Delirium

It was deep night when he awoke. His privates ached, and he longed to check them, make sure all were still intact. It was quite possibly the worst thing that had happened to him so far. He could see in the dark, even without moonlight streaming through the window, but his injured privates were hidden by the sheet covering his body. Frustrated, he pulled on the ropes ineffectually.

The longer he lay there, the worse he seemed to hurt. He yanked even harder, rattling the bedframe. The door opened, and the healer stood in the doorway holding a candle.

"What is it?" she snapped.

Swallowing hard, he cringed and began to tremble. His breathing sped up as fear mounted and panic set in.

"No more, please," he begged.

She frowned. "No more what?" She entered the room and set the candle on the table next to the bed. Mechanically, she examined his healing wounds.

"Cloth," he whispered.

Rolling her eyes, she said impatiently, "It is not needed unless I have to cut into your flesh or sew it back together."

"Why give at night?" he asked.

Nymhriel froze for a moment, then resumed. "That is my business."

He watched her change the dressings, and slowly calmed down. "Look, please...," he began, but faltered. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. She was looking at him now, and he felt stupid.

"What?" she said. Her voice did not convey any sympathy at all, and was not encouraging.

"Look... see if...," he said awkwardly.

"Look at what?" she pressed. He could swear she was enjoying his discomfort.

Staring at the ceiling, he said through clenched teeth, "Look at cock and see if still works."

She chuckled softly in response, but pulled the blanket down anyway. He raised his head to look, and watched her gently touch him with soft hands. To his alarm, fear of further reprisals wasn't enough to keep him flaccid.

"It would appear to still function properly," she said with amusement, covering him once more with the sheet. Meeting his eyes, she asked, "Do you know why she attacked you?"

"Because... she was...," he said hesitantly.

"She was raped by one of your kind," the healer supplied. "Her husband interrupted or she would likely have been murdered when the beast was finished with her. She came here asking for something to end her suffering."

"Wasn't me," he said defensively.

"Do you think that matters?" Leaning forward, she continued, "It doesn't. But I think you helped her. She felt stronger when she left. A little bit of justice goes a long way."

Rising, she turned to leave.

"What name?" he asked suddenly. She halted at the door.

"Why do you ask?"

"Wanna know," he said uncertainly. "No name, tark seem..." Unsure what to say, he just shrugged.

"Cold?" she asked, facing him. "Cruel? Heartless? Indifferent?" She leaned against the frame and folded her arms over her breasts, regarding him with mild interest.

"Fear you," he growled weakly. Her eyebrows rose.

"How ironic," she said softly. "You are more afraid of me than I am of you."

"Thought...," he said hesitantly, sheepishly, "you might eat me."

She stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"For a moment," he continued, daring to smile. He hadn't heard her laugh even once since he arrived; she always seemed so serious. It was nice to hear.

"Eat you?" she finally said with difficulty, so overcome with mirth was she. "Whatever possessed you to think that?"

"Brought me to kitchen, put me on table," he explained, only to prompt a fresh burst of laughter from her. He found he was enjoying this.

"Stop it," she choked, wiping tears from her eyes. "Nymhriel. My name is Nymhriel."

"Nymhriel," he repeated slowly. "Beautiful name."

"Thank you," she replied. "I suppose it would be bad manners not to ask yours."

"Gundshau," he said. She nodded.

"I assume your injuries came from a confrontation with the villagers."

He shook his head. "Trolls." Again, her eyebrows rose with surprise. "Hid in cave; storm outside. Trolls in cave. Killed other orcs."

"Why did you come here?"

"Saw smoke; thought it was camp." Shrugging he said, "Not worse than where I was."

"It might have been, if you'd found someone other than me," she said wearily. "The villagers saw to a group of orcs not many days past. They might consider you to be one they missed if they saw you." She shook her head; perhaps the King's edict was unpopular, and oft ignored, but it was still the law. An orc not causing trouble was to be left alone.

Sighing, she blinked her eyes rapidly. Her eyelids were drooping, her head nodding. The battle she had fought for so many days was reaching a turning point; it was not likely she'd prevail much longer.

"You need sleep," the orc observed.

She shook her head to clear it. "I get what rest I need."

"Where?"

"There is a wooden chair in the kitchen. I rest there."

"Lie down," he urged. "There is room here; can do nothing."

Her brow furrowed as she stared at him. "Lie down... next to you. Is that what you're saying?"

"Tied up," he shrugged. "Can't touch you."

Nymhriel continued to stare, to weigh her options. The orc was indeed helpless still. The nights were getting colder. And she was so very tired...

Closing her eyes, she came to a decision. One of the few blankets in the house was draped over Gundshau; she approached warily, lifted the blanket and slowly, hesitantly, slid into the bed beside him. Because his limbs were stretched from corner to corner, she was obliged to cleave to his side with her back against him, pressing into the curve of his body. Trembling, she tucked herself securely in the blanket, her head pillowed on his hard bicep.

She could feel his body quivering slightly as well, could feel the heat he generated. It was comforting. Only a few minutes passed, and she was sound asleep.

Gundshau stared at the ceiling, listening to her breathing. He was a bit surprised at how readily she agreed to lie next to him, but supposed that fatigue was making her a bit out of sorts. He would have been less surprised if she'd stormed out of the room in high dudgeon, cursing him and his foul suggestions. Turning his head, he sucked in a long whiff of her hair, memorizing her scent. Beautiful name, beautiful woman, beautiful scent. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her hair. Under the blanket, he felt his still-aching member stiffening yet again, and wished he could turn enough to rub against her. Sighing with disappointment, he settled himself and allowed sleep to take him.