Chapter Text
Sregze was a goblin like any other. Specifically he was from a little smattering of cave systems in the White Mountains along some land no one had any interest in. At least he used to be. He was alone so he didn’t bother to hide his limp. That fucker of a tark thought he got him, thought he killed ol’ Sregze by getting the artery in his leg but the little shit missed. But Sregze was the only one who was so lucky. His family, his children, all of them gone. They’d never bothered anybody. Men didn’t even know they were there or so they thought. Their tribe was not those of Moria or Goblin Town. They farmed mushrooms and raised goats and sheep. Sregze groaned and collapsed as his foot got caught on a root. The sun was making it harder for him to see. His eyes better for darkness that sunny days. How long had he been running? He doesn’t rightly remember, he only knows to head East. He might find kin in the East. The war is over, the orcs of Mordor lost but the land is still their home, right?
Looking down at the wound on his leg he hisses. It doesn’t look good. But he was a blacksmith not a healer. He didn’t know herbs or spells or anything like that. But still he walked, for what? He didn’t really know, only to head East. Maybe to warn others? He’d have to know where they are to do that. Tribes who want nothing to do with Sauron stay that way by keeping separate. Can’t lead your enemies to another tribe if you don’t know where they are. Sregze got up and started walking again. At least he was in a forest. A forest was better than a field, too open, too exposed, too bright. He didn’t like them. There was something in the air, a smell of an animal. He couldn’t quite pinpoint which one till he tripped over it in his fevered haze. The baby boar squealed loudly when he heard the bone in it’s leg snap. A great huff and stomping had him up and running for his life.
Nestoriel, mother of three and long separated from her husband wasn’t having the best morning. Rats had gotten into her grains, practically ruining them. Which was why she was chopping up herbs for soap. She’d wanted to travel to the mountains on such a lovely day to gather some rare herbs. But instead here she is making more soap. Nestoriel’s mother had been a midwife and healer and had taught her the trade. But after Pelennor Fields she’d rather avoid blood as much as possible. She still gives out remedies and harvests herbs but has taught a few younger women of the village her trade who hadn’t been scarred by that field of bodies. It may have been a victory but the dead are still dead, and Nestoriel remembers many of them. The ones who died of their wounds after the battle were the saddest, they’d won but reaped nothing for it.
Cleaver in hand she wondered if her good for nothing husband bothered to write back to their daughter? Though technically they were never married, marriage was expensive, especially for a couple of teenagers. Both of them should’ve listened to their elders rather than jump feet first into a life together. She knows now they weren’t that in love and had hardly known each other. She had been charmed by the first person to show interest in her and he the first girl to like him back. By the time they had money enough to get properly married they’d had three kids and with the war looming they’d stayed together for fear of them being alone should the war end badly. But it didn’t and they’d been changed much by it. Nestoriel much less tolerant of his disrespect and him much less interested in being with a woman who was sour to him. So when they’re kids were old enough to move out he’d gone with their sons to Minas Tirith to join the guard with a nice new employment. While she kept the little house that her grandfather had built.
She’d been so lost in thought by the time she heard it coming and looked up to see what was making such noise the door across the main room burst open. Frozen with cleaver in hand she watched as an orc burst into her home, panting. Before she could think of what to do he’d ran up to her.
“Give me that.” And he pulled the cleaver from her hand.
A crash and the screaming of her chickens were the only warning for the great beast of a boar that ran into her home. Smashing one of her dining room chairs into pieces as it charged. But the little orc threw her cleaver. The boar made no sound as it got struck deep in the eye but that of it’s body collapsing and sliding across the wood floor towards them from the force of it’s massive body. The little orc next to her panting still. Nestoriel could see that the orc was soaking in sweat. How long had he ran with that boar chasing him? His way to big eyes rolled till they found her.
“Hold on a minute.”He said, hand on her counter to steady his swaying body.
With him standing so close she could smell infection on him. Looking him over he was dressed better than she’d expect from an orc. Wearing a thick leather apron that had a major slice through it. Black liquid was oozing into his boot from his thigh and under his torn and mud caked trousers. She recalled that orcs bled black. She’d certainly seen enough of it at Pelenor Fields to know it was true.
“You’re wounded.” She stated.
He looked at her, his eyes clouded with fever, “How do you even get that tall.” He said as if he hadn’t heard her speak.
The orc looked like he was about to collapse where he stands.
Feeling that she owed him for killing that boar ‘though she wouldn’t have been in danger if he hadn’t ran into her home’ she thought.
She decided to help the orc. Walking around him like having an orc in her home was normal she pulled out a chair and gestured for him to sit. He took it, sighing as he sat down and tried to catch his breath. she handed him a glass of water before going to get her supplies. Going back into her main room she was almost surprised he was still there. Some part of her had expected the chair to be empty as if this had just been an elaborate dream from her lonely mind. He was sitting back like he was on the verge of falling asleep. Setting down her stuff next to his feet her hand on his leg had him jolting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked
“I was going to heal the wound you obviously have a fever from.” Netoriel stated.
“Maybe I don’t want your help.” He said with little heart in it.
“Well if you don’t want my help you might as well just leave then.” She said moving to pack up her things.
“Wait, wait,” He said grabbing at the sleeve of her dress, “Fine, I’ll take your help.”
She sat back as he kicked off his boots. But getting his pants off turned out to be harder than she expected.
“You can’t expect me to heal a wound I can’t even see.” She argued starting to wonder if this was worth the effort.
“I don’t want you staring at my privates.” He said.
