Wolves And Shattered Shields by Hoglorfen

Shadow And Flame

Graznikh woke up too early. He grumbled at the thin rays of late afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the holes in the crude wooden boards that covered the cave entrance. A movement to his side made him glance at the mass of curly, matted, brown hair on the furs beside him. He had already forgotten her name. Graznikh tried to go back to sleep, but after some restless tossing and turning he got up. A pair of sleepy, yellow eyes peered at him from the furs. ”You gon' go out? Now?”
Graznikh shrugged and reached for his boots.
”Leave 'im,” another voice said. ”E's restless, that one.”
The boards creaked as he moved them aside, followed a few curses from inside the cave as he slipped out. He hissed as the sun hit his face and hurried into the shadows. There was a meltwater stream from the mountains not far from the cave, and soon he knelt on a rock while splashing some of the icy water in his face. It did not help much to improve his mood.
Nothing works, he thought as he stared at his distorted reflection in the slow stream. I've tried running, hunting, fucking, drinking, killing, and nothing works. Fucking bloody Elves!
Years had passed. He had managed to run far enough for the bond to fade into almost nothing after that fateful raid. But the feeling, or rather the lack of feeling, that had replaced the Elf's presence was worse. There was a gaping, yawning void inside his chest that could not be filled no matter how he tried. For years and years he had tried, only to fail over and over. Everything that used to make him happy and content now turned to dust the moment he reached for it. Maybe if I kill her, it'll go away. The thought alone made him turn away from the water and throw up noisily. Nope, no killing. He rinsed his mouth to get rid of the foul taste and turned his back to the cave. The thought of going back there was suddenly appalling. So I can't run from her. What if I run towards her?
He glanced at the evening sky, wondering what his little secret was doing right now. Was she happy? Sad? Angry? The bond was so faint that he could not tell, but for some reason he desperately wanted to know. He had to know. Briefly returning to the cave, he put his armour, belt and weapons on, ignoring what's-her-name's pleading for him to stay another night. Now that his mind was set, it was impossible to turn away.

"I do not understand," Elveanië said. "I have done all that I can to ease her suffering, but the taint on her fëa remains. It is as if it has become a part of her, impossible to remove without permanent harm."
Terenwen sighed. She thought back upon the morning when her daughter had miraculously returned to her, the sole survivor of an Orc raid that had killed thirty seasoned warriors and many more unarmed innocents. Even the horses had been found wantonly slaughtered. She recalled the instinctive terror she had felt as she looked into her child's eyes and saw the bond and the darkness that wreathed it. Elveanië worried about the taint, the touch of evil that they had all felt upon the girl when she returned, but the healer did not sense what Terenwen feared. Someone had claimed her daughter's heart and that had brought the darkness. And Whindaër refused to speak of it.
The object of their worry sat on the bannister of a balcony below, absently stariing out over the Sea. She would rather have walked in the forest, but her parents would not let her go without a guardian. That defeated the purpose of the longed-for walk, so Whindaër tried to find secluded places within the haven instead. But even here, there is no solitude, she thought as she heard footsteps approach. Terenwen sat down on the bench.
"Whindaër, what have I told you?"
"That the bannister is no place to sit for a young lady."
"Come down. It is unbecoming of you." Slowly she slid down, arranging her robe carefully before sitting down on the bench next to her mother. Terenwen smiled.
"Is there anythi-"
"No," Whindaër interrupted.
"Daughter... Will you not let us help you?"
"You cannot bring back the dead."
Terenwen sighed. "I know, dearest. Is there anything you would like to do, to take your mind of this pain that haunts you so?"
Whindaër thought about it for a while. "There is something."
"What is your wish?"
"I wish to learn how to use weapons."
Terenwen looked up sharply. "Weapons? Whatever for?"
Whindaër looked at her mother for the first time since she had approached. "Because... I cannot stop thinking about all those poor people. Our marchwardens were no match for the monsters, despite all their speed and strength... If I had known how to wield a blade properly, then perhaps I could have defended them. I cannot bring them back, but if I learn now, then I can defend myself should I ever cross paths with úvanimor again. Please mother," she begged as Terenwen hesitated.
"Very well. I shall ask Sairion to tutor you alongside your brother."
"Thank you," Whindaër smiled. "Will you allow me a walk in the woods on the morrow?"
"That you may do. But your brother will accompany you. Do not stray far and do not go near the border."

