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Azof and the Farmer's Wife	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 9835 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
It wasn’t till late afternoon on the third day that Julienne found the Orcs she was searching for.
Or rather that Julienne stumbled across one of their look-out posts on her way up the mountain, and the Orcs there announced their presence by firing an arrow at her.
A draft of quickly-moving air was the first that she knew of it - followed by the zip of the arrow’s passing so close to her face that the black feathers with which it was fletched stirred through the loose tendrils of her hair. Julienne barely had time to feel alarmed before the arrow went glancing off a tree-trunk across the clearing behind her.
There was someone up on the cliff-side ahead, hiding near to the top in a jumble of rocks.
“That were deliberate,” the person called down to her, “f’we wanted to, we could’ve taken your bleedin’ eye out wiv’ that!”
“You’re supposed to say ‘alt’,” a second, wheezy voice chided him, “’alt,’ an’ ‘’oo goes there’ an’ all that.” And then to Julienne - “you down there, missus! Friend or foe, is it?”
“I’m a friend!” Julienne yelled hastily, “definitely a friend.   Of Azof’s!”
A noisily whispered consultation took place up on the rocks.
“So, seeing as you’re such a friend of Azof’s, you’d be able to tell us what he looks like, then, would you?”
“That’s right!” the other Orc up on the watch-post shouted. “Now, is Azof, or is ‘ee not, a great big fat bald bloke?”
“Yes!” Julienne retorted, doubtfully.
“Yes he is, or yes he isn’t?” the other Orc demanded.   There were sounds of brief kerfuffle.   “But you said we ‘ad to check!”
“Well yeah,” the wheezy one concurred, “but you’s going about it all wrong, inn’yer?”
“I’ve a farm further down the valley,” Julienne volunteered. “Azof visits sometimes. I - I know he’s been telling tales about me!”
“Ooh! Ooh!” the second Orc squealed excitedly. “You’re that farming lady what has the big bazoongas, ain’t’cher? Fine big pair, is what he said. Come out where we can ‘ave a proper skek at ‘em, then!” And as aside to his companion - “what? What? I am only followin’ procedure like what you said! We ‘ave to ‘ave a proper check!”
Julienne stepped into the open, doing her best not to cross her arms self-consciously over her chest.
“Look, Melek,” the second Orc crowed, “why ‘ain’t you got a luver-ley set of milkers like them two on yer, eh? Straight up though. You know, this is definitely her what I’ve ‘eard Azof talking about.”
“Yeah, right, Maz, ‘cause there couldn’t possibly be more than one farming-lady in this whole countryside what has got a nice bazoom,” the wheezy-voiced Orc replied sarcastically. And then to Julienne - “it’s all right, missus, I reckon you’re all right to come up. Hold on a minute and I’ll be down to show you the way.”
The wheezy Orc - Melek - stepped out onto the edge of the bluff above, calling and pointing, waving a hand. Julienne clambered up to the base of the cliff and found herself at the bottom of an incline that ran up to the Orc’s vantage point. There seemed to be a path of sorts, steeply sloping and overhung by beetling walls on either side, that twisted and changed direction abruptly, wending its way between recent falls of rocks.   At first Julienne tried to not stare as the Orc from the look-out post made its way down to meet her. Smaller and much slighter than Azof, the creature was about as different from him as far as looks went as a whippet from a bull-terrier.
The arms and legs seemed proportionately longer than they would be on a human and rather than descending by the path proper, the little Orc vaulted and jumped , skipping lightly like a jumping insect from boulder-top to cliff wall and back again, seeming to hang, suspended, from the near-vertical rock faces for far longer than seemed physically possible. After a moment the farmer’s wife abandoned all pretence of not watching and stopped, engrossed in the outlandish acrobatic spectacle. As it drew nearer, something about the style of the Orc’s movements and bearing caught Julienne’s eye; there was also something about the proportions of its body, as well as the way its actions had such a peculiar gangling, spidery grace -
“Me Melek,” the Orc said by way of introduction, and perhaps it was hearing the voice at close quarters on top of everything else that confirmed it, because at that moment Julienne realized - beyond doubt - that the creature was a female of its species.
