After their afternoon meal, Ashûk was better covered by the addition of a fox pelt. Fleetfoot was indeed an admirable hunter. The Uruk imagined that she must have honed her skills over a lifetime in the forest, and he envied such freedom.
He had never been free to do anything he wished. Even the sport his brothers enjoyed could not be considered a choice, for they received specific orders to seek females for such things. Would they have done so had their Master not wished it? Ashûk didn't have an answer.
"You are so quiet," Fleetfoot commented as they continued on. "I have watched the orcs in the valley of the Tower for years, and they are not so silent as you. Is such a thing common among the Uruk-hai?"
"No, I would not say we were quiet at all," he chuckled. "I have... troubled thoughts."
"Then you should stop thinking," she advised sagely. "Look about you. See the sunlight on the water, the shadows of the trees. Breathe the clean air. Be content in what is now. Do not concern yourself with what is past."
Nodding, Ashûk tried to empty his mind, but it wouldn't obey his commands. There was too much to remember, for all that he had only known a few summers since his foul emergence.
"Do you think me... ugly?" he suddenly asked.
Fleetfoot halted and looked at him critically, her head tilting from side to side as she examined him. "Very little that thinks and breathes is ugly. You have thoughts, and you draw breath. You are alive, as are all those blessed by Eru. I see no ugliness in you."
"You do not look hard enough," he muttered, turning away.