"Do you know how the orcs, first came into being?" Saruman asked his newest officer. Lurtz growled, wincing, bearing his teeth and shook his head.
Saruman the White and the captain of Isengard stood inside the tower of Orthanc. Saruman was testing his creation, getting a feel for the might, will and strength of his new soldier. Quite remarkable really. "They were elves once. They were taken by the dark powers. They were tortured and mutilated!" Lurtz roared in appreciation, "Ruined, a now terrible form of life..." Saruman stopped pacing, and turned to stare into his captain's eyes, "...and now, they are perfected. My fighting Uruk-Hai!"
He moved right into the creatures wet and stinking face. This Uruk wasn't his deadliest servant, but it was his most reliable, so far. "Whom do you serve?" He asked, with much venom. "Saruman!" The brutal being rasped in reply. Saruman smiled, and his eyes narrowed. He stepped away from the savage being. For all its awe and majesty, this one was no match for the Spartan. Perhaps the other was.
It was then that Lurtz finally heard the breathing behind him. He turned around slowly, staring into the darkest corner of the room, cocking his head as he went. There were small clouds of steam rising out from the shadows. The obvious breath of a creature. The condensed air from its colossal lungs, as hot as a blacksmith's furnace.
Saruman was ready to meet his deadliest servant. Gathering all the conviction he could, he stepped forward, holding out his arms in his passion, exercising his massively inflated ego. "WHOM DO YOU SERVE?" He commanded to the shadows.
The creature stepped out from the shadows, and Lurtz was stunned by what he saw. The creature was huge, heavily set and muscular, yet also lean and incredibly tall. The monster dwarfed him, just as he dwarfed any orc or goblin. Dark skinned, barrel chested, wild eyed, it had the look of a maniac. Nostrils flaring, mucus pouring, stained dark with jet-black blood. Its chest was heaving, hyperventilating, as if it couldn't get enough air into its lungs to support its hyper-accelerated metabolism.
Lurtz looked the intimidating beast up and down, but made the mistake of staring into its bloodshot eyes. The beast stared back, and roared with the power of a small volcano. Two alpha males, hyped up, volatile and burning with testosterone, were about to square off.
Lurtz drew his knife, and roared back with all the strength he could muster. Without hesitation, the hyper violent creature charged at the Captain of Isengard. Accelerating faster than you could have thought possible, it grabbed the Uruk by his neck, and hefted him into the air as if he were a ragdoll.
This colossal creature, bulging with muscle under its thick leathery skin, stained black with blood, the blood of the orcs whose throats it had ripped out with its bare teeth upon its birth. It slammed an astonished Lurtz into the hard marble floor, bent down and roared into the captain's eyes, eyes wide with shock. It then straightened up fast as lightening. Standing stock still, awaiting for orders.
Saruman knew he had outdone himself. This dark experiment, a manifestation of his very might and iron-hard will. Fuelled by the Istari's own potent life force. It would only survive a few weeks...yet it would live like an explosion. Fast and hard and relentless. The nine walkers would not withstand his creation, his attack dog...his Nammah.
"You will obey my captain without question. You will destroy the fellowship, gut the ones who protect the hobbits and destroy the Spartan. Above all, you will bring his head back on a spike. Do you understand?" The creature did not move. Saruman had not given the creature vocal chords. It was mute, it only possessed the capacity to understand orders. But, he was confident that its superhuman mind had assimilated the information easily.
Lurtz was standing now. He grimaced, teeth bared, snarling, as close as Uruk-Hai ever came to smiling. He did not hate this creature, he only admired it. Uruks always respected strength, and always admired brutality. He paced around it, the creatures head bowed, unflinching, breathing heavily, shoulders hunched. Yet still, even now it was two full heads taller than himself. Lurtz could tell that it was completely submissive now, it would follow his orders without question. This creature would ensure that nothing in the world could stop him. Would any feeble bodied elf or human be able to withstand the Uruk-Hai now?
Morale was high amongst the group once more. The next morning, after their rest, they had been invited to the home of Celeborn. There they had been treated to a hearty breakfast. All manner of fruits, breads, cakes and nuts, a most generous spread. Yet there was no meat, much to the dismay of Gimli and Boromir. Chief wondered if the elves of Lothlorien were vegan.
