The sun was shining brightly that morning, with nary a cloud in the sky. Two small children of men raced down a deer trail, their bare feet slapping the ground while wooden buckets swung haphazardly from their hands. "Last one to the river's orc bait!" A brown haired boy yelled, darting ahead of his rival.

"Don't say that, Harold! Orcs aren't something to giggle about." The taller girl griped, but nonetheless sprinted faster.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Margot. I bet I could take one! Father's been teachin' me how to fight with a sword." Harold swung his bucket in emphasis, smacking the girl in the back.

"Hey! You shouldn't hit a lady." Margot yelped, whacking him across the head in retaliation.

"You're not a lady. You're my sister!" The two quickly devolved into a squabble, the race easily forgotten. Fists flew, hair was pulled and they rolled down the hill in their tussle. Margot had bits of grass and clods of dirt tangled in her dishwater blonde braids and Harold had the makings of a shiner around his left eye, but their cheeks were rosy with the exertion. The two siblings sat lay on the ground for a while, regaining their breath before Margot gasped.

"The water! Ma's goin' ta be so mad if we take too long!"

Harold blanched, grabbing his pail and his sister's hand with all earlier combat forgotten. "C'mon Margot! If we run we should be able to make it!"

A nod passed between them before they took off like they were being chased by Gundabad wargs.

Margot was slightly faster, her long legs working to her advantage, and she splashed into the bank of the Brandywine first. The river was fast, keeping the water clear and cold and Margot shivered as the heat she had generated in her run was ripped from her legs, leaving gooseflesh behind. Bending, she cupped water in her hands and threw it at her lagging brother with a giggle.

"Ooh! Yer gonna get it Margot!" Harold crossed the last few steps and loudly splashed into the water. Margot laughed again and backpedaled away from him, avoiding his clumsy lunges.

"You wish, Harold!" The tall girl stepped backwards again – only to realize that there was no more bank to step backwards on. Her eyes widened and she didn't have time for more than a shout of surprise before the strong current took advantage of her lack of balance and swept her away.

Harold stared in shock at the place where his sister had disappeared, arms still half-extended in preparation for another tackle. "Margot!" He yelled, "This isn't funny, Margot. Come on." Then a little ways downstream he saw a mop of braided blonde hair bob to the surface, lanky arms fought against the water for a moment before she was pulled down again. Harold swam to the bank, adrenaline making him faster than ever, and raced after his sister's flailing form.

"Margot!"

Traveling from Nirn to Arda reminded Ahkmar of the time she was summoned into the mind of Pelagius the Mad. It was cold, disconcerting, and vaguely nauseating. Venrukaan seemed to be of the same opinion judging by the way he tossed his head, neighed angrily and bucked his hips. Ahkmar glanced behind her to see the last of the swirling black and purple portal shrink away. "Yeah, not doing that again anytime soon." She pinched her ridged nose until the nausea passed, her face twisted into a deeper grimace than usual.

Dismounting, she pulled a brush and curry comb from Venrukaan's saddlebags after leading them closer to a stunted tree on the barren plain that they had arrived in. Hanging the gelding's tackle on a low-hanging branch, she proceeded to comb down her mount. His flanks were slick with cold sweat and Ahkmar winced. "Sorry Ven. Didn't mean to scare you with that Shout." After a long grooming session, which soothed both horse and womer, Ahkmar resaddled Venrukaan.

"Let's see what this Arda is like, hmm?"

As Ahkmar walked, Venrukaan dutifully following his master, she observed her surroundings with a hunter's eye. Grass was the most prominent vegetation, but there were a few stubborn trees dotting the landscape, gnarled and twisted by their opposition to the strong prairie winds. The sun was unbearably hot, reminding her of Sun's Height in Falkreath. The Orsimer's experienced eyes caught evidence of land that was recovering from burn scars and she frowned. Was a dragon the cause? But why would a dragon just burn perfectly good land? Her thoughts were interrupted when the shhh sound of a rushing river tickled her pointed ears.

"A river sounds like a good spot to gather our bearings, right Ven?" Ahkmar's grimace softened. "Fish for me and water for the two of us. Just like old times!"

Apparently in a quiet, flat environment sound travels far. By the time the two reached the pebbled shore, their minor thirst had evolved into something ravenous. Ahkmar yanked off her steel gauntlets and helmet, cupping her hands in the cool water. After checking it for clarity – Orsimer were hardy creatures, but it was always best to not tempt fate – she greedily drank her fill.

Satisfied, she stripped to her underthings and waded into the river. As she stood still in the cool, rushing waters, wisps of memory from a time before drifted to the forefront of her mind.

The silver fish darted away from her eager fingers for the seventh time and Ahkmar smacked the water in agitation. "G'omar, what'm I doin' wrong?" She turned to a taller orc, his skin a shade darker than hers.

"You have to be more patient, Ahkmar." Gromar instructed, his voice a soft growl. "A true warrior knows when to strike." With a little wink at his shorter companion, he plunged his arm into the river and pulled out a salmon that was nearly half Ahkmar's height.

Ahkmar stared in awe at her elder brother, her lips sliding back to reveal more of the tusks that were too big for her pudgy face. "Teach me! Teach me!" she hopped from foot to foot in the shallows.

Gromar laughed, amber eyes twinkling. "What do you think I'm doing, little sis?" He whacked the salmon on the head with a firm fist, throwing the carcass to the bank. "Your turn!"

"Just you watch, G'omar. I'mma catch one ev'n bigger'n yours!" Ahkmar focused her eyes on the river with renewed intensity, brow furrowed in concentration.

In the end, Ahkmar only caught a small trout. "I'll never be 's good 's you, G'omar." Ahkmar pouted when her brother insisted they get out of the water before she caught a cold.

