Disclaimer: I own Rinariel, but, sadly, that's about it.
A/N: Hey, thanks for your reviews! I should really double-check my spelling and grammar that, but I have for this chapter now. Hopefully there are no other mistakes!
The Diary of an Orc - Continued
*~*~*
Gandalf is one of the nicest people I've ever met. He has made the others see that I am not an Orc. Well, not a proper one anyway.
Still, the hostility level is a high as it could ever be. I'm given dirty looks; I'm refused any food by all except Gandalf and I certainly can't talk to or even be near the others without them moving away or making snide comments.
This morning, I was planning to go down to the near river ans wash, but the man who held me at sword point, Aragorn, stopped me. Obviously they didn't believe Gandalf when he declared me a non-Orc.
"Where are you going?" He demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of Narsil. I suspect that he thinks I am off to report to someone, like I'm a spy or something. First off, I would NEVER spy for the Orcs.
"To wash." I said, looking him in the eye.
Prince Legolas came up beside Aragorn and sneered, having heard the exchange of words.
"Well, don't." Aragorn snapped, turning away. Yes, he thought I was a spy.
"Why not?" I protested, feeling anger and despair at the same time.
"Because," Legolas spat, turning and glaring. "You'll poison the water."
That really hurt. Everything this whole group does, with the exception of Gandalf, is hurtful. My shoulder still aches from where Legolas' arrow pierced it the other day. This is another thing I hate about being an Orc, the wounds seem to be a lot worse and the healing process is very slow, leaving hideous scars.
I have to wash; it's the only thing that makes me feel nearly normal. I hate the way this Orc's body is always so dirty. It's always so sweaty and smelly.
Gandalf explained to the others that I was indeed an Elf and that he could see the beauty that lay beneath. I would have felt happy for the first time in a long time had I not heard the scoffs from the small people.
The small people are really interesting. They are called 'Hobbits' and they are extremely short. They are too terrified of me to even come near me. All they do is sit far away and whisper about me behind their hands. Unfortunately, I can still hear every word they say.
There is also a Dwarf in the Fellowship. Had I been an Elf, I would have returned the hostile vibes coming him. But since I am the scum of this Fellowship, I do all I can to find a friend.
I am able to travel with the Fellowship to warn them of any Orc danger. Gandalf has allowed me to become a part of the Fellowship, though it doesn't feel like it. Aragorn, Legolas and the dwarf, Gimli, haven't told me what the Fellowship is for and still think I don't know. But of course, I do. I even know who carries the One Ring, one of the small people. His name is Frodo.
*~*~*
This morning, I earned my first smile from someone other than Gandalf. Even if it was a grim one, a smile is still a smile.
I reported to Gandalf and the others about what Saruman is doing and I told them most of what I knew. I didn't tell them all, because then I would be worthless and they would cast me aside like a rotten rag.
The grim smile came from Aragorn.
Legolas is by far the worst of them all. His looks in my direction are full of pure hatred, his actions of making me feel like dirty scum are deliberate.
I have tried to ask Gandalf about this, but he said that Legolas is having trouble believing that an Orc has a personality, a nice one at that.
"He refuses to see the good in you, as he has been brought up hating Orcs."
I tried to confront Legolas about this, but he ignored me.
*~*~*
I am alone.
I have walked ahead while the Fellowship sleep. They have a night guard of course; Aragorn, and he kept a close eye on me, frowning when I left the camp area. In truth, I needed space to breathe.
Being around so much negativity is making me feel more and more like and Orc. I've been told by other Orcs that I don't even look like an Orc. And of course, I am not. But that is not what others see.
It hurts me to look into any mirror and when I wash, I always close my eyes in case I see by accident.
The one thing that keeps me going, even when I feel I should walk into a human's camp, unarmed and waiting to be shot on sight, my mothers words get me back in a saner state of mind.
"Even though the world may see what they think cannot possibly be Good, the beauty radiates from the inside, you must remember this."
One thing that makes me different from the other Orcs, I guess, is that I still have an elvish soul. I can still remember what it was like to be an Elf, I still have my excellent hearing and eyesight and I can even move as gracefully as an Elf.
But that does not make me an Elf.
No.
You have to be beautiful and have long, flowing hair.
My hair?
Darkened with grease and falling out all the time.
Maybe I should return to the Orcs.
They would certainly be more inviting.
*~*~*
Curse this Orcs body!
I had just finished writing when a creature of the dark attacked me. I did not make a sound as I fought it, though if I had, I may not be in so much pain.
We fought long and hard, I scoring more wounds than it.
