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A Family Way	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 5843 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

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4: Lies and prejudice

If Rashanka was uneasy over the way her second meeting with the Uruk had ended, a sound sleep did much to improve her mood and when she woke the next morning, it was with fresh determination to bring her business – her sordid, but necessary business - in Gondor to a happy conclusion. And even if that meant prolonging her dealings with (the individual she had come to think of as) ‘that base creature’ for a day or two longer – then so be it.

Her Haradrim comrades were already up and had begun their morning meal when Rashanka joined them in a private room off the main dining area. Omran was absent, the aide having risen much earlier (as Safina told her) with the intention of visiting the Orc. Rashanka had to hide her renewed irritation at the news; before the man Chard arrived to collect the Uruk she had planned to make discreet use of the creature’s services once again.

Back up the stairs Rashanka went. As she approached the Orc’s room she could hear a low murmur of voices coming through the door: a moment’s listening as she stood at the threshold and she realized it was not only Omran speaking - but while the second person’s words were halting and indistinct, the language they were spoken in was undoubtedly a dialect of Haradrim. After a moment Rashanka was surprised to recognise the rough, uncouth tones and appalling accent of the Uruk. She quietly pushed the door open and saw that Omran and the Orc were sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, leaning towards one other quite unconsciously, each engrossed in the simple pleasure of trying to be - and succeeding in being – understood.

Omran greeted Rashanka cheerfully enough as she entered the room, though she noted with yet more irritation that on seeing her, the Orc’s toothy grin vanished as quickly as someone snuffing out a light.

“You see!” Omran was exclaiming, “this creature is not so far beyond our understanding after all! True, he has not learned all the words of our language so very well, but at least he knows the proper way to speak!”

“Undoubtedly a good trick,” Rashanka replied, smiling thinly, “if you can manage it. Now, Omran,” she continued briskly, making a gesture of dismissal towards the door, “I believe you are wanted urgently - somewhere else.”

Once Omran was gone there was no reason for Rashanka to say anything more: both woman and Uruk knew exactly what she had come for. She didn’t look at him and the Orc didn’t speak either, except to confirm that he “supposed she wanted it over and done with quick as you like?”

He turned his back then, and to her embarrassment Rashanka could hear him labouring away at himself, trying to coax his member erect - but nothing happened for such a long while that she began to seriously doubt that he was going to be able to do a thing.

“Ready?” the Uruk asked eventually, scarcely waiting for a reply before he was bearing down on top of her. But he heaved and strained so briefly that Rashanka barely had a chance to register her own absolute revulsion at being pinned to the mattress so peremptorily by the creature, before he’d rolled off again and as lying on his side, turned-away among the pillows. She eyed the back of the Orc’s head doubtfully, for a moment not at all convinced that after such a perfunctory effort he could possibly have upheld his end of their agreement. Then again, the seeping slick of moisture between her legs stood as proof of his completion and disgustingly one-sided though this might have been, it was also evidence that the Orc was either in utter want, or formidable control of his own lusts.

****

While his mistress was - otherwise occupied, Omran had been sent to strike a bargain with Bill Chard, his instructions being to secure their loan of the Uruk for a while longer. The large jug of fruit-distilled local spirit Omran had purchased beforehand oiled their negotiations in the bar-room most successfully, and as Chard proved surprisingly amenable – to the extent of being greatly taken with the idea of a short-term sub-letting of his Orc, the deal was soon struck. Chard, as it turned out had pressing business of his own to attend to, as he was apparently engaged in a series of loosely-recognized, yet at the same time highly complex domestic arrangements with a number of different local women in the district, all of whom at this point were – for reasons best known to themselves - vying with each other for his time. It was simple enough then for Omran to arrange for the Uruk’s stay with his party to be extended – although the agreement he had so easily negotiated sent his mistress into an immediate state of agitation and deep dismay.

“What made you think I would wish to endure that base creature’s attentions for five further days?” Rashanka exploded, after hearing his report later in the day. “Why, Omran? What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I only did as you told me!” her assistant protested, his attitude conveying nothing but injured surprise.

“But what you have asked for now is too much!” Rashanka groaned.   “Too much to be believed!”

“Perhaps then it’s better you should have started,” Omran glowered back at her, “by being a little more specific.”

“It is too late to think about that now,” Rashanka replied irritably. “You will just have to find Chard again, and rearrange it.”

This, however, was easier said than done. Taking full advantage of the combined cash windfall and part-holiday that had come to him, Chard had by set off on horseback for some unspecified destination earlier that afternoon. His trail ran cold at the livery yard where he had been keeping his animal and as by this late stage Omran had little chance of following, he returned directly to the tavern - only to find that now Rashanka herself was gone: off in pursuit of the younger members of the Haradrim party, as he learned later. Safina and her effeminate companion, unhappy at the prospect of spending yet more time in what they obviously considered to be an especially dismal backwater of Gondor, had formed a splinter faction of their own and departed forthwith, vowing never to return. Rashanka, as it turned out, was to be away for the next two nights, but as she had left him neither a specific message nor any further orders, Omran simply stayed where he’d been left – standing guard over the Orc, and in his ample free time mulling over the shambolic break-up of his party.

