"Who summoned him?" Eldehto asked curiously. In the blink of an outraged eye, his expression turned accusing. "I thought no one else even bothered to learn his song because I did it."

Thraknash quite suddenly found that he was no longer merely sick of this forest and these hills. He was sick as a bloody dog of them. He stood up, head already throbbing, and faced the cheerful figure that came bounding uphill like the earth's pull had no effect on him. "Oi!" Thraknash barked; that particular word came rarely out of his mouth, but this situation more than warranted it. "What did I tell you about all this ring a dong dildo business? We certainly thank you for the beds and food and everything, but we're leaving! Enough with this torment!"

"Oh shut up, you big Uruk bully!" Ghâshsag jumped to his feet to go greet the being that had agreed to become his first and possibly only father in this world. "Did you come to see me one last time? Isn't Mummy with you?"

"My pretty lady, pretty river-daughter, tends to her lilies," sing-songed Tom, "but she sends to you her last farewell, last warm words to her goblin-son." He patted Ghâshsag's head. "And also more food. She thought you might run out of it soon."

Krazum gave a grateful grunt, but not without glancing sheepishly at what still remained of the breakfast he had cooked. Apparently news travelled fast to Bombadil's house. It was fine to be quick with foods that didn't keep very long, but it really was time for them all to start getting used to eating more lightly on the road. Except Gruzlak, he thought vehemently, stroking the little one's hair. If the others didn't like a growing child getting the food he needed, sod every last one of them.

Something twitched in the cesspit of memories that Krazum had pushed and kicked and threatened to the back of his mind. To distract himself, and also to block out the voice of Tom Bombadil, he quickly focused all of his attention on Gruzlak. "Don't be sad, little one," he murmured, wiping Gruzlak's eyes. "You'll grow bigger too, and until then I'll let no one give you shit for being little."

"But what if I'm a burden to you," Gruzlak asked, voice trembling. "What if something bad happens to you because I'm weak?"

"You're not weak. And no bad thing will ever force me from your side," Krazum replied. "Nothing in this world can do that."

"But what if you die?" Gruzlak sobbed into Krazum's shoulder.

"Nothing in this world, Gruzlak, or outside it."

"But you always say the dead have no business wandering in the world of the living!"

Krazum grinned viciously. "That goes for the other dead, the ones that aren't with you. Serves them right, really." He dried Gruzlak's eyes again. "No, not even the dark on the other side can keep me from you."

For a moment, Gruzlak could only shake with a fear that burned just as fiercely whether it was uttered or remained a secret. "But what if..." he finally began hesitantly, as though saying the words might make them come true. "What if I'm the one who goes there?"

Krazum, for his part, didn't hesitate at all. "It's as I said: nothing in this world, or outside it, can keep me from you. You won't go alone."

As perceptive as Gruzlak was for one so small, in that moment he didn't quite have the strength of mind and maturity to grasp the disturbingness of this statement, and was instead reassured by it. There were others in the group, however, who had been listening to this conversation with much incredulity and increasingly gaping mouths. As Gruzlak finally calmed down in Krazum's embrace, Thraknash rushed to ruin the sweet moment with a cold splash of sanity.

"Is that really something you should say to a child? Black Gate be rusted, Krazum, you'll make him just as fucked up as you are!"

"Oh sod off, you toad-mouthed berk!" Krazum barked, sweetness shattered. "You're a bloody Uruk, what do you know about children?"

Thraknash had to take a moment to blink at this question. The extent to which Krazum's brain rejected common sense simply knocked the breath out of his lungs sometimes. Even bloody Bombadil had stopped singing at the Orcs and stood there watching. "Either you've forgotten or then you never think about these things," Thraknash groaned, holding his head, "but when you're made in a pit, you're born with a certain amount of knowledge and instinct that sleeps underneath all the..."

Thraknash wiped at his face, willing the right words to come to him. "...I don't know, it's a bit like the ability to speak. We don't really need it for killing stuff, but we're born with it anyway. And there are other things in us that we don't really need for killing stuff, but nobody bothered to figure out how to take them out of us, and sometimes the things rear their heads." Thraknash looked at Krazum. The fact that he still saw little to no understanding in the other Orc's eyes was quickly starting to get on his nerves. "Things like something in the back of our minds telling us what is and isn't a reasonable thing to say to a child!"

Krazum glanced down at Gruzlak in confusion before resuming his suspicious glare. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

The air escaped Thraknash's lungs again. It took him a moment to gather enough strength to go on. "I suppose I'm asking if somebody maliciously pissed in your mudpit before you were born or something like that!"

