Both of them were on top of me as I came
awake to the stench of foul breath and snarling voices. They were
threatening me with something, though I am uncertain as to what they
wanted. They did not realize that I was in a deep sleep produced by
Lash’s medicaments and assumed that I was faking. Apparently it had
taken some doing to rouse me. Knife had grabbed me by the hair and had
his knife at my throat. Cudgel had just used his weapon of choice on my
back. I heard a loud curse of command in their tongue coming from
behind them Knife slammed me as he released my head to the floor. The
two of them scrambled to their feet. I closed my eyes and winced from
the renewed pain to my head, pain which blessed sleep had relieved me
of if only for a few hours. I could hear the argument which ensued even
if I could understand none of it…
There was a thick fog before my eyes as I
opened them. Everything seemed a blur. Someone was holding me trying to
get me to take a drink…Bilbo? ... I took a sip and lay there. What
happened? I recoiled as the face of my beloved guardian changed into a
dreadful visage. “Beauty is as beauty does,” Bilbo often said, but that
was usually about Angelica one of my relations on the Baggins side who
was pretty enough but not as wondrous as she supposed. Now, my
blue-eyed flower …He was prying open my eyelids with his fingers and
looking at me. That face was trying to get me to drink more of the
liquid. I had seen that face before. What? … Who? … Lash. It was Lash
my goblin guardian…The map … Elbereth … the pain! My head felt as if it
would burst. He was holding the cup to my mouth forcing me to drink. I
shoved the drink out of the way. “No more!” I gasped and thrashed
about. I was becoming ill. I pushed him from me. hurriedly crawled over
to the pail they had left for my waste and vomited.
We were alone in the room. Lash brought a
cold wet cloth to hold at the back of my neck as I vomited a second
time. I lay there for some time, retching, with him sitting by me on
the floor holding the cool cloth. He examined my head and leveled what
sounded like a string of goblin curses into the air. He was able to
reach his pot of ointment and managed to slather it on my head as I lay
there. He put some other offensive smelling object by my nose forcing
me to breathe in its fumes. After some time the dizziness subsided and
I felt I could move without the urge to be sick. He helped me to a
sitting position but left me seated by the pail. I wanted to sleep, but
every time I began to drift off, Lash shook me awake. Once or twice I
was allowed to sleep for a few minutes when he left my cell. After what
seemed a very long time, I was allowed to sleep. I needed the effects
of no stupefacient this time.
I awoke to find Lash once again sitting in
the room with me. He wore what appeared to be a frown, if goblins are
able to frown, on his face. Someone, most likely Lash, had found a
blanket and wrapped me in it. I seemed to be under his special care.
“How long?” I whispered.
He seemed to be in thought. “How long?” I repeated my question.
“Two cycles.”
“Two days,” I mused. That would be four days
since I left the other outpost and had seen Pippin. I closed my eyes
momentarily and smiled inwardly, thankful for the delay but not its
cause. “The map … I have not drawn anything. Your master will be …”
“He understands.”
“I was…”
“The others will not touch you unless you leave them no other choice. You are in my care. You will work when I say.”
“You speak the Common Speech. Do the others? Can they understand me when I try to tell them something?”
“They are fools. They barely understand their
own tongue.” He came over to me. “You should sit now,” he said helping
me to sit. “Eat and drink something.”
“You seem different,” I commented. He said
nothing, but helped me to the table where he again handed me bread,
cheese, two apples and some water.
“How is your head feeling?” He examined my head and grunted something unintelligible to me as he smeared the ointment on it.
“I have felt better, but the pain has been much worse.”
“It still troubles you?”
“Yes.”
“You must build your strength again. Eat now.
Then you will work on the map for a time.” He pushed the food closer to
me and watched to make certain I obeyed. I should have been famished
but had no stomach for the food and ate sparingly to avoid being
coerced. While I ate, Lash pulled out the page with my doodling and
studied it. He turned his ocher eyes on me when he thought I was not
watching him. “You seem to have some talent, little creature. How long
will it really take you to draw the map?”
“That depends on how accurate you want it to be.” I stated flatly.
“You know the answer to the question, little
creature. Do not attempt to waste time with us.” He was back to the
calculating goblin.
“What do you know of my cousin?”
“He will be unharmed if you do as you are told.”
“How long was he left tied up like that?”
“I do not know, maybe an hour, maybe the
morning, maybe the day or just maybe,” he flashed his eyes at me, “he
is still out there.”
“But why? What possible purpose would that serve to leave him out there like that?”
