The great hall of the Hornburg was bustling with activity as Sunngifu oversaw the preparations for the unprecendented arrival of Uruk-hai in their midst. She did not allow herself to think about anything but that these were sick and malnourished men; she had been told what the symptoms were, what Burga's suspicions of their ailment might be, and so concentrated on assembling the necessary items for treating them.

Well-padded yet soft pallets were laid out in four rows of five each, close to the end of the hall where the great hearth could warm them. Even now, stableboys were gathering wood from the hills behind the keep to maintain a hearty blaze. The hall would be nearly stifling in a matter of hours. She'd employed several novice healers in gathering raspberry and mint leaves to treat the diarrhea and vomiting; they had to range far at this time of year to find the young plants and carefully harvest only a few leaves from each. Sunni worried that if they did not keep up the gathering even after the Uruks arrived, there would never be enough.

Beside each pallet she ordered two buckets: one empty, and one filled with clean water. Rolls of bandages left over from the battle were gathered in a large box; another held squares of cloth for cleaning. The bakers were hard at work baking loaf after loaf in the large ovens, for queasy stomachs should not have been forced to battle raw meat no matter how desperately the nourishment was needed.

Sunni bit her lip and tried not to think about what they were.

Extra blankets were neatly stacked in a corner; each pallet had been prepared with two set at their foot, ready to be pulled over the bodies of the Uruks once they were settled. A general request for shirts and trousers had been issued, and folk had brought their discarded clothing by the keep. Sunni had a pair of elderly ladies sorting through them, arranging them by size. They did not know how big the Uruks would be, only that they might go through several before their bowels were brought under control.

Taking a deep breath, she surveyed the hall. Now that the supplies had been put in place, she assessed the young women who would be placed in charge of these creatures. Many were visibly nervous, their eyes darting to the doors at the slightest sounds from outside. A few of Sunni's own apprentices had barely survived raids, and so had been courteously dismissed from this duty. Sunni had refused the option herself, though it hadn't been offered. She had too much experience to be done without, she knew.

Burga only insisted that for each Uruk, there should be one healer. Beyond that, others were to be employed in such activities as replenishing supplies, emptying buckets, and fetching food. Sunni knew she would be assigned to one, and every time she thought of it, she had to close her eyes and hold her breath for a moment, then let it out slowly.

You are strong enough, she thought firmly.

She was just reminding herself not to think about it when a messenger from the gates burst into the hall with an announcement that alarmed and chilled her heart: they were coming.

It took a monumental effort to swallow, but she managed it after a moment. Lifting her chin with dignity and grace, Sunni followed the young man down to the gates.

"You are certainly a brave lot, ma'am," the messenger commented as they left the shaded interior of the keep and walked out into the bright sunshine. "A load of beasts that oughta be kept in the dungeon, not coddled and whatnot. Can't imagine what his Lordship was thinking."

"Their representative was most persuasive, I heard," Sunni replied.

The man snorted. "Likely told the kind of lie my da would tan my hide over," he grumbled.

When they reached the wide open gates, they halted and gazed down the ramp at the five wagons making their slow, careful way up the ramp. Along the Deeping Wall, Sunni noticed, there were many Dunlending men still hard at work, laboring to repair the breach and other damages sustained during the battle. This was their penance for taking up arms for Saruman's cause. Sunni knew of a few women whose shame was not inflicted by Uruk raiders but men like them, and she felt no sympathy for what they must feel, trading their swords for mallets and chisels.

Shading her eyes, she looked upon the wagons and frowned. Only a bare handful of the Uruks were even sitting up; all the rest were dark, immobile forms lying side by side in the beds of each wagon. At least a few of the healers who had accompanied Burga were sitting in amongst them. Sunni found this to be... unexpected.

Her brow was still furrowed with curiosity when the first wagon, driven by a Rider and bearing Burga on the seat next to him, drove through the gate. Sunni trotted alongside for a few paces before Burga leaned down and gave her a hand up. The lead healer made room for Sunni on the bench.

