As they climbed the trail, Maukurz clutching Halla and her bundle of goods, Halla felt both relief and terror. Relief, of course, that she had left a horrible home life behind; relief that she had found someone finally who was dedicated to her alone, and she could be at ease, knowing that she was accepted and loved. And horror, because she had never not known where her next meal was coming from. The death of her parents had cast her down the social ladder somewhat; her mother's brother Aelfred lived far more humbly than Halla's parents. But still, they had means, a home, a herd. Maukurz had nothing.
She tried, also, to forget how awful it had felt when Finnan had briefly raped her. She didn't even want to think the word 'rape', let alone apply it to herself. That violation had been a terror blighting Halla's life since she was four years old, a thing discussed in whispers. A woman or girl would disappear after a raid, or sink into misery, and that word—rape—would be hissed in the shadows. The woman would receive kindness for a while, until her presence became something akin to bad luck. It was a word associated with shame, and Halla didn't want to bear it. She tried to push away the memory of his cold hands, the horrific invasion of his body. Yet it was impossible. It also seemed especially cruel that Finnan had violated her in the one thing that made her so happy. Halla had just discovered sexuality, was just beginning to learn what her body was capable of feeling and doing and sharing with Maukurz. Their lovemaking had felt natural and good to Halla, it was something she eagerly anticipated, a great source of joy; then Finnan had named her whore and taught her how easily she could be oppressed and shamed. She couldn't escape the memory of his naked body forcing its way into hers. She shuddered, unaware that she moaned softly, wretchedly.
Maukurz stopped walking immediately. He'd long since left the trail and was hiking up through the woods. Now he set Halla's bundle of clothes and jewels down, and sunk to the ground, crossing his legs and holding her in his lap in the shadow of a great, drooping pine tree. Halla shivered, wondering if he'd want to make love. Wondering if she would feel Finnan violating her, if the sweet gift she'd been given, that easy pleasure she'd found since the first time Maukurz had held her in his gaze and boldly run his hand up her thigh had been utterly destroyed. She didn't even have the heart to find out.
Maukurz whispered "Shh…" He held her gently, feeling the ugly turmoil of her emotions, hideously familiar: it was the wash of fear and shame and hurt that had smothered him for all his life, that he'd deliberately invoked not knowing there was anything better. It caused pain between his eyes, to see Halla and hurt for her and see the damage done… and then to know himself so deeply culpable for inflicting it anywhere he could. He hated the horse boys with every ounce of his being: first because he was trained to, and then because they won. But now Maukurz found himself humbled, imagining some Man holding his own Halla and wondering how he'd put her together again.
Halla's body language was closed off: she drew her knees to her chest and hugged her arms around her knees. She didn't even seem to know that she was softly keening. Seeing Halla this way ripped Maukurz's heart out. He stole the thing I loved the most: her beautiful innocent warmth. Maukurz was at loss for how to retrieve it, but restoring Halla was absolutely necessary. He wondered if he should lay her down and coax her body to respond, in hopes that it would unfreeze her heart.
He brushed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes—the beautiful blue eyes that had gazed on him with such desire and joy—were frozen and liquid with tears, hardly seeing him at all. Her temple was bruised, her cheek and mouth were bruised. Her husband had tried to choke her to death, leaving a purple rope around her throat. Maukurz could have peeled the Man's skin from his body while he was still alive, and it wouldn't have satisfied him. "I've got you now, Halla," Maukurz murmured. "Nothing bad will happen now. You're safe with me now."
"Maukurz…" she cried softly, turning her face to his chest. "Oh, Maukurz!" Her sobs tore loose as she cuddled against him, gripping his hands as if to save her life.
He was so enraged it was hard to speak of it. If he'd still been in Isengard, Maukurz wouldn't have been to control his anger. Someone would have been hit, hard. Only half a year of eating shit as a refugee allowed him to keep his thoughts together, and speak with a calm voice. "He hurt you… bad?"
Halla knew Maukurz didn't mean the choking or hitting. She shook her head, shaking and crying. "No, no… It was just—so awful! I was so… so embarrassed! So afraid, and ashamed…" She looked up at him, her pain filled eyes like justly deserved daggers in his guts. "And I was outraged… for you, so much, that hurt so much, because I gave myself to you…! And the baby…"
Maukurz groaned softly, lay his cheek against her hair. "Shh, don't you worry 'bout me. And it's real good your body ain't hurt. And Baby ain't hurt," he murmured. Because Maukurz couldn't help it anymore, he pressed his lips to her neck just behind her ear, breathing her in, kissing her hair and warm skin. He tightened his arms around her.
