A/N: Revamped ending sequence. Ya'all weren't the only ones not happy with how it played out. I hope it feels better now.

"Shit," Aandar said, nodding.

"You cannot be serious," Eoforhild replied, huffing with disappointment. "Was piss not foul enough?"

Shrugging, the Uruk said, "Go down pit some time. Orc make thing there. Take skin like this." He gestured to the urine-soaked rabbit pelt. "Big, but same." He reached out and tipped the skull a little. The skin had soaked up almost all of the urine and lay in a sodden mess. Now that he had a better idea what she was getting at, his own experiences came to mind. "Do piss, akh. Make hair go. Make soft, use shit. Plenty shit in Isengard." He grimaced. "Uruk shit, Orc shit, warg shit, Man shit... Plenty shit."

Swallowing her disgust, she muttered, "I suppose we will need to save..." Wincing, she leaned back on her heels and stared at the skull, their only container of any kind and woefully inadequate.

Aandar chuckled. "Try good. Make better. Dig dirt, keep shit. Take water. Water, shit. Make soft skin." He gave her a wan smile. "Not cave, eh?"

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she snapped, "I am sorry. I suppose when the idea came to me..." She shook her head. "Not in the cave, then."

Aandar tilted his head and looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Eoforhild... not dumb. Think good."

"Of course I am not dumb," she hissed, then pressed her lips firmly and took a breath. "I am sorry. It is... commonly said that a... that a whore needn't know anything more than... fucking. It would amaze you, the sorts of things the ladies knew."

Leaning back on his hands, he smiled with interest. "What know? Tell."

"Well," she began thoughtfully, "some, as I said, were quite good at baking bread. There was one who knew well how to use plants not only to prevent issue but to heal our aches and illnesses. A girl worked with her, using what was left to conjure such lovely-smelling soaps for us." She chuckled. "They were so wonderful we declared her a 'titted wizard.' Another could embroider such delicate flowers on the silk kerchiefs we carried." She sighed wistfully. "Useless for most things, but ever so pretty. Not easily sewn, either. She had a steady and patient hand."

"Friend?" Aandar ventured quietly. She'd mentioned the ladies she 'worked with' as being friends before. It was not a term he knew.

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, they were friends. All of them. So many were lost before... the rest of us reached Isengard. All are gone now, I suppose. I do miss them." Her expression grew sad as she looked away into the trees. Her brow furrowed in thought, remembering their easy manner with one another, how much they used to laugh. They used to take their rest in the daytime, she recalled, for the nights were for working. A slight smile twitched around her mouth, remembering how the madam would reprimand them for giggling over the secrets they shared when they should have been sleeping. In the night, they were mature women, but during the day among themselves they could be innocent young girls if they chose.

"Aandar friend," he offered, lightly brushing his fingers down her arm. She half turned her head in his direction, but didn't look at him fully.

"You are... becoming a friend," she said carefully.

"Friend... good?"

"A friend is very good," she agreed. "A friend is someone who... trusts you. Whom you can trust. One who will never harm you. Who helps you when you need it. Someone you want to help in return."

"No... fuck?" he asked curiously.

She shook her head, struggling to keep from being angry with him for his one-track mind. "Not everything is about fucking, Aandar," she chided. "A friend does not ask that of you, nor does he expect it."

Aandar furrowed his brow. "Friend in Isengard," he recalled. "Only one. Good friend."

Turning to him with interest, Eoforhild said, "Was there? Tell me of him."

A half smile tipped his mouth. "Name Morkoth. Good Uruk. Don't like thing Master tell do. Get whip all time. Like Aandar, get whip for mouth. Don't care. Help Aandar." He gently stroked Thaktor's back to show her what they did for one another. "Help cut. Give help. Not ask fuck. Aandar help Morkoth. Not ask fuck." He frowned, realizing his friend was now dead like all the rest of his kind.

"Morkoth," he murmured. "Friend. Only friend, gone."

"Did he go to the battle?" she asked quietly, taking hold of his hand. He shook his head.

"Go Ford, like Aandar," he said. "Hurt, like Aandar. Come back, like Aandar. Water come..." He grimaced and looked away.

"I am sorry," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Eoforhild want friend?" he asked. "Aandar friend." His smile, though strained, was genuine. "No fuck. Just friend."

