Goblin-Town

"Fuck me," Jacob shouted loudly. The orc looked at him in bewilderment, crossing his legs and holding his arms defensively in front of his body. "Master Narzug, it's not that I don't want to... but the Great Goblin has precedence, as you know." Now it was Jacob's turn to look puzzled; there were always things that books and movies didn't show. Luckily, Jacob managed to calm down in the meantime and asked the orc to show him the way. "First, observe and survive," was Jacob's motto. "What's going on anyway? I was just working in my smithy," he asked, bullshitting to cover up any possible mistakes on his part. The orc replied excitedly, "Larry and Grommash were on guard at the back door when 13 dwarves and a little something laid down to sleep in the reception hall. People have no manners anymore. Anyway, the two raised the alarm and got some of the others. They captured them all together, although Larry was unfortunately struck by lightning and charred. One of the dwarves had a big sword and now the Great Goblin wants to know if it might be a special sword. Master, you know how the Great Goblin collects everything that shines and has value."

Jacob's first thought was again, "Fuck!" From his knowledge of watching the movies and frequently reading the book, he knew this must be Thorin and his company, including Bilbo fucking Baggins. And Gandalf would soon join the rest, and together they would have a joyful hacking and slashing fest with the orcs. Or worse, it is the world of the book, where Gandalf would cast a little magic and all the orcs would be burned without a chance of escape. One thing was clear to Jacob: he definitely didn't want to die, even though he still held a small hope that it might wake him from the dream. But he didn't want to pin everything on that small hope. He probably couldn't ignore the Great Goblin's summons either. In the end, the orcs might just kill him on the spot because the Great Goblin ordered it or something similar...

After a brief consideration, Jacob decided to follow the orcs but to definitely make a run for it as soon as an opportunity arose. He followed the orc out of the small cave he had called home for a week now and saw the vast wide world outside his door for the first time. A 3-meter high and wide corridor stretched endlessly into the mountain. He could also see a small group of orcs with drums and a litter waiting in front of his door. Each one uglier than the next, they stood there and looked at him with wide eyes. "Hurry up, you maggots! Master Narzug is in front of you, bow down and then off to the Great Goblin or you'll feel my whip," barked the orc Jacob had already met. Jacob watched with an emotionless expression as the orcs threw themselves at his feet and guided him to a litter. "At least I don't have to walk and can't get lost," Jacob thought and climbed onto the litter. With a loud crack of the whip, they set off, and the orcs began to run.

Jacob asked the orc who had been in his cave, "You, what's your name?"

"Master, you honor me by wanting to know my name. I am called Tragar. Tragar Three-Leg to be precise," Tragar replied and posed a question himself: "Master, I heard a new song during the prisoner transport earlier. To my humble knowledge, it was composed directly by Larry the Bard before his untimely death. Would it bother you if we sang while running? We will run even faster than before, Master!" With a wave of his hand, Jacob gave his approval and continued to play the arrogant orc. In his mind, he was formulating a plan to survive the immediate future.

But he was soon interrupted when the orcs began to sing with their squeaky and barking voices:

🎶🎶

Clap, snap, the black crack

Grip, grab, pinch, and nab

Batter and beat

Make 'em stammer and squeak!

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down in Goblin-town

With a swish and smack

And a whip and a crack

Everybody talks when they're on my rack

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down to Goblin-town

Hammer and tongs, get out your knockers and gongs

You won't last long on the end of my prongs

Clash, crash, crush and smish

Bang, break, shiver and shake

You can yammer and yelp

But there ain't no help

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down in Goblin-town

🎶🎶

Although crude and crooked, Jacob had to admit the song had something to it. Better than the Taylor Swift concert any day. After the song ended, Tragar asked, "Master, do you have a song request? No? Play the same song. Alright, the same song... here we go."

🎶

Clap, snap, the black crack

Grip, grab, pinch, and nab

🎶

.

.

.

Jacob stared at him in amazement but said nothing further, still trying to come to terms with the whole situation. "Is this really a dream? I've been here for days now and have even slept and dreamed. Can one dream within a dream? What if I am really here and my soul or whatever has transmigrated into this world? If I now remain an orc until the end of my days should i call myself Narzug now. Never to return to the beautiful world of the 21st century. Never see my friends and family again. Must I really spend the rest of my existence as an orc? And best of all then as one of the evil beings in this world. A world were the heros suceed in the end. I don't even want to know how many orcs died over the course of the books."

Jacob was carried deeper and deeper into the mountain. Over high, narrow bridges and past steep cliffs. The worst thing for Jacob was that nothing built by the orcs looked like it could even support one orc. Yet here, the orcs ran singing and dancing over the bridges. Twice one even fell into the abyss, but the other orcs just laughed at the unfortunate one and kept running. The fastest was Tragar; after all, he used three legs to run. Jacob remained calm the entire time, even when the orcs sang the same song for the tenth time. He was completely lost in his thoughts. He concluded that whether he was now trapped in a dream or reincarnated in this world, he should behave as if it were the latter. Better to be alive and sorry. For now, he was Narzug the master smith, and if he woke up, he would still have enough time to be Jacob again. He had no time for sentimental feelings anyway, as his life could be at stake in a few moments. Middle-earth might look picturesque in the movies, but for orcs, it was a real horror film. Behind every corner lurked a ranger, a Rohirrim, or a dwarf wanting to hack you into pieces, or an elf would just shoot an arrow between your eyes from 5 km away. "No one here seems to have second thoughts for the orcs. I should start a petition against Tolkien in Goblin-town. For the rights of the orcs!" Jacob, now Narzug, joked and was at peace with himself for now. "First solve the problems outside, then the problems within me." With these words, he turned his attention to his surroundings.