Halla sighed, a little cry escaping her. She sank into his arms. But when his hand smoothed over her hips, she cringed away. "I don't… I wanna… wash…" she whispered.
" 'Course," Maukurz said quietly. She couldn't hear the anxiety in his voice. He held her for another moment, his hands still and his arms warm. "But I love you. He don't got you. I do. He's dead to us." And so help me, if I can make it happen, he'll be dead to all.
Halla inhaled deeply, holding his words close. Finnan was dead to her. She would never have to see him again. He would never touch her, or hit her, or embarrass her with his ice cold glare. He'd never tell her to be seen and not heard, or measure her by the propriety of her gown, or treat her as a land deed or a set of gold plates.
And Maukurz was willing to forget. Halla had thought in the back of her heart that he might not want her anymore. But Maukurz he did; he was just the same with her, as if it had never happened. Halla hoped maybe she could return to herself with him.
"I love you too," Halla said, sinking against Maukurz a little more.
He rose to his feet easily. He dipped again to lift the bundled sheet, dipping Halla back playfully—but safely, holding her firm—smiling with hopeful encouragement. Halla smiled faintly and closed her eyes, and slept as he carried her into the mountains.
"Halla, wake up now…"
She opened her eyes to a grey, mossy wall with a narrow stream of water running over the rocks. The air was crisp, and Halla was surprised to see snow in patches on the ground.
"You wanna wash now, before we get there?"
Halla nodded, stretching a little in his arms. Maukurz set her down and walked to the little stream, cupping a handful of water to drink.
"We're going to live with those other Uruks?" Halla asked him timidly.
"I got you," Maukurz said coolly. "No body will bother you."
Halla breathed deeply, extending her hand gingerly to let the cold water splash on it. "I trust you," she said quietly. "I have to trust you."
"You're my ashgaz," he told her. Maukurz smiled softly. "And you got my little whelp. What you think he's gonna be like?"
"The baby? I don't know," Halla said thoughtfully. She inhaled again, and felt the cool mountain air on her face. Impulsively, she pulled down her hood and unbound her tight braid, raking her fingers through her long pale hair. "Strong," she decided, managing a small smile.
"For sure," Maukurz murmured happily. He reached out and grasped a strand of her hair. "I like it better like that. Free."
"Me too," Halla said. "Maukurz… I forgot completely! That other—Baiurz, right? He is hurt!"
"He's a little banged up," Maukurz said. "He was huntin', stepped on some Man's bear trap."
"But that's awful! I'll hurry and wash up… though it's so cold…" Halla dropped her cloak hesitantly, looking over her shoulder. "D'you mind… so much? I want privacy. Just… because…" she pursed her lips together, unable to say it.
She don't want me to see her washing him off, Maukurz thought. He took a steadying breath and dropped her hair, then impulsively tucked the strand behind her ear. "Pretty girl," he said quietly. "I'll walk around a little, but I won't be far."
Halla sighed, grateful. She undressed awkwardly, pulling the laces slowly on her grey wool dress, reluctant to let it drop to her feet. She could feel the brisk spray of mist from the little waterfall, chilling her skin, and the air was even colder then. Halla closed her eyes, and stepped into the water.
She cringed from the frigid water, but scrubbed it into her flesh all the same. She tipped her head and let the water run over her face and hair, losing her breath as the cold hit her chest. She tried to forget Finnan and the closed off, humiliated feelings he'd left her with; she tried to remember the young woman who had always loved the feeling of water or fine soft cloth against her skin… before learning to love most of all the feeling of Maukurz's smooth hard body against her skin. She tried to forget being hit and choked; not like Uncle Aelfreth with his belt when she'd done something dangerously foolish as a child, but like a piece of filth not fit for the world.
Halla stepped out of the water, shivering and hurrying to her bundle. She tore the sheet open, immediately lamenting how few garments she'd packed in her terror. And how absurdly fancy, the things she'd picked! Freezing at the high altitude, Halla shimmied herself quickly into a gown of white, soft wool, embroidered at hem and sleeves with stars in thread of silver. Silver fox fur trimmed the sleeves and collar, and she wrapped the matching stole around herself quickly, pulling her long wet hair over her shoulder. After she laced her sturdy boots and dropped her hem into the snow she called for Maukurz.
As soon as he emerged around the rocks, Halla hurried into his arms. "You're so warm…" she said, wanting him to carry her again.
Oh, that's so much better, Maukurz thought. He could swallow the lump of rage in his throat now. The twisting of his guts eased. "You look beautiful," he told her.
"I'm so cold!" Halla murmured. "Are you not cold?"
"Got thick skin, little girl," Maukurz replied. "Let's get your things together. Gonna be dark soon."
