The Lord of the Rings: The Uruk-Hai [Part Four]

The Orcs now have to move even more quickly, with the threat of the Rohirrim finding them. Ugluk decides that the hobbits must be on their feet for the climb down, so he cuts the bonds around their legs and drags Pippin up by his hair, who at first can’t stand at all. He forces a burning liquid down Pippin’s throat; the fierce glow of it takes away the pain in his legs and he can stand.

Then Ugluk kicks Merry, who merely groans. All this time he seems to have been unconscious. The Orc tears the bandage off the hobbit’s head and smears the wound underneath ‘with some dark stuff out a small wooden box.’ Merry cries out and struggles, and the other Orcs laugh at his pain, saying he can’t take his medicine. But Ugluk is not torturing him. ‘He was healing Merry in orc-fashion, and his treatment worked swiftly.’ When he has finished pouring more of the fierce drink down Merry’s throat, ‘Merry stood up, looking pale but grim and defiant, and very much alive. The gash on his forehead gave him no more trouble, but he bore a brown scar to the end of his days.’

Merry acknowledges Pippin, then ironically asks when they’ll get bed and breakfast. Ugluk commands no talking between the prisoners or he’ll report them to ‘the Master’, and they’ll get more ‘bed and breakfast’ than they can stomach.

They climb down to the misty plain below, at least a dozen Orcs between the prisoners, then head west and a little north, following Lugdush, who seems to be Ugluk’s lieutenant. The Northerners (Moria Orcs) ask what’ll they do at sunrise, but Ugluk says they’ll run on anyway, and not sit and ‘wait for the Whiteskins to join the picnic’. They begin moving in long loping strides, with no order or discipline but very fast indeed. Each Hobbit has three guards; Pippin is far back in the line.

Pippin is tired, but very much awake from his orc-draught. He knows that if the other members of the Fellowship are following them, they’ll never see their tracks amid the orcish trampling. When the opportunity arises, he dashes away from the Orcs, and just manages to drop his Elvish brooch on some soft ground before he is caught again. He thinks that it will probably lie there forever; the others have probably gone with Frodo. He is given a lash on his legs, with a promise of more if he tries that again. The Orcs run on.

The hobbits try to keep pace. This time is like a long evil dream of running, whips, and dragging. ’The warmth of the orc-draught was gone.’ Finally, Pippin just falls face down into the ground. He is picked up by hard hands with cruel nails, and he is carried like a sack again as his mind grows dark around him.

He wakes up in the morning, the heat of another draught coursing through his body. One of his guards throws down a stale piece of grey bread and a strip of raw dried flesh. He eats the bread but not the meat. No telling what, or who, it came from. He sits up. Merry is not far away. The Orcs are (surprise!) quarreling about what to do.

They know the Rohirrim are definitely now on their trail. The Northerners want to kill the prisoners and flee to the mountain and forest ahead of them. Ugluk lets them go, and they dash off, about a hundred of them. That leaves about eighty Isengarders, and a few of the bigger Northerners. Ugluk boasts that they’ll feast on horseflesh yet, or something better. Just then they are joined by Grishnakh.

He has returned with about forty Mordor Orcs, long armed and crook-legged, with red eyes painted on their shields. He says he’s come to see that the prisoners are safe. He left a fool behind him, but Ugluk had some ‘stout fellows’ in his bungling command. He’s come to help them.

Ugluk taunts him, wondering if he has the guts for a fight with the Whiteskins. And where’s that precious Nazgul he was boasting of? Now that might have been of use … if they are all they’re made out to be.

Grishnakh shivers at the name. The Nazgul are more than Ugluk’s muddy little brain can imagine, but they’re needed for the War. ‘They’re the apple of the Great Eye’ and not to show themselves across the Great River too soon. Ugluk replies that he seems to know a great deal – perhaps in Mordor they’d want to know how. In the meantime, the Uruk-hai of Isengard will have to do the dirty work. He tells Grisnakh to gather his rabble and follow him. They strike off for the forest and cover, after the fleeing Northern Moria Orcs.

