Chapter III Unwelcomed Guest
Lady Celebrían, fair daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, had seemed a precious jewel, as fine as the autumn twilight. She had been a loving soul and had been beloved by those who knew her, adored by Lord Elrond and her children most of all. Elladan and Elrohir, naturally passionate spirits, had seemed tamer in their mother's presence, softened by her tranquil voice as she had regaled them with stories and songs. No one had dared to imagine harming her or seeing her harmed. So the bold attack by Orcs on the road to Lorien had shocked the most seasoned warriors.
For days, she had suffered. Orcs hold no love of Elves, save torturing them. By the time her sons had slain the pack of beasts and liberated her body, the poison had already wrought its black magic on her. Celebrían never again walked the mortal world with the brilliance of yesterdays. Nightmares had plagued her as much as her bodily wounds, and so she had been driven to depart for the Undying Lands, never to return to Middle-Earth.
In memory of their mother, the twins had vowed to hunt and kill all Orcs—all beasts that caused suffering in the world. Their vengeance came fiercely and swiftly upon the heads of every foul creature they met, a merciless hammer striking down their foes.
Elladan, Elrohir, and a small company had long ago sworn to remain on Middle-Earth until all the land had been cleansed. None anticipated sailing to the Undying Lands, but such was their loyalty to their campaign. The company had fought alongside Elassar during the final War for the Ring, but their vigilance continued long after the Enemy's forces had scattered and hid in the shadows.
From the south, they rode to Imladris for one of their rare and brief visits. Along the way, they encountered a band of Rohirrim, the golden-haired horse riders who were close friends of the brothers. Three of the fifteen horses bore no riders, and the Elves approached the Men, asking:
"What news, o' noble horse riders? For you ride nowhere but home, three horses with bare backs."
The leader rode closer to the Elves and replied: "We tracked a group of Orcs headed north toward Glanduin. Nine ran on their own foul feet, while two rode the backs of their Wargs."
The Elves appeared quite unsettled, for the Orcs had headed toward Lord Elrond's realm.
"Good Sir," began Elrohir, "tell us, have you slain them?"
"I fear not all," replied the Rohir. "We cut down two Orcs and injured one of the Wargs, but we lost three of our brothers during the combat. Eight scattered east to the mountains, while the other Warg rider fled, though I know not where, but severely injured—of that I am certain."
The brothers glanced knowingly at one another. Then Elladan said, "I fear that our father must now wait for us." He bowed his head at the Rohir. "The Peredhil give thanks, Men of Rohan. May your fallen comrades find peace in the halls of their fathers."
"Thank you, great Foe-Hammers, but I caution you: four of the Orcs were not the typical stock. They belong to that abominable race that walks during the day and looks like Men, disturbingly so. They are the Great Orcs, Uruk-hai they call themselves, but no matter the name, they are foul and twice as clever as their smaller kin. They are far more tenacious, too, and deadly. We recognized one of them, a beast that had cut down our friends during the War. The rest may or may not be his kin."
"All the same," said Elladan, "they cannot keep in this world for long. We shall slay whatever we find."
"Then with that, we pray that your Fair Lady keeps you safe, and we bid you a fond farewell."
"Fare well, lords of Rohan," replied the Elves, and they bid their steeds ride with the speeding winds toward Rivendell and any foe that dared to lurk near that haven.
Against Glorfindel's wishes, Norgash leapt from his bed, snarling and pacing in agitation, running his hands through his knotted hair.
"How the hell am I supposed to fight off all these buggers?" he growled. "I should've just let 'em all take me when they had the chance—and poor ol' Mauhúr—gar! He needn't get involved, tough as he is. Dunno why I didn't set him free sooner—"
"Will you… will you calm down?" Glorfindel begged firmly, dodging the Uruk as he paced about, trying to grab him and set him down. "The whole of Rivendell will hear you and—"
"Let them…" snapped Norgash, halting. "Let 'em have me—hear me snarlin' like the beast they think I am—no, that they know I am!"
Glorfindel frowned, on the verge of glaring at the upset creature. "Are you finished? Huffing like an anxious child, bidding the entire world fall upon you and end you? Now sit—sit down!" he commanded, forcing the Uruk on the edge of the bed. "Listen to me! You are alive! You could have been left for dead or struck where you lay, but the warriors saved you. They chose to save you, and that was no mean feat. Now I face great risks in defending you, just as you risked your life to save me. So swallow your forsaken Orkish pride, and heed me if you wish to keep drawing breath."
The Uruk frowned challengingly and slowly crossed his arms. He huffed through his nose and eventually relaxed, an ear perked towards Glorfindel.
"The reason you live yet is due to your knowledge of Sindarin. The Lords of Rivendell know not your origins, but you must convince them that you are no threat now.
