Transformation by chrissystriped

Chapter Three

Gârsh slowly opened the door to the bed room. Shai beamed at him, she looked exhausted but very happy. Gârsh had wanted to stay when she went into labour, but he had had to work and Shai’s mother had made clear that this was women’s matter.

“Come in, Gârsh and look at you son.”

“A son?”

Gârsh walked over and looked at the bundle Shai was holding. The little boy was sleeping. Gârsh saw with relief that his skin was dark.

“Do you want to hold him?” Gârsh sat down on the bed and held his hands out. “Careful, support the head.”

He was so small, his son’s head fit easily in his hand. It felt so natural to hold the newborn, he had done it before.

“My son”, he whispered, his gaze misted over. He felt a boundless love for this little, helpless being.

“Daddy?” Rusha walked into the room.

“Do you want to see your brother, Rusha?” Gârsh sat down on the floor so Rusha had a good view.

“What’s his name?”, the boy asked.

“We don’t know yet.” Gârsh looked at Shai, she shook her head. Later, it meant. Giving birth was dangerous and exhausting, often mother and child didn’t survive and many children died in the first year. You didn’t choose a name before the child was born, it was bad luck.

“He’s so little”, Rusha said. “When can he play with me?”

Gârsh smiled indulgently. “Not that soon.”

“Rusha?” Shai’s mother stood in the door, Neshi holding her hand. “Come, we give your parents a little time alone.” She winked at Gârsh.

“Tell us a story, please?”, Rusha asked with shining eyes.

“Of course.”

Gârsh looked away, he knew that Cenya told elvish stories to the children, but he acted as if he didn’t hear it, he would have had to report it. Shai did tell these stories, too, and he couldn’t look the other way with her, but he couldn’t forbid it. He knew how much she loved these stories.

When they were alone again, Shai said: “I want to give him an elvish name, a secret name to his official one.”

Gârsh stared at her. “Are you mad?”, he hissed to not wake the little one. “We can’t give him an elvish name. Rusha and Neshi don’t have one either! Do they?” Maybe she just hadn’t told him yet. He was a little scared suddenly that that was the case.

“No”, Shai said and lowered her head. “Mother didn’t allow it, either.”

Gârsh sighed relieved. “See? If even your mother thinks it is better to not do it...”

“But the names we have as orcs don’t mean anything. I want to give him a name that gives him strength.”

Gârsh laid the child in her arms and sat down beside here. “I understand, but... it’s just not possible. Our life is as it is, we can’t change it. And our child has to be orc, or we won’t have him for long.”

Shai nodded slowly and smiled sadly. Gârsh could see that she was sad, but he couldn’t help her. He already turned a blind eye to her singing and telling tales.

“We'll find him a good name for a little orc”, he said gently. "It's better that way. Maybe Sharû?"

Shai leaned against him. “You are always so reasonable, Gârsh.”

“That’s because I’m a few years older than you.”

Gârsh closed his eyes and pushed the memories back with all his willpower. She made it so hard for him, with her elvish mother and all the songs and tales, but he never told her how much it hurt. He knew that this heritage gave her strength, but it would destroy him if he had to remember.