"Ai, what's this?" a lanky, tough-skinned Uruk demanded, stepping into the light. Sudden laughter cracked his severe face. "Maukurz Iron-Cock, fucker of all creatures great and small! Back from the dead and with sweets for his friends!"

Halla—shaking in terror—felt a cold dirty feeling crawl over her skin at the epithet assigned her lover by the vicious-eyed Uruk. For a moment she was in horror that Maukurz had tricked her, that she'd be passed about like a rag doll and her horse butchered for meat.

A low growl issued from Maukurz's throat, not enough to be a challenge, but to issue a claim, and a warning that Halla wouldn't at all understand. "Skai gah, Narzum, honlat amol pukhl-lat! Agh sharlobfiin-izub!"

Maukurz's hand smoothed over Halla's flat belly, and he murmured steady in her ear. Her tightening hands on the reins—and the presence of so many Uruk-hai—had the horse near ready to bolt. It danced anxiously, and Maukurz dreaded being bucked off. "Steady, Halla-mine," he breathed. Her chin was tucked against her shoulder in terror, a terror that musked all around her, rankling Maukurz and arousing his mates. He called loud and strong to them: "I've a broken leg! Got into a scrap with fifteen Dunlending scum. This young lady saved my life, and she's mine now."

A stocky, saw toothed Uruk called out, "Rat balls! Baiurz ain't gonna let her in! Yuh think we all don't wanna good, soft, red-blooded fuck for once? But the commander's right! Yer pretty piece of cunt'll be the death of us!

Maukurz's growl rolled unstoppable from the hot fury in his guts. "You watch your fucking mouth as well, Flaguz! Besides, she ain't stayin!"

"Garn!" Narzum spat in disappointment. "Got anything good for us, then? Or just yer own tender arms?"

Maukurz grinned and shrugged the bow off his shoulder. "Got a bow to get us some proper meats! If I don't put an arrow through each o'yer beady eyes first, you ugly fuckers! Now someone gimme an arm to lean on. Sharlob-izub gotta sneak back to her folk."

Narzum and another, less ugly brown-skinned Uruk stepped forward. The one called Flaguz stood sneering, shaking his head, muttering that Maukurz had risked them all. Maukurz held up his hand before his two mates came close.

"Gimme a moment with my girl. You're both far too ugly and shit-smelling for her!"

Laughing good-naturedly, Narzum and the other Uruk stood still, but ten paces from Halla and her horse. Halla thought she'd die for sure. "I don't want to leave you here!" she whispered, digging her nails into Maukurz's arm.

"Ah, they're harmless," Maukurz murmured. "Sorry 'bout… all that. Rough soldiers and all, haven't seen a pretty woman since the winter." He raised his voice for their benefit and said, "Idiots don't know the first thing about how to act with a woman!" Whispering again, Maukurz said, "When I am well… I'll come to you."

"How?" Halla gasped. "Where will I meet you? How will I know when to… to come looking?"

"Don't worry 'bout that. I'll find you. You never seen me on my feet, Halla. No horse boy gonna catch me, or keep me from what's mine. You still mine, right? These dummies didn't scare you off?"

Halla finally smiled a little. "Of course I'm yours. And heal quick…" she murmured. "I will miss you."

"I'll burn for you," Maukurz promised, reaching around her throat. He caught her cheek in his hand and turned her head as much as it would turn, leaning round to kiss her as deeply as she'd taught him to and then some.

"Aieeeee!" Narzum cackled, echoed by the whistling and hooting of the others, all but the sour-faced Flaguz.

Maukurz laughed against Halla's lips; then he caught her lower lip in his sharp teeth, pulling softly. "I will come for you!" he swore harshly, breaking away, leaving Halla breathless. He motioned the brown Uruk forward, and swung himself as lithely as a cat off the horse's back, landing on his strong right leg. He slung an arm around the Uruk's shoulder. Halla winced for him, seeing how he set some weight on his broken leg and forced himself to hobble along as if he felt no pain at all.

"Narzum stew for supper, boys!" Maukurz called, slinging his other arm around the Uruk who had taunted him so filthily. "Whaddya say to that?"

"And sweet Narzum tail for yer desert, eh Maukurz?" the fourth Uruk called.

"That way," Maukurz directed his helpers, jerking his chin toward the fourth Uruk. Maukurz lifted his powerful arm from Narzum's shoulder long enough to bat the speaker upside his head with a ringing blow.

The Uruk ate it, grinning. "Good to have yuh back, Cap'n."

Halla, eyes blurry with tears, waited until Maukurz looked over his shoulder to her. His well-formed lips kissed the air in her direction; his golden eyes caressed her one last time. Her head spinning, Halla wheeled the war-horse around and cantered off.


Halla gasped when she emerged from the woods. It was late afternoon, and she'd gotten Maukurz away not a moment too soon. More than two dozen white soldiers' tents had gone up around her manor, and fifty horses grazed in the lower field, away from Finnan's herd. "Dear Bema," Halla breathed. Marshal Erkenbrand and his Riders had come early. Likely Finnan, having planned to spend the day in Edwyn's arms, was just as shocked. Well, now we both will suffer together, Halla thought without any satisfaction. But she was certain that the Uruk's lofty, hidden eagle's nest would never be found. No one would think there was anything but mountain goats up so high.

