FIRST OFF! This is a request, and a humor-driven story. Don't take it too seriously. Second!

As of late, I've been receiving MULTIPLE offers to take money for updating stories. By that, I mean folks are offering me cash to update a certain fic ahead of others, or publish a new one, and receive payment in turn for it. I wont name any names for the sake of anonymity and the like, but, well. There you are.

I...am not quite sure how to feel about this, honestly. For the record, I've turned them down thus far.

On one hand, it would provide some much-needed income in these dark times to be sure, but in the same vein I've never gotten paid to write fanfiction before. Not once. I've never taken so much as a cent for any of this. I don't run a P atreon like some authors on this site -that's their business, not mine!- and I'll admit that there's a part of me that's somewhat uncomfortable with it. If I started getting paid to write this stuff, that would make this...well...a job. There's a part of me that would like nothing more than to write these stories full time and make a living off of these commissions, but...

Thoughts? I suppose I'm rambling, but I just wanted to hear what others thought.

In any case, I've not seen anyone try this, so I thought I'd honor this request, at the very least, even if I'm not going to take any money from it. Now, before anyone starts squawking! I'm not trying to upstage anyone by writing this. I'm just a humble fan. If anyone is familiar with the legendary TearofGrace or OverEnglishMan and Sethorven on Youtube, you'll recognize some of these orc names and all the shenanigans the follow. Consider it a tribute. Clearly this story is humor-driven and inspired by them, in as much as things can be. Something to distract in these dark times.

And for once, there are no pairings in this story. Pairings? Bah! Who needs pairings here!

If you don't like this story? I'll be gone. Poof! Vanished! To the void!

So lets get started, shall we?

"This is why we don't mess with sealing jutsu. NOTHING! GOOD! COMES! FROM! SEALS!

Where the hell am I?! Where did I even land?!"


Misadventures in Mordor

Kruk the Clever lived up to his name.

He wasn't the biggest Uruk in Mordor, nor the fastest, or even the strongest at that.

But he was clever. These days, an Uruk couldn't trust in anything beyond the strength of his own wits and his sword arm. Or ax, in his case.

You see, he had taken that title of his to heart better than most of his brothers. At the end of the day, survival was all that mattered. Sometimes, you had to do unsavory things to survive. Be it gutting a glob you didn't like, or working with a sworn enemy, so long as you lived to see another day. He'd seen bigger bastards than him trampled by a giant graug. Faster fools had been ripped apart by caragors. Mighty captains had fallen to flame and venom, terror and flies alike. He'd glimpsed the Gravewalker himself once, and run the other way. Because Kruk was Clever.

Kruk had outlasted them all.

He knew better than to tangle with the Ranger and that magic hand of his! No thank you! He wanted none of that nonsense! One touch of that palm was apparently all it took for that fancy elf magic to ruin your mind. He wasn't going anywhere near that glob. Not like that shrieking Prak bastard. Or that lunatic Giggles. They hadn't run. They'd paid the price, in death and slavery alike. Some might call him a coward for fleeing; Kruk considered himself a pragmatist.

After all, he who ran away lived to fight another day. There was safety in numbers, strength in his trusty blood-ax.

All this crap about the Dark Lord and the Bright lord...too many lords, if you asked him. He wanted no part of it. Neither had been seen for weeks now, and he was fine to let them fight among themselves. Some said that the Gravewalker was dead. Others said he'd gone north to Mount Doom. Something about a ring. Bah. Not his concern. If that madman wanted to wander off and leave good 'ol upstanding Uruks alone, more power to him and good bloody riddance! These days you could barely trust an Uruk, much less an undead wraith like that.

So it came as something of a surprise when someone approached his fire one night.


Any Uruk with half a brain knew sneaking up on their kin in the dead of night was a bad idea; not only was it a good way to get your throat cut, but it just wasn't smart. At first Kruk though it might be one of his kin, but no, the flames told all and he soon saw otherwise. Just a stray pink-skin. Hrmph. They must've missed one back at the Black Gate.

And this one...this one had seen better days.

Clad in a ratty grey cloak flung over battered orange-and-black rags, he nevertheless smiled in the face of danger as his bare feet padded against the dirt. That should've been warning enough for Kruk. What kind of idiot walked up to orcs with a smile? This one, apparently? For all his ragged appearance, he didn't seem at all concerned by his imminent evisceration. No weapons on him either. None that he could see. This wasn't the Gravewalker, that much was certain.

Still the stranger approached, walking right up to their little band without a care in the world. Ultimately, it was the face that gave Kruk pause. His smile seemed just a little forced; there was a tension there in his eyes that said he'd done this song and dance before. Bright blue eyes set in a strange whiskered visage gleamed back at them as he called out to them.

"No need for alarm!" the soft-skin raised an arm and waved -actually waved!- at them, trying to get their attention as he approached their fire. "I don't want a fight, I'm just looking for directions. Anybody know where the Elemental Nations are? I'm kinda lost, here!"

Kruk leaned back and reached for his ax, but made no move to rise.

