Fish and Fraud

Here in the north of Isengard, where the ringed wall of the giant fortress meets a mighty spur of the Misty Mountains and a stream feeds the enclosed land, all is quiet. Although the jutting edifice of Orthanc can be seen and the smoothly curved walls run to the southeast and southwest, there is little other evidence of man\'s hand. Peaceful, almost idyllic, this quiet edge of the realm of Isengard seems a perfect spot for an early morning walk as the sun begins to rise.

Or perhaps for an early fishing trip! Although the predawn darkness obscures it, some sort of small creature crouches above the water. No man is this, for its giant eyes glow faintly, but little else can be seen. Who searches for food here in the last moments of the night?

The curious creature is not alone, for there is another being crouching above the water, just a little bit closer to the mighty wall of the wizard\'s fortress. No man is this either but a grey-skinned figure with fangs of yellow and sparse black hair. \"Eh,\" mutters Borf to himself. \"Get me those crayfish, get me those weeds. Borf ain\'t got no fisherman!\" With that the miserable orc hastily begins to stir the stream with both arms in an effort to move some stones down on the ground.

The dim glow of the eyes turns to regard the orc who flounders in the water upstream. As the first hints of dawn appear over the wall to the east, a long flicks over sharp and uneven teeth. \"Isss it tasty...my precious?\" hisses a voice, so low it can barely be heard over the flowing water.

Borf continues to splash around but suddenly he raises his fist with a triumphant yell. Something twitches inside his claws and as Borf takes a closer look at his prey, he snorts with disdain. \"Trout,\" he mutters and tosses a silvery fish towards the other creature\'s direction. The orc still seems to be unaware yet of the big-eyed stranger\'s presence.

Silently, cautiously, the creature moves toward Borf. Slender cords of muscle tense, and a vaguely amphibian tongue lips thin and pale lips. The little monster has a predatory look, and the light is growing. For more prey, the light would be a detriment to a hunt, but for an orc...

The creature positions himself directly between the fishing Borf and the climbing sun, ensuring that as much of the dawn light as possible will be in the orc\'s face if he looks at the creature, and speaks. A raspy voice, choked by harsh phlegmy sounds, calls out. \"Orcses fisherman. Its master sayss it\'s in trouble, my precious!\" He coughs. \"Yes. Its master says it must answer our questions, my precious, or its master will boil it!\" The beast chuckles with glee at the imagery.

\"Wha?\" Borf swirls around to face the unknown speaker. The fish is forgotten and his axe is half drawn from the belt. \"Who\'s that? Who\'s there?\" The orc squints into the dawn and squeals in horror. \"The light! The light\'s a\'coming!\" Clearly this is not one of the Uruk-hai who fear not light nor death.

The voice, dripping with moisture and disease, goes on: \"Drop the cold steel, precious. It doesn\'t need to worry about who we is, precious. Your master sent us. Your master is angry. It says it must tell us all it knows of Baggins or the master will boil it!\"

\"Master? Bag-ins?\" Borf wipes his eyes and continues to peer into the creature\'s direction. \"I...,\" he stammers reluctantly, \"I know no Baggins. What\'s that?\" Slowly the axe begins to slip back to the belt.

The creature winces with disappointment at Borf\'s response, but goes on as the sun continues to climb and further obscure the orc\'s view of it: \"Not good, precious. Not good. Its master will be angry at it, preciouss. Only one way that we can save it from the master boiling it, precious. We can save it, precious. Does it want to know how we can save it, precious, hmmm?\" The creature leans slightly toward the orc.

\"Bah! Go away you maggot! Borf\'s gonna catch some crayfish now,\" declares the orc and returns his attention to the water. \"I\'m gonna tell the master \'bout you funny bugger,\" he shouts into Gollum\'s direction with a fell laughter as he lowers his left arm into the stream once more.

The creature pauses for a moment, thinking on how to regard the orc\'s dismissal. \"Fine. It can go to the master, and be boiled. But don\'t forget, we tried to help it.\" The beast hisses and moves as if to walk away...but not very quickly.

\"Ah, got it!\" Borf calls out gleefully as he moves a very crayfish out of the water and tosses it into a basket behind him. \"Master\'s gonna boil this, you fool,\" he laughs at the retreating Gollum.

The creature quietly adopts a forced tone of pity. \"Ah, poor orcses. The master tells us, \"When it comes back from fishing, we boils that orcses for being a bad orcses. It will be sorry!\" Poor orcses is going to be dead.\" A mournful sigh punctuates the warning.

A wicked laughter erupts from Borf\'s fangs as he hears this announcement of doom. \"I\'m gonna boil you,\" he chuckles, \"if you don\'t stop that now. Are you fresh? Are you good for soup?\"

The creature coughs indignantly. \"Soup? We\'re not good for soup! The master will make soup of it when the master hears how it talked of the master\'s good friend. We\'re the master\'s friend, yes...\" All the same, the creature steps away from Borf while keeping itself framed in sunlight. \"Oh, well, precious. If it wants to get boiled, we can\'t help it, precious. We leaves it alone to fish now, if it will tell us which way to go to Shire, precious.\"

\"Aye, go away, you fool,\" snarls Borf. \"I\'ll be fishing for the master.\" Said that he decides to ignore the pity creature and begins to move stones and cobbles in search of precious crayfish, after all, the light is increasing, the light will come soon!

Gollum stops again, grunting in frustration. \"It won\'t point us to the Shire, precious? We\'ll give it a present...\" the nasty voice briefly sounds almost sweet and affable as the offer is extended.

\"Give me crayfish, maggot, but I don\'t know your Shire! The master should boil you right away and serve you in a soup,\" growls the orc. \"You\'re stopping me from fishing for the master!\" And as the master\'s order is more important than a funny creature with its questions about a Baggins and a Shire, Borf conveniently finds another crayfish right in time.

The creature scowls and crouches, tensing its wiry body to lunge at the unsuspecting Borf. Then, eyes on the axe, it thinks better of it and relaxes. \"Fine, stupid orcses, find its crayfishes.\" it mutters, and slips by the creature...but not without stealthily grabbing the fish the orc had tossed on the ground by the stream. Without a word, the little monster slips away.

Borf will never know how nearly he came to a throttling that summer morning, nor who it was who nearly throttled him. Meanwhile, tcreature Gollum, who will one day be known across Middle-Earth, will never know whose lands he encroached upon, or that the \"master\" of Borf is even now desperately seeking the same prize that Gollum seeks. But that is a tale for another day...