Chapter 11 Reviews:
Hel – Yes, the nameless one has finally gotten himself a full set of clothes – so he'll no longer need to steal from Ragnäkah or anyone else now, will he? I was hoping that the scene where Ragnäkah and the nameless one were running away from the little chirping creatures, shielding their most 'precious parts' would be funny, so I am delighted that I made you laugh! ^.^ The prequel is coming along… slowly. I have the basic storyline in my head, along with some of the details in some parts, but it's just a case of finding the time to write it all down. But don't worry, because it's all there, and this story still has quite a way to go before it ends anyway!
Well onto the story now. Enjoy!
~Chapter 12~
"Golug-bûrzum," Grôltakh mused. "Now I 'aven't been called that in a long while." In Westron, Golug-bûrzum meant 'Elf-darkness', the darkness being the one that is part of death. He calmly swaggered forwards, ignoring the spears that were shaken at him in warning, though inside, his heart was pounding. "Are you the chief o' Moria now, Lèkfrêtz? I thought you would never get rid of that pompous old shit, Yishvruk." Lèkfrêtz stopped leaning on his sword but continued to still rotate it, whilst eyeing Grôltakh with something close to amusement.
"That 'pompous old shit' is still in charge of us Moria orcs," Lèkfrêtz replied, "But I am now second-in-command. And as such, I cannot allow you t' pass." The Moria orcs clambered down the pillars and surrounded the group of Isengarders. If a fight did break out, then it looked like it was to have about even numbers, and if Grôltakh organised his followers correctly, then he might be able to beat them. But diplomacy was not yet gone. "You are trespassing on our ground, the penalty for which is death," Lèkfrêtz continued.
"Haven't you heard, Lèkfrêtz? Have you been hiding up here so long? War is upon us! We go at the summons of the Great Lord himself to the battle of Gondor!" At this, a few of the members in Grôltakh's group began to mumble, but they were soon silenced with a look from him. As long as Lèkfrêtz thought that they were doing the business of the Great Lord himself, they would not stop him. Lèkfrêtz's eyebrows did rise, but he did not seem ready to let them past. "Don't you remember the old favour I did for you, Lèkfrêtz? You still owe me fer it." Lèkfrêtz burst into laughter and picked up his sword, putting Grôltakh and himself closer together, and their armies further behind.
"I cannot do favours for you, even if I owe you; no' when I have a job to do. The Chief will not be pleased, oh, no." Lèkfrêtz circled Grôltakh for a while, before he came to a decision. "I will make you this offer, Grôltakh, and only this one," Lèkfrêtz proclaimed. "You can leave Moria unhindered, and un-helped. You will leave without taking anything, be it water, food or weaponry. But if you do not leave Moria by the time sun sets today, then when the darkness reigns the skies, we shall hunt you down and kill you." To this the Moria orcs cheered their second-in-command, content with such a deal. Grôltakh grew suspicious; it was not like Lèkfrêtz to make bargins. With him the answer was either yes or no, no conditions. He knew that they were close to the bridge, but how close? Before he accepted or declined the deal, he looked for a window to the outside world to tell him if it was morning, noon or night, but he saw none. Reluctantly, he accepted. The Moria orcs melted back away into the shadows, but Lèkfrêtz lingered a little longer.
"I'll see you later, Grôltakh," he grinned forebodingly, before he too disappeared into the cloaking darkness. Not if I can help it you won't. He pushed the company onwards, aware that he could not afford to make any more mistakes. But it was at this moment that Urthrutz decided to fully rebel.
"I've 'ad enough of you leadin' us about! You said you knew where you were goin', but you don't! You said it wouldn't take us that long t' get through Moria, and it has! And whoever you friend was back there now wants us all dead! Some leader you turned out to be! I'm goin' t' take over from 'ere!" Grôltakh turned to the Uruk.
"Come on, now Urthrutz!" He replied teasingly – patronisingly. "We're almost at the bridge now." Grôltakh was exasperated with the Uruk, and he knew his words would be wasted. In fact, he welcomed the Uruk's next move. There was a long, tense silence, then together they both drew their swords; the Uruk's meanacing broad and heavy sword, forged in Orthanc as one of many, and Grôltakh's unique time-tarnished, thin sword, meant more as a symbol of power for the defeated Elven high lord than as a weapon, but a weapon it still was. The orcs of Orthanc gathered around and began to cheer Urthrutz on. Grôltakh could feel Lèkfrêtz's watchful stare from above. As one, the two fighters leapt forwards, steel clashing against steel. As they did so, Grôltakh moved his left foot to kick Urthrutz between the legs but the Uruk moved before contact was made. Urthrutz began to swing his sword about wildly like a berserker making wide swings. Grôltakh ducked, countered and hit back ferociously, striking the Uruk across the chest and leaving a long gash. Grôltakh had made the first successful hit, and as a result Urthrutz was furious. They began to circle.
