The Orc’s Dilemma and the Letter ‘T’

Gazbag the Orc shook his head sorrowfully. His dilemma bothering him greatly.

“What is the matter Gazbag?”

Gazbag looked at his long-time friend Zagrat, the Orc Elder, but didn’t answer right away. He was too depressed.

“Please, Gazbag, let me know. I do not like to see you like this. If you need to cheer up we can raid the Dwarf Compound. We will destroy them all, and you will then smile.”

“Yes,” Gazbag said slowly, “that would indeed make me smile, but that will not take away my misery.”

“Then what will?”

“Let us skip this infernal day that is upon us when the moon is full white.”

“Ahh, I understand. It is clear to me now. You are speaking of All Hallow’s Eve!”

“Yes!” Gazbag yelled in fury. “I loathe the day. May it burn forever in a destroyed ruin, like our raid on the Elven Village in the past glory!”

“But why Gazbag? Why do you have such hatred for this day?”

“Argh! Do not get me started, Zagrat!”

“Please tell me, Gazbag, do not hold me in horrendous suspense!”

“Okay, my fearsome friend, I will tell you. I loathe the day for this reason: On that infernal day, Trolls will dress like Elves, Elves will dress like Dwarves, Hobbits will dress like Orcs, and yet no one fears anyone because of the forsaken candy!!”

Zagrat began to speak but Gazbag continued.

“Last year I had a most heinous costume designed by the Dark Sorcerer from the Black Forest of Mondor. It was the outfit of a Warlock. The Dark Sorcerer had every detail worked out. He even had scales of a Dragon sewn onto the tunic which covered my most powerful and deadly biceps. I looked like murderous death with a vengeance. Do you know what the first creature to see me on that day did? Do you?”

“No, I do not know, but I can guess that they ran screaming like a Banshee into the blackest thicket!”

“No!” Gazbag yelled and then howled like a beast in a cage. “They did no such thing!”

“What then? Did they faint with trembling fear?”

“NO!”

“Then they must have perished in their very tracks!”

“You are slow and not understanding, Zagrat. The creature laughed at me! They laughed like a ravaged hyena, and then….”

“Yes?” Zagrat asked.

“They gave me candy!!”

At this moment Zagrat did everything in his fearsome power to restrain himself. His powerful muscles clenched, and his enormous chest heaved, yet for all of this, he was powerless against the onslaught of sudden chortles that erupted from deep within. They came forth in waves, and the more they came, the more he lost all semblance of control.

“I am glad you are amused,” Gazbag said, and with no fury left in him, he turned away from Zagrat. “I am done,” he said, “I will sit this infernal day out. I am not participating.”

Between slowly diminishing guffaws Zagrat managed to say, “Foolishness Gazbag. The Orc Council forbids the forsaking of All Hallow's Eve. You MUST and WILL participate, and you WILL strike fear into the hearts of every creature of this Realm!”

“How Zagrat, when no one shows fear on All Hallows Eve!”

“There is a way, but I am not sure you are prepared for such a costume.”

“Tell me! What is it? Because as of this moment, I have lost all hope.”

“You must go to Man Village.”

“Man Village? There is nothing to fear there. Man is weak and puny. They fear us greatly.”

“Yes, you speak truth, they are weak and puny. However, there is a man in the village who holds a secret weapon. A weapon so powerful…that even I have much fear of it.”

“You? Impossible!”

“No, not impossible! It causes me to tremble!”

“What is this horrendous weapon?”

“I will not speak the name, but I will show you with a hand motion.”

“Hand motion?”

Zagrat took a step back and made a motion with his hand. First down and then across, like the letter ‘T. ’

“Tea?” Gazbag asked.

“Yes, ‘T’,” Zagrat said.

“You are afraid of tea?”

“Deathly afraid!”

“Well,” Gazbag said confused, “I suppose it is a putrid drink which does churn the stomach, but….”

“Now you are the one who is slow and not understanding Gazbag! Just go to Man Village. Find the cottage with the letter 'T' on it, and you will then understand!”

“Fine, but if I am not satisfied, I will refuse to participate!”

****

The next day, Gazbag walked through Man Village and relished the shrieks of the frightened women. He especially enjoyed the way the men trembled when they ushered the upset females quickly to safety. His joy was short-lived however, as it turned out not to take him long to find what he was looking for. Man Village was not very large.

There, in the center of the village, was a petite cottage, and it was the only dwelling with the small letter on the door. Looking at the ‘T’ and thinking about the drink made his bowels moan, but he ignored this and knocked on the door.

“Who goes there?” A voice from inside yelled out.

“It is I. Gazbag!”

“Gas Bag?”

“Gazbag!”

“Bag of gas?” The disembodied voice questioned.

“Open the door, or I will burn your house down with you trapped inside!”

The door opened quickly, and a handsome young man appeared. “May I call you Mr. G.?”

“That’s fine,” Gazbag said, suddenly nauseated by the ugly human that stood before him.

“Please, come in. My name is Tim. It is not every day that I have the pleasure of an Orc’s company.”

Gazbag entered and wanted to cause great damage to the man, but he stopped himself. He still needed a costume.

“Would you like some tea?” the man asked politely.

Gazbag visibly shuttered and blurted out, “Offer me that putrid drink again, and I will do what I said at your front door!”

“Coffee, then?”

“Wait…what?”

“Coffee?”

“Yes! Coffee is good!”

Sensing his guest’s excitement, Tim ushered Gazbag to the kitchen table. He then walked quickly over to the stove, grabbed the coffee pot, and when he returned he said, “So what brings you to Man Village?”

“I have a problem.”

“Do tell,” Tim said as he poured the coffee.

