Parents Can be SO Embarrassing Sometimes

Was there anything in this world so beautiful as the sight of your lover sleeping contentedly next to you? I think I could have watched him forever, his breath purring in his chest. Ûnran lay flat on his back, one arm sort of wrapped around the top of his head on the pillow, the other flung straight out and dangling over the side of the bed. I was on my side, looking at him with my head propped on my hand. While I still had that prudish need to cover my nakedness with the blanket, he just draped himself all over the bed without a stitch on, obviously not nearly as bothered about it as I was.

I found I didn't mind so much now, either. Seeing him like that, anyway. Still a little embarrassed to let the Ladies loose on the world, but not so easily freaked out over man parts displayed so unconcernedly close to me.

In the dim light of very early morning, he looked so powerful and vulnerable at the same time. He had a very muscular body, one that I'd personally seen do great amounts of damage on several occasions. Oddly enough, to his own kind more often than not. Yet, after the first time we made love last night, he cried. I don't know if that's typical of Orcs in general or just Ûnran in particular, but he sobbed for a good long while. I gathered from his broken sentences that something profound had happened to him, some huge revelation or epiphany, but damned if I could understand what he was getting at.

My own realization was too earth-shattering to worry about his.

How can I describe it? It was like... in that moment, when we were together, and we came together in every sense of the word, I became a woman. Not like I wasn't a woman until validated by a male's ejaculation, but... my god, everything before that moment seemed... childish. Like I'd never really loved anyone, or expressed my feelings for anyone, in a grown-up way. It wasn't that he was male, or that we had sex. He was Ûnran, and we made love. We opened ourselves to one another in a way neither of us ever had before. Maybe the fact that we'd been open to one another since the day he was born magnified that sense of closeness.

One thing was certain, and that was that I would fight tooth and nail to keep him in my quarters from here on out, no matter whose sensibilities were shattered by the scandal. He was my mate, my lover, my friend, my world, and I didn't want to give any of that up or let it out of my sight for a moment.

I was overwhelmed with the desire to explore his body. We hadn't really indulged in much of that when we made love the first time, and the second round... well, we were more relaxed, having cleared the initial hurdle, but still didn't just... touch and nothing else. Now, I really wanted that. A chance to get to know him in an even more intimate way. Every inch of him...

Maybe because the Powers That Be missed the boat both times we made love during the night, there was the obligatory knock on the door to interrupt the fun. I suppose I half expected it, since not once on this adventure had anyone let us alone for long enough to do more than cop a feel.

The sound made Ûnran jerk awake and look around him in a slightly disoriented panic. I tried to stifle a laugh as I climbed out of bed modestly wrapped in the blanket.

"Maybe you'd better stay put," I suggested, grabbing my nightgown and managing to pull it on over my head while still deftly concealing my bits and pieces. He grunted with amusement, but swung his legs around to stand and begin dressing anyway. I closed the bedroom door behind me and went to the main door in the sitting room.

I almost crapped when I saw Gandalf standing there.

"Um... good morning?" I sort of squeaked.

Gandalf pretty much looked like he'd been hit by a brick for several moments, and I wasn't really able to press him for a response. His eyes were running up and down my form, and I suddenly wondered what the hell I looked like. I breezed right past the mirror without a glance; did I have bed-head in a major way? Was I the poster child for 'ridden hard and put away wet'?

I had no idea that a wizard could blush. Good god...

"I suppose... I needn't ask if Ûnran is with you," he said awkwardly.

It hadn't occurred to me last night that maybe the authorities would be keeping an eye on the Orc in their midst, and that maybe when he snuck out to be with me, he was breaking more than the usual rules of propriety. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I straightened as best I could and did a pretty fair job of looking defiant. Maybe.

"Yes, he's here," I managed to say.

"Good," Gandalf replied with a nod. His voice had that forced briskness people get when they know something happened but they want to pretend it didn't because directly addressing it would be embarrassing for everyone. "Denethor's servants reported the disappearance and he is rather... incensed. I am afraid he is convinced Ûnran embarked upon a mission of murder in the lower tiers, regardless that I advised him otherwise."

"He's been here all night," I assured him, though there probably wasn't any need for it. "Obviously."

