Little hands rubbed the thick, mucousy muck from his eyes. The air was cold and moist. It burned his skin and his lungs every time he took a deep, shuddering breath in as he coughed up fluid and mud-like substances. Cold, foreign hands grab his wrists, pulling them away from his face. The freshly birthed uruk stood there, uncertain and awkward, as more hands turned him this way and that, raised his arms, grabbed and lifted one leg then the other, then finally something was jammed into his ears and scraped against his eyes.


    “-brat couldn’t hear a damn thing, they’re so clogged.”


    “That, or he’s deaf-”


    Deaf?He instinctively turned to the voices. His eyes were still sticky but he was, with great effort, able to slowly pry them apart.


    “He’s fine.See?”He gasped and flinched as something came towards him. He couldn’t quite see it, but hefeltits presence.


    “Guess he ain’t blind, neither.”


    Colours and shapes blended together. There were forms to be seen against the darkness, but he couldn’t exactly make sense of it. He screwed his eyes shut and growled as he tried to push away the scratchy thing that rubbed against his eyes once more.


    “Already baring his fangs to threatening stimuli.” He hissed and swatted as his cheek was pinched.


    “They’re making them grow up too fast… I remember when-”


    “Open your eyes, boy.”


    Something helped him pry his eyes open fully. His pupils constricted suddenly and painfully in the light. He immediately squeezed them shut and rubbed them with the palms of his hands. His wrists were grabbed again as he was ordered to‘open them’again.


    “Keep them open, lad.”


    The faces were familiar, somehow. Like their voices, he’s sure he’s seen and heard them since…forever.He wasn’t as uneasy as he was moments ago. The touches weren’t alien and prodding, but known to him and gentle. Warm against his clammy and bristled skin. His eyes flicked between faces, studying their features, looking into their eyes-


    “Perhaps the Dark Lord favours this one.” The voice was as scratchy as the thing that wiped his eyes but it took on a gentler tone.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    A thumb wipes some stray fluid that collected and streamed down the young uruk’s face. A means for the eyes to rehydrate and self-clean from the mud of the vats. Typical, unlike the eyes of this boy.


    The other vatkeepers could agree. Likey clear and amber-red with vertically slit pupils that constrict every time the pup blinks. The eyes, themselves, weren’t too unusual. Perfectly acceptable though quite uncommon. Few have the pride of their Lord and it usually is a sign of potential greatness. Should the boy live long enough to achieve such heights.


    “Get this boy something to wear! He’s going to freeze in Cirith Ungol’s winds.” He was gently pulled and led aside. He could still hear them talking quietly amongst themselves, even as the keeper that halted his movements told him to‘raise your arms’.


    “-orry for the lad-”


    “Won’t live to see-”


    “-don’t know that…”


    “Hold your tongues!”


    “Did you hear me, lad?” He blinked a few times.


    “Uh-?” A wet cough forced his eyes wide. A hardy slap was applied to his back a few times.


    “Spit, don’t swallow.” It was firm but not scary. He did and he immediately felt better.


    “Good?”


    “U-Uh-huh…” He spat again for good measure.


    “Good. Don’t spit in front of the captains. They always get the wrong idea about lads your age.” Another slap- no, a pat- to his back. Softer this time. He turned to look at the keeper.


    He’s old, or older, at least. Wrinkled and grey, scarred too. He looks tired but… happy? Maybe satisfied is a better comparison. He flinched then relaxed as his face was tipped to one side then the other.


    “I reckon you’ll be handsome when you finish growing into yourself.” He picked up a clean, rough cloth and ruffled his hair with it.


    He guessed his hair was long, because he felt the vatkeeper squeeze and wipe the cloth down the length of his back. It was a soothing gesture that the keeper repeated several more times. He felt his eyes grow heavy, along with his limbs. His eyes nearly slipped shut but reopened as he heard the vatkeeper chuckle behind him.


    “Once the captains look you over you’ll be able to get some rest, lad.” He nodded. Hewastired… A few more moments of silence passed before the keeper grunted to himself and spoke once more.


    “Hmph-You needed a name. Can’t go around calling you‘lad’or‘boy’forever, now can we?” The keeper tossed the damp and muck-covered cloth back onto a nearby table. He shrugged at first, but quickly nodded in agreement, excited.A name? Just for him?It excited him enough to fully wake him up.


    “What are you…? Ishgha?Hmph-A Nor?k? No, wait…”


    The vatkeeper helped the young uruk pull his arms through the holes in his shirt. He allowed him to stand alone as he observed him. Not proud… a little shy, even. He stood a little low but he wasn’t cowering. To himself but not submissive… His eyes, once focused on the vatkeeper, began to wander. Behind the keeper, to the other keepers attending to other uruks, around the cave walls, to the other boys freshly pulled from the vats-


    He took a keen interest in them. His eyes softened as did his sharp pupils. He peered around the side of the vatkeepers, standing on the tips of his toes to get a better look. He took a few strands of his still damp hair and began to tug on them, twiddling them between his fingers as he rocked forward and backwards from the balls of his bare feet to his heels.


    “H?ra…”The boy looked up at him, settling back down flat onto his feet. His heart jumped up into his ears. “Yeah, that’s your name, isn’t it?H?ra…”


    H?ra blinked owlishly as a large hand ruffled then smoothed his hair down.H?ra. H?ra… H-?-r-a…


    HeisH?ra…