Provisions for their journey had been provided. One thing took Chief's eye in particular. Gimli had also noticed it too. It was a kind of food stuff, some kind of thick, unrisen bread. Baked brown and hard on the outside, yet soft and milky white in the centre.
"Cram!" Gimli grumbled bitterly, how he hated it! Cram was a food made by many of the men who lived in trade and cooperation with the dwarfs, particularly around the region of Dale towards the kingdom of Erebor. Practically inedible, it would stick in your throat and make you gag. He broke off a bit of the corner, and in apprehension of its dry and awful taste, ate it hesitantly. Than his eyes lit up a little and his expression changed completely. He wolfed down the rest of the bread in two massive bites.
"Do not eat anymore my friend!" Legolas had said to him. "For this is Lembas bread. It is a most precious commodity amongst the elves. It takes many months of toil and work to produce correctly. It is very rare, only a few know its recipe. It is a closely guarded secret, for one small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."
Chief and Cortana had been listening intently to this, "Wow! You have to admit, that's taking rationing to a whole new level if a couple of bites is all it takes. You could stay out in the field for months with a sack of this stuff!" Cortana remarked, her CPU sat safe inside of Chief's helmet. It was something else to try and keep along with his mithril shard, should he ever get back to humanity.
Cortana was right. Chief had already eaten some of it. It was quite bland, but it was light and pleasant to chew on. He had been surprised how sated his appetite had been after a couple of bites. So long as it replenished vital nutrients as well as energy, the food was all that his body would require. Cortana was right, it could revolutionise rationing.
Oh Cortana! How remarkable that night had been. They had stood under the moonlight for what seemed an age after the others had left. They had walked through the grounds of the forest, seeing all manner of plants, flowers and flying insects. Just him and Cortana, walking together. It had been magical, Chief would remember the night for the rest of his life. He could still scarcely believe what Gandalf had done for her. It would be his eternal legacy.
They had also been provided with elven cloaks, which like many things within Middle Earth, had more to them than met the eye. "We will provide you each with a hood and cloak, made according to your size. They will be made from the light, warm and silken thread that our artisans weave so fine!" Celeborn had begun to explain as his men brought forward the gifts.
Some were grey, like the hue of twilight when seen under the great tree of their woodland realm. Others were a fine green, like leaves under the shadow, or brown as fallow fields by night. Chief's cloak wad silver, the colour of water when seen under the pale light of the twinkling stars. "They can conceal you from any foe, and hide you inside of any terrain. Observe!" Celeborn commanded one of his men to throw one of the cloaks over an armchair in the corner of the room. To everyone's amazement, when the cloak settled, the area became indistinguishable from the rest of the wall.
"Take them, they are yours now. May they shield you from unfriendly eyes."
"Impressive" Chief had said. An understatement, it was remarkable that people of this time could create something like this. Chief saw its tactical applications immediately. He had seen, and wondered, how the elven sentinels had appeared as if from thin air they day before. "You wouldn't mind if you gave me a spare, would you?" He asked Celeborn politely.
This had confused the elves a little, but then they accepted it. "The flax the cloaks are made from is strong. The material is not proof against a sword say, yet they are hard wearing, and rugged all the same. Even so, your journey is long and arduous, it is possible that they will deteriorate by its end. Out of kindness, I shall provide you with some spares".
Chief bowed in respect at Celeborn, it was how things were done here "Thank you" He wouldn't tell him that it was Chief's intension to use one for Cortana should she ever need to go out for a stroll sometime. It would allow her some degree of animosity and, perhaps more importantly, modesty. Frodo had told the other hobbits about the night with Galadriel. What he had seen, and what Galadriel had told him. Also about Chief and Cortana.
Pippin had bugged John about it all morning. They had all had a short chat with her, and she had convinced them that she was friendly. That seemed to put them at ease, they didn't see her as a threat of any kind. They had all agreed to keep her a secret from the others for now. "It's not fair on them, but I understand!" A serious Merry had said on the matter.
They astounded Chief by their open-mindedness, they weren't simple people by any distinction. Foolish, innocent. But they were not idiots!
All of a sudden, a loud burp erupts from behind him. Causing Chief to turn round. He sees a rather sheepish looking Pippin standing with his head bowed low in embarrassment. "I didn't know that this lembas stuff was so filling!" He said, stifling another belch. Chief smiled, there was no harm done.