“Means ‘beautiful’,” Melek said. She had pale, green-toned skin stretched tight across the protruding bones of a thin, angular face and great, staring eyes that bulged slightly, with whites showing all around the edges of the irises, and pupils that were drawn in the bright evening sunlight into narrow, vertical slits. There was not much more than a nub of a nose over a wide, thin-lipped mouth and her long sooty hair was swept back and held in place by a sharply-spiked helmet or headdress made from blackened pieces of metal interleaved with flattened sections of strange, scaly hide, animals’ teeth and bone. She was outfitted in much the same way, in an assortment of leather fragments and thin pieces of plate-metal that fitted her so tightly it was a costume she must have at some point been sewn into, and in spite of the formidable-looking spiked wrist-bracers and shin-plates she was wearing, her hands and feet were left bare, exposing a needle-sharp set of hooked claws and talons on her toes. The mystery of Melek’s ability to climb and cling so well to rock faces was at once solved and whereas Azof, in his everyday clothing, could possibly from a distance have passed for a human, there could never be any question of this creature ever being mistaken for anything, whatsoever, else. To Julienne she looked fearsome and alien and utterly strange.
“It’s a lovely name,” Julienne said faintly. “Fitting, for you.”
The Orc Melek had been studying her with equal intensity and broke off then with an amused, snickering snort.   “Dunno about that,” she said. “but cheers, thank you, anyway – it’s nice of you to say. An’ that one’s Maz.“ She indicated the second Orc, who was making his way down from the cliff in a much more pedestrian fashion. Maz looked something like a shorter, very skinny, and much grubbier version of Azof – in that he was a dark-skinned, roughly man-shaped creature bearing claws and pointed ears and a set of very obvious fangs.
“You got some nerve, coming up here, ain’t c’hu?” Maz announced crossly. And the belligerently officious tone he was trying to so hard project would probably have carried a lot more weight if he wasn’t having to crane his neck so far back to look at Julienne: the top of the little Orc’s head being roughly on the same level as her much-discussed magnificent bazoom.
“Don’t mind Maz,” Melek said, “he’s old school. Tactless pig. Now, what can we do for you, Ma’am?”
Melek had been circling her as she spoke and as she drew level with Julienne’s shoulder, jumped up to rub her cheekbone against it, twisting her neck and nuzzling slightly. Julienne froze, and the little Orc repeated the same peculiar action as she circled past on her other side. The movement was exactly reminiscent of the way a cat, wanting to be petted, might bump its head against a person’s hand.
Melek stepped back and looked at her, her strange, pale eyes seeming to glow faintly in the fading light. “Know what, Maz?” she said. “This is Azof’s pal! See if you can’t still catch the smell of him on her!”
Maz slapped his thighs and stood, crowing with laughter. “’Oh-ho! So now ‘oo’s gone and put their foot in it!   Who’s being tactless, now!”
Melek pulled a face. “I never said smelling of Azof was a bad thing.”
Her companion blew his breath out through rubbery lips, making a rude sound. “Well you wouldn’t wanna bottle it, would you?”
They seemed on the verge of beginning another one of their spats, so the farmer’s wife quickly began summarizing Azof’s situation for them, and concluded with a heartfelt plea for help on his behalf.
“Well we can’t go,” Maz harrumphed. “H’obviously. Gotta stand guard ‘ere, innit? S’orders. We been told. An’ – between you an’ me, I’m not even all that arsed about him.”
Melek frowned at him. “I’ll take her over up top, then,” she volunteered.   “See who’s about. That is, if you reckon you’ll be able to manage an’ ‘stand guard’ here all on your own, Maz, will you?”
Maz readily agreed to this plan, likely because it required no extra effort on his part. Climbing the path together, the three of them soon reached the sheltered, bowl-like depression in the cliff from which the two watchers had been keeping look-out over the valley below. Leaving Maz at his post, Julienne and her new Orcish companion went on alone. As they climbed higher and higher onto the mountainside the track they’d been following resolved itself into a narrow shelf, no wider than the span of Julienne’s two outstretched hands, that wound along the base of a great outcropping of rock and then turning the corner of it, seemed to abruptly disappear.
The farmer’s wife blanched as she looked at the way ahead; the path vanishing into nothingness against a thin, blue, windswept sky, all lit by the glow of a glaring, golden sunset.
