A/N: Sorry if anything's not true to the books - I typed this up off the top of my head without referring to anything.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. sigh
Of An Orc
My name is Gorignâk, not that you care. I am an orc; all I am to you is a flea, a maggot, something to kill before I kill you. And I would too, without hesitation. I hate you. I hate all of you. I am not like most of the other orcs; I don't hate you because I have been taught to. Oh no, I hate you fiercely an personally. I am one of the few first-generation orcs, one of the few immortal orcs. Yes, I was once an elf. I was captured by the Dark, tortured and mutilated. For years I fought the Dark, I refused to turn. Even hundreds of years later when I was sent out with an army of orcs, I wanted to cry out to you, "I am your brother! Take me back! Nurse my wounds and comfort me! Let me be amongst you, cousins!" But you didn't give me a chance. You fired your arrows at me and drew your swords and knives without a second thought. You took no notice of the desperate plea in my eyes. So I fought. I watched some of my kin try to speak to you and get torn down. If I had been on the fringes of the battle, I would have fled. Others did, but I was stuck in the heart of the war. I could not escape. I thought I was free when Sauron was first defeated, but I was wrong. I was herded back into Mordor, unable to escape under the watchful eyes of the Nazgûl. For thousands of years I was forced to live in that wasteland. I watched other elf-orcs succumb to grief, killing themselves and each other with regret for the lives they took, elven and human. I watched as the Nazgûl bred new species of orcs: goblin-orcs and dwarf-orcs. Once they even tried to breed an eagle-orc. And egg was laid, black as the hearts that forced it into being, but the mass of blood and slime inside never formed into a living being, thank Eru. Orcs weren't meant to fly. I heard rumor of elf-orcs that had managed to escape after the first battle. The ones that weren't killed fled to caves in mountains and mines. We can never go back to you, even if you would accept us. Our native tongues burn our ears now as the sunlight burns our eyes. I hate you when I hear you speak Sindarin. I hate that I can barely remember the words and I hate that you can speak it. I would be killed in an instant if I dared try. In the beginning, I took a whiplash for every word I spoke in the grey tongue. I learned the black speech quickly. I hate that you are capable of standing tall and moving swiftly and elegantly. I am no longer able. My shoulders are weighed down with grief and pain. My gait is awkward because of an injury I took to my leg once, so long ago; an elven blade to my thigh. I hate that you are free and I am not. I hate that you are still pure and I have become the scourge of Middle Earth. I hate that you can sail away to Valinor and I cannot, no elven craft would ever take me. But most of all I hate that look of disgust on your face when you see me. I, who used to be your kin, have been made into a monster and you turn your nose up at me. It could have been you, brother. It could have been you standing here with hate and I over there with disgust, but fate would not have it so. No, I am doomed to be this monster and you are blessed to remain pure and untainted. I would kill you, elf. I would kill you out of hateful mercy. I hate you more than I disgust you and I would kill you so you wouldn't be like me. I would kill you so you wouldn't be captured, so you wouldn't have to see the atrocities of Morder, the orclets and orcesses. I would kill you so you wouldn't be eaten alive by the goblin-orcs or smashed to bits by the dwarf-orcs. I would kill you and I would walk away. That would be my mercy, elf. Now, as you draw your blades, I draw mine, ready to meet you in battle. If I am killed I will have one shred of comfort in the fiery hell of afterlife I am destined for – that though I died with hate and by hate, I died not at the hands of another orc, but at the hands of my prince.