An Orc's Life is the Pits

Fulak marched Brytta down a musty, dark tunnel. There were no flames, as there had been in the main chamber, and she was hard-pressed to keep from cracking her head on the low, uneven ceiling. After a moment, he started to chuckle, and shouldered her into a side passage.

"Is this the way out?" she asked nervously. The Orc's humor grew.

"Listen to yuh," he chortled. "Shagal ain't happy. So we gonna make'er happy. That is, you and the baalak are gonna do it."

"What does that word mean? Baalak?"

"Hmph. What he is. A half-breed."

Confused, she pressed, "But is he not an Orc? He certainly looks more like an Orc than a Man."

"Looks ain't everything, missy," Fulak snapped, his temper beginning to sour. "And no, he ain't. Not as Orcs measure it, he ain't." Jerking her arm, he growled, "You's awful chatty. How 'bout yuh shut yer mouth 'fore I put somethin' in it yuh don't like?" Apparently amused by his own threat, the Orc chuckled again.

Brytta pressed her lips tightly and said nothing else. A feeling of dread had stolen over her in any case: this couldn't be the way out. They'd descended coming into the main chamber, and were descending again. She profoundly wished for light so she could get her bearings, though she doubted that would help matters.

"Now, whatcha gotta do is keep this in mind," Fulak told her conversationally as he pushed her through a tight passage. "That baalak ain't like no real Orc. Heard all kinds of stories 'bout'em, those Isengard bastards. They's nasty fuck beasts, every one of'em. So when we get to where we's goin', you remember that. He, uh... heh heh... he's gone and bonded to yuh, like Barash said. Stupid sod. What that means fer you is he'll fuck yuh good, sure as anything. Just needs the right... push. And we's gonna do the pushin'." Nearly wheezing with laughter, the Orc had to pause for a moment to gather himself. "Oh, you's gonna make my mate smile, you are. She likes to see a good fuckin', 'bout as much as she likes to take one."

Brytta's blood ran cold as the Orc's amused words sunk in. "You... you were told to let us go," she reminded him shakily.

"Pfft," Fulak snorted. "What the old codgers don't know won't hurt us, eh? We gots a special place. Nice'n cozy. Yuh oughta feel honored we's sharin' it with yuh. Usually it's just Nardrît getting it in there." He suddenly pressed Brytta into the wall and whispered close to her ear, "Hope she lets me have a go at yuh. Shagal's likely had the baalak by now. I gotta get a turn too."

Whimpering and recoiling, she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to hold back a scream.

"That's right. Keep it quiet-like. We ain't the only Orcs in these tunnels. You don't wanna know how nasty our neighbors can be." He snickered as he pulled her along.

Before long, they emerged into a spacious cavern. Unsettled by the sudden change in the stagnant air, Brytta strained her ears; there was another sound besides Fulak's flapping feet and the crunch of her boots. Someone was coming.

"Ah, my pet, looks like I read yuh right," Fulak greeted the newcomer warmly. "He give yuh a bit of trouble, eh?"

"Only a bit," Shagal replied. By her voice, Brytta knew she was approaching from her left, and turned slightly to keep the Orcess in front of her. She also realized that the scuffing, uneven footfalls must belong to Nûrzgrat. A thud was heard, followed by a groan.

"Ain't what I expected of them Isengarders," Fulak scoffed. "Always thought they was tough."

"He is," Shagal snapped defensively. "Took a lotta clouts to his noggin just tuh get'im here. Now be quick about duh light; wants'em tuh see," she sneered maliciously.

"Mind the cunt, then." He pushed Brytta at Shagal, who took hold of her with an iron grip. Then he began striking a flint.

The first thing Brytta saw when a small flame began to flicker in a cup of oil no larger than her hand, was Shagal's crazed face leering at her. The woman instinctively recoiled, prompting the Orcess to laugh.

"Just you wait right here," Shagal chuckled, forcing Brytta down next to Nûrzgrat's prone form. "Don't go wanderin' off, now. Never know who or what's about in dese tunnels."

Brytta paid little attention to Nûrzgrat; he seemed oblivious. The Orcs were up to no good, so she focused on them. There was a hole in the floor nearby, leading to who knew where. Fulak lowered a rope down, and descended. Again, the sound of flint being struck could be heard. She assumed he must be setting pots alight down there as well. For what purpose, she couldn't guess.

