For a Better World by Ellynn  

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Chapter 4

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Hands were squeezing his neck. Everything went black. His mouth was opening and closing, but it was no use – he couldn’t breathe. He heard a threatening growl. “Useless...”

He opened his eyes and sprang up with a cry. It was dark and he couldn’t see a thing at first. Quickly, he touched his neck. All was fine – no hands gripping him. And then he discerned the shapes of the table, the hearth, Uldut and Mazoga, and the other kids sleeping around him. It was night, he was in his hut, and everything was fine.

Just a dream.

But a dream that stayed with him. He lay again, yet every time he shut his eyes, the weight pressed down on his throat again, and he found it difficult to breathe. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He was trembling.

He would be careful. Or at least, he’d try to make sure no one ever noticed he was useless. Maybe he’d manage to survive that way.

Shivers went down his spine again. Don’t think about the dream, Murtash. He forced his thoughts toward his wooden animals. Now he and Uldut had three of those, and he’d make more. And there was one other important thing he had yet to do – explain the real truth to that girl; he still hadn’t had the chance to do that. He’d have to go to the cage as soon as possible.

With this thought, he finally fell asleep.

-x-x-x-

At last! After days of her absence, there she was: a pale, yellow-white speck in the grey murk of the cage, visible even from afar. Immediately, he quickened his pace.

“I’m here!” he called as he reached the cage.

The girl jumped and lifted her head. “You again. Hm.” She stood there, frowning slightly. “You’re really weird.”

Weird? Nonsense! He wasn’t weird. He was just a normal little boy. But who cared what she called him when she had such interesting things? This time, she had two wooden cows in front of her, not just one like the first time – those same skinny cows, with those strange long tails. Beside them stood three figures shaped like humans.

“How come you’ve got so many playthings? Where did you get them? Who made them for you?”

The girl picked them up from the ground and, holding them in her hands, stepped closer to the iron fence. He looked up, meeting her eyes. How strange her eyes were, such a light blue colour. The colour was... well, nice. The rest of her – not at all. Pale, scrawny, flat, ugly.

“They’re called toys,” the girl said calmly. “And, umm, a man who works with wood made them. He makes them for all children.”

“Carpenter,” he said, not looking at her but at her playthings. “We... I... we don’t have... that.”

How come the human children – slaves – had things that his people’s children didn’t have? It was supposed to be the other way around, since they were the masters. Shouldn’t they have more things, and better?

“Can I see?” he asked, eyes fixed on the wooden objects in her hands, and slipped his hands through the gaps in the mesh. He opened his palms. “I’d like to play!”

“I shouldn’t give them to you,” the girl said, but even as she spoke, she was already reaching out with her thin pale hands.

Luckily, all the items were small enough – just a bit bigger than his palms – so he didn’t have too much trouble getting them through the mesh. Oh! They were beautiful. The surface was smooth, and the wooden humans looked just like real ones. What he had made looked pathetic in comparison. What was that they said, that humans were lesser beings? Well, at least when it came to making playthings – they weren’t!

Sure, the cows looked even weirder up close; besides being too skinny, their necks were far too long, and the muzzles too. But no matter. You could play with them. You could make up stories.

He sat on the ground cross-legged, barely a foot from the fence, facing her. A moment later the girl sat too, in the same pose and facing him. Then she reached out her hand in a gesture clearly showing she wanted her playthings back. He would have liked to keep looking at them and play a bit longer, but... alright then, let her have them. He handed them back; she set them down beside her and leaned one of the human figures against one of the cows.

“This one is Brego, and that one is Arod,” she said pointing first at the animals, and then at the wooden man. “And this is Hama.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You can give names to wooden cows? To something that isn't alive?”

She rolled her eyes. “Orc, haven’t you ever seen a horse?”

Horses! Of course! He had seen them once; the Master’s Guards had them. Right, he wouldn’t forget the name of the animal again. And he’d definitely come up with names for his own wooden animals. They won’t be nameless and less worthy than hers!

“Maybe yours and mine could race,” she suggested. For the first time ever her lips curled slightly, and the small sound that escaped her mouth almost sounded like a giggle.

“Alright!”

