"Halla… Please, you must forgive me."

Finnan—who had fled immediately with Edwyn to a tavern twenty miles away—had finally found the guts to return home the following day, and he was frightened and alarmed to find his new wife still abed in the afternoon. She did not move, or even give sign she was awake, and she wore the same pale blue dress she'd had on the day before. Finnan nervously nudged his spur against his boot, picking mud out. "Halla...? Are you unwell?"

She sat up slowly, looking at him with hot, teary eyes. He'd bruised and cut her mouth, and Finnan understood immediately why she hadn't left the room. He closed his eyes and sighed, and wished his father had never urged him to so complicate his life. As if it was not irreparably complicated already.

But regardless, he owed this girl something. Some explanation. Yet he could not explain it to himself! He had looked at girls before, even had one in one of the more common mead halls… But he'd never felt anything at all—anything of higher meaning, that was—until Edwyn.

She watched him with wary disgust as he slowly approached the bed. Halla was mortally furious at her husband, and terrified of him at the same time. He sat on the edge of her bed, and Halla drew her legs close. Her husband-who-was-no-husband closed his eyes, obviously lost for words.

"Halla, I know I've wronged you. I didn't… I wasn't ready to do this. To marry. I… I assure you, I hold you in… in high esteem… I do plan… to give you children."

You can hardly say it! Halla thought.

"You… you won't tell, of course…" he said.

Halla glared at him.

Finnan shook his head desperately, wishing his head wasn't all foggy with too much ale and wine. "You cannot understand! The War… How it was…"

Can't understand the War? Halla thought angrily of her parents, of so many who had died, and most of all, those women who had gone missing. Now Halla knew their end, drowned by the very creatures who had aided their people at the Hornburg. How could he say she didn't understand the War, when she had grown up surrounded by its terror and loss?

"…I don't know how it happened… With him... But I do care for you, Halla, I see that. I will make this up to you. I will… I will try…"

Finnan couldn't bring himself to say that he would leave Edwyn alone. It was far from… those things they did… Edwyn was more than a brother, more than a wife. Edwyn was his other self, and Finnan could not forswear him. He looked to his wife, thinking that she was a pretty, clean little thing. He had been far too drunk on their wedding night, far too unhappy and upset, and no matter how he had tried to do his duty he couldn't manage it. But there was no reason why he couldn't take pains to do it right this night. He could get her with child, and their life could settle into normalcy. He reminded himself that she was a virgin, something he had never had. He thought he might be able to get himself excited enough over that alone. He stood up, look down over her slim body. "I will come to your bed tonight, Halla. I swear it."

No! Halla shook her head, but he had already turned away, shoulders pinched together uncomfortably as he retreated from the bedroom. She covered her mouth in horror. She didn't want him touching her! Halla wasn't sure if it was because he had a male lover, or because he had struck her; either way she felt trapped and terrified. Finnan had every right to come to her bed. And worse, if she tried to tell him to go away, if she tried to push him away… would he beat her? Would he force her? And could she even get redress or aid, as his wife?

Halla tried to think of an escape. Had there ever been anyone she knew, a woman who had left a husband? She could think of no one, but she knew what her husband would do if she tried it herself. He would never be shamed by such a thing. He had better connections than she. He would accuse her of some crime, likely theft or lewdness, because she was of a lower social standing. He would turn her out, keep her land, and she would be thrown back on her aunt and uncle's charity. Perhaps they wouldn't take her in. Perhaps she would have to, as her aunt so fondly put it, go astraddle the road for a living.

Calm down, Halla thought, on the edge of tears. Nothing had happened yet. And she could avoid something happening… there must be a way to get out of sleeping with Finnan. She would only have to think of it, in the remaining hours before darkness fell.

Halla kept up a front while she thought. She called for Blythe, and met the woman's shock over her bruised lip by firmly refusing conversation. She asked for a bath to be readied, a fair gown of rich green to be laid out. And then she sunk into the warm water, and wondered how she'd get out of lying with Finnan.

She's never coming back.

