Ursa of Fire - Chapter 2 - AzureSpiderQueen (2024)

Chapter Text

"I do not know a world without war, without fear of death, and without lamentation. Had I been born in Minis Tirith, perhaps I would have not known such horrors. Whether born royalty or peasant, I would have lived in peace. Alas, in Minas Ithil, born in Gondor's greatest keep over Mordor, we know only the grip of death. Here at the edge of Mordor, we can only wait and hold out against the darkness a little longer. May I find the courage to stand against it once more." –an entry in Lady Idril's journal, during the siege of Minas Ithil

"I should be with them," he said.

Celebrimbor answered, "Would you put them above all of Middle Earth?"

Talion asked, "Is it truly evil to do so? If one cannot place their family above others, is that not evil?"

"Talion," said the Wraith, "I will have this ring."

"I know. I know what I must do. It's just... I regained my life too soon. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps it was best I thought only of vengeance and death. The life I have reclaimed is precious to me. It calls to me amidst the horns of battle. I do not look to a perfect future. I have already found it with Ursa and Inga."

"Do not mistake Núrn for a paradise," said the Wraith. "Have you forgotten the Tower’s coming? The enemy will come again and your family will be divided by war. If you wish to truly be whole, then help me end this war. Slay the dark lord and break Mordor."

"I will break it," said Talion,=. "Forgive my moment of weakness. Though my heart is with them and it crushes me, my sword will forever be pointed at the enemy."

"Then let us be off," said the Wraith. "Ride hard. We must return quickly before Sauron sends an army to retake Núrn. Now, let us be off to Gorgoroth, to the makings of our empire."

With that, the horse screamed out and charged to the north, towards the desert of Mordor. Although, it would have been less dangerous to take Núrn's maze of cliffs and canyons, they chose to stay on the main road. Many Orcs would pursue them, but the ground was flat, and the way was true.

Ursa sighed as she saw the horse vanish against the morning fog that lay beyond her fortress. Upon the highest tower of the keep, the wind relentlessly whipped Ursa's hair into her face. She pushed her bangs to the side of her ear. She then began to stroke against the black leather eye patch. It was still strange to think that her eye was gone forever, missing and leaving only an empty socket. However, for all the pain it embodied, it served to make her look far more intimidating as a Warchief. War scars were a sign of a great Orc champion.

And Talion seemed to find it fetching.

Ursa looked again to the wall of mist, saddened at the thought of the two of them venturing on such a perilous quest without her. Only half an hour before, he had been kissing her upon her forehead as he said his goodbyes. Now she could only wait and cling to memory. Unless he was reborn atop the ivory towers, she would believe his journey was successful.

Ursa's mind now turned to her surroundings. She looked to her fortress and found herself dissatisfied. She quickly called up one of her Orcs.

It was one of the captains of the now branded Warchief Zaxuleg.

He asked, "What is it, my queen?"

Ursa glared as she said, "There is much work to do. The enemy is coming, and we are unready. It is time we prepared Núrn for war. Gather the Warchiefs and bring them to me!"

Talion's mount went down upon its knees and began to rest. It was exhausted from a full day’s ride. One of several as of late. Talion himself collapsed onto a wool blanket and fell immediately to sleep. As for the Wraith, he kept watch through the night. In truth, a horse was slower than the Wraith could run. He could dash a league's length in moments. However, Talion's body was still human. Although his legs did not tear from the speed, he might succumb to fatigue, hunger, and thirst. Celebrimbor did not complain to the ranger of such things. As far as hosts went, he knew he had a hearty one. He could not imagine many heroes, even Elves, hunting amidst the perils of Udûn for so long as they once did. Although Talion was dearly homesick, he was still a fearsome hunter. Even without the Wraith's power, he had out dueled and slain a thousand Orc. With swordsmanship alone, he had slain the Black Hand, an assassin who was said to have killed Istari, beings far greater than him. The union of the Wraith and the Ranger was a deadly one, one that threatened the Dark Lord's victory.

The Warchief, dressed in her black sorcery robes, walked back and forth in the square of the old slave market. Her five Warchiefs stood before her. Gathered behind each leader was their captains. Each officer remained silent as they awaited the Warchief’s command. Ursa spun around and glared directly at them.

She said, "This land is beautiful. Were we without war, I would not pluck a single blade of grass from its pastures. However, war is upon us, and we must secure our borders. It is time we fortified our defenses."

"Yes," said one of the Warchiefs excitedly. "No more sitting around! Let 'em come so we can crush them."

