This is something I first started to write eleven years ago as a sort of parody of the types of fics I kept seeing back then (TV Tropes would've been super useful for reference). It very quickly deteriorated into shameless Orc/Elf silliness, but at least it kept having fun with cliches! I wrote 37 chapters of this before taking everything offline for various reasons (all of them ridiculous), and I'll keep posting them as I edit some of the worst clumsy phrasing and such.
They moved swiftly in the darkness of the forest, glad for the absence of the sunlight. Even if it did not turn them into stone like the Trolls that lived in the mountain-caves, it made their hunger-weakened bodies practically useless for pretty much anything but for panting and moaning in pain. And as much as the Uruk-hai mocked them for this weakness, they knew better than to send the smaller, weaker Orcs on their missions into the crippling light of the sun. Cruel enough they certainly were to do that, but they were also smart enough not to send their grunts to an almost certain death; after all, who would then do all the boring practical work for the fighting Uruk-hai?
This was another hunting and gathering night for the Orcs. Nearly mad with starvation, they had sneaked into the forest that was rumoured to be inhabited by Elves; a foolish thing to do under any circumstances, but hunger forced their hands, and hunger dulled their senses.
It was no surprise, then (though it was very annoying), that at one point one of the Orc chasing something that resembled a rabbit eventually bumped into a tall figure in a display of stunning carelessness. The tall one was caught by surprise and fell with a thud, as did the Orc. For a while the poor creature could not even breathe; he was sure that any moment now there would come an army of Elves with their bows and swords held high, ready to slaughter him. It was just the kind of luck an Orc might expect. To think that he had managed to survive the War of the Ring, but was going to die during peace in an attempt to find food!
However, when all he could hear was the voice of the Elf cursing silently and the noise of his fellow hunters approaching, the Orc found the courage to stand up, seize his 'prey' and call out to his companions.
"Gruzlak caught an Elf!" they whispered, surrounded him and had the Elf tied and silent in no time. With great caution, they gathered what little they had been able to catch and managed to leave the forest for their home in the nearby mountains uninterrupted. Their homeward journey was a lot merrier than it had been in ages. Now the Orcs had food and an Elf as well.
"I wonder what they'll do to him, Krazum," said Gruzlak, glancing at the couple of low-ranking Uruks that had nobly deigned to chaperone the lesser Orcs on their mission. "Will they make breakfast of him or turn him into one of us?"
"Little one, I've told you only Sauron and Saruman have made Orcs. Those slavering fools wouldn't know how to turn an Elf into a pile of dung," replied Krazum. Someone nearby opened his mouth to say something about a certain someone called Morgoth, but as he knew what Krazum was like, he thought better of it, shook his head and shut his mouth.
"By eating him?" guessed Gruzlak, who was eager to be on good terms with Krazum and thus spent much of his time trying to impress the Mordor-Orc. Against all Orc-logic, it worked; instead of mocking him cruelly for stating the obvious, Krazum laughed a terrible laugh in response and patted his little shoulder.
Somewhere behind them, the unfortunately nocturnal Elf was doing his best to not fall off the shoulder of the Orc who was carrying him. He seemed to have a special talent for getting in trouble with unfriendly creatures, often captured by mountain-trolls or Orcs. Especially Orcs. He had a knack for being there whenever a band of them went by with the full intention of raiding any village in their way, destroying property and capturing people to be their slaves. What had made it worth his while when he was young and less picky was the fact that usually there was always at least one ruggedly handsome Man or a less ruggedly handsome Elf to rescue him - and later on, as his tastes became more refined, he had learned to appreciate the prolonged company of the Orcs instead. In fact, for a long time now he had been quite looking forward to it.
Suddenly the Orc carrying him dropped him to the ground, making him wheeze out a very unelvish curse once more. Of course the Elven youth knew what to expect from Orcs. They were rough and cared not if their prisoners felt a tad uncomfortable in their hands, and while getting thrown around like a sack of potatoes wasn't quite his thing, the youth had to wonder if there were any other things Orcs might like rough.
Trying very hard not to grin at that thought, he had some difficulty getting into a sitting position with his hands tied behind his back.
