Facing the Inevitable
Gundshau fidgeted in the yard as Nymhriel fussed about in the cottage, gathering various remedies and whatnot she intended to trade for his bed. He couldn't believe she was going through with it. Not only that, she was dragging him along to the village.
Why wait until they run into you unexpectedly? she'd reasoned. The orc was fine with that, actually. The villagers not knowing about him meant he could hide, keep himself safe while still watching over her. But she was having none of it.
"Come along now," Nymhriel said as she strode purposefully toward him, fixing her heaviest coat about her shoulders. "There's quite a nip in the air, isn't there?"
"Smells like snow," he grunted in response, then shuffled along behind her. He didn't know how far away the village was, but since she didn't pack anything for camping, he had to assume they could make it there in a day.
"You will show me to them?" he asked again for, perhaps, the hundredth time. Nymhriel sighed.
"Of course," she replied impatiently. "The more you grouse about it, the more determined I am. Let it be. You were so... damned determined to kill yourself last night, I'm surprised you shrink from..." She stopped walking. "Forgive me." She turned and looked at him. "I have treated you so badly, and all you have done is... nothing. You have done nothing but see to my safety, and I will not have you punished for it."
"You have been kind," Gundshau protested, shaking his head.
Nymhriel waved her hand dismissively and continued down the dirt road. She did not wish to address her transgressions at the moment. Confused, the orc trotted to keep up.
They were not an hour down the road when the first test of her resolve appeared in the distance. A tradesman hauling goods to sell in the next village sat slumped wearily on the buckboard of his wagon, hands barely twitching the reins. His horse was an old roan gelding, and had walked this road many times. He barely needed guidance anymore.
Yet when the animal caught a whiff of the orc on the wind, he suddenly came alive. The horse halted as if it had been struck, reared its head, and tried to back up in the traces. The tradesman nearly fell backwards off his seat, he was so surprised by his horse's behavior.
Gundshau drew close to Nymhriel nervously, trying to appear smaller as she approached the man.
"Good day to you, Barannon," the woman said cheerfully. "I have not seen you in some time. How fares your wife?"
The look of shock on the man's face when he saw Nymhriel's travel companion was comical, though the orc was not in a mood to appreciate the humor of it. A half a foot shorter than her even at his full height, he seemed smaller still when stooped as he was now. Yet he was certainly broader in the shoulders; he could not hide behind her.
"You... there is... ah," the man stammered, slowly raising a hand to point at Gundshau. "There is an orc behind you."
"Yes, this is Gundshau," she replied casually, stepping aside so the man could see him fully. Gundshau wished he could melt into the dirt beneath his feet. "He came to my cottage in need of healing. Had you not heard of this, the last time you came through?"
"Aye," Barannon said, gradually calming. He took a shuddering breath, then slowly alighted from the wagon. He came closer, looking at the orc warily. "I heard in the village he had... escaped."
"Not at all," Nymhriel said. "He healed satisfactorily, so I released him. His... folk had moved on, so he returned."
"For what purpose?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. He hadn't stopped staring at Gundshau, and the provocative eye contact was making the orc nervous. Among his own kind, such behavior often preceded a fight.
"He was... grateful for my aid, and offered his services in return," Nymhriel replied. Her brow creased with concern as she perceived the rising tension in the orc. "I found his offer of protection agreeable, and so I have allowed him to stay on."
Barannon's gaze finally shifted away from Gundshau to the woman. The orc sighed quietly with relief. "Protection? Oh yes, you do live on the edge of the wilds, as I recall. I wonder that you do not move to the village."
"It is precisely because I do not wish to do so, that I have accepted his aid," she said, bristling noticeably. "I am more comfortable on my own, and more accessible to the farmsteads, where I am."
"Pardon me for saying, miss, but... he's an orc," Barannon pointed out as if she were unaware of this fact. "I'd not think any would look to them for... protection."
"Perhaps not, but he has nowhere else to go," she pointed out. "I would rather he were occupied in a worthy office, than ranging about the roads waylaying travelers, don't you?"
"Well, when you put it that way...," Barannon conceded. "You there... Gundshau, is it?"
The orc started at being directly addressed, and glanced up at the man's face.
"What business have you got with this woman, eh?"
"No business," Gundshau muttered. "Just... protect."
"Barannon," Nymhriel said sternly. "He has done nothing wrong."
"Hmph," the man snorted. "I got a few dead kinfolk who beg to differ. You watch yourself, beast. Not one man in that village yonder ain't seen one of you murdering animals at your work. They won't forget it anytime soon, either."
Gundshau felt it building inside him when the man began. He had never been a slow burn when it came to dealing with tarks, and he wasn't one now. His body quivered, and his fists clenched. Only Nymhriel's gently restraining hand on his arm calmed him, if only just.
"Your words are unnecessary, Barannon," she said. "And unwelcome. Do you not have business to attend to in the next village?"
"That I do," he relented, but fixed the orc with one last piercing glare before climbing back into the wagon. "You lot lost the war. Just you remember that." With a flick of the reins, he continued on his way.