"How the fuck would I know that?" Krazum snapped. "But if someone did, I bet it was an Uruk."

Thraknash rolled his eyes so hard it exacerbated his headache. "Do you."

"I can see it now," Krazum continued with audible bitterness. "Some big, giggling bastard with an unwashed arse it would be, too. Of course it would be my pod he would do it in, of course. One of those fuckers with knives that they only keep for fondling."

The hairs at the back of Thraknash's neck rose again.

"The type that always, always 'forgets' to rinse his filth from the toilet area after he's done." Krazum shuddered, his face twisting with horror and disgust. There was a sort of ominous buzz somewhere in the background of his tone, like a furious wasp waking up. "And when you tell them to stop being revolting, they laugh and try to pat you with their unclean hands just to piss you off with their piss. That type of Uruk. That type of Uruk has no consideration for th..."

"Krazum," Gruzlak suddenly said. His voice was still thick with tears, but the tone was sharp enough to shear the beginning rant right in the bud.

Slightly startled, Krazum looked down again. "What is it, little one?"

Gruzlak looked back. There was much gentleness in his eyes, but also a compelling steely resolve. He held the pillow-toy tightly and breathed deeply before speaking. "Krazum, don't do it."

"That's right, Krazum," added Thraknash. Although his instincts foresaw ruin and distress, he managed to keep his voice calm and sarcastic. "You just had such a beautiful, tender moment telling Gruzlak that you'd kill yourself for him. Don't ruin this with a fit."

"Uruk bastard!" Krazum muttered. He tore his eyes off the Uruk in question with an almost audible snap, his mood changing at the speed of a lashing whip as he turned to Gruzlak and gently patted his head. "We'll just ignore him. Here, are you still hungry?"

The ache in Thraknash's head subsided a little. Although it still rather irked him that he had to continue being the arsehole of the band to keep Krazum in a balance of sorts, he recognised that he had once again pushed the other Orc by not being capable of keeping his big mouth shut. Then again, his flesh crawled at the thought of Krazum infecting Gruzlak with this sacrifice-glorifying death cult nonsense that still haunted his thought processes. It made Thraknash feel helpless, and when he felt helpless, all other sorts of negative emotions inevitably followed.

"You might have helped there a bit, you know," Thraknash snapped at Moglurz, who had simply sat there eating and watching.

The old Orc looked up from the remains of his breakfast, calmly observing the young Uruk. His own eyes were infuriatingly unreadable. "Well, I don't know," he replied after a while of this. "I thought you were doing very well, actually."

Thraknash gave Moglurz a long, hard look, but the old one's eyes kept their secrets. "...are you taking the piss?"

"No piss taken, a or the."

Meanwhile, Ghâshsag finally forced himself to look away from the vaguely unhealthy scene by the fire. He grinned nervously at Tom Bombadil, squeezing his own hands since Grishtakh's weren't available. "No harm done, we'll be fine," he said more to himself than Tom. He heard suspicious metallic clinking and was even more nervous to see that Grishtakh and Gutbrúg had started going through the barrow-haul right there in Tom's presence. "Was... was there something else you wanted to say?"

Tom was silent for a moment, eyes twinkling as he too saw what the foolish ones were doing. There was no telling whether it was a good or a bad twinkle. "You plundered the hills of the dead," he observed.

"Well... you didn't really forbid us... Dad." Ghâshsag tried to grin disarmingly before remembering that it didn't work quite so well when done deliberately.

With one more twinkle of the eye, Tom ruffled Ghâshsag's already unruly hair. "Much prettier in the sunlight than under cold stone and green grass," he said, and did not seem terribly bothered by his recently acquired son's graverobbery. "And it feels as though I did have something else to say, some news to bring: but now it has altogether slipped my mind."

Ghâshsag tilted his head. "Oh. Maybe it wasn't very important?"

"Who can tell, when none can remember? Here is your food at least: I did not forget that," said Tom cheerfully, handing Ghâshsag a promisingly heavy bag. "Now the sun tells me that there are many chores for old Tom to do, many duties waiting..."

Thraknash, barely recovered from the already stressful interactions that had all happened during a single breakfast, could finally breathe again when it looked as though Grishtakh and Gutbrúg hadn't just brought another altercation upon them after all. He still dutifully threw the two idiots a dark glare, keeping an eye on Tom Bombadil and Ghâshsag but too tired to listen to the rest of their conversation.

