Chapter Five
Thus Created
~~*~~
The Orc nameth Krapp,
created soulless, thus did discovereth he had one.
~~*~~
The war had left countless widows, and innumerable men who’d
survived, but were invalids from injuries. Hunger was rampant. Despair scented
the air like rotting flowers.
And children
without homes. For many women were killed too. Even though they did not fight, women
were often brutalized by the armies of men as they marched through.
The village Andylyr
visited was named Boverroth, and did not appear on any maps. The reason why was
her mother, who had fallen in love with a Mithrandia named Jáfia.
Jáfia raped and
killed Andylyr’s mother—with Andylyr, their child, waiting in the womb.
Physicians cut Andylyr out just in time, and she survived.
Jáfia didn’t.
Confronted by his brethren near what soon became the Black Gates, the
Mithrandia judged Jáfia, then burned his body to ash.
The cause of the deadly
conflict between Jáfia and Rothtia (whom Tia was named after) was never
discovered. What became known was the curse Jáfia put on Boverroth. It made the
entire village effectively invisible to outsiders. Worse, it erased all memory
of its existence from the minds of men, Elfkind, Orckind, Dwarves, even
Mithrandia. Maps were redrawn. Those staring down at them and seeing the designation
of Boverroth shook their heads. There was no such village!
Those who had
family or relatives from there forgot about them. If confronted by them, they’d
stare blankly back and claim they were thieves or con men. Whole families were forever
sundered.
In less than a generation,
Boverroth disappeared from all recollection and history.
Many of the
villagers left. Orphaned by the curse, they made their way into Middle Earth
and started anew. If they ever spoke of Boverroth, they were met with scorn and
laughter, or treated as insane and hung in public squares. Many, lonely and
desperate, killed themselves.
Somehow the village
survived. The citizens of Boverroth found their cursed status very freeing. An
unspoken oath passed between the citizenry never to speak of their quiet
enclave nestled against the forested foothills of Morgai. If they ventured
forth to other lands and the cities therein and were asked, they’d lie. “I’m from
Minas Tirith, my good sir!”
Minas Tirith, which
was visible just over the summits of the nearest western hills.
Boverroth began
growing again, even prospering. It became a thing of pride to be from there.
And when the war came, it became lifesaving to be a citizen.
For men from
anywhere else couldn’t see it, and neither could Elves, and neither could Orcs
or Dwarves or Mithrandia. Not even Sauron could see it.
The war raged, but
Boverrothians were safe. They kept up with the horrific news pouring in from
the front, and they prayed for their estranged families. The Village Council
made a proclamation: that any man who refused to join the war would not be
judged a coward.
A hundred or so men
felt guilty for not fighting and left to join the army (all but a handful
perished); but by and large the populace chose to remain safely ensconced
within their cursed anonymity.
“I do not
understand,” said Krapp as Andylyr finished speaking and went to the sink and
began drying dishes left there by Tia, who was out riding Shygar.
“Go on,” said
Andylyr, glancing over her shoulder.
“The village you
visit ... is invisible?”
She shook her head.
“No. It’s visible to all. Anyone can see it. What the curse does is erase the
image instantly from a person’s mind once they turn away. It also ... what’s
the word? ... It dissuades people from looking in that direction in the first
place once they get close enough.”
“Travelers too?”
asked Krapp, who had joined her at the sink and put the dishes into the
cupboards with her thanks. “What if travelers run across it?”
She shook her head
again. “They don’t. The roads leading there are cursed too. I’ve watched travelers.
They treat the village as though it isn’t a village but a great cliff or mountainside,
or something very dangerous. I’ve seen maps. Most describe a dangerous wood
surrounding an impassable peak. Some show a canyon. Some show nothing but
mountains and forest. It’s incredible that the mapmakers haven’t consulted each
other. That’s how powerful the curse is.”
“Amazing,”
whispered Krapp.
“Indeed,” said
Andylyr.
“And you and Tia ...
are cursed?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. Yes, of
course you are,” said Krapp. “Of course.”
He glanced at her.
“Am I?”
“No. Which is why
I’m talking to you about it. Actually, it’s one of several reasons why I’m
talking to you about it.”
