The Ties that Bind by Hoglorfen

The wind was a blessing in the scorching heat of late summer. It made the dappled sunlight dance on the path and played with Whindaër's long hair as she ran. Finally she had been allowed to escape her uncle and his constant insistence that she practise to improve her letter writing. She enjoyed writing, but too often her pen strayed and turned to drawing images of forest animals instead of flowing Tengwar letters, and so her uncle had once again scolded her for wasting precious ink before releasing her.

Now she had an excuse to venture beyond the small haven. Elvëanië the healer needed herbs that could not be grown in the gardens near the sea, so Whindaër had volunteered to gather them for her. An important task, but she knew where they grew and the evening was still young. She had time to roam for a while yet. And so she ran, leaping through the trees like a deer, her summer robes and hair flowing behind her. Trees did not scold, they whispered fairy tales of distant futures and days long past as she ran. There was a small stream up ahead, a clear brook with cold water. It came from the mountains, spilling from the everwhite at their peaks and traveling all the way to the sea. A silver ribbon connecting sea and sky...

Graznikh crouched beside a thorny shrub, eyeing the slope behind him to make sure no one had followed. When it remained empty, he went down to the foaming mountain stream. The water was so cold it almost hurt his tongue and cleaner than anything he had ever tasted, not at all like the underground pools that provided water to the stronghold. He grinned and threw a rock in the stream. The rays of the evening sun stung his skin, but it was bearable. He knew Tarnakh would have his hide when he found out that he had sneaked out alone again, but Graznikh didn't care much. Soon he would be going on the next raid-run with the band but for now, he was free.

He followed the stream downward, towards those curious, forbidden shadows that were the forest. The elders said that Elves lived there, those deadly apparitions of myth and legend. Their eyes and blades burned with the cruel light of the sun and the stars, and their only reason to exist was to wipe out every last Orc in the world. Graznikh had never seen an Elf. Supposedly they were swarming in the north, but no one who went there had ever come back so Graznikh didn't know what to think. Some claimed the Elves in this forest were different, that they turned you into a pincushion if you entered ”their” forest but couldn't care less if Orcs made the tarks' roads dangerous. Like wasps then, dangerous if you poke their nest but nice and calm if you leave 'em alone, he thought.

He was too busy trying to imagine what Elves looked like and what it would be like to have a pet wasp that he did not notice the shadows deepening and the trees growing taller. He looked up and found himself in an unfamiliar clearing. The stream meandered calmly and there were strange plants on the ground. Silvery shapes darted back and forth in the water and he noticed deer tracks in the mud. Maybe I could catch one, he thought. The memory of the taste of fresh deer liver came to him and he wiped some drool off his chin. He crouched behind a fallen tree as he heard a faint sound and readied his knife.

Whindaër did not think about Orcs. She did not know of them, other than as a dark whisper that her parents had done their best to shelter her from as they had sheltered her from other evils of the world. The sun was setting and the air cooled noticeably as she followed the brook upstream toward the place where the herbs grew, a glade with little white flowers that looked like bells and old gnarly trees that looked like the horns of great stags. Deer often came to drink and rest there. Although she could not get close enough to touch them they did not fear her, and she could sit for hours watching the mothers graze as the little fawns leapt and tested their long legs. But there were no deer in the clearing as she stepped out into the moonlight where the healing herbs grew.

Graznikh froze. This was no deer, although it had long legs like one. And it was no Orc or Man, it was too thin and frail-looking. Once a trader from Dunland had shown him a statue made from a transparent colourless material called glass, and that came to mind as he stared at the creature before him. Could this be one of the monsters from the elders' stories? It looked more frightened than frightening. It had blue eyes that did not shine with any cruel light at all, and silky dark hair that spilled down its back. It made a strange sound as it picked leaves from the ground. It almost sounded like a song, but not like any song that Graznikh had ever heard. Where the moonlight broke through the canopy of leaves to reach bare skin it reflected, a soft faint glow that was rather pleasant to look at. He fought the sudden urge to reach out, to touch that soft skin, to grab that silky hair and pull the Elf close, so close... To hear those lips whisper his name in mingled fear and want...

Whindaër looked up as a strange rasping sound reached her ears. She had not noticed that the moon had clouded over and the stars were gone. A strange fear suddenly gripped her heart, and she quickly gathered the last herbs and hurried back towards home, oblivious to a pair of red, hungry eyes following her as she disappeared among the trees. Run along, little Elf, run all you want. One day I'll catch ya, just wait and see...

”I wonder if little Tambefindil has grown much since last I saw him,” Whindaër said. Theolas smiled as he walked beside the horse. ”I am sure he has, but not beyond recognition. It has only been a few years.”
Whindaër nodded as she braided leaves into the patient horse's mane from her place in the saddle. ”It will be good to see them all again. I have missed them.”
The Elven travellers had left the haven three days earlier. The journey would take them north through the mountains to the city of Ost-In-Edhil where many of their kin dwelled and where Whindaër's aunt had moved with her family some time ago.
Theolas looked up at his niece. ”You seem troubled. Is something wrong?”
”No, I do not think so. I only... have a strange feeling. I had trouble sleeping before we left home.”
”And did the dreams reveal anything?”
Whindaër shook her head. ”Only shadows... Perhaps it is merely anticipation of the journey. I have not been this far away from home before.”
Uncle Theolas gave her a reassuring pat on the knee. ”Fear not, dear niece. We are well guarded, and we will reach your aunt in no time. See, we have stopped. Perhaps it is time to eat?”

Graznikh absently scratched his ear. The piercings had finally stopped itching, but even new habits died hard. Three iron rings in each pointed ear, just like Tarnakh had wanted. Graznikh knew it had been a test, to see if he could face the nails and hammers without flinching, without fear. Graznikh had complied, not because he wanted piercings, but it was another way to get people to stop bitching about how white skin was bad luck. As if he hadn't already proven his worth in each and every raid they'd gone on. His sire Tarnakh had dark grey skin that was almost black in places, but despite being his spawn Graznikh had been spawned with skin so pale it was almost white. The only black on his skin were the veins that could be seen through it on his neck and hands. He kept covering himself with black war paint, but it didn't really help since it wore off with time. One of these days he was going to have it tattooed on. Until then, he'd just have to take the grief the others gave him about it. He leaned back and continued sharpening his blade as the scouts entered the camp with big grins on their faces. He could not hear what they said to Tarnakh, but judging by his pleased expression it was good news.
”Ho, lads!” All heads turned to their chief as he rose, grinning from ear to ear. ”I have a nice little trip for ya tonight. One word: Elves.”
Excited babbling rose from the band. A memory flashed by; soft translucent skin, blue eyes, long dark hair and an unfamiliar burning feeling that had since become very familiar indeed.
”Elf...” he whispered, a wicked little leer slowly spreading on his face.
”This won't be an easy target,” the chief said. ”They're not defenseless, but from what I've heard we've some good loot waitin' for us if we succeed. Keep yer wits about ya and yer knives sharp!”
After a brief discussion over strategy, they set out. Their mark was almost half a day's hard march away but heading in their direction, so there was plenty of time to set the ambush.

The Elven travellers slowly made their way along the base of a steep crumbling cliff. The road had been blocked by one of the rockslides that were common near the pass and so they had left it. A small detour, but the hunters that had scouted ahead said that the area was clear. Still it was slow going, for the ground was riddled with boulders and rocks of varying size. Whindaër doubled over in the saddle as her premonition suddenly intensified. One of the nearby guards gave her a worried look as Theolas tended to her.
”Are you ill, young lady? Should I call for a halt?”
Theolas gave him a reassuring smile. ”I do not believe that to be necessary. She is simply weary; the journey has been a taxing one for one so young.”
”Uncle, please, ask them to stop,” Whindaër whispered. ”Something is going to happen, it is very close!”
Theolas frowned. ”Do you truly believe that is ne-”
The attack was so unexpected that the guards barely had time to react. The Orc raiders plowed through the middle of the group, splitting them in two and throwing all into disarray. Whindaër fell to the ground as her horse panicked and Theolas lost the reins. All was chaos around them. Dazed from the fall, arms and legs shaking with fear, Whindaër could barely get to her feet until Theolas pulled her up. ”Run, Whindaër, we must run!”

Graznikh revelled in the chaos of battle. His knives searched and found unguarded flesh, drawing blood and screams until his ears and vision was filled with them. A movement to the side caught his attention as the battle slowed briefly, and suddenly he found himself staring and the sounds of fighting far away. Soft pale skin, wide blue eyes, long dark hair dancing in the wind... She, she! Graznikh couldn't believe his fortune. He promised himself to cut down the next fellow who claimed pale skin was bad luck. He closed in on his prey with a casual walk, unable to keep the victorious grin from his face.
Whindaër turned her head and locked eyes with the madly grinning Orc approaching her. Suddenly she could not move, could not run, could only stare, transfixed, as the beast came closer. The moment before Graznikh could reach out and claim his prey, something hit him hard from the side as the unarmed Theolas threw himself at him. ”YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER, FILTH!!!”
The Orc roared and grabbed his robe, pulling him close. Theolas spat in his face. Graznikh chuckled, wiped his face and backhanded the Elf. Not hard enough to snap his neck, but almost. Whindaër screamed. He threw the unconscious body aside and looked up, only to see his prey disappear among the rocks. Graznikh leered. So it's a hunt she wants, is it?

Whindaër ran as she had never run before. She darted between the boulders and leapt over rocks and holes in the treacherous ground, silently lamenting the dress and robes that threatened to fell her with every step. She could hear foot steps behind her but she dared not turn to see who they belonged to.
Graznikh enjoyed the chase. His Elf was fast, he gave her that, but she did not have the strength and stamina of a trained warrior. His band had camped in the area for a while so he knew it well, and soon he had herded her into a narrow pass along the remains of a rockslide that he knew was a dead end. She was trapped.

