Chapter 16 Reviews:

Hel – You would think that they had a different opinion about legends after the Ents, however they never really saw the Ents, so they never knew who really attacked them, and also, some people never learn (which I'm sure will be demonstrated by Yutshrug and the nameless one over and over again in the future).  And perhaps the Mordor armies will have weapons to give them when they finally reach Minas Tirith.  When making the ages for my orcs, I wasn't sure how old 'old' should be for an orc; Tolkien never really specified if orcs had short lives compared to humans, or short lives compared to elves.  Considering how violent orcs are to one another and how much battle they take part in, I thought that Tolkien meant short lives compared to humans.  Grôltakh is three hundred and seventy six years old in this story. Just out of interest, how old did you (and anyone else who reads this and responds) think he was?

~Chapter 17~

Grôltakh motioned his soldiers onwards to join with the siege, but he himself lingered. Ragnäkah joined his side.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Grôltakh stared at the scene that was playing out before his eyes and shook his head.

"We're going to Mordor." Ragnäkah looked towards Minas Tirith, and then back towards his leader, nodding his head. For once, his wisdom was as developed as his knowledge. The two orcs turned away and began to continue eastwards. Yutshrug scratched his head at the two, and the nameless orc stood beside him, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey! I thought said-" Yutshrug stuttered. "Didn't you say we were goin' t' Gondor? You never said anythin' about Mordor!"  Yutshrug whined, thinking about the extra miles he had to walk, and the good food and pillage he would be leaving behind if the siege was successful. Grôltakh turned to look at Yutshrug, fed up that he had to explain his actions yet again.

"You see all o' those soldiers down there? There should be more! Where are all o' the Uruk-hai we sent away to Helm's Deep? There are not nearly enough down there t' account fer all those that we sent away, even if there were many casualties. Somethin' 'as happened at Helm's Deep, maybe something like what happened back at Orthanc." Grôltakh muttered curses under his breath; Orthanc was meant to be nearly impenetrable – there should have at least been some sort of warning! Yet there was none, and Orthanc had been taken within an instant. And they had needed to flee. "All of the Uruk-hai couldn't still be at Helm's Deep – they wouldn't all be needed!  They would be needed here!  They would yearn for more battle! Why stay in a land that has been conquered? No, they must mostly be dead, if not all; and it would take some power t' destroy that many. The humans 'ave some sort o' trick up their sleeves – I know it! And I don't want t' be 'ere when they use it. After all, what can we do? We're only orcs!" As Grôltakh said these last words, Ragnäkah fingered the amulet around his neck, thinking about how 'only orcs' had managed to escape Moria and find themselves miles and miles away. Yutshrug shrugged, and followed his two friends, the little orc close on his heels.

"And what do you think you are doin'?" Ragnäkah sneered at the young orc.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" The nameless one retorted.

"Following us t' Mordor," Yutshrug replied, not realising that it was a rhetorical question. Of course, he didn't know what a rhetorical question was either.

"Oh, let him come if he so wants Ragnäkah; he has more sense than those down there," Grôltakh said, pointing to the battle that was taking place around Minas Tirith.  At the moment, the forces of darkness seemed to be winning, but Grôltakh and Ragnäkah would bet that it would not last long if indeed there was something that the humans had in their favour that they did not know about.  The four of them continued onwards under a darkened sky, knowing that if there were troops belonging to Gondor outside the city walls, they would not stand a very high chance of living long.

The battle raged on in the background, and the nameless one could not help but stare in awe at the scale of the attack, of the mechanical weapons being used, and the smell of fear, aggression, hatred and hope all emanating from the masses not so very far away.  The air thundered with cries of war and of pain; of thundering feet and creaking stone.  Perfect chaos.  It was his first sight of a real battle, and although he didn't realise it, watching the siege made him feel pride in being an orc.  Although it stirred his bloodlust once more, and cried out to him to become part of it, he knew that he was with some intelligent orcs, and if he wanted to live over two weeks, he should stay with them.  With great difficulty, he pulled himself away from its horrid beauty, and comforted himself in the knowledge that it would not be long before he took part in something like that.

Ragnäkah could not help but wonder what his friend's agenda was.  Rarely did Grôltakh keep secrets from him, and even now he could tell that something was keeping his mind occupied.  Grôltakh never went to a place without a specific need to be there.  Well, time would tell.  These were strange times right now, and Ragnäkah could tell that the end of it all was drawing near; whether the outcome was going to be in their favour had yet to be decided.

Obviously, Grôltakh had never intended to take part in the battle in the first place; his place was in Lugbûrz, and it had been all along. As he had planned, all along.

~End of Chapter 17~