Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Whindaër would have loved to stay in the wonderful dream a little longer, but something slowly drew her out of it. There was a strange sense of urgency that called to her and she seemed unable to draw enough breath no matter how she tried. As she resurfaced from sleep, she was awash with pleasure and desire from both bond and body. She opened her eyes as the spasms of her orgasm faded and looked into Graznikh's red ones. He gave her a mad, horny leer as he licked his fingers.
”Good morning, âmbal,” he purred as he pushed her over and crawled on top of her.
”What..?” Whindaër asked but her voice faltered as he licked her ear and entered her from behind with one slow, deep thrust. His higher body temperature meant that his flesh felt like a hot, slick iron rod wrenching its way inside, but without the pain that would normally accompany such an intrusion. Then there were no more words, no more thoughts. She could feel her fëa shudder even as she lifted her hips to meet him.
Graznikh groaned as he felt her grow tighter with the approaching climax. The bond always felt funny when he fucked her, as if some part of her still resisted him even as he made her beg for more. He decided that he liked it; he could imagine that he was taking her by force but without actually harming her. It was decidedly better than the real deal. But he could not resist giving her neck a few nips as she shouted her climax into the furs, shortly followed by his own.
”Now how's that for a wakeup call?” Graznikh purred once he had caught his breath.
”Not very good,” Whindaër replied and smiled mischievously as his face fell. ”What is the point of resting when you exhaust me anew the moment I wake up?”
”Isn't that the whole point o' resting?” Graznikh replied with a grin and patted her butt as he got up. ”Besides, you begged for it!”
Whindaër blushed as she watched him get up, still licking their fluids from his fingers. Tentatively she touched herself and studied the black slime coating her fingers as she withdrew them. There his scent was the strongest, musky and overpoweringly strong, but to her surprise she did not find it as repulsive as she had in the beginning. After a while she rose as well and went to wash herself in the stream.
Graznikh squatted by the fireplace and after lighting the fire, he watched her with a contented smile. It was difficult to admit, even to himself, but he had been a bit nervous about spiriting her away like this. Not about them being discovered; he trusted his own skills. But he had worried that perhaps she would prove to be too Elvish, that once he got to know her better he would not like what he found. Or the other way around; that she would not like him. That woulda been a serious problem, if this bond-thing is a permanent as she says.
Graznikh did not consider himself a coward. He preferred to walk face first into problems and work with what he had rather than try to run from them. The situation that had arisen with Whin was a rare exception, but Graznikh was not sure that there had even been a problem in the first place. Everything had gone so bloody well! No fighting at all, she had not even tried to punch him when he upset her. In Graznikh's opinion, that was as close to perfect as things could get. I wonder if she holds back 'cause she thinks I can't handle it, or 'cause she doesn't know how to? The events of yesternight returned to him and he turned her words over in his head. It was difficult to believe that she could just accept annoying things like that. That there were things he did or said that pissed her off, but which she would never call him out on. It was unsettling and he decided that she had to be exaggerating. Everyone wanted to be in control, that was just a part of life. Either you were in charge or someone else was. Either you gave orders or had to obey, and the less there was of the latter the better. Too much of it and you were snaga, and Graznikh did not want to associate his Elf with that word.
But at the same time she seemed so very sincere, or acted the part at least. There was not the slightest hint of deception in her scent or voice and now that he thought about it, she had never been smug or ridiculing either. She had never even called him a weird idiot, and that happened on a near-weekly basis in the band. But then there was that other thing she had said...
Why would she learn to fight when she has me to do it for her? That had been a real slap in the face, claws and all. His first impulse when it happened had been to slap her back, but that had made him feel sick so he had reined himself in before he could act on it. Had any one of his bandmates said the same, that phrase alone would have been excuse enough for planting a knife in the throat of the bastard who said it. You didn't say that kind of shit to someone you wanted to stay on good terms with.
The thing that had stayed Graznikh's hand was the way she had said it. Whindaër had not said it the way someone who wanted to shove him into the dirt would. Instead, she had used the same tone of voice that she had used when implying that Graznikh had marked her heart, and that had been a real sweet thing to say. It made him suspect that she had meant something similar with the insult and that it had only come out of her mouth horribly wrong. But then his Elf was so good with words that she made him feel like a half-wit most of the time; it did not make sense. The more he tried to figure it out, the more confused he got.
”Graznikh?”
Graznikh jumped and let out a surprised squeak when Whindaër spoke his name.
”I am sorry,” she said as she sat down beside him. ”I did not mean to frighten you.”
”Nar, didn't scare me,” he muttered and shot her a lopsided grin. ”Just startled me, 's all.”
Whindaër smiled back. ”Then I apologise for interrupting your thoughts.”
Graznikh worried his lip and stared into the fire with a frown. ”Say... When you said that thing 'bout not having to fight 'cause I'd do it for ya... What'd ya mean by that?”
Whindaër thought for a moment before answering. ”I meant that... Even if I were to begin practising this very moment, I do not know I would ever become as good in combat as you no doubt are. You have experience of a kind that I doubt that I would ever get, and would be my superior for many years yet. And having such an experienced warrior by my side makes me feel safe.”
Graznikh arched a hairless eyebrow. ”Safe? The other night you were scared near bloody witless.”
Whindaër looked away. ”You do frighten me at times... But you also make me feel safe. It is... complicated.”
”Understatement of the age,” he muttered. ”Sounds more like you're fine with being a useless weakling, just 'cause I'm here to do the dirty knifework for ya.”
”Is that how you see me?” Whindaër asked stiffly.
Graznikh laughed a little. ”Well, ya gotta admit you're not much use in a fight.”
”There is more to life than combat.”
”Oh yeah? Prove it.”
”Are we not proof enough?” Whindaër whispered.
Graznikh had no idea what to answer to that and looked away with an uneasy scowl. Then he heard her whisper, almost too quiet to hear: ”If you think me so worthless, you could teach me some of what you know.”
”Offering to teach me how to read, are ya?” He looked up with a mischievous leer as he heard her gasp. ”I won't give it away for free, y'know.”
Whindaër looked away with a frown and at first, Graznikh thought she would refuse again. But then she smiled unexpectedly and gave him an almost wily look.
”Very well,” she said, ”let us barter. I teach you how to write your name, and you teach me some of what you know about fighting. That is my offer.”
”Just my name, huh? Ya greedy little... Fine! Deal.”

