The Battles We Choose by Hoglorfen

Mark My Words

A few weeks later, Graznikh was standing guard near the market, Zuzar snoring loudly at his feet, when a Low Officer marched up to him.
”Your name and number?” the Officer demanded.
Great, one of the names-and-numbers guys. ”Graznikh, D gakh-go-chem, fahr-go-krak,” he grunted. The man checked some kind of list, then nodded to himself.
”Your replacement is arriving soon,” he said. ”You are to report to the vice castellan's office immediately.”
Graznikh frowned as the man left. The vice castellan was a High Officer, and being sent to him usually meant either a promotion or an execution. But there was no refusing a High officer, so Graznikh left for the Tower as soon as his replacement arrived. He had to repeat his name and number to the guards at the main gate of the Tower and outside the vice castellan's office, then he waited. And waited. And waited. 'Immediately' is really a fluid term around here, he thought as he squatted against the wall, carving dirt from underneath his nails with a knife. Eventually he was called into the office. The vice castellan asked him some completely random questions, then nodded to the two Uruks standing by the wall.
”Take him upstairs.”
”What's going on?” Graznikh asked, but the Uruks only leered. ”Do not question.”

He began to grow worried when he noticed that they were heading towards the audience hall. Not good. Not good at all! But the Uruks turned and went down a smaller corridor. After unlocking a door, they went up a long flight of stairs, through several more corridors and up another stair, this time turning round. Graznikh tried to keep track of the way but was soon completely lost. He had no idea how far up or down they were. Eventually they entered a wide corridor with a floor of polished black marble. The walls here were decorated with tapestries and dark statues and had intricate inlays of multicoloured stones here and there. This must be the High Officers' quarters, Graznikh thought as he stared at the rich surroundings. Reminds me a bit of Whin's home, only darker. He spotted a trickle of black blood coming out from beneath one of the doors further down the corridor. A lot darker.
The Uruks stopped outside a large, carved door. ”Final destination, snaga. Hope you enjoyed your life.” With that, they grabbed him and threw him in.

Graznikh hit his head as the door slammed shut. After the footsteps faded, everything went eerily quiet. He lay on his back on the cold floor with closed eyes, not daring to open them as the whisper of cloth brushing stone was heard beside him. Eventually he dared to open one eye. Then he stared, wide-eyed, into catlike blue eyes.
”I did not tell them to do that,” she whispered, frowning. A small grin forced itself onto his face.
”You've got to be more specific,” he said softly. ”Uruks need to be kept on a tight leash, otherwise they'll take every chance they get to screw ya over.”
”And you will not?”
”'Course not.” He couldn't tell if she was serious or toying with him. ”I'm yours.”
She rose, and Graznikh took it as an invitation to stand as well. As she walked over to a desk, he took the opportunity to look around.
The floor, walls and ceiling of the large room were black, and unlike the corridor there were no inlays or other decorations. There were a few armchairs around a low table filled with books in one corner, a large bed with high bedposts and a dark red cloth canopy in another and of course the desk by which she stood. Three arched doorways led to other rooms, but he could not see the interior of those.
Suddenly he recognised the robe she was wearing. Its cut was almost identical to the one she had worn that very first time he had seen her and touched her, but instead of plum and dusty yellow it was black and the sash icy blue with silver threads woven into it. The Dark Lord's irony was not lost on him.
”Well, somebody's got a sense of symbolism,” Graznikh muttered. ”Or humor.”
”Hm?” she looked up.
”Nothing, just a memory.” He sighed. ”So, about what those Uruks said... D'you intend to kill me?”
”Do you want me to?” The sincerity of the question sent shivers down his back. What is this?
”Well, if I have to go I'd rather it be by your hand than anyone else's. But nar, I'd prefer to live.”
”Then live you shall.” She turned towards him. ”I sent for you because of your previous actions and words. When you slew my first tutor, you expressed a wish to take his place. Is that still so?”
A grin slowly spread on Graznikh's face as he nodded. ”Aye, I can teach ya. If you want me to, that is.”
”What I 'want' is irrelevant.”
”Not to me,” Graznikh said. ”I wanna teach ya because you want to learn from me, not because someone else forces you to.”
”If you do not, someone else will.” There was a shiver of anxiety in her voice, a tiny display of weakness. Záhovar widened her eyes slightly as she realised her mistake, steeling herself in anticipation of an assault that never came. Graznikh stepped up close to her and forced her chin up with his fingers, a little rougher than intended.
”Then I'll teach ya,” he growled. ”I'll teach ya better than any one of those bloody pansies in black and red could ever do! I'll teach ya how to use whatever weapons you want, how to move in armour and how to fight and lead.” He wanted to tell her more, to lay down his life at her feet and be her personal slave to the end of his days, but he held back.
”I accept your guidance,” she said. ”Do you have a signet?”
Graznikh shook his head, not knowing what that was. She placed a stone pendant on a thin, black chain and hung it around his neck. It had an odd symbol inlaid in silver.
”This is my signet. It will allow you to send for me at the main gate of the Tower at will. I will not promise to come every time, but you have my attention.” When he did not move, she met his eyes with a slight frown.

