The Battles We Choose by Hoglorfen

Let There Be Night

Za could feel a tremor run through her body as her will wavered. The Officer-in-training sat naked and crosslegged on the floor in the circular chamber. Her tutor had smeared her body with the thick black oil used in the braziers of the Tower, then proceeded to give her a few quick lashes with a burning lash until the oil lit up. It was indeed a trial by fire, to keep the flames burning until commanded otherwise even as they licked her face and danced on her skin. The Dark Lord sat near the wall, watching her with an impassive face.
”Contain it!” Gîrakûn snapped. Za felt the pain spread across her back and arms and realised that she was failing. The light seemed to dim as she drew upon the icy chill of the Wraithworld, cloaking herself from the flames. It was only a hair's breadth away, but it was enough. The pain dissipated and there was a flicker of interest in the Master's eyes.
Gîrakûn waited a little while before tugging the rope that emptied the bucket of water hanging over her student's head, extinguishing the flames. The Dark Lord rose and allowed Za to do the same. He walked around her, searching her for burn marks. When none were found He lifted her chin with a finger. ”Passed.”
Gîrakûn and Za both let out a sigh of relief as He left the room. The old woman smiled as she returned Za's robes. ”Go clean yourself up. We are done for the night.”

As the third toll rang, Graznikh stopped by the Tower gate. Those are real nifty, he thought as the tremor ran up through the ground. Ten tolls, evenly spread out, was the only way to keep track of time in the everdark of Lugburz. Graznikh had no idea what caused the sound and the following tremor, but it seemed to come from deep underground. It had been annoying at first, but he had soon grown accustomed to it. Everyone in Lugburz lived and died by it.
His new student approached him and Graznikh felt another kind of tremor at the sight. Whoever picked her clothing had chosen far better ones than last time. He bowed before her with a cocksure grin and walked beside her down the long flight of stairs that led to the training grounds.
”By the way,” he said as they walked, ”I never caught yer name.”
”There is none.”
He frowned. ”You don't have a name?”
”I have one, but I am not allowed to use it yet. I have not earned it.”
”...Right.” They walked in silence for a while.
”So... Can I give ya a nickname?”
She looked at him. ”What is that?”
He shrugged. ”It's... well, it's a name of sorts, but not a real one. Just something you call someone before they've got a real one. Something short and easy to pronounce. Some people use it in tiight spots too, like during battle when shouting the whole title would take too long.”
”Do you have one?”
”Aye. My real name's Graznikh, but my buddies call me Graz.”
”Graznikh...” She seemed to taste it in her mouth. ”Did you earn it?”
He grinned. ”Sure, and then some. That was a long time ago.”
”And... what would you call me?”
”Âmbal,” he said without thinking. Then he stopped and clamped his hands over his big stupid mouth as she turned towards him with an almost shocked expression. Skai!
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Graznikh had no idea what went on behind that cold stare. Then her expression changed ever so slightly, and there was a twitch in the corners of her mouth.
”Very well. So be it.” She turned and began walking. Graznikh had not even noticed that he had been holding his breath, but now he let it out with a gasp of relief. Did she just agree to that?

'Âmbal'? He would call me 'sweet'? Za began to understand the Orc's game now. He was clearly torn between his fear and his wish to humiliate her and had in his carelessness given her threads to work with. Given enough, she would weave a web from which this Orc could not escape, and so make a loyal servant out of him. This battle could turn out to be easier than the previous ones, and the Orc himself had made it easy.

It was early in the evening, so the training grounds were nearly empty. Za frowned as he handed her a blunted practice sword.
”What, not good enough for ya?” Graznikh said with a grin as he noticed her reluctant expression. ”I'm not gonna hand you sharp toys and risk you hurting either yourself or me with 'em, not before I'm sure you can handle 'em. We'll start with blunted weapons, go through the basics 'til you know them. Then we'll move on to the real deal, if I think you're ready.”
”Fair enough.”
”Fair?” He chuckled. ”Fighting's got nothing to do with 'fair'. Fair fighters die. You wanna get the better of your opponent. How you get there doesn't matter.” He held the sword out. ”Let's start with defense. There're five basic blocking positions; upper left, upper right, lower left, lower right and above.” He showed her the different positions as he spoke. ”These apply to all blades. If you have a shield you use that, but shields're clumsy and they can break.” He made her go through the different positions, then brought his sword down against her from different directions, slow at first and then increasing speed until she began to make mistakes.