Whindaër sat up and moved over to the edge of the furs. There she smoothed out the fine sand and drew a horisontal line with a finger. ”Let me think... How is your name pronounced?”
”No idea,” Graznikh replied as he squatted down beside her. ”I don't even know what a 'prune-ounce' is.”
”Pronounced',” Whindaër corrected him with a giggle. ”It is how you speak a word or a name, what sounds and syllables it is composed of. My name is pronounced 'whin-DA-er', three syllables and seven letters; two tengwar, one carrier and three ómatehtar.” She wrote her name on the sand as she spoke. Graznikh stare at the 'letters'; to him, they looked like a wriggling mass of curves and lines and dots that made no sense whatsoever.
”Can'tcha, err... just write my name? D'ya have to get all technical about it?”
Whindaër gave him a confused look. ”But... If you do not know the basics of the writing system, how will you know what it is you write or read?”
”I'll... just take your word for it?”
”But then I could write that you think with your rear and claim that it is your name,” Whindaër giggled, a little scandalized over her own audacity.
”Watch it,” Graznikh growled. ”Keep sweet-talking me and that lesson later'll turn into wrestling of a different sort!”
”'Sweet-talking'? Is this how Orcs woo each other?”
”Dunno, what's 'wooing'?”
”When you show another by speech or actions that you enjoy being in their company in a romantic way.”
”Huh...” Whindaër kept looking at him in that odd way that made his insides grow warm, and Graznikh looked away feeling embarrassed and strangely happy. Skai, what a woman!
”Very well,” Whindaër said after a moment. ”I shall teach you how to write your name. But I still need to know exactly how you pro-... I mean, how you say it, so that I can choose the right letters.”
Graznikh scratched his head as the thought. ”Well... first there's 'graz', meaning 'cold'. Then there's '-znikh' which means 'bastard' or 'devil' or 'annoying bloody pest'. What?” he asked when he spotted Whindaër's horrified look.
”Why would anyone name their child that?!”
”...'Cause I am a cold bastard?” He grinned when her expression changed from horror to pity. ”Oh come on! It's just a name! Besides, I like it.”
”I-I am sorry,” she said and looked down. ”It was thoughtless of me.” Of course an Orc's name would mean something awful. At times it is too easy to forget what he truly is.
”Why, what's your name mean?” Graznikh asked, interrupting her thoughts.
”It is composed of 'hwindë', which means either 'birch' or 'whirlpool', and 'aër' which means 'days'.”
”So... 'Days o' the birch'?” He shot her an incredulous glance as she nodded.
”Or 'Days of the whirlpool', but the underlying meaning is the same; I was conceived in northern Enedwaith on a morning in early spring, when the ice was melting in the mountains and the leaves of the birches had just sprouted.”
”...Right.” Graznikh snickered. ”Still better than 'Lómeyello'.”
”Better than what?”
”T'was a rogue tark I met in Dunland. His sire wanted to use Elven naming ways for him, and picked the only thing he could come up with from the moment he was, uh, 'made'.” He grinned as Whindaër let out a very un-Elvish snort and began to laugh out loud. ”I know, right? I can bloody imagine the whole thing!” He stood up on his knees and thrust his hips obscenely while making a sound more akin to a braying donkey than any Man, making Whindaër laugh even harder in the process. ”Oh, come on, it wasn't that fun.”
Eventually she stopped laughing. ”That is not how the naming is supposed to be done!” she giggled.
Graznikh's grin faded. ”That's what you were laughing at?” He snorted when Whindaër nodded. Bloody weird Elf... Ah well, at least she's laughing.

