Author’s notes:

1. Depictions of the Orcish culture and their way of life (society, industry, etc.) have been of my original creation as Tolkien did not leave any description of their life in Mordor. In my opinion, the Orcs’ military camps are supposed to be far more brutal than their portrayal in this novel. However, as the main location of the plot is an ordinary village, I hold that daily life would be somewhat less intense than in the military.

2. We know that several Orcs lived long lives (e.g., Azog and Bolf), but Tolkien has not indicated the average life span of an Orc in his writings.  Therefore, I have decided that the time of growing up and coming of age would be similar to that of humans.

3. The Return of the King indicates that Sauron’s slaves (Men) have cultivated large areas of land around the Sea of Nurnen, growing food for his army of Orcs. The Southrons (Haradrim) and the Easternlings (Balcoth, Wainriders, etc.) were Sauron’s allies, so I hold they were not the said slaves. It would seem more likely that Sauron’s Orcs captured and brought to Mordor the members of the clans that Sauron had hated — the clans in the direct line of descent from the three houses of Edain. More precisely, those who did not set out on a journey across the Blue Mountains to Beleriand, but remained in the Rhovanion and White Mountains regions — primarily the ancestors of the Rohirrim. I assume this could have been happening during the first half of the Third Age, after Sauron’s gradual recovery from defeat and after restoration of his reign, so that the mentioned slaves are both the descendants of those first captured people as well as the Gondorians and Rohirrim he captured afterwards (later in the Third Age).

4. In my novel Reclaiming Khazad-dum, there are three scenes with Orcs, where their speech is distorted on purpose (just as in The Lord of the Rings, in the chapters with dialogues between Orcs). I believe we all imagine that the Orcs’ speech is grammatically flawed. However, irregular speech throughout the whole novel of this size would be rather tiresome for both reading and writing, so I have decided to use regular, proper language. Here and there, I will include minor irregularities in the dialogues, but it will be more the everyday slang rather than any major language distortions. Anyway, I leave to you the freedom to imagine that the orcish speech is distorted.

It is also understood that all the dialogues in this novel are spoken in the Black Speech, including the dialogues between Orcs and Men, because I believe that the slaves had to learn the Black Speech to communicate with their masters. There are some deviations from this rule, such as some words in the dialogues or contemplations of the main character that originate from the language of Men. These terms (or sentences) are written in the italic script to emphasise that they do not exist in the Black Speech and can be expressed only in terms from human language.

As is commonly used in writing, the italic script is also used for brief flashbacks, direct thoughts of the character, or special emphasis of certain words. I hold it unnecessary to make specific indications in the introduction to each chapter about flashbacks, direct thoughts, emphasis or human language, since all readers will easily identify each use of italics as it appears.

5. In the pronunciation of Orcish names, I have used the following rules (found in some articles about Black Speech): A is pronounced as in Arwen, I as in Lindon, O as in Gondor, and U as in Luthien.

6. The geography and distances are based on the book The Atlas of Tolkien's Middle-earth by Karen Wynn Fonstad. We know that the northern part of Mordor is almost completely barren and empty (a scorched volcanic landscape); however, The Lord of the Rings states that the southern parts of Mordor are green, fertile, and used for food production. Therefore, I take it that the southern part of the Ephel Duath (Mountains of Shadow) is also different from the northern part, i.e. covered in forests.

7. I will not indicate in chapters any disclaimers such as “violent content” or “death of a character” etc., because I hold these to be spoilers of a sort. However, since the novel is set in the orcish society, all of the above, and more, will be included. Even so, none of these elements will be explicitly described, and there will be no imagery of torturing, beating, etc.

Since violence is clearly present in the orcish society, count on occasional dark moments. But there will be plenty of bright moments, I promise! :)

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I’ve made maps so that’s easier to follow events. If you have any troubles, please contact me and I’ll send you the links.

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/x1ftg6ofoyh0qca944hsn/Karta-veca.jpg?rlkey=ygx8jodrxsobvrjowvinwovhm&st=b05lf8je&dl=0

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/lq7gp2by4c7fn1ymp2o6x/Mapa-2.jpg?rlkey=eo0bkrafarqkbg9g3gp2z11t0&st=r3gpnxef&dl=0

Chapters will be posted once a week, usually on Saturday.

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~ April 3012 of the Third Age, Village No. 27, Mordor ~

He ran like he had never run before in his seven years of life, trying to escape the next blow. And the next one. His ear and the left side of his head still hurt from a hard punch.

He was breathing rapidly. His head was pounding with pain, and his heart was racing. He hastened. But what is the tiny pace of a seven-year-old compared with that of a grown male?! And his was even shorter than that of an average seven-year-old, because he was rather small for his age. He whimpered as he ran, his lips trembling, on the verge of tears. The male is going to catch him... Oh my, he definitely will. And then...

