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

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56

Ar-Tashk barely cared to acknowledge the trio of orcs outside the warg-den as he stepped foot into the forest clearing. The green orc, the one he had ordered to make a fire, seemed to be diligently fulfilling his task on the outskirts of the den entrance, while the mouthy one with the messed up leg seemed to be fretting over his companion's still form. From where Ar-Tashk strode, it seemed like the third orc might've finally succumbed to his wounds; any other time, it might have enraged the olog to not get to see the light leave his prisoners' eyes. However, none of that drew his attention now.

Only one thing was on Ar-Tashk's mind. Even as his own blood rolled down his limbs from the freshly inflicted wounds, he wouldn't show any indication of weakness before these pathetic orcish captives. With single-minded focus, Ar-Tashk ducked into the den's opening, sliding down the cascade of slate shards until he reached the bottom of the tunnel.

Alaesia heard the clatter and felt the ground under her quake as he landed on the cave floor. The faint light that made it into the den was completely blotted out by the olog's giant form. A million fearful thoughts began to race through her mind as he grumbled something in that guttural language of his. His great silhouette swiveled around, and she could hear him suck in a depth, growling breath. In an instant made perfect sense to her, like lightning striking her mind, why Zathra had previously warned her to, 'Never run!'

Though Ar-Tashk was an olog, a creature that could walk upright, talk, and seemingly capable of intelligent thought, he was also, undeniably, a predator. Somewhere between man and beast, his instincts for the hunt were unrivaled, and Alaesia knew, from watching something as small as a fox chasing a mouse, to huge a caragor pursuing a deer, that to flee, was to make oneself prey.

She pressed anxiously backwards against the den wall, trying to resist every fiber in her being that cried out for her to bolt. The beast before her, cloaked in shadow, would undoubtedly strike, should she so much as shift in the wrong direction. Yet, it didn't seem to matter how still she held, how long she held her breath, he still stalked ominously towards her. She was his prey, his quarry; this hunter had crossed rivers and rugged terrain, just to hunt her.

Frogblood's warnings flashed through Alaesia's mind; she hadn't had time to figure out how to calm Ar-Tashk yet! How was she to divert his wrath?! Her heart was pounding so loud, her eardrums throbbed. The olog's hands were reaching out now, ready to tear her to pieces, but her tongue was frozen, unable to muster even a tiny scream.

"Isla..." The ragged voice split the silence, as his fingers clasped around her leg and pulled her effortlessly out from under a small overhang of rock she had tried to hide underneath. Alaesia let out an involuntary whimper at the grip of Ar-Tashk's fist around the bruises on her shin. Ar-Tashk's low growl seemed full of commanding menace, "Amat kramp lat fautha izish? Do not hide."

Every fear placed upon her was only a mere hair's breadth away, but nothing was coming to might how Alaesia could escape this... Is Frogblood really my only hope? She wondered desperately, looking up at the olog who knelt dangerously over her.

Then, without warning, Ar-Tashk pressed his face against her midriff. Her loose rags of clothing, still left untied after he had broken her makeshift belt, slipped apart, granting him access to her soft, pale skin. Alaesia jolted, half expecting to feel his tusks tear into her gut, and yet... He was surprisingly gentle, as if taking care to not put too much pressure on her, and keenly aware of the dangerous points of the fangs that protruded from his bottom jaw. She could feel his lips trace the scars on her belly as he whispered, "Isla-izub... has, adhnar iz... az hasum lat. Stay..."

Being so close to his Isla, again, Ar-Tashk finally knew why it hurt so much when she had disappeared. She was so soothing, so soft, a balm to Mordor's usual brutality; something so rare, he never knew such a thing could exist. While Ar-Tashk could feel his blood trickling down his arm it didn't bother him anymore. It fell to the ground, marking the stones around his human, but going unheeded all the same; what was such injury when he could hold her near? It didn't even matter to him for her to see his weakness. All Ar-Tashk wanted was to feel the warmth he had once held after being similarly injured when he had killed Vezhir. The Voice that had so belligerently tried to urge him to punish his Isla could do nothing to overcome the memory of that warmth.