Krapp waited.
“You have become
... well, Mr. Krapp, you have become a valued and honored member of our family
this past year. Tia ... my goodness! She looks upon you as a friend and a
mentor. She’d walk to the ends of Middle Earth for you! And I ...”
She seemed to
struggle with words. Her eyes glistened.
Krapp had learned
enough about human emotions and expressions the past year to know what she was trying
to say but couldn’t. He did what humans would do, and placed a hand on her
shoulder.
“I feel the same
way about you,” he said. “For you and the little one, I too would walk to the
ends of Middle Earth.”
Andylyr blinked
rapidly and smiled.
They went back to drying and putting away
dishes.
The main reason she had brought up The Curse of Boverroth
(as it was formally called) was that, as a beloved member of her family ...
“I want to know if
you’d like to be cursed as well,” she said.
It was suppertime,
and Tia had returned from her ride. She glanced excitedly at him and nodded
enthusiastically. “Please, Krapp, please?”
she begged. “It’ll protect you!”
“Tia,” said her
mother warningly. “We don’t know that. It might
protect him. We just don’t know.”
Tia was turning
into a beautiful young human. She had grown three inches since rescuing Krapp.
Her eleventh birthday was a month ago, and he had watched in puzzlement and
wonder as Andylyr made her a “cake” (delicious, though it looked like a white
sculpted mound of horse droppings) and brought her gifts, including a lovely
blue and white-checkered dress. She was still a here-and-there bundle of energy
and enthusiasm; but a vein of considered quiet had settled into her, one that increasingly
kept her from speaking until she thought matters through. She had become much
more concerned with appearances and maintaining her strawberry-blonde hair,
which had grown down to her shoulder blades. There were children her age in the
village, and Andylyr occasionally allowed her to ride Shygar there to be with
them. That was where she had spent the day.
“What must I do if
I wish to be cursed?” asked Krapp.
“Well, now, that’s
the difficult part,” said Andylyr, bringing a fork-speared piece of buttered
squash to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, sipped some water, and added, “Over
the years we’ve found a way to include others in the curse—which means adding
you as a member of the village. That won’t be easy. You are, after all ...”
“... an Orc,” he
sighed.
“My best friend!”
said Tia defiantly. She punched his arm.
He smiled uneasily
at her, then glanced back at her mother. “I am sorry, Andylyr,” he said, “I am
still uncertain.... Why would I want to do this—to be cursed?”
“The curse would protect you, silly!” said Tia before her
mother could stop her. “I already told you!”
“That’s our hope,”
said Andylyr. “Boverrothians are rarely harassed outside the curse’s border. The
curse makes us inconsequential to foreigners of all races. They don’t look at
us unless we work to make our presence known, and even then it isn’t sure. That
would very much favor you should you ever find yourself outside the curse’s
borders—for obvious reasons.”
“Because I’m an
Orc,” he murmured.
He thought of
refusing right away, and made to say so, but stopped himself just before
speaking. Something deep inside warned him to shut up and think of it.
He had gone nowhere
in the year he had been here. It was very easy to see himself never leaving
this blessed home and family. He’d be perfectly happy becoming old and dying in
his comfy bed right here without ever again venturing back into Middle Earth.
But the war had
taught him that nothing remained untouched by change. And many times that change
was harsh if not deadly.
He glanced down at
his clothes when it came suddenly clear to him. “These are ... from soldiers
... dead soldiers ...”
He looked up.
Andylyr nodded sadly.
“What must I endure
... to be cursed?”
Tia spoke up. “It’s
really cool! It’s called the Smiting Stone! I ...”
She glanced at her
mother, who was shaking her head.
She glanced at
Krapp. “Sorry.”
“Tia knows our
history perhaps more than I’m comfortable with,” said Andylyr, smiling with
strained patience at her. “Where Jáfia was destroyed by his fellow Mithrandia
is a stone. It was where he was standing when judgment was passed on him. It is
known only to Boverrothians. It is at the Black Gates.”
Krapp shook his
head emphatically. “We cannot go there! I was there when Sauron died! The land!
It’s gone!”
