Mauhûr stood rigidly with his back to the wall, glaring at the swarms of pizurk and snaga that passed. They paid him little mind; most knew to go about their business and not inquire after his, lest they receive a cuff to the head or worse. Though he appeared to be casually waiting for someone, inside the pizdur chafed with impatience. Golmud, that sly little Goblin, promised to meet him here after the goods were turned over to the quartermaster, but he'd yet to show. The Uruk's anxiety mounted as unexpected questions crowded into his idle mind: What had happened to him? Was it some manner of witchcraft? What did the strange feelings mean, and why could he not stop thinking about her? The sound of her name in his thoughts seemed to sooth him, but only momentarily. Calm swiftly gave way to worry: Were his orders being carried out? Had Drust built the shelter for Fedelm that Mauhûr demanded before he left? Was he seeing to her needs? Was he keeping his hands off her? Would she be there when Mauhûr returned?

He'd never been so consumed. Even as a whelp, fresh from the pits and swinging his first sword in the training hall, he'd known his purpose. He'd carried himself with confidence, for his Master was pleased with his sharp mind and strong body. Within his first year of life, Mauhûr was being groomed for command. Uglûk, his first mautor, took charge of the young Uruk's tutelage and taught Mauhûr how to scent and stalk prey, how to anticipate his enemy's next move, how to wait them out and strike when the time was right, how to break free when cornered, and how to kill with or without weapons. Though the young Uruk was trained in the very beginning, like all of them were, how to quench his lust upon an enemy female, he was not schooled in this. He was not told that there might come a day when one female out of thousands would shatter him like ice. He did not know a female existed who seemed different from all the others, as though she were not even the same creature. He was unprepared for a female who wordlessly demanded of him something he did not know whether he possessed, yet would willingly, gladly, desperately give if he did.

Though many Orcs and Uruk-hai were passing through this hall, somehow Mauhûr heard Golmud's shuffling footsteps in particular, and he stiffened expectantly.

"'Ere you are, yuh bastard," Golmud growled. "This ain't a chat yer fuckin' Master needs to know about. Come with me." Before Mauhûr could formulate a retort at the insult, the old Orc had turned on his heel and was heading back down the corridor.

For a moment, Mauhûr hesitated. He didn't like or trust Golmud. Remembering the Orc's unexpectedly strong grip, he wondered if he'd be called upon to defend his life. Mauhûr shook his head and chuckled to himself. He was likely younger than that old codger by hundreds of years. What did Mauhûr have to fear of an Orc so aged he couldn't raise himself from his own knees without aid?

Obligingly following in the Orc's footsteps, Mauhûr grew suspicious as their path took them upward, toward the valley above. None were allowed to roam there; Saruman's aims were yet unknown to his allies in the west. Even one Orc caught wandering by a visitor could endanger his position. Yet despite the rules of concealment, Golmud boldly led the pizdur up the stairs to a small stone building behind the great tower itself.

"Ah, good," Golmud sighed, his nose tilted skyward. "No one's about. Patrols're probably near enough, though, so watch yer mouth. Keep it quiet." The Orc headed toward a stand of trees not far away, his steps guided by the shine from millions of stars.

"What patrols?" Mauhûr asked warily, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He was at a disadvantage here, with the sun long since set and the moon not yet risen. Gripping his sword hilt tightly, Mauhûr watched the Orc's every move, expecting an ambush at any moment.

"Warg-riders," Golmud shrugged. "Keep 'emselves to 'emselves mostly, but when nobody's marchin' out or marchin' in, they's about. Send yuh back down where yuh belong." Glancing back with a smirk, he added, "After they kick the bloody fuck outta yuh, of course."

"We are not supposed to be here," Mauhûr insisted. "I would expect no less. What is your purpose, old one?" He pulled his sword partway from its sheath. "I warn you, I will not be taken down so easily."

