VI
Morrick
Morrick sighed as he watched Sheglock gallop away on the warg. His brother was very fickle sometimes. Morrick had been sure the adventure would entice him. But for some unknown reason Sheglock had turned it down. As good as he was with predicting the reactions of other people, Morrick was seldom able to predict those of his brother.
Nevertheless, he had expected Sheglock to jump at the opportunity, and was mildly disappointed by his brother's decision to remain at home. Morrick had hoped for at least one familiar companion. Ulûrk would have loved to come, but since he was joining the army, he would be too busy in training. It seemed Morrick would be going to Dorezátz alone.
"Finished!" Gortog yelled at last, getting up from the corner where he had been squatting for most the day. The bandaged warg gave him an appreciative growl. Gortog patted his head before heading over to the bench where Morrick was.
"I 'pologise fer that, sir, but ya see, it was urgent."
"Quite understandable," Morrick said, not at all perturbed by the delay. "It is not a problem."
"Thank ya, sir. Now, ya be wanting five wargs, ya said?"
"Yes. Five or six. There are four of us travelling, but we'll need one or two to carry our provisions."
"You ain't getting' any more than five. I told yer brother five, and he's gonna get ya five."
"That's fine, thank you," Morrick said hastily, not wanting to annoy the shop owner.
Gortog smiled. "Well, it's gonna be awhile, if ya don' mind waitin'."
"No, I'm in no hurry."
"Where ya off ta, anyways?" he asked in curiosity.
Before Morrick could answer, two more orcs walked over and lay down on the opposite bench. Gortog interrupted the talk to introduce them.
"'Ere's a few o' my 'elpers, Reltath and Tergz. Guys, this 'ere's Morrick, Sheglock's brother."
"Nice ta meetcha," the orc introduced as Tergz said, leaning across to shake Morrick's hand.
"Same here," Reltath said.
"A pleasure," replied Morrick.
"So, what are ya doin'?" Gortog asked again.
"I was asked to do a favour for Captain Khentz."
The three orcs groaned simultaneously. "That son of a Dwarf!" Gortog yelled. The expression was a common insult used in Mordor, and less offensive than its counterpart, "son of a Man".
"What did he make you promise?" Reltath asked.
"I'm going to Dorezátz, to try and confirm their allegiance to Sauron. They haven't paid taxes."
"Did Khentz sendja cause he was too busy lookin' fer his purty little ring?" Tergz asked sarcastically. "'E did ta a few o' my pals too."
Instantly Morrick jumped in to defend Sauron. "It isn't right to belittle the Ring, you know. You are correct in your reasoning, but wrong in you disdain. One of our country's greatest strengths is the fact that Sauron can always get the help he needs. Now, we all know, our troops are far to the north, south, east, and west, searching for 'Shire, Baggins'. We have no forces for local disputes. It is only logical to use able citizens."
"But arencha mad thatcha gotta do someone else's crap?" Tergz asked disbelievingly.
"Yes, but I'll still do it. I will not let my personal feelings get in the way of my duty to the country."
"But Sauron ought to find either 'Shire' or 'Baggins' soon!" Reltath said.
"Yes, but it is like looking for a needle in a haystack. My hunch is that 'Shire, Baggins' is a person, most likely a Man. And he (or she, I suppose) could be dead for all we know. The Gollum's knowledge is over fifty years old. Shire Baggins could have given the Ring to someone else, lost it, or thrown it into the sea! Doubtless he was unaware what it was, or he would have challenged Sauron ages ago."
"Ya think the Ring's keeper don't know its strength?" Gortog asked him.
"I'm sure he doesn't. At most he realises it is a 'magic' ring. But he could not know that it is one of the Great rings, and certainly he doesn't suspect that it's the One. Otherwise he would have used it, challenged Sauron, and become enslaved to Him."
"And that's what we want?" Gortog muttered incredulously.
"Yes. Men are weak. They lust for strength greater than their own. The Man who yields the Ring will get that might – for a while. But to truly retain it he must challenge Sauron. There cannot be more than one Lord of the Rings. And no Man, at least not any among those of modern Gondor, has the will to defeat Sauron. Gondor is a mere shadow of it's former glory. The line of Kings has ended, and the line of stewards is weak. Only if the heir to Elendil wielded the Ring would I be afraid. But that shall not come to pass!"
"You speak well, and with conviction," Reltath noted, seemingly surprised by Morrick's oratorical skill.
"I speak out of loyalty to Sauron. I trust that the better will win this war. And I've no doubt that Sauron is the better of any Man in all of Gondor today."
"But ya don' know that 'Shire Baggins' is a Man, even if 'e's really a person, like ya suspect. Maybe 'e's an elf!"
"Then perhaps Sauron will take longer and have more difficulty reclaiming It. He has time. But in the end he will. Since the War of the Last Alliance the elves have weakened. They are as useless today as they are evil, and have forgotten how to do anything useful. They waste away, singing beneath the night skies, watching the stars.
"If an elf had it he would likely fear to use it, out of his own self-proclaimed wisdom, inseparable from his folly. He would keep it hidden in some fear of his own weakness, or some recognition of his own diminished being. Maybe he would pass it to one of the elven-kings, though there are few left in Middle-Earth, and the only one I know is Celeborn of Lórien in the west. In time even Lórien will fall, and one king alone cannot hold back the full might of our country.
