Orc Creativity
Orcish poetry, songs, stories and funstuff

 

Poetry & Songs

Ballad of the Sorrowful Orc
Rather sad poem about how the orcs came to be

Milky Way
A Marching Song
Songs for after the seventh beer

Stories

Last Stone Seeing
An Orcish janitor has to save the world

Comics & Funstuff

Return of the Tolkien
What if Tolkien would return in our days? A comic

The One Coffee
One Rings are so last age

A really bad pun
[Don't click here. --Noel]

The Ballad of the Sorrowful Orc

When we awoke next to the lake
The stars above did shine
For them and us; we knew no ache
Before the long decline.

But when the Rider came and bid
Us all to seek the West,
We were afraid and quickly hid
And did not dare the quest.

And as Orome led away
Just every elf he could,
We stayed and in despair did stray
Through cold and houseless wood.

And as we sang of our woes
For dangers we not cared,
Then suddenly by cruel foes
We found us all ensnared.

Utumnos dungeons, mines and pits
Became now our home,
Where heart and soul were torn to bits
By hunger, frost and stone.

By Manwe on his golden throne
We were at all forgotten;
No longer any starlight shone
In cells all dark and rotten.

We grinded our teeth for long
Till they were naught but fangs,
And rough became both voice and song
Amidst the noise and tangs.

The skin grew green, the back was crooked
By Udun's toxic air,
Till no-one still could say we looked
Like Elves once proud and fair.

Utumno fell, but our folk
No longer recognized
Their brothers, called us evil Orcs
And much were we despised.

They killed our kin in numbers huge
And our homes were burned,
So Angband was the sole refuge
Once Morgoth had returned.

We fought his bloody wars for him
And scarcely we were paid,
And all we got from Elves and Men
Were strokes with cruel blade.

In War of Wrath, in Aman's camp
When Morgoth was all gone,
They pardoned every Noldor-scamp
But us they trampled on.

The ages passed, and blood was spilled
Too often to recall.
The Orcs each time did pay the bill
For Sauron's rise and fall.

And Fangorn stopped and spilled no blood
Of murd'rous Saruman,
But we lay bleeding in the mud,
He killed us one by one.

In hidden places now we dwell
Afraid of sun and Men,
In gloomy caves, resembling hell,
In muddy swamp and fen.

And there is no way back to where
The stars of old did shine,
Lost is Cuiviénen, once so fair
After the long decline.

© Bqggz, December 2002