Whindaër was completely exhausted and scared nearly senseless. She kept hearing the Orc's heavy footsteps and rasping breath everywhere and could not tell whether he would appear behind her or in front of her at the next turn. When she thought she could not run another step, the path ended at the foot of a large broken boulder. She desperately searched for escape, a place where she could climb to safety, but to no avail. There was a ledge above her, but no matter how she jumped she could not reach it. She heard a sound from behind and spun to see the red-eyed Orc leering at her from atop a boulder. Drops of sweat slid down his face – he had been running in heavy armour and leather – and the stench alone nearly brought her to her knees. He casually jumped off the boulder and landed with a thud. Then he began closing in slowly, savouring each step, holding his arms out in mockery of a returning lover. His Elf backed up against the rock as he drew one of the long knives he preferred over clumsy swords. She dared not move as he caressed the inside of her thigh with the blunt side of the knife.
”So soft,” he purred. ”I don't even need to use the edge to leave marks.”

At that point Whindaër broke. She could not take it anymore. She inhaled deeply and screamed, a defiant shriek that echoed off the surrounding cliffs.
Graznikh laughed out loud. ”Oh, come on! You can do better than that. Come at me, gimme all ya got!” Whindaër screamed again and Graznikh roared back at her. The sound sent her reeling against the rock wall, teeth clattering and tears sliding down her white cheeks. In Graznikh's eyes, it was the most beautiful sight in the world.
She threw herself at him, screaming, kicking, clawing. He staggered back briefly and dropped the knife in surprise, then stood still with outstretched arms and a big leer while the little Elf attacked him. She managed to scratch his cheek enough to draw blood and kick his armoured shin hard enough to elicit a grunt before he caught her in his arms. Whindaër began crying when she couldn't pull away. The scent of her fear, sweat and skin almost made him dizzy with need, but he reined himself in.
”Why? Why are you doing this to me?! Why do you hurt me so?” Whindaër sobbed. Graznikh snorted and replied in a soft mocking tone.
”Have I hurt ya? I haven't even touched ya! You're the one who keeps runnin' for no reason, who clawed my face so I nearly lost an eye and almost kicked my leg off. You hurt me!” She stopped sobbing and lifted her head to look at him. The hungry look in his eyes turned her insides to ice.
”Please,” she whispered. ”Please do not hurt me...”
”Oh, I won't hurt ya, my little Elf,” he breathed into her face with a mad grin. ”I'll be good to ya, you'll see...” In one smooth move that he had practiced for years he pulled a strip of cloth that he had kept tied around his thigh and wrapped it over her mouth to keep her from screaming. In equal fashion he tied the hands and legs of the panicking Elf. He went to retrieve the knife he had dropped before lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. ”Ya might wanna keep from kickin' too much, unless you want me to drop ya to your death,” he said calmly as he leapt up to the ledge that Whindaër had not been able to reach earlier. He stopped after a while to look at her when she went silent and found that she had passed out. Better this way, he thought as he took off running toward the mountains.

When Whindaër woke up, she had no idea where she was. It was cold and dark and in the distance she could hear a faint thundering sound. Her entire body hurt and her head felt like it was full of wet wool. Slowly the memory of the events leading to her current situation returned, and she suddenly realised that she was wearing nothing but the ankle-long slip that passed for underwear in the haven. She curled up into a ball on the rough mattress and wished the ground would swallow her. The Orc's words echoed in her mind, no matter how she tried to shut them out. I won't hurt ya, my little Elf... I'll be good to ya, you'll see... What was he going to do? Oh Valar, what is going to happen to me?

There was no telling how much time had passed before the sound of footsteps outside the door reached her. An hour? A week? A year? Light flooded her vision despite having her back to the rough wooden door as the Orc came in carrying a torch which he placed in a crude ring on the wall.
Graznikh took some time to admire the little creature occupying his sleeping mat. So small and frail-looking, but tougher and stronger than she looked. His leg still hurt where she had kicked him. The first stage of his plan was complete. Time to move on.
The thin pallet shifted ever so slightly as he sat down next to her and she tensed, barely daring to breathe.
”So...” the Orc said in a casual tone. ”Welcome to my crib. Hope the quarters are to your likin'. It's not much, but I guess ya can't be too picky this far from the beaten track. There's a bucket in the corner if ya need to take a piss or shit and I assume you can't see all that well in the dark so I'll leave the torch for ya.” She felt him shift. ”If there's anything I can get ya, just let me know.”
”I want to go home,” she whispered.
”Oh, you will,” the Orc said. Whindaer turned her head slightly.
”What?”
”You'll go home. One way or another, I'll let ya outta here.”
Her heart sank again.
”By the way, I wouldn't try to sneak out if I were you. This place is a bloody maze. And screamin' for help won't do ya much good either. Hear that sound? That's a waterfall. Very efficient when it comes to drowning, both sounds and people.”

Graznikh waited for a bit, but the Elf did not move. This won't do, he thought and grabbed her shoulders to turn her over onto her back. Suddenly she sprung to life and began wriggling and screaming. After a brief struggle he had her securely on her back, reeking with fear and so tense that he wondered if she'd snap in two if he let her go.
”No... No... no...” she kept gasping. Graznikh rolled his eyes and leaned in so close she could not avoid his eyes.
”What?”
”Noooo,” the Elf moaned.
”What?” he asked again, softer this time. She seemed to calm down somewhat.
”What... what?”
He grinned. ”What's your name?” The Elf looked so confused he almost burst out laughing. Then her lips moved. ”Wh-Whindaër.”
Surprised that she had cooperated so easily, he leaned in closer, so close he could almost feel her frantic heart move the air between them. ”Win-daar... Nice to meet ya, Win-daar. I'm Graznikh...” The last words he breathed into her open mouth. She shut it so hard her teeth snapped. Graznikh collapsed on top of her, head against her shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. A sharp sob made him look up.
”Huh?”
”Your armour... it hurts me.”
”Oh.” With the agility of a mountain leopard he shifted to a squat next to the mattress. ”Well, that's easily rectified.” She quickly curled up into a ball again as he removed his armour and threw it carelessly against the cavern wall.
He stripped but kept his loincloth and leather chaps. Then he sat down leaning against the opposite wall, watching her in silence. Easy Graznikh, he reminded himself, nice an' easy. Don't go too far too fast, you'll only regret it in the end. But toying with her like this was so much fun! Keeping her balanced right between hope and despair, carefully tugging her this way and that, never letting her know where she had him while slowly nudging her towards trust and away from revulsion would be difficult as she was so very sensitive, but oh so very rewarding when, or if, he succeeded. He couldn't help but wonder if she was equally sensitive in other ways as well, and the thought of playing with her like that... No no, bad thoughts! Not yet! To keep his mind from straying, he tried to strike up a conversation with his Elf.

”So... What do Elves do?” No reply. ”Hey.” He poked the Elf with his foot but she did not react. He crawled up close behind her. ”I don't like bein' ignored,” he whispered in her ear. ”When people ignore me, I get very upset.” He drew one of his knives and made a cut across the pallet in front of her face. ”You wouldn't like me when I'm upset.” The point was not lost as a barely audible ”sorry” was heard. Graznikh gave her an appreciative nod as she turned to face him. ”What do Elves do?”
Whindaër looked puzzled. ”When?”
”When they're not out walkin' into ambushes.”
She sighed. ”Lying in caves waiting to get eaten, apparently.” She probably did not mean it that way, but the unintended dirty double meaning of her statement sent him to the floor, rolling with laughter. So much for keeping his mind off things.
”Anyway,” he said once he had managed to stop laughing. ”Ya hungry?”
Whindaër glanced at the door. ”No.” Her treacherous stomach gave off an empty sound. In truth, she had not been able to eat anything since early morning the day before.
Graznikh grinned. ”I'll be right back.” He paused at the door. ”By the way, what do Elves eat? D'ya eat meat?”
She gave him a haunted look. ”Not that of our own kind.”
”Right. What about goat?” He left when she nodded and returned shortly after with some strips of dried meat. ”Travellin' fare. Sorry I don't have anything else, haven't had much time to hunt. I did nick some drink from your fellows earlier though,” he said and held up a small etched bronze flask that Whindaër recognized immediately.
”That is not water,” she began as Graznikh pulled the plug with his teeth and spat it out on the floor. He waved her off.
”Don't worry, I'm a big boy. I can handle my drink.” He took a swig from it, dropped it (Whindaër managed to catch it just before it hit the floor) and began coughing and gagging.

”What the everlovin' FUCK was that??” he said after he had nothing left to throw up. ”It feels like I've got fire ants crawlin' all over my guts!”
”It is miruvor,” Whindaër said, taking a small sip from the flask after carefully wiping the spout. ”An invigorating drink that we make from honey and herbs.”
”What, like ghâshpau?”
”I do not know what that is.”
”Pretty much the same as what you described, only made by us Orcs and not from honey.” He coughed a bit more and cleared his throat with a scowl. ”Why don'tcha keep that? I think you'll have more use for it than me. And you'll need your strength,” he added with a naughty wink that sent chills down Whindaër's spine. Then he left, and did not return again until after she had fallen asleep.

Graznikh studied the sleeping Elf while fingering her soft hair. The scent of fear still lingered on her but was much weaker now, and her natural scent was stronger. Her heart beat audibly in the still air.
Graznikh had had his fair share of rape. It was a way to vent while raiding a village or caravan, but he wasn't all that interested in it. He preferred willing partners. But this... He let the lock of Elf hair slide between his fingers. This would be different. He wasn't going to rape the Elf. They died from such activities as surely as they would from a blade through the throat, everyone knew that. But what if she wanted it? He didn't even know if Elves fucked the regular way, but if they did... I'm gonna find the right way, he promised her. I'm gonna find what makes ya stop runnin' and I'm gonna fuck ya 'til you scream my name and beg for more.
He froze as she whimpered. A single tear slid down her cheek. Having a nightmare, eh? He undressed and stretched out beside her, pulling her close and shielding her from the damp, cold air in the cave.

Whindaer dreamed.
She was back home in the haven, on her way to meet her uncle for her daily lessons. She entered his study where he sat as he always did, but when he turned towards her, his face was that of an Orc. She quickly backed out of the study and bumped into her brother. He asked her what was wrong – with the face of an Orc. Whindaër turned and ran back home, where her mother greeted her – as an Orc. Everyone she met, her father, her neighbours, her friends, Elveanië the healer – they were all Orcs. No one seemed to think that anything was amiss, no one even seemed to notice it except her. She screamed and ran, and the Orcs chased her, calling out with her beloved family's voices until she reached the sea where the Orcs cornered her on one of the high piers. She jumped and fell, fell until she was caught by strong arms. She looked up into Graznikh's warm red eyes. He smiled and kissed her – and Whindaër woke up screaming.