“Here we go, missus,” Melek said, politely stepping back to allow Julienne to pass. “Just along there. Have to go one at a time, eh? Watch where you put your feet, won’t you? Fall’s a bit steep.”
Fear of falling from a great height did indeed leave Julienne’s mouth dry as she stepped out onto the path. At first the going was reasonably good and – by assiduously avoiding looking down - she was able to progress in almost a normal fashion.   But on rounding the corner she emerged from the leeward side of the bluff where the full force of the prevailing wind sweeping up from the valley below suddenly caught her, driving her forwards and pushing her horribly off-balance.
Julienne teetered for a dreadful moment, fighting the pull of the long skirts whipping around her legs as she tried and failed to fling herself sideways against the face of the cliff. A heartbeat later and Melek was beside her, grabbing and dragging her back one-handed with absolute, wiry strength. The Orc was clinging to the rock wall, hanging half-suspended by her left hand and her feet as she   drew Julienne back to safety.   They stumbled a short distance further, Melek holding onto her and the same time pushing her on, muttering -
“Got yer, Missus. I got yer,” in her lilting voice, all the while.
After only a few steps the beginnings of a deep, narrow cleft became visible to their left. The Orc hastily shoved Julienne sideways and through, jumping after her into a short, sandy-floored passage or hanging canyon of sorts that seemed to twist and turn right through the wall of the mountain. It was dark - and after the icy, whistling wind out on the cliff seemed still, and absurdly quiet in there.   Julienne rested on her hands and knees for a moment, trying to collect herself.
Melek flopped down onto her stomach beside her. “Ever so sorry about that,” she apologized, also clearly rattled by Julienne’s narrow escape. “Took my short-cut, see? Way I always go.” She exposed her teeth in an embarrassed grin. “Almost didn’t go so well that time. Disaster-narrowly-averted and all that, isn’it?”
“Thank you for pulling me back,” the farmer’s wife said, wanly.
“Oh, well! Cheers for taking it so nice.”
Melek led the way, crawling and clambered to the end of the passage, which led to another sheltered area surrounded by tall, rock walls. Over Melek’s shoulder and a short distance below where they were crouching Julienne could see the flickering light of a camp fire. Between them and it was the stooped, gnarlish-looking figure of an Orc, sitting hunched with his back to them.
“I’ll go first, eh?” Melek said, swinging down into the open space ahead.
In a way her arrival had all the hallmarks of a most impressive entrance. The seated Orc shrieked and jumped to his feet, sword and iron dagger drawn in his hands.
“Frigging ‘eck Melek!” he spat after a moment, recognizing her. “What’s wrong with you - fer fucksakes! Creeping up on us like that! Why can’t you come up ‘ere like a normal person, eh?”
“I didn’t think.” Melek, admitted, still rattled.   “That’s the way I always go, see?”
“Oughter’ve thunk, then, shouldn’t you!” And then on catching first sight of Julienne, who was scrambling down after - “Melek! What the fuck? Who, or should I say what the bleedin’ ‘eck ‘ave you brung here dragging after you?” He eyed the farmer’s wife for a minute. “It’s a bit gi-normous to want to take rock-climbing, innit? Only a complete blimmin’ idiot ‘ud try ter bring an ‘eifer like that round the pretty way!”
Melek launched herself into the air, bowling the other Orc over onto his back and stood on him, using her hands and feet to pin him to the ground.
“This is Azof’s chum, is’nit! Azof’s! So you bloody better try an’ be a bit nicer to ‘erz, shouldn’t you?”
“I ain’t afraid of that big fat twat! An’ she got some nerve, in’she? Coming up ‘ere, all alone! ”
“She’s nor’alone!   Her’s my mate, too, in’she!” Melek snarled, lunging at him. Her teeth clicked together as she struck at him, a hairsbreadth away from his face.
“All right, all right!   I was just sayin’ – she’s sturdy-looking, yeah? S’nice!”
At that Melek, still scowling, relented enough to allow him to wriggle out from underneath.
“Where they all to then?” Melek demanded, looking about. “Azof’s been caught by some – who’d you say it was, missus -? ”
“Farmers,” Julienne said.
“Farmers!” the other Orc began laughing fit to burst.
“Burzurg! Now, how is that helping? Didn’ you hear? She says Azof needs ‘elp. Where’s everyone gone now, eh?”
