November 5, 2003. What a great day to be a geek. The Revolution has begun, the new RotK books are out, as is the latest Deryni novel, I get $20 for participating in a short survey for our econ department, and, of course, I've posted a Wings update. Does life get any better?
The usual disclaimer: The world and the orcs aren't mine. Did you even have to ask? All the characters are mine except for Annatar.
Responses to reviewers: I love you all, if only because you took a few precious minutes out of your day to read and review this, and any others who do so will similarly be loved. Also, I've rigged this page so Awrin (the mini-Balrog who adopted me) will hunt down and maim anyone who reads this and fails to submit a review.
Dragon-of-the-North- Once again I am awed and humbled by your gracious remarks. Again we see Annatar's skill at manipulating humans- Graldor wants a goal to strive for, and Annatar gives it to him (albeit for his own purposes). Regarding religion, I wanted to create the sense that there was something there (and, based on your comments, I succeeded). Since we don't see anything resembling religion as we know it in Lord of the Rings, I've assumed that the tales of the Valar are widely known but there aren't any ceremonies or organized worship. For Aratur, the gods exist but are distant and not acknowledged regularly. Later on, we'll witness part of a marriage ceremony during which I may explore these issues a bit more. I'm glad you liked this and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Greetings from Mordor- Wow. Thank you so much for these comments. I don't think anything I've written has ever led someone to call me "the ray of hope in a seemingly illiterate world." The Nazgul are great. Call me geeky; I don't have the figurine, but my copy of LotR is the Nazgul movie cover, my desktops rotate among several shots of them, and my normal AIM icon is the Nazgul in the Shire with the blue light behind. So giving one of them a backstory just came naturally :-)
Werecat99- Thanks for the review. I hope my e-mail answered your questions. Hope you like this chapter.
Deana Bell- Thank you. I love that line too. The style changes somewhat in this chapter- more of my own voice shines through (which may or may not be a good thing).
A Note on the Orcs: I've taken a few liberties with orcs in this chapter. My first assumption stems out of the disposition of Sauron's orcs at times other than large-scale war. I can't see keeping a huge orc army in one place during lengthy times of peace (if for no other reasons than the supply problems and the likelihood of infighting in the absence of an exterior foe), and I can't see needing the whole army to 'keep the peace' in conquered lands, particularly in thinly populated areas like Calenardhon. So I've decided, for the purposes of this fanfic, that after the war is over some orcs are retained for communications, garrisons, or similar duties and some disband, settling in small bands at various places where there are sufficient food supplies, much as humans do. As a follow-up to that assumption, I've conjectured that orcs, much like humans, adapt to their surroundings and that such adaptations may supercede the genetic tendencies of the race. In this case, the orcs who settled near the river (because of the plentiful game, both in terms of fish and mammals that drink at the river) would adapt some tolerance of sunlight so they could hunt and fish (and thus fight) at dawn and dusk.
Also, there is a small tribute in this chapter to the great TreeHugger, whose humorous tales of elves are positively hilarious.
Wings of the Storm, Chapter III- Plowshares to Swords
In the morning, Annatar departed without incident, astride one of Graldor's horses.
[At this point my father would get this contorted expression on his face, which in some stories signified that it was time for us to go to bed before he told us something inappropriate for young ears, but in this story merely meant that much time had passed, mostly filled with boring or irrelevant incidents (the former would come later). Using the plan of Graldor and the rest of the story that he told as a guide, I have attempted to recreate, in brief, the events that happened during this gap in time.]
Much to Caldrion's surprise, Annatar was highly accurate as a weather forecaster. In a part of the world that, in Caldrion's experience, almost never had rain in the summer outside of storms, this summer included several gentle, long-lasting rains, similar to those which typified the winters, but warmer.