"Now we must clean you and make you presentable. I shall find a habit that fits you, and you shall walk and talk as if you are an elf."
"Great," groaned Norgash, and he sighed. "All right, what else?"
"You will not be able to wield a weapon of any kind; not even so much as a butter knife without arousing people's fear. You will also need an escort with you at all times."
Norgash's jade eyes widened. "All times?"
The elf-lord nodded. "The reason is two-fold. I trust you, but my brothers are still wary. Likewise, I do not trust my brothers round you, no matter how harmless you are to them. Even young Dúlinion, who defended you in your unconscious state, cannot help you. Therefore and of course, I shall take responsibility over watching you."
"Even when I sleep?" asked the Uruk.
"Yes, of course."
The Uruk thought for a moment, smirking slowly and deviously. "Oh, melindo! But how do I know you won't slip me anything? Try to take advantage of me while I sleep? Oh, ravisher!"
Glorfindel smiled. He was indeed the same Norgash, as stubborn and humorous as ever.
Then the elf remarked, "As much as I enjoy your joking, Norgash, I must ask that you not refer to me as such before the ears and eyes of others. Even if you were not the creature that you are, such conduct between males is greatly discouraged by Elves. Brotherly kissing is permitted, but such acts of… bonding are forgivable only on the condition that Lords and Ladies have parted because of War, after which we must ritually clean ourselves."
"Harrumph! Well, you people certainly have had me fooled, way all you look alike until the trousers and the skirts come down."
Glorfindel chuckled. "Some men have said the same. Oh, and one other rule—do keep that vulgar humour to a minimum. Elves are not without our own form of bawdy talk, but we tend to reserve it for private conversations among very close friends."
"Ah, ah! Lemme guess," said Norgash. "I ought to not use it at all, if I want to make a good impression. At least, not with anyone who ain't you, right?"
Glorfindel smiled brightly and leaned close to Norgash, their faces nearly touching. He grabbed his hand and said, "Come! I shall have a bath drawn and shall prepare your clothes. The Council of Elrond will announce its decision regarding you today, and I believe that you have the right to witness it."
"Sounds delightful," replied the Uruk with a roll of his eyes, and he clung tightly to Glorfindel for support, still aching as they walked through the halls.
Meanwhile, the company of the Peredhil rode swiftly north. As they had feared, the Men of Rohan had not been mistaken—Orc and Wolf tracks pointed in the deliberate direction of Imladris, one of the last havens for Elves on Middle-Earth.
"How bold!" said Elrohir with disgust, shaking his head. "The beasts have no respect for the boundaries of the Free Peoples, least of all Elves."
Then the company headed further until the tracks became muddled, as if a great battle had suddenly occurred. The charred remains of a lesser Orc lay on the ground, picked at only by the heartiest of scavengers. Several sets of tracks scattered toward the nearby forest and mountains, while one set headed toward Lord Elrond's realm.
"Whatever it was," began Elrohir with disdain, "it would not have flown far. The warrior patrols of Rivendell are fierce, and even if the creature by some strange chance evaded them, our father's protective influence is far greater than some yrch."
"Then let us continue home," replied Elladan. "I feel confident that the beast received what it most deserved. We shall worry about the rest of his band in due time."
Elrohir nodded in cautious optimism, but the slightest inkling of uncertainty tugged at his spirit. Though cowards by nature, Orcs were wily, and like a cornered cat, a single Orc could prove very dangerous if confined during a pursuit. The Great Orcs were an even greater concern, for though they did not roam the night as adeptly as the lesser din, they had sharper wits and sharper skills than most of the smaller Orcs. If even one managed to escape within the boundaries of Rivendell…
Elrohir shook the woeful possibility from his head. "I pray that we not see them so soon," he whispered and urged his steed forward to join his band.
Norgash sat silently to one side as the Elves drew hot pales of water into the room. He watched them with lazy eyes, but neither race engaged the other in eye contact. Dúlinion stood by his side, though, silent at the bidding of Lord Glorfindel. "Norga—Elenfëa has been through a most traumatic time," he had said. "You need not exhaust him with your host of questions."
Unfortunately, Dúlinion's questions danced on his young tongue like jubilant butterflies on summer's morn: "Whence came you? Who are your family? How many years have you? How many wars have you seen? How came you upon Lord Glorfindel in that forbidding land? How much Sindarin speak you? For how long? Were you once an elf?" and so on, so forth.
Of course, quite a number of elves desired to know more about Norgash, not that any dared confess it. Those who did vocalise their curiosity noted they were curious out of fear. Had Elves still been captured over the years and turned into Orcs? they wondered. Who among their kind had been captured by the traitorous wizard Saruman?
