Chapter 8: Giving
After the raid, Smador came around a few nights for food and conversation, but he seemed restless. Then quite suddenly, he disappeared for weeks. Madavi braved the darkness for hours every night, huddled at the base of the great tree and anxiously searched the shadows for her friend, but he did not come.
Her worries conjured a number of terrible fates that might have befallen him, for the villagers who'd survived the raid were vengeful. There was talk of 'scouring the forest' and eliminating any lingering threat of Orcs that might be found. By day she listened to every speck of news that reached the farmstead, and by night she stood vigil in the field.
Smador's unexpected, but desperately looked for, return brought such joy to Madavi that she fairly collapsed upon him, gripping him fiercely and weeping with relief. It seemed so easy to embrace him now, after the first time she'd been enclosed in his gangly arms. So easy...
"I've been so anxious!" Madavi confessed. He seemed the worse for his absence, with new marks upon his face and bare limbs. He consumed the slice of deer haunch she brought him as though he hadn't eaten since he was last at her side. While he ate, she covered her mouth with her hands to keep from peppering him with questions. It seemed she would never stop smiling just from the sight of him.
Licking the juices from his fingers, Smador didn't speak for several moments. He simply stared at nothing. His reticence was worrisome, particularly after so long a time away. There was only the sound of the wind, picking up at night now that snow threatened. Bundled warmly in a thick overcoat, she'd brought a blanket for her friend. He was wrapped up in it now. At a loss, she tried to fill the silence.
"I sought to warn you," she ventured. "There was talk after the raid. The folk in that village... they demanded assurance of their safety. Rangers were searching the wood. I thought... I feared..."
"Yer ol' Smador knows when Men's comin'," he said quietly. "He knows where tuh hide."
"Why were you gone so long?" she asked anxiously. "Did something happen? Tell me, please."
"Just... lookin' fer Orcs is all," he muttered. "Fer the winter months. A hole tuh... hide in. Lookin' fer... somethin'."
"Did you find it?" she whispered, dreading his answer.
"Couple... camps," he said with difficulty. He grunted a humorless laugh. "I never cared before, if I didn't know'em. But these years've been hard, Madavi. Real hard. Gettin' so's I'll... I'll take any Orc I find. Any of'em. But they just ain't around."
"Were the camps you found... abandoned?"
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "Found one'at'd been left behind when they run off. Didn't leave much. Figgered... maybe the next one. 'Cause... if they run off, maybe... maybe I'd catch'em up. Next one I found, though..." He paused, and his brow furrowed. "Weren't so lucky. It were the little'uns what... got tuh me." He closed his eyes. "Didn't wanna see yuh, I was so mad." He looked apologetically at Madavi. "Thought I might... hurt yuh."
"Smador," she breathed, startled by his confession. She could think of nothing to say. Her hand went to her heart and she stared at him in confusion.
"I wouldn't," he hastened to reassure her. "You's my Madavi. Just weren't sure of it... when I was lookin' at'em all." Awkwardly leaning close, he lightly pressed his cheek to hers. "Sure of it now, though."
"I am so sorry about the little ones," she said sincerely. "No child deserves..." Her throat closed, and tears welled in her eyes.
"Whatchou sorry fer?" he asked, drawing back to look at her curiously. "You didn't do nothin'."
"I can't help...," she began, then faltered. Her chin quivering with anguish and her hands balling into impotent fists, she lamented, "I don't understand this place, these people. How could they? Children! It should not matter who their parents were."
"'At's why I ain't mad at yuh," Smador murmured. "Couldn't never be mad at my Madavi." His eyes closed and a half smile smoothed his brow. "You's a good'un."
"Please don't look anymore," she pleaded, taking his hand. "I worried for you so, and your search only brought you pain. Stay here, even if you must hide. I do not want to lose such a good friend as you, Smador." The tears that had threatened were sliding down her cheeks.
"Nar, don't go cryin'," he soothed, pulling her close. She pressed her leaking eyes into his neck and fought to steady herself. "I won't go lookin' no more. But... after 'at raid... I guess I dunno why yuh... don't hate me."
Shocked, Madavi shook her head. "Why ever would I hate you?"