Dropping into a squat, Gundshau wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed as he howled his frustration. Nymhriel wasn't sure how to react, and just stood awkwardly by. Part of her wanted to lift him up, dust him off, speak words of comfort to him, while another part wished she'd left him at home, but whether to spare herself or the orc the discomfort of that painful conversation, she wasn't sure.
"Come," she said quietly, touching his shoulder lightly. "We should be getting on while we still have daylight."
"I don't murder," he muttered, slowly looking up at her. His red eyes were wet. "They murder. My kin. My ma, my da. Sisters, all gone now."
"War makes men do..."
"Not war!" he roared, standing up suddenly to his full height. He glared up at her, his expression pained and fierce. "Peace! Do nothing but live in our homes, cook our meals, hunt our food, and they come." His body shook, and he rubbed his face roughly. "You do not know. They do not tell you these things. They do not care. We are orcs. Beasts. Animals. When they do not make war on us, they hunt us." His face crumpled, and Gundshau sank to the ground again. "Not just warriors. Sisters. Just so big." He held his hands out before him, cupped as if he held something small. "Saw her smile once. Little face."
Nymhriel knelt beside him. "What became of her?" she asked softly, dreading the answer.
Staring at his still-cupped hands, Gundshau said in a dead voice, "Tarks... killed her. Horses... trampled. So small. She did nothing. Not to anyone."
Staring at him in horror, Nymhriel felt tears stinging her eyes.
"He says they will not forget," Gundshau snarled. "I will not forget, either."
When they reached the village somewhat past midday, Gundshau once more caused a stir. Livestock, in particular, dove for cover upon detecting his scent. Many knew of Nymhriel's orc, for he had languished in bondage for weeks, but then he had been 'safely' several miles away. Now he was shuffling along in her wake within the confines of the village, uncomfortably close and disturbingly real. Men reached for anything resembling a weapon, be it sword or rake, while women gathered their children and shooed them off the streets and into hiding. Gundshau kept his head down, eyes averted. A trio of men approached Nymhriel, weapons drawn.
"Good afternoon," Nymhriel greeted them warily.
"What's this filth doing here?" the apparent leader of the men snapped. She recognized him as Saervodh, a man not known for his charity.
"He is my protector," she replied, a note of defiance in her voice. Having Gundshau with her made her feel much more bold and brave, though she had no desire to see him at odds with these men. "Many have urged me to move here for my safety, and I have refused. It simply occurred to me that, if I were not alone, perhaps I would be bothered less by such talk."
Saervodh snorted. "You'll not hear the end of it by hiring such a beast as this." His baleful eyes scanned the orc from head to toe. "Fixed you up, did she? All mended, I see."
Unsure what to do, the orc just nodded without looking up.
"So where's the thing sleeping?" Saervodh asked, looking at Nymhriel now. "I don't recall a stable at your place."
"That is why I am here," she replied. "He requires a bed." Turning to one of the other men, she asked, "I do hope you have at least one available. I have measured the space as best I could..."
"Are you saying the orc is staying inside your house?"
Startled, she said, "Of course. Where else would he sleep?"
Saervodh glared at her, then flicked his eyes toward the orc. Gundshau refused to meet his gaze, and kept his head bowed. It was worse here, in the village, than on the empty road with but one tark glaring at him with hostility. He could feel the eyes upon him from every window, every door. The air was heavy with the reek of fear. Some of it was coming from him.
The man looked at Nymhriel with a blank expression. "What says Willem of this arrangement?"
She had tried to prepare herself for such questions as this, but it was still difficult to hear the man's name and not shudder. "To begin with, it matters little to me what his opinion on the matter may be," she snapped, covering her discomfort with haughtiness. "I've no idea what he thinks; I have not seen him in days."
"Aye, nor have we," Saervodh acknowledged, glancing at the other men who nodded their agreement. Then he glared suspiciously at the orc. "How long has he been free?"
"A day only," she answered firmly.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes," she replied. She felt her jaw tightening.
"Slept the night in your house, then?" Saervodh pressed.
Nymhriel wasn't certain where the man was going with his line of questioning, but it made her nervous. "That he did."
"You're certain of that?"
"I am a light sleeper," she said tightly. "I waken easily. If you have a point, Saervodh, please make it."
"Willem's horse came back all scratched up this morning," the man replied. "Looked like... claws hit it." His eyes flicked down Gundshau's arm to the talons at the ends of his fingers. It was fortunate the orc wasn't looking at him, or he might have instinctively hidden his hands, and so revealed his guilt.
"Surely there are many... creatures that might have attacked the poor animal," Nymhriel said. "What... what does Willem say happened?"
Saervodh narrowed his eyes at her. "He's not here. The horse came back alone. There are men out looking right now."
"Oh," she breathed. Her hand rose to her throat. "You do not think..."
"We'll know when we find'im," Saervodh snapped, again fixing the orc with a piercing look. "Better not look like you had anything to do with it, beast."
Gundshau slowly raised his red eyes to the man's, his expression stony. "I do not murder," he growled, teeth bared.
The man smirked. "I wonder if you even know what 'murder' is." He then turned around and marched off, his companions following in his wake.
"Do you?" the orc muttered contemptuously.