XXI. Didn't ask you to save me/Not when you knew me well/Wouldn't ask you even to behave for me/I know there's no hope in hell/Take the night off and be bad for me/Take it right off and be bad for me

"Should we not go after her?" Yazneg asked him on the second day, having been too afraid of Azog's black mood the day previous; only now he was quickly realizing that the girl had no intention of returning, a thought that almost saddened him for he had grown used to seeing her nearly everyday.

Azog turned dark eyes on him. "She is coming back," he ground through clenched teeth, unable to believe she wouldn't.

And so Yazneg had left it, recoiling from Azog as he went about his duties. It was not until he saw Daisy, still tied up for she would only chase after Calla, that he wondered if she had ever planned on returning. The decision was made for him; his mind was cluttered with pictures of her smile, of her kindness and gentleness; her place was here, at Azog's side only he was too stubborn to go to her.

"What are you doing?" Azog demanded darkly, glaring at him as he untied Daisy and mounted his own warg.

With a steel in his spine that could only be attributed to the strength of Calla he faced Azog. "I am bringing her back," he told him firmly, knowing Azog would not kill him – hurt him, yes. Whip him to an inch of his life, certainly. But with Calla death would never come, that was something he had learned years ago. And when Azog did no more than stand his ground and look upon him hatefully, Yazneg knew it even more.

Daisy sniffed the ground determinedly, racing after Calla's scent, and Yazneg atop his warg raced after her. He had to call her back to keep her from following Calla's smell directly to a camp, and Daisy whined knowing she had gone there and she wanted to sniff all around; but instead Yazneg led her around, unseen, and Daisy found her scent along the ground once more and she ran off. She refused to stop when the sun went down, Calla's scent stronger and newer and she was far too excited to rest and so she continued on despite Yazneg telling her to stop and he was forced to follow.

With a gleeful yelp Daisy ran as fast as she could and Yazneg knew she'd found Calla, and he lept from his warg to find her sitting on the ground staring in the night at a village half a league away.

"He sent you to get me," she said bitterly, petting Daisy as she licked her face.

Yazneg sat beside her knowing his next words would hurt her worse than that. "He did not send me."

Calla gave a short laugh and shook her head, finding she no longer even cared. "Of course he didn't."

"He was convinced you would come back on your own," Yazneg offered, knowing it didn't do much to lessen her hurt. "You stopped at the camp," he said giving her something else to talk about.

She nodded, now laying on Daisy who gladly let her as she panted. "I told them I was running away," she told him. "They gave me food."

He looked at her closely in the moonlight to see her sad face. "You did not stay with them?" he asked, wondering why she hadn't, they might have taken her with them and given her a place to stay.

She was quiet a long while before she answered. "It took me several moments to speak to them," she said softly, feeling tears well in her eyes as they had when she was looking at the three men and woman. "I had trouble remembering the words. Every time I tried to speak I almost said it in your tongue." She stopped when she felt her chin quiver, what the people had thought of as sorrow had truly been despair. "And they asked me what I was running away from, what could I tell them?" she asked looking at him with glistening eyes full of sadness and pain. "An orc I foolishly let myself care for, and believe he cared for me in return?" She gave a pitiful tear-filled laugh as she shook her head, irritably wiping the few tears from her cheeks.

"So you did not stay with them," Yazneg said not understanding though trying to keep her from crying. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"A little after noon," she answered softly, having sat in the same spot for over twelve hours.

What he could not understand was why she hadn't gone to the village, or even staid with the camp; they were her freedom, she could finally escape and never go back with the orcs, a new start at life. But she hadn't taken either of them. "Why have you not gone to the village?" he asked, knowing he would never understand unless she told him.

"I was going to," she admitted, remembering the feel of relief at seeing it and realizing she was finally free. But two boys, no older than fourteen, had passed her and they stopped a little while to speak with her. They had been scouting, or as much as they could have for they saw it as more of an adventure in their still young age; and they laughed and joked with one another as they told her of the things they'd seen such as boars and other animals. They had shared their lunch with her, deeming her the most beautiful woman they'd ever seen save a young woman named Lily who was more their age with lovely golden hair and a laugh like a chiming bell. They were kind, and young, and not an ounce of cruelty dwelt in either of their hearts.

"Why did you not?" he asked her gently, seeing she was so very vulnerable in this moment – seeing she truly was very beautiful in her humanity.

She felt the tears well in her throat, could feel them burning in her eyes. The answer was so simple, and it despaired her greatly. "Because I am ruined," she said, her voice strained as she tried not to cry. She buried her face in Daisy's fur to hide her tears, remembering how much it had surprised to see such open kindness between two young boys, and even the kind and goodness from the people from the camp.