There didn't seem to be anywhere she could run, even if her hands were free. Glancing at Nûrzgrat, she saw that he was in a daze. The gag across his mouth was tight, preventing him from bringing his teeth together, else he might have chewed through it. They knew their business, these Orcs. In the dim light, Brytta thought she saw fresh punctures and scrapes on his throat, oozing black blood, but couldn't be sure.

What she did notice, however, was that the front of his breeches had been ripped open. She tore her gaze away in a flush of embarrassment, for he was exposed. Before she could recover from the shock, Fulak was climbing back out of the hole.

"Now I think we're ready," he announced, striding toward his captives with a cheeky grin. He grabbed Brytta by the arm and dragged her to her feet.

"Lemme have a sniff of'er," Shagal murmured, sidling up next to Brytta. The woman tried to cringe away, but Fulak held her fast. "Mmm. Dat's nice. You gonna stink up dis place." Without warning, Shagal hooked her claws into the neckline of Brytta's tunic and tore it wide open.

Brytta screamed with surprise and began to kick at the Orcess, but Fulak clamped his hand over her mouth. "Nar, don't go makin' no noise. You'll just call folks who ain't got no business bein' here." Frozen by the threat, Brytta trembled as Shagal tore at her clothes.

Unexpectedly, for no one had been paying him any mind, Nûrzgrat's leg swung around and caught Shagal's calves, felling her like a tree. Infuriated by the Uruk's attack, Fulak flung Brytta away from him and laid into Nûrzgrat with numerous kicks to the gut. Shagal picked herself up and glared at the baalak.

"Was gonna be nice," she hissed. "Not no more." She strode over to where Brytta had lost her balance and fallen, and hauled her to her feet by the hair. With her wrists still bound behind her, Brytta struggled to stand. Wordlessly, and not kindly, Shagal divested the woman of the remaining shreds of her clothing, then dragged her to the hole.

Taking the rope Fulak had used, she threaded it under one of Brytta's arms, then held tight to one end. The other end, Brytta now saw, was anchored to a stalagmite. Without warning, Shagal lifted her foot and kicked Brytta into the hole.

For a moment that lasted a heartbeat, the woman fell without resistance, then the looped rope tightened, and she jerked to a halt. A searing pain shot through her shoulder and she cried out. Then Shagal began feeding out the rope, slowly lowering Brytta to the bottom of the dimly-lit shaft. The sliding rope tore at her flesh, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. Soon her feet reached the floor, and crunched on something brittle. Before she could look to see what it might be, Shagal began pulling up the rope, running it swiftly under Brytta's armpit until the end was free. Brytta sucked air through her clenched teeth, for her skin was burned raw from the friction.

Above in the chamber, she could still hear Nûrzgrat getting pounded by Fulak.

The shaft was more or less round, though whether made intentionally or by nature, Brytta wasn't sure at first. She guessed it was no wider than ten feet across. The opening seemed far enough above her head to be insurmountable without a rope. Since she was still bound, escape was impossible.

Brytta heard hissed words above, perhaps spoken by Shagal, but couldn't make out what they were. There was a roar and a series of sickening thumps that cut them off. Blessed with light now, Brytta cast about the small chamber, looking for a sharpened edge of rock. If she could at least free her hands, she might stand a chance. It was then she realized that the floor was littered with bones.

Suddenly, what little light that came from above was partially blocked, and she looked up. Nûrzgrat's limp body was being lowered. He didn't seem to be alive. He was, however, just as unclothed as she was. She stood aside, and watched his descent. When his feet touched the ground, his legs buckled bonelessly, and she saw that he was unconscious. An unexpected worry for him made its presence known, but she suppressed it quickly.

Once more, the rope was pulled up, and both Orcs' heads appeared over the lip of the hole.

"Now," Fulak began in that same conversational tone, "when that baalak wakes up, he's gonna want some fuckin'. It's what that bond does to them baalaks, yuh know. Makes'em scamper after cunt like dogs on the hunt. Maybe yuh already gave it up to'im, maybe not. Don't matter; he'll take it from yuh, cause that's what them fuckers was bred fer."

"Do us a favor and scream a lot," Shagal suggested giddily. "I likes tuh hear duh screamin'."

