Where There's Smoke...

Only the constant threat of Nûlkol made Sandy lie next to Morkoth after the whole pheromone fiasco. She couldn't bring herself to make contact with him, and her embarrassment cost her his warmth.

It was humiliating to have to accept the fact that the orcs couldn't really be held responsible for their instinctive response. Even assuming they could have controlled themselves, that would mean they had to have some experience with doing so. Nûrzgrat said there were no female Uruk-hai; when could these orcs ever have been in close proximity to an aroused female? With their acute sense of smell, what other response could she possibly have expected?

Hugging herself, Sandy shivered. If Nûrzgrat hadn't resisted, and Morkoth hadn't restrained himself, things could have gone so much worse. There wouldn't have been anything stopping a shark-like feeding frenzy that would likely have pulled Brianna in as well.

She shuddered. Brianna didn't deserve to go through that horror again, and Sandy didn't want to experience it even once. But things could have gone there, even after she all but promised Brianna that they would be fine. That Morkoth and Ghrulagûrz would protect them. Who, then, would protect the women from them?

"Come here," Morkoth said quietly behind her. "You are cold." She could still hear the strain in his voice.

"No," she said dully. "I wouldn't want to get you all worked up." Her snotty tone even made her wince.

"Ghaashkarn... come to me. I am not angry anymore."

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder at the orc. "What did you call me?"

He had the decency to look embarrassed. "Your hair is like fire. It is...different."

"So...ghaashkarn means...what?"

"Hair of flame," he whispered.

"That's...nice," she replied uncertainly, but she stayed where she was. Giving in, the Uruk scooted closer to her, pressing into her back and embracing her waist. Sandy stiffened, but didn't resist him.

"You have not answered me," he said.

"You'll have to be specific," she snapped. "Which question did you want me to answer? 'What did you do,' or 'what the fuck did you do?' Because you'll get two different answers."

He seemed to ponder her words, then said, "I do not care, as long as you tell the truth."

It was a struggle, easing up on the Uruk. She had to force herself to release the tension in her shoulders and back by degrees. At least she was facing away from him. This would be easier if she didn't have to look him in the eyes.

"It's... something we used to do when we were younger," she said in a low voice, nearly devoid of emotion. "You just...imagine being with a guy you think you might like. See if it gives you a, uh, 'special feeling.'"

"Guy. You mean man."

"Yeah," she said, nodding.

"This is what you did, then? You thought of a man?"

"Not...exactly," she said, wincing in anticipation of his next question.

"What do you mean?" he pressed. "Not a man?"

"You, all right?" she snarled impatiently. "I was thinking of you."

There was a lengthy, uncomfortable silence.

"Special feeling?" he asked, clearly confused.

Sighing in defeat, Sandy realized she'd have to spell it out for him. Gritting her teeth against this new humiliation, she said, "Thinking about you... made me excited. When a woman gets excited, she... gives off a scent, I guess, similar to what other animals do when...uh...they're...interested."

"Interested in what?" he urged. If he were anyone else, she would have suspected him of faking ignorance just to make her say it. Rolling her eyes, she steeled herself for this one.

"Interestedinsex," she mumbled in a rush.

"What?"

"Interested...in...sex," she snarled.

"Sex," he said uncertainly.

"Mating," Sandy snapped. "Does that word work better for you?"

"So...," he said slowly, "you thought of me, and now you want to mate?"

"Don't be an idiot," she replied. "It would take a hell of a lot more than that..."

"Then explain to me," he snarled. "I do not understand females."

She swore under her breath. "It was just an example, all right? I don't want to...mate with you right this minute. About all I can say with any kind of confidence is... I wouldn't mind... I mean... Dammit. It's just a test, and it doesn't mean a damn thing. Just let it go."

"You make it difficult to 'let it go'," he insisted. "You tell me that thoughts of me make you want to mate."

"I didn't say I wanted to mate!" she hissed. "I said that... what happened to me, was like when animals... Look, just drop it."

"You are not an animal."