Now that he was finally close enough, Graznikh drank in her scent. It was still her, that soft smell of fresh birch leaves and pine tar, even though it was now mixed up with the sharper scent of taint, pure evil and the sourness of the general decay of the Tower. He stared into her flickering blue eyes as he reached through the bond and found only emptiness. Why are you gone?! came the internal scream. How can you be gone when you're right in front of me??? Her eyes grew dangerous and he slowly backed away. She swept by and picked up a book from the table, then sat down in one of the armchairs and opened it, seemingly oblivious to his presence. After a while she looked up slightly. ”Dismissed.”
The word cut through Graznikh like an icy blade. So that's it, just like that? Then he remembered something. ”I, er... I don't know the way down.” She paused her reading again with a small frown. Then she closed the book with a sigh. ”Follow.”
Donning a more formal robe over her ordinary one, she swept out of the room with Graznikh in tow. The door opened on its own as she approached and closed behind them, Graznikh thought he could see a faint glow as it apparently locked itself on its own as well. She seemed to know the way but Graznikh got lost again as they turned this way and that to return down to the entrance level.
Just inside the main gate, she stopped and turned towards him. ”Tomorrow.”
Graznikh frowned. ”Tomorrow?”
She nodded. ”After the third toll. Meet me here, then we shall go to the training grounds.”
He grinned. ”Yer wish is my law,” he said. He did not know how to show throat to High Officers, but the tarks here bowed a lot so he did that. She nodded again, this time with eyes that were a little less cold than before. Then she left him and hurried back up. Graznikh looked after her for a while, then he looked at the signet again.

Praktash was stuffing jars of healing salve in a crate as Graznikh sauntered in with a smug look on his face and tossed something to him. Praktash held the signet up with a bewildered frown. ”Where'd you get this?”
”Guess.”
Praktash stared at him. ”You didn't.”
”Aye, I did.” Graznikh couldn't keep the grin off his face anymore. Victory had never tasted so sweet! ”Come on, I wanna celebrate!”
”Sure, just let me finish this or the quartermaster'll have my hide.”

