Red-Eyes:

Wanderer

Book One:

Chapter 1

Nameless swung his leather knapsackover his right shoulder.

Behind him the crew of the Corsair of Umbar were busy unloading there cargo, as were a few other mercenary ships.

But Nameless didn't stay to help unload the Black ships as he sometimes did. Right now he had to find out were he was going and how, fast! Otherwise he'd be left behind, and going to Mordor alone, was not something he was willing to try if he didn't have to.

He watched as mercenaries from the East and other mercenaries left the other ships.

He waited to see were they went, hoping they new even if he didn't. They all seamed to be relatively heading to the same spot.

He secured his bag in place and headed that way as well, careful not to get to close the orderly ranks of the cruel eastern soldiers, or to get caught up in the mob of wild worriers.

The grown beneath his booted feet had very little grass or any other form of vegetation.

Indeed, it seemed to be almost cringed. Jagged bits of rock and granite lay scattered about the ground. Nameless could see no trees to speak off.

The mercenaries all seamed to be headed away from the ships and toward a old stone building off in the distance.

The black sides of the mountain seemed to be boxing them in, herding them towards the stone tower.

Even standing on his toes, Nameless could not see much of what was ahead, and he cursed his height, Or lack there of.

With a low growls in his throat, Nameless stopped trying to see over the many soldiers.

In stead he continued to keep his distance while marching along with the rest.

Since he could not see much, he tried listening instead. But it was hard to hear with the sound of marching feet, following the beet of a steady drum, while the less organized, wild soldiers talked and complained to each other.

It was then that Nameless heard some one shouting orders to the marching troops, in a accent that he was not to familiar with.

"Get on now. Pick it up, pick it up!"

Without turning his head, he looked to see who it was and was only slightly surprised to see a orc.

When had orcs shown up. It was then that Nameless noticed there were severely other orcs and uruks marching along with them, shouting orders.

"Whatch those feet now! C' mone maggot! Move"

SWISH! CRACK!

The sound of a wip.

Damn! I didn't even realize they were here and now there all around us!

Hn, orcs are sneaky, at least some of them, and stealthy in the shadows. I won't forget again.

Nameless marched on, keeping an ear out. He noticed that some of the soldiers were glancing at him. Probably wondering what a child was doing there.

Nameless really didn't care but he didn't want to draw attention, and thus trouble, to himself before he even got to Mordor.

What should I do?

Do? Do nothing you fool! They're not bothering you, there's no reason to do anything.

Yet.

Done arguing within his own mind, for the time being, Nameless trained his eyes forward and kept marching.

By midday, though one could not tell for it had become as black as night, a large, dark building loomed up in sight.

A green light seemed to glow from within. It was not very bright. Just enough so that the orcs that were not blessed with night vision could see, but not enough to hurt them or the orcs that could see in the dark.

There were many different kinds of orcs and Nameless would have time to learn them all.

Despite his obscured view, Nameless could see the two guardian the entrance to the fort of Minas Morgul, loom over head on their stone mounts, ever watchful.

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REEPING! REEPING! PING! REEPING! PING! REEPINGGGGG!

The last stroke of the hammer caused the ornge hot metal to vibrate, drawing out the sound a little longer than the others.

Nameless paused to inspect the crude, iron blade, that was common for uruk-hia, which he had been working on.

Picking up the crude sword in his lenin wrapped hands, not bothering to be careful, he dunked the glowing sword in the basin behind him, enjoying the sight and sound it made as it was forcibly cooled.

Nameless had changed from his jeans and jacket to a black tank top and sweat pant, held up by a red sash. He wore sandals instead of boots.

Around him the rang the sound of metal being worked into weapons, shields, and armor.

Nameless glanced to his right to see two orc smiths had stopped to watch him when they heard the lasting ring. Realizing they had been caught they hurriedly got back to work. They still had a quota to fill after all. But Nameless was almost done with his.

"Hn."

Nameless turned his attention back to his work.

He would not get much trouble from the orcs here. That's not to say that he wouldn't get any, just not as much as he would anywhere else in Morgul.

Only there less skilled fighters, or most skilled in the trade of black smithing, would be sent to work as blacksmiths. And they were all to busy trying to fill their daily quota to waist any time squabbling or picking fights.

When they had completed there quota was a different matter entirely.

Thankfully though, many of them were exhausted by the time they finished, and were not in the mood to start fights they were to tired to win.

Normally there were no orc smiths, or orc healers, or nothing other than orc fighters. At least in most orc cultures.

Most of them were mainly wild bands of orcs.

They forged their own weapons, clothing, and armor, or else stole them from the dead.

In resent years they had even learned to trade either with other orc cultures or else the easterlings.

But that was before Sauron. Or rather after his first attempt at forming orc armies and just before his second.

From his last defeat though he had learned that if the orcs were to win this for him, they were going to have to move as soldiers. Be trained like them, and equipped like them.

Thus began the education of all orcs.

