Wolves And Shattered Shields by Hoglorfen

What's The Elvish Word For...

A fire crackled merrily on the white sand when Whindaër woke up. The quilt was snugly tucked in around her and a heavy arm rested upon her hip. Another lay beneath her head. Graznikh purred as she stirred and she turned to look him in the eye. ”You gonna scream again?”
”Again?”
He grinned. ”Last time we woke up together ya tried to scream my ears off.”
”...I am sorry.”
”Quit saying that,” he murmured. ”Own it. You wanna do something, then do it. Don't bend over backwards trying to please others, they'll never be happy 'bout it 'til your back's broken anyway.” He nodded towards the fire. ”Ya hungry? I caught a chicken earlier. Bit scrawny, but I'd wager there's enough for both of us.”
He got up the moment Whindaër nodded, his hand trailing the length of her leg as he did so. After digging around in his belt pockets for the comb, he tossed it in her lap and Whindaër took the time to comb her hair while he turned the spit with the roasting bird.
”This thing's gonna be as dry as a sharkû's shank,” Graznikh grumbled as he poked it.
”Did you not find any clay?”
”Clay?” He frowned. ”Why'd I need clay?”
”It helps retain the juices when cooking over open fire,” Whindaër explained. ”You cover the meat with a layer of clean clay and place it in the hot coals. The clay will dry and prevent the moisture from evaporating.”
”Hold on,” Graznikh said with a disbelieving grin. ”You Elves put bloody mud in your food? Are you for real?”
”Not in the food!” Whindaër protested as he began to laugh. ”Only on the outside. It makes the meat more tender and-”
”That's bloody ridiculous,” Graznikh snickered. He laughed even harder when he spotted the scowl on Whindaër's face.
”Perhaps you should try it before dismissing it so readily!”
”Why'd I ruin my meat with stinking dirt? Who the fuck told ya shit like that?”
Whindaër looked down. ”Hiswion, one of the marchwardens. He... died in the raid...” She got to her feet and began to walk towards the cave entrance.
”Whin..?” The laughter died in Graznikh's throat when he touched the bond. He quickly got up and hurried after her. ”Hey, where're you going?”
”Perhaps it is better that I return home,” she said with a quiet but steady voice.
”Oh c'mon, ya can't leave already! You haven't even tasted the chicken!”
”It is no chicken, it is a capercaillie. And you said yourself that it may be too dry.”
”Well, we don't know that, do we? Why don'tcha try some before... you... oh, you little minx,” he grinned when he realised that she had expertly turned his own joke back on him.
Whindaër did not look amused or smug in the slightest. ”Are you going to keep me from leaving?”
”Nar,” Graznikh muttered. ”Kinda hoped you'd stay a bit longer, but... I'm not gonna hold ya captive.”
”Why would you even want me to stay? So that you can continue ridiculing me?”
”I didn't mean to... Skai...”
Whindaër winced at the sound and turned her back to him. ”For all I know, Hiswion would still be alive if not for your raid. My uncle would still be well, and-”
”Yer uncle?” Graznikh perked up. ”He's alive then?”
”He is,” Whindaër whispered. ”Barely.”
Graznikh grinned a little. ”Don't tell me he blamed me for everything.”
Whindaër frowned. ”This is no laughing matter! Once he had healed enough to walk without help, he locked himself within his study. He has barely spoken to anyone since! I overheard Elveanië speaking with my mother, and... From what she said, I am glad I never saw the wounds myself.”

