Miller, Half-Orc

by J R Marshall

  Was this the limit of her power? I knew never to ask, but limits there must be. No longer certain of anything, I looked up at Grimnir.

  “I’ll leave you now, Miller, I have work to do, but will speak to you in the morning. The door will be locked and there are standing orders in place, no one is allowed inside this part of the castle without Tam’s leave.”

  He looked at me and was about to say something but changed his mind. “I’m sure you could escape if there was a fire.” A faint smile, as he stood up and walked to the door. “Try and rest.”

  The door opened and closed followed by the scrape of an internal bolt being thrown; I was alone.

  The sun had set, and I lay listening to the sounds of the town, the shouts and exclamations of multitudes of people, trying to single out conversations only half heard.

  *

  The sun had risen some hours before. Stirring slowly, coming in and out of consciousness, I looked up at the ceiling, reflecting upon my circumstances.

  All through my long years of servitude I had sought freedom knowing that captivity is onerous and thus less than ideal, but my previous understandings had been a conceit. Freedom was far more than the release from bondage, it was ‘choice’, the freedom to choose devoid of coercion, to make decisions based on your understanding of events, to enjoy life and to pursue any route that made oneself ultimately happier, right or wrong.

  During my captivity, clerics had tried to influence my thinking, to teach me morals, to make me an image of themselves. They had extolled virtues such as kindness, mercy and meekness.

  Now in old age, looking back at my life I have been kind, sometimes stupid. Some people even, much to their own surprise, thought me good! It was never thus. But it’s true, I have occasionally made a mistake and exercised too much kindness, for as the priests said, kindness is a ‘virtue’ and it is one I actually agreed with. How else was I to motivate profit from a stranger or new acquaintance? The gods knew I was disadvantaged by birth, but I have noted with some certainty that kindness has its uses and with careful application of intelligence, I have become quite skilled in the selective use of kindness.

  Mercy, bollocks! The thought makes me vomit. It is nothing but a statement of weakness for worms, for cowards, for those who refuse to challenge the malefactors that infract.

  Meekness? Well this is contentious, for having studied many a long cold night I submit that the priests don’t know the meaning of the word. I was meek, for five years of arcane apprenticeship; I sought knowledge, was teachable. Undoubtedly I was in the true sense meek, this is the real definition of meekness, not the gut-wrenching humility that erroneous clerics frequently claimed.

  But as in all matters there is conflict in thought, none of these human social norms allow for one virtue, the one that influenced me the most. I think I have it, perhaps the only one? Loyalty!

  Tam visited about midday, only briefly, checking up on me. Outrageous really, that the Lady of this town big enough to be classed as a city by some should in stealth call upon a guest in her own keep. Nonetheless, I was glad of her sight and for the company.

  “Miller, you slept late this morning, how are your injuries? For there are no residues of salve and you seem comfortable.”

  I raised myself into a sitting position. “Excellent, cured, not an aching muscle in sight.” Almost truthful, for there was actually a slight remembrance of the previous day’s pain, but only a shadowy twinge. “I have been wandering around, within the confines of the door, and believe these to be your own chambers. Where have you been resting? I have no right to expect such treatment and am undeserving of such, it’s not right, my lady.”

  “Not right?” she mused, and I got the point. Bollocks!

  “The bed gave me back ache, it’s far too soft and smells of perfume,” I scowled. “It’s making me say stupid things.” I shut up.

  “Tam! You call me Tam, although perhaps in the short-term. Lady, only in the company of strangers, but yes, they are indeed. I’m not shy of options, and no doubt there will be gossip. The chambermaids will think I’ve had company, they are already perplexed as to my habits.”

  “I should not be here, cast me out, I have silver, enough to keep myself watered and fed, I’ll lodge in an inn, I should never have deprived you…”

  “Tomorrow, is time enough,” she cut me off. “Tonight, we will practise reciting craft and discuss your future – your future, not mine or Grimnir’s, your choice.” She looked at me, and knew my mind. I wasn’t surprised, suspecting it was only through her incredible perception and intuition that she spoke, not the application of craft, for Tam would have asked permission, and besides I probably would have known if she had.

