Every Breath We Drew Was Hallelujah

In retrospect, of course, what I got was just about all I should have hoped for. Or rather, what Ûnran got. Maybe what he got was beyond even Denethor's allowance on a good day, much less one that had seen his younger son barely outrun a pair of flying-critter-mounted Nazgûl, and his older-believed-dead-because-there's-no-way-the-Great-Horn-of-Awesomeness-could-have-been-broken-if-he-was-still-alive son suddenly arriving on the doorstep without warning in the company of an Orc. I'll bet he was a mite stressed. Probably thought the End was Nigh. So the Steward's 'generosity' was only grudgingly elevated beyond 'dungeon' after strong opposition from an old man he obviously didn't much care for to begin with.

I didn't give a shit about their personal history. I wanted a room with a bath, chop-chop. And an Orc installed, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Apparently, amenities like that were a bit much, so I had to settle for a bath with no roommate. Ûnran, poor bastard, had to bunk up with the servants. Not even the house servants who fetched coffee and slippers, but the ones who cleaned the toilets. The ones who barely rated a room on the seventh floor, and only because it made getting to work every day a lot more convenient for the guards at the seventh gate.

So we dragged ourselves out of the throne room in the wake of our respective guides. I gave Ûnran one pitifully longing look, then shuffled after Pippin and this winsome little slip of a thing who probably was all of twelve or thirteen. I think her name was Ephedrine or something. It was hard to hear, she was so soft-spoken. I just called her Iffy, mostly because I wasn't sure about her. She kept looking at me like I was weirder than your average woman from 'foreign parts.'

Pippin's frequent glances made me feel pretty bad. There was a whole bunch of worry there, and it struck me that if anyone would recognize the departure of the Teen, it would be someone as young as Pippin. Edging closer to me, he whispered so Iffy wouldn't hear, "You'll be safe here. I promise."

I gave him a smile that was likely a bit strained. "I know. I'd feel safer with him, though."

Nodding sympathetically, he saw me to the door of my quarters and gave me another hug before returning to the Steward. I entered the little suite of rooms and had a look around. It wasn't richly appointed or bare of decoration; the sitting room had a cozy little fireplace and small loveseat. The bedroom was through a fancily-carved door, and was equipped with a full-sized bed with tall posts and those drapes you see in medieval romances. A tall cabinet was on one wall, and Iffy informed me it was a wardrobe. A narrow door in the corner led to my own personal outhouse. I vaguely recalled dad's research into these things, and thought maybe this little antechamber was called a garderobe. Regardless, it was a toilet that dropped shit out a hole in the side of the castle. I suddenly realized how lucky we were to be on the top tier of the city.

Young she might have been, but little Iffy knew her business, and got right on it. I was barely done with a personal tour of the sitting room and little bedroom of my quarters when she had servants parading through with a bathtub and buckets of steaming water. Talking to me, she was demure and full of 'yes ma'am's and 'no ma'am's. Give her a troop to direct, and she was a little general. I was quite impressed, and just stayed the hell out of the way.

Shooing everyone out, Iffy turned to me and resumed her meek little girl persona.

"My lady, do you require assistance with your clothing?"

I was sort of startled by being addressed finally, and had to cover it. "Uh... no. Not really. Nothing like a corset happening here. Just... man pants."

Her eyes twinkled. "If it would not be too bold, ma'am, I have not seen a lady such as yourself dressed so... differently."

"Well, where I come from, we all dress like this, pretty much," I said, plucking at the tunic and pants. "Sort of. I've never been a lover of dresses, I suppose. Pants are pretty handy around here, though. All the horseback riding. Running around in swamps and forests. Getting chased by Ringwraiths and Orcs..."

An involuntary shudder shot through me, and I faltered. Looking like a man only bought me a couple seconds of expecting simple death at the hands of an Orc; had I worn a dress, there wouldn't have been any hesitation at all...

Stop it, Grunt. I know, okay? I know. Let it go.

"May I ask...," Iffy said timidly, her eyes down, hands wringing a bit in front of her.