"How many have you already eaten?" He asks. "Four of them" Pippin says, belching again. Chief simply sighs and walks away.
Everyone is prepared for the journey ahead of them. "Ok Chief, we're all set. With any luck, Pippin won't eat all of the food within the next week or so!" Chief was almost relieved "I'm still trying to figure out how he can eat so much".
The elves have provided them with boats. White wooden kayaks, built for two persons each, "I don't think these boats can take my weight, even by myself!" Chief had said sceptically
"Do not underestimate our craftsmen Spartan!" Haldir replied. He had come down personally, to send them off at the bank of the river. "The one that has been provided for you is taller, and has a slightly wider bow than the others. The boats are crafty, unstable when mishandled. But they are strong and do not sink easily. They have been taken far into the waters of the sea and beyond and have brought their occupants back safely, time and time again" He couldn't help but boast.
Chief climbed gingerly into the boat, gripping the sides of the dockyard, making sure he didn't put all his weight down until the last moment. The boat sank down low, very low, creaking loudly, but to his relief stayed afloat. Haldir was a little taken aback by how low it sat in the water, "How heavy is your armour Spartan?" He asked in awe. Chief saw no reason to lie.
"A Spartan when fully armoured can weigh upwards of a tonne" Haldir was astounded, it was as if ten men were sitting in the boat! "Yet, adequate it is Chief. Farewell friends of Lothlorien, may fortune serve you well!" And with that, the fellowship set off on their quest once more.
A few hours later, a paddle splashes into the water. They had cleared the forest now, and were making good progress across the mighty Anduin River. Chief has gotten into the rhythm of moving along the river by canoe and paddle: A simple enough task. He is deep in conversation with Cortana. "So, you have confirmation. The distress beacon on The Dawn is still operational!" Cortana nods on his HUD.
"Yes Chief. We were too far away to detect it before. We had no way of knowing until now, but we finally have a strong contact signal with the ship. I blame the misty mountains!" Remarkably, the ship, and most extraordinary of it all, some of her broadcasting systems had survived the terrible crash.
Yet, the news was bitter sweet. He remembered that first conversation, when he had first arrived on this planet. "We lost contact with the ship as it passed over a large region of volcanic wasteland..." He knew the name of that wasteland now, its name was Mordor. It meant that Chief had a means to make his presence known to the outside universe, a way home. But he also had no viable means of using it.
Yet it was still a positive. He had a new incentive to complete the mission. As soon as the ring was destroyed and as soon as Mordor was defeated, he could get to The Dawn. With a little luck, Chief would be able get home. There was only one problem, Chief didn't actually have any reasons for wanting to go back...but what about humanity? He would think about it later. There was still a fight to be finished here.
It was then that Chief saw something that took his eye. Something was sticking out of the river, by the bank. He could make out two colours, grey, and yellow. He zoomed in with his HUD, he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He started to row with renewed power and vigour. It couldn't be! He kept thinking to himself.
"Chief, you realise how astronomically small the chances of finding something like this is...it must have fallen out of the ship as it sailed overhead. It impossible...but there it is!" Chief could scarcely believe it himself.
"It is a weapons cashe!" He breathed in utter amazement. Just sticking out of the water, he could see five letters sticking out of the water. "Batt-" No way in hell had he gotten this lucky! The cashe was a container for god damn Battle rifles! "Middle Earth won't know what's hit it Chief!" Cortana said excitedly.
It was then that Aragorn called out, "Chief, what are you doing? We don't make for the shore until we reach the end of the channel, where the great falls are found." But chief knew better "Trust me. This is worth stopping for!"
They moored the boats up, wedged into the sides of the river bank. As soon as Chief had dismounted his boat, he ran over into the river, splashing all the way, and started dragging the supply box out of the river. Everyone watched him in curiosity. The box was obviously artificial made of metal and some curious kind of glass or crystal. The curious crystalline material was in fact plastic, but they had never seen plastic before! And what were those things inside? Clubs or hammers?