Then, an arrow, beautifully aimed, hit the creature through the skull and it died. I knew who had saved me; although I also knew he did not know it.
I staggered back to the camp, bleeding horrible Orc blood and looking for Legolas. I had to thank him.
I saw him; he was up for guard.
"Legolas?" I wheezed, a lung had been injured in the fight.
He did not turn around.
"What?"
"Thank-you." I said, blood from all over dripping to the ground. I hastily tried to wipe it all away, though the wounds stung to touch.
"For what?" He snapped, turning around.
His face was a picture. For the tiniest moment, I thought I saw sympathy flickered over it, but hard dislike replaced it.
"Saving me.." I said, then passed out.
*~*~*
No one helped me dress my wounds. Not even Gandalf.
We are now heading towards Caradhras. Gimli keeps suggesting the Mines of Moria as a possible route, though Gandalf refuses to take that path.
The hostility levels haven't budged. I am still shunned, though silently. I tried talking to the other man, Boromir, though he didn't say much.
"Why do you dislike me?" I asked, straight up. When I was Rinariel, Lady of Galadriel, I was known for my bluntness.
Boromir's cheeks reddened for a second then went pale again.
"I do not dislike you," He said carefully, and I could tell he was choosing his words. "It is because you are different, unknown to us, I guess."
I still wasn't satisfied with his answer.
"Then why don't you try and find out more about me? I am not an Orc! I am an Elf at heart!" 'And in appearance, not that you would ever see that.' I thought bitterly to myself.
At that point, Aragorn, who was just ahead, turned and shook his head at Boromir. He fell silent.
That's what made me really mad.
I drew my Orc blade and strode up to Aragorn, tapping his shoulder.
Aragorn turned, saw my blade, and in a flash, Narsil was out, gleaming in the light, its blade pressing against my armour, my blade rested on his shoulder. Neither of us moved.
"You," I yelled in my best Elvish. "Are worse than any Uruk-Hai or Orc!"
Aragorns mouth dropped at the sound of me talking Elvish in my harsh voice, then, his face darkened in anger. At first I thought it was my Elvish, for it had been so long since I had been able to speak my first tongue. Then I realised what an insult I had made.
"What would you know? You are one of them!" He retorted, his blade pushing a little harder on my armour.
"I am not." I said in a low voice, my anger so great, I was very near to taking this arrogant humans head off.
I narrowed my eyes and pressed my blade to his neck.
"At least I can get a good reply out of any Orc, I can talk to them, even though they think me not a proper Orc, I can still at least TALK to them." I shouted, my face heating up.
Gandalf turned around and gave me a questioning look. I ignored it.
"You are worse because I'm different and ugly. Go on, admit it!" I cried, my lungs hurting with the exertion.
Aragorn sheathed his sword, but he needn't bother. It was out again in a flash at my next comment.
"I wish the Evenstar were here. Even though I'm ugly now, she'd still be my friend, she would understand."
At that, Aragorn grabbed my neck and shoved me against a tree; pushing the blade of his sword up underneath my chin so hard it drew blood.
"She would never befriend such a disgusting, foul creature like yourself!" He roared, his eyes blazing in anger.
"Aragorn! ARAGORN!!" Gandalf shouted, rushing over and pulling Aragorn away from me. Narsil snagged and pulled a cut underneath my chin. I whimpered and held it, staunching the flow of blood.
"Do I have to show you what she looked like to prove to you that she is indeed an Elf and not some disgusting creature?" He asked gently.
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, even still, I would not believe it."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me.
"It would kill me," I said weakly, sinking to the ground, sobs racking my aching chest. Gandalf smiled and came over, a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"It is an illusion." He said, his eyes closed, focusing on the location of the Power that kept me as I looked.
I felt his power run down my shoulder and through my arm, chest and legs. I felt myself growing taller and the awful scars fading away to nothing.
When Gandalf removed his hand, I was an Elf again.
I couldn't believe it; I kept touching my face and hair the most shocked look on my face. I jumped to my feet and danced around the amazed Fellowship.
Even Legolas was stunned, his mouth gaping in an un-gracious way.
"I..I know you!" Aragorn said, amazed.
"Of course!" I exclaimed punching his shoulder lightly. "I have seen you many-a-time with the Evenstar."
He flinched slightly at my touch, as if I would suddenly turn to an Orc again.
Then, I ran to the nearest river, whooping and laughing in delight. I leaned over, my eyes closed, waiting to see my reflection.
I covered my eyes with my hands and peeked through, then fell into the river with shock, my excitement melting away like a fast burning candle.
