Wolves And Shattered Shields by Hoglorfen

Love Stories

Graznikh kept a wary eye on the road. It appeared empty, which could be a good sign. He had not seen any tarks either, which could be another. It would not do to run into one of their patrols, laden as he was with stuff he had stolen from them. His goal, the Dunlending village up ahead, seemed not to be under the dominion of the tarks yet. After making sure he had everything where it was supposed to be, Graznikh stepped out on the road and headed towards the village, making sure to put on his most confident swagger. I'm supposed to be here, and I go wherever I damn well please, it said. Some of the villagers stopped to stare as he approached, others ran into their homes or shouted at their children to go back inside. Normally he would not go this far out on the plains; the villages closer to the mountains were more used to the sight of armed Orcs, but he was looking for a certain someone who had stopped taking that more dangerous route. The villages here were richer, so if you had good loot to sell you got better paid, especially on market days like this one. But they were also better guarded.

This particular village was average. The houses were spread out, some of them built by people who obviously had no idea what they had been doing. Those closer to the center were in better shape, the adobe walls smooth and peat roofs green and without visible holes. Pigs, chickens and sheep roamed free between them. There were even goats on some of the roofs, Graznikh noted. The thought of fresh meat made his mouth water.
As he closed in on the village square, a group of men armed with clubs, axes or chipped short swords barred his way. They were carrying wooden shields with a bull's head form in reddish leather nailed to them. A man who he assumed was the leader stepped forward.
”We're not fond of your kind here.”
”Us Orcs aren't all that fond of you either,” Graznikh replied, rolling his shoulders. ”But I'm not here to fight or steal. I won't bother the townsfolk and I'll leave once I have what I came for.” The village could hardly be called a town, but using that word seemed to make some of the guards stand taller. Easy to please, easy to grease, he thought. The leader kept eyeing him suspiciously for a while, then nodded and stepped aside. ”We'll keep our eyes on you,” he said as Graznikh passed. Sure ya will. And it'll all be a waste of your time and leave the field open for the real thieves. He turned towards the guard leader. ”Is Bardoc here?” The leader nodded and gestured toward the village square.

Bardoc was a man with grey streaks in his dark hair, wrinkles around his eyes and broad shoulders. His nose and left eyebrow had been broken in a fight somewhere long ago and he walked with a bit of a limp. His eyes twinkled with good humour as he saw Graznikh, but Graznikh did not let that pleasant smile and easy laughter fool him for a second. This man was one of the hardest bastards he knew, just as much a thief in trade as he had been during his days as a raider.
”Graz, you young rascal! I haven't seen you since... well, since the last time I saw you.”
Graznikh grinned at hearing the man's familiar tone. ”I hear you still haven't learned to use my name.”
”Watch it,” the man said. ”So what'll it be?”
Graznikh dumped the bag he had been carrying on the ground and the bartering began. He had a pretty good idea about the value of things but knowing Bardoc, he was sure the man got the stuff more or less for free.
”I'm going easy on you, you know,” Bardoc said when they were done.
”What, you're getting soft?”
The man smiled. ”At some point you have to. I wouldn't admit it to anyone else though, and if you spread it I'll claim you lie. But without some softness and flexibility, a blade will break the moment you hit something with it.”
Graznikh chuckled, eyeing the blades Bardoc had for sale.
”Are we done here? It's getting late, and I was planning to pack this up.”
”Sure. I'll help ya,” Graznikh said.
Bardoc shook his head. ”Oh no! I'm not letting you near my trade. It's not that I don't trust you, I just don't trust you a single bit.”
”Right. Can we talk after?”
The man looked surprised. ”The ale-house. When I'm done here.”

