Revised as of 5/19/19


Chapter Three

Ayla was reclined in a chair with Kwenthrith, holding a cold wet cloth over her eyes. Her head was pounding and her stomach felt incredibly acidic while her mouth tasted sour. She had taken a cool bath that morning, an old college hangover trick, but only ended up regretting it as she felt a cold coming on. She couldn't keep up with the King every night to simply drink and chat but the wine he served was just too damn addicting.

I need to fucking remember that I'm not in my twenties anymore.

"Drink this," Kwenthrith had said, setting a cup down in front of Ayla. Sitting up slowly, Ayla gingerly removed the cloth from her eyes and inched her eyes open. The light was an assault to her vision and made her migraine worse as she focused her sight down at the cup with a clear green liquid.

"Is this going to end my misery?" Ayla croaked, her voice hoarse from her midnight marathon of vomiting. She picked up the cup and downed it in one shot, expecting something bitter and disgusting but found that it was like drinking sugar water.

Kwenthrith and Ayla had grown close in the past few months, forming a friendship that gave the misplaced doctor some comfort. Ayla didn't want to admit to herself that she viewed the beautiful elf maiden as a friend, but it was hard to deny something so obvious. Of course there was also a bit of self-loathing on Ayla's side since Kwenthrith was so elegant and beautiful that it made Ayla feel incredibly self-conscious to the point that her pre-teen inner-self was practically becoming bulimic with jealousy.

"The king has grown more interested in you these days." Kwenthrith stated, "Meals together nearly every evening, and late night talks in his private quarters. Rumors are fluttering throughout the Realm."

"Don't believe in whatever rumors are being whispered. All he wants is information about my past and home. Nothing more." Ayla replied.

Kwenthrith smiled. "I have not seen the King so engaged in years. Not since the queen died. As for the young prince, he has been so happy, smiling and laughing."

"Spoiled is what he is."

After Ayla felt her hangover relieve its painful hold on her she had gone about her day, usually playing nanny to Legolas when he wasn't attending his lessons. As she watched him play in the falling snow, chasing a fox around Ayla breathed her hot breath onto her freezing fingers as she shivered in the cold. The cloak she wore was warm despite its thin material but it didn't mean it was toasty. She should look into procuring a pair of gloves.

Long, pale fingers came into view, grabbing her hands and pulling them to the left. Ayla followed them, looking up to see Thranduil.

"Humans are so fragile to the simplest of things like the change of season." he said as he held both of Ayla's hands and warmed them between his (her cheeks were also warming up at the unexpected blush, hopefully he won't notice). "If you are cold you should go inside to warm yourself."

Fighting back her sudden butterflies she threw him a saucy look. It will be a cold day in Hell if she started to let the arrogant king know that she had the hots for him. "Hmm. This random act of kindness seems a bit out of character for you."

"Is that what you truly think of me as? Only showing kindness when I have an ulterior motive?" Thranduil asked, dropping her hands. Ayla immediately missed the warmth but didn't let it show, keeping up her act.

"Well, do you?" Ayla asked, raising a brow at him.

"Kwenthrith tells me that you are feeling restless. Do you wish to not accept my offer of calling this place your home?"

Ayla licked her chapped lips as she looked away, folding her arms tightly under her breasts. She wasn't expecting that to come up suddenly. "I can't stay here forever. I'm a doctor. It's selfish of me to stay here, living in luxury when there are people out there getting sick and injured with no proper care."

There was silence between them for a long minute before Thranduil spoke. "Then you may leave. When winter is gone you are free to go."

She looked up at him, surprised that he wasn't putting up a fight. She was about to thank him when he cut her off.

"Legolas will be heartbroken."

Low blow.

But out of curiosity…

"And what about you? Will you feel my loss after I leave?" Ayla watched the King of Stone and Wood stare back into her eyes, his icy stare thawing just a bit.

"It would be cruel of me to not say that I have found some companionship with you. It will be difficult to replace you for evenings of wine and talk."

Ayla couldn't help the smile that curled her lips. She was going to take this as a personal win. "My, my, if I didn't know better I'd say you like me." she teased, unable to help herself. Thranduil's mouth was pressed firmly together, thinning out his luscious lips.

