Maukurz lay Halla down gently, pulling the fur blanket she'd sewn together up over their naked bodies. He studied her beautiful face in the soft glow of the candles she had made for them, tracing his finger lightly over the full, berry pink lips that always looked flushed and lightly bitten after he'd had her.

"Will you ever run out of ways to make love?" Halla asked, smiling. She touched his finger playfully with the tip of her tongue, then grazed it with her teeth.

Maukurz shook his head slowly. "I've been waiting a long time for you, little girl. Got nothin' but time for you now."

Two weeks had passed. Maukurz had never known he could feel such happiness, thrilling and peaceful at once. By day, Halla usually made candles or practiced her sewing. They now slept on a soft blanket of furs, and had one to cover them as well. She'd sewn a collection of everyone's hides together to cover the mouth of the cave against the night's cold. Halla was slowly putting together a buckskin tunic for Maukurz, which she planned to line with fur to keep him warm in the winter. Halla hadn't done such physical work in a while, and it made her glad.

Maukurz spent his time hunting: he'd learned, gratefully, that it was safe to let Halla remain with Bauirz sometimes, as the Commander's leg was healing. The old warrior was almost as eager to protect Halla as Maukurz himself was, and Halla revealed a surprising ability to indulge the Commander in his one weakness: talking continuously of his feats of strength in battles and fights long past. Halla's patience in this respect made Maukurz wonder if it wasn't something Halla might have done in her old life, listening to some old Rider revisiting his glory while she sewed by the fire.

Fortunately, Dagalur had wisely submitted to Maukurz and Narzum both. All three of the younger Uruks made it all too plain that Dagalur's moment of weakness had knocked him to the bottom of the ladder. They were no longer in Isengard, but Dagalur was certainly fair game to get anyone a drink of water, a cut of meat, or whatever else was desired. With their cave slowly warming and glowing with light, and their store of smoked meat for the winter piling up, all of the Uruks wanted Halla to stay. Even Dagalur—who, with the help of the general bullying of the community, realized he'd acted like an idiot—wanted to keep the white-skin girl around. And not just for smelling.

It was only the middle of the night, and Maukurz needed very little sleep. Again, Narzum was playing his drum, softly, the sort of drumming that would enhance rest rather than disturb it. Maukurz hardly wanted rest. He couldn't keep his hands, or his mouth, off Halla's body. More and more, he'd been dangerously surrendering to the desire to touch his teeth to her flesh, pushing and nipping it softly, and Halla always got very still when he did. He pulled the blankets back again—always wanting a visual feast—and slipped down her belly to taste her. Halla sighed and stretched out, cat-like, and Maukurz enjoyed her for a long moment. He loved to make her little body tremble and jump, he loved to hear her soft cries; he loved the very taste of her. But more and more, his attention was caught by the smooth bit of skin on her upper, inner thigh, so soft against his hard cheek.

"Wanna mark you here…" Maukurz whispered, turning his head and brushing his lips against the warm spot.

Such an intimate place, Halla thought, shivering from his kisses. Even if she did have to come and go in the world one day, who would see such a mark? Halla belonged to Maukurz, body and soul. It wouldn't occur to her to think of another lover, or of a day she wasn't with the Uruk. But still… though his bite had felt good after the initial shock and pain, it had still hurt first, and most, being sore for over a week at least afterwards. Yet those few moments were sweet, in some deep gut way that made all of Halla's body…thirsty for passion, aching for touch. As Halla thought, Maukurz flicked his tongue over her secrets in slow, rhythmic circles, his hands grasping her hips. Of course he'd make it delicious. Halla understood that Maukurz had done things to her that could have hurt her terribly had he not taken the time to do it just right, igniting her with pleasure, and keeping her safe as well. "Yes…" she breathed. "Do it. Do it."

Halla was glad it was so late, and all but Narzum asleep: her cry was high and sharp. Narzum broke stride in his drumming for a moment. Maukurz closed his eyes, but his unused hand found hers and he laced his fingers around hers, pressing their palms together. Halla felt washed away, drifting apart from the world on the vivid contrasting sensations of his teeth in her thigh, then his warm mouth covering the gushing wound, and his clever careful fingers inside her. His hand held hers tightly, as if to keep her earthbound. Shaken and thrilled to her very soul, hazy with bliss, Halla opened her eyes to the wild sight of wolf-eyed Maukurz rising over her, wiping her blood from his mouth, licking it from his wet fingers. He nudged her thighs apart wider with his knee and crept over her body, pushing roughly inside her as his lips fell to her mouth.