He began moving his animal back and forth in front of him, and she did the same with hers. A few times her movements were faster, and other times, his. The giggle grew louder – both his and hers. He felt so... at ease. Not a care in this world. He didn’t have to keep glancing over his shoulder to see if someone was about to hit him in passing or throw something at him. He could simply enjoy the playtime. Oh, it felt so good!

There was one thing, though, that wasn’t quite right. It would have been easier to play if the fence weren’t there.

At one point, during a short break, the girl looked at him closely. “You really don’t have any toys?” she asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Don’t have... what?”

“Toys. This.” She pointed at the objects between them. “We call the things we play with toys.” She nodded a couple of times.

“What kind of word is that? And the ones from the last time too. You said some strange words then as well. What is that?” He leaned forward a little.

“We men have our own language. You can’t take that away from us,” she replied, lifting her chin and pursing her lips with pride. “We have our own stories too. We’ve kept them all in our memories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“All kinds. About Eru, who made the whole world, about how we men awoke and set out on our journey. About the far sea, heroes, kings, the Valar, and the stars in the sky. About the sun and the moon.”

Of course! What was the real reason he had come here? To teach her. Until this moment he was distracted by the game, but this was the right moment for explaining.

“No! No! That’s not how it is. Your stories are wrong.”

“They’re not wrong at all. You can check for yourself.” She looked at him with triumph.

He gasped. “How?!”

“Well, you can clearly see that the clouds are brighter during the day. The light comes from the sun. That’s the name of the glowing yellow ball that gives daylight and shines on the whole world, including the clouds above us. In the evening it goes west, past the horizon, and then it gets dark.”

He stared at her in disbelief. And stared some more. No, that couldn’t be. No. No way. It couldn’t, right? Old Mogra had told them many things about the Maker and the Supreme Master, but she had never mentioned any kind of glowing ball making the light. Did she ever explain why it was a little brighter during the day? Come on Murtash, remember quickly!

Hmmm... “Our Master makes the clouds a little brighter during the day.” He couldn’t remember ever hearing that exact thing, but hopefully it was a good answer. It had to be true, it had to! Their Master was all-powerful!

The girl burst into laughter.

“Is that what they tell you? That’s really pathetic.” Then she tilted her head. “And have you ever watched the clouds at night? Ever noticed how every four weeks or so, they look brighter than usual? That’s because the moon periodically appears in the sky. It’s white and gives off weaker light than the sun, so there’s still darkness down here at night. And every four weeks it shines its brightest, and then the nights and the clouds are a little lighter than on ordinary nights.”

He leapt to his feet. “No! You’re wrong! And we’re not pathetic! You’re the pathetic ones, you and your lies!”

She remained sitting, calm and still. “Watch the sky at night,” was all she said.

No! He would not watch the sky. He would not doubt his stories. He would not doubt the Maker or the Supreme Master. And he certainly wouldn’t come to play with this troublemaking girl again. He turned and marched toward the village in big strides.

“Watch the sky at night.”

Her words echoed in his mind for a long time. Even much later that evening, when he lay down to sleep.

-x-x-x-

He didn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, but sleep would not come.

Beside him, Uldut had been fast asleep for some time. Mazoga too, and the other kids as well. But his eyes stayed wide open. What was it like out there? How dark were the night clouds?

No, he would not go out. He wouldn’t check. They were surely just as black as always. Black. Black is black.

What were they like?

No, he would not go out. They couldn’t be any other way than black.

Could they...?

Then he rolled onto his side. Then onto his back. Then his belly. His eyes wide open.

What were they like what were they like what were they like?!

He went outside to see.

-x-x-x-

Crack!

Blast it, this was the second wooden animal in two days that he broke during play. Oh well, he’d make new ones. This very afternoon, in fact.

He headed to the same place as last time to fetch some tying strips, to the clothing workshop. But this time dark scowling faces greeted him.

“You again! Stop bothering us!”

One of the females dropped the hide she was working on, snatched a rod from the table beside her and stepped toward him. He fled at once.

But he lingered just outside the workshop. He really needed those stripes – how could he tie the twigs together without them? He peered back in through the doorway. There was a heap of scraps tossed by the far wall, some thin strips among them. He observed them, eyeing the distance. Hm, at least ten paces. Could he dash in and get back out before the rod came lashing down on his back? Unlikely.