Finally stopping in a small clearing surrounded by oaks, Golmud gave the pizdur a withering look. "If I wanted yuh dead, it's easily managed in the pits. Frapuishi owes me plenty. A nice little knife in the spine while yer dippin' yer dick in a cunny... Easy." He shook his head at Mauhûr's puffing indignation. "Nar, lad. It's cause I like yuh that I brought yuh here. Yuh need tuh be taught a different kinda lesson."

Growling menacingly, Mauhûr stepped closer to the wizened Orc, freeing his blade. "What is this about?" he snarled, pressing the sharp edge to Golmud's throat.

The old Orc glared up at Mauhûr's face with apparently unmoved hostility. "Why'd yuh do it, eh? How many fuckin' times you been tuh that village? A dozen?"

"Twice," Mauhûr snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"Twice?" Golmud impatiently shoved the Uruk's sword away and began to pace in the small clearing. "Yuh been there two times, and yuh know that female well enough tuh bond with'er? What the fuck were yuh thinkin', boy?"

"I don't know her at all!" Mauhûr retorted. Though he lowered his sword, he remained tense and ready. "I saw her from a distance – barely. Today, I demanded to see her closely. I know nothing about her except her name."

Golmud stared at the pizdur incredulously. "Yuh get one chance at a bond. One... fucking... chance. Lad, how could yuh waste it like'at?" He bowed his head, and drew a shaky breath. "Thought you was smarter'n me."

"What are you talking about?" Mauhûr hissed. "I don't know what a bond is. Is it this? Does it make you... feel things? Strange things?" Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists with sudden dread, he breathed, "Does it make you go mad?"

"No," Golmud replied, frowning. "No, it don't. Not if it's done proper. It's... about mates. You know 'bout'em, right? You must, or you wouldn't've done this."

Mauhûr shook his head. "I don't know about mates either." Taking a hesitant step forward, he pleaded, "What is this bond? What is it doing to me? Can it be stopped?"

"Yuh don't know, do yuh?" Golmud whispered, staring intently into Mauhûr's eyes. "Yer fucked beyond all hope, and yuh didn't even know you was doin' it to yerself, did yuh?"

Grabbing the Orc's wiry upper arms, Mauhûr snarled hotly, "I did nothing to myself! I looked at her and... She did this? Was it her?"

"Calm. The fuck. Down," he hissed through clenched teeth. "The lass didn't do nothin' to yuh. I'm guessin' when you went in her hut, she 'bout shit herself in a corner, tryin' to get away from yuh. Does 'at sound like she wanted yuh there?"

"Tell me," Mauhûr growled, his lips and nostrils twitching with the strain to keep from throttling the evasive little shit. "This moment. Tell me what is happening. Now."

"Sit," Golmud snapped, already easing himself to the ground. Mauhûr all but flopped down, impatient as a whelp. The old Orc chuckled quietly to himself, fairly certain that he alone had ever seen the great Mauhûr pout like an Orcling. "First you tell me, eh? What yuh felt, what yuh did. Every bit of it."

Seething, Mauhûr huffed several times before complying. Golmud seemed to know about this business; the pizdur could not afford to look elsewhere for an explanation. He grudgingly stilled his angry words, and let out a long breath. "The headman – Drust – was leading me to where his men were mustered, so I could choose the best for our Master. I saw the huts... the quiet... It was peaceful." His voice trailed off, recalling his moment of weakness when the notion of a life without a sword in his hand seemed appealing. Glancing up, he caught the frown on Golmud's lined face and shook himself. "I noticed a hut with the flap open, and a female peering out. I saw her eyes and I felt... something. I do not know what. Different, somehow. I knew I must see her again, but I didn't know why. I was confused. It was just a Mannish female. Why?"

"Eh," Golmud interjected, noting the rising anxiety in the pizdur and raising his hand in a calming gesture. "Easy. So yuh saw her, then yuh came back here. What happened then?"

Drawing and releasing a deep breath, Mauhûr continued. "I could not get her out of my thoughts. Out of my dreams. Those eyes haunted me, waking and sleeping." Looking to the Orc, he pressed, "What does it mean?"

