Changing Perceptions
By Nerwen Calaelen
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. I (possibly) own the characters that I invented and the plot of the story, nothing else, so don't sue me!
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A solitary figure sat in the small cell; slumped in the light entering from the small high window. Eyes watched him through the grate in the door, but he did not seem to be aware of them, his thoughts took all his attention.
Did I betray my soldiers by surrendering? But if I had not, we would all have died. Our army seems to be failing, I do not know why. Having newly arrived from Khand, we joined the garrison of South Ithilien. Under the command of my eldest cousin, we were attacked by the enemy who had managed to surround us before being noticed. In the ensuing battle the troops fought bravely, despite it being their first battle. However, the enemy had much superior numbers and so their 'lack of cohesion as a fighting force was not an insuperable obstacle to victory'. What should I have done? I was the only officer left alive.
Now I sit here and cannot even guess what happened to the soldiers. Have I condemned them all to worse deaths than they would have had in battle? Will we be executed or what might they do? I wish I knew more of the customs of these people. At home, if captured I would know what my fate would be. If they had been going to kill me, would they not have done so already? Perhaps they wish to get information before killing me or enslave me, but they do not appear to have slaves here. I have heard that they do not. Razzuga, my cousin, my future wife (if I every see home again), told me so. Her interest in the lands of the west always seemed strange to me, but I would let her tell me all she learnt. Maybe this knowledge will help me now.
Her questions have opened my mind to the idea that things may not always be right, simply because they have always been thus. I must admit that at first she shocked me by this. I wish she were more careful in what she says, lest the gods smite her for these heresies. Yet sometimes I can see her reasoning and wonder if some of her suggestions would not be … improvements.
I did not wish to leave home to fight in this war. I have nothing against fighting and participated willingly in the raiding against Harad. I know they are supposed to be our allies, but back on our boarder we fight those who attack us and do not rely on alliances. This war is very different Is it true that the men of the west are evil, that they are going to attack us, take away our lands and enslave us? Having seen their lands I think it unlikely. After so many years of war, crops still grow in green and fertile Ithilien whence farmers fled many decades ago. Why would they want our lands where so much labour is needed to grow enough to feed us in good times and just to survive in the bad? It does not make sense to me, but then what do I know of such things? I know nothing of the Emperor's policy or our overlord Sauron's motives. I grew up in the small city, which my uncle rules.
All my thoughts circle back to there, whilst I am here. How I wish I could send a message back, but I do not believe that they would be happy to hear from me. To them it will appear that I have lessened our family honour by surrendering. Nor do I want to be the one to relate the news of the death of my brothers and cousins and all the other officers of the company. I still can not totally comprehend it myself, that I will never see any of them again. Yet even now I can still see the death of my eldest brother Wurrush, the sword severed his head as he sought to rally our company, urging them to charge again. It was an honourable death, but I wonder what he died for? Does my surrender make his death unnecessary? Would it have been better to have surrendered earlier? Or was surrendering at all too dishonourable to contemplate?
The entry of a guard carrying a tray of food, which he left on the table interrupted his thoughts. Olrat examined the food before eating hungrily.
Surely it is a good sign that they feed me. It implies they intend me to live for who feeds those condemned to death? It is good food too, fresh bread and stew, which contains both meat and vegetables, not much of either, but much better than the rations we have been living on during this campaign. At home I believe stale bread to be the standard rations for a prisoner. Yet what good outcome can there be in this situation. Would it have been better to die honourably in battle, than face slavery or death? Why was I the one to survive, to watch all my brothers and cousins killed, to face the decisions? Why me?
"Have you finished eating?" He jumped, not having heard the guard return, uncertain of the meaning of the question. He tried to remember what Razzuga had told him of the languages of the west. There had been a couple of familiar sounding words, but he was still trying to work out the import of the sentence, when the guard pointed at the empty plate and then beckoned for Olrat to follow him.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To the council, they will determine your fate." The guard clearly understood him well enough to answer, and Olrat caught the words "council" and "fate" in the reply so guessed the response. He struggled to remain calm, determined to meet his fate as befitted his rank.
The guard led Olrat out of his cell and along the corridors to the chamber in which the council was taking place. As he entered, he looked from face to face hoping to determine what the outcome would be, but he could not tell. Some of the expressions seemed hostile and others curious. He stood before them, defiant, hoping a miracle would occur but bracing himself for the worst so that he could meet his fate without further dishonour.
"Tell us whence you come, your name and position"
Olrat tried to hide his confusion at the question; he had told the lord to whom he had surrendered this information, so surely they already knew his answer. However, he was pleased to note that at least one of those present could speak an approximation to his tongue so that his words would be understood.
"Olrat, of Khand." He did not speak the name of his town, it would mean nothing to them as practically no outsiders had ever been within Khand, except raiders and occasional messengers from Sauron to the Emperor.
"Do you expect mercy at our hands when you and your allies have been responsible for the destruction of our lands and the murder of our people?" The second question came from another, but Olrat understood enough to be able to answer,
"I do not expect mercy, but it seemed better to surrender that to die for certain in the battle. I did not wish to be responcible for any more unnecesary deaths." He waited for the first speaker to translate his response for the sake of the second.
"Why did you surrender? What result did you expect, surely you can not imagine we would simply release you, to return to your lord and renew the war against us?" It was a similar question, but from a different speaker.
"I do not really know. I expect that you will execute me, but I wish that you would spare the others. They are only soldiers, at home they were farmers, the blood tax of my uncle to the Emperor. Whatever you are determined to do to me, please consider letting them go home to their families, who need them. Whilst they fight here, their parents, wives and children labour in the fields to grow enough crops to live, or trade for food. Ours is a poor land, without their men to help it is possible that many of these families will starve." Olrat paused; he had said more than he intended to, but he had also seen the reaction on the face of the man who spoke his own tongue and it was compassion.
Maybe there is still hope. If I can buy their lives, it is worth the sacrifice of my own and the honour of my family. I wish that I knew who the members of the council are. The man translating my speech for the others, is he important? He seems to be sitting in the centre of the table, which at home would indicate that he is the most influential person present, but is the same true here?
Those must be Elves! They do not look like evil monsters, as we were taught to believe they are. Their faces as they hear my words suggest they feel compassion, can it be that all the stories about them are false? These thoughts were flashing through his mind, but he tried to focus on what seemed to be an argument between the members of the council. He wished that he could understand more of what was being said, but most of it eluded him. However, it was clear to him that the council was split in their reactions.
"What is signified by 'blood tax'? It sounds barbaric!"
"Their soldiers are just farmers! That seems impossible; they fought as well as the Tower Guards and have a reputation for their fighting skills."
"Yet I do not think that he is lying to us."
"But if what he says is true and they were sent away to fight and die, condemning many of their own people to death the rulers of Khand must be evil indeed."
"We know already that they are evil, did they not fight for Sauron?"
"However, we must decide what to do. To punish these prisoners for all the actions of Sauron's forces would be unjust."
"Was not what they did wrong?"
"That they did wrong does not make it right that we act as they would have. If we do this how are we better than they?"
"Here in Gondor we have suffered most from Mordor, now is a chance for vengeance."
"Is not the defeat of Sauron, the destruction of his armies enough? Would you pursue his minions for vengeance?"
"SILENCE. This council is adjourned until tomorrow. I think we should all consider what has been said so that tomorrow we may discuss this matter more rationally. Take the prisoner back to his cell."
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