More than a month passed before Mauhûr was called upon to return to the village for more resources. He found himself eagerly anticipating the trip; he'd not forgotten those eyes. Though he'd thought better of bringing up the subject of his reaction with anyone, he began to ponder this odd urgency that had settled upon him, knowing he'd see her again.
He needed to. It was a strange thing and made no sense at all.
As expected, the Men he'd fetched before were damn near useless and required replacing, a reasonable excuse for returning. As the pizdur inspected his troops before heading out, once more those led by Dushrûk, the Pitmaster and a withered old grey-skinned Orc approached. Mauhûr ground his jaw so not to bark with impatient hostility at the newcomers.
"Pizdur Mauhûr, lord almighty," the Pitmaster simpered sarcastically, "this here's Golmudalug. Goes by Golmud. Master says you gotta take him with you."
Glowering at the Pitmaster, Mauhûr snarled, "Why? What good is he?" Looking the wizened Orc up and down disdainfully, he added, "A harsh wind would knock him over."
"He's a sniffer, yuh lout," the Pitmaster hissed. "Two of them females you brought back last time was gone with whelps. You know that pisses him off. He don't have time to mess with Man-whelps. You take this geezer with yuh and have him sniff'em up good before you bring'em back, or master'll hear about it."
Torn between humiliation at being ordered about and fury with himself for committing any offense that might disappoint his master, Mauhûr seethed for a moment. He sucked a few deep breaths through clenched teeth, willing himself to calm.
It was doubly galling to know the Pitmaster only spoke so insolently to him when he had master's word backing him up.
"Dushrûk," Mauhûr snapped, beckoning his second forward. "Put this bag of bones in the wagon. I won't have us delayed by..."
Golmud's face never changed from its passive, mild expression, but his hand shot forward and took hold of Mauhûr's privates in an iron grip. Roaring in startled fury, the Uruk made to draw his blade, but the Orc's other hand grabbed his wrist.
"I'm thinkin' some respect is owed, pup," Golmud growled, squeezing both hands. Bones ground in Mauhûr's wrist; he gasped rapidly as he fought to hide the more dire pain elsewhere. "But I'll take the offer of the ride. I'd like me a nap on the way."
The village hadn't changed significantly since the last time Mauhûr was there, except that there was a bit of bare pitch at one end where even now several men were sparring. At a glance, Mauhûr could see some marginal improvement on those he'd taken before, but there was still a long way for them to go before they'd be worth much to Master.
They would stop a spear, and might, with luck, kill its bearer, but that wasn't very likely.
Once more, Headman Drust hurried to meet the pizdur as he strode into the village. The Uruk-hai were ranged out and awaiting the slightest gesture should there be a need to unleash them upon the Dunlendings. The eager way their hands flexed on their pikes or loosened swords in their scabbards told of that potential. Drust tried not to notice them at all.
"Pizdur," the headman said in a subdued voice, wringing his hands and trembling.
Mauhûr presented a scroll to Drust, and waited as the man's shaking fingers opened it. "A-another... another five?" he said hoarsely, throat gone dry. The Uruk scowled.
"And thirty men," Mauhûr snarled impatiently. "The others were barely substandard. I trust there have been improvements...?"
"Yes, yes," the headman insisted. "Train-training... as you commanded. Always training."
"Good," the pizdur nodded. "Now... the females."
"I... I took... took the liberty, pizdur," Drust stammered. "Imposed a lottery... to... to be fair. The ones chosen are... are... they are in here..."
Gesturing to Dushrûk and Golmud, the latter shuffling along sleepily, Mauhûr followed Drust into the large shelter.
Five women stood trembling in a huddle, faces red and damp. Mauhûr barely acknowledged them; his gaze turned to Dushrûk.
"Are they satisfactory?"
The one-eyed pizbur circled the women, prying them apart and looking them over. They made little whimpering noises; the room was filled with the stench of their fear.
"Aye, pizdur," Dushrûk nodded. "They'll do."
"N-no husbands, this time," Drust offered unnecessarily. "No t-trouble." Mauhûr ignored him.
"Check them, Golmud," the pizdur growled, gesturing toward the females.
"Ain't as young as I used tuh be," the wizened Orc grumbled. "This one first; hold'er arms back, lad."
Dushrûk did as he was told, hooking the chosen female's arms at the elbow. Her chest was thrust forward and a cry of pain and confused fear tore from her throat. Nodding with satisfaction, Golmud hooked his claws into the bodice of her dress and rent it open wide.
Her scream hurt Mauhûr's ears, but he found he didn't need to issue a reprimand. Golmud, clearly accustomed to these reactions, backhanded the female across the face. Then he grabbed her breasts in both clawed hands and snuffled them about the nipples.
The headman took a step forward, intent upon halting the proceedings. "Stand back," Mauhûr warned. Though he'd never seen a sniffer at work, Mauhûr wasn't about to allow an unnecessary interruption.
"Mm-hm, mm-hm," Golmud nodded, having finished his inspection of the female's breasts. Grabbing fistfuls of her skirts, he pulled them up, exposing her from the waist down. Smirking at Dushrûk's curious frown, he tucked the extra fabric in around the Uruk's arms to keep it out of his way. "Help us down, there's a good lad," Golmud grunted, gesturing for Mauhûr to aid him.