So he didn't pass my message on... So much for trusting Elves. Graznikh focused on the bond as Whindaër spoke. What he picked up made his insides squirm. How can anyone feel that many different things at once and not go crazy from it?! Trying to focus on a single emotion in the torrent was like trying to keep one's eyes on a single grain of sand in a whirlwind; impossible and futile.
”Whaddya want me to say? That I wish none o' this had ever happened? Can't do that, âmbal. For all the shitty things that happened, I still got you. Now I might've wanted some things to be different. If I'd known what I know now, I woulda...” He scowled a little and fell silent. If he had known what he knew now, would he have done things differently? And would that 'differently' have been better or worse for her? Then he grinned a little and met her gaze again.
”If I'd known what I do now, I woulda gone straight for you instead of cutting those other guys down first. It mighta happened anyway though, if they tried to keep me from ya. Some things woulda been different, but this,” he motioned in the air between them, ”woulda been the same. No change there; don't want none.”
Whindaër's face was so impassive that he had to touch the bond again to figure out how she felt about his words.
”You are cheating,” she scolded.
”'Course I'm cheating; I'm an Orc,” Graznikh grunted. Then his eyes widened as she turned her back to him again with an exasperated little sigh. She squeaked as he yanked her arm and spun her around to face him.
”Don't,” he growled with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. ”Don't you dare.”
”Wh-whatever do you mean?”
”Be pissed at me if ya like,” he growled. ”Feel free to blame me for the deaths o' your bandmates or whatever ya call 'em. But don't you fucking dare gimme the 'eww, Orc' look! I could dredge up a bloody wasp's nest of times when golug fucked with my folk, but I don't 'cause you're here'n that changes some things for me! So don't you bloody fucking dare pull that shit on me in turn! You wanna go Elf versus Orc'n trade insults then be my guest, go right ahead! But I'm warnin' ya; I could come up with a few what'd give ya nightmares for moons to come.”
Whindaër stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly as if she wanted to reply in kind but could not find the words. Graznikh could not help but grin a little; he needed no bond to figure out her state of mind now. Confusion and outrage were written over her face as clearly as it would have on that of any Orc in the same situation, and Graznikh could not keep from rejoicing a little over having broken that damned Elven poise once more.
”C'mon,” he said softly and nodded towards the fire. ”That capiche'll be burned to a crisp if we don't check on it.” The sudden change of subject along with the incomprehensible mispronounciation made Whindaër laugh out loud. Once she regained control, she looked every bit as surprised over her own outburst as Graznikh felt.
”Good,” he purred. ”Now you're starting to get it.”

The bird turned out not to be even half-cooked. Graznikh kept muttering over it as he scraped the coals closer together and put more wood on the fire. Whindaër took the opportunity to try to calm the storm inside. No matter his skill, she did not trust Graznikh to be capable of outdoing the marchwardens, many of whom had centuries of experience in the art of tracking. Her ears wanted to distort every little sound from the outside into the sound of approaching danger and she could not keep from glancing nervously at the hole where the little stream entered and the smoke left. Graznikh eventually noticed her squirming and called her out on it in his usual flippant way.
”Expecting a dragon attack?”
”I cannot help but fear discovery,” she replied. ”I have no wish to see you dead should the marchwardens find us.”
”They won't,” Graznikh said. ”How long d'ya think I spent tracking their movements? It's bloody obvious your stronghold's never been attacked; your guards're too punctual.”
”My mother will not simply have them search the forest and the borders. If I am not there they will roam further, and they will know to search for Orcs.”
”I know what I'm doing. We didn't leave enough tracks for 'em to follow.”
”And what of my fate? How upset will she not be when I disappear without so much as a note of warning and then return several days later without being able to tell where I have been or why?”
He looked up from the fire. ”Then lie. Make up a story 'bout how you wanted a flower that only grows behind an Olog's shithouse on the other side o' the mountains or something.”
”I cannot lie to my own mother!”
”Why not? I lie to my sire all the time; how d'ya think I manage to get to you?”
”But...”
Graznikh silenced her by placing a clawed finger on her lips. ”Y'know what? Fuck what your family thinks. You wanted to get outta there, didn'tcha? You said so yourself. So I'm of a mind to stay a little longer than I planned at first. I covered our tracks well'n good; they won't find us here. Nothing to worry 'bout, âmbal. We've got all the time we want.”
”But I must go,” Whindaër protested. ”I was not to go beyond the walls, the longer I stay the more trouble I will be in!”
”Will you get a beating? Think they'll whip ya?”
”What? No!”
”Then what'll they do? And why can't you go out all of a sudden?”
”Because of what happened last time,” she tried to explain.
Graznikh frowned. ”Last time what?”
”The last time we... met. My brother spoke freely of the Orc that assaulted him and hunted me down. I was already made not to go outside the haven without company, and when that proved not to be enough I was not let out at all!”
”What, they grounded ya for being attacked? That doesn't make sense.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. ”Did they see the scratches?”
”No, I did not let anyone see me undressed until they had healed.”
”What's the big deal then?”
Whindaër sighed as she stretched out on the furs. ”My mother only wishes for me to be safe. Knowing that Orcs have attacked me not once but twice, she fears for my life and safety. I can understand her fear, but I wish that she would see that keeping me locked up will not make things better.”
”Not a bit,” Graznikh murmured and placed a hand on her thigh. ”You're here now, aren'tcha? Right within an Orc's reach.” Whindaër's only answer was to blush a little.
Once he judged the bird done, he broke a wing off and handed it to his Elf. ”Here. Eat.”
Whindaër was not particularly hungry, concerned as she was over what might happen should they be discovered, but she dared not say no. They ate in silence.
 

