Cousin by Ellynn

Cousin

Read Cousin

"Why are you so sad today, Grandma?"

She put down the jar she was shaping, turned around and looked me with surprise. Her eyes scrutinized me. "Why do you think I am sad?"

Why was she surprised? It was so obvious. "Doesn't everyone see? Your spirit is hurt. It cries. Just like me when I fall while playing and I hit myself and I cry. You are in pain. So very much."

She was very serious while watching me.

"Nobody has ever sensed my emotions so clearly."

"I am—" But... oh! She didn't say it out loud! Her lips didn't move. And yet, I heard her as if she had spoken normally. I do not understand!

I stood in amazement and observed her. Is it really possible to talk that way too? Hm, perhaps I could try...

"Grandma?"

She smiled softly, and I knew she had heard me.

"It is that simple? I just form a thought, and you can hear me? And the other way round?"

She nodded. "Well... we might put it that way."

I jumped and smiled. I like it!

Grandma's spirit still grieved, but now she was very curious as well.

"So, you are one of those with a strong gift." This time she uttered the words out loud and looked pensive.

I did not understand this. Why do the adults often speak in riddles? "What gift?"

She wiped the clay off her hands, came to where I sat on the floor playing, settled next to me and took my hands in hers.

"No, dear child, it is not quite that simple. Not everyone can talk that way – or at least, not that distinctly. And no, not everyone understands how I feel today," she said slowly. "You are still very young... but because you obviously have the gift, I think you will understand." She paused, settled a little more comfortably, and looked at me. "All the creatures created by Ilúvatar – the Valar, the Maiar, and us, the Elves – have the ability to feel other persons' thoughts and emotions, as well as the ability to communicate directly by thoughts, without speaking the words out loud. But it is not equally strong in all of them. The more powerful the beings are, the stronger their ability is."

I remembered the tales I had heard, and pondered. Well, it means... "The Valar are the best at it?"

Grandma nodded. "That is right. That ability is a little less pronounced in the Maiar than in the Valar, and less pronounced in us than in the Maiar. But we do possess it. All of us can feel the emotions of another person to a certain point. But some can do it much better than others. Mutual thought-exchange is usually easier and more intensive among those who are close, like family members, than among strangers. Besides, no matter who is involved – a relative or a stranger – the other person must be willing to communicate that way, that is, his or her spirit must be open to talk directly by thoughts. Because everyone can close their spirit and not let the others feel it, if that's what they want in a certain moment."

She fell silent. Her gaze wandered off and she just sat like that for a while. Her soul started to cry again. Poor grandma!

"But why are you sad?"

She returned her gaze on me. "You see, the interesting thing about this actual situation... No, I did not close my mind fully, but I thought I looked calm enough on the outside. That I had hidden my pain beneath other emotions I showed. Because I didn't want the others to worry about me. But you, dear child, you did feel it. Also, you heard my unspoken words without difficulties, even though you are very small. And that means that your gift is very strong – that you can feel much more than the others. When you grow up, I believe it will be even more pronounced."

Gift... strong... more pronounced... uh...

"I know this might be strange and complicated to you now." She gave me a warm smile. "Yes, I can feel your thoughts too, and I know how confused you feel. But do not worry. You will get used to it, and in time you will learn to use your gift and to develop it. And now I'll give you the answer. I'll tell you why I am in pain."

Yes! I wanted to find out. Who knows – I might even be able to comfort her, once I find out what it is about!

She gazed into the distance, somewhere through the window. She gazed for a long time, without words. And I... I watched together with her.

"Your... Cuiviénen." I smiled. I had finally memorized the name, a long and complicated one. "It is so beautiful. And the stars are the most beautiful of everything."

She observed me pensively. "You really have a strong gift, if you can see everything I have now thought about." Then she smiled too. "Yes, before coming here to Beleriand, we lived in the forests around Cuiviénen. Everything had been peaceful for a long time, and we were free from care. But then, after a while, some of us began to disappear. They went hunting or gathering in the forest, and they never returned. Both men and women, both young and old."

