A Knife in the Dark

The cart rocked steadily back and forth in a rhythm the three occupants had, by this point in time, grown accustomed to. The sun shone above them through the bars of their cage and they knew that if they misbehaved, the sun wouldn't be the only thing coming through those bars. On either side there were three armed guards atop great horses, and each had a long menacing looking spear at hand. Inside the cart was a hard wooden floor furnished with two identical wooden benches on either side. The cart smelled of sweat and piss. Well… really, the three people inside of it smelled like sweat and piss.

Targus sat on one bench, his bound hands resting on his knees, legs pulled up so he could lean back against the front of the cage. Akash lay across from him on the second bench, feet resting up against the wall of bars, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his chest. Bug sat cross-legged on the floor between them watching the dirt road trail out behind.

"You know, I've always wondered," Targus said, turning away from a particularly fascinating bit of sleeve he had been fiddling with, to look at Bug. "And it does seem like an appropriate time to ask after what you've just been telling me, what with your birth and you being magicked and all. It seemed that the White Wizard had a bit of stock in you, yeah? You were his new toys and all. Great bloody bastard he was, by the way, never liked him. Not even before everyone knew about his doings. Never met him myself a'course, just-"

"Ask the fucking Question, Targus." Akash said bluntly without opening his eyes.

"Right…" Targus blinked with embarrassment at being caught rambling before going back to his fiddling. "The two 'uh you found yourselves stuck with some rather unfortunate names, didn't you?"


It seemed to take ages for the brothers to regain their breath after Saurman's spell was cast. They walked in a haze behind the wizard, unknowing and unable to care about their destination. The ache in their arms seemed to be slowly spreading upwards like a poison and it was nearly the only thing that they could be bothered to notice.

After ages and ages - or so it seemed - of walking they eventually made it to another cavern where their brothers from before stood again in a line. Though now they stood within a trench that rose up to their knees, and were surrounded by smaller hunched Orcs, some of which held great wooden buckets and were throwing the contents at the Uruk-hai. The dark liquid from their birth was washed away to drain from one end of the trench, leaving the Uruk's shivering and completely naked.

Saruman stopped at the entrance of this Cavern and waited for the Pitmaster to hurry over and bow.

"You may take these two. Wash them, brand them, and name them well, Pitmaster. They will not start work just yet, however." He looked over one shoulder to scrutinize the dazed looking Uruk's at his back. "They will be of little use until they are rested."

A "Yes, Master" was uttered in short regard and then the wizard was gone, leaving the twins to many rough hands that dragged their unresisting bodies into the trench with their brothers. It was the freezing cold brackish water that woke them from their distant state as it was hurled over their bodies.

Next thing they knew, the Pitmaster was standing before them with a very hot looking rod of metal with a shape, crudely smithed onto the end of it.

"Look lively, lads. This'll sting a bit." He chuckled darkly and looked to his side where another bucket wielding orc stood. They nodded to one another and then the brand was pressed into the first brother's chest just below the collarbone. He didn't roar. This pain was mediocre compared to ones already endured this day. His eyes were squeezed shut as tight as they could be as he hissed and spat through his teeth. Fists clenched and un-clenched at his side. The brand burned through layers of skin, leaving a deep and permanent mark.

When the brand was withdrawn he slumped and gasped before being jolted again by another bucket of cold water. He stood, breathing heavily, his wet curtains of hair covering his hanging head and relieved expression.

The second brother's eyes widened when the brand was switched out with a freshly heated one and the Pitmaster came to stand before him. His own breathing began to quicken and a growl was growing within his chest. He stood, tensed, fists clenched, staring into the Pitmaster's eyes with a warning. The fat orc's mouth twitched at the corners and he looked behind the Uruk's back and nodded.

When many arms came from behind to grab the brother and hold him steady, a roar broke forth and he began to struggle without reservation. He fought harder still as the Pitmaster moved forward with the brand and when it touched his skin the group of small orcs that had a hold of him were shaken by his fury. The brand was withdrawn as quickly as possible to cause as little damage as possible to the mark left behind on the chest of the gnashing and thrashing Uruk. He seemed to be trying as hard as he possibly could to reach anything he could with his fangs. This was the first time the brother had been able to display his rage to thoroughly and if felt good rushing hot through his veins, blocking out the pain of the fresh burn on his chest.