”So,” she said, still giggling as she sat up. ”Where were we?”
”My name,” Graznikh said with a grin.
”Ah, yes. So... 'Graznikh'. 'Graz-znik'.”
”'-zniKH',” Graznikh corrected. ”Not just 'k', but 'kh'.”
Whindaër frowned. ”Like... A drawn out 'k'?”
”Yeah, that sounds 'bout right.”
”Hm...” She sat deep in thought for a moment, then she began to write but hesitated at the last letter. ”'Kh', 'kh'... I do not know if that sound even has a tengwa! The closest is 'sh', but that is not correct.”
”What, ya can't write my name 'cause there're not enough signs? That's kind of a dealbreaker, isn't it?”
”I suppose,” Whindaër murmured sadly. She started a little as Graznikh knelt behind her and placed his hands on her waist.
”So let's rework the deal; I teach ya some fighting techniques and you come up with a new name for me.” Whindaër slowly looked up at him as if he had just confessed his undying love for her, and Graznikh began to wonder if he had gotten himself into another trap.
”You would let me do that? Truly?”
”Sure,” he replied with an unsure grin. ”Âmbal.” The light in her eyes as she smiled could have rivalled the Moon. ”But first I'mma give ya that lesson. Getting bloody restless, just sitting here.”
”Right, he said once they were facing each other on the wide strip of sand on the other side of the pond. ”I figure grappling's a bit advanced; you'd be better off simply avoiding getting caught in the first place. Ya know how to roll?”
”I can roll,” Whindaër replied with a smile, ”but I am unsure if we mean the same thing with the word. Perhaps it is better that you show me? That would be easier.”
Graznikh fell forward, and at first it looked as though he would smash his face in the sand. But then he tilted his head and twisted his body slightly so that he landed on his shoulder instead. His natural crouching stature aided him and the fall became a flawless roll that brought him back on his feet with little effort.
”That was beautiful,” Whindaër exclaimed, but Graznikh was not done. He broke into a run and leapt through the air, landed, rolled, then jumped again and flipped in the air so that he ended up hanging from the cave ceiling, gripping the stone with clawed hands and feet. He winked at his amazed Elf before dropping down, landing with another roll and coming to stand right in front of her with a smug grin. ”See? That's how ya roll!”
”You... do not expect me to jump like that, do you?” Whindaër asked with a wide-eyed look at the ceiling.
”Nar,” Graznikh chuckled. ”That's for next time.” He winked again as Whindaër began to protest. ”Now get down'n lemme show ya. Just look at me an' do the same. On one knee, like this, with yer hand grabbing yer front foot. Nar, arm on the inside. Pokin' it out's only gonna hurt it when ya roll. Then ya move your head like this, away from the foot you're grabbing. Great. Now go!”

On the first attempt, Whindaër lost her grip on her foot in the middle and failed.
”Keep the grip all the way through,” Graznikh instructed. ”On it again!” He began to feel a little frustrated when she failed the second, third and fourth attempts as well.
”Nar, hold onto the foot!”
”I am trying!” Whindaër exclaimed. ”But it is so hard, my hands wants to do something else every time!”
”Eh? Like what?”
”Like... Like what you did during the first roll you showed me. You did not hold onto your foot.”
Graznikh frowned as he thought it over. ”Alright, just do what your hands wanna do and skip the foothold, see how that goes.”
Now that her hands were free to brace and aid the momentum, Whindaër completed the roll but the momentum threw her off balance when she tried to stop.
”If ya feel yourself falling, just do another roll,” Graznikh snickered as she shook sand out of her clothes.
”That is easy for you to say, oh great teacher,” Whindaër replied with a teasing smile.
”Izzat so?! I'm no bloody teacher, I'm a taskmaster! Now get back there and try again, and don't trip this time or I'll see that first roll as beginner's luck! Hop to it!”
Whindaër did as told with a giggle and skipped back to the starting point. Graznikh shot her an astounded look; another Orc would have punched him for bossing them around or at least snarled an insult back, but Whindaër did not seem to even notice it. She continued with the roll practice and after a while she seemed to have gotten the hang of it. She finished her last series of rolls so that she ended up right in front of him in an imitation of what he had done earlier. Graznikh grinned. Then Whindaër squeaked as he caught her by the waist and pulled her close.
”Caught ya,” he purred against her neck, relishing her desperate giggling. ”Now ya know how to roll, but not when to use it!” He let her go, spun her around and shoved her hard. Whindaër did drop and roll, but had not registered that Graznikh had aimed her at the pond. There was a splash and a loud squeal as she fell into the cold water.
”You!” Whindaër hissed hotly as she got back on her feet.
”You sure get wet a lot 'round me,” Graznikh snickered. ”D'ya really like me that much?”
”You,” Whindaër repeated as she threw herself at him and tried to push him into the pond in turn, ”stink like an Orc and need a bath!”
”That's the worst insult ya can come up with?” He laughed and pushed back. But then he noticed that his claws got no grip in the soft sand, while Whindaër seemed to be standing on hard stone judging by how hard she pushed. Slowly but surely, he slid towards the pond.
”What the fuck..? Nar... Nar!” He tried to back away from the pond, but the more he struggled the less secure his footing became. ”Oh, fuck you! Fuuuck!” The moment his feet reached wet sand, he lost his footing altogether and fell backwards into the shallows.
”It would seem that you know how to roll, but not when to use it,” Whindaër giggled. Then she fell quiet with a bewildered frown as Graznikh's furious growl filled the cave. He slowly rose from the water with bared fangs and eyes like burning coals. The bond told her that he was laughing out loud, but his face and voice told a completely different story.
”You... better start running, little golug, or this Orc'll catch ya and eat ya for dinner!!”
Whindaër wasted no time; she bolted with Graznikh hot on her heels. She leapt through the waterfall, landed with a perfect roll and kept running. They dashed back and forth through the cave, jumping and rolling through both sand and water. Graznikh finally managed to corner her near the entrance where the sheer drop down to the Sea barred her way. He closed in, savouring the scent of her anticipation, excitement and the tiny tinge of fear as he wiggled his claws and snapped his fangs at her.
”Mmm-mm,” he purred quietly. ”I'm gonna eat well tonight! Fresh Elf, all mine for the taking...”
Whindaër giggled nervously and looked for an escape, but there was none to be had. She tried to dodge as he reached for her but he outmaneuvered her. Graznikh growled playfully as he caught his Elf from behind and nibbled her neck until she squealed. Then he spun her around. Clawed fingers tangled in wet, silky hair as they kissed. The more I do this, the better it gets, he thought. Or maybe it's 'cause it's her.

