Fic: The Young Person's Guide to the Orc
Aug. 30th, 2010 09:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cairistionaI may be completely dismantling my reputation as a good writer with this, but...
The Young Person’s Guide to the Orc
Rated G
A short piece, featuring a very young Estel and a very patient Erestor. Written in response to a poorly abbreviated caption on my satellite television classical music channel, and also a conversation I had with a fellow LOTR fan, regarding small children's fascination with bodily functions.
With all due respect to Benjamin Britten and his excellent piece, “The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra”, which should in no way be held accountable for this bit of fluff and nonsense.
Erestor and Estel belong to Tolkien, alas.
Thanks to Inzilbeth for the beta!
Fine print: Any resemblence of this to a piece of high quality fanfic exists purely in the deluded eyes of thevictim reader. Read at your own risk. Author is not responsible for any eye muscle injury received from rolling of eyes upon completion of this fic. Author is not responsible for any damage to computer should reader be drinking at the time and spews contents of mouth onto keyboard. Likewise, author cannot be held responsible for any choking injuries should reader be eating while reading. And foremost, author is not responsible for the degradation of the quality of LOTR fanfic in general with the publication of this fic.
~~~
“Now, here is another creature to watch out for in the woods and mountains, although thanks to vigilant patrols, they do not roam about here in Rivendell.” Erestor’s sharp thump of the pointer against the sketch nearly knocked the stand completely over. “The orc.”
Five-year old eyes solemnly examined the picture. “Yuck.”
“‘Yuck,’ indeed, and should you ever see one, run and find a good hiding place. They eat little boys.”
The eyes grew round. “Really?”
“Really. Especially five-year-old boys. They’re the most tender.”
“I’m not tender! I’m tough! See?” He raised a skinny arm and flexed it at the elbow.
Erestor reached out and pushed with one finger on the small bicep. “Hmm. I’ve seen plums that were bigger,” he sniffed.
Estel screwed up his eyes and clenched his teeth and flexed harder. “Now feel it!”
“Now it is as large as a potato. A small potato, mind you. And orcs love small young potatoes just as much as small young men.”
Estel’s arm dropped and he sagged to the floor and sat with his head hanging over his crossed legs, the very picture of deflated pride. “Will they really eat me, Erestor?” he asked in a very small voice.
Erestor bent down and pulled Estel’s chin up. “Yes. Which is why you must quit complaining about your lessons and study. You need to know where they hide and what they do and most important of all, what they look like.”
“Ugly. They look like ugly.”
“Quite so.” He stood up as Estel scrambled to his feet and pulled away the sketch to reveal the one beneath it.
“Is this an orc, too?”
“Yes.”
“Are they smelly?”
“Very.”
Estel grinned widely, showing a gap where his bottom middle front teeth used to be. “Do they fart?” he asked, then collapsed into giggles.
“They produce a range of obnoxious odors, yes, but it is impolite to speak of the origins of said odors, and we do not use that word in this household.”
“So they do fart!” More gales of laughter. Estel was now on the floor, rolling around, barely breathing as giggles consumed him.
Erestor merely raised an eyebrow and waited until Estel quit laughing, then said, “I’m sure I have no idea, but whether they do or do not is immaterial. What you must learn is how to quickly dispatch them. Now, continuing on, orcs do not like sunlight. They will hide in caves or other dark–”
“Is that a girl orc or a boy orc?” Estel interrupted.
“It does not matter. Both are very mean and will eat you.”
“How do you tell the difference between a girl orc and a boy orc? Do the girl orcs have babies?”
Erestor opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. “Best ask your father about that.”
“He won’t tell me. He never tells me anything interesting. Not like Glorfindel. He tells me about big battles and he lets me look at his sword and his horse and everything. Maybe Glorfindel will tell me.”
“I doubt Glorfindel would tell you. Such matters are for your father to explain. Or your mother.”
“She’ll just tell me to eat my vegetables.”
“Which you should do, so you will not always have muscles no bigger than small potatoes.”
“You eat vegetables. Do you have big muscles?”
“Quite big, yes.”
“Let me see them!”
“Estel, we need to continue our lesson.”
“Let me see them first!”
Erestor sighed and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. He flexed his arm so that his bicep grew hard.
