Unforeseen Shadows (LOTR Draft #1)

Auhtor's note: I was watching Youtube shorts when a video of the orcs marching and chanting suddenly showed up. Inspiration instantly hit, and here we are two hours later XD.

Anyway... this is just a draft. I might continuethis story after my finals and I might not, so don't get your hope up. Also, I'd probably change the first chapter  since it's pretty crude even for a draft if I do decide to continue it, but please tell me what ya'll think about the premise of the fanfic.

...

As consciousness slowly seeped into Garth's being, the world emerged from an abyss of darkness. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the faint, flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on rough stone walls. Disoriented, he struggled to remember how he arrived in this unfamiliar place.

Groaning, Garth pushed himself up from the cold, damp ground. His body felt strange—muscular, yet agile, his skin a sickly shade of green. He tried to recall his past, but memories slipped through his fingers like smoke.

Only fragments remained, a distant, faraway life as a man, a world far removed from the brutal realm in which he now found himself.

Garth rose to full height, towering over the other orcs within the chamber. They regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and fear. Sharp, angular features set him apart, a marked contrast to the twisted visages of his orc brethren.

A deep voice resonated from the shadows, drawing Garth's attention. "So, you have finally awakened, the product of an experiment gone awry," it intoned. The voice belonged to an orc clad in tattered robes, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and frustration. This orc was Saruman's underling, tasked with conducting forbidden experiments in the depths of Orthanc.

Garth's gaze hardened as he focused on the figure before him. "What have you done to me?" he growled, his voice carrying an un audible undercurrent of rage and confusion.

The orc stepped forward, his gnarled hands held out in a placating gesture. "Mistakes were made, unintended consequences," he muttered, seemingly lost in his own contemplation. "I sought to create a superior breed of orc, but your existence defies my control."

Garth's brow furrowed, primal anger mounting within him. The other orcs surrounding him seemed to sense his rising hostility. Sensing the tension, Saruman's underling issued a command to the orc horde that stood before them. "Attack! Eliminate this abomination!"

In an instant, the air crackled with aggression as the other orcs lunged at Garth, their weapons raised. Fueled by an innate ferocity, Garth's orcish nature surged to the surface, overwhelming his fragmented memories of a different life.

With an anguished roar, Garth's movements became a blur of ferocity and deadly precision. His hands and claws struck with lethal force, his enhanced strength tearing through the ranks of his assailants. Orc after orc fell beneath his onslaught, their lifeless bodies littering the chamber in a twisted dance of violence.

Silence enveloped the chamber as the last orc dropped to the ground, broken only by Garth's heavy breathing. His green eyes blazed with a mix of horror and realization. He had succumbed to the primal savagery that lurked within his orcish form, unleashing a carnage that stained his soul.

The orc underling watched, a mix of astonishment and trepidation etched on his face. "You... you possess a power beyond my expectations," he stammered, stepping back cautiously.

Garth's chest heaved, his rage slowly subsiding, replaced by confusion, wariness, and a deep desire to control the darkness that threatened to consume him. "I will not be your pawn," he growled, his voice laced with determination.

The orc underling, realizing the unpredictable force he had awakened, chose to retreat, leaving Garth alone amidst the corpses of his fallen brethren.

Garth, now named Garuk, stood in the chamber, surrounded by the aftermath of his unleashed fury. The weight of his actions settled upon him. It was a reminder of the orcish instincts that coursed through his veins.

Though haunted by the violence he had wrought, he knew he must strive to control the darkness within, using it as a weapon for his own purpose rather than succumbing to its relentless call.

With a solemn resolve and the burden of his orcish nature weighing heavily upon him, Garuk took his first steps toward the uncertain future.

...

Garuk emerged from the chamber, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit corridors of Orthanc. The weight of his recent actions bore heavily upon his shoulders, a reminder of the volatile path he had chosen. He needed answers, a purpose that would guide him through the treacherous lands of Middle-earth.

As he ventured deeper into the tower, Garuk encountered a group of orcs. Their expressions ranged from wary curiosity to outright hostility, their eyes narrowing upon seeing his imposing figure and distinct features.

