Chapter Twenty-Five
Tuilérë (1st April SR)
Minas Tirith
The Great Chamber rang with voices as people found their assigned seats. On the right-hand side ranged the benches for the witnesses for the proposal; here the contingent from The Burping Troll along with a number from Henneth Annun made their way. Already in place were those from Deerham: the Guards, Gethrod and Tilmith; and Avis, the widow. Beside them, an unlikely pair from Tumladen: the imposing Ukrosh and the miner the uruk had rescued.
Clad in the garb of a middle class merchant, Anardil both resembled half the spectators present and by such dress gave excuse for the travels his testimony would soon touch upon. Quietly he took the seat directly behind Erin the hobbit and to the left of Sevilodorf, so that he might have an unobstructed view of the Council chamber. He watched with faint amusement as Cameroth warily bent to seat himself beside Gubbitch and started with visible surprise at the orc's friendly greeting. Fumbling, the innkeeper returned a response in kind. While not a witness, Cameroth had given permission for Jasimir to speak and accompanied his son from Henneth Annun.
The boy however seemed to be the one in command. Having directed the two orcs from The Black Cauldron to sit to his left, he then guided his father to a place behind him and motioned Farmer Tiroc to follow. Cullen took a seat to Jasimir's right and sullenly slumped down to sit twisting a strand of hair. During pre-hearing preparations, Lord Goldur had confessed to being undecided about whether to call Cullen to the witness chair, though in Anardil's opinion it would be a waste of time. As far as he could tell, the young man possessed few original thoughts and the unfortunate habit of saying whatever he thought would please the person he was speaking to.
Looking across to the left side of the hall, Anardil watched the opposing benches fill quickly with an assortment of strangers, some seeming like lords, some soldiers, and a number of less well-dressed people. There was also a dwarf.
The large, central area provided seating for an invited audience of civic dignitaries, mayors, chieftains and, most importantly, a number of Ranger and Guard captains; these were the people expected to uphold any law that might be passed this day. A further few were representatives from other kingdoms including Rohan and Dale.
Searching the crowd, Anardil found the stoic face of Esiwmas of Rohan staring at him. When the trader glanced toward Sevilodorf, Anardil gave a small shrug. He knew that the Rohirrim trader was having a difficult time understanding Sev's reasons for agreeing to testify, especially as she was so obviously distraught about doing so. Yet, the man had shown the depth of his quality by gifting his cousin with the tunic she wore. The family crest upon the shoulder acknowledged her publicly as a member of Esiwmas' family, proclaiming her entitled to its loyalty and support no matter what strange cause she embarked upon.
Reaching out Anardil lightly touched the hands Sev held clasped tightly in her lap. For a brief moment she loosened her fingers and he could see the gleaming blackness of the obsidian ornament on its finely carved wooden chain. Lifting his head, he met Darien's eyes over Sev's head. If, as the elves believed, the stone possessed the power to absorb negativity, then it would provide a much-needed shield. And if it proved to be only a talisman, it still might serve as a means for Sevilodorf to find the strength to overcome her fears. Either way, it would have been worth the effort to form their conspiracy.
The velvet chairs behind two paper-laden desks, and the central dais with seven high-backed seats, remained unoccupied until every other person in the hall was settled and silent. Then the sturdy, wooden witness chair was carried in and set before the dais.
When stillness held the room, the clear voice of an official announced, "The Grand Council."
All heads turned as King Elessar, tall and stern-faced, led in the regal panel. Erin's gasp was audible as her wide eyes fixed upon his noble form, striding with the leisurely grace of a lion. In his sombrely elegant court robes and a silver circlet upon his brow, he seemed remote as ever a king could be and she shrank somewhat in her seat. Following Aragorn were Prince Faramir, along with a fine-looking man that Celebsul's quick whisper identified as Prince Imrahil, and four other high royals of the Kingdom. They walked briskly, mounting the dais and turning to see their lord seated before taking their own places.
The official called out again, "Council for the Proposal, Lord Goldur. Council for Opposition, Lord Valthaur."
