***** Author's Note *****

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68

Zathra shook Alaesia's shoulder gently until her eyes flew open at his call. For a moment she glanced around in bewilderment, while clutching at her throat, finding it still in one piece before moving to her face, searching for the cleft from her reflection in the nightmare. The orc quickly removed his hand and moved away as soon as she started to regain her focus, but she still needed to squint against the light of dawn, "Z-Zathra...? What?"

"G'mornin'..." his scarred mouth tilted in that unnerving half-smile of his.

Her own lips pursed in a thin anxious line, not quite sure how she should react to Zathra's strange politeness. She had been taught proper manners her whole childhood, but never put them into practice for anyone but her parents. It was bizarre to see an orc behaving better than she felt inclined to.

"Sorry fer wakin' ya, lass. Didn't think ya'd start 'avin' night terrors like that. Didn't want ta leave ya ta endure 'em either," he mumbled to her lack of response, while he rubbed the back of his own neck, as if he had felt the Gondorian soldier's blade within her dream strike his neck at the same moment it had sunk into hers.

She continued to look around, trying to reorient herself back to the clearing of the warg den. The fire of the night before was starting to burn low in its pit, and skewered over it, on one of Ar-Tashk's iron bolts, was a large warg haunch. Alaesia froze, wondering if it had been the olog who put it there, but Zathra once again answered her unspoken questions.

"Tha' was me. I borrowed some o' yer brute's spears," Zathra pushed himself to his feet and wandered back to the fire to continue turning the makeshift spit. "Figured we could use a proper breakfast, 'nstead of frog-face's charcoal lumps from las' night." When she didn't answer, he waved his hand beckoningly at her. "Come on lass, I've got some stuff ta share with ya."

"What a-about..." Alaesia didn't want to look to find out if Ar-Tashk had survived the night, if he was awake too or not.

"Don't worry yer pretty head about the olog," Zathra waved his hand again, "Tough, ol' bastard made it through the night. Gave him a bit 'o mendin' earlier too, just ta stop any bleedin'. But I've got 'im still under my command. 'E ain't waking up anytime soon."

Alaesia winced as she accidentally leaned on her injured hand to sit up. She sucked in a short breath, waiting for the spike of pain to subside, before finally shifting to join Zathra beside the fire as he added a few more sticks to it. Her tone was wary as she tried to examine his face, "Y-you said you'd stop reading m-my mind."

Zathra used a sharp piece of shale to slice some meat from the haunch, and passed it to her, "I ain't tryin' ta pick yer brain, I promise ya that. But ya 'ave been pretty openly putting yer mind out there every now an' again. It's hard ta block out."

Alaesia frowned; how did that work? Did she have to actively concentrate on walling up her mind to keep the orc's mindreading at bay? How could she possibly do that in her sleep?

Her stomach growling forced her to push such concerns aside. She was so desperately hungry, she didn't particularly care to fight Zathra on it right now. He was right though too, the portion of meat he passed her was far easier to stomach than last night's meal.

As she munched, Zathra reached to his side, and pulled out a length of leather with a metal buckle, a belt, from a pouch on his waist and held it out to her as well, "Though ya might like somethin' ta keep yer clothes from flutter'n about."

Alaesia accepted it carefully, "W-where did you get this?" The strap of clean black leather was oddly pristine, compared to Zathra's ragged gear of raw-colored browns that made up the leather of his own armor; she couldn't imagine it was his.

Zathra turned away as if to hide a smirk, or perhaps because he knew she wasn't going to like the answer, "Well... It's yers. I'd say ya won it fair 'n' square. After all, orcs tend ta take trophies off their opponents after provin' their prowess in battle..."

She dropped the belt with a squeak, "Y-you got this off F-Frogblood?!"

"'E ain't needing it anymore!" Zathra growled indignantly under his breath, but instantly regretted it as Alaesia edged away from him. He took a moment to recollect himself, "Lass... I ain't trying ta make ya uncomfortable. I was just thinkin' of the practicality of it. We gotta use what resources we've got if we're gonna survive out 'ere."

"Y-you do what you need to, to survive..." Alaesia let out a resigned sigh.

