Lori trembled in a closet at the back of his small home, along with the rest of his family. It had been years since the song he played on the dunes above, and Lori had paid little mind to it since. The lights of the room were dark, and not a single member of the family made a sound. Two of Lori's brothers were missing.

A few days ago Lori's father had heard something strange on his radio, and decided to head to the nearest settlement to investigate. He hadn't returned since. Lori had tried to use the radio himself to try and find out what was going on, but he couldn't pick up any kind of signal. His father had never properly trained him, after all.

From the ceiling, dust could be seen falling slowly down into the room as the whole earth shook rhythmically. There was little worry that the supports would still be able to hold, but the vibrating back and forth didn't comfort any. The shaking grew more and more intense, a heavy ringing slowly filling all of the family's hearing. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Lori pulled a gun from a holster on his belt, pushing against the wall. Lori had been taught to use a gun, but only against the mutated animals outside, not on a person. Lori was only bringing it out just in case. He didn't know how many people were going to be with them. He really didn't even think the gun would end up meaning anything. Lori just felt slightly more secure with it, though it was a false security.

The hatch into the home proper could be heard as it was slowly creaked open. Several lights could be seen from around the edges of the closet door as people entered the single room, searching the place out.

Lori tensed up. 'How thoroughly are they gonna search?' he wondered. Lori became sure that this was it, that this was the end for him. He had never been especially fond of his family, however when things finally came down to it, he couldn't help but think of them too. But of course, all of that would be for naught anyway.

"Well," a voice said, "Seems like we've got another empty one. Let's set this place ablaze, boys!"

Time seemed to freeze for Lori in a brief moment. Did they say that they were going to set his home on fire? That would mean not just him and his family, but the place he had spent his entire life growing up as well! He couldn't let that happen!

"Wait!" Lori said, bursting out of the closet, and shutting the door quickly behind him. His family tried to pull him back in that brief moment, however Lori moved too suddenly for them to react quick enough. "I'm here!"

About a dozen young men stared back at him. Like most people in the wasteland, they appeared to have not bathed in months. Their clothing looked to be all straps and belts, with extra bits of leather sewn on. Scraps of metal and other pieces of junk were pierced into their skin just as much as their clothing. Most of them had some sort of neon paint either on their bodies or their clothes. Spikes also seemed to be coming out of them from every direction, whether from their hair or their piercings. Some of them carried chains in their arms, while some had gallons full of gasoline.

"Just you?" asked a particularly skinny one of them, "There are no others?"

Lori struggled to not make any sign of panic. "Yes," was all he was able to get out. That caused the young men to laugh.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I am the only one here. Just, please spare my home."

They all snickered. "Yeah, sure, we'll house nice and tidy for yah. Chain him up!" Lori was surrounded by the young men as they threw chains all across his body. Lori had no reason to trust these peoples' words, but it was the best he could probably get at that moment. The metal was heavy and cold as it went around his wrists, ankles, and neck. He was forced onto his knees simply by the weight of it all.

"From now on your name is Worker R-1221. You shall not answer to any other name. You will now work as a servant of the city, where you will labour for the benefit of all people!" The other men, who had been building up in laughter up until this point, suddenly burst out with their loudest guffaws yet. "Alright everybody, let's get back to work! We got a schedule to run here!" The man took a whip from off his belt, and swung it across Lori's shoulder as he was dragged by the chains up onto his feet, up the stairs and, through the door to the outside.

The sky outside was a bright yellow as the sun began to go down. The landscape was a desert of dull brown dust. Just outside Lori's home there were a few scattered belongings: a dust collector, and a few rusty protein generators for food, sucking up whatever sunlight they could get. If one followed the rolling dunes far out enough they might come across another home like this one. Lori's was the farthest south though.

Upon one of the tall dunes was a massive, black, metal machine. The shape of it was bizarre, seeming almost like a small tower of black sheets of metal, rising up in a vague, spiralling pattern. It had slaves all over it, hanging off whatever small outcropping they could find. There were also a couple of unlucky slaves crowding around a bottom area with pedals, trying to get whatever oxygen back into their system as sweat poured off of them. This was their vehicle, or at least what they used as one. Whatever the machine was originally used for has long since been lost to time.

