***** Author's Note *****

The following chapters may be a bit delayed. I want to refactor a few things to make them flow better, so I'm working on that at the moment as well as writing the following chapters. But you can see content as sooner:

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50

The strength of the words from Alaesia's throat surprised even her. Her eyes burrowed into Zathra's face as a hint of light started to peak over the horizon, now that the night was wearing thin. It touched her back, like the gentlest blanket of warmth falling across her shoulders, one she knew would disappear once the sun lifted above Mordor's smog; but if only for a moment, she felt its warmth. Silent tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, without her realizing it, she had forgotten what sunlight felt like, just as the sound of her own name felt foreign. The name her parents had given her was all she had left of them, left even of herself; to have it spoken aloud... It cut into a part of her heart she had forgotten for how numb it was.

"How... did you know m-my name?" Her voice threatened to retreat to its stammer. She could only hold back the torrent of evil that filled her memories for so long. Its ravenous appetite would not be sated, but perhaps it could be stalled, if even for a moment.

The orc bit his tongue, inwardly cursing himself for angering the woman while she was in such a fragile state, but relieved that simply speaking her name had seemed to bring a semblance of her consciousness back to reality. His hand dropped away from her face and he held it up between himself and her disarmingly, "I didn't mean anythin' by it, lass, ya were just so worked up, it was jus' something I 'eard ya thinking afore-"

"S-say it again," Alaesia grabbed the orc's chest plate, her knuckles turning white for how hard she latched onto him.

It rattled Zathra, how intense her whole being suddenly had become. There was a hint of water pooling in her eyes as she searched him for whatever it was she was looking for. He probably could have extracted himself from her grip, but it felt wrong to do so, as if his corporeality was the only thing anchoring her to the mortal plane. His mind raced, trying to think back to what he had discovered in the deep recesses of her mind previously, trying to figure out just exactly why she was so worked up. It was irritating to no end to not have a window into others' thoughts, leaving the orc to fumble and guess at what they were thinking, "Yer name? Ya want me to say yer name?"

"Please..." Alaesia's shoulders were starting to tense up so much it was making her quake. The warmth of the sun on her back wouldn't last long; she needed something... Anything to keep the terrors of her mind at bay.

"Alright, lass... er... Alaesia," he glanced at Barbaurak who mirrored the look of absolute confusion back at him.

It felt weird to the leader of the pair, to see Zathra address her not like that of an inferior as the snaga captive that she was, but like an equal. There was never any reason to get to know a snaga by name, or even by number. They would come and go so fast all that typically mattered was ensuring they sold for enough booze and meat. And there was no reason to keep records or accounts of slave names or even their value. Numbers meant nothing really when the trade came down to it. It wasn't like such things were ever reported to higher authorities the way men did with all their dumb regulations and whatnot. Taxes were a mannish concoction of the stupidest sort that only Haradrim caravanners seemed concerned about, and that concern usually disappeared the moment orc raids began. Tarks had the strangest priorities, including this sharlob who seemed all torn up by the mere sound of her own name.

"The shrakh you on about, she-tark?" Barbaurak spat.

Alaesia didn't seem to even mind his profanity, as if she was in a daze, "I... almost forgot it... M-my name..."

In truth, she couldn't bear to recall the last time anyone had said it out loud. There was no reason to tell other human slaves each others' names. It was just a way to open oneself up to more heartache for when their orcish masters came to kill, for a slave would cry out for whoever they could to help them, knowing that no rescue would come. Alaesia had quickly learned the horror of hearing her name split by the howls of agony as one of the first slaves she had met in Ku'Gohn's servitude had screamed for her help when being eaten alive. That may have been the last time she told anyone her name, opting instead to maintain a facade of an innominate soulless being, and hiding away her true self deep inside. Yet now, she was desperately clinging to it, so much so that it didn't even matter that the one who spoke it was an orc that uttered it.

"Yer alright, Alaesia. Jus' breathe lass," Zathra gently peeled her fingers from his armor, and lay back prone onto the ground, groaning, "Wha'ev'r that brute did to ya, ye'll be alright..."

"Tark's lucky she ain't split from her cut to her brains," Barbaurak muttered. "She was already bleedin' fer days after givin' that olog the slip once. 'E probably never even stuck her right. No chance he let's 'er get away again without ramming through 'er guts-"

"BAR..." Zathra let out a vicious, low growl in warning, more animalistic than not. If Barbaurak wasn't out of reach, Zathra might have thrashed him, superior or not; Barbaurak was being unnecessarily, and excessively, disturbed even by his own standards. As to why, Zathra could only guess, but that wasn't really important right now. He could see Alaesia's complexion turn to ash as her face drained of blood at the orc's grotesque candor. It was obvious she was about to fall into her mental void again, if Zathra didn't think of something to keep her grounded fast. "Alaesia... 'Sa good name ya've got. Sounds bit elvish ta my ears, iffin I 'ad ta guess."