He bowed his head and turned away. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he sighed, "Bet 'at family'uh yers, in 'at big house... Tellin' yuh all'uh time 'bout... rotten, filthy... Orcs..."
"No," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "No. They say nothing of Orcs." She could not behold his growing despair and loneliness, and tell him that Himdol and Inglenn refrained from speaking of Orcs only so not to frighten their children. Especially now, after Seri's experience. The girl didn't show Madavi and Pratima any further disrespect, but neither did she embrace them as friends. The last few weeks, however, had instilled a change of a different sort in her, for she often awoke in terror during the night.
"And you are not rotten or filthy," she went on. "You are my friend. You have been my friend. You will always – always – have a place with me. Wherever I am, and whomever I serve."
He stared at her for a long moment, his brow twitching uncertainly. "Oughta... do summat fer yuh," he mumbled.
Again, Madavi shook her head, a small smile curving her mouth. "You needn't. Only stay, and be safe. It would break my heart if anything were to happen to you."
Smador chuckled a little. "Don' wanna do that. Gimme them hands. I don't got much, but..." He gestured for her to come closer, and she smiled more broadly as she scooted over. Her hand between his relaxed and she closed her eyes.
"I confess... I have missed this," she murmured.
"Me too," he purred, his fingers gently rubbing. Unexpectedly, he leaned close and nuzzled her ear. Though surprising, Madavi only startled a little. Their eyes met – hers bewildered, his questioning. Perhaps he saw what he'd hoped to see, for he smiled slightly, and went back to her hand.
"He's back, isn't he?"
Madavi nearly dropped the dish she was scrubbing. Turning quickly, she looked sharply at Pratima. The older girl smiled.
"I haven't seen a smile on your face for weeks," she explained. "I'm glad for you."
Calming her swiftly beating heart, Madavi continued the washing up. "Yes. So am I."
"I helped Inglenn sort the clothing from storage," Pratima continued. "There are several things too worn for keeping. If you'd like to have a look before I give them over to the other workers..."
A smile spread across Madavi's face. "Thank you."
"We must look out for him," Pratima reasoned, neatly stacking the plates next to the basin. "We can't let something bad happen to him."
Madavi paused to stare at her friend. "You truly believe so?"
"Of course," Pratima nodded. Then she paused to look at her friend. "He's not like those raiders, and he's not a soldier. You said he mucked the tunnels, lowest of the low. The Orcs who were lowest were treated the worst, remember?"
Surprised by her friend's serious expression, Madavi could only nod silently.
"So you look after him," Pratima continued carefully lest someone overhear. "Like you did back... home. You and I know what... his kind are about. If he isn't taken care of, he could be like them. If that happens... nothing you say will save him from these people."
"It isn't right," Madavi whispered fiercely, "and it isn't fair."
A slight smile curved Pratima's mouth. "So nothing has changed." Gathering her friend in her arms, the older girl held her close and whispered, "I'll wrap those clothes for you."
As the first flakes began to drift from the overcast skies, the Mûlrim who worked the fields moved on to other homesteads to manage the winter stores and livestock. Several were conscripted to guard granaries against any prowling Orcs or desperate Men seeking plunder. Madavi and Pratima, being housekeepers, remained in the main house and carried on their duties as they had the previous winter, seeing to the cleaning and cooking for the family. Each night, Madavi braved the encroaching darkness of shorter and shorter days and the bitter wind to deliver sustenance to her friend.
A month passed uneventfully but for the gradual approach of Smador. It began with an embrace upon their greeting. They reached out to touch arms or shoulders as they laughed together over the silly pranks Torthor pulled on Pratima, and her unruffled responses. Madavi found she enjoyed the feel of his skin, so warm and alive.
One particularly frigid night, they huddled together beneath a blanket in the lee of the great tree, blowing on their hands and whispering secrets. He confessed that he sometimes wondered what became of his mother, and was a bit troubled by thoughts that she might be long gone.
"Don't remember'er much," he murmured, leaning close. His body was warm in spite of the weather, and Madavi unabashedly cleaved close. "Not no more. Once I got bunged outta the pits... never got tuh go back."
