XXII. Baby sleep, genlty sleep/life is long and love is deep/Time will be sweet for thee/all the world to see/Time to look about and know/how the shadows come and go/How the breeze stirs the trees/How the blossoms grow

They slipped their way back into how it used to be, not before she had left, not before they had drifted away from each other, but before Bolg. Their son was not to blame, though that was not the way Azog saw it – to him it was obvious, everything had gone wrong after he had been born therefore he was at fault – but Calla, being human, knew it was more than that. She had emotions, she was raised in emotions that were love and comfort and safety and kindness; Azog was not, he was raised in cruelty, without mercy or comfort. And just as he had ruined her, she had ruined him. She had showed him what it meant to feel, and he had learned that not all feelings were pleasant; though there were some, such as his love and desire for her, that burned him in the sweetest of ways. He had learned how to care though only for her, his treatment of his orcs hadn't changed but a little and it was entirely unnoticed by them.

All except Yazneg. He had dared not only tell Azog what to do, but he had dared to go against his wishes; all of which would mean death, or at the very least being beaten until an inch of his life as he had been before. And yet the day after he had brought Calla back Azog and she left the tent and he did no more than give him an order to take her to see her son – no beating, no whipping, no glare or cruel words. Azog had smiled down at her, a barely imperceptible upturn of the corners of his mouth, and he gently touched her cheek before leaving her.

"What did you say to him?" he asked curiously, knowing she must have for there was no other explanation.

Calla looked at him innocently. "Are you so sure I said anything?" she asked him with a small smile and he gave her a stern look.

"I know you did," he told her, now wanting to know what it was.

Her smile grew and she shook her head. "I only told him he cannot punish you for being right," she said shocking him with her audacity, still unable to believe she could say things in such a manner without provoking his anger. "And that nothing would have changed had you said nothing."

He walked silently by her side, amazed she had said those things in defense of him. So incredulous of her caring and compassion for him was he that when they stood watching Bolg being trained and the orc who'd held his sword at her spit in her direction, Yazneg had rebuffed him. "Perhaps Azog would like to know the ways in which you treat his mate?" he had asked the orc sternly, making his eyes widen and him turn quickly away. Yazneg exhaled proudly and looked down to see Calla smiling softly. "What?" he asked her, his voice harsher than he'd meant.

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said simply though he did not buy it.

He turned to her fully and demanded, "what" again.

"I did not realize how much you liked me, is all," she said coyly, her lips pursed slightly to keep from smiling and he grunted. "Pretend all you like," she told him pleasantly, seeing through his façade, "you and I are friends."

His only response was a derisive snort, though even he knew how false it was. For she was right, they were friends; and in all honestly he had never had one before.

…

Azog greeted her that night with a near playful look in his eye as he lifted her and settled on top of her on the ground, chuckling deeply at her sound of surprise.

"You cannot tear this dress," she said as he moved his mouth from hers to the base of her neck. "It is my last one."

With an impatient grumble he gently pulled the garment from her shoulders and bared her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he settled between them. He wanted her, it was as simple as that, but he knew she was not ready for him. And as much as he wished to take her and please himself, he moved his mouth to her breasts and his hand between her legs and he made her ready.

They were far more gentle that night, she did not claw his back and he did not hold her tight enough to paint her skin; he loved her slow and deep, pulling her legs further up his sides to penetrate her deeper making them moan incessantly until their bodies shook with their release.

"How was your day?" she asked breathless, running her hands along his head his neck as he laid on her chest.

"Good enough," he answered, his lips pressed the swell of a breast, and his tongue snaked out to caress it before he continued. "We have plans to move back to our trees."

"So soon?" she asked and felt him nod. "How can you tell winter is coming?"

He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, smiling at the feel of her hands tightening on his shoulders as he sucked harder. "The wind is changing," he told her as he slowly moved down her body, feeling her breathing deepen at what was to come. "It is coming early this year," he said as he settled between her legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to hear her moan for him, to know he was pleasing her in a way no one ever had or will; to hear that she was completely and utterly his. And he truly loved nothing more than the way she moaned his name, a hard throaty sound that had him stiffening once more and taking her a second time.

