"I'm afraid, Eothain. I want mama."

"When we get to Edoras, she'll find us there. I promise. Go to sleep now."

"But I'm afraid."

"I'll stand guard. Nothing will hurt you, Freda. Now go to sleep."

Hass-ur has crawled into the straw, into the shadows in the back of the barn. Fading in and out, he hears the voices as though from far away. Human, but higher-pitched than the battle-cries of men, softer than the screams of women. He opens his eyes. The pain pounds in his head, in his leg. Hass-ur lies in the straw and watches the children, unseen. The girl-child sleeps in the straw. The boy stands guard. The sun rises higher in the sky. After a long time, the boy slumps, sits on the dirt floor. Sitting, his head nods. He jerks upright, nods again, is still. Hass-ur can hear his breathing, slow and steady. Hass-ur crawls forward, slow and steady. The bones of his leg grind against each other, shattered. His teeth grind against each other, holding back a scream of pain, of defiance. Hass-ur grabs the human girl-child by the hair. His sword is in his hand. Her eyes snap open, stare into his. He can smell her fear, see it in her blue-sky eyes. Hass-ur licks his lips, struggles to speak the common tongue. "Call him. Call the boy."

She blinks. "Eothain..."

He is awake in an instant, drawing a terrified breath, drawing his little dagger. "Obey, or I kill her." The sword is at her throat.

"What do you want ? Don't...don't hurt her." The boy's voice is a whisper. Fear. Fear...but also defiance. His knuckles are white on the hilt of his dagger. There is nothing to watch for, no need to slow time to a crawl. There is nothing the boy can do.

"Food. Drink." Hass-ur growls. This little maggot, half-grown human. I need his help. The thought brings rage. I, Hass-ur of the fighting Uruk-hai, taking help from a boy-maggot ? Better to die. Rage and pain. No. I live. I will live. The indrawn breath. "...Help me."

The boy reaches for a pack, slowly. The girl lies still, eyes fixed on Hass-ur, deep as the river. "Don't hurt her...here, here's some water." He holds out the water-skin.

Hass-ur moves the sword back a hair's breadth. "Take it." The girl-child reaches for the water, hands it to him. He drinks, cautious, watching the boy, holding the sword against the girl's neck. She cries out but does not move. His hand has trembled, the blade has drawn blood. He moves the blade back another hair's breadth. The cut is shallow. Her eyes, deep as the sky, deep as the river. Watching him. Afraid. Hass-ur draws a breath, snarls. The blood-smell fills his mind, sweet, reminding him of his hunger. Food. The word follows the thought. He does not need to keep this thought to himself. Not with these helpless children. "Food. Now. Or do you want this girl to be my dinner ?"

The boy-child's eyes are wide, full of fear. "There's no more food. We ate the last of it. Please."

The smell of blood, of soft, tasty human flesh. No. His leg is shattered. He needs the boy's help. Patience, he thinks. "Hunt, then. Get food. Go."

"Just, just hold still, Freda. Please. Don't hurt her." With a last fearful look back, the boy goes.

Hass-ur shifts his weight. The shattered leg bones shift too. Sky-eyes stare at him. "You're an orc. You're hurt, aren't you. The Rohirrim...they kill orcs." He ignores her. The water-skin has a cord wrapped around it, meant to hang it from a saddle. He fumbles with the knot, gets the cord off, ties a slip-knot around the girl-child's neck, wraps the other end around his wrist. They wait.

Then the boy is back, a rabbit dangling from his hand. The blood-smell fills Hass-ur's mind. "Food. Now." The boy tosses it to him. Hass-ur grabs, tears the fur with sharp nails, rips into the flesh with sharp teeth. Blood fills his mouth, sweet, satisfying his hunger, giving him strength. The children watch, sky-eyes, river-eyes wide.

Then the girl speaks. "I'm hungry too."

"Shh, Freda !"

"But, I'm hungry too."

Hass-ur rips off a strip of meat, pushes it at the girl. Why not ? This will take time. She does not need to suffer, yet. She needs to live, to make the boy do his bidding.

"Eew. Not raw, you have to cook it. I'm not an orc !" She tries to push the bloody meat back into his hand.

"You want food, you eat. Now."

"No." Rain begins to fall from eyes the color of the sky.

Hass-ur watches, the meat in his hand and the pain in his leg forgotten. No fear...what is this rain ? More defiance ? From a human-maggot-child ?

"I want meat too ! Cooked meat !" The rain runs down her cheeks.

