And Now For Something Completely Different... by Grundy

And Now For Something Completely Different...

Prompts:

An uphill battle (Ered Luin)

The shadow of the past (Thargelion)

A character is given good advice from an unlikely source (Lake Helevorn)

A character faces a challenge in nature (Himring)

Not a lot of options (Pass of Aglon)

Splendor lost (Anfauglith)

Underwhelmed (Angband)

Read And Now For Something Completely Different...

Burzuk tallied the remaining food grimly. He didn’t need the count to know they were nearly out. Even the plantstuff would be gone soon, and they haven’t had meat for weeks.

He had known when the world changed that survival would be an uphill battle, but it was proving even more difficult than he’d expected. It didn’t help to know that his band were actually doing much better than the other two he’d known of nearby.

The first were all dead now – they’d dithered too long on what to do and starvation had taken the choice from them. The second were down to only a handful of fighters, a gaggle of underfed children, and the strongest of their females. Some had starved, some had run off, and plenty had died in foolishly daring raids.

It would take a bolder or stupider head than his not to worry that one or the other was in his future.

“Three weeks at best,” his lieutenant Irzuk – a younger full-brother – muttered. “Then what?”

“I’ll think of something,” he replied sharply.

“Think fast. There’s two females about to whelp, and one coming into heat. Rûgash would be only too pleased to take her if it looks like you can’t handle matters.”

Burzuk grimaced. It was mostly a harmless jibe, but there was an unpleasant gristle of true problem in it.

Rûgash was the only remaining whelp from Chakri’s first litter by their sire. Burzuk knew it had been foolish of him to allow Rûgash to join them when he split off from his sire’s band. But she was sentimental about the only one of her second litter to survive to maturity, and Burzuk had a soft spot for her. (He would deny that to anyone else, but he admitted it to himself and occasionally to her.)

The whelp had caused him no end of trouble over the years, even before both the Second Lord and the Sharkû Lord had fallen and the world had changed, leaving all bands to shift for themselves and Burzuk’s in a precarious position so far west. They’d drifted back eastward, but getting to the mountains without meeting elves on the way…

This time he might give in to the temptation to have his eldest sons deal with their younger half-brother. (He regularly bit his tongue on pointing out that all four of that litter had made it to adulthood, and two had sired offspring of their own besides.) There was little love lost between them, as was typical for brothers from different sires. His sons had already resented Rûgash for injuries done to their younger full-brothers even before Burzuk had won the fight to split off and form his own band in the wake of his sire’s death.

Rûgash had been loud of late with his opinions on how to solve their food problems - raiding if no better opportunity presented itself, but elf-meat would be better. (No doubt he was also hoping for elf-females.)

The whelp was full-grown, but too young and inexperienced to have tangled with the bright-eyed fiends before the world had gone sideways – that had been for more seasoned fighters. If he had, he’d realize elf-meat wasn’t so easy to bring back, even Before. And raiding wasn’t all that much safer these days. Yes, a good many elves had sailed, but for every one that departed, two Men seemed to spring up. They bred nearly as fast as uruk.

Burzuk hadn’t been raiding so much as pilfering the past few years – stealthy, and not something they’d ever done before, but it had been effective. And much safer. He’d been patting himself on the back until this year’s harvest wasn’t as good as expected. It hadn’t failed entirely, but by the time the cold came, he realized it wasn’t so easy this season. It would be harder still in winter when everyone was watching their stocks carefully until the new growing season.

“I would never have believed in the before times there would come a day I’d be disappointed to hear a female was eager,” he sighed. “Which one?”

One of the few good things in the sudden change in the world was that the females no longer came into heat as often. With no Lord trying to raise armies, they now might go four or five years before the urge was on them rather than yearly. Burzuk wasn’t nearly old enough to remember it, but he’d heard such things had happened before after Lords had fallen long ago.

If not for the welcome slowdown in breeding, their food problems would have become acute long before this. Chakri and Burik had both been surprised and irritated when the unavoidable urge struck them, just days apart in the spring. (Chakri had been furious once it was over. She hadn’t wanted to breed anymore, and had hoped senior females like her might not need to in this changed world.) He’d privately hoped there wouldn’t be any more until the next warm season if not longer.

