CHAPTER XXV
In Which
There Are Two Meetings, With Consequences for Jashit and Grishnákh.
Everyone knows how to play Conkers, but just in case, here are the rules as Piglet and the others explained them to the Orcs. First off, a conker is a horse chestnut with a hole bored in it, right through to the other side. Piglet had a little gimlet that he liked to use to make the holes in his conkers, and he always did it very carefully, so as not to slip and hurt himself. Next, a nice piece of string is run through and a stout knot tied on the other side so the string won't come out again.
So much for the conker itself; now for the game.
The game is played between two people, each with their own conker, taking turns hitting each other's conker with their own. One player lets the conker dangle on the full length of the string while the other player swings their conker and tries to make a hit. The conker that finally breaks the other conker gains a point. This is true whether the conker that breaks is the striking conker or the one being allowed passively to dangle, and it is noteworthy that the attacking conker should often be the one to break first.
As they explained the rules Rabbit wondered, perhaps, whether Piglet might have shown a lack of foresight in choosing to teach this particular game to the Orcs, though they were certainly avid learners. The goblins' eyes in particular brightened when they learned that the object of the game was to smash your opponent's conker.
First Pooh and Piglet squared off against each other, and then Pooh and Rabbit (Pooh had won), and then Pooh and Roo (Pooh had won again) and then Roo and Tigger (Pooh's conker having finally succumbed to the fatal thwack of Roo's conker shattering his to pieces.)
"Conkers is of course one name for the game, but there is much regional variation," Owl was explaining eruditely to the party at large. "In Lancaster it is called cheggers, for example, and other regionalisms including cheggies, cheesies, cobblers, and obblyonkers." He went on to explain that the name "conker" possibly came from the verb "conquer," but may might also have come from the French conque, meaning "conch," and this would certainly make sense, because older antecedents of the game involved snail shells, but no one was listening at this point because everyone had a conker now and they were all engaged in play.
Conkers is a game of force, but also, of style. Each of the Woodlanders took their own approach. Pooh generally gave his an absent twirl or two before he let fly, while Piglet earnestly sighted along the string at the enemy conker before making a single overhand pass. Rabbit, normally righthanded, would use his right paw when dangling his conker, but his left paw when making an attack. Roo would make a very enthusiastic swing overhead, and Tigger could never refrain from giving a little bounce when he was on the offensive. This made him an unnerving opponent and it took a stalwart player indeed not to flinch when on the defense.
Piglet had been been wrong in one respect about Orcs. The truth is that they are very fond of sport – not just games of cruelty and torment but games also of chance, and strategy, and hand-eye coordination. The most notable games among them involve dice, but small games involving stones or sticks are not unknown. Chestnuts had never figured into their play before but that was because – excepting Jashit and other goblins of Mirkwood – most Orcs do not have much do with trees, and so they hadn't had the opportunity.
Given the chance to smash away at innocent chestnuts they were very happy. They might even have gone farther if Rabbit had not sternly imposed a penalty early on, which was that any player who struck another player rather than that player's conker, whether on purpose or by accident, was automatically disqualified and had to look on from the side for a full three rounds of the game. This happened (you will not be surprised to hear) to Noglash early on, and (perhaps more surprisingly) to Reznib, although he said very plaintively that it was an accident and look, he hadn't hurt Jashit that badly. Jashit himself took it in stride, but Rabbit was firm.
"It does not mean that you are a bad person," he said to Reznib, "only that you must learn to be more careful."
So Reznib sat by disconsolately, first in company with Noglash and then by himself when Noglash had served out his three rounds and was allowed to play again, while the tourney went on, with the Orcs playing the Orcs, and the Woodlanders playing the Woodlanders, and then the Woodlanders playing the Orcs. When Reznib was allowed to play again, his opponent turned out to be Piglet. They neither of them said anything to the other, only nodded, and then Piglet held up his string, waiting for Reznib to take aim.
It turned out that Reznib had a similar style to Piglet: sighting carefully along the string, which he held between thumb and forefinger of the right hand while holding his conker ready in the left, and then letting fly. This made Piglet feel very companionably toward him. When Reznib's conker shattered his own he actually gave a little cry of "Bravo!" and did not feel too badly disappointed about his conker. The most it meant for him was the inconvenience of having to get a new one.
