Jeannie rolled over onto her side, clutching the pillow on her chest. Across the room, the poster of a handsome young man hung. The girl stared at the picture for a long time, lower lip trembling, eyes huge and wet and a fluttering in her heart she had no words for. A sigh escaped her lips as she finally turned her eyes away from the image of her true love and out to the night sky.
She clutched the pillow harder on her chest, as tears ran down her face. Jeannie felt a hole in her heart, as if the rest of the world had forsaken her. Her mother could not understand her. She could not possibly feel Jeannie’s pain. All mother cared about was useless homework, boring school and demeaning house chores. I do not belong here,
Jeannie thought. I should be in Middle Earth and seek out my true love. If he knew me, he would surely love me…
Outside her window, a shooting star flashed across the night sky in its ephemeral glory.
If only I could fall asleep and wake up in Middle Earth,
Jeannie wished with all the power of her teenage heart.
Grughar sat as far as he could from the rest of his companions. His whole body, his left arm most of all, felt sore and bruised, after that accursed horse tumbled him over. His soiled fingers traced a painful spot on his skull. He felt a bump and his mouth twitched at the sudden jolt of pain. This was what knocked me out,
he though. His patrol leader had warned him regarding the ironclad hooves of the Men’s heavy horses, but once more the bloodlust had bested Grughar’s reason.
His head fell back and leaned against the trunk of a blackened tree. This close to Mordor, nothing blossomed anymore but malformed, thorny bushes carrying poisonous berries. The painful emptiness in Grughar’s stomach reminded him that it would be a long time before he could enjoy a decent supper. A certain order applied to all aspects of orc life; those with a strong arm, a good number of kills and a respectable war trophy collection got to eat the best meat and enjoy the captive females before delivering them to the cooks. After his incompetence during the recent raid, Grughar dared not approach the feast. Should he anger his patrol leader, he could as easily join the feast; as a dish, that is.
Grughar sighed. If luck favored him, he might eventually snatch a bone or two to chew on.
A burst of drunken laughter mingled with women’s shrieks turned his gaze beyond the feast. A sting of jealousy pieced his gut. Some of his comrades took their pleasure with the captive females. Sure, they broke easily and they smelled strange, but his chances with the females of his kind were minimal anyway. Grughar struggled to shut the mating sounds out of his mind and control his arousal; release seemed highly unlikely that night.
Unbeknownst to him, a shooting star flashed across the night sky.
If only I too could find a female to play with,
Grughar wished with all the power of his black blood.
When Jeannie opened her eyes, she knew that she no longer was in modern-day earth. Her heart almost burst with excitement, as she stood up, dusting her clothes. Am I in Mirkwood? Or perhaps close to Rivendell, so I can sneak in Elrond’s council?
Jeannie clasped her hands with excitement. I’m going to meet Legolas! I’m going to meet Legolas!
She passed her fingers through her hair, hoping that she looked her best for meeting the object of her desire.
Unaccustomed as she was to venture in strange forests at night, Jeannie failed to notice the barren trees and the lack of animal life around her, save for some large, malformed insects. For a long time she walked around, stumbling over fallen trunks and boulders. When her muscles started to feel sore, with blisters forming on her soles and her clothes torn in several spots, Jeannie stopped to catch her breath. This was not the way she had pictured her adventure in her mind. She needed to find a clear stream and wash up. Her favorite elf should not see her in such a state.
A hungry snarl reached her ears, sending a tremor down her spine. Turning around, Jeannie saw a short, sturdy monster eyeing her with evil intent.
She backed up a couple of paces, her knees trembling and barely able to support her. Something had gone terribly wrong. This was not Mirkwood and this creature was not Legolas. The more she backed up, the closer the creature came. In panic, she pivoted and started running. Her human vision failed her and Jeannie never saw the thick branch until her skull crashed against it. The sharp pain drove her to her knees. Daring a glance behind her, she saw that the creature was almost upon her. It moved faster than Jeannie had thought it could and grabbed her ankle.
Suddenly, the prospect of homework and house chores felt less boring. She kicked and she shrieked, but this only seemed to amuse the creature further. It’s not fair,
she thought, tears and blood mixing on her face. All I ever wanted was to meet my beloved elf, and not die at the hand of this evil beast.
Still holding her tight, the creature reached inside his filthy clothes. Only then did Jeannie realize the creature’s intentions.
It would not kill her; not yet.
She screamed. It snarled and pinned her on the ground.
Then all went black and Jeannie screamed no more.
When Grughar returned to the camp, the limp body he dragged behind him attracted many a stare. Straightening his back, he paced casually to his remote spot, his heart bursting with pride. Kicking the female’s body by the rest of his gear, he sat on the damp ground and leaned against the blackened tree. This had been a good night. Not only had his lust found release, but he would soon feast on soft, fresh meat. Sitting up, he reached out with his muddy fingers, grabbed the female’s hair and raised her head, searching for signs of life.
I hope she is still alive,
Grughar thought. Due to his youth, his lust would soon again awake. He didn’t mind using a corpse for pleasure, as many of the less fortunate of his kind did, but live ones were far better than cold flesh. The female moaned but did not regain her senses. Content, Grughar leaned back and let his gaze travel upon the starlit skies, gently stroking the head of the unconscious female.
This one had great bone structure; her skull would be the finest of his collection.
A grin dawned on the orc’s hideous face.
Sometimes, wishes do come true.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.