“There is a canyon
now, yes,” said Andylyr. “We have sent scouts in the past year to investigate.
But the Smiting Stone remains. It sits on the edge of the canyon, right at the
lip.”
Krapp stared.
“If I am caught out
there ...”
“If the Council
approves you, there will be guards escorting you. And I will be there too.”
Krapp caught the
subtext. He had learned much this past year. He had studied Andylyr and
Tia—their expressions, how they walked or talked when they were in various
moods, how they looked in different clothes or even differences when they ate
or drank various foods and beverages.
If the Orcs had
bothered learning about their enemy, he reasoned, perhaps they wouldn’t have
been so easily defeated! Instead they came at Men with the brute stupidity of a
hammer, and were in their arrogance shattered.
Tia had fallen
silent. She stared at Krapp as he stared at her mother.
“You will be there
too ...” he began.
She chuckled
soundlessly. “You continually surprise me, Mr. Krapp,” she said, wiping her
mouth with a napkin. She nodded. “I am the love child of a Mithrandia and a
human.”
“Your powers,” he
whispered. He chuckled, which made Tia chuckle (she loved it when he chuckled,
because it sounded “very cute,” she told him).
Andylyr shrugged
and nodded.
As far as history could tell, there was no such thing as a
female Mithrandia.
“I’m not a full
Mithrandia,” she declared after the dishes had been cleaned and Tia had gone to
bed. Krapp sat with her in the living room.
She had served him
something called “whiskey” in a small glass. It tasted like Warg piss, and it
burned going down, and he had coughed at first, and almost gagged. But then a pleasant
warmth spread from his belly into his fingertips, and a smile formed almost
involuntarily on his mouth, and he sipped again, this time much more
tentatively, and the warmth increased.
He hissed in
satisfaction, relaxed in his seat, and sighed.
“It tastes like
Warg piss,” he rasped, staring at the liquid in his glass. “But ... for some
reason ... I cannot identify ... I like it!”
She laughed soundlessly
and sipped from her glass, then set it down.
“I have the power
to heal. I have the power to ... well, loosely put, grant wishes. It’s how I
created your bedroom and bathroom. I saw that you were happy here. I have a
strong kinship with the earth, though maybe not as strong as yours!”
“When I met Tia,
she pretended to be the physician she says looks after her. But ... if you can
heal ... then ...”
Andylyr grinned.
“We visit the village physician to keep up appearances. Villagers don’t know
about my powers. It’s a secret I’ve kept my entire life. Only Tia knows about them.
And now ... you.”
More subtext, he
reasoned as he watched her. What was she trying to tell him?
“I truly am part of
your family,” he said after another sip.
She leaned forward
and refreshed his glass, put the cap back on the bottle, and leaned back.
“I wouldn’t ask you
to risk your life if this weren’t of the utmost importance to me, to Tia, to us, this family. That includes you, Mr.
Krapp. I’ve said it before: Tia would walk to the ends of the earth for you. I
can’t and won’t ignore that. I just can’t. She’s never had a father. She’s
never had a single male in her life worth a damn. Until you. You’re worth a
damn to her. And to me.”
Krapp didn’t know
what to say. He stared at the amber liquid in his grip. He took another sip and
nodded.
This was where he
wanted to be. Here. Right here. Forever. And he would die to protect these two.
He looked up.
Andylyr waited with a pleading smile.
He nodded again.
One of Andylyr’s Mithrandic “connections to the earth”
involved, funnily enough, plumbing. Specifically, hot water. She had, over the
years, coaxed water from a hidden hot
springs nearby towards the home. She had somehow
integrated the earth beneath the home into a network of pipes that diverted hot
water into the kitchen and bathrooms, including his.
The first time he
had a hot bath was almost a religious experience. It occurred a little more
than a month ago, just after she’d finally gotten the water to his spigot. It
was an interesting sight watching her on her hands and knees as she very slowly
advanced towards his bathroom. She’d move only an inch or so every few minutes.
Certainly not faster than that.
