Chapter One
The flashing colors of twisted greens and reds swirled around him, consuming him completely. It was as if the world was liquid, sloshing inconsistently, unable to keep its shape. What were the feelings deep in his stomach? Fear? No, he rarely felt fear. Change, perhaps. Change might be the one thing he feared most. Did that make him a hypocrite? He couldn't tell. He couldn't even tell what was going on. Maybe he had died.
The veil of color was pulled back harshly, his rotund skull landing flat onto the surface, the sandy surface from what he could tell as he spat out the earth. It might take a while to clean it all out of his mandibles. The sand tasted of ash, of death.
The Sangheili rubbed his eyes gently with his scaled hand. His head felt an intense, sharp pain in the back. He groaned as he stood up and opened his eyes. The environment was foreign to him, the landscape was unrecognizable, with the wind carrying ash, sand, and a foul scent. Wasn't he in his ship, anyways? He shook his head and focused on his surroundings as he suddenly went alert. The air was full of the scent of sulfur and dirt, the air lacking any moisture. His throat burned. He couldn't see anything but sand, ash, and rock across the plains. Where was he? Where had the tunnels of change taken him now?
He shifted his head, turning back to see a group of three figures standing behind him. They were cloaked in shadow and shaded in a faint, green hue. The color of death surged through his being before escaping into the edge of space. Fear was absent, however, the uncertainty of these organisms kept him on guard.
"Reveal yourselves or feel the wrath of a true warrior!" he proclaimed in his baritone voice, reaching for his weapon hooked onto the right hip of his combat harness. He grazed the hilt of the energy sword before solidifying his grasp on his father's curveblade, slipping it off the combat harness before whipping it to his right side, staring aggressively at the figures.
They stood still; if they were doing or saying anything, their movements were hidden by their cloaks. They did not speak. He stood taller, adjusting his stance to show them his full height. He towered over them, their figures like that of a child compared to his stature.
"That's the wrong glob, innit?" the leftmost figure queried, its voice scratchy. The middle figure reached out of its cloak and scratched the top of its hood.
"He don't sound like 'im much. Don't look like 'im eitha," responded the figure to the far right. "Maybe he got a haircut?"
"Nah, he's the wrong glob. Best kill him anyways," it finished nonchalantly.
The large, bulky Sangheili exhaled deeply, his concentration on his breathing. He bolted towards them; his weapon held tightly. The figures' faces grew exposed the closer to them he ran, their hideous features catching him by surprise. Like that of a nishum, but when reflected in a dirty stream. It made it easier to charge towards them, knowing they weren't a completely foreign lifeform to him. He punctured the side of the middlemost lifeform's head with his weapon, the cracking of its skull resonating in his arm as the force of his swing immediately fell them. The other two, obviously panicked by the ferocity of this massive figure's pursuit, quickly tried to draw their own weapons. The Sangheili redirected his forward moment by sliding across the sand, turning towards another one of the foul humans.
The other lifeform raised its archaic weapon above its head, yelling some gibberish before the Sangheili grabbed it by its head, lifting it up before slamming it down onto a cluster of jagged earth, the sound of flesh and bone-cracking as its eyes rolled back into its head and its weapon clattered to the ash. The Sangheili turned back, eyeing the final cloaked figure. He saw fear in its eye, its mouth agape, revealing its crooked and filthy teeth. It backed away slowly as the Sangheili approached, dropping its weapon, dust swirling around where it fell. The lifeform turned to run before the Sangheili grabbed them by its leg, tripping them. He pulled them towards him before flipping them over and grabbing them again by the neck. He held them at least two or three feet above the ground with a single hand.
"Where am I, foul creature?" the sanheili asked, his grip on the lifeform's neck loosening to allow speech. It grasped and pulled on his grip but were unable to muster the strength to pull loose.
"Uhh, we'z gotta be about…urgh… maybe a day away from Darz-ghûrum?" The Sangheili tightened his grip around its neck, its eyes bulging.
"Allow me to rephrase. What planet am I on?" The lifeform gasped for air, its windpipe bulging, reaching for whatever air it could.
"Pl-planet?" it choked out. The Sangheili rolled his eyes.
"Yes. The planet. The big, round satellite you're stationed at. Which one is it?"