“The snaga,” his lieutenant replied.

She’d been captured in a fight between their band and another the year before the world changed. There had been quite a few such clashes that year, as bands chose which Lord to follow. As a captive, she had no name.

He couldn’t very well not take her – when a female was in heat, she had to breed. If he didn’t service her himself, someone else would. But if she dropped half a dozen in the depths of winter, it would only multiply his problems.  Perhaps he should give her to one or two of his younger, promising whelps. The snaga was only in her third decade, it wouldn’t be an insult to put teenagers whose balls had just dropped to her the way it would be to older, higher-status females…

“I suppose we ought to name her,” Burzuk snorted. “She’s added seven females and four males to our numbers, and fine stout ones all.”

“Krimpti?”

“That’ll do. Tell her that when you’re with her tonight.”

He tried not to smirk at the look on his brother’s face. Did he really think Burzuk hadn’t noticed he was having it on with the snaga every time he thought he could get away with it? How else would he have known she was coming into heat?

In truth, Burzuk wasn’t much bothered. There were enough females in the band that he could afford to ignore a favored full-brother or son satisfying their urges where they could provided it wasn’t with Chakri – he’d gut anyone who tried it with her – or one of the females in heat. And, of course, provided it wasn’t causing any uproar with the females. They had their own standards these days about who they’d take on, and he didn’t care to interfere. Some things were more trouble than they were worth.

“Just see to it Rûgash stays dry,” he added.

His brother grinned, showing sharp teeth.

The boy might be their sire-brother, but neither of them liked him, and so far they’d seen to it that he stayed low-status enough that no female would give him the time of day if she had a choice. He wondered if any of the low-status ones ever dared to relay some of the complaints to Chakri that he’s heard from them about the whelp.

Speaking of Chakri…

She was in a foul mood when he entered the wooden structure currently serving as his den.

“You should have had it off with more females before you bred me,” she informed him angrily. “Ten, I ask you. Even by the standards of Before times, that’s a large litter! I don’t need this any more than you do.”

It was true that ten was a litter he’d have been proud of Before – though privately concerned. Litters like that could kill a female come whelping, and unlike some of the others, Chakri he’d miss.

He knew from prior experience that the last week before she whelped was always the worst.

“And how are we all to eat this winter?” she demanded. “Do you expect me to let your whelps chew my flesh when my teats run dry?”

He tried not to grin. The fouler her mood, the more likely it was that it was a high number of males she was carrying. There was no way it would be all ten, but seven or eight and the rest females would be a tangible reminder he was still the most potent male in the band. Ten mouths was still ten mouths either way, but reinforcing his status to some of the hotheaded young males wouldn’t hurt.

“I just finished telling Irzuk I’d figure something out,” he said placatingly.

“Did you tell him he should breed the snaga?” Chakri snapped. “She’ll be mewling for it by sunset tomorrow, and if you’re getting enormous litters, you had better not be the one to do her.”

“I was thinking perhaps we should tell the boys from your last mountain litter they could have her,” he said.

She looked at him in surprise.

“They’re just fourteen,” she reminded him. “Even for the snaga, that’s an insult. They may only sire one or two, if they can breed her at all.”

“Good,” he snorted. “Let them have her for however long it takes to ride out the urge if they can’t get her in whelp, it’s that many less mouths to worry about feeding next year. And we’ve decided her name is Krimpti now.”

Chakri let out a bark of laughter.

“A name in exchange for the indignity of having a bunch of pimple-faced whelps take turns with her until the heat burns itself out? I’m not sure if she’ll thank you or curse you.”

She frowned.

“Then again, given I doubt she wants to whelp right now any more than the rest of us, perhaps it’s a small price to pay.”

“Are you saying I should hand you over to pimple-faced whelps next time?” he snickered – and dodged the blow she launched at his head.

“Insult me like that and you’ll wake up the next morning without a cock,” she snapped. “If you wake up at all.”

