This is just a little fill-in-the-blanks for To Find Our Long-Forgotten Gold (and therefore won't make any sense unless you've read it). There are a couple of things in here that probably won't make sense unless you've read Concerning Hobbit(s), too. I estimate it'll be about four chapters. Hope you guys enjoy! And thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapters of Concerning Hobbit(s) - I apologise for not replying yet!
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Orcs are angry now two days. Two days since orcs found village burned, no men left. Nothing to kill, nothing to eat, no new snagas to work. Many rabbits, many deer, but orcs want more. Want man-flesh. No man-flesh to be had. Orcs are angry.
He is alone now, carrying packs. Yesterday, other snaga tried to escape. Today, he is alone. Packs are heavy. No wargs. It is good, no wargs. If wargs, perhaps orcs would eat warg. Perhaps they would eat him. Better carry packs alone. Safer.
When day comes, he sits by tree, close in to orcs. Keeps head down. Makes self small.
Not small enough.
What about that one, says One-Eye. Maybe it'll run too.
It won't run, says Big Orc. It knows what'll happen if it tries.
Yes, he knows. Saw what happened to other snaga. He knows.
No harm in being sure, One-Eye says. One-Eye finds rope, ties it to neck-chain. Ties other end to tree branch. Pulls tight. Collar tight against neck. He stands on toes to breathe.
Orcs laugh. Won't run now, says Six-Finger.
Big Orc comes. Leans down. Breathes into his face. He stands on toes. Tries to breathe. Tries not to breathe.
It won't run anyway, Big Orc says. I've had it for years. It's never tried. I told you.
One-Eye is new. Big Orc doesn't like. He keeps eyes down, hopes Big Orc hates One-Eye more than he wants to laugh.
Yeah, you told me, says One-Eye. I just want to see how strong it is. Very strong, you told me.
Khozd shrakhun, Big Orc says. Not angry now. Proud. Strongest of the whole filthy lot.
Won't have any trouble, then, One-Eye says. Maybe it'll get taller.
Orcs laugh. Big Orc leaves him be. Time for sleep.
He stands on toes. Does not sleep.
No food, next night. Orcs move fast. No food, no water. Head is blurring. Move, move, move. One step, two steps. Must not fall behind.
Day comes. One-Eye quarrels with Blacktooth. Orcs are pleased. Enjoy fight. Blacktooth rips off One-Eye's ear.
Call him One-Ear now, Big Orc says. Orcs laugh.
No-one looks at him. Small enough today.
Orc-call comes when sun is still high in sky.
Orc-call is far away. Distance doesn't matter: orcs wake. He wakes, too. Always wakes for orc-call.
Big Orc jumps up. Calls back. Call is loud. Birds fly away.
Run, Big Orc says. Prey.
Orcs run.
Running is not easy. Feet still hurt from standing on toes all night. Orcs are tall, hungry, angry. Run fast. He follows, carries packs. Falls behind.
Orcs are easy to follow. Grass is trampled, smells of rot. Orc-call ahead. He runs. He is too slow. Orcs will be angry.
He hopes orcs catch prey. Catch prey, stop running. Busy with prey. When orcs are finished, less angry, less hungry. He hopes they catch prey.
Finds orcs in cave. Sun is still up. Orcs have not found prey. Still searching.
Stuff's here, says Six-Finger.
One-Eye smiles. Hungry smile. Dangerous. Slow, your snaga, he says.
Big Orc is angry. Kicks him in bad knee. He falls down. Eyes water.
Faster next time, Big Orc says. Understand?
He nods. Stays down. Big Orc stamps on knee. He grunts. Loud enough that Big Orc knows he hurts. Quiet enough that Big Orc won't want more.
Stupid snaga, Big Orc says. Grabs chin. Spits in face. He keeps eyes on ground.
I can smell em, Blacktooth says. I'm sure of it. Come on.
Big Orc drops chin. Kicks him under jaw. He bites through tongue. Keeps mouth shut. Swallows blood. Can't let orcs smell blood.
Big Orc turns to Blacktooth. Let's go, he says.
Orcs search all night. Sure prey is still nearby. He works until no more work. Sits in corner. Far into cave. One-Eye thinks he'll run. Needs to show he won't run.