Then he is finished. He will be a mere punching bag — the scene no different from many similar ones in their neighbourhood, on a daily basis. One tiny spark was enough. One wrong word. One wrong glance. The fists would fly.

Run, Murtash!

If only the male doesn’t catch him and grab him...

Oh my, will he beat him badly? How bad will it hurt?

He didn’t want to feel pain. The pain... well... it hurt.

And he had just wanted to get some food from his mother. He was hungry. So he approached her, asking for his dinner.

But he asked in the wrong moment. Just a moment ago, a male had entered their hut. He didn’t say anything, he just pointed at the canvas sheet behind which his mother used to sleep. And do things with males that grown-ups usually do. Mother glanced at him briefly, then at the male before her. Running her fingers through her bedraggled hair, she got up and walked towards the dirty curtain.

But he was very hungry, and his stomach growled. He called her again. “Mother...?”

Well, she must have had time to give him some bread and a bit of something else, right?

The big male clearly didn’t think so.

And so he was forced to run. He bolted out of the hut, not even considering his goal — at least not in terms of space. The only goal was to escape the male’s fist.

One step to the left, one to the right, swerve, zigzag, around one, two, three random males... Colliding occasionally...

“You little piece of shit!!!”

“If I catch you...”

They didn’t catch him. His legs might have been short, but he was in full swing. By the time any of the adults managed to turn around after him, he was already a couple of steps away. Of course, they could catch up with him in a second if they wanted to. Be as it may, not one person managed to land a blow on his head or back. Huh, swell! Obviously, no one felt like chasing a tiny fly.

He kept on running, he didn’t stop. Only when all the huts and everyone around were far behind him did it dawn on him: well, obviously the male didn’t feel like running after him anymore. When did he give up? Who knows. He must have found it more important to return to his mother's hut and do... the fucking. Whatever that meant. Yes, he knew the word — the older boys used to talk about it all the time, sniggering as they did. Although he still couldn’t figure out what exactly that looked like. He only knew that the thing involved both males and females simultaneously. And that the females had to obey when the males ask them to do it.

Ah, the grown-ups were really nuts. The noises coming from behind the curtains, either from his mother’s bed or the beds of any of the three females living in their hut were, well, weird. To put it mildly. What was all that groaning? And grunting?! That was unheard of on any other occasion!

What was that what was that what was that?

One day, he would find out all about it. He must! But not now. Now he couldn’t care less about the fucking. He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He went all out and couldn’t run any longer. Time out. Rest. That is all he wanted at the moment.

But was he safe? Um... He was still near the edge of the village. There could still be someone nearby — someone bad-tempered who could find it convenient to lash out at the boy who just happened to cross their path. They didn’t even need to be bad-tempered; perhaps they only wanted to have some fun. And whoever might be around, chances were they would be bigger than him. Oh, being a seven-year-old was so hard!

So, he stood up and continued walking. Then he glanced back just to be sure. Nobody was following him, which was a relief. Once more, he turned away from the village and continued eastwards; better to withdraw to a safer distance.

He was slowly catching his breath, his heart slowing down. He looked around. To his left, the river was turning from a grey streak into a black one, and the clouds above his head also darkened. But that did not hinder his progress; he would need a torch only if it were pitch black, and he still had some time left before the night.

All was peaceful and quiet, the ground almost flat and well-trodden. The grass was short, with bare patches here and there. Well, of course! Looking from afar, from the village, he could see cows grazing here; they seemed to have done a good job.

He walked a bit more and then stopped. Uh, wait a moment! He was already far from the village — alone, in the middle of nowhere. He was already halfway between the village and the cage. How did he manage to make it so far?! Well, now he was the farthest from home he’d ever been. What was it that the grown-ups used to say? Oh yes, that there was some seven hundred feet distance from the village to the cage. And he was currently halfway.

He gaped, with his eyes widening. This was really very far from the village! Numbers were a weird thing, and he wasn’t so sure what some of them actually meant, but even he knew that hundreds meant something big. And how about thousands?! That was almost incomprehensible. But he used to hear the adults say: “There are just over two thousand of us in the village.” He shook his head. How much is that? He couldn’t fathom. Anyway... a lot. A whole lot.

On the other hand, his world was small: it comprised only those few huts and alleys in the female’s block where he lived with his mother, younger brother and sister, and those other females and their kids. True, sometimes he went to other parts of the village, but they were nearby too. And he only learnt to count to twenty — and even that required his full concentration. But... He paused, his heart starting to beat faster. Breathless, he fixed his gaze straight ahead.