“It’s a nice enough night so they’re most of them out,” the Orc called Burzurg told her, “communing with nature. S’the next big thing. All the rage, h’apparently.”
Another Orc, drawn in by the recent fighting, yelling, and general commotion came sidling into the clearing and crept towards them. “That ain’t no facking metaphor neither,” he put in, shivering. “That is literally what them lot is doing out there.”
“I can imagine,” Burzurg said. “Think the Uruk Captain’s still ‘ere somewhere though, ‘anging about like a bad smell. It’s ‘im you’ll best talk to anyway. Oi! Slaglob!” He shoved his companion on the shoulder. “Get a move on! Go an’ find His Nibs and give him a quick ‘eads up, eh? Seems Azof’s gorn an’ gotten ‘imself in a lee-tle spot of bovver.” He gave a nasty, knowing chuckle. “Yeah, you ‘eard right. Azof! Now, what d’you reckon old Shaggers is going to ‘ave to say about that, eh?”
Grumbling under his breath, Slaglob sloped off again to find the Uruk Captain, moving at barely more than a snails’ pace.
With elaborate care, Melek dusted off a flattish boulder by the fire and indicated that Julienne should sit.
“‘Usband out for blood is ‘ee?” Burzurg nodded sympathetically. “Wants to ‘ave ‘is guts for garters, yeah? Way Azof’s been carryin’ on I reckon it was only ever a matter of time.”
Into the circle of firelight came hurrying a very short, plump little creature. Unusually healthy-looking for an Orc - if it was one, he was clean and well-groomed and dressed in a neat and in no way Orcishly unorthodox set of clothes - save for the fact that like Melek, he had bare feet.   He seemed flustered and his pink cheeks and curly hair were damp and slightly shining wet.   “I was just having a –“ he flapped his hand towards the flowery bath-towel draped round his neck – “a wash. Down by the stream. And I heard shouting -”
“- there’s always shouting -”
The newcomer paused, clearly thrown off-balance.   “Well, yes! But that’s hardly the point. Is, erm, everything all right?”
“Oh yeah,” Burzurg said. “It was just stupid-‘ead, and friend ‘ere, sneaking up on me.”   He nodded towards Melek, who gave the newcomer a friendly little two-fingered salute.
At that the short one’s face positively lit up. “Oh! Melek! I didn’t know it was you!” And after that he just stood there smiling and staring at her, his expression quite ecstatic.
Burzurg sniffed. “So I’ll do the introductions then, shall I?” he said.
“Azof’s friend, this is Ludlow, who is something called a Halfling or a Hobbit; don’t ask me; Ludlow, this is Azof’s lady friend who ‘ee may or may not but prob’ly has been shagging, only now the mealy-mouthed bastard’s come over all ‘olier than thou an’ says ‘ee won’t kiss nor tell.”
The Hobbit sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ludlow Pennycress, at your service,” he announced, giving Julienne a polite little bow.   “Very happy to make your acquaintance. Any friend of Azof’s –“ but with that he broke off and his bright smile slipped slightly. “Well!” he continued, “it’s still a great pleasure to meet you, I’m sure!”
Julienne introduced herself and greeted him in return. It was the only thing she could think to do, and after a stilted moment’s silence the farmer’s wife heard herself saying - “and you live here too, do you, Mr Pennycress?”
“Oh! Oh, no, I’m just – visiting! Staying with a – a friend, for a while. Extended holiday. Of sorts.”
“His ‘friend’s’ our boss,” Melek explained.
“They’ve shacked up together,” Burzurg added, “all cosy in a cave. And it has only got the one bed, if you’ll catch my drift.” He paused, significantly, as if to let that snippet sink in.
“Don’t worry. Them two ain’t sowing their oats,” Burzurg went on, winking. “Ludlow likes girls, or says he does, anyway. And ol’ Shaggy-drawers is more of – how would you say it –“
“On t’other bus,” Slaglob nodded, returning from his errand. “Come to think of it, I don’t even know what you call the proper name for being what that big bastard is.” And then to Julienne - “he told me to tell you if it’s Azof you’re looking for you‘ve come ‘ere for nothing and you’d better be quick about slinging your hook.”
TBC
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Azof and the Farmer's Wife