In Rashanka’s absence then, Shagrat had little to do but keep to his room, and as he idled the time away awaiting her return, some of the damage that his sorely-abused body had sustained during his captivity – and in the months before that - was at last able to make a start at repairing itself. Rest – as well as the resumption of regular mealtimes - was all it took for Shagrat’s naturally resilient Orcish constitution to begin reasserting itself and though it would be some time before he could even be said to be approaching normal health, this short break from adversity was enough to at least temporarily halt his decline. And with that, although she never intended to, or ever even knew of it, Rashanka’s schemes saved him, because at this stage the Orc’s fortunes were balanced between good and ill as on a knife-edge. The additional days that Shagrat spent in service of the Haradrim could easily have represented no more than a postponement of the inevitable, but as it turned out fate had more in store for him than a wretchedly ignoble ending at this point, and Rashanka’s timing in this respect was fortuitous, for she prolonged the Orc’s life just long enough for him to be able to stumble into, at a not much later date, a more lasting solution to his problems.

That was still some way off however and in the meantime it was of course Omran who took on the duty of provisioning the Uruk day to day. Ashamed by the part he had played – if only by omitting to assist - in that first night’s fracas in the bar-room, the Haradrim was determined to be during all subsequent dealings with his charge nothing but helpful and unfailingly polite. And he was pleasantly surprised to discover that attending to the Orc was by far from being the onerous task he had been expecting. The creature was undemanding almost to exess: his needs were simple and his wants so few that in very little time the careful courtesy with which the Haradrim had resolved to treat him was replaced by a genuine feeling of warmth, and even the beginnings of comradely respect. As the days passed he took to spending longer and longer periods in his company, and under Omran’s genial influence Shagrat’s spirits as well as his health began to show signs of improvement, until both were in better condition than they had been for a long time; better perhaps, than at any time since the end of the war.

**************

Omran’s mistress returned in the fore-noon of the third day. Finding that her assistant was not immediately at hand to wait upon her after her journey did nothing to improve Rashanka’s already foul temper, and when Omran, who had been eating a leisurely dinner upstairs with the Orc eventually put in an appearance, she lost no time in taking her man to task.

“Omran,” she snapped, “during the hours you spend inside that chamber. What exactly is it that do you find to do?”

Her assistant shrugged. “I sit with him. For company. If it is time we take our meal together. Or talk. He likes to talk, I think.”

The woman practically sneered. “And what good could there be in talking with such a creature?”

“I have found no harm there either!” Omran replied.   And then considering his next words carefully he added: “have you ever thought of speaking with him also? Perhaps there are even points in common between you that could - so easily - be shared.”

Rashanka’s anger fired up at once. “Why bring the issue of my – my parentage into this?” she answered hotly. “I don’t wish to know any more about it!”

“That is not even what I meant,” Omran soothed. “In the war, that Orc was someone high-up in their army. A commander, like you, Rashanka. Did you know that?”

“I suppose he told you so, did he?” Rashanka retorted. “Look at him! Think how far he has fallen now, in that case - how could it be true? I even wonder if he’s been conspiring with that wastrel Chard – and somehow stands to gain by impressing you.”

At mention of Chard’s name, Omran’s face hardened. “As for me I do not think his words are false,” he told his mistress stubbornly. “And he was not always as he is now, Rashanka. Anyone can see these men have not treated him well. He does not travel with them willingly.”

“To me it seems he must be playing upon your sympathy. And no wonder he ‘likes to talk’ so freely if that is his true motive.”

“He has said less than nothing to me about it,” Omran insisted. “Most, I learned when you sent me to bargain with his keeper. The man Chard had a hand in it himself – even took pride in boasting of his wicked deeds to me.”

“True or not it can scarcely be any of our business,” said Rashanka impatiently; she wished to bring an end to this uncomfortable topic of conversation as quickly as possible. “Your new friend is an Orc, and nothing but an unbeliever, after all.”

Omran opened his mouth with the intention of reminding Rashanka – as he was sometimes wont to do - of the doctrines of charity, and tolerance for those not sharing faith that were basic tenets of their peoples’ scriptures. But he knew his mistress well enough to realize that in her current mood there was little point in reasoning with her. The Haradrim mentally shrugged. “If nothing else,” he said, “perhaps you should think of asking him why he walks lame on his right leg.”

“And what difference would that make! I tell you there is nothing to be gained from pursuing any closer acquaintance!” Rashanka insisted. Then much more quietly, in an odd tone that Omran wasn’t able to interpret she said - “I greatly doubt he’d wish to speak to me, in any case.”   And without waiting for a reply, she left him.

The Orc had obviously been expecting a visit from her, for he showed little surprise, even as Rashanka barged into his chamber a short while later, unannounced. Apparently he had already been alerted to her presence – which was unsurprising, since most of her earlier dialogue with Omran had taken the form of a shouting match, and the walls in this part of the building were really rather thin.