"I often find you insufferable, now more than ever."

xxxxx

Dinner with Thranduil again had been full of talk about Ayla's life. Tonight she shared about her father and how he died suddenly while she had been away at school. Thranduil learned that Ayla had loved her father dearly and spent her summers with him and his second wife. She shared that her father had been an accomplished doctor who cared deeply for his patients and that she wanted to be like him which was why she went into medicine.

After dinner they again moved to the parlor to drink more wine in each other's company.

"Tell me about your life." Ayla said, looking at Thranduil over her glass of wine.

"Very well, what do you wish to know?" Thranduil offered.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No."

"What were your parents like?"

"My mother passed when I was very young, so I have no recollection of her. My father then raised me in his image. He was a fair king and had founded this realm. He was slain during the last alliance of elves and men in the battle of Dagorlad."

"Oh," Ayla said, thinking how that was around the time she "woke up" in Middle Earth. Having appeared after Sauron had been defeated. That was…a very long time ago.

"I have been told that you are teaching Legolas to fight."

Ayla bit the inside of her cheek before answering. "I'm not a fighter, but I know basic self-defense. I used to teach the women in the villages I would come across, just enough to protect themselves. Is that a problem?"

"I simply find it difficult to believe." He also found it to be an amusing thought as he perceived Ayla to be nothing more than a frail human, despite her unnaturally long life.

"I am more than willing to show you if you're up for it." she said, smiling ever so sweetly at him. He didn't know what possessed him at that moment, pride or perhaps curiosity, but in a matter of minutes, Thranduil had been made a believer.

Ayla had shown some skill, using basic techniques as she had mentioned with just her hands and no weapons. Blocking every grab and swipe from Thranduil, who was steadily increasing his speed and force. He then grabbed her shoulder and had not expected for her to grab his wrist with the opposite hand while also reaching and grabbing his upper arm with the other; twisting around and using his own weight against him, throwing him to the floor on his back. Air had been forced from his lungs on impact while Ayla boldly dropped down and straddled his hips, her hands braced firmly against his shoulders. A satisfied grin on her face.

"You surprise me, Healer. I did not expect you to have that kind of strength." Thranduil said, not quite admitting that he was wrong as he looked up at her.

"If you had been serious I'm sure you could have easily overtaken me. My way of defense is to merely catch my opponent off guard before running away." she said while admiring the view of this beautiful man beneath her. His long, silky hair splayed out on the floor, just enticing her to run her fingers through them. Her eyes caught a glimpse of his pink tongue wetting his bottom lip, imagining herself pressing her mouth against his and driving her tongue between his luscious lips to explore and seek out that elusive tongue of his.

Looking up at Ayla he could see the desire in her eyes for him. She was right about how easy it can be to overtake her with physical strength alone, but…he couldn't bring himself to move just yet. Looking into her eyes, the pupils wide, her lips suddenly pinker and attractive, drawing his attention. He felt entranced. Perhaps she really is a witch. He moved his hands to her thighs and heard her breath catch in her throat and then felt the light tremors of a shiver beneath his palms. What an interesting reaction, he thought to himself as he slid his hands up her soft thighs to her hips. His ears caught the quickening pace of her breaths, shallow and soft. He moved one up to her waist and with a wicked thought, took her by surprise by flipping her over onto her back while he was now on top, looking down at her with a predatory glint in his icy blue stare.

Ayla's eyes were wide with anticipation, her heart thundering in her chest while heat and desire pooled between her legs. She couldn't think straight, he only thought was to have this man. Allow him entry into her body between her aching thighs. She didn't care if he would throw her out on her ass the next day so long as she could feed the desire within her and have him fuck her brains out. Why did he have to be so devastatingly beautiful? Especially with him on top? Fuck it. She'll just blame it on the good wine.

Ayla reached up and hooked her fingers behind his neck, craning her head up to press her lips to his. They were so soft and warm against her own. Thranduil was caught off guard by her boldness but he did not pull away but did the opposite. He pressed his lips firmly to hers, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of it. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to have such contact, not since his wife. Tonight, he would allow himself this distraction as he cradled Ayla's head with one hand, deepening the kiss.

If anything were to come of tonight he at least did not wish for a memory to be made on the floor, and thus pushed up, pulling Ayla up with him. He kissed her again, allowing desire to drive him as it was obviously driving Ayla. Their mouths opening to each other, their tongues gliding and twining in a dizzying dance. The feeling of her nails raking the back of his scalp sent a tingling wave down his spine and he pushed her back towards the sofa, laying her down on the cushions while he balanced himself above her.