Ursa said, "I have laid out orders for all of you. There are thousands of Orc in Núrn, and all must be fully trained and ready for war. We will guard against the sea, against the Island of Carnán. We will lock down the road and end trade with Udûn. We will build small keeps along the edge of the villages. As for this fortress, it will be our last line of defense should we lose Núrn. Here we will construct trebuchets, archer nests, oil and fire spouts. Above all else, we will fortify the wall of this keep with adamant metal."

"Fortify Morn’s walls?" asked another Warchief, "Madness, that is! There isn't enough iron in Núrn to do it."

Ursa said, "I am sending companies of Uruk to Ered Glamhoth to strip the fortress of its steel."

"The cursed fortress?" the chieftain asked in horror.

She said, "Yes. How amusing that the fortress of despair will bring hope to our army."

Ursa wondered if Lord Sauron was watching her right now. In a way, she was possessed. He had spoken to her and seen into her mind. However, it seemed only in dream they were truly connected. What infected her was more of his power than his mind or so she hoped. A dark worry sometimes afflicted her, that Lord Sauron would spy on her plans for war. From what her spies, her worms, told her, the Hammer's death had surprised him. Even if this were not so, the Black Hand’s death worried her. They were close, he and the Dark Lord. The way Talion spoke of him made her wonder if the Black Hand was but an extension of his very being. And if that was true, then he now knew what had transpired in Núrn.

Almost a month had passed since Ursa's defenses began construction. Her entire fleet was in use as Adamant, the metal that made up Ered Glamhoth's walls, was shipped in. The metal was stronger than any other known, able to withhold the battering of war trolls and the stones of trebuchets. The most refined Adamant, the black iron of Mordor, was used for the fortifications of Barad-dûr. As it were, the Uruk that retrieved the metal for Glahmhoth were traded out for fresh Orc regularly. It seemed none wished to return to the Tower's haunted lands for a second trip.

Elsewhere, Ursa's preparations continued. She knew protecting Núrn’s vast lands was a near impossible feat. Fort Morn was large enough to hold over a thousand, but Núrns' population far exceeded that. This would mean that the other castles and smaller fortresses would be cut off if a large invasion took place. The enemy would have the advantage, being able to surround smaller companies and free to burn Núrn's crops. All Ursa could think to do was to dig in defenses along the border and then further in, accompanied by scouts to alert the keeps of invasion. Each fortress would have to hold enough supplies and rations to last a month should they face a siege. If an invasion took place, the defensive lines would slowly retreat until reaching the stone or wood walls of their Warchief's fortress. Ursa was not confident in these defenses. However, she knew that the advantage was on her side. She had a massive army, a huge supply of food, grand Warchiefs, and powerful sorcery to defend the realm. Indeed, Ursa was not afraid she would lose. She was afraid her lands would burn, and she would lose a good deal of her forces. Even worse, many innocent farmers and their families might die in the raids. If her defenses were not perfect, Lord Sauron would need only strike again to finish her off. He would endure as he always did and so she would lose the war.

Ursa sighed as she departed the latest meeting with her strategists and officers. Every day, she was either overseeing the construction efforts, making speeches to Orcs uneasy about betraying Sauron, or sitting through meetings that took half of the day. As Warchief, it was not horribly unusual. However, Ursa was a mother now too.

The Witch Queen made her way to her daughter's chamber. A nurse, one of Lithariel's maids, was playing with the baby. Her daughter was two months old now. She could not yet walk, but was a lively thing. The baby giggled as the other woman shook a small bell in front of her face. The baby's hands reached out for it. Ursa smiled as she saw those tiny, nubby hands try to grab hold of the instrument. She had never realized how amusing babies were unto she had one herself. They were practically helpless, barely able to move, and their skin was soft as mud. For some reason, it made Ursa only want to pamper and protect Inga all the more.

"Welcome back, my lady," said the maid.

Ursa said, "Thank you for caring for her."

She turned to her child and said, "Your mother is here, Inga."

The half Orc poked her daughter on the stomach, being sure to be gentle enough not to cut her. She then pressed the finger against the baby's lips and the infant began to suckle on it. Ursa pulled her finger away as the child reached up.

"Such a beautiful girl you are," said Ursa..

"M'lady," said a husky voice of an Orc behind her.

She knew him. It was the blue Orc Rag'luf, her favorite and most loyal attendant. He was her herald, her cupbearer, and at times, even helped the maids care for Inga.

"What is it, Rag'luf?" she asked softly.

He answered, "A young man has come to see you. He is from the deep mountains."

Queen Marwen's domain…

"I see," she said. "Have him join me in the throne room."