The answer was clear, so obvious even Yazneg understood; and he looked upon her with pity and he let her sit against Daisy as long as she needed before she climbed atop her warg and followed him as he took her back to Azog.

…

He should have been enraged at seeing her face when they arrived, should have been livid she had dared leave and now returned. But he wasn't, not entirely. Something in his chest had fluttered at the sight of her, a hope had spread through him and relief had washed over him that she was well and before him. She headed to the tent, pointing to the place outside for Daisy to sit, and she entered waiting for him to follow.

"Has she said anything?" he asked Yazneg, wondering if she told him why she left and why she returned.

Yazneg nodded. "She said many things."

"Where did you find her?"

Yazneg looked up at him warily. "Outside of a village," he answered, seeing the surprise on Azog's face to hear she hadn't gone there.

"She did not," he began asking but Yazneg shook his head and he ceased talking.

"Nor did she stay with a camp she came across," he told Azog shocking him more.

Azog stood staring hard at the tent, wanting to go there but also wanting answers he was not sure she would give him. "Has she said why?"

Yazneg looked at him, knowing very well his choice of words might cause him harm but he was finding that he liked Calla just a bit more. "You ruined her," he answered, taking her previous answer and placing the blame where it belonged; where Calla hadn't.

He turned to the orc with wide eyes to see him staring at him defiantly. "I ruined her?" he demanded, his eyes hardening.

And Yazneg nodded. "She has forgotten what it means to be human," he told Azog, freezing his anger. "You should apologize," he offered. "You may lose her completely if you don't."

Azog turned from Yazneg and stalked to the tent, giving himself a reminder to have Yazneg hurt for his audacity. But that all faded away when he saw Calla's eyes. Her dark blue eyes so warm and kind, baring her love for him so clearly, were now hard and cold as she stared at him.

"You left Yazneg to come get me," she said when he did not speak. "You were right, I am a fool," she told him bitterly. "I had hoped you would come yourself."

He was left staring down at her not knowing what to do or even to say, if there was there was anything he could say to make right his wrong – and he was seeing all too well how wrong he had been. He could see it in her eyes, she'd needed him; to understand, to hold her, to care for her; and he had turned away offering nothing but his frustrations. And so he did all he could, he got down on his knees before and stared up at her angry face.

She had come to realize many things in the three days she had been gone: he did in fact care for her was the first, as an orc he loathed weakness and that was all she was for him was the second, and the third had been that this wasn't any easier for him. And so seeing him on his knees, as weak as he could have ever made himself to her, had her heart softening to him even though she did not want it to.

"Say it," she ordered quietly, neither eyes nor her voice offering to be refused. "You liar, say it," she demanded, slamming her hands against his chest nearly sending him off balance, and still he stayed before her with calm eyes begging forgiveness. "Tell me you don't care for me."

He said nothing, for it was untrue and she knew it. She knew he loved her, she knew it with her entire heart and it had taken three restless nights for her to remember; and even more than that, she was aware he knew it too. She stood looking down at him, the top of his head coming to her chin, her chest heaving and her entire body craving the feel of him though she had wished it not to.

He was surprised when she moved, when she grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers; and he surprised her when fought her tongue, moving his mouth on hers as he had never done before. And he crushed her to him, hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs and make her burst into flames with the need for air though she never came up for it. Without a single care he tore the dress from her, ruining the blue dress she'd had since he'd first found her, before pulling her closer. As though he wanted to pull her inside of him. She had his loincloth off before he even knew she'd done it and he flattened her to the ground, reluctantly separating their hungry mouths, and he thrust hard into her.

It would not be until the next day that they saw what they had done to each other; her smooth skin littered with his fingerprints, his back clawed from her nails. In that moment pain was nothing compared to their utter desire, their moans hard and rough nearly yells and screams from the weight of their release. And they laid against each other finally coming to the surface for air, gasping as their pounding hearts slowed to an even rhythm.

"Do you really believe this a mistake?" she asked him softly, her fingers tracing the indent of the scars along his chest.

With a hand around her back he wound his own fingers in her hair, enjoying the softness of it on his rough skin. "Yes," he told her honestly. "But I do not regret it." He felt her smile against his chest before she pressed a kiss over his heart, not knowing his heart was not there. How could it be, he placed it in her hand.

song is Take the Night Off by Laura Marling. I must say she ties with Florence and the Machine for me.

PS: that song really was only a matter of time, and I do love it so much. And I'm very glad to hear you'll read it no matter where I'll take it. But I will say we are slowly getting back on track.