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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.
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“Standing guard on the shitadel, more like,” Narkul grumbled crossly.
He definitely had a point. In most of its outward appearances the Blessed Sanctuary of the Shining Queen of Light did leave a bit to be desired.
The sanctuary was in essence two carved pillars – at some point they had been two very nicely carved pillars – made of a strange greenish stone. The pillars stood a small distance apart from each other at the base of a mountain, one to each side of a hollowed-out area of rock that, if it had happened to have any kind of aperture in it (which it didn’t), would’ve looked more than in-passingly similar to a gigantic, out-of-proportion, door.
A twisted rawhide string was looped between the two pillars across the top of this door, and tied to it were a number of small crescents of fabric with writing on them in some dark, red-brown fluid –
(“prayer flags,” as the sergeant had explained to them earlier on; “that’s ’ow these ‘eethans talk to their gods in the desert, don’t’c’her know?”)
-some of them brightly-patterned and others bleached of all colour with age, which hung down from the cord and flapped sadly in the soft night-time breeze, exactly like clothes on a washing-line.
That was about it.
Given the way the citadel looked, perhaps if they’d gone to the effort of really putting some proper thought in, whoever had been in charge of naming it might have come up with a title that was less inappropriately grandiose. Although - if it comes as any consolation - a median line drawn through the exact centre of the door would point east, directly towards the sunrise on the longest day in midsummer.
(That might well have been no more than a meaningless coincidence, however.)
So, the two pillars of the temple stood maybe a hand’s-spans or thereabouts taller than the top of Azof’s head, and as, for a Mordor Uruk, he was of slightly less than average height, this means they were about six-and-a-half feet off the ground.   They were separated by more than four times that distance however, so the width of the door into the mountain (if it was a door) was far greater than its height.
“Someone’s been pissing in this doorway, the dirty bleeder,” Rugratz was griping. Unfastening the laces at the top of his breeches, he drew his knobbly, cankerous cock out and let loose his stream, too.
“Fackin’ idiot!” Narkul bellowed, jumping backwards to avoid some of the splashback. “’Ave a care where you’re pointing that thing, won’t c’her!”
Azof, meanwhile, was examining the carvings on the further-away column. The surface was pitted and sand-blasted after countless years in the desert and it was difficult for him to make out much of the design. The stone itself also had a very peculiar quality – it already felt cold, in spite of the lingering heat of the day, and as Azof ran his hand over the faintly incised patterns the texture of the rock seemed to slip and shift right under his fingers so that again, it was impossible to discern any easily-recognizable outline.
But, taken together the strange carvings and weird, slippery-textured rock combined to produce an oddly mesmerizing effect. It put the Orc in mind of black water and - tentacles. And of many-limbed, segmented bodies, sliding over and over and under each other, endlessly down through the dark.
Azof was almost unable to look away: found he didn’t want to, and in fact -
A heavy shove on the shoulder from Rugratz broke Azof out of his reverie.
“Oi! Fat-arse!” he shouted, straight into Azof’s ear. “You too, Narkul!   Come over ‘ere! Either a’ you lubbers think they can smell puke?”
Narkul, who had been squatting down by the track that led to citadel, straightened up, frowning. “Don’t call the lad fat,” he said evenly.
“No? Funny you did’n seem so very bovvered when that sergeant said it. An’ I think ‘ee’s gotta point. Who’s et’ all the pies, eh, Azzles?”
“That shit-for-brains sergeant’s an idiot. And so you are, too, if you can’t see he’s up to some funny business - trying to pull the wool over, isn’ ‘ee?”
Azof nodded his agreement. “Def’nitly.”
“Strewth!” Rugratz exclaimed, slapping his hands on his thighs and staring at Azof with exaggerated surprise. “’Ear that Nark? It talks!”
“I didn’t like that fella,” Azof continued, ignoring him, “an’ I reckon Nark’s right. I reckon that sergeant’s getting us lot stuck into some –“
“Inter some what? Do enlighten us, Azof dear,” Rugratz interrupted, putting himself in the other Orc’s space and crowding him in it, “cos’ I could really do wiv’ a laugh. What flights a’ fancy you been on? Do tell what you think this funny business might be.”
“Well - I dunno,” Azof subsided. “But it’s gotta be something – something well dodgy, innit?”