One-Eye wants to be big orc. He hopes Big Orc kills One-Eye. Dark outside. Could kill while searching. Thing is done, no help. Orcs happy, plenty of food. If he was Big Orc, would kill One-Eye.
Big Orc doesn't come back. Morning comes: no Big Orc. No One-Eye. No Blacktooth. Six-Finger, Stinker, other orcs sleep. Head is thick, dizzy - no food, no sleep.
He sleeps.
He wakes up. Orcs are fighting. Sword fight. Still daylight. Big Orc, he thinks. Big Orc fighting One-Eye.
He is wrong. Big Orc is not here. Three orcs dead on ground. Six-Finger fights yellow-haired man. Man is short. Prey, he understands. Prey is here. Prey is fighting.
Stinker roars, jumps up from sleep. Lunges forward, then falls back. Someone else now. Man-child. Man-child with little sword, slashing at Stinker. Shrieking.
Stinker picks up man-child. Throws child against cave wall. Child falls, doesn't move.
Prey is fighting. Three orcs dead. Yellow-Hair killed three orcs. May kill two more. May kill all orcs.
Big Orc will come back. See orcs are dead. Prey gone.
Big Orc will be angry.
Child moves. Groans.
Big Orc will be angry. Yellow-Hair is too strong. But child is weak. He can fight child. Show Big Orc. Big Orc not as angry.
Child sits up. Picks up sword.
He attacks.
Child is small, thin. Bird-boned. He hits child in face. Hits again. Maybe he can kill child. Hits again.
Child lifts hands. Pushes. Head swims. Stomach shifts. He is falling. Keeps hitting. Head hurts. Eyes are blurry. Tries to push man-child off. Scratches child's cheek. Child cuts him with sword. Cuts arm. Blood. He has no sword. Kicks child, crawls away. Tries to get up. Head spins.
Yellow-Hair shouts. Runs forward. Two swords. He steps back. Stumbles. Six-Finger is dead. Stinker is dead. Big Orc has not come back. Yellow-Hair has swords. Killed five orcs. Yellow-Hair will kill him.
Then, child. Child steps forward. Stands between him and Yellow-Hair. Yellow-Hair stops. Speaks. Man-language. Yellow-Hair is angry.
Child speaks back. Voice is high, fluting. Like bird. Man-language is thin. Soft. Child speaks, raises hands. Stands between him and Yellow-Hair.
Why?
Yellow-Hair still angry. Pushes child aside. Looks at child. Pushes. Looks. Yellow-Hair looks at child. Doesn't look at him. Doesn't look.
He runs. Jumps. Lands on Yellow-Hair. Knocks him down. Tries to get up, run. Cave mouth is open. Run, find Big Orc.
Yellow-Hair too strong. Holds him down. Rolls him over. Grabs hair. Yellow-Hair will kill him.
Better, maybe. Yellow-Hair killed orcs fast. Big Orc will not kill fast. Better. Maybe.
He waits. But Yellow-Hair stops. Stares at him. Sword is down. Other sword on floor. Stares and stares.
He doesn't understand. Doesn't need to understand. Other sword is on floor. Yellow-Hair stares. Stupid, maybe. Doesn't matter. He has no sword. But he has teeth.
He bites Yellow-Hair. Kicks. Crawls. Yellow-Hair lets him go. He grabs for sword. Child snatches sword, shouts in bird-language. No matter. Cave mouth is empty. He can run.
He runs.
Doesn't reach cave mouth. Leg is bad, knee hurts. Yellow-Hair is faster. Knocks him down. Grips him, not tight enough. He slips away. Finds knife by Six-Finger. Yellow-Hair between him and cave mouth. Yellow-Hair is strong, but bad fighter. Killed five orcs, but cannot kill him. Looks away often. Grip is weak. Bad fighter.
He has knife. Maybe he can kill Yellow-Hair.
Child speaks. Yellow-Hair looks away. He lunges. Swings knife. Almost kills Yellow-Hair. Could have killed. Turns to swing again.
Yellow-Hair moves fast. In front of him, then behind. Yellow-Hair's arm around his neck. Thick, solid. Eyes go dark.
At least it is fast, he thinks. Closes eyes. At least it is fast.