Both froze as a clear voice called out in a tongue that only one of them understood. ”Queta! Istan nal tanomë.”
Graznikh mouthed a vile curse and eyed the hole where the waterfall fell through the ceiling, silently debating whether or not to brave the potential shower of Elven arrows to reach his knives which he had so carelessly left on the furs.
Whindaër recognised the voice. She quickly took her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders to veil the transparency of her soaked clothes while gesturing for Graznikh to hide. He shook his head vigorously.
”Trust me,” she mouthed and gave him a reassuring smile. Before Graznikh had a chance to protest, she turned and went over to the mouth of the cave. He cursed again and dove for the alcove.
”Wilwarin?” Whindaër called. ”<Is that you?>”
”Whindaër?” The surprised marchwarden soon looked down from the edge of the cliff above. ”<Have you been here all the time? We all feared that something evil had befallen you.>”
”<I know,>” Whindaër replied sadly. ”<I am sorry to have brought this upon you.>”
”<You can apologise to your mother when we return home.>”
”<No!>”
Wilwarin frowned as he knelt on the cliff's edge. ”<You will not go? Why? There is nothing for you to fear there.>”
”<But there is! I cannot go back to that cage,>” Whindaër said, tears of desperation and grief welling up in her eyes. ”<Golden though it is, the bars are no less confining. I cannot live, unable to walk freely where my feet needs take me! Can you not understand, you who earned your epessë through your inability to remain in one place for too long?>”
Wilwarin smiled. ”<I do, Hwindë. I do. But Terenwen will not be pleased should I come back emptyhanded, knowing your whereabouts yet revealing nothing to her.>”
”<I will speak with her when I return. But first I need some solitude, such as cannot be found in the haven even behind closed doors. I am not like Theolas, who can escape his confines through written words of ages past. Please, Wilwarin, please!>”
He studied her for a long while before giving in with a resigned sigh. ”<Very well. I shall tell your mother that I have found you and that you are safe. But I will not reveal your whereabouts. I will, however, come by in a few days' time and see that you are still safe.>”
Whindaër nodded. ”<Thank you!>”
”<May the stars shine upon your path, little Hwindë. Yours and that of those in your company.>” Wilwarin gave her one last smile and a nod before disappearing. Whindaër listened carefully to the marchwarden's fading footsteps before climbing the rock wall and peering over the edge to watch as he left. She could see him nod towards the forest; three shadows detached themselves from the deeper gloom and fell in line behind him as he disappeared into the twilight beneath the trees.

Once they were well out of sight, she climbed back down where Graznikh caught her and placed a hand over her mouth before she could cry out. He had sneaked up behind her while she spoke with the Elven scout, and now he pushed her against the cave wall and held her gaze with a strange expression.
”Someone ya know?” he hissed.
Whindaër nodded. ”His name is Wilwarin, he is a marchwarden from my home. My mother worries, as I knew she would, and sent him to search for me.”
He let out a string of Orcish curses that made Whindaër's ears hurt. ”And now they know... Skai bâl azgonûb karkû!” Then he fell silent and looked down; the disappointment she felt from him through the bond brought tears to her eyes. ”He's gonna come back, isn't he?”
Whindaër nodded. ”In a few days' time, or so he said.”
”Can't trust that. They've probably set up an ambush or the like, meaning I'll get an arrow in my throat the moment I peek up there.”
”But if I go first, lead them away-”
He shook his head. ”Won't work. One or two'll get behind your back, search the cave once you're outta the way.” Graznikh began to feel afraid, but Whindaër walked over to the mouth of the cave and looked down upon the waves crashing against the cliffs far below. ”Can you swim?”
Graznikh shook his head. ”Nar, never even tried. I, uh... Water doesn't agree with me.”
”But you can climb?”
”What, climb sideways?” He gave her a meek grin as she nodded. ”That won't work. The cliffs're too crumbly off to the sides, they won't hold my weight.”
”That may not be necessary.” She looked out across the Sea, searching the horizon until she found what she was looking for. ”See there? The Moon is just on the horizon, visible even in daylight. And it is full.” She turned to meet Graznikh's confused frown. ” Twice a month, the tide is unusually strong. It will rise higher and recede further than it does at other times. Usually the water here is waist-deep at low tide and the current makes wading difficult and dangerous, but if I am right, a strip of land will be bare close to the cliffs tonight.” She smiled. ”We may yet make it.”
”When? And how long'll that be?”
”During the late watches. And we will have two hours, if we reach the beach just as the water recedes.”
”But... How does the water just disappear?”
”Do you not know?” Whindaër said as she turned away from the waterfall. ”The Sea is a living being; it breathes, just as we do. Only a little slower.”
Graznikh stared at the waves below. All of a sudden he could hear them breathing, sighing, murmuring. And with every breath, they hated him. Slowly he backed away from the entrance, filled with an ancient, bone-deep fear.
”Aye,” he said faintly. ”That sure as fuck makes things much better.”

