Splint

Chapter Seven: Lost and Found


A long, dreadful groan woke Cadoc from his slumber. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turned his head slowly towards Rukhash's pallet. Sitting up, with her knees to her chest, the orcess clutched her head as if she were afraid the contents would leak out. The Ranger frowned in sympathy. He remembered many a morning when he felt very much as wretched as Rukhash looked at the moment.

"Rukhash..."

"Shaddup," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. It was hard to tell with her complexion, but Cadoc thought she looked a little green.

"Not feeling so well?" he observed, delicately lowering his voice to a whisper.

Rukhash groaned again, a low sound that was almost a growl. Without a word she leaned forward onto her feet, hovered in a crouch for several long, unsteady seconds, like she might pitch over, and slowly straitened. She practically dragged herself to the far end of the cave. Cadoc sat helplessly as she rummaged through the baskets there, grumbling in orcish. After several minutes of searching she pulled a clay pot from the back of the pile and pulled off the lid.

Her whole face contorted angrily. "Fuck all," she spat. Scowling, she emptied the contents, a mass of moldy black lumps and grey dust, onto the stone floor. "It ain't worth shit now."

"What?" Cadoc blinked, confused.

"It's fer my head," Rukhash said as she rubbed slow circles on her temple. "But it's gone off. Must've gotten water innit somehow." Rukhash glared at the pot as if it had conspired to this end. "Ain't nothin' for it 'cept to get some more. A little air'll probably help me anyways."

Cadoc glanced at the gradually lightening sky. "Are you in the best condition to go out right now?"

"Skai," Rukhash rumbled as she pulled on her boots in a rough, careless manner. "I been worse off'n this before. Ain't goin' far, but better skip the lessons this mornin'. That sit alright wit' you?"

"I agree," Cadoc said as he watched her bundle up and grab her large satchel. "That would be for the best."

"You had better take a little water with you," he added. "It may help you feel better."

Rukhash glowered at him. "I fuckin' know what to do!" she snapped. "I ain't a fuckin' green arsehole!"

Nodding mutely, Cadoc decided that it was better not to trifle with an orc that had a hangover. With unnecessary violence, Rukhash stuffed a water skin and some hard bread into her pack and stomped wordlessly out into the cold morning.

After he had risen and dressed, Cadoc noticed that she had left her sword carelessly propped next to her bed.


Her decent from the cave had been miserable, but she felt a little better after emptying the contents of her stomach twice over. Now, the orcess drank greedily from the water skin, glad that Cadoc had reminded her to bring it. She felt a little guilty for snapping at him. After all, it wasn't his fault she had gone and gotten herself drunk.

Rukhash forgot how easy it was to forget your swallows when distracted by conversation. She had always been descent at holding her liquor, so she managed not to embarrass herself the night before, but she felt absolutely haggard now. Her Anbagûrz was the type to finish off several jugs of draught in one go and feel all the better for it the next day, but Rukhash didn't have his tolerance, or his great size. She always felt lousy afterward, no matter how much or how little she drank.

A light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, Though she did find a slippery patch from time to time, it didn't deter her progression to any great extent. She made a sharp turn at the base of the cliff that angled up to her cave, passed the small stream that gurgled along the nearby ridge and headed towards the small grove of willows that she collected bark from; the better part of a morning's walk from her cave. It was a little overdone, heading out to immediately replenish her supplies, but Rukhash found the crisp air was helping her headache. Even now it had dulled to a mild throbbing at her temples.

By the time her destination was near, the sun had risen nearly even with the treetops and the snow was beginning to melt in the weak winter sun. Rukhash stopped to pull a hunk of tack from her satchel and sat on a nearby rock, chewing it slowly and alternating bites of bread and sips of water in hopes of settling her stomach.

Rukhash closed her eyes against the morning light, feeling a little more sensitive than usual towards it. After a time, she noticed that the forest seemed unnaturally quiet. Frowning, the orcess strained her ears against the silence. For a long moment she listened, unsure of what she was listening for. Slowly, startlingly, she realized she heard voices. They seemed far off, but Rukhash leapt to her feet anyway and crouched behind the rock that she was sitting on moments prior, her breakfast forgotten crumbs on the granite.

Smell was an orc's strongest sense, and most of their world, what brought them comfort and excitement and fear, lived in scent. Whether the result of the colder temperature or the fact that she was upwind of the source, Rukhash couldn't smell a thing. Scowling to herself, she focused her ears in the direction she had heard the quiet sounds and listened hard. There it was! Two, different intonations speaking back and forth. It was only an indistinct murmur, but she was sure that it was a conversation she was hearing, and it seemed to come from the little willow grove she was heading towards.