The room suddenly darkened. It became cold and I shivered.

"My father was one of them. I wasn't much older than you when he vanished without a trace. I haven't seen him for such a long time... however, I will remember every detail forever." She stopped and smiled softly, and an image formed in front of my eyes: a tall, beautiful man with grey eyes and silver hair, just like hers. Just like many from our people.

"Yes. Now you have met him too, although you have never seen him," she continued. "Today marks the anniversary of his disappearance, and I've been thinking about him so much since morning, just like I always do on the anniversary. There, that's why I am sad."

Oh! I understood now. I would be very sad if that happened to me. But...

"But what happened? Where did they go? Why did they disappear?"

Grandma's face became completely still. "Maybe they had an accident while hunting. Maybe wolves or bears caught them, or they fell into some chasm." No images followed those words. And no emotions.

I shuddered. What if something like that happens again? I wouldn't want my father to disappear. Or mother. I wouldn't like to be left alone! What if something horrible is stalking around out there...?

She looked at me, and her eyes were very serious. "The forest is always dangerous. Terrain can be treacherous, and there are wild animals. It is important that you never leave the settlement alone. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Good." Grandma's smile then lit the whole room, and everything was fine again. The cold vanished as if it never appeared, as well as the darkness. Surely, the adults now know not to go into the woods alone, too. Hopefully, everything will be all right.

-x-x-x-

I thrust my sword with full strength, and the last orc fell. I turned around quickly. "Is he all right?" My heart beat wildly, and a heavy stone formed in my stomach. Just a few moments ago, at the very end of our fight, with the corner of my eye I noticed Tarondil falling.

Beregil was already bent above him. He didn't have the extensive knowledge of our best healers, but he knew more than the most. With quick and efficient moves he took off Tarondil's leather armour, and Aranwë was helping him.

Valar, if you can hear this plea, I beg you, do not let my best friend die.

Beregil and Aranwë finally took off the last pieces of Tarondil's clothes. A nasty hole on upper left part of his chest was now visible to all of us, and blood flowed from it. Beregil first softly touched the edges, and then stooped down to the wound, barely an inch above it. He scrutinized it very carefully, and then he tilted his head to the side, as if listening to something.

Valar, please.

I did not breathe.

Beregil was observing, touching, examining. Perfectly focused on what he was doing. All his thoughts were directed to diagnosing, and his fëa didn't reveal even the slightest hint of what he thought about the wound – how bad Tarondil's condition was.

Say something! Think something!

Just a moment later he turned his head and looked at me. His spirit was calm. "He is all right. The lungs are not pierced," he finally said.

I breathed out loudly the air I had been holding.

"The stab is deep, and it will take time for the shoulder to heal," he continued. "Maybe he'll never have the same mobility as before. Still, he'll live. It was a very narrow miss. Just a half inch towards the centre of his chest, and the sword would have stabbed his lungs."

In that moment, Tarondil blinked, moaned in pain and opened his eyes. I didn't need to see the spasm on his face to know how much it hurt him. Pain was breaking over him in waves; the whole left side of his chest and his shoulder burned in agony, and I shivered. Still, when he saw me, he tried to smile. Not very successfully, though. "Do not worry about me, my friend. The orcs will have to try much harder if they want to overcome me."

Trying to make a joke even in a situation like this. Typical of him.

I knelt next to him and squeezed his hand. "You'll be fine. They'll stitch you up, and then you will rest."

I jumped up. I will not rest. Because near the end of the skirmish I saw an orc fleeing into the forest. But he will not get far. "I am going to catch that scum," I said and nodded resolutely.

"Go," Aranwë replied. "We'll take care of him. Do not worry."

I gave one more look to my friend. "You will be all right." And then I moved. The small clearing in which we fought the orcs remained behind me, and I entered the forest in the spot where the orc had gone. I discovered the tracks very soon – boot prints, trampled grass, occasional broken branch on bushes. It wasn't difficult to follow.