"You miss her," Madavi observed. "I've no idea what it... feels like, to have a mother." Shrugging a little, she amended, "I suppose I know what it looks like. Inglenn cares so for her children. I've no doubt she would move the heavens and the earth for their safety and contentment. Perhaps that is what it is to be a mother."
"Yeah, I miss'er," Smador nodded. "I were just a lil' sprog when she got called. The kind nobody notices, so I got tuh stay with'er longer'n most. You been... kinda like a mum tuh me. Sorta. Not... all the way, though."
"Oh?" she asked, looking up at him. His brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be pondering his thoughts more than usual. "Is that what you want? A mother?"
He slowly turned to meet her eyes. Smiling, he shook his head. "Nar. 'At ain't what a want. Not from you."
"Good," she sighed, snuggling closer. "I don't think of you that way, either."
"Whatcha think'uh me?" he murmured, his lips brushing her temple as he spoke. "Whatcha want from me?"
"This," she replied. "To know you are safe. To see you every night. To share stories, things we've done or seen. You are such a beloved friend to me, Smador. And of course, you are a wonder with my hands," she added with a giggle.
"'At's 'cause I likes yuh," he smiled. "The things yer doin' fer me... seems like... yuh like me too." Quite suddenly, she thought she heard a serious note in his voice, and looked up at his face again. "Yer stealin', probly lyin'... 'At were shit yuh told me not tuh do. 'Cause... yuh said it weren't right. I done it anyways; didn't have no choice, but... I guess I kinda knew you was lookin' out fer me when yuh told me it were wrong."
"I was," Madavi insisted. "I am."
"Yeah," he nodded, smiling fondly. "Betcha knew yer ol' Smador were still up tuh no good in them tunnels, but yuh... didn't call'im on it, did yuh?"
"No," she replied firmly. "I understand why you felt you must. I understand why you must, now, do similar things." Caressing his cheek, she whispered, "You are my friend."
"And you's mine."
Then he did something that quite stole her breath. Slowly as he did it, uncertain of her reception as he seemed, Madavi immediately sensed the gravity of the gesture. Curling around her, his breath held, he pressed his teeth to her chin so gently, she felt her heart's beat quicken and her cheeks flush.
"Better git," he breathed, his lips brushing her skin like a whisper. "'Fore yer missed."
Confusion reigned as Madavi made her way through the shadow-laden field. She could not still her heart, or calm her breaths. Ever after, she had no memory of the journey up the back stairs to the room she shared with Pratima.
"Are you all right?" her friend asked as Madavi trembled beside her in their bed. For a long moment, she couldn't reply. She felt Pratima roll over to face her. "Madavi? What happened? Was he there? He didn't run off again, did he?"
"No," Madavi finally answered. But she found she could say nothing else. Whatever he'd done, it seemed to be something terribly special and private, meant just for her. Very like a kiss. Though she was frozen with shock, she'd felt a compelling desire to draw him closer, as though he had kissed her. But now that Pratima had spoken of his frequent absences, she wished she'd held him to her longer. As if he'd bestowed his favor in farewell, not in welcome.
The following night, Madavi hastened to the meeting place as soon as the household quieted. She'd been distracted with worry all day long, enough so that Inglenn dismissed her for the afternoon to have a lie down, thinking her unwell. Pratima tried to reassure her that she misspoke, that surely the Orc wouldn't run away at this time of year. Madavi's caring would surely keep him round. Food must be terribly scarce in the winter.
Clinging to hope, she ducked into the shadow of the tree, for the moon was full and the sky clear. The snow glittered like diamonds upon the fields. Closing her eyes, she held tightly to the bundle for Smador, leaned against the trunk, and waited.
"Didn't think yuh'd come back," the Orc's voice whispered suddenly, startling her. Madavi's breath, long held, escaped in a whoosh.
"Of course I did!" she replied, searching the shadows for him. Climbing down from the naked branches where he'd waited, cleaved motionless to a stout branch like a squirrel, he grinned sheepishly. "I thought... perhaps... you would not return."
"Why?" he frowned.
Shaking her head, she smiled. "It's not important. I brought extra. I was... I did not have much at supper."
