PS: thanks, I can't wait to get to Calla pleasing him too. The poets were more so she'd not look around her and see all the orcs staring at them - but I really enjoyed writing that bit. Even though I know the end I still root for them too. Thank you very much for reviewing.

XXIV. I sense there's something in the wind/That feels like tragedy's at hand/And though I'd like to stand by him/Can't shake this feeling that I have/The worst is just around the bend

One year later

"Good Bolg, hit him more on the left," Calla told her son, watching as he now struck the orc on the left forcing him back. A hand on her shoulder had her looking up and she smiled as Azog looked down at her. "He has gotten better," she said softly, Azog not having smiled in return. "Is something wrong?"

He led her away, looking back once to see their son parry the two orcs as they attacked and watched briefly as Bolg held his own. She was right, he was better, and he was bigger; Azog knew Bolg would match in height if not taller in the years to come, and he could already see that he would be strong. "I think it is time you are no longer present as he trains," he told her gently though his voice was firm.

She stopped walking and looked up at him with furrowed brows. "What has made you think that?" she asked, watching Bolg train being the only time she saw her son let alone spoke to him.

Azog sighed knwoing she would not wish to. "He is an orc," he told her. "He has reached the age and strength that they will take him out to hunt, and kill. I do not wish for you to see." He watched her eyes soften, her hand coming up to rest on his chest; and as always he was amazed at how quickly her refusal and irritations faded at hearing what he did was for her. But he knew his next words would not bode well. "And that includes his punishing."

He was not wrong, her hand dropped and her eyes hardened. "I will not stand for him being beaten aimlessly," she told him firmly.

"And he must learn obedience to someone other than you," he said firmly. "He is of the age where what you deem cruel is necessary. Should he do wrong now it will mean his death, there will be no more speaking of this."

She looked up at him with a set jaw before turning to the sound of Bolg as he fought with the two orcs. Azog looked at her face, now saddened, and he sighed deeply.

"In the evenings when they return he will come to you and tell you of his day," he said softly, looking at her blue eyes when she turned to him. He watched her nod before she leaned into him, and her lips pressed against his skin as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"When will you be leaving?" she mumbled against his chest, him having been preparing for two days to set out scavenging.

He would his fingers in her curls as he held her close. "At dawn."

She did not want him to leave, whether it be in fear he would not return or the fear of how much she missed him when he was gone. "A week this time, you said?" she asked, her voice small and the sound of her unhappiness clear to his ears.

"If not a few days more," he said just as unhappy, finding it harder and harder to leave her for days, finding that he wished her to come though he would not expose her to the horrors of raiding a village – at least not yet. And so she would stay, and they would ache unbearably as they were parted.

They moved desperately that night, his hands holding her legs tight in his grasp as he forced them further apart and her nails digging into his backside as she pulled him closer, their moans loud and hard and escalating in both volume and frequency as they came closer to a release. He laid on his side holding her in his arms as he breathed in the feel of her, knowing his arms and his body would miss her on the long cold nights as they scavenged. He did not want to leave her, and when dawn came he wanted to even less; forcing himself to unwound her from his arms and leave, kissing her softly and saying goodbye before him and over half their numbers moved out.

It was a long week, Calla often sitting in the tent as she stayed with Daisy, who had just birthed another litter, Yazneg having gone with Azog this time. Her friend and her mate were both gone, and though the orcs that stayed behind to keep the camp were enjoyable enough it was not the same. Yazneg had never been one to try to please her, he had simply did what he was told and when he began to like her he continued speaking with her and teaching her because he enjoyed her company; the rest of the orcs either wanted to make her happy by doing everything for her, or wanted to please Azog by showing her kindness – neither of which she cared much for. But she took it all with a small smile, glad they were kinder at all to her and not so willing to kill or rape her, and there were a few even she liked well enough. But if she were to be honest, she truly only wanted Azog; if they were the only two living things left in all of the world she might still be happy and content.

And so she spent her lonesome days finishing the hide Azog had taken from a warg for her to make some sort of clothing out of; and in all truth it was not much. There was not enough of it to make any sort of dress, at least not one that would cover both her breasts and her backside, and as uncomfortable as she was with how much of her flesh would be visible Azog was right in that she needed something that would last; this was her second dress that year and it was already falling apart from how many times she'd had to clean it – she had also taken up cooking, dissatisfied with the way it was prepared so she had offered to do it and many nights her dress bloodied from preparing meat. So Azog had taken the pelt from an injured warg they'd killed out of mercy, and she had cut away all the parts she could not use, she was left with just barely enough to cover her breasts and parts of her waist; and she had a very strong feeling Azog had left out some of the pelt so more of her skin would show. She had already salted it, which had taken days, and she was now finishing tanning and was leaving it to dry. For the life of her she could not think of what to do with it, Azog refusing her to give her more – which only made her suspicions that he wanted to see as much of her flesh as he could grow rampant. But it was all she had and many of the dresses Azog brought her back did not fit, and he assured this way it would fit and would not fall into tatters or fade after such little time.

But even that left her little to do for it took many hours to dry, especially in the cold air and the chilling winds that had her hanging it in the tent. The only part of her days she enjoyed were the evenings when Bolg would come to her, telling her excitedly of what he'd learned and bringing her his game when he killed an animal – which was not often yet in his still young age – and he would sit and eat with her, pressed right up against her.

"Why don't I look like you, mother?" he asked her once.

She'd smiled down at him. "Because you look like your father," was her answer, which he was pleased enough with for his father was still so terrifying and mystical to him.

"Am I ugly, mother?" he'd asked her another night, thinking her the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and finding even his hands near her to be horrid in comparison. But she smiled as her small soft hands touched his cheek, warming his little heart.

"I think you are the most handsome boy in all of the earth," she answered, and he ducked his head shyly as he smiled.

He loved his mother, more than his heart had room for and still he loved her more. Often the orcs training would emphasize a point by including thoughts of her, seeing much of his motivation lay in her, and he would learn the way to kill an animal – or sometimes a man they'd found from a camp – so that one day should he need to he'd be able to protect her. And eventually, in his twisted orc of a heart, he grew to enjoy the power he felt when taking a life, enjoyed the screams and the tears as only an orc could – and even still, when her blue eyes looked upon his face no matter how ugly, she loved him.

After seven days Azog and the others returned, with bundles and sacks of food and other things they either needed or wanted, and she came out of the tent to greet him. But there was no joy at seeing her on his face, no love and warmth as she always saw when he returned; and in that moment, seeing the utter relief and then the worry in his eyes, she knew something was wrong. And she knew it even more so when he stepped to her, Yazneg coming near to her other side, Azog placing her behind him and turned to the trees. Ice filled her veins when she saw what stepped out; another orc pack, one larger than their own.

Song is Sally's Song from Nightmare Before Christmas

I was thinking about how to do this orc pack, cause I want to show that they're super orcish; cause I don't think I've made Azog and his pack as god awful as they actually are (or at least I didn't show all of their horrible moments, so they don't seem as bad). So with this new pack I would really like to show that, but I'm not quite sure how to do that. I'm thinking they might have sex slaves, sort of, more like a poor woman(multiple women) to rape whenever they feel like it; but that's about all I can think of except how they'll speak to and look at Calla. But does anyone else have any other ideas?