Then he finally took a look at Anguelen again, hoping for some relief from his companions. It was like a jab in the gut when he saw that the usually cheerful Elf seemed to be brooding; Anguelen took a silver goblet from the loot, probably to distract himself, and glanced balefully at Tom Bombadil. For a moment Thraknash wished fervently that they had already had some time to learn a common tongue for private use, but as it was not so, he could only try to be as subtle as possible.

"He'll be off soon," Thraknash whispered, touching Anguelen's arm but watching Bombadil and Ghâshsag's farewell.

Anguelen rolled the goblet's stem between his fingers. "I know." He blinked a few times, and turned his eyes to Thraknash. "Ah, I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just a little... envious." His expression darkened when another fond wish for health and happiness was exchanged between the goblin and the forest's master. "Very, very envious if I'm perfectly honest with you and myself."

Thraknash hadn't even thought of worrying about Anguelen's reaction to the morning's events, but now a sort of exhausted fear slammed into him with the sadistic glee of a sentient entity. But of course. Of course Anguelen would be angered by seeing not only once, but twice the warmth and forgiveness he had always been denied. There was nothing unexpected about that kind of reaction, but Thraknash was already so tired and at a loss for...

"Well, I'd better not dwell on it," Anguelen mercifully interrupted the Uruk's thoughts, stroking the goblet's cool surface. "It isn't good for anybody, I suppose. And look, he's going now."

True, true, the stumpy little bastard was already skipping down the hill even faster than he had come up, and Thraknash's black heart wobbled with gratitude. This had to be the last of his troubles for one day, it just had to be. With infinite relief and fondness he then turned to Anguelen, ready to kiss away that scowl and probably also the bacon grease glossing the Elf's lips and maybe even...

And then a ring a ding dillo rang out amongst the green hills, its source by now unseen but heinously, diabolically audible.

Thraknash shuddered with terror, as for a moment he thought he could actually see red in the fury that lit Anguelen's eyes. The Elf's fingers dug into the goblet's bowl, and the precious metal gave like unbaked clay. "Thraknash," Anguelen growled without once separating his lower and upper teeth. He looked as though he could have bitten Grond in two in his wrath: the warhammer and the battering ram both.

It took Thraknash a moment to tear his eyes away from the Elf's hate-grimace. He could feel the chill of the surrounding silence in the roots of his teeth, in the strength of his muscles, in the vulnerability of his dangly bits. He swallowed down a considerable amount of fear and set to pulling Anguelen's fingers out of the grooves they had made. If the concept of therapy had existed in Middle-earth, in that moment the Uruk would have felt like some sort of unpaid therapist for the band. Things being what they were, however, he only felt vague resentment for the problems that took his attention away from the one that meant the most to him.

"Bastard must be doing it on purpose," Anguelen grumbled, rubbing his head with the hand that hadn't just disfigured a perfectly resellable piece of loot. "Ai Manwë, I don't like being angry, but when I think of my father..."

"Sod your corpse-hearted twat of a father!" Thraknash cried, throwing away the goblet. "If I ever see him again, I'm breaking his nose. See if he can still look down it then!" The Uruk pulled a slightly stunned and pleased Anguelen into his arms, hoping to Angband and Utumno that he could pull this off. "Clearly he can't appreciate you, but I... I..."

Throwing doubt and common decency to the tomb-winds, Thraknash dipped Anguelen a little and kissed him like the hero of some vomitously sappy-happy romance story, which was quite a feat considering that he had never read one. Anguelen put a hand on his shoulder: the goblet-crushing one, Thraknash noted to his utter terror and excitement. Then he was finally able to stop analysing the situation and really get into the kiss. The shrieks of offence and gagging only made it better, he found.

"The healing kiss?" Grishtakh groaned, clearly let down and disappointed to the core. "Oh Thraknash, that's been done so many times!"

Thraknash took his time enjoying the kiss before he even began to entertain the thought of replying to the goblin. When he finally did so and gave Anguelen a chance to catch up on his breathing, the mad grin on the Elf's face told him he had done the exact right thing. "See, Grishtakh," he said, "I've seen the things you write, and I don't think you're in any place to tell me I'm being unoriginal with my own romance here."

Grishtakh gave it some thought. "Fair enough," he agreed with a laugh.

"Actually, there's something I've been wanting to do for a while now," Thraknash continued before anyone else could complain, helping Anguelen get up. "Care to join me in the barrow there?"

