Loud voices in a foreign tongue could be heard by the 
Elves of Rivendell, as they rested peacefully in their
secret valley.  Arwen looked about in fear, eyes twitching
and neck turning to search for the owner of the horrible
tongue she heard.  Arwen turned to Elrond, Elrond
turned to Elladan, and Elladan summoned Glorfindel,
the mightiest warrior the Elves possessed.

Suddenly a scream echoed through the private guest rooms,
reaching from the top of the valley to the stables, to
the home of Angdil the Shopkeeper, to the lurking place
of the Rivendell Thieves.  Two elven guards stumbled in,
large spears protruding from their midsections, their
blood red on the white stones of their formerly hidden valley.

Orkish war drums rang from above, as hordes of Sauron's Minions
poured through the valley, raping Elven maids, slaying Elven
children, choking the life from Elven warriors.  Glorfindel
sprang forth with Elladan and six Elven Rangers at his back,
prepared to face those sent by Morgoth himself.

"Can we face these mighty foes?" asked Glorfindel, questioning
his power for the first time.

"It is possible..." said Elladan, as he mounted his well 
trained horse and began to march forward.
Just as Elladan uttered these final words, a small, boil-covered
uruk slid from the shadows, sliding his dirty, blood-encrusted
barbed fang into his back and penetrating his elven heart.
When the orc removed the fang, the heart continued to beat,
and the young uruk showed it to Elladan before he collapsed to
the ground.

This slaying of his kin enraged Glorfindel, and he leapt at
the orc, who nimbly fled into the orkish ranks.  

"Charge!" shouted Glorfindel, leading his Elven Rangers
into the hordes.  

However, Glorfindel quickly realized his mistake.  Though he
was a powerful one, the orkish masses overwhelmed he
and his backup surprisingly quickly, calling lightning from
the sky upon them.  Glorfindel attempted to flee, but received
a blow from the Huge, Black Mace, wielded by a particularly 
menacing looking orc with a fierce look in his eye, backed
by four of the largest uruks ever to roam Arda.
As Glorfindel fell, his ranks panicked, and quickly surrendered
to their uncountable enemies.

Glorfindel's corpse was hung from a pole as the orcs slayed
any remaining survivors; however, they let the Elven Rangers
lie in wait of their judgement.

Finally the five huge uruks stepped out of the fray of
the slaughter, and stood before the Elven Rangers, weapons
drawn.  The orcs then slayed them, one by one, until only
one was left.  This Elf they drenched in the blood of his
comrades, and decorated his horse with the intestines of
Glorfindel himself.

This Elf was allowed to ride free, pursued only by the arrows
of the horde, until he rode into the west with many an arrow
protruding from his hind-quarters.

These orcs fed upon the meat of the Elves for weeks, until finally 
large clutter was heard.  The massive uruk wielding the
Huge, Black Mace sniffed the air-"I smell me a dwarf!" he exclaimed,
and leapt to his feet in a bloodthirsty frenzy.  His four 
comrades were still feasting, but his blood was boiling and
could not wait for them.  This huge orc charged out of Rivendell
and hid near the ford west of it, awaiting his adversary that he
knew would soon arrive.  However, it was not just one, as he
had expected.  Barliman Butterbur lead Jack Olby, the Chief
of Tharbad, and the Commandant of Fornost.  However, this
massive orc felt no fear, he mearly blew his horn (enraging
him even further) and lept forth into the well organized ranks.
The uruk slayed many, and as he was becoming overwhelmed,
the other orcs in the valley that used to be known as
Rivendell (It was now referred to as 'Mornost', or Dark Fortress
in part orkish and part the language of the pure of heart,
as a way of mocking the armies of the West) began sniffing
the air, and they too smelt the blood and heard the disgusting
voices of the pukes.  The orcs charged forward, and with every
step the stifling smell incurred their wrath more and more.
The great uruk slayed Jack Olby, the Chief of Tharbad, and the
Commandant of Fornost, but Barliman Butterbur was giving
him abit of a fight.  However, when his four uruks arrived at his
side, Barliman was merely another corpse, the only difference
being that he held the key to Bree, a city in the West,
past even the lair of the Necromancer, near the home of the
friendly witch.  The hordes of houndreds of thousands of orcs
marched westwardly until they reached a small fort near a bridge,
where they once again smelled pukish blood.  A small portcullis
is all they barred them from entry, but it was quickly broken
down by the magic of Sharmak, one of the nearby shamans.
The guards were slain, and Burgas, the innkeeper, was
hung by his own shirt, and his teeth were worn on the necklace
of Mammoth.