Graznikh sniffed the air. The hand that held the meat fell down into his lap and he gave her a sullen, disgruntled look. ”Y'know, for all your pretty words you're one selfish little bitch.”
Whindaer stopped eating and gave him a wide-eyed stare. ”What?!”
”You were trapped in there. You, not me. Everytime I touched the bond I felt ya being miserable and sad. You, not me. So I go risking my life trying to get you outta there and cheer ya up a little; fix a nice place to stay, get food'n drink, make it so we don't hafta rush things'n can get to know each other a little. Make things good. But you keep treating me like I'm your fucking opa-snaga; you just want a ride off my cock and then scurry back to your comfy haven and pretend nothing ever happened! 'S that all I am to you?!”
”Of course not,” Whindaër replied once she found her voice again. ”I am sorry for... For being so selfish. I did not think...”
”Now, see; that's the problem,” he interrupted, gesturing with the half-eaten bone as he spoke. ”You think too much. Whenever we're not fucking, you're everywhere but here. We could be having a sweet little moment to ourselves here, but you're too busy worrying about what your jailors think! And you won't even give a little something back to me 'cause 'eww Orc'. Did ya ever notice that I actually wash every time before I come get ya? Probably not. And those furs'n quilts weren't easy to come by and smuggle all the way out here without some nosey bastard following me. But that doesn't matter, 'cause 'eww Orc'.” He threw the bone into the fire and looked away with a sulking expression. ”Elves... Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.”
He threw a quick glance at said Elf as he suppressed a grin. She had covered her face with her hands and was sobbing quietly.
”I am sorry,” she whimpered. ”I truly am! You are right; I have been selfish and cruel! I did not consider that I might be as incomprehensible to you as you are to me.”
Now he could not keep the grin away any more and turned back towards her. Nincompwhat..? ”You're not selfish, âmbal. That's another problem; you keep worrying so much 'bout what others think that you forget yourself.”
Whindaër surprised him by crawling over and wrapping her arms around his neck. Graznikh placed an arm around her shoulders and combed her hair a little with greasy claws.
”Ya really need to learn to live in the now, little windelf. Gimme a little o' you for a change. Forget the outside, be selfish. Right now it's just you, me an' this here chicken.” He gave the carcass a sceptical glance. ”Or whatever it is.”

Whindaër returned his smile and caressed his arm. He took her hand and placed it upon his bara chest with a hopeful grin. After a moment's hesitation Whindaer complied and began to caress his chest and abdomen with both hands. Graznikh leaned back and closed his eyes with a contented sigh and she could feel his ribcage vibrate from a near inaudible purr. After a while he rolled over and presented his scarred back to her.
”Not like that,” he said as she began to caress him again. ”Use your claws.”
”But... I do not have any claws.”
”Doesn't matter. Do like this,” he showed her by clawing the furs. ”Scratch me, as hard as ya can.” He squirmed a little as she complied. ”Harder!”
Whindaër's nails were not as hard and sharp as Orc claws and she could not break his tough hide, but the blunt scratching sensation was uniquely pleasant and Graznikh let out a loud groan as she dug them into his back. ”Sha âmbal, that's good!”
”Does it not hurt?” Whindaër asked with a giggle at his purrs and winces of obvious pleasure.
”What, those blunt little things? Nar, I don't think you could hurt me even if ya wanted to.” He savoured the moment a little longer before turning over to face her. ”That's something you should work on, âmbal. Sometimes it's good to hurt others.”
Whindaër frowned. ”I have no wish to do that.”
”Doesn't matter. Ya never know when someone might turn on ya.”
”There is no reason for-”
”Oh, there's plenty o' reason. The biggest one is us. And there're plenty o' folks out there who don't need a reason, they'd hurt ya just because they can. The next guy who wants to fuck ya might not be me, you might not wanna and he might not give a shit about it. 'S not something you can talk your way outta, no more'n you could with me. Then you might wanna be able to give him a good reason not to. A kick to the balls might or might not work; a knife to the balls is better.” He grinned mirthlessly at her pale face. ”Don't tell me it never crossed your mind after that raid.”
”Of course it did! When last we met, my brother was giving me a lesson in archery.”
”Bows, huh? That's fine, if ya see them coming. Whaddya do when they're already up close'n personal?”