Estel reached up and tried to put both hands around it. His fingers wouldn’t quite touch, so instead, he wrapped his arms around Erestor’s forearm and lifted his feet from the ground and swung back and forth like a monkey. “Oooh. How’d it get so big?”
Erestor raised Estel higher off the floor. “Fighting off lots and lots of orcs.”
“But I never see you fight orcs. All you do is read books and yell at me when I run in the hallways.”
“That’s because I killed them all, and now I am free to teach little boys not to run in the hallways. Unless of course, they are being chased by orcs. Now down with you.”
Estel let go and landed on his feet with twin thuds. “If you killed them all, why are you teaching me to run away if I see any?”
“Because I may have missed one or two.”
“Let me see your other arm.”
Erestor pulled up his left sleeve.
“What’s that line?” Estel said, pointing at a ridge of white scar tissue that ran nearly the length of Erestor’s upper arm.
“A scar.”
“What from?”
“An orc scimitar cut me.”
“What’s a sim... a simter...”
“A scimitar. It’s like a sword, but it’s curved or bent in the middle. Orcs tend to favor them as weapons.”
“So an orc hit you with his simtar right there?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Very much. And it had a nasty poison on it, which made me very sick for quite a long time. So that’s another thing you need to know about orcs: their blades are either very dirty or spread with poison. The dirt will give you an infection, and the poison can kill you if you don’t get treatment right away.”
“Did someone take care of you when you got sick?”
“Yes, Master Elrond took good care of me.”
Estel suddenly bent over and tugged up his pant leg. “See that?” he pointed to a nearly-healed scrape on his knee.
“Yes, I see that.”
“I fell off a rock. It wasn’t a poison rock but it still hurt and I cried. But Master Elrond–Ada– took care of it for me. He might not tell me anything interesting–well, maybe he’s good at telling bedtime stories and tucking me in sometimes when Nana lets him–but he’s good at taking care of people, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s very good at taking care of people, most of all you.”
Estel pushed his pant leg down and then looked again at the scar on Erestor’s arm. He reached out and traced its length with his finger. “I think I would like to take care of people when they get hurt.”
“I think someday you will do just that, young master. But first, you need to learn about orcs so they don’t eat you before you can grow up and be a great healer.”
“Will I be a great healer?”
“I’m sure you will, Estel,” Erestor said, and gave the boy an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sure you will. But now, about orcs...”
Fifteen years later....
Aragorn ducked as the last orc’s scimitar swished over his head. The orc grunted, then clacked his blackened, rotten teeth together. He reversed his swing, but as he did, he hesitated, just for an instant, and in that moment, Aragorn heard a distinct buzzing sort of whistle. An odious fume arose.
Aragorn made a face, then stabbed the orc through the chest with his sword. It fell to the ground, dead, and Aragorn yanked his sword free and stumbled away from the corpse, waving his hand over his face, and as he did so, he suddenly remembered a long-forgotten childhood conversation.
Yes, Erestor... orcs do fart...
~~~
A/N: Useless trivia that nonetheless applies to this story: If you can believe anything you find in wikipedia, the word “fart” is one of the oldest words in the English language. I quote: “The immediate roots are in the Middle English words ferten, feortan or farten; which is akin to the Old High German word ferzan. Cognates are found in old Norse, Slavic and also Greek and Sanskrit.”
Not entirely sure what that says about us English speakers, but there you are.
The Young Person’s Guide to the Orc
Rated G
A short piece, featuring a very young Estel and a very patient Erestor. Written in response to a poorly abbreviated caption on my satellite television classical music channel, and also a conversation I had with a fellow LOTR fan, regarding small children's fascination with bodily functions.
With all due respect to Benjamin Britten and his excellent piece, “The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra”, which should in no way be held accountable for this bit of fluff and nonsense.
Erestor and Estel belong to Tolkien, alas.
Thanks to Inzilbeth for the beta!
Fine print: Any resemblence of this to a piece of high quality fanfic exists purely in the deluded eyes of the
~~~
“Now, here is another creature to watch out for in the woods and mountains, although thanks to vigilant patrols, they do not roam about here in Rivendell.” Erestor’s sharp thump of the pointer against the sketch nearly knocked the stand completely over. “The orc.”
