LOTR

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"You're... Different. Smarter?" he asked, trying to compliment his way out. No matter how gangly an Orc was, it could still cause some damage, and he didn't want his drunk friends to attack 'it'. He chuckled and apologised and handed the Orc a copper. "Hard being an Orc in Erebor?" Aruk queried.

----

Raknath trodded off slowly after one of the surviving orcs scent, to reach the plains in the front of the village. Long grass embedded the fields with wildlife, mostly snakes and rodents, but birds and some hunters prowled for prey. Rearing up to stand on two legs, his mouth dropped open and a gasp arose from him, somehow through his bear mouth. A sight to behold stretched for what seemed like miles across the fields, raising dust as they charged forward. A innumerable, myriad army of Uruk-hai galloped towards the village, jagged, razor like swords in hand, with huge torches holding flames to blaze structures in their wake, ready to wreak havoc on the world. Gulping, Raknath charged blindly forward to meet his arch-nemesis head on
 
Vertruk chortled jovially. "You have no idea. Orcs and dwarves have a... chequered history, to say the least." He interlaced his fingers tentatively. "I used to be a janitor in Barad Dûr. Then I started questioning the ethics of the place. The living conditions of orcs... disgusting. I also stated many a query about the intentions of that young upstart Sauron. You probably haven't heard of him... he thinks Middle Earth is his for the taking. Wishful thinking." Vertruk chuckled slyly.
 
Thoughts flooded his mind of the orcs statement about this 'Sauron'. He wanted to rule Middle-Earth? Aruk nervously chuckled as he thought that perhaps Sauron had plotted and successfully stole the Arkenstone. "I heard that Barad Dûr was held together by dark magic, and reached the clouds, or is that just rumours?" the dwarf questioned. Holding out a rough, work-worn hand, he introduced himself, "I am Aruk, son of Orak,"

----

Raknath spun around, flinging three into the air before one of the swords scraped along his side. Leaping back with a roar, he grabbed the Orc in his paws, snapping its verterbra. Nearby, a Uruk larger than the rest gruffly yelled out, "Skin the Beorning!" Cheers arose as the orcs charged at him to their doom, cutting his thick hide and scarring all around. Soon, scores of orcs lay either dead or seriously injured around him, but Raknath was bleeding heavily. Collapsing, he bellowed and closed his eyes as the Uruk-hai charged towards him, to finally end his life. Suddenly, the thud of an arrow into flesh sounded in his ears. Narrowly opening his eyes, he saw orcs collapsing around him, each with an wooden arrow fletched with three dove feathers either in their throat, eye, or chest. Jumping back up, he galloped back to the village as the orcs regrouped. They hesitated as another arrow storm hit, but the leader soon held up his sword and in his deep, gruff voice yelled, "Cowards! Get them!" Raknath saw a tall, brown haird man gripping a bow wink at him from a window of a hut. Skidding outside the door, the man was waiting. Raknath nodded to his furry, blood soaked back, and the man leaped on, and they galloped off into the distance, managing to narrowly avoid the Orc horde.
 
<The ruins of Dale, on the verge of Esgaroth, in the foothills of The Lonely Mountain>
Balamir's horse trotted tentatively through the shredded, seared landscape. He ran his finger along the termite-plagued, smouldering wood of an alehouse, and examined his finger, generously coated in ash.
The buildings jutted out of the dead plains, forlorn markers of ruined suburbia. Charred bodies were draped along gutters and signposts, gruesome testaments to death and manslaughter.
A once proud city of men, reduced to ashen debris by the dragon Smaug. It sickened Balamir immensely.
The barren sockets of a skull seemed to regard him, urging him to go back. Balamir was in such a solemn mood, he decided not to send an arrow through it.
Saruman had been momentarily pleased by the Arkenstone, but upon the revelation that the death toll for the Uruk-Hai had been incredibly high, he had scolded Balamir and sent him from Isengard, cautioned him to not return until he had retrieved the Beast's Bane. The black arrow.
Balamir came to the wide, ornate entrance of a subterranean structure. This was newer than any of the other buildings, for it had been created after the desolation of Smaug. Above it was an ostentatious plaque: 'The Devil's Crypt'.
Balamir descended into a vast underground room. Dimmed torches allowed a portion of the room to be lit. The rest was swathed in caliginosity. In the lit portion lay the cadaver of Smaug, the bane of Erebor. His colossal, undulating corpse winding into the tenebrous depths of the room. Blades attached to chains fixed into the wall had impaled him, speared the dragon through its hide, cleaving many bloody orifices into the skin. A barbaric yet apt punishment. Smaug's limp body would receive no peace.
In the beast's underside was a tenebrous projectile. It had a black shaft and dark, glinting, serrulated head. The black arrow that had slain the beast. Balamir wrenched it out, and the flesh was lacerated in a sickening tear.
Balamir left before the terror of the room could seep into his heart.
 
