Shiva the Cat
the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated
- Joined
- Jun 1, 2019
- Location
- over the hills and far away
Yurë was a little taken aback by Raugad's staunch defense of the filthy beasts, but his words did little to chip away at the hardened shield against them that surrounded her heart. The orcs were not created by Eru, but by The Enemy himself. Their very existence was an act of rebellion against the order of the world, and Raugad's sympathy with the creatures would do little to aid in his defense when his own judgment came. For her part, now that she'd seen them, the maiden would have been glad to see every one of them wiped clear into the Void, like brushing dust off a shelf.
And yet...the sound of the she-orc's cry still echoed in her ears: the bestial sound of a mother whose young was being torn away from her. The mother of the piglet she'd killed had made a similar noise last night, although Yurë hadn't thought much of it at the time. Death was a necessary part of the world, and the young boar had needed to die in order to sustain her body (and Raugad's as well, though the Maia found herself wondering if the tradeoff had truly been worth it). Orcs certainly needed to die as well in order to preserve the lives of elves and men alike, because the latter peoples had been planned by Eru. That alone was enough to raise their value above Melkor's stinking foot soldiers, no matter how Raugad might scorn them.
That thought did send one little barb darting through Yurë's mind that she couldn't resist tossing Raugad's way. "And why should these 'Upstarts', as you call them, revere or respect you? What have you done for any of them, besides torture and slaughter them for your own amusement and that of your old master? I suspect they fear and loathe you just as much as the orcs do, but the key difference is that the orcs are so weak-willed that they will bend to your every desire, and that is why you defend them so. But I will not."
No, she would not defend the orcs, she never would, Yurë was sure. But inside, she had to admit that much of that the Úmaia's argument did ring true. The orcs had no say in their own creation, and by her own admission they were too weak-willed to oppose the masters that had demanded such wanton violence and destruction from them. In that sense they were to be pitied, but unless by some power their very natures were to change and make the creatures into a people of peace, they would always be hated and hunted.
Will Raugad face the same fate? The idea was beginning to strengthen glumly in the maiden's mind, like a stubborn weed taking root. If this was how he showed repentence, by scorning the Free Peoples and defending villainous marauders like the orcs, the Úmaia would find little sympathy in the Halls of Mandos. Yurë would probably never see the orcs swept into the Void as she wished, but it seemed very likely she would see Raugad cast through the Door of Night, never to return.
Why did that trouble her so? Other than declining to kill her outright, it wasn't as though he'd shown her much kindness. He was still the stubborn rebel, still cruel in his words and deeds, and his heart clearly held nothing but scorn for others. Well, that and his strange little misplaced sympathy for orcs. But Yurë supposed she needed to recognize the courage, misguided as it was, in standing up for the wretched creatures when all creation looked on them with hatred. Raugad had strength in his character, there was no denying that, and strength in his body as well. He had experience as well, knowledge that could still be useful if turned against the other remnant servants of the Enemy still skulking in the shadows of the world. What good could Raugad still do for the world, she wondered, if only his spirit could be turned away from his current path, which could lead to nowhere else but his own destruction?
Though every fiber of logic in her argued against it, Yurë wanted to save him. Not just because she knew Lady Varda desired it, but because it seemed such a waste for an existence like his to wink out of existence, like an extinguished candle. Yet as she studied the Úmaia's face, the idea of redeeming each and every last one of the orcs somehow seemed easier. How in the world could she ever get someone like him to admit to his wrongs and apologize for them, while at the same time acknowledging the greater authorities of the world and showing the proper respect to its inhabitants?
As they continued on their way, the daunting task turned heavily in her mind as she tried to find the most approachable angle, and she was pleasantly surprised as Raugad entertained the idea, even in jest, of honest work. Yurë recalled how he had mocked the idea of scurrying about on a farm, but in her own heart, the idea was far from a horrific one.
Over the course of her journey she had met several farm women who seemed perfectly content with their lives, happy to aid their husbands and raise their children on the wages of their own work. On a few occasions when the Maia had allowed her own fancies to drift, she often tried to imagine herself living such a life, serving Yavanna in a quiet, distant way by raising her own olvar and tending to a small number of kelvar with gentle affection. And when she was feeling particularly daring, she even imagined taking a husband not from her fellow Maiar, who would always pity her, scorn her, or view her as an outsider to their society, but from the First- or Secondborn (most likely the latter; elves never seemed to take as much interest in agriculture that mortal comrades did). Perhaps she would even be given a child, as Melian had, though Yurë knew better than the harbor this last idea as anything more than a diaphanous dream, unlikely to ever come true.
And what would Raugad make of such a life, she wondered? The idea was both intriguing and amusing, although Yurë suspect that any attempt at making such a life was just an excuse to avoid the judgment that awaited him. Still, if he were serious about it, the experiment might be enough to lure him out of the mountains at least. "Perhaps when you've grown bored of extorting orcs and eating mushrooms, we might seek out some homestead or another where we can both find work, and I can demonstrate for you," she suggested. "If you can dispatch with such aggressive creatures as those we've just left, I sincerely doubt you would have much trouble subduing a raging bull or a rebellious horse. And you would get much better meals and a more comfortable home out of the situation as well. But perhaps your next order of business will offer you something a bit more substantial than iron boots and a scrap of cloth?"
