After the King: Stories in Honor of J.R.R. Tolkien

Götterdämmerung Barry N. Malzberg

We are talking, essentially, about the need to preserve a sense of magic, of mystery. Explicitness is the enemy of reason, not its assistant. Wizardry is an honorable trade but it demands, no less than some of the metal trades, hard work and a sense of discipline. I have been at the profession long enough to contemplate this without irony, but with a certain disdain. None of this functions as a prologue to these confidences, it is simply a form of meditation.

I am talking of sitting on a high, bare yellow hill, smoke rising from my small quarters in the distance, the sun casting its fetching rays against this landscape, yellow on yellow. A dry time in a late season. The two elves, the dwarf and the giantess straggled up the elevation toward me, holding out their hands in homage. No gifts—I am known to be both jealous and capricious; the burnt offering trade is certainly not mine—but clearly an anxiety to please. They hovered before me at some respectful distance, then the older of the elves stepped forward.

—Greetings, he said. We come in peace and humility. Is that the proper formula?

—I don’t know, I said. Where did the formulaic enter into this? Are you the spokesperson?

—We would prefer that, the dwarf said. He was pleasant-looking enough, not strikingly misshapen, generic features, the same description applying to all of them although there was a certain aggressiveness to the stance of the giantess which might have been threatening in other circumstances. Of course no wizard encounters “other circumstances.” We live in a regulated way, surrounded by obeisance if not outright fawning.

—Of course, the dwarf went on, we could speak individually. But that would take too much time.

—Time is valuable, I agreed. It is our only coin. We must not expend it freely.

—And it would be consensual in any case, the dwarf said. So we will leave matters to Meyer here if you don’t mind.

—I am Meyer, the larger elf said. My companion is Siegmund. The short fellow over here is Siegfried the dwarf, not to be confused, and Barbara. Barbara has not always been with us. We met only recently.

—In the valley, Barbara said. We shared backgrounds and history and since we have the same objective we decided to join forces.

—Of course, I said. But you appointed only one spokesperson.

A hint of reproof hung in the yellow air, embers against the falling sun. Meyer adjusted his cloak, glanced nervously at the others.—Of course, he said. You are right to bring us into line. Our time is limited and our need is great. We come to petition for help.

—Help, I said. Everyone needs help. I sit by this place in the light and the darkness, watching the tumult of the seasons and nothing, absolutely nothing happens except that now and then petitioners like yourselves come by seeking aid. That is my fate, of course, I added. I don’t mean to indicate resentment. My function is wizardry just as yours is petition. But it does after a while begin to pall.

—Well, I can see that, Meyer said. I can understand well how that might have happened. Perhaps we should simply go away, then.

—Ask him the question, Meyer, the giantess said. Don’t be intimidated. He may live in smoke and fire but he has to stoke the pots just like the rest of us. And I think the thunder makes him tremble.

—Doesn’t she speak beautifully? Siegmund the elf said. Right away, in the valley, when she began to talk with us we knew that her taste for language was fetching. Really, what would we do without our language? I so admire those who can speak.

The giantess gave Siegmund a sweeping glance, then turned away. The dwarf, Siegfried, shook his head, causing his features to wobble in a most perilous fashion, and kicked at a pebble.—I knew this wouldn’t work, he said. Come on, let’s be on our way. Maybe we’ll meet one of the Alberichts down there. I think we gave up too quickly, ascended too rapidly.

Meyer stared at me.—Do you see the problems we have? he said. It’s not as if we have a plan or anything. We’re just muddling through.

—Muddling away, Siegfried said. We meet a proper wizard and we won’t let him speak. We straggle all the way up this mountain—

—I can’t find the ring for you, I said.

They looked at me with a shared intentness of gaze, coming to a rapid attentiveness which warmed my spirit. There is something about a well-placed sentence which, like a properly cast spell, can induce a feeling of warmth for its own sake. To be taken for one thing and to demonstrate that one is quite another is a kind of pleasure I have long denied myself but sometimes, regardless, that arrogant need for response will seep through.

—The ring is at the bottom of the river, I said. It was pitched there many seasons ago and cannot be recovered. I am no more capable of raising the ring than I am of raising the dead. Or even reconceptualizing them. So that’s the end of your interview, I fear. Really there’s nothing more to be done.

—I told you, Barbara the giantess said disgustedly. She raised a foot to kick Meyer, then under my stark gaze seemed to reconsider the issue. Well I did, she said sullenly. I told them we would get no satisfaction here.

—Listen, Siegmund said, if you’re so sure of this, if you understand everything already, why don’t you just take a walk back through the valley, go to your castle? We didn’t bring you here in the first place.

Siegfried fixed me with a dwarfish, piercing gaze.—Do you see the problem? he said. Here is the problem: we have turned to bickering, calumny and enmity. Surely if we were to recover the ring, this would pass and we would live in restored harmony and peace. How one’s soul craves harmony! But you tell us that our course is fruitless. It is most discouraging.

—I know that it is hopeless, I said. The Alberichts were here not two sunsets past. We had a long discussion, the Alberichts and I, before the fires. They reported the permanent loss of the ring.

—That is what was rumored, Meyer said.

—Attempts were made at recovery, I said. Several Alberichts organized a diving party and washed themselves in the river, responding not to the powerful cries and mockery of the Rhinemaidens. They attempted desperately to recover the ring, having bitterly regretted its divestiture.

—No success, of course, Barbara said.