Before him, the cave passage slowly widened, and more torches hung on the walls for illumination.

Slowly, Narzug saw more orcs in his surroundings. They passed by a small pond, and Narzug stoped his carriers with a hand signal. He jumped off the litter and walked toward the pond. Just before his feet get wet, he stopped and looked at his reflection in the water. Compared to the other orcs around him and his knowledge from the movies, he would estimate his height to be between 1.90m and 2m. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Unlike the orcs from Goblin-town around him, he stood upright and would compare his physique rather to that of the white orc Azog from the Hobbit movies. Muscular and not an ounce of fat on his body. His green-black skin covered his entire body. On his head, he had bristly hair that falls to his shoulders. Narzug took off his leather apron and throwed it to one of the smaller orcs: "Take it back to my forge. If you lose it, I'll make a new one out of you!" he commanded and continued to examine himself. Besides the self afflicted scar on his forearm, several scars adorned his upper body. A particularly large scar ran across his chest. "A little deeper, and I would have needed a different body," Narzug thought. He found his large upper arms particularly impressive, forged through years of work in the forge.

Finally, with a bit of hesitation, Narzug examined his face. "Please, not the orc general from the third Lord of the Rings movie," he repeatedly prayed silently before mustering his courage. He looked into two large, glowing green eyes. His face was not that ugly for an orc, he thought. Prominent cheekbones and a broad jaw. A fine, elegant nose and pointed ears, suggesting a possible elvish ancestry. "Maybe orcs were really bred from elves," he mused, staring at his reflection for a while. When he was satisfied, he turned around and jumped back onto the litter.

"Let's move on; we don't want to keep the Great Goblin waiting!"

Shortly thereafter, the tunnel opens, and Narzug found himself on a bridge leading to a throne. The throne stood on a raised platform with an attached wooden stage. The throne room was a massive cavern, its walls densely populated with thousands, nearly a million, wooden structures where the orcs live. Sitting on the throne was an unbelievably huge and fat orc.

"So this is the bastard who calls himself the Great Goblin. The movies really captured him well."

"Ah, my dearest orc, master blacksmith Narzug, come, come, I want to show you the latest addition to my collection," he called out, excitedly beckoning Narzug. Narzug, unsure of how to react, bowed slightly, dismounted his carrier, and walked toward the Great Goblin. The Great Goblin rummaged behind himself and pulled out a large sword from who knows where. The fat orc stood up, and Narzug, to his horror, saw that the Great Goblin used smaller orcs as cushions. Hiding his disgust at the massive folds of fat, Narzug examined the sword and displayed his movie knowledge to the Great Goblin: "Do you know what sword you are holding?! That is Orcrist, also known as the Goblin Cleaver. It is a legendary sword of the Elves from Gondolin, bearing the typical marks of elvish craftsmanship."

Orcrist had a long, elegant blade crafted in the elven style. The blade was forged from high-quality steel and was adorned with elvish inscriptions and ornaments, emphasizing its origin and significance. From the books, Narzug knew that these engravings were not merely decorative; they also symbolized the sword's power and heritage.

The hilt of Orcrist was artfully designed and wrapped in leather to ensure a secure grip. Narzug held Orcrist in his hand and immediately noticed that it was perfectly balanced.

The guard was also decorated, protecting the wielder's hand from enemy attacks. It was elegantly curved, harmonizing with the overall design of the sword.

"Truly one of the coolest swords ever to grace the movie screen," thought Narzug, continuing aloud:

"As you surely know, Orcrist is one of the most feared swords among us orcs, as it was particularly effective in the wars against us. It should glow blue when orcs are nearby.

In summary, Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver, is a magnificent and deadly sword with a rich history, a truly splendid collector's item."

Horrified, the fat Great Goblin staggered back until he was once again sitting on his orcish cushion on his throne: "That's the Goblin Cleaver! Get rid of it, I don't want to see it anymore! Throw it into the abyss! THROW IT AWAY!"

Narzug quickly decided: "Great Goblin, if you wish, I can forge a new weapon from it for you. No less powerful, but without its cruel history."

Panic immediately seized him—would this change the history of The Hobbit? What butterfly effects would result from this? But it was already too late, as the Great Goblin laughed and immediately agreed: "Very good. VERY GOOD! Thank you, Narzug, that's why you're my favorite orc. Very well, now bring the prisoners! I want to see which of the dwarves I will use as my sextoy today.Maybe I'll use two?" Quickly, Narzug seized the opportunity to be far away from Thorin, Gandalf and company and asked the Great Goblin: "I'll go to my forge and start working on the sword. Please have something brought to me to eat, if that's okay." With the Great Goblin's approval, he withdrew and let himself be carried back to his forge. But before Narzug left the throne room, the Fatty called out once more, "No sword! Make me a mighty axe from the Goblin Cleaver. So I can cleave my enemies with it too!"

Then he only heard the Great Goblin begin to sing:

🎶

Clap, snap, the black crack

Grip, grab, pinch, and nab

Batter and beat

Make 'em stammer and squeak!

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down in Goblin-town

With a swish and smack

And a whip and a crack

Everybody talks when they're on my rack

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down to Goblin-town

Hammer and tongs, get out your knockers and gongs

You won't last long on the end of my prongs

Clash, crash, crush and smish

Bang, break, shiver and shake

You can yammer and yelp

But there ain't no help

Pound pound, far underground

Down, down, down in Goblin-town

🎶

And then the Great Goblin added his own verses to Larry's masterpiece:

🎶

"Bones will be shattered"

"Necks will be wrung"

"You'll be beaten and battered"

"From racks you'll be hung"

"You will die down here and never be found"

"Down in the deep of Goblin-town!"

🎶🎶