Short Story by Yamato Take
1st Place Winner
It was cold. It was always cold, with freezing snow and howling winds, barely enough food to eat, attacks by wild animals daily. This is where creatures such as orcs, and goblins, trolls, and even balrogs dwell. If they live there they need to be extremely hardy and be able to survive extremes, in both temperature and life. Not the most welcoming place for an orc child. Up in the Misty Mountains, removed from the orcs of Mordor and the concerns of Men, Elves, and Dwarves, lived a clan of orcs, known as the Silver Eye. The clan name derived from a characteristic birthmark around the left eye of the orcs, and serves as a symbol of pride for them. The Silver Eye Clan were not normal orcs. Not in the service of anyone, they had formed a tribe to help survive in the wilds of the Misty Mountains, and had no need for war, except to protect themselves from wild animals, and the occasional goblin attacks. A village of hunters and gatherers, the Silver Eyes lived in an enormous hallowed out cavern, were tents were set up around a central fireplace. The hunters would go out early in the morning and come home at dusk, sometimes being successful, sometimes returning empty handed. To kill others was not the way of these orcs, they simply wanted to survive.
Golnauk was out on his first hunt; as for an orc of the Silver Eye who turns eight is expected to do. His older brother, Falzin, and sister Nalûl were accompanying him. His father and some older men of the clan were out hunt a few goblins that had stolen the deer carcass from the most recent hunt. Golnauk’s leopard skin boots muffled his steps on the old, brittle snow. They were hunting in a pocket forest that spanned across a wide plateau, where the top of the mountain seemed to have been sheared off. When the Ainu Morgoth created these mountains, perhaps he sheared of the top of the plateau in frustration at Oromë, a Vala, who kept riding around Middle Earth hunting, which was why the mountains were created in the first place to stop. That was at least what Golnauk’s grandfather, the clan’s medical expert and the oldest, had always said.
A blow to the head from Falzin brought Golnauk back to the present. He joined up with his brother and sister, who were behind a bush, looking out at something. Golnauk crept up to them and saw not a deer, or a rabbit, but a bear. A huge black one, slowly eating the berries off a withered bush, caked in snow. Falzin signaled for them to raise their spears and be ready to throw. Golnauk’s hand was sweating and he was nervous, but he raised his spear and wiped the sweat on his hide shirt. Falzin’s spear flew and Nalûl’s followed. Golnauk overcame the fear and threw his spear, trying to become the Hoital, the hunter. All three spears sunk into the bear, but it snarled out and thrashed wildly before it smelled them. Turning towards their crouching forms in the bush, they had been downwind of the bear, but its thrashing had put them upwind. With a roar the bear came at a fast lumbering run towards them.
“Urk!” swore Falzin, as he grabbed the back of Nalûl and Golnauk’s shirts and gave them a pull, signaling the to run. Golnauk tried to run towards Falzin as he took out another speak and started running away from, but not trying to get away from the bear. Nalûl clutched Golnauk’s arm and started to tear him away from what was going to happen. “No!” Golnauk yelled to her, “We have to help Falzin!”
Nalûl turned him to face her, “We can’t help him now, the bear is too enraged and large!”
“But…” Golnauk stammered. Nalûl yelled at him, “We can’t help, we have to run!”
Golnauk turned one more time to look at Falzin. He was scrambling backwards to avoid the bear’s claws and bulk. Desperately, he took a step forward with his spear leading, but the bear just charged through his attack and swept up Falzin in a crushing hug. The bear enclosed it front legs as it stood on its back ones, putting enormous pressure on Falzin. With a final squeeze and a sickening pop, the bear broke his spine, and the orc fell to the ground, dead and mangled. Golnauk tried to scream but it came out as a faded yelp.
Nalûl pushed him away from the sight, and with tears in her eyes, said, “Run away from here Golnauk, and run back to camp.” With that she took out her knife and waited for the bear to come to her. Golnauk could just stand there as the animal barreled into Nalûl and sprawled her down on the ground. It roared again and brought its claws down again and again, each time accompanied by a spurt of blood from Golnauk’s sister. Soon, Nalûl was dead, and the bear turned with its claws dripping blood, looking at Golnauk, ready to maul again.
This can’t be happening; it’s all just a nightmare! The orc tried to tell himself, but as the bear came closer, he started down at the snow freezing his hands and felt the cold air searing his lungs. Something was buried in the snow in between his hands; a shiny gray bulb was just poking through the snow. Golnauk couldn’t tell why, but he felt compelled to dig it out of the snow. With numbing fingers, Golnauk uncovered something that appeared to be a handle, which he grasped and pulled on. Out in a shower of snow came something that looked just like a relic that the Silver Eye Clan kept in Chief Asnak’s tent. It was a weapon from south, in the land his father called Mordor. A sword, a weapon only for the highest of warriors. Although it was rusted and not in the best of shape, to Golnauk’s eyes it could save him. Standing up Golnauk saw the bear slash downward with its arm; the claw sprinkling drops of his sister’s blood on the young orc. The blow sent Golnauk sprawling to the ground, yet purely on instinct, he raised the sword up as the bear’s other arms came slashing. The sword’s blade sliced into the bear’s paw as the animal brought its claw down on the weapon. This didn’t stop the momentum of the bear, but it gave the animal a pause, which Golnauk took advantage of.