Gazbag went into great detail of his dilemma and Tim listened intently without interrupting. When Gazbag finished Tim had a solution already worked out.

“I can help you greatly, Mr. G. I will give you my costume, which I actually don once a week, and it will surely do what you desire.”

“You will give your most fearsome weapon to me without a fight? Men surely are weak and puny!”

Looking only slightly insulted Tim said, “Uh, right, it’s really no problem at all. I will have it tailored and ready for you by All Hallow’s Eve.”

“Very well, puny man, very well.”

*****

The moon was full white when Gazbag stood in front of a mirror, admiring his new costume. He looked left and then right, he turned to see the back of it, and then he turned around again. He leaned forward and made a fearsome face at the mirror.

Try as he might he did not appear especially scary. 

He had come to the conclusion that the puny man obviously knew nothing of how to instill fear in another creature. Even with this thought in his mind, however, he still continued looking at himself in the mirror, thinking that maybe he had missed something.

The frock that he wore was midnight black, which he liked, and he wore it with a collar that was bone white, which he found acceptable. However, that was all there was except for the secret weapon of which he did not understand.     

“I am not going out,” Gazbag said to the empty room. “This is utter foolishness!”

Just at that moment, Zagrat burst through the door and heard his words. Gazbag looked and saw that Zagrat was dressed up as a terrifying Werewolf.

Zagrat studied his friend for a brief moment and said, “You look most fearsome Gazbag!”

“You make comedy at my expense Zagrat!”

Zagrat ignored this and asked, “Did he give you the weapon?”

“Yes, it is in the bag,” Gazbag said, pointing to a small pouch on the bench next to him. “Here,” he said, “let me get it.”

“NO!” Zagrat yelled out. “Not in front of me. Never in front of me!” Then he ran out of the room howling.

Gazbag shook his head. He reached into the pouch and pulled out a necklace that had a puny letter ‘T’ hanging from it. He laughed to himself. ‘T’ for Tim, he thought, or was it ‘T’ for tea? As if on cue, he felt his stomach churn once more.

“Well,” he said, ignoring his stomach, “it matters not. I guess I will give this a try.”

He donned the necklace, grabbed his empty candy sack, and headed out the door.

At first, no one seemed to notice or care as Gazbag walked the dark roads. He nodded at a few Ogres who were dressed like Witches and he took notice of a few Vampires dressed like Trolls, but no one said anything or reacted in any way.

With a heavy heart, he approached a starkly decorated hovel with an evil stone gargoyle atop the door frame. He pounded on the door and waited patiently. He knew the owner; it was a fellow Orc named Bruton.

The door opened slowly, and Bruton was there wearing an Elvin mask and holding a huge bowl of candy.

“Tricks and death or treats and live,” said Gazbag hopefully, and he held out his candy bag.

“Gazbag? Where is your costume?” Bruton asked.

Gazbag sighed heavily and said, “That’s it. I give up.”

“What are you supposed to be?”

“I don’t even know! I’ve been listening to Zagrat! I guess I’m supposed to be a man!”

“Ha! A man? They are puny and weak!”

“I know! I only did this because of Zagrat. He thinks this is scary and I don’t know why,” and when he said this Gazbag held up the ‘T’ and shook his head sadly.

When Bruton saw what Gazbag was holding up, he made a strange guttural sound, threw his entire bowl of candy at Gazbag, and promptly fainted right there in the doorway.

At first Gazbag thought that Bruton was pretending. When he finally realized that Bruton was truly out cold he picked up all the candy, put it all in his candy sack…and smiled.

“This is going to be great!”

The rest of that All Hallow’s Eve went down in the Realm’s History Books as one of the scariest ever. Gazbag cleared more candy that night than all the Orcs combined. Howls and screams could be heard everywhere that Gazbag visited as he continued all night to brandish the secret weapon.

The very next day, the Orc Council immediately voted to ban Gazbag’s costume from ever being used again. Gazbag was utterly confused by this, so he went back to Man Village to speak with Tim.

“I have come to return your most awesome costume,” Gazbag said, “and to partake of more of your coffee.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile and said, “Of course, come in, I will get you some coffee. So how did it go?” he asked.

Gazbag made himself at home and stood at the kitchen table. “It was the most fear-filled All Hallow’s Eve I have ever experienced,” he said.

“So…same thing next year then?”

“No, the Council forbids it. I do not understand why. What is it about this puny letter ‘T’ that the others find so fearful?”

“’T’?”

“Yes, this.” Gazbag lifted up the necklace.

“Oh, Mr. G., that is not the letter ‘T’. That is actually a cross. When you wear it you are showing everyone how much you love Christ.”

Suddenly filled with fear, Gazbag was speechless for a few moments. The enormity of what he had done was beginning to sink in. Finally, he found his voice, “You…you…mean that I….”

“Yes, Mr. G., for one glorious night, you represented the love of God.”

Gazbag lost strength and dropped to his knees. He felt weak. “But the black frock and the bone white collar….”

“Yes, the outfit of a priest.”

Gazbag could only make guttural sounds at this point.

“I guess you didn’t know,” Tim said.

Gazbag shook his head.

“It is okay,” Tim said gently, “you will be okay.”

“Argh, ugh, argh.”

“You did a great thing, Mr. G. God has surely blessed you. God loves you.”

“He…argh…he does?”

“Of course He does. He loves you, and His love is awesome and sweet.”

Gazbag thought about all of the candy he had acquired. “Sweet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me…tell me more. Tell me all you know about this…this love and this cross.”

Tim obliged, and the pair talked for several more hours. At the end of this conversation, Gazbag left the cottage and went back home. He was dressed in his regular Orc clothing again, except for one striking difference.

The cross was still around his neck, and he brandished it proudly for the entire Realm to see.