Chapter 17 Reviews:

Hel – Yep!  They're on their way to Mordor now!  Schattentanz was right to suspect that going to Mordor was a better bet – Minas Tirith was more of a stop-off point for Grôltakh, and he has dropped off the troops there.  And why is Grôltakh so eager to get to Mordor?  I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see!

A/N: This chapter is full of useless crap, but I need to fill in the gap between getting to Mordor and… forgotten my sentence. Anyway, this bit is needed for the story to make sense, but it isn't really that interesting.

So tough!

XP

~Chapter 18~

They had managed to cross the river and were travelling through Osgiliath. It was day, but the sky ahead was as abysmal and as black as the never-ending night. In other words, it elevated their souls beyond anything they had felt for a very long time. They covered the land with such speed that they had thought was unfeasible, and they were only marching along steadily. The only interruption to this was the occasional moan from Yutshrug about his stomach needing more food, his mouth wanting more water, or his bowels, well… wanting emptying. For some reason, Grôltakh and Ragnäkah endured him with stoic-like ability, the latter needing to meditate now and again to keep his temper under control (and managing barely).  It was an ability that they had built up over decades that they had spent, enduring Yutshrug's pessimism, continuous whining and stupidity.  However, the newest orc in their group did not possess this talent. The nameless one would hit Yutshrug whenever he'd had enough of him, which usually ended with Yutshrug attempting to devour the little bastard; the nameless one needed to learn his place. Above, somewhere in the blackness, they could feel the winged Nazgûl scanning over the ground, looking for the one item that was the soul purpose of their existence: the One Ring.

Walking through the desolate city triggered something within Grôltakh – a feeling that had died down as of late. Seeing all of the carnage and destruction, he began to yearn for his earlier days, when he had pillaged, raped and burned entire towns. Grôltakh remembered how he had been in command of a small group in the Battle of the Five Armies, and how he had slain many a dwarf, human and fair elf despite the disastrous outcome. He wanted the elves to fear him again as they once had. He looked at his clothes, and remembered how the Elvish high lord had feared him. Will such days ever come to me again? He thought not, unless Sauron won his final battle against men, but his hunger still stayed.

Though he could not say for definite, Ragnäkah felt sure that the battle at Minas Tirith must be over by now.  None of them could be sure of the outcome, but they would find out be the time they got to Mordor, if not sooner.  Ragnäkah hoped for all their sakes that Grôltakh's theory back at Minas Tirith was wrong.  Otherwise… he did not want to think about the outcome.

The nameless one had never been to Mordor before.  In fact, he hadn't really been anywhere before; he was barely a fortnight old.  Mordor was going to be an experience for him, for better or for worse.  He could not wait to see Lugbûrz, and he bet that these orcs that he was with would make sure that his time there was as interesting as possible – whether they wanted to or not.  He could not help but snigger at the thought of the 'interesting' time Ragnäkah had provided him with down in Moria's mines.  That particular orc was going to provide him with entertainment for a long while to come.

A cataclysm wracked the ground and some of the more deteriorated buildings toppled, causing the orcs to scatter. Most of the rubble fell amongst them, but one piece fell onto Ragnäkah's head, knocking him to the floor. He did not get back up. Grôltakh rushed over, tailed closely by the nameless orc (whose intentions were not of concern, but of looting Ragnäkah's belongings), whilst Yutshrug gaped as he stared up at the buildings dazedly.

"Is he unconscious?" The nameless one asked.

"Yes."

"Good!" The nameless one immediately began to reach for Ragnäkah's amulet, but Grôltakh grabbed his wrist and twisted it, causing the young orc severe pain.

"Don't touch – if I have been correctly informed, it was because you pilfered his whip in Moria that you were separated from the group and why he tried to kill you," Grôltakh grinned. His attention turned to the amulet, and then he noticed the new whip that Ragnäkah was using for a belt. "Where did he get those?"

"In Moria – where I got my armour and sword!" He stared at the amulet and whip keenly. Grôltakh's grip tightened. "No touchie!" The nameless one whined as a promise, yanking his hand towards his chest the moment Grôltakh let it go.

"Yutshrug, you're the strongest (though not the smartest) so come and help me carry him." Yutshrug shook himself out of his building gazing and did as he was commanded. "I'm watching you," Grôltakh grimaced malevolently at the nameless one. Thunder bellowed in the sky above, with the wrath of the Dark Lord himself. Grôltakh had this funny feeling that if he didn't get to Lugbûrz soon, there may not be one to go to. He shuddered at the thought, and wondered what had made him think so.  Perhaps all of this non-stop marching and arguing was having an effect on his mind.  Yes – that was it.  They marched through most of the day, until finally, Minas Morgul's peak came into sight.

End of Chapter 18~