"'ere, what're you smirkin' at?" grumbled the Orc in an unsurprising accent, rubbing his shoulder. "I thought you pointy-eared bastards were s'pposed to be lighter than that. We're takin' a break, so stop making faces before you ruin it fer me."
"As you wish," the youth said with a light tone, taking full advantage of the opportunity to admire the Orc's muscular physique. Perhaps it was wrong of him to find such a hideous creature attractive, but his loose set of morals made sure he didn't dwell on such trivial matters for long.
"You tryin' to disrespect me?" growled the Orc, apparently failing to recognise what exactly the stare meant and mistaking the Elf's tone of voice for an attempt to be flippant. Bringing his face very close to that of the youth, he lowered his own voice to sound more dangerous. "You'd do well to remember that I could tear your pretty face off without even usin' my hands. These teeth aren't sharp just to look nice, so don't get cute with me! Understood?"
The Elf shivered with lust as the hot breath of the angry Orc swept his face in the cold night. His head light and the redness of his cheeks deepening, he forced himself to look into those glowing orange eyes.
"Yesss," he breathed, voice trembling. The Orc nodded in satisfaction, but frowned a little. Bad as he seemed to be at reading Elven body language, the boy had made him just a little bit suspicious.
"I hope you've taken good care of the brat, Gorakh. Chief Gorluk won't be pleased if you spoil him before he gets to do anything, you know," said one of the other Orcs, who were now approaching their captive. With a syllable-free growl, Gorakh sat down to chew on a miserably small piece of meat. The other Orc nodded at the Elf. "Got a name, then? Chief doesn't like to share and we do need something to laugh at."
"Anguelen," said the Elf, "and I'm not a brat. I'm already three hundred..."
"Shut up! We didn't ask you for your life story. We came to tell you wormbrains that we're moving on, so don't bother to get too comfortable! And you, 'Anguelen'... hope you don't mind a bit of running, because that's what you'll be doing for the rest of the way back to our home." With that, the Orcs left Gorakh, Anguelen and the smaller Orcs who always tended to get left behind.
"Vile bastards," Gorakh muttered. "'ardly 'ad any time to sit down and eat... At least I won't 'ave to carry you 'round anymore, Elf-boy. Get on your feet!"
The rest of the journey was full of the merry cursing of the Orcs and an occasional whiplash. Anguelen rather enjoyed it.
As the brave raiders returned to their home at the mountains, the cover of night was already slipping away to let the dawn tickle the face of the earth with her rosy fingers. Had said raiders themselves been poetic enough to see the sunrise that way, they would surely have threatened to bite the fingers off the tramp if she couldn't learn to keep them to herself. But being coarse and uncivilised creatures, they merely resorted to more swearing. Anguelen had started to pick up most interesting words of Black Speech and different dialects of Orkish.
They halted before a miserable-looking cave that was partially hidden by sad little trees. Krazum cleared his throat and bellowed in a voice that didn't sound any clearer than it had before: "Oi! Moglurz and Thraknash, get the Chief! We've got food!"
Seconds later, a huge Uruk emerged from the cave, flanked by a particularly nasty-looking smaller Orc and another Uruk. Chief Gorluk bared his teeth in what was the most terrible expression Anguelen had ever seen on the face of one of his kind. He also noted that the leader of the Orcs was unbearably, incredibly hot.
"By the darkness of Utumno. If it isn't my band of stalwart warriors." Stepping closer to Krazum, he showed off his set of magnificently pointed teeth a bit more. "And here I thought we'd have to start eating each other again. Next time you go hunting during a famine, don't take all night! What've you brought, then?"
Without a word, or any semblance of grace for that matter, Krazum flung the dead animals to the ground. Then he motioned for Gorakh to bring Anguelen before Chief Gorluk. The great Uruk's eyes flashed in the lingering morning twilight, and he looked at Anguelen with the kind of dark intensity that never failed to make the boy swoon.
"Elf," he stated the obvious. There was unholy joy in that single syllable uttered, and his expression was downright demonic. "Oh, how I have longed to get my hands on an Elf..." Breathing deeply, as well as making Anguelen shiver at the sight of his heaving chest, Gorluk bared his teeth once more in a twisted smile. "Free him."
