Orc Meets Dog
The morning brought new horrors to the exiled Uruk. Nargratûrz woke to a world sparkling with crystals; even the hides he wore glittered. It seemed a fresh coating of the white earth had settled on him during the night.
Beautiful to him it might have been, but for the inexplicable glare that seared his eyes without mercy.
He'd found a felled giant, clearly one of the trees that had grown to enormous girth before death and rot had weakened it and brought it down. A large chunk of the tree's side had collapsed and sloughed off, leaving a hollow place large enough for Nargratûrz to curl his body into. It was soft and close, and best of all, shielded him from the biting wind. It was from this refuge he emerged, blinking in confusion, into the light.
For one accustomed and well-suited to the sparsely lit dimness of the tunnels, it was blindingly bright. Where before the sky was black with tiny white pinpricks of light, now there were giant hovering masses ponderously flowing and merging seemingly so close he could reach out and touch them. The colors were variations of white and blue, mixing into darker purples. He had never seen anything like it, and watched with rapt fascination though the light hurt his small yellow eyes.
Searching through squinted eyes, he tried to find the White Eye. It seemed to have fled before this brightness, leaving a diffused yellowish Eye behind.
The Yellow Eye was indistinct in its shape, seeming to peer weakly around and through the tumbling masses, sometimes hidden by their shifting forms. However, this Eye seemed to have enough strength at its command to keep him from looking at it for long. It punished him for daring to gaze upon it even for a moment, burning his eyes and leaving a red blot upon his vision for several moments after he tore his gaze away. Not content with just causing pain to those who dared a look, when he squeezed shut his eyelids, he could still see the Eye's hated glow.
He felt naked under its gaze, exposed and vulnerable, moreso than beneath the unwavering stare of the White Eye. He backed into the hollow once more, and watched the shadows slowly move across the ground. Nargratûrz chewed on the white earth, finding it cold and refreshing, though it was ineffective for curbing his growing hunger. The Yellow Eye lazily traversed the sky as though on some errand it did not wish to complete with any kind of haste.
Nargratûrz slept fitfully while the Yellow Eye reigned in the sky. It seemed an endless time passed, for the Eye's searching gaze must be meticulous. Unable to find him, it continued its search on the other side of the mountain.
The hunger he'd staved off by ignoring its gnaw at his gut could not be denied much longer, he realized, and with great caution, he crawled from his hiding place. No tales recalled the foodstuffs of Outside; anything he foraged could kill him.
Anything that walked could kill him, he mused. Other than claws and teeth, he was unarmed. If anything larger than the small creatures that fell through the dead falls came by, would he prevail with such poor weaponry? Deciding he likely wouldn't, he began assessing the trees for their potential.
Apart from swords and knives, his folk knew nothing of weapons. The tunnels gave little room for ranged weapons beyond simple slingshots. A sling might bring down a khlaatkû or something as large as a rothlûrkh, but did creatures from Outside come bigger?
As if forgotten and suddenly remembered, a gust of wind struck his back while he examined bits of tree strewn upon the ground, and he shivered. Fire he knew how to make, but feared its mark here. Surely such a thing would attract attention, likely unwanted. Yet he was colder than he'd ever been.
Reluctantly, Nargratûrz separated the longest and thickest stick he could lift from the debris and gathered bits of twigs into a small pile just outside the hollow.
Wood was terribly scarce, yet not unknown to him. Very little came through the dead falls by chance. Light in the underground was made by burning fat in pots. The fat, of course, came from his folk, for fish did not give much more than their meat. When an Uruk fell to battle or illness, all of him was put to use by the clan. The clan drew strength from the full consumption and use of a clan member.
Their enemies also served, though there was little if any thanks for their contributions.
Rubbing sticks together produced the spark he'd hoped for, and soon his carefully tended flame took hold. The familiar glow and sound were comforting, moreso than the heat. He searched the immediate area to bring more fuel for his fire.
Settling with his feet close to the warmth, he used claws and teeth to sharpen one end of the stick he'd chosen. He was nearly useless with a spear, but he had no means of procuring any other weapon that he knew of. To occupy his mind while his hands were busy, he ran through every lesson he'd had of this weapon's use. His trainer, a giant Uruk missing an eye and any sort of sympathy for raw recruits, applied a heavy hand in his teaching. It was difficult to find the lesson amongst his memories of being clouted for poor aim, clubbed for slow responses, and kicked for clumsy handling.
Nargratûrz just... did not want to fight. It was not something he was particularly good at. He still did not know what he was good at. Weapon use was certainly not it.