A sleepy Graznikh was looking at her as she leapt to her feet and scrambled towards the door. She tried in vain to pull it open, then went on to hammer it with her fists.
”Sorry little windelf,” Graznikh mumbled. ”It's locked and the key is in my loincloth.” He watched as she slowly slid down to the floor and began to cry.
”Bad dream, huh? I know, I have those too at times.” He got up and squatted next to the crying Elf. ”You look miserable.”
”I AM miserable!”
”Poor little windelf...” He began stroking her hair. She shuddered and tried to shy away, but a warning growl made her stay still and allow him to pet her. So soft, he thought. How can anything be this soft? He brought a fistful of it to his face, inhaled her scent and groaned. There were hints of fresh pine resin, young birch leaves, juniper wood shavings and something else he couldn't place, a scent that was sweet and sour at the same time. There was also the scent of woman that sent shivers down his back and set a fire to his groin. Eventually the sobs died down. Graznikh sat still for a while, hand resting on her neck.
”I must say, I'm kinda impressed,” he said.
She looked up. ”Why?”
”Well, considering how much you Elves cry and sob I'm surprised ya manage to keep quiet long enough to sneak up on anything.”
”I am no warrior.”
”Those who passed for warriors made quite a bit of noise themselves back there.”
”Must you remind me?” Her eyes began to well up with tears once more.
Not again, Graznikh thought. ”Ya don't wanna remember?”
”I... Wish I could forget.”
”That's the spirit! Leave the past behind and look to the future. At least...” He leaned in close. Whindaer did not wish to meet those eyes. She was becoming all too familiar with the expression her captor now wore and the evil promise within. But if she refused he might do something even worse, so she slowly turned to face him.
”At least,” he breathed, ”you still have a future to look forward to.” The hand that he had kept at her neck moved up to tease her ear. She let out an involuntary whimper as he rubbed the sensitive tip between his fingers. His eyes widened as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. Whindaër tore herself away and tried to run somewhere, anywhere, but he caught her with ease and shoved her back against the wall. She dared not breathe, could not look away as he slowly inched closer, closer, so close...

Graznikh felt his breath quicken and his loincloth grow smaller. That sound... that was the first one he had drawn from her that wasn't out of fear or pain. He was well acquainted with such sounds, but to hear it from those pale lips... Oh darkness, how he wanted to hear that sound again! He held her steady, one hand tangled in her hair as he licked her neck and throat.
Whindaër screamed in disgust and fear but was quickly silenced by a callous hand covering her mouth. She felt the Orc's ragged breath as he licked her skin and the stench of old leather, grease, sweat and, underneath that, the strong musky scent of Orc. I am dying, she thought while staring at the roof. Elentári, I am dying! The Orc's tongue slowly followed the outline of her ear and stopped to circle the tip before he sucked her ear into his mouth and grunted with pleasure. Another treacherous whimper left her lips, and hot air slithered into her ear as the Orc chuckled and pulled away.
He forced her to meet his eyes and studied her intently as he moved his other hand over her body. The slip she wore was so thin that it was almost transparent and Graznikh had to take care not to tear it with his claws. He didn't get why Elves wore such useless clothing, but he liked the way it graced her body. A thumb gently brushed a nipple and elicited a gasp, and he noticed her eyes widening slightly. She still doesn't get it, he thought with amusement. Her body does, but not her mind. She cried out, muffled by his hand, as he shoved a knee up between her legs and lifted her with it so that she was forced to balance on her toes. Then he assaulted both her breasts with his fingers, kneading and caressing while nibbling her other ear. She cried, screamed and tried to push him away, and that along with the mingled scent of fear and desire almost made Graznikh fuck her then and there.

He felt himself losing control and pulled away with a frustrated growl. He heard the Elf fall as he staggered out of the room. Outside, he collapsed against the door, panting and trying to cool off. He was surprised at how strong a reaction that little sound had set off in him. He leered at the ceiling. Poor little windelf... you're in for one hell of a ride once I've gotten ya to the point where I no longer have to hold back. Until then... He pulled the loincloth aside to relieve the tension.

When he opened the door, he found Whindaër balled up in a corner as far away from the door as possible, eyes squeezed shut. Graznikh chuckled as he noticed that she was covering her ears with her hands.
”What, you've never heard a wank before?” She didn't reply. ”Your mummy and daddy never told ya 'bout important things like that?” She shook her head. ”So how much d'ya know about the makin' of babies?” An almost inaudible gasp reached his ears, and he grinned. When she didn't reply, he turned her around and growled. ”Answer me.”
”My... My mother told me... that if a man and woman wishes to, they may embrace and join in hroa and fëa to form an eternal bond of love. If the woman wishes it, children may be formed through that bond and brought into the world through her body.”
Graznikh snorted at that. ”And what did she tell ya of dicks and cunts and such?” When she only looked away with a puzzled, frightened expression, Graznikh decided to take matters of education into his own hands, as much for his own pleasure as for her enlightenment.
”Hey!” She looked up and before she could look away, he stood and tore his loincloth off. Her eyes grew so wide that he thought for a moment that they would fall out. He grabbed his package with one hand and gave it a tug as he spoke. ”Here, this is a cock and balls. Every guy has them, Elves too I'd assume. When a guy gets horny, his dick will grow to twice this size or more. Then he's ready to fuck, either a gal like you or another guy. I'm not really into that, but to each his own.” He squatted in front of her, grinning like crazy and staring into the poor Elf's eyes with obvious pleasure as he continued. ”You gals have a cunt, a wet sort of pocket between your legs where a dick or other dick-shaped object might fit. When a gal gets horny, that is when she wants a guy to fuck her, that place gets slippery, more than usual. An' it feels nice to finger there, so by all means try it some time.
When someone, guy or gal, starts fuckin' someone who isn't willing, that's what you people call rape, or violation if you wanna get fancy. Elves die from it or so I've heard, which is why it's something I won't do to you. So ya can stop shaking like that. Which brings me to wankin'. It's simply what a guy does when he needs to relieve himself of some tension, in my case after I spend time around a pretty gal like yourself.”
He leaned even closer and forced her to meet his eyes as he continued with a hoarse, eager whisper. ”And fucking, now there's an interesting topic. Basically, I take my cock and put it inside your cunt. Then either of us move back and forth a bit, and it can feel amazingly good or horribly bad, depends on whether you're horny and willing or not. There's a lot more to it; touchin', lickin', bitin', some I've already given ya a taste of, the rest... well, I might introduce ya to the rest later. So; was that enlightening?”

Whindaër whimpered as something dawned on her. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again and shuddered.
”Go ahead,” Graznikh said with a purr. ”I won't bite ya... yet.”
”S-so... wh-when you... Y-you won't... let me g-go, until... after... w-we... Af...”
”Pretty much, yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around her knees. A half-choked terrifed sob escaped her. Graznikh watched her. Shit, this really is hard for her. It did not make him change his mind though, quite the opposite.
”Look,” he said while he sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulling her close. ”Once is all I ask for. One time, then you'll be free to go wherever you want. I'll lead ya back to your forest if you wanna. After that one time.”
”But I cannot!!” she cried out. ”I-I cannot bring myself to... to want something like that, I cannot! It will kill me!”
”Oh? I've heard that Elves are frail in matters like these, but you know what I've heard more? That Elves have strong wills. That if an Elf wants to die, they die, just like that, nothing can keep 'em. But an Elf that wants to live, she'll go through no matter what torture she suffers. Is that all wrong? Should I just give up, fuck ya whether you want it or not and move on?” Graznikh was making stuff up along the way, but he hoped he sounded convincing.
The way he looked her in the eyes, Whindaër could not look away. She shook her head in response and Graznikh smiled.
”Then you could convince yourself to want it enough to fool your body not to give up? If ya tried real hard, hmm?” He played with a lock of her hair.
She hesitated. ”You said you would not... take me, against my will.”
”I did. But I'm still an Orc, and I have needs. No wankin' in the world can get rid of the frustration I'm feelin' with you around. I don't just want a shoot, I want you,” he leaned in and licked her eartip as he spoke, ”and I will have ya, one way or another.” He searched his belt bags and pulled out more dried meat. ”Here. These are the last I have, but I'll go huntin' tonight. Think about it. I'm gonna try an' find something fresh to give ya.” Then he got up and left her alone with the torrent of thoughts.

Whindaër buried her face in her hands until the Orc had dressed and left. There was no way she could make herself want something like that. How could she? Even now she felt her fëa squirm as she remembered his scent and his hands upon her. She laid down upon the pallet. His scent was there too, as if to prove that there was truly no way she could escape him.
Her uncle's voice came to her, bubbling up from some obscure corner of her memory. ”Your will and determination is a powerful weapon,” he said as he paced the floor of the circular gazebo where he held his lessons. ”Without these two traits you can accomplish nothing, for it is necessary whether you are building a ship or learning archery. Steel your will and miracles can be accomplished.” Hot tears streamed down her face as she realised that he was probably dead. She cried for her uncle, for the others who were dead or soon to be, for her family who knew naught of her fate and the possible survivors of the raid who were probably worried sick. The fact that the Orc's words had been so similar to her uncle's made her feel ill.