They had already known how to speak the common tongue of man, that many other races used as well, but now they could read and wright in it to.

This made things easier for the ocrs to understand each other, for each breed of orc had it's own language and sometimes alphabet. They had used the common tongue in speech but still could not understand each others maps, or letters and so forth.

Now each orc was assigned to the job best suited to them.

And here was Nameless, right beside them. Well, more like standing in the back round taking a nap or rolling his eyes at there antics.

Education or no, the orcs were primitive creatures, based on instinct and impulses.

Nameless's stomach rumbled loudly for the second time in the last five minutes.

His stomach had been demanding food of him for sometime now, he did not know how long for he had no means of telling time here were there was no sunlight, but each growl had been louder than the rest. But he had ignored it. Perhaps for to long.

His stomach growled again and the orcs that had been watching him earlier looked up to stare again before quickly returning to the work.

Nameless blushed slightly as yet another growl from his stomach, this time all the orcs within hearing rang of his forge, for the were all rather close together, stopped and looked and the human runt with the noisy stomach.

"By Bolg's head to his feet!" exclaimed one of the orcs. He was one of the orcs from the Brown Lands, as they were called.

Burk, was his name. He worked in the forge more or less to the right of Nameless.

Burk put down his tongs which he had been carring and walked over to Nameless.

"Why not just take a brake, eh?" He asked once he was closer. The other orcs had again returned to their work. "You're almost done for the day anyway. Take a brake, get some grub, then come back and finish. I know your special boy, but you've still gotta eat. C'mon, I'll take it with you. I'm almost done as well."

Nameless looked to his work. He thought a moment. Another growl from his stomach, thankfully a small one this time, made his mind up for him. Nameless looked to Burk, who was smirking.

"Fine! I guess if I have to." He said as if it were a chore.

Burk chuckled. "Right. Lets put 'ese away first now." Burk moved back to his work spot and began tiding up some. Nameless hurriedly did the same.

Together the made there way to the mess hall, were the orcs, uruks, some mercanaries, and whatever else come to lounge and eat and talk.

Nameless took a bite out of the steaming, headless fish, skewered on a sharp stick he had found.

He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him that turned into stairs.

Across from him sat Burk, who also sat against a stone wall, tearing away at some unrecognizable creature. He hadn't bothered to cook it. Most orcs didn't.

To Burk's right was a uruk-hai of Mordor, Lut, who was doing the same as Burk.

To the left of Nameless sat Drum, smoking his pipe, filled with awful smelling tobacco.

Drum was a shaman from Moria, one of the more advanced cultures of orcs.

They were a culture based mostly around their religion.

The orcs of Moria, found him particularly interesting. With his read eyes, sharp nails and canines, and wild black hair that swept up into a almost flame shape, he greatly resembled their god, the Balrog.

Drum looked like the norm for a orc from Moria.

Pale, almost green, smooth skin that seemed stretched across the face. Large eyes for seeing in the dark, and long nostrils for tracking scents. Bow legs and arms with claws for climbing stone. And hair that receded from his forehead, pulled back into a too tight ponytail.

His cloths were black rags with some metal sawn into the fabric to imitate the flame of the Balrog.

He wore some dwarf jewelry and some made from bones. As a religious leader in his breed, he had such luxuries.

Burk was nothing special either. Though he did seem to like piercing a awful lot.

He wore them in his ears, nose, eyebrows, tongue, and now that he was no longer wearing his leather black smith garb, Nameless could see even Burk's nipples were pierced.

Nameless didn't know why Burk had so many piercings, they were just going to get in the way should he find himself in a fight.

But Burk wasn't much of a fighter. He was tall but his muscles were ropy despite his line of work. Because of his work as a black smith, muscles was the only thing that his body seamed made of other than black sweats, boots, and green skin.

Smith's work had made Burk strong, but he was to laid back to compete with his warrior brethren.

No, Lut was the more violent orc here. Pardon, uruk-hai.

Nameless seemed to have a bad habit of making allies with strange people, but then he was a strange person.

Lut was no exception. Lut through back his blond head and took a hug gulp out of his flask. Lut began to choke and Burk clapped one hand over his back. Lut stopped coughing and the resumed eating as had Burk.

Lut's looks weren't so strange, black skin, thin blond hair, squinted eyes, leather jerkin and pants tucked into ragged cloth boots.

No it was more his attitude.

He was loud and crude, but he was also energetic and even a little giddy. This made it seem as though he was disrespectful but Nameless thought he was just hyperactive and maybe a little air headed.

'Hn, a hyperactive, airheaded uruk-hia. Now that is disturbing.'

Nameless took a moment to look at Lut. Lut saw this and half smirked, half smiled at Nameless, showing yellow, sharp teeth, the flesh of some pore beast caught between them.

Nameless smirked back.

'VERY disturbing.'

Nameless saw Drum shift closer to him from the corner of his eye.

"Tell me young one," Said Drum. He took the pipe from his mouth to speak," why do men fear the number thirteen?"