He is not dead.
Someone is talking. Bird-language. Not orc.
Who is talking?
He opens eyes.
Yellow-Hair. Leaning over him. Talking.
He is not dead. Why?
Yellow-Hair smiles. Grabs him on shoulder. Grip is weak. Doesn't hurt. Yellow-Hair killed five orcs. Why is grip weak?
Yellow-Hair stands up. Holds out hand. Speaks, bird-language. Words mean nothing. Float away. Thin, like clouds. Maybe Yellow-Hair is thin, too. Insubstantial. Weak grip, weak mind.
He takes hand.
Yellow-Hair turns to look at child. Always looks at child. Same mistake, over and over. Weak mind.
He trips Yellow-Hair. Runs. Cave mouth is empty. No-one to stop him. Run, find Big Orc. Show him prey. Maybe punishment is not too bad. Big Orc easily catch prey. Yellow-Hair is weak-minded. Child is child.
Shouts behind him. He runs. Trees are close.
Knee hurts. Buckles. He stumbles, almost falls. Head spins. Blurs.
Trees are close. Close. Steps away. One. Two.
Heavy thing hits his back. He falls, weight on top. Yellow-Hair. He fights. Yellow-Hair is stronger, heavier. Grip not weak now. Yellow-Hair speaks. Not bird-language. Deep, solid. He does not understand.
They fall. Downhill, down, down. Rolling over and over. Head spins. Stomach lurches. He fights. Does not fight well. Yellow-Hair wins.
Now, he thinks. Now Yellow-Hair will kill. Yellow-Hair sits on chest, holds down arms. Now he will kill.
But Yellow-Hair does not kill. Does not want to kill. Now he understands. Yellow-Hair wants to steal him.
He fights. Struggles. Cannot let Yellow-Hair steal him. Big Orc will punish. Big Orc has no use for easily stolen snaga.
He fights, but Yellow-Hair's grip is strong. Strong, but still does not hurt. Yellow-Hair is strong, but weak. Stupid. Big Orc will kill Yellow-Hair.
Big Orc will punish him for letting Yellow-Hair steal him. He has no bruises, only sword cut. Big Orc will punish.
He spits in Yellow-Hair's face. Maybe Big Orc is watching. Maybe Yellow-Hair will get angry. Leave bruises.
Yellow-Hair does not leave bruises. Looks at child, but does not loosen grip. Pulls him to his feet. Pulls wrists behind back.
Wrists behind back. He is stolen snaga. Stolen snaga and no bruises.
Big Orc will punish.
They walk. Walk all day. Yellow-Hair holds his arm. Never lets go. Wrists tied behind back. He is stolen snaga.
He keeps head down. Hair in face. Watches.
Yellow-Hair is short. Broad. Not quite man. Grip is strong, but weak. Does not hurt. Yellow-Hair looks at him often. Sometimes speaks. He doesn't answer. Doesn't understand bird-language.
Child is not child. He watches. Looks close. Child has man-face. Not child. Tiny man. Bare feet. Follows behind. He does not understand.
They walk all day. Head is blurry. Stomach hurts. Four days now, no food. Two days no drink. Thoughts are strange. Thick. Shadows in corners of eyes.
Sun is high, then low. He does not remember where they walked. How will he find his way back? How will he find Big Orc?
Big Orc will find him. Big Orc always finds prey.
River. There is river. No river, then river. He stops. Shadows dance on water. Light hurts his eyes. Head is spinning.
Someone is talking. Not-child. Not-child is talking. He doesn't understand. Head is light, floating away. River steals his breath. Heart is frozen.
Yellow-Hair wants him to move. He stays still. Maybe Yellow-Hair will punish him now. Give him bruises. Better bruises than drown.
Yellow-Hair does not give him bruises. Yellow-Hair pushes him. He is frozen: heart, lungs, legs. He falls. Water in eyes, mouth, throat. Choking. Hand in his hair. He fights. Yellow-Hair was waiting. Waiting for river. Waiting to drown him.
He is drowning. Drowning, drowning. No more thoughts. Mind is frozen. Only drowning.
Hands on arms. Pull him up. Set him on his feet.
Yellow-Hair tried to drown him. Now pull him up. He turns. Yellow-Hair is frightened. Frightened.