"I would like that," she said, putting on a brave face. "More than anything else you can give me. It is a very good thing indeed."

"Aandar give friend," he grinned. "Say, friend know thing. What Eoforhild know?"

"Well, let me see," she said thoughtfully. "I did not go to the brothel with much, I confess. My parents were hard-working town folk. Father was a stable hand and mother a washerwoman. I know a fair amount about horses, I suppose. But who in my country doesn't?" She chuckled to herself. "I mostly just... helped. There were often young women who came into service with no experience. Their first time was typically shocking. I often found myself helping them through it."

Her mind flashed back to a young girl of perhaps fifteen, sobbing bitterly in Eoforhild's arms as the older woman rocked her, whispering soothing words. They are not always so rough, dearest. Calm yourself and take heart. Tomorrow will be better. Dry your eyes. Show Madame your bruises and she will see you receive extra. It is all over now. Hush now, darling.

That same child, not a month later, was brutalized by Dunlending men and torn to pieces by Uruk-hai.

It was as though a dam had burst as she gazed upon Aandar, sitting so mildly and innocently beneath the trees beside her. She began to shake; a scream welled up from the pit of her stomach, aching for release. What have I done? her thoughts cried out, and she started. Eoforhild pushed it away. He is in pain as well, she reminded herself. Like many you have known, he needs you.

She'd had strength and comfort to offer him when she thought she had nothing left. Was there none to spare for her?

Do not be selfish, her mother always told her. Do not be like your brother who cares nothing for those in need. Firming her mouth and breathing deeply, she reminded herself that it was over. The dark days were past. The place of torment was surely destroyed. She would never return there, so it was time to begin anew and forget.

For a time, her ability to believe such a lie was reinvigorated, and she was able to smile at Aandar's troubled face.

"Eoforhild fear?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

She shook her head. "No. I am fine. Just... remembering. It was nothing."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, thinking she was not being truthful, but he couldn't be certain.

"What of you, Aandar?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation from her own disquieting thoughts. "It seems you explored quite a bit. You saw where... your kind... emerged, and... the tannery." She chuckled nervously. "I suppose I envy your freedom. I never saw anything but the... one room."

Shrugging, he half smiled. "Not all free. Go down some time. Snaga don't take fuck for all thing. Most snaga in pits. Uruk train, most time. Not do work so much. Some Uruk work in pits, not all. Teach Aandar Orc tongue. Teach good. Tell what do. See thing, Orc tell thing. Aandar learn."

"It was a relief for you, then?" she suggested. "These... snaga did not abuse you like your fellows did?"

"Nar," he replied. "Master say, don't kill Uruk. So snaga don't kill. Most hate Uruk, not all. Some tell thing. Wrong thing. Thing Master not want Uruk know. Secret." He grinned mischievously. "Tell Aandar shaûk. Master don't want Uruk know shaûk. Snaga tell shaûk, Master kill snaga. Secret. Don't tell."

Eoforhild frowned. "Why on earth would something so... natural be a secret?" she asked incredulously.

"Snaga not take shaûk to Isengard," he explained. "Master don't want. Say, female make Uruk soft. Don't want soft Uruk. Don't let snaga bring shaûk, don't let Uruk make female in breed pit. Punish Uruk. No female, only male."

Her face went slack with disbelief. "The wizard... kept female Uruk-hai from being made?"

"Akh," Aandar nodded. "No female. Only male."

"How do you know this?" she whispered.

"Snaga tell," he shrugged. "Say, make female, Uruk get whipped. Kill female whelp."

Another mournful pang struck her, and Eoforhild struggled not to show it. What if one of hers had been female? For some reason, the idea of bearing one of their spawn seemed as though it would not have been quite so awful if the issue had been female. Except that apparently the wizard would have destroyed her before Eoforhild could have known her.

She did not want to dwell on such a thing, and shifted her focus to his tale. Something he'd said made her frown.

"You say he did not want his Uruk-hai to become... 'soft,'" she said cautiously. "What do you think he meant by that?"

Arching his brow, Aandar mused, "Master don't care for Uruk shaûk. Want Uruk fight. Want Uruk kill whiteskin. Want Uruk rape whiteskin female. Want Uruk burn house, kill sheep, burn land. Kill and burn all thing. Do other thing, Uruk soft. Uruk weak. Master don't want Uruk."