"He's a friend," I said with a sigh. She looked up at me with wide eyes. "I know that comes as a shock. You probably grew up on stories about how... bad they are. They can be. But so can we. Pay a human enough money, and he'll turn into a real piece of crap right before your eyes. Orcs don't get paid, they don't get promised anything like land or riches. They just get enslaved and pointed at targets. Ûnran, the Orc who came with me, was one of those. Just... a slave without options. Until I came along and gave him one." I shrugged. I'd regurgitated it too many times to really feel like going into it now. Dammit, he'd made it to the seventh tier of the most anti-Orc city in all of Middle Earth. If you still can't trust him, people, just let us leave in peace, okay?

Iffy blushed and ducked her head again. "Forgive me, ma'am, but I saw the look you gave him. Begging your pardon, but... I think you've given him more than just an 'option.'" Then her head shot up and her eyes flared. She slapped her hands over her mouth so I barely understood what she said next. "I am so sorry! I did not mean to imply...! Please do not be angry with me!"

Laughing and rolling my eyes, I sat on the little divan and started pulling off my gross boots. "I'm not upset. Good grief. It's probably written all over both our faces. Somehow or other, we... well, believe it or not, we fell in love. Weird and gross as that may seem to you, that's what happened." Sighing again, I glanced up at her. The blush was still there, but now she had a sympathetic look on her face. "Because of what he is, nobody's ever let us be alone for five minutes. Can you imagine that? Forget he's an Orc for a second. Someone just... captures your heart, and all you can think about is spending time with him. Even just to talk, or hold his hand... And you can't. People just won't... go... away. It's worse than if, say, your father and his father weren't on speaking terms, so your dad puts his foot down and won't let you talk to 'that man's son.' It's more like your families have been engaged in open and violent war for too many generations to count, and... even talking to him, or waving at him in the street, or... looking at him will get him killed. No matter what he may personally have done to anyone. None of that matters. It's what his people have done, not him. It's what his masters have done, not him. And nothing you say, nothing he does, can change anyone's mind. Ever."

When I paused to take a breath, Iffy was kneeling in front of me, holding my hands and looking up into my face with such a sad expression, I just lost it. Leave it to a teenager to understand thwarted love. It was like I was looking at the Teen, ripped from my mind by an act of violence and dropped down in front of me. I would never have that look of innocence on my face again, never feel like I could be safe and invincible because... it's me. Nothing like that happens to me.

Well, it does, or can. Easily. Maybe next time, nobody will hear me scream, or they'll be too far away to get there in time. Maybe...

All right, Grunt, that's enough. You've had your say, now back off.

Iffy squeezed my hands, bringing me back to now. "I understand, my lady. Truly. And I am so sorry. Perhaps... you will see him tomorrow, when you are rested."

I shrugged and nodded, wiping tears away and getting undressed. She hung around, keeping the water hot for me by bringing in fresh buckets periodically. It was the first opportunity I'd had to thoroughly wash that Orc's stink off me. Not that I could really smell it anymore, but I could feel it. I had to scrub really hard before I stopped feeling it.

Thank god for Gondorian hospitality. The wardrobe in the bedroom had an array of outfits, for both men and women, just in case. Simple and utilitarian, just the way I like them. More importantly at the moment, there was a white nightgown with an abundance of frilly lace around the edges. This bit of linen jammies was made by someone who firmly believed that ankles were far more dangerously sexy than breasts, because the length swept the floor so not even my toes could peek out, but the neckline plunged rather low in the front, leaving quite a broad expanse of hilly landscape with a deep ravine delving into mysterious darkness. In other words, major-ass cleavage. One little tug and the Ladies would be free to storm the walls of any man fortress that happened to be nearby.

I swear, the Floozy nudged me as I stared at myself in the mirror.

Wish he was here, don't you?

Yeah. I do. I think he's more than earned a round of boob pillow.

Got a nice one there. I'm sure he'd be very comfortable.

Not too fancy, you think? I mean, he's an Orc. Maybe he won't appreciate the finer things.

He's a male. He probably won't even notice the frillies.

Well, I can dream all I want, he's not here, nor will he be anytime soon.