Ah, more questions. He and Drum have had many conversations on many things. The subject of men and orcs was a gray area. His orc companions had been willing to enlighten Nameless in the ways of orcs in many cultures, but he was rather unable to answer their questions of men, for he never payed much attention to them. Nameless did not understand them any better than they understood him. And neither were very willing to try. Nameless was what you would call anti-social.

"The number thirteen?" Nameless repeated.

Drum nodded. The other two were listening as well. Lut also seemed interested. Burk looked alittle uneasy.

"Your asking me?" Nameless said.

"You'd know better than us." Lut put in.

"I don't know why exactly." Nameless put down the remains of the fish he had finished." Its just some silly, human superstition. Captain Crow and his crew were pretty superstitious. I think the number thirteen is supposed to be bad luck."

"Why? Is it a bad omen?" Asked Drum.

"Maybe. Like I said, I don't really know how it got started. In fact, I don't think Crow did either, but he still avoided it."

Nameless looked to Burk who still seemed uneasy. Burk was scowling at Drum. He didn't like it when the others asked Nameless about the race of men. Perhaps its because it was another reminder that no matter how well he may fit in sometimes, he was still a human. Burk continued to scowl. His gaze shifted to Nameless and then just above him.

Nameless turned around and looked up, Drum did the same.

Above him captain Shagrat was looking down at them. A few orcs and uruks Nameless didn't know were with him. Apparently they too had been listening.

'Know thy enemy. But am I the enemy? At least to Shagrat? Now that's a suggestive name! I wonder if he's gay? He doesn't look very merry to me. He does stare at me a lot. But so does everyone else, for awhile. What is that look he's giving me?'

Drum broke the silence. "Captain Shagrat, is there something you need from us? Or have you come for the conversation?"

Shagrat looked to Drum a moment and then the other orcs. His gaze landed on Nameless though, as it usually did.

"Haven't you lot got work that needs doin'? If not I'm sure I can find you some." Shagrat's gaze remained on Nameless.

Nameless remained quite. In all orc cultures, orcs did not ask for help. It would be embarrassing to do so. Almost shameful. Kind of like pissing your pants in public. No, instead orcs hung out with other orcs who they favored to others. These small groups watch over one another, lending a hand, always watchful, so that there comrades would never have to ask for help. So was the case here.

Nameless didn't know how Shagrat felt about him, so he stayed quite and let the others answer for him.

"We is just about done captain." Answered Burk. "Won't take us long to finish, we thought we'd take a break. Get something to eat while the others are schering to catch up. That's all."

"That's all eh?" Asked Shagrat, looking to Burk as if to ask,' Is that really all? Are you quite sure that is all your up to you lying scum? Hmmm? Think carefully now?'

"And what about you two eh?" Shagrat asked, looking to Drum and Lut with... 'what? What is that? Does he think they're

being lazy? Playing hooky or something?'

"All of my squad is on break too captain." Said Lut looking at his bowl, looking like a great big child, that was denying a crime he had committed.

Shagrat looked to Drum.

Drum smiled to himself and lent back against the stone wall behind him, were the captain stood looking down at them.

"All of my boys are either busy or training, they do not need me now." Drum puffed at his pipe.

It seemed to Nameless that Shagrat didn't approve of religious leaders in Minas Morgul. Most likely thought them useless, manipulators. That, or he simply didn't like Drum, for whatever reason.

Shagrat looked back to Nameless, but Nameless had turned his back to the captain and was cleaning his hands off with a handkerchief.

Shagrat snorted, "You two, blacksmiths, hurry up with your break and get back to work. Every bit o' work you miss in yer quota will be taken from your backs, you understand me?"

"Yes captain Shagrat." Burk and Lut said. Drum and Nameless just lounged.

"Good. If not, I will personally see to your punishments." said Shagrat, glaring at Nameless.

But Nameless wasn't looking at him. None the less, he could feel the captain's eyes on him.

Shagrat left then, taking his orcs and uruks with him.

When they were out of sight, Drum spoke up."I think he fancies you boy."

"What?" Asked Nameless, not sure he understood.

"I said, 'I think he fancies you lad.'" Drum smirked. "This is the army after all."

"Oh." Nameless looked to Lut and Burk. "What does that mean?"

"Means he wants you." Said Lut, happy to help.

"I know that! I meant, what does this mean for me? Is there something I should do?"

Lut just shrugged and resumed eating again. Burk was scowling, a lot!

"Pray." Offered Drum, and resumed smoking.

Burk was scowling at his food now. Nameless stopped thinking about it and instead just lent back and relaxed with his orc companions standing by, watching out for each other.

To Be Continued....

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To the reader of this fic:

OK, so this chapter didn't really go anywhere. I hate that in a fic! But I needed to familiarize the characters a little.

I promise things will start picking up in the next chapter.

If there is anything you would like to say about this fic, good or bad, please leave it in your review. I am open to suggestions.

Merry Christmas!

Oompa Loompa to you!

–Sneere

Dec. 24, 2004