Disclaimer - Making no money full stop, and don't own any of the famous
characters or concepts no matter how much I want to.
A/N - As I warned before this chapter could get very bloody since a certain Orc is about to meet his fate. very messily! And bizarrely I think I'm going to enjoy writing it. I scare myself! However, I do apologise for my lack of anatomical knowledge of an Orc, I'm just guessing really! Please forgive any huge errors, but remember that they're not human so there's scope for improvisation! Anyway, enjoy this next installement!
Chapter 11 - Matters of the heart
They were at it again. The beady pair of yellow eyes watched the pair, noticing every slight touch of a hand, every glance filled with hidden meaning and desire. And he despised it. Drusbruk could see exactly what Gorplak saw in the great ugly hulk that was Bagshash, and he glanced down at his own smooth skin, knowing that he could never live up to Gorplak's expectations of an Orc. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming. Not that it mattered; Gorplak wouldn't have any expectations soon, you can't when you're dead.
It would be more difficult now that she and Bagshash were together, but Drusbruk had no intention of letting that stop him. The little elf-lover would be his willingly or not, and then she would die. And if he got a chance to take out the all-powerful Uruk-Hai then all the better. All he was waiting for was the orders to halt, then separate the two in the chaos. The sky above him was still dark; there were no smears of brightness in the east, plenty of time to continue planning and plotting.
Except that the Valar were against him. Moments later, the halt was called and Drusbruk found himself without a plan of action. He had only a few seconds until the fall out orders, and he could see Gorplak already begin to search for her lover. He growled quietly, and offered a small prayer to Morgoth to help him, before easing his small dagger out of its sheath.
Morgoth evidently ignored him. Instead of ordering the Company to fall out, the command was given for punishment order: the troops were to deploy themselves in three lines, forming a triangle, while the guilty party were pushed to the middle to receive their punishment. Drusbruk returned the dagger to its home and obediently followed the orders along with the rest of the Company, still watching Gorplak as she formed up exchanging confused glances with that other stupid female. Forming rank perfectly, the orcs lined up shoulder to shoulder, and Drusbruk found himself on the front row, almost directly opposite Gorplak. He saw the wounds on her cheek that he had inflicted, and the dark bruising on her skin; and his breathing grew heavier as he remembered her squeals of pain. His lips pulled into a smile.
Then Gorplak looked up and caught his eye.
She could barely repress the shudder that ran down her spine at the sight of those yellow eyes staring at her with undisguised lust and the full lips grinning. The long days and nights had aggravated her wounds, and although moments with Bagshash had helped to relieve the pain, it was still with her; new and raw as she caught his eye. She clenched a fist to stop her hand from trembling, and was ashamed to realise she was afraid, afraid of this little runt that dared to gape so openly. Slowly, slowly she dwelt on the pain he had caused her, and turned it into anger, seething and relentless that would help her meet his eye boldly, but still he unnerved her and she glanced away. She could not fight the feeling that he had won another battle.
A hush fell upon the assembled Company, and one of the points parted enough to allow Bagshash to step through. Gorplak's heart leapt in her chest to see him once more, the elation at their unification still strong. A brief smile flitted over her features, all thoughts of Drusbruk now pushed far away.
The smile promptly fell from Drusbruk's face as he saw Gorplak's reaction to Bagshash's entrance. The elation at his victory when she had broken eye contact first quickly fell before the strength of the enemy forces now before him, and he flashed Bagshash a look of pure hatred that surely the Dark Lord himself would have been proud of. Bagshash however ignore it.
"Company is ordered to observe punishment." He spoke, then briefly gestures to two officers who he had previously informed of his plans. Drusbruk was so busy glaring at the Uruk-Hai that he neglected to see the pair head straight to him, and it was only as they came to a halt in front of him that he realised that perhaps Bagshash had noticed his stare.
"Corporal Drusbruk, one pace forward." Bagshash ordered. For a moment Drusbruk was tempted to ignore the command, but he realised that his one salvation may just be his eagerness to follow orders. He did so and pulled a crisp salute.
Only his hand never made it. As soon as he had begun to step, the officers took a firm hold of his arms and held them firmly out to the side. Drusbruk snarled briefly in surprise but after a moments struggle found any efforts to release himself to be in vane.
"You are charged with vengeful use of violence against an unprepared opponent within camp boundaries." Bagshash informed him. Drusbruk scoffed at the charges.