Before the young elf could break his vow of silence, Glorfindel appeared with new bandages, some salve, and clothes. The elves had finished filling the bath and adding healing ointments. They bowed as the prince-lord dismissed them. Then he set the items upon a table and approached Norgash.
"Dúlinion."
"Hm?"
"You may leave."
"Oh!" The elf awoke from his trance and stumbled to the door. "Oh! Wait, are you certain you need no help?"
"Thank you, my friend, but we are fine for the moment," and then he waved a dismissive hand. The young warrior bowed and shut the doors as he departed. Then the elder lord turned to his charge, smiled, and said in Sindarin, "I hope that he did not trouble you."
Norgash grunted and replied in Westron, "Oh yeah, little chatterbox, he was. What was this like, and what was that like? Blah, blah, blah…"
Glorfindel chuckled. "Just remember, Norgash: pedo Sindarin minui."
Norgash sighed and rose and began to strip. Glorfindel opened the windows in the meanwhile, letting in the warm morning air.
"The Council is still in session, apparently," he noted. "I can only hope that this is a sign of good—ah!"
As soon as the elf had rounded to glance at Norgash, he averted his gaze. The Uruk cocked his head and asked, "What is it? What?"
"I… I… That is to say…"
The Uruk snarled and placed his fists on his hips. "Don't tell me you're that prudish. I'm sure you've seen another male's parts without jumpin' out of your skin."
"Of course!" Glorfindel squeaked at an octave higher than usual. "It is just that… well, you being an Uruk and all…"
"You people stripped me down yesterday—"
"I know, but—"
"—so don't tell me that I doth offend—"
"It is just that you appear…" he stopped, peaking cautiously over his shoulder.
"Look what?"
"You look…" He murmured a third word.
"I look what?"
"You appear… arisd…" He murmured again.
"What?"
The prince-lord faced him and shouted, "Stimulated!" thereupon slapping his hands over his mouth.
Norgash raised both of his hairless eyebrows and glanced down. Then he gazed back at Glorfindel and asked, "You're kidding? Just 'cause I've got bigger bits?"
Glorfindel focused on the Uruk's jade eyes. He tried to focus. Norgash's proportions certainly were not monstrous. Nevertheless, the elf could barely muster the ability to answer. Finally, the Uruk erupted into laughter. "The little Zanbaur's never seen big bits! Hahaha!"
The elf flushed brilliant scarlet. He was accustomed to seeing other males unclothed. Elves were modest but had no problem undressing before members of the same sex. However, he was unaccustomed to seeing anyone with such endowments! They were not ponderous, but they certainly were above average and rather well-formed for a creature such as him.
The Uruk continued to chuckle as he immersed himself in the hot and stinging healing water. He hissed and growled as he eased into the bath, sighing as he slowly relaxed.
When Glorfindel finally recovered, he picked up a tall vial and a small chair, setting it behind Norgash and sitting. He poured the oil into his hands and worked it into Norgash's hair. The Uruk groaned.
"Whatcha doing, Goldie?"
"Your hair is quite unruly," said Glorfindel, carefully untangling all the mats. "When last did you wash your hair?"
The Uruk snorted. "When you go on the run, next time, you tell me how often you're able to get a little scrub."
The elf smiled and worked more oil into his hair. The Uruk sneezed several times and complained that the scent was too sweet for his Orkish liking. Glorfindel ignored him and rinsed his hair, moving onto his arms and cleaning the wounds.
"What about the one on my leg?"
"Which one?"
Norgash smirked and pointed. "The one on my thigh. That was quite the nasty arrow."
Glorfindel fought the inclination to blush and maintained as flat an expression as possible. "Lord Elrond will tend to that later. For now, let it alone. The arrow that struck you had been tipped with poison and nearly struck a vital artery."
"Really, eh?" he asked with a one-sided smirk.
Glorfindel looked directly in his eyes. He truly was not in the mood for Norgash's suggestive comments. He did not know if any eyes or ears were turned to them. He did not wish to take any chance of damaging the case in favour of Norgash.
Fortunately, the Uruk caught the message from those eyes. He sighed and leaned back further. "Fine, lad, I'll keep my dirty thoughts to myself. And if I do speak, pedin Sindarin minui."
Glorfindel smiled. "Gen hannon, mellon nîn."
Glossary: melindo (Sind.) love, lover.
Gen hannon, mellon nîn (Sind.) Thank you, my friend.
Chapter III Updated: 24 May, 2011. Thanks for reviewers for suggestions.
Disclaimer: The author, Danners, makes no claim over Tolkien's creations and makes no monetary gain from writing this fanfiction. However, original characters, including Norgash, are the intellectual property of Danners and may not be used without permission.