Maukurz was close to losing his mind. Hope and despair tormented him equally as the day wore on. He didn't want to try to leave again, that torture of pain in his leg and his guts and his bruised up back, because she had warned him against it, and if she did return he thought it might please her to see that he'd listened to her. And yet as the sun wheeled overhead, and the light changed as the day passed, Maukurz fell back into the bitterness that had plagued him since the defeat at Helm's Deep.

What's it all for? He wondered angrily, picking up small rocks and pelting them furiously at nearby trees. He was not fit to live as a whipped and beaten dog in a world of peace. He did not wish to exist in a broken state. It would be a mercy now for some of his fellows to come along and put him out of his misery, although Maukurz knew he wouldn't go down without a fight, not even if it was best for him to die. That, he thought, was the best he could hope for: to fight as well as he could, grossly disadvantaged, and then escape his uselessness in death.

But where is she?

Maybe her Man's finally gotten some sense. Maybe she's with him now, maybe his hands are all over her and his teeth are on her throat—

Maukurz growled in furious agony. That thought tortured him as much as his broken body, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Of course, he'd spent his life preying on women and girls like her. When not on a raid, grabbing them with two or three or four other Uruk-hai warriors, he was down with the breeders, passing his strength and viciousness and perhaps his luck in battle onward. He had fathered hundreds. He knew a sharlob body as well as his own hand, what it smelled like and tasted like, what teeth would do to it, what a tongue would do. How long it took to fight his way inside. And each one was different. A rumble of pleasure ran through his belly, thinking about it. Little Halla was a fool, coming so close to him. He could quite turn her inside out. And he badly wanted to.

Except… she could outrun him. He couldn't breathe sometimes, moving the wrong way. Things pierced and ground and tore in his body. He was back where he started. The grinding boredom and ignominy of his post-war life, now made grueling and untenable by his injuries. There was only one good thing in it, the hope of seeing Halla again. Of feeling calm around her. Hoping she would touch him again, not forced, not as his prey. Hoping she would—against all bets—invite him to know all of her secrets, rather than him methodically stripping each one away.

And he had run her off. Told her to go, frightened her with his anger, all but challenged her husband. She would not come back. He wouldn't see her again.

Maybe it's finished, Maukurz thought. Maybe there's really nothing left.

As twilight fell, Maukurz began to pick at his bandages, peering beneath them to where Halla had stitched him up. It wouldn't be too hard to pluck the thread out. Wouldn't be hard to finish what the Dunlanding had started. A couple well-placed slashes of his claws. A reach and a grab and a yank on his guts ought to do it. He had seen Uruk-hai run to their death before, in the Master's service, and they were considered the bravest. The specially bred front-liners who spat on armor and laughed at death, the ones first up the siege tower, first over the walls, essential to the mission. Of course, that was when they had the comfort of Master's Voice, urging them to triumph, urging them to the full expression of what they were: perfect instruments of death and pain. The loss of that Voice had taken something fundamental away from Maukurz. The pain of its absence was a raw, unhealing wound. And the loss of the life, that was even harder. No one to fight, no one to dominate, no victory to be had. Death would end all of that.

Yet…

Maukurz sighed hard. It was beyond him to do himself to death. Broken to bits, he had half-consciously dragged himself towards water, trying feverishly to stay in the world. Maukurz had tasted enough of defeat, and it was bitter and miserable. To kill himself, ignobly, no opponent to challenge… It was like admitting defeat. Maukurz couldn't do it. Growling in helpless fury, he pulled his hand away from his stitches and punched the ground until his knuckles ached.

And then a sweet sound crooned through the trees and licked at his ears, soothing him. A wolf was howling in the distance, a wolf still free to hunt and chase and kill as Maukurz was not. The Uruk sigh deeply. He leaned back against the tree, and waited for the scent of his open wounds to lure the predator close.

As twilight fell, Edwyn trotted up the wide path to Finnan's manor, a milk-white yearling filly in tow. Halla watched from her window as Finnan, who seemed to have been idly target shooting, shouldered his bow and bounded over to his lover with a smile. It was painfully obvious to Halla now how much her husband delighted in the other Rider. They dared not embrace in public, but there was a fire between them that brought tears to Halla's eyes. Finnan examined the young horse with excitement, approving of the fine creature, taking her by the lead and heading off towards the lower field. Edwyn followed in tow, a bright smile on his magnificently handsome face.