Alaesia was frozen, whether out of fear or something else, she couldn't tell. Ar-Tashk's big hands had let go of her and shifted to hold up his own weight as the strange olog stroked her skin with his mouth. Chills crawled up the nape of her neck as his lips and breath tickled the vulnerable points along her body. She expected his assault to be violent, bloody, and forceful, like every time she had been taken against her will, but this... Somehow this was more terrifying. The confidence in the way he permitted her all the freedom of her own body and limbs, as if he didn't care if she resisted, as if he knew she couldn't hurt him no matter how hard she tried, warned her against fighting back. It was only when he let out a deep, shuttering breath just below her navel, that she found her voice.

"P-please..." she squeaked with a nervous flinch.

Ar-Tashk paused at her beckon, his gaze drawn up to see the panic in her green eyes as silent tears had started to overflow. Confusion crashed into him all at once, as he wondered why? Why was his Isla weeping...? He pulled away, only now realizing that the exhilaration of her fluttering heartbeat wasn't because of a shared desire between them, "Isla-iz... Amat? Why do you cry?"

Similar confusion filled Alaesia as the predator before her seemed to invade her mind, seeking answers she didn't quite know how to communicate. How could she possibly convey everything, all the conflicting perspectives she was faced with? She could only muster a pleading query, trying to make sense of it all herself, "A-aren't you g-going... to..."

Even as her voice trailed off, Ar-Tashk tried to work out what she was getting at. He sat back on his heels, watching her curl her hands over her body defensively. Was she expecting to be punished, like the Voice had urged him to do? Maybe she believed he planned to eat her like that belligerent orc outside had accused Ar-Tashk of? "Nar, isla-iz... No hurt. No eat. Nargrat bakguk."

Alaesia's chest hurt from the lump in her throat; it made her feel like she was choking. The olog was toying with her. Even as he seemed to claim no intention to harm her, his hand returned with a mind of its own as it pet her ankle and started traveling upward. She let out a short cry, "NO, PLEASE!"

His hand jerked away, almost as if startled by her sudden outburst. It hadn't even crossed his mind that she wouldn't enjoy his caressing; he could only dream she might caress him in return, "Amat? What is wrong?"

"P-please, Ar-Tashk... a-a-anything but th-that..." Alaesia pulled the hem of her clothing closer with a quivering hand, not knowing how he would react if she were to reject him outright. "What-e-ever you w-want. Just... I c-can't take y-you... I'll d-die..." Alaesia recoiled as a flash of anger crossed Ar-Tashk's face. Had she offended him?

"Amat? Mash kramp lat urdan?" Ar-Tashk repeated and his brow furrowed with self-righteous indignation; was she really begging for her life now? After all the times he tried to make her do so, she was only pleading for her life when he finally decided not to take it?! Why did she have to be so infuriatingly stubborn before? Now there wasn't even a speck of satisfaction to be had in her pleas! It only made his head hurt. Why did she even think he wanted to kill her now anyways?! He moved back with a grumble of irritation while watching her intently, trying to read her body language, but coming up at a loss for answers.

Would Ar-Tashk spare her even consider sparing her? Alaesia barely dared to wonder. Any such appeals she had made under Vezhir's abuse had been quickly and furiously crushed. If Ar-Tashk intended to force himself upon her, what could she possibly say that might change his mind? Her mind scrambled through their past interactions, trying to find something. Was there some reason he had nursed her back to health after Vezhir had attacked her between her cage bars? She had only ever assumed he was keeping her alive as he had been tasked to do. Why had he treated the corpse of the child she bore with such un-olog-like care? She had been in such pain and so distraught, most of that time was a blur and held no clues for pleading for mercy.