Just then, he heard footsteps and voices behind him. A group of girls was heading toward the workshop, carrying bundles of hide and fabric. He stepped aside to let them pass. The last in the line was also the smallest, and she walked with a strange gait. Almost like Mogra – limping to the left side, and even though she was clearly trying to bounce along to keep up, she still lagged.

Hmmm... an idea!

“Hey, wait!”

The little girl paused, then stood on the tiptoe of one leg to make herself straight; the leg was a little shorter than the other one. She looked up at him over the bundle in her arms, lifting her head.

Ah, how good it felt to be taller than the one you were talking to! He even stretched himself up as tall as he could.

“See those strips over there?” He pointed through the open door, then turned back to her. “Can you bring me a few?”

She looked at him for a moment with her big dark-yellow eyes that stood out against her chubby face framed by her black hair, then nodded without words. Then she stepped inside.

He heard voices, rustling and footsteps, all mixed up. And after a moment, a shout.

“Thief!!!”

A sharp whistle, then a dull thud – the sound of something hitting something else.

A moment later, the little girl burst through the doorway. In one hand she held a bunch of thin strips. On her other arm, across the forearm, stretched a long red line. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

Oh. The beatings hurt, he knew that so well. Poor kid. He didn’t mean for that to happen to her.

“Birta!!! Get back here!!! No one else’s going to do your work for you!!!”

Her lips trembled and the tears spilt over, rolling down her cheeks.

“I-I-I h-have t-to go.”

She shoved the strips into his hand and ran off, and he stood watching after her for a moment longer.

“Um... I didn’t...” he mumbled, not even sure what he wanted to say. But she was already inside anyway, and could not hear him now.

But now at least he had what he needed. Now he could get to work.

The next evening, four new playthings stood in front of him: two horses and two riders. Granted, his weren’t made of a single smooth piece like the human girl’s; his were made of twigs – bent, joined and tied together. He also had a couple of fresh scratches on his fingers, for the knife would sometimes slip in the wrong direction. But in truth, it didn’t matter that his items were not perfectly shaped. They were still going to be brilliant for him and Uldut to play.

-x-x-x-

Night had fallen.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doubting. Shouldn’t be checking.

But... the night before, when he had stepped outside, the outlines of the huts had been just a little clearer than they usually were at night. And the clouds, they had been... just a little, ever so slightly, almost indistinctly... but still, brighter than normal.

You imagined it, Murtash. Be a good boy. Clouds are black, and our Master is the one who makes them lighter in the day so we can see what we need to do.

Out there... What are the clouds like now?

Stay inside and sleep, Murtash.

But it was like he was burning inside, like his whole body itched. He clenched his fists. And... he went out.

Were the clouds above him black? And how was he even to describe black? Well...burnt wood is black. The hair of the little girl who had helped him was also black. Those big cooking cauldrons were black, too. But this above his head... wasn’t. This was... dark grey.

As though something was shining on it. From above.

No! Maybe... maybe it was only a coincidence. Maybe this only happened now – some anomaly, who knows why – and it would never happen again. Yes, that must be it. Surely from now on, forever, the night sky would be black. Just the way it’s supposed to be.

Every four weeks, she had said.

Fine. He’d watch for it. The sky was going to be just as usual. And then he’d go back to tell her that she was wrong and that she had no clue.

-x-x-x-

“Race! The last one gets whipped ten times!!!”

It was Shozrac’s idea. And it was accepted with a chorus of excited shouts.

Oh shit. If you’re the shortest in the group, that means you’ve got the shortest legs too. They’d smash him.

“To that stone over there. Now!!!”

They took of. And he was – as always – looking at everyone else’s backs.

“Murtash you’re last again!”

“Yeah, we’ll smash you again, hahaha!”

He clenched his fists. “No you’re not.”

He didn’t attempt to flee. If he had come in last, there wasn’t much point in trying to get away now, was there? Maybe he could fight back. Maybe.

There were eight of them. Fight back, yeah, right. At best, he might manage to land one blow.

They all leapt at him at once, and in a single moment he was down – before he could even swing his fist.

“I’ll get hiiiim!!!”

