XI
Sheglock
Sheglock watched in horror as Largg tumbled over the edge. As Burk and Firri swore and started fighting, he ran over to the edge. Largg was lying still, seemingly dead.
He turned back to keep an eye on the fight. It was getting more serious than he had anticipated. Firri had her sword out and was backing Burk toward the edge. Sheglock feared that she would, whether by accident or intention, knock him off too. Wasn't one casualty enough for them already?
He glanced back down over the edge, but quickly returned his gaze to the altercation. Still, he had noticed something amiss…
He stared back over the edge again. Largg was gone!
"Guys?" he asked timidly. Neither orc appeared to hear him. Burk and Firri resumed their yelling, though it seemed the entire fight was pointless, as Largg did not appear to be dead.
"Guys?" he repeated, staring down to confirm Largg's absence. Morrick came over to him this time.
"What?" his brother asked.
"He's not dead," Sheglock explained. "He must've dragged himself away, because he's gone."
"Did you see him move?" Morrick asked, peering over the edge to see for himself.
"No," Sheglock replied. He was unable to think of why else Largg would have vanished, unless someone dragged him. "But this place is pretty desolate. Who could've dragged him?"
Morrick didn't reply, but shrugged. Then he went toward the others, who were continuing to make threats. Fortunately no one had been hurt yet.
"Stop!" Morrick shouted, then repeated it louder. "STOP!"
Firri, distracted, turned to him, but did not lower her sword, which was pointed at Burk's neck.
"He's not dead!" Morrick told her. Firri lowered her sword and peered over the cliff's edge.
"He's gone!" she noticed in surprise.
"He must've dragged himself away," Morrick suggested.
Firri went back to Burk and apologised, if it could be called an apology. "Fortunately for you, I obey Sauron and His law. I wouldn't have killed you, you know. Just don't ever do that again!" Relieved, Burk let out a loud sigh.
"Now let's get down there and find Largg!" Morrick yelled, running off. Sheglock saw him stumble as he retreated into the distance.
"Come on!" Firri yelled, running after him. Burk let her get a good distance ahead before he ran after them. Clearly he didn't trust her, Sheglock realised, but, after the argument, who could blame him?
Sheglock realised he had been left alone with the six wargs. He decided to take them down, to avoid any further interaction with his companions. They all seemed to be in bad moods.
It was tediously slow trying to lead the wargs all at once. Occasionally one or two of them would turn around for no apparent reason and head back uphill. But Sheglock slowly got them down the path.
By midday he finally reached the point where the path turned. He made sure that the wargs didn't stumble as they made the sharp turn. Then he continued onward to the ledge.
Sooner than he expected he saw it in front of him. There was a cave – which Largg had undoubtedly crawled in to. And two figures were standing outside. One of them (who he could recognise even from this distance as his brother) started waving. Morrick began running toward him.
"Sheglock, there you are!"
"I brought the wargs. How's Largg?"
"It is a most peculiar situation – you would need to see it to believe it."
Sheglock was intrigued. "What's funny about it?"
"Not queer, just unexpected. There were several unusual inhabitants of that cave."
They arrived at the flat part of the shelf. Firri looked up (she had been the other figure outside).
"Thanks for bringing the wargs," she said.
"No problem," Sheglock replied.
"I'm going to take him inside to meet the trolls," Morrick said. Sheglock wondered if he had heard wrong. Had Morrick really said "trolls"? Puzzled, he followed his brother into the dim, shadowy cave.
"'Ey, is 'e yer brother?" a voice asked. "I'm Mark, an' this 'ere's Bob."
Sheglock strained to see them more clearly. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sheglock. Would you mind stepping into the light so I can see you better?"
"We can't," Bob said mournfully. "But Mark can tell you about us."
"Well, I write po'try…" he started, then faded off, embarrassed. "But ya prob'ly don't 'preciate art."
"On the contrary," Morrick replied, laughing. "My brother is an avid fan of all things impractical."
"I do like art," Sheglock said. He was very curious about these peculiar trolls – as they looked and talked like trolls. But they did not fit the stereotype at all.
"We really just want to be good people, but everyone takes one look at us and runs. 'Trolls,' they say, 'they'll kill us and roast us!' Not us! We just want to 'elp others, and we don't even eat orc."
Mark began singing a song that Sheglock suspected he had composed. The tune was fairly cheerful and upbeat, but the trolls, with their deep voices, put a sorrowful touch to it.
We all just wanna be good.
We know that even trolls should.
If I knew I could, I certainly would.
Do you fine orcs think we are good?
We all just wanna be nice,
As sweet as sugar and spice.
We have paid the price, so we're on thin ice,
But even trolls want to be nice.
We all just wanna be kind,
Yet we're always left behind.
If you wouldn't mind, please go species-blind;
Allow us trolls to be kind.
We want ya ta know us so well
That you can look at us and tell
That trolls can excel in kindness as well
And are not all demons from Hell.
"And that's our story," Bob said when they had finished. Sheglock suddenly felt pity for them. He could understand the discrimination they faced, as he experienced it every time he tried to have a deep conversation with anyone. Most of Mordor was too preoccupied with the superficial, material side of life, he had always thought.
