As the Third Age of Middle Earth began to end, Sauron’s forces began their march upon the forests of the elf’s, the mines of the dwarf’s, and the cities of men. While the conquest of the West was known to all, more fighting took place in the North. One of the earliest victories for Mordor was the forest of Mirkwood. But, being so far away from the Eye of Sauron, a rebellion was destined to happen. And rebellion did happen, but not by elf, dwarf or man. It was by a goblin of Moria. A goblin named Dorja, who united many races against the Dark Forces and showed the elves and dwarves the power of unity.


The last of the Orc slaver drivers fell under the stolen swords of Dorja and the goblin slaves.  Dorja watched for a moment as the lookouts were silently decapitated, leaving the Orc camp nearby unaware of the rebellion. Dorja turned to see the eyes of every goblin in the camp on him. His people needed a king, so he would give them one.
“The Orcs have been removed from this camp!” The small horde howled in approval, “But we are not safe yet!” The howling stopped, all was quiet, “We must leave this place! Soon the Drolken* will notice the silence of the mills, and come here armed to the teeth! We must leave and make a new camp away in the forest!” The goblins nodded, it was a fairly logical plan. Suddenly, five goblins broke from the main group and ran to a building near the exit. The returned with a carts full of building supplies, and multiple slave trolls armed with wooden support beams for clubs. Dorja pointed at the obviously self-proclaimed Builders. “We shall move southeast of here, the opposite direction of the camp. Protect these Builders with your life!” The goblins roared in response and the entire horde, with Dorja leading, raced into the forest.

Fifteen minutes of running, the troops at the back of the group heard footsteps approaching fast. Dorja turned, a fourth of the horde behind him. He ordered the rest to keep moving while they stayed to slow down the followers.
“Archers! Ready your bows!” A small group of goblins with makeshift bows pulled them tight in the back. The enemy was two groups of Orcs, with one being wiped out immediately by the archers as soon as they came into view. The other horde met their end at the blades of the warriors. When the group got to the main body, they had entered a small clearing, devoid of Orc and Mirkwood Spider. Dorja summoned the Builders.
“You, make a fortress for our base!” As the chosen Builder ran to do his task, three others claimed to have found perfect areas to dig out tunnels, which Dorja agreed would probably be needed. He than ordered the last Builder to begin making some lairs among the southern border of the clearing, as more soldiers would be needed to take Mirkwood. As the buildings began to take shape a horn rang from the north.
“Orcs! A fourth of the camp comes to fight us!” Dorja quickly calmed the panicking hoard.
“If those Gradulrs* think they can take us, we should show them the error of their ways!” He raised his sword in the air, “Freedom or Death!” The horde went wild at his words, “Archers! Ready your bows!” As the horde came into sight, the numbers looked grim. Four groups of Orc warriors, two more of Orc archers, and three more of Half-Troll lancers. Such odd promised death, but the horde simply roared boldly at the odds. The Orcs hesitated for a second, but remembered that they had more troops and continued the charge. Suddenly, the Half-Trolls, who were close to the archers, about faced and mowed down the archers. The warriors were distracted, long enough for the Goblins to come down on them, and so the Orcs were slaughtered.
When the slaughter was over, a Half-Troll, larger and brawnier than the others, walked over to Dorja. He thumped himself on the chest.
“Grogge,” his voice was deep and rough. Dorja’s knowledge of the Troll language was shallow, but he understood most of what Grogge said, “Brothers… home need. Orcs… lazy. Work us to bone in mills. Want… freedom. And meat… lots meat…”
Dorja nodded, then heard moving wheels behind him. He turned to find his builders behind them, their buildings done. He pointed to the Builder that made the lairs, “Make some fissures for our new allies! The three who made the tunnels shall make battle towers around the northern and western edges of the clearing!” he turned to the last Builder, “Make a treasure trove, so that we can upgrade our gear!”

More Half-Trolls came as the camp began to enlarge, and helped the Goblins with building. After the treasure trove was finished, Dorja was startled to find a giant spider roaming into the clearing. And not just any spider, but Shelob herself! She stopped right in front of Dorja. Silence filled the clearing, with the archers ready to fill Shelob with arrows if she looked like she would attack. The spider queen raised a single leg. Dorja’s heart raced. She tapped the leg on the ground. But the taps weren’t simply random, there was a definite, and familiar, beat to them. Suddenly, it dawned on him:  Tunnel Code!
-My children cry out to me! They were promised the forest for their own, but instead they were slaughtered and forced to work! My lovelies demand blood! Orc blood, no matter how rancid!-
Dorja bowed, “As you wish, Orc-Eater. But we request this clearing belong to the Goblins,”
-So be it. The light is to strong for my sweet dears’ eyes anyway,-
With that the northern edge was soon full of Spiderlings, Dorja had to request a spider nest be put in a gap between the two new fissures.

When the last buildings were finished, a Mordor horn bellowed to the north and west.
“They come for us! Goblins! Trolls! Spiders! They come for us all! But, little do they know, they come to their doom! They know not of the fear we shall inflict upon them!” He turned to the north, where the defensive towers had already begun firing arrows, “Ready that fear! Keep it sharp and cold so it will pierce their rotten hearts and chill them to the core!” Troll and Goblin roared in agreement, while Spiders hissed their assent. Dorja was suddenly lifted up by Shelob and placed on her back, but he jumped off, “Let me use my own legs to hasten the enemy’s death!”
The first thing seen by the Orc as they passed the defense towers was a line of various creatures charging at them, with a single Goblin in front. The survivors of the towers had only time to cry in alarm before they were sent back into the mud from which they came. The Orc forces were slain before the fight even started.

The forces of  Dorja crept through Mirkwood silently. The Orc camp was only an Orc pit and two small lumber mills, with a single group of warriors guarding it. When the camp was completely surrounded Dorja cried out, and his army charged on the unexpecting Orcs. In moments, the camp was in flames and the Orcs were dead. The last remaining Orc tried to escape, but became caught in a web, where he struggled vainly until Shelob came.
Sarumon watched the grim spectacle coldly, until he gave out his judgment, “The darkness is victorious,”


The Spiders of Mirkwood feast on Orc tonight. The vile creatures driven from their lands. The new Goblin leader Dorja now looks south, to his home: Moria. However the Goblins of the Misty Mountains are in his path. To reclaim his home, he must make another alliance. An alliance with dragons!