Uruk-hai, or the journey there...

[Olmer]

34
Many years have passed since the summer, that so drastically changed my life. Many leagues had left behind me since. Many marks of others blades were left on the body, and a lot of blood had been tasted by my own blade. I have the same old blade - the gift of Uragh before his death. It just got a little thinner and lighter from meetings with a whetstone. Oghr, who eventually has uncovered Ghazatbuurth's secrets, and maybe came up with some of his own, not once was trying to alter my kughri, promising to lighten it, and to weld on its new blades, which are equally good at hacking the dwarf iron and Khand's silk. I forbade him to touch my sword. The heavy gift of Uragh has never failed me in all these years, and my memories are getting revived every time looking at it.
Ghash says that my relation to the sword is not like of uruuk-hai's. He believes that in this I behave more like Gondorians, that are giving names to their swords and believing that in them lies a special, inner strength. Maybe he's right, sometimes I really feel that my blade has a large portion of Uragh's strength and courage .
Ghash, he is often right. It is strange, he is eleven years younger than me, and as many times wiser. From each life events he manages to extract a lot more than I do. It turns out that he is younger than me for years, but much senior in an experience. At one time I have thought that all Uruuk-hai are like him. But then I realized that it is not so. Ghai, for example, has remained a reckless boy. It seems that the years have changed in him only the color of his hair, but this is noticeable only on long trips, when is no time and nowhere to shave the head. Then a stiff silver-brown bristle grows out. The silver has appeared not only in Ghai's hair. Oghr's red shaggy hair have long been mottled, and his forehead became much higher. Ashy hair of Ghash also changed its color and thinned out, and, if he used to tie them up into a lush, beautiful tail, now it turns into only a modest silver tassel. Even in Mavka's straw-white braids are hiding thin silver threads. Only my hair remained the same. This is not surprising. Hobbits are long-living people, and I also was drinking the Ents draught. Even by the standards of Hobbits I destined to live long.
My current years - the maturity, I am still very far away to the old age. Only is sad to see how quickly are growing old those you love.

Ghash deceived me. I understood it in a moment, when he welcomed the Great King of Gondor. It's not the book the shaghrat was needed in Barad-Dur. Actually, not only the books. He needed the very Barad-Dur. With all of its contents. With ancient books, a forgotten Palantir, with huge melting furnaces and gigantic hammers, with filled up to the rims underground reservoirs in the heart of the arid desert. The shaghrat did not come here for a knowledge of the long dead . He came here for the inheritance. For the great legacy left by the deceased people. He did not come for the sake of the memory of the dead. He came for the sake of the future of the living.
It was easy to see what will happen after. Not only the city, once was buried under the ashes of the Mount Doom, will get revived . The whole nearly died country will revive. On its arid sands from oases of the bitter lake Nurnen caravans of bactrs will carry salt and food. The abandoned mines again start to produce iron, coal, copper, tin, silver and lead. In the karghana's gigantic furnaces and under its hammers, by a labor of snagas and a wisdom of oghrs, all mined up will be transformed into products for which to the north Gate of the twilight desert, as in former times, will go caravans from Khand, Harad and Umbar. And on the ashes of the past will appear a new, huge and complex world, the world in which the descendants of the "not seeing the light" can look up to the skies without squinting.
All of this Ghash did not tell me in that memorable conversation between us at the Misty Mountains. I was not offended. He could not tell this things to a guy, that was hired for two bags of coins. He already knew that the emerging world will be awaiting not an easy fight for its existence. He did not want to create chances, that some time after could fall like a stone on another side of the scale. The extra knowledge can be a heavy stone. Now I also understand this.