Likely tonight would be as horrible for Finnan as it would be for me, Halla thought, turning away from the window. She shuddered at memory of Finnan's cold, emotionless hand on her breast. He touched that filly with more passion than he touched me! And what sort of a man lay with another man? That was surely an abomination, even if Halla was too inexperienced to understand how that union could be managed. Surely it was a disgusting thing. And he thinks he will come to me, after doing that!

It was a good thing, then, that Halla had no intention of being in bed when he came.

Better for me that Edwyn came, she thought, pulling a dark brown hooded cloak from her trunk. Her hands trembled as she tied the laces at her throat, and slipped the hood over her shining pale hair. She couldn't go to any of her friends or cousins, or back to her aunt and uncle. Not without facing questions she dared not answer. She would just have to pass the night hiding in a place her husband would never think to look, even if he had the heart to seek her. Halla smiled bitterly at the idea of Finnan, daft with terror that she'd fled him and exposed his vile secret, manically searching and never finding. And how could he do her harm, once she returned in the morning? Whatever could he say, knowing that she despised him as much as he so obviously despised her, but knowing also that she'd kept his hideous secret?

Halla opened the door, listening at the top of the stairs. The hall, as she suspected, was silent, but it wouldn't be for long. Already a fire was roaring in anticipation of Lord Finnan's supper. Halla hurried down the stairs and slipped out the servants' entrance. The smell of roasting meat and a thick venison stew made her belly rumble with hunger. Hopefully Maukurz had saved some of the food she'd brought him. Either way, Blythe was visible in the rough-cut kitchen window, stirring a great cauldron. And Ailen was heading towards the herd with a halter and lead rope in his hand, to catch and bring in what horses needed to spend the night stabled.

It was a shame she couldn't bring Silverfire, but that would ruin her plan. She fully intended to swear up and down she never left the property. Halla crept behind the stable then ran as fast as she could through the tall grasses of the high meadow.

I have lost my mind. If anyone knew I was going to him… What might be the price to pay for tending to an enemy such as Maukurz? Might it even be considered treason? If Halla's people had been left unaided, his kind would have run wild over Rohan entire, until every Man was rubbed out and every woman… Halla shivered to think of it. Yet the Uruk-hai had been almost entirely destroyed, and Rohan was victorious, and like the beautiful, wild wolf Uncle Aelfred had shot down for no reason other than that it was what it was born to be, Maukurz would surely die without her help. And this time, her uncle was not there to stop her.

But an Uruk-hai! Halla thought, climbing over the rock wall that bordered her land. Halla could not deny the fact that she was strangely drawn to Maukurz, in a far more essential, physical way than any wolf might lure her. And it was far more than just a desire to heal. The Uruk-hai had been a terror and a nightmare to her people for so long, Halla could not help but be curious about Maukurz. She felt her belly cramp in anticipation of seeing him again. She could not understand what it was, exactly, that pulled her, she only knew she was helplessly drawn, like a moth to flame.

Halla's life had been ordered and neat and proper for so long, something about wildness beckoned her like a bonfire in the darkness. Maukurz could crush her with his hands… yet his powerful, truly magnificent body was broken, unable. It was thrilling to be in his presence, to hear his low, spine-chilling growls, to know for certain how much he desired her, but couldn't take her… Halla was imprisoned in a cold marriage devoid of passion and tightly laced in the appearance of propriety, and Maukurz was wild wind in her hair. As a virginal young girl she couldn't name it or describe it, but in her deepest self she understood that everything about Maukurz promised a frenetic, uncontrollable passion that would give no quarter to false modesties or repressions.

The dark shadows of the forest closed in around her. Halla had not considered how frightening the forest would be at night. A daughter of the open plain, Halla saw demons and monsters behind every twisting tree, in every blackened gulch. Though the rising moon was near full, light was dismal and scarce. Halla carefully climbed the rocky path toward the river ford as silently as she could, and still her footsteps were treacherously loud. As injured as he was, Halla hurried towards Maukurz, sure that nothing roaming in the darkness would dare attack an Uruk.