Smador seemed hesitant, his brow furrowing. His voice was low when he said, "Wanna show yuh somethin'."
"Show me what?"
He swallowed hard. "Just... where I bin... spendin' my time. Got a good place. Real close."
"I would love to see your place," she said warmly. "We shall have a meal together there, as we always did."
"Yeah," he smiled. Then his smile faded. "Ain't gonna hurt yuh."
Startled, Madavi frowned. "Why would I think you would hurt me?"
"I knows what yer ol' matron used tuh tell yuh," he said, bowing his head. "Don't folluh them Orcs down their holes, she said."
"Smador," she said gently, raising his chin. "I am not following some... mischievous scamp of an Orc down a hole. I am following my friend to his home."
"All right then," he said, nodding.
Though it was dark beneath the trees that grew beyond the hedgerows, Madavi had no trouble following her friend as he trotted confidently on all fours. He frequently stopped and looked back to make sure she was following, or paused to cock his ear at some sound. Before long, he'd led her so far from the forest's edge that she couldn't see the snowy field anymore.
"It's just here," he called softly, then all but disappeared down a scrub brush-covered hole at the foot of a steep hill. Blinking, Madavi dropped to her knees and peered inside.
It was a hollow he'd likely dug himself, with room enough for him to stretch out. There were the blankets she'd given him, neatly layered in a sort of sleeping pallet. Some crude weapons – handmade spears, mostly – were lined up at one end. A handful of large stones, polished from countless years in a riverbed, were stacked in a careful arrangement. Upon the topmost stone Madavi saw the glittering shine of coins.
"There's room, if... if yuh wanna come in," Smador said nervously. He squatted on the blankets, staring at his hands as they worked to nervously light a small oil lamp.
"Forgive me," Madavi said, crawling into the hollow. "I suppose I didn't quite know what to expect." Laying her bundle on the ground near the entrance, she sat beside him and looked about. "It isn't so cold in here as I thought it might be."
"Nar, not too bad," he said. "You can... take off yer coat, if yuh want."
"I believe I shall," she smiled, divesting herself of the thick garment. Looking him over in the flickering firelight, her smile broadened. "You're wearing what I gave you."
His grin was shy, his chin ducked. She'd never seen him so nervous. "What I had weren't worth much when I got it. Startin' tuh fall apart."
"Smador," she began hesitantly, "is something wrong? You seem... out of sorts."
Raising a trembling hand to rub the back of his neck, the Orc took several deep breaths before answering. "I brung yuh here... cause... wanna do somethin'... with yuh. Figgered... yuh wouldn't want it... in a pile'uh snow."
"I'm sure anything you suggest...," she replied uncertainly. "The place hardly matters."
He cleared his throat nervously. "It'll matter this time." Slowly turning toward her, he dragged his eyes up to hers for a moment. His breath came heavily, as though something of great importance was burning inside him to get out. His hands shook when he reached up to untie Madavi's tunic.
Madavi had been picked by enough Men to recognize what Smador sought. Though Pratima's long-ago tale of the Goblin midwife and that poor woman with her mistakenly begotten Orcling briefly flashed into Madavi's mind, it felt wrong. This was Smador, her dearest friend. If he wanted the use of her body, she could think of no one she would rather give herself to.
Closing her eyes, she let him peel her tunic off. She did not sit rigidly, as she had for others; his hands were slow and careful, so unlike the Men from the barracks who managed their business quickly. His warm lips roamed about her shoulders and neck, and his large hands caressed her breasts.
It brought strange feelings and confusing thoughts, being touched in this way. Pleasant shivers went through her, something she'd never experienced before. Was this what it felt like when done 'with' her? She'd always thought of it as something done to her. She wasn't certain whether she should like it as much as she did.
She was startled from her thoughts when Smador wrapped an arm about her shoulders and eased her gently onto her back upon the blankets. He lifted first one foot, then the other, removing her worn, snow-dampened shoes. Bewildered, she lay still as his hands slid up her legs beneath her skirt, and eased her underclothes off, then her skirt entirely.
This was, indeed, a very odd experience. Brow furrowed, she stared at the ceiling of the little hollow, watching the dancing shadows while Smador rubbed her thighs. His slow hands seemed to be urging her legs apart, so she hastily complied.
