Sorry for the way uber long lack of an update. That one's totally my fault, Tho not many of you out there are reading this story. But a huge thank you to our lovely reviewers!
NOTES: Katya has her characters speaking in Elvish, but I use the Black Speech of Mordor, aka Orcish. But instead of giving you the translations as she does at the end of the story, I just throw them in parenthesis ( ) next to the word. Makes it easier for you and me, ne? .
WARNINGS: violence, language, and yaoi (boi x boi).DISCLAIMER: Stands for the entire fic. Neither I nor Katya own Lord of The rings or Yugioh.
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"Get going, you scum! Or I'll feed you to Sauron myself," snarled the captain as he glared on one of his soldiers, who was traveling much too slowly. "Move!"
The black, festering heart of Mordor was teeming with thousands upon thousands of Orcs, a fair portion of Sauron's army. Their dirt- and blood- smeared armor clanked as they trudged along, with putrid breath, rusty weapons, and the occasional grunt or swear. They poured over the desolate rocks, scrambling up the mountainside, running through the tunnels, with many scouring the air on dragon back. The ground rumbled with their constant marching, seeming to tremble each time one of the rank, disgusting feet came thundering down.
Even as they continued their scrimmage, lashing the already-dead ground with crushing strides, more poured out of Mordor's stronghold, shaking its rotting foundations. Malik observed the growling, drooling, stinking creatures passing in the hallway from the corner of his grungy, quiet little room. At least it was free from the stench of Orc, for the time being.
Cracked clay pots and dented metal dishes jangled with the passing of Sauron's monstrous army, and Malik, the youngest of the Ishtar twins, turned his attention back to his hard cheese and dried bread. "All this shit over two little runaway slaves?" he sneered.
"Don't be stupid; that little runt is the son of Galadriel, and the look- alike of Yami," Bakura growled, fastening the leather strap on his pack and double-checking his weapons.
"Exactly. Who cares? He's the 'Elven Light'. Oooh, so terrifying," Malik mocked after swallowing. "He may look like Yami, but he's NOT Aragorn's brat. And the girl? Hmph. She's just another whore from Rohan."
Malik's meal was suddenly out of his hand and pinned against the crumbling stone wall by a small, sharp dagger. His slightly larger brother, Merik, smirked as he uncurled from his place amongst the shadows across the room, pulled the dagger out of the wall, and bit into the bitter, dry bread and stale cheese.
Malik would have been surprised, even scared, if he wasn't used to it. He had grown up in Mordor, after all. He merely glared at his twin, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wooden bench, one leg tucked up under him.
Bakura the Black, an ex-apprentice of Saruman, let out a sharp bark of laughter. To the untrained eye, the younger of the blonde twins appeared to be perfectly relaxed, but he'd seen the boy tensing. He was terrified of his own brother. Bakura snickered, even more amused at Malik's glare, and reached out as the elder Ishtar walked by, ripping off a small hunk of bread. Merik retaliated in the blink of an eye with the slash of one of his daggers across the back of his hand; however, Bakura already had his prize.
Merik growled and settled back into his corner, holding the dagger with the bread and cheese up to his mouth and biting into it. Bakura sent him a triumphant smirk before using the hunk of bread to sop up some of the blood seeping from the gash, then popped the morsel into his mouth while some of his blood dribbled onto the stained dirt floor, causing the younger Ishtar to wrinkle his nose in disgust and turn away. Bakura grinned; he loved to get on the younger blonde's nerves.
Malik ignored Bakura, starting to relax a bit, shrugging deeper into his traveling cloak. He pulled his other leg up onto the bench, thinking he'd gotten the better of Bakura, when the silver-haired demon spoke again. "How retarded can you get? Capture that brat, make the people think you've got the heir to Gondor, and you crush their hope, their unity, their desire for resistance. Crush them, and it's that much easier to flush Yami out."
"What do you care what Sauron wants them for?" Malik shifted uncomfortably, but met Bakura's murderous dark stare with his own pale violet one.
Bakura dropped his pack, racing over and wrapping his hands around Malik's throat, and the boy's eyes widened in terror as he let out a faint choking noise. Merik's attention turned from his stolen meal to his brother, watching half in amusement and half in anger. One hand went into his cloak, ready to send a thin, sharp knife into the back of Bakura's neck.
"I don't give a fuck about Sauron, Saruman, or their slaves. I answer to no one but me, and I have my own agenda. All I want is Yami, and now I can use Sauron's shit to help me." Bakura's voice was calm and deadly low, his tight hold on Malik gradually loosening; the tanned boy pushed himself back into the wall, biting his lip and trying to glare, though his eyes were wide with terror. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints were already starting to form around his neck.
Bakura reached up with one hand and touched Malik's cheek, ignoring his flinch, his thumb gently stroking the soft, caramel skin. He closed his eyes, enjoying it while Malik relaxed a little. At least, he stopped trembling. He knew the young Ishtar very well, knew every crevice and curve of his body; he'd slept with him many a time.
Malik slowly relaxed under the gentle touch, leaning slightly into Bakura's calloused hand. He feared this young demon, yet he craved the gentle touch, any gentle touch. It didn't matter from whom he received it. Gentleness and kindness were rare; indeed, hardly ever seen in Mordor or Isengard, and the young blonde craved it like an addict craved his opium. He didn't care if they came from his brother, the half breed, or this nefarious cut-throat scoundrel.
