowels together in one sentence, let alone one word. He said the name "Megania" quite slowly and took special care to enunciate the foreign sounding word. "What's your real name, then?"
"Megania". Megania was just now realizing how stupid his name really sounded. He racked his brain quickly for anything that sounded "Orcy" but only thing he could come up with under all that pressure was "Shagrat". There was no telling if this band actually knew Shagrat or not, so he used the backwards spelling for Shagrat, instead. "I mean, my name is Targash. What's your name?"
The Uruk eyed Targash suspiciously but he couldn't come up with a decent theory why Targash would have to lie about his name, so he put his suspicion aside and answered. "The name's Wazhur."
Just then, another Uruk began to speak to them. "That was a funny stunt you pulled back there, Targash. I hope you don't think you're going to get away with it. Shagrat is usually the joker, he might be angry that you stole his idea. You're lucky he ain't on his punishment phase anymore. I'm Ugrot, by the way."
Shagrat? Punishment phase? Why the hell couldn't I think of something more original than "Shagrat" backwards as a name? I'm gonna get my ass kicked is a sample of the many thoughts running through Targash's mind at that moment. Targash hoped Shagrat would forget his "funny stunt" by the time the troop stopped for the night.
There was no such luck. Targash had forgotten that the Uruks seldom stop when on a mission. He'd also forgotten that Uruks prefer to run at night. At least he wasn't tired.
Targash was getting hungry, however. I wonder if there is any lembas in this stupid, sunny field. Wait- I don't like lembas anymore! Elvish food is for pussies. I want blood. And I want that fucking sunshine to go screw itself. We just have to be walking through a Valar-loved stupid little meadow. Those wild flowers are making me sick. I wouldn't even touch a flower if it meant I never had to see the sun again. I'm starving. I might touch one of those stupid retarded flowers for food, though. Bloody food. But I wouldn't touch a pink flower. Maybe just a purple one, but not a fucking pretty pink one.
"When do we eat?" Targash grunted.
"Tomorrow in the morning," yelled the leader, "and if you back there won't shut up, you won't eat until we kill those Mirkwood Elves off. You can eat Elf."
Several audible groans were heard. Some thought the prospect of eating Elves was amusing; maybe it tasted better than mortal flesh. The rest found the idea disturbing. Why would anyone want to touch a clean-washed, singing, laughing Elf… let alone eat one?
Targash gathered from the talk around him that they were headed towards Mirkwood. The mission was to kill off as many Elves as possible, "'cause Sauron said so". For a fleeting second, Targash retreated to his old self, as a female on Earth, lusting after Legolas. That was him only several hours ago. Now his job was to kill all Elves, even Legolas, if that's what it came to.
"Oi! Elf-boy's getting' sentimental, is he? Does Elf-boy want some flowers and sunshine? You look very happy in that daydream of yours, and that's pathetic."
"N-no," Targash stammered.
"Good. If you want flowers and sunshine you can stay here, you soft little wanker."
"Who are you to call me a soft little wanker, you suck up? Just because you stay at the front doesn't mean I owe you anything!"
"I'm Shagrat, you miserable excuse for an Uruk. Call me a suck up again and you'll wish for the rest of your life that you had sucked up. Show some respect and stop screwing around. We have a mission."
Ah, so it was the dreaded Shagrat. If it was at all possible, Shagrat smelled worse than any other Orc in the troop. Targash knew that if he didn't straighten up, Shagrat probably could kick his ass just from sheer experience.
That didn't stop Targash.
Targash lunged at Shagrat, giving a loud grunt when they hit the ground. "I'll give you miserable, if you want miserable," Shagrat shouted.
Shagrat unsheathed a black dagger and attempted to stab his opponent in the gut, but missed because Targash was already on his feet again. Targash jumped in the air, curled himself up and landed hard on Shagrat's torso.
Shagrat gasped and dropped the knife.
"That's enough! Get them apart!" the Orcs' leader shouted.
Several Uruks began to tear the two away from each other while the leader Uruk continued to shout, "you stupid rats thought you could get away with it, eh? You'll be punished for sure. Get those two away from each other!"
It seemed, however, that for every Orc or Uruk in the group that was attempting to separate Shagrat and Targash, there were two more joining the fight.
The leader ignored his Orkish instinct, though he very much wanted to join in, and unsheathed his blade. "I am Lugrat! Hear me!"
Just then, Lugrat thrust the sword into the back of the nearest Orc, who just so happened to be Wazhur.
-------8--