One day shortly before the harvest, the watchman Deol suddenly awoke to find a band of perhaps two dozen orcs slinking through the fields, apparently bearing heavy items. Proceeding to the palace, he roused Caldrion, who in turn roused Graldor, before the three of them roused about ten others, all of whom quickly prepared for battle. All were armed with swords and protected by at least some armor. They observed that the orcs were now close to the east-facing gate, so Graldor elected to put on his magic ring and hasten to attack the orcs while Deol, leading the rest, advanced slowly (Graldor either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared that Deol had been asleep on his watch). The result of the combat was predictable- upon seeing this clearly outnumbered human band advancing toward them, the orcs cast off their heavy baggage and ran to engage the men. They were only halfway there when Graldor, visible only to Caldrion, burst in their midst, slaying several of them and throwing the rest into utter confusion, making them easy for the others to dispose of. The jubilation of the band, having tasted battle and victory for the first time in several years, could only have been heightened by the discovery that the discarded baggage was full of weapons and armor, some of it of higher quality than typical orc arms.
Graldor took his victory and the spoils thereof as signs of some divine favor. After all, the most immediate problem with the plan for conquering the plains was acquiring the arms necessary to attack the settled orcs. Therefore, when winter came, Graldor began the first phase of his plan and trained the band that had fought that day to be the elite fighters who would train and lead the others.
Training of the full force, which would consist of one hundred and fifty men, began in the spring. As the summer progressed, they became a lean, mean fighting force, as they demonstrated against a small group of nomadic warriors that passed too close to Aratur. Among the captives from that fight was Sirgo, a man revered by the nomads for his prophetic powers. Despite Caldrion's advice to the contrary, Graldor made Sirgo one of his advisors, and at his advice gave the other captives their freedom, though they all elected to settle in the city. One of them, Frealine, would join the leadership of the 'Grand Army of Aratur,' as Fremus had styled it, and would prove to be as knowledgeable in military affairs as anyone else in the force.
With the summer about half gone, a turning point was reached. Both Graldor and Caldrion wished to take the army out and begin campaigning against the settled orcs, but Frealine and Sirgo, who had approached these orcs during his travels, suggested that they wait until next year. There were more settlements along the near Onodlo than could be dealt with before winter, and if all the orcs were not slain in one season, the others would appeal for help to their brethren further to the east, who could come in force and perhaps even destroy Aratur. Caldrion, though miffed when Graldor conceded, did succeed in persuading Graldor to use the extra time to form a band of cavalry riding the progeny of Aroch.
Training continued through the winter, following another good harvest. In the spring, it was time for the campaign to get underway, but another disagreement arose. Caldrion wanted to leave only a small contingent, ten or twenty soldiers, to defend Aratur, while Sirgo felt it wiser to leave fifty behind, feeling that one hundred should be more than enough to clean out the successive bands of orcs. Sirgo, much to Caldrion's chagrin, prevailed, and Deol was left behind as regent in Graldor's absence.
[At this point, I return to the words of my father, as best I can remember them.]
After a day's march following the stream east from Aratur, the army camped outside a patch of woods growing along the stream. Frealine figured, from his previous experience, that a day's journey around the woods would bring them to the Onodlo, where he thought there was an orcish settlement. So it was that the next evening, the Onodlo came into view, and there on its banks sat a number of rude huts, surrounded by an even ruder stockade. Graldor, as was becoming his custom, consulted Sirgo, Frealine, and Caldrion as to what to do. Should he attack now, using his advantage of surprise but risking confusion in the darkness, or should he wait until morning, and if so, where should he camp? Caldrion proposed a devious solution: send Graldor, with his magic ring, to sneak into the city after nightfall, where he could open the gate of the stockade, allowing the troops in. They could quickly slay the orcs, free the slaves, and spend the next day behind the protection of this settlement. Frealine, much to Graldor's astonishment, agreed with Caldrion, but Sirgo, to no one's surprise, proposed an alternative plan.
