"Garn! Nassty sun!" Ghuribal whined, darting past Baiurz into the cave, frantically brushing his bare, burn-mottled arms and bandy legs, as if he could wipe the sun's offending rays off his skin.
"Little less o'yuh now, huh Commissar?" Baiurz asked, hands on his hips, looking at the hole where Ghuribal's pointy ear had been.
Ghuribal turned his head up, grinning. "Aye, lost a few bits here an' there. Oh—eh, it's you is it?" Ghuribal asked, jerking his thumb at Maukurz. "What yuh brought him for, Commander? Ain't enough holes around here for him to stick his dick—"
The Orc froze. Snuffling sniffing sounds began coming from his rather rattish nose, suddenly stuck up in the air. "Oooh… Bein' bad up in the mountains, eh? Got any left for an old frie—"
"I've had enough," Maukurz declared, grabbing Ghuribal by the back of his ragged leather vest. Maukurz walked back to the mouth of the cave, extending his arm out into the morning sunlight.
Ghuribal squealed, throwing his hands up in the air, revealing three stumps on his left hand where fingers once were. "All right! All right! You win! You win!"
"Put him down," Baiurz said, laughing heartily.
"Lucky little shit," Maukurz hissed, launching Ghuribal back into the darkness.
The Orc landed spryly on his feet. "What a welcome!" He huffed indignantly. "You ain't changed a bit, Captain Maukurz. Keep it up, I won't tell yuh nothin' 'bout how it goes in the world."
Grinning, Narzum explained, "It ain't just his hatred for snaga. Captain has a sharlob for himself. She's hands-off to the rest of us."
"Quickest way to die," Baiurz said, "is to insult his female."
"Number one stud here too, eh Maukurz?"
"Fuck your face, slave," Maukurz growled, sitting down by the fire. "Don't ever talk about her again."
"We're all snaga now," Ghuribal said cheerfully. "Just without the food rations. King O'Men's clearin' the world of Orc-folk. Southland's already at war, but it ain't no proper war. Ol' Elf-lover's moppin' up whatever's left of the clans, barely anyone's fightin' back. You folk better just sit tight up here. Go south it's the tarku, go north yuh got Rangers. Go east yuh got Riders. You all are fucked tight. Just the way yuh like it, eh, Cap?"
"Just like," Maukurz purred, his voice dripping with contempt.
"You've been South?" Baiurz asked. "What remains?"
"What remains o'what?" Ghuribal asked. "Lugburz? Done. The Dead City? Dead indeed, 'ceptin' the rats. The Eye went bust, takin' out most of Gorgoroth with it. And everywhere yuh go, Men are skipping and singing and throwin' flowers, rubbin' yer face in it. There's crews o' Men out there, hunting the survivors in the name of Gondor."
"What about Isengard?" Shatauz asked. "What about the Master?"
"Dead and Gone, respectively. Isengard ain't nothin' but a tower surrounded by a mucky hole in the ground now. And like everywhere ele, it's got a bad infestation of tarks."
The Uruks exchanged worried glances. Narzum shuddered, thinking of how very near he came to being buried in that muck. It was Dagalur who had pulled him out.
"Tarks talkin' to the Riders?" Maukurz asked.
"Oh now you want somethin' from Ghuribal, eh? Now yuh wanna be friends?"
"Answer my fucking question, imp."
Ghuribal shrugged lightly. "They're know you're up here, they'll send a special platoon to fetch ye, and make yuh eat yer guts."
Baiurz set his jaw. "Shatauz… grab some o' yesterday's meat from the snow-pack and get out on watch. Ghuribal… what are their numbers at Isengard? And answer the Captain's question: do they meet up with Riders?"
"They're as many as the lice on ol' Gharsh-il's head. As many as a bad case of scabies runnin' through the bullpens. But no Riders that I saw. And certainly not gettin' ready to come this way, with winter comin' in! Course I was on the run, not snoopin' around."
"From the white-skins?" Baiurz asked.
"Naw..." Ghuribal pawed the hole where his ear once lived, chuckling. "Ran into one of the breedin' lasses from Mordor. Took up together for a little while, but she had no sense of humor. She was sleeping, how was I to know she'd take it hard?"
"White-skins in Mordor?" Baiurz demanded. "They were breeding there? There are more Uruk-hai?"
"Pschaw, whut I want takin' up with a white-skin for any more than a day? They was breedin' Orcs in Mordor. All type uh Orcs, even bigg'uns like you bucks, but not the same. Can't stand the sun, not like you big baalak freaks. Ol' girl was good for keepin' me full, but what a spoil-sport! I had to give 'er the slip."