The others proved more foolish; they brandished their weapons and surged at the intruder, as any Uruk would.

"Really, now?" the young man unbent enough to sigh at the lot of them.. "This is the third time today. Can't we all just get along?"

They didn't stand a chance.

There was no transition from one instant to the next; one moment Kruk watched the young man frowned at the gaggle of Uruks; the next the young man burned impossibly bright and his brothers in arms were left little more a tangled mess on the ground. He hadn't even deigned to kill the poor globs, judging by their groans. What kind of stupid shrakh left their enemies alive? This one, apparently.

Kruk readied his trusty ax, but didn't attack. Not yet. He didn't dare.

"Don't do that again." Red eyes flashed down at them, brighter than blood itself. Then they narrowed on him and all thoughts of resistance evaporated on the wind. The old Uruk felt the weight of that gaze press down on him like a physical thing, threatening to crush his very soul if he so much as twitched. His body was another matter, and no, not like that. It burned.

That resplendent golden figure frowned at him.

All black and gold, his very being seemed to shimmer with tongues of yellow flame. Like some kind of...Golden Lord or something. No. Like a sun. His very presence lit up the night, and the mere act of gazing upon him in this state threatened to sear his very soul. Bollocks to this, he was called the Clever, not the brave! He wasn't sticking around for this shite! He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day! With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Kruk turned to flee.

He never made it.

A giant golden hand burst out of nowhere and slammed him against a crumbling wall before he could manage a single step.

"Don't try it."

This was mildly concerning.

"Look," his captor began angrily, "I really don't know where I am, but I've been attacked three times today. I've been shanked, stabbed, nibbled on by a giant cat, and I'm starting to take it personally. So! I'm only going to say this once." A finger jabbed itself against his pale forehead as he stepped forward. "Do not. Stab me." he growled. "Understand?"

Kruk nodded once.

"Good." the young man growled. "Now I'm going to give you a choice. Answer me questions, or end up like your friends. Don't make me chase you."

Left unspoken was the threat of what would happen if he did just that. Kruk wanted no part of it!

Without warning, that giant hand receded, leaving him gasping for air.

And the end of the day, Kruk was a survivor above all else. He'd do whatever it took to ensure he lived. Likewise, he'd forge any alliance he could for the sake of seeing another dawn. And this kid? With power like that, he was going places. Kruk wasn't sure if he was a wizard or another Gravewalker or what-have-you, but in that moment he didn't much care. This bastard wasn't running around branding Uruks, and that alone put him a step above supposed "Bright Lord" in his book. Not that he knew how to read, mind you.

Instead, he knelt.

...whatever you say, boss."

Bright eyes widened in mild surprise. "Boss?"

Kruk knew which way the wind was blowing. Anyone who could fight like, work that kind of magic...well. He didn't want to be on the wrong side of that. Nevermind the fact that he'd been offered a choice. None of that vile brainwashing business that the Bright Lord was on about. And when given a choice between life or death, Kruk would always, always, ALWAYS choose life. If that meant helping some crazy magic wielder, then sure. That'd do just fine. Anyone capable of that nonsense wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. He wanted an army? He'd get an army.

From that simple misunderstanding between man and Uruk, a spectacular disaster was born.

It would be the first of many. And so came the chaos.

So began the Misadventures in Mordor.

A/N: Well! I've gone bonkers. So. Let's. Have. Some. Fuuuuuuuuun~!

Once again, this is a HUMOR driven story. One that will be gone soon if folks don't like it.

Gonna say it right now, Naruto and Talion are both going to be wandering about in this story. Should be fun, eh?

That's right, blondie's not taking anyone's place, so let's head that off here. At present we're right between Shadow of Mordor/Shadow of War, which gives us a comfortable bit of room to work with in the interim. Ahhh, and now we see the infamous Talk no Jutsu works even on Orcs. No branding needed here! For some reason that really irked me in the game; no matter what you do, some of them inevitably betray you. Can't be helped, I suppose...or can it?

This mad idea wouldn't get out of my head when someone -who shall not be named- asked us to do it. Talion's welcome to do his own thing hereabouts, but somehow the idea of someone like Naruto going around forging his own merry little band through nothing but sheer camraderie just amused me and the gang.

Can Sauron be killed without his Ring? That...well...let's just say jury's out on that one...

But hopefully this'll make you smile in these dark times.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review, Would You Kindly?

And enjoy the previews.


"Bloody hell, you kicked my ass...

A blond brow arched. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Bruz's hand dwarfed his as they shook on it. "Sure thing, boss. Lets pop some heads."

Shelob blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Finally, she found her voice. "What...are you?"

His reaction proved more profound. "Gah! Spider! What the hell?!"

"I am no mere spider, you damnable man!"

Naruto sighed. "Fine. Listen to this, then!"

A giant golden fox reared up around him.

When all was said and done, only scorched earth remained.

Times like these made Kruk glad he was a loyal Orc. Poor stronghold. That...looked like a bad way to go.