With a second look, she saw to her surprise that even a short respite from ill-treatment seemed to have done wonders for the creature. Omran had lent him some clothing, for Rashanka recognized the long, loose garment he was dressed in as being her manservant’s second-best robe. And as a replacement for what he’d been wearing when he arrived – an outfit patently too small and cut short in the shirt-tails almost to the point of indecency - this was an unqualified success, especially as it concealed many of the Orc’s scars and more recent injuries, as well the larger and more unsightly patches of his grey-black burned and sun-deadened skin. These sartorial improvements were nothing, however, compared to the change in his attitude: he now seemed brighter - watchful, and much more alert. Following their first encounter Rashanka had wondered if the Uruk was stupid or lacking in some vital way because he was so painfully dull and unresponsive at times, and now experienced an indefinable sense of unease on seeing the alteration in his manner. It was not that she had recognized a kindred spirit; nor did he seem to be menacing, or an overt threat - not exactly, but there was something about him – hard to identify, but his air had certainly become that of a person who it would not now be so easy for Rashanka to intimidate.

The Orc stood up quickly when he saw her, but sat down again as she strode across the room, acknowledging him only with a curt and unnecessary -

“You’re still here, I take it.”

“Well,” the Uruk replied, “it isn’t exactly as if I can come and go as I please, now is it?”

“No one that I know of would have thought of stopping you!” Rashanka exclaimed.

“Come on!” the creature scoffed, leaping to his feet, “you’ve seen how the people in these places think about Orcs. And -“ here he gestured with one claw at Rashanka’s veil and head-dress, items that, as she considered them more as being outdoor wear, she’d removed and hung on a nail in the window-frame as she arrived – “you’re not telling me you’ve been decking yourself out in all that malarkey every time you step outside of here just for the sake of it, either.”

Realizing she’d been caught out in this, Rashanka ground her teeth. She hadn’t bothered with her face-covering - not while she was alone with the Orc at least, since the memorable occasion of their first meeting. Part of the veil’s purpose in theory was to preserve one’s personal privacy, but due to the – in many ways unconscionably explicit - nature of the dealings she’d been involved in with the brute – well. Frankly there hadn’t seemed a lot of point.

“The wearing of that covering,” she spat, “accords with the practice of my faith!   It reflects a choice of my own making and concerns you - not in the slightest!”

“You’re finding it convenient too, though, I’ll wager,” the Uruk snarled back at her, “since you wouldn’t have the nerve to try and tell me you don’t think you’ve got anything of your own to hide.”

“And is it any wonder if I do!” the woman cried, “knowing of the precedent that you and those like you have set! To admit to being one of our kind, seemingly, is to be dishonoured, indeed!”

The Orc had been moving closer and closer all through this heated exchange, and Rashanka, who only now came to register this on a conscious level, found the proximity to be suddenly abhorrent. She drew herself up proudly, and was gratified to see the brute fall back from her at once.

Pressing her advantage she rounded on him. “How can you bear it,” she said in disgust, “how can you have allowed yourself to become so utterly debased?” She shoved at him, intending only to remove him from her immediate vicinity but taken by surprise, the creature staggered back and almost fell, arms flailing for a moment as he wobbled precariously before he succeeded in catching his balance. He sat down on the bed again, face strained and breathing fast and shallow through his nose.

“Not got a lot of say in the matter, have I?” the Orc panted bitterly. “I’m not likely to make it very far in this state! That’s been properly taken care of, and if I can’t make a clean break for it, what’d be the point?”

“What do you mean, ‘properly taken care of’?” the woman demanded, but the Uruk, wheezing and gulping painfully, shook his head, refusing to say any more.

Rashanka was fortunate to have been raised among her peoples’ elite, for she had enjoyed an upbringing that was in many ways both privileged and exclusive. The only real criticism that could be directed at the peaceful group of clerics with whom she’d spent her formative years would probably be fact that – mainly as a result of the young girl’s own force of character - they had perhaps tended towards being a little too lenient in their dealings with her. Rashanka was not entirely to be blamed for any shortcomings in her upbringing, but with nobody willing to check the excesses of her early behaviour, the end result could only ever have been a steady accumulation of flaws in her personality: relatively minor ones it is true, but manifesting in Rashanka as a certain brashness of manner, as well as a definite tendency towards over-confidence - particularly where faith in her own opinions were concerned, and also on occasion, an excessively judgemental attitude, especially towards those less advantaged than herself.

That Rashanka was at heart a (generally) decent and (fairly) generous person did however go a long way towards mitigating a lot of this, and this time, her conviction that she was dealing with the Orc in a fair and even-handed manner lasted only as long as it took her to make her way back to rendezvous with Omran in her own room.

For the worldly Omran was more than Rashanka’s bondsman. He had lived and travelled as her faithful servant for many years – had been with her, actually, for most of her adult life; and while he also fulfilled in many ways the role of Rashanka’s moral compass, she looked on him primarily as a confidant and friend.

Earlier Omran made reference to harsh treatment meted out by the Orc’s caretakers – and the upshot was that Rashanka lost no time in getting more of that story (or as much as her man knew of it) from him.

TBC
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A Family Way