Author's Note: My apologies to those of you who received updates this weekend without being able to access the story. FFN was having an issue with—as far as I know—a bunch of stories. Hopefully this has been/will be resolved shortly.
At exactly eight weeks into her pregnancy, Halla woke up so sick she couldn't make it out of bed before she was retching violently, shamefully, on the cave floor. As soon as there was a lull in the churning of her belly, and she could catch her breath, Maukurz dropped the blanket over Halla's naked shoulders and bundled her into his arms. There was near a foot of snow from a heavy storm two days earlier, but Maukurz, careless of the cold, sat down and held her in his lap.
Halla had barely managed to apologize before she twisted around in his grasp, sick again. By now all the Uruks in the cave, each interested in both Halla and Baby's survival, crowded to the cave mouth and pushed back the flap without any concept of privacy at all.
"She all right?" Dagalur asked, while Narzum wondered aloud what he could get for her. Shatauz, who during the War often over-indulged in the thick burning Orc draught called akrum, retrieved Maukurz's helmet full of melted snow and brought it to his captain.
"Little sips," Shatauz told Maukurz, passing him the helmet of cool water.
Halla tried to drink, but it was a long while before she could hold anything down. Still, the water at least kept her stomach from tearing itself apart any more than it already had. "Please move me," Halla gasped, smelling her own bile, feeling six pairs of eyes on her in various shades of yellow and green. Maukurz stood and carried Halla towards the pine trees, and she murmured, "They shouldn't be staring at me. I'm disgusting right now."
"Aww lil girl, they're just worried about you and Baby. You're like… the best magic they've ever seen, having this baby, smiling like you do about it. We'd all look like some loburzu pretty ladies, the way we feel all sweet about it. And you're the farthest thing from disgusting. But don't worry, I'll tell them to back off you when you get sick."
"I've never felt so bad," Halla said quietly, laying her head on Maukurz's chest and closing her eyes. "This is normal? I mean… you did see it… The women who were pregnant… in the pits... You told Shatauz those women threw up when the babies grew."
Maukurz hated speaking of it, especially with her. "None of us saw past a few weeks, Halla. But you're strong, you seem well. You've got pretty color still, I know that's… considered a good sign."
Halla nodded, her voice a little stronger with the clean cold wind in her face. "Women get sick with Men's children too. Sometimes. Though I never saw it, because my aunt—that's my mother's sister—was finished having children by the time I went to live with her, and my boy cousins—her children—weren't married yet. But I've heard you can get very sick, and it's perfectly fine."
"Baby's just getting stronger," Maukurz murmured hopefully, resting his chin softly on her head.
"I want to do your hair," Halla said. "So I can practice for Baby. I want to do his hair in braids and keep it neat."
"Baby's a he now?" Maukurz asked, grinning.
"I think so," Halla replied, closing her eyes again.
"You ready to go back in? You need some clothes on, ashgaz. Then you can fuss with my hair for a while."
"The fresh air feels so good," Halla said. "But I'll try."
Once in the cave, Maukurz noticed that someone—likely Dagalur—had cleaned the puke away, and done a thorough job of it. He settled Halla back on their bed, and tucked the blanket around her. He brought over a comb, and the treasured lavender oil she asked him to grab.
"Gonna make me smell pretty?" Maukurz laughed.
"It's good for your hair," Halla said. Maukurz was startled by the expert feel of her hands in his long, thick black mane. She tugged the comb through it from the bottom up, loosening all the snags and tangles.
"I surrender," Maukurz murmured as Halla rubbed a few drops of the soothing oil into his scalp. The scent of lavender, so intimately connected with Halla's hair and body, was a potent aphrodisiac for Maukurz. He closed his eyes and tried to keep calm, knowing that Halla needed to rest now, not fuck.
Maukurz growled softly in pleasure as Halla's hands slipped under his hair, which felt rare smooth and light, and began to rub his well-muscled shoulders. As good as it felt, Maukurz leaned away from Halla after a few moments. Sometimes it was almost impossible for Maukurz to keep off of her, even if it was what was good for her. He knew he could fuck a whole lot more than she could, and still not be content. Maukurz turned around to kiss her, meaning to say goodbye, he had to hunt, but unsure if he'd be able to leave once his mouth touched hers.
But then when he turned, he saw that her color wasn't high and glossy and warm; Halla was pale, and there was some bruised darkness growing under her eyes. Maukurz took her face in his hands. "I'm going to get you some nice meat, ashgaz." At the same time, he wondered if she didn't need other things. Even he missed bread and gruel sometimes. He kissed her lips softly. "You rest. Baiurz will look out for you. Everyone else is hunting. I'll be back before long."
"I can work on my sewing," Halla suggested.
"Just rest," Maukurz implored her quietly. "You're doing enough as it is."
