Do not look at him.

Eoforhild concentrated on piercing her evening meal on a stick rather than let her traitorous eyes note any movement of Aandar's. Yet she could see him from the periphery of her vision as he fussed over the campfire. At any other time, she might have been amused by his perfectionism, shifting logs and branches to lie just so. She had no idea what measure he was using to determine proper placement, nor the purpose of it, but it seemed to give him satisfaction and keep him occupied.

If only her own activity were as consuming.

She did not want to look upon Aandar with anything more than a friendly eye, and perhaps not even that. While his childlike curiosities and excitement appealed to her sympathies, his obvious adulthood and maleness stirred more unwelcome feelings. Her thoughts as they walked disturbed her for they bordered on the sort of physical attraction she might have felt for a Man of similar build and unconstrained masculinity. She feared her own natural reaction to him almost as much as she feared his to her.

Had her time in Isengard not killed such desires? She thought it had. She believed all such needs to be thoroughly destroyed, a loss nearly as devastating as the taking of her name. Where once she delighted in the adventures and enticements, the unexpectedness of a gentle touch or the wild romp of youthful vigor, she learned to recoil with revulsion at the mere thought of being looked upon, much less touched. She hated what was done to her, hated those who did it, and came to hate her own body, where before they were old friends, comfortable companions, sisters in the flesh.

Was she indeed the dirty, filthy whore the village women called her that she would look upon someone like Aandar and want?

Yet the more she knew of the Uruk, the less like his fellows he seemed to her. She never would have expected him to show any consideration for her wishes. When he took her hand to lead her from the tunnel, she knew he would rape her. Perhaps not at that moment, but soon. Then he didn't. What's more, he possessed enough empathy to accept her refusal of his desire for sex in exchange for his help. Eoforhild would never have imagined a creature like those she thought she knew could be so... Man-like in honor and integrity.

As she ate, her thoughts in turmoil, she saw from the corner of her eye that he was once again smoothing the ground for sleeping. The meticulous way he ran his calloused, clawed hands over the earth, pausing to dig a pebble or stick free and toss it aside, put her in mind of a bird building a nest. Making it just so for the comfort of its mate and chicks.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. This was not the behavior of a child to a parent, she realized. If Eoforhild knew anything, it was the way Men treated a woman they wished to please.

Over the years, she'd occasionally come across a man who sought her not for simple pleasures, but more meaningful ones. The occasional widower seeking to reclaim some semblance of the companionship he lost, or a man of middle age whose awkwardness with women robbed him of opportunities his too modest wealth and connections could not ensure. These men doted on Eoforhild, showering her with gifts and affectionate embraces. Had payment not been involved, she fancied they might have truly been courting her, but such was not the case. There was no public acknowledgment of what passed between them behind the brothel's walls.

Yet they were the only ones who ever gave her the feeling of being loved, however fleeting and impermanent it was. The other men who came calling fucked her like a whore; these few made love with her as though she were their lover, something she had never been to anyone.

Eoforhild could read a man quite well, and Aandar was not far enough from being one that she could not sense the same sort of affection from him. What worried her was that those men knew she did not belong to them; payment was still expected, and they paid handsomely for the long hours spent in her company. She was not their wife or solitary companion; they knew she had other customers. It was illusion only, and no one thought it otherwise.

Aandar was not merely pretending that she was his lover, she knew. Perhaps in his own mind, she was already his and his alone. Eoforhild had no idea how to dissuade him from such beliefs.

If she were not intrigued by him, it might be easier. Were he not as tormented as she by what was done beneath the wizard's boot, she might have been able to turn away from him. But he suffered there as well, and she could not forget that.

Glancing over again, she saw him sitting cross-legged on the ground with his elbows on his knees, looking at her with a strange expression on his face. He seemed... nervous. Agitated. When she met his gaze, he swallowed hard.

He is waiting for me, she thought. And he has recovered. She stiffened with alarm, eyes widening. He would want to have his hands on her again, as he had the night before. He would press his hard body against hers. Would he attempt seduction, or simply rape her? It was frightening to imagine, terrifying to think about.

Eoforhild closed her eyes. To her deep shame, she did not shiver nearly as much as she thought she should.

The need for relief had plagued Aandar all day. Now that night had fallen and the time to lie with Thaktor had come, he feared what he might do. When had he ever resisted such urges before? Never that he could recall. There was always another who assuaged the need for him. It was another way of establishing his position in the barracks, threatening or coercing a lesser Uruk into jerking his cock.