He doesn't understand.
Big Orc will kill you, he says. You are too weak. You cannot win. He will find you.
Let me go, he says. I'll tell him wrong. I'll tell him you drowned in river. Let me go.
Yellow-Hair and Not-Child stare. Frightened. They don't understand him.
But no-one is holding him.
He sees it in their eyes. They see it in his. No-one is holding him. He is too slow: Yellow-Hair lunges, grabs arm. Strong grip now, almost hurts.
He looks down. He is stolen snaga.
Sun goes down. Yellow-Hair stops. Men travel at day. Sleep at night. He knows this. Men are strange.
Yellow-Hair and Not-Child argue. Yellow-Hair holds his arm. Not-Child points at him. What are they saying? Bird-language. Thin, even for angry words. They are arguing about him. Whether to kill him. When to kill him. Maybe.
Yellow-Hair makes him sit by tree. Ties his wrists to trunk. He cannot reach knots. Cannot move from tree. This, he understands. Tied to tree. At least he is sitting down.
Yellow-Hair is angry. Angry when he ties knots. Why is Yellow-Hair angry?
He has done something, made Yellow-Hair angry. What has he done? He wishes he knew bird-language. Doesn't know what they argue about. Doesn't know what he has done. How can he know what he should not do?
He keeps eyes down. Yellow-Hair stares at him. He waits. But - nothing. Yellow-Hair does not kick him. Does not hit. Does nothing.
Then something. Yellow-Hair takes off coat. He braces himself. Yellow-Hair likes him to wait. Yellow-Hair knows longer wait is worse than shorter. Now he knows this. He knows one more thing. He braces himself.
Yellow-Hair leans forward and lays coat over him. Wraps it close. Sits back.
Nothing else.
He keeps eyes down. Frowns. Coat is not punishment. Coat is warm. Soft. He is wet, cold. Coat is warm. He has never worn coat before. Coat is so warm.
He does not understand.
Yellow-Hair speaks. Watches him. What should he do? He can do nothing. Tied to tree. Cannot give back coat. Cannot - cannot wash coat, cannot mend coat. Why coat? Why does Yellow-Hair watch? What should he do?
He keeps eyes down. Not-Child speaks. Yellow-Hair only watches. Waiting is worse. Longer wait is worse than shorter. Why does Yellow-Hair wait?
And then, Yellow-Hair gets up. Draws sword. His heart lurches. Now? Now it is time? He looks up. Knows he should not look up. Cannot help himself. Head is light, floating. Now it is time?
Not-Child touches him. Touch is weak. Does not hurt. Not-Child is weak. Yellow-Hair is strong, but weak. Not-Child is only weak.
Touch is warm.
Yellow-Hair lays sword on ground. Walks away. He stares. Should not look. Should keep eyes on ground. But Yellow-Hair walks away.
He sits. Hands are tied. Warm coat. Warm touch. Sword is on ground. He does not understand.
Not-Child watches Yellow-Hair. Looks at sword. Speaks. He looks at Not-Child. Not-Child is tiny man. Bare feet. High voice. Weak. What is Not-Child?
Snaga. Not-Child is snaga.
Yes. No collar, no chains. But bare feet. Too weak to fight. Yes, Not-Child is snaga, little snaga. He does not know why Yellow-Hair wants weak snaga. He does not know anything about what Yellow-Hair wants.
Little snaga sees him looking. Pulls hand away. Cold now, where hand was warm. Little Snaga moves away.
He watches. Little Snaga is weak. Leaves sword on grass. Does not hold. Little Snaga is foolish. If hands were not tied, he could take sword. Kill Little Snaga. Run, find Big Orc.
Hands are tied. He can do nothing.
Little Snaga stands up. Stares up at sky. Dark now. Stars, moon. Stars are cold, bright. Always same stars. Many stars here. Almost as many as in desert. What is it like, among stars?
Little Snaga speaks. Stares at stars. Talks in bird-language. Who is he talking to? Maybe talking to stars. Are stars listening? Do stars speak bird-language?
No. Bird-language is too thin for stars. Star-language is cold and bright. He hears it sometimes, when he is sleeping.