He shrugs, throws the remains of the carcass at the boy. "Cook, then." The boy catches the meat and takes it outside, casting back a despairing look. Blue eyes, dull. Hopeless fear. Hass-ur looks at the girl. The rain has stopped as quickly as it began. The smell of smoke, of roasting meat. The girl-child watches him.

"What's your name ?" He ignores. She persists. "What's your name, orc ?"

"Quiet, little maggot."

"I am not a little maggot. I'm a big girl. I'm four-and-a-half years old. Almost five." Her piping voice pounds in his ears. His head pounds. Pain. Helpless rage. "My name's Freda. What's yours ?"

He sighs, snarls. "Hass-ur. Of the fighting Uruk-hai. Now be quiet." She blinks, opens her mouth to comment. No fear. Stupid maggot-child. He leans close, growls, showing all his pointed yellow teeth, a shred of bloody meat caught between two fangs. The girl's mouth snaps shut. Then the boy-maggot returns with food. Cooked food. Acceptable food for a weak, stupid little human. She takes it, chews, is finally quiet. Hass-ur pulls her closer, holds her against his chest. He wraps the leash tighter around his wrist. The boy watches, hands clenched in fists. Hass-ur bares his teeth, smiles at the boy, strokes the girl's hair with one black pointed nail. Then he dozes, drifting in a red haze of pain. Time passes. He wakes. White moonlight fills the barn. Pain, endless pain. He will die without the boy's help. Rage. Hass-ur waits until the red haze of rage fades. Patience. "Boy. Come here." Slowly, reluctantly, the boy comes closer. The girl sleeps, heartbeat slow and steady against his chest. Hass-ur sets her aside, within easy reach. Gently, carefully. If she wakes, she'll talk again. "My leg is broken. You help me, she lives another day." The boy nods. Hass-ur can smell his fear, his helpless anger. "Armor. Take it off." The boy takes off the black metal shin guard, struggling with the buckles. He tugs off the iron-nailed boot, the leather legging. Hass-ur grits his teeth, biting back the pain as the maggot-child's efforts jar his bones. "Set it. Make it straight again," he growls.

"I'll try. It's going to hurt," the boy says. A shard of bone protrudes through the torn flesh of the orc's leg. Looking at it, the boy swallows hard. "I don't know if I can. Just, please, don't hurt my sister."

Hass-ur bares his teeth, barks out a harsh laugh. "The fighting Uruk-hai do not fear pain." He holds up the leash. "Make it straight again. Or I kill her."

"No ! Please, no. I'll make it straight." Rain falls from the boy's eyes. He wipes it away angrily, takes hold of the orc's leg, tugs and pulls with all his small strength.

Hass-ur clenches his fists, bites his lip until blood runs down his chin. His eyes clench shut on a red blur of agony that does not fade. He does not cry out. The Uruk-hai do not fear pain. The boy makes splints, bandages, cleans the wound, wraps the leg tight. Hass-ur watches his ministrations, willing himself to stay alert, but fading, drifting. Thoughts drift and fade, impossible to hold on to. Slowly, the pain recedes. Slowly, awareness comes back. The smell of fear, the silent intake of breath. Hass-ur's eyes snap open. He jerks the leash tight. The maggot-boy is kneeling by the girl-child, dagger poised to cut the cord binding her to Hass-ur. She wakes and starts to wail. The boy turns his dagger on Hass-ur, eyes filled with fear, with defiance. He fears, yet still he fights. Why ? What does it mean ? Hass-ur's sword has been dragged out of his reach. He watches the little dagger descend in slow-motion. He pulls the wailing girl to him, slow-motion, black-clawed fingers closing around her neck. "Step back, or I snap her head off."

Time returns to its normal pace. The boy scrambles back. His lips curl in a snarl. "Hurt her again, and I swear, I will kill you. If it's the last thing I do, I'll kill you."

Those eyes. Still holding the depths of the river, still filled with fear, still filled with defiance. Hass-ur stares into the boy's eyes, tries to understand. So. Courage is not the lack of fear. Courage is the will to fight on, in spite of fear. That is courage.

He lets go of the girl-child's neck, holds her against his chest. His leg is stretched out, splinted, straight. The pounding of the pain is much less. "Quiet now," he tells the girl. He pats her back, gently, awkwardly. She hiccups and stops her wailing. He watches the boy, slumped against the wall, blue eyes raining tears down his face. "Sleep. Sleep now, boy. We all live another day."