"I think... best you keep goin', just to be sure," Golmud replied evasively. "What happened today?"

"I demanded to see her, and Drust took me to the hut," Mauhûr replied, his agitation at being denied an answer clear in his voice. "He called her his 'child,' but I saw no child. I don't know what he meant."

"'At was his whelp, lad," the old Orc explained. "They call'em child. Or children, if there's a bunch of'em."

Mauhûr frowned. "I thought a child was a runt."

"Nar, they's Mannish younglings. Don't matter now; keep goin'. What did yuh do in that hut, eh?" Narrowing his eyes and leaning forward, Golmud hissed, "Did yuh fuck'er right then?"

"I couldn't," the pizdur snapped. "It did not even come to mind. The stink of fear in that hut was enough to make me sick. Drust's stench was on everything as well. And there was no order; the headman's things were thrown all about." Calm settled on Mauhûr suddenly. "But there was a corner: hers. All her things were neatly placed. She retreated to this corner and..." Brow furrowing, he muttered, "She cowered there. And wept."

Golmud rubbed his chin. "Then what?" he prompted softly.

"I didn't know what to do," Mauhûr replied in an exasperated tone. His thoughts had taken him back there, and he could see more now than he had then. "She feared me. Shielded her body from my eyes. All I could think of was, how do I mend this? What must I do to ease her fear?" He slowly raised his eyes to Golmud's. "I wanted her in my arms. To protect her from what frightened her. But... I frightened her. How can I protect her from myself?"

"Ah fuck," Golmud breathed, burying his face in his hands.

"What is it?"

"Yuh got it good and hard, didn't yuh?" Golmud slowly lowered his hands. "'At's mate business, what you was feelin'."

"What is mate?" Mauhûr snarled, his helplessness and ignorance restoring his anger.

"Orcs say shaûk," Golmud snapped. "That sound familiar?"

"Oh." Drawing back slightly, Mauhûr stared at nothing for a moment. He'd heard the word, of course. It was only spoken by Orcs: usually with a measure of reverence, often with a note of despair. Yet he still had no understanding of it. Shaûk was simply a word like any other, wasn't it?

Seeing the pizdur's confusion, Golmud sighed heavily. "A mate – shaûk – is yer other half. Completes yuh. Yer partner in all things. Yuh care fer yer mate, protect yer mate, do fer yer mate." A slight smile exposed the old Orc's surprisingly healthy teeth for one of his apparent age. "You'll kill fer yer mate, and you'll die fer'em. Understand?"

Mauhûr slowly nodded. "You are saying that... this bond... has made me... her mate?"

"Not quite," Golmud clarified. "Men don't bond. So the bond makes her yours, 's far as yer concerned, but that don't mean she thinks yer hers. Not that it makes no difference. Yer gonna consider yerself belongin' tuh her as much as yuh think she belongs tuh you. 'At's how 'at bond works. But trust me," he added with a smirk, "'at lass ain't never gonna think yer hers. Probly rather yuh wasn't."

"I don't understand how this could happen," Mauhûr growled. "I did nothing. I just looked at her..."

Sighing, Golmud replied matter-of-factly, "Yuh went and bonded yer ass to a tark, yuh ignorant fuckwit. What, yuh thought yuh oughta, havin' all them stupid thoughts 'bout a home and some peace? Saw that female and thought tuh yerself, ''At looks good enough tuh me, I'll take it'?" Shaking his balding head with frustration, the old Orc rubbed his temples roughly. "Nuttin' good'll come of it. Never does."

"What are you talking about?" Mauhûr snarled. "You speak in riddles!"

"Lad," Golmud said sternly, "yuh gotta face it. Better yuh know it now, I reckon. Yer Master don't want yuh doin' shit like 'is. He don't want yuh takin' a mate cause'uh what it does. Why yuh think some of us ain't up 'ere fightin'?"

