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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Reflections in the Light of Darkness - 1. Chapter 1



An Adult LOTR Uruk-hai story by Lustful_Orcs



DESCRIPTION: An Isengard Uruk-hai known as the Chosen One who had lived the good life finds himself and his true nature on the battlefield, discovering he was Chosen to fulfil his Destiny before he ever had a say in it. *intense topics – abysmal sadness – violent death*

WARNING: This story is quite explicit and is rated Triple X, NC-17 meaning it is suitable for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit descriptions dealing with
-homosexual gay sex between males of the same gender- and in addition to that contains scenes that might be regarded as distasteful or even disturbing. Liking or disliking this story or its direct or implied content is in no way indicative of the sexual preference of the reader. All acts take place between consenting adults and are fictional. The writer's sole intent is to provide the reader with an entertaining or even stimulating reading experience. The writer can not be held responsible for anything closely or remotely associated with this story, sentient life or the universe in general. Protected by international copyright laws. This story or parts thereof may be kept, multiplied and printed for personal use or that of single acquaintances at the same time, but may not be quoted or publicized without expressed consent of the writer.

The writer Lustful_Orcs can currently be contacted at: lustful_orcs AT hotmail DOT com


Open your mind, buckle up and enjoy the ride !



March 2005








A LOTR Uruk-hai story by Lustful_Orcs



The great Uruk-hai stood motionless amidst the battle, while arrows zipped through the air around him. The battle-cries and shrieks of his dying kinsmen, even though so close, seemed a million miles away, drowned out by the beating of his heart.

This was the day, the day all his training had prepared him for.

“I am Hûr Mau Kaal…” he spoke solemnly, heard only by himself. That was the name he was given, because that was his sole purpose in life. Courageous Warrior of Light. The Chosen One, the Greatest Hero of All.

Despite the fierce battle in the twilight that was all around him he stood there motionless, as if he were not even there. He closed his eyes and was gone, a million miles away to a distant past.


“Run! Run you lazy bastard!”

It was when Hûr Mau Kaal had barely come to his senses after being ripped from oblivion and pulled into Middle Earth, born in the musty bowels of Isengard, that his training began. Those Uruks who were spawned with him all were trained for battle in the usual way. They were to fight each other with sticks until they bled, then were given a little resting time before having to fight again. They were trained to tame and lead Lesser Orcs.
But not him.

The Great Wizard had different plans for him, and that was readily seen in his training.

“Run! Run you lazy bastard!”

Oh dreaded words, of how he was chased with whips by strong Uruk-hai carrying a granite cobblestone, and how he had to run to a basket and throw it in to stop the merciless chase.
Oh cruel, cruel memories of a cruel, cruel past, oh how great the torments of his young life, the life that was destined to be his.

Hounds… Eventually they chased him with hounds when he had become one of the fastest-running Uruk-hai of Isengard, outrunning most of them even in the heavy armor made for him. Hûr Mau Kaal it said on his chestplate in runes of silver decoration.
And that was he: Hûr Mau Kaal, the Courageous Warrior of Light.


“H’aukal! You better be ready!” a big Uruk captain barked a contortion of his name and shook his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re drunk on the night of your life! I’ll kill you on the spot!”
Hûr Mau Kaal slowly turned towards him.

“I will not fail.” He growled softly end looked up at the huge wall surrounding the fortification they sieged.

“You better NOT fail! We’re ground into meat loaf here! Do you know what you must do? I’m on fucking need-to-know here!”

“You need to know nothing. I know my part.” Hûr Mau Kaal calmly spoke and stood motionless, closing his eyes.

“You fucking aloof bastard!” the Captain roared as he dove in front of him and barely managed to take the arrow that shot directly at the Chosen One.

“If you weren’t Order of Orthanc…” the Captain roared but Hûr Mau was no longer there, as he had slipped into the land of memories.


“You would be dragging sacks of ores if I did not make you to be the Chosen One.” Ooh, that voice. That beautiful yet demanding voice of his Master, the Wizard of Isengard.

“Yes, Saruman..” Hûr Mau softly rumbled, his previous meetings with the Great Wizard had not broken the ice but rather intimidated him more.