Sighing, I turned away from the mirror and thanked Iffy for her help. She curtsied and directed the troops once more in removing the bath. After about ten minutes of flurry, I was finally alone.

Minas Tirith. It finally hit me. I was on the top level of the most formidable city in Gondor. Going to the door, I quickly locked it. I just couldn't bring myself to trust anyone anymore.

I was rudely woken from my nightmare-plagued sleep by a furious banging on the door of my quarters. My first reaction was to freeze in panic. Who the hell could that be, and what disaster was coming next? Jesus, we'd only just gotten here.

Dragging myself out of bed, I went to the door and hesitated before unlocking it. The pounding was insistent, with frequent doorknob rattling in between rounds. Whoever was out there was pretty desperate, it sounded like. Not knock-down-the-door kind of desperate, but please-open-up desperate.

So against my better judgment and Grunt's vociferous protests, I opened the door. At first, the dark figure on my doorstep scared the crap out of me and reminded me... Then he spoke.

"Tanith, it's me," he said, and I almost dissolved with relief. "It's Ûnran."

"Whuh... how did...," I sputtered, then I shook my head to clear it. "Never mind, get in here." With that, I grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him into the room. Then I did the typical spy movie thing of poking my head out, looking in all directions to make sure he wasn't followed, then closed and locked the door.

It was really him. I realized I was trembling all over, the kind of shaking that will only still when the thing you want is in your arms. But Grunt was still there, throwing up memories like the bitch she was. My eyes went to his claws and looked away again. I swallowed hard.

Give me a minute, Floozy.

Take your time.

"How did you get here?" I asked lamely to fill the silence. He hadn't taken his eyes off me. Or maybe it was the cleavage. I'm not really sure; the fire had all but gone out in the sitting room and it was pretty dark in there. "I didn't think they'd tell you what room I was in."

"They didn't," he confirmed. "Had to follow my nose." He sort of half smiled with a little embarrassment.

"It doesn't matter," I said softly. "I'm glad you're here. That's... that's all that matters." Quite suddenly, my arms were around his neck, my head on his shoulder, and I didn't think I'd move from that place if the city were to crumble to dust around us. Ûnran's arms around me felt a hundred times better than I remembered from the cave. I found myself crying again, just soaking his shoulder. He stroked my back and my hair, murmuring in my ear. I realized after a bit that he was apologizing, over and over. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me, I don't want to hurt you, I would never hurt you, I'll never do that again...

Drawing back from him, I looked in his eyes. "Ûnran, I want you here tonight. I'm glad you're here. I'm not afraid of you."

"I am," he muttered. "Lost my head. Don't wanna do that again."

Gently caressing his cheek, I smiled a little. "You saved me, Ûnran. You're... my hero."

His face sort of twitched a bit and he chuckled. "Some 'hero.'"

"No, you are," I insisted. "You stopped something from happening that... God, Ûnran, just thinking about it..." I shuddered and held him close again. I couldn't get enough of holding him. His arms around me felt so sturdy and strong... so right. "You saved something that... I want to give you."

Frowning, he lowered his head so our foreheads touched. "Ain't worthy of it. And yuh said it hurts. Don't wanna hurt yuh. Not after... what I done..."

"Ûnran," I whispered, "if I didn't think you were worthy, I wouldn't be..." God dammit, this was hard. I wanted him so badly, but... that other... the attack... it was still too fresh. "Listen, um... I love you. I don't blame you for anything, I don't... hate you for what happened."

"I lost my head," he protested. "What if... I'm makin' love to yuh, and... Tanith, I don't know what'll happen."

"Whatever happens will happen," I said soothingly. "Just... not tonight. I'm still... it's not because of you, or what you are, or what you did. Let's just hold each other and pretend we're in this city all by ourselves, okay?"

He let out a shuddering breath and allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. "Been wantin' that. Real bad, wantin' it. Can't even stand next to yuh without somebody pullin' a sword or lookin' at me like..." Bowing his head, he swallowed hard. "Ain't gonna change, is it? Still an Orc, still an enemy, still..."