Given just a bit of space between herself and her captor, Alaesia felt like she could finally take a breath. Ever so slowly in the silence between them, she sat up to look back at him through the dim light of the den. He had a look of utter petulance smacked across his broad face. Was it hunger she could see behind those intense eyes of his? They seemed to flare with a faint internal glow, not that dissimilarly to the now-dead overlord; the thought made Alaesia's chest hurt. However, when she pulled her rags back over her shoulders, his eyes widened and followed the scars on her skin, most of which seemed centered around her hips.

The olog sucked in a sharp breath, seemingly to answer his own question, "Az urdan-kraium. Az kul mash lat bak..."

"I-I'm sorry. I d-don't understand..." Alaesia whimpered, wishing she could hide back under the ledge of rock, only to watch with rising dread as Ar-Tashk held out his hand to her demandingly.

"Skatul," His voice was forceful and commanding, with not a hint of mercy to her ears as he sat back casually against the cavern wall, "COME, ISLA."

Alaesia's eyes flicked between the imposing figure of the olog and the entrance to the cave. It was difficult to calculate how fast she'd have to move to make it out; would it even be possible? Zathra's voice seemed to echo in her head, reminding her urgently of his warning. Never run. She couldn't help but wonder where Frogblood was. If he wanted her help escaping, why was he nowhere to be seen? Was this his sick way of convincing her that she needed him- to let Ar-Tashk torture her so she would agree to his demands? Should she scream for help? Would anyone even answer...? It was impossible to know who of her tormentors she should obey.

Ar-Tashk could hear her heart rate climbing and see the hysteria in the whites of her eyes. He slowly reached out, taking the end of the chain tethered to her neck, and gave it a soft tug. His voice dropped to a murmur, but still full of authority, "Kul amul, nardur Isla. Lat fulaknar sha izish. Skatul. Come."

The moment Ar-Tashk's hand took up the chain, Alaesia felt her options slipping away; all that was left... she could either pray Frogblood might respond to her cries or submit to Ar-Tashk's whims. But even as her lips parted, she was afraid to cry out for help... afraid of what deal with a devil she would be making in seeking rescue from Frogblood. He had shown no hesitation in beating her into submission. He had offered her a chance to escape, and yet everything about him unsettled her to her core. His cruelty felt far too familiar, echoing Vezhir's almost beat-for-beat. Her decision really seemed that it was only a matter of which of the two evils before her would make her suffer less... At least one option had a determinate finality; who could say what Frogblood planned after making his escape?

Alaesia glanced at the den entrance once more, before turning towards Ar-Tashk in quiet, agonizing surrender. It only took one pass of the chain between his hands to pull her close, but she hung her head low, unwilling to meet his icy, pale eyes. A thick arm snaked around her legs, lifting her like a doll before depositing her onto the olog's chest where he finally grabbed her by the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him, whether she wanted to or not, "Az narkramp fulak lat. Lath izish baduzg lat..."

She wanted to shrink, to transform into something so small such a giant as he would never even take notice of her, but that couldn't change the fact that he was enraptured. All of the olog's attention was on her, an inescapable curse. Alaesia felt the weight of his hand press against her back until she relented and fell flat against him. Silent sobs made her whole form shake uncontrollably. Any moment now, she knew he was going to grab her limbs, lever her into position, and force himself into her...

"Amul Isla. Do not fear," Ar-Tashk's chest vibrated under Alaesia. She could feel it reverberate as deep as her bones. His hand rested upon her back like a heavy blanket... and simply held her pressed against his chest.

What is he waiting for...? Alaesia's jaw was starting to hurt from clenching her teeth.

He seemed to be trying to mull over something before finally speaking, but not without stumbling over how to turn the right phrase, "Think... Ah. Nar... ah... Remember night at... water in Nurn? First time call you Isla?"

Alaesia couldn't conceal the conflicted feelings that came rushing back at the memory of the day she had tried to take her own life on Ar-Tashk's blade, the day he dragged her to the fort forge, the day he had taken her to the shore to bathe. It was impossible to forget just how close she had come to freeing herself from her mortal coils. Sometimes she would even think back and consider how things might have been different if she had succeeded. Ar-Tashk would probably have eaten her corpse and moved on to some other poor slave to torment, and the overlord would still be alive. If any good had come of that day, it was only that that day's events had led to Vezhir's demise. That's when he named me Isla? she wondered bitterly, averting her eyes, "I-I remember..."

