The rain, relentlessly beating on the ground, turned to hail. KaOre sat glumly under the remains of a peasant hovel and counted her fingers to be sure all ten of them were in working order. She's been tracking the Uruk-Hai war party for several days now, day and night, but she was raised in the /desert/, for Grombash's sake, not in a bloody /puddle/. She wondered if getting an Uruk-Hai husband was worth it.
Her sand-colored cloak was thoroughly wet and muddy, what probably saved her life when a small party of creatures trundled by: a dwarf, an elf and a Dunedan. KaOre squinted at them with puzzlement: what was a Stumpy doing in a company of Spike-ears, and both of them with a Weakling? Obviously, they were tracking the Uruk-Hai as she was, but why? It couldn't have to do with that pair of Shorties the war party was leading, that'd be too unlikely. KaOre scratched her head as the group passed; should she risk getting ahead of them to warn Commander Uglúk? Yes, she should, she decided. News did travel fast and the free Thunderbolt tribe in their beyond-the-mountain settlements knew well enough that a new race of People was created; granted, White Hand used Thunderbolt warriors as a template, but that didn't mean everyone else should know about the Uruk-Hai. And there /was/ a small chance that Commander might overlook her impurity and let her stay with the party. Maybe himself will be so grateful he'll invite her to his sleeping spot one night...
KaOre snapped out of sweet daydreams and peered out of the ruins. The three warriors were away now, she could smell them even in this weather. Skulking out of th hovel, she carefully measured the angle at which she should circle the weird group to catch up with the Uruk-Hai. Her impure blood was a mixed blessing: speedier thoughts cost her a weaker body, and she had the scars and shortness of breath to show for it. If she outthought the three, her dream could come true... A cool stone house on the desert border, down on the other side of the mountains, several bright, strong children playing in the sand, the first of a new race... KaOre ran, daring her body to complain.
She could smell them ahead of her, the strong scent of healthy men. The skies cleared and the party was apparently laid out to rest around several small bonfires. KaOre gathered her cloak around her, squeezed the good luck sandstone hanging from a wire looped through her ear and walked openly, not caring to creep like she usually would.
A guard appeared out of the darkness, spear trained on her midriff.
"Stop! Who are you, smells-like-People?"
"KaOre Tårg of the Bohâr Monastery, Thunderbolt tribe, here to see Commander Uglúk," she replied. She wasn't sure if White Hand would teach his creations anything else than basic Common, but this Uruk-Hai was speaking fluent arOrh, People-Tongue.
"Who sent you?"
"No one. I'm a free scout. Take me to Commander Uglúk, I have important news."
The guard whistled a complicated signal and two more orcs approached.
"She wants to see the Commander, says she got news. Take her there," he ordered. KaOre stepped between the two and let them grab her shoulders, as was the custom. They walked between the fires at a brisk pace, finally arriving before a small circle of People. Angry growls issued from it, as if someone was arguing with his leader, thought KaOre in disgust. And that was exactly what was happening: a short, long-armed Mordorite was hissing at a tall, powerful Uruk-Hai, whose forehead adorned a small ornament shaped like a white hand.
"-to Lugbúrz immediately," the Mordorite was saying. KaOre gazed longingly at the Uruk-Hai's muscular arms, with veins close to bursting as he clenched his large fists.
"Commander? A scout got here, says she got news," said the man on her left. KaOre took a respectful step forward. Uglúk turned his big, angular head lazily, squinting and sniffing the air.
"Well?"
"I am KaOre Tårg, Thunderbolt tribe, scout trained in the Bohâr Monastery. I was tracking you, wanting to ask if I could join your group. As I was resting about half a day of running from here, three warriors passed me: dwarf, elf and Dunedan. I don't know what a Spike-Ear might be doing in that company, but they mean you harm. Also, there's a bunch of Riders planning to cut you off. May I be allowed to advise?"
"Speak," said the Uruk-Hai and glanced at the short Mordorite with a triumphant glint in his eye.
"I hear some People mean to get to Lugbúrz. Not possible with the Riders at your backs, they'd cut you off. I'd say it's wiser to get through the plains, then hide in the forests. If you're planning to get to Isengard, that's the only way." KaOre kept her head high in spite of the fire throwing light at her face. She could already hear whispering behind her: look, she's part Weakling, who says she speaks the truth? Can't trust the mutts!
And sure enough, that was what the Mordorite intended to use against her. "Uglúk, even you can't be that naive to trust her! Look at her, she's impure. I wonder who spared her when such a mongrel was born... and I wonder what woman opened her legs for a Weakling!"
KaOre knew it'd be wiser not to show feeling, but she had to defend her honor. She threw back the hood of he cloak, displaying the red Thunderbolt tattoo and red warpaint on her grayish green skin.