---

It turned out the whelps were  too young to sire anything yet. Worse, Krimpti’s heat brought on the condition in two other females before Irzuk cut it short by doing what the whelps couldn’t.

Burzuk had been too busy taking care of the first of the other two – a female too high-status for him to allow anyone else at – to fault his brother over his solution to the problem of Krimpti. Fortunately for his peace of mind, the second female had been a young one in her first heat. They’d left her to the whelps, who had at her lustily for several days before her urge subsided.

Chakri had whelped by then – nine males and only a lone female, but several of the whelps had been bigger than one would expect in such a large litter. She was torn badly enough that Burzuk hoped it would be many years before the heat came on her again. She had told the young one sternly that it was just as well that she had nothing worse to complain of for her first heat than soreness from so much enthusiasm.

“But your plan to not to add to our count has failed miserably,” Chakri told him that morning as she set to the thankless task of feeding their greedy litter. “It would be one thing if this was war time, but in peace? We can’t keep this up much longer.”

“Obviously,” Burzuk snorted.

It was too early to tell how many he’d gotten on Lukti, but even if it was the smallest litter he’d ever sired, it was still too many. The grizzled female who assisted with whelping reckoned Krimpti would have fewer than usual on account of not eating enough in the weeks before her heat – possibly as few as two. (Considering that one had seen his sire whelped, Burzuk was in no position to argue with her judgement.)

The only bright side was that Rûgash had gotten himself killed. Driven to frustration by the combination of tight rations and the smell and sounds of the females in heat, he’d tried to relieve himself with a mannish female he’d stumbled across. The men of her village had objected with a variety of weapons.

Under normal circumstances, Burzuk would have answered death with death no matter how much he disliked the dead one, but in this case he was too pleased to be rid of the whelp permanently. It helped that Chakri was the only one upset that Rûgash’s head was now on a spear at the entrance to the mannish village. Fortunately, she had limited energy for that grievance. Feeding ten would have been hard going even when rations weren’t tight.

“Have you thought about making use of those two that look like elf-whelps?” Chakri asked suddenly.

He blinked.

Chakri didn’t much like his two sons in question, as she’d strongly disliked the female he’d gotten them on. The whelps weren’t as young as they looked – twenty-three, but looked less than half that on account of being from a female whelped of a elf-female. He’d enjoyed Albti immensely while she’d lasted…which was probably why Chakri had disliked her so. It was a shame elf-get generally had trouble whelping and died so young. It took several generations to breed in hardiness. The slow growth of his two wasn’t much like uruk, but their sturdiness was encouraging.

Though for Chakri’s plan, their appearance was probably more relevant. If you didn’t look at their eyes or their teeth, you might take them for elves. Several elves had thought so to their sorrow (and for the males, death) before the world changed.

“Use them as lures, you mean?” he asked slowly. “It would likely be good for one or two times only before someone puts an arrow in one or both of them. That would hardly bring in enough to get us through the winter.”

Not only that, he was reluctant to use them that way. They weren’t his favorite sons, and certainly unlikely to ever take the leadership, but there was a certain fascination in knowing he’d produced whelps so elvish looking. There was also a bit of cachet among uruks in having bred an elf. Even if Albti had only been elf-get, the look of her sons suggested otherwise to anyone who didn’t know his band’s history.

“No,” Chakri said impatiently, laying the last of the whelps down to sleep. “At least, not as you’re thinking. We can’t raid, we can’t steal, and we certainly don’t dare hunt. But we might trade. If we can get close enough to men or elves without getting our heads chopped off. Men are out of the question now, but elves…”

His jaw dropped.

“No elf would trade with an uruk!”

The idea was ludicrous. Laughable, even. But while things weren’t quite desperate yet, they were still in a dire enough spot that he wasn’t laughing.

“They might trade with elves, though. And at first sight, those two like like them.”

“A few minutes speech with either of them will prove they don’t know more than a few words in elf tongues,” Burzuk pointed out. “Uluk doesn’t even speak very well in our tongue!”