Graznikh chuckled at her concerned expression. Self-defense was something every Orc cub learned from a young age with their mother being the one to give them their first lessons before they had even learned to walk. Although cubs were rarely killed by adults, it was not uncommon for them to die during violent play or from pranks or bullying. Orcish life was all about survival of the fittest and Whindaër's painfully obvious lack of experience in that field made Graznikh a little uneasy.
He decided to put her to the test. He sprung up from the furs and caught Whindaër in a rough embrace, making sure that her arms were free. This was something his nanny Hoshash had done to him a lot as a cub; a simple lesson in grappling.
”Looks like you're caught,” he purred. ”Try to get outta this one now.”
Whindaër gave him a confused smile. She placed her hands upon his shoulders and tried to push him away, but he held her fast. Next she tried to pry his fingers loose, but that did not work either. Wriggling out of his grip proved equally futile.
”You are holding me too tight. I cannot break free.”
”Don't tell me you're giving up already,” he teased.
”Tell me then what to do.”
”Can't figure that out yourself?”
”No, I cannot think of any way I would succeed without hurting you.”
”That's it! Oops,” he added when she twitched and covered her ears. ”Didn't mean to shout. But that's the whole point; if someone grabs ya like this, you should hurt 'em. Remember what I told ya earlier?”
After a moment's thought, Whindaër blushed and gently lifted a knee to Graznikh's groin.
”Oh, thats just cute,” Graznikh purred. ”Trying to flirt with me, are ya?” He nibbled her neck and tickled her with his claws until she was squealing and truggling to break free for real. Eventually he let her go and Whindaër fell down onto the furs, gasping and giggling.
”You are cruel!”
”Sure am,” Graznikh chuckled as he squatted over her. ”That's the spirit I like! Next time I wanna see ya put some effort into it, or you'll get another taste o' these.” He wiggled his claws at her. ”And if ya do it good, ya might get some o' these...” He tilted his fingers a little and wiggled them in a different way, one that made his Elf blush.
”What need have I for the causing of pain,” Whindaër asked softly and placed a hand on Graznikh's knee, ”when I have a seasoned warrior protecting me already?”
”Well, I won't be able to be there all the time...” For some inexplicable reason, Graznikh's heart felt like it was swelling in his chest at the words she had said and his face grew slightly hot. He scratched his chest and looked away while fighting down the violent emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
Whindaër felt as though she would go mad from joy when Graznikh glanced at her and gave her that wonderful, warm grin of his. How did she ever think him ugly? She held her arms up towards him and he stretched out on top of her with a happy purr. They remained like that for a long while, resting in each others' arms and quietly delighting in each others' presence.
”You're scaring the shit outta me at times, âmbal,” Graznikh murmured. ”Nar, don't pout; I don't mind.”
”How so?”
”'S just... Sometimes ya look at me and all of a sudden I've no bloody idea what's going on.” He rubbed his nose against her cheek. ”Feels like you suck the bones right outta my legs. I'm kinda glad it doesn't happen more often or I'd be bloody useless in a fight.” Whindaër laughed at that and he growled jokingly. ”Watch it; you're doing it again!”
She gasped as he pretended to collapse on top of her. ”Have a care; I cannot carry your full weight! No!!” she squeaked and grabbed his hands as he purred and tried to tickle her. He looked up and before he could say anything she kissed him. Graznikh returned the kiss, though he was more interested in sniffing her out than rubbing lips and tongues together. But the way her scent changed during the kiss made him decide that he could happily live out the rest of his life just like this.
Whindaër broke the kiss with a giggle and lifted a hand to her mouth.
”What? Didn't bite ya, did I?”
”No, but my lips tickle when you purr.”
”I know another place what might tickle if I purr there...”

Whindaër blushed as he pulled her close and inhaled her scent with deep breaths.
”Know what?” Graznikh asked. ”We really should try that play again some time.”
”Try what?”
”That raid-play we came up with the first time. You get some unsuspecting idiots together and go for a stroll in the mountains, while I get some trusty lads for my part. Then we set up an ambush, slaughter the idiots, then I 'catch' ya and we fuck on the bloodsoaked ground 'til we faint. Whaddya say?”
Whindaër gave him an appalled stare and Graznikh did not need to touch the bond to tell that he had said something stupid. Eventually she found her voice and he almost wished she hadn't. ”YOU WOULD SACRIFICE INNOCENT LIVES FOR YOUR PERVERTED PLEASURES?!”
”I was joking! Skai, pushdug plashnak ologûb,” he growled and rubbed his stinging ears.
”A joke..?” Whindaër gasped. ”How insensitive could you possibly be?! I lost family and friends in that raid yet you wish for a repeat?”
”Hey, I lost some pals there too but you don't see me go crazy every time it's mentioned.”
”They cannot have been very close to you if this is how you honour their deaths!”
”Honour their..? Oh, for the everloving fuck, they're dead! They don't give a shit if I 'honour' them or not!” The strange, eager look in his eyes as he paused suddenly made Whindaër afraid. ”Doesn't keep me from wanting to avenge their deaths though.” She took a step back but Graznikh caught her with a low growl. ”Wouldn't mind killing a few more golug just to prove the point.”
That made Whindaër terrified and she grasped at straws in a desperate attempt to skirt the fact that her Orc had just expressed a wish to murder even more of her people. ”So... you kill for vengeance? Because our marchwardens had slighted you or killed others of your kind for no reason? Not because you... like it?”
Graznikh leered and Whindaër could not help but stiffen a little as he pawed her: she could feel his claws prick the skin on her back and the bond was like white-hot steel in her mind.
”Oh, I enjoy killing,” he purred. ”I like the way their eyes look when they know there's no way out, the way the hope dies in 'em just before the light goes out... The way their faces twist when the pain makes 'em stop thinking, stop working, and then it stops and they think it's over for now. Only it isn't... The only good Enemy's a dead one and the slower the death, the sweeter it feels... The way you looked when you thought I was gonna kill ya.” His chuckle turned Whindaër's blood to ice and she could feel the heavy beating of his heart as he pulled her close and nuzzled her ear. ”Ye're scared again.”
”How could I not be?” came the terrified whisper.
”Think I'm gonna hurt ya?”
”Will you not?”
”Nar. You're no Enemy o' mine. Your folks might be though, if they keep standing between me and what I want.” He withdrew from her ear and gave her trembling lower lip an annoyed look. ”Don'tcha start crying again! Toughen up a little, for fuck's sake!” Graznikh did not expect her to do so and became brightly surprised when Whindaër swallowed hard and forced the tears back. ”Will ya look at that; she's learning!” He chuckled when he noticed the little gleam of insulted defiance that appeared in her eyes.
”And if someone were to hurt or kill me? What then would you do?”

