A BOOK OF SCROLLS: The Goblin

THE BOOK OF TALES:

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1 TEACHING in the Market of Mithar’s Gate one day an Orc came to the city and called to Nadan, “Heal me, lord!”

2 BUT Nadan, the son of Galadir gave no answer to the deformed creature, whom even the crowds abated from. None the less it persisted in following the prophet and his seven followers calling out, “True son of Heaven take pity.”

3 AT this the bewildered crowd hushed, pondering Nadan’s response. Again the beast called, going to bent knees, “Lord, does not one even the likes of me need such salvation as you offer these others?” The beast carried the foul odor of a rotting carcass, and its reputation as a fierce warrior to death caused the people to fear it. But this orc was alone without troop or weapon.

Nadan turned about and spoke, “For piety’s sake you beg or to do yourself honor?”

“Nay Lord of lords,” Came the orc’s broken voice through tears.” A sword was drawn against it by one of Nadan’s followers, but the prophet stayed his hand with his own. Again the creature cried out, still on bent knees in the public market, “Sire, it is known who you are to those who see you as you are. These others here are yet still blind, Master. Not for my honor, as I even forsook my cause in seeking you, to purge this flesh so condemned. I chose not this path, nor the one beaten into my brethren’s war. Would that I was like unto those first intended ones, for such is the reason I sought you out these many years, for hope’s chance of our meeting. Show your glory sire; if only you would choose to turn me back, before the curse of my kind.”

4 NADAN inquired, “If I so chose to lift that which brought you before me, then let it be lifted from them all of such faith here. But of you; what goals thereafter would you venture upon?”

5 A joy came upon the black creature’s voice that none in the crowd would have imagined, “Gracious Lord, ever would your precious name be lofty in praise before even the Vala of the Undying Lands as would be my sole journey to achieve, Master.”

6 NADAN replied, “Then be about your will and purpose as you have so professed before these here. That the Lord of heaven be glorified in his manifestation among these children, to believe one such as you. Behold, like this once vile creature made whole; such can be made of your lives as well by mere faith.”

7 EVEN as Nadan spoke these words something like flakes of caked on mud began falling away from the arms and face of the kneeling creature. The crowds marveled with great astonishment at its transformation before their very eyes as even the stench of the malformed beast crumbled away. Moments later, instead of a snarling burnt looking monster, the beautiful figure of a pale young elven prince man stood before them in tattered clothing. A young woman from her clothing booth freely offered him garments, as others began giving him some of their wares and food. He pushed his way through that gathering; came and fell at Nadan’s feet, crying with gratitude and praise.

But Nadan commanded him, “Go. Do as you have spoken, for soon only the son shall remain.” The young elven prince left the city without the gifts offered him, save the joy of having been restored by the prophet Nadan.

2 AT the port of Kathos, south of Lindol three ships departed and one had just arrived. It came from Jebul in the East, laden with goods. Those on shore were unloading its cargo of dwarven beer and spiced ale, and crates of fine dining silverware. Everyone looked up and turned about to the stranger. It was a cloaked newcomer from Mithar who surprised everyone with his odd question.

2 THE Captain, a man named Garbel said, “Come again, what was that?”

3 THE young man drew back his hood revealing his pale face. By his very complexion, and very speech he was known as a Fair One of an ancient race. He said, “Again sir, I desire passage unto the Undying Lands of the greater West.”

4 CAPTAIN Garbel frowned, “I thought I heard those words come out. This ship nor any other I am aware of; not even for all the dwarven gold would venture there. To go beyond the rim of the world is madness.”

“Is there a shipwright who could craft a design?” The elf asked.

“Son,” The sea mariner inquired, “What is your name?”
“Ceirmaul of Mordor,” came his cold answer.

5 AFTER a long silence of disbelief, the Captain continued, “Ceirmaul – Why are you so bent to meet your end at sea? There is nothing out there beyond the supplies of the greatest vessel I know. Well, since I was but boy myself, there were told of seven such ships that never made landfall in trying. Nor any that that light of Mithar brought back with such yarn to spin either.”

6 THE youthful looking stranger began speaking as a gathering of listeners grew about him and the sea captain. Ceirmaul said, “I was beyond measure. Even among my own people, I was considered less than them and different than most. I have always yearned to see the sea and its greater west a burning desire of my heart. My brethren beat those longings out of me as a youngling and those over me scorned me all the more as an adult for such beliefs I never spoke of. I learned to let such hopes die.

7 “THROUGH many years, the Great War, and dungeons chains; time passed me by. Upon my release, I heard news of a miracle worker in the west. Suddenly that old hope sprang up in me again. It gave my weary feet the courage to press forward over the plains, over the Misty Mountains, through Norwood and to the very Grey city itself.

“Only seven days ago, after two hundred and seventeen years was my curse finally lifted. So it is that I repay my healing in fulfilling my oath to venture to those lands beyond the western rim.”

8 THE Captain’s first mate injected, “Who was the miracle-worker?”

Another shipmate, “What curse?”

A dock hand called out, “You swore an oath?”

9 SMILINGLY Ceirmaul answered them all, “The Prophet Nadan of Mithar it was who gained my eternal servitude in showing forgiveness upon me. For, who you see before you is not what I have always been as I was changed from and made new again! The God of Heaven saved me. By the mere faith of Nadan’s words, the old creature was cast aside and His light shines in me. Marvel not nor laugh but I was indeed once an Orc of Mordor, born and bred for the lust of blood and evil war.”

10 MANY disbelieved his story, but many were touched by his telling of it. Some asked a multitude of questions about Mordor, the eastern lands, the Prophet, of gnomes and –

11 THEN, without warning the first mate, Bailman by name cried out, “My grandfather was murdered by the likes of you, Orc!” Then, faster than any could counter he slew the elf, cutting his throat open before all the people there. Many pulled him back from his continued attacks, but Ceirmaul’s death came soon thereafter.

Bailman was not alone in his ill feelings, and none did more than admonish with the removal of his blade. None sought out the Dungeon of Varlendur for his crime, for many more than who did, thought justice had been fittingly served.

12 THREE weeks later, news came to that seaport city of Kathos that the so-called prophet, Nadan by name was slain at the Oasis of Orid. Many of the sea folk in Kathos rejoiced at the hearing; believing the Mitharian priest had rightly been named a foolish dreamer of lies and ill-conjurer.

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