  “Grimnir is ferreting around in my armoury, half the equipment’s his anyway, he’ll be along shortly.”

  Tam left, for it was only a fleeting visit.

  ‘How could I ever repay such kindness?” Oh, by the gods, what was wrong with me? I arrested my thoughts, blinking. This is shit, incredulity, to even think of debt was anathema. Had I changed that much? No! Then what the hell was wrong with me?

  After an hour, I heard the door mechanism unlock; slowly the door opened, and Grimnir entered, barging the door wider as he carried a sack over his shoulder.

  “Now then, Miller, a bag of presents for you.” He kicked the door closed, and I heard the lock fastening on its own.

  Grimnir stood in fine clothes, a sword hung at his side, a broad finely fashioned belt with small pouch but no armour; he had clearly been attended to, for his beard was combed and his boots were different, softer. Around his neck hung a scarab on a gold chain, and he looked clean.

  “Try these on.” He emptied the sack, heaving it up so that all could fall cleanly on the floor. The room vibrated as the metal fell with considerable force, such that those below would have looked up at the ceiling, for the floor was part spanned by giant rafters, albeit half the room was not, being stone bound.

  In front of me lay clean clothes, including a cloth vest, belt, full-length chainmail, two leather jerkins – one for under the chainmail and one studded as lighter protection, a sword, battle axe, and beautiful new boots shod with iron, small metal plates had been sewn internally as greaves. A helm of good craftsmanship, but still of base metal. A fine dagger, rope and what appeared to be a half-full backpack, with bullseye lantern hanging off a rear strap.

  Under no circumstances did all that come from Grimnir’s sack, but I’d seen it with my own eyes.

  “If you want to put them on, I’m pretty sure I’ve got your size, let’s look at you.”

  Incredulous, I stared, for the cost of these items was far beyond my means of payment, and looking at Grimnir I shook my head. “These items will get damaged, I can’t.” And for the second time that day, said, “It’s not right.”

  “What’s the matter with them? They’ll fit.”

  “Here is a wealth beyond measure, and I will not try on equipment that I could never afford,” at least not from Grimnir, and I wouldn’t steal from him, not unless my life was in jeopardy and perhaps not even then.

  Grimnir was examining the mound of items, carelessly sifting them with his foot, and reaching down, moved the chainmail to one side, spreading the equipment more evenly on the floor.

  Looking up, “The cost? No you bloody well cannot afford them, that’s why Tam and I aren’t expecting you to, but if it makes you feel any better they’re too big for anyone else, there’s no charge. Put them on, you miserable bugger.”

  Grimnir went off and sprawled on the couch, touched his belt, and looked away. “I’ve seen some ugly sights in my time, but your being naked isn’t going to be one of them, I’m not adding that to my list of nightmares.”

  I didn’t rush, it was all too much to absorb, scarcely six months prior I had had nothing, even the rags that clung to my wretched body were begged from my late master, and now this. And as for being too large for others, I suspected that wasn’t true, I’d seen some pretty la
rge humans in my time.

  After about ten minutes, for dressing in armour is neither quick nor straightforward, I hitched the axe over my shoulder, sword hanging without a scabbard, but secured through a loop of metal chain fashioned for just such a purpose yet separately attached to the belt. The boots felt heavy, the helm needed more padding to fit correctly, but it was easy to adjust and was close enough.

  “You should wear it as often as possible, the weight will become irrelevant after a few days for whilst your strength is greater than most men the unfamiliarity will impede any combat in the first week or so, indeed significantly slowing you down, though you won’t think so. After a week you will remove the armour and it’ll feel like you’re floating, you’ll walk funny and look ridiculous, but that’ll pass.”

  I stood there listening, for only a fool would disregard or ignore Grimnir’s counsel.

