Chapter 7

The Light that Draws You

December 18-19, 1423 S.R.

Wearing a freshly-made set of mail chausses and new boots, Garlakh stepped out into the late afternoon and tugged the hood of her white rabbit fur cloak lower against the sun's rays. The elf necklace was left back in the cavern as Gubbitch had requested, but otherwise she was fully armed and armored; it was the only way she knew to be, and the only way she felt even close to safe, though true safety was undeniably an illusion. Instead of the elf hair and tooth, Garlakh wore the only decorative thing she'd ever made to her own taste and no others. It was an iron torc engraved all over with depictions of various mining and smithing tools. She had had it for over a century, but never worn it around her tribe, who weren't interested in anything that didn't have the skull or the eye on it.

She had assembled the mail on the first night, having been working on the pieces for a while, then spent much of the last couple days working on Sev's order. She was done with most of the pans. She thought it must have amused Sevilodorf having to explain what a muffin tin was and try to describe the measurements of the compartments needed. Garlakh had never seen a muffin before Sev showed her one, but she thought she had gotten the pans right based on that. Cauldrons, skillets and the other pans were easy enough, though. When she got back, it was down to a couple of mixing bowls, platters and then some tongs, spatulas, spoons, knives and forks. Those would go quickly.

She arrived at Gubbitch's just in time for dinner. There were no hobbit treats to enliven things this night. It was plain orcish fare with greasy stew made from unidentifiable ingredients. Rackler quickly attached himself to her. He brought her food and drink and kicked some other orc out of what he apparently figured to be the seat she would prefer. Garlakh didn't really care where she sat, so just shrugged. This wouldn't get Rackler any closer to rutting with her, but if he wanted to do for her, she'd find a use for him. Nik was also there again, still wearing that ridiculous red wrap around his face. For a while she watched as a group of orcs gambled with dice and stones, with relatively few fights this time. Some of the players were among those who had tried to importune her a few days ago and were no doubt still sore. She hadn't brought anything to wager and stayed out of it tonight, choosing instead to play kings with Gubbitch. As they talked, she answered his questions about her trip to Mordor and its lingering aftereffects. She also answered his questions about what had happened to her in the clearing with the Ranger a few days before. Only he and Nik were close enough to hear her, so she felt no need to dissemble about any of it. If this was to be her leader, she wanted him to understand her, and something in his eyes a few days ago had made her think he also wanted to do so. She had never betrayed her leader, whether he be called warlord or chief, and didn't want this one to be her first failure. She lost the game, but that was no great surprise and she wasn't bothered. Tactics and strategy had never been of great interest to her or of importance to her job. The company was good, though, and that was as much as she wanted tonight. They set up for a game of stones.

Suddenly there seemed to be a light at the cavern entrance. No one else seemed to notice it at first, or perhaps just not in the way she did. If they did, they made nothing of it. Some of the orcs greeted a silver-haired fellow they called Celebsul or just Cel. Garlakh, however, barely heard them or how he answered them, except for the clear music in his voice. Here was the embodiment of that beautiful and yet frightening thing she had glimpsed in the green eyes of the one who had killed her mate. With him it had been present, but fainter than this one, who fairly radiated it. She recognized the feeling now. The first time it had felt just like shock, but this time she felt the full extent and recognized both the beauty and the fearfulness of it – at least fearful to one of her kind. This one glowed brightly with it, whatever it was. This was the last thing many, many orcs had ever seen. She felt like she was shivering inside, part of her demanding to flee from this deadly danger, part of her wanting to come nearer, and be damned if whatever it was burned her until she no longer existed. This one had something she wanted – no, needed to touch. Maybe he had everything she was trying so hard to figure out. The second part won, though it was a near thing.

The light around him drew her like a moth. The elf she had met in the forest had a fainter level of it, and she had seen another on a trip to Dol Guldur who'd had none at all. That had been like opening a chest that should have had loot only to find it empty. That elf, she'd thought at the time, was disappointingly ordinary. One of her band had mocked him as a "pretty tark" and died slowly for it. It made her glad she'd kept her thoughts quiet. She'd forgotten that lightless elf, if only because he'd seemed so ordinary at the time. Now, though, the memory frightened her. If this was what an elf was supposed to look like, what had been wrong with the one who had none at all? Elf luminosity was a study for another day, she told herself firmly. She needed more to know if this one could help her escape the grasp of her old master completely.