Infinite wisdom. It was wisdom of the blackened kind, a wisdom of the rotten and putrid and things better left unspoken, but who was he to doubt the Infinite wisdom of Master Saruman?

“Take off your loincloth.” The Wizard sternly ordered with his magnificent voice and Hûr Mau Kaal complied. The Great Wizard matter-of-factly took the Uruk’s large member and looked at it.

“I shaped you well.”

“Yes, Saruman..”

“And with a purpose.”

“Yes, Saruman..”

Saruman let his hands slide over the smooth skin under the Uruk-hai’s member.

“Have you noticed a difference between you and your kinsmen? Surely you have unbuckled for pleasure games, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Saruman..” The Uruk-hai timidly rumbled.

“You, Hûr Mau Kaal, were born without spawning-balls. You are different from the Orcs that were born with a sac under their Orc-tail and you are different from the Orcs who had theirs removed to punish their disobedience or prevent them from spawning their bad seed.”

“Master Saruman?”


“Am I.. Am I born disobedient? Was my seed so bad that my sac is missing?” The Wizard smiled and put his hand on the Uruk’s shoulder.

“Nothing of the sort. Your sac is not missing, you were born without sac because you are the Chosen One. You have no need for spawning-balls because nothing can come from you that is up to your standard. I have taken a lot of effort to make you what you are.”

“Thank you, Great Master..”

“Aaah, but there is a greater Master still. And this night you will meet him. This night I will present you to the Great Sauron.”

“The Great Sauron…” Hûr Mau Kaal gasped.

Saruman walked up to a stand covered by a cloth.

“Gaze in the Palantir, Hûr Mau Kaal…” Saruman said hypnotically and then let the cloth slide off a dark sphere. Hûr Mau Kaal looked at it. Was this a Greater Master?
But then, out of that darkness, came a roaring blaze of living fire, Evil fire, that smote him to his knees as the Greater Master took hold of him.


“WAARGH!” The captain roared as an arrow struck his throat and as he tried to pull it out his roar turned into a bloody gurgle until he simply fell over and lay limp. Hûr Mau Kaal did not see, nor did he hear. Two other Uruk-hai Captains took his place in making sure no lost arrow would poke into parts his well-made armor did not cover.
Hûr Mau Kaal was not even there.


“Mighty Uruk-hai: Greater Orc Officers of the White Hand Army of Isengard.” Saruman spoke demandingly to his fifty highest Orcs.

“I have assembled all of you so you can meet the Chosen One.” Hûr Mau Kaal blushed in embarrassment well-hidden by his blackened complexion. Saruman grabbed his shoulder and pulled him next to him, then he started exciting the officers with a grand speech, and time and time again his name, Hûr Mau Kaal, was spoken aloud by his mighty Master.

“This is the Courageous Warrior of Light!” Saruman spoke with inhuman force.

“Will you fight for Isengard?”

“YESS!! I am Hûr Mau Kaal! I will fight for Isengard!” Hûr Mau Kaal roared in pride as the assembled officers cheered his glory and Saruman raged on, exciting the Orc officers with his captivating speech.

“Courageous Warrior of Light! Will you give your best for Isengard?”

“YESS!! I am Hûr Mau Kaal! I will give my best for Isengard!”

Great was the cheering of all the officers of Isengard, all in his honor. Hûr Mau Kaal looked at the Great Wizard. Saruman cast him a glance which startled the Uruk-hai, for never before had he seen a coldness in his Master’s eyes like he did now.
Then Saruman spoke with fire, louder then mortals should speak:

“Courageous Warrior of Light! Will you lay down your life for Isengard?”

Hûr Mau Kaal cringed as his world crumbled before him. All the preferential treatment he had gotten, the special training, his very name and having been made without sac now all fell together as destiny unfolded in front of his eyes.

He was to die. He was to lay down his life for Isengard. This was decided before he was born and that was why he was torn from the void and pulled into the cruelest place of this world.
And Saruman made sure he would fulfill his destiny.

“Courageous Warrior of Light! Will you lay down your life for Isengard?” Saruman demanded.