For all of Eeyore's "Ha-hem" earlier, he was nonetheless finally persuaded to take part, mainly at the encouragement of Kanga. Indeed, she wouldn't leave him alone about it, and so at last he took his place among them, a world-weary expression on his motleyed face as the conker dangled from his mouth. This led to the usual outcome when he played against Kanga and Rabbit and Piglet and Pooh and Tigger and Roo, which is to say a succession of losses on Eeyore's part, but something very interesting happened when he played against the Orcs. Mauhúr and Durzlip and Warrung did well enough, but when any of the goblins were facing Eeyore they seemed strangely distracted, as if unwilling to look directly at the donkey or his conker, and consequently would keep missing when they were on the attack, and look peculiarly stricken if they actually made a hit.
As for Noglash, he seemed not to want to play Eeyore at all, only fidgeted with his conker and stood looming awkwardly for several seconds. When he did finally swing at Eeyore's conker he gave a loud shout at the same time – a churlish act, clearly intended to make Eeyore flinch, but Eeyore did not react at all, and when it was his turn to attack Eeyore gave a savage swing that shattered Noglash's conker in an instant.
This was the fastest bout in the game so far. For a moment everyone was silent, watching as Eeyore opened his mouth and deliberately let his conker fall, as much as to say,
No more. I am done.
From then on Eeyore did not play any further but only took part in the role of spectator.
The final bout was played between Rabbit and Mauhúr. When he broke Rabbit's conker the Uruk-hai cheered enthusiastically, feeling their captain had given a good account of himself. The Woodlanders all clapped (excepting Eeyore, though that wasn't necessarily a slight on his part), and Rabbit himself was congratulatory. "But now, I think, we should have an end of games."
Mauhúr, who had entered the Conkers tournament with skepticism and more than a little impatience, couldn't help noticing how it had taken the edge off of everyone's nerves, including his own, and inspired an almost genial atmosphere among the players. Not for the first time, he thought the Rabbit a far shrewder operator than appearance suggested.
-.-.-.-
After came Talks. These were primarily driven by Rabbit and Mauhúr, with contributions from Owl and sundry interjections by the Uruk-hai. Many productive and sensible things were said while they did things like reexamine the Terms (which were kept mainly as is, with the addition of a few minor clauses), and establish a timeframe for examining the Books. Owl alluded with the most delicate of allusions to the mess made of Christopher Robin's house, which could not help but put Rabbit in mind of the destruction of his burrow and the wreck of his lovely front door. The upshot of this part of the discussion was that the Orcs should try to repair some of the damage they had caused, as a gesture of good faith.
This was all very uninteresting to Tigger and Roo, and they went off with a few spare conkers to play by themselves. It was not much more interesting to Winnie-the-Pooh, but Pooh didn't mind because it gave him the opportunity to finish making up his hum from before. When he had finished he wanted to give Piglet a little poke so that he could hear it too, but Piglet was listening to the current discussion very carefully, so Pooh went on practicing his hum to himself, commiting it to memory. Pooh's hum was called "If I Was" and here is the way he told it to Piglet later:
IF I WAS
"If I was a snake (but I'm not a snake)
I'd not close my eyes but be always awake.
I'd spell out my name with an S in the grass
And I'd laze in the sun while the wide world went past.
"If I was a stone (but I'm not a stone)
I wouldn't be sad to be out on my own.
I'd lie in the garden or out on the heath
And let the black beetles creep by underneath.
"If I was a mouse (but I'm not a mouse)
I'd run here and there finding things for my house.
I'd gather up feathers and odd bits of stuff
And fill up my burrow with berries and fluff.
"If I was a tree (but I'm not a tree)
I'd dig in my toes and grow tall as can be.
I'd dance and I'd sway as the breezes blew by
And reach up until I was touching the sky.
"If I was the sun (but I'm not the sun)
I'd smile at the beautiful day I had done.
I'd beam on the butterflies and on the bees,
Hang over the hedgerows and tickle the trees.
"Now I'm not a snake or a mouse or a tree
Or a stone or a sun, as I think you can see.
And I'm not –
(Did I already say I'm not a tree?)
But I am a Pooh Bear and that's fine with me."
-.-.-.-
When nothing of further use seemed to be arise from the meeting, Rabbit decided it was time to adjourn. This was a Great Relief to the Orcs. They had enjoyed Conkers and all the food was very pleasing, but they had reached their saturation point so far as Orkish-Woodland interactions were concerned.