She untacked Death Hammer herself, and brushed him down slowly. She couldn't make any sense at all of the filthy things the Uruks had said about Maukurz. They'd all but said he'd—fuck—anything on two legs or four, including Narzum! Rough soldier's talk, she told herself, even more vile for being Uruk-hai soldiers. Surely that's all. No one who knew… who knew how to bring such pleasure to a woman's body could do such foul things! If I hadn't seen Edwyn and Finnan together, I'd think no more of it than filthy humor. Just thinking of my so-called husband can sour my thoughts of my love!

Yet she wondered what Maukurz had snapped in his dark tongue… after he'd been called that name and so described… why he'd not used any language she could understand, then lapsed back into the speech of Rohan… which his fellows all knew quite well.

The Uruk-hai are both everything like I once believed, and nothing like it at all. Despite how coarse they were, Halla had sensed a true brotherhood amongst the refugees of Isengard. Their coarseness was well known and much spoken of, yet no Man believed Uruk-hai were capable of friendship, or of love. Now I know that they are capable of both. And I will not think anything bad of Maukurz. He was likely warning them away from me, and not wanting to frighten me with the violence of his words. He nearly roared at them when they said those vile things about me!

And how strong he is…

Halla blinked her tears away, thinking that it would be weeks before she would be in Maukurz's hot arms again. It was almost too much to bear. She relished the raw soreness between her legs as she brought the charger back out to the field, watching him gallop off in freedom. It was the last she'd feel of that for a good while, she was certain. Halla wondered with a sad smile if Death Hammer might tell his kin about what a day he had with her! She put her fingers to her shoulder—and felt with horror wet blood seeping through her gown.

Frantically, Halla unbound her braid, Maukurz's warning repeating in her mind. She did not wish to contemplate just how the Riders—and her husband among them—would know what Maukurz's mark was. She knew, of course: but she chose to ignore it. Besides, it's not the same thing at all. I gave myself gladly to Maukurz. Her legs weakened for a moment, wordlessly recalling the wild, erotic feeling of Maukurz biting her shoulder, sucking her blood, making her come a thousand times harder as he marked her. His mark will be on me forever, Halla thought, thrilled and joyful, yet terrified, all at the same time. I want to know your mine, he'd said. I want to taste you.

Yet it was the terror that won out as she approached the manor. Near twenty Riders were milling about the camp on her lawn, setting up fires and polishing their swords and armor. All bowed to her, smiling, calling her my lady without any idea of whose embrace she'd just left. She could hear singing from within her hall, rowdy ale-house songs. She braced herself for Finnan to hiss at her about her improperly unbound hair… which was far better than the alternative. She would have to hurry to her bath, ducking that hard-eyed Ailith as well. Would she know what this blood, this mark meant?

That, Halla realized, was a far more worrisome thought than anything! Surely she wouldn't know what a love-mark meant? She was raped! But… if the Riders would know… Halla sighed miserably, wishing she was back in the forest, alone with Maukurz. She pushed the stout oak door open, and stepped into a hot, packed hall. Riders were everywhere, eating at her table, drinking ale and throwing knucklebones, singing rousing songs of victory. Somewhere among them was the grim Lord Erkenbrand.

And then, Finnan emerged from the crowd, a hard look on his pale face. Halla straightened herself up, waiting for a heaping of harsh, angry words. He stepped up to her, a head taller than her. He stood in silence for a moment, taking her in, freezing her with his icy stare.

"Halla…" Finnan said in a muted voice.

"My lord," Halla returned, bobbing a small curtsey.

Finnan sighed heavily. Halla saw Edwyn across the room, throwing bones with some young Riders, carefully ignoring his lover. They must be miserable, Halla thought empathetically. I wish I could tell them that I shared their pain! But no, here he opens his mouth to scold—

"Halla," Finnan repeated, "I've just had word from my father's house. My father has died."

"Oh, Finnan," Halla said, true compassion filling her heart. "I am so sorry."

Finnan nodded curtly. "We were not close. As you may well imagine."

Halla nodded as well. "Still, it is a great loss. I know it well. I shall bathe, and change into proper mourning attire."

"Yes…" Finnan said. "Though we've no time for mourning here just yet, you and I shall mourn him in private, as is proper. I am now Lord Birchleigh," he said tightly. "We must act accordingly. So do please go upstairs…" His eyes roamed over her, too burdened to show the malice of his suspicions, but displaying suspicion all the same. "Clean yourself up. And you… you must not wear your hair loose as a maid, Halla," Finnan said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Whatever the case may be. You are Lady Birchleigh now."


"Skai gah, Narzum, honlat amol pukhl-lat! Agh sharlobfiin-izub!" -Damn, Narzum, watch what you say! And the little white-skin girl is mine!