Graznikh slowly lifted his head to stare at her as if she had hit him. Then his face twisted in an insane, murderous grimace and he shoved her down on the furs with a furious roar. Whindaër screamed in fear and surprise, but all he did was pounce her with a snarl and embrace her so hard that she had to struggle to breathe.
”If that ever happens,” he growled near her ear once he found his voice, ”I'll shove my knives up their arse so hard it'll get fucking stuck in their nose, then I'll string 'em up in their own bloody guts! I'll... I'll thrakat za-hosh za-prapharnabul izu!”
”Please,” Whindaër whimpered. ”Graznikh, please... You are hurting me!”
He did not seem to hear her at first, but kept clutching her tight and snarled at the cave entrance as if someone would come through it at any moment and steal her away from him. Then he snapped out of his rage and pushed her away as if she had burned him. Whindaër rolled away with a gasp. When he looked at her, he seemed afraid. He was afraid; the bond could not lie. Whindaër felt bad for pushing him into this outburst as he turned away and curled up against the wall, confusion and fear thundering through the bond.
”I am sorry,” she whispered.
There was a brief flash of red in the dark as he glanced at her. ”Why?”
”For upsetting you.”
”Always with the courtesies,” he muttered with a weak snort. ”Nar, 's just...” He looked apprehensive. ”Didn't think it'd be this strong. When you said that, I saw it happen, right now. And...” He shook his head and detached himself from the wall. Then he rolled the tension out of his shoulders until they cracked. When he met her eyes again, he felt much calmer, and determined. ”If anyone tries to hurt ya, I'll kill 'em. Doesn't matter who or what it is; I'd go toe-to-toe with a dragon if I had to. You're my âmbal, I can't let anyone hurt ya. And if it happened... I think I'd kill myself. Not sure I could go on living after that.” He scowled a little at his own words. ”Skai, you're messing with my head! I'm not used to being like this. Never happened before.” Then he frowned. ”You never said if you wanted to do that raid-play or not.” He gave her a mischievous grin and winked as she stared at him.
Whindaër simply could not be upset anymore; she was too exhausted, so she began to laugh instead. Graznikh's surprised look only fed her desperate amusement until she buried her face in the furs, weeping from hysterical laughter. Graznikh soon collapsed as well, roaring with laughter and gasping for air.
”Skai, we're so fucked-up, the both o' us!”
”I cannot say that I know what that means,” Whindaër giggled.
”What, fucked-up? Seriously?” He grinned as she shook her head. ”It's... I guess it's when you're wrong in the head. Do stupid stuff for no reason and get in trouble all the time.”
”If someone else had asked me, I would have guessed that that is what Orcs always do.”
”Nar, not all the time!”
”Are we, then?”
”Well, if someone were to find out, we'd be in a heap o' trouble, wouldn'tcha say?” The bond told him that her mood was clouding over again and he quickly came with some way to take her mind off the topic of discovery. ”So do Elves curse?”
Whindaër gave him a confused look. ”Curse?”
”Yeah! Y'know, like 'skai' or 'sha' or... Golugob karkû!” Whindaër shuddered despite not knowing the meaning of the words and he snickered. ”So gimme something back! Do yer worst!”
”I-I don't know what...”
”Oh, come on! Just tell me I'm stupid, or ugly, or that I stink like I just took a dip in the jakes! Anything!”
She frowned a little. ”In Quenya?”
”Yeah, Elf-speech!"