The soft moss tickled her bare feet as she walked, and the soft late afternoon breeze played with her hair. Falastur followed a few paces behind, bow in hand and a quiver at his belt.
"I cannot see why mother worries so," he said as Whindaër knelt to study a flower. "Orcor have never strayed into the woods before. The attack was three days' journey hence and happened five years ago."
"I could not agree more," Whindaër said. "I cannot help but feel that she worries too much."
"She did mention something about you wishing to become a warrior," he said with an amused smile.
"Not a warrior, perhaps, but... I want to learn how to defend myself. I have been already at the mercy of others, capable only of watching as doom approached while others fought and died."
Falastur nodded gravely. "You need not explain yourself to me. I have never been so frightened as when I learned of the attack, and that you were among those missing. If you wish for my aid, I will gladly teach you what I know. The bow is a good weapon to begin with."
Soon they were engaged in Whindaër's first archery lesson.
"Lift your elbow," Falastur instructed. "Higher. Higher. Good!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, correcting her posture. "Always keep your elbow at least in level with your shoulder, preferably with your eye when drawing a bow. Keeping it lower will not only compromise your strength and draw reach, it will also prevent you from fully engaging your back muscles and you will be doing so in the wrong angle, which may cause injuries later when drawing more powerful bows." He demonstrated the proper stance and nodded as Whindaër corrected her own. He leaned against a tree, eating a handful of berries he had picked while watching Whindaër practice. "It is so peaceful here," he whispered.
Whindaër twitched as the bond she had tried to forget all these years suddenly flared to life, moments before the attack came. She turned to stare, eyes wide.
Falastur frowned. "What..?" Then he dropped the berries, took the bow from her and nocked an arrow to the string. Whindaër screamed and the distraction was enough to make the arrow go too far to the left, only grazing the target it was meant to pierce. Falastur barely managed to draw his dagger before the Orc crashed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs. A few curses, growls and some wrestling later, he was securely bound to a tree.
"This was actually meant for her," Graznikh said as he thumbed the rope, "But I guess this works too."
"Lyé... Anfaicalye úvanimoriva!" Falastur spat.
"Aye, whatever. Skai, you Elves are easy! Where are all the great warriors I keep hearing about?"
Suddenly the Elf looked very frightened. "Run Whindaër," he pleaded. "Please run!"

Whindaër took a step back as Graznikh turned towards her. He wore that oh so familiar grin and had that hungry look in his eyes that seemed to draw her in. If Graznikh had not held a firm grip on the bond he would have thought she was terrified, but the feelings that reached him through it told a different story.
"Hello âmbal," he murmured as he came close. "Did ya miss me?" He could hear the other Elf struggle to get free.
"Do not dare touch her, úvanimo!"
Graznikh laughed. "Your new boyfriend?"
"My brother," Whindaër whispered. ”Please, do not harm him.” She took another step back. He leered at her as she backed away from him and licked his fangs as she turned and ran.
"Looks like it's time for another hunt. Don't miss us too much, will ya?"
"No!" the Elf cried.
"Good!" With that, Graznikh took off.

He couldn't track her on the soft forest floor, but the bond pointed him in the right direction. She did not slow down as he closed in and Graznikh chuckled. So you like it when I hunt ya down, eh? I hope you feel how horny this makes me. I'll make ya feel it! He heard her gasp and saw her stumble as he lashed out through the bond, but she did not lose her footing. There was a tinge of fear through the bond now which only served to increase his lust.
He caught up with her in the western foothills, where the tall trees of the deep forest gave way to thorny shrubs and stands of dryland sedge that were thick and tall enough to hide a mounted warg rider with ease. Graznikh made sure to cover their tracks, turning this way and that and deliberately picking difficult terrain. After a few hours, he stopped and pulled Whindaër close without a sound. He parted the sedges and dragged her down a narrow pass that led to a small clearing next to a spring, completely hidden among the boulders and thick thorny vegetation. The spring was so clear that one could see the sparkling white sand on the bottom almost four feet down, as well as the water bubbling up through it from the deep earth. The evening sun did not reach into the deep clearing so Graznikh could finally remove his hood. Whindaër knelt beside the spring, still panting from the long run.
"You've grown fast! I like that..." Graznikh grinned as he removed his armour and clothing and knelt close behind her. She made an attempt to strike up conversation as he unbuckled her belt and began removing her tunic, but the raw desire pounding through the bond made her voice falter. ”Please, I-”
”You've swelled too,” Graznikh purred as his hands slid underneath the tunic to fondle her breasts. Whindaër stifled a moan. He turned her around and pushed her down, covering her mouth with his and effectively muffling any further protests she might have had.