“That’s a few minutes that might mean talking and trading instead of fighting,” Chakri pointed out. “And I suspect Albuk learned a few words from the female that bore him before she wore out. Maybe she’ll finally be some use to us.”

“We don’t have anything to trade. At least, nothing that they can’t get themselves. The furs and stone we can spare aren’t likely to bring us much.”

“What about knowledge?” Chakri said quietly.

“Sell out our kin?” Burzuk hissed. “We’re desperate, but not that desparate.”

It would be a death sentence for any they betrayed. It might be one thing if they were feuding with anyone…

“What of our kin are left this side of the mountains?” Chakri laughed bitterly. “We’re the last! But you know as well as I do where warg and trolls are still to be found, and where the gathering places were. You think that and an offer to keep from raiding wouldn’t buy us enough to feed us through the cold?”

“It might still get the whelps killed,” Burzuk pointed out quietly.

As leader, he couldn’t afford to be sentimental about his offspring, but once these two were gone, there would be no more like them.

“If we don’t get more food soon, they’re going to end up just as dead as the rest of us,” Chakri said grimly. “Probably sooner, because if you won’t use them for this, someone else will put them to worse as food runs out.”

That was enough to make him seriously consider it.

“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll have them brought to me in the evening, and Irzúk can keep watch on them until we’re ready.”

“You can’t take forever to plan this,” Chakri warned. “Your taking time to think things through has worked out so far, but we don’t have weeks.”

“No, but I need to plan it well enough that none of us get an elvish arrow through our eye before any talking can happen.”

“You?” she demanded, going pale.

“I’m not sending anyone else to negotiate,” he snorted. “If it goes wrong, it might as well be my head, seeing as I don’t have any other plan to get us food.”

If he couldn’t do his job as leader, he’d be challenged. The rules of a challenge were fairly straightforward – fight until either the leader or challenger was either dead or too badly beaten to continue. (Which was often not much different than dead. Particularly for deposed leaders.)

He took the ensuing abuse from Chakri with patience, knowing perfectly well it was only because she was frightened that he was going to get himself killed. (And that if he did, it was likely whichever of his brothers or sons won the contest to replace him as leader would kill her newborn litter to ease the problem of how to feed so many. Even her own sons wouldn’t be so soft-hearted as to keep ten infants alive when there was no way to feed everyone else.)

---

Elrohir looked at the crude map in puzzlement.

It had been meant to be found, he had no doubt. And even if he hadn’t been able to smell orc on the rough-cured hide, the crudeness of it would have given away that its maker was neither elf nor Man.

It seemed to suggest he should be a short distance down Bruinen from the Ford the next morning. At least, he hoped it was the next morning. If it meant to convey some morning farther into the future, the mapmaker had failed.

He looked carefully around, but could neither see nor hear any sign of whoever had left the map.

His siblings were just as bemused when he returned to the house a short while later.

“It’s a trap, surely,” Elladan said.

“You were so close to a Star Wars reference,” Anariel sighed. “But you wrecked it at the last minute.”

“How did the Star Wars go?”

“You have to say ‘it’s a trap!’ -  with emphasis,” she explained. “Anyway, if it’s a trap, it’s the dumbest trap ever. There’s no orc groups left large enough to take on the guard of Imladris and expect to win. Also, that section of river is a terrible spot for an ambush. We’ll have clear sight coming and going. Even orcs aren’t that stupid.”

Elladan gave her a skeptical look.

“She does have a point,” Elrohir told his twin wryly. “Though even conceding it’s unlikely to be a trap we need to genuinely worry about, I don’t see what it’s meant to accomplish if it was a trap. Whoever left it must know you wouldn’t come alone, much less unarmed.”

Anariel frowned at the map.

“I don’t think whoever made it knew how to tell us anything else clearly enough to understand. They’re not much of an artist, they had to work to be sure we’d be clear where on the river to go.”

She pointed at a spot that had been rubbed out and redrawn to make a landmark more obvious.

“Whatever they intend, they really do want someone to show up. I say we go. At least then we’ll know who’s out there and maybe what they want.”