"Hmph. Speakin' of. Yer mam wants tuh bugger us about this."

"Should'uh been grateful," Shagal grumped. "First time we gots hold'uh one'uh dem tarks since Dol Guldur. Figgered dey'd wanna have a go." As if responding to a gesture or glance, Shagal snorted dismissively, "Dey ain't goin' nowhere. He ain't like tuh wake soon, neither. I reckon we can listen tuh duh ravin' den come back here fer duh show."

The two withdrew, but Brytta could still hear their fading voices.

"Did yuh get'im?"

"A bit."

"What I tell yuh? You's too soft. Let'im breathe, didn't yuh?"

"Only fer a second!"

"All it takes."

Brytta found her gaze had fallen on Nûrzgrat, lying in a senseless heap where he'd been dropped. Though his hair was black and his skin a deep, dark brown, she could see the flickering light glistening on the slick of black blood running over his face and matting his hair.

What tale was true, and which one false? Would he come after her as Fulak implied, or...? Somehow, she couldn't trust in the existence of an 'or,' regardless of the seeming frankness of Barash. She'd heard tales of depravity in Rohan, and witnessed enough aftermaths of local raids to know the one-eyed Orc's claim held considerable weight. Nûrzgrat had already proven himself aggressive where she was concerned; she had few doubts, as she watched him warily, that he'd turn on her in exactly the way threatened.

As she stood with her back to the wall, her mind began to churn over possible escape routes. In the grand scheme, Nûrzgrat was of little concern at the moment. More important was a plan for getting out, but that meant freeing her hands first.

She once more focused on the bones. Forcing herself to see their use and not their origins, she shifted them with her toes in search of a suitable cutting edge. Most were intact, as though their owners had died here, and not as meals above. This was not a refuse pit, then. Nor was it a recent excavation; the amount of dust coating the floor implied great age. The walls themselves were chiselled, but not quite smooth. The rock seemed devoid of handholds that might allow a climber to scale them. Knowing how little was needed by an agile Goblin in its native tunnels, Brytta speculated that this pit might have been dug to catch and hold those very creatures.

But whether dug by Goblins themselves, or some other peoples, was impossible to tell.

Her search proved fruitless. Though there were a few bones that might have been employed for the purpose, it would require breaking them into shards first. She made a few attempts, but couldn't put enough power behind her efforts with her arms bound behind her. Then she heard Nûrzgrat groan.

As if his waking heralded her doom, she lurched to her feet and swayed off-balance for a moment. Then she stumbled backwards as far from him as she could get.

The Uruk didn't seem to be in a particular hurry to rise. Slowly, his eyes still closed, he rolled onto his side. Brytta eyed him warily, her heart beating anxiously. His gag had been removed, but his arms were still bound. She found her eyes flicking to his privates, drawn not by interest but by a troubling thought.

He'd been delivered to this place with his trousers rent. Shagal confessed that she'd 'had' him.

Brytta forced the ridiculous line of thought from taking root. In her experience, men could not be made a victim in this way. Not by other men, and certainly not by women. Whatever happened on the way to this place must have been permitted.

Scowling, she curled her lip in disgust. Was there no depth to which an Orc would not sink? It served him right being thrown into the pit, when he apparently tried to win his freedom with favors! Seething with indignation, her affronted mood overrode the nagging whisper at the back of her mind that all was not as it seemed.

"Bry-... Brytta," Nûrzgrat called, his voice dull and wincing. Slowly, his eyes opened a little. "Brytta?"

"I am here," she answered automatically.

He made several failed attempts to raise himself to a sitting position before giving up. All his movements were slow, pained, and appeared to drain him of all energy. "You all right?"

She couldn't help feeling it was a ludicrous question, given that she was standing and he was not, but she held back the urge to laugh. Under the circumstances, she might not be able to stop. "Well enough. You?"

"Head's... poundin'. Gonna p-..." Without warning, his body convulsed and he dry heaved.

Again, a strange sympathy surged. She felt compelled to remind herself of what he was, what he'd likely do. In direct conflict with that understanding was the sense of wrongness she experienced as she stood idly by watching him suffer. There was something familiar in it, but her fatigued and muddled mind couldn't quite recall what it was.