There was no way out. There was no choice, because there never had been any choice. Saruman made him swear it in front of all the officers of the Army that was his entire life.
And something made him do it from the inside too. Somehow it all came naturally as an instinct took over.

“YESS!! I am Hûr Mau Kaal! I will lay down my life for Isengard!”

The cave was thundering with cheers from the assembled Uruk-hai, but it all passed him by as he was somewhere else entirely. Hûr Mau Kaal flew on the wings of waking dreams, a gift that had proven most useful before and after.


“We’re NOT breaking through! The fucking place is HOLDING!” one the two Uruk Captains roared and bitterly cursed the reinforcement wave that left them to be slain.
One of them turned to Hûr Mau Kaal and snarled:

“What are you doing?!” but the Chosen One calmly rumbled:

”Don’t worry.. I know what to do…”


“Well, what WILL you do then? And remember to tell me and not act.” Saruman calmly asked.

Hûr Mau Kaal looked at the two brass kettles bearing the sign of the White Hand, runes and the Eye of Sauron. They were not unlike the barrels the Orcs secretly brewed yeasty beer in, about waist-high and a yard wide, except they were made of finely crafted brass. On top of them was an inverted clay cup. Hûr Mau Kaal tapped his elbow and pointed at the clayware cup of one of the barrels, automatically repeating what he had trained so many times.

“Smash and poke. Smash and poke. First you smash and then you poke. Smash and poke. You run, you smash and then you poke. Smash and poke.”

It all went past Hûr Mau Kaal, it was as if he weren’t there. He had to restrain himself from making the motions that came with it. Training had become instinct and instinct had taken over. Saruman slapped his hand on his shoulder and snapped him out of it.

“Good… Now tell me, Hûr Mau Kaal, is there a secret desire running through your head?”

“Well.. Master…”

“Have it out now. You are the Chosen One, you have no business hesitating. What is it you desire?”

“Master.. I heard voices in the depths talking…”
Saruman smiled.

“And what were these voices speaking of?”

“Well.. Womb-men, Saruman.. They were talking about womb-men.. I.. I never saw a womb-man before. I.. Would like to see a womb-man just once, Saruman.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Saruman smiled and calmly said:

“You were born without a sac. Not a breeding Orc, a special Orc. Women are not your Destiny. The Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug is. Look at them and pick the one that shall be the one to fulfill your Destiny.”

Hûr Mau Kaal sighed. There was talk of a battle that was at hand. It wasn’t to be that he would get to see one of the legendary Uruk-hai womb-men. Saruman had decided and Saruman commanded the sun and moon. It just was not to be.

“Do NOT touch the smashing cup.” Saruman demanded as Hûr Mau Kaal felt up one of the two brass barrels. It faintly smelt of soured piss and campfires. Nothing smelt really good in Isengard, but the least foul was the scent of the molten iron of the smelting pots and that’s why the smell did not offend him much.



“If one of these is to be my Destiny, and I am the Chosen One, why are there two of these Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug?” Saruman glanced at him, then nodded.

“You may know. One of these shall be brought to life to see if the alchemy of runes meets the alchemy of the tangible like it should. And will. The other one will be your Destiny. Choose.”

Hûr Mau Kaal sighed. He could choose to let the path of his life go left or right, but in both cases a Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug stood at it’s end.

“What do these instruments of Magic do, Master Saruman? What will happen when I smash and poke? Will.. will there be much pain and suffering?”

“This Alchemy will bring great suffering for the enemies of Isengard and victory will be upon us. So be sure to shout the word Victory when you smash and poke because that is what you will bring upon us through use of this Magic.”


“Hûr Mau Kaal?”

“May I see you bring the other one to life?”

“Choose, Chosen One. Do you want to see your Destiny before it is revealed or do you want to see a woman, whom otherwise will never be revealed?”

Oh what a cruel, cruel Master to make him suffer like Saruman did. Saruman had a way of raising his expectations before smacking them dead on the ground in front of him.
So it was all without use, without meaning.

Hûr Mau Kaal slammed his hand down on the left hand barrel which greatly startled Saruman and he sternly said:

“I am Hûr Mau Kaal. It is THIS Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug that will be my Destiny and it is THAT ONE I will see come to life… Master.”