He couldn’t see Sugrod – too many arms and legs than he could count held him down flat to the ground – but he knew that voice. That six-year-old had been in the race too, and even he had outrun him.

Shozrac growled. “Oh no you can’t. I suggested this. And I’m also practising for when I beat the slaves one day! I’ll beat him up!”

And he did.

Someday, somehow... he’d get back at them.

-x-x-x-

Night, four weeks later. Then another night, another four weeks later. And yet another, the same amount of time later. Just to be completely sure he’d seen it right. To be sure the thing really repeated.

It repeated. Regularly. Son of a bloody stupid warg, it repeated.

Every four weeks, the clouds at night were just a bit brighter. Exactly like the human girl said they would be.

Never had he noticed it before. He hadn’t paid attention at all. On those rare occasions when he had been outside at night, he had never looked up. And why would he? But from now on? Now he’d always look. And wonder. What was it that lit up the clouds? What kind of white light? That... moun? What was it? What was it doing in the sky? Who had put it there? And why? When? How?

How had the girl known all that?! And why had he never heard about it?!?!

Well, he wouldn’t have it. He had to find out more.

The search didn’t take long; it was enough to make just a few rounds through the female’s part of the village and around the kitchens. There she was! Mogra was carrying firewood. Her pace was slow, limping with every step on her left leg; each time her foot touched the ground her face tightened with pain, deepening the lines already etched there. The white hair on top of her head had thinned so much that he could see her scalp.

She would know, right? She was the one who told stories to the children. She was the one who might solve this mystery.

Should he turn and leave? That would be for the best. The explanation was surely simple and logical. Surely it was all the work of their Supreme Master who, for some reason, used his powers to light the clouds at night. And he was being a bad boy, listening to the slaves’ nonsense. Maybe the Master could even see him now, and he would punish him for doubting? Oh my... he quickly turned left and right, then behind him, and up at the sky. A shiver ran down his spine.

Yes, he should just turn and leave.

Argh!!! Clenching his fists, he gritted his teeth. What why how?!?!

He took a deep breath. “Mogra?”

The old female turned. She stretched her neck and head toward him, her narrow eyes peering down along the slope of her hooked nose.

“Eh?”

He stepped closer, not wanting to speak loudly.

“Is there... um... is there anything... um, up above the clouds?”

She didn’t answer right away, just stared at him. Her eyes squinted so tightly they appeared as narrow slits, and the wrinkles around them turned into deep furrows.

“An’ why d’ya ask, kid?” she mumbled. She now had even fewer of her black rotten teeth than the last time he had listened to her stories.

Now he didn’t answer right away. Ugh, what was he supposed to tell her? How to explain why he was asking? What if she told someone about it? Vurbag, for instance? What he was about to ask – it surely wasn’t allowed. If Vurbag found out about it, what would he do to a useless little boy?

“My mistake. I must have heard something wrong,” he said softly and lowered his head. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep because the not-knowing would keep gnawing at him.... but better not to ask Mogra anything else, because Vurbag must never find out. Nor any of the grown-ups. His heart started pounding. Yes, not knowing was better if it meant he wouldn’t get a beating. Or worse. Oh yes, he indeed wanted to keep both his ears. He shivered and turned to walk away.

“There is.”

He froze and held his breath. And the pounding grew stronger.

He turned back to her. She was still watching him, and then stepped closer, until she was but half a pace away. Shifting the bundle in her arms and gripping it more tightly, she leaned slightly onto her good leg.

“Mogra’s never seen it, Mogra’s never been anywhere else. Only here in the village. But she heard stories from some men, the ones who went far and came back. Heard a few wowds, now and then.” Her eyes drifted into the distance, then slowly turned back to him. One of her eyes was bluish-grey and sightless. But the other one was bright like live coal, and fixed on him. Suddenly, he felt as if she could read every single thought in his head. He flinched and stepped back. "They say... the world is big. And far away, beyond our land, everyfing’s different. Mountains. Colours. Everyfing. No clouds. In the sky there’s a bright yellow ball during the day and a white one at night. They shine bright, especially the yellow one.”

Different. Yellow ball. White ball. Light. No clouds.

Wargsdickwargsassshitshitshit!!!