“Work now. Then rest.” Lash headed towards the door.
“No. I want to know if my cousin is safe.”
“I said ‘work now’.” He had wheeled around to face me.
“No, I will not.”
He grabbed my shirt collars in one hand
nearly lifting me from the chair. He brought his whip up in my face
clenched in his other fist. “Do not make me use this on you, little
one,” he snarled. “You will live to regret it.” With that he swung
around and again headed toward the door which I noticed had been
standing ajar.
Something did not seem as it should. I knew I
needed to produce some further work on the map. I cleared away the
remnants of my meal and took the stack of maps to see how far I had
come. I hoped my cohorts at the other outpost were making use of their
time. I hoped I would be able to concentrate on the map I needed to
draw. There was now no use in attempting to make any claim that I could
not draw an adequate map. Lash had seen my drawings and seemed duly
impressed each of the two times he looked at that page. He would report
my skills to the Goblin Master. What else would he report? Would he
tell him about my open refusal to work on the map or would someone
else? … The someone who had been listening.
I thought about Lash. What exactly was he? He
was different from the others somewhat in appearance, being taller and
amber eyed; but definitely in attitude, perhaps due to his role as a
healer. He was perverse and I have no doubt he could be extremely
cruel. There seemed to be something inside of him that made him very
different from the others. He seemed to showed genuine concern for my
well-being, more so than to ensure my completing the map, even if that
is what anyone was to think. I think he just might have seen to it that
Pip was not left in the hot sun trussed up like a scarecrow to be
pecked at by birds. What purpose would that have served anyway other
than abject cruelty? They wanted me to serve their needs. All I needed
was one look at Pippin and I would have done anything. They could have
had their precious map then and there, if they would have guaranteed
Pippin’s safety; but they did not know that.
I had lost a lot the past couple days. I
dipped the pen in the ink and set to work on a new drawing. I felt as
if I needed to begin again with my plans, the map, and my concerns for
Pippin. I replayed the last conversation I had had with the Goblin
Master over and over in my mind. Both he and Lash had told me that Pip
was ‘unharmed’, although I do not know if Lash knew for certain. They
had both told me he would not suffer if I did as I was told. There was
something else…I could not put my finger on it…I realized I was shaking
and had been for some time. Somewhere inside, my heart had grasped the
reality of what the Goblin Master had said long before my mind had.
Again I thought of the words he had used. “The ‘little’ brother is
unharmed …” He had emphasized the word ‘little’… oh, no … Merry … he
has done something to Merry. I prayed for protection for my cousins.
The realization that Merry was to be the victim of my phony map was
hard to deal with. Whatever they were doing to him at this moment or
planned on doing to him to give me some sort of incentive; he would be
dead the moment my actions proved false. The Goblin Master had so much
as told me that. He had warned me that my ‘next action may prove
distasteful to me.”
There was no possible way that I could
provide an accurate map. All that I had ever held dear with the
exceptions of Merry and Pippin were in the Shire. They were with me
here in these goblin pits maybe never to return to our homes. I could
not abandon one in favor of the other. I needed to consider my options
once again. Perhaps I could save both Merry and the Shire if I provided
an adequate map of sorts … I took a fresh sheet of paper and began to
draw a basic outline of the Shire. I would include only some of the
waterways, the various downs and woods and roadways. All of my
measurements would be off deliberately as with the borders and
placement of a few of the towns. I knew I must include Hobbiton if they
should ask where my home is located. That did not mean I would have to
place it in the proper spot. Wisdom also dictated that the River
Baranduin should be drawn more or less as accurately as possible as
that is one feature they would be able to scout and could easily detect
inaccuracies. As my thoughts flowed, I found it was easier to draw
periodically considering how to change the dimensions of the Shire and
taking frequent rests to deal with the pain I was feeling both in my
head and my heart.
A funny noise was in my ears and suddenly a
heavily placed hand on my shoulder. “Where is your mind, little
creature?” At first I did not realize Lash had been talking to me.
“Drawing this map is making me think of my
home.” He grunted almost as if he could understand. I turned so I could
face him. “I am wondering if my cousins and I will ever see our homes
again.” He sat on the edge of the table hiding the object he had
brought in from my view.
“That is not for me to say.”
“What happens when I finish drawing this map?”
“That is not for me to say.”
“Will we be set free if I complete the map?”
“That is not for me to say.”
“Will I be sent back to the others?”
“That is not for me to say.”
“What is for you to say?” I was frustrated
and angry. “You seem to exercise some influence with your master.