"Maybe YOUR mother opened her legs for a Weakling, but I am the daughter of a mighty wariorr! MY mother left me in my father's city so I could learn proper manners, something YOUR mother apparently never did!"
The man crouched to leap at her, but a roar from Uglúk stopped him. "Stay, Grishnák! She may not be purebreed, but her words are wise and she knows our customs better than you. I apologize, KaOre Tårg, for not introducing myself. I am Uglúk of the Uruk-Hai, warrior from Isengard, and I thank you for your advice. We shall discuss it later."
KaOre admired the ease with which the big Orc slipped into formal arOrh. She bowed her head and walked away. She sat by a nearby bonfire, pulled a piece of dry (pah! dry? damp was more like it, and may Grombash strike this rain god!) meat and stretched out to dine comfortably. Mud on her cloak dried and was falling off; she was picking at a stubborn spot when Uglúk approached. He motioned for her to follow him and walked out beyond the guardposts. They stood facing each other.
"I won't let you stay with us, even though your information and advice are extremely useful. Grishnák would gain an upper hand if Uruk-Hai took in a mixed woman and let her guide them... I don't know how would White Hand react, too. But I'd like to meet you again after this whole nonsense is over, whoever wins, KaOre ovZagakh.
If the Mordor People see you, they'll kill you. You managed to anger Grishnák more than any Uruk-Hai could. I wonder if you weren't on to something with this Weakling business." Uglúk grinned, moonlight glinted on his long fangs. KaOre smiled too, like a shy teenager after a romantic hunt in the woods. She turned away, heart singing. 'He called me beautiful! I'll keep on tracking them, maybe we'll really get together after the war.' Pulling her hood lower around her face, she skulked off into the night.
Two sunrises later KaOre Tårg of the free Thunderbolt tribe crouched on a hillock, watching the Riders massacre Uglúk's war party. Gritting her teeth, she remembered his words: after this whole nonsense is over... Wasn't it for the Weaklings, the Spike-Ears and the Shorties with their ridiculous resistance, this whole nonsense wouldn't have been started in the first place. She wasn't honor-bound to Uglúk, but she would avenge him and write his name in Dunedain blood on stones. Meddling races really had to be done away with.
--
A few words: KaOre is my own character in AD&D, copied to Middle Earth for 'con purposes and developed in another direction than the AD&D one later on. Thus the fic is a self-insert after a fashion, but I tried my best to not make it a Mary Sue. If you feel I didn't succeed, please leave me a few lines (be honest, I'm quite fireproof). Hayl, if you made it this far, you might review anyway! :P
I'm not a native English speaker, so if you notice any bits of grammar suckiness, please let me know.
Thanks for reading. :
Her sand-colored cloak was thoroughly wet and muddy, what probably saved her life when a small party of creatures trundled by: a dwarf, an elf and a Dunedan. KaOre squinted at them with puzzlement: what was a Stumpy doing in a company of Spike-ears, and both of them with a Weakling? Obviously, they were tracking the Uruk-Hai as she was, but why? It couldn't have to do with that pair of Shorties the war party was leading, that'd be too unlikely. KaOre scratched her head as the group passed; should she risk getting ahead of them to warn Commander Uglúk? Yes, she should, she decided. News did travel fast and the free Thunderbolt tribe in their beyond-the-mountain settlements knew well enough that a new race of People was created; granted, White Hand used Thunderbolt warriors as a template, but that didn't mean everyone else should know about the Uruk-Hai. And there /was/ a small chance that Commander might overlook her impurity and let her stay with the party. Maybe himself will be so grateful he'll invite her to his sleeping spot one night...
KaOre snapped out of sweet daydreams and peered out of the ruins. The three warriors were away now, she could smell them even in this weather. Skulking out of th hovel, she carefully measured the angle at which she should circle the weird group to catch up with the Uruk-Hai. Her impure blood was a mixed blessing: speedier thoughts cost her a weaker body, and she had the scars and shortness of breath to show for it. If she outthought the three, her dream could come true... A cool stone house on the desert border, down on the other side of the mountains, several bright, strong children playing in the sand, the first of a new race... KaOre ran, daring her body to complain.
She could smell them ahead of her, the strong scent of healthy men. The skies cleared and the party was apparently laid out to rest around several small bonfires. KaOre gathered her cloak around her, squeezed the good luck sandstone hanging from a wire looped through her ear and walked openly, not caring to creep like she usually would.
A guard appeared out of the darkness, spear trained on her midriff.
"Stop! Who are you, smells-like-People?"
"KaOre Tårg of the Bohâr Monastery, Thunderbolt tribe, here to see Commander Uglúk," she replied. She wasn't sure if White Hand would teach his creations anything else than basic Common, but this Uruk-Hai was speaking fluent arOrh, People-Tongue.
"Who sent you?"
"No one. I'm a free scout. Take me to Commander Uglúk, I have important news."