Graznikh knew that he had to push her limits. No doubt the Top Ones were already impatient with the loss of time because of the previous casualties and his days in this position and state of existence were numbered according to whatever progress she made. After a few lessons, the speed with which she learned began to freak him out. It was not natural. She unwittingly did things he had taught her years ago, back when they were sparring in the forest during those few blessed moons they got together before everything came crashing down. Is she remembering? Graznikh soon had to pick his old skills up. No more could he relax into the somewhat sloppy fighting style he had used to get by in the Tower, not when facing a warrior with elven speed and reflexes. They went through the arsenal of the Tower – swords, knives, clubs, axes, polearms, archery, even bare hands which made Graznikh wish that they had been in a more secluded place. But their lessons had gained quite an audience over time with a bunch of off-duty snagas, Uruks and even a few of the Low Ones watching with astonished looks and betting on who would come out on top the next time.
Even Praktash came by a few times to watch from a distance, but he always made sure to leave with the crowd. The Uruk disliked authorities of all kinds, and Graznikh could not even get him to come up and say 'hi'. The lessons only happened once every four nights and he had been relieved of guard duty because of his new position, so Graznikh had a lot of time for his crafts and hanging out with Praktash. And Zuzar of course; the warg made sure to let him know whenever it felt neglected.

Learning to ride Zuzar had been an exhilarating experience. A warg could not be ordered about like dogs or ponies could be. Wargriding was about cooperation; if warg and rider had a serious disagreement, things could get very ugly. But Zuzar trusted his master completely, so their disagreements were rare and quickly solved.
Staying on was another matter entirely, Graznikh did not even have a saddle or a collar to hold onto. Warg paws were almost like hands, they had thumbs and could grip and hang onto irregularities in the ground, which made wargs very good at climbing and running in the mountains. Zuzar leapt with ease over chasms and cracks that Graznikh would never have been able to traverse on foot and laughed as his master gave off terrified squeaks on his back.

One night, they were hunting deep in the mountain spur where the Tower was located. The lizards here were larger and more aggressive than out on the Gorgoroth plateau and spat a nasty, corrosive acid as a defense. That did not protect them against thrown knives, so Graznikh and Zuzar got some good battle practice while filling their bellies with the juicy meat. Graznikh stood nearby, knives at the ready as Zuzar pulled rocks and rubble away to reach a lizard that had hid in a crevice when the warg's ears suddenly pricked. Graznikh had learned to trust his friend's instincts and quickly mounted to face the unknown foe.
Zuzar growled as an unfamiliar warg and rider appeared on a cliff, closely followed by several others. Graznikh could feel the fur on its shoulders bristle and scratched him in an attempt to calm. Attacking would be suicide; three of the riders had bows and he was outnumbered.
The leader of the wargriders eyed him. ”Been lookin' fer you,” he growled.
”You could've found me in the Tower anytime,” Graznikh replied and the other grinned.
”Aye, ye're gettin' a bit o' a rep there, aren't ya? Bullyin' yer way right up the Tower to the Top Ones' feet an' all.”
As they spoke, the wargs kept circling each other. Zuzar trembled from the tension, ready to pounce at the slightest provokation.
”We've been watchin' ya fer some time,” the leader continued. ”I'm Brodhurz, and this is my pack.” He nodded towards the group. ”We're not here to fight ya, but I wanna know what ye're made of. You and yer warg.” Graznikh had heard that name a few times before. Brodhurz was not from the Tower but from Nargroth, one of the largest Orc encampments in southern Gorgoroth, near the Gap of Nurza-Shûk. If he had come all the way here just to corner him in some obscure pass in the Tower Spur, Graznikh realised that he must have gotten quite a bit of a reputation indeed.

