An Orc in the Palace
Eldarion arrived the next morning. His parents greeted him with warmth and, in Arwen's case, tears trembling on her lashes. He smiled and blotted them away with the end of her scarf, putting them down to a mother's excess of tenderness. Then the King swept him off to spend the day in close conference, the two of them alone, and of what they said to one another, neither ever spoke to anyone else. Something, however, must have been said of Canohando, for when Eldarion encountered him in the dining hall that evening, standing guard behind the Queen's chair, the Prince met the Orc's eyes with a slight smile and a nod of his head; evidently the arrangement met with his approval.
That was not the case two days later when Elladan and Elrohir found the orc in Arwen's presence. She was sitting with her ladies by the fountain of the White Tree. One of the ladies was singing and playing on a lute, and some of the others were stitching at their fancywork as their custom was, but Arwen herself sat idle, trailing her hand listlessly in the water. There were no guardsmen to be seen, for in daytime their station was on the other side of the gate, but Canohando was the Queen's Shadow, and he stood a little distance away, leaning casually against the wall, his unmilitary posture masking his watchfulness. He had plaited his hair into a myriad of small braids that hung against his cheeks and forehead, and even in the uniform of the Guard he looked uncouth and wild.
The gate opened suddenly and the sons of Elrond burst into the courtyard, in their eagerness hastening ahead of the servant who came to announce them. Canohando took four swift steps from where he had been lounging, planting himself between Arwen and the twins, his sword unsheathed in his hand. The maiden who had been singing screamed and dropped her lute, and Arwen whirled round to see what had frightened her.
"Elladan!" she cried. "Canohando, stop! They are no danger; they are my brothers!" She flung herself into Elladan's arms, catching Elrohir by the hand and dragging him with her into the embrace, and Canohando slid his sword back into its scabbard and went to lean once more against the wall, untroubled. He had been ready to defend the Queen, but she was not in peril.
"What is this, Arwen?" Elrohir exclaimed, pulling free of her hug. "Are men in short supply in Gondor, that you have some minion of Sauron wearing the black and silver? The fine trappings do not match his loutish bearing, Sister!"
His eyes on the Orc were full of loathing, and Elladan added, "How is it that the King permits this, Arwen Undomiel?"
The Queen stood very straight, and in truth she was no more than a hand's span shorter than they were, tall and lordly though they seemed. "The King does permit, and he has sworn this Orc to my service, not Sauron's! This is Canohando, who met the Ring-bearer in Mordor and turned from the Dark. Frodo gave him the Jewel he wears around his neck, and I have confirmed the gift." A roguish smile peeked out from her stern visage, like the sun behind storm clouds. "Estel told him he must be my shadow, and I had not heard that shadows were known for military bearing! But he is very faithful, and as you saw, very fast."
Elladan's brows drew together; plainly he was not reconciled to his sister's new guardian. "And if you had not called him off, what then? Can your shadow tell friend from foe?"
"You startled him, Elladan, and he does not know you." She did not want to tell them the story of the Guardsman killed in the Throne Room, and she wondered uneasily what might have happened if she had not stopped the Orc. She and Canohando were going to have a quiet talk together, before this day ended.
"I think we will have words with Estel about this, Sister," said Elrohir. "But for now, we will leave you and go wash away the dust of the road."
She smiled. "I will walk with you. I am glad indeed to welcome you, my brothers." But they noted a sorrow in her eyes that did not match her smile, and as she stepped between them and took their arms to go into the palace, neither of them was pleased to see Canohando detach himself from the wall and follow behind them.
"I gave him to her for her safety, and I trust more in that Orc than in twenty Guardsmen."
The twins had lost no time in bringing their concern to the King, but he seemed little inclined to listen to them. Neither did he shrink from telling them the full story, and from him they learned of the man killed in the Great Hall, and how Canohando made amends for that death.
"You should rather have hanged him above the city gates," Elrohir said with anger. "Have we three not fought Orcs from West to East, above ground and below, since you were old enough to carry a sword? What of Celebrian, our lady mother -- would she countenance that her daughter is guarded by an Orc?"
