I've been on this outpost a long time, I know every corner better than I know myself. Over a year ago, a lot of Orcs were exiled here. A lot of labor for dirty work. Things are moving faster, but something strange is happening to me.
I can smell something. I walk down the corridors. Taking my polished weapon. I wander the courtyard. There's that smell everywhere. Outpost is soaked in it.
What is this smell doing to me? Do I remember… Do I remember… Аnything? No.
Something from the past carries this smell. I catch it, trying to remember, but it escapes my clawed fingers like smoke. Nasty, like a forgotten dream, memories hover near me and hide from me. That smell.
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-Who is this old orc?
The cloaked figure asks his squire. There's that strange odor coming from the direction of the stables again, and it's making the nazgul nervous again.
-He? I don't know, probably one of the snaga who arrived.
The orc answered his master, looking at the frail figure. Down by the stables, a slave was carefully brushing his master's black horse. The animal was clearly not happy about it, but the slave was diligently doing his duty, trying to calm the agitated stallion.
The wind frolicking today carried from the stables up to the balcony, ruffling the hood of the black cloak.
The snaga? He brought so much disturbance to his “life”? All this time the source of the smell was an old orc?
-Bring him to me.
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I don't think they would have recognized each other, but such a meeting would have been interesting.
I think Ratbag, with his ability to adapt to any conditions, could live to a ripe old age. So it's possible that this terrible change in Talion's life happened while the sly bastard was still alive.
And I think it's an interesting topic, I mean a nazgul has poor eyesight but a good sense of smell, how would a “young” nazgul react to something from his former life?
Could there be a memory of it in his mind?
Would he remember what it was like to be alive?
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Since the professor didn't leave us this information, my headcanon is Orcs live a bit longer than humans, about 150 years (Very doubtful, but... maybe?...). They are a mutilated form of the immortal and eternally beautiful elves - if I were Morgoth, I'd do my best to make these delicate flowers begin to wither as quickly as possible. What could be more fun than showing your creator that his immortal creatures could be mortal and they would be mortal.
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Dear ficwriters, here's an idea for a fic
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