Disclaimer: I doubt Mills and Boons will publish it so I'm making no money and Lurtz and Ugluk still aren't mine.

A/N – Well, another long chapter and no Fellowship yet I'm afraid… I got caught up in all the fighting, sorry! The Fellowship will be in the next chapter I promise. Still, on with the story! And should I put the rating up for all the blood, violence and lustful intentions or is it okay? Please do leave a review if you like it, hate it, want to bury it in mud to let it evolve, whatever!! Oh, and thanks to Womba Warrior for the review! Enjoy!

Chapter 4 – A march at night and a fight by day

"So?"

"So what?"

Vashlash, the only other female in the Company, glanced over at Gorplak running beside her. "So what's going on?"

"With what?" Gorplak deliberately pretended not to understand her friend's question. Since their interrupted embrace and subsequent parting, Gorplak had not spoken to or seen anyone until she was relieved from her post to begin the march east, and didn't know how word could have got round so quickly, she barely knew what was happening herself. All she knew was that whenever she closed her eyes, she could feel his breath on her lips, hear his voice in her ears, and feel the brush of his lips over her skin. It made her cheeks glow a dark hue at the thought of him.

Vashlash saw the flush on Gorplak's cheeks and started to grin. "You know what's going on here don't you, admit it! You were on sentry duty when these three arrived, you must know something!"

Gorplak let out a sigh of relief, it seemed that Vashlash didn't know what had happened between Bagshash and herself.

"Well," she began. "Apparently our illustrious visitors were created to be an army, just like us, only they're the new and improved version. They feel no fear or pain, call themselves the Uruk-Hai and they're here to take over. I think."

Vashlash interrupted with a snort. "Rubbish, Lord Sauron wouldn't replace us, after all he's put us through!"

"I don't know if they're here to replace us or not, that just what Ba… Commander Bagshash told me."

"Is he one of the two who put the fear of Morgoth into the senior officers and has them jumping like trolls at dawn? And why was he talking to you! A creature as grotesque as that should come straight to me with my face." She ran a hand over her twisted and crooked features, and Gorplak realised she might be right. Compared to her, Gorplak was as ugly as a dwarf. How could a magnificent beast like Bagshash possibly be interested in Gorplak when there was repulsiveness like Vashlash around? She answered carefully.

"No, the main one is Commander Lurtz, Commander Bagshash was the other one, and he was talking to me because he obviously thinks archery girls are better than the infantry girls." She spoke in a nonchalant tone she didn't feel.

She was rewarded with a rough but playful push; unfortunately it pushed her out of the ranks of running Orcs and into the intention of Bagshash who was running just behind. For a brief moment his heart pounded louder than his running feet as he recognised the black moon-touched locks that seemed so familiar.

"Gorplak." He sped up to catch a word with her but realised she wasn't alone. "Archer Gorplak, get back in rank before I bring out the whip." He spoke more hastily than he had meant to, to cover himself.

"Sorry sir. Yes sir." She slid back into place next to Vashlash and gave him the smallest hint of a smile, her insides churning at the mere sight of him again. But Bagshash didn't notice. He was too busy staring at the sight of the other female Orc. Vashlash noticed his attention and revelled in it, giving him a twisted grin that set off the scars of her broken jawbone.

"Lovely night for a run sir." She purred at him. Gorplak fixed her gaze steadily on the ground ahead of her. One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain, one foot in front of the other.

Vashlash continued to hold Bagshash's attention. "A little dry for my taste, Archer…?" He left the question hanging.

"Vashlash sir. Private Vashlash. I'm in the infantry sir, much like yourself. I like to be able to see the fear in the enemy's eyes when you kill them. And taste the blood in the air." She caught his eye and smiled.

Bagshash met her gaze, but although she was hideously ugly, her eyes didn't draw him in the way Gorplak's did. As red as they were, he still remembered the bright pair of green eyes that had stared so intently at him, that had been so open with emotion, unlike these before him that seemed so empty of character.