Whindaër studied the furs as she thought, picking at the soft hairs. Then she blushed and mumbled something that Graznikh couldn't quite catch.
”Huh?”
”Faicalyë...”
Graznikh gave her a thoroughly disappointed scowl. ”What, that's it? What's it mean?”
”That... you are... bad.”
”You've got to be joking! Tell me I'm ugly.”
”Úvanimalyë.” She laughed a little as Graznikh buried his face in the furs with an exasperated groan. ”I fear the tongue of my people is not made to utter such things.”
”For the everloving fuck, is there anything you Elves can do right?!” The odd feeling through the bond made him lift his head to look at her, and suddenly he grinned as he remembered a similar conversation, long ago. ”So what's the Elvish word for 'fuck'?”
Whindaër blushed. ”Puhta.”
Graznikh sighed. ”Shoulda guessed. Sounds bloody boring, like... hump-hump-spunk, like it'd be over in a heartbeat.” He inched closer until they were almost close enough to touch and looked deep into Whindaër's wide, blue eyes.
”Opakarkat,” he said with a leer, making sure to pronounce the 'k's and 'r's deep in his throat in that growling manner in which Orcs spoke. ”That's 'fuck' in Orcish. Now there's a proper word for it; you can almost feel what it means, hot'n sweaty, all clinging'n writhing'n humping 'til you're so spent you can't move.”
Whindaër could feel herself blush again, but not because she was embarrassed. She wanted him, the more she looked into those red eyes the more she wanted him. He simply lay there with that sly smile that told her that he knew exactly what was going through her head, nostrils flaring a little with every breath. Eventually she could no longer keep quiet.
”Meranyë cuivalyelmë puhtanyenen.”
”Now that sounds kinda interesting,” Graznikh replied with a teasing purr. ”Care to tell me more?”
”I want you to... wake me up... by...”
Graznikh cocked his head and gave her a thoughtful look. Whindaër thought that perhaps he did not understand her and dearly wished that she could be as outspoken and careless with words as he. She realised how lewd and wrong her suggestion was and immediately regretted having uttered it out loud at all. Surely he would not comply!
Graznikh bared his fangs in a lazy grin. ”Oh.”
Whindaër looked away. ”Please... forget that I said anything,” she whispered. ”It was unseemly and-” She fell quiet as Graznikh chuckled.
”Un-what..? Nar, that does sound interesting. Like fuck I'm gonna let this go! Wicked little Elf... I might be willing to entertain that kinda thought... But not tonight. Better to save some, 's better with a little pent-up horniness to spice things up with. What?” he asked as Whindaër sat up.
”I want to ask you something.”
”Go ahead.”
”You keep saying that Elves cannot do anything 'right' and that I should change, presumably to be more like you. I will not omit that I sometimes wish that I was more outspoken, but... Do you truly want for me to change so much that nothing of the one you say you saw in the forest years ago remains? Is there nothing about her that you would prefer was left intact?”
It took a little while for Graznikh to piece together what his Elf had just said. ”Err... Didn't say that. You heard me yesternight, right? I like ya, wouldn't stick around if I didn't.”
”Yet you keep badmouthing me whenever I appear too 'Elven' for your liking.”
”That's not-... It's just that sometimes you act bloody weird and I just wanna put some sense into it! C'mon, don't tell me there's nothing about me you wouldn't wanna change? Am I the perfect guy?”
”You are... the perfect 'you', I suppose. There are things about you that I am not comfortable with, traits that frighten me, but... I do not wish to change those if you do not want to yourself.”
Graznikh frowned. ”Why not?”
”What do you mean?”
”If there's stuff 'bout me that you don't like, why not tell me to change?”
”Because such a change must come from inside, from a true wish to change! It cannot be forced.”
”Why not?”
”Because then it would be a falsehood, a mask worn only when I was around. There would be no meaning behind it.”
”So? I make the snagas at home change all the time. They do some stupid shit that pisses me off, I make 'em change.”
”And do they continue to act in this 'improved' manner when you are absent?”
”The fuck do I care what they do when I'm not there to get annoyed by them? So long as they don't muck shit up for me, I don't give a shit.”
Whindaër frowned. ”And you would have me act in the same manner? To... pretend that I am someone else, only when you are around?”
”Nar, didn't say that. I wouldn't make ya change, t'was just a suggestion.” He grinned. ”'Sides, I told ya I've changed a bit for your sake. I wash, remember?”
”And that is a change I never asked for,” Whindaër replied with a warm smile, ”but which is all the more appreciated for that very reason.” Graznikh squirmed and purred happily as her gratitude and love washed over him.
”So Elves never change?” he asked once he had regained control of himself. ”If everyone stubs their toe on the same bump in the road every morning, no one'll ever go for a chisel but leave it like that and keep stubbing?”
”Of course not!” she giggled. ”But a stone in the pavement will not complain about its change. Changing a living thing, however... the wise regard it as a great evil.”
”Ya don't know that,” Graznikh said with a mischievous grin. ”Maybe every pebble in your fancy walls're screaming in agony an' call ya out as cruel torturers every time you pass, only you can't hear it.” He snickered at Whindaër's horrified look. ”Nar, I'm just playing! C'mon âmbal, don't gimme that look.”