"I couldn't catch a fish my first time. I was too loud and I scared 'em all away." He reached out to muss her damp hair, deepening her pout. "But you were patient and timed your strike right. You're going to be a little warrior in no time, just wait and see."

The little Orsimer brightened. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Ahkmar grinned, clutching her little trout proudly.

A flash of silver flickered into her vision and Ahkmar grasped the fish with both hands. Her hands were much more callused and larger now and muscle memory made the task run smoothly. Flinging the newly dead fish to the bank to join the two others, she stared at the water again. One more, the Orsimer decided.

Weak splashing sounds from upstream made her pause. It sounded like something fairly large was coming downriver. Some driftwood, maybe? Curious blue eyes sought out a wet straw-colored blob moving with the current.

A cat?

As the blob drifted closer, Ahkmar noticed a pale hand floating on the surface of the water. A mannish child? Springing into action, she dove after the waif. The current was no match for powerful arms strengthened from years of forging and swinging heavy weaponry. With one arm keeping the unbreathing child's head above the surface of the water, Ahkmar fought her way back to shore.

Laying the cold, unconscious girl on the bank, the womer turned the human's face to the side and began pounding at the center of her chest. "Come on, little one." She murmured. "Breathe. Breathe!"

Huffing and puffing, Harold continued to follow the river. Margot had stopped splashing and the current carried her faster now that there was no more resistance. A while ago – a day, an hour, a second, a moment? – Margot had been swept out of his line of vision. His muscles burned, but he ignored the pain. "Margot! I'm coming Margot! Margot!" He yelled, voice breathy with exhaustion.

Quieting in order to focus more of his energy on his legs, Harold heard rhythmic grunting. He raised his brown eyes from where they had been focused on the ground in front of him and collapsed in fright at what he beheld.

A large green orc was by the river, pounding at something beneath it with its fists. It was almost naked with only scant coverings across its chest and genitals. Harold wondered, terrified, how he was going to get past the beast without it noticing so that he could find Margot.

Eyes drifting downward, he registered dishwater blonde braids beneath the orc and his heart nearly stopped. "…Margot?" He whispered, petrified on the earthy riverbank. His big sister was being assaulted by a monster. Harold looked down at his hands, mud and dirt stuffed into the creases and darkening his short nails. He didn't have a weapon. What could he do to fight off such a beast? He didn't want to die, too.

But… Margot…

No. She was his sister. He couldn't leave her, what would Ma say if she found out? Clenching his small fists, he forced his smarting muscles to bring him to his feet. One shaky step followed another and soon he was at a full sprint. "Leave my sister alone, you son of a warg!"

The orc looked up with a snarl on its face, blocking his tackle and shoving him to the side. "You want her to die, whelp?" The gravelly voice caught the boy off guard for a moment and he crashed limply to the ground. Orcs can talk?

But then again… He watched the green monster return to whacking the spot between Margot's developing breasts and saw red. "Don't you dare threaten my sis! I'll kill you!" With a cry, Harold flung himself on the orc's broad back and clutched at its powerfully corded neck.

An angry tusked face filled his vision and he felt a hard fist collide with his temple before he fell to the ground and knew no more.

Ahkmar held her fingers to the male child of man's neck for a moment and, finding a slow but steady pulse, returned to her previous task of returning one to the female beneath her.

"Stupid kid." She muttered. "But I guess it's just as well he's here. Won't have to convince the girl to tell me where she lives when she wakes up."

As if on cue, a wet splutter sounded from beneath her and the long-limbed female proceeded to vomit up the contents of her stomach. Mostly river water, Ahkmar noted absently as she helped the girl roll further onto her side. "Just let it out, child" The Orsimer rumbled softly, smoothing blonde locks with her free hand. The girl coughed violently and began to shiver. Assessing her weakened state, she recognized the symptoms.

It was common in Skyrim for those races whose blood did not run hot to become sick with prolonged exposure to the cold, especially in icy rivers. If the child didn't get warm, and fast, Ahkmar may very well have just let her drown.

Pursing her lips, the Orsimer loosed a sharp whistle. From upstream Venrukaan galloped, slowing to a stop before his master and gazing at her with liquid brown eyes. Ahkmar only had regard for the pack on his back. Digging around in it for a moment she pulled out a long dress that she kept for resting times.

"Lie down, Ven." Barely sparing a glance for the stocky horse, she began peeling wet clothing off the shivering child. There was no resistance, and Ahkmar frowned in concern. She was still unconscious. Pulling the warm, dry dress over the girl's head, Ahkmar arranged a fur sleeping roll next to Venrukaan's flank. The girl nearly drowned in the layers of blue fabric where she lay burrowed into the gelding's warmth, needy keens arising from her throat.

Wrinkling her ridged brow, Ahkmar glanced at the dozing boy that she had nearly forgotten about. He might help. Gathering the child in her arms, she tucked him into the sleeping roll, sandwiching his shaking sister between himself and the horse. A short, satisfied nod later she wandered upstream to gather her fish and some wood for a fire.

The whelps wouldn't wake anytime soon, but when they did they would be hungry.

And there we have it, Ahkmar is now in Middle Earth and she has met her first humans. Who coincidentally hate her. How fun is that? Don't worry, Harold and Margot aren't going to become a huge part of the story. If you're wondering, Ahkmar is now located in Northern Minhiriath, close to the River Brandywine.

As per usual, I'd love to hear your comments and/or thoughts! This is self-betaed so I'm the only one who sees it before it gets posted. Any tips on lore or writing style would be very much appreciated. Thank you!

-Kohlii

P.S. I really really wanted to make the description like this:

Title: Being Green

Summary: It's not easy.

But my muse said no.