And then I discovered another thing: black stains on the ground. The creature was wounded. Great! It will slow him down, and it will be even easier to overpower him.

The pursuit lasted less than a quarter of an hour. I noticed him some twenty feet in front of me, half-sitting and half-lying on the forest floor, leaning with his head and upper part of the torso on one tree-trunk. His chain-mail was torn apart in the bottom part and his tunic was all black from blood. I slowed down and held my sword more tightly. He might be wounded, but caution must never diminish. More than once, I have seen my comrades die because they were overconfident, because they thought that the battle was already won.

Yes, I will be cautious – as always – but this should not be a difficult task. I moved forward.

Fifteen feet... ten... Everything was still, and the only sound was the orc's quiet painful moaning.

In the next step my stomach started hurting. It was not so strong as to hinder me, let alone stop me – it was more a nuisance than real pain – but it was so surprising and unusual. How and why did it appear? However, I disregarded it and went on; it must be just a random spasm that will pass in the next moment.

It did not. In fact, it turned from nuisance into real pain.

But this was not the moment to think about it. I stopped and observed the surroundings, listened and examined with all my senses. Everything was still. No unusual sounds reached my ears. The forest was not very thick here, so I easily saw that the space between the trees was empty. There were no other orcs around; the only one was in front of me, severely wounded. This was no ambush. I only had to finish this one and come back to my friends.

My stomach hurt.

In that moment the orc looked at me with his yellow—

grey

—eyes, and I saw the abhorrent enemy—

a cousin

—and I only had to end this.

A cousin.

The word rang in my head.

My heart started to beat faster. I came a few steps closer and looked at him. I didn't point my sword against him, but looked more carefully. His legs were short and bent. It is difficult to tell someone's height while he's lying, but it seemed to me he was at least a foot shorter than me. And the face... it was grotesque, malformed and maimed by scars. Just like all other orcs.

I observed him. His face... it started to dance in front of my eyes. What was happening? His face flickered and changed its shape: the scars faded, the lines softened. Suddenly, the face of an elf was in front of me. My own face.

A cousin.

Again that word! Again it filled my mind. Why? And why did my stomach still hurt?

I looked into his eyes, but I didn't see the enemy anymore. The inner feeling was like... like I was next to a someone who was close to me.

I stood and observed him. And shivered, while my heart beat faster.

"...to feel the thoughts and emotions of another person... more intensive among the relatives... disappeared in the forest..."

The images and words emerged from the past; the memories of that day long ago when I first found out about Ósanwë, and of everything I learned from my grandma. And of the things I haven't learned from her but from the others, as I grew up. I suppose that, on that day, grandma considered I was too small for the tales full of darkness and evil, but later I found out what those disappearances had really meant, who had grabbed them and what had happened to them.

And now... the facts were here, perfectly clear: I felt as if I was next to a close person, my stomach hurt, and Ósanwë, is stronger between relatives.

I only had to connect them. To put two and two together. There was a logical explanation for what was happening to me right now.

No! I did not want to accept it!

Because, knowing how the orcs came into being, on a level of abstract thinking only, was one thing. But meeting that fact face to face, meeting the chance that this... this monstrous, horrid, hated creature was my relative... well, that was quite another.

But... that was the only explanation for what I was experiencing right now.

No. I cannot be related to... to this.

But... I could be.

I must find out. And there was just one way for it.

Will it work? This orc and I... we are as different as two beings can be. Even if I try, will I feel anything inside him? Are the orcs mere beasts whose souls were completely destroyed? Or something did remain in them – at least a glimpse of soul?

I came close and knelt next to him. He started, and a twitch of pain crossed his face. And the eyes... I observed them carefully. There was fear, pain, hatred – all at once. And despair. He was surely aware of severity of his wound, and he didn't want to die. And he doubtlessly thought, now that I leaned above him, that I would kill him immediately.