----

Raknath, instead of going directly to his hut, looped around the mountains into Giants Cove, teetering on the edge of an impassable ravine. It was layered with easily unsettled rocks, caragors and supposedly a graug, which the orcs were terrified of. The duo easily lost the wary and reduced horde, then circled back to the hut. Waiting paitently for the man to dismount, Raknath quickly transformed back into a man after the other had got off. With a calm and quiet yet rough thank you, Raknath gestured to his hut, and opened the huge doors, limping inside. The Beorning dwarfed his saviour, but still, he seated him and handed him a pint of his famous honey mead. The man graciously accepted and spoke. "I've never seen a Beorning fight. You're good," the man said, raising the glass to his lips.
"Thank you. You are quite a good archer," Raknath replied. The man laid the glass on the table and held out one arm, using the other to wipe his mouth.
"I am Boron of Ithilien. Eastern Gondor," the man said as Raknath shook his hand. "You?"
"I am Raknath of the Misty Mountains, Protector of Beasts," Raknath replied.
"Hater of orcs as well," Boron added playfully. His sweat drenched, short brown hair fluttered as a soft breeze ran through the house.
"What brought you here, Boron of Gondor?" Raknath asked, remembering his honeycakes. Taking them out, he realised he had put the oven too low, so lucklily they weren't burnt. "Want one?" he asked Boron.
 
"Vertruk." Vertruk responded matter-of-factly, craned his back to look Aruk in the eyes and shook Aruk's burly hand. "Y'know, you're a lot more racially considerate than many of your kin. I reckon we'll get on just fine." His gaze is periodically diverted as he looks around the dense, compacted throng. He frowns. "Why do I smell Uruk-Hai?"
 
Aruk lifted his hammer, tightening his grip. He harshly whispered to himself, "I warned them!" Trying to stand tall, he scanned the throng for danger. "I don't know... Lead me to them," the dwarf said, prepared to crush a threat to Erebor. He had heard that the stronger Uruk-hai attacked the normal orcs in a savage attempt to climb to power. He held the hammer ready, the bulky tool ready to smash a cranium.

----

Raknath sliced the cake and sprinkled what looked similar to ice crystals over the cake, then blew them off. He offered a piece to Boron. At first the man refused, but Raknath urged him to have it. Boron gorged it down, he seemed to be starving. "You seem very hungry, here, have another piece," Raknath said, handing over another slice of his famed honeycake.
"It's amazing!" Boron exclaimed, finishing his second piece. "I knew Beornings supposedly had good honeycakes, but this is tenfold better than any I've ever had!" The man continued.
"Why are you so hungry? I thought the village had plenty of food," Raknath said, confused.
"It did, but I have only just arrived here," Boron said, tucking into another slice.
"Why did you come here?" Raknath asked, intruiged about his story.
"I came from Ithlien to search for a gem which supposedly could rescue my wife and child, who were captured by the orcs. It was too late that I realised this was only a story, and the old man who had told it had already stole all my property and killed my young, foolish brothers who were protecting it. So now I travel from town to town to earn money and try to get enough to get that man back," Boron explained, quietening in sorrow and anger as he continued along the story. "Then I found myself here," he added cheerfully.
"That's sad... My parents were killed by orcs a long time ago, so now I try to get them back," Raknath said truthfully.
"Well, what a good duo we are!" Boron said, attempting to throw a hand around Raknath's neck. "Won't you come adventuring with me?" He asked casually. Raknath thought for a while. It would be sad to leave his home, but he could travel the world, kill orcs, meet new people, maybe even find other Beornings.
"I will," Raknath decided, and showed the man to a bed, where he quickly dozed off while the Beorning packed his things
 