"And if it was anyone else, you wouldn't care." He spat at the larger creature. A few heads turned at his outspokenness, but Drusbruk was more concerned with the fact that his death stood before him. "Go on then." He goaded. "Kill me now. Disembowel me, break my neck, save your lover's honour, go on!" He was shouting now, but he had thrown caution to the wind. "Do it! Show what a big scary monster you are! Do it!"
It was the silence after his rant that he couldn't bear. Bagshash just ignored him. "Archer Gorplak, one pace forward."
Surprised, Gorplak did as she was asked. Then Bagshash went on again. "This would seem a better arena for your grievances, are you satisfied by the arrangements Archer?" Gorplak nodded.
"Proceed." Bagshash told her.
Drusbruk swallowed. His fate now lay in the hands of the elf-lover he had wanted dead. He watched her discard her sword and dagger, and walk to the third wall of the triangle, directly opposite him. He watched as her eyes gained a vengeful gleam, and he watched as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it into her bow, the string pulled taunt.
"You never would have beaten me in a fair fight meltha." He said, grinning, hoping that if he could provoke her enough his death would at least be swift and painless. He was not afraid to die now, although his wish to die in battle was only half fulfilled; still, at least he would die by his enemy's hand. The only thing he was afraid of now was the slow, pain-filled end that he could see in Gorplak's face. "I've still won."
For a moment he thought he had as he saw the tension in her arm grew, but a smile flew across her face instead. She released the bow string.
As the arrow ripped into his chest, Drusbruk let out a startled grunt. No pain, he started to grin. Only then did he feel the stabbing throb and managed to look down enough to see the black feathers on the tail-end protruding from his body. She had shot him. The blow had knocked his breath away, but he certainly didn't feel like he was dying. That made him grin even more. The arrow had missed his heart, instead lodging two inches above it. He gasped for air.
"You missed." He panted.
"I meant to." She replied as she strode towards him.
The shot was a good one. Two inches above the heart, right were she wanted it. She was surprised by the look of victory on Drusbruk's face, and even more startled by the rasping speech.
"You missed." The words seemed to be pushed out forcefully but happily. Did he really think that she would let him get away so lightly? Did he think that she would not repay him for the pain he had caused her?
"I meant to." She told him, making her way across to him; she was only just beginning. She ignored him as she admired her handiwork; the arrow was embedded firmly enough, but not as deep as it could have been, excellent. She made an experimental pull on the arrow, gratified by the grating of the top edge on Drusbruk's collar bone and by the grinding of Drusbruk's teeth as he tried not to show his pain. Taking a firmer grasp of the shaft, she finally glanced at Drusbruk.
"Scream for me meltha."
He did so as she pulled the entire shaft down, the sharp arrow head ripping through flesh and muscle. The downward movement subsided as she felt the shaft come into contact with a rib, so she merely pulled the arrow out slightly until the movement down could continue. Drusbruk's scream had now become a breathless wheeze, but she paid no mind to it, dragging the shaft down another few inches. With her goal now reached, she pulled the arrow out totally, the suction of blood and tissue making it harder until it finally came loose with a gush of blood and a clomp of raw flesh. The smell of the dark, oozing liquid filled head, almost making her giddy, and she couldn't resist raising a smile filled face to the whimpering Drusbruk.
The male Orc was now slumped, and would surely have fallen were he not still held upright by the two Orcs on either side of him, who were now also grinning at the sight of blood. The torn, ragged incision now lay right over Drusbruk's heart, and he felt as though his entire insides were now open to view; each breath became a struggle to remain conscious, and he knew that Gorplak was not finished yet. She leaned closed to him.
"Do you remember what I told you once Drusbruk?" His brain slowly focused on the words she was saying. "I once asked if you wanted me to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you remember?"
Drusbruk realised with certainty now how he was to die. He forced out his words. "I remember."
Gorplak smiled and pulled back a hand. She slammed it through the opening she had made, slammed it through the now fragile ribs that were in her way and grasped the muscle that pumped the black liquid of life around her enemy. Seizing it, she ripped it out with all her strength, holding it before Drusbruk's eyes so that in his final few moments he could see her bite into it as his own life ebbed away, eyes loosing focus and body slumping until the two Orcs beside him dropped the dead corpse to the floor.
Gorplak chewed on his heart thoughtfully. So it was done. She stared at the muscle in her hand, still beating, still squirting small jets of dark blood which ran in rivulets down her arm to her elbow where it dropped to the ground. The sun was slowly rising, light rays appearing through the trees, catching in little glimmers on the dark liquid which rolled over her grey skin forming new rivers and patterns on its course. She studied it intently. How beautiful it was.