”This is nice,” Graznikh said as he sampled the wine. This particular alehouse was one of the fancier ones, occasionally frequented by tark Low Ones so it had a slightly better stock than the rest.
Praktash chuckled. ”Was it worth spendin' all your savin's?”
”Oh aye! Besides, with the pay I'll be getting from now on I could drink this shit every day if I wanted to.”
”They're payin' ya that much for tutorin' an Officer?”
”Apparently. It's a lot less than they gave the previous ones, what with me being 'snaga' and all, but it's still a sweet deal.”
”Will you be movin' out too?”
Graznikh shrugged. ”I don't know. Maybe if she wants me to, but I'd rather not. Gotta stay in touch with my roots, y'know.” He shot Praktash a nasty grin.
”Hey! Don't get all Officery on me now, you know I can't stand those smug bastards!”
”I was joking!” Graznikh laughed. ”Nar, I'll never be like that. And if I do, feel free to punch me.”
”I might have to do somethin' else to put ya back in your place, snaga,” Praktash murmured with a sly leer and licked his lips. Graznikh grinned back.
”I'm not that drunk yet.”
”You will be if you keep heavin' that stuff.” He shone up. ”Tell you what; you should get a tattoo!”
”A what?”
”Like these,” he said, pointing at the dark markings on his face. ”It's a more lastin' celebration than booze.”
”Hnh,” Graznikh grunted. ”I've been meaning to get one o' those. Back when I was younger, I used to have trouble during ambushes and such. My skin's so pale, it's easy to spot at night. So I used grease'n soot as warpaint to cover it up, but it didn't last all that long. Here,” he pulled a knife and carved a rough design into the table. ”Something like that, up along the nose and across my forehead. I always wanted it tattooed in, but Tarnakh wouldn't let me.”
”Well, he's not here now. Let's take this plank down to the foundries, I know a guy there who's really good.” Graznikh laughed at that, but Praktash gave him a solid look. ”I'm serious.”
Graznikh fell off his bench in surprise as Praktash put a knee on the table and pulled the plank out, nails and all. Then he punched it hard until it snapped in two with a loud crack.
”Oi, what the FUCK!?” the serving snaga squealed. ”Those things don't fuckin' pop outta the ground, ya know?!”
”Sure they do,” Graznikh said as he picked himself up from the floor. ”I'll pay for repairs later.”
”They do?” Praktash asked as they left the alehouse.
”Wood,” Graznikh said, knocking on the plank on Praktash's shoulder. ”Trees grow outta the ground. You flearidden son of a warg bitch.” He couldn't keep his face straight anymore and they both laughed until they could barely stand.

Graznikh's face felt like it was on fire as the sharp knife broke the skin, followed by the black paste that would colour the scars.
”T'is easier on pale skin,” the fat Orc who handled the knife grunted. ”Don't need as much grease for th' markin's t' show.” Graznikh sat with closed eyes, head reclined back against the edge of a table as the tattooer worked. It was good to feel real, physical pain for once, not the sick creepy sensation of Whin's torture. But soon they would be together again, and everything would go back to normal. Or at least as normal as things could be.
So many times had he tried to reach out through the bond, only to find that there was nothing to reach out to. The bond told him that she was dead, yet he had seen her, touched her, talked to her. She did not seem to remember him, yet she had sent for him herself once the list of teachers ran out. She knew that he had killed the others, yet she had not sent him to his death. Was the being in the Tower still Whin, or a wraith wearing his âmbal's face?
Graznikh swallowed. He could feel blood trickling down his face and focused on the pain. She was not a wraith, he decided. Not yet. The emotions he had picked up on her scent told him otherwise; a undead thing would not show emotions. I don't care if you don't remember me. I'll make ya remember. I'll get that bond back, I don't care if I have to suck the Eye's cock to do so!