Goldur strolled into the hall and, behind him, the ample figure of Valthaur. Both men wore long robes of deep blue. Once they were seated, each of the judges gestured for their assistants. From the left-hand benches, three young men stepped forward bringing small stools to sit alongside Valthaur's table. From the right, Kerwin ventured sheepishly out, his tall, thin frame clad in what looked like leftover black draperies that only made his face paler and his brown eyes larger. So intent was he on a dignified entrance that he managed to knock his stool over with a startling clatter. Directly he dropped a sheaf of papers with a leathery whap, and low chuckles rippled about him before he finally composed himself, set his stool straight and sat at a right angle to Goldur. This episode lightened the mood slightly as some in the hall smirked at the young man's clumsiness. Kerwin cast a hasty glance over his shoulder to where Aerio sat in shadow at the far end of the benches. The young elf nodded encouragement; he would be there in a flash if needed.
A third time, the official's voice rang out. "Let the debate begin!"
Lord Goldur rose to his feet. The manner in which such events were conducted had been established by and enshrined in history. Justices and Grand Council knew exactly what was expected of them. Thus Goldur opened the hearing by reading out the basic proposal:
"Lords and gentlemen, citizens of the realm. In this the third year of the reign of Aragorn, the King Elessar, the Grand Council has convened to hear a petition regarding the granting of legal rights for orcs. In this hall today we shall hear evidence, for and against the petition, from citizens of this realm …"
Of the many who harkened, each bore their own thoughts or fears. Darien heard the familiar words, the very words he had so laboured to shape, but the cool, impassive faces of the royals on the dais held his attention. These were the men who would listen with impartiality to the debate and, at the end, retire to consider their response to the evidence. They would not find against an overwhelming argument. If Valthaur was as powerful a council as rumoured, he could certainly sway opinion strongly against the rights of orcs.
A few feet away Cullen hunched, pale-faced. He dare not breathe a word in these solemn surroundings, but he wished he could tell someone. He had seen, nay, met Lord Valthaur once; an occasion he would never forget; that was the man with the grand house in this very city, the man to whom he had delivered Margul's mysterious package. What this might portend he could not imagine, but the very thought of Margul associated with a lord of such power was enough to freeze his heart.
Erin fidgeted on the uncomfortable, wooden bench. It was not in her nature to sit still and quiet. She wanted all this to be over, and for Gubbitch, seated alongside her, to have the same rights that she enjoyed. Nothing else would have persuaded her to endure this ordeal. She glanced up to catch the orc's eye. He grimaced back at her, though what that expression meant she could not guess. The hobbit suddenly felt a little ashamed. How much harder was this for him? He scarce even spoke the same language. She had known Shirriffs and the like - law and order. He knew only the chains of thraldom and the few rough-and-ready rules he himself imposed upon his band. Glancing now to Celebsul, at her other side, she saw his intense concentration on every word that the judge uttered. A sudden sadness gripped Erin's tender heart as she realised that here the ancient races of elf and orc sat in silent submission to the wills of men.
At length Lord Goldur finished speaking. He settled back into his chair as Lord Valthaur struggled to haul himself from his. Any mirth that the sight of the man's bulk provoked in those who did not know better evaporated the instant that Valthaur started to speak.
"Rights!" That single word rang like a bell's tone about the high-vaulted chamber ere he continued. "Rights for orcs! Legal protection for creatures more savage than wolves;" he paused for a short gasping breath; "more numerous than rats, bred for cruelty, with no conscience or compassion." He took another breath, this time deeper and longer. "Let me tell you a cautionary tale, and a true one. A man managed to get himself a wolf cub - a cute little thing. And he reared it like a child, made it into a tame pet. Well, he thought he had."
Valthaur waited for a moment, staring around the room. All eyes were fixed on him. He resumed his speech. "So … it was a shock when the beast ripped off his hand, the very hand that fed it. And the situation could have been worse, if someone had not been there to skewer the creature. He had raised it like a child, but it was not a child, and no manner of upbringing could erase the true nature of the beast."
Taking out a handkerchief, Lord Valthaur mopped his forehead before continuing. "Yet a wolf is a creature of the Valar, an enrichment of the world for us to behold in awe and at our peril. If we are giving out rights, give them to wolves. Orcs are the evil spawn of the very enemy of the Valar; the foul, corrupt being whom Eru cast into the void. And here we are considering holding out a hand of friendship to something infinitely more deadly than a wolf, and utterly alien to this world - wherever their soulless bodies were born."
