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Wolves And Shattered Shields	By : Hoglorfen Category: +Second Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 2426 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Tolkienverse, nor do I write this story for profit.

Chapter List
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The sky was dark and cloudy, the air damp from the freezing rain that had fallen for hours before nightfall. The soft wet ground dampened the footsteps of the two dark creatures that crouched in the forest outside the solitary farmstead. Graznikh took a good look around to make sure there was no one in the barn before joining Shâtaz, who was sneaking up to the front door of the house. All the windows were dark save one at the back, meaning that at least one of the tarks was awake. Whoever else inhabited the place would hopefully be sleeping.
Graznikh stopped short just inside the door. A Man cub stood on the floor, clutching an odd assortment of rags with a lopsided face sewn onto them with rough yarn. It kept staring up at him with large brown eyes. He scowled a little; Graznikh wasn't too keen on killing cubs, no matter the race. Shâtaz squatted beside him and beckoned to the cub with a friendly grin. The cub hesitated and glanced up at Graznikh, who grinned and gave it an encouraging nod. As it stepped closer, the wiry scout cocked his head curiously and pointed at the rag. The Man cub smiled back and held it out towards him. A second smile bloomed on the cub's neck as Shâtaz swiftly drew his knife across it. He caught it to keep it from making any sound as it fell and slurped quietly as he sucked the blood from its neck.
They checked the nearby rooms but found no more tarks, cubs or grown. Graznikh sneaked over to the door to the back room and pressed his ear to it. Muffled sounds of grunting and moaning were heard from inside and he had to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. Shâtaz gave him a confused grin and made a gesture as if wanking. Graznikh shook his head and mouthed ”they're fucking”. Shâtaz leered and mouthed back ”kill the man first”. Graznikh gave him a look that said ”d'ya think I'm daft?” before drawing his knives. Then he opened the door and sauntered right in.

His guess was right; a Man was standing in front of a table, shirt untied and with his breeches down by his knees, with a Woman bent over it in front of him with the back of her skirt lifted. Both turned to stare as Graznikh and Shâtaz entered.
”What, still with your clothes on? An' on the table when ya have a bed like that right next to ya? Fuckin' amateurs!” Shâtaz jeered. The woman began to scream and the man roared and leapt for the sword that hung on a chair near the bed. Graznikh stopped him before he got halfway.
”Too slow,” he breathed and punched him in the face. He grabbed the man's shirt to keep him from falling as Shâtaz stabbed him multiple times in the back. Then both Orcs turned on the woman. Shâtaz caught her as she tried to flee and pushed her back onto the table.
”Since we were so cruel an' interrupted ya, allow us to finish the job,” he purred and licked her cheek. She fought him hard and tried to kick but it was futile.
”Hold her steady,” Graznikh growled. Shâtaz quickly jumped up onto the table and pressed her upper body down with his own as Graznikh tore the crying woman's skirt off. She was kind of pretty; all dark hair and blue eyes, just the way Graznikh liked them. No one could ever top his âmbal of course, but he could work with this. Since she was already wet from fucking, he did not have to use any spit. He chuckled as she wiggled her bottom in a futile attempt to get away.
”Trying to encourage me, hmm? Well, it's your lucky day then!” A few thrusts brought him inside with a low groan and the woman squeaked.
”How the fuck can she be so tight?” Graznikh groaned as he began thrusting. ”Did I miss and plow her arse or something?”
”Well, ya saw dead guy's dick back there, it was fuckin' tiny!” Shâtaz said with a grin. He sat on the edge of the table, fondling himself. ”Kiddo probably had a bigger cock than him.”
”Shut up or I'll shove my fist down your throat,” Graznikh grunted. He didn't care about being careful but humped hard and leaned down onto her, slavering and inhaling the mingled scents of fear and rut. At some point her moans changed character and he growled deep in his throat as he felt her clench repeatedly around his cock.
”What?” Shâtaz asked as Graznikh began chuckling. ”What?”
”I think she came,” Graznikh exclaimed with an astonished laugh. ”Looks like we got ourselves an Orc-fancier here!”
”Oh, that's just sweet,” Shâtaz purred and slapped the woman's rump, tearing a pained sob from her. She was squeezing her eyes shut and her face twisted with grief, fear and humiliation. Graznikh soon spent himself with a growling roar and backed away while Shâtaz took his place.
”Mean ol' bastard,” he purred in the woman's ear as he picked her up in his arms. ”Don'tcha worry, I'm far gentler than him. First, I wanna try out that fancy bed o' yours!”