This shouldn't continue and yet Thranduil was making up excuses to justify that it was okay. That all was well. That he simply needed to get this frustrating woman out of his system. Her soft moans and wandering hands only spurned him onward, his mouth descending from her lips down her neck, suckling on the skin at the hollow of her neck. Ayla's hands groped at his shoulders and upper back, her reach limited from her position on the sofa, but it did allow her wrap her legs around his hips, pulling him down to be cradled between her thighs.

The skirt of her dress had bunched up around her thighs, bare for Thranduil's large hands to feel. Starting from the back of her knees and gliding up her thighs to curve and grope her bottom, lifting her hips and pushing her up further on the sofa, making room for his long body to lie atop hers. The feeling of his weight on her sent a shock of need throbbing in her core and she knew that she needed him inside her right away to ease the ache he gave her. Her hands moved down between them, feeling his bulge straining against his breeches and heard him hiss in her ear. In a rush of wanton need the ties of his breeches were undone and her smalls were ripped down her legs and lost from sight.

In a swift move Thranduil had sheathed himself to the hilt inside Ayla, both gasping at the sensation of each other. Ayla didn't need to be prepared, having been wet and ready for him. He filled her completely, not needing to have seen his size, just satisfied by what she felt. She hoped this wasn't a dream, but if it was, she hoped to remember every last detail. From the way he smelled to the soft noises that came from the both of them as they moved together. The friction and the slickness of her turned any thought in Thranduil's head into white noise. With every thrust, every gasp of breath and soft moan, he felt himself closer to his finish.

Ayla felt herself coming undone under Thranduil's ministrations, her legs squeezing his hips tighter as her back arched, her head rolling back. Her inner walls quivered in orgasm around his shaft, and that had been the undoing of Thranduil's last bit of control as he came, spilling his seed carelessly inside her. As they both slowly came down from their sexual high did it become clear that this fueled tryst of theirs will forever change things between them.

Pushing up onto his elbows Thranduil looked down at Ayla's face. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath, an attractive flush coloring her skin. Her dark hair had come undone from its braid and a few stray tendrils stuck out, adding a wildness to her appearance. For a human she was, he supposed, pretty, perhaps even beautiful if he were to compare her to other human women he had seen. Even more so beneath him like this, his cock still inside her, feeling the occasional spasm of her inner muscles with the remnants of her completion. It dawned on him that she hadn't needed any preparation, her body already wet and keening for him before he even entered her. Such a revelation gave him a bit of pride to know that he had that effect on her. Perhaps he will test it again soon.

No. This had been a mistake. He shouldn't have allowed this to happen.

This cannot happen again.

Ayla placed a hand on his chest, drawing Thranduil back to the moment and felt her palm pressing into him. Pushing him away from her. He allowed it, sliding himself out of her warmth slowly as he sat back against the pillows and she sat up, pushing her skirt down to cover herself. His eyes never left hers, and he watched as she smiled, looking sated and enticing.

"Thank you, my Lord. I really enjoyed myself." she said before leaning forward and kissing him tenderly on the lips before getting up. "Goodnight." And then she left.

xxxxx

The days that followed Thranduil maintained his distance from Ayla, trying to keep things normal as if nothing had happened between them. But something did happen. And things could not proceed like they had been before. He would allow Ayla to continue looking after his son, but something had to be done when it came to himself and Ayla. Remembering their night together made his blood run hot, his body craving more of that contact. His groin growing tight and constricted within his pants.

He had to decide what to do moving forward, how to proceed this relationship with Ayla, to maintain the boundaries that had been previously set. Yet…did he not want things to change? Yes, Ayla proved to be insufferable and frustrating, always rebelling against his authority in his own kingdom. She challenged him in many ways, and she seemed to find a certain amount of joy in flustering his advisors (of which he found amusing at times). From the balcony of where he stood he could see his son, sitting on Ayla's lap, snuggling against her beneath a blanket wrapped around them both. Ayla was speaking, possibly regaling the prince with a story from her land, and Legolas looked content. His golden head resting soundly against Ayla's bosom.