"If ya don't want it, lass, give it 'ere. I'll trade it fer one of mine," Zathra offered, indicating a thin, worn belt around his waist. "I juss figured ya might feel a bit better havin' that 'un. It'd probably last a lot longer, and... well, ya did fight 'im off yer olog. It serves as a good reminder of 'ow much fire ya got in ya."

Alaesia didn't seem to be paying close attention to what the orc was saying; her eyes had returned to the belt where she had dropped it to the ground, examining it more closely. She had seen such a belt before, but not of orcish origin. "Th-that's a Gondorian soldier's belt..." she murmured.

"Oh..." Zathra felt the pang of recognition hit her hard.

He was about to reach out to take it back, when she took it into her own hands once more, clutching it to her chest. A part of her couldn't bear the idea of leaving it in an orc's possession, "N-no... I'll keep it. R-reminds me of my f-father..."

"What happen'd ta 'em?" Zathra asked, "Yer parents?"

Alaesia brushed the black leather with a finger, noting the engrailed silvery thread along its border, as well as the embossed shape of the white tree of Gondor. Norien's belt was nearly identical to the one in her hands, though she distinctly remembered his was far more frayed and worn after many years of use and little in the way of supplies to maintain it. The one taken from Frogblood's corpse looked like it had never seen a true battle, with nary a scratch or stain on it aside from what seemed to be a bit of water damage. Even the metal buckle looked polished without a trace of tarnish. It made her sick to think about how caringly Frogblood must have treated this belt, after having very likely captured and sold its original owner into slavery.

The craftsmanship looked so beautiful compared to the scarred fingers cradling it. She grimaced as she responded to the orc's query, "Th-they disappeared. First da. Then m-mum. I always j-just assumed orcs caught them."

Zathra nodded. Pinkskins going missing from their families meant only one or two things, especially within the borders of Mordor, "Yer probably right..."

Her green eyes flicked up to him warily, "D-did you ever hunt slaves n-near Udun?"

The orc held up his hand disarmingly, glad he could honestly deny the implication, "Nah, Razmat only ever runs 'round the Sea of Nurn. Only goes upriver ta sell or pick fights with other slavin' crews, but never as far as Udun."

Alaesia didn't know if she had hoped he had been up near her old home, just so she might be able to question him, as if perhaps he might have known her mother's and father's fates, or if she was relieved he likely hadn't been involved. She didn't know what she would have done if he had played a role in their disappearance, but she was certain she never could have brought herself to forgive him if that had been the case. She sighed, letting the tension leave her shoulders.

Her hands struggled to fix her loose clothes and get the belt around her, for the pain in her palm, but eventually, she was able to secure it into place, "Zathra...?"

The orc glanced at her, having looked away to give her some privacy while she adjusted her clothing, "Yeah, lass?"

"Th-Thank you," she offered, sitting back down by the fire. Her throat was dry, trying to get the phrase out, "for everything..."

A faint smile threatened to curl the edge of Zathra's mouth, but he knew better than to push and tease Alaesia for the time being. She was struggling, though it seemed she might be coming to terms that he was truly trying to help, and he wasn't about to interfere with that, "O' course, lass. If yer feelin' alright, I'd like ta take another pass at mendin' ya up. Ya still look fresh outta the fight pits."

Alaesia was nervous to allow Zathra to touch her without him weaving his calming mental influence over her, but after both had eaten their fill, she relented. It took every ounce of her concentration to curtail any threat of her memories surfacing. More than once she found herself starting to hyperventilate as the orc worked and had to ask him to pause so she could regain her composure.

Zathra started with her hand, gently prying her fingers back so he could get his own larger hand in contact with her palm. She bit back her pained cries until the flow of Zathra's magic started to work into her skin, which for a brief moment eased some of the strain.

"Was practicin' last night," Zathra's eyes were lit up blue as he spoke; Alaesia could only just see the glow behind the melted portions of his face, which surprised her. She had assumed this whole time, due to how sunken and covered by scars that side of his face was, that he only had one functional eye; apparently not. "While ya were sleepin' I mean. Trying ta figure out that blasted wraithy arm thing."

