The Shrimp

Pushkrimp the Shrimp was a pathetic Uruk. This he knew well. Small, scraggy, face that even the blind can tell is ugly. It's why he never made waves. No sirree. Pushkrimp went to his work each and every day thankful that the other Uruks could hardly be bothered to want his job.

Plus hearing the slaves working this farm scream when he put the whip to them made each and every day so much better.

He was in his happy place, whipping the shrahk out of human bigger than him when everything changed.

A huge gauntleted hand smashed into his face, throwing him to the ground. Pushkrimp looked up in horror at the enormous silhouette standing over him, almost big enough to be an Olog, but when his eyes adjusted it revealed an Uruk. An Uruk more beautiful than any Pushkrimp had ever scene before.

Surely even the elves lack such beauty as this bronze god above him.

"What do you think you are doing?" the Uruk demanded in a voice that sounded like a mountain top ascended, a keg of grog all to his lonesome, like caragors fucking during a volcanic eruption.

It was a voice that encompassed all things manly and awesome.

"Ma-ma-my job!" Pushkrimp stuttered in response.

"Who taught you to do this?" The godling demanded once more.

"I-I taught meself!" Pushkrimp answered.

"I thought as much." The Uruk spat, "In all my years I have never seen such a low down, pathetic, and poor showing."

The Uruk bent down and ripped the whip from his hand, "Now watch closely."

The Uruk cracked the whip with seemingly no effort, but the thunderous smack upon the big human's back and his subsequent squeal worse than anything Pushkrimp had ever wrought from him showed the truth of the matter. Twice more the Uruk demonstrated the high art of the whip before handing it back.

"Show me." The Uruk commanded.

The Uruk's motions were burned into Pushkrimp's mind. His stance, his form, the lines of his body, the shine of his lustrous hair. Pushkrimp copied it all with every fiber of his will and delivered a satisfying thwack with far less effort than before.

"Good. Again." the Uruk barked the order.

Crack, Crack, Crack.

Pushkrimp found his stride and delivered three more painful smacks.

"Good." The Uruk nodded, "Remember that the slaves exist to do the hard work. What purpose do they serve if the master must throw out his back to get them to perform?"

"Thank you for your teachings, Great One." Pushkrimp fell to his knees and bowed his head.

"Great One?" A particularly disobedient slave shouted, "There is nothing great about you vile creatures!"

Pushkrimp rose to punish the impertinent speaker with his new technique but the Great One stopped him.

"Just what I hoped to find today." The Great One laughed revealing a jaw full of brilliant fangs and teeth, "A human with his dignity still intact. Be free human."

Both Pushkrimp and the human agreed for the first time silently, both dropping their jaws.

"Run along now, human. Go frolick in the fields, be gay and merry." The Uruk commanded with a flick of his wrist to shew the man away.

All eyes were on the man as the Uruk reached out and pulled his slave collar apart with his hands. The man - quite unsure of himself till this point - fled as fast as he could. He got forty yards out when a flying dagger buried itself in the base of his skull.

"It would appear that he could not bare the strain of freedom in such a harsh and unforgiving world." the godly Uruk mused, "Let that be a lesson to all of you!" he spoke louder to all the slaves of the field Pushkrimp lorded over, "Men are weak. Their bodies frail, their strength fails. Mankind needs Uruks to protect them from the harsh reality of Middle Earth. To shelter and nurture them. To keep them safe from the predations of the many… many dangerous creatures out in the world, just out of sight, yet braying for blood. So work hard. Lest ye be abandoned to thy well deserved fate like this poor soul."

The Uruk strode to the man and grabbed him by his ankles dragging him to a tree were he hung him up, letting the blood leak out of the wound in his neck.

"Watch closely and listen." The Great One commanded again, "And remember this. The only true tragedy… is waste."

With a white toothed grin the Uruk flayed and butchered the man. The weeping of the slaves nearby made it hard to listen to the Uruk, but Pushkrimp committed every word to heart as the Great One explained the various ways to cook up the organs, the cuts, even the joints and bones.

Truly this Uruk was a god.

Over a scrumptious dinner, a meal so far above anything Pushkrimp had ever tasted that he wondered how he could have ever thought of anything else in his life as food before this, the Uruk explained the various changes to be made, Agrarian Best Practices he called them.

Pushkrimp would see to it that each and everyone was carried out, but also found his job far easier in the days after the godlike Uruk visited his farm. The charisma of the Great One had moved even the humans, lowly as they are.

Truly that Uruk was a god.