"No wond'r it makes me want to scratch out my brain... Them pointy eared golug-zerim make words sickeningly sweet," Barbaurak curled his lip, testing the sound of her name on his tongue, "Ahhh laay sea ah... absolute garbage. Names should mean something."

Alaesia did her best to ignore Barbaurak's sourness and looked down at Zathra where he lay, small sparks of blue shooting through the translucent places on his skin where she could see his veins. His skin which was normally yellow like a candle was mottled from his own injuries. Even as he was fretting himself over her, he was fighting for his own life. The thought, or perhaps faintly whispered words, crossed her mind unbidden, "Y-you're hurt..."

"Naahhh," Even though she refused to acknowledge the other orc, Zathra gave a crooked half smile. His distraction seemed to be working, despite Barbaurak's efforts. "Don't fret about me... Besides, Bar, elf names do mean somethin' if ya know their old tongue."

"You don't speak elf," Barbaurak spat incredulously.

"No... but I get lil... tingles every now an' then about elvish things."

"TINGLES..." Barbaurak nearly choked. He rolled his eyes; everything made a lot more sense about Zathra knowing he got tingles when it came to elf shrakh. His magic probably even stemmed from some elvish witchery, Barbaurak would have bet, like some sort of resurgence of the original orcs' rumored heritage. Whether or not Barbaurak actually believed orcs came from elves, he'd never say, but he would adamantly deny it until his dying breath. "Elf names are piss. A good orc name tells ya all ya need to know about a bloke. Don't they, Voice Curse?"

"That's Voice Gift ta you," Zathra waved his stumped arm dismissively until he realized Alaesia recoiled at the sight of it. Even as he tucked it back to his side, he couldn't help but notice a look of pity in her gaze towards him. It was unsettling, even for an orc of his demeanor to be pitied, especially by a slave. So Zathra simply tried to wave it off with indifference, "Oh, yeah, warg got me. Ripped it clean off. Musta thought I was a snack!"

Alaesia was almost... amused by how nonchalantly the orcs bickered and reacted to horrific wounds. The kind of wounds that would kill a human seemed hardly like a splinter to an orc. Both Zathra and Barbaurak looked a mess, inches from death's door, and yet she couldn't picture either of them succumbing to their wounds. Even as he lay prone on the ground, she could see Zathra improving almost before her very eyes. One of the benefits of his magic, she supposed. It was a wonder that he was scarred up at all with his enchantments, with healing abilities like his. The thought quietly crossed her mind, to ask him about it, but there was a part of her that wanted to know more than just out of curiosity. Could the orc heal scars?

Perhaps his were just a status symbol. Countless orcs, that Alaesia had seen throughout her enslavement, had been riddled with scars; some decorative it seemed by their intricacy, while others were clearly the vicious act of another in the distant past. But in all cases, it seems that the more in number and greater damage done, the more other orcs seemed to respect someone.

Alaesia looked at her own scarred hands, before clasping them around her stomach and out of sight under the folds of her loose clothing. She didn't want to see how mangled she was. Orcs might find scars appreciable, but she doubted soldiers of Gondor would look upon her as a fellow human being, she would only be seen as a monster for how damaged she was. Her head started to sink in pain at the idea of her old Gondorian soldier friend seeing her as she was; it pained her to imagine what he would see that she has turned into, so much so she couldn't handle it. The further down that rabbit hole she went, the harder it was to imagine she would ever get to see the Gondorian side of the distant mountains to the west. In trying to picture how far she would have to go, the more it was evident she would never have made it through warg-infested lands by herself, and even if she had, she would have never been welcome there. Her escape attempt from Ar-Tashk had been doomed from the start.

"Anyways, ya know what yer name means then, lass?" Zathra's voice cut through the spiral of her despair.

She looked at him and wiped gingerly at the tear streaks on her face with the back of her hand. Her wrists ached with the movement and pressure, but she shoved the thoughts of the source of the pain down and out of her mind to answer, "N-no...?"

"And you do?" Barbaurak interjected, only to receive a swift shush.

"Don't know the full meaning, just bits," Zathra crooked a claw at the human woman, beckoning her closer. A small distraction as it was, the conversation seemed to be at least a slight comfort to her somehow, which granted Zathra peace of mind enough to focus on magically forcing a shard of bone out of one of his lungs. He hid his grimace as best he could as she tilted her ear towards him. "Like the first bit, Alae, I think that means something like... Springtime?"

"And what does that tell ya about this sharlob?" Barbaurak snorted, "Nothing!"

Zathra grabbed a rock with his remaining hand and lobbed it at Barbaurak, clipping him on his already smashed nose and making him yelp, "I was getting ta that iffen ya'd quit interrupting me! The other half, sia, is like forever."