"Not to me," I said pointedly, and kissed him. Gripping him firmly to keep from sliding to the floor on suddenly weak knees, I practically dissolved in his arms. My heart fluttered like a caged bird in my chest, and I wondered if this was what it was always like when you kissed the one you love. There seemed to be a flock of them going wild in my nether regions as well. I had this distinct and insistent longing, for lack of a better word, throbbing between my legs, begging for something, anything to come play with it. How fricking embarrassing.

Parting briefly from my lips, Ûnran breathed, "Yuh sure yuh don't wanna? Smells like yuh do."

Grinning, I shook my head. "I'm not a guy, you know. My head rules my... uh... woman parts. Not the other way around. And my head is telling me that tonight, if we start down that road..." I stopped and bit my lip. There just wasn't any way I could lessen the pain of this admission. It hurt me to say it probably as much as it would for him to hear it. "I'm afraid I'll... see him, when I'm with you, Ûnran. Even though I know it wasn't you... I just need a day or two to... forget some more."

His devastated expression tore my heart right out. "'S'okay. I understand."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Looking at you right now, I don't see him. I see you. I know it's you. I'm not confused." I stroked his cheek, trying to soften the blow. "Sometimes when... bad things happen to people, it comes back to them when they least expect or want it. When we make love, and I mean when, I don't want an interruption like that. I just want to be with you and you alone. I want my whole mind completely focused on what you and I are experiencing together."

"Yuh sure it ain't cause... yuh don't trust me?" he said.

"Ûnran, I trust you with my life, and I sure as hell trust you with my Precious," I replied, pulling him into another hug. "It's my own head I don't trust. Or one particular part of it, anyway."

Yeah, Grunt. I'm looking at you.

Look. See. Remember.

Oh, shut the hell up. Go to your room. And keep your home movies to yourself, too.

"It's probably really late, so... let's go to bed, okay?" I suggested, stepping back.

Another little smile softened his features. "Like when we was in the forest, eh? Just the two of us. Sleepin' under the trees."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Nobody in the entire world. Except, you know, that bunch of Orcs and Men beating each other senseless a half mile away."

He shrugged and chuckled. "Aye. Always gonna be somethin' goin' on. Just gotta ignore it."

Taking his hand, I led him into the bedchamber. "They sure don't make it easy, carrying on like that, do they?" I slid back under the blanket and lay down. Ûnran pulled his boots off and looked slightly at a loss.

"Can't wear this stuff," he said uncertainly.

True, he was still wearing what he had on when we arrived in Minas Tirith. I suppose I hadn't noticed before, but somehow he'd managed to have a bath over in his quarters, because his hair was still a bit damp around the edges. They hadn't seen fit to provide him with the sort of high-brow guest clothing they did me, though. Not even a fresh change of clothes, the selfish bastards.

"Oh, just have a look in the wardrobe over there," I suggested, pointing at the large wooden cabinet. "I'll bet you'll find something."

He rummaged a bit and came up with a pair of white linen drawers. Without preamble or apparent consideration for the colossal space prude in his presence, Ûnran stripped down to nothing and pulled those thin, knee-length pants on. I probably turned six shades of red.

In case you're wondering, yes, I looked away. The Floozy wanted to watch, but I'm the one in charge and outvoted her.

Then he was climbing in beside me, pulling the blanket over himself and my world was filled with him as we sank into one another again. Something about being in a bed with him changed things completely, and not just for me. His hands were stroking up and down my body as his mouth covered mine, exploring, tasting... It was clear he'd lost whatever control he'd bravely come to bed with, because his eyes barely opened once. He purred deep in his chest as he kissed me, and I returned his passion with equal measure.

This was what I'd wanted, Grunt be damned, I realized. There wasn't room for any other thought. I made no protest when I felt his hands pulling the long skirts of the nightgown up my legs. In fact, I raised my knee to press against his hip, opening myself up a little. Somehow, one of my hands was kneading his ass. How the hell did it get there? More importantly, how did it get inside his pants?

Taking stock, I noticed a few other things. For one, he'd quickly discovered how precariously my nightgown covered the Ladies. They were now both out of their confinement; one was in his mouth, the other in his hand. Once I registered that, I shot over the moon. Oh god, it was a good thing we weren't on a horse.

