[Envinyatar]

The Lady's Orcs

The swirling winds threw the man's words back at him.

‘We have speech . . . Mal . . . risss . . .’ came a breathy trio of voices that swirled about the man.

‘Lecherous cowards he calls us, brothers! And defilers!’ came a voice from behind Malris.

‘Well he should know the depths of such names,’ spoke the voice of another. ‘And here in bastion where he dwelt with his love . . . which love is that, we wonder . . .’ Ashukh’s laughter echoed round the ruins of the room.

‘Leave the lady alone he commands us.’ Zlog gave a deep chuckle. ‘Who are you to command us . . . you who left your lady alone . . .?’

The three Orc spirits flew in among the birds attacking Tasa, driving them off. Giledhel had withdrawn to the safety of her loom with Malris’ loud outburst.

‘Who do you think cared for the Lady,’ Gorgu spoke, close to Malris’ ear, his voice taking on a tone of respect as he spoke of her. ‘Who helped her through these years upon years, wiped away her tears, tended to her as she desired of her sons, learned from her, protected her as she required.’

‘Not you, Malrisssss . . .’ A hissing wind stirred Tasa’s golden hair, pulling at it as it passed.

‘And now you’ve come back. And what have you done but frightened the Lady and given her a new sorrow?’

‘She only wished to dance with you . . . to feel your arms about her,’ Zlog rasped, stirring up a small whirlwind of dust and pebbles aimed at Tasa’s face.

The three Orcs settled protectively round the shattered pieces of wood where once Giledhel’s loom stood. Gorgu reached out a ghostly hand to pat her arm. In the shadows in which the broken loom lay, three dark, wavering forms could just be seen, their gazes fixed on Malris and Tasa.

The soiled, torn remnants of her unfinished tapestry stirred and fluttered beneath the Orc’s hand though no breeze now blew . . .