[[Following the first ending where she did come back to Ash, I decided to write a bit more involving them. Sorta. In a way. Rated M for language and future situations]]
Blue eyes flickered in the tall grass, shifting back and forth over the moving forms. With a grin, the dark skin of the Uruk-Hai reached forward, taloned hands reaching, grasping...
"I've got you!"
The dark skinned youngling laughed as the claws found his sensitive spots, their tips blunted so as to not scratch or maul someone on accident. His mother, her yellow hair shining in the sun, laughed at them both from the ground. Gléowyn had laid the death of her mother to rest before the birth of her first child, and no longer dyed her hair in remembrance She didn't need it. The memories she wanted to cherish were kept in her heart. She had new reasons to live now, Ashbazg, Maedor, Gwyneth, and now Wulf. Watching her husband with her son, that was her reason to live. Ash had finally healed, and put on more muscle and strength. Soon after her return, she had felt the new life quickening within her. Ash finally stopped tickling their youngrdy boy, and they both fell into a breathless heap beside her. She smiled at them both.
Wulf was a wonderful little boy, but no one would ever call him a pure Child of Man. His ear were slightly pointed like his fathers, and his lower canines would always appear a bit longer than normal. His fingers sported dark nails, tougher than a Mans but not as sharp and pointed as an Uruks. He had inherited midnight black hair from somewhere, and his blue eyes were as vibrant as his fathers. His skin was like a dark tan, and he could pass for an Easterling if anything was ever said to him as he grew older. Gléowyn doubted any of the Elves in Rivendell would say anything to him, but just in case he ever went out into the world. She shook her head, coming from her reverie to listen to Ash and his newest speech to their 5 year old.
"Remember son. Your mother, she was the bravest woman I ever met. A sword swinger from Rohan. Only land to have women warriors like that. And me? Don't ever tell anyone who your father was, but he's from the fightin' Uruk-Hai, and adopted to the mountain clan orcs, the good 'uns who want nothing more than to live in peace and quiet with their families. No matter what anyone ever tells ya son, you come from strength, and you'll always have that strength with ya. You'll always have us."
With that, Ash reached his arm out and pulled his wife closer to him. Their little boy looked at them in wonder, the dark skinned Uruk-Hai and the light-skinned Rohirrim. They were his parents, and proof that anything could happen. Any man or orc could find someone, that love was the only thing that mattered.
With a start, Wulf jerked to wakefulness, his hands already pulling back his bowstring, arrow nocked. That dream... that dream only happened when something bad was about to happen to him. It was like his dead father telling him that something bad was coming, that he could smell it. Da had always had a better nose than Wulf, and Wulf had a damn good nose. He had somehow got the most... orcish of bits of their bloodline. Maedor looked like an Easterling that had an Elvish ancestor way back down his bloodline, and he talked like it to. Talked like he was an elf, dressed like one, ate like one. Never left Rivendell his whole life. Little Gwyn, she'd been lucky too. Looked like Ma, could shake her hair down over her ears, didn't have a tusk to speak of. Married some Ranger from around Rivendell. Probably had a couple kids by now. Didn't matter much to Wulf. He hadn't been home since Da died. Ma went first. Caught a sickness in her chest. Wasn't enough of the old magic, the old blood in the Elves left to heal it. When she went, Da sat by her grave. Didn't eat, didn't move. Wulf went to check on 'im, and he was gone. Like he was sleeping, curled up on Ma's grave with a smile on his face. Wulf had left the next day. He hadn't seen Mae or Gywn in almost six years.
Standing, he scoped the surrounding land with his senses. He wasn't hearing or smelling anything here. But there could be something coming, or danger could be down the road. Dreams were never an exact science. It just happened, and then something bad happened. It was like when he was sick the worst or hurt real bad, he'd dream about his Ma, and her holding him when he was sick and it always made him feel better. Didn't take away everything, but it made him feel warm inside. And someone who had made themselves as cold as he had, well, it helped.
He was everything his siblings wasn't. He had embraced the side of him that was Uruk-Hai. He didn't go around doing what they did course, but he didn't hide it either. He didn't pretend to be an Easterling like Mae would probably pretend, and his long hair didn't cover up his pointed ears. In fact, he shaved the sides of his head, letting the top and back grow in a long strip so his ears were shown. He was lean like a wolf, his body nothing but bones and muscle and skin. Covered in scars, some from fights, some from animal attacks, some from stupid shit. He was like the land here around the mountains. Hard and rugged. It's what he had pulled more from his mother than his father, the ability to survive, the thrill he felt hunting. His mother had taught him the bow and the woods, how to track and how to hunt. For all his skill, his Da relied more on his nose than anything to hunt. Ma had taught Wulf how to ghost through the woods, silent as a mist, how to track by print and scat and sign. It was how he survived. Gods. He missed them so much sometimes. It had been so hard to believe they had died.
His father had been such a huge pillar of muscle and bones, swinging his blacksmiths hammer everyday. His mother had been stronger than that, something inside her. His father was black iron on the outside, but his mother had been shining steel underneath her soft and motherly outside. In fact, she had been the harsher one growing up, always pushing them to do better, to do their lessons, to do what they wanted, but to do it the best. His father was content to sit on the banks of the river and fish, something he and Wulf had done numerous times, his mother joining them more often than not. His parents had been the rocks, the pillars, that kept their family together. Now, they were drifted apart. Shaking the memories from his head like old spider webs, he gathered his kit and started to pack everything. All he owned was his bow, his arrows, knives, his pack, and the clothing on his back. Hell, all his pack had in it was some food, some carvings he was wasting idle hours with, and some medicines just in case.
His head jerked to the side as he heard a snap, followed by a light gust of air. A silent curse? His bow wasn't at hand, but his knives were. And he could throw just as well as he could shoot. He cursed the rasp the first blade made as it cleared the leather, but the other didn't make a noise. Walking forward, he cast his eyes around the forest ahead of him, looking for a sign. Something. Anything. There. The edge of one of those shifting Elvish cloaks that made his nose wrinkle up and his head hurt.
"Come out Elf. Or Ranger. Don't matter. Gonna kill me, come on and do it!" Wulf growled out. He didn't have time for this. He had to cross the mountains, avoiding Rivendell all together, and get to his winter home. He did not have time for lollygaggin' or foolery. With a curse, the Man, and it was a Man, one of those damn Rangers, stepped out from behind the tree. He held his bow steady though. Wulf could respect that. But the Man better put one in his eye, or he'd get a hell of a knife in his.
"What do you want Ranger? I'm doin' no harm here. Ain't done a bit of harm in the six years I've been travelling through here."
The Ranger stared at him, brown eyes unflinching. He stepped half a step closer, and Wulf twitched his arm, like knocking away a fly. The knife flashed in the light, but Wulf still held it. It was a reminder, a way to show the Ranger that he wasn't defenseless.
"Are you the half-orc Wulf?"
The man said it like a curse. Half-Orc. Might as well say dirty blood. Filth. Wulf gritted his teeth, holding back the rage he could feel growing inside him. His mothers words came to him, like dust floating down on a breeze. He's trying to make you angry so he can feel justified with killing you. Don't give him the pleasure.
"I am Wulf man. Son of Rohan and son of the Uruk-Hai, adopted son of the Mountain Clans. Why?"
With a grunt, the man released the pressure from his shoulders, letting the string down on his bow and lowering it.
"It's your sister. She's been kidnapped. I need... I need your help."
"And who are you?"
His eyes flashed and he stood to his full height. "I am her husband."
Wulf stared at him. "Fucking lovely."