Would it be as bad as rape to ask such a thing of Thaktor? He didn't know, and worried his lip with indecision.

But she'd said she'd answer his questions.

"Thak-... Eoforhild," he ventured in a low voice.

"Yes, Aandar?" she replied tightly.

"Don't know what do," he muttered. "Don't know."

Her brow furrowed with uncertainty. She'd expected... well, she wasn't sure what she'd expected. "Are you... troubled?"

Aandar looked at her imploringly, his forehead bunched. "Want fuck," he whispered, then shook his head. "Can't take fuck. Don't know what do."

Eoforhild swallowed with difficulty. By his expression and slight trembling, Aandar looked to be suffering. She took a moment to privately curse the wizard for breeding his servants so, not only for the Uruk's pain but for what it might mean for her. It was infuriating to be so helplessly in the wizard's power even beyond his walls.

Forcing herself to speak, she replied shakily, "You could... use your hand."

He blinked with surprise. "Aandar hand?"

His look of incredulity almost made her laugh. "Naturally," she said. "Haven't you... surely you've..."

Aandar shook his head. "Uruk hand fuck Aandar. Always." Grimacing, he shrugged with embarrassment. "Aandar... some time... hand fuck Uruk."

Her mouth opened slightly and she stared at him blankly. Masking her discomfort, she took a deep breath and said, "It is... the same. If you seek... relief... please..." She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "Use your hand."

Aandar nodded, then pulled the knot loose on his breeches.

"No!" Eoforhild cried in alarm. The Uruk looked up with a frown. "Please," she said as calmly as she could, "not... in front of me. I would rather not... watch."

Her dismissal was confusing and hurtful, but Aandar was in too much pain to worry about it right now. Shrugging it off, he rose and slumped off a short distance from the fire, just out of sight. As he sat amongst the underbrush, he found that a slight break through the foliage gave him a fair view of his Thaktor.

Furrowing his brow, Aandar loosened the laces enough to release his cock, a great relief after so long in confinement. For a moment, all he could do was stare at it, not quite sure how to approach this task. Sighing, he half-heartedly gave an experimental tug. Not... quite... comfortable. Growling to himself, he recalled there was always a good deal of spit involved. He huffed with impatience and filled his palm with sputum.

The first few strokes were all it took to convince him that managing it himself was far better than letting his pleasure be dictated by another.

At the campfire, Eoforhild tried not to listen. The Uruk was not so far distant that she could not hear every grunt and moan he made.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Were he any other of his kind, she was certain she would be repulsed. Why in Eru's name was she not? Why did the sounds of his enjoyment stir even a small amount of longing within her? Even worse were the visions invading her mind.

He is an Orc, she admonished herself, and I am grateful that he agreed to do this. It could be worse. It could be much worse. Please stop thinking about it. Stop imagining what he is doing. Stop thinking about it!

She shook her head fiercely and forced herself to stare into the fire. Not him. Not with him.

Covering her ears, she tried to think of anything else, anything but what he was doing. She forced herself to remember the breeding room, the journey to Isengard, any number of abuses she'd suffered at the hands of the Pitmaster and his lackeys, anything. But overwhelming her desperate attempt to hate him and be disgusted by him, was his voice, pleading with her to understand. Begging her forgiveness, perhaps, though he lacked the words to truly ask it. Distressed by his own realization. Don't tell Uruk what Eoforhild tell. Aandar don't know. Aandar do and... and don't know wrong

She could not hate him, badly as she wanted to.

Unaware of Eoforhild's worries, Aandar peered hungrily through the small hole in the foliage at her, his eyes roaming her form as he masturbated. She was wondrously exotic, her pale skin such a contrast against his own. He wished she'd remove the tunic and let him gaze upon her body again, as he'd done in the breeding room. If it had not been sheer necessity to cover her treasures before taking her out into the open among all the other Orcs, he might have left her naked, so beautiful was she. But he'd feared losing her to another in the chaos. While it was partly his duty to see her to safety in recompense for her deed, there was a strong need to keep her for himself as well.

Imagining her spread upon the table before him only excited him for a brief moment before the true ugliness of that place and what he was meant to do crashed down on him. Shoving the thought aside, he tried to imagine her in another way before his erection flagged from revulsion.

It was no better. All Aandar knew was rape. He could see her in his mind's eye, replacing any number of females he had taken down. He saw Thaktor beneath him, screaming and fighting against him, weeping and begging him to stop.