”'Ere,” the tattooer said. ”Outline's done. Take a break, wait fer it t' stop bleedin'. I'll do th' rest after. An' don't touch it, th' colour ain't settled yet.”
Praktash grinned. ”How 're you holdin' up?”
”Just fine. Don't need any,” he said as Praktash held out a ghâshpau skin. ”I wanna feel this.”
”You like pain, huh?”
”Aye.” Graznikh leaned back with a sigh, blinking to get the blood out of his eyes. ”I miss her nails.”
Praktash gave him a look. ”Nails?”
”Mhm. I loved the way she dug her nails into my back every time I fucked her. Sweetest pain in the world.” He grinned at the memory.
”So you prefer plashnak? Ever tried guys?”
”Aye. Or, I did before I met Whin. I was pretty open to suggestions before, but after... Not that I didn't try both guys and gals, it just wasn't the same with others.” He frowned. ”Come to think of it; I haven't fucked a single time since I got here.”
Praktash stopped drinking and stared at him. ”You what?! Not even hands?”
Graznikh shook his head and shuddered with revulsion. ”Not with the Eye as a bedmate in my head. I just couldn't do it.”
”That can't be healthy. So what now, is it still there?”
”I think it's gone. At least I don't feel it anymore. It's just... empty.”
Praktash nodded with a thoughtful look. The tattooer returned and rubbed more coloured paste into Graznikh's forehead, then proceeded to fill out the tattoo by making a crisscross pattern inside the outline. The pain was intense and Graznikh had to bite into the leather on his vambrace to keep from screaming. Praktash held him down by grabbing his hair and holding an arm across his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, the tattooer finished by scraping excess paste off his bleeding face. ”Don't touch an' don't scratch,” he grunted. ”If it starts smellin' or swellin', go to Praktash, 'e knows what t' do.” Graznikh gave him a weak grin as he spat the mangled vambrace out. Praktash bandaged his head and steadied him as he tried to rise.
”You sure you don't want any of this?” he asked as he held up the ghâshpau. Graznikh took it with a defeated grumble and Praktash laughed. ”Don't worry buddy, I won't tell!”
Graznikh's jaws ached and he could feel his legs shaking as he stood. It had hurt a lot more than he thought it would and he felt more respect for Praktash now. The Uruk may be a lousy fighter, but judging by his many tattoos and piercings there was clearly nothing wrong with his ability to withstand pain. Graznikh told him as much with a lopsided grin as they returned to the stash room and Praktash laughed.
”Who says I'm a lousy fighter?”
Graznikh frowned. ”We've sparred hundreds o' times, and you've never bested me!”
Praktash gave him a dangerous grin. ”I'm not stupid enough to show off my skills in front of everyone like that. Let 'em wonder how the hell I survive down here without bein' able to fight, it keeps them on their toes enough to not even try to bully me. Besides,” he continued as his grin became more deranged, ”I've more than reputation to protect me. And, by extension, you.”
Graznikh chuckled. ”Yeah, I've heard a few things. Got a few questions of that nature too.”
”Oh? What did they ask?”
”Mostly about how I pay for my stay here.”
”I wouldn't mind it if you did, you know.” Praktash's grin widened.
”I told ya, I'm not that drunk.”
”Do you have to be?”

Praktash pounced him, and Graznikh had no idea how an Uruk of that size could move so fast. He growled and fought back but soon found himself pressed face-first into his mattress. Zuzar was out hunting, so Graznikh could expect no help from the warg. Praktash straddled his legs and he couldn't help but groan a little as the Uruk began to grope him and gently chewed on his ear.
”So, if you had to choose: top or bottom?” Praktash whispered. Graznikh gave him defiant growl, but fell silent as he felt Praktash's hand inside his loincloth.
”...Bottom.”
”Seriously? I always took ya for a top guy.” He nibbled Graznikh's ear some more before getting up. ”Be right back,” he purred. Graznikh removed his armour as he watched Praktash go over and fetch a small jar from the shelf. He was not sure how he felt about this sudden turn of events, but he did not want to fight, not with Praktash. The weird guy had been more than decent to him up until now, and if this was what it took to keep that...
”What, you're not gonna spit?”
Praktash scowled. ”That's just crude! Nah, I've got somethin' much better here.” He opened the jar and revealed a strange, transparent goo that looked like snail slime.
”I've seen ya sell a lot of that stuff. What is it?”
”This, my pretty pale fellow, is lube. And you'll soon find out why I sell so much of the stuff.” He grinned as he coated his hand with the glistening goo.

Graznikh allowed himself to be pushed down on the mattress. He forced himself to relax and prepared for the inevitable discomfort of intrusion as his arse got probed, but it never came. Praktash's fingers slid in with ease and tore a surprised moan from Graznikh's lips as they found a spot that sent sparks of pleasure through his body. Graznikh had been with guys before and it simply was not his thing. Even so, he had to admit that Praktash was good. Pretty damn good.
”Yeah, I can tell you prefer the ladies,” Praktash teased as he stroked Graznikh's cock with agonisingly slow strokes and fingered his arse, causing the Orc's eyes to flutter shut and his breath to come in short gasps. ”You really don't like this, do you?” As Graznikh began bucking against him, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Praktash used plenty of lube, but Graznikh still tensed against the large intrusion.
”Careful, will ya?”
”No rush,” Praktash murmured. The last guy Graznikh had tried this with had slammed it in so hard that he had felt something tear inside. The pain had lasted for weeks. But Praktash was careful, easing it in as he felt Graznikh relax and made sure to take the time needed for him to get used to the whole thing. Then he began thrusting, slow and deep, slowly increasing the pace until Graznikh growled in pleasure and bit the mattress.
”Changed your mind yet?” Praktash gasped.
”Fuck nar!”
The Uruk growled and Graznikh put a leg against the wall, bracing himself against the hard thrusts as the pace increased. His face burned with pain as he grimaced, which only added to the pleasure. It did not take long for him to come so hard his toes curled. Praktash slowed down until Graznikh was done, then increased the pace and came shortly after with a deep roar.