“He’s not wrong!” Narkul interjected. “Look at this road, for starters! Anyone can see there’s tons ov’ foot traffic, ‘orses too, goes traipsing up and down here. An’ all for what? There’s nothing here. Ain’t nuffink to see!”
“Tell ‘im about the numbers, Nark,” Azof said.
“Azof here was talking to this old geezer back ‘ome,” Narkul explained, “Mordor goblin, born an’ bred. And this feller was a list taker, on account he ‘ad a gimpy leg. One thing he took records for was the – what’s’it he called it again, Azof?”
“Military manifest.”
“Yeah – yeah. See, according to that - mainfest, them upstairs – I mean the big bosses, ‘uv been sending upwards of – well, the number what’s in our troop -” he looked towards Azof for clarification -
“Maybe...’bout twenty? Twenny-five?”
“Well, that many soldiers out the land of shadow, to ‘ere, regular as clockwork, one, sometimes two times a year.”
“So? That number don’t exactly come to a lot.”
“Ah, but it’s been going on long enough, ‘asn’it? ‘Undred years, that goblin told Azof he’d been doing that job. Two ‘undred an’ fifty, the fella what did it ‘fore that. An’ all that time these troops is going out, an’ going out. Orcs go out, an’ they send ‘orses back. You add it up an’ over time, that does make a lot.”
“’Undreds an’ ‘undreds!” Azof nodded.
“Yeah? So how many Orcs been out in Khand you ever met, Rugratz?”
The other Orc shrugged. “Mordor’s a big enough place innit?”
“Still, you’d think there oughter be someone. But ‘ave you ever met anyone, ever, who was sent out to Khand – and come back?”
“Phhht,” Rugratz snorted. “You ‘eard what the sergeant said - don’t touch their ‘orses and ‘ands off the women and you’ll be all right. Maybe those ovver Orcs didn’ pay attention to his rules an’ got kicked in the ‘ead by one of them fine desert horses, or had their knackers chopped by one a’ those wild brown-skin lads. Maybe they just legged it out into the sand - ‘oo cares? You two nancies are gettin’ your knickers in a twist over the sum total of bugger all!”
“You don’t think it’s odd the three of us got sent out special to guard this place when there ain’t nuffink here? You really don’t think that’s a wee bit off?”
“Oo cares?” Rugratz repeated. “I still say there’s worse jobs. It’s better than ‘aving to muck out the shit-‘ouse block. Or them ‘orses’ latrine. You n’ the lad are just working yourselfs up into a frenzy over nuffink.”
**
“Ere,” Narkul said, drawing deeply on his roll-up, “have a drag on this.”
Azof took a shallow, doubtful puff of Narkul’s dog-end and then carefully handed it back to him. Squeezing his eyes shut at the acrid flavour and coughing, he asked - “wot’cher got in this one then?”
“Dunno, really. Got chatting to some geezer in the marketplace. Owd feller. Had himself one of them stalls full of fancy glass water-pipes an’ smelly junk an’ what-not. Told ‘im we was coming up ‘ere tonight an’ then nuffink would do but was all fer giving it me for free. Feller said it’s ’erbal. S’posed ter steady the nerves.”
“Hnn.”
He and Azof were crouched down together by the little stick-fire they’d built. The sun had gone down early behind the mountain and night had fallen quickly. Out under the vast open sky in the silent, glimmering desert the two Orcs felt exposed and naked and very alone.
Azof shivered. “I ain’t never seen so many stars, Nark. ‘Ave you?”
“Ash clouds a’ soot an’ whatnot in Mordor ‘ides it,” Narkul replied, “but out ‘ere, you c’n see all of it – all the way to – well, ‘oo-ever’s out there, innit? An’, s’like, they’re lookin’ back at c’her. Starin’ right back down on yer. Millions of Eyes, lookin’ down, an’ every one of them judgin’ you.”
“Judging yer?” Azof repeated.
“For what you’ve done and that.” Narkul took a long drag on his cigarette. “Don’t c’her think?”
“Oh! Yeah! Gives me the willies and then some.”
“Be better after the moon rises. That won’t be for a while yet, though. Remember what I taught yer? What’s it gonna be like tonight then, eh? ”
After a pause Azof said -“...wanin’ gibbous maybe?”
Narkul nodded his approval. Azof started then, as Rugratz belly-flopped down into the sand beside him.
“’Fraid of the dark is you, Azzles?” Rugratz said.