Whindaër had guessed it right; as night fell and the Moon rose above the horizon, the Sea slowly receded as if inhaling before a scream. They had emptied the cave on all they could carry, including the quilt and one pelt each. The last part of the climb was a difficult one; the receding water had revealed a shallow cave that followed the base of the cliffs as far as they could see, meaning that they had to fall the last ten feet. The water was still knee-deep when Whindaër landed with a splash, closely followed by Graznikh.
”How're we gonna get back up from here?” he asked as he eyed the sea grass-filled cave.
”I am sure there will be easier spots to climb further down the shoreline,” Whindaër replied. ”Come, let us walk.”
”I'm more keen on running, really,” Graznikh muttered as he followed her.
As they went, the water sunk even lower and soon a wide strip of land parted the cliffs and the Sea. The wet sand was riddled with little creatures that had been surprised by the sudden low tide; crabs, shrimps, mussels, sea stars and many others. There were even flatfish in the tidal pools and lung fishes flipping back and forth on the sand. Graznikh had never been this close to the Sea before and soon his curiosity overrode his fear. He ran here and there as they went, chasing down crabs, poking them, leaping out of the way and laughing as they waved their claws in a futile attempt to repel their tormenter.
Whindaër watched him frolic with an astonished smile. The more she saw this playful side of his, the fonder she grew of him. There was an almost childlike wonder in his eyes as he prodded a washed-up man o' war jellyfish with a claw, seemingly immune to its extraordinarily painful stings. But even his playfulness had a cruel streak to it and quickly turned to wanton destruction as one of the little crabs managed to pinch his toe. He caught it with a vicious snarl, broke its claws off and smashed it into the sand with a rock. When he was done, he gave the crab-mash-stained rock a thoughtful look and licked it.
”Too salty,” he said as he spat. The next moment he pounced her, swept her off her feet and licked her cheek. ”Too sweet,” he murmured with a wink and a grin as he let her down. Then he was off again. Whindaër stared after him, unsure of whether she should be mortified or giggle hysterically.
”Hey, Whin! Look what I found!” Graznikh returned and held up something that looked like a sea shell. ”Found a thing that's a snail and a pinch-spider at the same time,” he grinned.
Whindaër laughed. ”It is a hermit crab,” she explained. ”Unlike other crabs, they have no shells of their own but make use of the abandoned ones of other sea creatures. When they grow too big for their current one, they discard it and search for another.”
”What happens when they're too big for all of 'em?”
Whindaër frowned. ”I do not know.”
”Wouldn't it be awesome if they used skulls instead? Someone finds a washed-up tark skull, then when they pick it up – pow, crab attack! - and it pinches their eyes out!” He snickered at Whindaër's horrified expression. ”Aw, come on, t'was just a joke!”
”Your humour is so dark,” she said with a smile. ”At times I do not understand it.”
”That makes two of us,” Graznikh replied. He threw the hermit crab one last look before he tossed it aside and began to walk beside her, carefully placing himself between her and the cliffs. ”So this is what Elves do? Walk the beach and look at crabs'n shit?”
”Inbetween the studies, crafting and household chores. And running in the forest.”
”Getting ambushed, disobeying yer sire, fucking an Orc...”
”There is no need to rub it in,” Whindaër protested.
”Sure there is,” Graznikh said with a grin. ”I'm kinda happy with that turn of events.” Without thinking, he moved to take her outstretched hand, but found that she had not moved. What..? Then he remembered the bond. Whindaër smiled at him and he meekly grinned back as he reached out to touch her through it. It felt so strange, as though her slender little fingers had taken a steady grip on his black heart just as surely as he had buried his fangs in hers.
There was a splash from below and water suddenly pooled around his feet. Graznikh let out a yelp and jumped into the air to avoid the little wave; he had not even noticed that they had left the cliffs and strolled out to where the waves touched the sand. He watched with increasing anxiety as Whindaër waded further and further out until the waves danced around her hips.
”Hey, Whin? Don't... Don't go too far, will ya?” She smiled at him and nodded.
”Can you hear it?” she asked. ”The Sea sings!”
No matter how hard Graznikh listened, he heard no song. The Sea sounded more like distant thunder to him. But then a sound reverberated up from the deep, as if muffled by wet cloth and echoing through a cave; a deep, powerful howling lament that rose and fell slowly. Whindaër stood in the water with outstretched arms and closed eyes, swaying ever so slowly as the current pulled at her. Suddenly Graznikh was certain that it was calling to her, and that, if he did not do something fast, he would lose her forever. ”Whin..? Get back here!”
”But why? There is no-”
”GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!!!”
She stared at him for a moment, shocked by the sudden outburst. When she waded back, Graznikh grabbed her arm and began to pull her away from the water's edge.
”Graznikh, what is-”
”From now on, we stay the fuck away from this place,” he snarled without looking at her. Whindaër frowned, but let herself be led back to the cliffs without asking any more questions. Something had unsettled her Orc and she did not wish to anger him further. Once they were back on the far side of the tidal beach, Graznikh relaxed a little.
”This looks like a decent place to climb,” he commented.
”Must we leave already? Can we not explore a little further?”
”The fuck're you so bloody fascinated with sand for?”
”Not sand,” Whindaër replied. She began to walk here and there, studying the sand until she let out a little whoop and squatted down. When she stood up again, she held up a little piece of amber. ”This!”
Graznikh's eyes grew wide as he saw the little gem. ”Hey, gimme that!” he said and snatched it from her hand before Whindaër could give it to him. ”This shit's nice..! think I could sell it?”
”I am sure you could,” Whindaër replied with a smile. ”If i have been told correctly, they are highly sought after further inland. As are these.” She picked up a little seashell that looked more like a rock than anything else. Graznikh frowned and gave her a look of disbelief, but when she opened the two halves and showed him the inside, he dropped the amber in surprise. The inside of the clam was a caleidoscope of blue, green and purple hues, as if a dark rainbow had been caught within it and merged with the shell. He started eyeing the beach with greedy eyes. ”Think there're more o' these?”
”Yes! See, here is another.”