Graznikh wiped his cock on the dead man's shirt and began to search the room for valuables while Shâtaz did his thing with cock and claws.
”Want another round after?” Shâtaz gasped.
”Nar, I'm done. Do whatever ya want.”
”Can ya believe that?” Shâtaz murmured into the woman's ear. ”Done after just once, bloody fool. We could be here all night, oh yesss...”
Graznikh just chuckled at that. Horny bastard. He emptied chests and bags and tore down stuff from the walls, but found little of value apart from the clumsy sword and a tankard that turned out to be made not from tarnished silver, but tin.
”Yer man's dead,” Shâtaz growled from the bed. ”Yer cub's dead. An' here you are, in his bed spreadin' yer legs for the Orcs what killed 'em! Ya sick fuckin' slut! Sick, sick, sick...” There was a loud slap and Graznikh burst out laughing as Shâtaz roared in anger.
”Ya fuckin' makatok!” A shrill wail followed, along with the sounds of a very rough fuck. He left the room to give the lovebirds some privacy and began searching the other rooms.
As he walked across the floor of what must be the Man-cub's little room, he suddenly stopped with a frown. Something had been different, just now. He retraced his steps, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He shrugged and walked forward again, only to stop at the same spot. Something was different. He began testing each of the floorboards, stepping and knocking on them until he found what he was looking for. One of them was distinctly different; it looked just like the others but it felt different, slightly more flexible and it sounded a little hollow when he knocked on it. Graznikh used one of his knives for leverage and managed to bend it up. Underneath the cub's bed, right next to the wall, was a little hollow with a lockbox in it. Score!
The box was made of steel and was adorned with a strange scrollwork pattern. It was unusually heavy, which meant that it must contain something of value, especially considering how well it was hidden. But no matter how he tried, Graznikh could not open it. Now he cursed his trashing of the place earlier; finding a key small enough to fit into the minuscule lock would be a nightmare and probably take the whole night. Instead he grabbed a bag and some discarded clothes from the main room and wrapped the box in them. Then he filled the bag with an assortment of food, tools and random trinkets. Shâtaz came out of the bedroom just as he finished.
”She's still alive, in case ya want another go,” he said.
”Nar, I'm fine,” Graznikh said. ”Had a fun ride?”
Shâtaz chuckled. ”Oh, she begged me for it in the end.”
”Begged for mercy, more like. Gonna kill her?”
”What, ya don't want a litter o' half-tarks? Think of how pretty they'll be with you for a sire!”
”Skai, that's disgusting!” Graznikh cursed and punched him hard. ”Get outta here, if you won't do it then I will.”
Shâtaz laughed and rubbed his aching shoulder while Graznikh returned to the bedroom. The woman had curled into a ball on the bed and was sobbing quietly.
”Hello again, pretty one,” Graznikh said as he climbed onto it. She struggled weakly as he straddled her, no doubt thinking that he had another rape in store.
”Bâ...” she whispered. Her voice rose to a shrill scream as he drew one of his blades. ”Bâ kitabdahê! Avalôi!!”
Graznikh preferred to stay level-headed when killing, so he fought against the sweet black urge that begged him to draw it out, to prolong the delicious screaming just a bit longer, just a little more... But as he stabbed, he just couldn't resist shoving the knife deep into her side and twist it to feel the ribs bend and separate around it. The woman's scream ended abruptly, leaving behind a satisfying silence. Graznikh sat back on his heels and admired his handiwork a little before getting back on his feet. He picked through the blood-drenched blankets until he found one without a spot. He folded it and put it under his arm.
”You're losin' yer touch, Graz,” Shâtaz said with a sneer as Graznikh returned, wiping the blood off his knife. He was out in the barn, busy stuffing various animal parts into a bag. ”Just once? What the fuck?”
”Oh, come on! Thachnar rode me hard just before we headed out, and she'll probably want another once we get back! I'm not made of rut.”
”That gal's on a roll,” Shâtaz said fondly. ”Think she's goin' into heat?”
”Probably,” Graznikh groaned as he lifted the bag after stuffing the blanket into it. ”If this keeps up, I'mma wear my dick out.”
”Who knows, maybe you'll have another litter tumblin' on the ground by summer?” Shâtaz shot him a grin as he lifted his own bag full of loot.
”Nar, she's probably just warming up for Kûtoz. I'm still just a grunt, not worthy of siring her spawn. Not sure if I wanna either.”
Shâtaz frowned. ”Why not?”
”Are you fucking kidding me? Imagine a litter with her nose and my ears, they'd be the laughing stock of the entire bloody mountain range!”
Shâtaz stared at him for a moment, then he snorted and exploded with laughter. They were both still laughing when they torched the farm and turned back towards the mountains.