The other orc couldn't hold back a mocking snort, "Springtime forever?!' That's the stupidest thing I've ever 'eard!"

"Don't listen to tha' buffoon, lass," Zathra watched the woman's face contort as if she was going through a myriad of thoughts in her mind. "Yer kin musta 'ad something particular in mind ta give ya a name like that. I ain't even translating it properly. It'd prolly make more sense if I did."

Alaesia glanced at him apprehensively. A feeling of dread was awash over her, but she couldn't place where it was coming from. She could only manage a hoarse whisper to inquire, "What d-do y-you mean?"

Zathra tried to gesture and pantomime with his hands as he spoke, "It's like, yer name seems like it's a lotta lil bits of elvish, all mashed together." Only when he brought his stump and hand together did he realize it didn't make the greatest visual tool, so he gave up on it pretty quickly. "Orcs, our names is just observations. 'Za' fer voice. 'Thra' fer gift. 'Zathra' just means I have power in my voice. Barbaurak means Judge o' the Imprisoned."

As curious as she was, Alaesia didn't want to know how Barbaurak got a name like that. She was sure if she let her mind wander it would construct plenty of awful imaginings that would lead to a title so ominous. At a quick glance in his direction, the leader of the pair of orcs seemed to smirk threateningly back at her, like he knew what was running through her head.

Zathra continued, "But yers is like taking a whole thought and makin' it one word. 'Cept I think yers is almost like... A plea. Probably like a wish fer ya from yer kin."

Alaesia felt her chest starting to burn at his words, but not like that of injury, something deeper and so much more painful. The loss of everyone she held dear was a great iron claw in her heart, and at each mention of 'her kin' jerked at that claw mercilessly. The idea that her parents, her mother and her father, might have given her something so precious as a prayer made into the very fabric of her name, and yet never even being aware of it, was bittersweet. Through her remorse and longing, she whispered, wanting to know more of what secrets this strange, gentle orc might unravel, "Th-the full t-trans-l-lation?"

"Spit it out already, Snake-Tongue!"

"Like I said I don't get much more than bits. Tingles," Zathra smirked internally, noting Barbaurak's impatient curiosity, despite his attempts to appear cold and indifferent. A hint of a dejected sigh escaped Alaesia's lips, making the one-handed orc realize as fun as it was to taunt and tease Barbaurak, he was getting distracted from his actual point in calming the sharlob. "Er... But I could make a guess."

Alaesia's breath froze in her chest, wondering what message her parents might have wished for her. She looked at Zathra with her intense, green eyes, waiting, hoping to find the slightest amount of hope in his words.

"Hm, the springtime bit is from 'Ala' and 'ae.'" Zathra looked contemplative, as if the strain of dividing his attention between digging back to ancestral memories and his injuries was starting to wear on him. "Forever is prolly 'si' and 'ia.' All together those would mean something like... 'may ya grow ever here.' Kinda pretty, eh?"

But instead of peace as he had hoped to conjure, Zathra saw the woman shrink and tense away. Alaesia's heart dropped like a stone, the dread that had been hovering at the fringe of her mind suddenly sieging upon her mental walls. She uttered agonizingly to herself in realization, "I-i-isla... Isla-izub..."

Barbaurak's head jerked towards Alaesia as if she had whipped him and his eyes flared through his swollen lids, "That was orcish! Where the blazes did a snaga breeder learn Black Speech?"

Zathra watched as all the light of the sun disappeared from behind Alaesia's silhouette as it finally drifted above the smog layer of Mordor's skies. It seemingly took with it all the life that had slowly been gathering in the woman's countenance and leaving her a vapid shell once more as she rattled quietly, "'May y-you grow...' G-grower... Th-that's what h-he n-named me... I-isla-izub... A b-breeder."

"Who lass?" Zathra winced as his pelvis cracked back into place from his magic. "Who named ya tha'?"

Both orcs each had their own guesses, even before she answered aloud, "Th-the R... R-r-reaper."

"Ah Skai..." Zathra cursed in realization at the mistake he had made. Rather than comfort, the meaning behind her name was only a reminder of her master. She curled away putting her back towards the pair of orcs for the modicum of isolation it allowed her. "Lass..."

Barbaurak glared at both in confusion, "The Reaper? What shrakh-stain is that?"

Zathra glanced at him, remembering Barbaurak had missed the exchange while they had been on the boat after his head had been cleaved nearly in half. "The Reaper's her master, the same olog in that den over there. He stole her off toad-face's blood brother an' 'e killed the overlord of Nurn over... claim of her."

"Urkiz," Barbaurak hissed, a morbid expression of curiosity crawling up his features. He seemed to be piecing the information together more slowly than Zathra had, but he was at least getting there. "That olog's sick in the 'head, turnin' on his own for a sharlob." Maybe, he wondered silently to himself, that's just the thing Zathra an' I need to escape with our lives...