But what if he's not there?

Halla was gripped by fear. If Maukurz had managed to crawl away, or if his fellows had found him, she would be alone, deep in the forest as it went to shadow. Halla almost turned back. Only the thought of what was waiting for her at home kept her going, up the trail and towards the running river, deeper and deeper into darkness.

As soon as she approached the water, she heard her name called in harsh, low tones. Deep relief—and excitement—washed through her. She lifted the skirt of her dress and picked her way through the fast shallow water.

"Halla stop…"

She froze, icy water washing over her boots, afraid once more.

"Come slowly now," Maukurz murmured, his voice strong and low, nearly spellbinding. Halla crossed the river.

"I can't see you!"

"Here," Maukurz said. His voice dropped into a warm, rolling purr. As she got closer, she made out his form, and she hurried over the last distance between them. "Slow," he reminded her, smiling. His sharp white fangs flashed in the darkness.

Halla hesitated, and as she did she turned her gaze just enough to see the wolf standing but ten paces away from her. She took a loud, panicked breath and the wolf growled. Maukurz held out his hand, and Halla flew to the blanket. Maukurz's purr deepened as he dropped his heavy arm over her shoulders, and drew her into his warm space. "You've made him anxious now."

Halla, breathless and engulfed in Maukurz's heat, could only stare at the wolf, wondering when it would attack.

"That is a challenge, Halla. Look away. Unless you want to fight him."

"He will kill us…"

"Quiet," Maukurz breathed. "I like wolves. Want to see something?"

"Yes…" Halla returned, astounded.

Maukurz reached slowly into one of the saddlebags and ripped a piece of venison. He stretched his long arm out and murmured, "Skaat-lat tul, krankluk-gaz."

Slowly, the wolf came forward, sniffing the air. Halla gripped the neck of her cloak, thrilled. The dark grey wolf was just a breath away from her now, filling the air with a strong pungent smell, like a dog but a thousand times more acrid. Fangs gleamed in the darkness as it stretched its neck and lightly nipped the meat from the Uruk's hand.

"Udludhu…" Maukurz purred, reaching his hand around the gaping maw and stroking the wolf between the ears, on the face, running his hand over the shaggy throat. He looked down at Halla. "Want to touch him?"

Halla nodded, breathless.

"Go slow, but no… no fear. No wait."

Halla looked sideways to Maukurz's golden eyes, incredulous.

"Go on," he told her, grinning, jutting his sharp chin a little to the wolf.

Halla raised her arm slowly, the way she'd approach an unsteady horse. She could believe she was in a dream when her fingers touched, then stroked the soft, strong, warm fur. She laughed softly, breathlessly, and became bolder, caressing the wolf. It seemed that the beast enjoyed her touch. But why not? Didn't her horses like affection? Underneath the thrill, the same peace was there as with any animal she'd ever connected with. She drew her hand back, glowing with delight.

"Ukh-lat!" Maukurz called gently, and the wolf turned and ran into the night.

Halla watched in shock, thrilled again when the wolf howled in the distance, and his howl was returned by his far-off pack mates. Only once the wolf was long gone did Halla again feel the Uruk's arm around her. If he drew her any closer she'd be pressed against the side of his thick body. Halla caught her breath, feeling how hot he was. She wondered if in fact he was strong enough to pin her down, now that she had run right into his arms!

"Maukurz…" she murmured tightly. She heard and felt him inhaling her, purring low once more. Dizzy and anxious, she slipped away from him, desperately relieved he didn't hold her. She glanced furtively at his dark abdomen, completely flat and cut into tight muscles, her bandages loose and soft and pale in contrast. A fine lace of heat and blood wove over Halla's skin, and her breath fluttered.

"Don't go," he said quickly.

Breathing hard and eyeing him warily, Halla nodded. "How… how did you do that? With the wolf?"

"Told you. I like wolves."

"Yes…" Halla laughed in disbelief. "So do I. But I can't make them come. I can't pet them."

"You just did," Maukurz reminded her. He explained, "The wolf came because he smelled blood, he smelled hurt. He thought better of fighting when he met me, knew he would die first. Then I kept him close. Got tired of being alone."