The girl had been right.

He staggered backward. His hands began shaking. His throat felt tight.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell us about this?!”

She shook her head. “They say that all these stories come from our bitter enemies. You are too young for such thingf. They aren’t meant for small children. That’s why I... simplified it a bit. Later, when you’re older and ftart your twaining, then you can hear the real truth about the world.”

What is there to not understand?!

“You lied!”

She shook her head even harder, then leaned in toward him.

“No, no! I didn’t lie, juft didn’t say everyfing! Old Mogra meant well. Everyfing else I told you was true—”

“You should’ve told us!!!”

He turned and ran, and didn’t stop until the huts were far behind him. Then he dropped to his knees, bowing his head. His body was trembling, and tears poured from his eyes.

Damned grown-ups, and the crumbling world, and everything!

-x-x-x-

He waited another four weeks, just to be sure, but deep down he already knew. The clouds would be brighter.

Of course, they were.

Well, that was that, then. The grown-ups had been fibbing, while up in the sky there really were glowing orbs lighting up the clouds from above. What were they and why were they there? If only he could find out more about them! What was it that Mogra had said, that they’d be told more about the world once they were old enough for training? But that wouldn’t be for another whole year! How was he supposed to wait that long?! He wanted to know now!

Maybe he could ask the girl... but he would have to be careful. He wouldn’t admit she was right. He’d pretend it was just some kind of general curiosity for their human stories. Perhaps he could say he simply liked listening to tales.

Just like some of the other times he had gone there, in the half-light of dusk he spotted her pale hair from afar at the usual spot, and other children playing among the distant huts. They were running, laughing, hiding, tossing those round things, holding other strange objects and swapping them.

He stopped to watch them – just as he had many times before. And just like each time he had been here, the thought came on its own: this kind of play was great. After this kind of play there were no bruises or bleeding.

At last, he moved toward the girl. She sat bathed in the glow of light pouring through the window of the little hut. She had a stick in her hand and was dragging lines in the dirt.

“Why aren’t you playing with the others?” He waved his hand vaguely toward the inner part of the large cage.

“Orc! What a surprise! It’s been ages and I thought you weren’t coming back!” she exclaimed, then stood up and walked to the fence. “You’re all black, I didn’t see you in the dark until you spoke.”

Black? His skin was light brown, his hair red-brown – meaning, lighter than most of his kind, and his clothes were grey and dark brown. Black? Nonsense! Aside from being a bit clumsy, these humans seemed to be neither good with colours.

“I am not black. And... what was that word you said? That’s not my name. My name is Murtash.”

“Orc. That’s the word for your kind, in our language. And my name is Melyth,” the girl said, holding her chin up high.

“Why aren’t you playing with them?” he asked again.

“I was, until a little while ago. But I like to draw, which I can’t do over there. They are all running around and I need a flat ground for drawing, where no one will trample over what I draw. So I usually spend some time with them and after that I come here.” She pointed to her drawings as she explained, then stepped right up to the fence. Mere two feet separated them – and a whole lot of steel. “How come you came back?”

“I... well... I wanted to see if you had new playthings. We could play again.” He pulled out two wooden animals from his pockets.

The girl watched him with a tilted head and raised eyebrows. “Really? Just for that? Only for that?” She paused, then spoke again. “You looked at the clouds, didn’t you?”

He lowered his head. If only he hadn’t! Back before he knew, the world had been much simpler. But now... He nodded, keeping his eyes down.

“And?”

He sat down on the ground, and she did the same. For a little while, he just stared at the dirt before him, then at the steel mesh between them. At last, he raised his head and looked at her.

“What are those lights? Why are they in the sky? Who put them there? When?”

The girl studied him for a couple of moments. “I’ll tell you a story.”

He nodded. The corners of her lips curled only slightly, and then she began to speak. About Eru and the making of the world. About the Valar and Morgoth. About some trees and a monstrous evil spider. The birth of the sun and the moon. By the time she fell silent, the clouds above had already turned dark, and his stomach was growling.

Oh... so many new things. Everything she told him sounded both mad and impossible, and it couldn’t be true. And yet... if she’d been right about one thing, maybe she could have been right about something else. And if... if the grown-ups had hidden one thing, was it possible they were hiding other things too?