Graznikh completely forgot his fear. They left their belongings by the cliff and began to search for more seashells and amber. Not that Graznikh needed the wealth they would bring, but until he had time to cut the little ingots into smaller pieces, this would come in handy.
”Ha! Found another.” He dug in the sand to get the shell out. ”...Okay. This one's got a dick.”
Whindaër giggled as he held up the clam. ”It is not... It is a foot, the clam uses it to-”
Graznikh suddenly roared and sent the clam flying all the way to the shoreline. Then he snarled and rubbed his face.
”What happened?” Whindaër asked.
”The little fucker pissed me in the eye!” He glowered at the laughing Elf. ”Yeah, you laugh! I don't see the whole bloody beach out to get you!”
”But then I do not go around poking everything I see either,” Whindaër giggled.
Graznikh snorted. ”Cock-pissing clams, skull crabs... This place is just fucked up.” Then he grinned. ”Right, I take it back. Don't look now, but there's something stuck on yer arse.”
Whindaër frowned and looked down; a large sea star had somehow gotten hold of her upper thigh without her noticing it.
”See? Everyone likes your arse,” Graznikh purred as she tried to remove it without success.
”Do not simply stand there!” Whindaër snapped with a smile. ”You are stronger than I am; help me!”
Graznikh kept purring as he groped her thigh. The sea star held on tight, but with some effort he managed to pull it off her. Then he had to spend some more time getting the sea star off his own hands before they were finally free of it.

They continued to explore the beach. Whindaër practised rolling on the soft sand, leaping over tidal ponds and furrows in the sand. As she had finished a series of rolls and got back on her feet, she felt water lap at her feet and looked down. A tiny stream trickled across the sand in between her feet, slowly growing wider. She turned away from the Sea.
”Graznikh!”
Graznikh looked up. He had been building a fighting pit in the sand and packed it full with crabs; a difficult task since the crabs kept trying to pinch him instead of each other and took the opportunity to sneak off whenever he took his eyes off them. ”Huh?”
”The tide is returning, we must hurry!”
She saw his eyes widen slightly and the bond turned ice cold with fear, then he bolted. He threw himself up onto the cliff and began to climb frantically. There was a grass-covered ledge about two thirds of the way, and now he aimed for it whith Whindaër close behind him. The tide rose rapidly and as Graznikh reached the ledge, he heard the first wave crash against the cliff below. More and more hit the crumbling rock as the water rose ever higher. Whindaër was having trouble; his weight and carelessness had pulled some of the rocks loose and she could not find a good spot to continue climbing.
”Whin!!” he shouted as she lost her footing briefly.
”No, do not climb down!” Whindaër called as he began to do so. ”The rock will not carry you, and I am not strong enough to lift you out of the water should you fall!” She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment the stone broke under her feet.
”ÂÂÂMBAL!!!” Graznikh howled as she broke the surface and disappeared. He almost fell over the edge in his futile attempt to reach out; he scanned the water's edge in the hope that she would have caught the edge of the cliff near the surface and could pull herself up, but as time passed and nothing broke the surface, he broke down and lost all pretense of self-control.
The fear of deep water was instinctual for Orcs; there were many pools of murky water in the deep places beneath the mountains, and many of them were inhabited by nameless creatures that gladly feasted on Orc whenever they could. Also, with their dense bone structure and hunched backs, most Orcs were poor swimmers. To fall into water, even a calm lake, was more often than not a death sentence if there was no one else around to pull you up. And the Sea beneath where Graznikh lay was roiling and foaming as the waves rose and fell with a roaring sound. As far as he knew, there was no way she could have survived the fall.
He howled her name over and over, clawed and hit the rock that had betrayed him so and reached out through the bond in panic and fear. She feels so calm, how can she be so calm?! She's dying already, she's given up! Graznikh had never felt such intense grief before; he had never been so alone and so helpless. He pushed away Whindaër's soft reassurance; he did not want her comfort when she was drowning and there was nothing he could do about it.
He lay there for a long time, staring at nothing and wallowing in the pain inside.