After the great thud that was Drusbruk's body falling to the ground, a silence descended upon the ranks of Orcs that watched Gorplak chew thoughtfully. Bagshash watched with pride, remembering the moment she had killed her adversary with a smile upon her face that spelt out that she was free, and he had never loved her more. In a dark clearing she was pitch black personified, dimmer than all the other creatures that stood there; he was drawn to that darkness. As the silence stretched longer he smiled fondly at her, his affection clear to see but he had another plan to set in motion; one he did not wish to implement, but it was the only way.
"Private Nudlik, one pace forward."
All eyes followed the large Orc as he obeyed and stepped out of rank, confusion paramount on his scarred face.
"Congratulations," Bagshash said. "You are promoted to Corporal in the deceased's place." Nudlik resisted the urge to gush happily, instead saluting and stepping back into rank. His hand found its way into Vashlash's, who was beaming with pride.
Bagshash addressed the ranks again. "Tomorrow we fight. Tomorrow we may die, but it will be in pursuit of the greatest prize imaginable. Train and rest, clean your weapons, for tomorrow we have work to do!"
A great cheer seemed about to spill from every mouth. "Quietly!" Bagshash reminded them. "The enemy is near, and must not know about our presence until we want them to. Dismissed."
His orders were followed by all but one, who still stood holding a bloodied chunk of flesh in her hand. She seemed barely aware of what had transpired and Bagshash was reluctant to disturb her. Still, she sensed him near her and smiled at him, and after a moment held out her hand containing the heart. Bagshash took it, took a bite and passed the heart back.
It should have been so perfect, but Bagshash felt cold inside. Now all the best fighters were stationed in one squad, just as Lurtz had wanted.
Well, I certainly enjoyed writing it; I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm quite sadistic at heart. I think that worries me! Anyway, the conclusion to my tale draws nigh, but there are still a few chapters to go - full of more romance and more fighting along that way!
On a completely random note, I need some help with another fic I'm planning; do elves actually cry? Someone once told me they don't, hence why they die from grief, but there are a few quotes from LOTR that seem to indicate they do, i.e.:
"Grief at last wholly overcame them and they wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground." (Chap V - The Bridge of Khazad-Dum, pg 323)
"The travellers. eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears." (Chapter VIII - Farewell to Lorien, pg 369). Can anyone give me a straight answer? Anyway, until next time dear reader!
A/N - As I warned before this chapter could get very bloody since a certain Orc is about to meet his fate. very messily! And bizarrely I think I'm going to enjoy writing it. I scare myself! However, I do apologise for my lack of anatomical knowledge of an Orc, I'm just guessing really! Please forgive any huge errors, but remember that they're not human so there's scope for improvisation! Anyway, enjoy this next installement!
Chapter 11 - Matters of the heart
They were at it again. The beady pair of yellow eyes watched the pair, noticing every slight touch of a hand, every glance filled with hidden meaning and desire. And he despised it. Drusbruk could see exactly what Gorplak saw in the great ugly hulk that was Bagshash, and he glanced down at his own smooth skin, knowing that he could never live up to Gorplak's expectations of an Orc. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming. Not that it mattered; Gorplak wouldn't have any expectations soon, you can't when you're dead.
It would be more difficult now that she and Bagshash were together, but Drusbruk had no intention of letting that stop him. The little elf-lover would be his willingly or not, and then she would die. And if he got a chance to take out the all-powerful Uruk-Hai then all the better. All he was waiting for was the orders to halt, then separate the two in the chaos. The sky above him was still dark; there were no smears of brightness in the east, plenty of time to continue planning and plotting.
Except that the Valar were against him. Moments later, the halt was called and Drusbruk found himself without a plan of action. He had only a few seconds until the fall out orders, and he could see Gorplak already begin to search for her lover. He growled quietly, and offered a small prayer to Morgoth to help him, before easing his small dagger out of its sheath.
Morgoth evidently ignored him. Instead of ordering the Company to fall out, the command was given for punishment order: the troops were to deploy themselves in three lines, forming a triangle, while the guilty party were pushed to the middle to receive their punishment. Drusbruk returned the dagger to its home and obediently followed the orders along with the rest of the Company, still watching Gorplak as she formed up exchanging confused glances with that other stupid female. Forming rank perfectly, the orcs lined up shoulder to shoulder, and Drusbruk found himself on the front row, almost directly opposite Gorplak. He saw the wounds on her cheek that he had inflicted, and the dark bruising on her skin; and his breathing grew heavier as he remembered her squeals of pain. His lips pulled into a smile.