To be fair, the Orcs were not the first to discover their limits at a meeting led by Rabbit, and the Woodlanders also were very happy to be done for a while. Directed by Rabbit but with every sign of mutual agreement, the gathering was dissolved. The Orcs reentered the tent or retired to Owl's old house, and Rabbit & Co. began their own dispersal.
But all was not finished. In the aftermath of the meeting Owl had begun to Circulate, chatting with various cronies among the birds and animals, and he soon heard something among them that he realized Rabbit needed to know about right away. When he did, Rabbit looked very serious. He had not got very far when Owl reached him, and so he was able to talk to the same creatures that Owl had, and he listened to them very closely. It was a matter that had not been raised during the actual Talks, but he knew it must be addressed without delay.
"There is nothing for it," he said to Owl. "We shall have to prevail upon Mauhúr for another meeting.
-.-.-.-
"Another meeting?!" "Why us? What for?" exclaimed Reznib and Shagrub at the same time.
"What's it all about?" Jashit asked Mauhúr.
"Come down and you'll find out soon enough," said Mauhúr, his words clipped.
"It's about the knife, I know it is," Shagrub accused Reznib. "You Did Too Much."
"I asked for it nice enough!" protested Reznib. "I wasn't going to keep it!"
"And he just wants us goblins?" asked Jashit. "What about Durzlip and Grishnákh and them-all?"
Mauhúr said nothing. He was, perhaps, a little irritated himself just then, knowing no more than the snaga did; also he had been told not to bring his fellow Uruk-hai and it was a reminder, for all the genial atmosphere earlier, that the situation was not equal. His hand shifted toward the place where his sword would normally have been – it was a meaningless gesture without even the scabbard belted at his side, but Jashit was still attentive enough to pick up on it.
"We're coming!" said Jashit, grabbing Reznib and Shagrub both and pulling them along behind him. The animals that were to escort them were waiting.
It did not escape their attention that the place they were being brought to was at some remove from the clearing with the fallen tree where their fellows were. Had the animals been other Orcs the whole thing would have screamed of skullduggery, and a likelihood that someone was about to be done in.
"Ah, gentlemen," said Rabbit, looking at Mauhúr and the three goblins when they were all together. For all the seriousness of the occasion, he felt pleased. He had always wanted to open a meeting with this phrase, but somehow it didn't seem quite right when said meeting consisted of Pooh, Piglet, et al. "I do hope I haven't inconvenienced you, only I wanted to be discreet," he went on. "I'm looking for some clarification, and I hope that you can give it to me."
He did not keep them in suspense. The long and the short of it was that Rabbit wanted some further explanation of the relations among the Orcs, in particular those between the goblin Orcs and the larger Uruk-hai. He'd had some idea before of certain differences from Pooh and Piglet, who had shared what they remembered from their conversation with the goblin Orcs, and from Mauhúr, who used similar terminology. But that had been part of a much larger deluge of information, and not a part that Rabbit was focused on so much at the time.
Somehow, Rabbit had thought the authority of the larger Orcs stemmed from a more formally appointed power structure. He hadn't realized the degree to which circumstance, not officialdom, had thrown separate groups together until report came to him of a dispute observed between the Orcs the evening before. Now, as he coaxed more information from them, Rabbit came to a better understanding. Mauhúr and his fellow Uruk-hai had a master, the White Hand of Isengard, but the goblins truly were masterless…meaning Mauhúr was not their captain.
This was very problematic to Rabbit's sensibilities. He had believed Mauhúr to be the goblins' proper leader. Now that he knew this to be an error, things could not continue as they had.
"I cannot expect you to obey orders given by Captain Mauhúr. If you are really a separate party from the Uruk-hai, you needed to be treated as such. That means whoever among you is the leader must tell me, so I know to whom I should be speaking when negotiating Woodlander-Goblin affairs."
"B-begging your pardon, but…we're really just the three of us," said Jashit. "And we're just goblins. None of us is a leader."
"Then you need to have a spokesman," said Rabbit. "It is the done thing. One of you must represent the three of you."
The goblins gawked at each other.
Mauhúr coughed. "While I am obviously not your captain, I would point out that one of you in particular had a great deal to say last night."
Shagrub was the first to gather himself. "That's right, you're not our captain," he said. He wheeled and pointed at Jashit. "I nominate you, Jashit."
"Oh! Same. Same here!" Reznib exclaimed hastily.