His cock softened as he grew nauseous. Hanging his head, he roughly rubbed his face with his free hand. He could not imagine a scenario where Thaktor accepted him. He could not even construct a fantasy of her silently enduring his touch, for he had no point of reference.

Drawing a deep breath, he stared down at his limp cock and frowned. Was he still broken, he wondered? Nothing short of coming had ever relieved his cock of stiffness before. He tugged a few times, but there was no life in it, not while his mind was filled with a weeping Thaktor.

He feared its return, though. If he was not assuaged now, he might not have control during the night. Yet even dredging up the fading memories of what his master put in his mind, or the more vivid recollections of the horrors he had inflicted, no longer enticed him.

Resting his head against the tree behind him, Aandar closed his eyes and went to the pool. In that vision, Thaktor was always unclothed. Though he couldn't see much of her, and her lovely scars were gone, at least she was naked.

The tranquility of the vision calmed yet roused him. He did not need to prod the dreamlike scene one way or another, for just the sight of her there, as he had seen her the last time he slept, was enough to harden him considerably.

He realized he wanted her just that way: open to him, accepting of him, curious about him, aroused by him. The notion that she might enjoy fucking as much as he did was ludicrous, but he held on to it and fisted his cock swiftly so not to lose this chance before good sense returned.

When Aandar returned to the fire, Eoforhild was even less able to look at him than before. His panting breaths as he calmed from what sounded to her like a vigorous and satisfying endeavor did not lessen the discomfort she'd been feeling while he tended to his need.

He sat heavily beside her and let out a great huff. "Hand fuck good," he commented breathlessly.

Sweet Valar, does he want to make a conversation of it now? she worried. Swallowing, she replied noncommittally, "I am sure it is."

"Why not watch?"

Eoforhild's eyes nearly bulged with shock and she slowly turned her head to look at Aandar. "I... beg your pardon?" she breathed, barely able to speak.

The Uruk tilted his head, yet his eyes held more disappointment and hurt than curiosity. "Aandar... ugly? Not watch?"

It took her another moment, and a deep shuddering breath, to reply. "It is... private."

His brow furrowed with incomprehension. "What 'private'?"

Looking away to make it a bit easier on herself, Eoforhild said awkwardly, "What is... private... is done alone. With no one else. No one... watching."

Aandar jerked his head back in startlement and gave her a most confused look. "No... private. Uruk there, all time. See all. Piss, shit, eat, sleep, fuck, rape... All time, Uruk there. Many Uruk. All time. No private."

She could not imagine it. Not even in the cell she shared with two women. Perhaps they were not friendly with one another, any more than was necessary to give an embrace for comfort or a shoulder for weeping. Such gestures lacked warmth as their ability to give was bled dry. But they never threatened one another in any way. They never watched each other use the bucket in one corner.

"You had... no moment to yourself?" she asked incredulously. He shook his head. "No place of... of quiet and... to be by yourself? You could not even relieve yourself without being... watched?"

Frowning, he looked away. He didn't understand why she would be so shocked. It made him uncomfortable, the way she was looking at him, as though he should be ashamed.

Seeing his dismay, Eoforhild schooled her voice to a more calm timbre. "That is not the way Men behave," she said quietly. "We respect one another's privacy and person. As you have done for me, Aandar," she added, for he seemed to be growing defensive. Her acknowledgement calmed him somewhat. "Forgive me. You must weary of being compared with Men."

He shrugged a little, but said nothing, nor did he look at her.

"I am sorry, Aandar," she whispered, bowing her head.

"Aandar not Men," he growled. "Aandar Uruk. Don't want like Men. Want like Uruk. Aandar Uruk. All time, Uruk. No Men."

She nodded. "I understand."

"Uruk... gone," he murmured. Eoforhild looked up. He was staring into the fire. "All gone now. No more. Only Aandar. All Uruk gone."

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't," he said absently, then pressed his hand to his chest. "Feel. All gone. Must be. Master voice gone. Uruk not protect." His face crumpled. "Master call, Aandar not come. Master die, Uruk die. For Aandar not come."

Though she felt his remorse unjustified and certainly unwarranted, Eoforhild was moved. "Aandar," she said gently, "you were not at fault. Others... may have survived. You... we cannot know for certain."

"Don't want know," he growled. "Uruk see Eoforhild, take Eoforhild." He raised his fierce eyes to hers. "Eoforhild call, Aandar come. Aandar protect. Promise."