Halla nodded, reluctantly leaving his arms. She pulled the corners of the sheet together and wound them up. Maukurz lifted her again, and the heavy bundle, and carried her to his home.
The Uruks looked up at the exact same time, abandoning the bloody deer carcass. Shatauz, Narzum, and Dagalur looked to Baiurz, who grit his jaw. "If he's stolen that white-skin, he's done," Baiurz swore. "Go check it out."
Narzum was quite sure Maukurz hadn't stolen her; she'd come willing enough for him, that loose-hipped devil. He scurried out of the cave, Dagalur on his heels. Shatauz was close behind them, moving so fast that he crashed into their backs as they stood outside the cave, jaws hanging. They gaped at Captain Maukurz leading by the hand a vision of sweet, warm flesh in white and silver and pale gold.
Halla squeezed Maukurz's hand fearfully. This is my home now? Halla wondered desperately. The three Uruks in front of the small cave mouth were staring at her like she was meat.
"You want me to make her a necklace outta your eyeballs?" Maukurz asked sharply, and three pairs of Uruk-hai eyes dropped to their feet.
"Baiurz is grumblin' already," Narzum said. "Thinks you stole her."
"Come on, Halla," Maukurz said, bringing her along.
Halla's eyes adjusted quickly to a long, narrow cave. A fire was near the front, where an old Uruk with long, scraggly salt and pepper hair, and mottled skin, sat over the bloody, torn carcass of a deer, watching them with hard, terrifying orange eyes. Halla's belly churned, and she dug her fingernails into Maukurz's hand.
Maukurz brought Halla to the fireside. He set the bundle down and squatted, drawing her down with him, to the dirty ground in her elegant dress. But Halla was more surprised by the change in her lover's demeanor. His head was bowed a little, his voice softened. "This is Halla, Commander. She's come to stay with me."
Baiurz looked furious—and terrifying, even though Halla noticed his mangled lower leg, covered in deep gouges and black blood that leaked onto the floor. But then, as his nostrils flared, his eyes turned noticeably curious. "Baal-ta?"
Maukurz nodded his head, eyes glowing.
Baiurz sighed and turned his stare on Halla. She swallowed, not wanting to cringe before him. I must learn to live with him, until we can make our own place. And who knows when or how we could do that?
"You here of your own free will, Halla?" Baiurz asked.
"Ye—yes. Sir. Yes sir."
Maukurz grinned slightly, noting the amusement in his commander's stern face.
"Your people know where we are?"
"No one," Maukurz said.
"She can tell me," Baiurz snapped.
Halla shook her head. "No one knows."
Baiurz sighed heavily. There was no lie in the girl, but who could know if she was followed? And then again, it was almost too late in the year for white-skins to climb the mountains in any number anyhow. Baiurz was curious to see how this little bite of cunt would survive the coming winter. He noted with wonder how tightly she held Maukurz's hand. He's gonna drive the others crazy with fuckin' her, Baiurz thought, irritated. All the same: there was hope here. "Go ahead," Baiurz said, jerking his head towards the interior of the cave. "You take the way back now."
"She has medicine for you," Maukurz said. "Halla, take the medicine out."
Baiurz looked surprised at this.
"I should sew his wounds," Halla murmured, digging through her things for the little pot.
"No, he won't want that. He's gonna burn what he can shut, and leave the rest. But give him your medicine." Maukurz looked at the commander. "Put this stuff on your cuts, Commander. After you wash them."
It was plain that Maukurz just didn't want Halla touching anyone else. Halla handed the medicine to Maukurz, and he passed it to the commander.
"Good," Baiurz grumbled. "Go on now."
Maukurz bowed his head in thanks, and rose with Halla. He began to lead her away, hearing Baiurz say thoughtfully, "Maybe we'll be six again after all."
The back of the cave was a fair bit warmer than outside, but the light was dim. Maukurz set Halla's things down, then picked up a large pile of animal skins, furs and hides, and dropped the pile beside the bundle. "These were for clothes or whatever, but you'll be wantin' something soft to sleep on. Spread it out how you like. You hungry?"
"Very," Halla murmured, disoriented.
"Want your meat burned, right?"
Halla smiled a little. "Not burned. Just… brown on the outside, a little pink in the middle."
Maukurz caressed her with his eyes, smiling slowly. She was his now, all the way. He stood watching her for a moment, laying out a bed with a medley of furs, then sitting on it and pulling her bundle close.
"What should I do with my jewels? My coin?" she whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear.
"Oh—just put it on the wall. I'ma bring my stuff over, my uniform and tunic and kilt, my helmet… which does more work now holdin' drinking water."