Alaesia flinched as his magic dug deeper behind the surface-level scars on her palm, causing it to feel like it was burning again. She whimpered, but forced herself to not yank the hand out of his grasp, "D-did you have any luck?"

Zathra held out his stump, scowling at the end of it as though it were an entity independent of himself that he could blame for his troubles, "Not particularly. Ain't the same as 'ow I normally use magic. Still can't understand what makes it appear..." He withdrew his hand from hers, drawing out the burning sensation of his magic with it, "There... Tell me how that feels now, lass?"

Alaesia cautiously flexed her fingers, finding that, even though they were still curved and deformed, it no longer hurt as much to move them, "M-much better."

The orc sat back, scratching at the scars on his neck. He knew how long the pain of Mokob-hai burns could last; it took years for his scars to stop bothering him so much, which made him all the more grateful he was able to alleviate hers so quickly. That was just another thing pointing to the idea that his magic had changed, becoming greater in power, or perhaps more complex; the curiosity still itched at him to try to understand why.

He moved to working on the gouges Frogblood had clawed into her neck. The metal collar around her throat had seemingly taken a good brunt of the orc's frenzied attempts to suffocate her, likely having contributed to saving her life in a way, but not without inflicting its own broad stripes marring on her skin from being yanked around by the chains. The mottling of bruises and thin cuts disappeared in quick succession and with much less pain through the healing process. All that remained on her neck as he finished, were the scars of days long since passed, which were impossible to erase.

Next, Zathra had her lean forward and let the hem of her clothing slip down over her shoulders so he could address the numerous cuts from the slate that had dug into her back, from Ar-Tashk pinning her down. However as he pulled a small broken chip of stone out of where it had embedded into her skin, she suddenly jerked away and curled more in upon herself with a gasp.

Zathra pulled his hand back sharply, "What's the matter? Did I hurt ya?"

"N-n-no..." she hissed through gritted teeth. It was hard enough to stay calm with an orc running his hands up and down her skin without the shooting pain in her abdomen deciding to rear its ugly head once more. Protests at the small stings of pain were easy enough to stifle, but not this. This gripped Alaesia's will like a branding iron. Her pulse began to build until it was drumming in her ears. It would only be a short while before she would start to bleed again, she was sure, "It's... my s-stomach."

"Skai... I'll be honest, lass," Zathra hesitantly put his hand on her back to help steady her. He could tell, whatever ailment was still afflicting her, was bad, for she made no attempt to shrug him off. "I don't understand what's causin' ya so much pain. Ya sure ya ain't dying...?"

Alaesia shook her head, eyes pinched shut as a cramp curled deep in her gut; everything she had gone through was just as new to her as it was to him. Her mind went back to her mother, wondering if she had suffered this same thing after giving birth; if only she had ever known to ask. But perhaps Anorae had believed, being an outcast, Alaesia would never be in a position to need such knowledge. Or perhaps, Alaesia thought, maybe her mother, having only known the softness of her own kind, never fathomed the brutal injuries birthing an uruk's child would cause. A bead of heat started to roll down her inner thigh and with it came the fear that she might at some point, as Zathra had inquired, succumb to her internal wounds, "I don't kn-know. I thought it was g-getting better. But Barbaurak... and F-Frogblood hit me, h-hard. M-made it worse again..."

Without another word, Zathra moved to brush slate and other debris out of the way by the firepit before he beckoned Alaesia with an outstretched hand, "Come lie down."

"Why?" Alaesia stiffened, voice becoming sharp with suspicion. She could see, with greater awareness as her vulnerability grew, his nostrils flaring at the scent of her blood and his ears tensing to focused points; the body language she was all too familiar with, that of a predator scenting prey.

A frown passed briefly over his face, before he realized what seemed to be bothering her, "I ain't gonna do anythin', just thought ya might like ta be more comfortable til it passes." However, even that didn't seem to quite be the right answer. Alaesia stayed where she was, hunched over in pain, staring at him with a strange calculation behind her own gaze. After a moment of silence, Zathra uncomfortably inquired, "What is it, lass?"

Alaesia swallowed hard, trying to get the lump in her throat choked down so she might be able to speak. Her mind had jumped to that awful place, assuming Zathra would take advantage of her vulnerable state, but she tried to shake it away. He was really trying to earn her trust, which evoked a frightening idea in her head. She swallowed again, "C...Can y-you... Can you heal me?"