"Right," Maukurz said. "She was whittlin' you down piece by piece and you ran, you toad."
"We can't all have your skillful touch with the matin' games, sweet-face. 'Course I like Orc females, so that there's a difference…"
"Take what I can get," Maukurz shrugged, grinning wolfishly. " 'Specially if it means puttin' you ball-busters in your place."
"I ain't sleepin' near him," Ghuribal told Baiurz. "Don't care where yuh put me, but not by him."
"Who said you're staying?" Maukurz asked.
Ghuribal looked hopefully at Baiurz, his remaining ear twitching fetchingly. "Just a few nights? Those greasy Dunland pricks are swarmin' all over the place."
Baiurz and Maukurz exchanged a hard glance. "They comin' up the mountain?"
"Nope, but they're all through the forest. Like I said, you folks best sit tight up here."
"And where are you goin' when yuh move on?" Baiurz asked.
"I was thinkin' Angmar. My folk been gone outta these mountains for a good sixty-some year now. Whatever clan is hidden near those parts now better stay hidden when those tarks get movin'! I'ma run north. Angmar, the troll fells, some place where the sky is big and the Men fear to walk at night."
"You can stay a few days, then, but you're pretty much on your own for meat. We had some trouble with the Dunlendings so until that clears up, you ain't goin' down the mountain to hunt. Maybe Narzum or Shatauz will share with you. Maukurz wouldn't give you nothin' anyway; and he's got a breeding female to feed, too. And that's the next thing: his female. You cross a line with her, we'll all take turns with yuh, and then maybe we'll let you die. She's one of us. Go 'head, Maukurz. Let Ghuribal see Halla."
Maukurz sighed through his teeth. Baiurz is right, that's the worst part. But now I got snaga stinking up my cave. Shaking his head, Maukurz pushed himself up and walked behind the curtain. Halla was already up, wearing her white gown, her long pale hair brushed and falling smooth and silky to her hips. "Did you hear all of that?"
Halla stood up, taking his breath away with her fine, welcoming looks. She walked over to Maukurz, stood on her toes against his chest and murmured, "You don't like this one very much, even if the others do."
"I don't like any snaga. We had a bad start from the beginnin' and it got worse from there. They were good for gettin' contraband in, but I'd rather go through another soldier to get what I want. Fuck them. Then again… War's over, and nothin's the way it was."
"You are saying Baiurz is right," Halla replied.
"He's right this time," Maukurz said. It's true, there ain't no choice but to stick together. At least we ain't Men. At least we'll question before we attack. "Come on, ashgaz. Time to meet the Commissar…"
Maukurz brought Halla by hand around the sheet, then stood behind her, his arms possessively wrapped around her belly. Staring at Ghuribal, he said, "This is Halla. Stop looking at her now."
Wide-eyed, Ghuribal turned to Baiurz. Aside from her lovely hair, it was Halla's face that caught the little Orc's attention. "She's smiling. Something's wrong with her, right? Head wound?"
Maukurz could have gotten angry, had Baiurz and Narzum not laughed from their guts. He relaxed slightly, even as his arms tightened on Halla, and couldn't help his slow, proud grin.
Ghuribal whistled softly. A white-skin with an Uruk by choice was an interesting thing. "You got a good one, Captain. Don't deserve her by a sight, but that there's a good one. Don't worry none about me troublin' yer sharlob. She keeps smiling like that, I'll die for her too"
"Smart choice, Ghuribal," Narzum said.
"Like I said," Baiurz growled, "She's his, but we all want her to stay here. And each one of us looks out for her. Touch her…"
"I know, I know, I'll beg for death," Ghuribal grumbled, sliding closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together and warming them. "All I want's a safe, dry place to sleep. And I'd rather have me an Orc-lass any day."
"Didn't she cut off your ear?" Halla asked archly, feeling a little raw at being talked about as if she wasn't in their presence. She never wanted to be excluded from any conversation again; she'd had enough of that in her old life. And she wasn't about to let some little snaga insult her! At least not while Maukurz held her so tightly.
The Uruk-hai and the Orc all looked at her with surprise. Maukurz grinned and Ghuribal laughed out loud. "She did indeed, Mistress!" he said, winking at Halla amicably. "But she was a sweet thing, and I got another one."
For all his rangy, gamey, energetic body and talk, once Ghuribal fell asleep he didn't wake up for a long while. Only then did the others realize he had no sandals or boots and his feet—even tough as they were—were bloody and badly worn. His trousers weren't Isengard issued, but they were frayed at the bottoms and only covered down to the middle of his calves. His shirt was in tatters.