"The hell I'm not," she groused. "We're all animals. To be specific, humans have the same physiology as apes. If a female ape is in season, she gives off a scent to let the males know she's ready to mate, and they come running. Human females can control when they give off that scent, to a certain degree, usually by experiencing some sort of sexual arousal. The difference between orcs and men, as we learned this evening," she said sarcastically, "is that an orc can tell when this happens a hell of a lot better than some men I've known."

"I do not..."

"What don't you understand?" she hissed incredulously, turning slightly to look at him. "I thought about...you... I got turned on, you guys smelled it and freaked out. It's over. I promise you, there will be no more mind-fucks in the near future, so you can just relax. Let...it...go."

"Mind-fuck," he said, testing the words. "You imagined me fucking you?"

"Are you deliberately being stupid? No!" she snarled. "I just...it wasn't even...never mind! Go to sleep, for crying out loud."

At first she thought she was coming dangerously close to really pissing him off. A warning growl was building in his chest, vibrating against her back. Then all at once, he relaxed. A low chuckle rumbled through him. "You're doing it again," he whispered in her ear.

"That would be the 'angry bitch' scent you're picking up," she snapped. But she knew he was right. His nearness, the topic of discussion stirring memories of their envisioned tryst... No, that wasn't anger.

"I don't think so," he murmured. Drawing in her scent with a deep breath, he let a low, feral growl ease out. "I do this to you." His voice was a mix of surprise, confusion, and delight. She trembled as his mouth opened, allowing his sharp teeth to graze her neck.

"I wish you'd stop," she whimpered. They were too close to the others. She could already see Nûlkol beginning to stir. "Morkoth, please!"

"Ah," he said, easing up. She hadn't realized how tightly he held her until his grip loosened. "That is why I stopped before. I smelled your fear. You are afraid again."

"Your friend over there looks like he knows when you're being naughty," she said through clenched teeth. "Like some freakish Santa Clause."

"You know he is not my equal," Morkoth said quietly, without concern. "Let him prowl if he wakens. You are safe." He nuzzled her neck just behind her ear briefly. "Your fear is of me. Explain this."

"Morkoth, if you walked up to a woman here in Rohan, what would she do?"

She felt him shrug. He seemed to do that a lot. "She would scream and run."

"So... you have to ask? Why I'm afraid of you? Really?"

"You do not scream," he said reasonably. "You do not run."

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she replied. "I can't survive here without help. You guys are the only option. I could quote all kinds of stupid sayings on the subject – 'Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.' 'Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.'"

"We do not hold you," he asserted. "You are free to go whenever you like."

"Well, next time I see a taxi, I'll wave it down," she snapped.

"Do you fear me?" he asked. Now there was worry in his voice. "I will not harm you. Now that I know of your... scent changes... I can resist."

"Reassuring," she said sarcastically. "Yes, I do fear you." It was actually making it more difficult now, speaking to him without looking him in the eyes. Swearing under her breath, Sandy turned over to face him, and promptly wished she hadn't. In the flickering firelight, his expression of confused curiosity was downright sexy, if such an adjective could apply to an orc. Swallowing hard, she said awkwardly, "I have... established that... I would be open to... certain... intimacies... with you." Clearing her throat, she found she couldn't hold his gaze any longer; his intensity was too probing, too...invasive. "Given that I don't know much about...orcs... I have to assume that the pace I would like to proceed with would not match your preferred...speed."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"If I kissed you, that would be all I'm ready to do," she said stiffly. "You, on the other hand, would likely consider it a green light to climb all the way up my ass."

His brows shot up, and he blinked a few times. It was rather comical, and she laughed a little.

"You do not want me...up your ass. What makes you think I would go there without permission?"

She shivered in his arms, becoming aware for the first time that he had embraced her while she babbled. "I assumed."

"Hmph," he snorted. "You assumed wrong. I have given my word. If you do not consent to my touch, you will not receive it."

"An hour ago, you would have done more than touch me," Sandy pointed out.

"An hour ago, I did not understand females as I do now."

"Yeah, you're a bloody expert," she said without heat.

"What is a kiss?" he asked quietly.

"You're going to make me show you, aren't you?"

"If that would help me understand...yes," he said, amused.