While I was pondering all of this, the Great King of Gondor and Ghash stared at each other. Then Ghash suddenly laughed and said:
- Do not play with me a staring match, the Great King. I am not a Nazgul, and I do not turn away. I was taught from an infancy to stare into the eyes of the elf and not to look away.
- Who are you? .. - Sounded from the Palantir, not as confident, as at the first time. - And what do you want?
- My name - Ghash, - said the shaghrat. - In Westron it means a Fire Demon. In Sindarin, you can call me a Balrog. But my name is not important. It is important that I represent the voice of one hundred and seventy-nine buurths from Angmar to Ithilien.
- I have nothing to talk about with you, Orc! - Said the King.
- If by "orcs" you mean the people of uruugh, with which your soldiers are fighting in Ithilien, then I do not belong to them. - said Ghash. - I am an Uruuk-Hai, "the warrior, who sees the light," and I'm not afraid of the sun.
- Perhaps the wizardry of Saruman has provided an opportunity for such, as you are, to live in the sunlight, but you still remain minions of darkness! - Arrogantly said the King. - There is nothing to talk about!
- You say - "darkness!," the Great King, - Ghash leaned to the ball, almost touching it. From my side it seems that right now he and the King will knock their heads together. - You are condemning me for the kinship with those, who for thousands years could not see the sun. But should they be blamed for the choices of their fathers? Am I should be held accountable for that? If so, then you, the Great King, should look back in the past too!
Or you're not the descendant of Isildur, who seized the Ring of the Dark Lord? Or you're not the descendant of the Númenorean kings, that moved their armies to the Undying Lands, seeking with the sword to win immortality and the Light of Valinor?! Or eight princes and kings of Numenor, who became the Nazgul, did not belong to your people? Perhaps, you think THEY are the faithful servants of the Light? If your Light is like this, then what you call the Darkness?!
- What for you dwell on my ancestors, Orc? - The King smiled coldly. - What for is this phrase-mongering? You are not talking with them, but with me.
- Exactly, the Great King, - confirmed Ghash. - I'm talking with you. And I want to ask you: did you never give in to the evil in yourself? Do not you, the Great King, sometimes have happened to lie, cheat and betray?
- You're confusing me with you, Orc, - said the King. - I've never served the Darkness.
- I'm not talking about the service, - said Ghash. - I just asked did not happen that the Great King had to yield to evil in himself?
- It did not! - Proudly told the King. - All my life I gave to the fight against the evil!
- Yes ... - nodded Ghash. - I know ... But I'm not talking about the universal evil, with which you are fighting, killing those, who are tainted by it. I'm talking about that little evil that nests inside of you ...
- What are you talking about? -The King shrugged. - I do not understand. ? Do you understand yourself what you are talking about?
- I'll tell you, the Great King, - Ghash's voice became sad. - Do you remember the shore of the Great River at the Rauros waterfall? Remember the little halfling and his heavy burden? You swore to go with him to the end, no matter how hard the road would be. And you left him alone ... Why, the Great King?
- You know pretty much, Orc. - The King laughed. - From where?
- From the books, - said Ghash. - From the Red Book of Shire. I've read it.
- So you're also quite learned, Orc - The King did not consider essential to hide his amusement. - Well. I could not answer you, but I will satisfy your curiosity. The halfling wanted it himself. He had to think. If you was reading this book, you could read and that, too.
- I can not just read, - Ghash said, - but, also, understand the meaning of the written. You were the leader of the group, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Your only task was to guard the Keeper and his burden. You yourself swore to him in this. And you left him alone. Why?
- HE wanted it! - Irritably muttered the King. - I told you!
- No! - Shook his head Ghash. - You didn't tell. He wanted to think alone. Let it be so. But for fifteen years you had served in the army of Gondor. Don't you know how the head of detachment acts in such cases? Rather than leave him at the campfire to sit in solitary and to think, and you the with rest of the group stay on guard, protecting him at the distance, you have sent him into the forest alone, but yourself stayed by the fire and entertained the rest of the company with an idle talk. Why did you do that, the Great King?
- HE WANTED it!!! - Suddenly shouted the man behind the glass of Palantir and banged his fist on his desk. Our table shook, and the Palantir jumped on the stand. - He wanted it, and he had the Ring of Power. His desire was impossible to disobey!
- Turned up the one, who disobeyed, - said Ghash, - and, despite the Ring, went with the Keeper to the very end. . And it was not you, the Great King. You simply left the Keeper. You knew that somewhere in the woods orcs were on a prowl, and you sent the Keeper into the forest. Alone. You knew that a slippery wretch, the former Ring-bearer, is following close behind you and you let the halfling walk away. Alone. And how long would be his journey after that? It's not your merit that someone came forth, who went with him. Went and saved him from all plights. You simply betrayed the Keeper, Aragorn, son of Arathorn! You betrayed the one, to whom you yourself had offered your friendship. Betrayed the one, who was trusting you. And he did not even realize it. Throughout all his life he considered you as a friend.
- Do you want to blame me for something, Orc?! - Angrily said the King of Gondor, and his eyes flashed with fire, just like of the talkative skull in that malevolent hall.
- No, - shook his head Ghash. - I don't want. And am I to blame someone. I know that evil breeds in all of us, and to squeeze it out from yourself you have to with your own blood. I do not blame you. I know that the will of the wearer of the Great Ring cannot be disobeyed. Especially if he is Maya.
- Do not say, what you do not know ... Orc, - wearily said the Great King.