Exchanging a bewildered look with Dushrûk, Mauhûr obliged the aged Orc and eased him to his knees.
"Stay close, now," Golmud added. "I'll be needin' yuh to get up again. These old knees ain't so good as they was." Turning to the female, still a little rattled from the blow, he grabbed her knees and pushed them apart.
Her struggles renewed, and Golmud growled, "Grab this leg, lad." Mauhûr obeyed, taking a hold of the female's leg and holding it off the ground. Golmud nodded again, then licked his lips. Leering hungrily, he planted his face between the female's legs. In amongst the female's wailing and begging to be set free, the pizdur could hear noisy slurping coming from the Orc.
Mauhûr's frown deepened. It was difficult to concentrate on what Golmud was doing, or even to comprehend it, with so much yowling going on. He considered striking the female again. Once more, he glanced at Dushrûk, struggling against the female's desperate attempts to free herself. The pizbûr shrugged, just as baffled as Mauhûr.
After what seemed five minutes, Golmud's disturbingly loud 'sniffing' diminished, and he retreated, licking his lips with apparent relish. Mauhûr released the female's leg. "This'un's clean. Bring me the next."
"When I was last here, I saw a female," Mauhûr informed Drust. The headman was still shaken by what he'd witnessed in the shelter. He looked slightly nauseous, in fact. The pizdur ignored it; though confused himself by the sniffer's methods, he wasn't about to show it in front of this Man. "You will take me to her."
Blinking with surprise, Drust stared at the Uruk for a moment, utterly speechless. To the pizdur's left and slightly behind stood Dushrûk, arms crossed over his broad chest and a glowering sneer on his face. Mauhûr's expression quickly turned thunderous.
"Must I repeat myself?" he barked, startling the Man. "Take me to her now!"
Drust trembled as he lead the way in a daze. It was several heartbeats later that he realized he had no idea where he was going. "Forgive me, pizdur," he mumbled, flinching in anticipation of a blow, "where did you see her?"
Dushrûk smirked and chuckled; he'd wondered how long it would take the foolish Man to ask.
"That shelter there," Mauhûr replied, pointing. Drust's eyes widened and he swallowed with difficulty.
"That's... that's mine," he breathed.
Mauhûr eyed him levelly, his expression cold. "The female in that shelter is yours?"
Again, the headman struggled to swallow. His voice was weak and low. "She's... she's my... my child."
Grunting and nodding, the pizdur gestured for Drust to proceed. The Man turned slowly and aimed for his yurt, his back stiff and his steps halting. Mauhûr narrowed his eyes as the headman's fists clenched and unclenched reflexively. Then Drust was pulling the hide drape aside, and the Uruk-hai officers were ducking inside behind him.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, Mauhûr gazed around. A scowl furrowed his brow; the interior was cluttered and haphazardly arranged, with clothing lying about on the floor and the bedding in disarray. He almost didn't hear the strangled cry of shock that greeted his entrance, he was so absorbed in the offense of disorder that met his eyes.
"How could you? Stupid girl!"
Drust's furiously hissed words caught Mauhûr's attention, and he turned toward the headman and his child. The female was nearly as tall as the headman; why Drust would refer to her as a child made no sense to the pizdur. Mauhûr's eyes narrowed dangerously at the wince on the female's face and the fearful trembling of her lip, for Drust held her arm tightly and shook her a few times.
"Release her," the Uruk growled, startling Drust into instant compliance. The man's face showed a hint of defiance and more anger than was tolerable as he turned and stood between the female and Mauhûr.
"Is this... the... the woman you... you saw?" the headman stammered. Mauhûr curled his lip.
"Step aside so I can look at her."
Reluctantly, Drust took a single step to one side, but remained close. Ignoring him for the moment, Mauhûr shifted his gaze to the female, and a strange feeling swept over him.
He could not have defined it if given a year to examine it. His brow furrowed as his eyes roamed her trembling form. When he reached her face, he saw a terrified, hunted look there. He saw fear in her large, dark eyes. He smelled her fear in the close hut. It poured from her like a wild torrent.
The scent of Men's fear had always pleased him before, but now he was curiously repelled by it. Yet there was nothing else about her he would call repellent.
"Leave us," Mauhûr rumbled quietly.
"Pizdur," Drust ventured daringly. "You have the women you came for..."
"Leave us!" the Uruk roared, turning his intense glare on the headman.
Drust's chin quivered, but he didn't move. "Please," he whimpered. "My child. I beg your... m-mercy."
Rarely was Mauhûr called upon to bare his teeth, but he did so now. "I have given you an order. You will obey it."
Lifting his head higher, Drust opened his mouth to protest. Mauhûr gave him no chance to speak.
"Dushrûk," he snapped. The pizbûr needed no instructions; he grabbed a fistful of the Man's hair and hauled him stumbling out of the shelter.
"Don't hurt her! Please!" Drust sobbed desperately. His cries could be heard for a few more moments before the sounds of Dushrûk's blows silenced them.
