Meet Uglúk
Apr. 1st, 2005 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartSorry for the cross-posting, dear Edhellond crowd. For the others: behind the tag is a brief sample of the second chapter of "The Warrior of the White Hand". (English is such a strange language - I still can't get used to have so many "of"s and "to"s in a single sentence.)
From his vantage point high upon one of Isengard's Gate Towers, Uglúk the Great, chieftain of the fighting Uruk-hai in the service of the White Hand, watched the training of his lads with satisfaction. Unlike the other Orc tribes, the Uruk-hai were a well-trained, disciplined strike force, skilled at the use of various weapons and unique in size and strength. And Uglúk, their chieftain, was the most magnificent of all.
Uglúk was past his tenth cycle by now, quite young even for an Uruk-hai, who grew into adulthood in a mere six cycles. He certainly was the youngest who had ever clawed his way through the lesser ranks and reached the peak in less than four cycles, but his outer appearance was that of an experienced and hardened warrior. He had the scars to prove that he had reached his rank through tough fights.
He was huge, even compared with his own kind, almost as tall as the horsemen of Rohan, who were the tallest one of the race of Men. His hard, big-boned body, marked by heavy shoulders, a powerful chest and mighty thighs, was gleaming black like polished iron – an outsider would have difficulties to find out where the armour ended and the living flesh began.
The armour was made of several layers of ox hide, stomped and tanned to steely hardness, and yet as flexible as a second skin, not hindering his movements. It reached down to mid-thigh, to protect his entire torso but left his arms, which were thick and strong like tree-branches, bare, save from the wrist-guards that he needed to protect them from the bowstring. His legs were bare, too, above the high boots he wore.
His long, pitch-black hair was braided away from his board face and held together on the nape of his neck by an iron clasp. He almost could have been mistaken for one of the dark-skinned warriors from Far-Harad, if not for his slanted, yellow eyes with the diagonal pupils and the sharp fangs in his wide mouth – both features giving him a demonic look.
He was perfection. The most magnificent creature of the White Wizard. The perfect result of long generations of careful breeding. The ultimate killing machine, born and bred to conquer Middle-earth for his master.
Or so Saruman thought anyway. But in his pride over this powerful creature, the wizard had become careless. In his eagerness to make the great Uruk even more perfect, he taught Uglúk things he had never shared with any of his other servants before. The young Uruk’s eagerness to learn and understand made him weak. It had been too long since he had been able to share a fragment of his enormous knowledge with someone.
Thus when Uglúk had reached maturity, four cycles ago, he had been chosen as the prize pupil of the White Wizard – the first one Saruman had found worth to be taught. Uruk-hai were not the mindless rabble like other Orcs, but never had been anyone taught by the wizard for several cycles. He was well aware of his privileged status – and that he had to grow up to the wizard’s expectations, which were very high towards his creatures indeed.
Saruman seemed to find some strange delight in teaching the attentive Uruk, as if taming some large, dangerous beast. This delight led him to tell Uglúk more and more about the intricate web of powers, intrigues and betrayals that spun across the known lands. And Uglúk sought up knowledge like the dry soil would suck up water.
It had not taken him too long to understand that Saruman was not the true maker of the proud Uruk race. The wizard had been careless enough to reveal the fact that the first Uruk had come from Lugbúrz, more than five hundred cycles ago. Driven out by the Men of Gondor, they fled to the North, finding unexpected aid and refuge by the White Wizard.
At first, Saruman had only studied them, like some strange beasts. Only when he detected that the creatures were capable of learning had he begun to work with them in earnest. Cycles upon cycles of training and careful breading followed, so that the proud warriors who were now exercising attack movements in the courtyard below had little to nothing to do with the big, stupid beasts that had once found refuge in the ring of Isengard. And Uglúk understood that all too well.
From his vantage point high upon one of Isengard's Gate Towers, Uglúk the Great, chieftain of the fighting Uruk-hai in the service of the White Hand, watched the training of his lads with satisfaction. Unlike the other Orc tribes, the Uruk-hai were a well-trained, disciplined strike force, skilled at the use of various weapons and unique in size and strength. And Uglúk, their chieftain, was the most magnificent of all.
Uglúk was past his tenth cycle by now, quite young even for an Uruk-hai, who grew into adulthood in a mere six cycles. He certainly was the youngest who had ever clawed his way through the lesser ranks and reached the peak in less than four cycles, but his outer appearance was that of an experienced and hardened warrior. He had the scars to prove that he had reached his rank through tough fights.
He was huge, even compared with his own kind, almost as tall as the horsemen of Rohan, who were the tallest one of the race of Men. His hard, big-boned body, marked by heavy shoulders, a powerful chest and mighty thighs, was gleaming black like polished iron – an outsider would have difficulties to find out where the armour ended and the living flesh began.
The armour was made of several layers of ox hide, stomped and tanned to steely hardness, and yet as flexible as a second skin, not hindering his movements. It reached down to mid-thigh, to protect his entire torso but left his arms, which were thick and strong like tree-branches, bare, save from the wrist-guards that he needed to protect them from the bowstring. His legs were bare, too, above the high boots he wore.
His long, pitch-black hair was braided away from his board face and held together on the nape of his neck by an iron clasp. He almost could have been mistaken for one of the dark-skinned warriors from Far-Harad, if not for his slanted, yellow eyes with the diagonal pupils and the sharp fangs in his wide mouth – both features giving him a demonic look.
He was perfection. The most magnificent creature of the White Wizard. The perfect result of long generations of careful breeding. The ultimate killing machine, born and bred to conquer Middle-earth for his master.
Or so Saruman thought anyway. But in his pride over this powerful creature, the wizard had become careless. In his eagerness to make the great Uruk even more perfect, he taught Uglúk things he had never shared with any of his other servants before. The young Uruk’s eagerness to learn and understand made him weak. It had been too long since he had been able to share a fragment of his enormous knowledge with someone.
Thus when Uglúk had reached maturity, four cycles ago, he had been chosen as the prize pupil of the White Wizard – the first one Saruman had found worth to be taught. Uruk-hai were not the mindless rabble like other Orcs, but never had been anyone taught by the wizard for several cycles. He was well aware of his privileged status – and that he had to grow up to the wizard’s expectations, which were very high towards his creatures indeed.
Saruman seemed to find some strange delight in teaching the attentive Uruk, as if taming some large, dangerous beast. This delight led him to tell Uglúk more and more about the intricate web of powers, intrigues and betrayals that spun across the known lands. And Uglúk sought up knowledge like the dry soil would suck up water.
It had not taken him too long to understand that Saruman was not the true maker of the proud Uruk race. The wizard had been careless enough to reveal the fact that the first Uruk had come from Lugbúrz, more than five hundred cycles ago. Driven out by the Men of Gondor, they fled to the North, finding unexpected aid and refuge by the White Wizard.
At first, Saruman had only studied them, like some strange beasts. Only when he detected that the creatures were capable of learning had he begun to work with them in earnest. Cycles upon cycles of training and careful breading followed, so that the proud warriors who were now exercising attack movements in the courtyard below had little to nothing to do with the big, stupid beasts that had once found refuge in the ring of Isengard. And Uglúk understood that all too well.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-02 05:25 am (UTC)I'll try to wander over to ff.net later this weekend and read the rest of your fic. (After all the gardening in store for me is over, I'll probably feel as though a whole band of Orcs has given me a once-over!)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-02 06:44 pm (UTC)