"I assume it's because you are cowards," the Uruk spat. Golmud's hand shot out and gripped the pizdur's chin hard. Mauhûr clutched and clawed at the old Orc's wrist, but neither loosened the hold, nor caused so much as a flinch about the eyes in the wizened face.

"Mind yer tongue, baalak," Golmud hissed. "Yuh talk 'bout things yuh don't know nothin' 'bout."

"Release me," Mauhûr rasped, prying at the Orc's fingers.

"Not til yuh learn some manners," Golmud replied coolly. "Night's young. Take yer time." As Mauhûr continued to struggle against the Orc's hand, Golmud mentioned casually, "Yuh know, there's things I could tell yuh. Things yuh need tuh know so's yuh don't fuck this up. Don't make no difference tuh me if yuh do, but Master... well, he might not look kindly on his trusted sniffer if he thinks I got somethin' tuh do with his precious little stud's madness. 'Specially if it slows down yer 'breedin',' or makes yuh weak-minded in battle."

Mauhûr went still, and let his hands fall to his lap. "Will the bond do these things?" he breathed.

Slowly loosening his hold, Golmud nodded with satisfaction. "Got yer attention, eh? Good. The reason not many of us is any good tuh Master is cause we got mates we left behind tuh come here. Now, if we was fightin' other clans fer territory, or defendin' our mates against our enemies, you'd see more fightin' than runnin'. Cause if it's mates – shaûk – we fight to the death."

"Master keeps Orcesses out of Isengard," Mauhûr murmured, furrowing his brow. "Does he believe you will fight more fiercely if they aren't distracting you?"

Golmud snorted. "If 'at's what the bastard's thinkin', he don't know Orcs. We'll fight like mad to get our mates back, or to get to'em if they's in trouble somewhere. Nar, Master called us in'ere, and he turned the gals away at the door. Told us some bullshit 'bout it bein' too distractin' fer you lot. His precious Uruk-hai, bred tuh wanna fuck anything 'at moves. Guess he was smart enough to let us think our mates'd get raped every minute by yuh, or it were an accident. Don't matter. The lads with mates turned their backs on'em, and 'at was 'at."

"Did you?" Mauhûr asked, a troubled expression on his face. "When you came to Isengard, did you leave your mate behind?" Golmud chuckled and shook his head.

"Nar, lad, I turned my back on my shaûk couple hundred years back." The old Orc's gaze held Mauhûr's; the Uruk wasn't certain, but it seemed the Orc's eyes were more than a little mad. "Saw their mistake right off, though. Far from their mates, they'd worry. They'd fret. Sometimes, had tuh go off on their own and... get a grip on 'emselves. Weren't easy." Smirking, he added, "Why yuh think 'ere's so many tunnels leadin' out? Them ain't fer quick escapes if 'ere's a siege. Lads is buggering down 'em tunnels tuh meet their mates fer a bit of... alone time."

"Why?" Mauhûr interrupted. "Why did you abandon your mate?" The old Orc sighed.

"Yer shauk's meant tuh be with yuh," Golmud replied softly. "Sometimes, though... well, ain't nobody gonna agree with yuh. Best just tuh... go."

"What did it do to you? Leaving her?" Mauhûr whispered, dreading the answer.

Golmud's head bowed and he looked away. "Don't make me remember 'at, lad," he breathed.

The Orc's unexpected reticence made Mauhûr uncomfortable, and he restrained himself from pressing further. The implication, however, was unnerving. Did the bond do this to you when you cast it aside? If he did not take Fedelm as his shaûk – if he never went back to that village for any reason – would he go mad? Would he be afflicted with this same grief that had followed on Golmud's heels for hundreds of years?

"What must I do?" Mauhûr asked tightly.

"Whatcha wanna do, eh?" Golmud shrugged, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Whatcha think is right?"

Taking a deep breath, Mauhûr firmly replied, "I want her at my side. But I cannot lie to my Master."

Golmud shook his head sadly. "It'll cost yuh. Important little fucker like you probably ain't been under the lash in many a year. Yuh ready fer it?"