His thoughts were so consumed in painful recollections he did not notice the approaching footfalls until they were quite close. Stiffening with alarm, he gripped his spear and looked up.
Loping toward him on four long legs was a monstrous beast, fully twice as big as a rothlûrkh, its head likely reaching the Uruk's stomach in height. Covered in thick, mottled gray fur, it stopped and held its head up straight, just as surprised to see him as he was to see it. He'd never seen anything like it, and scrambled to his feet, the spear held before him in trembling hands. The beast just stared at him, tilting its head from side to side as though examining the Uruk. Large floppy ears rose and fell on the sides of its head as it picked up the rumbling sounds of Nargratûrz's breathing.
"Ukh kraat," he snarled. To emphasize his words, he jerked the spear forward threateningly. He hunched his shoulders to make his body appear even larger and broader, and bared his fangs, growling.
The creature's head jerked up and nearly tilted sideways, ears pricked. Then its long red tongue uncurled from its mouth, and the whip-like tail longer than Nargratûrz's arm began to wave back and forth uncertainly.
That this animal might be his prey did not even occur to Nargratûrz. Once the mouth opened, he saw teeth very like his own, and knew from experience of being bitten by Orcs in wild frenzied battle that he was evenly matched. Then it barked.
Nargratûrz backed away a few steps, and the beast lunged at him, barking again. But it still didn't make contact, apparently preferring to drive him backwards, dancing from side to side with a giant tongue lolling out of its mouth. The more Nargratûrz retreated, the more the beast pranced. The Uruk felt a tree solid and unyielding at his back as he ran out of room. Cornered, he forgot the weapon he held or those nature had gifted him. He stared into the large brown eyes of the beast and did the only thing he could think to do: he roared, baring his teeth in the most threatening manner possible.
Though the animal paused and cocked its head at him once more, it was far from deterred. With what Nargratûrz could only describe as a yelp, the beast vaulted toward him, rising up on its hind legs. Heavy paws landed on Nargratûrz's shoulders, knocking the spear from his numb hands; all he could see was the beast's throat as it... licked his face.
Incredibly, the beast wasn't trying to kill him at all. The Uruk stood shocked, unmoving, as the animal took layers of cave dust off his skin. Hesitantly, he pushed at its barrel chest until it dropped back to the ground. Then it pressed its head against his thigh, looking up at him with large dark eyes.
Before he could do anything else, the animal's head suddenly jerked around, ears pricked and alert. The wind carried a faint voice, and the voice called, "Darûk!"
Without a backward glance, the animal bounded off, evidently in the direction of the voice, though Nargratûrz couldn't discern distance or direction very well in the openness of Outside.
The stillness of the mountain returned, and he let his breath out slowly. It had to be a shara voice he heard, and it was quite near if he could understand it. Then he blinked.
He knew the word that was called out. He had heard it too many times to count. The warriors particularly enjoyed calling him darûk when to be labeled a fool would most dampen his spirit. Such had they done when he returned from his first skirmish on his back, dragged by his disgusted fellows. There had been no hope of mating once that label stuck; the females were more amused by his awkward posturing than interested. No, there was no sympathy from that quarter. Though his skills in battle improved from that first disastrous failure, at least enough to see him back to clan territory with his limbs intact, he failed his first test. The first of many.
Sinking to his haunches, he leaned against the tree and stared at the sky. The roiling masses seemed thicker and darker than before, blotting out the light of the Yellow Eye. He wondered where the White Eye was; he had longed for its relative comfort after the Yellow Eye disappeared.
"Darûk!" Samantha called out the cabin door. Sighing, she ducked back in, rubbing her arms. Damned dog; she was always far too excited about romping in the snow. Maybe she caught a whiff of a hare or something. The sun was sinking in the west; Sam hoped her companion wasn't lost, though she knew it was hard to fool a hound's nose. She'll find her way back, the woman thought. And maybe she'll bring back stories, because there isn't jack shit here.
Chuckling to herself, she sat in front of her laptop and idly clicked on the links in her news feed. It seemed that her best friend, Debbie, had a new puppy and was just discovering what not to leave lying around the floor for just anyone to find. Her cousin Dale was all busted up over those ungrateful SCA people calling the cops on them for disrupting their event.
Sam snorted a quiet laugh. Dude, when you assault an encampment dressed in barbarian furs and fangs, you're gonna piss people off.
Ukh kraat = Go away
khlaatkû = 'long ear', what Nargratûrz's people would call a rabbit
rothlûrkh = 'circle pattern', what his folk would call a bobcat in reference to the spotted fur