Rukhash worried her lip. What were Men doing in the middle of the wilderness this late in the season? Even worse, what if it wasn't Men she was hearing? Rukhash had never seen an elf in her life, but she didn't plan on starting now. The golug hai were known for their ruthlessness towards orcs, and Rukhash didn't fancy being part of some exotic elf home cooking.

Of course, it could just as easily be others of her race. The weather was cold enough to erase her scent markings, and since she began tending Cadoc they were mostly neglected anyway. Another orc would never suspect that she was living here. She didn't know what finding others of her ilk would mean for the Ranger back in her cave, but she wasn't prepared to throw away an opportunity to be among her people. Rukhash cursed her unhelpful nose. Taking a steadying breath, she decided it was worth the risk to see what was up ahead.

Creeping slowly through the naked undergrowth, Rukhash determined that the voices were definitely coming from the willows. The orcess was well versed with this area in particular, having been here often to harvest her remedies. Making a wide arc, she circled around the grove to a rocky elevation that overlooked it, thankful that the snowfall had moistened the thick layer of vegetation and made stealthiness an easier goal.

Moving on all fours, she approached a fallen oak at the apex of the incline and peered cautiously over it. A small part of her spirits drooped at the sight below her. She had truly hoped for other orcs.

Two, rough looking men - and Rukhash was grateful they were not accursed elves - sat cross legged across from one another. They had a number of packs between them, and the shining contents were strewn carelessly on the forest floor. There was fine cloth and colorful beads and glinting silver shimmering in the morning sun. The men were rummaging through it all, picking up this and that and examining each item before stacking them in one of two neat piles behind them. Currently, they were arguing over a long strand of pearls that Rukhash could have easily wrapped double around her waist.

"Oi, ya old git," the younger of the two said, and Rukhash marveled at how orcish he sounded, "I done most've the carryin' and strong handin' and so forth. Think I should get a little more fer that." He was as broad as he was tall and dressed in layers of faded wool and old leather. He had a swarthier complexion than his comrade and a slanted cast to his features that Rukhash thought looked suspiciously similar to her own. She wondered if, under his mess of dark whiskers, he might have fangs. He looked a little more mannish than the goblin men that often visited Isengard, but Rukhash was nearly certain there was some orc in his heritage.

"Don't be a idjit," the other replied. This man was fairer, but covered in a dusty layer of grime, so he looked nearly as dark as his younger companion. His hair was a dirty mess of greying blonde frizz that was pulled roughly into a tail at the nape of his neck. "I found the lot of 'em and planned it all. You'd be back at that old tavern with yer thumb up yer arse if it weren't for me."

Each of the two were taking great swigs from their own, dark bottles and seemed all the more cantankerous for it. Rukhash wrinkled her nose as a great gust of cold wind blew their reek in her direction. Now that she was in a better position, she realized that both of the men stunk like drinking, and was a little surprised she had not scented them properly before. She blamed her mild headache and the strong smell of the pines that composed the majority of the mountain forest for masking the men's sour musk.

Satisfied with her discovery, Rukhash felt that it was time to go. Considering how inebriated the men below her were, she wouldn't have to worry about being sneaky. A Mûmakil could thunder through this forest and they probably wouldn't notice. As she turned to leave, she caught the sound of fast approaching hoofbeats and froze. The men below her jumped to their feet, suddenly alert, and Rukhash ducked back behind the rotting log, intent on waiting out this new turn of events. A large, black stallion trotted into the clearing bearing a tall man in a green ranger's cloak.

A ranger, Rukhash thought and bit the tip of her claw, like Cadoc.

The Ranger was not quite like Cadoc, though. He was at least a head taller, easily the tallest man Rukhash had ever seen. His dark, wavy hair was cropped short and untroubled by grey, his blue eyes sharper than new steel. The Ranger dismounted with unhurried confidence in front of the two bandits and drew his sword with a stony expression.

"You are both wanted for robbery and murder," the Ranger stated plainly to the bedraggled duo. "You will give yourselves up and come with me."

What a cocky little snit! Rukhash laughed to herself. Considering he was outnumbered, she would have expected the Man to use a bit more tact in apprehending his quarry. She wouldn't have quietly given up if she outnumbered a bloke two to one, even if he was monstrously huge. The men below agreed.

"Here to take us on your own, eh?" the swarthier Man said, raising his sword. He was full of drunken bravado, and Rukhash wondered if he would be so forward had his senses been a little less dulled. The Ranger he challenged was easily over two feet taller and just as broad. Better to hang back and force the larger man to attack them both. The older, obviously wiser, of the bandits stepped back a few paces and drew a long, thin knife. Without preamble the young ruffian charged forward with an almost primal yell.