"Didn't you already do that in Bombadil's house? Cor, there's no satisfying you," Ghâshsag commented in an almost admiring tone.

"We'll be here all week," complained Eldehto. This surprised Thraknash; he had not expected the young Elf to recover so quickly.

"We'll be here as long as it takes," the Uruk nevertheless announced. "If you lot don't like it, tough!" He then took Anguelen's hand and led him to a nice little barrow before anyone else could have a bit of a whinge at him.

"I really like you, did I tell you?" Anguelen laughed as they entered the dark. "I don't think I've ever liked anyone so much in my entire life. The looks on their faces! Truly you're a man after my own heart."

Thraknash turned to look at the Elf, a grin tugging at both corners of his mouth. "You'll like me even more after this."

Anguelen was beaming so brightly that he almost lit up the entire barrow. "I take it this is something different?"

"You could say so." With a flourish, Thraknash beckoned Anguelen to sit down on the floor. "I've been thinking of what you told me when we met, you see."

"Oh?"

"You told me you've been caught by so many Orcs who would leer at you, make suggestive remarks..."

"Oh! And then send me away when I responded with lust." Anguelen nodded eagerly.

"And so I thought we could play a little game here," Thraknash continued, also nodding. "You didn't have to do much to have me then, but we could do things a little differently now. Pretend it's our first meeting. Pretend I'm one of those Orcs you never got." Thraknash grinned. "And we'll both do our worst."

For a moment it looked like Anguelen had trouble staying inside his own skin in his excitement. Then, with a tremendous amount of self-control, he forced the twisted grin off his face and tried to look coy. He didn't quite succeed, but the effort was there. "Oh no, I've been captured by a cruel agent of the Dark Lord! Whatever will he do to me now?"

Thraknash's role was far easier, for he was able to keep his sleazy grin. "Obviously I'll need a knife for fondling," he said quickly before returning to his character. He pulled the knife from his belt and gestured with it. "Well then, golug! Looks like you're not going to co-operate, so I'll just have to search your body for the valuables. Off with the Elf-garb!"

"But you'll see my naked Elf-body," Anguelen protested with a tone of outrage that fooled no one.

"Perils of the job." Thraknash gave his knife a lick. He had thought it might be a little too much, but apparently there was nothing in this situation that couldn't turn Anguelen even more on.


Some minutes later, Grishtakh and Gutbrúg had resumed going through the loot while the others were still in varying states of annoyance and amusement over what had just happened. "Whose idea was it to take a cup, anyway?" Gutbrúg wondered, looking at the ruined goblet. "Should we put this back?"

"I suppose that would irritate the wights," commented Eldehto. "Then again, I don't suppose you care."

"Ooh, he's learning our devious ways," laughed Gutbrúg and picked out an odd bracelet. "Is this supposed to go on your wrist? It's a bit too big to be a ring, but a hand wouldn't go through it either." He put two fingers in, staring at the circle. "Maybe it's for a troll's finger, but it's kind of fancy for that."

"Besides, why would a troll-ring be in a Man-king's tomb?" Eldehto pointed out.

Moglurz gave a light cough. "I don't think that's a finger ring, lads."

Ghâshsag bent closer to the ring to have a look. "What is it for, then?"

"I'm fairly sure it's for something a bit... lower."

The three goblins gave Moglurz a combined look of astonishment, confusion and mild distaste.

"Oh blimey!" cried Ghâshsag and quickly drew back.

"Well it's a bit fancy for that, too!" declared Gutbrúg and sniffed the ring curiously.

"What? What is it?" demanded Grishtakh, utterly perplexed.

"Cock ring!" answered Gutbrúg and stuck it under Grishtakh's nose. The smaller goblin sniffed it too, and after some persuading and raucous laughter Ghâshsag agreed to take a careful whiff as well.

Burzum gave Eldehto a blank look that deftly communicated years of suffering precisely by showing no emotion. There was no doubt in Eldehto's heart; only an anguished understanding. "Perhaps we should begin to pack," Burzum suggested morosely.

Eldehto had just finished nodding his agreement and begun to help Burzum when it once again hit him how odd this all was. So sure he had been of Burzum's nefariousness and dark nature for a long time, and now they were acting like fast friends? Could a few minor revelations really do that much? Eldehto found it rather hard to accept; his father still disliked the same people he had disliked hundreds of years ago, and his grandfather still held grudges that had begun in the Years of the Trees. His brother... well, Eldehto wasn't sure if he actually knew Anguelen well enough to tell whether he was so vengeful or not. It seemed to him that it took a lot to make Anguelen truly hate anyone, but that once he finally exploded, the resulting fire was hard to put out.