Back in the stronghold, Graznikh took some tongs, a fistful of crude needles, a crowbar and a hammer from the smithies and brought them and the little lockbox to a secluded place down in the dungeons. The lockbox turned out to be a tricky thing, and far stronger than it looked. Must be of Elven make, he thought. Picking the lock proved an exercise in futility, as did finding a way to open it with the crowbar. The scrollwork on the lid reminded him of the runes that the Dwarves used for some reason. Could it be Elvish? I wonder if Whin could read it. He paused for a moment to smile. 'Whin' rolled off the tongue much easier than 'Win-daar' and Graznikh had always liked the tall evergreen shrubs with little yellow flowers that were so common in Dunland. Especially their quirk of being extremely flammable; it was one of the main reasons why there were so few tark settlements there. They tended to simply burn down in the bushfires that kept most of the land treeless. Graznikh chuckled to himself. Whin... You're kinda flammable too whever I lay my hands on ya. Skai, I miss ya!
A rat that scurried past broke him out of his reverie and made him start. The involuntary clenching of his hands pressed into two previously invisible holes on each side of the 'keyhole' and made a little peg pop out of it and the lid click open. Graznikh almost dropped it in surprise. Then he laughed. Bloody golug and their secrets. Thanks, Whin! He reached for the bond and sent some fondness into it and felt fuzzy inside as she returned his feelings. Then he made sure that no one was near before opening the box.
The contents almost made him whoop with glee. There were five little bars inside, as long as the palm of his hand and as thick and wide as the length of his thumb. Three of them were solid silver and two were solid gold, so pure and soft that he could carve patterns in the surface with his claws. In one single stroke of impossible luck, Graznikh had become the richest Orc in the White Mountains. But there was something else in there, too. He covered the little bars with a piece of cloth and lifted out the last treasure.

It was a necklace, but it was unlike any necklace he had ever seen before. There was a chain woven from silver strands so thin that they could have been spun by spiders. On it hung a little pendant, also silver, with a tiny, white, transparent gem in the middle. Graznikh stared at the gem. It looked like someone had taken a star from the sky and placed it in the pendant he now held. Several other gems, so impossibly small that they were little more than grains of starlit sand, dotted the sides of the pendant. It reminded him of the Light he had seen when his bond with Whin formed and for some reason, looking at it made him sad. He quickly stuffed it into one of his belt pockets and put the little bars back into the lockbox. It closed and locked itself immediately as he put the peg back. Gonna put this someplace safe. Then it's time to give a certain someone a visit!

NOTES:
Makatok – slut (gender neutral)
Adûnaic – the native tongue of Numenor
Bâ – no/don't (Adûnaic)
Bâ kitabdahê – don't you touch me (Adûnaic)
Avalôi – Valar (Adûnaic)
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Wolves And Shattered Shields