A flow of sharp guttural sounds came out of his mouth, and his eyes flared up with hate. Then his words turned into coughing. He winced and cried.

A pain flashed in my stomach, as if somebody plunged a knife in it. I clenched my teeth and held my breath, and then calmed down. I raised my hands and opened my palms, showing there is no weapons in them. I gazed into his eyes and directed all my thoughts towards him. The surroundings faded and disappeared. Only he and I existed.

Calm. Quiet.

His eyes opened wide. Hatred vanished; confusion replaced it.

"Hear me."

He looked left and right, and finally towards me. His eyes were insecure, as if he felt something unusual happening but not understanding what.

"I am Elemir." I accompanied the spoken word with a gesture of hand – I put my palm on my chest.

He stared at me, and hatred returned into his eyes.

I opened my spirit and mind towards him. "I will not hurt you."

I knew he could not understand individual words. But I also knew – learned it while still a child – that Ósanwë was so much more than words. It was feelings, images, perceptions. And with time, I developed my gift. So when his expression softened and his body relaxed a little, I knew I had made it. He didn't recognize the words themselves, but he felt safe. As if he knew I wouldn't attack him.

However, his eyes were very confused. Bewildered. I didn't need to be very clever to understand that he had never experienced something like this and that he was out of his mind. And frightened, too.

Peace. I sent him calming images and thoughts. "Everything is all right." Peace.

I opened more and more, I explored. I closed my eyes, to eliminate outer stimuli completely. I held my breath and focused. And then I felt... yes, there was something inside him. A soul.

Oh, how very different than elvish souls! Dark. Dangerous.

But also... agonized. It was a soul that was hurt badly, so badly that it was broken.

I opened my eyes and shuddered. Poor creature.

"What is your name?"

He observed me several moments, insecurely at first, and then slowly nodded. He felt the meaning of my question.

"Shurkul." His voice was low.

I looked at his wound: a nasty deep hole in the lower part of his stomach. His clothes and gear were all black with blood, which still flowed slowly. Torn muscles and parts of his colon hung from the wound. I frowned. He will not survive.

And he didn't have much more time; I had to hurry. But I sighed and frowned. That which I will try now – surely nobody has ever tried, and nobody ever will. I don't know if I'll succeed; perhaps it is impossible. Maybe not even my gift, no matter how powerful, will be enough. But... I have to try. I have to know.

Still, there was one more thing. Crucial, in fact. That which I will try – I cannot do it alone.

"Shurkul, I would like to know more about you."

He looked at me, not blinking.

"You, me. The talk. Getting to know each other."

After a few moments his eyes filled with understanding, and his spirit flared. Fury, hatred. And then, a new emotion started to rise towards the surface. Smothered, as if he didn't want to acknowledge it. But he was not able to restrain it. Curiosity. "What is this? What is going on? And how?" His whole being ached for the answer. Just like I needed my answers, he needed his. He finally nodded, slowly and barely visible, as if even that small movement was difficult. And it probably was.

"I have the ability to talk this way. I would like to know you. Open yourself to me."

I closed my eyes, directed my spirit again, and touched his. And saw his life.

Darkness. Pain. Beating. Hatred. Darkness. Whipping. Pain. Deep, blackest darkness. At all times, constantly, always and forever.

I started and shivered. What a horrible, cruel world! How difficult it must have been to grow up and to survive in a world in which every day is filled with beating, in which even the smallest mistake is punished by whip or something worse. He suffered pain every day, poor thing.

But there was no time for the insight into his everyday life nor his world. I had to get my answers. I travelled deep, deepest – to the very essence and beginning of his being. To the point where two beings merged into one.

Oh! Again the feeling of closeness and family filled my soul. The mother. Yes, she was the one. I saw her through Shurkul's eyes – hunched, crooked, tormented.

But... her soul was a little bit, just a tiny bit, less dark than his.