Chief tried the door, it was locked. The deadlock seal was still intact. Chief simply ripped the door clean off and took out one of the weapons. Chief couldn't believe that he was holding a rifle again. Absolutely remarkable! But it wasn't all good news. The box had leaked, something must have ruptured during the impact. Unsurprisingly. The fact that it was still intact at all was remarkable enough. Yet as he began to examine the rifles further, John realised that the equipment inside had fared far worse.
Of the six BR55's stored behind the locker-door, only two of the rifles were operable. Even those that remained haven't endured the impact completely unscathed. Despite the toughness of the weapons, most of their casings were damaged and indented, with major compressions pressed against many of the rifle's most vital areas. In addition, all of their ammo counters had been smashed. The Liquid crystal displays underneath shorn into multiple pieces by the razor sharp fingers of their shattered ballistics plastic coverings. There was no way of repairing these complex components out in the field.
"This is probably for the best John" Cortana remarked, as if knowing what her Spartan is thinking. "Those ammo counters would trouble them to no end. They've adapted to you because they understand armour, and have seen and heard of beings far more dangerous than Spartans Chief. But they're just not technologically minded. It would confuse them, and its just not worth attempting to explain to them something they will not understand. Hell, seeing a crystal-like surface so flat and pure will amaze them enough! This is just a simpler time".
Chief knew she was right. Although it would be amusing to see grown men, marvelling at what to him was such a trivial and unincredible thing! He ripped off the secondary door to the weapons container; the magazine section. Some of the boxes had exploded due to the shock of the landing, yet there were still many left. He started counting, there were still fourteen boxes intact. 3000 rounds prepared in magazines, give or take a couple of duds due to the savage impact. Luckily the container had landed in the water. Chief imagined that nothing but scrap would have been left otherwise.
"What is all this John?" Aragorn asks curiously.
"Weapons" He replies simply. The Fellowship were entranced, how could they have been able to understand what they were seeing? Chief pulled out the other gun, they were both soaking wet. He wasn't worried, this was easy to rectify.
Laying them on the ground he pulled out the magazines and disengaged the safety, then he released the barrels fixing mechanism and manually primed the firing pin. Every battle rifle had ultra-slippery, Nano engineered internal barrels that increased muzzle velocity. But it also had another function. Chief pulled the trigger of the rifles, and every time as the barrel shot forward, all of the water came flooding out. It was a trick every soldier knew.
Everyone watched him curiously as he reassembled the weapons. Now finished, Chief reloaded the nearest rifle. And took a firing stance at the nearest tree. "You might want to watch this, and cover your ears!" He said, with the smallest vestige of a smile forming upon his face.
Firing on semi auto, he emptied half of the weapons magazine. The fellowship jumped as the weapons spat fire and barked with the strength of a warg. The rounds tore into the side of the silver birch, wood and splinters flying everywhere as 9.5x40mm rounds tore into its side. The fellowship watched in amazement as the tree came crashing down.
"How is this possible?" Legolas and Boromir said in unison, stunned by the powerful sorcery they had just witnessed. The others were too stunned to speak. "These weapons are called rifles" Chief began to explain. "These are the weapons I used in the war against the Covenant. The Spartans do not use swords and blades as our primary weapons, we use projectile weapons instead. We rely on our strength, our speed, and the weight of these weapons when it gets in close, using a knife for back up. A rifle is a heavy tool, it makes a good crushing weapon, like a mace. The knife, called a bayonet, is attachable onto the front of the rifle. It can be used like a spear, excellent for a quick thrust, hit the enemy before he hits you. The weight of the weapon behind the blade allows you to do a lot of damage" Chief then hooked his knife onto the end of the weapon for a moment to demonstrate. He then returns it to his belt.
The fighting style was completely alien to them, even though it used principles they understood all too well, apart from the guns. Aragorn remembered the day at Rivendell, the day of the council when he and John had been in the armouries. He could hear Chief's explanations in his head. Chief's combat repertoire was starting to alter the way Aragorn looked at war. He understood that if the principles were scaled up into army sizes...was there any force that could defeat such a thing? An army based around such a terrifying principle?
"It takes a trained eye to use such a weapon..." Chief continued, now looked towards Legolas, "Think you're up to the challenge Legolas?" The elf couldn't have been more surprised. "It takes a keen eye, you say?" Legolas remarked, feeling confident. Chief walked over about to hand the rifle over to him. Legolas simply gazed at it with a look of awe. "It's held like a crossbow. Have you ever used one of those?"