Graznikh did not fully understand the tarks' and Elves' fascination with kissing. Orcs did not kiss, the fangs were in the way. A Dunlending whore had taught him how to do it and explained that it was a physical demonstration of lust and affection, but he had never really gotten the point. As he felt Whindaër melt underneath him, he began to understand. Totally worth it!
He broke contact to pull her tunic off and then paused to look at her. She had swelled, her curves were more defined than they had been the first time he saw her naked. She was not wearing trousers as he had first thought but chaps, similar to his own, made from a soft, pale grey suede. But unlike him, she wore no loincloth.
”Oh, that's nice,” he purred. ”Does mummy know that you're runnin' around dressed like this?” She blushed and looked away. ”Don'tcha know it's dangerous?” he murmured as he parted her legs. ”What if you get ambushed by an Orc or something?” She began to tremble as he slowly crawled on top of her, but he did not assault her as she expected. Instead he gave her a few gentle playbites on her neck and chin before moving downwards, licking and nibbling along the way. Both her nipples received a thorough probing by a wet tongue. Whindaër looked at him as he stopped, not knowing what he planned next. He grinned and winked at her.
”What are you-” her question was cut short by a gasp as he began lapping at her sensitive spot. ”No... no!”
He stopped. ”No what?”
”Do not, it... It is not-”
”Not what?” He gave her a slow, tentative lick that made her moan and roll her head from side to side. Graznikh grinned. ”It's not what? Not good enough?”
”No, it is... wrong!” Whindaër exclaimed after finding her voice.
Graznikh rolled his eyes. ”Oh, come on!” He firmly pinned her hips down, ignoring further pleas and proceeded to lick her with determined moves. He wetted two fingers and eased them into her, caressing her insides and savouring every sound of pleasure that he forced from her lips. Soon the hands that had tried to push him away were entangled in his shaggy hair as she cried her climax to the stars above.

That sound..! Graznikh grabbed her hips and felt her exhale against his neck as he mounted her. Whindaër clawed the ground as Graznikh suddenly seemed to be everywhere at once. The bond that was meant to be a gentle connection of mutual love and understanding was used as a leash, yanking and dragging her mercilessly in whatever lecherous direction he wanted, forcing himself into her deeper than skin-level and shredding every defense she had until there was nothing left. Nothing except his grunting in her ear and his big hands holding her hips in place as he fucked her with reckless abandon.
Graznikh groaned as he came. It was over far too soon. He leaned his head against Whindaër's shoulder, feeling disappointed and unsatisfied. Suddenly there was a spark of pleasure as she began fingering the tips of his crooked ears, and Graznikh gasped. The soft fingers slid down his neck, nails clawing the back of his shoulders. He felt his dick grow hard again and grinned at her.
”You ready for another round?” He slipped back in the moment she nodded.
There were certain limitations to fucking. This Graznikh had learned the hard way. Tark whores were weak, they were rarely willing for more than two or three rounds and all their talk of being able to take it without him holding back had proved to be lies in the end. Orc women were only willing as long as everything happened on their terms. They would merrily punch you in the face and kick your balls to pulp if you were too selfish or tried to mark them against their will. Whindaër was still too frightened of him to dare a proper refusal, so Graznikh decided to try to push her limits.
A few hours later, they collapsed on the ground in an exhausted heap, giggling from sex-induced euphoria. Graznikh had not even had any seed left the last three times, but he had kept going anyway, just because he could.
”This isn't real,” he mumbled. ”I'm just trippin' on mushrooms, it can't be real.” His arm shook as he tried to lift it. Whindaër clinged to the other one, trembling slightly. I should be dead, she thought. Why am I not dead? This cannot be love, this raw, carnal desire! It is not supposed to be like this...
Graznikh cradled her in his arms while basking in the afterglow, gripping her shoulder with his fangs and pressing down gently.
”Skai, I wanna mark ya,” he growled after letting her go. ”I wanna make sure anyone who sees ya knows you're mine!” He chuckled as she froze. ”Don't worry, I won't. Not 'til ya let me anyway.” He studied her body, only now realising how many scratches, bruises and bite marks he had already left on her. Shit, I thought I was being careful! Then he noticed how much his back stung. Feels like she left a few marks of her own. He dearly hoped that they would leave scars. He would carry them with pride.
Whindaër looked at him, still breathing heavily. "Why did you return?"
He grinned. ”All this fucking and you don't know?”
”Is that the only reason?”
”Is it a bad one?”
”I... suppose not.”
He nuzzled her cheek. "I missed ya. And I felt you were close and couldn't resist checking up on ya. Been thinking about some of the stuff you told me last time, and I worried the golug might be giving ya trouble.”
Whindaër sighed. ”No, they have not, not yet at any rate. They know I have... met someone, and some of them will not stop asking about it.”
”What, you told them?”
”I need not. Anyone can see it in my eyes and hear it in my voice.”
Graznikh gave her a disbelieving glance. ”They can see that you've fucked someone?”
Whindaër shook her head, smiling. ”No, the bond. They cannot tell who holds the other end, but they can sense its existence. I think most of them believes that it is a Silvan from a settlement further east.”
”Think they could tell if they saw us together?”
Whindaër nodded and fear briefly flooded the bond.
”Don't worry, if anyone tries to break a hair off ya they'll have to pass me first. I'll gouge their eyes out and make a pretty necklace for you to wear.”
Whindaër gasped. ”You are horrible!”
Graznikh laughed. ”Aye, I'm your horrible Orc.” He wrapped himself around her smaller body and let out a contented purr.