He sighed. Something started pounding in his head. Shit. Oh yes, for the first time in his short little life, he understood what grown-ups meant when they complained of having a headache. But then he shook his head firmly. Maybe the grown-ups had lied about some things, but surely not about their Maker. This story he had just heard was far to crazy to be true. Now he’d explain her wha—

Behind Melyth something rustled.

His head snapped up, and she swiftly turned around. In the window, backlit by the yellow glow from the hut, stood a female with her arms folded across her chest, watching them. A grown-up version of Melyth, it seemed: a similar narrow face and hair of the same shade, maybe just a touch darker. And almost the same... He squinted to see better. Yes, nearly the same blue eyes.

How long had she been standing there and watching them?

“Oh!” But a whisper escaped Melyth’s lips.

The woman looked at them both for a few moments longer, shifting her gaze from him to the girl, and back again. Then her eyes settled on Melyth, and she gave the faintest of nods. After that, she turned away, disappearing from the window without a word.

Melyth turned back toward him. Her eyes were wide, staring aghast.

“Your mother?”

She nodded. For a few moments more she remained frozen and her eyes anxious. Then she took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders slightly.

“Oh. Good.” She gave a sigh of relief, and then smiled and lifted her chin. “My mother is our leader.”

He blinked. What?!

“Females can be leaders?! Impossible!!!”

The girl bristled. “And why not? My mother is clever and capable, and everyone listens to her. My father often seeks her advice, and so does everyone else.”

Huh! What?! His jaw dropped.

“You know who your father is?! Really?!”

Now it was her turn to gasp. “Of course I do! You don’t?!”

He shook her head. How would he know? Moreover, he’d never seen a single male in the village with red-brown hair like his, and the village wasn’t all that big; he had probably seen all the grown males at least once. Then he shrugged; who cared, anyway?

“We live together in our hut,” Melyth went on. “Mother, father, and I, and... um, yes. But how come you don’t know? Doesn’t your father live with your family?”

He stared at her. This was getting weirder by the minute. A female chieftain, knowing who your father was, all living together... He shook his head. Unbelievable!

“What is this thing with you humans? How do you live? Why do males and females live together?”

Then she told another tale – this time one about families. About how males and females love each other, and how those who love each other live together, in their shared huts. There were no separate quarters for males and females in the cage.

When she finally finished, he just sat there and stared at her.

“I see...” He kept staring a little longer, shaking his head and frowning. They love each other. Crazy. And yet, somehow oddly interesting. “Those old legends – did you hear them from your mother? Who did she hear them from? How old are they? How many are there? Where did they come from? You can’t ju—”

“So many questions! You’re a very strange little orc! None of the others are like you. None of your kind’s children have ever come close to us, let alone asked questions.”

Strange? Hm... no, he wasn’t. What was so strange about a boy trying to uncover secrets?

“Aren’t you—”

“And you don’t seem as mean as the others,” she interrupted him again.

Mean? Well, guess he wasn’t. He was just trying—

A sudden rustle. This time on his right, and coming from somewhere outside the cage. He quickly turned his head, and caught a movement in the dark. Oh no! Bared teeth, fur, a hulking shape. A warg! It was approaching along the fence.

What would it do to him? Was it hungry, so it would tear him to pieces and eat him? He sprang to his feet and quickly glanced around. Running surely wouldn’t save him. But he could climb the fence! It would be easy to slip his hands and feet into the gaps in the metal mesh, and the warg had no hands to climb so it wouldn’t be able to follow him up there. The beast was still at least twenty paces away. Far enough for him to scramble all the way to the top.

But only a moment later two overseers emerged from the shadows behind the beast.

A shiver ran down his spine. Oh no, what was going to happen to him now? He was in trouble. Big trouble. The worst kind. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not even close. And surely, neither was Melyth.

That one time, some months ago, the limping stammering girl in the village got beaten because of him – because she had helped him. Poor kid. He wasn’t happy about that. And now someone else might get hurt because of him again. And no, someone else’s misfortune wouldn’t bring him any joy, even if it was some ordinary little human slave girl.

“Maybe they haven’t seen you yet. Run.”