Then the surface stirred, but it was not Whindaër. It was further out, far beyond the lowest point where the water had previously receded, and it was huge. Graznikh slowly lifted his head and stared in silent horror as the grey giant erupted from the water as if thrown, arching gracefully in the air and then falling back down with the sound of a watery thunderclap. As three more followed the first, letting out that terrible howl that he had heard earlier, the instinct to survive overcame his grief and Graznikh scrambled up the cliff to uncertain safety.
”You need not fear them,” Whindaër said as he fell flat on his belly on the grass. ”They are- Oh!”
Graznikh took a deep breath and pounced her with a bellow. He kept roaring with every breath as he rolled on the grass, clutching her tight and punching the ground.
”Graznikh, please!” Whindaër gasped. ”You are hurting me!”
”How...” he growled without letting go. ”How... the FUCK... did you get up here?! HOW THE FUCK'RE YOU ALIVE???”
”Please,” she whimpered. ”It hurts so...”
Through an exercise of sheer willpower, he managed to convince his arms to let go a little. Whindaër gasped and rubbed her arms where he had clenched her before she spoke.
”The current was too strong; it swept me away. I swam to another place where the cliff was more solid and climbed up there.”
”And why the FUCK didn'tcha say anything!? I thought you were DEAD, for fuck's sake! I thought... I thought...” He roared and fell on her again. Whindaër tried to comfort him through the bond and hugged him tight. Little by little, Graznikh seemed to calm down.
”I tried to tell you, meldonya, I truly did! But you shut me out and would not listen; so trapped in your grief were you that I could not reach through to you! Oh, I am sorry for causing you such pain!” She looked at him when he did not answer. ”I am so sorry... Will you not forgive me?”
You little bitch, Graznikh thought. Had me whimpering like a tark cub for your pleasure while ya went for a leisure swim, didn'tcha? Golug makatok... Âmbal... He tried to growl, but all that came out was a croak and he deflated a little. ”Aye, whatever.” Whindaër clearly did not expect that answer, but Graznikh did not care. He started digging through his belt pockets and eventually found what he was looking for.
”Got something for ya,” he said quietly. ”Meant to give it to ya back in the cave, but since our stay there got cut short...” When she did not move, Graznikh leaned closer and placed the little lump of filthy cloth in her lap.
Whindaër wondered about his strange behaviour as she opened the litle package. All such thoughts left her when she revealed its contents.
”Oh..! Oh!” Gingerly she picked up the necklace, little starlight crystals glittering in the twilight of almost-dawn. Graznikh eyed her carefully as she held it up, trying to assess whether she liked it or not. After staring at it for a little while, she turned to him with tears in her eyes and let out a whimper as she embraced him.
”Thank you... Oh, thank you! It is so beautiful!”
”Glad ya like it,” he mumbled.
Whindaër sobbed a little. Never had she thought that he would give her such a gift! The comb was better, since it was the first, but this was something she would be able to wear at all times without raising unnecessary suspicion. Then she grew cold inside. ”Where... where did you find this?”
”Abandoned farmstead,” Graznikh replied. Technically it was no lie; the farmstead was abandoned by the time he found the lockbox. ”Scavenged a bit.”
”I wonder who held this last,” Whindaër mused. ”What could have happened to make them abandon it? Or perhaps it was lost?”
”I'm not gonna go back'n track 'em down,” Graznikh said.
”No, do not do that,” Whindaër said. ”No matter how good your intentions, I fear it would only end in tragedy.” She admired the necklace some more. ”This almost looks as though it was made in Ost-In-Edhil.”
”Whazzat?”
”The Elven realm north of Enedwaith. My father dwells there.”
”Think he made that?”
”No, he prefers to make arms and armour.”
”Good guy!”
”Hardly,” Whindaër said with a sad smile. ”I fear it would spell doom for you should you ever encounter him. He hates Orcs with a passion, and he is... Not like my mother's kin.”
”So he's a crazy Elf? More crazy than the rest, I mean.”
”Umm... perhaps?” Whindaër could not help but giggle a little at the thought of her stern but kind father being 'crazy'.
”Well, then he's got stuff in common with my sire. The 'crazy' part, not the Elf-stuff. Ya shoulda heard him when I was younger; 'how the fuck could I spawn a cub what's pale as a bloody corpse maggot? He'll never get anywhere 'cept himself killed, yada yada'.”
”How could anyone say such things to a child?” Whindaër asked.
”We're talking about the guy who named me here, that should tell ya everything.”
”...Oh. Yes, I... I suppose I can see what you mean.”
”The fuck, are you talking shit 'bout my sire there?!” Graznikh burst into laughter at Whindaër's wide-eyed expression.
”Oh, you are nasty!” she exclaimed and pushed him gently.
”Yeah, I'm yer nasty Orc!” he chuckled and pulled her close.
They sat in silence on the cliff, watching the moonlit Sea. After a while, Graznikh grew bored and began to look at Whindaër instead. Eventually she noticed and gave him a smile that he could not help but return. Her hand sneaked up behind his ear and scratched gently and he let out a low, content purr. Then he chuckled.
”What is it?”
”Did ya think any 'bout that thing we talked about the other night?”
”Which of them?”
”The song ya promised to sing me.”
”I promised nothing of the sort!” Whindaër exclaimed.
”Sure ya did,” Graznikh grinned. ”I'd make you a song if ya made one for me, that's the deal me made.”
”Ah...”
He cocked his head with a teasing leer. ”Whaaat, ya didn't make one? Here I've been working hard ever since to come up with something good, and you just walk out on me?”
”I do not! I have made one, I swear it!”
”Oho? Sing it then.”
”...After you.”
”Nar, you first,” he grinned.
”It is not very good,” she whispered with a blush.
”C'mon, you're the poetry-master here, not me.”
”You wanted this, it is only fair that you start.”
”Awright, awright, fine!” Graznikh got to his feet with an embarrassed little grin. Then he crouched down on all fours and stretched his fingers.
”Gotta get into the right mood,” he murmured. Whindaër watched as he prowled here and there, close to the ground as if tracking something. Then he pulled both his knives and began to spin, leap and crouch in a strange dance, slow at first but the more he moved the faster he did so, working himself into some kind of trance. Then all of a sudden he stopped, staring at her as if he saw her for the first time, and began to chant in a hoarse growling voice.
”Over mountains tall, through the forests deep,
Through the fens an' bushes an' stones.
Where'er your pathway winds, I'm too close behind
I've followed ya through dark nights'n years.
You've escaped me yet, but I'm beyond regret,
Saw ya many times just outside my reach.
Fuck the time I've spent, fuck the lives I've rent
All paid for this sweet reward.
But every wind'll turn
So come, my dear, let's burn!
Instinct an' lust an' bloodthirst,
Distinct upon a strong gust!
A tickle an' a caress
When the wind carries your scent
To me...”