"If I have broken Master's rules, I deserve the lash," Mauhûr growled.

"Well, yuh have," Golmud confirmed. "You wanna go tell'im, or should I?"

Mauhûr found it difficult to breathe for a moment. While he would obediently report for his just punishment at any other time, and consider it a lesson well learned, there was resistance now. Uncertainty. "What will become of Fedelm, if... this is discovered?"

"She'll end up here," the Orc snorted. Mauhûr flinched; he knew already that he would never let another Uruk have her. Not even if commanded by Saruman.

"I can't allow that." Swallowing with difficulty, he gritted his teeth, loathe to speak such words. "I beg of you. Help me."

Smirking half-heartedly, Golmud sighed. "Never thought I'd see it: one'uh you lot beggin' one'uh us. Kinda satisfyin'."

"I do not want her harmed, Golmud," Mauhûr pressed. "Not by anyone. Especially me. Please tell me: what must I do? What are the rules?"

"Aye, lad, there are rules," the Orc agreed. "More rules'n you can stand, and cause there's a female involved, they change every day."

Frowning, Mauhûr said, "No. Rules don't change."

"Trust me, lad, they do," Golmud assured him. Sighing, he shook his head. "See myself in yuh," he muttered. "Didn't have nobody tellin' me..." Shaking himself, he said, "Ah'right. Cause yer showin' proper respect fer once, I'll tell yuh.

"First things first: you don't tell yer Master nothin'. Yuh keep yer mouth shut. Yer boys cheer fer the fuckin' yer gettin, yuh just raise yer head up proud and let'em go on. Let'em think their mighty pizdur's gettin' hisself some fine twat. And don't you ever let nobody think 'at ain't the way of it. Understand?"

Mauhûr looked away and grimaced with disgust. Biting back a retort, he struggled to master himself.

"Work on 'at the most, lad," Golmud advised. "It ain't gonna be easy. Now, first rule of bein' a good mate is tuh make sure yer other half is taken care of. She's gotta have a place fer safety and comfort. Did yuh see tuh that 'fore yuh left?"

"Yes," Mauhûr nodded. He felt relief and a degree of youthful eagerness. There were rules to this engagement, just as there were rules for warfare, and for commanding Uruk-hai bred for battle. "I told Drust that Fedelm must have her own shelter, and she must be kept safe. No one must touch her, or do her harm. She must want for nothing. Food and clothing are hers whenever they are needed."

"Well, yer lucky she's his whelp, or he mightn't be so keen on puttin' her up like 'at. Maybe you didn't pay it no mind, but 'at bunch ain't been settled long. Maybe there's a load of'em, and they maybe stay put fer a long time when they do stop, but them huts was built to move. They's also made'uh hide. They don't have good cured hide growin' on trees in Dunland, lad. A shelter like you want's gonna cost'em. Better come up with a good excuse fer wastin' Master's resources on a bit of cunt."

Mauhûr puffed up with indignant fury. Golmud grabbed the pizdur's elbow and jerked it hard. "Remember what I said!" he hissed. "Nobody can know about this, and you gettin' yer dick up about it's gonna give away the game. 'At's a rule, boy." Letting go, the old Orc withdrew. "All right. Second rule. Yuh gotta please her. Yer mate's gonna have her own rules 'bout what pleases her: learn'em. 'At means you'll have tuh ask."

"What about her fear?" Mauhûr pointed out. "If she fears me, she won't tell me what I need to know. She will say only what she thinks I want to hear."

Chuckling, Golmud nodded. "'At's right enough. Yer a natural at this, ain't yuh?" Smirking, he went on, "Yeah, 'at's somethin' yuh gotta work on first, 'fore yuh ever go touchin' her. Cause you'll wanna mate. 'At's part of it. Big part of it." He chuckled again. "Best part, some might say."

"How do I go about it?"

"Well... lessee...," Golmud began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "There's a lot about an Orc a Man don't like. Our stink, fer one."