Graznikh nodded and went to take a look at the other stalls while he waited. He kept his distance, as he knew from experience that it did not take much to be accused of stealing and get a mob on his tail. And that no one would lift a finger to defend an Orc. Not even Bardoc.
He felt a soft bump as one of the village kids ran past him. In one smooth move he grabbed the boy's tunic and held him up close, baring his fangs.
”Little puppies shouldn't try to steal from the wolves,” he whispered. ”Try that again and I'll cut your little tail off. Got it?” The kid nodded. ”Good. Now drop it.” He gave the boy a nod as he threw the cut coinpouch at Graznikh's feet, then he let him go before the grown Men got too upset. The pouch was not his; it was noticeably heavier than the one he had carried. Graznikh grinned to himself as he put it in his beltpouch and went to meet Bardoc at the door to the ale-house.
”Harassing children now, are we?” Bardoc said with an amused tone.
Graznikh shrugged. ”Just retrieving something of mine. Bloody cutpurses... Are all kids like this?”
”Oh no. The Orc cubs'll only mug you after they've put a knife in your back.”

They laughed as they entered. The ale-house was quite full at this hour, but they managed to secure places at a table. Graznikh decided after a mouthful that the drink here was not the worst he had ever tasted, but Bardoc grimaced. ”Bloody swill. Anyway, you wanted to talk?”
”Aye, um...” Graznikh hesitated, trying to figure out how to put it. ”I spoke with this one person a while ago, and they said something that got me thinking... What, well, what do you know of love?” he blurted out.
Bardoc's bushy eyebrows would've hit the roof if they hadn't been stuck to his forehead. ”Love? An Orc asks me, of all people, for advice about love?”
Graznikh rolled his eyes. ”Aye, go on and laugh. I'm a big boy, I can take it.”
”Obviously.” Bardoc proceeded to laugh until Graznikh felt his ear tips burn.
”You done?” he asked sourly.
”Yes, yes,” Bardoc said while wiping his eyes. ”So, love... What did this one person say that made you so puzzled you had to come all this way to get an answer?”
”Well, she-”
”Oh, she is it?” Bardoc was smiling almost from ear to ear. ”I begin to grasp the underlying mystery here.”
Graznikh rolled his eyes again, now trying not to smile himself. ”If you start laughing again you're gonna miss that other eyebrow too.”
”Now now, no need for that. So what did she say?”
”Well, I asked her the same question as I did you. And she started babbling about people staring into each others' eyes while trees grew; throwing themselves off cliffs and such. I didn't understand one bit.”
Bardoc chuckled. ”It sounds like your lady friend has listened a little too much to the old Elven love stories.”
”Elven?”
”Yes. They seem to have different ideas about love than regular Men, to put it lightly. They have this idea of 'pure love', unmarred by the base needs of the flesh – horniness and such, that is.”
”Ah.”
”It's different for us ordinary folks. Men fall in love, but it usually doesn't last long. A few months, a couple of years, then it fades. A few blessed souls get that lifelong happy love, but it's rare. Most settle for a marriage of conveniency. And Orcs... Well, you're probably better suited to explain the intricacies of Orcish intimacy than I am.”
”I don't even get what this weird feeling is that supposedly makes people kill themselves for someone they just met.”
”Of course, I forgot. Ask ten different people and you'll get ten different answers, I'm afraid.”
”And what's your answer?”

Bardoc looked down into the rough tabletop, trying to recall. ”It is a warm feeling, like your heart is swelling in your chest. How you react to being struck by love is individual. Some do become altruistic towards the focus of their love, while others become possessive. Love makes you want your beloved's happiness, you want to make them happy. You want to be near them, the closer the better. When they leave, you feel pain in your heart, physical pain. Flaws or traits that they have that would normally annoy you, you ignore or overlook. And it makes the fucking better, since it's the closest you can get to a person. Without eating them of course,” he added with a glance towards Graznikh.
”I think I get it... you said Elves do things differently?”
”Yes, but I'm not the best person to ask about them. Which reminds me...” Bardoc looked around the room until he spotted a man sitting by himself at the end of another table. ”Lómeyello!”