The King sighed. "Sit down, Elrohir, and cool your heat with a little iced wine. Canohando is not like any Orc you have ever encountered, nor I either. He is Frodo's Orc, bound by friendship and blood-pact to the Ring-bearer. You heard that Radagast the Brown took Frodo back into Mordor, after the War?"
Elrohir accepted a glass of wine and passed one to his brother. "We heard rumors, but I had not credited them. Not that the Bird-tamer would not venture such madness, but that the hobbit would go with him. Did Frodo not die in his own country many years ago?"
Elessar nodded. "He did. But for sixty years before that he roamed the Black Land with Radagast, and the reports I've had from Mordor since then say it is no longer desolate. Life has returned there, thanks to the Brown Wizard's labor, and a few Orcs were redeemed, as well. That was Frodo's doing. See now, my brothers!" He leaned forward, looking into their eyes, intent. "My time draws to a close, and Arwen will have a choice to make, or more than one. If she go to the Havens, it is a long journey, and not every danger has been vanquished in Middle Earth, even now. If she hold to the choice of Luthien, she may yet linger many years, and I would not leave her open to harm. You two will guard her with your lives, I know, but here is Canohando as well, ready to die for his Lady of the Jewel, and a redoubtable warrior. Would you rob her of his service, because Celebrian suffered at the hands of Orcs? Canohando was never in the Redhorn Pass!"
They sat silent, and Elladan tossed back his wine in one gulp and stood to refill his glass. At last Elrohir said, "You are saying that the Doom of Men is at hand, Estel, and you are soon to depart? That was the import of your message to Rivendell."
The King inclined his head. "Eldarion is ready for Kingship, and I depend on you, who are twice over his uncles, to support and advise him. But how if you are doing that, and Arwen choose not to remain in Minas Tirith? She may wish to return to Rivendell, I deem, or even Lothlorien..."
Elladan's voice was heavy. "Lothlorien fades into the mist, Estel. The mallorns are dying, without Galadriel, and it will be no different from any other land before many more years have passed. And Rivendell itself is more memory than substance, these days. It is the Age of the Dominion of Men, indeed."
There was a long silence. "Alas that the fall of Sauron should compass the fall of so much that was lovely and good," the King said at last. "My brothers, you have also a choice to make, and time comes on apace. Will you pass over the Sea? For I perceive that it will not be long now, before the last Ship departs."
The twins locked eyes across the table, and the King saw that they were not of one mind on this matter, yet neither would suffer the other to choose another fate than himself.
"You have problems of your own, my friends," he said. "Suffer me to provide a guardian for your sister who has no other thought but to protect her. "
Canohando had been assigned to the First Company of Guards, to give him a place in the mess and in the barracks, although he never slept there the whole time he was in Minas Tirith. The King had found a little closet off the ante-room and ordered it emptied; there was room enough for the Orc's pallet and his few belongings, and there he slept, ready at all times to follow his Lady.
He had to eat, however, and Arwen had commanded that he be given food whenever he asked for it, regardless of the regular hours of the mess. He fell in the habit of going to the kitchens while King and Queen were at breakfast together, and again in the evening when they walked in the gardens. He accepted whatever was given to him without comment, sitting on the floor in a sunny corner to eat, and watching the busy comings and goings of the kitchens.
"Oh, he just gives me the willies, so he does, with that grey skin and those greasy-looking braids all over his head!" Thus one of the stout, matronly cooks to another, soto voce, and the women gave him a wide berth while he sat with his meal and his mug of ale. Canohando heard her well enough and smiled to himself, remembering Lokka and her sharp tongue - it had been Lash's wife who taught him to braid his hair and anoint it with bear's grease, to keep it tidy and out of his eyes. But Lokka had been a tribeswoman of Nurn, not a citizen of the King's city.
However one of the men who tended the roasting spits also heard the remark and saw the smile, and he warmed to the Orc. Joram, his name was, a man of fifty-odd winters who in his youth had marched with the King against Harad. He noticed that Canohando liked meat better than any other food, although the Orc never asked for anything in particular, and Joram began to save out a juicy shank bone or a rack of ribs for him. He set the meat to grill while the King's breakfast was cooking, knowing that Canohando would arrive in the kitchens soon after the trays had been carried up to the Queen's morning room.