Zuzar sprung into action with a roar at almost the same time as the other warg. Brodhurz dismounted as the wargs clashed, Graznikh followed suit and rolled to his feet, blades in hand and jumped to avoid the incoming sword as soon as he got to his feet. For a moment he thought he would get torn to shreds, but the rest of the group kept their distance. The wargs howled and cheered their packleader on.
For someone not here to pick a fight, this looks suspiciously much like one, Graznikh thought dizzily after taking a hard punch to his chin. Brodhurz tackled him and tried to grab his neck, but Graznikh twisted out of his grip and sent him flying with a kick. They engaged again, slashing, punching and kicking. Graznikh was soon put on the defense. This isn't good.
They were interrupted by a loud yelp and turned towards the fighting wargs. Zuzar had the other warg in his jaws, securely caught by the neck. Graznikh spun to face Brodhurz, who sheathed his blade with a grin. ”No need. Ye're good, and ye're in if ya wanna join us.”
Graznikh sheathed his knives. ”Interesting offer, but I can't really leave the Tower. Still got that teaching job to do. No good comes from pissing off the Top Ones.”
”No problem there. We're stationed in th' Tower fer now. Lemme know if ya wanna train with us.”
Zuzar let go of the other warg as it spotted the lizard. It pounced it in front of the astonished group, tore the lizard's belly open and lay down to eat.
Brodhurz laughed out loud. ”Been wonderin' how 'e got so big! That one could teach these pups a thing or two 'bout survival.”

”Are you bloody fuckin' kiddin' me?!” Praktash could hardly believe his ears. ”You turned Brodhurz down? You idiot snaga!”
”Hey, none of that!” Graznikh growled. ”You know why I can't join his pack, the moment I have a nightmare there I'm done for.”
Praktash winced. ”Yeah, but... still. I'm fuckin' envious! That pack is legendary. They took down a rampagin' Olog-hai in the Eastern Desolation on their own not four years ago!”
Graznikh grinned. ”You could always borrow Zuzar and join them yourself if you're so eager.”
”Not a chance. I'd break that poor pup's back if I tried ridin' him. An' I'm nowhere near as good a fighter as you.”
”You could spar with us, ya know. That'd put ya in good shape.”
Praktash's smile disappeared. ”Nar.”
”I don't get what you're so afraid of. She's a little weird, but she's alright!”
”Nar! We've been through this already. You haven't seen the things I've seen them do. I don't want anythin' to do with any Officers, High or Low.”
”...Fine. Will ya come and watch at least?”
”Alright. Once I'm done with the next batch.”

As Graznikh went to meet his âmbal for the lesson, she was not alone. A tiny, white-haired tark stood next to her, apparently discussing something of great import. He waited patiently as they finished and turned to look at him.
”So, this is the one?” the tark woman asked.
”Nashrakû.” Graznikh bowed and she made a surprised cackle.
”An Orc with manners? What is the world coming to?” Suddenly her eyes twinkled with intelligence and cunning. ”I have heard what you did with the other tutors. Will you kill me now as well, now that I stand before you?”
Graznikh shook his head. ”No point in that, I already have what I want.” He glanced at his âmbal.
”Do you, now?” The little woman studied him. ”Very well. I shall not delay you, but I will accompany you.”
”Gîrakûn wishes to watch the lesson,” his âmbal said.
”I'm not gonna stop her,” Graznikh said. That name... ”I doubt I could even if I tried.”
”And what makes you think that?” Gîrakûn asked as they headed to the training grounds.
”Nobody grows old in the Tower unless they know how to defend themselves. You don't look like a warrior, if you don't mind my saying so, and that means dushatâr. And I can't bloody well fight something I can't see. I don't pick fights I know I'm gonna lose.”
Gîrakûn gave him an evaluating look. ”A clever one, at that,” she said as if to herself. ”A rare catch indeed.” Catch?

The lesson began as it usually did. Graznikh decided what weapons should be used, and today he chose the weapon she was most proficient in – the glaive. They had moved on to sharp weapons long ago, and he decided to use his own knives this time. Gîrakûn sat on a chair in an alcove, a small table at her side where her accompanying Lug-snaga had placed refreshments, and watched them spar with great interest.
So you wanna play it tough, huh? Graznikh thought as he blocked an incoming blow and leapt to the side. She gave him no respite, attacking over and over as soon as she found a breach. He was forced to put her on the defense. Probably showing off for the nashrakû. She spun the glaive, blocking two of his attacks at once. She raised her hand, and he prepared to-

Graznikh had no idea what happened next. There was a soundless blast, then pure dread seeped into his bones until he could no longer control his limbs. Everything went silent as he fell backwards with a howl and stared at the wraith that assaulted him. Then it passed, as quickly as it had come. Sound returned, and he could hear the terrified shrieks of the audience as they scrambled towards every available exit. He slowly lifted his eyes from the glaive that was buried in the ground right next to his head to his âmbal who knelt against his chest, watching him with the same impassive face she always wore.