Halla grew somber again. "I am sorry for that. I was kept away. You still have food, I see." She swallowed now, and got to the point. She looked at Maukurz, his wild face shadowed in darkness, some fell brightness in his eyes. Halla felt her knees weaken. She had to look for her voice. "You said you would help me, because I helped you."

"I did?"

She caught her breath, and realized he was teasing her. "Ye—yes. But you might have been delirious..."

Maukurz smiled, a slight, quite wolfish smile. "Go on. Ask me."

"I need to stay here tonight. I need you…" she ducked her head. "I need you to look out for me."

He got very quiet, and Halla looked up. He was staring at her even more intently, if that was possible.

"I need to trust you tonight," she told him. "You understand me? Or I will go right now."

"You ran away from him," Maukurz said in a rush. "Pushdug horse boy."

"I'm not talking about it." Halla frowned under the shadow of her hood. "What did you call him?"

"No worse than he calls me."

Maukurz slowly, gracefully, lowered his body, his muscles rippling in the shadows as he lay down. He rested his head on his clasped fingers. He trained a frightfully captivating glance on her, and she had the strongest feeling he was deeply pleased. "You are not his. You are here now. Don't ever go back."

Halla sighed heavily. "I wish I didn't have to." She pushed her hood back, pulled her long braid around self-consciously and began to comb it out with her fingers. "I can't just run off, Maukurz. I am married, properly. Our land is joined. Our marriage is recorded in the Golden Hall, the hall of our King. It would be a scandal—"

Maukurz jolted up, getting halfway before he grit his jaw furiously and pushed his pained body the rest of the way, turning to her as much as he could without jerking his leg. He pointed a clawed finger at her lip. "What… is… that?"

Halla drew back, frightened at his intensity. She flushed with shame, realizing he saw where Finnan had hit her. How could she have known he would see her bruised mouth in the dim moonlight? "It's nothing," she replied, eyes filling with tears.

"He hit you! Khurub-izg barztab-lủt!"

Halla went white with fear, seeing for the first time what Maukurz would be at his full strength. Seeing how very little he was bound by his own pain. What else might he do, if he wanted it bad enough? What would he do when recovered a little more? Dear Bema, what have I done coming to him? Letting him know me?

"Halla…" he growled, "Don't be afraid. I want to hurt him, not you, taar ậmbal. Why would he hit you? Where is the pleasure in it, to hit female who cannot fight back? Bite yes, taste, scratch… But hit? Make fight with one who cannot fight? Rủk-goth glob, nariistat amol gorgulbat sharlob!"

"What did you just say?" Halla asked, flushing at the words bite and taste. The fast, harsh, rolling sound of his dark language was exotic to her. "Say… say it again, tell me what it means."

Maukurz narrowed his eyes. "Rủk-goth glob, nariistat amol gorgulbat sharlob? It means…"

"Tell me…" Halla implored.

Maukurz grunted. He breathed in the air, and for some reason tilted his head curiously. He caught her eyes with that penetrating gaze and repeated slowly, "I said, your fool horse lord don't know how to make use of a woman."

Halla was sure she'd burst into flames. She backed away from Maukurz a little more, and lifted her long pale hair off her neck in hopes the cool wind would calm her. Such things were not properly discussed! And surely it was beyond scandalous to speak of it… to speak of it with an Uruk! Yet were those not the very chains—propriety and silence—that kept her in her prison? If it could be talked about, perhaps Finnan would have told her the truth from the beginning!

"You know I don't lie," Maukurz taunted her.

Halla sighed and shook her head. "You don't lie. It is no marriage. He can't… Couldn't… Maukurz, I am still a maid. No one knows but me and my husband, who loves someone else."

Maukurz frowned. "I don't know maid, and I don't know love. Those words… were not used in Isengard."

"A maid," Halla repeated softly, mortified yet desperate to confess the truth of her marriage to someone, even Maukurz. "A virgin. As if I was not married at all. You don't understand anything I'm saying, do you?"