She’d work at
night, after dinner, and only if she wasn’t totally beat from the day, which
occurred maybe one out of every four days. She was spending time in Boverroth
and nearby villages with widows and injured men, and with orphans, whom she
worked at finding new homes for. When she could (and always surreptitiously), she
called up her healing powers. It was trying, exhausting, emotional work.
In order to lend a
hand, he decided to learn to cook, so that when she returned she wouldn’t be
saddled with yet another draining chore.
His initial efforts
were met with forced smiles and kind excuses for why both were “already full”
from snacks they had earlier, but also with encouragement to continue trying.
(Truth be told,
even he couldn’t find much to recommend them.)
He continued
trying. The forced smiles and kind excuses slowly disappeared. A few months
later he received his first genuine compliments, the very first coming from Tia
(“This is good, Krapp! What is it?”), and the second following immediately from
Andylyr, who, trying to figure out what she was eating, swallowed tentatively
and said, “This is quite interesting—and tasty!”
Soon they had their
favorites, and would often request them:
“Krapp, I’m really
hungry for your Grumpy Orc Stew!”
“Mr. Krapp, I could
really go for that dish you made recently—what did you call it?—‘Stuffed
Potatoes in Krapp’s Own Gravy Sauce’? That was quite good. Would you mind
making that again soon?”
As with gardening,
he soon found that he had a knack for integrating the bounty he tended outside,
and very much enjoyed experimenting.
Andylyr had gone to
the village all day yesterday, so he made dinner (his own tasty mushroom and
cheese sandwiches), anxious for her return. She had gone not only to help the
orphans and veterans, but to meet with the Village Council to request his
formal membership into Boverroth’s citizenry by means of the Curse of Jáfia.
She returned
looking very tired but hopeful. “I spoke with Strurilang,” she told him. “She’s
the Council Chair, the village’s most powerful citizen. I told her ... well, I
told her the truth, that you’re an Orc. She was alarmed at first, but then
calmed as I explained what a kind, helpful, decent soul you are. She wants to
meet you—but privately, and in secret, too. She believes that the villagers
aren’t quite ready to welcome an Orc into the village, especially the veterans
and widows. Are you open to meeting with Strurilang privately, Mr. Krapp?”
He held up.
“You look very
concerned,” she went on, “and I can’t blame you. But I’ve known Strurilang for
many years. She’s an honorable woman. She was one of my mother’s best friends.
I can’t really say much about the others on the Council, but it may not matter
in the end what they think. Strurilang has great influence in Boverroth.”
He took a steadying
breath. “I fear I will never ... be seen as ...”
“Worthy?” She
asked. “Equal? Human?”
“I am concerned
only with the first two. I am not human.”
“No,” she declared,
“you are not. You are a member of a race that was bred for one purpose—to
destroy Men. You were bred soulless,” she went on, looking increasingly
determined and upset, “but I ask what is worse: being born with a soul, as all
human beings are, then destroying that soul via greed and violence, or simply
behaving as you were born to behave?
What do you think, Mr. Krapp?”
Tia had long since
gone to bed per Andylyr’s insistence so that she could speak to Krapp alone.
She had protested, as she had a few nights before, but did as told. He tucked
her in, as had long since become customary, and closed the door behind him.
“We’ll figure it out,” she declared before he stood and left. “It will all work
out, Krapp. Just watch!”
He thought that he
wanted a hot bath. That sounded really good. A bath and bed. Then a nice day
working in the garden and tending the horses, which he also enjoyed doing.
Andylyr watched him
patiently.
“I think that you
think differently than most others of your race,” he said quietly, and not
without a strain of hopelessness in his voice.
“Which one?” she
asked, giving him a look of pained sympathy that told him she had heard that
hopelessness. “I’m a half-breed—part Mithrandia, which is entirely comprised of
men, as in males, and part human! And
I’m a woman! I’m a half-breed human!” she exclaimed. “It’s the race of Men, after all. Men. It was a war between Sauron and Men. Not humans! Not humanity! Not women! Men! As though half of the species doesn’t exist!
“You see, Mr.
Krapp, I can sense your fear and trepidation. I know both quite intimately. I’m
a woman in a man’s world! I’m
thirty-nine years old and can’t find a human male partner because all these
so-called men are intimidated and put
off that I am independent and don’t need them. I can take care of myself, and a daughter!”