And it occurred to Eldehto, all in secret, that when he stopped trying to figure out what his esteemed role models would do in a situation such as this, he realised that he actually liked being able to drop the fear and suspicion and distrust so easily. He wondered if any of the three older men would be proud of him and his realisation in that moment.

And in great secrecy, Eldehto decided to be proud of himself. He smiled a little, and of course Burzum caught it and became greatly flustered. Ah yes... that was another thing Eldehto would have to analyse at length when he had the time. "Well, the bags," he stammered as Burzum nodded at him far too many times.

The three goblins stared a bit longer after that at the quiet Elf and Orc being awkward over some packing and unspoken confusing feelings. Gutbrúg shook his head. "After all the advice I've given to him, he still can't get anything out of his mouth when he should. Oh well, maybe he'll get somewhere with the Elf before next spring!"

"He should listen to you," Grishtakh agreed. "I thought you'd come out of seducing Krazum with fewer limbs than you went in with, but no!"

"Smug prat," Krazum muttered. Gruzlak, his eyes clear now, made an annoyedly agreeing grunt of sorts.

Completely immune to disapproval, Grishtakh grabbed the elfhandled goblet and jumped to his feet. "I think I'll go replace this with something less broken and all," he said, looking for a blanket; the sunshine outside Burzum's already stretched-to-its-limits puff of darkness looked quite uncomfortable.

"Take two things," said Gutbrúg.

"Why?"

Gutbrúg tossed the cock ring in the air and caught it with a grin. "Because this is going in my collection."

Pulling the blanket over his head, Grishtakh gave the ring a doubtful look. "Does it even fit?"

"Eventually it will," chuckled Gutbrúg.

Cackling back, Grishtakh took off with the blanket flapping behind him like a witch's bonnet. The others could only stare at him as he went, some of them more exhausted than they had imagined they would be. "Cor, what a morning," Ghâshsag whined softly, collapsing on the soft grass. "I thought something horrible would surely happen, but it seems we're fine now."

While Moglurz was his usual watchful but hands-off self, Sharrásh finally took some interest in what was happening outside the breakfast he was still eating. "If you're feeling that uneasy," he said through a piece of meat he was slowly chewing on, "perhaps you would feel better if you sat on my lap."

Ghâshsag gave Moglurz a quizzical look. The old Orc shrugged cheerfully. Ghâshsag pondered this option for a while and then, goddamn him, really did stand up and plant his bottom in the ancient Orc's lap. Sharrásh put one arm around the goblin and continued eating with the other.

"...aren't you going to do anything?" Ghâshsag wanted to know after a while of this.

"Do what?" asked Sharrásh.

"Anything naughty?"

Sharrásh stopped chewing. He gave Ghâshsag a look; unlike Burzum's blank stare, his communicated no emotion whatsoever. "No," he said.

Ghâshsag glanced at Moglurz again, and found him doubled over with laughter. "Right," he grumbled, turning back to Sharrásh and his breakfast. "Give me some of that meat, then."


Meanwhile, Grishtakh had returned the goblet and in return taken three other items with him. The third one was a pair of earrings that he had found far too fabulous to leave there in the dark tomb. What was it that Tom Bombadil had just said? Prettier in the sunlight than... ah, but he would usually cover his head in sunlight, covering the earrings as well. Prettier in the darkness of the night or Burzum's cloud or the tunnels of Moria, then? Grishtakh suddenly realised that he might as well have left them in the darkness of the tomb. He scratched his ear, and doing so made him think of putting the earring there again. Any second thoughts he may have had disappeared at once.

Grishtakh skipped away until he came across a barrow that seemed to whisper at him. It made him think of what Gutbrúg had said about a wight trying to either murder or seduce him. He put the replacement loot in a small pouch on his belt and stopped skipping. To be perfectly honest, he knew his chances of getting some dick weren't all that staggering, and even if there was a chance that the wight might have a case of bloodlust rather than just lust... even if the wight was a little on the undead side...

Grishtakh groaned, dropping into a squat. His strengths didn't exactly lie in his ability to think logically, or anywhere in his brain, really. If the wight attacked him - if there even was a wight - then obviously he would not be getting laid, and he would even be in some amount of danger. On the other hand, he might possibly get a taste of something other than his own hand. No third or further option ever entered his mind, and as he sat there on his heels, bouncing up and down a little as he tried to think, he eventually came to the conclusion that if the wight attacked him, he would be able to defend himself. If the wight was friendly, well...