"You no longer do those things, do you?" she pointed out. "Would your master call you weak and soft?"

He smirked and nodded. "Akh. Weak Aandar. Soft Aandar. Aandar not hurt Eoforhild. Want friend. Want shaûk. Hurt, Eoforhild not friend."

A ripple of discomfort ran through her, but she shoved it away. He was being sincere, she was certain of it.

"Your master is foolish," she said firmly, "to call you weak for the courage you have shown. To my mind, only a weak and pitiful person rapes another. You are not weak and pitiful, if you can defy what you once were and become something better."

His smile slowly broadened. "Eoforhild say good thing. Make Aandar... better." Though he clearly did not know the words, she felt strongly that he had just thanked her.

As night fell, they re-entered the cave and Aandar set to work stoking the fire. He'd dressed the boar before venturing outside to join Thaktor, and now wondered what they would do with the extra meat once they'd taken their meals that night. The one place he hadn't explored was the kitchens, for there was a tight rein on rations and hungry, wandering Uruk-hai were strictly prohibited. If what he was given did not fully satisfy, he was obliged to beat additional rations out of another Uruk. Because he was bigger than most, he dished out a lot of hurt for every mouthful beyond his portion.

"What do?" he asked, turning to Thaktor. She was carefully running a sharp stick through some leg meat from the wild pig and looked up. "Make meat... not..." Frustrated into giving up with words, he pulled a face and pinched his nose.

His expression and gesture were so comical, Eoforhild had to laugh. "I do not know, Aandar," she replied with amusement. "I suppose it is something we should consider, though. You cannot be hunting every waking moment. I will think on it, if you like."

He nodded and grinned. "Eoforhild think good. Make meat stay. Like ration." Then he curled his lip. "Taste better, eh?"

"I shall try to make it taste better," she said with a reassuring smile. "I would also like to see what other things might be around that we could eat. While I am not too knowledgeable, there are some things I might recognize. Perhaps berries? It would be a change of pace from meat, at least."

Aandar narrowed his eyes and looked askance at her. "Like meat. What wrong meat?"

"Meat is fine, but it is... Well, after awhile, do you not think it would be boring?"

"Meat is meat," he said with a shrug. "Not boring. Just... meat."

"If I find some sweet fruit, like raspberries, you will see what I mean," she promised.

Quite suddenly, Aandar's ears pricked and his head swiveled sharply toward the rear of the cave. After a moment, even Eoforhild's ears could hear the distant screeching.

"What is...," she began, but stopped abruptly to shield her head and lie flat on the ground. Aandar followed suit, flinging himself face down on the cave floor.

From one of the rear tunnels there came what seemed hundreds of cacophanously shrieking bats, winging their way across the main room of the cave and swooping out through the exit tunnel.

Heart racing, Eoforhild gasped for breath as she cautiously sat back up. Aandar looked stricken, and quite frightened. His wide-eyed expression of shock so amused her that she burst out laughing in a slightly mad, hysterical manner. Aandar at first huffed over her laughter at his expense, but relaxed after a moment or two.

"I suppose even the bats must hunt," she conceded, and Aandar laughed as well.

Lying together that night, Aandar's dream was strangely disturbing. It was the pool as he had known it for some days now, but something was different. There was a strange tension in the air, and Aandar's gaze flicked around the trees surrounding the pool. They seemed darker now, as though they concealed something threatening. Thaktor was not simply standing in one position, but actively retreating. Her face was crumpled as though about to leak water, and she was shaking her head. Her arms shielded her body.

Unlike every other time he'd seen her, she wore the evidence of what was done to her, only not as scars. The cuts were fresh and oozing. Bloody tears wept from the raw wounds on her face.

Master has come back for her. He did not know why he knew it was so, but there was a certainty in the dream that he hadn't had since it first came to him. The sounds of her fearful whimpering seemed so real and so close... He wanted to go to her, embrace her, shield her from his master, but his feet were rooted to the spot.

Though she was yards away, he could feel her in his arms. It was terribly confusing, but he tightened his arms about his chest, and somehow felt he was holding her closer. Yet even as his arms enclosed what felt like Thaktor, a sharp pain erupted in his shin and it seemed he was suddenly in possession of a wild cat.