He desired this sporadically over the next two weeks, sometimes needing to taste her before he could take her; knowing she loved it, and loving that she did. And other times he was content merely laying with her, or when she saw he was tired she would lay his head on her chest and soothe him into slumber. When they were alone things were well and good, he had never loved her more after having almost lost her to his own stubborn foolishness; but they still did not agree on the raising of their son. Azog was strong-willed and hard headed, and Calla more often than not gave up arguing and agreed.

And still she flinched and her heart hurt at the sight and sound of Bolg being struck for doing something wrong. He had gotten bigger in a month, now starting to form small words. And one day, when her heart could not take Bolg being struck mercilessly for the fifth time that day, she stepped forward and took the sword from the orc.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, seething as he glared at her; wanting to take the sword and drive it through her heart. She would be the death of them he knew, for Azog had asked for their greatest warrior to be made out of his son and she did nothing but make him weak – and Azog's wrath would not fall on her, it never did.

She looked at him with her own severe eyes, wanting herself to take the sword and drive it through his chest. But she didn't, she looked to her son who was staring up at her with large worried eyes for the beating he knew was coming. "Pick it up," she said firmly and he scurried to obey. She looked to the other orc, who was not any happier though he feared Azog's care of her more than the other did. "Try again," she told him.

Bolg looked up at his mother and then to the orc and raised his small mace. When the orc moved Bolg was not quick enough to par and his weapon fell out of his hand as it had all day. She watched his head fall and his chin quiver as he waited to be hit, and with the blunt side of the sword she brought it to his bottom making him jump startled. "Pick it up," she ordered again, offering no refusal neither in her face nor voice, and in a shocked stupor he complied. "Do not drop it again, Bolg," she told him sternly.

Her strike had hurt him for no more than seconds, stinging more than anything; and it was the nicest he had been treated since he was first taken from her. But she was his mother, and therefore it had hurt the worst of all. And so when the orc jumped forward to attack Bolg was sure to do it right, and his weapon staid firm in his grasp. With wide eyes full of glee he looked up at her. "I did," he told her, his heart swelling at her proud smile.

"Very good," she told him gently, placing her hand on the top of his head – all the loving she thought Azog would allow. "Would you like to do it again."

Bolg nodded fervently and made himself ready, planting his small feet in the ground and holding his little mace in his small hand. And again he sparred as he had been taught, his mace staying in his grip as it should. Calla smiled down on her son before turning to the orc beside her, still holding his sword at her side. All mirth left her as she looked at him coldly. "You are not to lay a hand, or weapon, on him. Should you disregard this warning I will spear you through the ass with this sword," she ground out to him, watching his eyes soften as worry took fury's place; it had been some time since she had first asserted her place among them, and here she did it again. He had almost forgotten her own cruelty, however slight, and was now staring it warily in the face. Startled he stepped back and grabbed the sword when she slammed it onto his chest, and he watched her as she turned and walked away; all of them taking note of Azog for the first time.

She faltered not even a step at seeing him and she walked calmly to where he stood. He almost smiled at that, seeing the strength in her that had only been growing. And now, after witnessing Bolg doing as she told him to please her, he saw that perhaps she had been right all along; not on everything though, if Calla had it her way she would wait until he was of age to train him. But in this, her gentle firmness filled with love might make him the fiercest of all; just as she had done to Daisy, who had killed a warg far larger than herself for trying to mount her when she did not want it. "Stay with him," he told her quietly, surprising her. "As he grows, let him know you are watching. Perhaps it will give him reason to do well." Her smile was breathtaking as she looked at him, so much so he wanted to rip her dress and take her then. But he didn't, for she would not allow it when there were other eyes to see. And so he looked to the two orcs who were waiting for him to speak to them. "Train him as you have, but do not strike him. Should he make a grave error let Calla punish him," he told them, and they did not dare refuse. They watched Azog place a large hand on her back and lead her away, speaking softly with her as they went. Their leader, and his mate.

song is from the movie The Village

So next chapter, as a little warning, will have them laying together out in the open. And I'm going to try to make that as non-cringe worthy as I can, but that may be a little difficult. However, it's something that's natural for Azog; and in all honesty he really doesn't care where they do it, he just wants to. It's her that's reluctant. And if I've been doing my job right, more and more of her humanity is being stripped away; so the fact that they sleep together in front of the others really just makes her very nonhuman. And that is also for a purpose. I hope I won't put anyone off too greatly.