I was still an Orc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, changed that a little. Please review!
A/N: Hey, thanks for your reviews! I should really double-check my spelling and grammar that, but I have for this chapter now. Hopefully there are no other mistakes!
The Diary of an Orc - Continued
*~*~*
Gandalf is one of the nicest people I've ever met. He has made the others see that I am not an Orc. Well, not a proper one anyway.
Still, the hostility level is a high as it could ever be. I'm given dirty looks; I'm refused any food by all except Gandalf and I certainly can't talk to or even be near the others without them moving away or making snide comments.
This morning, I was planning to go down to the near river ans wash, but the man who held me at sword point, Aragorn, stopped me. Obviously they didn't believe Gandalf when he declared me a non-Orc.
"Where are you going?" He demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of Narsil. I suspect that he thinks I am off to report to someone, like I'm a spy or something. First off, I would NEVER spy for the Orcs.
"To wash." I said, looking him in the eye.
Prince Legolas came up beside Aragorn and sneered, having heard the exchange of words.
"Well, don't." Aragorn snapped, turning away. Yes, he thought I was a spy.
"Why not?" I protested, feeling anger and despair at the same time.
"Because," Legolas spat, turning and glaring. "You'll poison the water."
That really hurt. Everything this whole group does, with the exception of Gandalf, is hurtful. My shoulder still aches from where Legolas' arrow pierced it the other day. This is another thing I hate about being an Orc, the wounds seem to be a lot worse and the healing process is very slow, leaving hideous scars.
I have to wash; it's the only thing that makes me feel nearly normal. I hate the way this Orc's body is always so dirty. It's always so sweaty and smelly.
Gandalf explained to the others that I was indeed an Elf and that he could see the beauty that lay beneath. I would have felt happy for the first time in a long time had I not heard the scoffs from the small people.
The small people are really interesting. They are called 'Hobbits' and they are extremely short. They are too terrified of me to even come near me. All they do is sit far away and whisper about me behind their hands. Unfortunately, I can still hear every word they say.
There is also a Dwarf in the Fellowship. Had I been an Elf, I would have returned the hostile vibes coming him. But since I am the scum of this Fellowship, I do all I can to find a friend.
I am able to travel with the Fellowship to warn them of any Orc danger. Gandalf has allowed me to become a part of the Fellowship, though it doesn't feel like it. Aragorn, Legolas and the dwarf, Gimli, haven't told me what the Fellowship is for and still think I don't know. But of course, I do. I even know who carries the One Ring, one of the small people. His name is Frodo.
*~*~*
This morning, I earned my first smile from someone other than Gandalf. Even if it was a grim one, a smile is still a smile.
I reported to Gandalf and the others about what Saruman is doing and I told them most of what I knew. I didn't tell them all, because then I would be worthless and they would cast me aside like a rotten rag.
The grim smile came from Aragorn.
Legolas is by far the worst of them all. His looks in my direction are full of pure hatred, his actions of making me feel like dirty scum are deliberate.
I have tried to ask Gandalf about this, but he said that Legolas is having trouble believing that an Orc has a personality, a nice one at that.
"He refuses to see the good in you, as he has been brought up hating Orcs."
I tried to confront Legolas about this, but he ignored me.
*~*~*
I am alone.
I have walked ahead while the Fellowship sleep. They have a night guard of course; Aragorn, and he kept a close eye on me, frowning when I left the camp area. In truth, I needed space to breathe.
Being around so much negativity is making me feel more and more like and Orc. I've been told by other Orcs that I don't even look like an Orc. And of course, I am not. But that is not what others see.
It hurts me to look into any mirror and when I wash, I always close my eyes in case I see by accident.
The one thing that keeps me going, even when I feel I should walk into a human's camp, unarmed and waiting to be shot on sight, my mothers words get me back in a saner state of mind.
"Even though the world may see what they think cannot possibly be Good, the beauty radiates from the inside, you must remember this."
One thing that makes me different from the other Orcs, I guess, is that I still have an elvish soul. I can still remember what it was like to be an Elf, I still have my excellent hearing and eyesight and I can even move as gracefully as an Elf.
But that does not make me an Elf.
No.
You have to be beautiful and have long, flowing hair.
My hair?
Darkened with grease and falling out all the time.
Maybe I should return to the Orcs.
They would certainly be more inviting.
*~*~*
Curse this Orcs body!
I had just finished writing when a creature of the dark attacked me. I did not make a sound as I fought it, though if I had, I may not be in so much pain.
We fought long and hard, I scoring more wounds than it.
