~ Wynne gets a chance to study an uruk-hai more closely and Thranduil tries to get more information. Later Wynne and Legolas talk about fear. ~

26. New Babysitter

The lovely aroma of roasting fish woke Wynne the next morning. Sidra and the children were already up, she could hear the little ones giggling and running around outside. It was sunny and warm, the clouds finally gone, and she decided to bathe before breakfast. Perhaps she should even take the time to clean her spare clothes; they always smelled odd after being worn in the rain.

In the creek, Nugu was busy rubbing elvish hair oil into his black, waist length strands under the watchful eye of Galion. That product was really becoming popular. The uruk-hai was temporarily free of his bonds again and Wynne dismally noticed how swollen and red his wrists had become.

After what she had overheard yesterday, her curiosity about the uruk-hai had increased considerably. She had mostly spent time with Sidra, not really paying much attention to her husband, but now she subtly observed him while soaking her laundry.

He wore only underpants when he bathed, unlike the elves' habit of keeping their shirts on, and was unabashedly exposing his massive legs and broad chest. The thin, welt-like scars on his back drew her eye again. He must have been suffering a severe whipping some time in the past which further added to the compassion she had begun to feel for him.

Though Wynne had never been whipped, she had tasted belts and switches countless times and knew what agony they could provoke. The mere thought of being beaten until one's back was bleeding made her shudder.

"I suppose a shave is out of the question?" Nugu looked quizzically at his guard.

"I am afraid it is. We cannot let you have a knife."

Having been around elves so much lately, Wynne was not used to body hair, and on Nugu there really was a lot of it. His chin sported stubble long enough to almost be considered a beard, and his legs, arms and chest were covered with black bristles.

It suited him – somehow hairs went well with that gray skin tone – but made it harder to grasp he was almost her age. His facial hair in particular made him look older than he was.

Sidra came sauntering by. "I found the perfect babysitter for Muzadi and Rohi." She nodded behind her.

Wynne looked and almost dropped the laundry in surprise. Thranduil sat on a stone with an orcling on each knee, bouncing them up and down while he mimicked a horse. He even made clip-clop sounds though it was hard to hear over the boys' happy laughter.

"If I had not seen this with my own eyes I would not have believed it possible." Galion shook his head in amazement. "Thranduil hates orcs."

"Perhaps he's beginning to understand not all of them are bad." Wynne thought of her own conclusion last night.

"About time," muttered Nugu, but she saw the pleased smile on his lips before he hid it under the usual scowl.

"Mmm, you smell lovely." Sidra had stepped close to her husband and pressed her nose to the nape of his neck while stroking his bare back.

"I borrowed some oil from the elves. For the hair." Still unbound, he was free to put his arms around her and did so.

"I must get the recipe." She grabbed his elvish looking ears and pulled him down to an intimate kiss. That woman certainly was not shy.

Galion went cherry pink and didn't seem to know where to look, but Wynne was getting used to her friend's openness. It was refreshing, really. Why should she not show the world how much she loved her husband?

It did make Wynne a bit jealous though that they could be together despite the race difference.

oOo

At breakfast Wynne noticed Thranduil's eyes resting on the half-orc thoughtfully, as if he saw him for the first time. Nodir must have passed on what he had learned last night, then – unless Thranduil had been eavesdropping as well.

When he spoke his tone was conversational and unusually mild to be him. "We always believed Saruman's remaining orcs and uruk-hai were drowned during the destruction of Isengard. How did you and your friends manage to survive?"

"We had already left by then. Deserted if you will." The uruk-hai's frown had grown deeper than ever, making his forehead protrude in a not so attractive way.

He really should smile more, but then, Wynne figured, being Thranduil's captive and anticipating the death of your friends probably didn't offer much reason to.

"Hm. How many of you are there?"

He didn't reply.

"I guess I shall soon find out." Thranduil's voice had become a degree colder.

After a short silence he tried another question: "How did Saruman manage to procure the orc's allegiance in the first place?"

"How should I know? Maybe he tricked them with dark magic, or that sweet voice they say he had – or possibly they were just damn bloody fools. I'd say the latter."

"Nugu! Watch your mouth." Sidra had demonstratively put her hands over the eldest boy's big ears.

"Sorry." He looked a bit sheepish.

Thranduil paid no attention to the interruption. "And then he started breeding his elite troops – you. How did the other orcs take it?"

"They hated us. And feared us." He paused. "Come to think of it, they probably hated us because they feared us."

"Did you give them a reason to?"

Again there was only sullen silence.

Thranduil bore his eyes into him, clearly beginning to lose his patience.

"Ahem. Everybody finished yet? Maybe we should get going." Galion seemed anxious to break the tense mood.

When they were on their way again some time later, Sidra and her husband took the lead, riding so close together their legs brushed against each other's horses. They were discussing something earnestly, Sidra gesticulating and Nugu's forehead furrowing in apparent annoyance, but their voices were low. What were they arguing about?

Wynne nudged Vatna to fall in step with Legolas' mount. "Can your elven ears make out what they say?" she asked, feeling cunning.

"Afraid not. They speak Haradrim, I think. Rude. That would be like us speaking Sindarin to cut you out."

"You did that." She smirked. "When we had just met."

"We did? How impolite. But then, we treated you very unkindly in the beginning." He smiled apologetically.

"You were never unkind."

"If so, it was probably because I was impressed with how you handled–" He broke off, nodding meaningfully in the direction of Thranduil. In a group of elves, everything one said could be heard by the others, but by omitting the name he avoided drawing his father's attention to their conversation.

"It was all pretense," Wynne admitted. "I doubt if I would have dared to be that bold now. I knew so little then." She sighed at the thought; she had been so young and yet it was not long ago. Much had happened since.

"You would. You are not afraid of anybody."

"I'm afraid of orcs – wild ones, not Nugu."

"Orcs do not count, everybody fears them." He smiled wryly. "You heard him, even orcs fear orcs."

"Do you?" Wynne peered at him curiously, thinking of what Nodir had said last night.

"Kind of," he mumbled after a brief hesitation. "I am dreading the day they win. In every fight there is a risk, a possibility that one of us gets killed." He toyed with a strand of Stelpa's mane. "I am afraid to lose a friend, or my father... or–" He glanced at her. "...someone else I care about."

"I fear that too. I hated every time you found a new orc nest."

"Death is so final. I wish nobody would die." He sighed heavily, then looked directly at her. There was great sadness in his eyes.

Wynne felt a lump in her throat. "You lost someone."

"Aye." Before he could elaborate they were interrupted.

"Troll! Troll ahead," Galion bellowed.

Legolas was gone in an instant, lithely swinging off the horse and running ahead, bow in hand and an arrow ready.

Numbly she started after his retreating back, his words ringing in her head, ominous and frightening.

In every fight there is a risk, a possibility that one of us gets killed.

A/N:

Wars and fighting never amount to much good. :/

Thanks for the comments, I really love feedback.