"Is all in readiness?" Burga asked, though she knew the answer.

"Yes, quite," Sunni replied, glancing over her shoulder. Leofwen was leaning over a seemingly dead Uruk, murmuring quietly to him and carefully easing water between his lips while massaging his throat. The other two Uruks beside them just stared upward unseeing with half-closed, glassy eyes. All three of them had sunken cheeks and prominently exposed ribs, most particularly the one whom Leofwen was tending.

This was nothing like what Sunni had expected. Romana hadn't lied.

"Are they all like this?" she whispered to Burga, and the healer shook her head.

"Most, but not all," she replied. "There are a few who are in far better health. They have shown... quite surprising tenderness toward their suffering brethren. I daresay, it is an eye-opener."

Furrowing her brow, Sunni said, "Truly? Tenderness, you say? I find that difficult to imagine."

"As did I, until I saw them," Burga said. Turning to Sunni, she searched the younger woman's eyes. "I have a special favor to ask of you, dear," she said seriously, "though I know it will not be easy for you. Heric's passing weighs heavily on your mind still, does it not?"

Stiffening, Sunni tore her gaze away and stared straight ahead. It took her several moments to reply in a strained voice. "Yes. It does."

Burga gently laid a hand on Sunni's, clasped tightly in her lap. "I beg your pardon for this. It is my hope that you might find healing for his loss... if given the opportunity to aid another. There is one among the Uruks who... despairs. Romana, their friend, has begged special attention for him. I immediately thought of you."

"You ask much," Sunni replied in a hoarse whisper.

"I know," Burga confessed. "He is not a Man, nor is he bound to you by blood as your cousin was. You told me you wished you could have done... something different. I have never thought there was; you did all you could and more. I believe you learned a valuable lesson from the experience; you learned the value of living. This Kalus is not beyond reach. Perhaps this is a lesson you might teach him?"

Sunni bowed her head as the wagons drew up to the steps leading to the great hall. The litter bearers she'd conscripted were already standing by, awaiting their orders.

It was a difficult proposition, but not one without worth. Though Sunni could not imagine an Uruk even remotely as sorrowful as her cousin had been, she felt duty-bound to do what she could. She'd failed Heric, in spite of what Burga said. She did not want to fail again, even with regards to one of them.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Sunni met Burga's anxious gaze. "Yes. I will... teach him."

Sunni was kept busy as the limp bodies were brought in. She could not bring herself to converse with the healthy ones; she left that duty to Eadburga. Instead, she flitted about, urging care in the handling of such spindly bodies.

It was a wonder they had the strength to breathe, she marveled. Never had she seen anyone in such a pitiable state. Several were no sooner laid to rest upon their pallets when even the most careful treatment made them vomit. One she witnessed do so was wracked from head to toe in shuddering convulsions by the force of it, then lay in a trembling ball, his breath hitching as though he might weep. The young woman at his side stoically cleaned him up, urged him to drink some water, and bathed his sweating face.

Though the Uruk did not weep, the novice healer tending him very nearly did.

Tearing herself away, Sunni went in search of Burga, finding her in conversation with one of the taller of the well-off Uruks. He kept his head bowed throughout their discussion, a scowl on his face and his fists clenched as though he might strike her given half a chance and fewer witnesses. Sunni was rather taken aback by his tension and apparent hostility.

"I beg pardon," she said carefully, her eyes darting back and forth between them. Burga turned to Sunni with a nervous expression.

"Yes, Sunni," she said with relief. "I would like you to meet Burzash. He is their leader."

Sunni forced herself to look this one in the eye, somehow managing to stifle the sharp gasp that looking into such eyes inspired. His were painfully alert, as though he rarely blinked for fear of missing something in that split second that might threaten him. The yellow color seemed almost other-worldly in its intensity. She swallowed hard and nodded acknowledgement of Burga's introduction. He nodded once in return.

"Are you able to see to Kalus now?" Burga asked respectfully.

"Yes," Sunni replied. "I am ready."

