Island of Sorrow RPG

[Envinyatar]

The Orcs and the Lady

‘Hinya! That bird - I think it means to make some mischief with my weaving.’

Ashukh hurried to where the Lady sat, looking up at some great black bird perched on the crumbling masonry of the fireplace. It hopped along the jagged edges of the broken stone and peered down with a calculating stare into the remains of the room below. The breezes fluttered the edges of the Lady’s as yet unfinished project, seeming to pique the intruder’s interest.

Though his hands bore neither strength nor substance, still he patted the tattered cloth and spoke as gently as he might. ‘Feather brained burzdug be gone soon enough, Lady. Not come back neither. Zlog take care that sneakin’ bird. Him be left to rot with t’other of his friends what was crushed against the rocks.

A loud, strangled squawk, cut off in mid protest echoed on the other side of the Lady’s bedroom. Through a large crack in the lower part of the wall a faint wisp of breeze seemed to stir along the cracked, chipped stones that paved the floor. It bore upon it a lone, black feather, bent nearly in two.

‘Oh that were fun!’ Zlog hunkered down near Ashukh, grinning widely. ‘Grabbed him, I did. Made him take old Zlog out a ways then turn around. Yes! Turn around we did and him flying as fast as I could make him.’ With a nearly soundless CLAP!, save for the sighing of the small bit of air displaced, Zlog described how the bird had rammed himself into the wall. ‘Slid down them rocks lika sticky glob a spit down a troll’s leg.’ He too reached out and patted the weaving. ‘Won’t be botherin’ ya no more, Lady.’

From the topmost stones of the fireplace another voice called down to them. ‘Be my turn, Lady, for bird-watch. No need worry. Gorgu be keeping you safe now . . . yes, he be doing that for sure . . . yes, he do . . .’ He went on like that for a space of time, his words weaving a sing-song assurance of security; a refuge inviolate.

For their part, Ashukh and Zlog were quiet as they sank restfully into the stones upon which rested the Lady’s cloth; their passage leaving undisturbed the rusty faded stains of long ago.

----------

hinya – my child (Quenyan)
burzdug – black-filth (Orcish/Black Speech)