Westward they marched, over mounds of corpses of hardened rangers,
young rangers, hobbit children, and small, defenseless women.
Orkish just prevailed, and the orkish way is fight or die.
Bree was unlocked and stormed by night, though by this time
one could not tell if it was night or day, for Sauron himself
was watching over these Marauders, providing darkness wherever 
needed.  Bree, Fornost, the Shire, and the Dwarven Blue Mountains
were left in ruins.  All that was left was the Grey Havens, a
magical town in which no Orc had never entered.  Noone knew how 
to get into this magical town.  As the hordes rested outside
the gate, trying to discover a way to enter, the almighty Phier
stepped forth from his domain of above.

"This is not how it was meant to be!" boomed Phier.

"Cross us and you are next, pathetic one!" snarled the biggest
of the orcs, still carrying his massive Mace.

Phier pulled back.  "That is not what I meant! 
You are not supposed
to be sitting out here! Let me open the gate for you!" 
Phier moved his arm, and the seemingly unbreakable gates shattered
to pieces, raining shrapnel on the guards inside.  

The orcs ran through the streets, slaying all, but they knew
Cirdan was inside somewhere, and they could not locate him.

Finally a small orc named Grang snuck into a small, hidden room
which lay behind a pair of doubledoors.  In here Cirdan rested,
looking hopeless as could be.  However, Grang had a better idea
than to slay Cirdan.  Grang put on the clothes of an Elf, and 
approached Cirdan.

Luckily, Grang had picked up some words of the Elven tongue during
his raiding.

"Cirdan take Grang across dat water on dat ship?" Grang asked.
"Ah! A friend! Of course, follow me!" the pathetic elf murmered,
blinded to Grang's falsehood by his own depression.

"Get on this ship, and it will carry you to where you want to
go!" Cirdan said, after leading Grang through a dark alley to
a hidden dock.
"Hey, cummere!" Grang yelled to his comrades, and dozens of orcs
followed his voice and instantly appeared, leaving their 
destruction behind for a chance at fresh blood.
"I got me a ship that leads to where dem ainur are made!" Grang
shouted, and the orcs roared their approval.
Cirdan's sad eyes looked at Grang, as if he could not believe
he had been deceived.  Grang looked at him, laughed, and slayed
him in a single stab from his deadly fang, nearly the same
way as he had slain Elladan so long ago in the hidden valley.

War drums were beaten, and the orcs boarded the ship, slaying
those on board, and sailed to the island to which it lead.
The orcs then drank from the water of the Ainur, and felt
themselves growing in sthrength.  Soon they could see the
panic on the faces of the Ainur, and realized they were walking
among the gods which held the highest might! After slaying them
and robbing their valuably-decorated carcasses, the orcs
began playing with their new skills, and soon had risen Sauron
to their level, destroyed all the major puke cities, and darkened
all of Arda so that their friends the trolls could roam as
they wanted! Trolls ate Elven, Dwarven, Human, Halfelven, and
the especially delicious Hobbit corpses until all that was left
was bones.  These trolls then boarded the ship in Grey Havens,
and soon none were left on Arda!  The newly found Ainur began
creating more evil races, such as raising the dead humans
from the ground and turning them into evil, powerful spellcasters.
Pukes were vanquished forever, and Sauron prevailed, and always
will, as there are none left to oppose His might...