[Child of the 7th Age]

As fall faded and the first hint of winter appeared, a day came which Nitir was never to forget. There were times of happiness and even laughter in the Workhouse. She and the helpers played with the babies or chased after frogs which the Stoor children insisted on saving from the dinner pot by keeping in their pockets. But there were also moments of excruciating fear and sadness. And of all those moments, this one seemed the most dark.

The day had started with a loud banging on the door by the Orc commander. He had insisted on speaking with Nitir immediately. Apparently, one of the children who carried messages to the Orcs had decided that he could live his life more comfortably by cooperating with his guards. This lad, just eleven years old, had betrayed a secret of one of his family members, that there was a hidden cache of weapons buried west of the camp. When the Orcs went to investigate, they found two old and rusty swords hidden in the trunk of a tree. But, however many or few, the commander decreed that the hobbits should suffer.

The entire camp was drawn up in front of the Workhouse. The children and the helpers were led out in a semi-circle. And then Durshkakh came before Nitir and said in a voice of iron: "One child will die, and you must pick that one. If you do not pick, then two will suffer."

The entire camp of hobbits stood aghast, but no one more than Nitir. "Please," she begged, "let me speak with the council, or at least with Maura Tuk." For Nitir truly did not know what to do. There was no doubt in her mind that two children would die unless she gave them one as they had demanded.

The Orc captain leered and shook his head, "You old hag. You are in charge of these rats. Choose, or two will be slain."

Nitir sank to the ground in tears, "I can not do it," she whispered. "Take me instead."

But the Orcs laughed and seized two of the children, one a small babe and the other a healthy young girl. And they slit them through the hearts right before her eyes and those of the other hobbits.

Then they were ordered to go back to work.

Nitir lay in a heap on the ground, crying uncontrollably. She could not even lift her head. So Maura came forward and took her in his arms, as one might a small child, and rocked her and cradled her head against his chest. And she looked at him and said, "What should I have done?"

And he shook his head and with infinite gentleness said, "I do not know."

And when Nitir had cried for a very long time, she asked him, "How can I live with such pain, such brokness?"

And he tried to reassure her, "This is not all of life. There is goodness that goes beyond this wretched camp, if only we could feel it." And he looked towards the West with silent words of beseeching. But in his heart even he wondered, "Will this nightmare ever end?"

[ August 13, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]