Only when she felt a gentle tug on her hand did she realize that she had stood at the entrance of what could only be the elf about whom Gubbitch had warned her. She was surprised to find that her hands were not anywhere near her weapons. One was in Nik's grasp and the other was reaching toward the elf as if to touch him, though he was a fair distance away, on Gubbitch's other side and out of her reach. She followed the tug and resettled herself on the rock, though taking her eyes off the elf was impossible. She tried to greet him, but though she felt her lips move to form the words, her voice was locked tight in her throat.

As she continued to study him, she made it past whatever it was she first sensed and was surprised to note that he, too, was wearing that soft stuff that didn't seem capable of resisting anything worse than a stiff wind. If he had a weapon, she couldn't see it. She ferociously resisted her ex-master's command to attack him. It seemed her fascination had not gone unnoticed by whatever had haunted her since she went into Mordor. She paid little attention to the conversation, but noticed Nik's attention was rapt by whatever Gubbitch and the elf were saying to each other. All her concentration was on the elf, and if her constant fascinated gaze made him uneasy, he didn't show it in any way she could detect.

How much time passed she did not know. From the amounts missing from cups and bottles it had been two to three hours. Nik was tugging insistently on her arm.

"Do you want to talk to Celebsul?" Nik spoke low enough so that only she could hear.

The voice that had lurked within her for the past weeks whispered insidiously. With a rough shake of her head, she silenced it. Assuming the motion a response to his query, Nik gave her a disappointed look and returned to the group gathered about the elf.

Gubbitch lifted an eyebrow in inquiry to which Nik answered with a shake of his head. Celebsul's bright eyes followed the interaction then turned to meet Garlakh's eyes. It was the first time the elf had made direct contact with her and for an instant, she was sure her knees would have given way if she weren't already sitting. Everything around her faded away. There was only the shining presence of the elf and herself – dark and twisted, but herself with no trace of the master within her. Then he gave the slightest nod of his head, and the world returned.

Garlakh sagged. What had he done to her? How long had he held her enthralled? A quick look about the den proved that none of the others had taken any notice of the event. At the opening of the cave, the elf was taking his leave of Gubbitch. Nik, it appeared was returning to his home in the Wetwang and would depart as well. The urge to leap up and race after the incongruous pair was overwhelming. Somehow she managed to wait a good ten minutes after their departure before slipping away herself.

Beneath a clear, cold sky she moved silently along the path Nik and the elf would take to reach the road. Was this impulse to follow due to some suggestion of the elf, of the dark voice which haunted her, or her own choice? Garlakh did not know, but obey it she would.

Within minutes, she was close enough to hear the rise and fall of voices. Though she desperately wanted to hear what they were saying she did not dare get closer. Nik, for all his tarkish ways, was still an orc and an excellent tracker. And who knew what skills the elf possessed?

Upon reaching the road, Garlakh paused. She could not follow on the road, they would certainly see her. With little hesitation, she turned south and raced through the trees. The road curved slightly west here. By running a more direct path, she could arrive at the point where Nik would turn off home before them.

From a bramble bush that would have been impossible to use as a hiding place if she had been dressed in the soft cloth that Nik chose to wear, Garlakh watched as the orc jogged off down the path to his home. She knew from all he told her and from Warg's comments that it was a small farm on the edge of the marsh, but she had never been there. Nik suggested it once. But when she hesitated, he said it might be better to wait for spring to meet Teach anyway. Briefly she wondered if Nik's Teach would be as happy to see her as Nik thought, but then all thought of the Beorning vanished from her mind as the elf turned to stare in her direction. His eyes reflected the starlight, and the glow hovering about him increased.

"You wished to speak with me."

Did she? What did she have to say? She was an orc. He was an elf. How could he banish the voice that sought to control her? Why would he even want to help her? Their peoples had naught to do with each other save to slaughter the other.

Her thoughts were racing. The thought ran through her mind that she very much wanted to speak to the elf, but what question would she ask? She had so many she couldn't possibly voice.

Yet, he was a friend, a word she had no experience with, to orcs. She had seen it. Even the brutal Rackler had been greeted by him. Perhaps it was all a trick, a ploy to make it easier to eliminate them.

"Why would I want to do that?"

Garlakh shrank deeper into the shadows. He could hear her thoughts, confused as they were. She was trapped with no way to escape. It was almost frightening, and yet the thought lingered that if she would bare the depths of her soul to this dangerous, frightening, beautiful, bright elf, then he could help her.

"I hear only because you choose for me to do so." The elf walked along the road to stand directly before her hiding place. "From what do you wish to escape, Garlakh?"

"Him."

The word came out the merest of whispers, but the elf nodded. "You face a great battle. Tell me, Garlakh. Why did you come here?"