Queen Ursa patiently awaited her guest's arrival. As she sat upon her throne, her left leg crossed over and rested on the right. She saw the massive front gate swing open as her guards escorted the stranger onward. The goblin woman saw that it was indeed a young man, one with messy, long red hair and a pale freckled face. He looked to be no more than nineteen or twenty years old. He was dressed in a ragged tunic with black dirty pants and boots. Judging by his attire, he appeared to be a tribesman, but she couldn't be sure. What made her question it was the grey cloak around him that tied into a hood. In fact, he seemed something of a ranger, mirroring how Talion sometimes dressed.

Ursa stirred and leaned forward now with curiosity. She knew from Queen Marwen that the Gondorians had long ago left Núrn, at least those that had not been wiped out by a plague. So why then was a young ranger before her?

He bowed before the queen of the Orc and looked up at her majesty. His green eyes wandered across her features and then vanished again as he stood up.

He said, "G-greetings, Queen Ursa."

Is he that revolted by my appearance?

She spoke, "Hello traveler. Who might you be?"

He answered, "I am Hallas, son of Herion. My master is Orison, a ranger of East Núrn. I am grateful to have an audience with one so great. I must confess my coming here is of little importance."

She said softly, "Oh, do not fear so. It pleases me to see men, not just Orc, grace my halls. Please continue."

Hallas seemed to perk up as he explained, "My master is grateful to you for defending the tribesmen against the Black Captain. He brought you a gift of spices and old-Gondorian silver."

"I am honored," she said. "I am delighted to show them to my husband. He was a ranger once."

Ursa was excited at the thought of gifting them to Talion. Perhaps he would have knowledge on such cultural artifacts, and his eyes would light up as he spoke fondly of them.

"Ah… a ranger. That is also why I am here. There is another reason I was sent," he said. "Orison is curious about your blood line. He heard that a half-Orc had taken power and married a ranger. He sent a letter of inquiry. I apologize for the rudeness of it all."

She blinked and asked, "He wishes to know my bloodline? For what reason?"

"It is better… that you read it."

The man walked up and handed the letter to Rag'luf. The Orc rubbed his ears as he inspected it for anything out of the ordinary, whatever that may be. However, given the boy was already disarmed before entering, there was little need for caution. Her servant brought the small piece of parchment to her. She untied the twine from it with a slash of her claws. The thread snapped and unraveled the scroll. Her eyes darted up and down as she read its contents.

The letter said:

Greetings Ursa, Warchief of Núrnand Queen of the Orc.

Please forgive my rudeness on sending the boy in my place, but I am overcoming an illness. Word has reached me that you are born of Orc and man. A dwarf with a talkative tongue spoke of the ranger Talion and his house. When I asked him, he explained your birth. He said that you were born deep in Mordor, in the goblin city. An Orc of white flesh and hair black as night. Hearing that, I could only think of the she-Orc who was my captor-

Ursa's eyes fell from the letter for a moment. She remembered the wrinkled face of her mother. As little as she resembled her, Ursa had inherited her pale skin and dark hair. Among the unending variety of skin colours found in goblins, ivory-skinned orcs were not unheard of, but they were certainly rare. Her heart began to race madly knowing that Orison was a ranger. Her eyes returned to the letter.

I am sure you do not wish to know me. Aye, I am certain of it. Those memories are shrouded in darkness I have never been able to escape. Even so, if there is a chance that I am your father, I will see you if you wish. If you find me mistaken, please send my servant away and accept my apologies for this troubling dialogue. If not, then I would meet you. If I have angered you or offended you, I do apologize. Please do not punish the boy. If any should be punished, it should be I, the conspirator. I am grateful for your audience, oh great Queen.

Ursa began to roll up the letter.

He fears me. Even so, he sought an audience today.

Her mind was clouded. It had been so sharp the last few months. But suddenly, she was a small Orc again, utterly starving and living aimlessly in a frozen hut on the edge of Gorgoroth.

She looked at Hallas who seemed fearful of wrath and retribution.

Kindly, Ursa uttered, "I thank you for delivering this letter. I would go to see this man at once."

"I see." said the young man. "His illness should be passed by now. Ah, please forgive any insult by my master."

Hallas quickly planted his head onto the ground as he lay prostrate. It seemed that no matter how good-natured her reputation was, the people of the land still considered her a dangerous Orc. Then again, her reputation was also one of fire and a bloody claim to power.

Ursa said, "Please do not fear me. If what he says is true, then I am grateful. You must be tired from the journey. I would have you rest and eat as a guest in my house. Once you have eaten, I hope you will lead me to this man."