Elrohir looked at his twin. Anariel’s tactics weren’t always to be trusted. At least, not by people who wanted to live and keep all their limbs.

“Fine, I concede,” Elladan shrugged. “If there were orc around in such numbers to be a threat, we’d know about it. We’ll take the guard, of course, but quite honestly, just her should be enough to scare off anyone thinking of attacking.”

“There hasn’t been an orc attack in any numbers for five years,” Anariel sniffed.

“There was that incident in the settlement in the Angle,” Elladan reminded her.

“It was a lone orc, in the early stages of starvation, probably trying to get himself killed doing something suitably orcish,” Anariel shrugged. “Even the girl he jumped was more startled than scared. And it turns out she wields a mean bucket.”

“Her betrothed was quite proud of her valor,” Elrohir chuckled.

“He also cut the beast’s head off and put it up as a warning,” Elladan told them reproachfully. “And is planning an expedition to find and wipe out any other orc in the area.”

“We’re being suitably cautious, Mr. Crankypants,” Anariel sighed. “I’ll even wear armor.”

“Assuming you can find it,” Elrohir snickered.

---

Burzuk took a calming breath. It’d all be over soon, one way or the other.

Uluk and Albuk had been wary when he had them brought to him, and visibly frightened when they understood what they were being asked to do. This wasn’t like baiting elves for fighters to fall upon as they’d done several times Before.

“Unarmed?” Uluk said angrily. “You might as well just truss us for the spit now!”

“I don’t think elves eat uruk,” Burzuk said drily.

“No, but plenty of our own band would happily eat us,” Albuk snorted. “Or do you think we haven’t heard the whispers about whether we taste as elvish as we look?”

“I’m trying to keep anyone from getting eaten,” Burzuk said sternly. “And not only am I your sire, I happen to be leader. So unless you intend to challenge me, you will be doing this.”

Their shoulders had sagged in defeat.

A challenge would mean the death of them, and they knew it. Even if Burzuk fought only to establish dominance, his sons and brothers would show no mercy to anyone who brought a frivolous challenge. Challenges were a threat to the cohesion of a band even at the best of times, but at a time like this, with everyone hungry and on edge…

Now the two whelps stood straight and tall – well, as tall as they could, considering they weren’t yet at their full growth – and did their best to look calm. They managed fairly well considering Burzuk knew the pair well enough to tell they were within a hair of bolting for the nearest trees as the elves came into sight.

He hadn’t the heart to tell them that wouldn’t help – elven archers would fell them long before they reached cover. On the other hand, falling down and playing dead might buy them a minute or two…

Besides, as scared as they might be, the two whelps had one advantage: given their elven blood, the sun didn’t bother them. Burzuk himself would have happily done this at night, when the light wouldn’t hurt his eyes and his instincts didn’t scream at him to get under cover himself, at the very least find some shade. But he doubted the elves would have shown up at all if he’d asked them to come at night. He hadn’t been all that confident they’d be there even by daylight.

Burzuk had placed himself far enough away from the pair to make it clear they were out of his reach. He had no bow, so hopefully the elves would draw the right conclusion – that Albuk and Uluk were meant to be intermediaries.

Once he could make out the individual elves, Burzuk reconsidered the wisdom of Chakri’s plan – and had to exert firm control over his guts to keep from shitting himself. She was there. The one who had done for his sire and the best fighters of his sire’s band.

He was astonished to find that in person she was even smaller than his half-grown sons.

He didn’t understand the words the elves used as they drew up at what they evidently considered a reasonable distance – closer than arrow-shot, but not close enough for spears – but Albuk seemed to, for he responded in kind.

It degenerated into gesticulating fairly quickly. While he might know a few phrases, Albuk could hardly speak the elves’ tongue properly. Albti had died when he was only five.

He nearly did shit himself when the lethal she-elf spoke to him directly.

“This is silly, I don’t understand what he means and neither does anyone else. You’re the one in charge, what do you want?”

