The Trial of the Talbuk
"Your homeland is very peaceful," Joanne commented as they made their slow way around the hill back to the house. Fentulk purposefully took the long way, along the lower level to a footpath further along. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, children were playing, his parents had accepted Joanne...
"Aye," he replied with a grin. He squeezed her hand. "Good to be home."
They continued on in comfortable silence. Joanne's gaze drifted far, for there was so much beauty in the land, and the village's elevation afforded her a broad view of it. She could see the great clefthoof herds grazing in the valley below; her eyebrows rose, seeing the same giant tusked creatures the Draenei rode, traveling in groups in the wild. They seemed somehow less... warlike and hostile, without the trappings of ownership in the form of harnesses and saddles. She could see them as beautiful animals now.
"Fentulk," she suddenly asked, "what does a talbuk look like?"
Halting, he said thoughtfully, "Lessee..." The herding animals often came close to the walls of the village; though the Mag'har were known predators in the area, they were intelligent predators, and took nothing from their prey that could not be afforded. There was no needless slaughter, and often the Mag'har walked or rode among the herds without threatening them. So the herds saw no reason to avoid the Orcs. Only a few moments' search bore fruit.
Pointing, Fentulk said, "Down there. See them animals with the tall horns? Kinda like horses? Them's talbuk."
"Oh," she breathed, smiling. Their sleek coats shone in the sun as they grazed. She could make out tan and black, but mostly they were white. "They are lovely."
"Aye," he nodded. "We been trainin'em for ridin' for years. Orcs'll always want a wolf mount, but other folks kinda like them talbuk. Make'em look kinda regal, I suppose. Real tall."
"I can see that," Joanne replied. "They are most elegant animals. I like them."
Before they knew it, they had meandered their way back to the house, and found Kashka already there. She was stripped to the waist outside, splashing water from the rain barrel over her sweaty head and torso. Taken aback at the Orc woman's unabashed nakedness, Joanne averted her eyes. Even Fentulk looked uncomfortable.
Kashka dried her face with a linen cloth and turned to them. Frowning, she put her fists on her hips and snapped, "I embarrass you now, do I?"
"No, ma," Fentulk sighed. "Just ain't used to it no more. Give me time, eh?"
"Hmph," she snorted, glaring at the flushed woman. "Wash yourselves for supper." Then she stomped into the house.
"Sorry about that," he told Joanne. "Shoulda warned you. Things're kinda... relaxed 'round here. Sorta... open."
"I am sorry," she replied in a small voice. "It was rude of me."
"Nah," he said, dipping his hands into the barrel and splashing his face. "Things're different. I gotta get used to it all again, too. Least it wasn't da. He likes the summers cause he don't gotta wear drawers 'round the house." Snickering, Fentulk shook his head as he stepped back to let Joanne wash herself. "That'll wake you up of a mornin', seein' his bare ass in the kitchen, stirrin' the pot." Glancing mischievously at Joanne, he added, "Stirrin' up ma, too. She don't think he oughta be flashin' his business around."
Joanne giggled and covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling. In spite of the completely embarrassing thought of seeing the old Orc in the altogether as a matter of routine, she couldn't help but laugh with Fentulk about it. He seemed to be casting aside the grim mantle that had smothered them both for so long. It felt good to laugh, even over something as disconcerting as a naked Tagdish cooking breakfast.
The elder Orc had managed to follow Kashka's orders and produce a fine catch of bluefin for their supper. Though awkward and uncomfortable, particularly whenever she looked at Tagdish now, Joanne sat between Fentulk and Kashka, trying not to feel like an intruder on the conversation in Orcish going on around her. Though Fentulk kept her informed with whispered translations, she still felt like an outsider looking in. Looking in and not seeing anything she recognized.
"What's this about?" Kashka suddenly snapped, and her tone alone made Joanne cringe.
"Just what he said," Tagdish replied with a shrug. "Takin' her up for his askin'."
Kashka narrowed her eyes and leaned around Joanne to fix them on Fentulk. "Does she know what it means?"
"No," Fentulk replied quietly. "And I ain't expectin' her to... I just wanna show'er my home. I promised I'd show it to her. Take'er up and show'er. Maybe... if it feels right... thought I might ask her. But that's all."
Giving her son a withering look, she snarled, "I expect you won't say no should other things come up. You're hoping they do, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he confessed with a defeated sigh. He bowed his head and nodded. "Yeah."