Slowly, the young ranger raised his head. Letting out a sigh of relief, he nodded to her, stating, “It will be done, Queen Ursa.”

Ursa rode upon her black stallion as it carried her swiftly across the green pasture and hills. The Witch Queen felt an aching guilt for vanishing on the eve of battle. However, she would not delay such an important meeting. She needed to see him. She needed to know. She had lived her entire life telling herself it did not matter, that she was better off not knowing. However, in that very moment, he meant everything to her.

"Father…" she whispered.

She wondered if she could call him that. If it were even true. Such a strange word. One that she never uttered aloud. One that so many took for granted. Ursa sighed and pulled on her reigns. Flanking her on both sides was a host of bodyguards. The young man, Hallas, tugged on his own reigns and made off at a brisk pace. If they wished to reach the edge of Marwen's domain before nightfall, they would have need to maintain such haste.

As the chirping of crickets filled the air, the small entourage of horses reached their destination. They had ridden deep into the woods, passing Queen Marwen’s castle and a nearby village. Only then did the Uruk reach an ancient path leading into a wall of pines and underbrush. Venturing onward, Ursa spied a house made of old grey wood and a hay roof. A horse was tied up nearby, onto what appeared to be a chicken coup.

Ursa dismounted, handing the reigns to a servant. She stretched her aching bones and panted hard. While certainly she was stronger than she used to be, her body was still easily fatigued by a few hours of horseback riding.

Hallas stretched his legs before hurriedly running to the door of the house. The young man hastily prepared to knock on it.

Ursa said, "Wait… I will knock."

"Of course," said the boy.

The half Uruk slowly strode up to the door and stared at it in contemplation. There was no denying she was afraid. Even if he sought her out, she did not believe he truly wished to see her. His seeking out Ursa was meant only to resolve his past. She could offer him no happiness. She would never be his daughter. If he saw her, he might reject her. He might become angered. Or perhaps, her very presence would sicken him, bringing back painful memories.

Ursa was never loved in her youth. In Gondor, her conception would have been seen not just as a tragedy, but as an abomination. In the land of Orc, it was a source of endless shame. To be a half-Orc was to live a half-life. You were branded by all other Orcs as an impure thing. While goblin folk seldom cared for romance, the union of Orc and man was distasteful to them. It was something to be hidden away even as its consequences remained evident as day.

Ursa was born of rape. She was born of her mother's twisted ambition and evil. Born of a land whose overlords deemed weakness to be snuffed out, encouraging only might above all reason, driving all to madness and violence. However, Ursa no longer hated herself. She had found someone who loved her, who thought she was beautiful and strong. She had come to love herself and found happiness that even the more fortunate would not know. And in time, Ursa came to understand that no matter her origin, her own life was no evil thing. Even so, she was afraid to see him. There was no escaping the knife that twisted in her stomach. The shame of what happened. The branding that marked her childhood. The fear of being rejected not just by her mother, but by her father as well.

Ursa's hand remained frozen as she considered turning away. In the end, it might be better if the subject was discussed simply over letter. There was no need for them to meet face to face.

No.

I will not run.

No matter where I came from, I am here. I will not live in shame.

Ursa's gaze was one of fire, and she tapped the edge of her knuckles against the door. She heard someone scrambling to their feet inside. They were knocking over items. In a moment, they had reached the door.

"Hallas?" asked a gruff voice. "Hallas, is that you?"

"It is I," said Hallas from behind her. "I have returned with Queen Ursa."

The door slowly opened up. Ursa's hand clasped at her chest before she froze entirely. Her heart was pounding madly as she awaited him. She could see the feint shadow of a man standing there. He moved a few inches forward and looked at her. He had long, ragged blond hair and an unkempt beard. He appeared to be in his late forties, although it was difficult to say.

"Queen… Ursa," he said as he prepared to bow.

"Please do not bow," said Ursa.

The man said nothing as he gazed at her. His eyes were frozen on her features, no doubt trying to comprehend her mixture of goblin and human traits.

She said, "I would speak with you… alone."

The man nodded and said, "Of course."

She walked in after him and shut the door. Outside her bodyguards were uneasy. Leaving her with a ranger, a warrior trained to slaughter Orcs, was madness. However, none would dare oppose her. Her order was absolute, spoken with the utmost authority and power.

"Please sit down," said the ranger as he poured her out a cup of mead.

"Ah…" he suddenly said, "Forgive me. I have no drink nor food fit for a Warchief."

She said, "Orison… I will gladly break bread with you. Only I must first know. I know the subject is… painful… but please tell me what you can so I can be certain."