Praktash had managed to dive for cover behind a pillar just before the High Officer-in-training unleashed the spell, and so he heard Graznikh's scream with his own ears. I told ya, he thought with a terrified wince. I told ya over and over, 'don't go near the Top Ones! It'll end badly!' But would you listen? Nar! You just had to go an' poke the Eye over an' over an' look where it got ya! I'm sorry, little buddy, I can't drag ya out of this one.

Záhovar was still kneeling beside the Orc's body and heard Gîrakûn approach from behind. This is... No. I will not do this. She reached out and broke the spell that would have severed the Orc's spirit from his body. He let out a shrill howl with his first breath, and Záhovar could feel the anger radiating from Gîrakûn. She caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye and caught the sorceress' staff just before it connected with her head.
”Why did you break the spell?”
”Because it was unnecessary.”
”I gave you an order, which you deliberately failed to follow. Why turn against me now?”
”I did as you commanded. I succeeded in casting and releasing the spell. I simply did not kill him.”
Gîrakûn wrenched her staff out of Záhovar's grip. ”You know full well the crimes this Orc has committed! He murdered three High Officers, and now you would let him go?”
”No. But I will not mete out your vengeance for you. Our master gave me free reins in dealing with him however I see fit, and I will. It is not for you to decide.”
Gîrakûn began gathering strength. ”Then I will finish his wretched life myself.”
The glaive hissed through the air and stopped as it touched the old woman's throat. ”Then I will kill you. The Orc is mine.”
Gîrakûn took a few steps back, her anger replaced by astonishment. Such assertiveness and defiance she had not seen in the aspiring Officer before. ”You are ready,” she whispered.

Their argument had been carried out in the language of Rhûn, so Graznikh did not understand a word. Nor did he want to; once the women were ignorant of his presence, he scrambled to his feet and ran towards the exit as he had never run before. Outside, he was joined by Praktash and they both fled back to the stash room.
”You still think that's your mate? You still think there's anythin' left of her inside that thing?” Praktash asked as they collapsed on their mattresses, each with a skin of strong Orcish booze in their shaking hands.
”Nar,” Graznikh whispered with dismay. ”My âmbal-zemar woulda never attacked me like that, no matter how angry she was with me.” He grimaced after taking a swig from the skin. ”I'm gonna have nightmares this time, for sure.”
”Me too,” Praktash said. ”I thought you were dead.”
”I think I was. At least for an eyeblink or so. Maybe I should sign up with Brodhurz after all. Then I could get away from here. You wanna join? We could use a potionmaker.”
Praktash shook his head. ”They won't accept ya now, not when they hear the Top Ones want you. They'll just parade you up there and dump you in front of the throne.”
”Oh, great...” They proceeded to drink in silence until they dozed off.

Graznikh woke up as the door was bashed in and the castellan entered followed by four Uruks. He tried to shake the headache off, then nodded to Praktash with a forced smile as they pulled him up from the mattress. ”Take care, buddy. It was nice knowing you.”
”Same,” Praktash said. He did not even try to cover the pain in his eyes. ”Try... Try to go out with a grin, eh?” He tried to slap Graznikh's outstretched hand, but only hit the fingers as they dragged the Orc away.
Outside, the Uruks placed shackles around Graznikh's hands and feet and a collar with the Eye symbol around his neck. He tried to walk fast enough to keep up but was half-dragged all the way up to the Tower gate. He did not know where Zuzar was – probably out hunting with his new packmates. He hoped that Praktash or Brodhurz would take care of the warg for him.
Inside the gate they stopped. The castellan held out a hand and Graznikh felt the hair on his neck stand up as the air crackled from dark sorcery. The huge gates swung shut with a boom, the first time ever in Graznikh's memory to do so. This is it. I'm well and truly fucked now.