"But most likely he would forget about it. Do not ask me to fathom the absurdity of the minds of elves, which lack all semblance of sense or reason. They are weak, ailing, losing all connexion to the real world, if ever they had any. And now they are leaving Middle Earth, fading into nothingness. They have long since ceased being concerned in the matters of our world. They would even misplace it – lose it for negligence! I do not think we have to worry."
"Yer pass'nate 'bout this, arencha?"
"Yes. I have a firm belief that Sauron will conquer. And I believe in his cause!"
"I can tell," Gortog said, laughing. "And I agree with ya, mainly. It's getting' late – where's yer brother? Dawdling, I 'spect. Raltath, bring out some ale an' we can talk some more while we wait."
Raltath hurried to the rear of the building and promptly came back rolling a barrel of ale. "This enough?" she asked, to general laughter.
"Too much, I'd say! But we need not use all o' it. C'mon, grab a cup. Let's toast!"
"To Sauron!" Morrick said, scooping some ale from the barrel and holding his cup high.
"To Sauron," they echoed, clinking glasses.
"And to ya, Morrick, fer a safe trip," Gortog said, clinking his glass against Morrick's again. Morrick nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"Thank you," he said. Then he slipped into silence, which lasted several minutes.
"Hey, boss, ya wan' me ta feed the wargs?" Tergz asked at length.
"Yeah, it's getting' late. Ya might as well. And bring a candle. Where is Sheglock?"
Morrick had also been getting increasingly nervous about his brother. Though it was true that Sheglock often would be sidetracked, his tardiness still was troubling. He should have arrived three hours ago. Eventually, Morrick's anxiety prompted him to speak.
"Do you think something happened to him?"
"I can't say fer sure. He coulda gotten lost, I s'pose. This is the firs' time 'e's gone to that shop."
On hearing this, Morrick's worry doubled. "It's his first time!" he repeated.
"Yeah. 'E don' like the town much."
"I know! But what if he's wandering through it, totally confused?"
"No, 'e knows the general direction. And 'e only has ta ask someone."
Still, Morrick's fears were not assuaged. He drank in silence for several minutes.
When Tergz returned from his job, he, Raltath, and Gortog started up a conversation. Morrick did not feel inclined to join. The others seemed to understand and did not try and include him. Morrick simply lay still, staring out the open window down the steadily darkening, deserted path through the empty countryside.
It was at least another hour – the sun had entirely set and the candle had burned more than halfway down – by the time Morrick heard the footsteps of what sounded like several approaching wargs. He could see, in the sliver moonlight, four to five wargs riding up toward the stables. At least one of them appeared to have no rider.
"We've got company," Morrick said, interrupting the conversation. Gortog and Raltath put down their glasses and looked up. Tergz, who had clearly drunk too much, was snoring quietly with his head laying on the table. Morrick stared in surprise – he hadn't even noticed.
"Who is it?" asked Gortog. Just then there was a sharp knock on the door.
"It's past hours," Gortog called out through the window, not even bothering to get up. "We're closed."
There was the sound of approaching footsteps as the visitor walked over to the window. "Sorry I'm late," Sheglock said, stepping into the candlelight from the window. Morrick sighed audibly, relieved.
"Why are ya so late!" Gortog yelled, growing angry. Morrick backed away, having no desire to join the fight.
"I met some old friends, and, well, you know how time flies."
"It didn't fer yer brother 'ere!" he shouted. "'E's been an hour over in that corner there, sick with worry!"
"I'm fine, really," said Morrick, reluctantly intervening on his brother's behalf. Predictably, the owner's rage turned on him.
"Don' ya lie ta me! Ya've been all distracted there, ignorin' us and starin' out that window. Don' tell me yer fine."
"Sorry," Sheglock said apologetically. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it," Morrick said. He got up and opened the door for Sheglock. "I was pretty sure that you were fine," he added as his brother stepped inside.
"So?" demanded Gortog (who Morrick found to his surprise was standing right behind him).
"Am I still in trouble?" Sheglock asked. "Morrick's fine."
Gortog grunted. "Well, I suppose it's understandable, at the least. I'm not gonna chastise ya any more fer it."
"Thanks," Sheglock said.
"It's jus' been an 'ectic day," Gortog told him. "Sorry if I overreacted a tad."
"Then maybe it's not the best time to bring up…"
"To bring up what? Now ya gotta tell me!"
"I'm going to be out of town. Maybe for a month, maybe more. But it's for the good of the country of Mordor. I'm going with Morrick."
When he heard this Morrick felt an immense sense of satisfaction. He had believed it was in his brother's best interests (and his own) for Sheglock to come. At once he grabbed his brother in a crushing bear hug.
"You won't be disappointed, I assure you!" he said.
Gortog thought about it for a minute, while Raltath and Tergz ran over to say good-bye to Sheglock. Eventually Gortog grunted again, which Morrick suspected was his way of showing approval.
"I reckon we can get along a coupla months without ya. Yer free ta go."
"Thank you, sir!" Sheglock said. He seemed eager to leave right then, despite the fact it was night.
"Jus' come back as soon as ya can," Gortog told him. "Have ya got the wargs?"
"They're tied to the posts outside."
"Good."
"What do you want for them?" Morrick asked.
"You're the smith now. Got some new swords? My employees are takin' all o' mine fer their salaries. Won't take cash."
"I've got plenty of Ulûrk's stuff lying about the forge. I can drop by with some tomorrow, as we're heading off."