Legolas nodded, and took hold of the weapon, not before Chief had activated the safety. It was heavier than a bow, yet still surprisingly light. It felt good in his hands, and it had been shaped well for practical use. But... "How does it function?" Legolas asked.
"Crossbows have hairpins" Chief began. "Rifles have triggers. Examine the weapon, find the trigger" Legolas turned it round, there was a small semi-ring of metal inside of an oval metal band. Chief knew what to explain next.
"It fires these..." He said, and Legolas watched as he pulled out the rifle's magazine and took out a couple of small metal cylinders. "These are called rounds. They have three basic components. A detonator, a propellant and a projectile. The detonator ignites the propellant, which explodes with enough power to force the projectile, called a bullet, forwards with phenomenal speed. These rounds function the same way as my grenades. I overheard you discussing them after Moria. The power of the explosive chemical mix propels the bullet through the opening at the front, the only point the force from the explosion can escape from. As you saw earlier, it's far more powerful than a bow or javelin".
Legolas was astounded, everyone was. Not even dwarven artisans produced so intricate weapons and devices. To merge such developed understandings of metallurgy, engineering, craftsmanship and alchemy and forge all that knowledge into a single tool, a weapon, was mind-blowing.
Chief put the magazine back in. Legolas couldn't wait to fire, he aimed, took a solid stance and pulled the trigger back. Nothing happened. "It's not firing" The confused elf exclaimed. Chief began to smile.
"The weapon has a safety catch. A hammer inside of the weapon activates the detonator in the round. The hammer is connected to the trigger, the safety catch breaks that connection. Without the hammer strike the weapon cannot work" He flips the safety catch, Legolas is responsible enough. "Do not point it at any of us. You would not draw an arrow and point it at a friend!"
Chief walks over to a nearby tree, and hits it with his knife, forming a bull's-eye. "The bullet does not fall like an arrow does, adjusting your aim for the shot is far less severe. Compensate for wind only, although at this range the difference will be almost unnoticeable. It will fire three shots, every time you pull the trigger, so long as it still holds ammunition or does not malfunction."
Legolas takes a strong pose, just as he had seen Chief do. He had seen how it had thrown even the heavy Spartan back. He knew it was going to kick like a horse! He took a deep breath, stabilised, and pulled the trigger for a moment. Three shunts rock his shoulder back, not quite as bad as he was expecting, but still pretty powerful. Three empty metal jackets flew out from the side. He grazes the tree, five yards above the target
"Careful!" Chief warns, "The rifle kicks back so it's gonna try and walk up over your shoulder. Try to keep it under control, quick controlled bursts are easier to manage." It was harder than he had thought, but a thousand years of shooting experiences wasn't about to let him down.
Legolas altered his grip, crouched into the rifle, tried again. Every shot but one hit the bull's-eye. Then the weapon inevitably stopped firing again. He tried the trigger, nothing. Legolas thought for a moment. He remembered the jackets flying out. He realised why it had stopped. "It's empty!" He said out loud.
Chief was busy loading the second assault rifle. He needed to align the sights after all. "Show them how it's done Chief!" Cortana says excitedly. Chief smiled at her in acknowledgement.
"A quick draw is vital, the time it takes you to reload a magazine can mean the difference between life and death. Let me show you how effective the weapon can be!" The Master Chief had three full clips, and a crap load of trees to shoot at! As Cortana might have said, this was going be fun!
He hunkered down and charged forwards, firing off four quick three round bursts, sap and pulp flying all about the impact zones, shards like needles shattering, thrown into the air. The tree behind to the right, three more bursts, impacts shook his arm, muzzle flare reflected off his visor. Then he dropped down and fired on his ten o' clock, flicking the firing selector of the gun to single shot, and emptied the magazine in quick succession.
The next mag, out in a flash, inside in a second, empty mag thrust onto the floor. Two o' clock target, three single round shots, then another two 3 round bursts, the tree was split in half. He bolted up straight, than moving left, letting his momentum carry him, picking every target that came his way, hundreds of leaves being shook and pulled from their branches by the impact of armour piercing rounds. Empty, reload, last clip. Turning 180* and crouching down, there is a hedge across the verge, thick branches all. He burns the entire mag in a single volley, ripping it apart, a final display of the weapons destructive power. Finally standing, it was over.