The pool disappeared almost immediately, replaced by sheer darkness. There was almost no light in the cave; he only knew he was there by the scent of it. The fire had gone almost completely out.

Thaktor was awake as well, and he realized the struggle he'd felt in the dream was going on in reality. Before he could release his hold on the obviously terrified female, her elbow caught him hard in the ribs. He let go, and she scrambled away from him, panting like a frightened animal.

Sitting up, he stared hard into the gloom, trying to see where she went. The exit was off to his left, but she hadn't gone there. As his eyes adjusted, he made out her form straight across from him. Her gasping breaths and the reek of her fear scent alarmed him completely.

"Eoforhild?" he said cautiously.

"Stay away from me," she growled in a voice not like her own. "You are not supposed to be here. You are not allowed. The Jailor will find out. I will call for him if you do not leave now."

Blinking in confusion, he asked, "Jailor? What Jailor? Aandar here. No Jailor. Just Aandar."

"I do not care what your name is, filth," she spat. "What have you done with the others? Did you kill them? The Pitmaster will skin you alive if you touched them."

Jailor. Pitmaster. With a start, Aandar realized his dream hadn't lied, and she must believe herself back in Isengard. How could she think that? Did she not remember the flooding and their escape?

"Eoforhild," he began, "not in Isengard no more..."

"How do you know my name?" she shrieked, and he started. "Do not say my name, you disgusting monster!"

"Not... not monster," he pleaded. "Not hurt Eoforhild. Aandar here. Aandar. Not hurt..."

"You are horrid," she hissed. "Get out of here. Jailor! There is an Uruk in my cell! He will flay you, mark my words. I hope I see it done. Jailor!"

Light, he told himself forcefully. If she could see that she was not there anymore, see him, all would be well again. Groping his way to the firepit, he urged the smoldering, charred remains of their fire back to life, feeding it well with kindling and broken branches. Soon a bright flame chased the darkness away. He scanned the cave and found Thaktor shielding her eyes from the light as she sat huddled in a far corner of the cave.

"Eoforhild?" he breathed nervously.

Slowly, she lowered her arm and looked at the cave walls and the shadows dancing across them from the firelight. There was little difference between the rough, eroded walls of the cave and the haphazardly dug out cells in which the breeding women were kept. The chief difference was light, for the Orcs and Goblins tending to the breeders needed very little of it to do their work. It was the darkness that gave truth to the nightmare Eoforhild had received unexpectedly. In her dream, she had woken from the comfortable scene of walking freely in the forest with... someone. She could not recollect now. Someone dark. Then it seemed that she'd woken in true darkness, and that stranger who'd seemed so companionable was there with her, and not nearly as peaceful.

She was in her cell. Only the two other women were supposed to be there with her. It was a safe place, if any existed in Isengard. But somehow, he was there as well, pinning her down, holding her, his lust evident, his intentions clear.

Searching the well-lit cave, her eyes found Aandar, and for a moment she cringed in fear. It was him. Did the Jailor not come? How could he have allowed this Uruk to get in the cell in the first place?

He made a move to approach her, worry and confusion writ large upon his brutish face, and Eoforhild pressed herself into the rock wall. He halted. Blinking, she recalled where she was, and who he was.

"Eoforhild," he said quietly, clearly trying to sooth and calm her, "just dream. All done. Safe. Aandar protect. No fear."

"I... am sorry, Aandar," she whispered hoarsely. He moved to approach again, and she drew a sharp breath and cringed. He froze, twitching in every muscle, it seemed. "Please. Do not come near me."

"Eoforhild dream," he insisted, his brow pinched desperately.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, "it was a dream. I... I know. It was... like many I have had before. I just... forgot them. I forgot many things. I did not want to remember."

"Tell," he urged. "Aandar... fear for Eoforhild. Want... make better."

She took a slow, shuddering breath. Her gaze wandered the walls of the cave, noting the play of shadows. "What have I done?" she whispered half to herself. "Eanfled. Brega. Edyd. Acha. So many. Hilda dreamed of one day selling her kerchiefs to highborn ladies. She wanted to pretty up their dresses. She imagined a day when she would fill her purse with coin from that enterprise, not from whoring." Eoforhild slowly turned her head to fix a grieving look on the Uruk. "She was the one, Aandar. It was Hilda who came to Isengard already pregnant. It was she who was punished for being of no use to your master."