- I know, what I'm saying, - said Ghash. - Does not your Grey Overseer convinced you that you need to do just like that? For the sake of the world, of course. After all, he was so eloquent and so convincing.
How can you resist the reasoning of the being, that hundreds of thousands years older than you are? How can one resist the will of the one, who can move mountains with a word? How one can have a cool head when he is getting convinced by the Maya, who is wearing the Ring of Fire, which was given to him for the benefit of a fiery persuasion? "ONE RING TO CONVINCE - ASH NAZGH THRAKATULUUK". What could do you? What could others do? Parselmouthed Rohan sage only questioned the truth of the words of your mentor and became a wormtongued nonentity. Denetor , the Steward of your throne, dared to object to him and got his mind forfeited .
Even Saruman - the White Wizard, wisest of the Wise, Head of the White Council, the one whom the Elves called Curunir. Even he did not stand against your Mentor and lost his power, and his wisdom, and he was Maya too. I have no need to blame you, the Great King. Also, I am in no way to blame your Grey Master. You and I cannot even imagine the horror of understanding, which he experienced, when the Ring of the Dark Lord was dropped into the fire of Mount Doom and the chain was broken. Even for the great Maya it was impossible to resist the temptation: no one could argue with him for two and a half thousand years .
Probably only Lady Galadriel had realized what is happening to him, and who he begins to turn into. She had been a seer, after all. The entire weight of the Darkness was on one side of the scale, and only a hope - on the other. But she did everything, that depends on her, that this precarious hope come true. Even more than that, perhaps. Without the phial with Star of Earendil, that she presented to the Keeper, he and his companion would never have come to the Mount Doom. And by now the world would be ruled by a the new Dark Lord, who was able to speak so persuasively, that everyone, who has heard him, will be considered his will as their own. So, I am blaming no one for nothing, the Great King. I just wanted to remind you that from the beginning of time the evil lurks in each of us. The power, majesty and wisdom do not protect against it. And in that we're equal.
- What about you wanted to talk with me, Orc? - The King interrupted Ghash . - It is not for the sake of talking about long-forgotten people you have got to the Palantir.
- I ... - Ghash rose from his chair and stood at attention, - I speak on behalf of all people of Uruuk -hai. I offer you a peace, the Great King!
- Peace? - The King was amazed. - Are you offering me the peace, Orc? Did I hear it right?
- Yes, the Great King, - Ghash said, sitting back in his chair. - I offer you the peace.
- The peace with creatures of darkness? - Continued to marvel the King. - It's impossible!
- Why do you call us the "creatures of darkness", the Great King? - Asked Ghash. - We are not afraid of the sun.
- You were born by the Darkness, - said the King. - Those, who were born by the Darkness, can not turn to the Light. Even if you are no longer afraid of it.
- The Darkness can not create, the Great King, - said Ghash. - It can only distort. You say, that we can not turn to the Light, but don't you think that the Impartial One, who created the world, is so cruel, that withheld its shine for the living, even if they were maimed by the First Liar? The Light of the One permeates the world. Maybe we have got a smaller fraction of it, than you. I will not argue about it. But why do you refuse us even in it?
- I cannot judge the will of the One, - said the King.
- "As long as the black banner with a silver tree are fluttering, under its shadow there is no place for the house the Impartial One!" - Ghash said, as if reading, . - I know. Even so, but you are the Great King. Why you don't climb the mountain and ask the One himself?
- What for all these words, Orc? - Asked the King in a tired voice . - You made me listen to you, and so you'd better talk about the real matter before I become bored. You offered me the peace. What will I get in exchange?
- Is the peace not enough? - Amazed Ghash. - Think about, how many years is lasting this war? How many lives were burned in it? Is not it good enough to have at least a few years without the war?
- This war was started not by us, - said the King. - And not by us will be finished. Even if I'll agree to the peace with the orcs, then - what? I won't last forever. Maybe another three decades will pass by - I will die, and everything starts over again.
- Do you think that thirty years of peace are not enough, the Great King? - Surprised Ghash raised eyebrows . - Indeed, I find it hard to understand you. You talk like an immortal elf, for which there is neither past nor future, but only the eternal present, and for which the three decades are just a brief moment. But you're not the elf. Have you forgotten how long people live? In thirty years will grow a whole new generationin of your people, who has not heard the clashes of swords and the whistling arrows.
- And how fast will grow in numbers your orcs in thirty years? -The King quipped. - Still, we have nothing to talk about, Orc.
- You'd better think about your people, the Great King, - said Ghash. - And not about mine. We are not afraid to die. Rather, death scares of us, than we of her, because we believe in the goodness of the Impartial One, and we believe that he hears our words, when we appealing to him. For us the death is a meeting with him. Think of your people, the Great King! Look how tired they were from a thousand years of war with all the surrounding nations. Or do you think that the glory of your people depends on the amount of shed blood?
A few days ago I also thought that the courage of a warrior is to kill the enemies, as many, as you can .Now I know that the warrior prowess - to save lives, as many,as he can . Think of the children of your people, the Great King. We do not want this war. Leave alone Ithilien's orcs, and we can make sure that they won't disturb Gondor any more.
- Ithilien, - thoughtfully said the King. - So that's your little game and that's all of these nice words. No. Ithilien - is a land of Gondor. It always has been and it always will be!