Word had spread of his savage display, and his reputation preceded him.

One orc, larger than the rest and adorned with crude armor, stepped forward. His gruff voice carried a mixture of caution and defiance. "You think you can take on all of us, green skin?" he sneered, brandishing a rusty axe.

Garuk's gaze met the orc's, his green eyes burning with an intensity that demanded respect. "I seek no quarrel with you or your kin," he stated firmly, his voice infused with an underlying resolve. "But I will not hesitate to defend myself."

The orc's snarl deepened, a challenge in his stance. "Defend yourself? We'll see about that!"

With a swift movement, Garuk unsheathed a jagged orcish blade he plundered from a dead orc. The clash of metal reverberated through the chamber as their weapons met. The other orcs watched, unsure whether to intervene or let their comrade face the consequences of his arrogance.

As Garuk's blade clashed with the orc's axe, it became apparent that Garuk possessed a natural talent for combat. His movements were swift and precise, each strike calculated to disarm and incapacitate his opponent. It was as if some dormant skill had awakened within him, honed by his orcish instincts and enhanced by the dark experimentation that had transformed him.

Garuk's swordplay was fluid, almost dance-like, as he blocked each of the orc's strikes. His reflexes were uncanny. They allowed him to anticipate and evade incoming attacks with grace. Initially filled with confidence, the orc soon found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up with Garuk's relentless assault.

With every clash of their weapons, Garuk's proficiency grew. His strikes became more powerful and precise, forcing the orc to retreat. The other orcs, witnessing their comrade's faltering, hesitated to intervene. They watched in awe and disbelief as Garuk, a newcomer to their ranks, effortlessly dominated a veteran fellow warrior.

Finally, with a swift maneuver, Garuk disarmed his opponent, leaving him defenseless and vulnerable. The defeated orc's eyes widened in shock and fear, realizing that he had underestimated the true power that lay within Garuk. Gasping for breath, he managed to utter a question, his voice trembling, "Who... who are you?"

Garuk towered over the defeated orc, his voice steady and unwavering. "I am Garuk, born of shadows and forged in chaos," he declared, his words carrying a weight that demanded attention.

Garuk, aware of the lingering hostility among the orcs despite their respect for his power, understood that true acceptance would not come so simply. The orcs still viewed him with a mixture of fear and resentment, knowing better than to provoke him further but remaining distant and hostile.

Unwilling to waste more energy on these orcs, Garuk decided to part ways with them. He ventured into the wilderness, guided by an inner instinct, leading him to an empty cave within a secluded grove. The cavern provided a temporary respite from the chaos of the outside world, a sanctuary where Garuk could contemplate his next steps.

Inside the cave, Garuk sat upon a jagged rock, his thoughts swirling as he stared into the darkness. He pondered the choices that lay before him and the purpose he sought to define for himself. The weight of his orcish nature, the remnants of his previous life, and the turmoil of Middle-earth converged, creating a tumultuous storm in his mind.

As Garuk sat in the cave, the darkness around him seemed to mirror the turmoil within his soul. He knew he could never find acceptance among men, for his orcish appearance would always be met with fear and hostility. Similarly, the orcs, despite their reverence for strength, would never fully accept him due to his distinct features and circumstances of origin.

Still, in the depths of his being, Garuk felt a strange affinity for the orcish way of life, a deep-rooted love for conflict and dominion that resonated within him. It was a realization that dawned on him gradually, driven by his recent encounters and the untamed power that surged through his veins.

Unbeknownst to Garuk, the dark experiments conducted upon him had awakened an innate desire for control and dominance, highly valued traits among the orcish horde. As his orcish nature intertwined with his newfound powers, an insidious seed grew within his consciousness. It began to whisper of conquest and the creation of his own realm, someplace where he could rule as an undisputed leader.

Garuk now realized he would need to carve place for himself in this world rather than find one. And in this realization, a sinister ambition took hold of his heart, urging him to harness his strength and reshape the orcish world in his own image.