There ahead to the east, in front of him, stood a high fence. Behind it, small cottages. He couldn’t take his eyes off them.

Who cared any more about definitions and numbers?!

He observed, and noticed some movement. Hmmm... What is happening over there? What is it like in the cage? Do these humans live in the same kind of dwellings as his people? What are they doing now? How many of them are there?

Yes, he has already seen humans up close, many times. Who in the village hasn’t?! Perhaps only the smallest of children. Every morning, humans brought food they produced under the watchful eye of guards, as well as other things they made; just two days ago, he had seen them deliver a bunch of cloth and some barrels to the main square, in addition to food. The purpose of humans was to make everything his people needed. As simple as that.

Humans. He watched them each time they came, staring intently, observing them. They were totally... weird. Not many had normal, dark brown or black hair, like his people; most were yellow-haired. Once, he saw one who had hair like his — brown-red. And they were somehow awkward: taller than his people, all of them, but thinner. As if they had long sticks instead of hands and legs. And thin necks. How did they even manage to walk, being like that?! But obviously, they managed it somehow. It's not like they kept on tripping or falling flat with every other step.

Unlike himself.

He gazed towards the cage. What is going on over there? What do humans do at night, when they don’t work in the fields? What are their homes like? What does their offspring do?

He stared straight ahead, a broad smile appearing on his face. Now is the chance to find out! It’s actually a good thing that all of the earlier events happened. Had he not run away from the male who wanted to beat him up, he wouldn’t have gone this far and discovered something new. Who cares for food now, anyway? Who cares about mother and the male and their fucking?! He was going forward! He was going to discover the world ahead!

He stopped several steps before the cage. The fence was made of straight steel bars, perhaps one foot apart, tall... um, how tall would this be? He looked up, tilting his head almost at the right angle to his back. Oh my, this is really tall! From the ground to the top of the fence, when standing on another’s head, there would have to be... um, what are the counting words... one, two, three... Huh, it would require at least six or seven tallest males. A really tall fence! A steel fencing mesh reached the full height of the bars, with openings of some three or four inches. It was also placed over the entire top side of the cage, thus enclosing it from above.

But the fence did not interest him at all — the things behind it were far more interesting. He stood right at the fence, looking inside.

There was a bit of space between the fence and the closest housing units, maybe a couple of feet. The wooden huts, almost black under the darkening clouds, were small. While some had broken windows, others were missing an occasional plank from their roofs or walls. A couple of huts had smoke rising out of the roof openings. The area between the huts was devoid of benches or vegetation, and the ground was well-trodden, just like the ground outside the cage where he was standing.

Light was coming through the windows, and he could hear voices and noises from the nearest huts. Between them, in the third row from him, several human younglings were running; not an adult in sight. But what was that? Human children had... He squinted. They had some round items that, rounded as they were, rolled on the ground. And they threw it to each other. With hands, feet, on the ground and through the air. And they ran back and forth. They also had some other items that he couldn't identify from this distance, let alone know their purpose. He only saw them exchanging these items while running, placing them on the ground, lifting them again and putting them in new positions. Swift, sprightly, synchronised.

And with tons and tons of laughter.

His eyes widened. Playing. Judging from their laughter, they were having a great time and felt even better. But what kind of playing was it? What are those playing items?

And... and why didn’t he have such playing items? Why did none of the boys among his people have them?! The only way to play their games was to run around, throw stones at each other and pick a fight.

Growl! Oh, if only he had a bite to eat! He hugged his stomach and continued watching. There, among the children, the laughter had died down. One child fell to the ground, clutched its leg and started crying. The others approached it. Uh, they would surely give it a good beating because it was stupid and clumsy, just like he used to get. And other clumsy kids. That was always the way everywhere and always, right?

They approached the one on the ground, and...

He gasped. Whaaaaat?!

The other kids did not beat up the one lying on the ground. They helped it get up, and then some of them... What was that? What kind of gesture? What kind of action? Spreading their arms wide, they wound the other one with them, squeezing it tightly. Nonsense! Whenever he fell during a hustle with other boys, which happened frequently, the only thing he would get were punches and ridicule. He never, absolutely never, got any help. This was... bonkers! Unbelievable.

Then an adult figure came out of the nearest cabin and gently squeezed the kid who fell. They were standing like that for a couple of moments, then the adult said something, and then, one by one, everyone went their separate ways.

By warg’s ass! What was it that he just saw? He was staring at the abandoned space, eyes wide open. That... the... person-arming-hugging, that was the craziest thing he had ever seen.

What did it look like? Like someone wrapped their arms around you and holds you close to themselves?