"But… what about the others?"
"They don't care about that stuff, Halla," Maukurz said. "A snaga will rob you blind, but Uruks don't care about shiny shit, 'less it's chain mail. We got no use for it."
Halla nodded, surprise on her pretty face. She took out a series of bags in soft, fine material, then scooped up handfuls of coin and set them against the wall. She didn't seem satisfied, but she shrugged and sat back on their furs.
This ain't no good, Maukurz thought suddenly. I don't want no one watchin' us at night. I don't want no one seeing her perfect little body when she changes her clothes or lets me hold her. Privacy was never something he'd cared about—or even had—before. But he had Halla now, and everything was different. It wasn't so much that Master had kept his breeders in cages deep in the earth… it was a quiet gut feeling that now came screaming forward: protect her, conceal her. Besides that, the idea of at least three leering faces in the background as he enjoyed Halla was rather nauseating to Maukurz.
"Take a walk with me, ashgaz," Maukurz said, extending his hand. He would not leave her alone with the others: they respected him, but Halla's new presence would be intoxicating to them. They were bred to want her and trained to take her, and while his claim and his whelp should be enough to freeze their lust, he wouldn't test it by visually torturing them.
Halla took his hand, and they went out into the twilight. The sky and the mountains were purple, and the snow glistened and sparkled in the purest white. The only trees were pines, red bark and deep green needles. The whole area smelled of pines, Halla noted. Maukurz soon found two young trees, about his height, and ripped them out of the ground.
"There's a nice bit of dirt on the cave floor, and I wanna make a screen for us. So we have our own place."
"Oh that's a good idea!"Halla said, relieved. Maukurz looked over his shoulder, grinning sharply. He smacked the uprooted tree against the ground, freeing the dirt that clung to the roots.
They returned to the cave. "Shatauz!" Maukurz called, pointing Halla back to their bed. She went automatically, deeply uncomfortable around the other Uruks. "Need a knife," Maukurz said.
Halla sat on the furs again, smoothing her hands over them. Lynx, mostly, though there was a wolf pelt as well. None were big enough to serve as an adequate blanket. I could sew them together, Halla thought.
Maukurz busied himself spitting some meat on a stick and setting it over the fire. Then he took a blade from Shatauz, who was near speechless like the other Uruks at the close, unscreaming presence of a female. While the meat cooked and Halla arranged their clothes against the wall—taking special time to look over his uniform and chain mail, Maukurz noted—he prepared two stakes and drove them into the cave floor. He took Halla's sheet and tore at it, then tied the frayed pieces around the stakes so that it hung halfway across the cave floor, screening their sleeping area. Soon enough—as Halla's belly rumbled—Maukurz returned with the meat. He held it out to her, but she paled slightly.
"How… am I to eat it?"
Maukurz looked at her curiously, and Halla realized again just how complicated she'd made her life. But she was determined to get through it. "I can't eat like this," she said. "I don't put my food on the floor. I don't... tear at it with my teeth."
Maukurz frowned thoughtfully, then picked up his folded mail shirt and set it before her. He dropped her hot steak on the metal, and started slicing it into tiny bits with the knife and his claws. Halla watched curiously. "Little pieces, huh?" Maukurz asked.
Halla nodded. He shreaded the whole steak, sat beside her, and then shredded his own raw chunk of meat and ate it savoringly. Halla looked away from the sight of red blood running over Maukurz's lips, wondering how she'd ever get used to such things. But the meat was good—incredibly good, to her breeding body—and afterwards she took a sip from a helmet full of water. She stared at it for a moment, flashing briefly on the horror that one item would have caused her a year before. Everything was jumbled and confused, and Halla didn't have it in her to think too much. She listened numbly to the raucous laughter of Uruks, glad that they'd switched into their dark language to make their jokes. Every so often Maukurz would grit his teeth, bristling at whatever they said… and then he'd shake his head and laugh, looking at her with warm, rich eyes.
After eating, Halla was incredibly tired. "I didn't bring a nightgown," she told Maukurz regretfully. "I didn't bring much, did I?" she asked, irritated with herself.
"We'll make sense of it," Maukurz promised. "Here, you want something more comfortable? Take my army shirt." He reached into the pile by the wall and brought out a loose black tunic, and tossed it to Halla. He watched her hold it in the air with shining eyes, and Halla realized just how happy she'd made him.
"You still wanna be private?" he asked softly.