Groaning miserably, the Uruk closed his eyes and gasped for breath. "Gimme... a minute," he murmured weakly. "Gotta get... get out... outta here." Blinking his eyes open, he peered up at her. "They still up there?"

Brytta shook her head. "They've been gone for a short while."

"C'mere, then. Get... get behind me. I'll try... try to untie yuh. Need our... our hands..."

"I don't trust you," she stated flatly, though her words were hollow. Something of Nûrzgrat's earlier manner peeked through the haze.

"Fuck that!" he snapped. "We ain't got time for that shit. Get over here now!" Brytta stubbornly refused to move, and the fury drained out of Nûrzgrat swiftly. Sagging, he closed his eyes again. "Sorry. I don't like bein' trussed up or... stuck in a fuckin' pit. My head's fuckin' killin' me."

"Why were you struck?" Brytta asked. "I would have expected the same treatment, yet no one..."

"You ain't a fuckin' baalak," he muttered. "Orcs don't like nothin' with the stink of Men on it, worse if it's somethin' like me." Grunting bitterly, he growled, "Sharkû had a time of it keepin' them 'pure' Orcs from drownin' or guttin' his Uruks. You think Men wanna kill a half-breed; you ain't seen an Orc after'em."

Opening his eyes again, he said quietly, "You can hate me all you want when we get outta here. Just swallow it till we do, all right? I, uh... I... need yuh. Can't think straight. Can't think at all."

Brytta debated for several moments before answering. If what Fulak said was true, she was safest with Nûrzgrat bound. However, she couldn't hope to escape without his help. He seemed to be focusing his energy toward escape, though it could be a ruse. Yet she couldn't find a proper defense for that notion; by the look of him, he needed her as much in this place as she needed him. He was obviously fighting to remain awake and alert. That earlier thread of worry renewed itself, and Brytta's mouth firmed grimly. Brow pinched, she nodded.

Nûrzgrat struggled to right himself and present his back to her. A moment later, she was sitting close enough for their hands to touch. Doing his best to keep from cutting flesh, he dug at the knot with his claws. At least it was simple hempen rope; had it been a leather thong, he might not have severed it.

"Sorry," he muttered as she gasped in pain. One of his claws had hooked her. His hands shook and purple spots were flashing in front of his eyes. Any slight movement of his head caused the room to tilt nauseatingly. Oddly, he recalled instructions by his trainers, given decades ago. Beat the fuck outta yer pizurk all yuh want when he's uppity, but don't clout his head. He'd obeyed without question, never understanding what made the head such a delicate thing until now. If he were still under his Master's sway, he'd be utterly useless in his present condition. His thoughts were scattering like dry leaves before a gust of wind. Like lightning flashes, disjointed images made brief and confusing appearances.

The deep tunnel connecting one of the giant forges with a training pitch. Half a dozen snaga laying into him with tooth and claw.

A successful raid on a Rohirrim settlement. Holding up the head of a murdered whiteskin. A triumphant grin on his face.

Looking a fellow pizbûr boldly in the eye. Lying through his teeth that he knew nothing of Ghrulagûrz's whereabouts.

Cornered in the mess hall by that prick, pizdur Mauhûr. Receiving Sharkû's order to execute Frûmadûrz.

Catching Nûlkol and his henchorcs assaulting that stupid pizurk from Ûsord's command. Jeering and telling the helpless idiot that he had it coming.

Cleaving close to Sandy's sleeping form. Breathing in her scent as he kept her warm. Watching Morkoth fret and pace in the shadows.

"Nûrzgrat!"

The Uruk started, and for a moment he didn't know where he was. The stone walls implied he was underground; was this Isengard? No, Isengard was destroyed. He shook his head, which only made the pain worsen.

"My hands," Brytta reminded him. "You stopped."

"Oh," he muttered. He'd already lost entirely what was in his thoughts mere moments ago. "Right." His fingers fumbled at her bonds once more. A few minutes later, she was free.

She didn't immediately retreat, but rather chafed her wrists and looked over her shoulder at him in a strange way.

"You gonna untie me?" he asked flatly.

"Are you certain you are well?" she probed. He wasn't sure, but by expression and tone of voice, she seemed concerned. Perhaps he'd gotten a worse pounding than he'd thought, if he was imagining something like 'concern' in Brytta.