The man turned as he heard his name, eyes widening at the sight of an Orc at Bardoc's table. He reluctantly came over as Bardoc beckoned to him, never taking his eyes off Graznikh.
”This is Lómeyello of the Star Island.”
Graznikh nodded a greeting, which the man returned. ”Formerly of that place, yes.” He spoke with a strange, flowing accent, and Graznikh's eyes narrowed. Tark.
”Tell me,” Bardoc said. ”You've had dealings with Elves before, haven't you?”
The man frowned. ”I have. It is not a fond memory, though. What do you wish to know?”
As Bardoc explained, Graznikh suddenly recognised the man's odd accent. Whindaër pronounced words in almost the exact same way!
The man turned to look at Graznikh. ”You wish to know of the Elves and their views of love? How come?”
Graznikh shrugged. ”Curious.”
”He has a special lady-friend who is seemingly fascinated by Elven love-stories,” Bardoc added with a smile. Lómeyello seemed utterly bewildered by this, but he cleared his throat. ”Very well, then. What do you wish to know?”

”So Elves don't do it for fun?”
”No,” Lómeyello said. ”When Elves bond or join in the flesh, they do so for life. They literally cannot be unfaithful without it becoming common knowledge, for they can see in each others' eyes and hear in each others' voices whether they be wed or unwed. And even should one partner fall in battle or otherwise, they rarely take a new spouse but prefer to remain alone with their memories.”
”Sounds bloody boring,” Graznikh said. Lómeyello nodded. ”In many ways, yes.”
”Sounds like you've had a lot of dealings with Elves.”
”I had. I worked the harbour where the ships of the High Elves moored, and thus had many an occasion to converse with them. When the opportunity to leave the Island came, I took it gladly.”
”What're they like? I've never really had the opportunity to meet one other than with a blade.”
Lómeyello gave him a wry smile. ”They are bloody boring, as you so eloquently put it. They are arrogant and haughty, they believe our minds to be unable to grasp their wisdom or that we would use it with evil intent, and so they ransom it in portions small enough to make any man starve! Believe me, most of them are no more fond of Men than of Orcs. I am glad to have reached these eastern shores and left the Island behind.” He turned to Bardoc. ”Speaking of eastern shores... What news from the road?”

Graznikh drifted away as Bardoc and Lómeyello began discussing the news, with other men joining them from surrounding tables. He heard something about a shadow in the east, something being built in Burzdur, but did not pay attention. He thought of Whindaër and pondered Bardoc's words. Did he miss her? He reached through the bond and recieved only calm. She was probably resting. He smiled a little at the memory of her sleeping next to him. Yes, he missed her. How long had it been now since they parted last, months? Years? He had lost count. Did he want her to be happy and felt good when she was? Aye, he thought as he remembered her smile when he had shown her the crystal cave and the little spring. And the pain he had felt when he left her at the forest's edge had been real. It was still there, dull after so many years but still tangible. Then he thought of what Lómeyello had said, that Elves could see if another Elf had bonded or not. She said the same thing. He had stayed away from the area after their last meeting so that she would not get into trouble, or have to choose between her people and him. Wait. Did that count as sacrifice? Giving up his wish that they be together so that she would be happy? Am I in love?

He looked up as he realised the room had gone quiet. Lómeyello was gone, as were most others. Bardoc sat in silence, watching him.
”Much to think about?” he asked gently as Graznikh met his eyes. Graznikh nodded.
”Aye... By the way, that guy Lómeyello? Does his name mean anything, or is it just there to be fancy?”
Bardoc made an odd face before he answered. ”I believe it means ”a cry of triumph in the night” or something like that. Apparently his father whooped quite a bit the night he was concieved.”

They were still laughing as they entered the cool night air outside. Bardoc turned to face him after wiping his eyes.
”Good luck to you now, and take care. Not in all my travels have I ever heard of an Orc falling in love with one of the fair folk, and to have such feelings returned at that... I fear it will end in tragedy for you both. But whatever little happiness you can get before it all comes tumbling down, you deserve.” He patted the stunned young Orc in the back and left for his wagon. Graznikh stared at his back for a while. Funny old man. Then he walked out of the village, turned south and began running. He had to get back to the band before they moved on.