"Good," he repeated, nodding quickly again. "I will inform Denethor that the search needn't be continued. There is... a morning meal being prepared in the feasting hall. You are... both... welcome to join us."

"Yeah," I replied, "that would be... really good. I'm starving, actually. We'll... get dressed and... um... join everybody."

Gandalf seemed to be having a lot of trouble looking at me when he said, "I would... suggest... making some effort to hide... the marks..." He sort of vaguely gestured in my general direction.

I froze, wide-eyed. "Uh... what marks?"

With a great effort that required he close his eyes and not look me in the face, he swallowed hard and said in an undertone, "Teeth marks. They are many, and... obvious."

Suddenly there came to mind a passage in a book I read once, where the author described someone's eyes widening enough to swallow their face. I thought it was the most ridiculous statement in the world, until it happened to me. My hands flew up to cover my neck, which I had to assume was where the densest population of love bites was congregated. I swear to god, I hadn't even remembered that he'd sort of gnawed on my neck a bit during round two.

"Sure, yeah," I nodded. "We'll just... be there soon."

Bowing a little, Gandalf hurried away in a cloud of embarrassed awkwardness. I closed the door and leaned against it, letting my breath out in a whoosh. That was positively the most uncomfortable exchange I'd ever had. It was like having to confess to my father, or worse my grandfather, what went on here last night because the evidence was too strong to deny.

Jesus, I hoped Gandalf wouldn't turn on me because of this. I needed someone with a level head, a certain degree of authority, and enough influence to watch my back where Ûnran was concerned. At least I could, most likely, count on the wizard not to go spilling the beans all over the upper tiers. If I could just find something modest enough in the wardrobe, no one would be the wiser, right? Inappropriate nighttime visitors notwithstanding.

Going back to the bedroom, I found Ûnran dressed but just standing there like an accident victim.

"They lookin' for me?" he said shakily.

"They were, yeah," I nodded. "Gandalf... knew you'd be here, though, so he's going to call off the search."

"I didn't hurt nobody," Ûnran said firmly.

"I'm sure you didn't," I said. "You just... snuck right out, and they didn't even suspect you might... leave. Probably."

Bowing his head, he muttered, "Are yuh mad?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Just... a little surprised."

"By what?"

"Well, evidently... I have... teeth marks all over... my neck, and... I really don't remember... specifically..."

He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, yuh do. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay," I said quickly. "It's... uh... better, I think, that Gandalf understands... knows... suspects... whatever... what happened between us. It's good someone knows and isn't... trying to kill us for it." My laugh was strained and forced. Was this how it was the morning after? Too embarrassed to look your lover in the eyes? Maybe afraid he'd see you wanted him again and think you're a slut?

"You okay?" Now he was looking at me, or trying to, anyway. His eyes kept flicking around, like he was trying to look at me but couldn't seem to muster the courage.

"Yeah," I said more confidently than I felt at the moment. "I'm fine. You?"

He hesitated for several seconds before responding. "Yeah." His head bowed again, and he seemed to be having a great deal of trouble speaking. But he pressed on, as if what he wanted to say was very important. "Can't tell yuh... what it meant to me. Ain't got the words. Yuh made me feel... so good. Like I was worth something. Like... like yuh wanted me. Me. And you was glad I was alive. I'll never be able to give you enough... for that. My heart's not enough. My body's not enough. I..." He faltered and tears once again spilled down his face.

Going to him, I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. "It's okay," I soothed, stroking his back. His whole body shook as he broke down like he did last night. It struck me hard that of the two of us, maybe he had a more earth-moving experience than I did. Not that losing my virginity was somehow diminished, but it seemed that he gained something in the exchange. Something like a new sense of his own worth as a person. An understanding of what he meant to me. Acknowledgement of a bond between us that could weather any storm, overcome any hardship, survive any attack...

"I love you, Ûnran," I whispered in his ear, squeezing him a bit tighter for a moment.

"Love yuh, Tanith," he murmured.

Thankfully, whoever stocked the wardrobe in my room took under consideration the possibility that some future guest might be a nun, because I managed to find a satisfactorily concealing garment. And there was a large area that needed covering, let me tell you. I almost couldn't make out the other Orc's teeth marks in the field of nips and nibbles Ûnran left behind. Damned if I didn't have a weird sense of pride about it, too.

