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Azof and the Cult of the Scorpion Goddess	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 2995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1.
- 2-2.
- 3-3.
- 4-4.
- 5-5.
- 6-6.
- 7-7.
- 8-8.
- 9-9.
- 10-10.
- 11-11.
- 10
- 11
Night was fading from the sky by the time Rugratz, lame in one leg, clambered on hands and knees out through a narrow opening concealed on the side of the mountain. He pushed the haversack he’d also been hauling – which was packed to bursting point with temple loot – out over the rocky ledge in front of him and then, losing his balance, tumbled arse over tip after it, slipping down through loose rock and sharp-edged scree till he skidded to a halt at the foot of the slope. He flopped onto his back on the cold desert sand and lay there, trying to take stock.
It was still hazy, what had happened in the citadel. He vaguely remembered the women, then tanking up on bottle after bottle of wine, and the food - but after that it was all largely a blank. Next thing he knew he’d awakened to find Narkul out for the count and Azof, the great useless toss-pot, cuffing him vigorously back and forth – how ruddy dare he, Rugratz seethed inwardly. That wasn’t an experience the older Orc intended on forgetting about lightly.
And then Rugratz had found that he had them – sucking leech-things – fucking, all over him! He’d had to winkle them free even as he’d been running – had been so discombobulated by his experiences he’d not even taken the time to stomp every one of those horrid, nasty little fuckers to bits!
What was he, Rugratz, gonna do now? He was alone and he had no food on him. No proper weapons, no water – nuffink! Only a bum left foot from when he’d twisted his ankle when he was legging it, and the beginnings of a pounding headache. Red wine, and lots of it, in the desert – now what kind of plonker ever thought that was any kind of a good idea? Rugratz moaned to himself, fighting down the urge to vomit and nursing a mammoth hangover.
The sky lightened steadily, and a cool morning breeze began to blow. At length Rugratz sat up, brightening slightly as he realized he was about to have company. Coming round the mountain, from a different direction to the one he’d taken he could just make out Azof - the steaming pile of dick-headed excuses - staggering towards him. The lad was bleeding and limping and galumphing about half-barefoot, having lost one of his shoes. He looked like shit, that was the long and the short of it; completely done-in, but even from where he was sitting, Rugratz could see the stupid gormless git’s face splitting wide with a sharp, toothy grin the moment he caught sight of him.
Rugratz still couldn’t stomach Azof, that fat twat, mind, but there was no doubt that he was in a fix and, like they said, two heads are better than one. Particularly when the second head – the one that wasn’t his, came usefully attached to a thick muscular torso with four good-sized limbs also thrown in for good measure. Rugratz eyed his young companion speculatively, trying to gauge the amount of meat on him. He reckoned if it came to it, Azof’d do for any number of hot dinners, at a pinch.
Oh, yeah! Here he comes, all right.
“Rugratz!” Azof gasped, limping closer and sagging down beside him. “You made it!” But then he began looking about, trying and failing as it seemed, to make ‘one’ and ‘none’ add up to two. “You made it out that awful place! But - but where –“ he shook his head bewilderedly, not – or not wanting to – believe what he was seeing - “where’s Nark?
Rugratz shrugged and grunted.
“Where’s Narkul gotten to, mate?” Azof repeated, his voice rising.
“You an’ me made it,” the older Orc said, since obviously he was going to have to spell things out for him. “Old Nark - he didn’t.”
“No!” Azof cried. “No! You was supposed to wake him up an’ bring him –“
Rugratz looked on with interest as the fat fuck began to shake all over and his shoulders started heaving. Overcome with emotion or something, no doubt – and wasn’t it disgusting! At this rate Rugratz reckoned he’d be full-on blubbering, soon.
But instead the lad surprised him. He turned to Rugratz and his head went down. His eyes narrowed and there was a mad light in them. He snarled and bared his teeth, and blow Rugratz if he didn’t look – so….so fucking beside himself that in spite of himself, the old Orc felt a cold finger of apprehension work its way down his back.