  “Sleep in it, at least for the first few days. Yes, you’ll smell, the bane of being a warrior. I suggest you lay on the floor tonight, otherwise Tam’s mattress will be ruined.”

  Warrior? I’d never thought myself thus. “I thought I’d be in an inn tonight, that I’d be coming through the main gates, and finding lodgings?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.” Grimnir looked thoughtful. “The gates shut at sundown but are always manned, they’ll let you in. I might even discreetly watch to make sure they question you correctly, but you don’t know the town, perhaps tomorrow morning would be best. Towns and cities aren’t always safe at night and you have little experience of Cragtor, not to be unfair Miller, not of any town, day or night.”

  “Tell me where to lodge, that’s recommended by you, but not too salubrious, but safe enough. I’d rather get out and stretch my legs.”

  Grimnir thought about it for a moment. “Okay, if you insist, I’ll inform Tam.” He seemed to be privately considering other matters, but after a brief pause continued with the immediate matter in hand.

  Grimnir spoke of many aspects of warfare in mail, much I already knew, for whilst I was trained with padded clothes and fought with wooden swords the art of warfare and martial skills had been taught alongside the practical side of combat.

  We sat and talked about Hedgetown, the caravan and what hopes I had for the future, but in the end it was the final conversation that Grimnir had that was hardest of all to forget. But that was for an hour’s time, Grimnir needed to go.

  After Grimnir departed, I examined everything in the back pack. Tinder box, thirty-five feet of coiled rope attached to a small hook, oil in a tight leather bladder, an empty water skin, two torches. Not really necessary, I thought. Chalk, a small jar of Tam’s salve, ink and parchment, and numerous tiny items such as a lodestone, spikes and spare purse. There was also a small hidden seam concealed in the side of the fabric, the use of which I knew not.

  I folded my studded jerkin and placed it inside, not much space left. Even though the pack was large, the jerkin was equally so.

  Grimnir returned an hour later, perhaps a little longer for light was failing, and I was looking forward to Tam’s visit; we had much to discuss, not the least plans for tomorrow and timescales for joining the caravan.

  Grimnir stayed a while, he was just returning because he said he would. Nonetheless, I wished he hadn’t.

  “Miller, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, about noon. There’s a statue besides the east gate, a representation of four strange characters, the caravan will depart from there, or at least half of it will. I’ll be joining and ignoring you as we agreed, eh?”

  A moment’s pause and he continued, “And you will be walking with the main section.” He scratched his arse. “No one can stop you walking out with us, these transits contain an eclectic mix of merchants, travellers and family groups, all travelling together for added protection. There will also be men-at-arms, some militia, though mostly inexperienced.

  “Oh! And this caravan will be large, several hundred, probably too many families, not the least because I’m travelling down with them, they’ll feel more secure in my company.” He thought for a moment, and added, with a slight wistfulness, “I’ll be glad of your company, Miller!”

  “And I of yours, why should it be otherwise?” I asked, not expecting a reply.

  Grimnir looked squarely at me. “The stragglers will be attacked at the rear, we all know it will happen! Not a matter of if, but when, and it’ll happen five miles either side of the halfway mark.”

  Grimnir jumped to his feet, swearing as a wasp tried landing on his arm. “Bloody wasps! I hate them, they’re always reversing into me.”

  Having swiped the insect away, he continued.

  “The caravan will string out, the slowest falling behind, whilst the main body will urge haste. They won’t give a damn about their fellow travellers, have my ears bashed from protesting groups, my work will be keeping the caravan moving forwards whilst protecting as much as I can. There are insufficient fighters to protect everyone.”

  Excellent, I was looking forward to being an arse, and an inadequately guarded caravan seemed perfect.

  “We could never have enough, for the greater the security the larger the caravan grows. One half-orc, will become much loved.”

  Much loved? I thought he exaggerated.

  “Accordingly,” carried on Grimnir, “there will be opportunity enough for you and I to drink and eat together whilst appearing for all intents and purposes, totally formal.”

  Grimnir seemed so sure, which I assumed came from years of experience.