Whindaër did not want to die. She knew that Elves did not truly die, that their fëas ended up in the Halls of Mandos and were eventually released to wander the Blessed Lands. It was the moment of death that frightened her; being forced to leave her home, her family and this beautiful world to wander among divine beings she had only heard frightening and awe-inspiring tales about. And all because an Orc could not keep his hands away from her. It made her angry.
She tried to sleep, but the Orc's scent kept bringing unwanted memories. His hands as he fondled her, his hot breath against her skin, the warm wetness of his tongue... Why had she whimpered like that? Where had it come from? Even the memory of him made her feel strange. As she turned on the mattress, she suddenly realised why she felt so strange. Reluctantly she brought a hand down between her legs. The slick wetness there almost made her scream. ”When a gal gets horny, that is when she wants a guy to fuck her, that place gets slippery...”
”No,” she whispered, panicking. ”No, no, no...” She desperately wiped her hands on the mattress, but nothing could get the disgusting, slippery feeling between her legs to go away. She tried to wipe it off with her hands and bumped against something that sent a tremor of inexplicable pleasure through her body. She stared at the wall, swallowing hard and trying to comprehend what had just happened. The pleasure had not been that of hearing a lovely music piece or an enchanting poem. It was dark, raw and utterly bewildering. She swallowed again and tried to regain her composure as she heard a sound outside the door. She quickly laid down and pretended to sleep, but no one came. The tears returned and she let them fall, crying silently into the mattress until sleep finally took her away.

Whindaër was fast asleep when Graznikh returned several hours later. She had tossed and turned a bit and the slip had sneaked up to the point where he could almost see that treasure he wanted to get his hands and other body parts onto so badly. He took a moment to admire the sight before he put down the large bag, bucket of water and bundle of cloth he had been carrying, removed his armour and laid down next to her. She stirred when he moved close but did not awaken, for which Graznikh was grateful.
He was not in the mood to talk. Things hadn't gone at all the way he had planned. Instead of seducing her to the point of no return, where she was so hot for him that she could not refuse him even though she wanted to, he had tried to convince her with reason by making a crude deal. I'm such a bloody impatient idiot, he thought. I've gone and ruined everything. Maybe she'll agree to the deal, but that'll be because she wants to be free, not 'cause she really wants me. The chance of my life and I spoiled it. Skai...

She moved slightly in her sleep, lifting a hand and placing it on the bed in front of his face. Graznikh rubbed his flattened nose against it... and got a heady whiff of her filling his nostrils. He would recognise that scent anywhere, even though no two were the same. He could not help himself; he pushed her hand to his face and sniffed again, stifling a groan. This was new. Did she actually try it..? He shook his head, mood improving significantly. So she did learn something from all my babbling. And she didn't just learn, she put it to practise too. And speaking of practise...
He sat up to get a better look at her. The she-Elf might have a mind more innocent than any cub he had ever met, but she did not have the body of one anymore. The first time he had spotted her picking leaves in the forest by the Sea, she had been a child and so had he. A silly Orc cub dreaming of capturing an Elf and being a great warrior. He had spotted her a few times after that as they both grew, brief glimpses of dark hair and soft moonkissed skin. He had hoped to catch her at one of those moments, steal her away in the darkness and strip all that purity from her body and mind. Her presence at the ambush had been pure unbridled luck, the greatest gift the usually cruel mistresses of Fate had ever given him. And Graznikh intended to make the most of it.

Growing up in Dunland had been good in more than one way for a healthy young Orc male. Not only were there many strongholds in the mountains, meaning that there were also many willing Orc females. There was good loot to be had from raiding the northern borderlands and trading with the Dunlendings. And when one had wealth to part with, there were Women in the larger Dunlending settlements who were willing to spread their legs even for an Orc. When he had gained a reputation for being less rough and violent than most of his peers, that had opened a lot of doors. The whores of Dunland had taught him things about men and women of all races. Some were things he had not cared to learn, some were very useful stuff.
No, she ain't a child anymore, he thought as he ogled her in the dark. She wasn't quite finished yet but she had the hips and breasts of a woman, with soft, round thighs and a rump that begged to get pounded. Briefly he wondered if she had figured things out and managed to finish herself off, but he doubted it. She didn't smell that way. And she might have gotten a clue about things earlier but she still loathed every moment he touched her. Perhaps there was a way to change that.
He stripped until he was naked save for the loincloth. Then he tied her hands with the strip of cloth he had used to bind her with earlier and nailed it to the mattress above her head with his knife, taking great care not to hurt or wake her. He knelt between her legs so that she would not be able to close them and pinned her hips to the mattress with one arm. Then he reached down between her legs to caress the wetness inbetween. Whindaër woke up with a shriek and tried to pull away, but found she could not move. Graznikh ignored her protests and kept fingering, trying out different angles and techniques to find the one that might set her off. Fingers circled around that little nub of pleasure where he knew Women were sensitive and she suddenly became very still, barely breathing. He rubbed it again from a different angle and was rewarded with a soft, reluctant moan. He chuckled darkly and set a slow, steady pace. His thumb rubbed the folds around her opening, careful not to enter or scratch her with his claws.

Whindaër could not think. It was as if her mind had suddenly gone blank. This state of mind had only come to her before when she panicked, but the feelings and sensations the Orc brought her now were altogether different. Every stroke, every rub, every hot breath on her skin pulled her closer to something unknown, into the same Darkness where he dwelled. She desperately clung to what little sanity and reason she had left, though it seemed to shrink and wane with every wave of dark pleasure his fingers brought her. The pace changed and pleasure washed over her, so intense that she could not escape had she even wanted to...
Orcs growled a lot. When they were happy, when they were angry, when they were horny. Graznikh knew that some Women were sensitive to that sound, so he decided to see if that applied to Elves as well. He leaned in close to Whindaër's ear, rubbing his chest against her back and let out a low, deep rumble as he licked the eartip. He could see her nails dig into the mattress as the sound brought her closer to the edge.
”C'mon, c'mon,” he coaxed and growled again as his fingers sped up.
Her sudden climax took them both by surprise. Her body shook as the avalanche swept her away to the sound of the Orc's triumphant roar. Slowly, inevitably, the intense pleasure waned. She felt defiled, but incomplete. Graznikh stopped pulling away as he heard a disappointed whimper. He leaned close and whispered; ”Again? Ya sure?” The smallest of nods was enough and he began fingering her again. It did not take long until she climaxed once more, moaning and rubbing against him. Graznikh laughed and began to pull his hand away when he heard a whispered ”no” and stared at her.
”You're fucking kidding me! Again!?” She nodded, lips parted, eyes unseeing. The third one hit her almost as soon as he touched her and this time she pulled away. Graznikh admired his handiwork for a while before untying the sweatsoaked Elf.

Whindaër felt... broken. Her fëa twitched in a corner of her self like a sparrow after a full frontal collision with a glass window. She could not tell if it would leave her once it came to or simply die then and there.
”I never knew Elves had such an appetite,” Graznikh murmured with a grin. ”Good thing I took care o' things before I went in here, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to stop me. Not in this condition.” He chuckled at her mortified look. Then he laid down and pulled her up onto his bare chest. She tried to resist but was too exhausted to do more than to look away in disgust as he began to lick her juices off his fingers.
”Hey.” He began fondling her eartip to get her attention.
”...Yes?”
”Just imagine... I did all this to ya with just two fingers.”
He grinned at her confused, humiliated expression. ”If just two of my fingers could make ya feel like this, imagine what the rest of my body could do.”
Whindaër's eyes began to burn with tears. ”I shall never be able to go back home,” she whispered. ”Not like this, defiled like this, carrying this shame.”
”Izzat so?” Before Whindaër buried her face in his coarse black mane, she glimpsed something in his eyes that could have been mistaken for fondness. He scratched her neck.
”If I could, I woulda brought ya with me to Dunland,” he said softly. ”There's lots of space up there, we might've found a place, a nice little woodland den all our own.”
”And the Men there would accept an Elf in their midst?”
”'Course not. But once I'd taught ya how to use a weapon, none of 'em would say shit in your presence.”
The Elf lifted her head and looked at him. ”Why would I want to do that?”
”Because otherwise they'd kill ya. And if they do say shit, just tell 'em 'latob naparat gorat tala za donk' and slit their throats.” He grinned.
”What... does that mean?”
Graznikh laughed. ”Trust me, you really, REALLY don't wanna know.”

Whindaer rested her head against his muscular shoulder. Not because she wanted to, but because there was nothing else. His skin felt leathery against her cheek. ”The maps I have seen shows Enedwaith as a barren wasteland.”
”That's the Elven name for Dunland? What's it mean?”
”The land in the middle, between the settlements in the north and south, inhabited by the Men from the island of Elenna.”
”So it's the crack between the tarks' arsecheeks?” Graznikh laughed.
”In a crude manner of speaking, I suppose,” Whindaër said with a faint voice. She wasn't sure that she could handle much more of this good humour.
Graznikh suddenly buried his face in her hair and sniffed. ”Huh, that's new.” He sniffed again. ”Interesting.”
”What is?”
He sniffed her hair one last time and looked at her with a smug smile. ”No fear.” She let out a defeated whimper. ”That's some progress. One week and you're already all over me.”
Her head snapped up. ”A week?!” Graznikh nodded. ”But... I have only slept thrice.”
”Ya don't really count time down here. There's no Sun or Moon to help ya keep track. And speaking of sleep...” His jaws cracked as he yawned. He let Whindaër slide back down on the mattress, then went over to his pack and pulled out an old motheaten wool blanket. He pulled her close and wrapped it around them, quietly enjoying the fact that she had not struggled at all.

Chapter End Notes

Elenna - the name of the island where the realm of Númenor is located
Skai - Orcish curse
Latob naparat gorat tala za donk - this is a joke curse among swedish orc LARPers. The rough translation is ”your mother works at McDonalds”. I just couldn't resist putting it in there, sorry :)

When Graznikh woke up, the bed was empty. He shot up and searched the equally empty room. Then he raced to the door and threw it open, nearly toppling Whindaër who stood just outside with a clay mug in her hands. He grabbed her with a snarl and made her drop the mug, which shattered against the stone.
”How did you get out??”
”The... the key was in your loincloth,” she said. ”It lay beside the bed when I woke up, and I was thirsty so I thought...”
”There was water in the bucket I brought!”
She shook her head. ”The inside of that bucket is coated with an oil that makes the water unfit for consumption. It will not affect me, but the taste is very unpleasant.” Graznikh loudly composed a long lists of things he intended to subject the trader to next time he saw him. ”Then the food might be bad too. Skai!” Then he looked at her. ”And how'd ya find the spring? This place is a maze, even I get lost at times.”
”I heard it.”
”How the fuck could you hear it and pick out the right way through all the echoes?!”
”I am sorry,” she whispered. Graznikh's anger melted away, but only after he had punched the door for good measure. ”You just gave me a scare, is all. Next time you want water, let me know first. Don't sneak. Now get back inside!” As she passed him to return to the cavern, he wondered if she had lied about the water to save her own skin. It was, after all, only a matter of time before she would start trying to escape. He expected it, but that did not meanthat  he looked forward to it.