Gorplak listened to Vashlash's flirting with an envy she could not have thought possible. Boasting of her prowess in battle, flashing those red, red eyes, how could Bagshash not resist. Then she was welcome to him, she thought angrily and almost flinched at the thought.

Bagshash broke Vashlash's eye contact and stared ahead briefly. "No enemies tonight ladies, so if you'd keep going and stay in file, I'm bid you good night," he glanced over at Gorplak, who would not met his gaze. "Again." He slowed his pace to fall back to his original position.

"Good night sir!" Vashlash called out after him, Gorplak made no reply. Checking he couldn't hear them, Vashlash gushed happily. "He's even more deliciously repulsive up close than at a distance, isn't he! And did you see the way he was staring at me?" She didn't notice her companion's lack of response. "I thought Command Lurtz was bad, but him… he is simply horrendous!"

Gorplak tried to smile and laugh, but only a small sighed agreement would come out. She was spared any further arduous torture by the call to halt, for already the hated sun was peering over the landscape, bringing it's light back into the darkened world. The Company drew to a stop and headed for the shelter of the forest to keep the horrid rays of light at bay.





Gorplak spent the day resting, as did most of the troops, her long hours at her sentry's post the night before beginning to take it's toil. A few times her eyes blurred and glazed over as her limbs rested in the elvish fashion, and she slept.

Until a sudden blow to her stomach doubled her over in pain and brought her senses back into the light of day. As she gasped to recover her breath, a voice snarled in her ear.

"Not so brave without your new protector around, are you meltha?" A sharp blow on her back sent her sprawling to the ground. Drusbruk stood over her in triumph, his nose bruised from it's breaking the night before. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head up. "Just you and me now."

Gorplak had no intention of being submissive, and his words were the fuel she needed. Using the momentum he had given her, she drove her head backwards, the back of her head smashing into Drusbruk's face. He once more emitted a great squeal, and released the grip on her hair. Gorplak struggled to her feet and turned to face him more equally. She glanced over at her weapons, unfortunately they lay behind Drusbruk where she could not reach them, and in her search for them, she brought them to Drusbruk's attention. Grinning madly, he leant down to pick up her sword, but if she let him to that, Gorplak realised she had no chance. At the moment he started to bend she flung herself at him, long talon-like fingernails outstretched. Caught off-balance, Drusbruk flailed wildly as she reached for his throat. She would kill him now; it was all she could think about. She would kill him for the torment, and she could taste his blood in the air as her claws found his skin. She would kill him to prove she could fight; she would kill him to show a certain male that she was as good as any infantry soldier. She would kill him. She ignored the pain as he tried to release the sharp grip around his throat by beating her with his own fists and claws. She screamed incomprehensibly but didn't realise. And she struggled fiercely when strong arms lifted her away from her prey.

All the Company had heard the sounds of the conflict, but none had dared come between the combatants, none but the Uruk-Hai. Bagshash struggled to hold the squirming Gorplak back, while Ugluk hoisted a glowering Drusbruk to his feet. Lurtz remained at a dignified distance, eyeing the scene in amusement.

"And what do we have here?" He asked. At once, Drusbruk became the ideal Corporal, ignoring the screaming agony of his previously broken ribs and nose. He saluted awkwardly.

"She attacked me sir, right out of the blue." He said with a smirk, knowing he could get his revenge upon this little female who thought herself high enough to spurn his advances. "I had to defend myself sir."

Lurtz said nothing, ominous in his silence. Instead of answering, he walked towards Gorplak. She was still breathing heavily, the blood lust still wild in her veins. As he neared her he smelt the sweet, sickly smell of blood that sent his senses rolling; an odour he craved that he had never before smelt. He lifted his finger to a gash on her cheek where Drusbruk had caught her, smeared it with blood and brought it to his lips. Yes, here was his very reason for being. Blood, blood and death.

Bagshash watched Lurtz lick the blood, her blood, from his fingers with envy. The smell wrapped itself around him with every lurch Gorplak had made to be free, and he wished to taste it too. He had almost been tempted to rip Drusbruk's throat out as he stood there himself, to protect the small Orc he now encircled in his arms, but also to know the joy of killing that he knew he was meant to do but was as yet untried. Soon, he would know.

