Maukurz grumbled, confused as he came awake. He was cold, not sleeping jumbled up with his fellows, and the scent of a sharlob was everywhere. He might have thought himself sleeping in the pits with one assignment or another… only he never slept in the pits… and he was in pain. Almost everywhere. Panicked, Maukurz opened his eyes and saw the canopy of an alpine forest overhead. He scrambled to get up, hopelessly weak.

"Relax," a fair, lilting voice instructed. The panic stalled, and Maukurz patched together the miserable past few days—months, actually—quickly in his mind. The destruction of his home, his culture, and the shameful half-existence of hiding in the mountains, where a good day was find a rotting carcass left by some four-legged predator. Then the stupid, stupid accident, getting jumped… And winding up in the hands of a beautiful and foolish white-skin girl.

Well, things could be worse than that. Maukurz opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the girl, reclining on her arms, her long pale hair hanging in wind-swept tangles behind her. Not a mark or bite on her, he thought, becoming aroused immediately at the prospect of unbroken white flesh. He wondered if there was some way he might coax her… at least to use her hand or that berry-red mouth… Since she was in the mood to help, to be kind to him…

"Um…" he searched for her name, clearing his throat a little. Her scent was intoxicating, working through his senses, making what usually happened on waking become all the more urgent and throbbing. "Halla…"

She smiled at his face, not sensible enough to let her eyes follow his body down to his tented breechclout. Did she know nothing about fucking? How could she not tell what he wanted, needed? Not even enough to be properly terrified?

Maukurz scrambled for his wits. There was no fear in her eyes at all, only… only kindness. Pity. Not enough to make her spread her legs willingly—if her kind needn't always be chased and pinned or chained—but enough to patch him up and let him have a little peaceful sleep, while watching his back. Maukurz groaned softly, dismissing the idea of pleasure entirely. Idiot, he thought bitterly. Her kindness—even without a friendly little hand job—was far more than he had right to expect. She looked up to the deepening sky, and as she did, Maukurz dragged his body to a sitting position, the pain and effort of which was more than enough to cure his stiff cock. He'd always been proud of it—his big whelp-maker—but for some reason he was embarrassed of it in her presence.

"I have to go now," Halla told him.

"What? Go? Why go? You want more to eat?" Maukurz was willing to give back all the lovely food she'd brought if only she'd stay. He was even sorry he'd thought about fucking her, or coercing her into less satisfying play like he might a smaller Uruk in the pen. The girl was no protection from enemies, but her presence did keep the invisible enemies of loneliness and creeping consuming shameful fear at bay. And… and she was pleasing to look at, pleasing to listen to. He had never taken the time before, to enjoy such things with white-skin girls.

"No," Halla said, shattering his hopes. "You slept for a good long while. I have to go home… My people will worry and wonder."

Maukurz tilted his head curiously. He knew well enough what sorrow looked like on a white-skin girl's face, what it smelled like in the air. "Don't want to leave Maukurz?" he asked, quietly hopeful.

She blinked in surprise. Had he read her unhappiness so clearly? Guessed it wrong, of course, but guessed it all the same. I might rather stay with him than go back. At least he converses. In a way. But that he saw her sorrow… she wondered if others might. She gathered herself up, and put on a bright, cheerful air, which baffled the big Uruk for its complete artifice. "I must go. I told you, I have a household. A… a new husband to look after."

"Husband?" Maukurz asked, wondering why she'd choked on that unknown word.

Halla flushed. "A… a Man. I am married. It means…" Oh, Bema… "It means we… we are supposed to have children. One day."

Something in Maukurz's chest twisted violently, and he felt sick. Of course, there'd be a Man to whelp her. No surprise. All the same, bitterness welled up in him. Men didn't mark up their breeders, left no proud signs to be read, so that others… Others would know… He breathed her in deeply, smelling nothing whatsoever of a Man, he was certain of it. This pleased Maukurz. "Man don't fuck you," he murmured coyly. "Don't keep you hidden secret." You don't belong to him at all. I would keep you close, and all would know you were mine.

"I beg your pardon!" Halla gasped, finally recovering her shock. "That is none of your concern!"

Maukurz shrugged her off, refusing to look at her. "Go. Go to pushdug ruk-goth."

"Why are you angry?" she asked, bewildered. "I haven't told him about you. I haven't told anyone!"

"Tell him," Maukurz sneered, his back to her. Tell him, let him come, I will rip his shiny fucking guts out and claim you beside his gnawed up bones!

Baffled, Halla stood and smoothed her skirt. "I am sorry you don't trust me. I don't blame you, being in your position. But if you can… if you can tell I'm unhappy, you should be able to see that I won't harm you. If anyone knew I was helping you, I don't know what they'd do to me. I wonder if you've thought of that. Good day, Maukurz."

Maukurz sat wide eyed and stiff until he heard her walk away, then he gasped and turned to watch her disappear beyond the trees. He felt terrorized suddenly: he'd run her off! He'd run her off, and she didn't say she would come back! What have I done? And why would I do it? I will die without her!