When Azof spoke it was in a low voice, wild and dangerous. “You dunno how I put meself on the line, getting the pair of you out. An’ all you ‘ad to do was wake him up and bring him!”
Rugratz shrank from him, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner. “I tried, lad, I tried!”
“What d’yer mean?”
“He was – those things had ‘ad too much of his blood! He was too far gone ‘time I got to him,” Rugratz said, fabricating wildly. Nark, when he’d last seen him, had been totally out of it, deep in golden slumbers and happy as larry by the looks of it, if the smile on his face and the bulge in his crotch had been anything to think about so no, Rugratz hadn’t hung about to ask silly questions.   He’d had no qualms whatever in turning his back on his former companion and legging it out of there, sharpish.
Without a word Azof, still glowering at him, lurched to his feet, dragging himself upright by force of will alone.
Rugratz goggled at him. There was no way on earth he was actually gonna -
But bugger Rugratz backwards if he wasn’t! Azof, his jaw set, turned, and set off, laboriously, back the way he’d come.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!   Where the fuck you think you’re going?”
The other Orc didn’t even spare him a backward glance. “M’going back to get Narkul back, inn’I?”
Rugratz was truly and honestly flabbergasted. Without thinking it through beforehand he exclaimed - “but what for?”
Azof’s reply, when it came, sounded like it was spoken through gritted teeth. “’Cos of it’s Narkul and he’s me mate. Out of it or not, you ought to’ve brung ‘im wiv’ you, Rugratz. You know you should’ve.”
Now, that wasn’t gonna do! Rugratz needed the fat fuck for his, Rugratz’s – continued survival, and shit. Him pigheadedly going back into that literal den of scorpions – now that didn’t suit Rugratz’s plans at all.
“’Cos of me bum leg – an’….an’ I’m telling yer - it’s too late!” Rugratz hollered after him. “You don’t think I’d’ve – that I’d of up an’ left me – me honest-to-bollocks oldest mate in a place like that if there was any chance of saving him, would yer? He was a goner, Azof. Pegged it well afore I left him. Made sure ‘a that, dinn’I? So listen to reason, won’t c’her? It’s too late.”
At last Azof stopped and turned back to Rugratz, searching his face. The older Orc had to fight to keep his expression honest and straight, a difficult task when sight of the lad’s earnest, tear-stricken mug made him want nothing better than to burst out laughing, but he must have done something right because after a moment Azof sort of crumpled sideways, and landed in big, flobbering heap in the sand.
He stayed where he was, curled in on himself; head in his hands. Stupid prick seemed utterly distraught.
Time slowly passed.
Rugratz, meanwhile, was dragging himself nearer, his dagger drawn, the better to forcibly stop Azof if he showed any signs of resuming his daft plan of going back to the mountain. At last he was close enough; close enough to deliver a killing lunge on the off-chance that Azof should continue to stop seeing sense. From here if it came to it, Rugratz was sure he’d be able to get one good strike in at him, first. Afterwards, in that worst-case scenario, at the very least he’d be able to make use of the body - but to his astonishment the fat fuck misconstrued it!
Yes, Rugratz’s movement had brought them close up side-by-side, but that was mere happenstance – no more nor less. The lad, however seemed to misinterpret Rugratz’s proximity as being some sort of a….a comradely gesture, in the process earning himself a good dollop of Rugratz’s eternal contempt. But there could be no further doubt because as he sat up and then sagged against him, the younger Orc honest and truly seemed to – Rugratz didn’t know what. But Azof definitely seemed to be getting something out of it.
Eyes firmly fixed to the front, Rugratz held himself stiff beside Azof, appalled by this disgusting display of sentiment, nerves fizzing with loathing for him.
As the sky brightened above them the two Orcs sat in the glowing desert, watching the red sun rising over the far rim of the world.