Whindaër sat crosslegged on the bed when he entered, patiently detangling her hair with her fingers. Graznikh watched the peculiar sight for a while before lifting one of the heavy bags he had brought back from his little trading trip. The food should be safe, he reasoned, unless all the traders were in on the cheat. But why would they waste food like that, unless it was the prelude to an attack somewhere? ”Maybe the tarks bought them, bloody traitors,” he growled to himself.
”What does that word mean?” Whindaër asked while picking at a particularly stubborn tangle.
Graznikh looked up. ”What word?”
”The one you sometimes say. Ta'arkh.”
He grinned. ”It's tark. Hard 'k' and the 'r' sorta rolls in the back o' your throat like a growl. And it's the Orcish name for those arse cheeks ya mentioned earlier.”
”The Men from Elenna?”
”Aye, whatever.”
”I see.”
They sat in silence for a while, Whindaër combing her hair and Graznikh cursing under his breath while trying to untie the rope that held the bag. Eventually he lost his temper and pulled a knife on it.
”Wait!” Whindaër cried. Graznikh stopped in mid-stab to stare at her. She calmly walked over, untied the knot with an ease and grace that made Graznikh stare dumbfounded and walked back to the mattress.
”...Right. That was helpful... but it didn't ease my frustration with the damn thing.”
”But now you still have a whole bag.”
He eyed her. ”Were you mockin' me just now?”
Whindaër looked up with a worried look. ”Of course not, why would I do such a thing?”
”I don't know, to show off that you're better at knots than me and brag about it to my face?”
She shook her head. ”Would that not be a very mean and spiteful thing to do?”
Graznikh laughed. ”Aye, that's what I'd do.” He cocked his head. ”Don'tcha ever get frustrated? With that hair. Why not just cut it off?”
”If I did, it would soon look like yours.”
”Aye, we wouldn't want that, now would we?” He kept looking at her. She looked so perfect, sitting there with that long shiny hair, moving with all that Elven grace...
”I'm gonna fuck ya so hard tonight.” There was a loud snap as she pulled the tangle she had been so carefully removing from her hair. Graznikh gave her a smug grin, glad to have gotten a reaction from her and broken that damned Elven poise. ”Oops.” He returned to rummaging through the bag, ignoring the shocked Elf and snickering to himself. He was rather impressed that she actually managed to stop both her breathing and her heart for brief moments when he scared her like that.

As he began pulling flasks and packages out of the bag, he noticed a small wooden comb. A little something that he had stolen from one of the traders and then forgotten about. He glanced at the Elf, still combing her hair in silence, and had an idea.
”Hey, little windelf,” he cooed, holding it up. ”I've got somethin' to help ya with that.” There was a new light in her eyes as she spotted the comb. He held up a hand to stop her as she reached out. ”Nar, not like that. On all fours, come to me.” He licked his lips as she reluctantly obeyed and enjoyed the sight of her little breasts underneath the slip as she crawled over to him. ”Now; I can't just give this to ya.” He could barely contain his mirth. ”I mean, you're very pretty and all, but I gotta keep some pride. However, I could trade it.”
Whindaër's face went from bewildered to terrified as she realized what he was looking at. She held her slip with both hands. ”Not...”
Graznikh grinned. ”Oh, ya wanna trade that? Tempting... but I've no use for it. I'm surprised it's stayed together this long. Nar, sorry. However,” he licked his lips again, ”I could trade it for a kiss.”
Whindaër hesitated. ”A kiss..?”
”Just a little kiss.” Graznikh almost held his breath as she slowly inched closer. When she was close enough for him to smell her sweet breath he noticed her lips were closed. ”Ah-ah.”
There was a question in her eyes, those deep blue eyes that kept changing hue from sapphire to stormy skies in the torchlight, when she opened them and met his. ”Not a peck. A real kiss, tongue and all.”
She gave him a pleading look. ”I do not know how.”
”Oh, I think ya do. Use that Elven creativity o' yours, give it a try.” He licked the corner of his mouth to encourage her. The sight of the black tongue made Whindaër feel sick. At first Graznikh thought she would back out. Then he felt his blood rush downwards as she pressed her lips to his. Brave little Elf, he thought and pushed the comb into her hair as she briefly flicked her tongue against his. He held her head steady and thoroughly explored her lips and tongue with his own before allowing her to pull away. ”Good girl,” he murmured. ”You earned that comb.” He brushed her cheek with a finger. ”And now ya know what a whore is.”

Whindaër slumped down onto the mattress and stared at the comb in her hand. Her mouth felt stale after having been filled with sour Orc slaver. Had she fallen so low already that she would sell her dignity in exchange for simple commodities? She found that she could not go near her captor now without being assailed by memories of his hands and tongue and the sensations they brought. Why do I feel like this? What is happening to me that I would... want... No! She desperately tried to shut that thought out and tried to focus on something else.
Whindaër tried to steal glances at the Orc without him noticing, and now she realized that she had never truly looked at him before. His black hair hung in tresses down the upper part of his back, more felted than tangled, held together by a strap of leather. He had dressed at some point while she slept, and the tunic he now wore was made up of a strange mixture of dark leathers and furs, strapped to his body with crude metal buckles. His legs were covered by chaps of similar make, simple leather tubes that were held up by the same belt as the loincloth. His lower arms and legs were covered by vambraces and greaves of leather with crude and blackened metal sheets attached to them.
His skin was a pale grey colour, like melting snow in spring. Whindaër found that odd. What few stories she had heard described Orcs as black and evil-looking. Graznikh looked gnarly and crude, but not entirely evil. Or was that the memory of his touch speaking? His nose was wide and flat, almost triangular in shape when looked at straight on, the nostrils flaring slightly every time he inhaled. There were no eyebrows, but the heavy, muscular ridge above his eyes served just as well for expressing emotions. He bared his fangs as he reached for something inside the bag. Whindaër knew that Orcs had fangs, but on the rare occasion when she had tried to imagine the look of an Orc she had pictured them as something similar to boar tusks, long and crooked. Graznikh's fangs were more like those of a wolf, fitting well inside his mouth. One hand held the bag steady and Whindaër saw that each gnarly finger ended in a black, thick claw that looked incredibly sharp. Memories of his earlier words and actions came unbidden to her as his black tongue slowly snaked over a fang, and she looked away.

Graznikh had discreetly stopped digging in the bag and now he was sitting still, watching the Elf ogle him from the corner of his eye. He didn't get to be subject to such things very often so he enjoyed the attention. The Elf suddenly noticed that he was looking at her and he gave her a dirty leer.
”See anything ya like?” She looked down with blushing cheeks. ”Oh, come on, it's nothing to be ashamed of!” Graznikh pulled his tunic off, exposing hard muscles honed from years of fighting, running and hard work. ”See these scars? Here,” he pointed at the left side of his chest and made sure she looked. ”That's from a tark blade, cut through my armour and almost took the ribs too. I repaid him in kind by bashing his face with his own shield so bad his own mother couldn't love him after. And this,” he pointed at a large jagged one covering his right shoulder, ”is from when I tried to wrestle a bear in Dunland. Never make bets when drunk is all I'm saying. Damn thing nearly took my arm.” He stepped closer to her, relishing her faint gasp.
”Oh, and this is from my time in the mines.” He turned and flexed his back muscles, showing a criss cross pattern of thin lash marks. ”Those were tough times, but they couldn't keep me a snaga for long. I earned my freedom.” He rolled his shoulders confidently while turning to face his Elf. ”D'you have any scars to show?”
She shook her head with a mortified look. ”I... cut my thumb on a knife while sharpening a feather quill once, but... Elves do not have scars.”
Graznikh laughed. ”What, seriously? So if someone chops an arm off, will it just grow back too?”
”No! Maedhros, son of Fëanor had his sword hand cut off to escape the Dark One, and it did not grow back. He had to learn to use his other hand to wield his sword.”
”Clever guy. But it's more clever to learn to use both hands from the start, then you don't have to relearn if you lose one. See, I use two blades, so my enemy never knows where my next attack will land.” He began to poke her gently with both hands to simulate knife stabs while making ”ch, ch, ch”-sounds. Whindaër wriggled and raised her hands to defend herself and eventually fell over giggling.
The surprised Orc stopped poking her. ”What was that?”
Whindaër got back up, blushing. ”It tickled.”
”...Right.” Must be an Elven thing, he thought. ”Anyway, let's go. I have something to show ya. Here.” He gave her a piece of cloth and a strange cube. ”That's soap and bloody expensive, so don't lose it.” Whindaër examined the cube. It was unlike any soap she had ever seen, crude and oily and full of bits and pieces of grass or perhaps herbs. But it smelled rather nice, despite being so very unlike the silky smooth, scented soaps made by Elven artisans. Graznikh beckoned at the door with a cheerful look. ”Come on!”

Chapter End Notes

On Maedhros and his sword wielding - Elves are naturally ambidextrous, but most Orcs are not so Graznikh misunderstands.

”Does this mean that we are going bathing?” Whindaër asked as they followed a winding passage deeper into the stone.
”Aye,” Graznikh replied. Among other things, my little Elf. The thundering of the waterfall slowly faded as they moved deeper into the mountain, turning this way and that. Here, darkness reigned and the only light was that of the flickering torch that Graznikh carried. At some places, the passage was so narrow that they could not go upright.
Whindaër began gasping for air. ”I cannot go on, the walls are closing in!”
Graznikh turned with a sigh. ”For the third time, nar! they're not. Don't lose yer wits now, we're almost there.”
”But... where are we going?”
”You'll see. Don't worry, I think you'll like it.” Suddenly the walls fell away to either side as the passage opened up into a cavern. It was not very big; Whindaër thought that three or four of her could reach the ceiling if they stood on each others' shoulders in the middle of the cavern. But the size was not what made her gasp as Graznikh lifted the torch. The walls and ceiling were covered with small, multihued crystals that reflected the torchlight into a cascade of colours. At the far end was a large, shallow basin full of clear steaming water where the stalagmites had joined to form a slick smooth edge all around. Water trickled down the far wall which looked like it was made of molten, yellow beeswax. It was a bathroom fit for a dwarven king.