Jashit looked alarmed. "Wha–"
"It's you, Jashit," said Shagrub, pushing him forward. "You're our representative. Now represent us."
"Wait – "
Rabbit nodded. "Since the three of you agree that you have no leader and are masterless, majority rules, and two out of three is a definite majority. My congratulations to you, sir," he said to Jashit.
To stand there, saying "What?" in a rather pititiful voice, was all that Jashit could find in him to do for several solid moments.
-.-.-.-
"Only think," Shagrub said to Reznib after, "how close that came to being you or me! Now Jashit has to go to all those meetings with Rabbit."
"It could still be one of us," Reznib reminded him seriously, "If they should realize him and us come from different places again, that we're Misty Mountains and he's Mirk—"
Shagrub clapped a hand over Reznib's mouth. "Hi!" Looking around and speaking in a lower voice: "No sense making that point where it might get back to the Rabbit. It'd give him Ideas. Besides, what sense does it make to split a party of three into two more parties again?"
"Wouldn't that make Jashit a party of one?" asked Reznib, when Shagrub had taken his hand away.
"We already have a party of one. That fellow Grishnákh. He's the only one of us from Mordor, and he serves the Eye and all…"
"If you're a party of one, though, don't that just mean you're representing your own interests?" Reznib looked thoughtful. "Might not be so bad."
"Hush!" Shagrub gave an exaggerated shudder. "Conkers and cake are all fine and good, but better eat a toad than go to more of those meetings with Rabbit."
Meanwhile, Jashit was walking along behind. He was in shock and a kind of special misery over his newfound responsibility. How had this happened?
"My compliments," said Mauhúr drily, with something suspiciously like amusement in his rough voice. "I can think of few more apt to the task."
"You…" Jashit twitched as he began to process what had happened. "You did this to me. I don't want to go to meetings!"
Mauhúr chuckled. "I only mentioned that you had a lot to say last night. Your little friends did the rest of it. Well…cheer up, Mirkwood. Nothing for it now – and as good a speechmaker as you are, I'm sure that you will have plenty to contribute to these meetings."
"Well…what about Grishnákh, though?" asked Jashit, seizing on the same point that Shagrub had. "He ain't an Uruk or a goblin. Where does he come into all this?"
Mauhúr frowned. "Not a bad question, actually." He paused, then gave Jashit a thoughtful look. "Why don't we ask him?"
-.-.-.-
"Indeed, where do I come into all of this?" Grishnákh asked when Mauhúr spoke to him, with Jashit standing awkwardly behind him, trying to appear unobtrusive (the others had made themselves scarce at a look from Mauhúr, though no doubt they were listening from outside.) Grishnákh had not said one word to the Woodlanders that day; he had never even left the tent. He sneered at the news of Rabbit's meeting and Jashit's new role, and was wholly uninterested in assuming a similar position. "I see no reason to accede to these dreary little animals and their games any further than necessary."
"It is your own affair, of course," said Mauhúr. "I wouldn't dream of telling Mordor what to do. Only I would have thought you'd have some interest in the information to be had."
"Pugh. I put very little faith in these so-called Books of Lore. Such wisdom as these creatures have to offer cannot be much."
Mauhúr's heavy brow knotted in annoyance. "Yes, I suppose there is no need for you to put yourself forward on the matter. There is nothing that keeps you here, after all. I had thought they might offer something in the way of maps, but what need does Grishnákh of Mordor have of maps? I should have known the servant of Sauron would have knowledge beyond our own poor kenning."
Jashit looked up at Mauhúr, then at Grishnákh in confusion. "Do you know something we don't know?" he asked.
Grishnákh glowered at Mauhúr. "That is a poor sort of trick," he said coldly. "Do you think I am to be played upon so easily? I would not have expected such an obvious ploy from you."
Jashit was still confused. "If you do know something that we don't, I wish you would tell us what it is," he said to Grishnákh, a bit plaintively. "You big Orcs aren't the only ones who want to go home, you know. Shagrub and Reznib and I want to go back where we came from just as much."
Mauhúr shook his head. "Do not look to Mordor or Mordor's servant, Jashit. There is no substance there, only a brace of black thoughts biting each other behind so much posturing."
Grishnákh's lips curled back in a silent snarl.
"He has no more idea of how to get back than we do, or he wouldn't be here right now," Mauhúr went on. "He is afraid to realize how little power he has in this place, afraid of his own emptiness. And so he sulks in silence and feeds on the scraps of his own superiority, while he waits for someone else to find a way out."