Five-year old eyes solemnly examined the picture. “Yuck.”
“‘Yuck,’ indeed, and should you ever see one, run and find a good hiding place. They eat little boys.”
The eyes grew round. “Really?”
“Really. Especially five-year-old boys. They’re the most tender.”
“I’m not tender! I’m tough! See?” He raised a skinny arm and flexed it at the elbow.
Erestor reached out and pushed with one finger on the small bicep. “Hmm. I’ve seen plums that were bigger,” he sniffed.
Estel screwed up his eyes and clenched his teeth and flexed harder. “Now feel it!”
“Now it is as large as a potato. A small potato, mind you. And orcs love small young potatoes just as much as small young men.”
Estel’s arm dropped and he sagged to the floor and sat with his head hanging over his crossed legs, the very picture of deflated pride. “Will they really eat me, Erestor?” he asked in a very small voice.
Erestor bent down and pulled Estel’s chin up. “Yes. Which is why you must quit complaining about your lessons and study. You need to know where they hide and what they do and most important of all, what they look like.”
“Ugly. They look like ugly.”
“Quite so.” He stood up as Estel scrambled to his feet and pulled away the sketch to reveal the one beneath it.
“Is this an orc, too?”
“Yes.”
“Are they smelly?”
“Very.”
Estel grinned widely, showing a gap where his bottom middle front teeth used to be. “Do they fart?” he asked, then collapsed into giggles.
“They produce a range of obnoxious odors, yes, but it is impolite to speak of the origins of said odors, and we do not use that word in this household.”
“So they do fart!” More gales of laughter. Estel was now on the floor, rolling around, barely breathing as giggles consumed him.
Erestor merely raised an eyebrow and waited until Estel quit laughing, then said, “I’m sure I have no idea, but whether they do or do not is immaterial. What you must learn is how to quickly dispatch them. Now, continuing on, orcs do not like sunlight. They will hide in caves or other dark–”
“Is that a girl orc or a boy orc?” Estel interrupted.
“It does not matter. Both are very mean and will eat you.”
“How do you tell the difference between a girl orc and a boy orc? Do the girl orcs have babies?”
Erestor opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. “Best ask your father about that.”
“He won’t tell me. He never tells me anything interesting. Not like Glorfindel. He tells me about big battles and he lets me look at his sword and his horse and everything. Maybe Glorfindel will tell me.”
“I doubt Glorfindel would tell you. Such matters are for your father to explain. Or your mother.”
“She’ll just tell me to eat my vegetables.”
“Which you should do, so you will not always have muscles no bigger than small potatoes.”
“You eat vegetables. Do you have big muscles?”
“Quite big, yes.”
“Let me see them!”
“Estel, we need to continue our lesson.”
“Let me see them first!”
Erestor sighed and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. He flexed his arm so that his bicep grew hard.
Estel reached up and tried to put both hands around it. His fingers wouldn’t quite touch, so instead, he wrapped his arms around Erestor’s forearm and lifted his feet from the ground and swung back and forth like a monkey. “Oooh. How’d it get so big?”
Erestor raised Estel higher off the floor. “Fighting off lots and lots of orcs.”
“But I never see you fight orcs. All you do is read books and yell at me when I run in the hallways.”
“That’s because I killed them all, and now I am free to teach little boys not to run in the hallways. Unless of course, they are being chased by orcs. Now down with you.”
Estel let go and landed on his feet with twin thuds. “If you killed them all, why are you teaching me to run away if I see any?”
“Because I may have missed one or two.”
“Let me see your other arm.”
Erestor pulled up his left sleeve.
“What’s that line?” Estel said, pointing at a ridge of white scar tissue that ran nearly the length of Erestor’s upper arm.
“A scar.”
“What from?”
“An orc scimitar cut me.”
“What’s a sim... a simter...”
“A scimitar. It’s like a sword, but it’s curved or bent in the middle. Orcs tend to favor them as weapons.”
“So an orc hit you with his simtar right there?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Very much. And it had a nasty poison on it, which made me very sick for quite a long time. So that’s another thing you need to know about orcs: their blades are either very dirty or spread with poison. The dirt will give you an infection, and the poison can kill you if you don’t get treatment right away.”