Vertruk gave another absentminded sniff, licked his finger and let the saliva catch the wind. He narrowed his eyes. "Hm, I might've made a mistake... those aren't Uruks. I might be mistaken, but perhaps they're-"
A lumpy, colossal fist slammed on a table behind him. It flipped and slammed on top of the small orc. "Ow!" He cried. "My collar bone!" Then, "OLOG-HAI!"
 
The huge, Orc like creature stood, towering over the dwarf by seven fold, a glinting iron helmet on its head and massive sword in one hand. Olog-Hai. He had heard tales of these creatures, but never actually seen one despite his numerous battles. It was what seemed like a huge Orc, but it was in fact a troll, which had weaknesses like turning to stone in the sun bred out of them, in a similar fashion to Uruk-Hai. It was intelligent comparitvely to the rest of its species, but Aruk assumed it wasn't as intelligent as other creatures. He raised his hammer to the side and brought the hammer down on the creatures leg, causing to stumble back in pain. "OLOG HAI! Reform and attack you drunkards!" Aruk yelled out, and grabbed up Vertruk, shoving him violently out of the way. As he moved back, the what seemed to be only sober dwarf aimed up an axe throw.

----

((Too tired to do Raknath))
 
Vertruk stood, arms windmilling frantically. "Whoah there!" He yelled at the Ologs. "That's no way to treat a fellow mongrel!"
The more authoritive, assertive Olog-Hai (presumably the leader) tilted its head quizzically.
Vertruk sighed. "Do. You. Speak. The. Common. Tongue?" He pronounced in slow, patronising, vocal syllables, repeating speak and tongue.
The Olog-Hai remained unresponsive, while the dwarves glared at Vertruk as if to say, Really?
The revelation dawned on Vertruk. "Oh, right! You little bundles of idiocy speak the black tongue!" He laughed. "Primitive scoundrels. I'll humour you with a conversation in your own tongue, if you wish. Being an orc, I know a phrase or two." He flawlessly switched to the dark language of Mordor. "There you go, idiots. Do you know how much you stink?" He quipped, though his voice was distorted and infernal. Aruk eyed him in abject horror.
The Ologs didn't give Vertruk the luxury of a laugh. "We are here to burn the Ereborian settlements at the command of Saruman."
"Saruman? He's making orcs now? Gee, they don't live up to the mould do they?"
The Olog-Hai roared, and its ample scimitar lacerated the air before Vertruk's nose. The smaller orc staggered back, cursing in the common tongue, before reverting to the dark one. "Why? Why burn the settlements?"
"They must be razed. Saruman has finished his business in these lands. He has the mountain's heart and the beast's bane... he must seek the rest of the objects."
And with that, the myriad of behemoths roared and advanced in a rowdy column, straight toward the throng of dwarves, men and one unfortunate orc.
 
Aruk stood bewildered as Vertruk talked to the Olog-Hai in the Black Speech, carefully watching their every movement. As one of the behemoths swung a scimitar at the orc's head, the dwarf clenched his hammer. But suddenly, the decad of improved trolls charged forward! Aruk smashed his hammer against one of the creatures legs, interlocking it's leg in the gap in Aruks hammer, and the dwarf used all his might to pull the hammer back, tripping the Olog-Hai. Slowly the dwarves arranged themselves to attack. Aruk raised his hammer and brought it down in a wild attempt to crack the troll's thick skull. The troll bellowed and smashed the dwarf to the side with his huge hand as the hammer collided with the fallen troll's forehead. Aruk quickly regained posture and balance, and pulled out a hand axe, aiming it at the Olog-Hai's head to finish the job.

----

Raknath ate one of the honeycake slices in peace, relaxing again but thinking over the events that had happened. The orcs were much more... Civilised you could say. Nothing natural could of formed the Orc tribes to merge together into an army, something, someone, was behind all this. As Boron slowly rose from his slumber, Raknath vowed to himself he would find who, and stop this massacre.
 
<Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire>
Bilbo Baggins died three days prior to what would be his eleventy-first birthday.
He was concluding his memoirs when a slender arrow pierced his jugular. "What a loss to the world..." He wheezed as his life corroded into a feeble cinder of consciousness, before it fizzled out of existence.
The inflict of the mortal wound was a certain Balamir, who upon Bilbo's death experienced wracking migraine. A shrill, reverberating voice screeched in his head. THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!
Samwise Gamgee rounded the corner, a pair of hedge trimmers and a garden trowel in hand. "Pardon me, master Baggins? Loss to the world-?" His eyes expanded miraculously wide upon seeimg Balamir. His mouth contorted in fear, seeing the man with a bow and arrow perched outside Bilbo's window. He was in the process of calling for help. But he was too late.

Sam's limp cadaver lay unceremoniously shoved in a trimmed hedge as Balamir departed, ring of power tucked snugly in his pocket.
 
Yulfus was speaking to the dwarf general when he heard the roars. He dashed as fast as he could to the scene. He saw the Olog hai charging into the mass of dwarves. He had a bright idea as he readied for battle. He spun his staff, and blew on the muddy brown orb perched on the top. The orb swirled around, and the dwarves suddenly started having little jumps, one by one. Each one found themselves sober and even stronger and faster.
 
Vertruk yelped as terror and fright tore mercilessly at his chest.
To see an Olog-Hai fight sent such a concentrated dose of trepidation to his spine that he retreated below a table. While the dwarves hurled axes and hammers, Vertruk hurled obscenities.
He risked a brusque glance from beneath the table.
Another figure had rushed into the melee, staff pulsating dimly, crystal within filled with murky brilliance.
A wizard.
---
Balamir was intercepted shortly after departing from Hobbiton.
An arrow careened fluidly into his horse's hoof. It whinnied in horror and collapsed. Balamir pinwheeled to a stop at the foot of a man wielding an ornate bow toward him. Looming above the man was a terrifying presence. A colossal brute with swaying forests of hair adorning his body.
"Simpleton." Remarked Boron. "Thought he could murder two people and just stroll on out."
Raknath grunted and displayed his barbarically filed teeth. He was on the verge of transforming into a full beorning. "Let's not slaughter him just yet." His terrifying grin widened still. "Let's learn of his intentions."
 
Aruk pulled back as the Olog-Hai collapsed, grabbing the hidden Orc by the scruff and pulling him back as the Maiar started they're magic. They fell behind the amassing army of now fighting dwarves and he turned to the Orc. "We need to get the Arkenstone back before more dark creatures pillage Erebor!" Aruk said to to the gangly and frightened Vertruk.

----

Raknath turned to him in a look of uncertainty, but grabbed the man with his brute arms and pulled him up. Although the man seemed to look normal, a dark auma surrounded him, making the Beorning feel edgy, apprehensive even. Raknath peered at the man for a few moments before Boron sharply ordered to bring him closer. Hesitating, Raknath dragged the man closer so the duo could enquiry about what this supiscious and dangerous man was up to. Raknath managed to tie him to a tree quickly, with a wealth of knowledge about almost unbreakable knots aand quickly went to help the panicked and stressed horse.
"Boron, there could of been less harmful ways to capture him," Raknath said as Boron sat legs crossed, impatiently waiting. Patting the creature on the head, the horse neighed and slowly trotted off, it's hoof nearly healed already, slowly raising plumes of dust as it broke into gallop.
"So, what is your name?" Boron asked sharply, a knife pointed directly at the captured man's chest.
 
Balamir spat indignantly. "Names provide more leverage than you think. I'd rather not divulge my name." He subtly rummaged through his pocket.
---
"What if I don't want to get the bloody Arkenstone?" Queried Vertruk. "What if I want to leave Saruman to his toys?"
He attempted in earnest to scramble from Aruk's grip, but it was tight and akin to a shackle. "UNHAND ME!"
 