The Uruks continued to drag him up to the waiting room outside the Dark Lord's audience hall where the woman he had loved, followed, protected and tutored for years untold waited. The Uruks removed his shackles. The castellan nodded to her and left, taking the Uruks with him and leaving Graznikh and her alone.
You just stand there, he thought bitterly. In those fancy robes, with that blank stare. Is there anything left inside ya? I guess I should be afraid, huh? It's too late for that. I might as well just speak my mind.
”So what'll it be this time?”
She met his eyes. ”This time?”
”Yeah, what'll it be? Torture practice? Brainwashing? You've got me by the balls now, are you happy?”
”I do not know that word.”
He bared his fangs. ”Of course you don't. That's why you take it from everyone else,” he snarled.
The smallest crease appeared between her eyebrows. ”Have I offended you?”
”Have you offended me..?” he hissed. ”HAVE YOU OFFENDED ME???” he roared at the top of his lungs. ”I LOVED YOU!! I cared for ya, I protected ya, I saved your sorry arse over and over as you saved mine! We fought, we hunted, we went through ice and fire together!” He took a deep breath. ”You wanna know what you are? You're dead!! I tried to save ya, but I failed! We were bound together, I spent seven years in the same fucking darkness as you, felt the same pain, had the same nightmares and I felt you die.” He felt the pain well up inside. ”And then you came back as this half-wraith monster, just as I was beginning to live you had to pull me back down and take everything from me all over again!”
She stared, eyes wide, as he fell to his knees in front of her. ”All I wanted was to be with you,” he sobbed. ”But every time I sleep, I lose ya over'n over again. Then I find this, this thing wearing your face and I thought... But there's nothing left, nothing... I failed...”
His forehead pressed against her soft leather boot while a shaking hand clutched the hem of her robe.

Záhovar knelt beside the whimpering Orc, gently lifting his head. ”You have not failed,” she whispered. ”On the contrary. And I have not brought you here to punish you.” He simply stared at her. ”In truth, both of us have been brought here unexpectedly. But I do not think either of our lives are on the line this night.” As she said this, the doors to the audience hall began to open slowly. She rose and encouraged Graznikh to do so as well. He wiped his eyes with his hands and tried to focus.
”Keep your eyes on the ground,” Záhovar advised. ”Do not meet His eyes unless He bids you to, and do not speak unless directly spoken to. The slightest defiance will be rewarded with pain.”
She straightened up and Graznikh could see apprehension in her face. She adjusted the robe slightly. He directed his eyes to the floor as they entered the hall. From what little he could see, the hall was crowded and the air almost tingled with anticipation. If I'm not going to die, what the fuck is going on?

There was a murmur as they entered, but it quickly fell silent. He fell to his knees before the throne as she did and pressed his head against the crimson carpet. He spotted Gîrakûn in the same position on her other side.
RISE, the dark Lord's voice boomed in his head, as it no doubt did in everyone else's. WHY HAVE YOU COME BEFORE ME IN THIS HOUR?
Gîrakûn struck the floor with her staff thrice. ”Master, Thy command has been fulfilled,” she said solemnly. ”This one before Thee has been tutored, and judged ready to face Thee and serve Thee in his own might.”
IS HE LEARNED IN THE HISTORY AND WORKINGS OF THE BLACK TOWER?
”He is!”
AND CAN HE STAND HIS GROUND AS IT QUAKES WITH THE ARMIES OF HIS ENEMIES?
”He can!”
AND HAS HE THE POWER TO DEFEAT AND SUBDUE THEM?
Everyone's eyes were suddenly on Graznikh. He swallowed hard, then he lifted his eyes and met those of the Dark Lord. He flashed a grin and growled: ”He has.”
The Dark Lord returned his grin as He rose from the throne. Then He pointed at Graznikh's former mate with a finger decorated by a golden ring that glowed with arcane letters. I NAME THEE ZÁHOVAR, HIGH OFFICER OF MORDOR. I AM THE MASTER OF ARDA, AND MY WORD BE LAW!

Za – now Záhovar - took a step forward and tore her robe off, revealing magnificent armour underneath. Graznikh recognised it as almost identical to the one Whindaër had worn, but this one was black with reinforcements in a silvery metal.
That voice must've echoed across half of Gorgoroth, Graznikh thought. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone under the Shadow heard those words in their heads. And what do they mean by 'he'? The crowd left, some shouted dark blessings upon their newest colleague and rival. Soon, the power balance in the upper Tower would shift in a blood-drenched attempt to fit the newcomer in but for now, everyone was equal under the Eye. Záhovar and Gîrakûn did not leave with the others and not knowing what else to do, Graznikh stayed as well. The Dark Lord left His throne once the doors closed.