"Been better," he shrugged. Straightening a little, he tried for bravado to hide how badly he truly felt. "Takes a lot to do me in. Got a hard head."

Brytta chuckled in a half-hearted, unamused way. "You do, at that. It will take me longer to free you; I haven't your… your claws. Be still." He could feel her hands plucking at the rope, trying to work the knot free.

While he waited, Nûrzgrat cast his blurry gaze about the walls, narrowing his eyes to focus them. There was a strangely glowing halo about the small flames that he had difficulty looking at. For the first time in his life, light caused him physical pain. Not for the last time, he wondered what was wrong with him.

Almost as an afterthought, he remembered what Shagal and Fulak had told him before sending him to oblivion, and he stopped breathing for a moment. We can see it, yuh know. Yuh feel'er, don'tcha? Like yuh know'er in and out. It's a lie. It's a bloody curse, is what it is. Drives yuh mad. 'Specially you baalak fucks. Bad enough when it hits one of us; worse on you lot. Yuh see her, yuh smell her, yuh wanna have her. Yuh won't even know it's happenin', then yuh open yer eyes and you've done'er proper. You'll fuck'er good like yuh bastards was made tuh do, with pain and blood. And she'll hate yuh for it. But that won't stop yuh, 'cause by then yer mad as a hare.

He began to shake. The Orcs knew more than he did about what ailed him, and how it would end. It was indeed a curse, this madness that brought an intense feeling of oneness with a female who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. Still, he was certain that death would be preferable to becoming again what he once was. In his clouded mind, his thoughts were consumed with the fear of losing so much control over himself, that he assaulted Brytta.

If Shagal and Fulak could be believed, it seemed that connecting to Brytta was just the beginning. He'd lashed out at the Orcs in denial, thus earning the clout that laid him low, but it was foolish to ignore the truth. Nûrzgrat bowed his head and closed his eyes.

When would it come? By their sneering words, he guessed that he and Brytta would be trapped in this pit until it did. Could he fight it? He'd have to try. Would he know it was happening before it did? That was his greatest worry. He opened his eyes and made out the litter of bones strewn about the floor. Good, he thought. Have her carry one'uh these. In case I can't see it coming.

The thought made him sick to his stomach.

His thoughts drifted almost randomly, and he found himself focused on the wall before him. When Brytta finally freed him, he didn't notice at first. The wall glistened oddly; he wondered at it, and was transfixed.

"Nûrzgrat," she said quietly. "You're free." He started, then dragged his cramped arms forward and shook them a little. His hands had gone numb. Lifting one, he pointed at the wall.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's... it's a wall," she replied uncertainly.

Growling impatiently, he snapped, "I know it's a fuckin' wall. What's on it?"

Brytta indulged his temper and rose to investigate. He tried not to look at her, but he couldn't very well help it when she walked right into his blurred line of sight. He hadn't realized until this moment that she wasn't wearing any clothes. His mouth fell open a little as he stared at her naked backside. How the fuck did she fool anyone? he wondered incredulously, for she possessed all the soft curves of a woman. Perhaps her muscles were better defined than any female he'd seen, but her waist still tucked in a bit and her breasts weren't all that small. Perhaps she'd worn bulky clothing and bound her breasts flat, he mused. Then his mind finally caught up on things and asked why the fuck she was naked.

Brow furrowing, he looked down at himself, and found he was in a similar state. Those foul pushdug had taken their clothes.

Privacy was a foreign concept to the Uruk-hai while in Isengard, but the women in the clan had ensured its adoption and understanding as soon as possible. Now Nûrzgrat wouldn't dream of strutting naked across the common area from longhouse to stream for a bath, nor would he barge into another's shelter without knocking first. And here he was, with his cock dangling for all to see, but especially the one person in all of Dunland whose mere glance could set it off.

Not the only one, he conceded guiltily. Apparently the traitorous bastard could be swayed by a little rough-housing with a repugnant Orcess. Wincing with shame, he found he couldn't look at Brytta. He'd let another have him when the one whose bed he'd rather go to was right here. That the woman in question would rather be skinned alive than share her bed with him was irrelevant.

"It's moisture," Brytta informed him, relief in her voice. "We shan't go without water. Not entirely, anyway."