"You'd better tell her, then," Kashka insisted. "Tell her what it's about. What it means to go to one of those islands with a man. You be honest with her." Muttering under her breath, she growled, "Ancestors know, it ought not be you telling her these things. It ought to be her mother. Failing that, it should be me."
"You can," Fentulk said, relieved that there was an option other than him. He didn't think he could look Joanne in the eyes and tell her this. "Greatmother Geyah speaks her tongue."
"Well, I think your Joanne and I may just pay her a visit tomorrow," Kashka said briskly. Then she shot him another suspicious look. "Will she be sharing your bed? Is that why you haven't asked for a spare to be laid out?"
Fentulk's eyes widened and his cheeks darkened. "Uh... didn't know you had a spare, ma."
Casting her gaze heavenward, Kashka lamented, "What is wrong with you men? Can you never ask?" Glaring reproachfully at him, she said, "You go to your own bed alone until she accepts you. I did not raise you to bed a woman who hasn't."
Looking away uncomfortably, he muttered something she didn't quite catch.
"Speak up, boy!" she barked, startling poor Joanne between them.
"I already done it, ma," he growled more loudly, his face darkening even further.
"What's this?" Kashka nearly shrieked. "Have you already 'made your mark' upon this poor woman, without so much as a by your leave?"
"It weren't her, dammit," Fentulk snapped, then winced. Oh fuck, he groaned.
"I see," Kashka hissed. "I see. That is how things are done in Azeroth, is it? You leave your home, and it isn't just your family you turn your back on, is it? You ignore everything I've ever taught you, and go whoring yourself all over, is that it?"
"I didn't whore myself!" he barked. "I was just lonely, all right? Didn't have nobody so much as lookin' at me for years and years, then this lady comes along and... I weren't thinkin'!"
"Oh, you were thinking," his mother snarled. "Just not with your head. And what would your innocent maid here think of that, I wonder?"
"She knows," Fentulk replied sullenly, staring at his half empty plate.
Kashka's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Does she? How in the world did the subject come up, I wonder? Did she meet the other woman herself?"
"No," her son snapped. "Somebody I thought was a friend went and told her... uh... told her I was... collectin' human women for... for..." His already darkened cheeks nearly turned black from embarrassment.
"And she was human!" Kashka bellowed. Fentulk winced. "Tagdish, talk to your son."
Startled from the distant mental lockdown he'd been hiding in, Tagdish tried to pick up on the conversation again. "Did you, um... this other woman... You see her for a long time?"
Fentulk wished he could just sink into the floor. "No," he muttered. "Just a week."
"So... not really... a lastin' thing, eh?"
Shaking his head, Fentulk said, "It was just... just sex. That's all. Joanne knows about it, we done talked it out, and she ain't threatened by it. I ain't never gonna see that other woman again, and I don't want to." Meeting his mother's angry glare, he said, "Ain't nobody got hurt by it."
"I did not raise you that way," Kashka hissed. "When we see the greatmother, I will ask, and there had better be no pain in her heart from what you did, Fentulk."
"I didn't even know her yet," he growled. "Can't it just... just die? I ain't proud of it. I was weak and wanted... something. She didn't have what I wanted. I went lookin' for it, and I found Joanne. I paid in blood for her, ma, and if you bring this shit up again, and I lose her..." He firmed his jaw and glared hard at her. "I ain't never gonna forgive you."
"If there is pain in this woman's heart," Kashka insisted, pushing down the grief his threat inspired, "you will mend it. She will not pay for your mistakes."
"Never asked her to do that," Fentulk growled quietly. "Did the best I could with mendin' already. If there's more I gotta do, I'll do it. I'll do anything."
Kashka jerked her chin in a swift nod. "You're damn right, you will. Tagdish, you silly oaf, fetch a pallet and linens for the poor woman. And if I catch you wandering about the house in the morning without pants, I'll cut it off, I swear!"
"I do not understand," Joanne whispered to Fentulk as Tagdish arranged a bed for her on the main floor. "Have I done something...?"
"Nah, it ain't you," Fentulk sighed angrily. "Ma's mad at me cause... well, I told'er about Karie. Thinks I hurt you by doin' that." Faltering and looking intently at her, he said earnestly, "It's all right now, between us, ain't it? You don't still... you ain't still mad, are yuh? Cause if I gotta do somethin' else to make it up to you, I swear on the ancestors, I'll do it."