"Stationed? Uh, well Darz-ghûrum ain't exactly, uh, well, big and round, but that's the fortress we'z from, I swear!" The Sangheili dropped the lifeform, its fragile body crumpling to the ground as it coughed hoarsely.
"A fortress? Perhaps I can get some real answers there," he muttered to himself. The lifeform staggered as it stood up, wiping the spit from its mouth. "Are you a servant to the false prophets or to the…humans?" The lifeform looked almost disgusted at the notion.
"Follow a pinkskin? I'd rather get caught eating shrakh. I'z a follower of the dark lord, a proud Uruk!"
Uruk. He repeated the phrase in his head a few times. Oo-rook.
"Is that your rank, your identification or what you are?" It paused in thought for a second.
"All?" It shrugged, unsure. "I'z an Uruk, olright. That's for sure. The dark lord made sure I was cream of the crop, he did! Best gravedancer he ever did make, I am. I'z even the Uruk chosen for this ardu-"
"Silence, oo-rook. Allow me to think for one second before I give you your death."
The Uruk fell silent, eyes widened, as the Sangheili sat down on a nearby rock, resting his scaled head on his tetradactyl fist.
"Wait, wait wait, 'old up. That ain't fair! I'z the greatest gravedancer the dark lord eva' had! You'z be right shtewpid to kill me!" The Uruk expressed this fact as if it meant something to the Sangheili. The Sangheili didn't move from his thoughtful position, unmoving like an ancient idol. Like an effigy to the Gorthaur himself, the evil eye himself whose tower of great might collapsed only weeks ago…
The Uruk approached the Sangheili cautiously.
"Listen, I'z can help you. You seem new here, right?" the Uruk gestured towards the Sangheili as if egging on an answer.
"I am unfamiliar with this planet and the…oo-rook," he responded methodically, "but that does not mean I need or want assistance from the likes of an oo-rook."
"B-but you have to come from somewhere 'round here!", it held up its hands defensively. "I can help find wherever it is you came from. I'z summoned you here, maybe I'z gotta send you back, too?" The Sangheili's brow furrowed.
"Brought me here? Where did you find me? How did you bring me here?" he asked, grasping the hilt of his curveblade threateningly. The Uruk gulped heavily.
"I'z said I'z the greatest gravedancer of the dark lord. I'z been trying to summon him for the last long while, but he hasn't shown up. It's not too hard a spell, but he still hasn't come to any of us!" It insisted on this fact repeatedly. Perhaps the dark lord was the Kaydon of the planet.
The Sangheili removed the curveblade from his hip.
"I've had enough of your nonsense. Spells and incantations are the myths of great liars and false prophets. Take me to my ship, wherever you must have moved it to, and maybe I won't keep your bones as a souvenir." Confusion fueled the Uruk's expressions, then realization, and then fear.
"Wh-whatever you say, uhhh, whatever you are…" the Uruk trailed off, whispering to itself. "I'z not got a clue, but if you're referring to a ship, the closest body o' water is the Sea of Núrnen down southwest." The Sangheili's brow arched angrily. He stood up straight, dwarfing the Uruk.
"Water? My ship does not disgrace itself with water and waves, oo-rook." He paused, looking out towards the seemingly infinite, desolate plains. "I need to leave this place, and quickly. My ship holds nothing of value anyways." He turned back to the Uruk, the Uruk clattering its fingernails together impulsively. "Which is closer, your fortress or your sea?"
The Uruk chuckled under its breath.
"You really came from somewhere else then, heheh. I'z knew I'z done somethin' right. The sea lies on the otha' side o' Mordor. We'z best to travel to my cap'n at the fort, 'fore the wargs come in from the east."
"Wargs?" asked the Sangheili, an eyebrow cocked. The Uruk's eyebrows raised unnaturally high on its forehead.
"Never heard o' wargs? Great nasty beasts they are. From the misty mountains, far away." He exhaled solemnly. "Maybe even they can sense the ol' magic gone from here. Gorthaur's gone and dead, and they fear him no longa'."
"Then best we leave now, oo-rook." The Sangheili pushed past the Uruk, the Uruk groaning stubbornly as it shuffled behind him.
"I ain't just some Uruk, you know! I'z Gâz, the greatest gravedancer of Mordor! the Uruk proclaimed behind them. He wouldn't keep quiet about this fact no matter how many times his statement was responded to in silence.
"I do not care."