The ranger poured himself a cup of alcohol and drank the entirety of it down. He then sat down and stared at the tabletop. His hands was clenched onto his cup. Ursa said nothing as she waited upon his words.

He said, "I was a ranger outside of the Black Gate. You must know that we have wrestled for control of the Black Gate for centuries. At times, Gondor claimed it. At others, the Orc took it back, even if not for long. After a Warchief of Udûn captured the Black Gate, he sometimes sent Orcs out to hunt Caragor or to capture men of the wall… made us slaves. One night, the Orcs swarmed us. It was so dark. It was raining. I still remember their shrieks, as they slit the throats of my comrades. I was dragged to a prison camp… into the land of shadow and ash. I do not know how many weeks I marched until I reached the goblin city. I was traded to a goblin woman of white skin and black hair who knew some words in Westron. I never learned her name and I never want to. She was cruel, even for an Orc. She had me bound and said I was to… she wanted a child… a strong half-breed."

He then gulped. For a minute, he did not say anything. Ursa did not dare touch him. She merely waited for him speak again.

Orison said, "I tried to escape. I tried to fight her but… I… I…"

Ursa said, "You need not say more than you can muster."

He said, "I’ll be alright. After it was over, she wanted to use me for labor. I found a few other slaves and put together an escape plan. She said she was with child, but my blood was needed again and again. I had to get away. We killed the guards and ran into the deep desert. Their hunters picked us off one by one. Their Wargs ripped us to shreds. Then Gondor answered. While I was prisoner, the rangers had taken back control. Many good men had lost their lives but the Black Gate was ours. They must have heard the war dogs and come to our rescue. However, I couldn't stay in Gondor. I was… ashamed. I took a horse and headed back through the gate. I rode into Núrn, knowing the tribes would accept me. Another man… a ranger called Herion, guilty of cowardice, followed me into exile. Perhaps we went to die. Perhaps we went to live. It doesn’t matter. I chose solitude. Sadly, the Orcs too were in these green lands. Herion died shortly after we built this house."

"His son… Hallas…,” uttered Ursa.

"Aye," said Orison, "I knew what I had to do. Trained him good like a proper ranger of Gondor. Like his father. "

"My lady," said the man, turning towards her now, "What do you know of your father?"

Ursa's eye fell upon him as she looked at his face. She could not see herself in him. Even so, she felt her vision becoming blurry. Her throat felt swollen and her stomach felt rotten.

She said, "My mother was an Orc… of white skin and black locks… by the goblin city, she purchased a ranger… to give birth to me. That man… escaped. Never to be seen again."

She began to choke on tears. She sniffled as she was overrun by all manner of emotions.

"It cannot be," she heard Orison say under his breath. He then quickly stood up and walked over to her. Ursa gulped and stood up. She faced him now as she saw a stream of tears run down his cheeks.

Without breath, she said, "I am so sorry for what she did to you. I wish I could be your daughter, not born of pain but of happiness. My mother was a devil. She hurt us both. Nonetheless, I do not strive to be as she was. I would never do something so awful. I have spent much time trying to save the men of Gondor… to free them from the bondage you knew. I do not know if you can look upon me without sorrow or hatred, but you are my father…. I… I…"

What could she say to make this better? To make it alright? Ursa was without words.

"Ursa…" she heard him utter.

His arms wrapped around her as he pulled in her up to his shoulder. Her eye widened with shock. She felt herself overcome by warmth.

He whispered, his voice breaking, "I do not hate you. I have a daughter. A wonderful daughter."

"You need not lie. If you feel disgust, I would know it."

Orison trembled as he said, "I cannot forget the pain, the torment of those days. Even so, I cannot hate you. I had many years to think upon it until the day came that I dared to wonder at your fate. Then I heard of the Orc Queen and I wished… Aye, I wished that you could be my daughter."

"Father…" she confessed, "I… I wanted to see you! Everyday! I was so lonely… and I would dream that I was with you on a hunt for game. Even though I was an Orc, even though you were a ranger…. I wanted my father."

She cried out into his arms. The cries of a little Orc who did not know love. Of an Orc that knew only shattered dreams she clung dearly to. Her father's tears fell against her back. Her long hair soaked up his tears as he wailed. At last, she pulled away and looked upon him again. With a bittersweet smile, she gazed upon her father. Orison wiped at his nose, and then stepped back to put his hands briskly on her shoulders.

"I have a fine daughter," he said. "A queen. A queen married to a hero amongst men, a ranger. You beared a child. You protected the free folk of these lands. How proud I am!"

Ursa said, "I am reminded again of my blessings. I have a husband who loves me, a daughter strong and healthy, and a father who found me."