Graznikh grinned as he watched her admire the room. But the genuine heartfelt smile she gave him as she met his gaze almost made him drop the torch. For a moment, he lost himself in those shining eyes and his grin became a smile. Then he shook his head to clear it of the strange fuzzy feeling.
”Welcome to my secret spot, my little hideaway.”
”It is amazing! Thank you so much for showing me this place.”
Graznikh chuckled, not really knowing what to answer. ”Aye, I go here whenever I wanna see stars that doesn't sting my eyes.”
Whindaër looked surprised. ”Do they truly hurt you?”
”Aye, why wouldn't they?”
She looked down. ”I always believed it was only a story. An allegory for the corruption of the Orcs.”
”I've no idea what you just said. But yes, stars sting. Sun burns, moon freezes. Your eyes aren't too bad though, despite the stars.”
Whindaër stood in the middle of the cavern trying to comprehend the chasm between them as Graznikh placed the torch in a holder near the entrance. What did he just say?
Then he began stripping. Whindaër let out a squeak and turned away. He glanced at her over his shoulder. ”You're not gonna wash?”
”...Yes.”
”Well, ya won't be able to do it with that thing on.”
”I had hoped... for some privacy.”
Graznikh walked up to her, not close enough to touch but close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his naked body. ”That thing is almost see-through anyway. And considering last night, I woulda thought we were done with privacy.”
He placed a clawed finger beneath each strap of the slip and pushed them off her shoulders. She quickly wrapped her arms around her chest to keep it from sliding all the way down. Graznikh laughed softly and turned her around. Her head snapped up and he grinned while pulling her arms away. ”Keep struggling and I'll tear it off instead.” Soon they were both naked.
”Funny; ya weren't this unwilling last night. We were both naked then too, or near enough.”
”Y-you had me tied to the bed...”
”Oh, that's right. I forgot. Should I get the ribbons?”
”No!”
”Then get in the bath! I'd wager we both need a good scrubbing.”

Whindaër gingerly stepped over to the basin and dipped a toe in the steaming water while Graznikh fetched soap and cloths. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. ”How can this water be warm? I see no fire.”
”There's fire deep beneath the earth or so I've heard, below the roots of every mountain. Sometimes it pours up, liquid fire and molten rock, like in Burzdur. There's also water there, rivers and lakes and even entire oceans. And when the fire and water end up too close, the heat pushes the boiling water up to the surface. There are places in Burzdur where huge plumes of steam shoot up high in the air, so regular that you can arrange your night after them. And sometimes it's like this little pool here, nice and steamy and a lovely way to relax.” He grinned at her amazed expression. ”Elves aren't the only ones who know shit about the world.” Graznikh slid into the pool with a pleased grunt. ”Skai, sha! this is just what I needed.” Whindaër followed suit, letting out a sigh as the hot water engulfed her.
”What is that word you said? Bur...”
”Burzdur? I think the tarks call it 'More-door' or something like that. It's the Black Land in the east, a place full of smoke and black rocks and a big fire-spewing mountain.”
”Orodruin,” Whindaër whispered.
”Huh?”
”It means the fiery-red mountain. I read it on a map once.”
”I don't get all this reading and writing stuff. You Elves and the tarks both seem completely obsessed with it. Why?”
”It is a way to collect and keep knowledge that otherwise would be forgotten, and a way to speak to others over time and vast distances.”
”If you can't keep it in your head, what's the point? And it only helps if those who find it knows how to read, and the same tongue as the one writing it.”
Whindaër fell silent, and a mischievous grin spread over Graznikh's face. ”Clever gal, not offering to teach me how to read. You woulda given me an excuse to keep ya 'til I learned.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. ”And you know I'd just keep stalling so I could fuck ya some more.”

Whindaër quickly turned away and took the soap to avoid the Orc's hungry eyes. She heard the water move just before a pair of big hands landed on her shoulders from behind.
”There it is. Been lookin' for the soap.” Whindaër tried to give it to him, but Graznikh shook his head and pushed it back towards her. ”Nar, take your time. I can wait.” He leaned over her shoulder to get a better view as she spread the soap with her hands, making little grunts of pleasure as he watched her slide them over her breasts and lower belly. He took the soap the moment she put it away, soaped his hands up and began washing her back. Of course his hands didn't stay there. Soon they were straying all over her body, forcing little whimpers and gasps from her. He grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, pushed her up against one of the larger stalagmites and knelt before her. The basin floor was slippery and slanting and she almost fell, but Graznikh caught her and let her slide down into his lap. Now she was half-sitting with her back against the basin's edge and her legs on each side of the leering Orc's hips. He wiggled two fingers at her.
”Wanna see if these can work their magic this time too?”
”Please no,” she whimpered and tried to pull away as he began caressing one of her eartips.
”Easy now, I know you're eager but there's no need to hurry, is there? We've got time, let's take things nice and slow.” Soapy fingers slid down her neck and circled one of her breasts.
”What's this?” His fingers stopped on the side of her chest. ”D'ya have a little butterfly in there, or is that your heart?” He bent down over her with that mad grin that brought Whindaër back to the moment when he had first caught her. ”Such a little thing... and it's flutterin' all for me, isn't it?”

Whindaër gritted her teeth and tried to strengthen her resolve. I do not wish to die, she thought. "Focus! You have this one chance. Let it waver even once, and your hand will slip and the line will be off.” Remembering her beloved uncle's voice from during one of the many lessons in tengwar calligraphy during a moment like this felt twisted and depraved, but it helped. ”But an Elf that wants to live, she'll go through no matter what torture she suffers.” I want to live, Whindaër decided. I will live. I want this! she added with force as she felt her fëa shudder as his fingers slipped further down. I want this! I want him!
Graznikh studied the Elf's closed but fluttering eyelashes as he rubbed her sensitive spot. Something was going on behind them, and he couldn't tell whether it was because of him or something else. Whindaër moaned and wriggled a little, but the slick surface behind her and their soaped-up bodies only served to make her slide further and further down. The tip of something hot and hard pressed against her, and her eyes opened wide. Now it was Graznikh's time to freeze, his breath caught in his throat.
”Go on,” came the ragged whisper as he stared at her with a dangerous look in his eyes. ”Go on strugglin'. You'd be doing this all by yourself, I wouldn't be lifting a finger to cause it.” He groaned as she moved slightly and chuckled hoarsely when she stopped with a squeak. ”There's no escape now. All mine...”
While she held perfectly still to not slide further down, Graznikh assaulted her body with his hands. He fingered her with one hand and teased her breasts with the other, nibbling and licking her neck and ears. Every now and then, he moved his hips a little to coax her further down; she did not seem to notice because of the distraction but he could feel himself inch deeper and deeper inside her. Holding back was agony.

Whindaër tried to stay silent, because every traitorous moan and gasp echoed in the cavern. She inevitably began to lose it the same way she had the night before, dragged down into darkness as surely as he had dragged her down here. Orcs were evil and depraved, their only joy came from the pain and tormenting of others, thus said the Wise. But now an Orc was causing her pleasure such as she had never before experienced, and how was this even possible? Her hands wandered, searching desperately for something real to hold on to, and found his shoulders as she hit the peak. She cried out and dug her nails into his skin as the climax washed over her. She could feel him tremble as he growled, but there was no threat in that sound, only dammed-up need and want. Her lips moved on their own, forming words she could not bear to speak aloud. He seemed to hear them anyway, because his head suddenly snapped up.

It took all he had to not take her then and there. But if it wasn't his lust-addled brain playing tricks on him, if he had heard things right, there was no reason to hold back anymore. It was an exercise in sheer self-restraint, but he pushed her away and scrambled out of the basin. After taking the towels he had brought and throwing them out on the cavern floor to make it at least a little comfortable, he grabbed Whindaër's arm and pulled the breathless Elf out of the water. Upon seeing his hard cock she blanched. He dropped her into sitting position on the makeshift mattress and lifted her chin so that she met his eyes, cock bobbing right in front of her face.
”Don't be silly,” he said. ”You've had it halfway in already and ya didn't even notice. Besides,” he groaned as he knelt and pulled her into his arms, ”you gave me free reins just a moment ago, remember?”
Whindaër stared. Had she? He began to finger her again and suddenly she did not care what she had said. Then he flipped her over, parted her legs with his knees and pinned her to the ground with his own body before she had time to resist. He gave her a few quick strokes with his fingers to distract her a little while he prodded, ignoring her weak protests. Soon he found the right spot and buried his dick with one slow thrust.

There was nothing else, no escape, nothing but their bodies and the intensity that joined them. Her fëa screamed in agony but her hroa screamed in ecstasy as he impaled her. The sheer need to have more, feel more, chained her fëa to her self with the black chains of Morgoth just as her body was pinned to the ground by His spawn. Graznikh began thrusting slowly, once, twice, thrice. Then he couldn't hold back any longer and proceeded to fuck her like a proper Orc.
”Gur-ub opakarkat lat gundurz, âmbal mik golug,” he growled. ”Gur-ub thrakat latob drau-ûk agh krimpat lat za burzum-ishi. Bugdat, mik golug, Bugdat gurb um... Lat ti gurb!”
She cried out, and Graznikh laughed inbetween the gasps. It did not matter that she could not understand, he was not going to let her forget who and what brought her to this point.
”D'ya remember my name, little Elf?” he rumbled. ”Hmm?” Whindaër nodded absently. ”Then say it.”
”Gra-aah!”
”Nar, that's not right. Say my name.” She tried again and gave him a tortured look as another hard thrust brought her beyond speaking. She clenched her fists and Graznikh could feel her body tensing underneath him.
”Say it, say my name,” he murmured into her ear.
”Gh- gh- aahhh...”
”Say it Win-daar, please...”
”Grahh... znikh...”
”Sha, louder!”
Her eyes widened as she reached the top of the wave of pleasure, balancing on the edge of the abyss...
”GRAZNIKH!!!”