Halla had been right; hunting was a great relief for Maukurz. He enjoyed the stalking, the chasing, the smell of blood on the cold air… all the subtle differences between one day's kill and the next. It was good for all of the Uruks to have an outlet for their inborn skills. It worked on them in a strange way, putting those skills to use for a positive reason. Maukurz knew Halla preferred venison to mountain goat—and certainly over a predator's meat—so he lurked mostly around the abundant herds of red deer. He also had learned he liked to stalk alone, without having to worry about other Uruk-hai. Favored by Saruman, Maukurz had climbed the ranks—both formal and informal—almost from the moment he was moved to the bullpen, dripping with the blood of Orcs and white-skins from his first day alive. Other Uruks had gathered to him, and he was made responsible for their victory and failure immediately. Maukurz wasn't sure he'd had so much as an hour alone in his life before he broke his leg. He hadn't liked it then; but he discovered that being back in top form and armed was another thing entirely.
Hunting alone… Maukurz could forget himself. He could be with the wind, with the animals, who didn't give a fuck for who he was or what he'd done. The joy of battle was crazed and loud; a victorious hunt felt like a good long run, or in the afterglow of what Halla called making love: satisfying and quiet and coolly confident. He could hear himself think; or he could just hear himself breathing, falling into the rhythm of life around him.
Maukurz sat down beside his kill, a two year old buck. He took the knife Shatauz had made for him and made a small slit in the buck's belly. He pulled out the steaming heart and bit into its quivering bloody mass. He almost ate the raw liver, until he thought that the rich organ meat would be best fed to Halla. And it would be better, Maukurz thought, to get it into her belly raw and bloody. It seeemed to him like cooking it would burn not only the blood off, but some unknown vital essence as well, and Maukurz figured Halla needed everything he did and more growing his whelp.
Maukurz took a swig from his old Isengard canteen, grinning as he tried to imagine a smaller version of himself shadowing his steps. He'd teach Baby to shoot straight as soon as he could, how to wrestle and fight and stalk prey against the wind. Maukurz tried to imagine the sizes of the children of Men he had seen, then decided that was no help, since there was no way to know how like Baby the children of Men might be.
But that was only if he got Halla through the pregnancy. The turn of nine moons seemed like a damned long time to being growing a whelp, and it worried Maukurz that Halla felt so sick already. Better get this deer back to her, he thought.
Halla grimaced, looking away from Maukurz's knife. "No," she said. "I'll get sick again. Please… just cook it."
"I'm not trying to get you sick, Halla. I want you to feel better. You got my baby in you, and I feel run down if I don't eat enough raw meat. Just try it, lil girl. It'll be good for Baby. He needs it."
She wrinkled her nose. "It looks disgusting. I don't even like cooked liver."
"Im'a cut real little bites for you, all right? For Baby? For you to both feel strong?"
Halla relented, nodding, watching in rapt horror as Maukurz sliced thin cuts of the raw organ on her wooden plate. Blood pooled beneath the piece of liver.
"There you go," he said, pushing the plate before her.
"I can't believe I'm doing this!" Halla said, taking a slice of raw liver in her fingertips, trying to ignore the soft wetness of it. She closed her eyes, put it in her mouth and swallowed without tasting.
"See? You can do it."
Halla peeked at Maukurz, then closed her eyes again, laughing. "This is so disgusting! Give me another piece."
Grinning, Maukurz fed her bite by bite until all the liver was gone. Halla realized—astonished—that the taste on her tongue wasn't unpleasant at all, and her stomach didn't feel sick in the slightest way. As she opened her eyes, Maukurz kissed her brow. "There," he said, pleased. "Next some water, and then you rest some more. I told you, I've got you. I'm gonna be sure you get what you need, in every way." Maukurz took Halla's face in his hands, brushing his thumb tenderly over her lips to wipe away the flecks of deer blood she'd have surely been horrified to know about. "Lemme go get some snow to melt for water."
Her blue eyes steadily on his face, Halla murmured, "Maybe you can come to bed in a little bit?"
Maukurz tilted his head sexily, a slow smile crossing his face. "You feel all right for that?"
"Yes," she whispered, drawing the word into a sigh. "Something nice and sweet and slow. That will make me feel better."
Maukurz's heart thumped and his cock jumped, stiffening immediatly. "I'll set some snow out to melt, and come right to bed." He stood and walked away, feeling his Halla staring at his strong calves and hamstring muscles.
Halla sighed happily and stretched out on the furs. She loosened the laces on her blue gown, and swept her hands over her little round breasts and down her belly. She was changing, already. Her breasts were swelling, they were painfully sore times, and her peachy-pink nipples seemed larger and more flushed. Her flat belly was hard and felt slightly rounded under her palm. And Maukurz had been right. As her stomach went to work on the raw liver, she felt a little less nauseous, a little less fatigued. Hand on her belly, Halla murmured, "You liked that, Baby? Is that what you needed?"