He seemed so serious, and more concerned about her feelings than his mother's wrath. Joanne smiled fondly at him. "I am not angry with you, Fentulk. Not about anything." Gesturing helplessly at the bedding, she shook her head. "But this I do not understand. Can we not be together? I would feel more... comfortable, I suppose, with you near."
"No," he growled sullenly. "Not yet, anyway. Not til... Well, we ain't proper mates, you see? Ma don't hold with me layin' with a woman I ain't mated to. Even if all we wanna do is fuckin' sleep for a year."
"That is why she was so angry with you," she replied with sudden understanding. "About Karie."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Every word outta my mouth dug me in deeper. Like always."
"I will try not to make it worse," Joanne reassured him, and he shook his head.
"She's gonna take you to see Greatmother Geyah tomorrow, and I don't want you feelin' like you gotta tell lies to keep me outta trouble," he insisted. "You just say what's in your heart, tell'em how yuh feel. Forget about me for a bit, all right? Just think about you."
"It is not easy, forgetting about you," she said shyly. "But I will speak the truth of my heart for them, if that is what they seek."
He struggled to suppress a pleased grin. "That's all you need to do."
It was a long time before Joanne found sleep that night. The unfamiliar sounds of the village, clearly heard through the open portholes and doorways of the wattle and daub hut, kept her on edge. Worrying about what would come the next day, when she would be spirited away from Fentulk for the first time in days, kept her wakeful. Only a dozen paces away, Kashka and Tagdish lay huddled under the thick animal hides in their bed. Above her on the second floor, she knew Fentulk must be lying awake as well, for she could not hear his usual snores.
What would they ask her? What more proof of her commitment to Fentulk was required? Perhaps... if she were his mate? Would that be sufficient? But then... how did one become a mate?
She knew what the word meant, in a broad sense. What she lacked was an understanding of what it meant to Orcs. From what she could gather, it was terrifically important. Only with the status of mate could she share a bed with him even in a friendly sense.
Except... she had to admit to herself, if to no one else, that she did not want to do so in a 'friendly' sense. These last few days, their physical closeness stirred pleasant feelings in her. Sharing the wolf, she had felt the hardness of his member against her body, and was pleased. I know what that means, at least, she thought, and he was that way because of me.
She felt desired and wanted. Every time he touched her, she found herself wondering if he was roused as he had been before. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him. And when she was certain none could see her face and possibly read her thoughts, she wondered what it would feel like to touch him. All of him. All over.
Such thoughts made her long to be beside him, in his arms, feeling his hands upon her. And other things besides.
But not here. The realization that anything that happened in the hut would be heard by all within it stifled her desires. Glancing toward the elder couple's bed, she silently thanked the Light that they were too old for such play.
Though... neither of them had particularly lined faces. They did not look ancient. True, Tagdish had white hair, but that may as easily be his natural color. Kashka's hair was beginning to grey, but was mostly a reddish hue. Beyond that, both seemed spry enough. Her gaze shot over at their bed once again.
Asleep they may be, but Joanne was suddenly fearful that they might wake at any moment and seek pleasure from one another. What would she do if that happened? In short order, she found herself nearing a panicked state and neither of them had so much as turned over in their sleep!
Stilling her thudding heart with calming breaths, Joanne sought to distract herself by thinking of benign things. There were few to be had. Everything seemed to lead to thoughts of Fentulk, which led to imaginings of them lying together, and inevitably to him kissing her. In the dim shadows of her thoughts, he did other things to her that were too embarrassing to acknowledge. But they felt good. Very good.
Was it wrong to want him so? Was it wicked of her to find her thoughts wandering back to the tent in the mountains, when she woke to find his manhood exposed and rigid? To think of it and feel desire?
Perhaps it was best to keep her distance from Fentulk in the night after all.
Kashka only allowed Joanne a crust of bread and a strip of jerky before leading her from the family home and up to the council hall. She'd spoken at length to Fentulk while Joanne ate, often glancing thoughtfully at the woman.
Joanne was nervous; though Fentulk nodded encouragingly to her, and even Tagdish gave her a wink and a smile, she still feared what might be. If she did not give satisfactory answers, would they send her away? Was this morning's brief exchange with Fentulk the last she'd have with him? Hugging herself, she tried not to give in to despair just yet; her fears were likely unfounded.