The Sun had long since set, and now the Moon rose low over the Sea and bathed the little cave in its pale light. The alcove where Graznikh lay remained dark, but Whindaër was far enough out on the edge of the furs to be caught by the light. Graznikh's eyes widened as her skin caught the moonlight and began to glow, as if she was a statue carved from marble. The only parts that remained dark were her eyes and her hair, the latter glistening as the rays hit it where it spilled over her shoulders. He had to reach out and touch her to make sure that she was still there and solid. His hand looked dull and dead in comparison.
”Now this is just bloody creepy! Why the fuck d'you glow?!”
”I do not know,” Whindaër replied. ”Why do your eyes glow in the dark?”
”Err... 'Cause I'm an Orc?”
”Then I glow in the moonlight because I am an Elf.”
”As good an answer as any, I suppose,” he grunted faintly. Then he shrugged and sat up with crossed legs. ”Wanna hear a song my band sings at times?”
Whindaër looked away from the Moon. ”Orcs sing?”
”Sure do. Wanna hear?”
”I would love to,” Whindaër replied. Graznikh returned her smile and waited until she had moved out of the light and wrapped herself in the quilt before he cleared his throat. Then he began to clap his hands and slap his thighs in a strange, almost hypnotic rhythm that was difficult for her ears to follow. After a while he began to chant along with the claps, growling and purring as if exaggerating the already guttural Orcish tongue.

”Huish, kasbat! Fashkaumi flakat!
Fâshur agh vrât! Khmugat, karkat!
Gorat, gorat, lomutikh taikat!
Kusn luzh pauat agh luzh khmugat,
thluk, thluk, gâ matatulûk!
thluk, thluk, gâ matatulûk!

Golug dhaubat, tarki zêmarpak!
Gâ sadaukat, gâ zâdûkatûk!
Agh luzh rezhdat, luzh lômuratag!
Zaghishi-ûk gâ ti za-shatarg!
Dû gâ ti ushatâri!
Dû gâ ti ushatâri!”

He scowled when he was done. ”Sounds a bit meek when I do this alone. Usually we're ten or fifteen, all bashin' their shields or armour and roaring it at the sky. It's bloody amazing when it's sung like that!” He turned towards the Sea with a grin and bellowed.
”DÛ GÂ TI USHATÂÂÂRI!!!”
Whindaër twitched at the sound. ”Have a care, someone might hear!”
”Right... Forgot 'bout that.”
”What does it mean? The... song you sang?” She paled a little when Graznikh translated the lyrics. ”Do you truly think so little of the... Free Peoples?” Whindaër bit her tongue. She had almost said 'other Free Peoples'. But Orcs were no People... or were they?
Graznikh shrugged. ”Not sure 'bout Elves. I like you well enough,” he flashed her a teasing leer, ”and Dwarves're just annoying. But tarks? Fuck 'em. They keep killing us like flies.” His grin changed, and the expression he now wore sent chills down Whindaër's spine. ”And we keep breeding like flies and kill 'em back.”
”You do raid their villages and traders,” Whindaër pointed out.
”So?” Graznikh growled.
”Well, perhaps... If you stopped doing that... Then perhaps... They would leave you be.”
Graznikh sighed and shook his head. ”Y'know what? Some folks tried. Y'know what happened to them?”
Whindaër thought that she already knew the answer, but shook her head.
”They died. Every last one of 'em. Some of 'em were stupid enough to go down to one of the tark settlements. Pagog thought they could treat with the tarks, ask them to leave 'em alone if they did the same. Know what the tarks did?”
Whindaër swallowed hard and shook her head again.
”They peppered 'em with arrows and put their heads on pikes outside the walls. So nar, gurb âmbalai, there won't be 'peace'. Ever.”
They sat in silence for a while. Whindaër did not know what to say and Graznikh seemed to be deep in thought, watching the Sea.
”Would... Would you like for me to sing something for you?”
Graznikh looked up and gave her a lopsided smile. ”Sure.”
Whindaër cleared her throat and calmed her breathing. Then she began singing the oldest and most beautiful song that she knew.

