An End, a New Beginning by chrissystriped

An End, a New Beginning

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You stifle a scream when the earth starts to shake. Not the gentle swaying you are used to from living close to the mountain of fire, but a rumbling and heaving that makes stones fall from the ceiling. Some of the little ones start to cry when a lamp falls down and shatters on the floor.

You gasp when it suddenly is as if a weight were lifted off you. You feel clear-minded like never before in your live and at the same time a terrible emptiness yawns open inside you. He is gone — the presence of your king, your God, who has always watched you, compelled you, is gone.

You pull your son — how relieved you are that he is still too small to go to war — against you, feeling his arms wrap around your neck. Your heart is racing in fear, cold sweat making you shiver. The enemy has won. You can’t say it out loud, that would be counted as disloyal and get you in trouble, but you feel it. Feel it in the shaking of the earth, in the very taste of the air — in the emptiness inside your mind. They’ve killed the King and they’ll kill you, too.

You know the enemies hate you, they won’t only kill your soldiers — your brothers and sisters, mates, friends —, but the mothers and children, too.

“We need to be prepared”, you say, standing up, resting your son on your hip. “We need to get further down, maybe they won’t find us.”

The other women with small children, who’ve stayed inside the mountain, nod. You quickly line up the children who are old enough to walk, making sure none are lost or left behind as you walk quickly down the tunnels that will lead you further into the depth of the earth.

The air becomes stifling, down here the circulation is bad, and the still shaking earth makes more stones break loose, but you hurry on, your pace fuelled by the fear of being caught by the cruel humans. The children are strangely silent, maybe they feel their mothers’ fear. You find a cave whose entrance is almost obscured by fallen stones and usher the little ones in, following behind.

“We should extinguish the lamps”, someone says and it is done.

You sit in the pitch dark, you know not how long, your son always close beside you. You make sure he drinks, eats. Sometimes you hear steps, light flickering through the gap on top of the stone heap and you tense, collectively holding your breath, praying to you know not who, now that your King is gone, that none of the little ones starts to cry.

Your rations start to run out.

“We can’t stay here.”

You haven’t heard sounds from the other side of the rock pile for a while.

A scout is chosen, the time until she comes back seeming endless.

“They’ve left”, she tells you, when she finally does, lowering a bag with hastily scavenged rations — the humans don’t like your food, not even the ones who follow the King. “There’s a large guard at the Gate, but the city is empty — what’s left of it.” There are tears in the scouts eyes. “We need to leave.”

“Where will we go”, someone says.

“East”, you answer. “I was there once on campaign. There are wide plains, lots of animals to hunt. And many of the men there follow our King.”

“Are we sure the enemy won?”, someone asks. “Are we sure… He won’t make us pay if we run?”

You look at each other, afraid to admit what you all can feel in your minds.

“He’s defeated”, someone finally whispers, you cannot make out who.

“I will dare it”, you say.

You are all armed, you knew it might come to a last stand. You hope you won’t have to fight with your son clinging to you.

“Let’s wait for night. They don’t see that well at night.”

There are some more dissenting voices, but in the end a consent is reached. You scavenge for more provisions for the journey, then wait.

Chance is kind to you for once and it is a cloudy night, no moon, no stars, perfect for you.

You cross the mountains by a narrow path the enemy hasn't found, then strike east. As the wind ruffles through your hair, you finally realise you are free. There’s a life ahead of you. No more fighting for the goals of someone else. You all can raise your children, together.

You cannot quite bring yourself to be happy about the victory of the enemy — so many of your people dead —  but maybe, just maybe, it will turn into something good for you and your son.

Chapter Two

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The Men of the village close by watch you warily, when you set up your tents. They have seen orcs before, armies their own soldiers marched away with. But when the villagers realise you are only women and children, they don’t chase you off.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Your supplies have almost run out and everyone is weary of travelling. It has been four weeks since your Lord has been defeated and you ran away from the only place you ever knew.

You don’t speak their language, but the intent is clear, when a few human women come close with baskets full of fruit. You have nothing to give in return, but they don’t seem to expect it. Soon they and you sit together, trying to talk with hand and feet and the few words you can understand.

Human and orc children are playing around you, not minding that they look different. You smile. Maybe you can stay here. Maybe you can live together with these humans in peace.

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Chapter End Notes

This second chapter was written during the instadrabbling session on 20.08.22 for the prompt:

When the storm has passed, put your energy into rebuilding your life. Don’t waste time looking back. - Leon Brown

Chapter Three

Another small thing about my orc lady. And look, she finally has a name!

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You sit at the shore of the lake with closed eyes, just breathing. It has been another long day of building — houses and relationships both. Some of the Men of this village still eye you warily and whenever someone from another place comes to visit, they react tensely to the presence of orcs — this will always be so, you fear — but you think you will be able to make a home here. The children are already mingling happily and playing together without worrying about race.

You wrap the warm blanket around your shoulders closer around yourself. You morn the absence of caves, the light of the sun is not so bad, after a while, but the chill wind is blowing deep into your bones. It is so much colder here than it ever was in your old home. Most of the children are sniffling and coughing and some of their mothers are too. You are glad that the wise-women of the village is helping with medicine. You have some healers among you, but the herbs and healing plants that grow here are strange to them. Learning them anew will take time — like everything.

You shiver as a particularly strong gust blows into your face. There are fires in the two finished houses, where everyone huddles together at night, but you need some time to yourself. You never thought of yourself as a leader, circumstance made you take the lead of your little group of mothers and children, but you don’t think you are the best for the job. The language of the Men comes slowly to you and you aren’t particularly skilled in anything but caring for children. But your people decided and you won’t shirk your duties. Your head aches from trying to communicate with the people from the village who help you with building the houses. They tell you winter will soon come and with it snow and storms.

You don’t like that you will have to be dependent on the well-meaning of the Men. It is not in the nature of orcs to accept help — or give it —, but you did not have the time to sow or harvest crops, you don’t have warm clothes and the more houses stand before the onset of true cold the better. You hope you can pay them back for their generosity someday.

“Ilais, there’s a problem”, someone says from behind and you stand up with a sigh. Your time of idleness didn’t last for long.