In the morning, like gluttons, they made love again, this time hiding deep down in their blankets. Halla discovered that Maukurz's fresh mark made her blood rush to that part of her body, to heal it, intensifying all the pleasure she'd ordinarily feel. Afterwards, her sultry, heavily lidded eyes watched Maukurz dress—it was colder now, and he wore his black army kilt and tunic, cut attractively over the hard muscles of his lower thighs.

"What you doin' today?" he asked, loving how her eyes were drinking him in.

"Working on your clothes," she said, almost purring herself with delight. "Helping you butcher whatever you kill properly, to get the fat and the tendons and the meat to smoke."

Maukurz nodded. "Wanna walk with me for a little while, see if we can find some game together? I'm not nearly ready to be away from you."

Halla smiled brightly. "I'll dress warmly, in case it's still snowing."

Halla's bow wasn't ready yet. Because Maukurz would hunt for her, Halla's weapon was of the least importance to the group. Only Dagalur needed a bow still, but Shatauz worked on it whenever he wasn't hunting or fiddling with deer parts, curious about what other helpful things might be made from them. In return for the candles she made for all the Uruks, both Shatauz and Narzum had given things to Maukurz, for Halla. Shatauz made Halla a large ball of strong deer-gut string, Narzum—perceptive Narzum—gave Halla a circle of wood as wide as her foot, to serve as a plate.

Halla and Maukurz walked together, and Narzum and Dagalur went off in a pair as well. Though they started in different directions, the Uruks followed the same game trail, and before the morning had passed, Maukurz heard the faint sounds of Narzum and Dagalur arguing. "Come on," Maukurz said, taking Halla's hand. She followed fleetly behind him as he ran up on the two quarreling Uruks, and then gasped in shock as she saw what they were fighting over.

A red haired woman lay on the snowy ground, clinging to life if she was alive at all. Blood was all over her face. Blood matted her hair.

"Just tell me—" Maukurz groaned.

"Nar, he didn't do it," Narzum said, "But he wants to keep her."

"You lost your mind again?" Maukurz snapped to Dagalur, though he was deeply relieved that Dagalur hadn't done the damage.

"Not keep her like you think!" Dagalur protested. "I saw her Man hitting her, he probably did this. He don't want her. Why can't I help her get better, and see if she'll be my girl?"

"Maukurz," Halla said quietly, "If she's got any life in her at all, she won't live for long if we leave her here."

"If we take her back to the cave—forget what Baiurz will do!—what happens when she wakes up and realizes where she is? When she starts screaming in terror?" Maukurz asked. "Dunland boys kept their women away from us, but she'll know what we are."

"I asked him what we'd do," Narzum said incredulously. "Know what he said? He'd knock her in the head again and bring her back, and she'd think us all a bad dream."

"Flagit," Maukurz hissed, shaking his head at Dagalur.

The woman moaned weakly, and Halla broke away from Maukurz, hurrying to kneel by the woman's side. Halla gingerly lifted some of the blood-soaked hair from the woman's face, revealing the unmistakable bursting of skin from a hard fist. "Oh she's hurt bad…" Halla breathed, looking over her shoulder at Maukurz.

"Not our problem…" Narzum suggested, palms in the air. "We don't need to get hunted down for her back luck."

Halla clucked her tongue softly, a quiet voicing of her disapproval.

"What if she wakes up to your girl taking care of her, Cap'n?" Dagalur asked. "Would she still be terrorized?"

Maukurz grit his jaw, annoyed that such a dilemma would ruin his peaceful time with Halla. It was even worse that his decision would seem hard hearted, both towards the woman and to Dagalur.

"You think she'll be scared?" Narzum asked Halla, careful not to look her in the face over-much.

"Yes," Halla said. "But if she's well treated, and free to leave, she ought to be grateful."

"He don't want her to leave," Maukurz said pointedly. "And if she ran off and betrayed us, we'd be finished."