Neither of the others speaks to him and comes and goes as you do”
“I have my orders to do.”
“And is this,” I spread my hands gesturing around the room and then thumped my chest, “is this your orders to do?”
“I keep you alive and no further hurt. I feed
you if you do not eat. I make you to sleep if you do not sleep. I make
you draw map.” His tawny eyes seemed very somber.
“What about my cousins?”
“The little brother is safe.”
“Was he hurt? How long was he tied up like that?”
“He is unhurt. They only wanted you to see him.”
“Is this the truth?”
“What means ‘truth’?”
I had to think. Was it possible he would not
know the word? “Honest… genuine … real?” He just looked at me. Perhaps
an example would work “If I tell you that I am a Hobbit, that is
‘truth’. If I tell you that I am your captive, that is ‘truth’. If I
tell you that I have six legs, that is not true. If I tell you that I
am your master, that is also not true.” He nodded. I hoped he had
understood. “Is it true that my cousins are safe and unharmed?”
“I have said the little brother is unhurt. That is ‘truth’.”
“What about the bigger brother?” He looked at
me. His eyes seemed more solemn than before. “What about the bigger
brother?” He glanced behind him and then back at me. “What have you
brought there?” I reached around him and quickly grabbed the object.
The color drained from my face as I looked at Merry’s jacket spattered
with blood and clutched it to me. I had previously realized that Merry
might very well fall as a victim to my phony map to save the Shire, but
now if it actually came to it … “Tell me what you have done to him.”
“I have not hurt him. It is for me to help.”
“Why did you bring this here? Is he hurt?”
“You draw the map.”
“You tell me: is he hurt?”
“You draw the map now.” He started to reach for the lash which had to this point not been used on me.
“Please, tell me.” I was begging. “Is he
hurt? There is blood on his jacket. Is he hurt?” I could feel tears
welling in my eyes.
“It is not for me to say.”
“No, of course it isn’t for you to say. Why
do you come here to torment me?” I could feel a tear sliding down my
right cheek followed by another on my left. “Why do you come here at
all?”
“I have orders.”
I felt icy cold inside. “Yes, you have your
orders. Well, you have done your duty. Your have taken care of my
hurts, seen to it that I have eaten and have been working on this
miserable map.” I grabbed the map, crumpled it, tore it to shreds and
tossed it all over the floor. Lash was dumb-founded as he witnessed my
tantrum. “Just go and leave me be.” I yelled. There was nothing further
for him to do. He had seen to my physical needs and brought the
necessary incentive in case I had not been working on their precious
map. Now he could report to the Goblin Master that I had been
diligently working and their tactics had produced the desired effect.
He would also report that my upset was great and I had destroyed the
map and was refusing to work any more. “Wait!” I grabbed his arm to
stay him as he made to leave. He was startled by my action and stared
at my hand and then at my face. “Why did you bring this to me?” I held
up Merry’s blood-stained jacket.
“To show you the Master meant what he said.” His words sounded flat for a goblin.
“Is he alive? Can you tell me that?”
“I think … perhaps.”
“Is he badly hurt? Do you know what they did to him?”
“I do not know.”
“Will you tend him? You can see him and then
tell me.” I was holding onto his arm with both hands shaking it as I
spoke. Hope was coming back to me. He studied my face for a few moments
and looked at my hands on his arm. He glanced at the door as if
expecting Cudgel and Knife to rush in at any moment. He brought his
face very close to mine. If I had not been in earnest, I might have
been frightened. He placed one of his hands over mine which were still
clinging to his arm and spoke very quietly, “I will see if I can. It
may not be allowed. You will work on the map.” He picked up all the
pieces of the shredded map and handed it to me.
“What do you get out of all this?”
“I stay alive. I keep you alive to draw map;
I live.” He knocked at the door. It opened. Cudgel entered and gave me
a cursory glance and held the door for Lash, allowing him to exit first
and then followed him out. I heard them laugh briefly as the door was
being closed and heard it lock behind them. It was not a promise but as
good as one in my heart. Could I believe him, let alone trust him? Lash
may have been studying me as I was examined and ordered about, but I
had learned some things about him as well. He was a goblin and would
probably obey the will of his master at all costs. He was not the same
being I thought him to be with his taunting and fascination with my
blood when I first encountered him. He seemed to feel a type of empathy
for me and my cousins and at the very least a sense of compassion
towards us. Maybe I was reading him incorrectly. I hoped not; for this
at least gave me something to cling to.