Jumping up, Grishtakh turned to the barrow and began to slowly creep closer to its dark entrance. He didn't say anything, preferring to listen quietly. There were suddenly words, and it quickly became clear to Grishtakh that he was actually eavesdropping on Thraknash again. He almost remembered that the last time had led to a rather cross exchange, but he found the situation now too amusing to dwell on consequences. He sat down by the entrance and listened.

"You've hidden your jewels well, golug," growled Thraknash, quite on purpose just as he was done checking under Anguelen's balls. He couldn't obviously be hiding anything under his dick, as it was pointing straight up and had been for the last ten minutes or so. "Where is it? Where's the thing you hide, damn you?" He stood up straight, almost smirking at the barely restrained glee in Anguelen's eyes. Then he did smirk, for there was a good reason for it. "Oh dear, Elf. Looks like I may just have to look... deeper."

Outside, Grishtakh grinned. They were playing some sort of rutting game! If they turned out to have a good imagination about it, he would have to ask them to collaborate on his next story.

"Oh, it's definitely not in my mouth," Anguelen blurted out. "And you should definitely not look for it with your dick."

"You what?" Thraknash tried to look like someone who had no idea why anyone would do such a thing, and in fact was slightly taken aback. "Clearly fingers are better for that! I thought you Elves were supposed to be clever."

"You thought right," said Anguelen with a haughty sniff. "Surely a dick fills the mouth better than mere fingers, and therefore finds..." He pretended to turn pale with a sudden realisation. "...I, I meant to say that the other way around. You'll find nothing if you use your awful, bulging meat-rod."

Thraknash stood a moment in silent thought. "...you know what, I think you think I'm stupid or something. You sit down there and open your mouth, cock it is."

Grishtakh had prepared himself for amusement, but now he shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't expected the two to have such a way with words. The goblin had felt a little aroused because of his wight-thoughts to begin with, and now he definitely had a situation at hand.

"Wha... what's that? What are you doing, Elf?" Thraknash asked with a shudder as Anguelen moved his tongue.

Freeing his mouth for a moment, Anguelen gave another haughty sniff. "Co-operating."

Although Grishtakh couldn't see what was causing this dialogue, the sounds that started to come out of Thraknash's mouth very quickly stopped sounding acted, and the goblin could no longer ignore himself. He sat down comfortably and reached under his tunic.

"Elf," Thraknash moaned after a while, "s-stop! I can't find anything in your mouth, and I'm feeling strange. Don't you dare cast any sort of golug-spell on me!"

"Too late to say that," Anguelen muttered to himself with an out of character grin. "Uh, I mean of course not. Nothing strange about this. Are you quite sure you've searched my mouth thoroughly yet?"

"I am, but there will be something in your mouth soon if you carry on like that," Thraknash pointed out, stepping back. Anguelen stood up. There was a ravenous flame in his eyes that made Thraknash take another nervous step back even though he knew they were just playing. It also made his dick twitch with excitement; Anguelen noticed it, and walked closer with the grin now permanently ruining his acting.

"There is yet one more place to search," he murmured. "If you'd like me to co-operate with that too..."

Thraknash swallowed hard. "You're... I... I don't think you're doing this for that reason." The Elf was very close to him now, suddenly imposingly tall. A heat came off him like a wave of... of... some heated thing. Thraknash found it hard to think of similes when he was so horny. Not as hard as his dick though, ha! There was a distinct sensation of his brain almost shutting down for good after that last thought.

"Oh?" How did Anguelen manage to sound so innocent with a face like that? Or with an erection like that, for that matter? "I assure you I only mean to help, friend Orc. You can even lie down on your back, and I will do the hard work for you."

Thraknash almost fell down in his hurry to get down on the floor, although he still made an effort to make it look like his character was stumbling in his nervousness. "That's... that's kind of you, but my, my superior officer..."

"...can bloody well just be content watching," Anguelen interrupted, "unless he'd like me to take care of him too, only not in the fun way."

Thraknash was now under Anguelen, looking up at him with his breath too afraid to come out of his mouth. The Elf was a monster, a terror, an abomination. "Please take me now," Thraknash squeaked.