The other Orc hissed incredulously. "If I am empty, then why does Mauhúr of Isengard have so much desire of my company? Oh yes, it is true: my power is very small compared with that of my Master, and what power I have is pledged to Him. His will is my will, and I hearken after it. But do not think you deceive me, Captain Mauhúr: you want something of mine, badly, or you would not bait me this way.
"I want your help, Grishnákh!" snapped Mauhúr. "I have said it before. We are more together than if we stand alone. Yes, the Uruk-hai are proud but I am not too proud to enlist this little one in my cause, or to ask that Mordor stand up and be counted."
"And so you come begging me – "
"I do not beg," Mauhúr said in a deadly voice.
The air smelled of impending violence. There was a space in which Grishnákh seemed to consider pressing the point. If he had, Jashit knew there would be murder.
Instead, the Mordor Orc touched the token at his neck, whether as a source of strength or as a means of buying time: delaying something that, once done, would not be possible to undo. As Jashit watched, Grishnákh seemed visibly to settle. He leaned forward, studying Mauhúr more closely. "What do you really want?" Grishnákh asked at last. "Tell me, if you want my help."
"When the Rabbit consults his Books, he will have me at an advantage," said Mauhúr stiffly. "I cannot read, and so I must rely on what he tells me of them. None of the Orcs under me can read. I want someone with me who can."
Grishnákh lifted his head a little in response to this. "Well. That is something." He looked more thoughtful than mocking at that moment. "I wonder that you should be troubled about it. You have not seemed worried about the honesty of these creatures before."
"I don't distrust them," said Mauhúr, "but I do not trust blindly. The Rabbit has already proved more clever than expected. And yet, I do not think that he is very familiar with these books he would consult for us. He did not even know where they were before the Kanga creature spoke of them – certainly that does not bespeak a great familiarity with them. Even if he deals honestly with us, he may not have the knowledge to best discern what information we need."
"It is possible," acknowledged Grishnákh. He continued to study Mauhúr. "Why are you so sure that I can read?"
"You are a spy," Mauhúr said.
Grishnákh did not react to this. He only waited. Mauhúr continued: "That is why you have been so often in and out of Mordor. If you are not a spy, you are a very well-traveled courier, and they too must know something of writing. But I think you are a spy, who travels and gathers information at Sauron's bidding."
Grishnákh shrugged. "I am what I am. I am whatever my Master has most need of. More than that, you do not need to know."
This cryptic response was too much for Jashit. "So can you read or can't you?" he demanded. He was fed up with all the back and forth.
He suspected that the two bigger Orcs had forgotten that he was even there, from the way they both looked at him. He almost didn't expect Grishnákh to bother answering at all, but perhaps he should not have been surprised. It must have been that superiority that Mauhúr had spoken of, for indeed, Grishnákh began to declaim,
"I can read Dwarvish Runes, and I can read the Script of Elves and Men. Also I can read the language of Mordor in its purest form, as it was devised by my master, and I can read the tongue of Men that is called Westron. I can read some dialects of the Men of the South, for there is much traffic between Mordor and the South." He paused. "And can write and speak all of them as well," he added, rather smugly at the end.
Mauhúr looked grudgingly impressed.
Jashit supposed that he was as well. "Can you read Elvish too? I can read the Elf word for spider, and write it." He waited, but when neither of them said anything but only looked at him oddly, he told them, "It's ungol." Then he squatted down and helpfully traced the word on the dirt floor of the tent with his claw.
Grishnákh came around and stood behind him, looking down at what the goblin had written. "That is not unlike the way it is written in Mordor," he acknowledged after a moment.
"Where did you learn that?" asked Mauhúr.
Signs, explained Jashit. The Elves put indicators up most everywhere, to warn their folk. You couldn't barely walk through the Mirkwood without bumping into them.
-.-.-.-
Disclaimer: Tolkien's works, characters and concepts are copyright J.R.R. Tolkien. Milne's works, characters and concepts are copyright A.A. Milne.
Fangorn Wood and all original characters therein are copyright The Lauderdale (cartoon6 at hotmail dot com). "Chapter XXV" published June 10, 2018.
Comments, feedback appreciated. I ended up combining my original versions of Chapters XXV and XXVI to get things moving a little. Hopefully it works, but let me know what you think!