Gruzlak untied the rope that bound Anguelen's hands together and didn't really have any chance to stop him after that. The Elf had spent a good portion of the night being pawed by foul beasts that he, for his own twisted reasons, found unbelievably attractive.
So when Anguelen dashed at him at incredible speed and tackled him to the ground, Gorluk was too stunned to do anything to defend himself. Looking up, he saw the Elf gaze down at him in a... in a passionate way, Morgoth curse them all. Gorluk gulped. He tried to squirm away from Anguelen, but the Elf was surprisingly strong. Giving him a disturbing grin, Anguelen spoke to him in a voice so husky that if Gorluk hadn't been frightened before, he was now utterly petrified.
"So now that you have your hands on me," Anguelen breathed (although it was quite obvious that it was he who had his hands on Gorluk and not the other way around), "may I have a guess at what you intend to do to me?"
Gorluk made an attempt at speech. When it became obvious that his vocal cords had gone on strike for the time being, the Elf went on without waiting for his input.
"From what I know about Uruk-hai, I'd say you are not going to go easy on me... You Orcs seem to like tying people up, so you'll probably want to do some of that... use that big whip..." at this point, Anguelen's voice dropped down and the look in his eyes turned so hot that Gorluk thought his pupils were going to start smouldering, "...and ride me like a stallion of Rohan."
Somehow the shock allowed Gorluk to regain control of his gift of speech. Even if his voice kept raising ridiculously high with fear, he was certainly going to use it. "I... I... I am not interested in Elves that way!"
"That's what they always say..."
"For Saruman's sake! Help me!" The few Orcs whom the shock had not rendered completely incapable of moving rushed forward and lifted Anguelen off Gorluk. They were, however, quickly forced to release him when he decided to turn his attention to them instead. "Moglurz! Thraknash! Get that Elf and carry him away from here! Far, far away!"
The two quickly did as they were told. As soon as they left the part of the mountain that was still shadowed, Moglurz started feeling rather ill in the light of the sun and could barely help Thraknash carry Anguelen. Finally, the Uruk decided to free him from his task.
"Why don't you go back to the cave, and I'll take the Elf away from the mountains?"
"Now why would you do that, lad? You wouldn't be trying to one-up me again to look good to the chief brat?" panted Moglurz, ready to keel over.
"Nothing like that, you old coot, I'm just trying to be nice to you for once. Just go back to your cave and tell Chief Gorluk that I promised to get rid of the Elf." Moglurz looked at Thraknash with something resembling reluctant gratitude and turned back to the shadows. The Uruk put Anguelen down to let him walk on his own.
After a couple of minutes of walking, Thraknash tentatively broke the silence. "So... you're called Anguelen, then?"
"Yes!" exclaimed the Elf, immediately perking up. "And your name is Thraknash, right?"
"So it is," said the Uruk in return. For a while the two continued in silence.
"Will you walk with me to the end of the mountain-path?" asked Anguelen eagerly.
"Those are the orders," replied Thraknash. He was feeling far more nervous than he let on, and suddenly it became difficult for him to speak. The end of the mountain-path was near, and the Elf was to continue alone from there. Thraknash had seen what the Elf was capable of. There was an opportunity to take there... perhaps an opportunity to be taken. "I... suppose I could walk with you across that field. I mean, there's no urgent business in the mountains and I don't mind the sun."
Anguelen smiled mischievously. Perhaps his latest spot of trouble would indeed be worth his while. "But what about the river that marks the end of the field? Will you cross it with me?"
Thraknash glanced at him. "If you so wish," he said.
"And the forest that lies beyond the river? Will you walk with me there also?" asked the Elf, already sure of his victory. Thraknash looked at him again, curiously, and smiled a smile that to any other Elf would have seemed horrible.
"Well if I'm already this far, there's really no reason not to, is there?"
Anguelen draped his arm over Thraknash's shoulders, grinning maniacally from ear to ear. To any other Orc it would have seemed horrible, but Thraknash grinned back. Yes, this definitely looked like something that was going to be worth their while.