Grishtakh couldn't believe he had just heard Thraknash say that - not only was it a bit of a cliché, it was Thraknash saying it! - but it was just the kind of thing he liked, and he made sure to listen to every sound that followed. Although the act itself didn't last long, the sounds were many indeed.

They lay still far longer than they had spent rutting, Anguelen's hair tickling Thraknash's face and both of them too exhausted to do anything about it. "You were right," Anguelen mumbled towards the floor past Thraknash's ear. "I do like you even more now. Not that I doubted your words, mind."

"I'm happy," said Thraknash towards the low ceiling that nevertheless felt high from his current point of view. "I've never been this happy in all my life."

Anguelen chuckled weakly, finally raising his head a little. "This was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done in all my life." He grinned down at Thraknash. "I'm happy, too." He lay his head back down, still breathing heavily. Thraknash put his arm over Anguelen's back.

"Oh, there you are. We thought something had happened to you," a familiar voice suddenly cried out, crystal clear despite coming through the hill and the stone and the thick scent of lust lingering in the still air.

Anguelen groaned. "And here comes the interruption. That boy is like the deep dark despair of Utumno's bowels sometimes."

"...what are you doing?" Eldehto continued, scandalised.

"Uh, getting myself off. I just finished, actually," answered Grishtakh just outside the entrance. He added helpfully: "This is my dick."

"Well I can see that!" shrieked Eldehto. "What are you doing that for!"

"I was listening to them having it off and got randy myself."

"Let's see if I can be the strong one for once," Thraknash muttered. He gently turned over and lay Anguelen on the floor, and then tried his best to stand up on his wobbly legs.

"What! Is that where my brother and that Ur... his Or... well, Thraknash went?"

Anguelen laughed. "You're the strongest man I've ever known."

This shameless praise gave Thraknash the fortitude he needed to stagger to the darkling threshold of the barrow, then make his way out through the short tunnel into the sunlight. Grishtakh foolishly had his back to him, but Eldehto got an eyeful without warning and immediately looked away, cheeks swiftly turning predictably red. This caused Grishtakh to turn around too, but he didn't look at all flustered by the sight of a naked Uruk before him.

"This is really quite amazing, you know," Thraknash marvelled, staring at the goblin. "You really don't learn, do you?"

Grishtakh put his dick out of sight, frowning in confusion. "Learn what?"

"I knew it. Never mind." Stunned to the point that he almost admired Grishtakh's cheek, Thraknash put his hands on his hips and made sure to stand with his back straight. "Well here you go, then! Fill your eyes with this since you're so desperate! It's likely that you'll never get more than your hand anyway, so you should be grateful."

"But I already shot my load," Grishtakh protested, nevertheless looking the Uruk's body and up and down with some interest.

"What about you?" Thraknash asked Eldehto, the burning of whose cheeks now rivalled that of the eternal sun. "Did you come here to have a look at my cock, too?"

Since it was the polite thing to do, Eldehto turned to look at Thraknash as he was spoken to. He held his hand up to cover the Uruk from the chest down, at least in his own eyes. "I came here for him, actually," he muttered, nodding at Grishtakh.

Scoffing at the perfectly plausible and innocent explanation, Thraknash decided that he wasn't done tormenting the young Elf. "But that's no good. You, all of you really, have been so keen to bother us when we just want some time for ourselves. It's because you like to watch, isn't it?" Thraknash looked at his dick, then back at Eldehto again. "Go ahead and watch, then. I'm sad to say we just finished, but this has been inside your bro..."

"Oh that's enough! That's quite enough!" Eldehto's covering hand snapped down, and he too stood arms akimbo. Amazingly enough, his eyes never once strayed down in morbid or any other kind of curiosity. "This was an honest mistake, and you'll not make fun of me for it! Also, I would like to say that we've already finished packing and will leave when it gets dark. That leaves you two plenty of time to clean yourselves up. Start now! And Grishtakh, you will follow me."

With a haughty sniff that was completely genuine and unacted, Eldehto turned on his heels and began to march back to the campsite. There was so much dignity in his gait that even the lingering blush couldn't mar it. Grishtakh glanced at Thraknash, finally looking almost sheepish, and followed the Elf as fast as his shuddering legs could take him.

As Thraknash went back inside the barrow, now even more stunned, he found Anguelen still on the floor, curled up into a ball with laughter. "He's growing up, then," Thraknash noted before bursting into laughter himself.