"If you will excuse us," Burga said awkwardly to the twitching Uruk, and the two women left him there fidgeting. Once out of earshot, Burga released a relieved sigh. "That one baffles me."

"He seems quite agitated, though I suppose that is to be expected," Sunni offered.

"I have been nothing but polite, and yet his bearing and manner is so disagreeable," the lead healer lamented. "He barely speaks, will not look me in the eye, and clenches his fists so tightly I feel that he imagines my neck within his grasp." She rubbed her throat nervously.

"At least he is wise enough to restrain himself here," Sunni replied, then added crossly, "He should show more gratitude, or at least..."

"No, dear, I think... I think it is pride that afflicts him," Burga reasoned. "They are dependent upon those they called enemy only a handful of days past; it must rankle him terribly. That he can restrain himself for the good of his fellows is admirable, really."

Sunni frowned and cast a sidelong look at her superior, unsure what to make of the woman's words and tone.

"He is just here," Burga pointed, leading Sunni over to the pallet on the end of the second row. A healer was there already, covering him with a blanket and preparing to bathe his face with cool water. The Uruk didn't appear to be responding to anything. "Thank you, Edda. Sunni will see to him from now on." The woman nodded and departed.

Sunni looked down at Kalus's face and her brow creased. She slowly sank to her knees beside him.

"Romana says he tried to drown himself," Burga was saying, but Sunni barely heard her words.

Even in repose, a hauntingly familiar despair was etched upon his face, and Sunni's throat closed with recognition. Beyond that, as she had barely noted in Burzash but was now fully attentive of in Kalus, his face bore such similarity to Men she wanted to recoil with revulsion, for it was an obscene likeness. The bone structure of a Man of Rohan lurked beneath the rough, mottled, and scarred flesh of an Orc. His thin, dry lips were slightly parted, and she could see the jagged teeth of a predator within his mouth. Thinning hair revealed most un-Manlike ears, sharply pointed. One was marred, as though bitten by an animal with sharp teeth.

"Sunni?"

Shaking herself, she looked up at Burga's concerned face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Sunni nodded. "I am fine. I can manage things from here. Thank you, Burga."

"If you need anything," Burga offered as she turned away, "call for me."

Sunni watched her retreating leader for a moment, then returned her attention to Kalus. Taking a rag from the stack, she soaked it in the water bucket and, swallowing hard, drew it gently across his forehead. His shallow, steady breathing startled for a moment, yet he did not waken.

When she had bathed his bare chest, covered with scars she did not want to know the origins of, and returned to his face, he slowly stirred, as though drifting awake after a long, deep sleep. His eyes slowly opened, the color dulled to a pale yellow that, compared to Burzash's intense citrine hue, seemed almost lifeless.

Though without fire, they did not lack warmth as he looked up at her. His face relaxed further, and great relief softened his features. She found herself returning the slight smile that twitched his lips.

"This what... death is... for Orcs, then?" he rasped hoarsely. His throat was dry, and it was difficult for him to speak above a whisper. "Don't know... why... they tried to... keep me from it."

Her smile faded. "You are not dead, Kalus."

His expression changed, and he slowly turned his head, his eyes taking in the stone walls and floors of the keep, the great hearth and the torches in their sconces on each pillar within the hall. She watched his face contort with despair, crumbling before her eyes as would a mountain toppling in upon itself over the course of ages. He did not look at her again; he squeezed his eyes shut, clearly devastated to have opened them upon another day of living when he must have hoped there would be no more.

Sunni realized she could not muster the will to hate this Uruk. The loathing she'd never had any difficulty feeling just wasn't there. She felt only the need to heal him, not gloat over his misfortune. It was not so long ago that she would have done the latter, yet she felt a strong urge now toward the former.

"There now, Kalus," she said softly, and his ear flicked at the sound of his name. "I am Sunngifu. You may call me Sunni. I am sure we shall be friends. Won't you have a sip of water? You are surely parched."

His cheek twitched, yet his eyes did not open. He only turned his face further away.