Autum
I don't own any of the people or places in this piece, but what you don't recognize to be Tolkien's work is mine.
Maybe you've heard of my kind, or maybe you haven't. I wouldn't doubt it or blame you if you haven't - there are very, very few of us.
We are descendants of the firstborn turned by Morgoth into darkness.
We are the Grey Orcs.
Despite the common belief that all orcs are evil, there are a small handfull of us - those that remember the pureity and beauty of the uncorrupted light, the sweet tast of spring air and the perfection of music and peace - those that are not of orc kind on the inside, but no where's near the elves our ancestors were once long ago on the exterior.
Most Grey Orcs are killed shortly after they are discovered to be such.
Surprisingly, the most common death of our kind is at the hands of elves or men - when a Grey Orc escapes their horde trying to find someplace to fit in, but as neither men nor elves have ever heard of our kind before, are slaughtered under the assumption they are just a common orc.
There are visible differences too, of course, though most don't pick up on them.
Grey Orcs don't have the sickly yellow eyes that common orcs do, we have either brown-green or blue-grey eyes. Sometimes there are tinges of yellow in there, but not too much.
Grey Orcs also have more pinkish skin rather than grey or green, and though the skin is still thick it is soft.
Our hands are exactly that - hands, and not claws or talons like common orcs have.
Lighter coloured hair, not as harsh voices, straight noses, thinner ears, and longer legs are all traits found in Grey Orcs. Also, we have better posture, a natural fondness for daylight and the stars, and the ability to understand written and spoken languages like Dwarvish, Sindar, and even Quenya.
So now you have an idea of what I am.
I am a Grey Orc.
I survived long years of hiding my true self, of dreading what each day brought, and the fear of being discovered for what I truely am.
An Emelthorod.
A civilized monster.
I first knew what I was in the third year of being - the day when I wondered why the horde never ventured out into the daylight and sand only songs of tormenting, killing and destroying.
The first song I made up was about the beauty of the light and the sound of the wind in the trees - I sang the song I made up in my head, always to myself, knowing that I would be discovered by the horde should I sing so much as a note of my music.
All the things that common orcs instinctively hate, I had a fascination with.
My mind pressed to learn why these things were hated, why things were as they were.
I taught myself to read the Dwarf runes carved into the walls of the mines and caverns - I learned that the orcs were once elves, but changed through torment and torture into what they are now.
I learned about the old times, before the sun and the stars, before men, orcs, and even before the elves.
I learned the secret language of the Dwarves, taught to them by the Vala that made them long years before men were awoken by the first sun's rays, and before the elves roused from the starlight of Varda.
I discovered the secrets of the mountains and the language of the stone - I left my horde to journey north to the place I now wished most to see - Khazud-dum, spoken of in many of the ancient writings in the caverns.
It was on my way there that I encountered another Grey Orc - Martu, as he called himself, had just left the mines of Moria. He had been discovered and escaped only just before he would have been killed.
It was he that gave me my true Emelthorod name.
Autum.
So - how do you like it so far? I've never seen a fanfic about orcs, about the plight of civilized orcs... erm, well - you know what I mean. Nice orcs. I hope this doesn't go to shiat like most of my other stories have.