Graznikh bellowed as she came, a triumphant sound that amplified and bounced off the cavern walls. Moments later, his claws scraped against the stone floor as he came as well, bucking hard and pressing his fangs against her cheek.
”Win-daar...” he breathed as their spasms died down. This was SO worth all the hassle, he thought. He still had energy left for more but decided against it. Better go easy on her this time.
Whindaër was beyond any kind of rational thought; her body felt spent and there was nothing to run from anymore, nothing... A final tremor ran through her and she slowly drifted away to the sound of the Orc's satisfied purring.

Chapter End Notes

Gur-ub thrakat latob drau-ûk agh krimpat lat za burzum-ishi. Bugdat, mik golug, Bugdat gurb um... Lat ti gurb! - I will fuck you hard, sweet little high-elf. I will take all your light and bind you in the darkness. Scream, little high-elf, scream my name... You are mine!

Whindaër slowly came to. Her entire body ached as she had never before experienced. The first things she saw as she opened her eyes were the beautiful reflections of the crystals in the dying torchlight, and she smiled; a weak, small smile.
”You'll never forget this place now, will ya?” Graznikh murmured in her ear. She screamed as his voice brought memory and a horrifying vision down upon her.
”Skai!” Graznikh wrestled the flailing Elf to the ground and covered her mouth. ”Don't do that! Fuck, my poor head.” He let her go and groaned. ”I feel like I got clobbered by a fucking Olog. Skai...” He stumbled over to the bag, pulled out a drinking skin and took a swig. ”Here, have some wine; it'll calm ya down.”
Whindaër sat up, took the skin, sniffed the contents and proceeded to drink in long gulps.
”Hey, hey, hey! Not all of it!” He tore the skin from her hands. ”Now you'll get a headache too, then we can both be miserable.”
”Elves cannot get drunk on common wine,” she said with a forlorn voice.
”Seriously?” He scratched his head. ”Is there anything you Elves can do? Ya can't drink, can't fight, can't fu-...” He paused to grin at the memory. ”Well, you CAN fuck, I'll give ya that. Oh wow.” He sat down as his knees gave out. He looked at Whindaër. ”Why the sad face? And don't tell me you didn't like it, I heard ya back there.”
”Stop.”
”Say what?”
Whindaër took a deep breath. ”Stop mocking me! Stop ridiculing my despair! Stop hurting me with words when I have done nothing to deserve it!”
His eyes narrowed. ”You want me to stop mocking ya? Then earn my respect, Elf! Stop sniveling like an idiot snaga and start fighting!”
”Elves do not do that! I have done nothing to hurt you and yet you threaten me, imprison me, violate me; you are selfish and cruel!”
”'Elves do not'..! I'll tell ya what, Elves don't fuck Orcs either and they definitely don't like it! What were ya doing back there? And aye, I'm selfish and cruel. I'm a fucking Orc, what did ya expect? Flowers and poetry?” Suddenly sober, he walked over to her and squatted in front of her, face twisted into an angry grimace. ”You know what I think?” He poked her chest as he spoke. ”I think you liked the whole damn thing. You wanted it, and you want more of it! But you're scared 'cause 'Elves don't do that' and o' what your mummy and daddy's gonna say when ya come back unharmed and stinking of rut and Orc spunk. And don't you fucking dare throw 'violation' in my face like that; you're still alive!”
”Certainly not through any doing of yours!”

Graznikh roared, and Whindaër clamped her hand over her mouth. He threw himself at her, pinning her to the floor and snapping his fangs shut close to her face. ”Ya wanna know how many of your precious folk survived the raid? Huh?! YOU!!! Of all your brave warriors an' quick hunters an' wise sages, one little girl made it out unhurt because of a stupid-as-fuck Orc who can't get his priorities straight and suddenly decides to fuck 'er gently instead of draggin' her back with his band, havin' a nice evening of drinkin' and rapin' and movin' on!!”
They stared at each other for a while. Whindaër stared at him, eyes and mouth wide, as if she had never seen an Orc before. Graznikh desperately tried to calm down before he did anything even more stupid. He looked deep into her eyes. How can there be stars inside someone's eyes? he wondered. The stars came closer and grew bigger, brighter, his eyes stung like a thousand needles of silver and ice pierced them but he could not look away. Mingled with the pain was something else; a promise of balance, connection, a steady point that did not waver in a raging torrent of time. A softness that could not be broken. Something reached out to claim him, white light filled his vision and he screamed.
Whindaër, on the other hand, saw fire. The flames of Udûn danced in Graznikh's red eyes, mingling with the darkness of the Void and pulling her in, throwing barbed meathooks into her fëa and dragging her into him, or him into her. In the fire there was strength, change, the joy of being, living in the now without worry or care. She screamed as the vision she had upon waking came true and spears of Shadow and Flame pierced her.

An eternity passed. They simultaneously pushed each other away the moment they could finally let go. Whindaër hyperventilated, hugging herself as if that could shield her from the inevitable. Graznikh reeled, head to the ground, his hands twitching. He could feel something deep inside, something that hadn't been there before, something that both was and wasn't him at the same time. ”What..? What..?”
Whindaër slowly sat up and Graznikh barely dared to look upon her for fear of the painful light returning. After a moment of steadying his nerves, he decided to risk it to get some answers.
”Alright,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. ”What the FUCK just happened?”
She shook her head, hugging her knees. ”I... I don't... Know...”
”But... ya have a clue, right?”
She nodded. After a moment of silence and a deep breath, she said: ”Do you remember when we talked about... making babies?” She blushed.
”What do babies have to do with this?”
”I told you what my mother said about Elves and love, that-”
”Yeah, everlasting bond and wanting babies and all that. It's a pretty story, but I still don't get what that has to do with anything.”
”If you would let me finish speaking,” she said with a touch of ice in her voice. ”It is not simply a story. The bond is real, it is everlasting and it cannot be broken, even beyond death. Although... It is not supposed to happen like this, or hurt like this...” She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly.
For the first time since he fought that bear, Graznikh felt afraid. ”So... What you're claiming is that...” He didn't dare go on. Didn't dare put his fears into words. ”But... But I'm no Elf, I'm a bloody Orc! A selfish, cruel, murderous Orc who kills and steals and rapes! This is fucking ridiculous! We're different bloody races!”
”Then... you do not know?”
”Know what?!”
She looked away with tears in her eyes. He walked up to her and forced her to look at him. ”What is it I supposedly don't know that I should be knowing?”
”That... Orcs were once Elves.”
Graznikh let her go and took a step back. Then another. Then he snorted. Then chuckled. Then laughed, an insane, hysterical, desperate laugh. When the laughter faded, he let out a low howl and sunk to the ground.

”No one truly knows how Orcs came to be,” Whindaër murmured in an attempt to comfort with knowledge. ”The wise believe that when the Elves first awoke at the waters of Cuiviénen, the Dark Enemy haunted the surrounding woods and took captive any who strayed too far from those starlit waters. They believe He subjected them to torture and mutilation, and corrupted them into Orcs. His slaves, tools of His destruction.”
Graznikh snorted. ”I'm no one's slave,” he said wearily. ”I fought my way outta the mines, I earned my freedom, I...” Then he sighed. ”And apparently I'm enough Elf to get chained up like this.” He laid down flat on his back with an arm over his eyes. Whindaër opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind when she saw the Orc's tortured face.
Graznikh lifted his arm and eyed her as she slowly got to her feet and returned to the basin to wash the stains of their encounter off. This was supposed to be fun, he thought with dismay. A fun little rut, to see if she was as fancy as she looked or if I could make her cry out in something other than fear. Just a little fun, then I'd be on my way and so would she. He admired her backside as she sat down upon the basin's edge, soaping a black-stained thigh. If a chain stretches far enough, it breaks. Maybe if I run far enough, this one will too. He tried to focus on something other than the miserable situation he found himself in.
”That's a real nice arse ya got there,” he murmured as she stood up. Graznikh couldn't help but grin as she blushed. He could feel her strong confusion through the little ball of her inside him. Then he frowned. If I can feel her so strongly, can she feel me in the same way? What if..? Whindaër gasped and clutched her hands to her chest as the wave of lust hit her through the bond. She looked at Graznikh, who winked and leered at her. He was rewarded with a small frown as she swallowed. This is sick, he thought. just plain sick. Fun, but sick.
He beckoned at her and she approached after a moment's hesitation.
”I am sorry I yelled at you,” she said as she sat down beside him.
”Why? You probably had a good reason.”
”But I upset you.”
”So? I'm a big boy, I can take it. You do have a voice that the Dwarves could use to cut gems with though, so stay away from those crazy beardies. And their pigs.” He muttered something about ham and mad stumps.
She gave him a reluctant smile. ”You are not upset with me then?”
”Nar. You can yell at me whenever ya feel like it.”
”But you will yell back?”
”Aye, I let ya hit me back there but don't expect me to be that generous again. I'll never hit ya though, you got my word on that. Whatever it's worth.”
After a moment of silence, Whindaër sighed.
”Do you know what I miss most about my home?”
Graznikh shrugged.
”It may be silly, but... I had a special creme that I put in my hair after I washed it. I love the fragrance, it always made me feel so calm and safe. I miss that.”
”...Me too.”
She glanced at him. ”What do you know of that?”
”Smelled it on ya when I caught ya. It was faint, but there. Sorta sweet an' sour at the same time. I liked it.” After a while, he asked: ”Ya wanna go home?”
”I do not know. You were right, earlier. I am afraid of what will happen. Of what questions will be asked. Of what change in me will be noticed and wondered about. But I cannot stay away forever. I could not give my family the grief of believing me dead when I am not.”
”You Elves really are tight, huh? It's probably for the best anyway. As much as I'd like to take ya with me to Dunland, I can't. I have to go back to the band, I'm fucked if I get a rep for going rogue. And they wouldn't keep their paws off ya.”
She laughed a little. ”You could teach me how to use weapons so I could defend myself.”
”Har! I would, but I doubt we'd have time to go through more than the basics. And basics wouldn't last ya an eyeblink.” He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. ”I'll teach ya how to use weapons if you teach me how to read.” They stared at each other for a moment. The part of him that didn't want to care about consequences, the part that wanted to just grab her and run and never let go, let out an internal groan. Fuck, just say yes already! But Whindaër only smiled sadly. Graznikh shrugged, trying to quench the disappointment that welled up against his will.
”Skai... I'm hungry. Let's get outta here.”