Then Gorplak looked up and caught his eye.
She could barely repress the shudder that ran down her spine at the sight of those yellow eyes staring at her with undisguised lust and the full lips grinning. The long days and nights had aggravated her wounds, and although moments with Bagshash had helped to relieve the pain, it was still with her; new and raw as she caught his eye. She clenched a fist to stop her hand from trembling, and was ashamed to realise she was afraid, afraid of this little runt that dared to gape so openly. Slowly, slowly she dwelt on the pain he had caused her, and turned it into anger, seething and relentless that would help her meet his eye boldly, but still he unnerved her and she glanced away. She could not fight the feeling that he had won another battle.
A hush fell upon the assembled Company, and one of the points parted enough to allow Bagshash to step through. Gorplak's heart leapt in her chest to see him once more, the elation at their unification still strong. A brief smile flitted over her features, all thoughts of Drusbruk now pushed far away.
The smile promptly fell from Drusbruk's face as he saw Gorplak's reaction to Bagshash's entrance. The elation at his victory when she had broken eye contact first quickly fell before the strength of the enemy forces now before him, and he flashed Bagshash a look of pure hatred that surely the Dark Lord himself would have been proud of. Bagshash however ignore it.
"Company is ordered to observe punishment." He spoke, then briefly gestures to two officers who he had previously informed of his plans. Drusbruk was so busy glaring at the Uruk-Hai that he neglected to see the pair head straight to him, and it was only as they came to a halt in front of him that he realised that perhaps Bagshash had noticed his stare.
"Corporal Drusbruk, one pace forward." Bagshash ordered. For a moment Drusbruk was tempted to ignore the command, but he realised that his one salvation may just be his eagerness to follow orders. He did so and pulled a crisp salute.
Only his hand never made it. As soon as he had begun to step, the officers took a firm hold of his arms and held them firmly out to the side. Drusbruk snarled briefly in surprise but after a moments struggle found any efforts to release himself to be in vane.
"You are charged with vengeful use of violence against an unprepared opponent within camp boundaries." Bagshash informed him. Drusbruk scoffed at the charges.
"And if it was anyone else, you wouldn't care." He spat at the larger creature. A few heads turned at his outspokenness, but Drusbruk was more concerned with the fact that his death stood before him. "Go on then." He goaded. "Kill me now. Disembowel me, break my neck, save your lover's honour, go on!" He was shouting now, but he had thrown caution to the wind. "Do it! Show what a big scary monster you are! Do it!"
It was the silence after his rant that he couldn't bear. Bagshash just ignored him. "Archer Gorplak, one pace forward."
Surprised, Gorplak did as she was asked. Then Bagshash went on again. "This would seem a better arena for your grievances, are you satisfied by the arrangements Archer?" Gorplak nodded.
"Proceed." Bagshash told her.
Drusbruk swallowed. His fate now lay in the hands of the elf-lover he had wanted dead. He watched her discard her sword and dagger, and walk to the third wall of the triangle, directly opposite him. He watched as her eyes gained a vengeful gleam, and he watched as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it into her bow, the string pulled taunt.
"You never would have beaten me in a fair fight meltha." He said, grinning, hoping that if he could provoke her enough his death would at least be swift and painless. He was not afraid to die now, although his wish to die in battle was only half fulfilled; still, at least he would die by his enemy's hand. The only thing he was afraid of now was the slow, pain-filled end that he could see in Gorplak's face. "I've still won."
For a moment he thought he had as he saw the tension in her arm grew, but a smile flew across her face instead. She released the bow string.
As the arrow ripped into his chest, Drusbruk let out a startled grunt. No pain, he started to grin. Only then did he feel the stabbing throb and managed to look down enough to see the black feathers on the tail-end protruding from his body. She had shot him. The blow had knocked his breath away, but he certainly didn't feel like he was dying. That made him grin even more. The arrow had missed his heart, instead lodging two inches above it. He gasped for air.
"You missed." He panted.
"I meant to." She replied as she strode towards him.
The shot was a good one. Two inches above the heart, right were she wanted it. She was surprised by the look of victory on Drusbruk's face, and even more startled by the rasping speech.
"You missed." The words seemed to be pushed out forcefully but happily. Did he really think that she would let him get away so lightly? Did he think that she would not repay him for the pain he had caused her?
"I meant to." She told him, making her way across to him; she was only just beginning. She ignored him as she admired her handiwork; the arrow was embedded firmly enough, but not as deep as it could have been, excellent. She made an experimental pull on the arrow, gratified by the grating of the top edge on Drusbruk's collar bone and by the grinding of Drusbruk's teeth as he tried not to show his pain. Taking a firmer grasp of the shaft, she finally glanced at Drusbruk.