"If in stealth and treachery we deal, then disaster shall befall, for the stealthy are easily out-stealthed." Caldrion and Graldor exchanged glances. Clearly Sirgo, the brilliant prophet of the nomads, had a plan that, though it would not appear so, was far more plausible than Caldrion's idea. "As we approached, I took the liberty of accompanying Neblis and the cavalry as they scouted the region. Northwest of the orcs are two gently sloping ridges running northeast to southwest between the river and the woods, with a low floodplain between. Rather than attempt to attack tonight, we should camp on the northernmost of these ridges, with the infantry divided in two groups, perhaps led by Caldrion and Frealine, but the fires should be concentrated between the groups, so it appears that there is one camp instead of two. Neblis and the cavalry ought to camp, without fires, on the back slope of the first ridge." Sirgo's eyes suddenly glazed over, as though he were in a trance. He continued, "The orcs will see our fires, but they will not attempt to attack us tonight, but rather wait until dawn tomorrow. They will charge up the first ridge and across the first flood plain, heading directly toward the gap between our camps. Both wings will attack, catching the orcs in their flank, and as they attempt to pull back, Neblis will ride forth, and we will slay them all." Eyebrows were raised. Caldrion, perhaps because of his growing dislike of Sirgo, scowled, but Frealine and Graldor were clearly sold on the plan. Neblis was called in, wholeheartedly approved, and made ready to inform his cavalry. Caldrion and Frealine went out to divide the troops, and the camps were made as Sirgo had instructed. Across the field, the orcs saw the fires, and pondered, if orcs indeed ponder such things, what strange beings would so brazenly build a camp that close to the fort of the feared Uruk and their lord, Lurgk, overseer of the scum, humans and elves, slaves to the orcs just as the orcs were, in name if no longer in fact, only slaves of the Great Lord of Mordor. They would die, but Lurgk, being occupied in what could only be described as 'other affairs,' had determined that they should wait until morning.
Before dawn crept above the horizon, its golden tendrils caressing the lightening sky, the foul orcs, Lurgk at their head, came forth, anticipating a morning of swift victory and more slaves to abuse. They were a far more substantial band than Graldor had anticipated, outnumbering his own troops, perhaps by as much as two to one. As the orcs ascended the first ridge, heading toward the site where they had seen smoke rise the night before, a solitary human figure appeared at the crest of the second ridge. The rising sun glinted off his armor, almost blinding a few of the orcs despite their growing tolerance for sunlight. A guttural rumble arose from them, and Lurgk growled at this man. He seemed strong, of a dark but healthy complexion, and he would be a most excellent slave if he could be taken alive. Lurgk hesitated, and opened his mouth to try to offer surrender to this foolhardy human. As if in answer to that unspoken thought, the man drew his sword and held it before him. Lurgk hesitated no longer but, with his weapon before him, broke into a run on the downward slope of the ridge. His orcs, though settled, still remembered how to fight, and hastened to follow him. As quickly as the charge began, however, it paused, as their quarry disappeared before their eyes. Suddenly, the ridge before them, both to the left and right, was ablaze with a flash of arms, and two small groups of men came flying down toward the orcs. Without hesitation, having quickly forgotten their surprise at the disappearance of the man, the orcs shifted, turning to meet the new foes. The two sides clashed and vigorously fought. The humans, who had superior armor, weaponry, and training, seemed to have the upper hand. That apparent upper hand was only enhanced by a sudden disruption in the midst of the orcs. Many an orc squealed in unpleasant surprise as they saw one of their comrades lose his head so cleanly that one might imagine that his body had decided to proceed in one direction and his head in another. As this proceeded to happen to several others in that area, the orcs muttered a collective 'oh, crap,' or rather the Black Speech equivalent thereof, and the thoughts of many began to turn longingly toward their safe abodes just over the ridge. [Note: I only heard my father tell this part of the story quite this way once, shortly before he finished his fourth mug of ale (or was it Vandal Root tea?). However, I like it and think it significantly adds to the entertainment value of the entire experience, so I have kept it.]