Her expression was completely innocent as she spoke, though the sunlight washing over her briefly did give her a stronger air of confidence and grace. Her fingers were still dancing lightly on the hilt of the knife at her belt while her other hand brushed a strand of hair from her eyes as she gazed ahead, trying to determine where exactly their path laid ahead and how much longer it was to their destination.
And yet...the sound of the she-orc's cry still echoed in her ears: the bestial sound of a mother whose young was being torn away from her. The mother of the piglet she'd killed had made a similar noise last night, although Yurë hadn't thought much of it at the time. Death was a necessary part of the world, and the young boar had needed to die in order to sustain her body (and Raugad's as well, though the Maia found herself wondering if the tradeoff had truly been worth it). Orcs certainly needed to die as well in order to preserve the lives of elves and men alike, because the latter peoples had been planned by Eru. That alone was enough to raise their value above Melkor's stinking foot soldiers, no matter how Raugad might scorn them.
That thought did send one little barb darting through Yurë's mind that she couldn't resist tossing Raugad's way. "And why should these 'Upstarts', as you call them, revere or respect you? What have you done for any of them, besides torture and slaughter them for your own amusement and that of your old master? I suspect they fear and loathe you just as much as the orcs do, but the key difference is that the orcs are so weak-willed that they will bend to your every desire, and that is why you defend them so. But I will not."
No, she would not defend the orcs, she never would, Yurë was sure. But inside, she had to admit that much of that the Úmaia's argument did ring true. The orcs had no say in their own creation, and by her own admission they were too weak-willed to oppose the masters that had demanded such wanton violence and destruction from them. In that sense they were to be pitied, but unless by some power their very natures were to change and make the creatures into a people of peace, they would always be hated and hunted.
Will Raugad face the same fate? The idea was beginning to strengthen glumly in the maiden's mind, like a stubborn weed taking root. If this was how he showed repentence, by scorning the Free Peoples and defending villainous marauders like the orcs, the Úmaia would find little sympathy in the Halls of Mandos. Yurë would probably never see the orcs swept into the Void as she wished, but it seemed very likely she would see Raugad cast through the Door of Night, never to return.
Why did that trouble her so? Other than declining to kill her outright, it wasn't as though he'd shown her much kindness. He was still the stubborn rebel, still cruel in his words and deeds, and his heart clearly held nothing but scorn for others. Well, that and his strange little misplaced sympathy for orcs. But Yurë supposed she needed to recognize the courage, misguided as it was, in standing up for the wretched creatures when all creation looked on them with hatred. Raugad had strength in his character, there was no denying that, and strength in his body as well. He had experience as well, knowledge that could still be useful if turned against the other remnant servants of the Enemy still skulking in the shadows of the world. What good could Raugad still do for the world, she wondered, if only his spirit could be turned away from his current path, which could lead to nowhere else but his own destruction?
Though every fiber of logic in her argued against it, Yurë wanted to save him. Not just because she knew Lady Varda desired it, but because it seemed such a waste for an existence like his to wink out of existence, like an extinguished candle. Yet as she studied the Úmaia's face, the idea of redeeming each and every last one of the orcs somehow seemed easier. How in the world could she ever get someone like him to admit to his wrongs and apologize for them, while at the same time acknowledging the greater authorities of the world and showing the proper respect to its inhabitants?
As they continued on their way, the daunting task turned heavily in her mind as she tried to find the most approachable angle, and she was pleasantly surprised as Raugad entertained the idea, even in jest, of honest work. Yurë recalled how he had mocked the idea of scurrying about on a farm, but in her own heart, the idea was far from a horrific one.
Over the course of her journey she had met several farm women who seemed perfectly content with their lives, happy to aid their husbands and raise their children on the wages of their own work. On a few occasions when the Maia had allowed her own fancies to drift, she often tried to imagine herself living such a life, serving Yavanna in a quiet, distant way by raising her own olvar and tending to a small number of kelvar with gentle affection. And when she was feeling particularly daring, she even imagined taking a husband not from her fellow Maiar, who would always pity her, scorn her, or view her as an outsider to their society, but from the First- or Secondborn (most likely the latter; elves never seemed to take as much interest in agriculture that mortal comrades did). Perhaps she would even be given a child, as Melian had, though Yurë knew better than the harbor this last idea as anything more than a diaphanous dream, unlikely to ever come true.
And what would Raugad make of such a life, she wondered? The idea was both intriguing and amusing, although Yurë suspect that any attempt at making such a life was just an excuse to avoid the judgment that awaited him. Still, if he were serious about it, the experiment might be enough to lure him out of the mountains at least. "Perhaps when you've grown bored of extorting orcs and eating mushrooms, we might seek out some homestead or another where we can both find work, and I can demonstrate for you," she suggested. "If you can dispatch with such aggressive creatures as those we've just left, I sincerely doubt you would have much trouble subduing a raging bull or a rebellious horse. And you would get much better meals and a more comfortable home out of the situation as well. But perhaps your next order of business will offer you something a bit more substantial than iron boots and a scrap of cloth?"
Her expression was completely innocent as she spoke, though the sunlight washing over her briefly did give her a stronger air of confidence and grace. Her fingers were still dancing lightly on the hilt of the knife at her belt while her other hand brushed a strand of hair from her eyes as she gazed ahead, trying to determine where exactly their path laid ahead and how much longer it was to their destination.
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