The End of the War

Gundshau scrambled away as if he'd been caught disobeying an order and wanted to avoid a thrashing. He cringed at the sound of Nymhriel's hysterical weeping, and cowered in the corner. It occurred to him that perhaps he'd been wrong.

"I thought you were gone for good!" she suddenly cried, and he looked up to see her wrapped thoroughly in the blanket.

Swallowing, he shook his head. "No. I came back."

"I can see that," she snapped. "Why the devil did you come back?"

"I got no place to go," he replied.

"What about... what about that camp you said you were aiming for when you came here?" she said. Her ire seemed to be dying down as the shock of his intrusion wore off.

"Found it," he said, and winced. "All dead."

"Don't you have... family? Friends? Anywhere you can go?"

"All dead," he repeated, hanging his head. "Nowhere to go."

"Well, you cannot stay here," she said firmly.

"But... you called for me," he said quietly. "I heard you."

She winced and looked away, her cheeks darkening. "You were not meant to hear that. Or see it."

"Don't understand. What were you doing?"

"I do not want to talk about it!" she snapped.

Silence reigned for several minutes before Gundshau finally said, "I don't want to go. I have lost... everyone. Everything. I have nothing. I would ask for nothing. Just... warm fire. Good food. I would hunt for you. Bring you meat to cook. Protect you. That is all. I would not... I would not touch you."

He was surprised to feel tears on his face, and roughly wiped them away.

"Please," he whispered.

"I... I cannot think clearly right now," she said stiffly. "You can stay tonight. In the main room. Not here." Swallowing and finally averting her eyes, she added, "And clothe yourself."

Frowning, Gundshau rose and gathered up his clothing. Nodding in uncertain thanks, he left her room and closed the door. As he pulled the breeches on, he wondered if she would send him away on the morrow. Nodding to himself, he decided he should assume that would be the case. He would need to be strong. His da would want him to be strong.

Nymhriel stared at the closed door for several minutes, listening intently. The orc's shuffling in the main room quieted; he must have bedded down somewhere. She felt... empty. A sob struggled to the surface, but she held it down, covering her mouth with her hand.

She saw again Gundshau looming over her, his face twitching with lust, his erect member terrifyingly close to plundering the treasure beneath him. It was a humiliation to have been seen performing such a sinful act, moreso to be interrupted by the one about whom she was thinking while she did it.

Yet, even with him back, the desire was still there. It was not a fleeting fancy, indulged in the safety of the subject's absence. How could she? Was she so lonely that even the likes of Gundshau were appealing?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she slowly laid down on the pillow and tried not to think about it, tried to find sleep. In the silence, she listened for the orc's snoring, but heard nothing. She wondered if he, too, was troubled.

Her brow furrowed, and she opened her eyes again, listening hard. There was a creaking sound that didn't sound at all natural. Suddenly alarmed, Nymhriel leaped out of the bed and hurried to the door.

Where he found the rope, she had no idea and didn't want to know. He'd tried to do it quietly, obviously hadn't wanted her to hear, perhaps didn't want her to stop him. Or maybe he didn't think she would. Smothering a scream, Nymhriel hurried across the room, shoving her table under his dangling legs.

"Gundshau!" she cried. He still twitched at the end of the noose, his neck muscles too strong to allow a quick death. He made no effort to save himself even now; his face was pale, eyes rolled back. Sobbing, she searched frantically for a knife, throwing utensils all over the floor in her desperation. Finally, her fingers closed over the blessed handle, and she climbed upon the table. She sawed madly; the rope slowly, excruciatingly slowly let him loose, and he finally slid in a boneless heap onto the table.

Kneeling beside him, she gathered the orc in her arms and held him close, tears rolling down her cheeks and wetting his face. Gundshau took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. She looked down, and their eyes met.

"Don't you dare do that again," she hissed.

"I got nothing, Nymhriel," he said hoarsely. "You send me away, I go to my death. Why wait?"

"You don't know that," she said. Her voice trembled as she fought down the tears, swallowed the fear, and embraced the relief. "I don't even know that. You didn't give me a chance to..."

He struggled to sit up, pulling away from her. "Chance to what?" he snarled. "You are right. I cannot stay here. Too many people come to you. Someone will see me. Then you...," he faltered, and rubbed his eyes. "They will think bad things of you. Think you... bed an orc, if I am still here. They will kill you for that."

"I will deal with whatever comes," she said, her voice gradually steadying. "There are laws. I will remind them of that." Taking a deep breath, she pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring determinedly as she exhaled. "I believe I require... a protector. I weary of the villagers constantly prattling on about how I would be 'safer' among them. No doubt, they would have considered it a... a lovely match, if I consented to wed Willem. That should tell you what fools they are."

He slowly turned his head to look at her. Her fierce expression brooked no argument.

"I shall go to the village on the morrow, and make arrangements for another bed to be delivered," she continued. "You shall sleep...," she said, then cast about the main room. "There. I believe a bed would fit in that corner. It is close to the fireplace. You will be warm."

"But... if you do that, they will know...," he began, but her chin lifted in defiance.

"I do not care," she said through clenched teeth. "The war is over."