The council hall had been nearly empty when she and Fentulk arrived the day before, but this morning there were several women present. Most were Greatmother Geyah's age; wizened grandmothers with stern faces. A few were of Kashka's generation. To her surprise, they were not here by coincidence; they had assembled by Kashka's request.
Greetings were exchanged in Orcish, and Joanne felt terribly out of place among them. She clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, trying not to be noticed. After a few minutes of banter, Geyah came to stand beside her.
"I will speak Kashka's words to you," she said quietly. Grateful, Joanne tried to follow Kashka with her eyes, and Geyah with her ears.
"This one seeks a place among the Mag'har," Kashka announced, her tone formal. A few of the women snorted and others grumbled muted protest. "Joanne is not one of us," Kashka acknowledged, "but she has given her heart to my son, and he has given his to her. She risked death to save his life. She cast aside her ways and her world to follow him to this place."
Scanning the elders and finding no argument, Kashka continued. "It is my son's wish that Joanne be accepted among our people. Has she earned the right of the trial? And if she succeeds, is it then agreed that she will be marked in the way of the Redwalker clan and accepted as Mag'har by bond if not blood?"
Joanne furrowed her brow at Kashka's translated words. Darting a look at Geyah, she found the elder shaman's face impassive, as though nothing Kashka said was of particular note or any different than what had been said many times before. Her own mind could not hold on to anything but the word trial. What did this mean?
She was clearly the only one who didn't know; the women conversed quietly among themselves, some arguing, others nodding or shrugging amiably. Soon enough, one among them, who seemed only slightly Geyah's junior in years, stepped forward.
"What has she to offer the Mag'har?" the elderly woman asked. "Any can bear young. What is her gift, if not this?"
Another of the older women interjected. "I do not want to see the half-breed mongrels she spits out. We are Mag'har. Our blood is pure and untainted. We do not accept a greenskin among us; why would we open our arms to a paleskin?"
"She will show her worth in the trial," Kashka snapped. "That is its purpose. But if you must have proof, I am told she shielded one of our wounded warriors from an Alliance attack at the Post in Hellfire Peninsula."
"A tale told by your son," the old woman scoffed.
"Do you question his honor?" Kashka roared, her hand going to the sword hilt at her hip. The old woman narrowed her eyes hatefully, but did not rise to the warrior's challenge. "I thought not. He also said she stood against the Draenei on his behalf. They thought to 'rescue' her from the clutches of an Orc, and would have slain him before her eyes, had she not spoken for him."
This revelation seemed to stir the doubters among them to more whispered debate. The old woman appeared to be looking for something in Kashka's words to turn upside down to her advantage. Her elder, who had voiced the first question, spoke again.
"It is not easy to see the selfless woman in this meek figure before us," she said carefully. "I wish to see her strength. She may stand the trial. I am satisfied she has earned that, at least."
"And if she succeeds, Agunta?" Kashka pressed.
The elder nodded. "She may be marked as Redwalker." The old woman puffed up to protest, and Agunta held up a hand. "Your opinions are known, Magu, and need not be endlessly repeated. It is not your clan that speaks for her."
Though the one called Magu seethed, and rendered no doubt among the elders that she was against the proceedings, she heeded Agunta's words and kept her silence.
No further debate was entertained. Kashka fetched a rope from a nearby stack of crates, barrels, and other supplies, and the entire group filed out of the council hall.
Joanne walked at Geyah's side, but was too bewildered and frightened to ask more about this mysterious trial. The need for a rope filled her with fear; was she to be hung? Must she endure the terror of looming death to satisfy the Mag'har? Or was she to be bound and forced to withstand cruel tortures? Panicked sweat stood out on her forhead as the procession wound its way down the hill and out of the village.
Had she not been gripped by fear, she might have marveled at the thick grasses and graceful trees as they traversed the grasslands, or stared in awe at the mighty clefthoof herd that grazed so near she felt dwarfed and insignificant.
The group halted in the shade of a mighty tree. Several of the older women sat down and fanned themselves. Joanne shifted nervously, her eyes frequently going to a low branch of the tree towering over them.
"The Trial of the Talbuk begins," Kashka announced solemnly, and Geyah repeated in common to Joanne. "The supplicant shall fetch a talbuk foal of our choosing." Turning to Joanne, she gave forth the length of rope, draped over both her hands. Joanne nervously accepted it. Then Kashka turned and nodded to Agunta.