"Somethin' wrong, Madavi? Dontcha want this?"
Raising her head slightly to look at him in utter confusion, Madavi's lip trembled. "Forgive me, I... Am I doing it wrong?"
Smador's brow was creased worriedly, and she realized he'd removed his own clothing as he'd attended to hers. She was taken aback; she'd never laid eyes upon a Man's unclothed form. It wasn't her place to look at them when they used her.
Shaking his head, Smador gently closed her legs and crawled up to lie at her side. Unsure, Madavi returned her gaze to the ceiling and swallowed nervously.
"Yuh said you been picked, back in... 'at place," he said quietly. "Thought it... meant the same fer you lot as it do fer us." She glanced at him worriedly. "Ain'tcha been... Ain't a Man ever... yuh know... been down'ere 'afore?" His hand lay softly upon her sex.
"Of course," she nodded. "They gave me coins."
"I knows, it's just... yuh just layin'ere like... Is it cause it's me?" He looked more than worried now; perhaps embarrassed to have begun.
"No," she reassured him, touching his face. "You are my friend, Smador. If you wish to use me, I..."
He shook his head and pressed his fingers to her lips. "Nar, not use yuh. Madavi, you's my friend. My only friend. Just wanna be... close, 'n... this... It's s'posed tuh be good fer yuh."
"I thought... it was not meant for me," she replied.
"Fuckin' tarks," he cursed under his breath, looking away. Scowling at nothing, he growled, "Ain't true. Ain't true at all. 'At's how raiders go about it, not friends." Composing his features, he looked at her and sighed. "Friends make it good fer each other. I can show yuh, if yuh want."
The sensations he'd awoken in her body still fluttered nervously, unsure if they were allowed. Trusting in her friend's calm assurance, she smiled and nodded.
"I think... yes," she said. "Show me."
Madavi lay in Smador's arms, her eyelids as heavy as her limbs seemed to be. He'd draped a blanket over their bodies afterward, and cleaved close to her, drifting in and out of sleep. She wasn't certain what to do now, or whether there was something she should do. Outside, the wind blew harshly, and she knew this late at night, it must be quite cold. In the comfortable warmth of his bedding, with his cheek resting upon her bare breast, an arm cast lazily yet possessively across her belly, she found she had no desire to part from him.
"Whatcha think?" Smador murmured. Her reply was interrupted by his tongue flicking across her skin. She drew a sharp breath. "Good, eh?" he chuckled.
"Yes," she gasped. "I had no idea. You have always made... everything better, Smador."
His large hand slid up her body to gently caress her breast. "So've you. Just... lettin' me be Smador. Never expectin' me tuh be nothin'... nothin' else." His tone seemed sad; Madavi awkwardly stroked the tuft of hair atop his head.
"Now why would I do that?" she told him. "You're fine just as you are."
"Ain't what some'uh them Orcs I found awhile back was thinkin'," he grumbled. "Wanted me tuh... do shit I ain't good at. Shit I don't know how tuh do. Just so's they'll consider lettin' me join'em." He paused to nuzzle her breast briefly, then raised his head to look at her face. "You ain't never been like'at, Madavi. You just... let me be yer good ol' Smador."
Tears welled in her eyes, seeing the expression on his face. As though her acceptance was a great relief to him, when even his own kind cast him aside. "That's all you ever need to be."
He smiled hesitantly. "Yuh always done so much fer me, always been'ere fer me. Just wanna... be 'ere fer you too."
"But you have been!" she insisted. "You always made my hands feel so much better. And... you sat with me every day..."
Chuckling, he shook his head. "I et half yer food every day. That don't sound like much tuh me." Leaning close, he brushed her chin with his teeth. "Nar, you's my Madavi. My friend. Wanna be 'ere fer yuh... like 'is. 'N make it good fer yuh."
"You have, Smador," she said softly. "You always have. I would...," she began, then paused. Her cheeks flushed shyly. "I would not mind if... if you wished to... be here for me... once again."
A slow grin spread across his face, and his green eyes seemed to glow with a relieved sort of happiness. "Be glad tuh."