"Scream for me meltha."
He did so as she pulled the entire shaft down, the sharp arrow head ripping through flesh and muscle. The downward movement subsided as she felt the shaft come into contact with a rib, so she merely pulled the arrow out slightly until the movement down could continue. Drusbruk's scream had now become a breathless wheeze, but she paid no mind to it, dragging the shaft down another few inches. With her goal now reached, she pulled the arrow out totally, the suction of blood and tissue making it harder until it finally came loose with a gush of blood and a clomp of raw flesh. The smell of the dark, oozing liquid filled head, almost making her giddy, and she couldn't resist raising a smile filled face to the whimpering Drusbruk.
The male Orc was now slumped, and would surely have fallen were he not still held upright by the two Orcs on either side of him, who were now also grinning at the sight of blood. The torn, ragged incision now lay right over Drusbruk's heart, and he felt as though his entire insides were now open to view; each breath became a struggle to remain conscious, and he knew that Gorplak was not finished yet. She leaned closed to him.
"Do you remember what I told you once Drusbruk?" His brain slowly focused on the words she was saying. "I once asked if you wanted me to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you remember?"
Drusbruk realised with certainty now how he was to die. He forced out his words. "I remember."
Gorplak smiled and pulled back a hand. She slammed it through the opening she had made, slammed it through the now fragile ribs that were in her way and grasped the muscle that pumped the black liquid of life around her enemy. Seizing it, she ripped it out with all her strength, holding it before Drusbruk's eyes so that in his final few moments he could see her bite into it as his own life ebbed away, eyes loosing focus and body slumping until the two Orcs beside him dropped the dead corpse to the floor.
Gorplak chewed on his heart thoughtfully. So it was done. She stared at the muscle in her hand, still beating, still squirting small jets of dark blood which ran in rivulets down her arm to her elbow where it dropped to the ground. The sun was slowly rising, light rays appearing through the trees, catching in little glimmers on the dark liquid which rolled over her grey skin forming new rivers and patterns on its course. She studied it intently. How beautiful it was.
After the great thud that was Drusbruk's body falling to the ground, a silence descended upon the ranks of Orcs that watched Gorplak chew thoughtfully. Bagshash watched with pride, remembering the moment she had killed her adversary with a smile upon her face that spelt out that she was free, and he had never loved her more. In a dark clearing she was pitch black personified, dimmer than all the other creatures that stood there; he was drawn to that darkness. As the silence stretched longer he smiled fondly at her, his affection clear to see but he had another plan to set in motion; one he did not wish to implement, but it was the only way.
"Private Nudlik, one pace forward."
All eyes followed the large Orc as he obeyed and stepped out of rank, confusion paramount on his scarred face.
"Congratulations," Bagshash said. "You are promoted to Corporal in the deceased's place." Nudlik resisted the urge to gush happily, instead saluting and stepping back into rank. His hand found its way into Vashlash's, who was beaming with pride.
Bagshash addressed the ranks again. "Tomorrow we fight. Tomorrow we may die, but it will be in pursuit of the greatest prize imaginable. Train and rest, clean your weapons, for tomorrow we have work to do!"
A great cheer seemed about to spill from every mouth. "Quietly!" Bagshash reminded them. "The enemy is near, and must not know about our presence until we want them to. Dismissed."
His orders were followed by all but one, who still stood holding a bloodied chunk of flesh in her hand. She seemed barely aware of what had transpired and Bagshash was reluctant to disturb her. Still, she sensed him near her and smiled at him, and after a moment held out her hand containing the heart. Bagshash took it, took a bite and passed the heart back.
It should have been so perfect, but Bagshash felt cold inside. Now all the best fighters were stationed in one squad, just as Lurtz had wanted.
Well, I certainly enjoyed writing it; I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm quite sadistic at heart. I think that worries me! Anyway, the conclusion to my tale draws nigh, but there are still a few chapters to go - full of more romance and more fighting along that way!
On a completely random note, I need some help with another fic I'm planning; do elves actually cry? Someone once told me they don't, hence why they die from grief, but there are a few quotes from LOTR that seem to indicate they do, i.e.:
"Grief at last wholly overcame them and they wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground." (Chap V - The Bridge of Khazad-Dum, pg 323)
"The travellers. eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears." (Chapter VIII - Farewell to Lorien, pg 369). Can anyone give me a straight answer? Anyway, until next time dear reader!