As the lord paused for breath, murmurs of agreement hummed around the hall. They stilled the instant Valthaur opened his mouth again.
"Lord Goldur has said that orcs are sentient beings and therefore entitled to a chance to live peacefully. I say that the very fact they are sentient makes them more truly criminal than any creature without logic and language. They do not mindlessly kill, they murder. They carry out acts that no other animal would be able to imagine. Every orc that ever lived has pillaged, maimed and murdered, through choice, not just soldiers but women, old men, children, babes in cradles, and even themselves, when it suited them. Not only killed, but cannibalised. We all know this, so why are we here? Why are we having this debate?" He shook his head, his expression and gestures implying that everyone in the hall, himself included, must be insane.
Then Lord Valthaur rested his hands on the table, leaning his heavy mass forward. "But we are here. And we will listen to the witnesses for each side. Orcs will speak in the Grand Hall of Minas Tirith, as unthinkable as that is. Those who believe there is such a thing as a tame orc will also have their say. We will be treated to a spectacle that we can, hopefully, recount to our grandchildren. But surely, surely by the end of the day, no matter what is said and by whom, the idea of giving legal recognition to creatures who by their very nature are lawless, will still be the utter folly that it seems at this moment."
Shouts of 'yes' and 'true' rang throughout the hall as Valthaur struggled back into his chair.
From behind steepled fingers, Faramir looked out from the dais. If the mood in the hall did not change during this day, then it would indeed be utter folly to find in favour of the petition.
xxx
The opposition witnesses were called first, and the tales they told made sorry hearing. As Darien listened to first one then the next, his heart began to sink. None of the accounts were a surprise, for he had discovered many similar in his investigations. Furthermore, he once lived through terrible orc raids on his own holdings where many of his friends and family had perished. It had been those bitter losses that compelled him to lead his company on the ill-fated campaign against orcs: a chain of events that brought him to this very situation. But the sheer weight of the misery recounted in the opening testimonies stifled the hall, driving almost all who listened deep into anger. Most of the glances turned towards the orcs in the right-hand benches glittered with hatred and loathing.
Something else began to disturb Darien. Whenever Valthaur finished interviewing a witness, Goldur would make only the briefest of cross-examinations; the judge for the proposal challenged none of the accounts. It took a while before Darien realised Goldur's tactics: get the opposition out of the way as soon as possible, to give more time to hear the more favourable testimonies of his own witnesses. It was a wise move, but Darien doubted very much that Valthaur would be so easy a cross-examiner.
By mid-morning, it was time to find out. It was now the proposal's turn; Lord Goldur summoned Darien as his first witness. The Lord of Silverbrook sat before the dais and calmly answered a stream of questions, revealing the events by which he had finally come to accept that some orcs deserved a chance to live. Much of his account proved a personal embarrassment, but he told the truth as best he knew how.
Thus the audience heard how Darien led a group of orc hunters into Northern Ithilien in search of a known band of orcs. Failing to find their quarry, they attempted to follow Sevilodorf the Trader hoping she would lead them to the orcs. Things got out of hand and Sevilodorf became a captive of the hunters, then many of the group were trapped inside a cave by a landslide. Only the united efforts of the orcs and their friends from The Burping Troll Inn, working alongside the orc hunters, managed to free those who remained alive inside the cave. As Darien reached the end of his testimony, explaining how he had learnt respect for Gubbitch's lads, he girded himself for what would surely follow.
xxx
Goldur stepped away, and the opposing judge advanced; his vast presence as intimidating as a mûmak.
Valthaur's opening attack rumbled like thunder from his deep chest. "So, Lord Darien, you committed a crime. And now you think that if we can forgive orcs their atrocities, the deaths and injuries you caused might seem trivial in contrast. Is that it?"
"No it is not! I made the mistake of thinking I could judge all orcs in the same way, and that anyone who dealt civilly with them must be at best misguided or, more probably, evil. It was not my actions that changed my mind; it was those of the orcs I sought to kill. They proved themselves to be true to their friends amongst men and elves, and even to be forgiving of their enemies."