“Good. It is decided then. You shall see the brother of your Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug come to life six days from now and in twenty-three days you will march out of Isengard.”


“I am Hûr Mau Kaal.” The Uruk-hai spoke sternly in the darkness of the battle.

“YES you are! Now will you fucking take cover before one of these ARROWS choose the Chosen One?”

“I am Hûr Mau Kaal.”


The Uruk-hai looked up the thirty foot tower of wooden poles at the brother of his Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug that was hoisted up to its top.

“Chosen One: We will remove the cup and make preps so go off to Saruman and the officers. You don’t want to be here when that cup comes off… Excuse me. My fault. Sir.”

“Forgiven.” Hûr Mau Kaal barked and walked off towards the small group of Orkish officers that had joined Saruman at the Half Mile Pole. What was he here to see? He looked around and saw the Uruk on top of the small tower unusually carefully unscrew the clay cup from the brass barrel. He halted and took a good look. His sharp Orkish eyesight discerned a black tangle not unlike the woven hair of an Uruk warrior. He was not a warrior, he was the Chosen One, and that meant that he was shaven bald, which was a disgrace to all but him.

He was an Orc of high standing in Isengard. He had it good as an Orc could get it in the world. He was an equal to most officers, had many talks with Saruman and could command stickwhippings, which meant he could have his way among the Lesser Orcs in whatever way he wanted. And yet… Lesser Orcs had greater freedoms at times, free of the burden of responsibility he felt, and they had a sac with spawning-balls which meant they were to see the legendary Orkish womb-men, while he would not.

“Hûr Mau Kaal… I see you could make it.” Saruman gently spoke and then let his beautiful voice roll over the field that once had been forestland.


Here, out in the open, the air smelled good and that stingy sun had almost set now. Saruman’s order made the Orcs in charge of handling the brother of his Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug hurry their “preps” as they called it, then one blew a whistle and they ran to the side as fast as their legs could carry them. The cool evening air, fresh air so unlike that in the depths of Isengard, was a pleasure to his nostrils and he eagerly took in the scent.

Dreamy.. Under the crimson sky of dusk he looked at the silhouette of the small tower half a mile away that held the brother of his Destiny at it’s top. It would come into life, it would be awoken by the magic of Saruman. He glanced aside at him. The Great Wizard gazed at the tower with fatherly pride it seemed to Hûr Mau Kaal, but then again Saruman had made this egg, and soon it would hatch and Hûr Mau Kaal would meet the brother of his Destiny.

He looked at the tower. Everyone fell quiet, you only could hear the slightest breeze stroke the wasteland they had made of Isengard Forest.

Suddenly there was a flash as bright as the sun itself that tore the darkness apart. The tower had been thirty foot high, but was now engulfed by a sudden burst of bright white light, a fireball twenty-five yards across. His mouth ajar Hûr Mau Kaal watched how a cloud of dust wrapped itself around the swelling fireball.

And then a staggering blast of thunder hit them, hit their skin and overpowered their ears by it’s sudden eruption. While it still rumbled a second clap of thunder came, it was the echo of the great explosion that had bounced off the Tower of Isengard.

The Orkish officers now erupted into cheering and jumped up and down with excitement, roaring and flailing their limbs in triumph.

Hûr Mau Kaal did not heed it. He watched the cloud of dust and smoke swiftly wrap itself around the twenty-five yard fireball and snuff it out, leaving nothing but a dark cloud of ashes, soil and grey smoke. When it had calmed enough for the wind to overpower it the cloud drifted off and revealed a great deal of sand had been smacked aside, leaving a shallow hole about ten yards wide and two foot deep. Around this dark, smoking indentation in the soil lay the scattered remains of the tower, that had been smashed into firewood.
Hûr Mau Kaal just stood there, and then he heard Saruman calmly say with his beautiful voice:

“Behold your Destiny.”


Hûr Mau Kaal got pushed and snapped out of his reflections. An Orc stood in front of him bearing a great steel torch that spewed bright white sparks of fire.

“Get it! Get the torch! Chosen One: Your time has come!”

Hûr Mau Kaal grabbed the steel torch and started to run. And he had run before. He ran like the wind, even with full armor on, building up speed as if he ran downhill. In front of him was a sea of Orcs, but it parted in front of him to let him pass.