"Release him." The Pitmaster said with authority.

The ones that he addressed faltered in their doubt, before releasing their holds cautiously and jumping out of harms reach as quick as they could. The previously restrained Uruk had no time to pounce before the cold water was thrown in his face, followed by a thick meaty fist. The hit took the fight out of him easily and he stood in another daze, his anger forgotten with his surprise. Next thing he knew, his chin was in a vice-like grip and he was being forced to look into the Pitmaster's red eyes and pudgy face.

"I'm not s'posed to whip yeh lil bastards on the first day, but yeh had better learn who yer enemies are and learn it quick. Ya hear?" He looked over the Uruk's face before stepping back once again. The brother huffed in contempt, but did not move to attack. "What d'yeh figure, Gorosh, eh? Master wants these two ta be named special."

A little orc with a clever face and a missing ear came up to stand at the Pitmaster's side and snickered at the brothers. "Can hardly tell the whelps apart, Pitmaster. Give them both the same name for all the good it'll do." He laughed a high piercing laugh, soon joined by the Pitmaster's chuckle.

"Akash," He pointed a clawed finger at the seething brother in front of him, "and Bug." And then to the concerned brother standing at his side. "May s'well be sharin a name between yeh." He crossed his thick arms over his chest and huffed, looking at the two as if he was profoundly proud of the names he'd come up with. "Take these two down to the locks, send the rest of 'em up to trainin." He spoke sideways to Gorosh who began barking the orders over, loud enough for the rest of the many minions scurrying about to hear.


Akash shook the pushy hands from his arms before they could thrust him into the hall and turned just in time to see Bug being thrown into him. The journey from the branding chamber had been tense and long, ending in a low ceilinged room with many close ended halls attached to it. They now stood on what had to be the wrong side of the door to one of these halls. Their feeling was confirmed when one of the little orcs swung the door - more a barred gate - closed leaving only the brothers inside. Akash swiftly shoved Bug off of him and rushed to the bars, shaking them and hissing.

"What are you doing?" He growled at the little group that had escorted and caged them. The small party chuckled at him harshly, a sound that he was realizing was going to be something he'd have to get used to hearing.

"Jus tuckin you, lil' gems in, is all." An ugly bastard with more piercings on his brow than he had yellow rotten teeth in his mouth sidled up close to where Akash's face was pressed against the bars. "Rest up," He spat at the foot of the door and sneered, "Muts."

Akash could only stand behind the bars seething and growl at the many crooked backs as they walked away cackling.

"Bug..." Bug tested the name on his tongue. His name. Akash turned around to face his brother. He was staring at his hands, turning them over, running a clawed digit over the raw and open cut on his forearm. He looked up as if he was once again opening his eyes for the first time. "I am Bug."

Bug began looking around the empty hall they were locked in. There were bunks carved into the dark stone walls on all sides, three on top on another, each filled with a pitifully thin layer of dirty looking straw. The floor was composed of a pale dirt, seemingly compressed by many heavy feet, but an area in the center of the room appeared to have been turned up and was darker than the rest.

Akash sighed heavily and looked down to the brand on his chest. It looked like a circle that had been twisted in the center and a box rested over the space were the circle met itself. It was raw and it stung, a sharp deep pain instead of the dulling throbbing pain in his arm. Another wave of anger hit him and he had to breathe deep to try and push it away.

"Akash." He said. He looked up once again and met his brother's eyes.

"You are Akash." Bug said quietly.

Akash hit his chest with a closed fist, almost an instinctual action and nodded. "Aye."


A/N: I'm really sorry that this too for freaking ever. My sincere apologies to anyone interested in following this story, but it's probably going to happen often... I uh... I don't have a whole lot of spare time.

Thanks a lot for reading! Drop me a review, constructive criticism is welcome!