The guard whistled a complicated signal and two more orcs approached.
"She wants to see the Commander, says she got news. Take her there," he ordered. KaOre stepped between the two and let them grab her shoulders, as was the custom. They walked between the fires at a brisk pace, finally arriving before a small circle of People. Angry growls issued from it, as if someone was arguing with his leader, thought KaOre in disgust. And that was exactly what was happening: a short, long-armed Mordorite was hissing at a tall, powerful Uruk-Hai, whose forehead adorned a small ornament shaped like a white hand.
"-to Lugbúrz immediately," the Mordorite was saying. KaOre gazed longingly at the Uruk-Hai's muscular arms, with veins close to bursting as he clenched his large fists.
"Commander? A scout got here, says she got news," said the man on her left. KaOre took a respectful step forward. Uglúk turned his big, angular head lazily, squinting and sniffing the air.
"Well?"
"I am KaOre Tårg, Thunderbolt tribe, scout trained in the Bohâr Monastery. I was tracking you, wanting to ask if I could join your group. As I was resting about half a day of running from here, three warriors passed me: dwarf, elf and Dunedan. I don't know what a Spike-Ear might be doing in that company, but they mean you harm. Also, there's a bunch of Riders planning to cut you off. May I be allowed to advise?"
"Speak," said the Uruk-Hai and glanced at the short Mordorite with a triumphant glint in his eye.
"I hear some People mean to get to Lugbúrz. Not possible with the Riders at your backs, they'd cut you off. I'd say it's wiser to get through the plains, then hide in the forests. If you're planning to get to Isengard, that's the only way." KaOre kept her head high in spite of the fire throwing light at her face. She could already hear whispering behind her: look, she's part Weakling, who says she speaks the truth? Can't trust the mutts!
And sure enough, that was what the Mordorite intended to use against her. "Uglúk, even you can't be that naive to trust her! Look at her, she's impure. I wonder who spared her when such a mongrel was born... and I wonder what woman opened her legs for a Weakling!"
KaOre knew it'd be wiser not to show feeling, but she had to defend her honor. She threw back the hood of he cloak, displaying the red Thunderbolt tattoo and red warpaint on her grayish green skin.
"Maybe YOUR mother opened her legs for a Weakling, but I am the daughter of a mighty wariorr! MY mother left me in my father's city so I could learn proper manners, something YOUR mother apparently never did!"
The man crouched to leap at her, but a roar from Uglúk stopped him. "Stay, Grishnák! She may not be purebreed, but her words are wise and she knows our customs better than you. I apologize, KaOre Tårg, for not introducing myself. I am Uglúk of the Uruk-Hai, warrior from Isengard, and I thank you for your advice. We shall discuss it later."
KaOre admired the ease with which the big Orc slipped into formal arOrh. She bowed her head and walked away. She sat by a nearby bonfire, pulled a piece of dry (pah! dry? damp was more like it, and may Grombash strike this rain god!) meat and stretched out to dine comfortably. Mud on her cloak dried and was falling off; she was picking at a stubborn spot when Uglúk approached. He motioned for her to follow him and walked out beyond the guardposts. They stood facing each other.
"I won't let you stay with us, even though your information and advice are extremely useful. Grishnák would gain an upper hand if Uruk-Hai took in a mixed woman and let her guide them... I don't know how would White Hand react, too. But I'd like to meet you again after this whole nonsense is over, whoever wins, KaOre ovZagakh.
If the Mordor People see you, they'll kill you. You managed to anger Grishnák more than any Uruk-Hai could. I wonder if you weren't on to something with this Weakling business." Uglúk grinned, moonlight glinted on his long fangs. KaOre smiled too, like a shy teenager after a romantic hunt in the woods. She turned away, heart singing. 'He called me beautiful! I'll keep on tracking them, maybe we'll really get together after the war.' Pulling her hood lower around her face, she skulked off into the night.
Two sunrises later KaOre Tårg of the free Thunderbolt tribe crouched on a hillock, watching the Riders massacre Uglúk's war party. Gritting her teeth, she remembered his words: after this whole nonsense is over... Wasn't it for the Weaklings, the Spike-Ears and the Shorties with their ridiculous resistance, this whole nonsense wouldn't have been started in the first place. She wasn't honor-bound to Uglúk, but she would avenge him and write his name in Dunedain blood on stones. Meddling races really had to be done away with.
--
A few words: KaOre is my own character in AD&D, copied to Middle Earth for 'con purposes and developed in another direction than the AD&D one later on. Thus the fic is a self-insert after a fashion, but I tried my best to not make it a Mary Sue. If you feel I didn't succeed, please leave me a few lines (be honest, I'm quite fireproof). Hayl, if you made it this far, you might review anyway! :P
I'm not a native English speaker, so if you notice any bits of grammar suckiness, please let me know.
Thanks for reading. :