Narzum nodded in agreement. "Dagalur, you really wanna risk your life—all of our lives—for some migaz? Ain't been so bad since the War ended, has it?"

Dagalur gnashed his teeth in frustration, thinking about his aching balls. Thinking about how it was fine to play with Narzum, or take himself in hand, but he wanted hot wet cunt.

Then he thought about the bodies of the Orcs he'd seen ripped apart in Dunland last spring. "Ahh, fuck. No, it ain't worth it."

"We can't just leave her to die," Halla said again, now that the tenion between the Uruks had seemed to pass. Halla wondered sickly if the Man who Dagalur saw slapping her had done this to her. "I wish we could help her!"

"We can't, ashgaz," Maukurz told her softly. "You came to me willingly. We can't risk the group bringing someone who might not wanna come. That was our rule before I ever met you."

"So how are we ever supposed to get girls?" Dagalur asked petulantly. "We can't all have them walk up to us!"

"I don't know yet," Maukurz said. "But not like this. But... damn. Clean her up if you can with Narzum, then leave her closer to her people. Hopefully they find her. We can't do no more for her, without riskin' ourselves."

Dagalur bit his tongue, swearing under his breath. He had followed Maukurz up until they had their faces beaten in at the Fords, when he and Narzum had been injured, and Maukurz had gone on to Helm's Deep. Dagalur had never questioned the stronger Uruk before, but here he was sure Maukurz was wrong. Easy for him, having that sweet warm thing pressed up against him every night! If Halla hadn't been there, Dagalur was sure Maukurz's reaction would have been different. He would have wanted the woman himself.

Dagalur didn't dare go against Maukurz openly, but as he picked the woman up, inhaling her bloody-sweet smell deeply, he knew he'd have to take his desire into his own hands. And it wasn't just fucking he wanted. Why shouldn't he have whelps too now? Or was this still to be Isengard, where only the officers got the privilege? Didn't they need as many whelps as they could get? No, Maukurz and Narzum weren't thinking right at all.

Maukurz took Halla's hand and led her away. She walked in silence for a while, worrying for the woman.

"You aren't happy," Maukurz murmured. "I did what was best for all of us.

"I know. You are their Captain, you must think that way." Halla looked up to Maukurz with wide eyes. "But what if he kills her next time?"

"Dagalur? He's hot-headed, but he wants her alive, believe me!"

"No," Halla breathed. "Her husband. The Dunland Man who beat her. What if she tried to escape him, and Dagalur and Narzum are bringing her back for more?"

"Sweet Halla," Maukurz said. "What do you think she'd do, waking up with Uruk-hai all around her? As soon as she could run, she would, and we'll be done for. Including you and Baby."

"I know, I understand the danger," Halla replied. "But… I didn't want to run! And Dagalur isn't so bad," Halla offered. "Maybe she'd welcome his interest, over that of the Man who beats her!"

"You are a rare woman, ashgaz," Maukurz said, wrapping his arm around her hips. "And I am very lucky. It's likely the Dunland female would do as the others do. And you can't blame her. She would fear we'd harm her, and if we were another group, or even at a different time, before you, we likely would have."

"But you didn't hurt me," Halla told him softly, feeling the sore bruise forming on her thigh. She pressed her lips into a mischievous smile. "Not in a bad way, I mean. And I fell in love with you, Maukurz."

You didn't see all of me, Maukurz thought, sighing, feeling her small hand in his. And you didn't listen to those who had. But instead of telling her this, Maukurz stopped and drew Halla into his arms, kissing her deeply. Maukurz could get sick thinking too much of what he might have done to her. "I'm glad I met you how I did, my Halla."

The rain over High Meadow had an icy bite to it. Ailith stood before her tavern, which was near to complete thanks to Harlan's fine work and the laborers Halla's donation had allowed her to afford. Soon she would be ready to get her oven going and take customers all day. But even as that exciting moment came, Ailith was melancholy, staring as far as she could up the mountains before the cloud and snow cover took over.

She's been gone almost three weeks. Who knows where—or how—she is? It was foolish to let her go at all!

But Ailith had to admit, there would be no place for Halla in Rohan once she gave birth. If she even survived it.