With my eyes closed, I went on. My soul followed a path through his, searched and felt. The father of his mother. And I realized at once: Shurkul didn't know him. He, too, felt him only now, while I led him into the very core of his being. Grandfather. He was more distant, it was more difficult to feel him. However, the image slowly formed in front of my – our – eyes. The lines of his face were softer, his eyes were not fully savage, and his spirit was a little fairer.

And even though he was more distant, he was also closer to me.

I was shaking.

Then, his father. Even more distant... and closer.

My heart was racing.

And one more step into the past. The last one. Another soul. His father. The most distant soul. And the closest one.

The world ceased to exist. Everything vanished; even time itself stopped, and in the whole universe only we existed – Shurkul, me, and the souls that bound us.

The father of the father of the father of the mother.

I saw him inside Shurkul. Silver hair. Handsome shapely face. Grey eyes. The face that I knew, even though I had never met him. But which I saw while still a child.

Breathing heavily, I opened my eyes. I returned to reality; the forest was here again, as were the scents of trees and soil and whisper of the leaves. Shurkul flinched a moment after me. He stared at me with a shocked gaze.

"Your fourth ancestor. Your great-great-grandfather." I nodded. "Do you understand?"

His eyes were still distraught.

"Yes. No."

Understandable reaction. There was complete chaos in his head. From his earliest days, he was taught to hate the elves; all of the orcs were. He had no idea they had originated from us. This discovery turned his whole world upside-down. Besides, his mind was becoming blurry because he was fading; life was leaving him.

My stomach... it kept hurting. As if a knife was ripping through.

He closed his eyes, while the former flame was turning into a candle. I must hurry; he doesn't have much time left.

"I'll show you something." And then I led him on a journey through my soul and memories, and showed him my ancestors. All the way to the person in which our two lines joined. "My great-grandfather. Your great-great-grandfather."

Nearly lifeless eyes now brightened from another shock.

"Yes. We are cousins," I confirmed.

He observed me for a few moments, and then lowered gaze towards his stomach. His face reflected pain, his breath was shallow. "It is over?" His whisper was barely audible in my mind.

I nodded, and then I extended my arm. If anyone had ever told me I'd hold an orc's hand in comfort, I would have proclaimed him completely mad. But now I did just that.

"You are not alone... cousin."

He nodded, barely noticeable, and then shut his eyes and remained still. With every passing moment his spirit was weaker and more distant.

"You are not alone."

But his spirit was also calm. Serene.

Finally, he breathed his last breath, his heart made its final beat, and the candle extinguished. The lines of his face – grotesque, awry, ugly – now softened, and he didn't look like the beasts full of hate we had met in battles.

The pain in my stomach disappeared.

I knelt and observed him. An orc. All the orcs that are alive today, against whom we fight, are descendants of those elves captured long ago. We all know that; however, I have never seen them as cousins before. Just how could any of us do that?!

We know, but we are repulsed by thought; for us, the orcs are something completely separate from us, something the most distant that can be. We are light, they are darkness. For us, the orcs are the synonym for true evil. How could they have anything in common with us?

Yet, they have.

Every orc in existence is a relative of some of us. A distant one, but still a relative. Surely, Shurkul is not my only cousin among them.

Cousin. A horrifying thought... but also a legitimate one.

We know... but this is surely the first time that any of us has consciously admitted it.

I slowly straightened up. I must return to my friends, and then we'll go back to our settlement... and eventually, at some point, to another battle.

Yes, I will continue to fight the orcs. They are an extended hand of the dark lord, and we'll always fight evil and darkness. I'll keep on killing them, and maybe I'll even kill some cousin of mine. I am disgusted by them, and I want to cleanse the Arda of such filth.

However... today I understand more and better than before. They are not guilty for their existence. They are not guilty of the hatred and malice that have been instilled by torture in them. After today, I hate them just a little bit less.

---

Chapter End Notes

I guess that thousands of years and hundreds of generations later (in the end of the Third Age, for example), something like this wouldn't be possible. But early in the history of the orcs-race... why not?