Shaking himself from his troublesome thoughts, Nûrzgrat scrounged about the floor, picking up and tossing first one bone than another, seeking something useable. Finally, he settled on a small pelvis, the curves forming shallow depressions.

"This'll probably work," he said, handing it to her. "Lean it against the wall. Try to catch the water as it drips." She gazed at him with something bordering on surprise. He smirked. "Ain't as dumb as I look."

"I suppose I thought you were," she murmured. Gesturing at his bloody head, she added, "If not always, then now at least."

"Hmph," he snorted. "Just shook'em loose. They'll settle. Pain's not so bad now." Getting his feet under him, he quickly rose to prove to both of them that he was all right. As soon as he was on his feet, the floor pitched him straight down again. He lay sprawled, blinking up at the opening and wondering what happened. Brytta's fearful face was above his. He could feel her firmly patting his cheek.

"Are you well?" she cried, then sagged with relief when she saw that his eyes were open. He could only stare at her, bewildered.

"Whuh duh fuh?" he gasped, his words slurred and slow.

"You fainted," she told him. "You stood, swayed for a moment, then fell. I could not rouse you for almost a minute."

All he could manage was to blink stupidly at her as if her words had no meaning. Fainted? How could he have fainted?

Setting aside that worrisome question, Nûrzgrat gathered what there was of his wits. Time enough for wondering later, when they were free.

"Never mind," he grunted dismissively. "Just gotta get up slower, is all." Avoiding her gaze, he looked up to the hole again, and tried to guess its distance. "You reckon it's twenty feet or so?"

She was a moment in responding. "Yes, about that. Have you a thought for scaling it?"

It was like wading through mud, lining up his thoughts. The Uruk kept looking at the wall and trying to think of his own height as well as Brytta's. "Yuh think... between the two of us, we're tall enough?"

"If I stood upon your shoulders, you mean?" Brytta suggested eagerly. "You are uncommonly tall for an Orc. We should at least try. Can you stand?"

"Got to," he muttered, rising to his hands and knees again. This time, he stayed still for a moment, letting his head settle. He stared at the floor, and poked idly at a bone shard. Slowly, he shifted his legs forward into a squat. To his surprise, Brytta's hand went to his arm to steady him. He took a few more breaths.

The pit walls blurred and spun as he stood straight. Only by grabbing Brytta and holding on tightly did he keep from falling. His vision tunneled for a moment, and Nûrzgrat feared he'd succumb once more.

"Easy!" she called out. Her voice was muffled, as though she spoke through a cloth. She'd braced herself to take his weight, and held him fast.

"Fuck, I just... I wanna lay down," Nûrzgrat begged, a lump in his throat.

"You shouldn't sleep, badly as you want to," Brytta told him steadily. "Hold still until the dizziness passes."

"Did they just kill me?" he asked, meeting her eyes unwaveringly. She said nothing, but he could feel her worry. He nodded without pursuing the question any further.

Nûrzgrat's senses were as dull and witless as his thoughts. He wasn't prepared when their captors returned a moment later.

"Ah, dey're like mates already, ain't dey?" Shagal crooned tauntingly from above. Brytta's gaze shot upward first, then Nûrzgrat's followed more slowly.

The Orcess was lying next to the pit opening, resting her chin on her hand. She might have been there for a few minutes; the Uruk wasn't sure. The sight of her, however, inspired a boiling rage he hadn't expected.

"Yuh fuckin' cunt!" he roared, letting go of Brytta and lurching toward the wall below Shagal. "When I get outta here, I'll rip your fuckin' head off!" Without thinking, he leaped up the wall and scrambled for purchase, bringing all his claws to bear. The walls, however, were apparently hewn with Orc-kind in mind. All he managed to do was wear himself out in vain.

Staggering back, Nûrzgrat set his feet apart and leaned one hand on the wall. He glared up at Shagal's amused face, his own a mask of hatred. He couldn't readily recall why he despised her so; simple dislike was understandable, given his predicament. He didn't like Fulak, either. But Shagal was different. There was a reason... something humiliating...

It was gone. Still, Nûrzgrat trusted his gut, and held on to the hate.

