Phartonya quickly began practicing standing tall. He stretched every morning. At night he hung off the cliffs, clinging to a tree branch, his feet weighted with stones. He stayed there suspended for hours, beads of sweat sliding dirty trails down his face and neck. He hurt, but he welcomed the pain. He thrived on it.

His frame began to change, his shoulders and arms bulged and his back tapered down to a narrow waist. His flesh began to sag in his midsection as his fat melted away. Fearful of looking weak he layered mud and stones to his midsection allowing it to dry before putting on his armor.

The orcs were gathering to march into battle. Phartonya woke with excitement in his belly as he dressed for the fight. He began walking to his post and noticed the other orcs giving him wide berth. He was easily a foot taller than the tallest. Its working he thought. He sneered and swaggered as he walked about. He cast his eye from side to side daring any to challenge him. The other orcs slid their eyes away. He grunted as he joined in the marching formation. He stood out like a dirty ugly sore thumb.

Saruman looked over his army. He frowned at the orc that stood out in the middle of his group, Saruman looked again, he was larger than any of the other orcs. He narrowed his eyes and beckoned his war lord Sharku. The orc hurried over to his master and leaned in while the wizard spoke.

"Who is that and why is he in the middle of my army rather than in the front where he can be seen? Look at him you fool, just the size of him will send the mothers of Rohan to the hills clutching their babes to their breasts! " his voice started mild but mounted with fury as he spoke, shouting at the end.

"I will move him at once" Sharku replied with a snarl as he turned heel and marched towards the ranks.

Saruman nodded stroking his long white beard and moved along contemplating the upcoming battle.

Phartonya's heart raced as he strutted to the front of the line. He felt the change in status as he left his unit and joined the elite fighting force at the front. His simple club was replaced by a sword and an axe. The metal fairly hummed in his hand as he sheathed the sword and slung the axe over his shoulder. He was ready to fight. The march began.

The battle was messy and the grass quickly flowed with a sea of blood and carnage. The scent of death soon hung like a cloud across the valley. Phartonya raced forward from one opponent to the next, cutting down the few that tried to fight rather than run.

The fourth solider rammed his helmeted head into the breast plate of Phartonya's armor. Phartonya felt a crack as the hardened mud broke. It began to crumble even as he grabbed the solider and twisted his neck, killing him instantly.

Soon Phartonya's armor began to sway and bang against his body as he ran, stoned and mud tumbed out tripping him. He plunged ahead killing everything in his path. In a haze of blood lust, Phartonya ripped the armor from his body and flung it to the ground.

Two solider seized that moment to run at him from different sides. Artimus ran from the right leaping high at the orc. He tackled him grabbing him across the chest as he fell. Angelus ran from the left, tucked low to the ground he launched himself at Phartonya's knees.

Phartonya felt his insides explode as his spinal cord snapped like a twig. He howled, spit and blood flying from his mouth. He raged as he lay there dying. By lengthening his back, he made it weaker. He growled realizing thay had be been hunched over the hit wouldn't have killed him. The light began to fade from his eyes and his screams died down to a choking gurgle as he watched his old unit march forward into the battle field.