“Did someone take care of you when you got sick?”
“Yes, Master Elrond took good care of me.”
Estel suddenly bent over and tugged up his pant leg. “See that?” he pointed to a nearly-healed scrape on his knee.
“Yes, I see that.”
“I fell off a rock. It wasn’t a poison rock but it still hurt and I cried. But Master Elrond–Ada– took care of it for me. He might not tell me anything interesting–well, maybe he’s good at telling bedtime stories and tucking me in sometimes when Nana lets him–but he’s good at taking care of people, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s very good at taking care of people, most of all you.”
Estel pushed his pant leg down and then looked again at the scar on Erestor’s arm. He reached out and traced its length with his finger. “I think I would like to take care of people when they get hurt.”
“I think someday you will do just that, young master. But first, you need to learn about orcs so they don’t eat you before you can grow up and be a great healer.”
“Will I be a great healer?”
“I’m sure you will, Estel,” Erestor said, and gave the boy an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sure you will. But now, about orcs...”
Fifteen years later....
Aragorn ducked as the last orc’s scimitar swished over his head. The orc grunted, then clacked his blackened, rotten teeth together. He reversed his swing, but as he did, he hesitated, just for an instant, and in that moment, Aragorn heard a distinct buzzing sort of whistle. An odious fume arose.
Aragorn made a face, then stabbed the orc through the chest with his sword. It fell to the ground, dead, and Aragorn yanked his sword free and stumbled away from the corpse, waving his hand over his face, and as he did so, he suddenly remembered a long-forgotten childhood conversation.
Yes, Erestor... orcs do fart...
~~~
A/N: Useless trivia that nonetheless applies to this story: If you can believe anything you find in wikipedia, the word “fart” is one of the oldest words in the English language. I quote: “The immediate roots are in the Middle English words ferten, feortan or farten; which is akin to the Old High German word ferzan. Cognates are found in old Norse, Slavic and also Greek and Sanskrit.”
Not entirely sure what that says about us English speakers, but there you are.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 02:22 pm (UTC)Also, we are brain twins, because my first thought after your entry on Saturday (Friday?) was "that would be a fantastic title for a fic..."
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 03:23 pm (UTC)I so love how this conversation unfolds with all these questions that are so important for a wee boy!
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Date: 2010-08-30 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:22 pm (UTC)I liked the image of Erestor letting Estel treat him like a jungle gym. Wouldn't you love to have seen that? *g*
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Date: 2010-08-30 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 06:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 08:34 pm (UTC)Erestor is a real hero, with that great big scar - and so strong. :-)
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Date: 2010-08-30 08:37 pm (UTC)And yes, I like my Erestor strong and warrior-ish as well as intellectual. *g*
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Date: 2010-08-30 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 11:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 09:04 pm (UTC)And by the way, my eyeballs are safe and sound. They were not harmed at all. *g*
Here is the history of fart in the Oxford English Dicionary. There's no doubt it's a very old word. *g*
(f{fata}{lm}t) Also 3 verte-n, 4 farten, 5 farton, 6 farte. [Common Teut. and Indo-germanic: OE. *feortan = OHG. ferzan (MHG. verzen, and with ablaut variants vurzen, varzen, mod.G. farzen), ON. freta:{em}OTeut. *fertan:{em}OAryan *perd- (Skr. pard. p{rdotbl}d, Gr. {pi}{geacu}{rho}{delta}{epsilon}{iota}{nu}, Lith. pérdzu, Russ. perdet´; the L. p{emac}d{ebreve}re is unconnected).]
The first exemple they cited there is from the cuckoo song dating from 1250.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 12:15 pm (UTC)Hmm, I may have to look up the cuckoo song. *g*
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Date: 2010-09-01 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 03:59 pm (UTC)Very nice, I enjoyed it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with this. Goodness, you haven't even delved into the realm of parody yet.
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Date: 2010-08-31 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 12:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-04 05:14 am (UTC)Thank you for the big smile you gave me today---this was wonderful.
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Date: 2010-09-04 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 12:08 pm (UTC)My sympathies on school starting back again... although hopefully there's plenty of fun along with the headaches. :)