"Are yuh done, baalak?" Shagal sighed impatiently. Rising to her hands and knees, she sneered, "We's set yuh up nice, like, ain't we? You wit' yer playt'ing, all ready fer yuh. Gonna go for'er sooner or later. Make it soon, won't yuh?"

"Think yuh might'a conked'im too hard, my pet?" Fulak suggested. His head appeared over the rim as well, but his expression conveyed no concern for Nûrzgrat's welfare. "Hard tuh get it up when yer hurtin'."

"Mind yer bidness," she snarled. "Fucker had it comin'."

"Ain't denyin' that. Just thinkin'... maybe we give'im some encouragement, eh? Little bit'uh help, since he don't seem smart enough to appreciate that we's helpin'im."

"Mmm," Shagal purred. She shifted, as though rising to her hands and knees. Fixing her eyes on Nûrzgrat's, she muttered, "You's one lousy, pathetic fuck, baalak." There was a scampering sound as Fulak rounded the pit and knelt behind his mate. "Pay attention; dis is how it's done."

Nûrzgrat looked away, his lip curled in disgust. The sounds of their fucking were intrusive and gratuitously loud, but the Uruk felt no stirrings of arousal, as he sometimes did when he overheard his clanmates in the settlement. Rather, he felt nauseous. His gorge rose, listening to the Orcess's grunting, and for some reason the image of her mounted on him filled his mind. His hand automatically came up to rub his throat. Alarmed, he shook his head clear of the repellent vision.

A slight movement caught his eye, and Nûrzgrat glanced at Brytta. She looked furious, but not with the Orcs so much as with him.

"That shit ain't my fault!" he barked defensively, pointing up.

"Isn't it?" she sneered hatefully. "Nice try."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"You sought to buy your freedom by offering yourself," Brytta growled. "Her words confirm it. You disgust me."

"I didn't...," he began, then halted as memory flooded back in. Again, he rubbed his throat and a feeling of self-loathing began to descend. He hastily brushed it away. "Never mind. Don't matter. We're in this shit together. Get that through yer head."

"For now," she conceded, though her countenance was slow to lose its revulsion. "I promise you, if you lay a hand on me..."

"I won't," Nûrzgrat interrupted firmly. "I want outta here; that's all I got on my mind." Huffing and curling his lip, he added, "It's all my head's got room for. Hurts too much for anything else."

"Oy!" Fulak barked down at them. He was now lying atop Shagal, his head beside hers as he continued to work. Her face was a mask of enjoyment. "Don'tcha wanna fuck'er, baalak? Feelin' the urge? Yer dick hard yet?"

Seething with renewed fury, Nûrzgrat roared, "Ain't gettin' nothin' up with that fuckbag'uh yours around! Smells like piss and shit! Looks like piss and shit! Can't believe your dick's hard, 'less yer usin' a stick to fuck'er with!" He glanced at Brytta and smirked. Her hand was covering her mouth as if she was trying not to laugh.

Shagal didn't appear to appreciate Nûrzgrat's opinions. Shoving Fulak away, she leaped to her feet. "Shut yer hole, baalak! Who standin' up here, and who in duh pit, huh? I'll see yuh fuckin' dat cunt down dere, den yer mine." Squatting down, she rubbed her sex provocatively and leered, "Alls yuh need's a good round'n you's'll be beggin'."

Fulak sidled up next to Shagal and draped an arm over her shoulders. "Yeah, baalak. 'Bout all you's good fer is a bit of play. We'll teach yuh how tuh play nice." His gaze shifted to Brytta, and he licked his lips. "Always wondered why yer da liked fuckin' tarks so much in the old days, my pet. My lucky day, eh?"

"Dey smells funny," Shagal supplied with a cruel grin, "but dey screams ever so nice."

Nûrzgrat felt close to vomiting. He shot a look at Brytta and hissed in an undertone, "I'll fuckin' kill'em both. They won't get either of us."

"I am not helpless," she returned grimly, adding, "and neither are you." Nodding toward the bones strewn about the floor, she said, "We'll make weapons of these. They must come down to do us harm directly. We will be ready."

Her fiercely determined expression made his heart swell. The Uruk was nearly overwhelmed with the need to make some sort of foolish declaration, perhaps in admiration of her qualities. Clenching his jaw tightly to prevent an outpouring of insane ramblings, he merely nodded agreement.