He shook his head slowly, though there was a hungry light being born in his eyes, as if he was scenting a cooking feast. Halla bit her lip, seeking words she had no comfort or familiarity with. She broke away from his gaze and said, "My husband has never… touched me as a husband should. I could not… could not be pregnant, since he has never… No Man, ever, has. Touched… me. It is shameful for me. You understand that?"

Oh, Bema of the Forest! Halla could not fail to see that Maukurz was aroused again, and he didn't care to hide it, nor did his long leather breechcloth, his only garment, do an adequate job. Halla shielded her eyes with her hand. Having never properly seen a man's organ, Halla had nothing to compare against, nothing to prepare her for the shocking sight of Maukurz. Like the rest of him, that part seemed unduly large and thick and strong, and Halla cringed in fear, closing her eyes.

"I understand," Maukurz purred, his voice and growl as hot and rich as melting butter. "I like this. Skaatlat-dhog Maukurz, lagubadz-izg sharlobfiin-duthurz…"

Halla gasped, shuddering. "All right, I don't think I want to know what you said this time. Don't…" Halla swallowed her dry tongue and whispered, "Please… You are frightening me!"

"I do much more than frighten," Maukurz murmured, as if he had reached deep into Halla's secret places and read their truths.

She was unable to look at him, but she felt him pulling himself towards her. He will rape me, as soon as he gets close enough to grab me! Terror shot through her and she leaped to her feet. She wished very badly that she'd had the sense to bring a knife, how could she have forgotten it? "Stay away from me! I will go and never come back!"

Her words had the effect of a bucket of ice water doused over his head. Maukurz groaned and lay back on the blanket. "Don't go—" he gasped, covering his face with his hands. "Shit, Halla, please don't go. I can't—Can't help it, but I need you more than I need… fucking you, and I don't know why."

"What? Maukurz… what are you saying?"

He rolled his head to her, a sneer on his lips that was so fiercely erotic Halla almost fainted. "I don't know what I say. I don't know what I feel! I want you… always… I want… to be… husband to you. Have you every day. Keep you safe, no fear. Need no other woman, ever again. Only you. How can I say…? No more War… no more life for Maukurz… Until Halla came. I want to keep you, stay together with you always. I can live this way. Maybe the only way worth living now."

"You are in love with me?" Halla whispered, sinking to her knees. "You don't even know me…"

Maukurz laughed harshly. "Blind me, I will find you in a forest of sharlobu. Tell me you belong to pushdug and it feels like dying. Don't know in love. Know I want you forever. I want all of you."

Halla clutched her throat, shaking her head. This isn't happening! This is impossible! It should be Finnan saying these things… But Halla knew that she would never, ever want to hear such words from Finnan, that time had passed. She took a long look at Maukurz, aware for the first time that she was drinking in the sight of him. Horrified with herself, but unable to stop. Terrified that he would hurt her, rape her even, yet unable to leave him, and not for fear of the darkness either. Yet the sense of free-fall was too much for Halla to manage. She searched desperately for something to say that would restore order and propriety… and yet not push Maukurz away.

"I do not… belong to my husband. I never will. But I'm not yours, either… Truthfully, you terrify me. What you want terrifies me. Even with a Man I would be fearful, and you are… so much more. I do not wish to leave you, Maukurz… But we… We must not speak of this anymore."

Maukurz sighed, closed his eyes tightly. He nodded agreement, though Halla had no idea what went on behind that dark, wild, angular face. "What… do you wish… to speak of?"

"Tell me… tell me about wolves. Tell me you will call one for me again, so that I can touch it."

"Wolves…" Maukurz repeated, his breath shaky. "Very well. Anything… anything you like, I will tell you. Only stay with me."

Skaat-lat tul, krankluk-gaz.—Come here, little brother.

Udludhu – Easy

Ukh-lat! – Go!

Khurub-izg barztab-lủt! – I will rip his throat out!

taar ậmbal - most beautiful (high + beauty)

Rủk-goth glob, nariistat amol gorgulbat sharlob! – Fool horse-lord, doesn't know how to use a woman!

Skaatlat-dhog Maukurz, lagubadz-izg sharlobfiin-duthurz… - Come to Maukurz, I will break open new* clean woman

*new in this case comes from fiin, implying youth and newness together, rather than a new sword or something such.