She found it difficult to tear her eyes from his, he held her gaze so firmly. "I am... grateful... for your protection," she said carefully. "I hope I am kinder to you than your master was. More worthy of your protection, at least."

He frowned and tilted his head. "Eoforhild worth protect. Eoforhild own Aandar now. Worth protect."

Startled, she shook her head. "What did you say?"

"Say, worth protect," he repeated.

"No, the other," she insisted. "Did you say I... own you?"

"Akh," he nodded, as though it were obvious. At her incredulous expression, he shook his head sharply. "Nar, not own here," he clarified, tapping his temple with a clawed finger. "Aandar free." He drew a deep breath and let it out with a slight smile. "Own Aandar." He gestured to indicate his entire body.

Eoforhild blinked. "I do not understand," she said.

Sighing with frustration, Aandar said, "Master own Aandar. Say go, Aandar go. Say fight, Aandar fight. Say fuck..." He went silent and looked away, a strange expression on his face.

"What is wrong?" she asked warily.

He stared unblinking into the fire, as though he were remembering something terribly uncomfortable. His face twitched a few times. "Aandar... wake. Master come, see. Touch." He gripped his own chin and turned his head from one side to the other, as though he were demonstrating how a horse breeder might inspect his stock. "Touch." He pried his mouth open and ran his fingers over his teeth. "Touch," he whispered, and his hand descended to his lap, cupping his privates. A grimace of disgust settled on his face. His lower lip quivered slightly. "Hand fuck Aandar. Cold hand. See... how much make. For fuck. Don't look. Pitmaster... whip... don't look. Bad. Don't look master." He drew his legs up and hugged them, pressing his forehead to his knees.

Eoforhild raised a trembling hand to her mouth. "Very cold hands," she breathed, nodding. Aandar raised his head and looked at her.

"Master touch Eoforhild?"

Wincing, she nodded again. She'd put it out of her mind, buried it deeply. She never looked at the brand on her arm for fear that the memory would return. Hearing him speak of the wizard's abuse brought it back.

"When we came to Isengard," she said with a shaking voice, "we were brought to the breeding room. We were put on the tables. Oh, we fought so hard," she whispered, grimly amused by her own foolishness back then. "The wizard... inspected us. He wanted to know if we were pregnant." Her voice hitched on a sob, and she glanced at Aandar. He likely didn't know what the word meant, for his brow furrowed. "If any of us already bore a whelp. His fingers... were so cold." She had to cover her mouth and hold her stomach. She unconsciously clamped her legs together. "I do not know what he did... to detect... But it felt like... a tingling... inside... but not pleasant. Not pleasant."

"Eoforhild... no whelp?" he asked cautiously.

She swiftly shook her head. "When he was... satisifed with me, he moved on. The Pitmaster branded my arm." She moved her arm slightly so he could see the numbers scarred into her flesh. "There was... one among us... who... did not pass." She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she once again heard the woman's screams. "He gave her to the Pitmaster and his... his lackeys," she sobbed. "They... all of them... raped her, then... tore her to pieces. And he just kept on going down the line."

"Hate master," Aandar murmured. "Don't hate any. Only master. Master don't pay for do. Never pay."

"He will never pay enough, no matter how dead he is made," Eoforhild agreed fiercely. Looking him in the eyes, she said firmly, "I do not own you, Aandar. No one does but you."

He frowned at the strangeness of such a notion, and didn't quite know what to think.

They sat in brooding silence for several minutes. Finally, Aandar crawled to the patch of ground he'd prepared and lay down, pillowing his head on his arm. He just stared at the fire, trying not to remember how helpless he'd felt, submitting to his master when he'd only been aware for a few hours and still did not understand what was happening or what his purpose was. It seemed that Thaktor shared a similarly repellent experience, and he wished to be close to her.

Before he could beckon her near, she rose from her place by the fire and slowly walked over. Without a word, she knelt beside him. Her face, so beautiful, hovered over his.

"Promise me," she whispered pleadingly.

Aandar nodded. "No fuck. Promise."

Taking a shuddering breath, Eoforhild slowly lay in front of him, her back just touching his chest. She rested her head on her arm as he was doing and shielded her breasts with the other.

"Touch?" he murmured.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. It was several moments of debate and worry before she nodded. She barely breathed as his arm encircled her waist.

"No fear," Aandar whispered in her ear. "Aandar not hurt Eoforhild."

She let her breath out slowly, and by degrees, her tension eased. She did not want to admit, not even to herself, how much she needed to just be held, even if the only one to hold her was an Uruk.