"No," Halla murmured, fearful but determined. Suddenly, from somewhere in the cave there came a deep, hungry rhythm from a skin drum. Halla remembered Maukurz talking about Narzum nearly drowning for his drum. Now the Uruk thumped out a rich song, and Halla had the strangest notion it was for her. As night settled in their laughter softened into quieter, softer sounds, murmurs made from what beds they made for themselves on the other side of the hanging sheet.
Halla dropped her fur. She hated that she felt a flush of shame as she undid the laces on her soft white dress. As soon as she did, Maukurz sat behind her. She caught her shaking breath as his hands came to her hips. He gently bunched the fabric in his hands, pulling it up over her legs. Halla sighed, tears coming to her eyes, for she felt none of her old excitement, only a thick tension and a flush of shame. Maukurz slowly pulled her dress off, with all the leisure of a Man unwrapping a delicious fruit. She felt Maukurz slide closer, his bent legs on either side of her and his hips—and all else—pressed against her back. He slipped his hands around the cut of her waist and she thought he might grab her breasts, but instead his hands moved tenderly over her belly. She was reminded of their baby, and it soothed her, and his hands were warm and gentle. "Come on," he breathed, and Halla hung her head, her tears falling slowly.
Maukurz felt her sadness like a slow, dull knife. "Shh…" he whispered, brushing her long beautiful hair over her shoulder, pressing his mouth against her neck. He could feel her pulse thump against his tongue. He smelled fear all over her soft skin. He bit back his hard, frustrated sigh, banished all thoughts that the horse boy had spoiled his girl. It was—in his opinion—merely a matter of making her body crave his, and that was, in his experience, easily done.
"Lie down," he murmured, slipping to her side and easing her back onto the soft furs. Her body was perfection to Maukurz. More than anything, he wanted to hold her tight in his arms and bury himself inside her. But he knew her sadness well, and so he did what he would have done in Isengard: he crept down her belly, and ran his tongue between her legs. He covered his warm mouth over the place she was hurt, with plans to make her come whether her heart and mind wanted her to or not. He'd never felt Halla so dry and it terrified him, but he was sure he knew how to remedy that.
Halla tried hard to feel pleasure, but she only felt wanton and humiliated that she once would have enjoyed such a thing. Finally she covered her face with her arms, a hard cry escaping her that cut at Maukurz. He looked up at his ashgaz, her face hidden behind pointy elbows. For whatever reason, the old trick wasn't working, just when it had never mattered more.
Maukurz crawled over Halla and gently pulled her arms away, only to see her eyes pinched shut. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "What do you want? What can I do to please you?"
A choked sob came from her throat. "I don't know!" she cried softly. She opened her eyes, surprised to see hurt in Maukurz's face. Halla's sigh was a shudder of jagged pain. "Hold me," she breathed. "Hold me… kiss me…" she said. "Tell me you love me… Tell me I'm not… a whore…"
Maukurz ate his furious, agonized growl, his whisper harsh when he told her he loved her. He couldn't even say the word whore: it was a bad insult for a sharlob, he knew, and one that made no sense to him. He only knew that pushdug must have cut her with the word, and it made her ashamed, and her shame was holding her captive like one of Master's cruel little cages. And no matter what Maukurz had done inside those little pens, nothing, he realized, had ever gotten rid of their shame. Maukurz was terrified: he didn't know what to do now. He wondered if this was his payback, for ruining so many females, having his own sweet Halla destroyed. That Halla had done nothing to deserve it didn't matter: the world had never been a fair place for anyone.
But slowly, Halla warmed to his kisses. Slowly, she kissed him back, and Maukurz was almost undone by relief. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, and as he kissed her and whispered to her, he thought that just maybe she needed comfort more than pleasure. It was sweet torture to be on top of her warm naked body without going inside her, but whatever it takes, he thought, whatever it takes, I will have her happy again.
And after a long while, she welcomed him again, though it was a good deal more painful than ordinarily. Maukurz hated the thought of hurting her. But Halla was desperate to see him, her hands holding his face, her wide blue eyes studying his features in the darkness as she gasped at his slow, careful dance. He whispered in her ear, telling her again and again that he loved her, that he would protect her, that he would die for her. Finally all thoughts left Halla and she sighed, surrendering to the warmth and love and safety in Maukurz's arms, the deep rhythm of the drum echoing around them like a heartbeat.
Halla was drowsy with relief and pleasure, exhausted with the end of her ordeal. She was hardly aware as Maukurz helped her into his big black tunic, then drew her into his arms. She didn't even notice that the drumming had stopped. Halla lay thoughtless against Maukurz's warm, hard chest, watching the fire dance behind the white sheet, hearing other sighs and groans without comprehending anything. Finally she shivered and sighed, and curled tight against Maukurz, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
baal-ta? - she's breeding?