"Go sit down," he told the Orc when he came in, "I'll bring it to you." And when he had done so, he stayed, leaning against the wall near Canohando while he ate. "They say you knew the Ring-bearer," he said conversationally.
Canohando nodded, his mouth full of hot meat. "'S my brother," he said when he could speak. "Frodo Ninefingers."
The man whistled in surprise. "Now that's something I didn't know! An Orc, was he? I'd always heard he was a Periannath."
Canohando's brows came together, and Joram tensed, ready to run. "He was not an Orc, Man, nor whatever you said; he was a halfling. Are you so quick to forget, in Gondor, that you do not remember Ninefingers? Your city would lie in ruins, but for him!"
The Orc's voice was rough, but Joram heard his indignation for the Ring-bearer's honor and relaxed again. "He is not forgotten," he said, placating. "Every spring at the New Year his tale is sung, and all drink to his courage. He went into Mordor and wrestled with the Dark Lord himself, they say, and cast Sauron down so hard, his stronghold fell to the center of the earth! It is a wonder to me that a halfling could do any such thing, but so the story goes. And you knew him?"
Canohando looked at the man open-mouthed, forgetting to eat in his amazement at this version of the story. At last he gave a snort of laughter and returned to his meal. "No, you don't remember him," he said. "But I do, and he left Mordor Masterless, in truth, though not the way you tell it." He finished eating in silence, took a long drink from his tankard, and got up to return to the Queen.
He started to look for Joram whenever he entered the kitchens, for the man always had roasted meat ready for him, and usually stayed to keep him company while he ate. It was pleasant to have someone to talk with, and he heard all about the man's service in the war with Harad, and his life since then, his family and his little plot of land outside the city where he grew plums and pomegranates.
"You should come see it sometime, when you're off-duty," he told the Orc one day, but Canohando shook his head.
"I am the Queen's Shadow," he said. "I do not leave her, only long enough to come here and eat, while the King guards her. I cannot go to your house, Man."
Joram said no more, but a few days later when Canohando came in, there was a chubby lad turning the meat on the spit while the man stood by, watching. "This is my grandson, Miko," he introduced the child. "He has heard tales of the Orc who guards the Queen, and he wanted to see you."
Canohando grinned and sat down in his usual corner. "Well, and now you have seen me, youngling. What do you think?"
The lad stared for a moment, unsure, and then his face broke into a smile. "I think you are not so bad as they say. You do not look dangerous."
Canohando took his meat from the plate and tore into it. When his first hunger was satisfied, he wiped his mouth on his arm and reached out to grab the child's hand, pulling him down to sit beside him.
"You should not judge so easily, youngling. I am very dangerous, and I could rip out your heart while you are still thinking about drawing your sword to defend yourself." He stared hard at the child, making his voice menacing, but Miko did not back away.
"You would not do it," he said with certainty. "If I was an enemy you would, but not when I'm just sitting here. You don't have cruel eyes."
For a moment Canohando was speechless, and Joram came over, bringing him a tankard of ale. He took a long drink before he answered, "But you have wise eyes, young Miko. No, I would not harm you, but be on guard if you ever meet another Orc! We are not a race you should trust." There was something in his throat and he drained his ale, trying to force the lump down. The yearning for a son of his own, held at bay by brute willpower during many years, had returned with shattering force. He did not want anything more to eat; he wanted to flee, and yet he wanted also to remain with this child.
"Come again and see me, if you wish, youngling," he said, getting to his feet. "Do you have a bow?"
The lad grinned. "Yes, my grandfather made it for me. And arrows, too!"
Canohando nodded approval. "That is my weapon, the bow. I do not have one here. Bring yours, and I will see how well you shoot."
He went back to the Queen's bower, perching on the windowsill at the far end of the room while she visited with her brothers. They had grown accustomed to him by now and stopped throwing him dark looks; it might have been that they were mollified by the Orc's evident worship of their sister. However wild his hair and appearance, his eyes followed Arwen with adoration, and no one who saw him could doubt that he would lay down his life for her without a moment's hesitation.