Winter was upon them, the air cold and the sky grey. The animals of the forest had quieted, gone into their deep winter sleep, not to be seen again until the frost melted into spring. Watching the two of them Thranduil found himself wanting to be pressed against Ayla once more. He craved the feeling of her warm skin and the sighs of pleasure from her throat, and the sleek warmth between her legs.

He shook those thoughts away. He had to remain firm that such a thing cannot happen again.

But that was easier said than done.

When he summoned her to his study he had every intention of affirming the boundaries between them, but when he saw her standing before him, he fell prey to his selfish weakness. Ayla didn't seem to mind at all, welcoming his attention and returning it in equal enthusiasm. He found that with every touch, every kiss and every thrust he craved her more and more instead of finding himself purging her from his mind. She was quickly filling his thought and his heart.

A human of all creatures!

And then winter came to an end, and Ayla left.

xxxxx

Two months had passed since Ayla had left the Woodland Realm, the parting rather bittersweet for her. Legolas literally threw a tantrum, crying and stomping his foot and clinging to her leg to make her stay. He had taken to calling her naneth, of which she had no clue what it meant until Kwenthrith told her the translation in common-speak was mother. It had been a shock to Ayla but in truth, the doctor found it endearing, never having experienced such devoted love before. Of course Legolas wasn't the only one who wanted Ayla to stay but did not act out like the young prince did. She tried not to let her thoughts linger on the Elvenking, since parting from him had been the hardest. In the months she had stayed in the Woodland Realm, her lust and desire for the beautiful, selfish king evolved into an emotion that she was not ready to face. Thus leaving was for the best.

More like running away.

"It's getting dark, shall we make camp here tonight?" Kwenthrith asked. The elf maiden had chosen to journey with Ayla with the excuse that she wanted to catalog every medical case. The Elvenking allowed it, much to both women's surprise.

"Agreed. It would be safer for you, Lady Healer." said Arlen, a young elf who was assigned by Thranduil to be Ayla's guard on her journey to nowhere. Arlen reminded Ayla of someone she knew from her past, back when she was a troubled teenager, but pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Her past had no place in her present right now.

Ayla looked ahead, wanting to make it over the next hill before calling it a day. They were just days away from the Misty Mountains; she could see their distant outline. If she were alone that's what she'd do, but she was now with two people who have never traveled outside the woods. Luckily the worst they had to endure was several weeks of cold spring rain.

"Yeah, let's camp here." Ayla said half-heartedly.

After making a small fire, Kwenthrith passed out the wineskins filled with water. Ayla made a point to the two elves that having water on their journey was more important than a roof over their heads. Her experience from surviving on her own proved that water was vital, no matter the circumstances.

"You seem determined to head west towards the mountains." Kwenthrith noted.

"It's not so much as what's in the mountain as what's on the other side." Ayla said, "Years ago I found myself going through the mountains where I met the dwarves who live there. A lot of their people were sick from one of the mines they were tunneling, apparently they hit a pocket of poisonous gas and the fumes traveled through the mine and into where they all lived."

"Dwarves? How unpleasant." Kwenthrith said.

The corner of Ayla's mouth twitched up in a slight smile. "Well they weren't very welcoming of me when I came across them. In fact, I don't even know what compelled me to even climb the mountain when I had every intention of staying as close to the base of the mountain. But I did, and they immediately arrested me for just being a human."

"Typical dwarf behavior, they're hostile to anyone who come near their precious gems." Arlen said.

"Well I never made it to their dungeon because as soon as I entered their front door is when I saw all the sick and dying dwarves. I told them that I was a doctor and that I could help. Of course they didn't believe me at first but they had no other choice but to accept my help. When I was told that this mysterious sickness happened after a mining incident it didn't take me long to know that half of the sick were already dead."

"How did you cure the other half?" Kwenthrith asked, intrigued by the story. Arlen was also giving her his full attention.

"You can't cure a person once they've been poisoned by a mystery gas. The most you can do is make them comfortable and help them purge the poison out of their body. Vomiting is usually the fastest way to void most of the poison out if you ingest it, but it has to come out almost immediately. Another way is to flush it out by sweating or excessive urinating. To be blunt, the body has to do all the work; a doctor is pretty useless for that type of poisoning." Ayla said, keeping the information that in her hospital normally the patient would be hooked up to an oxygen tank and an I.V. drip.

"So then what else did you do?" Kwenthrith asked.