The tall Ranger sliced up in a tight arc and neatly severed the younger man's head. The bandit's body slumped to the ground unceremoniously. It was over so fast, Rukhash would have missed it if she blinked.

"Or," the tall man said with a hint of exasperation and all the certainty in the world, "we could do this the hard way."

The older bandit lurched forward slightly. Then, obviously thinking better of it, he turned tail and tried to make an escape the only way he could - up the incline and strait for Rukhash's hiding spot.

Maybe it was her headache, or the fact that she had spent the past several weeks among another, more amiable Ranger, but as the man approached the large trunk that hid her Rukhash reacted without thinking. She stood and plowed the man square in the face with her balled fist, knocking him back several feet and down the steep incline, bursting his nose in a little explosion of blood. The old bandit, who was most likely dead considering the force Rukhash put into the blow, fell in a twisted heap at the Ranger's feet. He showed his original quarry no care as he stood staring at Rukhash in disbelief. The orcess stared back, frozen in mute horror.

That, she thought dazedly, is easily the stupidest fucking thing I ever done.

Turning on her heel, Rukhash planned to retreat the way that she came, but the Ranger had already rounded the trees at the base of the slope and cut her off. Rukhash looked back at the fallen log and forward again at the man blocking her path, her jaw hanging open. He moved so quickly, she was sure there must have been two of him.

Rukhash's hand went to her hip and she inwardly cursed. Her sword was left back at her cave, resting comfortably against the wall. The orcess decided a more submissive gesture was called for, and raised her hands into the air.

"I ain't done nothing!" she cried plaintively.

The Ranger's face twisted up into a terrifying expression, and he came at her in great, long strides, his bloodied sword at the ready. As he approached, Rukhash realized this man was easily as tall as Anbagûrz, for she barely reached the swell of his chest. Rukhash stumbled back in a panic. Her heel caught on a root and the world spun dizzily as she tumbled onto her back. The press of cold, hard steel appeared suddenly at her throat.

"Orc," the ranger rumbled and Rukhash winced at his tone. "What are you doing here? Are you a part of this band?"

"No sir!" Rukhash replied. She may not have been a part of the Black Army, but Rukhash knew that if someone had a blade at your throat, you had better address them properly.

"Then what are you doing here?" The razor edge of the sword dipped a little closer and Rukhash pressed her head as far back into the rotting foliage as it would go.

"I's mindin' my own business," she insisted, falling back on the tiny voiced, diminutive way of speaking she had used when she was younger and looking at a beating in her near future. "I live here."

"You live here?" the ranger asked incredulously.

"Well," Rukhash clarified, her voice shaking, "not here, sir, so much as around here." She was very sure that, somewhere in the orcish afterlife, her mother was hanging her head in shame.

Some fighting Uruk hai I am, she though crossly as she trembled.

"Where are your fellows?" The Ranger's eyes narrowed and darted around briefly, as if he expected a troop of orcs to burst from the trees at any moment .

"My... what?"

"Your fellows!" the Ranger bellowed leaning over her menacingly.

Rukhash opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to decide if she was better off lying or telling the truth.

"Ain't got no fellows," she replied in a small voice, not sure if Cadoc counted as a "fellow." She was fairly certain the Ranger threatening her meant "fellow orcs." Her thoughts went to the gentler Man in her cave, who had managed to overcome his unease with her enough to form something like camaraderie between them. She wondered if Cadoc might return the favor of saving his life.

"Except there's one a your folk's with me," she added.

"One of my folk?" the tall man asked dubiously.

"He's a Ranger like you, sir," Rukhash clarified. "His name's Cadoc."

"Cadoc?" The blade at Rukhash's throat relaxed a few inches, but returned just as quickly. "What do you know of him? I have just been to his sister's home, and she grieves him even now."

"He ain't dead," Rukhash assured the man, relieved that this ranger knew her ranger. "He took a bad fall near two moon past and I patched him up. I could take you to him... He'll vouch for me! I ain't done no harm to no one."

The Ranger stepped back a few paces and Rukhash stumbled clumsily to her feet. They stood across from each other for a long time. Rukhash worried her lip while the man scrutinized her.

"If this is a falsehood," the Ranger warned her dangerously, "I will see your end is all the worse for it."

"I ain't bein' false," Rukhash insisted, feeling a little braver now that her aggressor was a safe distance away. She straitened her rumpled tunic and cloak and turned up her nose indignantly.