But here was an exception, poetic trolls. Sheglock was amazed that they could really care. But their love for art was evident in their speech and actions. Sheglock instantly felt a deep sense of connexion to them, notwithstanding that they had just met. Here were two people with whom he could really talk about things beside the mundane.
"I like it," Sheglock replied, causing Mark to smile broadly. "And yes, I think you two really are good."
"You don't know what this means to us," Bob told him with feeling. Sheglock smiled.
"I think I just may," he replied.
Burk, who had been in the back of the cave, got up and left. He and Firri did not come back into the cave until the sun set. Sheglock, however, stayed and talked with the trolls, and his brother soon joined the conversation.
"How'd you guys end up here?" Sheglock asked.
"We travelled by night, and kept 'idden in the day. But Mark 'ere, 'e was tired of 'iding."
"Yeah. I wan'ed ta find an 'ome. I wan'ed ta settle down an' live a good life, write some songs…"
"It wasn't like that. The land 'ere's desolate. There's nothing for miles around. We're reduced to singing to the empty air."
"What a pity!" Sheglock exclaimed empathetically. "Does no one in this wide world appreciate art?"
"Elves do," Morrick said.
"Yeah, the elves're fair an' the trolls ain't. We've 'eard it an 'undred times. Still, don't make it true, does't?"
"Not in the least!" Sheglock said, giving Morrick an admonishing look. His brother ignored him and continued.
"I reckon we all were put here for a reason, I really do. But the purpose of the orc (or troll) is not to be an artist. We are the practical races. We are the peoples who get stuff done." He spoke those last three words emphatically, pausing between each. Then, after another pause, when no one replied, he went on.
"That is why Mordor is so much stronger than it's enemies. Because we don't waste time with the arts – not trying to beautify our crafts. A crude eye on a helmet is sufficient, and it evokes more fear than the seven stars or silver tree ever could."
Neither Bob nor Mark replied to this comment. Both of them looked down at their feet. After a while Morrick spoke again.
"What say you? A debate hardly functions if it is one-sided."
"I didn' know we were debatin'," Bob said downheartedly.
"Are you willing to see a different point of view?" Sheglock asked.
Morrick nodded. "If it has sound logic behind it."
Bob sighed. "If you try and back up art with logic, you're gonna fail every time, for sure. Art is, by definition, illogical. But that's the most important point! True artists can ignore their needs, and material survival. They reach an 'igher understanding. That is why, long after they've perished from Middle Earth, their works live on. Art is immortal."
"Aye, too true," Mark muttered sorrowfully.
"Well, I don't know what higher world is more important than ours," Morrick said. "Art may be celestial, but I am terrestrial. Maybe art is truly above me; so be it. I do not need to excel in aught but survival. To me this world – this land of Middle Earth – matters more than all the constellations."
This time Mark spoke the counter-argument. Sheglock was surprised they hadn't given up. He wholly supported the trolls, but they did not know how to counter his brother's points.
"Real art is findin' more in reality than ya see at firs'. It's not goin' ta any other place, but here. Art's righ' in front o' ya, ya jus' need ta know where ta look. Look't that cloud out yonder, the big, fluffy one framed by the cave door. Do ya see anything' in't?"
"Not really," Morrick said. "A cloud is just a cloud."
"Each one's unique. There ain't no two clouds 'zactly the same. All of 'em got somethin' special in 'em, a child, a warg, a mountain... The artist gotta know that, an' look fer it. Artists gotta find some aspec's of sublimity in the banality of everyday life. Then ya got art."
"But why would I need to look at the world in a new way, when the way I know is sufficient? Should I get another pair of eyes, when the two I have work fine? I see no reason for art."
Sheglock hurriedly intervened. "Looking at something in more ways than one is often better. You end up with a comprehensive knowledge of it. Take strategy, for instance. Sauron knows that Gondor is weak. But unless He can predict the moves of the Men, He will make a mistake. He must look at the wars from their point of view. Then He can anticipate their moves, and plan an effective counter-attack, or trap them. Sauron Himself often uses a similar tool, of re-looking at the world, as the artists!"
Sheglock was trying to show the trolls how to argue with Morrick. It was necessary to approach the issue indirectly. Logic was essential, as otherwise Morrick wouldn't listen. And it always helped to put Sauron into the argument.
Morrick laughed. "Well, you certainly know how to debate, at any rate. But that does not mean you argument is flawless. I never said that it was bad to look at things from the enemy's shoes. That is because I need to know more about my enemy. But take the cloud, for instance. What I already know of it is adequate. Why must I learn any more?"
"You must understand that there is more to us than we can see!" Bob implored. "There is an 'igher being in all of us, orcs, trolls, maybe even elves. This is the part of us that benefits from the experience."
"Calm down, Robert. You do not have proof of it. I'm sorry, but as strongly as you believe something, it is all up to faith. Unless you can show me a soul, such that I can confirm its presence by my five senses, I am inclined not to believe."
"Well, guess that means that our arg'ment ain't getting' us nowhere," Mark reflected sadly. Sheglock nodded, and they dropped the topic. He wondered if his brother would ever change his stubborn views.
No, he thought sadly. Morrick is a lost cause…