When we emerged from our love nest, I half expected there to be sun shining and birds singing in celebration. Maybe bunnies and squirrels capering across a meadow inexplicably dropped onto the top tier of Minas Tirith just for the day. What I got was a sky filled to the max with glowering black clouds, blocking the light so effectively that it looked like the middle of the night, not the early morning. Sort of sucked the joy right out of me. But I was holding Ûnran's hand, so it was okay. I could deal with this.

Coming toward us leading a gaggle of girls was Iffy. They were all laden with buckets and linens and god knows what all else. When we met, everyone stopped and there was an awkward moment where the girls, all of them in the early teen stage, stared at Ûnran like he was a ferocious monster about to come at them with teeth and claws. Iffy, at least, looked a bit braver, though still trembling. She sort of curtsied a bit clumsily.

"Good morning," I said, trying to smile encouragingly. "It's okay," I went on in an undertone. "He won't bite." Wow. That was a gigantic lie...

Breathing a sigh of relief, Iffy looked shyly at me. "So... he is your... friend?"

I glanced back at Ûnran. He was keeping his eyes on the ground, his shoulders slumped. Pretty much trying to look smaller and less threatening. I hated to break it to him; he was still an Orc, and he still looked scary as all fuck. Sighing, I turned back to Iffy.

"Yes," I nodded confidently. "He's my friend. This is Ûnran."

"Pleased... to meet you," Iffy said politely. Ûnran grunted and nodded shortly.

The young maid was showing an admirable amount of courage, I thought. Her posse, however, wasn't so fearless, but I could hardly blame them. They'd likely never seen an Orc in their lives, and now they were standing mere feet away from one. Maybe Ûnran didn't look quite like the ones currently occupying Osgiliath or filling up the cesspool that was Mordor, but he was still an Orc of some persuasion, and that was scary enough.

"So... where are you ladies off to?" I asked curiously. Iffy rallied, apparently glad the subject had changed to something a bit less Orcish.

"We go to tidy your rooms, my lady," she beamed. "There was little opportunity to prepare them properly for your arrival. Your... Hobbit friend did his best, but... well, you are a lady, and require a... um..."

"Feminine touch?" I supplied with a grin. She smiled back.

"I will see to your clothing as well. I trust they require cleaning?"

"More than you know," I said, rolling my eyes. "I apologize in advance."

"I have seen worse," she giggled. "But I will not keep you. The Hall of Feasts is that way. I hope you are well pleased with what is offered."

"I'm sure I will be," I smiled. She dropped another curtsey, then directed her troops toward our rooms. Ûnran and I headed for the hall.

"I do all right?" Ûnran muttered under his breath to me.

I had to laugh. "You did fine."

"Don't wanna scare nobody," he growled. "Can't help it, I guess.

"For a while, that's probably what you'll run into," I said a little sadly. "But I'm with you, and you don't scare me. You don't scare any of my friends. Though I think Legolas might be a little nervous around you."

He grunted with amusement. "More like scared'uh you."

"Yes, well," I said loftily, "he had it coming."

Before we reached the doors to the hall, Ûnran stopped me and looked into my eyes. "I love yuh, Tanith."

His expression was so intense, like he didn't think I'd believe him if he didn't remind me every few minutes. I reached up and touched his cheek. "I love you, too. Now let's go eat. I'm starving."

Grinning, he leaned down and whispered, "Could eat yuh up right here."

"Maybe later we can... chat about that sort of meal, hmmm?" I replied in an undertone.

Giggling behind our hands, we entered the hall. It was a pretty big room with a frickin' long ass table down the middle. The gang was all clustered at one end, though. We went over there to join them. I sat between Gandalf and Ûnran, across from Boromir and what I assumed was Faramir. Like his brother, Faramir pretty closely resembled the guy from the movie except in the nose department. On Gandalf's other side was a beaming Pippin, all decked out in his livery and looking really important.

I found it a little weird that we were all assembled and the Steward wasn't there. On the other hand, I didn't really mind the absence. So far, Denethor hadn't deviated much from what I knew of him in the movie. He could stay in his little hovel and brood. That was fine with me.