"Very well," the Ranger said. The man turned his head and whistled sharply through his teeth. The great, black stallion picked it's way through the dense thicket and came to stand at his side, a ridiculous, glossy, mountain of horse. The man took the reins in his large, gloved hands and stared at Rukhash expectantly.

"Take me to Cadoc, orc."


Cadoc was feeling mighty pleased with himself.

After Rukhash's hasty departure Cadoc felt that some cheering up was in order. She had been in such a terrible state when she left, and Cadoc thought to spare her the tedious act of preparing their meal and cleaning up the cave.

If there was one thing he learned from his failed marriage, it was that women appreciated little things, like having supper ready when they came home and hanging out the laundry once in a while. He hoped sparing Rukhash an extra chore would put her in better spirits. It also helped that years of roaming the wilds and unabashed bachelorhood had made Cadoc a fairly decent cook, which was something he could not say of his orc hostess. Rukhash seemed to prefer most of her meals raw and bloody or barely boiled and despite having all of the ingredients, never thought of putting a stew together. The most complicated concoction he ever saw her make was her healing salves and ointments. Cadoc had no intention of insulting her cooking, but he wouldn't mind one night of food he was more accustomed to.

Rukhash did more than dry vast quantities of meat. Her outings also included lengthy foraging for roots and herbs. Some Cadoc could not recognize, but he found wild parsnips and carrot, dried burdock roots, some tiny onions and puffball mushrooms. There was a good amount of fresh deer still to be butchered, and the colder air in the far corner of the cave ensured that it didn't spoil. Cadoc removed the choicer pieces, cutting them small and adding them into the large stewing pot with the other ingredients. He threw in a few rib bones to sweeten the broth, and thanked the Valar that Rukhash was in the habit of storing a few days worth of water at a time, since he had no idea where she drew it from.

Once he had supper going, Cadoc went about tidying up the cave. Rukhash left him little to do, but he found that the bedrolls could use some airing out, so he dragged them outside and unrolled them in the sun. The Ranger had not left the interior of the cave since Rukhash brought him here over a month past. Now he was able to look out over the heavily forested landscape as it sprawled to the horizon punctuated by the occasional craggy peak.

The cave was far up the side of the mountain, and there was a steep drop several feet from the entrance straghit into a tree lined gully. A narrow trail led down the side of the rocky slope to the softer earth below. From his perch Cadoc could see that the trees slanted down sharply for several hundred yards before evening out. It was a treacherous, but picturesque scene, and Cadoc stretched in the late morning sun, reveling in its warmth.

Cadoc rolled some good sized rocks onto the bedding to keep the sharp gusts of wind from blowing them away, and returned to his packs to find the small pinch of pipe-weed he knew was left.

He enjoyed a long smoke while he rested his leg from the morning's exertion. A mild feeling of concern swept over him at Rukhash's prolonged absence, but Cadoc felt secure that the orcess could take care of herself. He did bemoan the fact that she had left her sword behind, but considering how rarely she used it, Cadoc assumed that it would hardly be missed.

After shaking out the bedding and rolling them up, Cadoc returned them to their places and stirred supper. Another pinch of pipe weed, and he was outside again, sharpening his sword with long, even strokes. It was a moot point by now, but Cadoc found great comfort in the familiarity of the task.

The morning wore on. Soon it was mid afternoon with no sign of Rukhash and Cadoc felt himself growing anxious. He took to his laps around the cave, pausing occasionally to tend their supper. Deciding he needed another task to bide his time, Cadoc retrieved Rukhash's sword from its place at the wall. Her orcish blade had an edge of jagged teeth and sharpening it was a tricker, more time consuming task.

He honed Rukhash's blade to an edge that could split a hair and, feeling a hint of panic that she had not returned, was nearly ready to hazard a climb down the side of the mountain. Thankfully, he heard the telltale signs of Rukhash's return. There was a shuffling at the cave entrance and Cadoc straitened to greet his hostess.

Rukhash appeared at the threshold, her expression grave. Cadoc caught the bright flash of steel against behind her and immediately tensed. The tall figure that appeared behind her shocked Cadoc into speechlessness.

The last person Cadoc expected to see at the threshold of Rukhash's cave was the tall ranger now looming menacingly over his hostess.

"Hedon!" Cadoc exclaimed, excited to see his old friend, despite a nagging concern for the sword at Rukhash's back.

"Cadoc," the man said, stoic, but obviously relieved. He did not move the blade from its threatening position. "I'm glad to see you are well."

Rukhash stood stiffly through their exchange and felt all her hopes die out.