Suddenly, Lori heard the sound of an explosion. He turned around to see his home on fire. He tried to run toward it in order to somehow put the fire out, but the chain around his neck was too tight, stopping him dead in his tracks. He could hear screaming coming from within the small, ramshackle structure. He called out, "No! Please!" All the slavers did was laugh.

"I thought you said this was empty! I guess those screams are just my imagination, then!" He pulled hard on Lori's chain, pulling him in close. "Because if it ain't, then I might just get awfully upset. But it's just all in me head, right?"

Lori stayed silent as the chain was let loose. It was so loose in fact, that if he wanted too Lori could make a bolt to the house, maybe even save someone! He dare not though.

A figure suddenly crawled out of the wreckage, as the fire began to die down on it's own. Their skin was a mess of blood and black char. Their hair was completely burnt off. It was impossible to tell who it was anymore. "Lori…" the figure said, before collapsing.

Lori just sat there and watched, tears streaming down his face. "Come on!" the man said, pulling back against Lori's chain once more. "I haven't got all day."

Lori slowly got up, making his way up the sand dune. The sky began to go slightly orange as the sun continued to set. Lori was hauled onto the huge machine, filled with about a dozen different young men, many of them either asleep or staring down at the dust. No one dared speak. Lori was lifted up onto a ledge along with two other men. As he went up his shirt was stripped from him, and also his shoes, leaving only his loose fitting brown trousers. The same as all the other slaves. After a minute or two of waiting, the vehicle was set into motion.

The vehicle went across the dunes like a ship across a stormy sea, though the noise of it was more that of a wild mutated beast. Lori thought it a miracle that no one was falling off. As they passed they would sometimes see other shacks nestled in the dunes. They stopped at a few of these other shacks, but before long the slavers had decided that they had loaded up enough, and began to head back northeast. The sun was now fully setting, sending the sky into a rich, dark orange or red, as the faint outline of a burning circle could be seen in the west. If Lori squinted, and raised his head, when they were at the heights of some of the dunes, he might be able to make out the Ered Luin far in the distance. Or maybe that was just an illusion of the sand.

Lori did not notice that though. He merely sunk his head down toward the sand. After many hours of journeying across the deserts of the ancient lands of the outcast scholars, Lori fell asleep.

The stars were especially clear that night.

Lori awoke to near silence and stillness. The hum and rumble of the vehicle had stopped. He heard nothing but quiet chatter from some of the slaver leaders down below.

He sat up. Making sure not to slide off the machine, he took a look around. They had stopped in the middle of a vast, flat plain. Like pretty much all places in the wasteland, it was a desert with little to no life to be found. Far in the distance he could just barely make out the outlines of mountains. In one direction, to the vehicle's right, there seemed to be the outline of squares and rectangles, towers leaning upon each other. Lori did not know this, but those were the ancient ruins of a city, likely one of many built by the Elessarian nations long before the bombs were dropped.

Below, a man was being pulled out of the pedals. Or, rather, a body. From how the men spoke Lori was able to deduce that the slave had died of exhaustion in the middle of the night. They were taking this as an opportunity to camp out for the evening.

"I still think we can keep going," one slaver said. "We don't need all the fucking slaves to pedal to keep the engine running! We can keep going."

"They have already exhausted themselves down to the bone" the strongest of them said, "If they all die on us they won't be of any use in the city."

"We have enough slaves!" the same slaver argued, "seriously, we've been out here for fuckin' weeks, when are we just gonna go home?"

"Keep it down!" the other slaver said. Everyone was immediately silent. "We will leave when I say we will leave. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yeh, boss"

"Sure"

"No problem"

They remained mostly silent after that, only a few quietly mumbling to each other. The strong slaver, meanwhile, began to study old maps, putting up marks. Occasionally he would ask a person behind him some question or another. "Did we manage to get that basilisk den?"

"No boss. Last I knew the damn critters were still clogging' up that irradiated river just down yonder." The leader would then nod and add a mark to the map with an old, pre-war pencil.

It continued on like this for at least ten minutes. Lori reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his revolver. He still had it from back home. They had forgotten to check him for any weapons when he got on board.

He made extra sure to be quiet as he put it against his eye. 'This is it!' he thought to himself, 'this is my chance!' He slowly aimed at one of the slavers. He placed his finger on the trigger...