- It was not always like this, - said Ghash. - Let your historians to delve into ancient scrolls. Perhaps they will find in there the name of the people that lived on the land long before the Black Sails of Númenorean ships had appeared at the shores .
- I have already answered you, Orc! - Said the King. - This is the land of Gondor and always will be!

- Why Gondor wants it? - Asked the shaghrat. - What for? Are tillers of Pelennor, or fishermen of Lebennon wanting to move there? They did not go after you to the land of orcs even a hundred years ago, when your people, indeed, were in a mortal danger. Then to the Gate of the desert you brought only six thousand of those, who live only by the war. Those who eat their bread from the tip of the sword. The rest refused to go with you to foreign lands. Your people are ready to die defending the threshold of their houses, but they are not eager to take a hold of what does not belong to them. Why do you strive for it?
- Our conversation became meaningless, Orc - The King replied, yawning. - We speak in different languages. You are the spawn of the Darkness. You'll never understand me, and I'm sick and tired of listening to you. Goodbye.
The walls around us jolted. And then again and again. The heavy rumble of striking huge hammers got reverberated around the underground. The King in the Palantir slightly turned his head, it was evident that he was listening out to the thundering.
- I regret that I did not have enough of wisdom, - Ghash said, putting the hand on the lighted ball, - and I did not find the words that would have touched your heart. I will look for other ones. But with saying goodbye, I am asking: think about what I said, the Great King. Do you hear that sound?
In the getting cloudy glass of Palantir the Great King of Gondor barely perceptible noded.
-The hammers of Barad-Dur are pounding again!


Instead of an epilogue

My name is Sam. At birth, I was given a different name, but my friends call me that. Even not like this. They are lisping and speaking through the nose, instead of "C" they are uttering a strange hissing sound, and I do not know how to put it on a paper. Also they draw out the vowels, and it comes out something like "Chsham". But, still, it means "Sam." They say it's in honor of my grandfather. It is even strange, that they like him so. But now the name "Sam" is carried by me - Chsham. I am not "Chsham-the-Shelob-killer". I'm not Chsham, whose will, multiplied by the Ring, have thrown into a battle against each other the detachments of Shaghrat and Ghorbagh. I'm not Chsham whose unspoken a desire-order was obeyed by hundreds, and maybe even thousands of soldiers, by "not recognizing" the two hobbits and allowing them to mingle with them. I am not Chsham - the friend and companion of the Keeper. I am not Chsham, who "worn and gave back the Ring of Power." In my share there was no great feats. I am just a hobbit that has not been in his native Hobbiton for a long, long time, and maybe will never see it again. I don't regret it. I chose it myself. I am an Uruuk-Hai, "the warrior, who sees the light." The people, who became my family, gave me that name. So be it. My name is CHSHAM ...