***** Translations *****

Snaga - Slave

Tark - Human

Sharlob - Human (female)

Shrakh - Shit

Golug-zerim - Elf snots

Isla-izub - My lifemaker

Skai - Shit / Damn

Urkiz - (slang for Urk izish) - Curse me!

***** Author's Note *****

Fun facts! Names are actually really important to me, so I like to take a lot of time to construct them! I wanted to have the names of the orcs are generally a good indicator of their personality, abilities, etc. I did bastardize some of the Blackspeech to make them work. But I have a feeling orcs don't care much for how things are spelled. Sound is much more important to them.

Here's most of the orc names I chose and why:

Ar-Tashk - This one is SUPER on the nose, meaning "Great Skull." He was probably named that because of his freaking thick skull. Also doubling for funsies as a reference to what we might picture of a "Reaper" or a skeleton/skull in a hood.

Vezhir - A bastardized spelling of vizier. Vezhir renamed or "rebranded" himself deriving the term from one he once heard a tark use for someone with power. His original name was Viziruza, meaning Insect Screamer because he was terrified of morgai flies.

Zathra - As he said in this chapter, Zathra's name means Voice Gift, but Barbaurak is also right that it could be translated as curse. The second half of his name can technically be translated as either of those, or even crazy / mad. He got his name for obvious reasons. (If you really wanted to stretch it calling him "Zathra Snake-Tongue" is the equivalent of "Moon Moon" lol)

Barbaurak - Judge of the Imprisoned (this MIIIIIIGHT be discussed later in the story, still deciding on that so I don't elaborate here.)

Frogblood - This is really just a nickname Frogblood was given by his crew because of his green skin. His real name is Gamum-throk meaning Plague Eater which he got for using poison on all of his weapons and having no qualms of eating the carcasses of his poisoned victims.

Ku'Gohn - His name means "Leery one" which I like to think he got because his insatiable appetite caused him to always be leering at potential meals, not limited to just snaga. He'd eat anything he could get his grubby mitts on.

Silgak - This orc's name means careless (or more directly translated "release care"). He probably should have cared less, because if he hadn't gotten so worked up about Tuka getting killed, he may have not been killed by Barbaurak. Whoops. Haha. I mostly chose this one out of irony.

Tuka - Tuka's name means Flesh Mover, he was pretty much bred to be a slaver, and was particularly freshly created when he was assigned to the same team as Barbaurak and Zathra. In fact it was his first mission out with them when he made the fatal mistake of not double checking that his prospective target wasn't armed. Whoops again!

Granyk - Not an orc, but goblin from the early chapters, his name meant Gray Haunt. I wanted him to haunt Alaesia, so it seemed fitting.

Olrok - This old goat of an orc / necomancer / Frogblood's star slave-hunter's name means Ale Snatcher. You can probably guess why he got that name.

Qol'dra - The captain of the guard at the fort in Nurn, his name is a bastardization of the westron word "cold" with a bit of orcish flair added for dramatic effect. He chose it because he thought it sounded cool.

Ugol - He is a simple doggedly perfect uruk as he was bred to be, so he was simply named Slaughterer.

Ur-Pagurz - This unfortunate undead olog was renamed Cheating Idiot after being resurrected by Olrok for having tried to doublecross Frogblood, and getting killed in the process. With his necromancer now killed by Ar-Tashk, Ur-Pagurz is probably released from his undead enslavement, sleeping with the fishes at the bottom of the river.

Whereas human names were more abstract and often derived elements from Quenya or Sindarin, even though it's being used in a Westron speaking context. I personally like the idea that certain elements of language permeate down, almost instinctively, into Westron as it currently is in my story (Kind of like how modern names in many English speaking countries have origins of many cultures and often mean something specific, like how "Arthur" is thought to come from Welsh, Gaelic, possibly some latin, etc, and can mean bear and man.) Some would be more direct one to one translations, others could be ideas or phrases.

There are only a couple named humans, but here ya go!

Anorae - meaning sunrise, Alaesia's mother was named for her fiery hair, which she did pass on to her daughter.

Norien - meaning live alongside the land, this is more of a phrase that Alaesia's father was named due to his family line being farmers. It was a name he inherited from generations of other Norien-named men in his bloodline who probably received the name as a title of sorts for the role they played in society (Kind of like "smith" today.)

Alaesia - Zathra did an alright job translating her name. It is broken into parts as he suggested and he did get the general gist of what it meant. The actual meaning would be more like, May your fields grow ever strong here, but the phrase was shortened and clipped for forming into a name. Norien chose her name based off one of his great grandmother's whose name was also farming related. The most critical reason I chose it was the elvish root 'ala' or 'grow' because it is an integral part of her story, even if she hates that Ar-Tashk's nickname for her reflects that very same type of quality.