Ailith hated to think about Halla, no matter how she was compelled to do it, like a wound that just begged to be picked at. She tried to concentrate on her concern for the girl—who obviously had no idea of what was before her—and not think of the baby. But every time she imagined Halla pregnant with his spawn, she thought of her own hands, holding the little grey female down in her washwater. Ailith pretended she hadn't seen the little arms and legs flailing desperately, the slanted green eyes wide beneath the thrashed up surface of the water. Ailith had turned away from the child, sobbing and forcing it under until the soft, heavy small body went still. All Ailith had felt then was relief. She didn't know the shame of the thing would follow her from town to town for the rest of her life. Always, someone hearing from a cousin or employer, until Ailith learned the best thing to do was come right out and admit it herself. She'd gotten numb to it after a while: it was her life, it was her story, the pain of it dulled by repetitious telling. Until Halla had torn all that open again, without even meaning to.

And Halla wanted the baby.

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?"

Ailith startled out of her thoughts, her heart beating hard. "Harlan…" she said, trying to keep a steady voice. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that."

"Forgive me," the carpenter said. For all his size and strength, he was gentle and graceful. "But I wanted to speak with you."

"Are the ovens ready?" Ailith asked.

"No," Harlan said, smiling slightly. "The masons have not yet finished."

"But we will be ready by slaughter-time? I've a recipe for ribs that should bring in many customers."

"We'll surely be ready by the blood moon. Perhaps two weeks before. We're almost set to plaster the walls. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about, Ailith. I've though and thought over the perfect place to say this, and I can find no better than where we are right now: on the threshold of your tavern, that you've put so much love and work into creating."

Ailith turned to Harlan, frowning. "Is something wrong with my building?"

He laughed softly at Ailith's single-mindedness, knowing how devoted she was to her new business now that her mistress had gone away visiting relations. "Nothing is wrong with it," Harlan said. "Ailith… I'm a plain spoken Man, so I'd best come out and say it."

Ailith felt frozen, as if the rain had turned to ice and coated her entirely. She knew in her guts what he would say. Yet another thing she'd tried to deny, even as every part of her shouted it.

"Ailith… I'm in love with you. Will you marry me?"

The rain began to fall harder, and Harlan would have drawn Ailith beneath the overhang, but her tense, closed posture prevented him. Ailith closed her eyes to the rain, hoping that her tears might go unnoticed. Was there a time when she wanted marriage? As a young maiden, arranging her sister's bridal gown, or awed over the contents of her mother's hope chest, full of wedding gifts from her grandparents. But all of that had come to an end on an early spring day nearly two years ago.

She'd never talked to Harlan about it. "Surely you know," Ailith said in the little pinched voice that she hated.

"I know a lot of things about you, Mistress Ailith. You're a hard worker, and fair to your laborers. You have dreams, and you're not afraid to go after them. Women like you are precious few these days. And you are beautiful, Ailith. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But you know about what happened to me," Ailith returned, merciless to herself.

"Yes," Harlan said, unafraid to keep her gaze. "And you know that I lost my wife and our unborn child. But I'm ready to build a new life, if you would say yes."

Ailith tried to deny him outright, but her voice caught in her throat. She could only shake her head. When she finally found her voice, she willed it to be hard, like a door shutting in Harlan's face. She hated herself for hearing the quiver as she said, "I couldn't. You… you are a wonderful Man, Harlan, gentle and handsome and passionate about what you do… You deserve someone better than me…"

"Ailith, no one is better for me than you! I only want you. Can you not give me a chance? I swear to you, you'd be the only lady of my heart. The first and last thought of my mind each day would be your happiness. You'd live just as you wish, work at the tavern or stay at home with our children… I have means, Ailith, I would build you a fine stone house…"

"Stop…" Ailith gasped. "I couldn't imagine it! Marriage, children! How could I ever, after what was done to me? You wouldn't say you wanted me if you saw me! If you saw what they did to me, the scars they left on me, for all to know— Just— Please! Let us never speak of this again!"

Ailith spun on her heel, fleeing into the near-ready tavern, praying to Bema that he would not follow her. She needn't have worried: Harlan stood still in the rain stunned that the woman he loved could be so hard to them both. He closed his eyes and turned away, pulling his brown hood over his long blond braid. Harlan roamed the new muddy street as he wondered if he'd ever be able to reach her, or if he'd not only been rejected as a husband, but lost himself her friendship as well.