Valthaur's eyebrows rose. "Admit it, you feel little better than an orc yourself. Any nobleman who caused such carnage would think the same. Was it not your fault that your friend and second-in-command perished defending a woman you allowed to be assaulted and kidnapped?"
Flinching as the law lord's words prodded at the unhealed wound, Darien confessed, "As the one in charge, everything that happened was my responsibility."
"Forgive me, Lord of Silverbrook, but I fail to understand your reasoning in requesting this hearing. Until recently you dedicated your life and resources to ridding Middle Earth of those very creatures you now seek to elevate. Your original cause, I might say, would find far greater favour with those we have heard give testimony thus far."
Darien nodded slowly. "Yes, and I could relate tales of equal horror. I do not deny that generations of orcs have committed the most vicious atrocities, nor the certainty of such incidents occurring again. But never before have orcs shown the desire to do differently. The destruction of the Ring has freed them for the first time in the history of their race. They are now able to choose their own road."
Valthaur's eyes briefly inspected the high ceiling. "Let us return to your crime. Is all this merely to appease your victim? Is this the payment that the 'misguided' trader demanded of you? To take up a campaign for the creatures she foolishly trusts."
"No, it is not. As I have already said, I arrived at the decision through witnessing the efforts of the orcs involved, through working with them and talking to them. Sevilodorf of Rohan laid but one claim upon me."
"And what was that?" Valthaur sighed with patient tolerance.
"To not waste any more lives."
"Ah! Then surely that means ridding the world of any remaining evil?"
"No, that is not what she meant." Darien's earnest eyes swept across the audience as he continued, "The time for vengeance is over. We must find a way to move past the hatred and attempt to recognise those who are striving to be good, no matter that they were once our enemies."
Wearing a look of utter astonishment, Valthaur stated, "You accept your oath is no longer to free the world of remaining evil." The law lord shook his head sadly. "What would your dead friend, Landis, think to that? Did he not perish in an attempt to avenge the death of his son, to free us all from the danger that Morgoth's and Sauron's minions still pose?"
"Where I meet true evil, I will still do whatever I can to oppose it. And I believe Landis would agree with the course I have taken."
"Really? Do you have evidence to support such a belief?"
"No, just an understanding of the man based on years of friendship." As Darien spoke out, his inner thoughts sought memories of Landis: the man's humour, his strength, his grief and, most of all, his sense of what was right.
"What? No deathbed wishes of forgiveness of his enemies?"
"I was not present at his death, so cannot relate his last words. For that you must ask someone who was there. But I do know that given the same evidence that I have seen, he would have shared my opinion."
"From that, I take it that all your hunters support your views. All would be happy to stand beside you and plead for legal protection for orcs."
Darien closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. "No. Not all of them."
Once again Valthaur's eyebrows rose, as did both his hands in a gesture of disbelief. "You mean that you are asking the people in this hall to support a petition that you cannot convince your own men of?"
"Some minds will never change; grief, anger, hatred, the desire for revenge, the need for safety. But not only orcs provoke these. Many people will never find forgiveness for the men who fought with the enemy. It does not mean that we should sanction lawless vengeance."
"I see. It was acceptable for you and your men to slaughter with impunity, but now you would deny the rest of the realm the right to self-protection."
Darien ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the talent of this judge to twist everything he said. "Had it been against the law, we would never have embarked on our orc hunts."
"Your petition appears to be an effort to contain your own blood-lust." Valthaur's features wore an expression of distaste. "And if it is accepted, what would you suggest we tell the families of the next victims of these so-called 'tame' orcs?"
"That those who committed the acts would be made to pay; the same reassurance that any victim of crime receives."
Valthaur suddenly changed tack. "Were not you and your companions attacked by a cohort of orcs less than a month ago?"
"Yes, my lord, we were."
"Please explain, Lord Darien, how would we tell the difference between those such as your attackers and the others peaceful enough to deal with?"
"By their actions."
"In other words you suggest we wait until after they have hacked off your arm or slaughtered your friends … do not bother to reply to that. Instead tell me what proportion of mankind you estimate are essentially good."
It was Darien's turn to look surprised, but he struggled valiantly to supply an answer. "I'm not sure. Maybe seventy-five or eighty percent."
"I might put it lower myself." Valthaur conceded. "Now estimate the proportion of essentially evil orcs."