—None whatsoever, I said. They drowned. That is, four of the Alberichts drowned and a fifth was dragged to shore by his brothers in a state of unconsciousness. He has yet to recover, I was told, although now and then he pleads for the return of the ring. The Alberichts are as helpless as the rest of us, I said. I am afraid their powers have sunk into the river as well.

—They told you all of this? Siegfried said. They so readily admitted their helplessness?

—There are no secrets from a wizard, I said. Even in these difficult times at the end of chronology with the ring sunk deep in the river, the Alberichts on their expeditions of despair and search parties such as yourselves seeking in futility that which was already deemed lost. But enough of this, I said. I engage in banter to no real purpose. There is nothing that can be done for you, I fear, and so you must be on your way.

—I warned you, Barbara said. I told you that this was stupid and foolish. She kicked out at Siegfried. But no, you said. Go up and see the old man, he has many secrets. A day and a night on this hill, struggling toward mockery, that’s the outcome.

—Did you have a better idea? Siegfried said, rubbing his ankle but making, I could well note, no threatening gesture in retaliation. You asked to accompany us on our mission.

—You see the problem, Meyer said to me. There is no accord, there is no harmony. We are bitter and discontent, surely the loss of the ring has driven us to this condition, but there is nothing that can be done.

—No, I agreed. There is nothing to be done. You fools and stragglers, I wanted to say, there was nothing to be done before you were born; we are living at the far end of a curse, we are enacting only that which has been foreordained. But that would have led to lectures on predestination and mortality which would have been far beyond their means.

—So you see, I said, standing, abandoning my crouch of confidentiality, lifting my garments and stepping back from them gracefully, there is really nothing more to be done. Perhaps there are some other Alberichts wandering around the territory. Maybe you can speak to them, see if they have any ideas. But I doubt that this would be at all possible.

—He’s quite right, Barbara said, there’s nothing to do but to go. I am going anyway, she said and turned, limped away. Even more imposing from the rear than front, she showed a certain humility, a broken aspect to her posture which rather touched me as she stomped away although, of course, I would never have revealed this to her or any of the others. We all stared with interest as she moved down the hill, becoming, more quickly than even I might have divined, a small object and then one which was barely visible. A hundred Alberichts could not have vanished as quickly or with more ignominy.

—I guess we’ll all be on our way, Meyer said. You were our last hope, you know. We have no other ideas.

—And it’s been a long, long journey, Siegfried said. You can’t imagine how difficult the conditions have been. Now you take Siegmund here, you may think that his dwarfishness protects him from suffering or true passion but it’s simply not so, he’s had things to tell us—

—Come on, Meyer said. I don’t think the wizard is interested in this. I know I’m not. I’ve heard quite enough of this and we still have a long way to go if we are to sleep away from the fires tonight. He inclined his head. Thank you for your trouble, he said.

—Not to mention, I said. If my powers were greater, it might have been different, but of course they are also part of the consequence here. Their destruction, I should say. Much has gone out of the world since the ring was lost.

—Well yes, Siegmund said, but we don’t want to talk of that now, do we? He practiced a yawn, then turned, extended his hands. Let us leave, he said. She’ll probably be down there waiting for us after all.

—Of course she will, Meyer said. She has absolutely nowhere to go.

—None of us do, Siegfried said, but in a distracted way, not really addressing anyone. They linked arms, showing somewhat more accord than they had on the way toward me—but this might only have been further evidence of newly crushed spirits—and hobbled away. As they passed into the swaddling light, I thought that one gave a suggestion of a wave but it was difficult to tell and then they were gone. It hardly mattered anyway.

I shrugged—another encounter gone—and went back to my quarters. Inside the smell of smoke was ebbing, time soon enough to throw another stick or three into the fire. Poised toadlike, their little eyes gleaming, the six Alberichts perched by the walls and stared at me, voiceless.

—I got rid of them, I said.

The Alberichts blinked, murmured, rubbed against one another.

—Simple, I said. They aren’t even questioning anymore. They left in half the time that the last group did. Soon enough, they won’t even ask questions. I’ll just wave at them, shake my head and they’ll go.

The Alberichts seemed to cackle. One chittered a question.

—Not yet, I said. It’s not time.

They stared at me. I thought of the question of lost language and for a moment considered its replacement but decided that it was not time. It had been much easier, much less unpleasant with the Alberichts deprived of tongue and unable to speak.

—They’ll go away soon enough, I said. But I think a few more groups will be coming through. It’s a matter of purgation, that’s all.

The Alberichts looked at me inquiringly. I strode over to the side, took a pair of sticks and lofted them toward the fire.

—Soon, I said, we’ll go down to the river. We’ll make our plans and go to the river together.

The Alberichts nodded with pleasure and anticipation. Loss of language does not mean loss of comprehension. To the contrary, it heightens comprehension as any good spellcaster will know. In that moment, then, it seemed that the Alberichts, just as I, understood everything.

—Mine, I said quietly. It will all be mine.

The Alberichts nodded.

—All mine, I said.

—No, a voice beyond the tent said firmly. And then through the opening, in postures of sudden menace and determination the four of them appeared, their elvish, dwarfish, gigantic features suffused with pleasure and witness.

—Not quite, Barbara said. I raised a hand, miming incantation.

She went to the pile in the corner and raised a stick.

—You see, she said. We have our own magic, old wizard.

Traitorously, the Alberichts giggled.

I think the situation has, perhaps, gotten away from me.