This is what he had trained for. This was the run with the torch he was brought into this world for, the sole reason for his existence. First you smash and then you poke, smash and poke, smash and poke…

Arrows were fired at him, yes even HIT him as he charged towards his Destiny, but he was no longer there. He was carried on the wings of memory and fancy, that gift bestowed upon him that had saved him from the greatest pains, even right when they were happening to him.

He did not feel the arrow in his shoulder, nor the ground under his feet or the stench of war and death in the cool night air.

First you smash and then you poke, smash and poke, smash and poke…

Hûr Mau Kaal was void of appropriate emotions and thoughts as he charged towards his Destiny. He was Hûr Mau Kaal, the Courageous Warrior of Light, and that Light that would consume him was the Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug, the Great Fire Weapon. He would be blasted to foul black mist and be cast aside like the wall of Helm’s Deep would. He would tear down the wall that all of Saruman’s men could not break. He would be a Legend.

But his mind was nowhere close to glory. In fact, it was a shambles like soon the wall itself would be. Tears flowed from his eyes, tears nobody saw as he wore a tight helmet leaving just his eyes free, armor made for the Chosen One’s final run.

Chosen One.. He truly was.
Yes: he was the Orc of Orcs. He was made and lived his life for just one purpose, like any Orc, and that was to kill and destroy. When he had heard strange tales of Hobbits and Elves he often wondered who was the fool that made fighters so feeble-bodied. But now he saw it all too clear: They weren’t made to fight: They were made to live lives of peace, and the only reason they all fought side by side was because his kind was killing them every chance they had, raping their lands, burning their homes.

First you smash and then you poke, smash and poke, smash and poke…

And even though his eyes were fixed on the Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug the scope of his gaze widened further then it ever had been before.

It was not the wickedness of his kind: it was the misery of their wretched lives that drove them, that AND the whip.
They were ruled by the Great Wizard Saruman, but wasn’t the Great Wizard himself ruled by Fear and Greed, two demons at the sides of the throne of Sauron?

Hûr Mau Kaal jumped into the hollow and got on his feet.

The Bûbhosh Ghaash Dulug, the Great Fire Weapon that was his Destiny, was now right in front of him. The path of his life had been a one-way road all along, and that road had come to its end, and at it’s end was a great big fire that would tear him to shreds, and then tear his shreds to shreds.

First you smash and then you poke, smash and poke, smash and poke…

Hûr Mau Kaal smashed his elbow into the clay cup of the Great Fire Weapon and it shattered to all directions, leaving a tangle of cords coated in black dust.

First you smash and then you poke, smash and poke, smash and poke…

Knowing in advance his that his end would come and having elaborately trained for that final moment all his life had made Hûr Mau Kaal spend many thoughts on what would be his last utterance before being delivered into Oblivion’s embrace, the same Oblivion the Dark Forces had torn him away from to pull him into the cruelest place of Middle Earth.
What was he to say when he poked, now that he had smashed?

Saruman had ordered that his final word should be Victory. But on the night after having seen the brother of his Destiny awaken he had decided he would not obey this command, the command that changed nothing for the final outcome.

“Victory”… He had thought and thought but the more he had thought on that he decided that “Infinity” would be just right, a worthy word upon fulfilling his Destiny.

But it was not to be. He now for the first time saw his Destiny before him like it was, and with it the Destiny of his entire Orkish kind. They would not win. They could not win. Saruman did not make them at all: he twisted them out of proportion, and the only thing he really made was a magic egg of fiery death. Creation always outlives Destruction, that was the Infinity of it all.

But the Orcs? The Orcs would perish. There would be no victory, there could be no victory and if Destruction won over Creation there would be nothing at all.

He was Hûr Mau Kaal, the Courageous Warrior of Light.
His deed would not bring Isengard its much desired victory, no.
He would return to the Oblivion from which he was torn to cause Destruction.
And in that final second he spoke as the Wisest Man in the battle.


He poked his torch into the tangle of fuses and evanesced into Oblivion’s embrace.

Copyright © 2011 lustful_orcs; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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