"I confess, I am intrigued," Faramir said, turning to me and Ûnran. "I have never sat at table with an Orc. If you would not mind, I would ask you some questions."

Shrugging, Ûnran stopped picking at his breakfast and waited expectantly. I held my breath; Jesus, don't ask insulting questions, please...

"Do all Orcs hate Men?" Faramir asked. "I have always assumed this was the case, otherwise they would not so easily be persuaded to fight us. What say you?"

I couldn't believe it. His tone was one of genuine curiosity, almost scholarly, as if he hadn't just the previous day been sent packing by a load of Orcs in Osgiliath. Not even Ûnran could sense any provocation in the question, judging by how his shoulders relaxed and he actually gave thought to his answer.

"Don't know much 'bout other Orcs," he replied. "Just Uruk-hai. Master told us to hate Men, so we did. He told us to kill'em first, don't ask no questions. So we did. Told us to..." He stopped and looked cautiously at me. I knew where he was going, and nodded. We're all adults here. Most everyone knows already. Swallowing, he went on shakily. "Told us to... hurt their females. So we did. Kill their small ones. So... so we did. Didn't know why. Didn't ask why. Askin' just got yuh whipped. So yuh didn't ask. Yuh just obeyed. Did what you was told and didn't say nothin'."

"So... you are saying it is nothing... personal?" Faramir pressed.

"Nah," Ûnran said, shaking his head. "Ain't nothin' personal. Not for us, anyway."

"What of other Orcs, then?" Boromir asked. "Those like the Pitmaster."

Sighing, Ûnran said, "Ain't sure. Didn't talk much 'bout it. Pitmaster got called to serve. Hates the Dark Lord 'bout as much as you lot, I'll warrant. Got no choice, though. Yuh get called to fight, yuh go fight. Family don't matter. Younglings don't matter. Your mate don't matter. Whatchuh want don't matter. Yuh just... do what you're told."

"You are slaves to the will of the Shadow?" Faramir asked quietly, a strong look of sympathy on his face.

"Aye," Ûnran nodded. "Ain't allowed tuh have no wills of our own. Barely got mine now." He glanced once at me and looked away. "Don't hear Master no more, but I hear... somethin' else. Specially since the sky went dark. Just... a whisper."

"You never said anything about that," I cut in. "Ûnran, do you hear him?"

"Not loud," he said quickly, obviously trying to reassure me. "Didn't wanna say nothin'. It's just..." His face crumpled and he bowed his head in shame. "Just a reminder'uh what I am. So's I don't fucking forget."

"What is this Voice telling you to do?" Gandalf asked, concern on his face. Everyone looked alarmed, and I suppose I did too.

Swallowing hard, and still not looking up, Ûnran said in an even quieter voice, "Just... callin' me... to fight. Against Men." Now he looked up pleadingly at all of us. "It ain't strong, not like Master's Voice. It don't hurt when I say no. I can resist it, cause I don't wanna fight. I don't wanna kill nobody."

Reaching over, I took hold of his hand. How long would it be before Frodo pitched the Ring into the fire? A week? A month? Damn, it couldn't be soon enough.

"I had no idea," Boromir said, shaking his head. "Do you mean to say that, until Saruman was brought to heel, you truly felt pain when you disobeyed his will?"

Exasperated suddenly, I huffed. "Don't you remember when we camped on the way to Isengard?" I asked incredulously. "He had probably the worst attack I'd seen."

Boromir raised a bemused eyebrow. "As I recall, he was afflicted by an excess of affection."

I sat stunned there for a minute, not really sure what to do with that. Then the man laughed softly, and I realized he was actually teasing me. Holy crap, that was weird. I was about to say something when the doors at one end of the hall opened and Denethor finally came in.

A wave of pissed blew into the room ahead of him. If I thought the Steward looked ready to kill an army of Orcs with his bare hands yesterday, it was even worse today.

Denethor came to a halt at the head of the table and glared at me. Son of a bitch... how the hell did he find out?

"How... dare you?" he hissed, and I shrank from his fury. "You throw my good will back in my face. Spit upon the hospitality I have shown you. Flaunt your wickedness before my people."

"Father, what...?" Faramir began.