"Helped sort out the dead, the dying, and the recovering. It took three days before their King finally heard that a human was taking care of his sick people. He was sick, too, but he was among the recovering. I told him that there was nothing anyone could do except bring clean water and keep them comfortable. It took about a week before everyone was well enough to go back to their usual routines. Safe to say they had blocked off that particular tunnel."

"I have never heard of such a tragedy." Kwenthrith said.

"Bad things happen for no reason." Ayla said.

"And that is where we are heading? To that dwarf mine?" Kwenthrith asked.

"Yeah. I figured since I never got a chance to actually get to the other side of the mountain because of my detour into Moria, I might as well see them again."

"You never made it over the Misty Mountains?" Arlen asked, "I thought you did."

"No. I ended up getting turned around, traveling with a group of dwarves who were heading towards the city of Dale where it took me to another dwarf mine inside a mountain. Which in turn is how I got to Lake Town and then ended up in Mirkwood. I guess I'm just really bad with direction."

"Well, it was fortunate for us that you are, otherwise you would not have been brought to us." Kwenthrith said.

Ayla gave her a wane smile. "I suppose not."

xxxxx

Hiking up a mountain felt harder than she remembered. It was a week since they started their ascent, and they had to unpack their horses and leave them behind, carrying their gear on their backs. If Ayla had to guess, living with the stubborn king and his spoiled son made her sluggish and lazy. She could see her two elven companions were already yards ahead of her.

Fuck me for being a lazy couch potato all my life. she thought bitterly as she wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve. She was dripping sweat and huffing with each breath. She always hated hiking and camping, and this trip was drudging up bitter memories.

xxxxx

(Past)

"Ayla, come on, let's take a family photo in front of the camper." called her mother, who was getting her young half-siblings in position for the photo while her step-father prepped the camera. "Ayla!"

Ayla rolled her eyes and just turned the page in her book from where she sat in her camp chair. She had no interest in pretending to be a happy family when it was obvious that she would be positioned to the side of the family photo.

"Ayla!" her mother snapped, grabbing the book out of Ayla's hands and forcing the pre-teen up and pushed her towards the others for the photo. "Why are you being so disobedient?"

Ayla didn't smile for the photo; never able to fully accept her new family and just went through the motions like an atheist on Christmas morning. She always voiced how she wanted to go and live with her father, in spite of the fact that her dad lived in bum-fuck nowhere Idaho. Her step-father worked for Microsoft and would often work between Seattle and Redmond, and her mother got comfortable as a stay-at-home mom who sold homemade soaps at farmers markets. Her half-siblings were little snot-nosed brats once they started talking and walking and started to get older and began to tattle on her for every little thing. She was always put on blast for shit the brats did.

"Ayla, watch Charlotte and Jackson." her mother said after the pictures were taken and of course as soon as those words came out those evil little twins went wandering off. Three days in the woods, forced to spend time with a family who pretended to be perfect, was a hell on earth.

xxxxx

(Present)

Ayla gratefully drank from her wineskin where she sat on a rock, looking back at where she had been. Nearly a whole day's journey and she could still see the ground. They were nowhere near the mines and Ayla could only guess that they were a few days away.

"Are you still tired or do you think you can go a bit further?" Kwenthrith asked.

"Yeah, I can keep going." Ayla said, packing her wineskin and shouldering her gear. She groaned inwardly as she pushed herself up, her thighs burned from lifting her own weight plus baggage.

"The air is beginning to feel colder, will you be all right?" Kwenthrith asked over her shoulder.

"Don't worry about me," Ayla huffed, already feeling the sweats coming.

They climbed rocks, the trail having vanished hours ago. As the daylight began to fade into night, Ayla couldn't stop doubting that a faint, foul smell was growing steadily stronger. It was a smell that was a mix of sweat, bodily waste, and weeks old dirty gym socks.

"Stop." Ayla said above a whisper, knowing that despite being yards ahead of her, her two elven companions heard her as they stopped and looked back at her. "Do you smell that?"

"Yes," Arlen said, coming back down with Kwenthrith to Ayla. "What is it?"

Ayla sighed softly, "That's right; I keep forgetting that you two haven't been outside of Mirkwood. It's the smell of an orc camp."

Kwenthrith gasped while Arlen reached for his sword.