"You haven't lost your touch John!" Cortana complimented.
The fellowship had never seen such a symphony of destruction. Such raw power, like a hurricane, this weapon, like a dragon, would spit fire and annihilate everything it hit. Chief couldn't stop amazing them "How many of these 'clips' do you have chief?" Aragorn asked "20 magazines per box. Nine boxes, that's 180 magazines. But we have a problem!"
This puzzled most of the fellowship, and they wondered what that problem could have possibly been. Aragorn however, thought he knew what this problem was. "Logistics!" He said with realisation. Chief nodded in agreement.
"The boats can't carry much else, mine's already overloaded. I'd imagine the others could only manage one box each"
This was a problem. "Our plan was to leave the boats and continue on foot. We can only take what we can carry" Aragorn replied to Chief.
John knew this, he continued. "I couldn't ask the others to carry any more than they already are. One mag for the hobbits, perhaps two for the rest of you. I can carry multiple mags, my armour was designed to do that, but I need to destroy the crossbow bolt boxes so that the enemy doesn't get their hands on them" Everyone understood why they couldn't allow this to happen. God forbid it the enemy learned how to replicate the design en masse!
Chief knew that 25 Mag's would not be enough to destroy the armies of Mordor. But he could effectively kill 900 orcs if he hit every target with single shots. "It's will help us immeasurably Chief!" Aragorn finally answered. "The road is long, we cannot sacrifice anything for the sake of the magazines. Destroy the crossbow and its ammunition, replace it with your weapons"
Boromir, who had been listening all this time like the others, had a suggestion. "Should we destroy the container as well?" Chief hadn't thought of that. He came to a solution quickly, "No. It's made of metal. I'll push it into the river, let it sink. No one will discover it here, not for hundreds of years at least. By that point, everything inside will be irreparable. We should destroy everything else as soon as we reach our checkpoint tonight". Chief had suddenly taken control, he was finally justifying his name.
"Good thinking. You should lead us more often Chief!" Aragorn complimented.
"Thanks!" John replied, "But, I do not know the way!" Aragorn's eyes lit up a little, it was the first time he had heard Chief tell a joke! The novelty!
"Very well. We move out, we do not stop until we reach the Tol Brandir falls, we moor on the western bank, overlooking the eastern shore"
"Wait!" Chief barked, holding up his arm. Everyone stopped, the Spartan still had one thing left to say "I've still got one more Rifle..." Everyone was a little taken aback. They gazed at the powerful weapon, was Chief about to suggest what they thought he was about to? "Legolas, you're arguably the best shot in the group, best bowman we've got, best sharpshooter we've got. Would you have it?" The Prince of Mirkwood was very tempted, but there was no doubt in his mind.
"No Spartan, I would not".
A shame, Chief thought to himself. But there was another..."I would use it Chief!" Boromir announced loudly, breaking John's train of thought, "It would be a great weapon for the people of Gondor to have at thei-" "Are you a good shot?" Chief interrupted the proud captain. This was all that mattered.
"Well, the accuracy of the weapon would surely compensate for any-" "Not good enough Boromir, sorry." This rejection wounded the captain deeply, but he would not show it. Chief then walked over to Aragorn, picking up the box of ammunition, still with five mags left, everyone knew who he wanted to hold it! "I...Chief, are you sure you want me to use it?" Aragorn asked him doubtfully. Chief had no doubt whatsoever.
"Legolas is a good marksman, but this weapon, for all its accuracy, is not a precision tool. It needs a good marksman, but also needs strength and aggression to use efficiently...the re-coil would be almost nothing to you. It's too powerful a tool to pass off...we need all the advantages we can get!" Aragorn still wasn't sure. He wondered if maybe Gimli would...no, Chief had obviously thought it through.
"Ok Chief, I will take it." They finally in agreement. As Aragorn put three mags into his pockets and the rifle around his shoulder, they were ready to move on.
There was still a long way to go. The show had ended, there was no time like the present. They climbed back into their boats and paddled onwards. They headed towards the great sentinels of Numenor, carved out of the mountain side, they would give Mt Rushmore a run for its money! A lake, a rest, and then the horror of Amon Hen, a day that not even the Master Chief would forget...