After several hours of the others having to wait for the lovely couple as they cleaned themselves up, ended up screwing some more, had a long talk about recent events and the things they hadn't had a chance to discuss earlier (Anguelen was particularly pleased to hear that Thraknash was developing compassion as that meant he might be able to teach Anguelen some) and washed up again, it was getting dark and the time had finally come to leave the Old Forest and the Barrow-downs behind. The world before them felt open once more, threatening and exciting.

"Well, if you two are quite ready," Eldehto said with a deliberately neutral tone, staring at his brother and his brother's lover. Something about it seemed to greatly amuse Anguelen, and Eldehto could not see why.

"It was a nice shortcut," mused Moglurz fondly.

Sharrásh patted Ghâshsag's head, for the goblin had seen the great and beloved shadow at the edge of the forest again and couldn't help but feel melancholic about it. Krazum also patted Gruzlak's head, but not to comfort him anymore; there was no need now, and now that everybody already knew that he was a child anyway, Krazum seemed determined to make up for years of not being able to treat him like one. A little wary of this sudden development, Thraknash hoped that Krazum wouldn't spoil the little Orc rotten. It made him very nervous to think of such an intimidating child gaining an ill temper.

Looking up at the sky, Burzum took off his ring. "When night falls, we arise. Long may we wander under the hostile stars, until we reach a home where our hearts may rest in the gloom."

Ever the insensitive bastard, Gutbrúg laughed openly at this.

"Off we go, then," Thraknash announced, and off they went down the green grave-hill. There were no wights to be seen, not with Sharrásh sweeping the hills with his hungry gaze every now and then. Other than that, it was a lovely evening.

"Ah!" Ghâshsag gasped, coming to an abrupt stop. "No no no..."

The others gave him quizzical and amused looks. "Now what?" asked Gutbrúg.

"Are you stalling?" asked Thraknash somewhat accusingly.

"I stepped into something," replied Ghâshsag. And sure enough, as he gingerly raised his boot, it was followed by a ghastly smell that no one had paid attention to before its source had been disturbed. Ghâshsag stared at the bottom of his boot glumly. "Why me?"

There was a shrill cry upon them, a shriek of the dead carried upon the night-winds, although no enemy came; soon they saw the source of the voice, sitting aloof upon one of the barrows.

"It's that fox from earlier, isn't it," said Thraknash. "I think it remembered your words, Grishtakh."

"Is that the fox's work?" Gutbrúg asked with no small amount of astonishment, pointing at Ghâshsag's boot. "I thought someone had gone rancid!"

Ghâshsag groaned loudly. "Why did I have to step in it? I'm not the one who gushed at the fox, it was Grishtakh!"

"Well, fair enough, but who can tell you two apart?"

Ghâshsag raised his eyes to Thraknash and gave the Uruk a long, black, dirty look. He then began to rub the bottom of his boot against the grass, never breaking eye contact. It took him a long while before he was satisfied, and meanwhile Thraknash took his punishment like a man.

"Happy now?" he asked when Ghâshsag bent down to examine his boot again.

"Quite," said Ghâshsag with great dignity, and turned his back to the Uruk to continue the journey that had so brutally been cut short.

"I still think the fox is adorable," cooed Grishtakh, and now it was the fox's turn to turn away with a huff and disappear into the coming night. All their tasks here done, the Orcs and Elves did the same.


Back in the Old Forest, Gandalf stood alone in a twilight clearing, gazing up at the stars. So long had it been since he had seen the one who had set them upon the heavens. Soon his long journey would come to an end; and although he remembered well how different the stars looked in the West, he knew he would dearly miss this sight as well, here in the Lone-lands of this Middle-earth.

He turned his eyes back down to the forest with a sigh unheard by all that weren't trees. He had a sinking feeling that he should have taken word to the travellers himself, but they had left abruptly and he had thought that Tom might be able to reach them faster. Well, if they indeed still were within his realm. If Tom had remembered to go straight to them instead of stopping for a song and dance somewhere. Gandalf rubbed his forehead, reminding himself that his time here was over and he was no longer responsible for looking after people who were perfectly capable of looking after themselves.

Surely, after all, two Elves would have no trouble persuading the returned Rangers to let a band of fairly peaceful, if highly irritating Orcs alone? Surely the Orcs would not need his warnings to avoid walking the roads, or anywhere else they might be spotted by the King's messengers that had come after the war? Gandalf hoped so, and he hoped even more that the warning had nonetheless made it to the band in time. Preparing himself for a disappointment just the same, he began to make his way back to the house of Tom Bombadil.