They lay still for a moment, catching their breaths and enjoying the afterglow of a decent fuck.
”So what made ya get to this now? I've been at your mercy for years, and you never seemed to care.”
”In case ya haven't noticed, I don't have that many buddies. None I can trust not to screw things up, except you. I've no intention of losin' that. If I had fucked you before, when you had nowhere else to go, the question would always hang in the air; did I just take advantage of the fact that you depend on me for a place to sleep? I didn't want all that hassle, it ruined a lot of stuff for me in the past that coulda been good. Things're different now. You're the snaga of a Top One, so technically you're higher in rank than me. If you wanna punish me for this, you can. Skai, you could punish me for anythin' now, real or not.”
Graznikh chuckled. ”More like the snaga of someone who has no rank at all. 'Officer-in-training' is no real title, it's just there to sound fancy.” The chuckle died as he realised the meaning of what he had just said. ”Shit.”
Praktash pulled him close. ”Hey, don't give up now. She's not an Officer, that means you're safe for now.” He grinned. ”By the way, I met Hîsht earlier. She told me to send her regards to your pretty face.”
Graznikh groaned. ”What is it with women and my face?! Hopefully I've ruined it enough now so they'll stop fawning over me like a bloody flower.”
Praktash laughed out loud. ”Ya don't need to worry about Hîsht, she's just messin' with ya.”
”Is that so?”
”Yeah, she prefers plashnak.” He chuckled as Graznikh let out a sigh of relief.
”So how did you and her meet?”
”Long story,” Praktash said. ”I had just arrived here, she helped me set things up.”
”You're not whelped here?”
Praktash shook his head and his smile disappeared. ”Blog Shakâmb.”
”Oh.” Graznikh remembered Praktash's reaction the last time he had mentioned the place. ”Not good?”
Praktash shook his head with a grim expression. ”Not good at all.” He rolled over on his back and placed an arm beneath his head. ”I was little more than a cub, already dabblin' in booze and whatnot. There was this tark sorceress, her name was Gîrakûn, they said she was a great herbalist an' all that I should go to her and ask to learn from her, so I did. Only...” He frowned.
”No tutoring?”
”Not a damn thing. She strung me up, used me for experiments and amusement. I don't know how many years I spent in the dungeon there, but once I got out, everything had changed.” He glanced briefly at Graznikh and whispered: ”If anyone here knows what you've gone through, it'd be me.”
Then he continued, louder. ”One day, she just kicked me out, head in shambles, I didn't know a thing. So I ran, all the way here. Ended up in the gutter where Hîsht found me. She was just out of the breedin' pits herself, but she saved my arse pretty much the same way I did yours.” He grinned. ”She's the toughest bastard I know. Sixty years in the breedin' pits, shittin' out litter after litter, then kicked out with her guts still torn open and just takes it in stride, fightin' her way back up again.”

They continued talking well into morning. Despite the good events of late, the nightmares returned as soon as Graznikh fell asleep.
He stood in the corridor outside Whin's cell, hammering his fists against the solid darkness that blocked his way to her until they bled. Hot tears streamed down his face as he felt the Dark Lord approach from behind, digging His tendrils into his flesh and mind and slowly dragging him away. The screams emanating from inside the darkness literally broke his heart and he began coughing blood. As the bond died, he woke up with a howl.
Praktash was there as always, holding a mug filled with spiked ghâshpau. Graznikh downed it, then fell back down onto his belly, digging his claws into the sweatsoaked mattress. ”Why won't it go away?” he groaned as the grief and pain of loss threatened to overwhelm him. ”It just keeps coming like it all happened yesterday!” He couldn't stop himself from reaching out into nothing and howling into the mattress.
”Do you have to keep chasin' her?” Praktash asked. ”Maybe you should lay off it for a while, just relax and enjoy life a little.”
”I can't!” Graznikh sobbed. There were no tears outside the dream as Orcs couldn't cry. He did not know why he always cried in the dream. ”I cant forget, can't let go, it's been too long. I've got nothing else to live for.” His anguished look made Praktash shiver. ”There's like a hole inside, like a little piece of the Void that keeps eating everything up. I can't go on living like this, if I don't go after her with all I've got there's nothing left!” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. ”I tried to leave, ya know. After that first time I went crazy and killed all those people. I hoped they'd kill me, but you brought me back. I hated ya then, for not letting me die. I keep chasing something that's gone, but I just can't stop running.”

