The Forgotten Chieftain's Wife Chapter 7
For days now the Warband had been sending out teams under Blackhand's leadership rounding up the natives of this new land to use as fuel for the fel. Most of the Orc Clans took great enjoyment in terrorizing and sating their natural predators bloodlust on the locals.
Well all clans except for one.
The Frostwolves were disgusted by the conduct of their fellow brothers in arms on this so called "Hunt". They saw absolutely no honor in it especially Durotan.
From atop a hillside overlooking a farming village as chaos ensued was Durotan, Orgrim, and two dozen of his warriors stood watching. Like their chieftain they looked on in detestation and disfavor as others of their kind went about slaughtering livestock, set fires, and chased life forms they knew to be humans all over the land.
While the Frostwolves did exhibit outright revulsion towards these actions and were reluctant to actually participate they wouldn't try to put an end to it.
Outside the numerous huts in wide-open fields golden with grain and gourd vegetables were testament to this. After months of hunger being driven to near starvation the bellies of the Frostwolves were full from access to plenty of brand new sources of game and crops. The one single thing they were missing now is sustenance for the spirit, but this certainly wasn't it. But none of them could risk losing what relief they got out of this.
The roaring of Orc's and the screaming of humans reached the ears of the Frostwolves from where they observed.
"Let me go!"
"My baby!"
"We need them alive!"
The last one came from Blackhand reprimanding one of his warriors for striking down a human that had gone to flee through the fields. He was riding on his wolf below overseeing the proceedings closely.
Durotan's wolf Sharptooth was beside him on the ride. Durotan slowly stoked the thick coat of Sharptooth's gently with one hand and the palm of the other over Server's hilt.
Suddenly a lone Orc broke away from the pack to meet the Frostwolves surging up the hill. It was Blackhand and thrown over his wolf's broad shoulder, tied down to keep from escaping, is a human prisoner. Blackhand had one of his massive hands placed of the young woman's body to keep her from slipping off.
The girl looked very young about Lyanna's age or maybe a bit older. Where Lyanna's hair is as black as ebony this female's hair color is the shade of a bright blonde. Blonde isn't a normal hair color amongst Orc's, but Lyanna had explained to Durotan that it's quite common in this realm. The woman's eyes were blue like Durotan's son and wife. But while theirs was usually gazing at him with a mixture of love, caring, innocence, devotion, and love the difference with hers is that they're filled with utter terror tears streaming down her face as she sobbed.
What really hit Durotan hard in the chest is that this human girl is a mother. In the females arms cradled close to the chest swaddled in a blanket was a baby. The baby didn't make a sound showing how frightened by these big intimidating monster to even cry.
For a second it wasn't just some random human female Durotan was looking at. An image of Lyanna and their unnamed son replaced them temporarily. With this Durotan got a brief glimpse at what Lyanna must've looked like when she'd first been introduced to his race. Silently begging for help as a reflection to what this young mother was doing now as she looked up at him. Unfortunately for her there's nothing Durotan could do without endangering the welfare of his people and family.
"Frostwolves do not join the hunt," said Blackhand, sweeping his eyes over the assembled Frostwolves present.
Blackhand's demand is what broke Durotan out of the revere he'd been in towards the human female.
Patting Sharptooth on the neck, shifting his eyes to regard Blackhand, boldly, Durotan proclaimed "We prefer our enemies armed with an axe, not a child."
"We have been commanded, Durotan," chastised Blackhand, a hint of warning in his undertone. "Respect the old ways."
Durotan growled lowly in this throat, but did not protest. Neither did Orgrim as he looked with a stoic face at his leader and then back to Blackhand.
Softly, under his breath, Blackhand said "There must be a worthy foe somewhere on this dung heap."
Apparently Blackhand is just as fed up as the Frostwolves about not having any appropriately sufficient and satisfactory adversary's to fight. Resettling himself on the back of his mount, jerking on the fur of his wolf in order to steer it to head back down rejoining the pack.
Over his shoulder, Blackhand commanded "Find them all! Try not to kill too many. We need them alive."
With the faintest tinge of shame, quietly, Orgrim said "This is war, my Chieftain."
"No, it isn't," said Durotan, conscious-stricken.
Orgrim studied the humans with a critical brow.
With a large amount of dubiety, he said "How can such a female like Lyanna with a warriors heart come from such a weak and inferior species?"
Personally Durotan was asking himself that same exact controversial argument. It left him wanting. But all he had to do was remember the countless tales Lyanna had told him about her homeland and that skepticism became nonexistent.
Shaking his head solemnly, leaving Orgrim's well-founded question unanswered, Durotan said "Come. We'd best get down there before Blackhand decides to return. We can't have him reporting back to Gul'dan our reluctance to complete the task at hand."
Orgrim nodded in agreement concurring with his friend and chieftain.
Resigning himself as he lead his clansmen down into the village Durotan kept his thoughts solely focused on Lyanna and their baby during this whole ordeal. Perhaps visiting them later would ease any lingering doubts and uncertainty to their cause he still held to mind.
Authors Note:
Next chapter we get back to Lyanna. Oh, and trust me when I say something very interesting is going to be happening there. ;)