”A Fana-lossë! Heri silma!
Tári Ëari pella Númenyë!
Calina men i ranyar
sina mi aldarembëa ambar!

A Elentári! A Tintallë!
Sinomë nu i aldali háya
men enyalië marë
silmelyo or i Ëari Númenyë...”

When she fell silent, Graznikh made an uneasy grimace and wiggled his nose. Then he scratched his ear and shuddered slightly. ”Can'tcha sing something that doesn't... creepy-crawl as much? I mean it's pretty an' all, but... Skai! Feels like I've got fire ants 'neath my skin again!” He smiled and lifted Whindaër's chin when she bowed her head with a sad frown. ”Hey, don't be like that! You've a pretty voice. Don'tcha know any songs in whatever we're speakin' now?”
”The Westron tongue?”
”Yeah, whatever.”
”My people rarely make songs in this tongue.”
”Hnh... Can't ya make one up?”
”Um... I am afraid that I am not very good at that.” Whindaër blushed and Graznikh chuckled.
”Tell ya what; you make a song in Weshwhatever and I do the same. Then we sing 'em to each other tomorrow night!”
Whindaër smiled and nodded. This was like the poetry nights in the haven, when a couple would sometimes write poems to each other and recite them. This was always greatly appreciated, for most Elves rejoiced in witnessing such declamations of love. Songs were a little harder, but it could be done. Then she realised that she had just compared the two of them to a pair of Elven lovers and recoiled a little from the thought. But not as much as she should have done...
Graznikh stretched and yawned. ”Skai, I'm tired! Thinking o' turning in for the night. Whaddya say?”
Whindaër was not very tired, but nodded nonetheless. But after crawling down underneath the quilt, Graznikh kept tossing and turning restlessly.
”Are you well?” she asked.
”Mrf,” Graznikh grumbled in reply. ”Can't find a good spot. Whole place is lumpy.”
Whindaër smiled and sat up. ”I could sing you a lullaby if you wish.”
”Whazzat?”
”It is a song made to help you sleep. My mother used to sing it to me, when I was little. It is about an Enting.”
Graznikh gave her a sceptical glance; he had no clue what an 'Enting' was. ”More Elvish?”
”Well... Yes, but I could try to translate it, if you wish.”
He nodded and placed his head in her lap. Whindaër scratched him behind the ear and began to sing softly.

”Of pine tree-root is your little foot
of pine tree-branch are your little arms
of wood are your legs and body.
Your hair is brambly but oh so soft
and within your eyes as you're tucked in the moss
there glistens a small tear of resin.

Now sleep, my friend, under moss and fen
As Sun-ship travels beyond our ken
Beyond the trees in the forest.
Where'er you wander the roads of life
remember this shelter beyond war and strife
Among the trees in the forest."

"I am afraid that it is not a very good transla-...” she began, but fell silent. ”Oh.” Graznikh was fast asleep with a little smile playing upon his lips, purring a little with each breath. Whindaër smiled and watched him sleep for a long while before returning to the warm safety of the quilt. He looked so peaceful, now that the tension had left his face. He reminded her of an overly exuberant puppy that had been hurt one too many times for its rambuctious behavior and that had begun to resent the world for it. Despite her previous thoughts and feelings she wanted to shelter him and show him that there was more to life than constant strife and struggle for survival. How I wish that I could be as careless as you, my Orc. If only there was a place for us; somewhere we could live the way we want to without fear of judgement. But I fear that it may be as you say; in another place and time.

Chapter End Notes

Pushdug plashnak ologûb – stinking troll cunt
Pagog – idiot
Thrakat za-hosh za-prapharnabul izu – Bring/take the intestines out through their back
Gurb âmbalai – my sweetest
Meranyë cuivalyelmë puhtanyenen – I want you to wake me up by having sex with me

Whindaër's song is my own Quenya translation of the first and last stanzas of the ”Elven Hymn to Elbereth” written by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Melody: ”A Elbereth Gilthoniel” by Helen Trevillion.

Graznikh's song is inspired by the Goblin-town song from ”The Hobbit”. Translation:
Swish, listen! The whips crack!
Thrash and urge on! Laugh and fuck!
Work, work, don't dare to sneak
While they drink and they laugh
Enough, enough, we kill them all
Enough, enough, we kill them all

Elves suffer, Men are cowards!
We attack, we destroy all!
And they flee, they fear us!
In all the mountain passes, we are the storm!
Now we are warriors!
Now we are warriors!
Melody: the drum sequence in the beginning of ”Sarah” by Cultus Ferox.

The lullaby is my own rewrite of a song called ”En Tallerot” from an old Swedish children's TV series called ”Barna Hedenhös” (”The Hedenhös Children”). All of the songs can be found on YouTube.