It was in this moment that Lurgk, in a rare fit of orcish intelligence, put two and two together and concluded that the solitary man must have somehow become invisible and was actively cleaving off the heads of his orcs. And not just his orcs, but the others who had come a fair distance when the river swelled with the spring thaw, sent under orders to join up with Lurgk and others of the settled Uruk to participate in an attack directed further west. Lurgk, in a rare show of inspiration, turned and proceeded left across the battlefield, moving toward the location of the unseen assailant.
Elsewhere, the men of Aratur were holding their own. Frealine, after making initial contact, had formed a solid front, knowing that allowing his men to advance individually would result in far more casualties than necessary. He knew it would not be long before Neblis and the cavalry charged along his flank, freeing him and his men to complete the slaughter at a more leisurely pace. Across the way, Caldrion was making no such attempts at organization because, in addition to his own inexperience as a commander, he felt he had to drive the orcs away from the river so they would fully feel the force of the horse-borne tide that would soon emerge opposite. Additionally, Caldrion followed the progress of Graldor, who had certainly given the orcs far more than they bargained for. All of them seemed to be moving away from his last strike, hesitating in fear and doubt as they withdrew. All except one… a nasty-looking Uruk who seemed as though he were seeking the invisible man who menaced his troops. Caldrion drew a sharp breath. Could this orc perhaps see Graldor as he did? But no, that was impossible, as evidenced by the fact that the orc was randomly stabbing the air in front of him with his sword. However, Graldor was facing the other way, and might well be caught from behind…
Lurgk was startled as the next orc lost his head. He had to find this unseen assailant. The newly severed head was falling to the left of the body, so the blow had come from right about…there. He looked down. A footprint, with too light a step to be an orc. He looked forward. In this amount of time, a man could have gotten to about…there, and behold, there were two indentations in the ground, as there would be if one stood there, except none did. Lurgk berated himself for not seeing it before. He proceeded toward the spot. There that man must be. He had appeared about Lurgk's height, which would put his neck…right about there. Lurgk drew back his sword, about to lop off one more head in this black and bloody plain. He had solved the mystery. He would end it here…
Graldor whirled about as he heard a distinctly orcish bellow right next to his ear. There was this mighty Uruk, the one he had spotted for their leader, and, unless he was greatly mistaken, that was a swordpoint sticking out of its chest.
Caldrion withdrew his sword. Before he could strike again, however, the orc spun around. Though in obvious pain, the orc lashed out with a vicious knee to the groin that sent Caldrion flying backwards. Lurgk, his invisible nemesis forgotten, drew his sword above his head, intending to use what remained of his strength to slay his killer.
Graldor, however, had not forgotten about Lurgk. He severed the orc's right arm, then head, then left arm with one sweeping stroke. Graldor then stepped over the body of the orc and extended arm to help the winded Caldrion. As he got up, they all heard a thundering of hooves as Neblis and Sirgo charged onto the scene. The rout quickly became a massacre as the humans made short work of the surviving orcs. The cavalry pursued the last orcs as they fled toward the river, and then turned back to meet the rest of the men, now reforming around the center of the field. Sirgo seemed to be taking charge of the situation.
"Now there may still be a few orcs in the settlement. We should enter in an orderly and prepared fashion, and maintain ranks until we have ascertained what remains. There were far more orcs than there should have been, and we should try to take any we find alive so that we may question them. I want no plundering or any such nonsense."
"At least until we've killed the rest of the orcs" Graldor muttered, miffed that Sirgo was taking charge of the situation rather than differing to him, and also perhaps anticipating that Sirgo would prevent the kind of chaos in which he could introduce himself to his choice of the female slaves. He caught Caldrion's eyes, which clearly said, "I told you so," before turning to a grouping of perhaps a dozen infantry. "You all, start going through these orcs. Take useable weaponry, armor, supplies, anything that could be of use, and then pile the bodies somewhere. Put any wounded out of their misery." With that, Graldor led the rest of his force into the settlement. The Grand Army of Aratur had won its first engagement.