“That’s right,” Azof replied mildly, getting to his feet. “I’m a fat twat an’ a coward, Rugratz. It’s all - everythink’s just as you said.”
“Here,” Narkul exclaimed, “where you off to?”
“Getting wood. We’re almost out.”
“Huh! Nark’s got wood,” Rugratz sneered, jerking his head at the other Orc, “or at least if you asked him, I think ‘ee’d ‘ave a choice piece ‘a wood he’s been keeping nice an’ special for you.”
Azof blinked at the others for a moment in confusion. Then, on catching the gist of Rugratz’s lewd comment, the colour rose to his face in a blush so heated that it must have been obvious to the others even in spite of the dark, and the swarthy colour of his sun-burned skin. The young Orc blundered over his feet in his hurry to get away.
Narkul kicked at Rugratz half-heartedly before passing him his cigarette. “There’s no point embarrassing him. Why you always on the lad’s case?”
“Huh. Someone’s gotta teach little runts like that to stand up for themselves.”
Narkul grunted. “He’s young yet.”
“He’s not that young. It’s not like it were back in our day! He might not be young but I say he’s a runt an’ a short-arse - and a great big pantywaist.”
“It’s not long since he was conscripted. All new to him, isn’it? As well as ‘aving,” Narkul tapped his left temple meaningfully, “you know – inside. It must be well weird if it’s your first time ‘aving – all that goin’ on. To always be ‘earing – ”
“His Master’s Voice,” Rugratz snorted, warming his hands by the fire. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Strength of it fades wiv’ distance though, don’t c’her find? I reckon I c’n barely even ‘ear it, all the way out ‘ere.”
“Still there, though, innit?” Narkul said grimly. “Nagging at c’her. Draggin’ at c’her.”
“Oh yeah,” Rugratz grumbled, “it’s ’pain wot’s constant an’ actue.’ Tell me anovver one. ”
“T’is though, isn’it? Like a – weight. Draggin,’ an’ draggin’ yer down.”
Rugratz rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Whatever.”
“What was you like when you was a new recruit, eh?”
“Ah! That why you been taking him under yer wing? Think you can see a little bit of the old Nark in young Azof, can you?”
Narkul didn’t reply.
“You’re wanting to put a bit of old Nark into our young Azof, I’ll warrant.” Rugratz puffed out a great lungful of smoke. “You are, ain’t c’her? Spin ‘im round so you don’t have ter look at that great gormless mug of his an’ he’s not a bad prospect, though. You’re not wrong there.”
Narkul’s lips twisted. “Sure, an’ he’s got – awful bonny hair.”
“You seen the arse on it?” Rugratz sucked in a long, whistling breath. “Oooo! Very nice.”
“Oh yeah. That is – well compact. But it’s not that -”
“Must be somethink to do wiv’ his scintillating personality in that case,” Rugratz said dryly. And then feigning surprise again as Azof sat down by the fire - “oh, hullo, Azof.” He nudged him heavily in the ribs. “You shouldn’t worry. We wasn’t talking to you. We was only talking about yer. Capiche?”
Azof shook his head, trying to hide his annoyance. “Lads? You better come an’ look. There’s something well weird going on over here.”
**
It was an hour before midnight and the three Orcs stood looking at the aperture that had opened up in the base of the mountain. The opening, centred directly between the two carved pillars that Azof had been examining earlier, was barely more than a hairline split in the rock when they first came upon it. But as they watched and waited, the crack seemed to steadily – incredibly - widen and increase; a most uncanny effect, as gradual - and inexorable - as the rising of the moon that was slowly climbing the sky behind them, behind Azof’s shoulder.
“Still not exactly what you’d call a deep romantic chasm, is it though?” Narkul said, sceptically.
By some unknown mechanism, inexplicable as it was utterly silent - the space in the rock had now extended to become a rectangular passageway, narrow and smooth-sided and black as pitch.
“It’s beginning to look like a door,” Azof said, running his hand over the side-wall of the passage tentatively.
“Oh, do you reckon? Go on then,” Rugratz said, kicking him head-over-heels through. “Get your fat arse in there why don’t’cher, an’ go see if there’s anyone home!”
“If that slides shut on him then how d’you expect he’s going to get out of there?” Narkul snapped, clambering after Azof directly.
Rugratz thought about that for a minute. “You know, I’m not that bovvered, really,” he called, as he jumped in to follow them.
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Azof and the Cult of the Scorpion Goddess