"Silence!" Denethor roared, making his youngest son cringe.

"Denethor...," Gandalf said calmly.

"And you!" the Steward barked. "I know what you would counsel. Tolerance and mercy. What say you to this?" With that, he pulled a bundle from behind his back and flung it on the table.

I stopped breathing. I swear to god, I couldn't even inhale. It was our sheet, and there were these dribbly little reddish brown spots on it. Oh my god. It completely slipped my mind. I was all gooey-eyed over Ûnran and how glorious our night had been, then Gandalf came and freaked me out, then we had to get our asses to breakfast or people would talk...

"My servants know well the evidence of consummation," he spat. "They have tended to many a marriage bed. That is virgin blood. You rutted with the beast!" he cried, pointing a shaking finger at Ûnran, his voice cracking with rage. "Under my roof!"

I didn't know what to say. To have an incredibly beautiful and personal shared experience dragged into a public forum as if we'd done something unnatural, unholy, disgusting, foul... I couldn't crawl far enough away. There wasn't a hole deep enough. I'd never been so humiliated in my life, and there just wasn't anything I could say that wouldn't make what we did seem even worse. The Brat didn't even want to leave her room at the moment, which in retrospect was probably a good thing.

"A simple whore would be difficult enough to stomach," Denethor continued, and I winced. "But a whore who lies with an Orc..." He shuddered and his face twitched.

Glancing at Ûnran, I saw that he looked even worse than I did. His eyes were squeezed shut and every word out of Denethor's mouth made him flinch, yet a low growl was rumbling in his chest.

Holy shit, how the hell could Iffy do this to me? To us? Granted, I didn't know her well, and we'd only talked for a few minutes, but... I suppose I thought that would be enough. She seemed to understand what Unran meant to me, how important being with him was. Maybe there was enough of my Teen hanging around that I thought I could trust her Teen.

Dammit, where I come from, when the maid service tidies up your frickin' room, they don't wave your soiled linens in the hotel manager's face!

Trust too much. Good riddance.

Jesus H. Grunt, shut up.

Learn now?

Yeah. Got it. Now bugger off.

"Father," Boromir said carefully, "you know I share your opinion on many things. Perhaps I am... equally... repelled... by this... evidence... and what it means. But... I have known Tanith for months. I must protest your accusation. She is not a whore."

"What else would you call it?" Denethor snarled, rounding on his favorite son. He seemed doubly pissed because the one he liked best was challenging him.

"I have been in their company for some time," his son replied. I could tell this was difficult for him to say, and I started thinking up cookie batches that he might like. God, I never gave him any credit, and here he was... "There is... great affection between them. I've no doubt in my mind... or my heart... that they love one another. Yes, father... though he is an Orc, he feels such things. I know it by his words as well as his deeds."

Denethor looked like he'd been hit by a truck. "You... have I lost you to Mithrandir as well, my son?" he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I am not lost," Boromir said. "Nor are my thoughts clouded by sentiment. If you wish proof of this Orc's quality, I shall give it. On our road here, he found a small scouting group of Orcs, clearly seeking to warn the army should Rohan ride forth to our aid. Together we engaged them in battle to remove the threat. I confess, I more than half expected he would turn upon me once among his own kind. But he did not." Boromir looked across at Ûnran, who finally lifted his head to return his gaze. "This Orc, given the opportunity to rejoin his folk, to betray me as well as Tanith to their foul intentions, fought at my side. He showed them no mercy. To my shame, I was too shocked by his faithfulness to notice the Orc behind me until Ûnran slew it before it struck."

Turning to his father with a stern expression on his face, Boromir said, "Ûnran saved my life. For that, I owe him a great debt. If I must pay it by looking the other way where his... relations with Tanith are concerned, then so be it."

"Then... my eyes are not deceived," Faramir said, looking intently at Ûnran. "I did not trust what I saw, yet it is clear now. I see... a man in love." Turning to me, a warm smile slowly crept across his face. "His love is returned a thousandfold."

Good god, how in the world did something as bitter and mean as Denethor produce such great sons?

The Steward huffed angrily, struck speechless for a moment. His gaze kept flicking between Boromir and Faramir, both giving him the 'shut the hell up before you embarrass yourself' look. Scowling even more furiously, he growled, "That... thing you defend is the spawn of the Enemy! The foulest creatures that walk the land are Orcs, and you defend it!"