The taste of the dark liquid awoke something within Lurtz and he rounded on Drusbruk, his eyes afire. "I now recommend fighting within the Company, it gives one the feeling of being alive." Drusbruk smiled unwittingly, thinking he had the upper hand, until Lurtz scowled at him. "But you should be ashamed. If a female can beat you, what hope do you have of surviving in the face of the enemy?" As Drusbruk stammered a response that he thought he was winning, Lurtz snarled at him to be silent. He wiped a hand over Drusbruk's neck, a neck glistening wet with dark blood oozing from a number of wounds. Lurtz stared at his now bloodstained hand before responding again. "Beware you do not bleed to death. Now be gone from my sight before I kill you myself, Morgoth knows you deserve it."

Seeing her enemy disappear miserably, Gorplak felt some of her anger and battle lust fading. She felt the arms that held her release their grip and managed to lift her head to meet Lurtz's gaze.

"For an Archer, you fight well." He said, indicating her tattoo of which Bagshash had informed him of the significance. "I congratulate you on a well fought match, which was none of your doing." Bagshash had also informed him of the history between the two opponents, and Lurtz knew the guilty party. "Now rest, we have a long way to go yet."

Gorplak saluted. "Yes sir, thank you sir." Lurtz, Ugluk and the rest of the spectators left the scene, but she still felt the presence behind her. She knew who it was.

"Did you see the fear in his eyes?" His voice in her ear made her shudder with delight; she closed her eyes and held her breath. "Did you taste the blood in the air?" The very sound of his deep tones rolled through her, leaving every nerve awake.

"I did." She replied, whispering just as softly. A soft growl rumbled through him as he nuzzled her wounded cheek, seeking what was driving his body wild. Placing an arm around her waist and uncaring of who watched, his lips found the patch of blood and suckled upon it. Gorplak licked her own lips and ignored the stab of pain as he pulled at her wound, feeling a fresh flow of blood trickle towards his waiting lips. He fed upon it, and Gorplak barely suppressed a moan of pleasure. She could endure this torment no easier than the torture of the previous night, and nothing would stop her now. She murmured his name and turned in his arms, and let her hands caress his wrinkled features, running her fingers though the thick, tangled mane. In an instant his grip tightened, and their lips met, a gentle brush at first until it became more passionate, fiercer. Gorplak could taste her own blood on her lips, and it only made the kiss more insistent.

All this was entirely new to Bagshash, but he found that an urge within him told him instinctively what to do, even as he began to pull her to the ground still with their gnarled lips entwined. It was only when Gorplak landed on one of her own sharp arrow heads that she momentarily released him and removed the offending article. But once broken apart, the two seemingly came to their senses, the battle-madness gone. Gorplak almost shyly met his gaze, and they smiled the same awkward smile they shared when they first met. Silence.

"I'm sorry."

Gorplak frowned. "For what?" Bagshash shrugged.

"I got carried away. The blood, the battle fever, it does strange things to people." He shrugged again, confused. Her heart sank.

"All a mistake." She mumbled quietly. Bagshash didn't know what to say. It hadn't felt wrong, nothing in his short life had ever felt so right, but it was too fast. Everything was rushing past his head and he understood none of it. At least she had agreed with him. He nodded.

"A pleasant mistake, but still..." He managed to smile weakly and stood up. "Rest. Like Lurtz said, we have a long way to go." It was with a great effort he turned and walked away, an uncomfortable feeling within him at the sight of her face that he wished would leave him.

Vashlash watched the scene with interest. It was time to make her move on the delectable Bagshash. Gorplak was her friend but all was fair in love, war and the opposite sex. He would be hers.

Gorplak struggled to ignore the pain in her own heart and tried to sleep once more, but her dreams were tortured by lips crushing hers and the smell of blood.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I'm enjoying writing about blood too much… that's quite disturbing! So Drusbruk is more an enemy than ever, the lovers won't admit their feelings for each other, Vashlash is pondering trouble making, and they haven't even found the Fellowship yet! What does the future hold? Until next time dear reader!