Remembering what his brother had told him once, Golnauk took his sword and stabbed it into the chest of the bear, sliced it around wildly and drew it out again. Blood flowed in a burst from the cut, and the bear stooped over, swatting Golnauk’s face and leaving scars that would last him for the rest of his life. Wiping the blood from his eyes, and moving in the spirit of the Hoital, Golnauk rammed the blade into the bear again, this time striking a vital organ, possibly a lung. The sword was stuck, and Golnauk abandoned it as the bear tried to hold onto life, but it had lost too much blood and eventually lost the struggle, not moving and then not breathing, falling dead.
Golnauk dropped to his knees and stared at the bear carcass. What an impressive kill on his first hunt, he thought to himself. However this thought made Golnauk feel sick to his stomach, and he vomited in the snow by the bear, his tears mingling with the black blood from the cuts on his face. Golnauk climbed to his feet and clutched at his wounds, starting in the direction of camp, the death of his brother and sister clouding his thoughts, and hurting worse than even the bear wounds. He had to get away from this place, he had too.
Golnauk had no idea how long he had been walking when he arrived at the end of the pocket forest. He could only think about what had happened with the bear, his mind frazzled, not sure if this wasn’t just some sort of death hallucination, and he was really dead like his brother and sister, mauled and only slightly clinging to life. His movements were stiff as if he wasn’t even moving by himself, and his body was acting on its own. As he arrived at the camp, Golnauk stumbled through the small entryway, his foot catching on a rock he was too dazed to notice. Golnauk kept walking until the passage widened out into a huge cavern, which should’ve been lit with torches. As he entered, Golnauk could only see one torchlight, smashed against the ground sideways. Something is wrong.
Running over to the torchlight, which was usually several torches roped together atop a wooden mount, Golnauk saw the rope had been busted and the stand had been broken out of its stone holder. He picked up a torch and immediately saw why no lights were on. The nearest tent had the animal skins torn, the wooden supports were cracked, and the remains were spread across a large area. Golnauk’s breath caught in his throat as he hurried to the next tent in the darkness, his heart pounding and footsteps echoing in the silence, only accompanied by the crackle of the flame. The same sight awaited him, completely destroyed, but this time there was a body. Golnauk dropped to his knees and saw with the torchlight, their chief, with his leather armor on and his spear in his hand, his leg practically shattered by something. Moving not of his own will to the next shattered tent, Golnauk found his father’s death scene. In the flickering torch light he drew back in horror as he realized what he had seen was only his father’s head, the body being several paces away. That was all Golnauk could stand. He let out a scream and bolted, dropping the torch making for the exit. He smashed into the wall and felt his way out of the cavern, not being able to understand what had happened.
Golnauk burst into the cold air, looking around at the sparse shrubs and small trees caked by snow, which had begun to fall from the darkened sky. Golnauk heard a loud grunt from his left and turned, adrenaline still pumping in his body. There he saw what was the cause of the death of the Silver Eyes. A hulking snow troll stood, as Golnauk saw many massive footprints leading away from the lone troll, indicating somehow several snow trolls had all attacked his Clan together. It was too much to comprehend, and Golnauk just stood there as the troll came over and swung its arm out, smashing into Golnauk, and sending him crashing into the mountain side, snow falling out of place from his impact. Golnauk sank into a snowdrift, so terrified and so tired. He had no reason to try and fight of the blackness that overwhelmed him, hoping it would release him from this world, which no longer made sense.
Was he dead? A tall, skinny orc slaver in old gray armor stood over the body of Golnauk, caked in snow, bruised and bloodied, buried in the snow drift. Taking his rusty sword, he poked Golnauk in the side, causing him to stir. “Hey!” he called out to another slaver, “We gots a live one!”
The other orc, muscular and huge, with some giant blood in him came over and picked up Golnauk by the back of his shirt. After studying him, the muscular orc said, “E’s ha’f dead, and scrawny-lookin’ too! ‘E won’t be worth to keep”
The other orc salver stroked his chin with long fingers bruised from manual labor. “Let’s throw ‘im in with the builders and workers. ‘E might not be able to fight, buts he can still serves us!” The two shared a harsh laugh as Golnauk started to awake. Noticing his return in consciousness, the two walked out of the snowdrift and set Golnauk down. “You’re a lucky one you are, boy!” the skinny orc said. “All the other orcs around here were killed by snow trolls, yous the only one left out of all of themses.” Golnauk thought to himself these must be the orcs from Mordor his father had told him about. That thought brought tears to his eyes, and he watched the two uncoil something long from their backs. It looked like a snake; it seemed rough and leathery, with a slightly rounded tip at the end. The larger one raised it above his head and cracked it down. Golnauk yelled as it cut into his arm, leaving a deep and bloody lash. The other one, the slimmer one, came up to Golnauk and put chains around his hands and ankles.
Without a word, the two orcs pushed Golnauk in front of them and forced him to march, past the cave entrance to his old home and onward. After marching for many minutes, they stopped at the top of a hill covered in small shrubs, with some green peeking out beneath the snow. What Golnauk saw below took his breath away. A huge line of orcs stretched across a valley like a gigantic snake. There were tents and fires with orcs and wagons filled with weapons such as sword sand spears, armory such as shields and things Golnauk didn’t even recognize. There were people like him, chained up and there were other races too. Goblins and trolls, wargs and spiders, even some humans mixed in. The larger orc spoke up with a grin on his face, “We make these expeditions up to the north to round up soldiers and slaves to build Sauron’s army.” Golnauk stood in disbelief as he saw the vastness of the expedition. It was unbelievable; no person could have so much power to lead such a huge amount of people as this. Golnauk sunk to his knees, not able to understand who could this Sauron be with so much power. With another crack from the whip, Golnauk stifled his tears and scream and started walking towards the huge camp, leaving the snow-capped forest of the Misty Mountains behind forever.