Taken aback, Mauhûr frowned. "What do we smell like to Men?"

Golmud snorted with laughter. "Orcs, yuh dummy!" he chortled, slapping the pizdur's knee. "Hard tellin' what it is 'bout us 'at Men thinks is nasty. But since you went and bonded yerself to one'uh them, yuh better wash yerself up good whenever yer gonna see her."

Huffing impatiently, Mauhûr growled, "When am I to do that? We march almost a day to reach that village. If I am seen bathing every time we get near it..."

"Yer right, yer right," the sniffer agreed. Scratching his head, he stared off into space. "Hold on. 'Is might work. How 'bout if... yuh make her do it?"

"Make her do what?" Mauhûr asked, bewildered for a moment.

"Wash yuh," Golmud suggested. The pizdur narrowed his eyes skeptically and looked askance at the Orc. "No, listen. It's a good way tuh calm'er down. Yuh have her wash yuh. 'At'll get'er used tuh bein' around yuh. As long as 'at fear stink is comin' off'er, 'at'll keep yer dick at bay. If yuh keep on just lettin' her do yer washin', and you keepin' yer hands to yerself... well. There yuh go."

"Are you certain?"

Shrugging, Golmud allowed, "It might work. Never know with Men. Give it a try, though. Yuh wanna earn her trust, so she don't fear yuh. If she's got her hands all over yuh, and yer not grabbin' her titties or throwin' her on her back and fuckin' her, maybe she'll warm to yuh." Reaching out, he patted the Uruk's knee again. "'At's all yer gonna get, so don't go lookin' fer more."

"I will do these things," Mauhûr nodded. "Earn her trust through washing..."

"I wouldn't advise makin' her scrub yer dick, though," Golmud interjected. "Leastways, not at first. You tend tuh that'un yerself fer a bit."

Giving the Orc a withering look, Mauhûr snarled, "I do not allow the PitMaster to 'handle' me. Why would I allow her..."

"Ah son, what the fuck're you sayin'?" The old Orc's laughter wheezed from his lungs. "Yuh just ain't had the right hand on yer dick, have yuh?"

"No," Mauhûr growled sarcastically. "Apparently not."

"More of a lefty, are yuh?" Golmud snickered, biting his lips against another explosive laugh. "A'right. Never mind. Just do as I say, and don't make her do nothin' that'll get her worked up. Go slow and soft, cause she's a tark, and they got thin skins. Yer gonna wanna keep yer claws as far away from her bits as you can get'em. Specially her cunny. Sharpest thing yuh want anywhere near it's yer tongue and yer dick."

"My tongue?" Mauhûr asked, narrowing his eyes. "Does that please a female?"

"Fuck yes, it does," Golmud nodded. "Next time yer in the breedin' room, have yerself a look 'round. Get tuh know it. There's 'is button up at the top. Yuh treat 'at little nub like gold. 'At's the key, see. You be extra nice tuh that nub, 'n the female will be extra nice tuh you."

"Is this why you lick them?" the Uruk asked incredulously. "When you are sniffing for whelps, are you trying to please them?"

Again, Golmud burst out laughing. "Fuck. Please them? Nar, I just like the taste. Ain't no cunny in Isengard fer the likes of me. I'll take it where I can get it." Leveling a finger at Mauhûr, he said, "Them in the pit, the ones yer boys fuck on a raid... they's just cunts. Mannish cunt, at that. Nobody fuckin' cares when it's Men, eh?"

Mauhûr nodded. No Man had ever earned his respect. They were treacherous and deceitful, cowardly and dishonorable. Worse than Orcs like Golmud, in fact. He could tolerate Golmud; he was fairly certain his first encounter with his new mautor would end in Morcant's death.

A small voice at the back of Mauhûr's mind timidly reminded him that Fedelm was Mannish, but it was dismissed without consideration. She was not Mannish, nor was she Dunlending. She was Fedelm, his shaûk. That was all that mattered.