Ar-Tashk's face softened. If she had been looking at him, Alaesia might have even noted an expression of fondness creeping into his eyes, "Ahk. First time I see you. Urdan-kraium lat. Know you. First time, I want no death. Want Isl- life. I feel life in you."

"Y-you n-noticed I w-was pregnant..." Alaesia clarified. Ice filled her voice. The hollow ache in her gut still lingered, haunting her with twinges and phantom sensations. And the intermittent bleeding had yet to stop. However, his words gave her a moment of pause, He didn't know from the start? Wasn't he guarding me on the Overlord's orders? She had never thought to question whether or not the uruk and Ar-Tashk were in lockstep together for Vezhir's scheming.

Ar-Tashk grunted affirmatively, but also reached out a finger to turn her chin up towards him. Even with both her and himself both battered, bruised, and covered in blood from the last few days, he wanted to take in the image of her laying against his chest. Had there been something else driving his blind hunt to track her down? Finding her alive, especially in the wilds of the south side of the river, seemed nigh impossible, and yet he finally got to hold her in his arms. He purred deep in his throat, "Life in you, ahk, but nar, not whelp only. Life in you..."

He trailed off, momentarily stumped for words. Alaesia couldn't stand the silence; at least while she kept him talking, he seemed distracted enough to forget why he had her pinned against him. Each breath the olog took lifted and brought her back down, marking the moments as they passed. While his hand was forcing her to face him, she looked down at the scars she had once wrapped with rabbit skin bandages. Why... she thought to the darkest recesses of her mind, Ar-Tashk hurt himself to kill Vezhir... His own overlord. Had she misunderstood the dynamic between the pair? Had Ar-Tashk always intended to betray the uruk? Why didn't he take me back to the fort and claim it for his own...?

There was a sinking feeling in Alaesia's stomach. Things were starting to piece together in ways she couldn't believe, or rather that she couldn't accept. She didn't want them to fit together so precisely, to the point she started grasping for any other explanation of Ar-Tashk's behavior that she could. Her hands balled into fists, causing her shackles to rattle and shift. That's right, Alaesia corrected her, I'm just a slave. He just took Vezhir's orders to guard me to the extreme because he's a crazy olog... it doesn't mean anything.

Ar-Tashk's chest lifted suddenly as he found the words he was looking for, "I call you, Isla. Lifemaker. You make life, here," His hands easily shifted Alaesia involuntarily as if she weighed nothing so he could put a massive palm against her stomach. She cringed, already convinced that he saw her as nothing more than a tool to create uruk spawn. But then he continued. his hand pulled away, and pressed against his own chest. In that single gesture, she couldn't deny what her subconscious had already solved the clues for. He murmured softly, his final conclusion, one hurt Alaesia's heart in ways she couldn't fathom, "and here."

***** Translations *****

Isla - Lifemaker

Amat kramp lat fautha izish? - Why do you hide from me?

Isla-izub... has, adnar iz... az hasum lat. - My lifemaker... please, don't leave me, I beg you.

Isla-iz - Short, slurred speech of Isla-izub (My lifemaker)

Amat? - Why?

Nargrat bakguk. - Don't be afraid.

Amat? Mash kramp lat urdan? - Why? What do you mean?

Az urdan-kraium. Az kul mash lat bak... - I understand... I am what you fear...

Skatul - Come here.

Kul amul, nardur Isla. Lat fulaknar sha izish. Skatul. - Be at ease, little lifemaker, you are safe with me. Come here.

Az narkramp fulak lat. Lath izish baduzg lat... - I won't harm you. Let me show you.

Amul Isla - Easy lifemaker.

Urdan-kraium lat - Understand you.

Ahk - Yes

Isl - life