She stood and sat
next to him. “I know what you’re going through, Mr. Krapp. I really do. You’re
an Orc, and I’m a woman. It’s no exaggeration to say that we’re literally
treated no differently in that—” she pointed emphatically—“out there, in a man’s world!”
Andylyr had gone back to Boverroth in the morning to meet
once more with Strurilang. She wanted to firm up the meeting, to ensure it
stayed a secret, and to plan the next steps. Last night after their talk, Krapp
had gone straight to bed instead of having his bath. He was depressed and exhausted.
He didn’t sleep
well at all. He tossed and turned all night to the point that he decided when
he woke that he would tell Andylyr that he had no interest in being cursed with
the villagers, that he would like instead to remain here, at this home, and
serve them, to be a valued member of their lives. That was all he wanted. He
would take his chances that the world beyond would not intrude and harass him.
He understood their
desire to see that he remained safe. The curse would do that, especially
against the wider world, which, he was certain, would forever despise Orcs. But
the potential problems were too great to overcome. Boverroth was entirely
peopled by humans—the very race that had,
through tremendous effort, sacrifice, and blood, just defeated Sauron and his
manufactured and soulless race of Orcs. The knowledge that one still lived
would probably make them violent with rage. More so than they normally were.
And so he had woken
early to talk to Andylyr, who typically rose at sunrise. But she had already
left for Boverroth.
Frustrated, he made
tea and waited for Tia to wake, which she did within the hour. He made her a
cup and sat. She stared at him, then reached for his hand.
“I never knew my
father,” she said.
He blinked. It
hadn’t occurred to him to wonder until now.
“Your ... father?” he asked, dumbfounded.
She stared into her
cup, which issued lazy curls of steam.
“Momma doesn’t talk
about him. He was lost in a battle with Dwarves that were really evil.” She
caught herself and said, quickly, “I mean, not evil, I guess ... I mean ...”
“They were in
league with Sauron,” he guessed.
She nodded.
“It was before he
became ... you know ... super powerful. Before he got all those armies. He was
making ... you know ...”
She glanced
sheepishly at him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Do you believe the
Orcs were ... you know ... evil?” she asked with obvious delicacy.
He thought for a
long time before answering.
“They ... we ... I
... I ... I was created with the
intent to do evil. Does that make me, the creation, evil, or my creators?”
She didn’t answer.
She gazed at him with those sweet, understanding eyes, and he knew he loved
her, that he was capable of love, that love lived in him, that he loved Andylyr
as well, and this home, and this life.
“Do you miss your
father?” he asked.
“I never knew him,”
she repeated.
“Oh, that’s right.
Apologies, Tia.”
“You’d be a good
father,” she said. “You’re not mean, you’re helpful, you take care of the home,
you tuck me in at night, and Momma really likes you!”
He chuckled. “But I
am not human.”
She punched his
arm. He expected it this time, and so it did not startle him. “But you’re still
everything a good father should be!”
He massaged his arm
where she had punched it. “Thank you, Tia.”
Andylyr didn’t return home when expected. Two hours later,
Tia was frantic. The sun was setting; very soon it would be too dark to travel.
At least for
humans.
“What should we
do?” she cried. “Something must have happened to her! She would never be this late! She knows how
dangerous it is to be out after dark! She warns me all the time! What do we do, Krapp?”
For the Orc named
Krapp, the sole survivor of his entire race, who would’ve been happy spending
the rest of his days in this home taking care of these humans whom he had come
to love and cherish, the moment his soul came fully alive was at hand, and he
met it, by means of this grave choice, face-on.
“I am an Orc,” he
declared. “I was created to see at night, to move swiftly and stealthily at
night, to be fearless and fearsome.”
He stood and gazed down at Tia, who was crying. “Come, child. You know the way to Boverroth, and I can see quite well at night. Let us saddle Shygar and be quickly on our way.”
Chapter Six
He stood and gazed down at Tia, who was crying. “Come, child. You know the way to Boverroth, and I can see quite well at night. Let us saddle Shygar and be quickly on our way.”
Chapter Six
~~*~~