Then, an arrow, beautifully aimed, hit the creature through the skull and it died. I knew who had saved me; although I also knew he did not know it.
I staggered back to the camp, bleeding horrible Orc blood and looking for Legolas. I had to thank him.
I saw him; he was up for guard.
"Legolas?" I wheezed, a lung had been injured in the fight.
He did not turn around.
"What?"
"Thank-you." I said, blood from all over dripping to the ground. I hastily tried to wipe it all away, though the wounds stung to touch.
"For what?" He snapped, turning around.
His face was a picture. For the tiniest moment, I thought I saw sympathy flickered over it, but hard dislike replaced it.
"Saving me.." I said, then passed out.
*~*~*
No one helped me dress my wounds. Not even Gandalf.
We are now heading towards Caradhras. Gimli keeps suggesting the Mines of Moria as a possible route, though Gandalf refuses to take that path.
The hostility levels haven't budged. I am still shunned, though silently. I tried talking to the other man, Boromir, though he didn't say much.
"Why do you dislike me?" I asked, straight up. When I was Rinariel, Lady of Galadriel, I was known for my bluntness.
Boromir's cheeks reddened for a second then went pale again.
"I do not dislike you," He said carefully, and I could tell he was choosing his words. "It is because you are different, unknown to us, I guess."
I still wasn't satisfied with his answer.
"Then why don't you try and find out more about me? I am not an Orc! I am an Elf at heart!" 'And in appearance, not that you would ever see that.' I thought bitterly to myself.
At that point, Aragorn, who was just ahead, turned and shook his head at Boromir. He fell silent.
That's what made me really mad.
I drew my Orc blade and strode up to Aragorn, tapping his shoulder.
Aragorn turned, saw my blade, and in a flash, Narsil was out, gleaming in the light, its blade pressing against my armour, my blade rested on his shoulder. Neither of us moved.
"You," I yelled in my best Elvish. "Are worse than any Uruk-Hai or Orc!"
Aragorns mouth dropped at the sound of me talking Elvish in my harsh voice, then, his face darkened in anger. At first I thought it was my Elvish, for it had been so long since I had been able to speak my first tongue. Then I realised what an insult I had made.
"What would you know? You are one of them!" He retorted, his blade pushing a little harder on my armour.
"I am not." I said in a low voice, my anger so great, I was very near to taking this arrogant humans head off.
I narrowed my eyes and pressed my blade to his neck.
"At least I can get a good reply out of any Orc, I can talk to them, even though they think me not a proper Orc, I can still at least TALK to them." I shouted, my face heating up.
Gandalf turned around and gave me a questioning look. I ignored it.
"You are worse because I'm different and ugly. Go on, admit it!" I cried, my lungs hurting with the exertion.
Aragorn sheathed his sword, but he needn't bother. It was out again in a flash at my next comment.
"I wish the Evenstar were here. Even though I'm ugly now, she'd still be my friend, she would understand."
At that, Aragorn grabbed my neck and shoved me against a tree; pushing the blade of his sword up underneath my chin so hard it drew blood.
"She would never befriend such a disgusting, foul creature like yourself!" He roared, his eyes blazing in anger.
"Aragorn! ARAGORN!!" Gandalf shouted, rushing over and pulling Aragorn away from me. Narsil snagged and pulled a cut underneath my chin. I whimpered and held it, staunching the flow of blood.
"Do I have to show you what she looked like to prove to you that she is indeed an Elf and not some disgusting creature?" He asked gently.
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, even still, I would not believe it."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me.
"It would kill me," I said weakly, sinking to the ground, sobs racking my aching chest. Gandalf smiled and came over, a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"It is an illusion." He said, his eyes closed, focusing on the location of the Power that kept me as I looked.
I felt his power run down my shoulder and through my arm, chest and legs. I felt myself growing taller and the awful scars fading away to nothing.
When Gandalf removed his hand, I was an Elf again.
I couldn't believe it; I kept touching my face and hair the most shocked look on my face. I jumped to my feet and danced around the amazed Fellowship.
Even Legolas was stunned, his mouth gaping in an un-gracious way.
"I..I know you!" Aragorn said, amazed.
"Of course!" I exclaimed punching his shoulder lightly. "I have seen you many-a-time with the Evenstar."
He flinched slightly at my touch, as if I would suddenly turn to an Orc again.
Then, I ran to the nearest river, whooping and laughing in delight. I leaned over, my eyes closed, waiting to see my reflection.
I covered my eyes with my hands and peeked through, then fell into the river with shock, my excitement melting away like a fast burning candle.
I was still an Orc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, changed that a little. Please review!