The orc stared at the woman for a good long minute, trying to work out exactly what she meant without violating the privacy of her mind.

"I told ya once afore, fixin' internal ailments ain't my specialty... I might really 'urt ya if I tried that," he couldn't help but recall the vicious tearing pain his body went through just the day prior, when his magic returned and hit him like an exploding barrel of grog. The last thing he wanted was to inflict that upon her, especially seeing how she reacted to just the pain in her stomach. He couldn't even accurately promise he would be able to heal her, even if he did try. For all he knew, he might just cause more damage to her organs.

"Y-You almost died yesterday, but s-somehow you've healed completely... Y-You even said your magic is stronger n-now... M-maybe it will work?" It seemed she understood full well what she was asking. "Please, Zathra?"

He bit his tongue, nodded, then held out his hand once more, "Alright... Come sit yerself here and lie flat."

Alaesia did as bid, fighting the urge to pull her legs into her chest with the next wave of cramps. Zathra knelt alongside her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him, which meant her head turned, finally, towards Ar-Tashk's mountainous form. Silent and unmoving, her master lay where he had collapsed as a breeze flowed across what remained of his long mane. It was mostly just the portions that once hung over his shoulders that had been burned away, particularly in each area that had an underlying wound that she had treated with that foul sap. Smoke had charred the areas around his wounds, leaving long ropes, as thick as her arm, of melted scar tissue that tracked across his broad back. Her own deformity seemed to pale in comparison to the disfigurement she had brought upon him, for the numerous marks across the olog's ashen hide. She shuddered, both at the thought and as another cramp washed over her; how could he possibly have survived that such an attack? She wondered silently as guilt threatened to fill her.

He looked so broken, like a corpse carved of stone, fractured, about to fall apart at any moment, by the black lines of his injuries. Dried blood, ink upon Ar-Tashk's skin, seemed to be the only sign remaining of the wounds Zathra had healed for Ar-Tashk while Alaesia had been asleep. If the orc hadn't refuted it, she would have assumed the olog was dead for how still he was. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing from where she lay. The woman turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, unable to absorb the image anymore.

Zathra noted Alaesia's reaction to her olog's condition; pitiable, but predictable. She was tethered to the beast in one way or another, whether she wanted it or not. For a moment, he found himself questioning if she would even be able to accept freedom, if he actually managed to convince the olog to grant it and let her go. But other matters were more pressing, at least for the moment. He moved slowly, gently shifting aside the wrapped layers of her makeshift tunic, and placed his hand against Alaesia's abdomen.

"Alright now... Yer gonna have ta guide me, lass-" he had just started to say, when Alaesia's eyes snapped open once again, wide and panicked.

"S-stop..." she stammered, trying to push out from under Zathra's hand, "I-I-I can't do it... Just s-stop..."

It was the memories of the goblin witch that seized Alaesia this time; the cruel way in which the filthy creature had dug the butt of her staff into the woman's stomach or forcefully grabbed at her any which way she thought necessary for the invasive examinations of Alaesia's pregnancy. Zathra's hand was but an echo of the witch's violations, but one that made her whole body scream worse than the twisting that was causing her to bleed in the first place.

Zathra moved back immediately, but still Alaesia couldn't contain a lone broken sob that worked its way up her throat, "I-I'm sorry, I just c-can't..."

The orc was silent as he got to his feet, but his presence and touch still haunted her for a good long while. After some time, the pain in her stomach eased, though she was left feeling foul in her own skin, filthy both inside and out. When she did finally look up to find where Zathra had disappeared to, she realized he was still just a few feet away.

He had an unreadable expression as he stood up from a rock he had perched on, holding his hand out to her, "Let's go find tha' stream Bar said was nearby and getcha cleaned up, eh?"

***** Translations *****

Skai - Damn

***** Author's Note *****

I'm still taking a rolling break, so chapters are still going to be spaced further apart (as far as posting here), but rough drafts are uploaded to my discord as soon as they are finished.

Now Available! Read up to Chapter 70 on my discord!