"We need to move quickly without being seen. We might actually have to go down and find a different path." Ayla said.

"But we've already come so far." Arlen said.

"He's right; it would be a waste of our time to circle back." Kwenthrith said.

Ayla shook her head. "You both don't get it. They'll kill us once they catch our scent. It's better to waste our time finding an alternate route than risk getting caught." She reached out and touched their arms. "You need to trust me. We can't fight them or outrun them. If they catch us they will kill us."

A horn blew, the sound choking out the silence. Ayla felt her blood run cold as a dead silence followed before it was broken again by screeching and howls. There was banging, possibly weapons against shields.

"Run." Ayla said, and when they didn't move she shoved them towards the opposite direction. "Run!"

Ayla ran behind the two, falling fast behind them. It had gotten dark fast and she could barely see, no thanks to the new moon. Her foot caught onto a rock and she fell, rolling down a few yards, feeling rocks jab into her body before coming to a halt, but not before hitting her head and losing consciousness.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla sat in the back row of the church while the eulogy was going on. Her father had passed away in a car accident and the news had crushed her. She found out through her mother who had called her days before her finals at university, the way her mother's voice sounded cold and nonchalant while holding a tune of false sympathy. Ayla loved her father, but because of her mother, she hadn't been allowed to see her father much until high school. Like her mother, her father remarried as well but didn't have children. His new wife couldn't have children.

Sitting quietly in the back, watching, but not listening to all of the mourners talk about her father and how he was a good man. She just zoned out, remembering the times she had with him. She wanted to remember all of the good times, but now she'll only have an emptiness in her chest. She'll never again look forward to every holiday break just to be with him and be his daughter again, to feel free and happy as a daughter should. Now she'll never sit on their park bench on the 4th of July, eating ice cream together and people watch. She'll never open presents on Christmas with him and Stella. Never sneak in Chinese take-out into the movie theater and then later read the fortunes from the fortune cookies. Never again will she enjoy those things she had taken for granted.

She felt so numb and empty at the loss of her father.

Her heart was broken.

She was alerted back to reality when the people began to line up to say their final goodbye to her father who was lying in an open casket. She looked at all the people dressed in black. She caught a glimpse of a beautiful face and platinum hair looking her way before her focus was eclipsed to a woman who sat down next to her. Stella had lost weight and had dark circles under her eyes. She put her hand over Ayla's and squeezed her fingers gently.

"I'm sorry to take you away from your studies. I know your exams are coming up." Stella said. "Your father's passing was just so sudden and I couldn't bring myself to tell you what happened. That's why I called your mother and asked for her to tell you."

"Did he suffer?" Ayla asked.

"No. No, kitten. The collision—it…" she couldn't say it but Ayla knew. Her father died immediately, sparing him from suffering.

"Thank you, Stella. You've been so kind to me like I was your own. You're more than a step-mom to me, I think of you as my real mom." Ayla said. Stella pulled her into a tight hug. She felt the tears come as she finally began to cry.

Ayla stayed until the final mourner left before going up to the casket at last. She peered down at the body—her father. It felt so surreal, like he would wake up any second. The mortician had done a marvelous job in hiding the injuries her father had sustained. She cried again, sniffling and trembling with emotion. Wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare and that she would wake from it any moment now. But the pain of it all…the pain was real, reminding her that this was real. Cruel and cold.

"Your father was a good man. A great surgeon." came a velvety voice. Ayla didn't turn around, too engrossed in her own pain to care to look at who was speaking to her. "He spoke proudly of you; he was a very proud father to have such a devoted daughter."

Ayla finally turned around to look at him.

xxxxx

(Present)

Ayla's head was pounding as she struggled to wake up. Her senses were disoriented, all except for pain however. Her vision slowly began to focus, the blobs around her began to take shape and focus into sharper images, her hearing following as the sounds of grunts and growls tuned in. The smell of death alerted the rest of her senses as she saw orcs moving about their camp. Panic spiked quickly in Ayla as she looked around, seeing if Kwenthrith and Arlen had evaded capture.

"Healer of many lands." Ayla looked up at a large orc that walked up to her, his stained armor decorated with fangs of the beasts he killed and a chain he took pleasure in wrapping around the necks of his victims. The orc knelt down in front of her to her level; the stench of his breath was strong enough to kill weeds. "Your death will be felt by many."