A trap lain by a master, Darien reflected ruefully. "Ninety-five percent?"
"And I would put that at one hundred percent. However, taking your figures, I would be willing to risk my odds amongst men, but I'd be a complete fool to hope the orcs I encountered belonged to the five percent that might just be trustworthy … even if I believed any were. You may return to your seat, Lord Darien."
xxx
Anardil arose at his summons and walked slowly towards the witness chair, a pace deliberately affected with the intent that his mind would adopt the calm his body manifest. Nonetheless, while his shoes padded polished stone his mind darted towards a dozen paths at once. A clink of metal drew his eye to the gallery; a short laugh shot his glance towards the doors; a flash of white drew his attention to Goldur's table - Kerwin shuffling sheets of paper in readiness. But meeting the calm, inscrutable gaze of his king jolted him firmly to where his wits needed to be.
Early on in their preparations Lord Goldur had explained to Anardil that his testimony would provide needed balance to the presentation, and also support that of Horus, whose account would undoubtedly be as suspect as that of the orcs. The law lord then sought permission for the ex-Ranger to testify before the council, his request granted subject to the condition that Anardil's position as a King's Man in clandestine service not be revealed by either of the judges.
When Anardil informed Sev that he was to be presented as a former Ranger turned merchant, she responded by asking if the Council had been advised of the "trading" he had done on the Eastern Borders. His indignant reply that the Council was exceptionally pleased by the results of their recent expedition had earned him a disdainful snort from his lady and a long lecture from Esiwmas on the finer points of trading. Clearly, diverting the near chance of war did not weigh in a trader's mind as keenly as profit turned, or lack thereof.
Now, settling into the witness chair, Anardil reflected on how disorientating the presence of an audience was. He had appeared several times before the Grand Council to report his findings as eyes and ears of the King, but those were sessions for only the lords of the Council, not open to the scrutiny and opinions of citizens. Shifting a little in his seat under several score of unfamiliar eyes, he decided it was infinitely easier being the observer rather than the observed.
Then he lifted his chin and drew cool composure around him like an invisible robe. The game of words had begun. In reply to Lord Goldur's carefully phrased questions, Anardil related his personal experiences with orcs. Precise, clipped words relayed his years as a Northern Ranger until his chieftain called the Grey Company south, finishing with a modified version of the events before the Black Gate when he had lost his arm.
"And since that time you have turned your talents to other endeavors?" Lord Goldur's eyes twinkled knowingly as he spoke the question.
With a wry grin, Anardil replied, "I have found I have a … small talent for trade."
The double meaning of the phrase was lost upon the majority of the audience. However, Anardil saw Sev bite her lip to restrain a smile, and some members of the Grand Council exchanged sidelong glances.
"Your work has taken you beyond the borders of Gondor?"
"I have traveled the Harad Road to its end."
"Have you found it difficult to treat with those who were once our enemies?"
"As with any group of men, some are honorable and some are not."
"Yet, they were our enemies."
Anardil raised an eyebrow and his low voice was firm. "Their leaders were swayed by promises made by the Dark Lord or by his threats."
"And what do you find now that Sauron does not dominate them?"
"That there are those who seek to live in peace, and those who seek to control others." He cocked his head slightly, a gleam in his grey eyes. "It is ever so with Men, is it not?"
"Yet, not all Men accepted the domination of Evil. Tell me, in your travels, what have you learned of how the Southerners view those creatures, who are not Men, that also served the Dark Lord?"
The former Ranger's tone remained bland as if he were reading a map. "As was true at The Black Gate, Sauron's destruction caused the majority of those creatures to go mad. Throwing themselves into pits or turning upon each other in wild frenzies. Of those who did not, many were slain by the Haradrim lords once they realized that Sauron was destroyed."
"But not all?"
"No, my lord, not all. Lords of Umbar and of Khand have taken some few into service. I have seen them. Others work on the corsairs, whether as slaves or of their own choice, I do not know."
Anardil's words caused a great stir with murmurs of "They will breed a new army." More than one suspicious look was aimed at the dark face of the Haradrim seated at Darien's side.
Lord Goldur gave a solemn nod and turned away to briefly gather his thoughts. "And have you had any experience with orcs within the boundaries of Gondor since the war?"