The elderly woman stepped forward and gazed across the plains. Perhaps a hundred yards away, a peaceful herd of talbuk grazed unconcernedly. Agunta's eyes squinted over the distance for a moment, then she nodded. "The one nursing. That shall be the chosen to satisfy the Redwalker clan." Several heads nodded agreement.
Joanne blinked when she received Geyah's translation. She was to pry an infant from its mother's breast? Even to an animal, this was cruel! Yet if she did not, her place among the Mag'har must surely be forfeit. And with it, any hope of remaining with Fentulk, for he would certainly choose his people over her.
How could she not agree? How could she possibly agree? Torn as she was by internal conflict, she was easily turned by someone's hands – possibly Kashka's – and urged to walk toward the herd. Her breathing quickened. To commit such a grave sin as this... was Fentulk worth it? After all she'd endured already, was it asking so much to take one talbuk from its herd? It was a small thing, wasn't it? Did the Mag'har not train these animals? Had they not likely done similar things many times? Would they not care for the foal she captured? They seemed so kind in all other respects, she could not imagine that they would be unkind to this foal.
Before she knew it, Joanne found she had reached the herd and froze. They were, indeed, quite tall. Their heads alone were a few feet higher than hers, and their horns towered another two feet above that. Shaking herself, and firming her resolve, she skirted the tall animals, carefully avoiding their horns as those grazing lifted their majestic heads to eye her suspiciously, and made her way to the chosen foal.
It had, thankfully, finished its meal. Though she'd decided Fentulk was worth a sin upon her soul, she didn't think she possessed the strength of will to pry the poor thing from its mother's breast. With shaking hands, she clumsily wrestled the rope loose, finding a loop already tied.
"Forgive me," she murmured as she carefully lowered the rope about the curious foal's neck. "Forgive me," she told the mother staring balefully at her, yet making no threatening move. Joanne cinched the noose firmly about the foal's neck, then slowly backed away.
Two things happened then. First, the foal did not understand what was expected of it when a rope about its neck was pulled, and it resisted. Not only did it stiffen its legs and dig its hooves into the ground, it bleated in protest.
The second thing to happen was the sudden protective fury of the mother when it heard its young's cry. Joanne barely dodged the horns as the mother talbuk swung its head around, aiming for the threat.
All Joanne could think to do was run, the rope clutched in her hands. The foal continued to squeal, though its weak young legs could not withstand Joanne's desperation. She dragged it along, trying not to hear its screams for they sounded uncannily like those of a human child. Tears streaming down her face, she hastened to outrun the now infuriated mother, calling to its child like any parent would.
The entire herd was in turmoil now, and their panicked running in all directions slowed down the mother's pursuit. It also made it difficult for Joanne to make much progress. Yet she persevered, reminding herself this was important, it was for Fentulk, it was for her... and she wavered.
The foal's desperate screaming and resistance filled her thoughts, and she knew this was not right. It was not in her nature to cause suffering, but to sooth it. She realized that no matter what was at stake, no matter how deeply she loved Fentulk or how much she wanted to spend all her life with him, she could not begin a life of happiness with a stain upon her soul so great as this. She could not go against her own morality any more than Fentulk could in the tower, when those who had wronged him were laid out helpless. It was not in his nature to slay an unconscious foe, and it was not in hers to do this.
Halting, Joanne reeled in the rope until she was next to the terrified foal, and began untying the rope. Her fingers slipped nervously on the knot as she loosened the noose. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mother finally breaking through the frantic ranks of the herd and furiously galloping toward them, its head bent for ramming. Whimpering in a desperate panic, Joanne quickened her efforts until just at the last moment, she pulled the rope from the foal and staggered back. The foal sensed its freedom and darted away.
The mother halted as soon as its young reached it. Joanne felt a smile form on her face, watching the mother snuffle the foal, examining it from head to toe to ensure it was well. Once satisfied, the mother talbuk glared at Joanne with clear annoyance, snorted at her, then headed back to the gradually calming herd, its foal trotting unconcernedly, and forgetfully, by its mother's side.
While she felt relieved and pleased that she had not shamed herself by her own measure, Joanne dreaded the walk back to the elders of the Mag'har. Surely her failure to accomplish so simple a task would mean her banishment. Nausea overwhelmed her and tears filled her eyes. Would she at least be granted the boon of bidding her love farewell? As she neared the group, all of them standing expectantly beneath the tree, Joanne forced herself to hold her head up. She would face her fate with dignity, for she had been true to herself. She could be comforted by that, at least.