Aruk held on tight to Vertruk, and said quickly to him,
"You are the only hope we have of defeating Saruman, let alone Sauron, otherwise the world will tumble into destruction, and the wrath of the them both will make all of us suffer, even the orcs!" The dwarf quickly rummaged through his pocket and pressed a small necklace, a gem carving of a sword into the orcs hand. Unusually, the gem was half of dark ebony on one side, and a light blue sapphire. "You are of both sides, the only one who can save the dwarves, elves, men, and orcs from destroying themself," Aruk said, then curled up the orcs hand into a fist and cautiously let go.

----

Raknath's observant eyes picked the man's hand slowly lowering into his pocket, and he charged forward and grabbed the man's arm, bending it back, nearly cracking the bone with his strength. The Beorning, concentrating on holding the man back, didn't notice the ring glint as it flew through the air, landing softly on the bark. Boron glanced over and hid his expression, feeling a need to collect that ring, maybe wear it. It looked so... Enticing. The interrogater stood up with a slight chuckle and slowly paced over to the ring, chatting as he did.
"If you refuse to co-operate, my friend here will snap your arm. Now answer our questions," Boron started, managing to slip the ring into his boot. He turned on his heel and continued the other way. "And we will let you live, and go back to your miserable life, scampering back to your master. Or of course, we could slowly kill you, breaking every bone in your body and leave you to the wolves. Your choice," Boron said, finally making a lap, then staring directly into the man's eyes. "Tell - us - your - name," accenting the last word.
 
"My name is the least of your concerns." Murmured Balamir, concern tinting his voice. "That ring... you can't keep it. It's possesses a sort of sentience. It lusts, it corrupts-"
Boron, radiating hostility, slammed his fist into Balamir's jaw. "You pulled your ace with the ring, you're no longer in a position to banter."
Balamir grinned with devious malice. "You're misguided. The ring was but a decoy." He drew the black arrow swiftly and embedded it shaft deep in Boron's ribs, then yanked it from its fleshy holds. The man wheezed and collapsed. Balamir severed his bonds and backed away from Raknath. "Your friend is dying. Kill me or save him." While Raknath contemplated it, Balamir slipped the ring away from Boron's limp foot, retrieved his sword and positioned it before him in such a way that if Raknath struck he would be in a prime position to retaliate.
 
Raknath ran to Boron, turning his head to Balamir with a glare. As Raknath started to try and heal him, the ring somehow slipped from Balamir's grip, and rolled towards the man. Strange. Raknath warned the man not to come closer, even though the ring that he had was at Boron's feet. Raknath transformed into a bear, and slipped the unconsious man onto his back once he had stopped the bleeding, and grabbed the injured man's bow, and the ring in his jaw, galloping off with a bellow. Not many knew their way through the Misty Mountains, but Raknath did, managing to find a small cove to hide away from Balamir
 
In a horrible twist of fate, Balamir was once again pinned to Orthanc's tenebrous wall.
He wailed, an infernal sound that spiralled into the upper chambers. Monotonous bouts of pain wracked his system, and his blood vessels protruded, assuming the likes of a grotesque spider web.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THE RING?" Roared Saruman.
"It-it slipped from my fingers." Sobbed Balamir. "A beorning has it now!"
Saruman cackled. "You know what this means for your family, correct?"
Balamir's eyes widened in horrible realisation. "No! Please don't do anything to them!" He pleaded disdainfully.
"That was the price." Said Saruman. "Their torture and execution is tomorrow at noon. Retrieve the ring and bring it to me by then, and they may perhaps be spared."
Saruman relented with his magic, and Balamir slumped, racking with sobs.
A melee of Uruk-Hai and Olog-Hai marched raucously into the room and lay two items down at Saruman's feet. Andúril (the sword reforged) and the vial of Galadhriel (the lady's light).
The ring was all that remained unaccounted for.
---
Vertruk contemplated Aruk's words slowly. "...I'll do it. I'm expendable anyway."
He stepped away and glanced out at the majestic glades at the mouth of Lake-Town. "Lead the way to Isengard."
---
The orcish army generated a cacophonous ruckus as they clanged up the misty mountains, Balamir at the helm. "FOR THE WHITE HAND!"
"FOR ORTHANC!"
"FOR SARUMAN!"
"...for my family." Murmured Balamir saturninely.
 
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