As he trailed off, he pounced her unexpectedly. Whindaër cried out and fell flat on her back; Graznikh hovered above her without touching, held up only by his fingers and toes, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before lowering himself down on top of her with a purr.
”And now I've caught ya, my sweet prey. What'm I gonna do with ya now..?”
He grinned as he felt her answer through the bond. He badly wanted to fuck her one last time, but such activities out in the open were bound to attract unwanted attention. Their time was running out, no matter how he wanted to forget it.
”Can I ask you something?” Whindaër whispered.
”Sure.”
”When we wed... Did you see anything?”
Graznikh frowned. ”Whaddya mean?”
”When our bond formed. Did you see anything in your mind's eye, feel anything that was not of the here and now?”
”Yeah, a world o' pain.”
Whindaër looked away. ”...I see.”
Graznikh cocked his head as he sensed her disappointment. ”What? What'd ya expect?”
”I did not expect anything, only...” She fell silent and sighed as he nuzzled her ear.
”What'd ya see?”
”...There was pain for me as well. Darkness and a strange fire, so intense that I dared not look upon it. But there was also life, I felt so alive, so careless and free.”
”Told ya you need to be more here'n now,” he whispered. Whindaër smiled and he felt himself fall like a stone.
”But you felt nothing of the sort?”
”Aye... But not like that. At first it was like needles pierced my eyes, white light, I'd never seen or felt anything like that before. Then t'was like... Well, like time moved and stood still at the same time. Or maybe it moved, but I stood still and saw it passing by. And I was fine with that.” He looked into her eyes with such intensity that Whindaër could not look away. ”I was fine with everything so long as you were near.” He rested his cheek against hers. ”Still am. I don't wanna let ya go, âmbal. Don't wanna ever let ya go.”

After a little while, he looked up with a big grin. ”But now it's your turn to sing! Ya can't wriggle outta this one.”
Whindaër let out a jokingly exasperated sigh. ”Very well, you shall have what you desire!” She sat up and cleared her throat; Graznikh remained lying and made himself comfortable in her lap. Then the Elf's clear voice rang out in the early morning.

”Now who can douse the fires
You lit for fun and games?
Now you cannot say what you want
And how much you dare to give.
But your games held me captive
I dared not understand,
That in your eyes lay eternity
And no fear would stay your hand.

Shall it die
By the cruel hands of fear and hate?
And who taught you what surety is like?

And who can douse the fires?
You fight for what you need
But if you will not give some back
There is nothing left for me.

The rain falls on our fires,
The wind tears us apart,
And in the wind the fires dance
That are fueled by the embers of time

Can it die?
I hear the echo of my own voice
And the silence that frightens me is yours...
We have many flaws
But still we must go on
Wherever lived the warrior
Who never stayed his arm?

But still you were the fairest
When nothing held you back
I hide you in my dreams at night
And remember all that I lack.

Who can die?
Simply fade and cease to exist
When you've left a trace in someone's life?

Who can die?
Simply fade and cease to exist
When you've left a scar in someone's life..?”
Graznikh was overwhelmed with disappointment, loneliness and hurt as she fell silent. So that's it. As clear an answer as I'll ever get, I guess. ”So... this is 'bye' for good?”
”Not for good,” Whindaër whispered. ”How could we ever truly part when we are bound together?”
”'S not the same,” he muttered.
”I know... but it cannot be helped. I have no choice. We have no choice.”
”Doesn't make this shit any easier...” He pressed his forehead against hers. ”Go learn how to be a proper fighter, âmbal. And remember to practice. I'll test ya proper the next time, make sure ya didn't grow lazy.”
”I shall look forward to it. And you will stay alive; do not abandon me for some foolish insult or other.”
”Promise. Got more to live for now than just myself.” He grinned as they got to their feet, but it was a hollow grin. ”Gon' miss ya, Elf.”
”I will miss you too, Orc.” Whindaër turned to leave. Just before she entered the woods, she stopped. ”I believe I have found a fitting epessë for you,” she said softly, ”but I am afraid it is quite long.”
”Doesn't matter,” Graznikh said with a meek grin. ”Lemme know.”
”Hravan yë cola endanya raccarya.”
”What the everloving fuck does that mean?”
Whindaër smiled. ”Wild beast who holds my heart in his claws.”
The grin that Graznikh had worn to mask the pain of parting fell off. ”Do I?”
She nodded and gave him one last smile. ”Namárië, hravanya.” Then she was gone.
Graznikh whimpered as he watched her go, then he turned towards the montains. One step, then another. Every muscle, every joint, every nerve and every fiber of his body screamed at him that he was making a mistake, that letting her go was idiocy. That he should be going after her, take her in his arms, hold her close... And then what? Take her back to the band, where we'd both get raped, tortured, butchered an' eaten? Follow her back to that haven where I'd get killed an' used as fuel for the smithies and she'd get shunned by her tribe, if not killed as well? Skai, kill me if ya want but don't hurt her! I don't ever wanna see her cry again... He sighed as he picked his bag up.
Maybe it's better if I just stay away. Better for everyone, except us. But I don't wanna hurt her, and I don't wanna die fighting a battle I know I can't win. He threw one last look at the forest before he took off running.
I'm sorry, little wind. This 'raven' won't fly back to ya 'til he's strong enough to peck out the eyes of those who'd give us shit for bein' who we are.

NOTES:
Queta! – Speak!
Istan nal tanomë – I know you are there
Epessë – lit. 'after-name', a name given later in life, usually as a title of admiration and honour but sometimes chosen by the Elf who carries it.
Hwindë – whirlpool
Skai bâl azgonûb karkû – bloody Void-cock
Bâl azgon – lit. 'mighty nothing', the Void
Golug makatok – Elf slut

The roll Graznikh teaches is a parkour roll. Great how-to video here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgPd29MlHpg
Graznikh's song is inspired by ”Vittring” ("Scent") by Raubtier. Whindaër's song is inspired by ”Vem Kan Släcka Elden” ("Who Can Douse the Fire") by Nordman.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Wolves And Shattered Shields