When they returned to the cave, Whindaër sat down on the mattress to detangle her hair. It went faster now, thanks to the comb. Graznikh sat down next to her while unpacking the bag containing the food. There was a dark flat bread, a lump of butter wrapped in waxed linen, some kind of hard cheese, a piece of smoked venison and even a few small, wrinkly apples that were the sweetest Whindaër had ever tasted.
”Where did you find all of this?”
”Traded. A merchant caravan bound for Dunland passed a few days before the raid, I thought I'd treat myself to some little luxuries before my eventual death. But I never had time to return here after I stashed it away.”
Graznikh cut slices from the cheese and the venison with a knife that he promised had only been used for food. This is absurd, Whindaër thought while they ate. It is as if we are a happy couple on a romantic picnic, not prisoner and captor. The fact that they were both still naked added to the absurdity. She felt apprehension creep back into her heart as Graznikh eyed her with a sly smile. He leaned back on his elbows, stretching to make sure she got a good look at him.
”Mik âmbal...” he purred.
”What does that mean?”
”Little sweet.”
”The Orcish tongue have words like that?”
”Aye, what else would we call pretty little Elves when we catch them?” He grinned. ”There's another word too, mîr, meaning 'pretty'. But that's not really used about people, it's more for things, a gem or a nicely sharpened blade.”
Whindaër looked at him. ”What of love?”
”What about it?”
”There is no word for it?”
”I don't know, what's love?”
”It is...”

Whindaër was stunned. The notion of someone, anyone, not knowing about love was almost incomprehensible to her. ”It is... when you feed your beloved before you eat yourself, even when it means starving. It is when you feel content in a person's presence and you wish to be nowhere but by their side, even though the surroundings are bleak and the destination unsure. It is when you wait for years beyond counting for that one person, despite not knowing their fate. It is when you embark on an impossible quest to win the right to be with your beloved, even though it may claim your life.” She paused for a moment before continuing with a whisper: ”It is when you are able to accept someone, beyond all their flaws, beyond the fact that they sometimes treat you cruelly or speak in ways that you cannot comprehend. It is when you wish for that person's happiness, even though it means sacrificing your own.”
”Sounds like bloody madness to me.”
”It is,” Whindaër whispered. ”But it is a good kind." She looked at him sadly. "But there is no word for it among your kind?”
Graznikh shook his head, damp black hair falling over his face. He brushed it away with a hand. ”Nar, none that I know of at any rate. There's opash, meaning when you're horny for someone, I'd guess that's the closest you get. We don't really do 'love'. Why d'you ask?”
”I was only curious,” she said quietly. Graznikh kept looking at her with an unreadable expression. She felt stupid for asking. Of course there was no such thing as love among Orcs! What was she thinking? Her heart felt strange. This is insanity! I cannot be falling in love with an Orc, a creature uncapable of even comprehending such emotions! Does the corruption of his touch run so deep already?

Graznikh watched the Elf for while before getting up. He needed to clear his head. As he rummaged through another bag, some of what she said echoed in his mind no matter how he tried to ignore it, and the little ball of foreign presence inside kept bugging him. ”It is when you are able to accept someone, beyond all their flaws, beyond the fact that they sometimes treat you cruelly or speak in ways you cannot comprehend.” There was a jab in there directed at him, he was sure of it. He pulled out the robe and sash that his Elf had worn the day he found her, buried his face in it and inhaled deeply. ”It is when you feel content in a person's presence and you wish to be nowhere but by their side, even though the surroundings are bleak and the destination unsure.” He was going to miss her. But that was only because he was hot for her, he wanted to fuck her, taste her, hear the moans and little cries he drew from her reluctant lips as he touched her. ”It is when you wish for that person's happiness, even though it means sacrificing your own.” If he let her go, did that mean he loved her? If she wanted to stay, did that mean she loved him? Or if she left? Graznikh shook his head. This was too much. Why couldn't things be simple? You wanted someone, then you fucked them. Either you paid for it, or asked nicely or just fucked them anyway, how you got it didn't really matter, did it? You wanted to hang out with someone, then you did so or got punched. That was it, wasn't it? He sniffed the robe again. Skai, I'm gonna miss her. He had almost, almost forgotten the bond for a moment, now he tried to focus on it without tugging it. He doubted that it was possible to read her mind through it, but he found that he could feel some stronger emotions through it, currently mainly grief and disappointment. There was a hint of something else too that he could not identify. He turned back towards the mattress.
”Hey.” He held up the robe as Whindaër lifted her gaze. ”Thought you might wanna wear something.”
She gave him a small grateful smile as he handed it over, and he couldn't help returning it. How could such a little thing feel so good? ”About this bond-thing...”
”Yes?”
”Is it possible to lie through it? I mean, can ya pick up feelings that aren't real?”
She shook her head. ”The bond does not lie. And you cannot feel feelings that you are not truly feeling, so no.”
”...Right.”
She began dressing. After lacing her soft leather boots, wrapping the robe and sliding the sash down around her waist she hesitated.
”Um... Could you..?”
Graznikh grinned. ”You never learned to dress yourself?”
”Of course I did! But I cannot reach behind to tie it properly.” She showed him how to wrap it and hold it in place.
”Like this? Harder?” He had to use quite a bit of strength to pull the sash tight and tie it. ”Can you even breathe in that thing?” She smiled a little and nodded. At least she ran bloody fast in it, Graznikh thought and smiled at the memory. She looked now almost as she had then, only with rosier cheeks and a few more wrinkles in her robe. He almost gave in to the urge to tear it off, but he resisted and instead pulled her close to nibble her ear before reaching for his own worn leathers.

Whindaër watched Graznikh dress, reflecting upon the events of the past week. He seemed so alien in many ways and she had feared for her life more times during her brief stay with him than she had during the entirety of her life before. But she had also never felt more alive. He was terrifying and crude, but had also been unexpectedly kind and gentle. He was definitely not handsome, more like a monstrosity in most Elven eyes. But when he smiled one of those rare genuine smiles something shone through in his eyes, something that drew her in.
Graznikh tightened his belt and strapped the harness that held his twin blades to his back. After making sure he'd get them out in a hurry if needed he turned to the Elf. My Elf. My âmbal.
”C'mon,” he said and took the torch from its holder. ”Let's check the weather.”
The noise of the waterfall grew in strength as they slowly made their way out. Whindaër inhaled deeply as the passed it on a narrow and slippery ledge and came out into the open air. The evening was cloudy and Graznikh made an odd comment about pale skin and luck that Whindaër did not understand.
”Will we even reach the forest tonight?” she asked. ”I had travelled for three days when you... found me.”
”Aye, we will. This cave is much closer to the border than your caravan was.”
Whindaër fell silent and Graznikh felt a sharp pang through the bond.
He stopped. ”What?”
”Were you... truthful when you said that none but me had survived the raid?”
He didn't look at her when he answered. ”Nar. I don't know if anyone else survived, I was a little busy with you at that point.”
”Did you kill my uncle?”
”The guy who jumped me?”
Graznikh shook his head as she nodded. ”Nar. I hit him, but not hard enough to kill. If he's dead, it's not by my hand.”
They continued to walk in silence. Suddenly Graznikh had the strangest feeling. It was as if something brushed against his ribcage from the inside. He spun to face Whindaër.
”What the fuck're ya doin'?” he hissed.
She stared at his glowing eyes. ”I'm sorry?”
”You weren't doing anything to me right now?”
”I only...” she looked down in shame. ”I only wondered how you felt... I touched the bond.”
Graznikh was amazed. ”That's what it feels like? It feels like that when I do it to you too?”
”I do not know. How does it feel?” He tried to explain the feeling and Whindaër nodded. ”It is similar, only... you are a little rough sometimes.”
Graznikh chuckled. ”That's an understatement if I ever heard one.” She surprised him by laughing as well.

The night was dark and they neither saw nor heard any other living creature save for night birds and bats. Graznikh had thrown the torch into the river to avoid being a walking target, so Whindaer had to pick her path using ears and feet alone. At one point she stumbled and fell but Graznikh, nocturnal creature that he was, caught her with ease and lifted her back on her feet.
”Elves aren't supposed to stumble,” he whispered as he let her go.
”Orcs aren't supposed to catch them if they do,” she whispered back. She felt his grin more than she saw it as he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Graznikh felt strangely dizzy as he let go. Skai, what the fuck's happening to me?

After a few more hours, Graznikh suddenly stopped. ”Well, this is it.”
Whindaër looked around. ”This?”
”Aye, over there's the edge o' your forest. The stream ya see down there goes down to a little clearing with white flowers, I think ya know it. I'm not going any further, don't want the guards to turn me into a pincushion.” He flashed her a reassuring grin.
Whindaër hesitated. ”Thank you.”
”For what?”
She shrugged. ”For... you know.”
He gave her a sly smile. ”Yeah.” Then he snorted quietly and pulled her into a rough embrace, gently placing his fangs against the nape of her neck and purring deeply. ”I'm gonna miss ya, âmbal,” he whispered when he let go. Whindaër simply nodded, the torrent of emotions that met him through the bond was enough. ”And... I'll let ya go now. Don't worry about the bond. I won't bother ya with it again.” He desperately tried to shut her response out as he backed away and turned to leave.
"Graznikh, I-”
”Just fucking go before I change my mind,” he growled, a little harsher than he intended. He turned to apologise, but found that she had already disappeared among the bushes. He cursed silently as he turned back towards the mountains, heading in the direction his band had last camped. It was the longest, hardest road he had ever taken.

Chapter End Notes

On character ages: Graznikh is 10 years old and Whindaër is 65 when he first spots her in the forest. The raid happens five years later. Elven bodies grow slowly and they come of age at 50-100 years, this is also when they usually marry/"join in hroa and fëa". Orcs on the other hand grow faster than humans and reach adulthood at 10-13 years. Both are physically mature, but Whindaër appears younger in mind because she has lived such a sheltered life.