Unexpectedly, Nûrzgrat's vision tunneled again, and he swayed. His arms flung out as he tried to grab something, but there was nothing within reach, then all light extinguished at once.

As before, Nûrzgrat slowly came awake, lying flat on his back with Brytta's worried face hovering over his. The little flames were lit again. For some reason, his body hurt all over, and he was far more tired than he was before.

"Be still," she told him, her voice trembling. "Easy."

"Whuh…?" He almost thought he'd gone deaf, and merely heard her voice in his head as he'd once heard his Master's. There were no sounds from above. He glanced up past Brytta to see if Shagal or Fulak were still there.

"They've gone," she supplied. "You've been unaware for almost an hour, and... you had some sort of fit."

Truly alarmed now, Nûrzgrat tried to sit up. Brytta held him down with firm hands on his shoulders.

"No, don't move." Seeing the fear in his eyes, she drew a deep breath. "I remember now. So long ago, I'd forgotten." Her voice and countenance took on a seriousness that did nothing to relieve Nûrzgrat's worry. "Before I joined with Berendir and his men, I... I hunted Orcs with another group. I was young, and they were willing to take on a green recruit. In any case, there was one, Bradon, who was... Well, to put it mildly, he was quite a scoundrel."

"What's that mean?" Nûrzgrat asked curiously. He could feel himself calming, just listening to her. Perhaps his ailment was behind it, as if hearing her speak about anything, good or bad, was enough to sooth him.

"By that I mean that he... engaged with many different women," she explained delicately. "Often. Usually in secret. Then he would... boast of his deeds to us." Brytta's cheeks colored, to Nûrzgrat's fond amusement. "Regardless, he dallied with the wrong woman. She believed her husband's absence would last a while longer than it did, and Bradon was caught in their bed. With her. The husband did not return home alone; he had several confederates who aided him in seeing to Bradon's comeuppance."

Brow furrowing, Nûrzgrat supplied, "Beat the fuck outta him, didn't they?"

"Yes, in a nutshell. He took many blows to the head, and was not right for a good while after." She peered intently into the Uruk's eyes. "One of his eyes was different from the other for weeks. Yours seem all right. But he lost consciousness many times, as you have. His head ached horribly, as yours does. His emotions seemed... out of control at times."

"Outta control," he repeated tightly. Brytta nodded.

"Sometimes, he lashed out for little reason," she recalled. "Other times, he... he wept, and could not explain the cause."

"But he got better, right?" Nûrzgrat asked worriedly.

Hesitating, her expression uncomfortable, she shook her head. "We were told... after, that he was bleeding... inside his head. There was nothing anyone could do."

"Fuck," Nûrzgrat muttered, looking away. He squeezed his eyes shut. Unconsciously, he made to run his fingers through his hair, but was stopped short by the gummed mass of blood there.

"I do not believe the same fate awaits you," Brytta insisted, though her tone conveyed hope rather than surety. "Bradon was beaten for much longer than you were, by men bent on vengeance. Not to subdue, but to kill. He bled from his nose, though they hadn't broken it. His ears also seeped blood." She reached out to pluck at his matted hair. "I see cuts on your head, the skin broken open here and there. None of the blood came from your ears or nose."

"Thank you, Brytta," he muttered.

She frowned in confusion. "Why do you thank me?"

He swallowed a couple of times, trying to make himself speak. He cleared his throat. "For forgettin' how much you wanna see me dead." He gestured upward. "I know they told yuh the same shit they told me. What they're expectin' me to do to yuh." Forcing himself to look at her, he went on, "I don't want to. I swear to you, on what's left of my honor, I won't. If I... if I can... if I can tell it's... it's even happenin'."

His voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut again. Too late to stem the tide, the tears that filled his eyes slipped out.

"You will know," she assured him softly.

"But I've lost it, couple of times," he reminded her brokenly. "I don't even remember..."

"You didn't. Nûrzgrat, look at me." He reluctantly met her eyes. "When you lost yourself, you went still, as though you were... asleep, I suppose. You did not act inappropriately. I don't believe you could act, even if you'd wanted to. What you need is rest. Don't let them incite your wrath. They can do nothing from up there." Smiling grimly, she held up a shard of bone she must have split while he was unaware. "They wouldn't dare come down here."