Seeing Malik was submitting to him, and wanting to have a little 'fun' before setting out after the little runaway elf and the human girl, Bakura let his hand slowly trail down the boy's sleek neck, caressing it with the lightest of touches. He enjoyed the tan one's quick, shuddering breath as he lowered his head, ready to ravage the boy raw.
The younger Ishtar lifted his head up, his full lips slightly open, waiting for – "Master Bakura! The Fell lord sends word that Sarch (grave) is ready." A human slave had come in and thrown herself on the floor in front of the Ishtars and the sorcerer.
Bakura snarled in annoyance, whirling around and grabbing his packs as he passed the table. "Any other time, that ass is slower than an Orc pondering the time of day." He cursed, and towered over the girl. "Tell Seto to take that bat-winged lizard to the northwest tower." He curled his upper lip then kicked the girl soundly before dumping his packs on her. "And take those with you." With that, he placed one foot on her back, digging his heel in as he stepped over her and into the now empty hall, the slave following quickly on his heels.
Malik laughed at Bakura then stuck out his foot, tripping the slave as she left. Merik snorted, then nearly gagged as the last, huge chunk of bread he'd wedged into his mouth nearly caught in his throat. Thumping his fist on his chest, eyes watering, he hacked until the chewed, saliva-coated glop fell into his hand. Quickly catching his breath, he carelessly flung the disgusting glob onto the cracked wall, and then proceeded to wipe his hand on his torn and blood-stained pants.
Merik snarled, about to choke his younger brother, who was laughing at him, when his Uruk-hai ears noticed that the ever-beating drums of Mordor had stopped. He cursed, "The armies have moved out. The Black Gate will be closing soon. We should have left already."
"Who gives a rat's ass? There's no way those two brats could have slipped through the damn Gate. They went the back way, through Shelob's lair." Oni yawned and stretched her limbs.
"You! You fucking bitch, this is all your fault. That spiky-haired runt was under your watch. You let him get away!" Merik snarled and lunged under the bench, two of his long, lean fingers digging into Oni's shoulder wound. He pulled, widening the tear in the flesh and causing fresh blood to ooze down her chest and arm, dripping onto the floor. Oni snarled in pain and anger. In retaliation, she swiftly sunk her teeth into his wrist, growling and tugging as she ripped at the skin. Merik's face scrunched up, and he fisted his free hand in her copper hair and yanked viciously, pulling her out from under the bench.
"Enough! You two filthy half-breeds stay here and tear each other's throats out. Meanwhile, I'm setting off before the Black Gate's fully closed." Malik stood and shouldered his pack, pulling his brown traveling cloak tightly about him and slinging his quiver full of arrows and bow upon his back.
Merik looked dangerously at his brother. If he hadn't had Oni pinned, he would have lunged at him. Oni growled, reluctantly moving her bloody lips and teeth from Merik's wrist to snarl at Malik. "I already told your stupid ass that they would have gone the back way."
Malik sneered. "Yeah, right. I suppose they'll stop for a spot of tea with Shelob, then go through the Dead Marshes!" He mocked. Oni growled and suddenly sprang for the youngest Ishtar's throat, forgetting the hold Merik had on her hair. She yelped in pain and fell backwards, cursing loudly at her captor. Laughing, Merik released her, then brought his injured wrist up to his mouth, sucking on his blood.
Merik, wrist still in his mouth, looked slyly at his brother then started for the door. Malik hesitated, looking warily at Oni, then followed his half-brother. Once Malik was within reach, Merik whirled around, slamming Malik into the wall and painfully grasping his chin. "Ever call me a half breed again, and I'll carve your tongue out and feet it to the Wargs." Smirking at the fear in the pale lilac eyes that mirrored his own, the half- elf, half-Uruk-hai slammed a fist into his human brother's stomach. Then he stomped out of the door.
Oni staggered to her feet, her back a torn, bloody mess from Sauron's wrath. It hadn't been pretty when the Dark Lord found out about Yugi's escape. She stalked past Malik, who rested against the wall, panting slightly. "Poor, poor pretty one," She caressed his cheek, fingernails scraping his caramel skin.
Malik growled warningly and snapped at her fingers. Oni cackled as she pulled her hand back and exited. Malik panted, catching his breath and calming himself. He closed his eyes, resting for a few moments, then suddenly dashed off with catlike grace to reach the Black Gates before they closed.
shorter than katya's, i know..gomen, gomen....so...did anyone like this?
malik: snorts a better question would be, did anyone even bother to read it?
-.- shut up! we have readers! all is silent except for croaking frogs
malik: smirks
....shut up! just shut up! stomps off, away from malik
malik: smirks if there is any one out there staring at this screen, flame it! burn this story to the ground! flam-
thwaks malik stupid git! no flames, please! don't listen to that baka....and...please, if anyone did read this, a review would be very much appreciated! oh, and if enough people ask for it, i will do a lemon. i'll do any combination of merik, malik, bakura, seto, and oni (yeah right, like any of you wanna see her lol). i could possibly try a threesome if enough people want it. so, if you want a lemon, cast your vote in a review! Is that enough bribery? .
so....please, review?