"Aandar not do," he reminded her, his voice sounding pathetic and weak even to himself. Her eyes flashed.

"Do you think it matters?" she hissed. "I have befriended you. I have... I have let you get close. I have touched you, and allowed you to touch me. You who are an Orc, whose kin destroyed my friends. No, you have done nothing to me, I know this. But you have done the very things I have seen. You have done what was done to me. To them. If their spirits linger, they would cry out to me in protest for my betrayal of their memory."

Sagging against the wall, she rubbed her tired eyes.

"What Aandar do?" he growled. "All done. Akh, Aandar do bad thing. Hurt female. Rape. Kill. Akh, Aandar do. Can't... not do now. Can't make not do, like never do. Aandar learn. Eoforhild teach. Not do no more."

She nodded. "I know. What is done cannot be undone. How I wish it could be." Looking at him sadly, she sighed, "You have learned well, Aandar. I would be a fool to ignore it. But you have also... you have not... What you want of me is not something I can give. Not now. Perhaps... not ever. I remember too much."

"Remember... rape?" he ventured cautiously.

"Yes," she said, flinching and looking away. "It is not a thing that simply disappears when it is over, Aandar." Glancing at his curious and worried face, she smiled humorlessly. "I will tell you something you likely have never known. The women you raped, if they lived after, likely prayed for death. They remembered what you did to them. They wept every single night. They saw you in their dreams. They felt your hands upon them long after you had gone. Any man who lingered too long in their company, they cringed in fear of him. They stopped going about alone, even in the daylight. They saw you in the shadows though you were not there. They could not sleep, for fear you would return. And they feared, always, that every man who looked upon them would know they had been spoiled by an Uruk, and would despise them. So they were ever alone. Unwanted by all."

She looked away from his stricken face. "I listened to them in the cells. Some found solace in madness. Others begged to be slain. There were a few who fought viciously only because they hoped to be killed for being... difficult. I could not. The Pitmaster did not need to whip me very many times before I was tamed." Her chin quivered with remorse. "There was one I saw... taken down the hall to the room. So young. So... terrified. They had to carry her back. The look on her face... I almost thought her dead. There was so much blood down her legs..." Meeting his eyes, she whispered, "If she saw me with you, if she knew I... cared for you, she would spit on me, Aandar. She would hate me, and be justified."

Sighing, she said, "I know what you want of me. You have made no secret of it. Perhaps that is why you have been so gentle." She shook her head and raised a hand to halt his protest. "It does not matter. I... do... have some... affection for you. It would be a lie if I told you this was not so."

"Not just fuck," Aandar interrupted firmly, shaking his head. "Aandar remember shaûk. Orc say, shaûk most good. No other thing better. Not... fuck shaûk." Huffing with exasperation, he growled, "Akh, shaûk fuck. Make whelp. Not all. Shaûk fight... here." He held up his fists side by side. Then he clasped his hands together, intertwining his fingers and gripping tightly. "Shaûk. Always. Not part. Stay here."

Eoforhild stared wistfully at his hands. "Perhaps... one day, Aandar."

"Friend?" he whispered. He straightened his fingers, yet kept his palms pressed together. "Eoforhild friend?"

"If I am your friend," she warned, "you must accept that I do not want to have sex with you, Aandar. You must stop asking. You must stop... thinking about me when you... tend to things. I may never go to your bed, Aandar. You must accept that this is the way of it. Then I will believe you when you call me friend, and feel safe calling you friend."

He frowned and clenched his jaw. It was not what he wanted, but... perhaps it was what he needed. Finally, he nodded. "Akh. Not... think of Eoforhild. Not ask."

"Thank you, Aandar," she said with relief. "I think... I should like to sleep apart from you for a time." He nodded again. "I do not hate you, Aandar," she said pointedly. "I am not punishing you. I need this... space. Please understand..."

"Akh," he said quickly. "Understand." Already his mind was filling with one female face after another, all cringing at shadows, all weeping, all remembering his hands upon them, and despairing that he had not slain them and so ended their misery.

At least he was not in those female's homes or villages to haunt their steps, but he was in Eoforhild's. He couldn't help but feel that his face was as good as any other Uruk's in tormenting her with painful memories.