The years of wandering flitted through her mind. Why here? "I had nowhere else to go."

Celebsul regarded her silently, then motioned east to the broken Ethel Dúath . "The spirit of great evil lingers there. My kin work to cleanse the land, yet it remains even in the very rocks. It seeks those who will listen, those who will obey."

"No." Low and faint, then again stronger. "No, never again. No master will I obey."

The elf regarded her solemnly. "Then you must learn to be your own master. It will not be easy, but there are those who can assist you if you allow them."

He turned away from the shattered slopes and tipped his face toward the sky. The light radiating from him dimmed as if veiled. Careful of the thorns, Garlakh crept from her place beneath the brambles to the edge of the road. She looked up, wondering what he saw.

"There," Celebsul pointed to the north and traced a path of stars. "The Valacirca. Varda placed it in the heavens as a sign for all to see."

"A sign of what?" Garlakh asked.

"Hope."

As the stars wheeled slowly, two ancient enemies gazed at light unsullied by evil. Was this elf being deliberately cryptic? Who was he saying could assist her? Who was this Varda? Was that one of them? What kind of assistance could they provide? And what did he mean those stars in the northern sky were a sign of hope? Hope for what? What was hope for one such as her, anyway? If anything, she was more confused now than she had been when he walked into Gubbitch's den. The least confusing thing he had said to her was that she would have to be her own master. She knew she was still trying to figure that one out and still coming to grips with the idea that Gubbitch refused to claim the title of master over her, but it seemed bound up in the knowledge that she did not want another master. If you didn't want another master, the natural extension of that was that you were your own master. How was such a thing to be accomplished, though? She remembered all the times over the last few years where she had done the opposite of what she would have done during the war, guided by some voice other than her old master's. She remembered how it had been that voice alone who had stopped her from plunging a dagger into her own heart as she sat surrounded by the dead of her former tribe. Whose was that voice? She suddenly burned to know.

"Hope for the triumph of light over darkness. This struggle began before time, and he whom you once served was only a servant himself. It is a long tale, though. For now, it is crucial that you understand this much. Your hope and mine are not so different. If you truly wish to be free of him, and I see that you do, they are very much alike. Very few of your kin have made even that step. Fewer still have made as many steps as Gubbitch and Nik, and you, if you hold to your current path. Every time you deny the urges to kill, you take one. Every time you do something you couldn't have imagined doing when Sauron was strong, you take another. Every time you do something that would be against his purposes, such as protecting the innocent, you take another."

Memory of carrying little Garion back to his mother darted through her racing mind. She looked away from the stars to study Celebsul again. Still she made no effort to hide her thoughts from him. She stepped closer to him, standing at his side, close enough to touch his hand. As she turned her gaze back to the stars that so fascinated him, she wished she dared and wondered if she could get a little of the light around him into herself somehow. Was that light what led people away from what she had been born and no longer wanted to be? He had many answers she needed. She was sure of it. If only she could find the questions.

"I don't understand. Who can help? What kind of help? What must I do? I'm tired of hiding in fear that I might hurt someone. I'm tired of having my dreams and waking moments haunted by this voice. How many times must I deny him before he goes away and leaves me in peace?"

Her voice had briefly risen a bit in her frustration, then she sighed. She was so very tired. When was the last time she'd had an uninterrupted night's sleep? She didn't know if the elf could sense her emotions or just her thoughts, but if he could, he surely felt the weariness that rolled over her like an avalanche. Yet, she must stand. She suspected that to yield for even a single moment to that weariness would mean the end of all she wanted – or at least of her chance of finding out exactly what it was. She straightened her spine with an effort, not realizing that for a fraction of a second the elf's body had actually been supporting her as her own had sagged, their closeness such that she leaned against him without intending. Her eyes, though, remained on that northern pattern of stars. Her next words were barely a whispered plea, whether directed to the elf at her side or to those unknown others he mentioned, or perhaps all of them, she couldn't have said. She was sure he heard her, though.

"Help me. I can't do this alone." The word 'please' hung in the air unspoken, unknown to the orc, but as plain as the glittering stars above.

"We will, and more than those of us standing on this earth will, if you allow it. Yes. Look up there." Celebsul's tone had some quality she had never heard directed toward one of her kind, though she had occasionally heard tarks direct it toward one another while they were in prison and tending each other's hurts with whatever meager supplies they'd been given or had improvised. Why did it make it hard for her to breathe for a moment? She swallowed thickly. "When you meet Sev in three days, one of those who can assist you will be there. He is fighting the same battle."

She blinked at him, then her eyes widened as he explained just enough for her to understand exactly who would be helping her.