Graznikh quickly looked down as He approached, but he could see the strange glowing ring as He lifted His hand to touch Zàhovar. Záhovar. He tasted the name in his mouth. It was a pretty name and it fitted her. He regretted not having thought of it before. You bloody idiot, you just told her off loud enough for half the Tower to hear and started bawling like a tark baby. You're a lousy useless weakling, why would she ever even look at your miserable face again?
”See me.” He twitched hard as he hadn't even heard the Dark Lord approach. His head snapped up to meet His gaze. It felt strange, looking into those fiery eyes in that calm face. It was as if His burning spirit was too large for the body it inhabited.
”You have given Me a valuable gift,” He said. ”And so I give you my full attention this once. Ask whatever you will.”
Graznikh swallowed. ”I don't have any questions,” he said quietly. ”But... I've a wish.” The Dark Lord waited, cloaked in angelic patience. ”I want the bond back,” Graznikh whispered and waited for his inevitable destruction.

The Dark Lord studied the Orc. The doors to the audience chamber were impenetrable by sound, sight and any physical means, but He had heard the Orc's explosion and subsequent breakdown with other ears. He glanced at Záhovar who in turn shared a confused glance with Gîrakûn. He admitted to curiosity about the bond. Opening it was risky, but He believed her to be firmly under His control now. Firmly enough for Him to be able to repair any damage the opening might cause.
Graznikh expected to find himself melting, evaporating or spontaneously combusting at any moment. But neither happened.
”It shall be done.”
His mind went blank. That could not be right. This was not happening. The Dark Lord beckoned for Záhovar to approach and made her stand next to Graznikh, almost close enough to touch. Graznikh stared at the carpet as the Dark Lord shifted and a Power so strong that it threatened to tear everything that he was from him washed over, under, around and through him. It was agony, ecstasy, as a white-hot spear shattered the darkness and the bond opened wide. He heard Záhovar scream with Whindaër's voice and he screamed himself as he passed out.
Záhovar screamed as feelings rushed in to fill a void she had not even been aware of before. The familiar Shadow and Flame swirled around her, but there was also searing Light and the contesting forces threatened to utterly tear her apart. She desperately reached for the blessed Darkness and felt the Dark Lord's presence hold her together as the torrent raged. There was another presence as well, just as dark but nowhere near as strong. She reached for that as well and was met with welcome.

As Graznikh came to, he found himself lying in a soft, comfortable bed in an unfamiliar room. He looked around but there was nothing that could tell him where he was. Then the memories returned. He reached out through the bond, and found... darkness? Then the presence that was Záhovar invaded his mind. He tried to resist but had no chance against the powerful torrent. She drank his memories and emotions like a vampire until Graznikh kicked and screamed for her to stop. Then she was gone, just as fast as she had come. He shivered and gasped, trying to regain his sanity after the violent intrusion. What the everloving fuck was that?! Then he felt something touch the bond, much gentler than before. There was wonder and a tiny tinge of regret. He smiled weakly. I know, âmbal. It wasn't easy for me either. Is this what it felt like for you, the first time? Power pulsed through the bond, feeding his strength and he suddenly found himself extraordinarily alert. It was like the most potent ghâshpau he had ever had. He concentrated on the bond and pumped as much love and lust as he could muster through it. He grinned at the loud gasp and clinking sound from outside.

Záhovar was wiping spilled wine from the table and her trousers. She looked up as Graznikh walked over, grabbed her arms and lifted her to her feet.
”What is-” she began but was interrupted as Graznikh grabbed her head and kissed her passionately. Záhovar froze. What is he doing?! Graznikh tried to push his own want through the bond, but hesitated when he recieved no response. He withdrew and gave her a confused look which she returned. ”Why did you...” He took a step back, then he turned and roared out his frustration. He exhaled sharply as Záhovar's intense intrusion returned, digging through his head.
”Will you stop doing that?!” he roared. The tendrils disappeared and he glared at her. She looked as confused as he felt.
”I only wish to understand.”
Graznikh fell into one of the armchairs with a groan, burying his face in his hands. ”Why did He have to take everything? Couldn't He have left a few scraps for me?”
”What is it He took?” Záhovar asked as she sat down.
”Everything that made you you. What the fuck did He do to you?”
She frowned. ”He created me.”
”Nar!!” Graznikh looked up. ”Nar, he didn't! You were there before too, just... different. But you don't remember anything, do you?”
”Whatever there was before, it is gone now.”
”Nar, it isn't! I was there, I remember everything! I just... wish you could remember as well.” Maybe this bond wasn't such a good idea after all. What's the point if there's nothing left?