I could feel every swirl of his tongue on my nipple, every breath on my skin. His hand was careful, keeping the claws at bay, though the occasional momentary scrape tingled and electrified my flesh, sending shivers down my spine and making me squirm with delight beneath him. There just wasn't any real control; the things he was doing to me, the sensations I was feeling, urged an almost instinctive response from my body.

God, I couldn't spread my legs because of the position he was in, only half on top of me. And there was all this fabric all over the place, just reams of it. I let go of his ass for a minute and started pulling the voluminous nightgown off over my head.

"Yuh sure?" he said breathlessly.

"No talking," I snapped. "My brain might find out what we're doing. Just... kiss me. Love me. And don't talk about it."

He nodded and shimmied right back out of his trousers, kicking them to the bottom of the bed. Then he was on top of me.

There was a brief moment where I think the Grunt made one last attempt to warn me, but the Floozy backhanded her and sent her packing. Now's not the time, dammit. Ûnran kissed me so gently, so tenderly, like he knew this was the moment. It was going to hurt and he wanted to soften it as much as possible. I could feel the entire length of his body, our chests pressed together, his erection poised at the gate, my legs parted on either side of his hips. We just lay like that for several minutes, kissing and touching each other. While part of me wanted to get it over with, a bigger part wanted to savor this moment, because it would never come again.

"Yuh ready?" he whispered against my mouth.

I swallowed and my breathing quickened a little. Maybe there was a tiny bit of fear there still, but not because of what he was. At a loss for words, I just nodded and braced myself. His hips drew back a bit, and I could feel... oh my god... Would I be wet enough? Was he too big? I knew it would sting, but how much and for how long?

"I love yuh, Tanith," he said. "Take what I got. Take all of it. It's all yours. Everything. All of me."

With those words, he entered my body slowly, watching my face for any signs of pain or a change of mind. I was assailed with a bit of embarrassment at his intent stare, and kind of wanted to fix my eyes on the ceiling instead of him. Biting my lip, I tried to relax. He grunted a little as he pushed past my body's resistance.

It hurt a little. Okay, it hurt a bunch. Like a rending sort of pain that left me trembling for a moment. I don't think I teared up, but I made a little noise of discomfort. Ûnran whispered, "Sorry. Want me to stop?"

Shaking my head, I patted his back and sort of... shifted my hips a bit. "Just... do it faster. Maybe it won't hurt so much."

Nodding, his brow furrowed, he took a deep breath, and did the band-aid approach, thrusting once, hard and fast, and burying himself in me completely. There was no wail of dismay, no toppling towers, no erupting volcanoes when the Precious was destroyed. The only thing in my head was the realization that I'd given away the last gift that was entirely mine to give.

His face went slack with surprise, and maybe a little oh-my-god-this-feels-great as well. He didn't seem to remember what came next, and just hovered there for a moment.

"Ûnran," I said softly, and he looked startled to hear me speak. His yellow eyes focused on me again. "I don't know much, but I think this is where it starts, not where it ends."

He laughed a little, and started breathing again. "Tanith. It's so... different. So... different." Slowly, he came out of whatever shock was paralyzing him, and started to move. "Can't believe... how different... yuh want me. I can feel it... yuh want me."

"I do," I said, and rolled my hips with his rhythm. To my surprise, I realized it didn't hurt anymore, either. The more we moved together, the better it felt. My face flushed and my heart beat faster. So many wonderful sensations were happening all at once, I didn't know what to focus on, and decided to shut down intellectual thought for a bit. I held on and followed his lead.

This was his gift to me as much as mine to him, I realized. He held himself back, drawing out the inevitable conclusion for as long as he could. I think it was because he wanted to savor this moment as much as I did, more than knowing that a woman's orgasm is harder to find than the Holy Grail. That's pretty much what ensured the Grail fell into his lap, so to speak. It hit me so hard, I dug my nails into his ass and kind of bellowed a bit. He was so shocked by what was happening to me, he lost his grip and let himself go as well.

And my mom said the first time would be a disappointment.

What do moms know?

Amen, sister.