They lay in silence for a while, listening to the night. Whindaër felt confused. His last words as they parted years ago had been genuine. But the bond proved his words now to be genuine as well. He had meant to leave her for good, but then he came back. Something had made him change his mind, but what?
”My band'll be leaving soon," Graznikh said and broke her reverie.
"Where to?"
"Stronghold up north. The caravans have stopped using this road, there's better loot and easier targets up there." He felt disapproval through the bond, but Whindaër only nodded.
"The marchwardens may find us soon."
"Nar, don't worry," Graznikh said. "Wash up and I'll let ya go."
As Whindaër washed and dressed, Graznikh dug up the comb he had given her. She started as he placed it in her lap. "You forgot that last time. Thought ya might want it back."
She held it up with a sad smile. "I cannot keep it. If someone finds it, it may raise more questions that I cannot answer."
Graznikh sighed. "Alright, I'll hold onto it for ya. But first I wanna see you use it." He watched as she undid the tangled braids and combed her long hair. He held up a wisp of it. It was so soft, like spider webs, and the colour was the same as the bark on the spruce trees that grew around the stronghold where he grew up in the Dunland foothills.

Whindaër slowly reached for the knife in Graznikh's belt. The moment he felt what she was doing he caught her hand and gave her a strange, wary look. "What're you trying at?"
"I would not hurt you," she said. "I only... wanted to give you a lock of my hair, as a keepsake, and I need something to cut it with. I carry no knife of my own."
"Oh no, you don't," he growled. "You start snippin' locks off and I'll get seriously pissed at ya. It looks best right where it is." She gave him an apprehensive look, and he held up the comb. "I'll keep this instead. In memory of our first kiss." He grinned as she blushed and stole another kiss before rising to leave.
"See ya around, âmbal," Graznikh murmured in her ear before disappearing among the sedges.

When Whindaër returned to the haven, Terenwen came running and caught her in her arms, closely followed by the rueful Falastur.
"My baby," Terenwen whispered with tears in her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the stench of Orc. "My dear sweet child!"
Shortly after, Elveanië came running. "Thank the Valar you are back! Oh, how I feared the worst when Falastur returned alone! Do you need healing?"
Whindaër gave her a hug. "I am fine. There is no need."
"Fine?" Terenwen interrupted. "The moment you stepped outside the haven, the Orcs were waiting for you as if they knew you were coming!"
"It was one single Orc," Whindaër protested.
"Even a single Orc is a dangerous adversary," one of the guards said. "How did you escape?"
"I... managed to tear myself free. It would have caught me with ease on flat ground, so I ran towards Andrast, to the place with the tall sedges and shrubs. There is a dry ravine there with large rocks where I left no trace. I managed to lose the Orc in there. But then I lost my own trail. That is why it took me so long to return."
"That was a clever move. It may have saved your life."
"Come now," Terenwen said. "You must be exhausted and hungry."

The next morning, Whindaër and Falastur met on the training grounds for an introductory sparring session.
"There was something odd about that one," Falastur said. Whindaër frowned.
"Odd?"
"Yes, about the Orc. 'Did you miss me', why would it say that?"
Whindaër swallowed. "Perhaps it was in the raid upon the caravan? Perhaps it recognised me? I cannot say."
"And 'new boyfriend'? It almost sounded jealous."
"Who can claim to know the mind of an Orc? It was trying to intimidate us. Come, let us focus on brighter things!"
Falastur nodded slowly, unconvinced. It came straight at us, as if it knew exactly where we were, he thought. And the rope was meant for her...

Chapter End Notes

Âmbal - cute
Orcor - orcs
Úvanimo - monster
Lyé... Anfaicalye úvanimoriva! - You... You are the worst of monsters! (Seriously, Quenya is not a proper language for cursing.)