His jaw dropped, because she was speaking the Lords’ Speech. Not as Burzuk would, to be sure, but it was still recognizable. The Lords took care to make sure no dialects of the Speech became mutually unintelligible, even to the point of occasionally ‘educating’ or even eliminating entire bands. They could use their own languages among themselves, but they had to recognize and be able to use the Speech.

“To live,” he replied grimly.

To his utter surprise, that drew a laugh – and got the elf off her horse.

“Don’t we all,” she replied. “Did you want to be more specific?”

The rest of her people looked anywhere from irritated to angry now, but at least they hadn’t drawn weapons.

“Food,” he croaked. “We need food. We can trade. Information – warg, olog, we know where they can be found for you to hunt. We won’t raid if we can trade.”

The elf turned to her fellows and spoke in rapid elf speech. There seemed to be some sort of argument among the rest of the elves, which didn’t bode well. He hoped she was as high status among her people as her reputation would make her were she uruk.

If I were uruk, I wouldn’t be allowed to fight, would I? she asked wryly. You have very specific and limited uses for women.

“Easy for you to say,” he snapped once he’d gotten over the shock of hearing words in his head. “Elves don’t suffer heat.”

She cocked her head at him, as though she hadn’t quite understood, but she did not ask.

“We’re willing to bring you food,” she said after a few more moments of discussion among the elves. “But we’re taking these two with us.”

She pointed at Albuk and Uluk.

“They’re not elves,” Burzuk felt compelled to admit. “And they won’t make very good hostages, if that’s your plan. Few in our band would miss them.”

She looked puzzled again, and might have relayed what he’d said to the other elves.

“If they’re not elves,” she said slowly.

“They’re my sons,” he told her.

He hadn’t wanted to admit to that, not when it might well put them in more danger than they already were, but he’d heard elves could tell if you lied.

He explained as briefly as he could about Albti – and decided it was probably best not to mention he was fairly sure the female that whelped her had been taken on this side of the mountains. Some of these elves might well have known her.

They did, the elf told him firmly. Which is why it’s non-negotiable that those two are coming with us.

“Fine,” he sighed, trying to keep from looking too worried. “You two are to go with the elves.”

“And no biting,” the elf added firmly.

He couldn’t help the bark of laughter - she sounded like she dealt with whelps on the regular.

“But…” Uluk began nervously.

“Your grandmother was one of our people,” the elf said. “No one means you any harm. But they will get upset if you bite.”

Burzuk decided to let the elvish word slide. If the whelps didn’t recognize it, they didn’t let it show.

“And the food?” he asked, trying to conceal the urgency.

“It’s being brought,” the elf told him. “I’ll wait here until it arrives. Then I’ll go with you to see how much more you’ll need.”

He tried not to gape at her. Chakri would be pleased to be shot of the two elvish whelps, but she wouldn’t be pleased at him bringing elves back. And she might well kill him if he brought this particular elf back.

“You don’t get a choice,” the elf informed him. “I’m capable of following you either way. And you probably want it to be me who assesses you and not the Men of the Angle, who you should know are in a very anti-uruk mood right now.”

He sighed.

What option did he have?

 None, really, she said.

---

The few cheers that broke out when the orc guards who had been awaiting their leader’s return spotted him shortly before sundown, and laden with obviously edible goods, died quickly when they saw her.

Anariel wondered what sort of reception she was in for. Not that she was worried. She’d hiked through Mordor while Sauron was still in Barad-dûr, the idea that she might be outclassed by a single band of orcs was fairly ridiculous. (Besides, she knew perfectly well her brothers were within shouting distance, even if Burzuk hadn’t realized it.)

“My lieutenant Irzuk,” Burzuk introduced the largest of the guards.

“And he’s what to you?” she asked.

They’d spent the walk from the river trading vocab. She had a better handle on orc kinship terms now. (She also now understood that Burzuk had stronger self-control than she’d given him credit for. She’d personally put a knife through his father’s skull, not to mention killed plenty of orcs who were in some way kin to him. He’d known who she was the moment he laid eyes on her.)

“Full-brother,” he explained.

Irzuk’s eyebrows rose.

“You are on such good terms with this one that you tell her who is important?” he demanded.