At length Rugratz cleared his throat and spoke, just to break the silence between them. “It’s a shit life, though, is’nit?”
Azof scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve and sniffed, looking longingly towards the distant eastern horizon. “What the two of us been through though. After what our bleedin’ bastard bosses wanted done to us. ‘Cause that ole sergeant and them ones – they knew! M’telling you! Every one of ‘em knew!”
“Ah!” Rugratz sighed, “d’you reckon? Obeying orders though, innit? First rule of serving in the Black Army: ours not to reason why. S’the one thing you gotta remember. Only thing, really. Ain’t you managed to get that through your thick head as yet?”
“But why, Rugratz? Why? Oo’ says we gotta knuckle under an’ – an’ take it? We got a good chance, out here, don’t we? Don’t c’her think you an’ me, we oughter just up - and go?”
Rugratz shook his head. “Howabout l do you the biggest favour anyone ever has, an’ forget you said that, ‘cause you’d not get far. You ain’t telling me you can’t feel it?” Pressing his grimy index and middle fingers up to the side of his head he said - “you’d not get far because them upstairs, wherever you are, you gots to come when they call you. You been called, same as me, aint’ c’her?”
“Ain’t yer?” Rugratz repeated when Azof made no reply, fixing the younger Orc with a reproachful, gummy-eyed stare.
At last Azof nodded his head.
“Hnn!” Rugratz snorted disdainfully. “Yeah, you been called same as all of us, so don’t kid yourself – once they got you, they’re always able to find you, no matter where you are. An’ once they got you, they won’t never let go.”
Rugratz knew that the ties that bound himself and Aozf to the Land of Shadow – stretched thin as they were, out here in the desert - remained intact as they’d ever been, and were unbreakable. They could look to the east but were bound by their masters: their kind were now literally incapable of existing outside of their thrall; hamstrung, fundamentally, just as their overlords had always intended them to be. Maybe the lad still had enough left about him to be able to think about going – and if he did maybe, contrary to all outward appearances, that meant he had a bit more about him than most; but he could no more up sticks and strike out alone than he could start flapping his arms together and fly up to the sky.
“Old Nark said you was to stick wiv’ me, son,” Rugratz said, the better to distract the young oaf from pursuing his - incredibly dangerous – line of thinking. “’Now, me old mate Rugratz,’ Nark said, ‘I know I’m done for, an’ that means it’s you who’s got to take care ‘a the lad for me, from now on. An’ you better make sure you do a good job of it, or I’ll be coming back t’haunt you. Just see if I don’t.’”
Maybe he’d laid it on too thick because Azof, to his credit, raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Rugratz insisted emphatically. “Yeah, them was Nark’s very last words, practic’ly. He wanted us to stick together. It was only his dyin’ wish, if you like. ‘Cause he reckoned your best chance was if you was with me.”
“Nark had time to tell you all that? Seems he spent long enough lying on his deathbed speechifyin’ before he finally got round karking it, didn’t ‘ee?”
The older Orc tried to hide his irritation, casting about for a line of reasoning that’d be likely to bring a soppy sod like Azof round to Rugratz’s own way of thinking. “He – he cared about you, Azof mate,” Rugratz told him solemnly, and, as Azof began to sit up and take notice, was delighted to see that that seemed to be doing the trick. He pressed on, embellishing it: “know what? I reckon he looked at you like – like you was one of his own little’uns, maybe.” It was a struggle, but Rugratz even managed to keep a sincere note in his voice and a smirk off his face when he said it.
“Straight up?” Azof said. “You reckon he did? Really?”
“Yeah. Whatever,” Rugratz replied, rapidy losing interest in the subject.
The younger Orc sat quiet. After a moment he said - “I never ‘ad a Dad. Or knew me Mum neither, for that matter.”