Zuzar sneaked in and lay down beside its master. The pressure of the warg's large head on his legs calmed him somewhat. Praktash frowned, studying his friend with a thoughtful look. ”Maybe it isn't gone.”
Graznikh glared at him with one anguished eye. ”Of course it's gone, why else would I be so fucking miserable!?”
”Nar, hear me out,” Praktash said and sat down. ”I'm definitely no expert on magic and I know nothin' 'bout all this Elvish mumbo-jumbo, but... You said she doesn't remember ya, right?”
”Mhm,” came the reluctant reply.
”Right.” Praktash frowned even deeper. ”And when you went up there, you said the Eye looked at your memories, right? Like flippin' the pages in a book.”
Graznikh made a gagging noise at the memory. ”Yeah. He could've taken anything out, and I wouldn't even know that it was gone...”
”Maybe... just maybe, I'm not sayin' it's true, but maybe it keeps hurtin' because it's not gone? What if it's still there, but she's just forgotten about it? The Eye could've wiped her mind, it'd be easy to do for someone like that.”
Graznikh frowned and winced at the pain. ”But... I felt her die.”
”Maybe she did,” Praktash said. ”And maybe the Eye brought her back. I wouldn't put it past Him. Or maybe she just believed that she died, enough for you to feel it?”

The Orc suddenly looked absent. Zuzar began to snore and Praktash waited patiently. Graznikh's sudden outburst of laughter startled the Uruk and made the warg leap to its feet with a yelp.
”I'm such an idiot!” He looked up at Praktash. ”She said it herself! 'The bond is real, it is everlasting and it cannot be broken, even beyond death.' Those were her words, back when we first joined. I felt her die, and when she came back she'd forgotten all about me and the bond! She's not gone, just... not there. Somewhere else, too far away in her mind for me to reach her!”
Praktash gave him an unsure smile and Graznikh grinned. ”You probably think I've lost it for real now, right?”
”You were lost already when I first met ya,” Praktash chuckled. ”But I'm glad my ramblin' helped.”
Graznikh rolled over and stared up into the ceiling. ”And... I've felt like this before, too. Only, not nearly as strong. When I left her the first time, I ran like a coward because I thought she'd put a spell on me. But the farther I ran, the worse I felt. Just like this. One night, I just couldn't take the emptiness anymore, so I ran all the way back and didn't stop before I'd buried my dick in her. She's not dead, just far away!”

He glanced at Zuzar, who was looking at him with its tail between its legs. ”I'm sowwy buddy, did I scare ya with all my antics? C'mere, let's go to bed!” He moved and let the big warg roll up around him.
Praktash lay down on his own mattress. ”Sweet dreams, trênotar.”
Graznikh grinned. ”Sleep tight, bagshatîgatar.”
Praktash spun and bared his fangs in a challenge at the insult. ”If you weren't all the way over there, I'd kill ya for that!”
Graznikh answered with a threatening growl. ”You just try.” Praktash pounced and soon they were wrestling wildly on the floor, laughing and cursing. When they were both too exhausted to go on, they simply rolled over to Graznikh's mattress, which happened to be closest.
”Wuf,” Zuzar commented and wrapped itself around them both.

Chapter End Notes

For a more in-depth explanation of Mordorian headcounting, see: http://hoglorfen.tumblr.com/post/153326127868/headcanon-names-and-numbers-in-mordor

Gakh-go-chem, fahr-go-krak – 36-45
Trênotar – madman
Bagshatîgatar – an insulting term for a homosexual man who prefers to be on top