  “I want you to understand very clearly that whilst one day we may be enemies,” he held up a hand, for I had baulked at this comment, “At this point in time I am only your friend and ally.”

  He took an item out of his pouch that hung aside of his belt, looking for something else near the bottom.

  “I have never met a man of your ancestry that didn’t let me down, didn’t turn to treachery, didn’t leave the company of friends, and wasn’t seduced by power and mistaken fealties.”

  “Bloody cheerful company you are, Grimnir, what the hell’s the matter with you?” I said looking at him. “Are you pissed or simply in a bad mood?”

  “You’ll never be good, never be charitable, never be merciful, but by the gods I hope you remember my friendship and that of Tam’s. If you can remember these days, you may make something of yourself.”

  He’s pissed? I looked hard at Grimnir.

  “I say this because, I sincerely hope you will be different. Tam feels the same, I guess that’s why she invested in you, it’s a foolish game for old champions to play, but it’s reality.”

  Rummaging in his pouch, he handed me a scroll. “You can read that, I can’t, I cannot even action the glimmer that’s contained therein, but you can. I kept it as a remembrance of battles gone before, where such a scroll is priceless, at least when you have no silver to pay for a healer.”

  Grimnir got up and left the room.

  Sitting there staring at the scroll, a healing scroll, and yes, actionable with my skills, Grimnir’s words troubled me; was he right? Would I forget this friendship? Could a half-orc never be trusted? Did my blood condemn me? Would I be different? Did I want to be?

  Grimnir had had many years’ experience; was my character bereft of salvation, or was that a thought for the weak? Did it matter? Do friends count? Is one merciful to friends, or is that simply gratitude?

  I was conflicted in thought.

  Grimnir’s pissed! But I remained troubled.

  The thought of my independence and the lack of access to friends, plus the comments of Grimnir spun around my mind, like some repetitive dream that refuses to change in theme.

  Logically I sought to distract myself, and touching the stone wall, I tried to feel the song, to hear the music of life; but being so high off the ground, and insulated by dressed stone walls, the song whilst present was diminished, like listening to conversations whilst immersed in water.

  Still for a while I tried, but feeling neither distracted enou
gh nor fulfilled my hand moved from the wall and I allowed my mind to drift back. How it must be miserable for older people who gradually lose their hearing, an isolation, an unwelcomed exclusion from the world they knew.

  The sun fell below the horizon, and I counted my silver, studying the hammered seal on each coin, observing the clipped edges. Some coins were smaller than others, halves, some cut in half, and thus quartered. But silver is silver, and merchants weigh each piece in any given transaction.

  Time marched slowly forward, and I practised drawing my dagger, whipping my sword from its retaining hoop, and releasing my axe.

  I need to escape this room, I need to get out. My thoughts coalescing, I was reverting to the Miller that sat outside the blacksmith’s shop listening to the activities of life, yet through goodwill, thanks to unexpected friends being far better prepared for the future that lay ahead.

  “Good evening, Miller.” Tam, knocking, had entered the chamber. I’d heard the door opening, but because she was expected I had shown little initial attention, for my thoughts were somewhat depressed, indeed I was melancholic, the realisation of being without friends.

  “You look splendid” said Tam, and she paused for a moment, contemplative, observing me for I was sat on one of her padded chairs distractedly twisting a stray thread. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She rose and walked away.

  Looking up, Tam was already disappearing through an archway and out of sight into the adjoining room, all within the confines of the locked main door.

  “Sorry!” I spoke rather belatedly. “Thank you for the armour and equipment,” I called after her.

  “That’s okay, I hope Grimnir found everything you needed,” came Tam’s slightly muted voice. I heard a large scraping sound and the floor shook slightly. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Yes, I was curious, but not too intrigued, and after all, whatever Tam was doing was none of my business.

  Staring at my boots, and angling my heel slightly, I was unaware of Tam’s return, and after what may have been five minutes I looked up and noticed her sat ten feet away, observing me.