And here she rode, having taken a horse from a farm they'd raided. Vorea did not feel comfortable on the Fell Beasts, and yet they carried her well. This horse was skittish and fearful, often bucking and refusing to move. The orcs laughed about it, but well away from Vorea's ears. Too many had tasted her metal spear.
Hearing of a force of Rohirrim moving toward the Fords of Isen, Vorea had gathered the orcs and Dunlendings in the area and set off to fight them. The smaller orc force would be crushed, but hopefully they could deal a blow to Rohan. It was rumored the king's son himself was in the force.
Dunlendings rode on obedient horses and orcs rode upon vicious, slavering wargs. Vorea's horse was scared to death of all of them.
"Captain!" the Dunlending leader barked. "There is a group of large orcs approaching from the north. They march without fear under the sun and are covering the distance separating us at great speed."
Vorea frowned and hefted her spear. "Continue to take the men toward the Fords," she said. "I shall deal with these orcs."
The leader nodded and Vorea broke off from the pack, commanding the horse with the sheer force of her will. Far, far above in the sky a black shape circled. Vorea's Fell Beast was never far away, though she had ordered it not to come down save at night. These things should remain a secret as long as was possible.
Flying across the ground, Vorea cut an imposing figure. Her armor gleamed, her helm shone, and her spear glittered like death itself. And yet, the orcs approaching her were almost more fearsome still. They were huge, all dressed in the same dull black armor and carrying pikes and swords. Standard issue. Someone was building an army, and it wasn't Sauron.
Vorea's horse was only too glad to stop as she tugged on the reins. The orcs came to a stop an uncomfortably close distance away at the barked command of one of their number, a particularly large creature with a fancier helmet than the others.
"You are uncommonly large orcs," Vorea said. "Who is your master?" Then she saw the white hand on their foreheads and breastplates.
"The White Wizard commands us," the leader growled. "Who are you to get in our way?"
"I am Vorea, third only to the Witch-King and Khamul in power. I serve Lord Sauron."
The creatures laughed. "We do not serve the Eye," one sneered. "He is weak compared to our master. And when the White Wizard regains what your master has lost, he will be mightier still."
"Saruman," Vorea growled. This was troubling news, but it had to wait. "Why are you out?" she asked. "If your master was wise he would save you until a time came when he could crush Rohan."
"We are beginning that war. We march to the Fords of Isen to destroy the Rohirrim there."
"As do I and my force. Shall we join?"
The creatures muttered amongst each other for several minutes. "The victory belongs to Isengard and no other," the leader snarled.
"If there is a victory, I shall agree to that," Vorea said.
"There will be. We are the fighting Uruk-hai. We have never been defeated and never shall."
I think you have never been defeated because you have never been tested, Vorea thought. "Very well," she said. "Follow me back to my force. We shall attack the Fords as one."
"Not quite as one," the Uruk-hai leader sneered. "There is another, larger, group of us attacking the Rohirrim. We are the eastern force, much smaller than our brethren."
If this was the smaller force, and this whole expedition was nothing more than a prelude to the true attack, Vorea was worried.
"How many Uruk-hai exist?" she asked as they returned to the wargs and Dunlendings.
"Many thousands," the leader replied confidently. "And the White Wizard is still making more. He will not attack Rohan until he has a force of at least ten thousand."
Ten thousand. Ten thousand. Ten thousand Uruk-hai. Vorea could take Minas Tirith with that amount. To throw it all against such weaklings as Rohan! Saruman was as paranoid as Morgoth when it came to them.
"Why does your master fear Rohan so much that he must rally an army of such size to fight them?" she asked.
"He doesn't fear them!" the leader snarled. "He wants to wipe them off the face of the world. Leave no farm standing, no Rohirrim alive. Every last man of them shall be killed. Did I say man? I meant Man. All of them will die."
He fears them, Vorea thought. There is something special in Rohan that Saruman fears. Is it the same thing as Morgoth fears?
The Dunlendings were none too pleased to be joined by the Uruk-hai, and neither were the wargs, but after seeing the size of the force, they contented themselves with seething in silence.
"I hear the sounds of battle!" the Uruk-hai leader cackled some time later.
Vorea could smell the blood on the air. There were ravens circling above the carnage, and high above, the Fell Beast. "Charge!" she yelled, swinging her sword.
The Uruk-hai dutifully raised their weapons and ran down into battle. The wargs and Dunlendings needed no such prodding, having already started toward the enemy the moment they were in sight.
As for Vorea, her horse froze. It would not move, its eyes huge and fixed on the dead horses. Could it recognize its kin and know that it might be next?
With a sigh, Vorea dismounted and ran toward the enemy. It was complete chaos, and looked like victory for the combined forces of Mordor and Isengard.
Vorea slew two Rohirrim and found there was very little else for her to do but watch. Something didn't seem right to her, and she was working on what exactly it was when she heard the whoops and cries of warg riders.
Glancing toward the creatures, Vorea saw that a particularly large specimen of their race had slain a Rider and was doing a little dance around his body. He must have been some great warrior, she thought. Oh! Perhaps the King's heir…Theodred. Perhaps he.
The large orc was killed by an irate Rider and then Vorea began to get the feeling that there was something very wrong indeed. The ground was…trembling. Something was coming.
When the first horse crested the hill, Vorea knew it was time to leave. Most of the Uruk-hai took the hint as well, sprinting for the safety of Isengard far, far away.
Vorea made it to a copse of trees where she watched the Riders trample the orcs, slaughter the remaining Uruk-hai, and spear the wargs. The Dunlendings fought briefly, valiantly, but were cut to pieces.
A valiant effort, Vorea thought. But ill-fated. At least the King's son is dead, if that was indeed him.
As soon as night fell, Vorea called down her Fell Beast. Sauron needed to hear of these Uruk-hai, if he did not already know of them. Saruman's treachery ran deeper than anyone had suspected.
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.