She'd laughed before at the idea of a woman talking to her unborn child, but now she understood. Baby was tiny, but she was sure she felt him, growing snug and safe in her womb. Halla imagined a little Maukurz, a toddler, maybe, with blue eyes like hers, running on fat strong baby legs. Grey legs, Halla thought with a smile. She adored her baby already; she would love a girl too, but she was utterly certain Maukurz had given her a wild, free, smiling son. She had seen him in her dreams, dreams where for the first time in her life, since her parents had died, everything felt right and safe and perfectly happy.
"Captain," Baiurz said, motioning Maukurz over.
"Commander," Maukurz said, squatting down beside the recovering Uruk, dangling his empty helmet between his legs.
"I'm not listenin' to you two; but she wants you now, in the middle of the day?"
Maukurz leaned back, tensing. If one of the other Uruks had asked that, Maukurz would have smacked him.
"Relax, Iron-Cock," Baiurz growled, shaking his head. "I had more than my share o'white-skins, I don't particularly care overmuch if I have another. I certainly ain't tryin' to take yours from you, 'specially all the good stuff yuh got going with her. I want more like her, for the others."
"I hope they find them, boss. But she needs water, and…"
"And she wants some more o'you, I know," Baiurz said, chuckling. "All I'm sayin' is that if the others come back, give it a rest. I can handle it, and they've been doin' their best. Mornin' and night's enough for 'em. Not all damn day too. And get that shitty grin off your face!"
"Akhoth!" Maukurz saluted smartly, though the smile never went away. He was damned lucky, and he knew it. He stepped outside the cave in time to see Narzum and Shatauz running up, and his smile dissipated, sensing Narzum's tension.
"He come back yet?" Narzum asked, panting and frowning.
Maukurz felt a chill on the back of his neck, as if an enemy was plotting against him, or the Master walked by him on parade. "Dagalur," Maukurz groaned softly. "No, he's not here. Hasn't been here all morning."
"He said he was gonna hunt, then do his morning run, then meet up with us to butcher our kills together," Narzum explained quickly. "I swear, Cap'n, I thought he'd given up on the Dunland girl…"
"We don't know that he's done anything yet," Maukurz said. "But we better go look for him, just in case. And if he's leering at that red-haired migaz I'm gonna beat his face in myself this time!"
Maukurz went back into the cave, and put his helmet by the fire. He took his canteen, grateful that he'd saved a few mouthfuls of water. He dashed around the sheet, feeling a rush of anger at Dagalur when he saw the lovely hunger in Halla's eyes. He knelt by her side and gave her the canteen. "I gotta take a walk with Narzum and Shatauz," Maukurz said. He lay his hand alongside her smooth cheek, adoring her little whimper of desire. "Later, ashgaz," he murmured, kissing her mouth, biting her lower lip softly. "I'll make it up to you."
"Come back soon," Halla whispered, gripping the hem of his kilt as he stood.
"I will. I swear."
I'll be back quick, dragging that flagit by his hair if he's gone and started any trouble! Maukurz picked up his bow. She kissed the air, her blue eyes smiling, and Maukurz left her.
Worried now that Dagalur might have done something truly foolish, something that endangered all of them, Maukurz offered his commander no explanation other than saying he'd be back in a moment. The Commander frowned at his back, but he knew Maukurz's style of leadership well enough. When the matter needed his attention, Maukurz would bring him in.
"Let's head for Dunland territory first," Maukurz told Narzum and Shatauz, and he ran off through the snow, knowing the other two would follow.
As Maukurz ran, he lost hope as he began to pick up Dagalur's scent, which got stronger as they headed towards the stream where Dagalur had stalked the woman. They followed it alarmingly deep into Dunland, to the banks of another mountain stream, where they lost the scent completely. Listening keenly for enemies, scanning the forest warily, the Uruks spread out, covering the ground like an efficient scouting party.
The principle weapons of Dunland were the club and the axe, but Maukurz knew that rudimentary bows were employed: not nearly as good even as Shatauz's, but good enough to kill. Maukurz smelled the faint scent of Men on the air, the peculiar scent common to Wild Men who never washed, rancid even to Uruk-hai senses. Yet none were coming their way. Maukurz crept on, sniffing the air and looking for sign.
Shatauz whistled softly, and Maukurz and Narzum jogged stealthy towards him. They picked up Dagalur's scent immediately, and soon it became overpowering. Maukurz's breath quickened: he smelled blood, Uruk blood.
Maukurz, Narzum, and Shatauz stopped short at the mouth of a small clearing, their fury choking them.
Dagalur, dead as could be, was impaled on a stake in the middle of the clearing, the crebain pecking out his eyes.