"'Ad enough already, have we snaga?" Urthrutz asked him. "It'll take more than this scratch t' kill me!" Grôltakh rolled up the great coat's sleeves.
"Oh, we're just gettin' started my dear boy – and you're jus' gettin' finished too!" Grôltakh threw himself at the Uruk, and allowed Urthrutz to slash him across the face as his maneuver twisted himself around and stuck his sword horizontally through the Uruk's right side of his back. It did no major damage. Urthrutz howled and pulled forwards, dragging the sword out of his body. His blood spilled onto the floor. Urthrutz went into his berserker mode once more, and went closer and closer to Grôltakh, swinging his sword. Grôltakh tried to parry the attacks but Urthrutz was too strong for him. He managed to move enough to miss a few, and other blows that still struck him hit not so vital regions on his body. Dark blood mixed with even darker blood. It was during one of these blows that Grôltakh saw his chance. He ducked one of Urthrutz's more mighty attacks that would have left him without a head and twisted his body and sword so that the sword tip sank straight into the Uruk's heart. Urthrutz gasped and stumbled backwards. The Uruk readied another blow for his enemy. Grôltakh struck before the Uruk had time to counter, and slit his throat. Urthrutz stood there silent, and the cheering stopped. The Uruk dropped his sword. He was still alive, but at the same time he was dead – everybody could see it; everybody knew it. But Grôltakh was not done yet. He hacked Urthrutz's legs off at the back of the knee, causing what was left of him to fall to the ground on his back. It was then that Urthrutz was dead, but Grôltakh continued to savagely defile the body. He used his sword to stab out the Uruk's eyes, and make his skull unrecognizable. He stamped on the Uruk's rib cage, causing the bones to break and squash the organs inside before he jabbed and stabbed at the corpse's stomach, revealing all of it's contents to the outside world. And then Grôltakh was done; though his bloodlust was now as strong as it had ever been. It was then that the presence he could feel above him disappeared. The orcs stared at Grôltakh, gaping in surprise. It was not his aggression to the corpse that caused their surprise – any orc could be that vicious – but the way in which Grôltakh moved could be described as… elven. There was something not right about this orc; something not right at all.
Grôltakh turned to those watching him and shook his fist holding the still bloody sword. "You Uruk's might have yer strength, and ye may have been born with the knowledge of how t' fight, but that doesn't mean you know how t' use it!" Urthrutz had all of the power in that battle, but Grôltakh had all of the experience. "Anyone else interested in challengin' me fer leadership?" A few of the Uruk-Hai growled, but none moved to challenge. It was then that another Uruk stepped forwards - Noshlak. Grôltakh readied his sword again.
"I ain't goin' to fight a snaga," Noshlak told him. "But I ain't gonna follow your path any longer." Noshlak pointed to a doorway; not the one that they had just come through, nor the one that Grôltakh was going to lead them through, but the other door in the room. It was the door that Grôltakh did not know where or what it led to. "I'm goin' that way, and if anyone wants to follow me, they can do so. Like you said: we chose to follow you, and we have the choice not to."
"Fine!" Grôltakh growled. "You go that way, right into the heart of the Moria orcs' den," he lied, "and I'll take my followers to the bridge of Khazad-Dum." Grôltakh could see that he had put doubt into Noshlak's eyes, and the eyes of those that were splitting and choosing to follow Noshlak, but the party still split. Most of the Uruk-Hai followed Noshlak, but some continued to follow Grôltakh, grudgingly impressed that he had managed to defeat one of their own. Both Grôltakh and Yutshrug were surprised to see that Grôltakh still had most of the group with him after all of the complaining they had done about his leadership. Much of their precious time had been wasted on the battle, and Grôltakh knew that they must get out before nightfall or they would not leave Moria at all.
And so the two parties went their separate ways, never to meet again. Grôltakh could not see the outside world, but his suspicions had been justified, for already, the sun was but less than an hour away from dusk.
~End of Chapter 12~
A/N: Grôltakh finally gets the chance to show his vicious side. He was going to be called 'Elf-slayer' or 'Elves-end' but I couldn't find the orkish for 'slayer' or 'end' and I thought that you people would like something that translates into Tolkien's orkish, rather than me making up some of my own. So there it is: Grôltakh's also known as 'Elf-darkness' – 'the death of elves'.