This is a very, very AU tale, set at the very end of the Third Age.
Balagz fell into the ravine with the rest of the orc troop. A phalanx of elves was sweeping their way. Balagz licked her lips. Perhaps they would all dine on sweet elf flesh this night. Not that she had actually had elf flesh. That was reserved for the captains. She and the others usually got what was left of the horses. Not that she'd been in many skirmishes. This was actually her first. She had just heard horses were all the rank and file got. Balagaz had spent most of her years helping in the armory and had never actually seen much battle.
The jingling of the elvish armor, which was hung about with tiny bells, rang their call through the morass of fighting and death. Their horses' hooves made no sound. There was only the jingling of bells and harness and the occasional elvish word.
Balagz peeked over the edge of the ravine and then quickly ducked out of sight as arrows began to whiz overhead.
They were upon them!
"Back to the river you scum! Dubruzh says back. We can trap them in the marsh!" Her commander bellowed as he ran past the startled orc.
Balagz got up and ran low with the others, leading the elvish host on, who followed with a shout. The bells and harness jingled louder.
Balagz took a quick look over her shoulder and then her eyes went wide. They were almost upon her! Looking about wildly, she rushed for cover. The ground had become more swampy as they neared the river.
An elvish arrow buried itself in her shoulder and with a cry of surprise; Balagz fell into the reedy riverside. The elvish host rushed past and soon, all Balagz heard was the scream of her fellow orcs and a few war cries from the elvish horses.
The she-orc dragged herself slowly out of the swamp and bending over, ran for the cover of a willow brake nearby.
The arrow began to burn in her shoulder. No doubt covered with some kind of elvish poison. Everyone said elves poisoned their arrows and swords, just as the orcs did.
Balagz hunkered down in the damp undergrowth and taking a deep breath tried to yank the arrow out. To no avail. It was not only deep in her flesh but wedged in by her leather armor. She tugged again and then stopped as she felt the blood trickle down her scarred flesh.
Taking a ragged breath, she curled up in the thick greenery and closed her eyes. Perhaps a bit of a nap would help while she waited for the skirmish to move on.
Morning burned through her eyelids and with a moan, the she-orc buried her face down in the mud. She had slept too long and now she could not move, blinded by the sun. She could feel it on the back of her neck burning. She scrunched up her shoulders.
Being face down in the mud gave her an idea. Perhaps the mud would help, at least on her neck. Grabbing big handfuls, she flung it on her shoulders and scrambled deeper into the muck. She lay as one dead through out the day.
Ah, but her dreams! They tortured her with images of elvish faces leaning close to her and...kissing her! She groaned into the mud, sickened by her own fancies.
By nightfall, Balagz awoke and was very hungry The pain of the arrow had settled into a steady throbbing.
She crawled to the river edge and found some frogs and a turtle to eat for supper.
Finished, she sat and listened to the night for awhile. There were only a few animal noises, the whir of the occasional insect. She could hear no Black Speech nor elvish.
No groans either.
Standing slowly, the she-orc followed the river. She knew her
commander had wanted them to go south to the river. It would bring them closer to the other divisions.
As she trotted along, moving at the ground eating pace that she had been trained for, Balagz found herself uncharacteristically nervous.
She was alone. And she had been always surrounded by others, always orcs and Uruk-hai. Her pod nest was always thirteen, and though she was the smallest, it had been everything to her.
The only life she could remember took place in a dark warren of caves in the Misty Mountains. All she could remember was the welcoming dark. And of course, beatings and scarrings. Her crooked mouth formed a mockery of a smile as she brushed aside the tangled black ropes of her hair, now littered with tiny bird and knuckle bones from unfortunate orcs. And always there was pain, unrelenting. The kind that burned not only into her scared and pustuled skin, but burned into her mind until all she could see was pain and leering faces and hear the harsh Black Speech. There were also foul foods and liquors. Her frequently broken bones healed quickly, but they bent her body into a distorted and awkward shape.
She stumbled over a tree root and cursed her inattention. The stumbling jarred the arrow and the sharp burning renewed itself. Hissing at the unexpectedness of it she moved on, increasing her speed. She could not be weak. Not weak, no, no, never weak.
The weak...disappeared.
Her best nest mate, Albuhg had disappeared after he had broken a leg in a midnight skirmish against some Dwarves who had been mining too close to their nest.
Their leader had dragged him off and he had never been seen again.
For good measure, because Albuhg had been described as foolish, all the of the pod nest had been beaten with red hot irons. Balazg shivered. They had hurt, but she had said nothing, as had the others.