“Yeah, being the one handing out the food tends to have that effect,” she said cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Anariel.”

“You cannot possibly be thinking of bringing her back to our camp,” Irzuk protested.

“It was less ‘he was thinking’ than ‘I’m showing up either way’,” Anariel explained. “And like I already told your… full-brother here, you really should be relieved it’s me, not the Men of the Angle. They’re a little mad at you right now.”

Irzuk turned worried eyes to Burzuk.

“That useless whelp makes trouble even after he’s dead?” he exclaimed.

Anariel felt like it was a good sign that the guy whose head was on a spear hadn’t been in good odor with the rest of his band.

“Sort of,” she said. “I’ve been explainging that to Burzuk since before the food arrived. The Men from that girl’s village have been talking to the rest of the Men in the area. They’re planning a punitive expedition. They’d like to wipe you guys out.”

“And you are here to beat them to the punch?” Irzuk snorted.

“Would I have bothered carrying the food all this way if I was planning on slaughtering everyone?” she asked, and paused to let the logic sink in.

“What then is your brilliant plan?” Irzuk demanded – but speaking to Burzuk, not Anariel.

She grinned as Burzuk launched into round 1 of explaining why they were going to have to try the radically new tactic of ‘make nice with the elves’ if they wanted to live. (Poor Lindir was probably having a similar discussion from the elvish side, minus the ‘if you want to live’ part. It wasn’t fair, but someone had to break the news, and the lords of the valley were all out here making sure the orcs really were willing to give peace a chance.) It took a while, but eventually, the orcs had little choice but to admit they had little hope of survival without the protection of Imladris.

When they reached the main camp, Anariel revised that assessment to ‘no hope of survival without the protection of Imladris’. They might have been formidable in years past, but right now they were too hungry to put up much of a fight, and definitely wouldn’t be able to move this many women and children fast enough to reach the mountains before the Men of the Angle got it in gear. It would have been a slaughter.

And yeah, maybe that shouldn’t bother her much given she’s killed enough orcs that these orcs’ initial assessment of her was entirely justified. But she’s also buried enough of them in the last couple years, and not because they went out fighting, that she’s not in a hurry to dig any more graves for children, or see their corpses burn.

So everyone was going to have to suck it up, she meant to make this work.

---

“You could kill her in her sleep,” Chakri suggested – but very quietly.

The elf had politely declined all offers to use anyone’s den for the day, electing to sit in a tree instead. (Elves were very strange, even if they were kin way back.)

Burzuk was doing his best not to worry too hard about whether he would wake up come sunset. But after the events of the past twenty-four hours, he was too tired to remain awake all day again.

“Wouldn’t help,” he snorted. “Anyway, don’t elves sleep at night? When they sleep at all?”

“I still can’t believe you brought the elf that killed our sire back here without so much as a sword drawn,” she told him. “Did you stop to think at all how that would go?”

“I didn’t think much once she showed me how much food they were willing to give us just for now and promised more once we get to the elves’ valley without bloodshed,” Burzuk replied tiredly. “You’ve got a newly-whelped litter to feed, and you’re not the only one. Besides, if she was going to kill us all, she could have done it by now.”

“Quite the vote of confidence,” she grumbled.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say,” Burzuk sighed. “You heard her – do you think she’s lying that those Men mean to come in force to make sure there are no more like Rûgash, or that they’re not going to trouble themselves about us not having raided or pillaged when they do?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what I want. We didn’t have many choices before. Now we do, but they’re all of them trouble.”

“You don’t want to go back to how things were Before,” he said confidently.

“No,” she agreed wearily. “I just…I want the shape of these new times to be something I understand. I don’t understand how we’re going to live among elves. Especially if we keep breeding. They’re not going to want to be overrun by us, not matter how peaceable we mean to be. And that’s another thing – meaning to be peaceable and actually being peaceable are two different things. What happens if we slip up? Rûgash may be been the most foolish, but it’s not as if we lack for young males with more balls than brains.”

“Cross those rivers when we come to them,” he suggested. “But for now, get some sleep. Tonight we make for the elves’ valley.”