"Son of a bitch," she breathed. But she found she couldn't. Whether it was the underlying fear of what the others might do if she fired off another volley of pheromones, or her disbelief in Morkoth's calm reassurance that he would not force his attentions beyond what she allowed, or the fact that she had only known the Uruk for two days that had been full of stress and fear, not to mention orcs, and even in her own world, fiddling around with a different species would have been frowned upon, she realized it was a much bigger hurdle to jump than she'd thought.

Drawing back from him a few inches, Sandy patted his chest. "I think... I'll just tell you. Kissing is pressing the lips to...well, anything, really. Could be another pair of lips...," she said, pausing as her eyes darted to his fang-filled mouth.

"This pleases humans?" he asked.

"Yeah. Quite a bit, in fact." She couldn't deny that the idea still made her insides go all wobbly. But being interested and being able to take that leap were two different things.

"I look forward to it, then. When you desire it."

Perhaps it was the stress of the last couple of days that finally took the wind out of Ghrulagûrz's sails. As he lay on the ground, pressed against the angular body of his female, he slept.

Sleep was not a welcome state for the Uruk. It was not something he sought out, or embraced when it found him. Rather, he dreaded it, as he dreaded being taken unaware, or being alone, or being with other orcs, or waking up to a new day.

It had been five days since the need for sleep last bested him. That was just before the trees came, and the world went mad. It came upon him now like a crippling poison, dissolving his will to resist and forcing his eyes closed.

Ghrulagûrz dreamed of fire.

The Uruk's shaking and twitching startled Brianna from her slumber. Ghrulagûrz's strong arms held her in a vice-like grip. He held her so tightly against him she almost wondered if he wished to envelop her in his skin.

"Ghrulagûrz," she whispered, but he didn't hear her. Biting her lip, she realized that raising her voice this late at night would likely set someone off like a bomb, even if Nûrzgrat was already awake on watch duty.

"Ghaash," her keeper whimpered, caught in the grip of his nightmare. "Ghaash-izg. Ghûlbat-izish! Dalgat-ta! Dalgat-ta!" Growing alarmed, Brianna laid her hand on the Uruk's arm wrapped around her middle.

"Ssshh," she breathed gently, stroking his arm. "It's all right, Ghru, you're okay." His grip was too firm for her to turn her body to face him, so she did what she could, whispering soothing words over her shoulder and caressing his cloth-covered arm. She could feel his muscles bunching beneath the fabric. Unsure what else she should do, she grabbed the first thought that came to her mind.

"Warm kitty, soft kitty, little ball of fur," she sang softly. This time, he calmed noticeably, only groaning a little bit and shivering for a moment. "Sleepy kitty, happy kitty, purr, purr, purr."

Ghrulagûrz took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Tension seemed to drain away from him. Just to be on the safe side, Brianna sang the simple song again. He drifted into a deeper, more contented sleep. Cuddling her closer, his hand slid up her body and covered one of her breasts.

Brianna froze in panic, afraid to move. She carefully placed her hand over his, and gently pulled his hand away. She only got a few inches when he grunted in protest, freed himself from her light grip, and replaced his hand on her breast.

"Dammit," she breathed, and tried again, only to get the same result. At the risk of waking him, when he clearly needed sleep more than any of them, she realized she'd just have to suck it up. It took her a moment to realize there were clawed feet a few paces away. Startled, she looked up and met Nûrzgrat's amused gaze.

"I'd say the menu's gettin' crowded," he commented in a low voice. "Maybe Morkoth's got the right of it." Without explaining his strange statement, the Uruk leader strode off into the darkness once more, shaking his head in wonder.

Just as humiliated as she would be if her father caught her boyfriend's hand down her pants, she shivered against her keeper's body. To her surprise, she didn't feel the urge to recoil from the Uruk. She covered his hand with hers again, but this time she didn't try to remove him. She found that Nûrzgrat was right; Ghrulagûrz was much softer than she expected. Though she could feel the scarring from the burns, his skin felt like a man's.

Translation:

Ghaash-izg. Ghûlbat-izish! Dalgat-ta! Dalgat-ta! - I'm burning. Help me! Put it out! Put it out!

Song Lyric: "Warm Kitty," written by Edith Newlin (best known for its use in TV's Big Bang Theory – Yeah, Brie's a fan! But being the musical purist she is, she prefers the traditional lyric over the Cooper family's version.)