She gave him a wary look. ”I could see yours. Your memories, if you would let me.”
He gave her a sullen look. ”Why ask now? Why not just invade like you've done twice already?”
”It is easier if you are willing.”
He snorted. ”Sure, why not. Go ahead, I won't stop you.” He leaned back, steeling himself and trying to open himself up, and this time it was easier. He brought up memories himself for her to see. He could not give her own memories back, but he could give her his view of her.
”Was I truly so weak?” Záhovar said as she studied the moment when Whindaër protested his killing of the tark. Graznikh shrugged.
”Maybe it's just strength of a different kind.”
Záhovar shook her head. ”There is strength and there is weakness. Power does not come in hues.”
Graznikh felt inclined to agree.
She seemed particularly interested in the memories he had of the times they lay together. He could not help but grin. I wonder what it feels like to see yourself in that situation but not having any memory of it happening... ”See something you like?”
”I did not know that it could be... pleasurable.”
Graznikh frowned. ”Seriously?”
”My previous tutors made sure to cause as much discomfort as possible.”
Graznikh's eyes narrowed. ”They raped you?” Then he was blasted by memories that weren't his. Of that first Officer he'd killed, grunting and sweating above. Of him laughing at the screams. Of Black Uruks doing the same thing, taking his place. Of pain, humiliation and intense hate. He screamed and tried to shut it all out. Thankfully, Záhovar got the gist now and ended it. Graznikh was furious. ”I'm gonna learn sorcery just so I can wake 'em all up from the dead. Then I'll kill them again, over and over to the end of time!”
”Why do you care?” The sincere question cut like knives.
”Because...” He had no words with which to answer, so he showed her instead. He lifted every happy moment he and Whindaër had shared, the fucking, the chasing, the playfighting, the falling asleep in each others arms... With the memories came the pain, but he pressed on, pushing everything to the surface. Záhovar looked concerned. So you're not completely dead inside, after all, he thought. Then he had the impulse to show her exactly what he had been through. He threw every painful moment in her face, from the moment when he felt her fade the first time, to the years of her torture, to the moment the bond died, the nightmares and the grief. What he had felt with Praktash, and when she tore him away from that. He shoved it all against her and as he did, he noticed the crease between her eyebrows deepen. She looked... disturbed. Suddenly she broke contact, got up and began pacing the room with an alarmed expression.
”You okay?”
”There is... something,” she said as she paced. Then she stopped, her eyes widened and she gasped. Graznikh felt the bond fail and shot up. ”Nar! Nar nar nar, not again, not now!” He caught her as she fell and felt the Dark Lord's awareness descend upon them like a giant, black vulture. The bond wavered, then slowly stabilised. Graznikh breathed a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes.
”I'm sorry,” he whispered.
”I am not strong enough,” she whispered back as she met his eyes. ”Give it time.” Graznikh trembled. For a brief moment, Whindaër had spoken. For a moment, it had been her eyes looking back at him. He nodded. ”Sure, I can do that.”

”So, what'll happen now? I mean, now that you're an Officer, I'd guess my job is done.”
”Do you wish to leave?”
”Nar! I mean, I wouldn't mind it if I could go out of the Tower every now and then, but... I don't wanna lose you again.”
”Then will you accept a place as Lug-snaga?”
”I don't even know what that means.”
”Be my bodyguard,” Záhovar said. ”Follow me when I travel, carry whatever commands I have to the Low Officers, that sort of things.”
Graznikh grinned. ”Will I still get paid?”
”Yes. All your expenses will be covered by me personally. But I will want to know that you do not squander.”
”Well, you already read my mind so I doubt I could squander without you knowing it.”
”Then you accept?”
”'Course I do! I told ya; I'm yours.”
”Then from now on, you are my servant and do my bidding. It is risky, for I am not yet strong enough to openly challenge other High Officers should you end up in trouble, and everything you do will reflect upon me. None of the other High Officers have common Orcs in their personal entourage, as they are considered too chaotic and unreliable.”
Graznikh shot her a wicked grin. ”Then I'll just have to prove them wrong.”

Chapter End Notes

Nashrakû – old woman (sharkû – old man)