Growl! Ouch, he was really starved. He must go back. He turned halfway and took a step, but then looked back again. Several items were still lying on the ground where the crowd had been just moments ago.

The playing items.

He stared in fascination. Oh boy, he would love to have a closer look! If only impenetrable steel bars and nets did not separate him from those!  What kinds of playing items were there, anyway? What were the ways one could play? What were the human kids like? What other things could he learn from them?

He clenched his fists and nodded decisively. He was going to find out. He must.

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The next evening he revisited the cage. And again on the next day. And the day after. Each time he closely observed, amazed.

Sometimes the human offspring played even without any items — like when one of them stood with eyes closed, and then the others dispersed and hid, and the first one went looking for them. Although, they played with items more often than not. They also had a small wooden cart and wooden objects resembling animals, and the things he saw on the first day — those rag things... hum... rounds, he decided to name them, and other things.

If only he had all that!

Each time they were playing human children laughed a lot, often person-squeezing each other. That action seemed to make them laugh even more.

Um, if that made them happy, was that, the person-squeezing, was it a good thing? Perhaps it was, but how was he to check? He couldn’t, not really. Who would even want to do that? Um, maybe, only with Uld—

A movement, five or six huts further, to his right. He swiftly turned around. A human kid came and sat on the ground between the hut and the fence. It dropped several objects from a bucket and then arranged them before itself.

He looked once again back at the group playing on a wide clearing among the cabins, further away, and then turned back to the kid next to the fence. Now we’re talking! This kid was close enough. He would finally get to see some of the playing items and find out more about them.

The child was sitting near the wall of the hut, in the spot where the light coming from the window illuminated the surroundings. Its yellow hair was even brighter than that of the adults he had seen so far; in the light from the window, it appeared almost white. He approached the fence, leaving only a couple of steps between them. But the kid did not see him — it was completely absorbed in its play. Its back was bent, the head low, over... over... what? Over that thing it was building out of dirt and mud. Um, there were walls, towers... A fortress! Yes, that was the name. Their Supreme Master lived in one of those, everyone knew that — even he, even kids younger than he. They all listened to the stories told by old Mogra. It was a very tall fortress, the tallest one — worthy of their Master’s majesty.

This fortress, on the other hand, was only about half a foot tall, and the child kept adding more dirt and sand, building a wall between two towers. How interesting! Why had he never thought of doing something like that? Or other children of his people?

Well, maybe he hadn’t so far, but now he would. He nodded. Yes, he would do it in the following days.

But an even more interesting object was lying next to the kid. He observed the wooden item. The playing item — from up close. Finally. And what was that? Four legs, a head, a long tail. Some animal, undoubtedly. It reminded him a little of the cows he had seen in the fields. But this was definitely no cow. This animal was too slender for a cow, and its head and muzzle were too long for it to be a cow. Umm, yes, he had seen it before, it was... that... what’s its name?!

“What is that? The animal, what is it? Where did you get it? Who made it for you? How? And why?” he let it out loud, staring.

The kid flinched and bounced to its feet, then began looking around, searching for the speaker. Now that it was on its feet, he saw that it was almost a head taller than him. The long tunic that reached its knees was far too wide for it, and its shoulders stuck out through the tunic like two sharp protrusions. A twiglet, like all humans.

Although, not that he was particularly full-figured himself; they were about the same in terms of slenderness.

The child took a step toward the fence, squinting and frowning along the way. It kept on gazing left and right, but the gaze didn’t stop on him. And those eyes... How unusual! They were blue, a very bright blue. His people all had golden-yellow or yellowish-brown eyes. Only the old Mogra had similar eyes — one was bluish and cloudy, and everyone said that she was almost blind in that eye and could only see with the other.

Maybe this kid doesn’t see all that well, either.

“Can’t you see me? I’m here!”

At that moment the kid stopped, its gaze riveted on him. Its eyes widened and its mouth opened.

“An orc!” it squealed. Then it swiftly turned around and ran off, disappearing behind the hut. The space between the hut and the fence was now deserted; the only thing left was the unfinished castle and a wooden animal beside it.

“No! Come back! I want to talk to you! I want to ask you!”

But the small clearing remained empty.

He let out a sigh. He really wanted to know.

Come back...

But nothing happened. He was alone. He lowered his head, his shoulders slumping.

Well, if he wasn’t going to learn anything else, there was no point in staying here. It was almost night anyway, and well past his dinner time. He headed back, reluctantly dragging his feet. It was already quite dark, but the torches and illuminated windows of the huts in his village were a landmark he couldn’t miss.

No, there was definitely nothing left for him to do now but return to the village. Oh, but he will return here. Absolutely.