That was hardly out-of-the ordinary, the way things were in Mordor these days. “Families. Who’d have ‘em, eh?” Rugratz shrugged, nonplussed. He was more than bored with this already, and was interested only in pushing his own suit: “the two of us togevver, look. We’re gonna be – all right.”
Azof looked at him doubtfully. “And – you reckon Nark proper said I was to go wiv’ you?”
“Course ‘ee did! Cos he knew the way I’ll be looking out for you! I’ll ‘elp you get yer head straight n’ show you the ropes – the proper Orcish way ov’ doing things. No-one’ll be able to call you a nancy or a pantywaist pushover or any of them ovver ‘orrible things, ‘time I’m finished wiv’ you.” He elbowed Azof companionably in the ribs then draped his arm easily over the lad’s shoulders – copying the way he’d seen Nark do countless times previously. Whilst Nark was busy perving over him, most probably, the dirty old goat - but there was no need for Rugratz to fling that in the young ‘un’s face just yet. It could keep. Rugratz perked up a little. He reckoned he’d just managed to identify a weak spot and fully intended to squirrel the information away, now he’d seen how Azof - and Rugratz’s stomach turned, at the very thought of it – now he’d seen that Azof was beginning to hold onto the memory of old Nark like it was something precious. Yeah, Rugratz intended on keeping that close. Sooner or later when the time was right he would use it, skewering the lad with a well-aimed barb, and then he’d take great pleasure in twisting it in the young ‘un’s side.
Like most Orcs Rugratz wasn’t an analytically-minded sort. He couldn’t have said how he knew what he knew - nor would he have much cared; but he had an instinctive and dead-certain ability to wound and - devastated, that’s what Rugratz reckoned the soppy fat twat would be, if he ever thought Nark had harboured any of those ‘other’ sorts of designs on him. Yes, Rugratz would throw it in his face some day, when the time was just right, and the old Orc grinned to himself, almost wanting to rub his hands together with anticipation.
But, there was no sense in mentioning any of that to the lad quite yet. Not right this moment at any rate, not when Azof was teetering so nicely on the brink of coming down on Rugratz’s side.
Rugratz gave the gormless get’s shoulder a friendly-enough seeming squeeze, but let his claws dig into the young lad’s flesh more than was strictly necessary, until he felt Azof shifting slightly with discomfort. It wasn’t much, but it was enough just to take the edge off, for Rugratz, at least for the time being. Wanting to get on with sealing the deal he nudged Azof, prompting him to answer once again. “What d’yer say lad, eh?”
Azof dragged his eyes from the shining sunrise. What other choice did he have really?
“All right, Rugratz,” he told him, “I s’pose.”
“T’riffic.” Rugratz bared his long yellow teeth in an ugly, calculating grin. “Glad t’ave you back on board. Now, h’obviously I’m not going to be up to it, state I’m in, but you’re young an’ I reckon you’ll ‘eal quick, won’t c’her?” He nodded encouragingly at Azof until the younger Orc, mystified, said -
“Yeah. I s’pose.”
“Means you’ll be the one carrying us’ baggage, then, won’t c’her.” Rugratz sat back and watched approvingly as Azof went to fetch then shoulder Rugratz’s heavy haversack, then waited, hands outstretched, for the fat fuck to help pull him to his feet. One of Rugratz’s ankles felt dead dodgy, yet, and he leaned his weight on Azof, letting the other Orc carry most of the burden of his body.
“You’re gonna ‘ave to go slow for me,” he informed Azof, “and no slacking - I know what you young’uns is like! You’re gonna have to pull your weight for once, an’ if you do ‘xactly as I say, maybe we’ve an outside chance of getting through this, ain’t we!”
And the fat, useless milksop – say what you like about him – he was a help. Rugratz thought he might even manage it, if Azof would keep on half-carrying him like this, and in this way they started limping forwards, awkwardly together.
Under his breath Azof heaved a sigh. It was going to be a long hike back to Mordor.

THE END
- 10
- 11
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Azof and the Cult of the Scorpion Goddess