He watches Little Snaga. Head is still floating. Stars shine and spin. Little Snaga speaks on. Talking to stars.
Then Little Snaga turns. Walks to him. Crouches down. Speaks. He watches. Tries to understand what Little Snaga wants. But bird-language. He does not understand.
Little Snaga speaks again. Slow, short words. Still he does not understand. Little Snaga points at him, wants something. What does he want?
I don't understand, he says. Hard to speak. Tongue is dry, throat is dry. He looks at ground. He understands nothing at all.
Little Snaga does not speak to him again.
Little Snaga talks to stars. Talks and talks. He has never heard snaga talk so much. Snaga should be silent. Only make noise when master wants to hear it. But Yellow-Hair is not here. Maybe Little Snaga talks now so that he can be silent when Yellow-Hair comes back.
What is he saying to stars? Bird-language goes on and on. Like singing. He watches. Throat is dry. Stomach cramps. Head begins to drift. Eyes blur. Bird sings, on and on.
Then, Yellow-Hair is back. He did not see Yellow-Hair come. Yellow-Hair is not there, then he is there. It is not good. He opens eyes wider. Should see more. Pay more attention.
Little Snaga is still talking. He wants to warn Little Snaga. Be silent, master is here. But Little Snaga will not understand him. He stays silent, looks at ground.
Yellow-Hair does not punish Little Snaga. Does not seem to care that Little Snaga is not silent.
Yellow-Hair kneels in front of him. Yellow-Hair has bowl. Bowl is filled with water. Yellow-Hair lifts bowl, presses to his lips. Speaks.
Yes. This game he knows. This game he understands.
He keeps eyes on ground. This game he knows. He plays well. Big Orc always pleased. Other snagas always lose game, always drink first. But he is only player here. How long should he play? He knows Big Orc, knows how long to play before losing. He does not know Yellow-Hair.
Maybe Little Snaga will play game. He can beat Little Snaga. Little Snaga is weak.
Yellow-Hair puts down bowl. Reaches for his neck. He is ready. But no pain. Yellow-Hair holds his chin. Stares at his face. He wishes hair was covering face. Looks at ground.
Yellow-Hair speaks. What does he want? Picks up bowl. Presses it to lips. Speaks. Same thing, over and over.
Water is cold on lips. Throat is dry. Tongue is dry. Eyes are dry.
Big Orc always pleased. Khozd shrakhun is strong, he says. Can play the longest. Always beats other snagas.
Water is cold on lips. He keeps mouth closed. Clasps hands behind back. Squeezes until bones shift. Does not drink.
Yellow-Hair sits back. Takes bowl away. Lips are still wet. He could lick lips. Will Yellow-Hair see?
Yellow-Hair is talking to Little Snaga. They are not looking at him. He could - he could-
Little Snaga looks at him. Picks up bowl. Yellow-Hair is staring now. He cannot lick lips. Stomach rolls, cramps. Lips are wet.
Little Snaga presses bowl to his lips. He stares at bowl. This is new game. He does not understand.
Little Snaga speaks. He looks at Little Snaga, then at Yellow-Hair. He should not look. Must look. He does not understand bird-language. Maybe if he looks, he might understand. How new game works. What Yellow-Hair wants.
Looking does not help. He looks back at ground.
Little Snaga speaks again. He does not understand. Yellow-Hair gets up. Goes away. Now it is only Little Snaga. Little Snaga holds bowl to lips. Speaks.
He does not know new game. Has never played. Water is cool against lips. Heart beats loud in head. Water is cool. Water is. Water.
Little Snaga tips bowl. Water against skin.
Water.
He opens mouth. He is not strong. Opens mouth. Water on tongue. Water is cold, clear. No grit, no mud. Sweet. Sweetest water. He tries to stop. Cannot stop. Water. Cannot open mouth wide enough. Water.
Water feels like cool touch, sliding down through body. Mouth, throat, lungs, heart, stomach. Water flows through veins, arms, legs, mind. Maybe he has lost game. Maybe tomorrow drown.
Water is worth it.
And then: bowl is empty. No more water. Little Snaga lays bowl down. He stares at it. Drops collect. Three drops still in bowl. Fingers twitch. If hands not tied, he could take bowl. Drink three drops.