"He is only partially Orc," Gandalf pointed out. "There is much... Man's blood in him. And truly, among those who surrendered, and showed no signs of deception after Saruman's defeat, were Orcs of Mordor."

"You say... he is part Man?" Denethor roared. "Is this meant to ease my heart? That he is not wholly Orc, not fully blackened by the taint of the Unnamed One, but he is an abomination, a profane blending of Man and Orc? And I am meant to be comforted by this... this... foul mating?"

"It weren't mating," Ûnran suddenly spoke up. I honestly didn't know where he found the courage, even though it sounded to me like the only one who thought we were the world's most disgusting couple was the grumpy old man spraying us with spit at the moment. "Master didn't want us mating."

I think it was the first time Ûnran had said a word in Denethor's presence, because the Steward abruptly stopped spewing insults and stared at him. You'd think he believed Ûnran either couldn't speak an understandable language, or couldn't speak at all. Like a dumb animal.

Swallowing hard, for now he had the floor and all eyes were on him, Ûnran said shakily, "Master... made us... rape whiteskin females... to make more Uruk-hai." Hanging his head in shame, he muttered, "He made me do that. Didn't have no choice, and I didn't wanna do it. Came close to killin' me when I didn't obey, though. Yuh do what you're told, or yuh die."

You could have heard a pin drop a mile away. I glanced up at Denethor and was a little surprised to see his face still twitching, like he was barely holding it together. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Both sons still alive, and he's still a god damned wingnut?

"What... Tanith and I did," Ûnran went on desperately, "we... made love... I swear... it wasn't rapin' or fuckin'. I know the difference."

I put my hand on his and held his gaze. "It's okay," I said softly. Finally dredging up the necessary bravery, and rousting the Brat out of her room, I turned a defiant eye toward Denethor and said, "I know how you all feel about this, and I really hoped it would go unnoticed, but apparently Minas Tirith is a smaller town than I thought. You can't do anything without everybody knowing every damn detail. So... I'm going to say this once, and then I don't want to hear another god damned word about it. I love Ûnran. I want Ûnran. I don't want anyone else. I don't want to be with anyone else. He is everything to me, and everything I want. What I do with him is none of your god damned business. He's not going to be sleeping in the servants' quarters anymore. He's going to be in my quarters with me. And I swear to god, if any one of you tries to stop him from coming to me, I'll kick your ass. I've had enough. It's none of your business what we do. We're not hurting anyone. We sure as hell aren't hurting each other. So please... back off. Or I'm gonna get shitty, and I don't think you want that."

Again, pin-dropping silence. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Next to me, Gandalf nodded his agreement. "Tanith is right. There is no reason to distrust Ûnran, regardless of his race. He's proven himself many times." I caught Boromir nodding firmly across the table.

"Tanith has likewise proven herself in my eyes," he added. "Though she has never told me herself, I have learned of it since." He lowered his gaze for a moment, gathering himself, then looked intently at his father. "I was not meant to live. I should have been slain at Amon Hen. If not for her presence, perhaps... and my worry for her safety... the events of that day would likely have seen more than my horn floating down the river into your hands. And because her heart is so great that she befriended an Orc... I am able to sit at your table once again. Father, whatever personal opinions you... or I... may have for what they share, it is truly none of our business. There is good in both of them... and... in their union. I will not speak against them."

Denethor couldn't even speak. He turned a baleful eye on Gandalf and held the wizard's gaze for several long moments, then stormed out of the hall.

I wanted to lean against Ûnran with relief. It was like someone opened the door and let oxygen into the airlock again. But I kept my hands to myself. No sense in pushing it. Faramir didn't say a word as he picked up the sheet and handed it off to a servant. I heard him mutter something about 'disposing' of it. At least nobody suggested hanging it out the window or running it up a flagpole.

Sitting back down, Faramir smiled warmly. "I hope you do not mind, but I dearly wish to speak with you both. I suspect you have a fascinating tale to tell, and I do so enjoy stories."

Laughing and sitting back in my chair, I said, "Yeah, we have a hell of a story to tell."