“I’m not gonna stare. Trust me the last thing I wanna look at is an orc childs genitals.” Netoriel said, her annoyance growing with the pool of boars blood staining her wooden floor.
“I’m no child. I bet I’m older than you.” She sighed, of all the things she expected of her life arguing to get an orc to take it’s clothes off was far from her predictions.
“Listen either you let me look at it or I don’t heal it. I can’t bloody well treat a wound I can’t see.” She’s had children be less difficult than this.
With a sour look on his strange features he shimmied down his trousers. One hand clasping at his genitals like he thought she was gonna rip them off. Now able to see it she was amazed he was not only alive but had run with this kind of wound. It would need to be stitched shut and the slice was dangerously close to that vital vein in ones thigh. First things first she cleaned it. His strange black blood staining the rag and trailing down a chair leg to drip onto the floor. She was surprised he wasn’t grumbling at her about the pain till she looked up and saw he was asleep. With it cleaned thoroughly she stitched it closed and wrapped it with the proper herbs and such to fight off the infection. Only time would tell if it would clear up. Tying it off she stood. Now what should she do with him? Looking to the monster of a boar taking up much of her house she heard some squealing from outside.
The squeals bolted Sregze awake. Terrified of another boar getting the jump on him. Looking around the tark was gone, leaving him alone in the chair with the pig corpse. The small squealing was coming from outside, it certainly wasn’t the sound of an adult, but of course the babes followed their mother. Standing up his wound throbbed but felt less painful than before. He went and pulled the cleaver from the boars eye. It didn’t take him long fishing around her kitchen to find the knives to properly dress the kill.
The piglets were roaming about her busted yard. One of them with a broken front let. Several of her chickens were wandering away with their fence trampled. With a sigh she went about putting up some temporary holdings for her fence and catching her lose chickens. If she wanted to keep the piglets she’d need a proper, sturdy fence for them before they got dangerously big. But for now they were cute and harmless. She’d never splinted an animals leg before but she’d give it a try later. For now she had the mess in her kitchen to take care of. Going back inside said mess had grown. The orc was elbows deep into the belly of the boar pulling out it’s guts all over her floor. She would have said something in her anger if she hadn’t noticed how he already had the legs off and cut up on one side in the thirty or so minutes it took to patch up her fence.
So she sat back and watched him butcher that boar in a timely manner. organs, legs and head removed. She couldn’t help but wince at how harshly he was using her good knives. She stayed silent till he stood holding the torso in both arms.
“Put that down, you’re gonna bust open the stitches I just gave you.” She commented amazed someone so small could hold something so much bigger and heavier than he was.
“I’m fine this is nothing, now where you want it?” He asked.
Her mouth went into a line of annoyance but she decided to drop it, “I have a smoke house through here.” She lead him outside and to her small smokehouse.
It wasn’t anything fancy but it had held up over the years. They went back in for the legs and head. She wasn’t a fan of eating the heads of things, seemed much to personal for her but he said he’d take it if she didn’t want it. Back in her home she looked down at the creature. He was certainly very different from the orcs she’d seen at Pelenor Fields. For one he was so short, like a child, she’s never seen an orc child before. Another was his disturbingly large eyes and ears. His ears made her think of bat wings with how they moved, almost more expressive than his strange face. His nose was nothing more than narrow slits with no size or shape to it at all. His mouth seemed so small till he spoke and it seemed to spread open, full of sharp teeth. His skin was a ghastly shade of gray. It had an almost blue tinge which gave her the impression of stone. She thought of offering him a bed but thought better of it with how terribly he smelled covered in blood and sweat. Nestoriel was not in the mood to launder all those sheets.
“If you take a bath first you can go and rest in my guest room.” She was surprised when he didn’t argue that with her.
She’d always been told that orcs didn’t like water or being clean but after she heated some water for him he went about bathing himself in her sons old room without complaint or incident. As for clothes she didn’t have anything that would fit him. All her kids having been grown for almost a decade and their kids clothes either turned to rags from the wear and tear or given away. So instead she gave him one of her shifts. While he bathed she went about trying to scrub all the blood out of her floor. Since it hadn’t sat there for long it hadn’t dried yet which made it easier to clean up than she feared. Going in to grab his dirty water he certainly looked much improved for the bath. But he also looked ridiculous in her spare shift. It was much too big for him. He gave her a glare at her amused expression but didn’t comment on it. When next she checked on him he was sound asleep with his back to the door. Looking at him she had to resist the urge to go and tuck him in. The shape of him in that bed reminding her so much of when her sons had been that size.
With the clean up from that mess done she felt a weariness weigh her down. What was she thinking letting an orc sleep in her home, healing it even? It seemed a ridiculous thought but so easy to do in the moment. His appearance was far from pleasant but she could not only see the intelligence in his eyes but hear it in his words. He was no animal and if he had wanted to harm her he certainly had the chance when he’d taken her cleaver or even later as he had her knives laid out while carving that boar. Still she knew this wasn’t something she should tell the villagers about. Right now she was thankful for her solitude. The closeness to the mountain made for easier access to rare herbs which is why her grandparents had picked it. Her family a line of healing women. The villagers often worried about her safety, being all alone. But she rather liked the quiet and was glad she wasn’t going to have to worry about nosy neighbors dropping by and seeing an orc sleeping in her boys old room.
Looking to the herbs she’d been chopping she realized she still needed to clean all the knives before she’d even be able to finish chopping since he’d used about every knife she had. No one wanted blood in their soap. With a sigh she went about this chore, her thoughts on the strange little orc in the other room.
End of Chapter 1