"In the last few months, my business …"
Aerio stifled a cough at the word and the elf turned his head to look back at Sev, who lifted her chin, pretending to ignore him. Business, indeed.
"…has taken me into Northern Ithilien and to the Inn of the Burping Troll, where I have come in contact with several orcs."
"And your opinion of them?"
His features were as graven stone as he replied quietly, "I sometimes find myself having great difficulty controlling the desire to draw a blade whenever they are near. Particularly if they come upon me unawares."
A low current of concurrence rippled about the room and went silent.
"Understandable. Yet, you control the urge?"
"I have attempted to model my behaviors upon those who reside permanently at the inn." He let his gaze touch upon Celebsul's fair, still face. "It has proven difficult at times, but there have been benefits in my dealings with those orcs."
"Would you counsel others to be so trusting?"
Anardil thought for a long moment then shook his head. "No, I would not. The orcs before you are the minority, exceptions to a rule. In any relationship with unknown orcs, I would advise constant guard. No one is certain how much their behavior is the result of years of thralldom and how much is due to their intrinsic nature."
Goldur turned towards him and sketched a short bow. "You echo the caution of Lord Valthaur, yet you temper it with a degree of toleration. Thank you for answering my questions, sir."
Lord Goldur moved back towards his chair, nodding to the opposition table. At this gesture, Valthaur stood and approached Anardil.
"Given your last response, why is it that you are here as a witness for the defence?"
Anardil's gaze did not waver. "Had you called me as a witness, my lord, I would have appeared just as willingly and said exactly as I have said. I have no trust for orc-kind in general, though I have learnt to live alongside a few."
"I see." The big man drew a rasping breath and paused to once again draw his kerchief, with which he dabbed briefly at his lip. Abruptly he fixed the former Ranger with a narrow stare, and his voice soared to resonant tones. "You are willing to live alongside those who cost you your arm and your service? You are willing to live alongside those whose swords were once wet with the blood of Gondor's knighthood? With the blood of your own brethren?"
Remembered anger mumbled through the hall in a passing wave, like a rumor heard from afar. Tiny muscles tightened along Anardil's jaw and his eyes and tone became steel.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Silence fell, deep silence in which unseen shoes scuffed, a cough was muffled, and something small dropped to the floor with a clink. The former Ranger might have been a stone statue as his one hand gripped the arm of the witness chair, for no caution had been laid against a question so simple - and so deadly - as this.
With a soft breath he lifted his gaze and deliberately sought out his friends and comrades from The Burping Troll. Sev's face was so very pale, Erin's half-hidden behind her small hand, while Celebsul met his glance with a strange, sad kindness. Last of all, he looked to the crooked, hunched figure of old Gubbitch sitting there, a scarred and ugly orc amidst the flower of Gondor's nobility and within Gondor's most venerable halls.
"I did not shirk my part in war," Anardil said, his words ringing in the vaulted room. "And I will not shun my place in peace."
His grey eyes swept the galley and the lords upon the dais like the pass of a levelled blade. "I am willing to live with those whose humanity at least matches my own. And in these, in these few …" He met and held Gubbitch's inscrutable regard. "I have seen compassion. I have seen kindness, and I have seen loyalty that reaches beyond their own race even to the race of Man."
An instant's pause, before he added more quietly, "Someone very dear taught me to reach beyond pain and darkness. If there be souls even among orc kind who also seek the light … then yes, I will live among them. With my doubts and all my misgivings, I will live among them, for such is how I live among my fellow Men."
The Great Hall sat silent until Lord Valthaur said silkily, "Your own compassion is to be applauded, though I fear you go too far. You may return to your seat, Anardil, son of Cirion."
Rising to his feet, Anardil nodded to the judges and composed himself to bow to the lords upon the dais. Ignoring the eyes upon him he returned to the benches with the same measured tread as he had left them. Easing his way past the seemingly serene Haradrim, who was to be called upon next, he noted Horus surreptitiously rubbing the palms of his hands against his thighs.
"Caution, my friend," Anardil murmured. "He may look like a mûmak, but he thinks like a fox."
The Southerner gave a slow nod, and then stood as his name was called.
xxx
TBC ...