The Isengarders sling Merry and Pippin on their backs again and they’re off. Maybe because they’re stronger or maybe because of some plan, they pass through the Mordor-folk until Grishnakh’s troop is behind them. Soon they’re also catching up on the Northerners and overtake them in the afternoon. They jeer at the Moria Orcs, who are not used to the sun. The ‘Whiteskins’ are now definitely now in sight and getting swiftly closer. The Isengarders double their pace.

The forest is now dark and close. Pippin fears that the Orcs will make it to the trees, making the pursuers less effective on their horses and escape more possible. The Riders are hemming them in, not letting any Orcs break away. He wonders about the people of Rohan, and if they could even tell that they aren’t Orcs in the heat of battle. The Riders swoop in and shoot at the Orcs then ride out of range again. Pippin sees one Orc right in front of him fall that way.

‘Night comes down without the Riders closing in for battle.’ Many Orcs have fallen, but at least two hundred remain. The horsemen have circled them in, and by nightfall the Orcs make camp on a small hillock, about only three furlongs (furlong: 1/8 of a mile) from the woods. Some Orcs try to make a break for the trees; only three return. Grishnakh sneers at Ugluk’s leadership. Ugluk puts Lugdush and two others on guard over the hobbits. For the first time they are close to each other. While their captors set up camp, Merry and Pippin whisper a bit to each other.

Merry thinks that even if he were free, he couldn’t crawl away. He’s too hungry and tired. Pippin mentions that they still have lembas; only their swords were taken away, thanks to the ‘no spoiling’ orders. Merry says he can’t put his mouth in his pocket to get it. Pippin is about to reveal that his hands are actually free, ‘but just then a savage kick warned Pippin that the noise had died down, and the guards were watchful.’

Bits and Bobs

 And now the race is on. We are given more insight into Orcish culture. Apparently, they have their own methods of healing and sustenance, practical and immediate if none too gentle. I am reminded of the real-world practice of the methamphetamines given to Nazi soldiers to keep them going, or of the more recent ‘marching powder’ from South America. The Orc methods do not seem to nourish, like the miruvor of Rivendell or the lembas bread of Lorien, but to burn up reserves of energy in the body [don’t quote me on this; it’s simply an extrapolation].

And speaking of bread, we again hear mention of the ‘grey bread’ carried by the Isengarders. One wonders where and how it was made. Is it one of Saruman’s innovations, or have Orcs always used a variation of it? Who grows the grain for it, and who bakes it? Human slaves, I would guess. It’s hard to imagine any goblin having the patience for it.

Whiteskins and Black Uruks. We come to the vexed question: is Tolkien racist? Somehow, I think not. This terminology does not explicitly imply that Orcs resemble the sub-Saharan African peoples, any more than the term ‘Whiteskins’ implies that the Riders are as blanched as snow. Tolkien described Orcs as ‘sallow-skinned’, (of an unhealthy yellow or pale brown color.)  He also says the Orcs resemble ‘degraded and repulsive versions of the (to Europeans) least lovely Mongol-types.’ In his parenthesis, he indicates that he knows that the judgement on Mongolians is a cultural prejudice. There has been much debate on the subject, depending on what you want to believe; I think that what is revealed about Tolkien in his letters and other work argues against the ‘racist’ view.

The Orcs’ language offers some interesting insight Apparently, they know what a ‘picnic’ is, even if they don’t mention a menu for one. The Orc insult each other with terms like ‘swine’, ‘ape’, and ‘maggot’. I find it interesting that they know what an ape is. Tolkien toyed for a while with the idea that Orcs were developed from apes, bred up to have a kind of mind, but no soul. The term ‘swine’ might have contributed to later pig-like representations of Orcs, and the term ‘maggot’ or ‘maggot-pits’ to the Jackson movie idea of them being bred from the earth. Grishnakh makes something of a joke when he says the Nazgul are ’the apple of the Great Eye’; the old phrase ‘the apple of your eye’ refers to the preciousness of one’s eyeball, which will be treasured with all care. The Orcs claim that the Riders will eat the Northerners if they lag behind, a setting of their own practices upside down.

And yes, I'm using quite a bit of Bakshi today.