Gorbag and Lurtz in Canada
by Vison
‘Twas
in the Dark Years of the Fifth Age that the Wise foregathered upon the
Hillock of Doom and made the following pronouncement: “Henceforth, all
that was will be, all that died shall be given new life, all that fell
shall rise again.”
Lo, the words of the Wise went forth upon the Earth and there were
strange stirrings and rustlings, and fearsome sights were seen.
For was it not so, that in the Final Battles of the Third Age, many
creatures were slain, and were buried in hurried graves? In particular
those creatures of the Dark Lord, and of the Wizard Curunir?
When the words written above were heard by the shades of the Uruk-Hai,
heard by the ears of those shades, understood in the minds and hearts
of the Orcs and Goblins so long dead, so long asleep in the cold earth,
confusion reigned, and many were the questions asked.
But, of whom to ask them? Puzzled looks crossed the non-faces of the
undead dead, now rising and stretching and yawning in nooks and
crannies everywhere. The Orcs and Uruk-hai raised a loud outcry,
demanding knowledge, and causing a lot of bother in those who heard.
Here and there, indeed, ordinary mortals were shocked and frightened:
who wouldn’t be, you know, if the shades of Orcs and Uruk-hai were seen
lounging about on your front lawn?
The Wise, having foreseen these ends, had also, in their wisdom,
ordained that once the undead dead, the shades of horror and fear, were
more or less alive, they MUST not take on their former shapes. No, for
those shapes are fearsome and ugly, and besides, they are copyright by
New Line Cinema.
Thus it was that the Orc Gorbag undertook to become Carryon Luggage,
and as such he was put into a shop in Dublin, Republic of Ireland,
where the seeking eye of Varda, she whom we dare not otherwise
identify, saw him. Gorbag swelled with pride, for now he was
rehabilitated to such a degree that the lovely and gracious hand of
Varda, Starqueen, caressed him, sought his innermost secrets, and
pronounced him Good.
For we know that in her longing for knowledge and further wisdom Varda
was to undertake a mighty journey, and was about to be borne aloft and
afar upon the wings of Air France, to the far-away land of Fan Forever,
where these two great dames would meet in conflab and yakity-yak.
Gorbag, therefore, was stuffed to the gunwales with gifts and
underpants, his side pockets swollen with socks, and his wheels sprayed
with axle grease, to keep him running smooth.
Alas, alas. Is it not oft seen that the best laid plans o’ mice and men
gang aft agley? And Irishwomen, too. For in the land of Fan Forever,
Gorbag FAILED. Was it his innate Orcness coming to the fore? Who can
say? Be that as it may, Gorbag was now useless as luggage and no darned
good as an Orc, either. What his final fate was, only Varda knows………..
Yet all was not lost, for the StarQueen Varda had more than one string
to her bow, figuratively speaking. Ooops….not only figuratively
speaking, for did she not now take to lugging a bow about with her? Did
she not now more closely resemble Diana the Huntress? (Is this not now
a good idea for a discussion thread, to find some connection between
Tolkien’s vision of Varda and the earlier Greco-Roman goddess Diana?
Was there some foreshadowing of the Rise of Diana Spencer, Queen of
Hearts? Did Alice in Wonderland show her pretty face here…………..ah,
these are mighty questions for mighty minds……….and another day………..)
Where was I? Oh, yes. Varda had another Bag. Yes, yes, for in her
wisdom and power Varda had bought not one but two bags upon that
fateful day!
Truly, strange forces are at work in our Age. Not all magic and wonder
has faded. Nor has all been for naught, our past struggles with Evil
have succeeded in ways we ne’er dreamt of.
The Mighty Uruk-hai Lurtz, whose head was so neatly and succinctly
severed from his sturdy neck by the Lord Aragorn, had chosen to become
a flowered soft-sided suitcase. Pondering his new form, Lurtz felt that
it was time for his feminine and nuturing side to bloom forth. He
became a lovely shade of Blue, and white flowers limned in black
covered his canvas sides.
Lurtz was proud of his new form, and easily passed every test the lady
Varda threw at him. He could hold it all, shoes, socks, boots,
underwear, Ranger costume, arrows, rocks, Indian souvenirs from Banff,
whatever the Starqueen in her enthusiasm stuffed into Lurtz, he
swallowed it and begged for more! The Ranger Anborn, her Hobbit sister,
and an astonished Vison stood by as Lurtz swelled and grew mightier,
and the Lady Varda said “See? I told you he could carry it all!” She
patted Lurtz lovingly, and laughed at our doubts.
His old, secret longing to be seen as kind and loving was now his
dominant characteristic! The Lurtz who growled and grimaced, who filled
the Lord Boromir with deadly arrows, who slobbered and drooled with
delight at the prospect of slaughtering the Halflings, that Lurtz was
gone. Here he was, in his new form, rather as Gandalf the Grey became
Gandalf the White upon his return from the Halls of Mandos. Lurtz,
newly risen and newly alive again, had overcome his Uruk-hai heritage,
and had become a Useful Addition to the travelling lady’s possessions.
Never would Saruman have believed it! Never! Yet, upon delivering the
lady Varda and her henchman Lurtz to the airport, Vison and Anborn saw
a peculiar looking garbage bin, its colour varying from grey to muddy
white……a white hand smeared upon it…….rolling along at a frantic pace
on the moving sidewalk at Calgary International Airport, shouting,
“Lurtz! Lurtz! Take me with you!”
But Lurtz did not hear. Lurtz was a bit discombobulated. Because he
discovered, as he lay waiting for takeoff in the bowels of the
airplane, that there were Mice in one of his inner pockets.
Yes, yes. The Mice of Dublin Four! It would seem they made the journey with their lady Varda……………….
Addendum by Varda:
On arrival in Minas Boston, Lurtz was wheeled out of his place of
encarceration (the cargo hold). He felt remade. He stood up, swelled
with pride and wrath, swaying on the conveyor belt. His soft, feminine
side vanished.
'I do not fear Customs, I do not fear Excise....'
Dissembling, he allowed himself to be wheeled up to the immigration
desk. Then he pulled his surprise attack; he fell over, taking Varda
with him. A plump customs official leaned over her desk and said;
'Excuse me, what exactly is that?'
'A case'
'I have seen smaller steamships. Where are you going?'
'somewhere in Boston'
'somewhere?'
'er..yes. I am staying with Delphinium Took...'
'Oh why didn't you say so at once....'
'Phew!' said Frodent to Sammouse.'I thought we weren't going to be let in!'
'Was that squeaking I heard from your bag?' asked Customs.
'Squeaking? Gosh no.....just the wheels needing a bit of oil....'
Lurtz; 'Darn, failed again. I better stick to archery, luggage is not my thing...'
Frodent; 'Yippeee, we're in the USA!'