Hands are tied. Fingers twitch. Bowl is empty.
Little Snaga speaks. Calls out. Yellow-Hair comes back. What now? Was he wrong? Did he play game wrong? Why did Little Snaga call for Yellow-Hair?
Yellow-Hair takes bowl. Leaves.
He watches Little Snaga. What is game? He wishes he could speak bird-language, ask Little Snaga. Snagas should not speak to each other. Orcs do not like. But Little Snaga speaks to him. Little Snaga speaks, Yellow-Hair does not punish. Can he speak to Little Snaga?
No. Cannot speak. Does not speak bird-language.
Little Snaga sees him watching. Speaks to him. He does not speak back. Does not speak bird-language. If he spoke, he could talk to Little Snaga. Ask him about game. About coat. He does not speak.
Yellow-Hair comes back. He sees this time. Is ready. Eyes not so blurry now. Looks at ground.
And then, Yellow-Hair is gone, and bowl is full again. He stares. Bowl is full. What is game? Game is impossible to understand.
Little Snaga raises bowl. He leans forward, pulls against rope. Tries not to. Should wait. But water. But water, water in bowl, cold and clear. He leans forward.
Water tastes even better now. He drinks, deep and long. Water is better, best. Water is best.
Little Snaga pulls on chain. No. He is wrong. Drinks too much, too fast. Greedy snaga.
He stops. Closes mouth. Bowl still half full. He could open mouth, finish water.
But no. Cannot be greedy. Already too greedy. Maybe Little Snaga will not give water again. Maybe Little Snaga will be angry.
Little Snaga takes bowl away. Puts down. Still half full. Speaks. Bird-language is thin, hard to hear when angry. But Little Snaga does not sound angry.
He tries to see. See Little Snaga's face. Face does not look angry. Little Snaga hits him. Hit has no force. Open palm. Weak. Why hit, no force? Feels only warm. Is it punishment? It does not feel like punishment.
Little Snaga gets up, goes away. Bowl is still on ground. Half full. Fingers twitch.
Hands are tied. Cannot reach.
He will remember water. He thinks about it. Sits by tree, watches Yellow-Hair and Little Snaga. Thinks about water. Remembers how it felt. Cold and clear on tongue. Spreading through body. Remember this, he tell himself. Everything. How it felt. How it tasted. Keep in head, keep in mind. Not forget.
Maybe tomorrow drown. Water was worth it.
Little Snaga comes back. Takes bowl. Empties water. He watches. Keeps head down. Watches water drain away. Little Snaga goes back to Yellow-Hair. Comes back again. Bowl is full.
Bowl is full of meat.
He stares at bowl. Meat smell drifts. Stomach cramps. Mouth is full of saliva. He swallows. Swallows again.
Little Snaga picks up piece of meat. Holds it up. Speaks. Bird-language is thin, high. It is question? Maybe. He stares at meat. Looks at Little Snaga. Nothing on face to help him understand. He nods. Does not know question. Only nods. Hopes it is right.
Little Snaga leans forward, holds out meat. Speaks. He wants to snap. Use teeth. Snatch meat from Little Snaga's hand.
No. Already too greedy, lost water. Must not also lose meat. Must not make Little Snaga angry.
He opens mouth. Little Snaga puts meat on tongue. He closes mouth. Chews.
Meat is hot. Tender. No bones. Brown, not black. Juices run down throat. He is shaking. Teeth clack together. Hard to chew.
He keeps meat in mouth as long as he can. Wants to taste it. But cannot keep long. Stomach cramps when juices hit it. Needs to swallow meat.
He swallows.
Little Snaga speaks. Holds out more meat. More. Holds out more.
He opens mouth.
Little Snaga gives him all meat in bowl. All meat. Stomach is full, warm. He cannot remember last time stomach was full. Water, food. Whole body is warm under coat. Little Snaga speaks to him. Again and again. He wants to speak back. Wants to ask. What can he do? What can he give?
He wants to warn Little Snaga. Big Orc is coming. Big Orc always finds prey. Big Orc will not kill fast.
Stomach is full, warm. Little Snaga speaks, is not angry. He wants to warn Little Snaga. But no bird-language. No words. Big Orc is coming.
He does not want Little Snaga to die.