But…

He couldn't do it. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. Maybe it was because there were at least five other men around who would instantly try and catch him. Maybe it was because the other slaves would stay captured and he couldn't bear to leave innocents to die in the city. Maybe it was because he wouldn't have anywhere to go even if he did escape!

Lori's thoughts froze as all eyes from below landed on him.

'Oh…' Lori thought. '...fuck'

Gas in the wasteland was a luxury reserved only for the very wealthy. Any access to oil was mostly far in the east, and even then the ways in which it was dug up and refined had largely been lost. Thus much of the gasoline and oil of the world was purely on reserve. Because of this, if anyone has any sort of vehicles, they were always run by some sort of hard labour, whether it be through animals or people, sometimes with some form of pedal system.

That meant that life was very difficult for the life of a slave

As Lori sweated across the desert, moving his legs up and down in an unending rhythm, this was the sort of thing that crossed his mind. Of course, much of his internal monologue was drawn out of his mind, through both the constant shouting of the slavers above him, and from the heat and exhaustion of pedaling the great machine.

The sun was in full force that day. There was still cloud cover of course, but through what Lori believed to be some form of powerful witchcraft, the more potent rays of the sun still seemed to be passing through. Thus, all of Lori's body seemed to be scorching from the intense heat from above, and even from below. As the vehicle was solid black and made of metal, Lori could take no comfort there either, as all the heat was absorbed and released directly into him.

Around Lori endless desert seemed to stretch on into eternity. There was no life at all. No green or blue. Just the endless expanse of sand brown, with sand brown bushes and sand brown weeds.

As they went on Lori could see small scatterings of junk and debris on the road. 'We must be getting near some city ruins,' Lori thought. He had been to cities on occasion with his family before, oftentimes for scavenging or occasionally to trade with another far off family. Lori could not help but feel that he could see all of human history spread out before him, all in ruin and chaos as he continued on in shackles.

He saw a forlorn skeleton by the road. Not an uncommon site in the cities. Lori pondered what seperated the skeleton from himself.

As the sun began to set, images of the ancient past filling his mind, the ruins of buildings began to appear. Houses and storefronts and collapsed highways. In the distance, gunshots could be heard on occasion. To Lori, it seemed that he could hear whispers and the sounds of irradiated animals hunting in the dark corners of the ruins. The vehicle was ordered to move slow, and for once the slavers were completely silent

They left the ruins, continuing north on into the desert. The ruins were likely a suburb of some greater city. And it was then, when the sun had gone and the sky turned to blood red that Lori saw it.

Filling his entire view was a wall. A wall both ancient and new, built upon the foundations of the old, but raised up with scrap metal and sloppy concrete. The walls were not built in any style Lori could recognise, but in a strange manner with towers and huge arches and pointed shapes. At the front was a gate made with what looked to lori as a net of metal. On both the gate and the ancient foundations, Lori thought that he could see carvings and engravings, however of what Lori would never know.

Lori did know what this wall meant. He had made it to The City. He would work in The City. He would die in The City, likely from some form of radiation poisoning. He had heard of all the tales that The City brewed. He knew what was to come.

Perhaps it was from exhaustion, or even from dread, but Lori did not seem to notice when the gate opened, and he was led inside. Smoke rose up all around him, filling his lungs. Jeers and mockery filled the air, almost blotting out the screams mingling with the noise of industrial machinery. The sky seemed to go dark in an instant.

Any feeling that Lori had still held on to suddenly went numb. He was pulled from the machine by the slavers, checking to make sure he wasn't dead, before they repeated his number back to him. Slave R-1221 simply laid in the mud, closing his tired eyes and wishing that he would awake from this horrific nightmare.

Author's Note

Well, it's been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic! Can't really believe it myself, to be honest, but what can you do? I was satisfied with how I left the fic originally, but I just couldn't get this setting out of my mind, and so eventually started writing more of it after managing to read through the Silmarillion for the first time for research. I actually planned to release a chapter, like, 6 months earlier, but I got sidetracked by other things (anime, mostly). Things should pick up more here, though, as I've dedicated myself to one chapter a week for this fic in order to get myself back into writing! We'll see how that goes, but whatever. Feel free to leave any sort of criticism!