Orcling by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 1: An Expedition

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The grey moth flexed its wings, warmed by the heat of Mélamírë's hand.

 

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

 

She had not wronged this moth in particular, but her apology made her feel a little better.

 

The moth did not hear her, did not care. It launched itself from the palm of her hand, fluttered madly, and caught a breeze that might carry it up the vale to join the other moths, or to be eaten by a bird, like its fellow that Mélamírë had released from a collection jar yesterday.

 

She was still upset, even angry, by what had happened. Not by the bird eating a moth, for that was the way of things, but at Father and his unending expectations of what he thought she should do. She glanced over toward him where he was stretched out in the Sun, like a big cat, with his arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the Sun's glare.

 

For three days, they had been camped by the Glanduin, a swift stream up here in the mountains, on "an expedition," as Father called it, to collect specimens of insects and rocks. He was especially keen on studying the grey moths and their darker-hued cousins that lived in the shadowy dells on the opposite side of the vale, and told her that these moths were excellent examples of adaptation. Yet another lesson to be learned.

 

She had caught one of those dusky moths in a jar and was strangely horrified when it beat itself against the glass. Father told her to kill it. She knew what he wanted her to do, to probe into the tiny creature's body and recite the Words of Power with him, to set in motion a spell that would make the moth's life-giving pathways run hot, just enough to kill it, but not to set it aflame.

 

She had refused to do it, and he reached within her and pushed, impatient with her. She pushed back and tossed him out of her head. His response was to grab her arm so hard that it hurt, and he snarled:

 

I am your father! I will not tolerate such impertinence!

 

She jerked away from him to run down the trail where she tripped on a stone and fell, scraping her knees. He was at her side in an instant.

 

I am sorry, I am so sorry, he had said, repeating his words, just as she did with the freed moth. I did not mean to lose my temper.

 

The sting in her knees went away, but her hurt feelings did not recover so quickly. She wished she could be alone for a while, without him hovering over her, turning everything into a lesson.

 

Despite the warmth from the Sun and the peaceful song of the breeze and rushing stream, she was restless. Twisting around on the boulder where she sat, she gazed northeast toward the great mountains: Telpenassë, Carnirassë and Fánaicassë, their peaks shining white. She let her sight drop to the upper reaches of the vale. In the distance, but not too far away, she thought, there was an outcrop of grey stone, dark as charcoal.

 

Maybe it was shale? She remembered what Father had told her: that long before the fathers of Elves and Men awoke, these mountains were once a sea bed and the creatures that once swam in those long-gone waters were now turned to stone, and could be found in deposits of shale. Fossils, he called them in the Valarin tongue. The very idea of such ancient things excited her. She had not found any yet on their expedition, but she wondered if there might be some up there.

 

Surely it would not take all that long to hike up to those rocks and have a look. It was not even mid-day, so if she left now, she could return well before sunset.

 

The problem was how to sneak away without Father knowing. He lay very still on his bedroll, not far from the shallow cave where they had camped. Was he asleep? Really asleep? Or was this just a nap? Some part of his mind always seemed to be awake, even when he appeared to be sleeping soundly.

 

He had been working hard in the forges lately, so maybe that, and the spell he wove this morning to make the barrier around their horses' paddock, had worn him out. His black steed, Mori, and her little brown mare, Birdie, grazed peacefully — and untethered — in the mountain meadow, enclosed by a fence of enchanted pee.

 

Last night, a warg's howl echoed down the vale from high in the mountains. Although it had frightened her, Father said it was far away and moving off to the North. Nonetheless, this morning, he stared at the mountains and became very quiet, as if listening. Then he brewed a large pot of tea, gave her a cup, and proceeded to chug all the rest down.

 

"What are you doing?" she asked after she finished her own cup of hot tea.

 

"Best not to take any chances," he said. "I am going to make a fence that will ward off orc, warg, or any other predator for that matter, from our camp. It will keep Mori and Birdie from wandering off, too."

 

"How will you do that?"

 

"You'll see." He drained the last cup of tea. Then he waited with that look of inward focus on his face.

 

Shortly, he stood. "There now. I can start. Please brew another pot of tea, my dear. I expect I'll need it."

 

The horses were tethered in a little meadow by their camp, and it was there he paced a wide circle around them. Then he lifted his shirt and unfastened the front of his trousers.

 

She averted her eyes and busied herself by shaking out their bedrolls and scooping up water from the stream to brew more tea while he proceeded to mark the circle, just like a dog might. Another pot of tea later, and he had completed the fence.

 

"How will pee keep the horses safe?" she asked him after he finished and returned to the campfire.

 

"Because I wove the scent of a wolf into my urine." He explained how he had used the art of Changing on the tiny particles within his own body to create such a thing.

 

She wondered if she could do this or even if she would want to. Best not to ask, for he would certainly want to make a lesson out of it, and maybe even cajole her into trying the trick herself. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment at the thought of Changing her pee, so she remained quiet while he yawned and stretched.

 

"I am going to rest for a little while. Casting that spell was more tiring than I expected. Stay close now." Then he lay down and had not moved since, and she had perched here on the nearby boulder.

 

She listened to his breathing, deep and regular. He was even snoring softly, like the purr of a great cat. Maybe she could test him to see if he was truly asleep. Just as she had when she was a tiny child, when she woke up from a bad dream or when thunder shook the hills and scared her, she reached out in thought to him:

 

Father? He did not stir. She tried again. Father? Nothing.

 

It was leave now or not at all. She eased herself off the boulder, thinking of how quietly Tifil, her cat, stepped when he stalked a mouse. She tiptoed to the cave and found her pack. After dropping dried meat and fruit into it, she stuffed her wool cloak on top. She could fill her waterskin when she was further up the vale. Her knife in its scabbard and her pickaxe were both secured on her belt.

 

When she emerged from the cave, Mori raised his head and whickered at her.

 

She held her finger to her lips. "Shh, shh!" Mori flicked his ears and returned to grazing alongside Birdie. Father's snores were louder now.

 

Mélamírë had taken only a few steps when she stopped to look at him once more. She felt a twinge of guilt. Sneaking away like this wasn't right. He had told her to stay nearby. She knew there were dangers further up in the mountains, but it was not as if she planned to hike up the slopes of Telpenassë. Yet, when she went out with her friends in the city or ventured beyond the city walls to walk by herself to nearby villages, she always let Mother and Father or the servants of her house know where she was going. He would worry if she simply disappeared. She picked up a piece of charcoal near the campfire and scrawled on the flat surface of a nearby rock:

 

Went for a walk. Back by sunset.

 

There. At least she let him know what she was about. Maybe not in great detail but enough. She gazed once more at the snow-capped peaks. The grey outcropping was much closer than those. Yes, she could hike there and be back before it was dark. Maybe even find a fossil. Surely he'd be pleased with that. She hefted the pack onto her back and set off toward the game trail that led up into the heights of the vale.

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Chapter End Notes

Glossary:

 

Telpenassë, Carnirassë, and Fánaicassë: "neo-Quenya" (meaning my own best guess) for Celebdil (Silvertine), Caradhras (Redhorn), and Fanuidhol (Cloudyhead), respectively. I'm using these due to the notion that Mél is "thinking" in her mother tongue, which is Quenya, and that most around her, with some exceptions, also favor Quenya.