The Good Orc by Passepartout
It was a very nice day. The sun went down and an evil black mist rose over the mountains. The Great Eye shone above all other things on the awesome black tower. Today was a good day to be an orc in Mordor. However, one orc was not enjoying the view. He sat on a blackened stump of what used to be a tree and listened to two other orcs’ conversation.
“Hullo, Kirsch,” said the first orc.
“Hullo, Sarch,” said Kirsch.
“Say, when do ya think that our Dark Lord is ever gonna get that shiny metal ring of his?” said Sarch.
“I don’t know, but I am gettin’ tired of listenin’ to him complain all the time,” replied Kirsch, “It just isn’t fair, eh?”
“Yeah, I gettin’ tired of the low rations he’s been givin’ us lately. It’s not as fun being an orc as it used to, eh?”
“No,” said Kirsch looking at the orc on the stump, “And I think little stump sitter over there agrees with us.”
The little stump sitter looked up at them.
“Say, what’s yo name, little stump sitter?” asked Sarch.
“It’s Zurtgh,” the stump sitter said, “And quit callin’ me stump sitter!”
“What’s yo problem little stu- I mean, Zurtgh?”
The little orc sighed. “I don’t know,” he replied, “I’m just tired of havin’ dark days and maggoty old bread all the time. I want to leave this place.”
The two older orcs gasped. “Why?” they shrieked.
“I don’t know,” the orc replied, “It’s just somethin’ I got to do.”
“Well,” they both said, “Good luck, and nice knowin’ ya.”
And both the orcs went into a tent and shut the door. Zurtgh sighed and looked at the big black mountains that awaited him.