Avoiding the waning moonlight, for even that made her eyes water, Balagz covered many miles. She came upon the signs of a skirmish and with lucky, she found a dying horse. Taking her large sword, she happily hacked off a hind leg and reveled in the spurting blood and pain-filled grunts of the animal. Gnawing at the leg with hunger, she paused a moment, a strip of horsehide hanging from her mouth and dropped the leg in the torn up soil around her. Before her lay another horse, but beneath it, Balagz saw an elf! She could, at last, have sweet elf flesh!
Leaning down, she pulled out her sword and hacked off the extended arm. The elf had been dead long enough that there was little blood. The she-orc raised the arm for a taste, then noticed it was covered by armor. Roughly pushing aside the light armor to expose the forearm, the metal burned her hand. She hissed and dropped the limb. Staring at it, she bit her lip. Could she eat it anyway? No! Angry at her hunger and fear, she grabbed the partially eaten horse leg and ran off. She did not want to inspect any of the dead orcs. Finding her pod mates lying there would not be good.
But she halted and slowed her steps when her keen hearing brought her the sound of elvish being lightly spoken from a nearby stand of river oaks.
Creeping near, Balagz curled around a boulder to listen to the unusual speech of the elves. She had only heard shouts before and occasional barked commands. She continued eating her horse leg as she puzzled out the quiet words.
Their language was...different. Softer, like wind in the trees just before dawn. Balagz shook her head. What made her think of that?
She eyed the camp, carefully counting the number of elves. Sighing, in her wounded state it would be foolish to take on the ten or so warriors she could see.
Balagz settled close to the boulder watching and waiting for a chance to either move on or attack. Hunkering down, she thoughtfully pulled at the last of the horse meat and continued to observe the enemy.
She had drifted off again! She found herself being hauled up by two formidable looking elves. Her hands were already bound. She struggled sluggishly but in a few minutes, her legs were bound too.
Why had they not killed her? A thin shiver went through her. Perhaps they too enjoyed lengthy torture?
Hissing and spitting curses, she tried to wiggle free, but the elvish knots were tight and firm and the rope burned her flesh.
Blinking in the rising sunlight, eyes watering again, she was roughly dragged to her feet and then thrown over a skittish elvish horse that was clearly not happy to have her on its back. An elf passing by snapped the arrow off and the subsequent pain made her faint.
Balagz woke, and a last, it was night. She struggled futilely against her bindings. But to no avail. Her skin had bubbled around the tight windings of rope.
An elf hunkered down until it was eye level with the orc. It spoke in its lilting language and then yanked the she-orc up by its greasy braids. Then a silver flask was pressed against her lips and a foul, thick liquor was forced down her throat.
Balagz tried to spit the liquid out but the elf hit her in the throat and she swallowed convulsively.
Her head was slammed down against the ground, sinking her into darkness again.
Balagz stirred in her sleep. Not this dream! She had not had it in hundreds of years. The one with the elves in it. They were smiling and dancing under the stars, white flowers glowing at their feet. Suddenly, dark hulking shapes swept through the moon-silvered figures. They were all grabbed and the screams echoed through Balagz mind. She screamed as she felt herself lifted in the night, a terror filling her......
Struggling, she tried to sit up, but her bindings pulled her up short again. A bucket of water was thrown on her. Blinking, she saw through running eyes that the sun was about to rise once more. She bellowed in fear and a nearby elf hit her with the haft of his spear. Balagz fell to the ground and buried her face in the dirt.
She was dragged to her feet and bound to the skittish horse again. Balagz vowed if she got free, these elves would pay with their lives.
The sun rose higher and Balagz tied face up, her arms and legs bound under the horse's belly, felt the sun burning her eyes. She was going to go blind. She would be taken away! She would never be able to eat elf flesh again! She struggled feebly, the embedded arrow working deeper into her hide.
Balagz passed out, her exposed skin bubbling more in the sunlight, her arrow wound burning.
Balagz found herself lying in sand and saw grass at the edge of the sea. It must be the sea! The smell of the water, the sound the waves made....Balagz winced. Once again she thought in confusion: How did she know this? Her home was the enveloping dark in the deep caverns of the Misty Mountains. The biggest water she had ever seen was the Anduin in full flood.
A campfire near her made her blink and she sat up. An elf approached her and then, began to speak haltingly in Black Speech.
"We need to know: where is the next big crash. All your kind are moving South. To Gondor? Mordor? "
Balagz so startled to hear her own tongue, just stared at the frowning elf.
"Crash?" She growled back and then realized he meant battle. "I know not, elf dung."
The elf lifted a sword and hit her hard with the flat of it. "I have not the time for making nice," The elf said angrily. "You have been dragged here to talk! Tell me where you are gathering! To crash!'
Balagz laughed, the harsh sound louder than the waves hitting the sand.
Once again the elf struck her across the side of the face, this time, knocking her out.