Hey! if you're still reading this, I appreciate your patience. I've been having a rough wek for the past couple of years so this has been on the back burner, but I'm determined, dammit.

I've also developed a vision disability so I make more typos these days. Feel free to tell me if you spot any. Make a game out of it!

Razashûk stirred, the first hint of sunlight stinging his skin even through his cloak. Durgrat's heavy arm was curled around him, not helping much with the temperature situation. He figured he might as well have some fun waking the Uruk as long as everyone else was still slumbering, and pressed against the larger Orc, grinding into him and stifling a snicker.

Durgrat made a pleased grunt, only to yelp when Razashûk sprang like a startled cat and launched his foot directly into the Uruk's crotch. "What iin the fuck?!"

Razashûk pointed to a hand-sized mass of shiny black plates making its way past them, mere inches away, its pointed tail held upright as its legs clacked across the sand. A pair of fat claws swayed in front of its beady-eyed head.

"Oh," said Durgrat. "That's nothing. It's a, um...scorpiment? Sharkey had one in a big glass jar. It can sting you to death with poison, but won't bother you if you don't shake the jar."

Razashûk exhaled through his teeth as he clenched his hands. "It's not...never mind." He shifted away from the crawling creature, doing his best not to even disturb the ground around it.

By now several of their traveling companions had arrived to see what the commotion was. Adding insult to near-injury, a ragged-looking girl barely past childhood grabbed the offending critter by the tip of the tail and threw it a dozen yards away in one deft motion. "Careful," was all she said before blending back in with the hardscrabble crowd.

Their remaining time among the caravan was uneventful. Razashûk briefly felt his guts clench when Nahla noticed her purse was missing, only to relax when she simply sighed and announced "Ah well. It belongs to the wind now." He wondered just what was in that tea she was always drinking.

The Orcs bid their goodbyes, including an uncomfortably long farewell to Gerald on account of not quite being able to understand what he was saying. But his gummy smile indicated well wishes rather than some bizarre Mannish curse, and the pair made their way to the ancient worn road indicated on Razashûk's map.

A spot near some twisted scrubwood revealed a well-used stone fire pit. After a quick scan for anything suspicious, Razashûk decided it was the best they were going to do before the chill of the night set in, and Durgrat shrugged off everything he was carrying and slumped by the pit.

"Gather up some kindling," said Razashûk. "I smell something probably edible." He scampered off into the distance and returned not too long after with a brace of scrawny rats covered in lank black fur.

They stared at the fire while choking down the stringy vermin. "How close are we?" asked Durgrat. "we're in Mordor. How much farther can it be?"

"This is where it gets tricky," said Razashûk. "This map is very old and I doubt all these paths and landmarks still exist." He crumpled the edge in frustration. "The road we're following could fade into the past anytime." He squinted at a crude scribble of an archway and hoped [erhaps a stub of it remained standing. His skill at spotting hidden intricacies was suited to forests and other living lands. The desert was an entirely different kind of hostile than the snapping of resentful tree branches or the mucky depths of limb-swallowing swampland.

It felt as if the old stories he'd heard about the heart of the Black Land were comforting lies aimed at entertaining children. The end of sunlight was accompanied by a bitter cold. The various small animals ekeing out an existence were trying to kill him rather than the other way around. The only substantial smell on the breeze was of dead sand.

Durgrat was a bit more blunt with his displeasure. "I hate it here."

Razashûk could only sigh in sympathy as the larger Orc ontinued. "I've never been so alone." He paused. "I mean, of course there's you. But it was never like this in Isengard. It was warm and crowded. Even if nobody wanted me around, Wargs would come begging for scraps." He let out a scratchy whine. "Fuck. I almost miss the boss hitting me."

Razashûk crumbled a little at the sentiment. "Don't talk like that. At least you're free."

"I suppose." His voice was flat.

This was beyond Razashûk's depth, so he just shuffled himself closer to Durgrat in the hope that the presence of another living body might comfort him and make him stop talking. After a few silent moments Durgrat rearranged himself and settled his head in Razashûk's lap.

They barely slept, and not for any enjoyable reason. The wind nipped at their flesh, and it proved difficult to fit the both of them underneath anything that could possibly be used as a blanket. Fpr the first time in his life, Razashûk was grateful to see the sun peeking over the horizon.

Durgrat seemed determined to get moving, and Razashûk couldn't argue with that. They packed up and trudged on.

Razashûk's eyes widened as a remnant of the next landmark materialized in the distance. All that remained of the archway was a single broken column, but it was all they needed to know they were still on the right path.

A slight hitch appeared as the Orcs drew closer and realized a hooded figure stood next to the ruins.

"They beter not ask us any fucking riddles," said Durgrat.