"It's as bad as I thought out there," Baiurz said quietly, banking up the fire.
Maukurz leaned his cheek against Halla's head. She sat on his lap as the Narzum divied up the meat they'd stored raw in the snow.
"Maybe we should go north," Narzum said.
"What? Leave?" Halla asked, looking up at Maukurz anxiously.
"Too late now," Baiurz said, his tone giving way that moving was something he'd considered. "Another storm's coming, I'm sure. The mountain will be impassable until next spring. But then, we might think of it."
"Baby's coming in the spring," Maukurz said, his palm covering Halla's belly.
"All the more reason to go," Narzum offered. "You gonna want to train up yer whelp where Uruk-hai are hunted?"
Halla closed her eyes in pain, turning her head to Maukurz's chest.
"I don't know if there are places out there that would be better," Maukurz said. "I don't know if it's so safe to pick up and go, especially if we got tarks all over the trails, searching for us. And we won't know how the hunting is, or where's a safe place to sleep. It's tough to hide here, but I think mostly that it's safe up here. And I sure won't take Halla and Baby to someplace worse."
"This is my land," Halla said quietly. "I don't know anything else."
"Well," Baiurz said, "We ain't goin' nowhere now, so we'd better make the best of it here."
Halla nodded. She stood up, dropping Maukurz's hand, and walked out of the cave.
The older Uruk poked at the fire again; lately he'd found that his bones noticed the cold more than they did during the War. He looked up at his captain. "Didn't tell her about all that, did you?"
"It happened… fast. Neither of us thought much. Sure didn't talk about it. I suppose she thought we'd be safe living up here forever. Build a little wood hut like her people like. And I didn't try to stop her from thinkin' it, I guess. Like it would be easy to be together."
"You wanted her. Now you got her. Better go tell her something, right?"
"It'd be nice to know what to tell her. I'm the last of my kind, living in the woods surrounded by far better numbered and armed enemies, and one of them thinks she belongs to him. And Baby's gonna suffer what I suffer, no matter what. I want to tell her how I'm gonna keep them safe, but all I can think to say is that I'd die for them both. That ain't especially promising."
Maukurz met his commander's eye, where his unspoken words were reflected: Maybe she'd have been better off where she was.
"She got Baby now," Maukurz said quietly, shrugging his shoulders. "She can't go back."
"You didn't plan that?"
Maukurz got up abruptly. "I gotta talk to her."
"Go on, then," Baiurz told him. "Ai Maukurz!"
The Uruk turned, resignation in his golden eyes.
"Let's just see her through her breedin'. See that Baby comes healthy, and that she makes it and keeps on smiling. We'll figure the rest out after."
"Right," Maukurz said, stepping out into the cold twilight.
Halla had climbed up the jagged rocks; she was standing above the cave, looking out over the pine trees into the dark eastern sky. Maukurz's heart was in his throat thinking she'd fall. He climbed up quickly, standing beside her on the narrow ledge and wrapping his arms firmly around her waist.
"Whatchu lookin' at, ashgaz?"
"The fires," she murmured. "Down there, all the way down, that is the village of High Meadow. Beyond it is… the manor house."
"I know," Maukurz said. "How you think I found you that night, in the storm?"
"It's all my land, you know. Not the house, but where the new barn ends, all the way into the forest. If my father was alive, he'd claim it up to the mountaintops, I know it. It should be mine, but our law doesn't work that way. If it was mine, I wouldn't be so afraid. No soldiers would cross my land without my express written consent, and we would be safe."
"What do you mean, it's yours, but your law doesn't work that way?"
Halla closed her eyes. "My husband took my land into his care when we married. Then he built up a village and started cutting trees. He probably won't look for me, now that I think of it. He has what he wants from me: the land. I never mattered to him."
Maukurz breathed her in, his lips in her hair. "We will be safe," Maukurz said, willing himself to believe it. "We'll be warm, curled up all winter long. Only a little hunting, and walks in the snow. Then when the warm weather comes… we'll have Baby."
"No one will come up here in the snow…" Halla said unsteadily.
" 'Course not," Maukurz promised, holding her against chest.
"So you will join us?" Haldren asked, stroking one of his hounds absently. "The pay will be high and the work bloody."
"Black blood," Finnan said grimly. "Doesn't count."
Haldren raised a mug in toast, the foamy ale frothing over the side. "Good. You'll need to raise at least 25 foot soldiers on your own. We'll receive our assignments in Osgiliath. Then we'll kill ourselves some Orcs. You said you wanted to get away, Lord Finnan. Have a purpose again. Here it is."