Maukurz groaned and covered his face, cursing the fate that would leave him broken and worthless and completely dependant on a white-skin girl. He smothered that small treacherous voice that whispered his greatest fear of all, that he would never see her again.

Halla galloped into the stable yard, breaking into a circle to rein the excited colt in. She trotted up to Ailen and jumped down from her saddle. "Cool him well!" she said quickly, straightening herself out, tucking wild stray locks behind her ears.

Ailen stared at her as he took the reins. "Trouble, Mistress?"

"Not at all! Is… my husband here?"

"Horse is here, I think," Ailen confirmed.

"Very good," she lied with dry lips. I didn't even visit my aunt! What if Blythe asks about her? What about all the food? Is it mine to give, or Finnan's?

She saw Blythe cooking through the open kitchen door. Best just to avoid her for now, Halla thought, walking purposefully towards the house. The wind gusted through, catching up her hair and lashing it about. Halla grabbed a handful of her pale, silvery blond hair and pulled it over her shoulder. As she did, she heard the quiet creak of the heavy undercroft door opening in the wind.

Blythe must have forgot to close it, Halla thought. She went to grab the iron ring handle and pull the great door shut, but then she heard a soft groan from within. Halla peered inside, through the bushels of apples and wheels of cheese neatly stacked by the door. There was a faint glow from a lantern behind the wine barrels, creeping though the fragrant drying herbs hung from the arching stone ceiling. Halla peered around the corner—and nearly fainted for shock.

Her husband stood in the soft, shadowy glow, his dark blond curls hanging over his smooth, strong bare chest. His head was tipped up, eyes closed, his breeches unlaced… his big hands clutching a golden-haired head, drawing it back and forth into his hips. Halla's first reaction was one of strange warmth, flooding through her deepest places. Then it made sudden, cruel sense, and she covered her mouth, smothering her shriek of fury and dismay. It was another woman! He had married her, all the while in love with someone else! How dare he? Why would he do this to me? Obviously… he married me for my land, meaning to get his hands on that and then neglect me ever after, to do shameful things with some wench rather than bed his proper wife! Why the house? Why all the wedding and the gift of the colt—Halla's mind went blank with horror.

Edwyn, the Rider who her husband had gone hunting with and had to supper, stood up and embraced her husband with rough tenderness.

Halla gasped. She smothered the sob that broke from her lips, but it was too loud. Finnan broke out of Edwyn's embrace, appalled guilt all over his face. "Halla—"

She turned on her heel and fled. Up the stone stairs, banging through the door into the dark hall, pounding up the staircase to her bedroom. Halla heard heavy boots chasing her, but she didn't care. She flew into her bedroom and ran to the narrow window, pushing the shutter open. Shaking with disgust, she gasped the fresh, meadow-scented air. The door burst open behind her.

"Halla, please!"

"Stay away from me!" she shouted, looking over her shoulder at her husband. She couldn't shake the image from her mind; she became nauseas as she fully grasped what Edwyn had been doing on his knees. "You… you fiend! You twisted, evil-! I don't even know what to call it!"

"Halla, please! You must be quiet!"

She rounded on him, demanding, "Why did you do this to me? Why bring me into this… this shame? How could you do this to me?"

She saw the first real emotion on Finnan's face: he was terrified, beseeching… Palms up helpless as he came towards her. "I didn't mean for you to know, Halla. I didn't mean for you to be hurt! Edwyn and I… We are in love, I don't expect you to understand it…"

"Don't you speak that name to me! How dare you speak his name to me, your wife? Your wife in name alone! You talk of love? What life do you offer me?" Hysterical tears streamed down her face. "No love, no children!"

"Halla," Finnan shook his head sadly. He took her shoulders in his hands and said, "I'm sorry. I know my duty, and I do think you are beautiful... There will be children…"

"No!" she shrieked, slapping his hands away. "Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me, you are a monster, I would rather die, I hate you!"

"Halla please, please! Keep quiet!"

"Quiet, you say!"

"Yes! My good name—"

"Is a lie! It's all a lie, you lied to my Uncle, you lie to everyone!"

"Halla, stop!" Finnan shouted, growing more panicked and angry by the moment, wondering where his servants were.

"I should tell everyone!"

Finnan lost control and delivered a stinging slap across Halla's mouth, and then quickly another. "You will not tell," he hissed menacingly. Instantly he felt awful, but the damage was done. She felt into shocked silence, new tears welling in her honest, hurt blue eyes.

He backed away from her, feeling a thousand times the monster she had called him. Terrified to leave her with his desperate secret, and on such terms, Finnan tried to think of anything to say. Yet he found he couldn't even beg her forgiveness, though it would be the smart thing. So many months of caution, only for her to find out! Finnan grasped for the icy demeanor that had always protected him before, even as his heart raced. He turned crisply on his heel and left the room.

Halla drew her fingers from her lips. There was blood on them, and her lip stung, though not nearly as much as her pride. She went to her bed and sank onto the clean white coverlet. Not caring at all, not having the heart to be seen in public slapped up by an angry husband, Halla curled up in bed boots and all, and sobbed herself to sleep.

pushdug ruk-goth - stinking horse-lord