The Black Heart

Chapter 6: Familiar Face

AN: Actually, less Geth in this chapter than I thought. Saving his big scenes for next time...

She dozed lightly, leaning her head against the cool, slick wall of her cell. Her rear was killing her. Even with the bedding provided, the floor seemed to press right up into her body. Hayley stretched her legs and her knees popped with a loud crack. Crossing them again, she quietly regarded the red headed woman glaring at her. Aud was kind of a cunt. At least, when Hilda was more coherent, they were able to make the horrors of this place fade away with idle conversation, speaking of their life before this terrible place, but Hilda hadn't been coherent for nearly six months. The pale haired woman lay motionless on her pallet, her belly a large mound, her icy eyes staring at the ceiling as if she could see into the void.

With a long sigh, she turned her attention to Aud and smiled brightly. "So," Hayley started, searching for something to say. "What did you do before this?"

Aud's glare morphed into horrified indignation. "How can you sit there and speak of nothing?" she gasped. "Don't you realize where we are?"

Since she arrived here two months ago, this had been her general response to anything Hayley thought to say. She had held this woman after her first two druggings, but when the third came, after she still had not conceived, she pushed Hayley away; convinced, somehow, that Hayley had as much to do with her situation as the orcs that guarded them.

"I'm just trying to pass time," Hayley shrugged. She gestured to the catatonic woman in the corner. "Hilda isn't quite as chatty as she used to be."

"You're one of them," Aud said darkly.

Hayley scowled at her. "Quit saying that!" She gestured to her growing belly. "I'm stuck here just like every other woman!"

"You're friends with that orc…"

"She's stuck here too!" Hayley snapped, feeling defensive at the mention of Bidush. "Listen," she huffed, "if you don't want to talk, then fine, sit there and stare at nothing." Crossing her arms, Hayley turned away from Aud to stare at the door. Their medicine would be coming along soon anyway, and after that, their lunch. She had been starving lately, just as she was with her last pregnancy, and the thought of a plate filled with half-raw meat was enough to make her mouth water.

While she waited for the door to open, Hayley could feel Aud's accusing glare boring into her skull. She felt resentful. Hayley would give anything to get out of this place, to not have a half-orc whelp growing in her belly. She put a protective hand on her abdomen as the baby tumbled. She wasn't entirely comfortable thinking of her child in that way anymore. It's not as if it was this child's fault for coming into the world in such a terrible way. If she could ignore the horrible place she was in, and the horrible way it was conceived, she felt she could actually grow to love it as hers. Thinking of Bidush's excited jabbering about her own progeny, Hayley smiled a little. She immediately frowned. She hoped Katag would be by, so she could ask about the orcess. That awful man had better not have hurt her.

By the time Hayley heard the loud clanking of the locks, she was surprised Aud had not glared a hole into the side of her skull. The door swung open and Hayley frowned at Dezek's familiar, beaked face. "Arright," the small goblin sighed, pulling three vials from the basket she carried. "Time fer yer medicine."

"I am not drinking that," Aud said darkly.

The thick hiss of Dezek's familiar snarl echoed around their cell. Hayley gave the woman a hard look. "Just take it!" she snapped, annoyed, before the gobliness could say anything. "They'll force it if you don't."

Aud pointed an accusing finger at her. "You're working for them!" she raged. Dezek, her snarl dead in her throat, glanced from one woman to another.

"I'm not working for anyone!" Hayley shrieked. "I'm saying it for your own good."

"You want me to end up like her!" Aud snarled pointing at a non responsive Hilda.

That logic baffled Hayley utterly. "Why would I –"

She never finished her sentence. Aud launched herself at Hayley and it was all the woman could do to shield herself from her larger cellmate's onslaught. She screamed and turned to shield her belly as Aud's fist connected with the side of her face. There was an orcish squawk, and another blow struck her in the back of the head before a low bellow echoed around her and Aud's body was pulled off. Peeking out from behind her arms, Hayley found Aud pinned by her bicep to the far wall by a large male orc with a look very similar to Bidush. The red headed woman squirmed in his grip, but he was strong enough to hold her with little effort. She wailed and struck against his massive forearm. The orc glared as if she were an annoying bug.

Dezek patted the male orc on the small of his back. "Thanks Orug," she sighed. "That one's a bit too big fer me." He glanced down at her with an acknowledging grunt.

In a whir of wide eyed terror, Katag came barreling into the cell. "The fuck happened?"

"This one," Dezek pointed an accusing claw at Aud, "made a go at this one." She pointed to Hayley. "An' she were tryin' ta help too. Told the idiot ta take 'er medicine like a good girl an' the bitch went shit crazy on' 'er."

Katag approached and took Hayley's tender jaw in her clawed hands. The orcish midwife lightly touched her cheekbone and Hayley flinched. "That's gonna be a bruise," Katag said matter-of-factly. "Is what Dezek said right?" she asked, eyeing Hayley thoughtfully. "You was helping?"

Remembering Aud's accusation, she scowled at the midwife. "I was trying to help her," Haley said defensively. "You'd just hold her down and force her to drink it anyway. It's not like I haven't seen you do that before." She glared darkly. "It's not like you haven't done that to me before."

"But now you know better…" Katag said, returning her glare.

Hayley firmed her lips together and said nothing. She should fight this more, shouldn't she? But it seemed foolish. Not when there were still avenues to explore that were not so futile. She glanced at the massive orc pinning Aud down and then at Hilda, who had not moved the entire time, her chest rising in slow, long breaths.

Katag picked one of the vials off of the floor. Turning to the male orc she growled, "Orug, hold the bitch down." Orug pulled Aud off of the wall and, grabbing both her arms, pinned her flat against the floor. Katag pointed to Dezek. "Open her mouth." Dezek pried Aud's jaws apart as the woman wailed and thrashed helplessly. Katag poured the liquid down her throat and clamped her mouth shut, covering her mouth and rubbing her throat. Aud wept and wriggled, but she swallowed.

Haley looked from Aud, remembering herself in that position, and then to the open door. The orcs were all occupied. A brief idea of escaped flashed in her mind, but she was rooted. Where would she go? They would catch her in a second and then all her hard work for easier treatment would be done. There would be no opportunity to escape then. They would force potions down her throat and tie her down and she would be a thousand times more miserable than she was now. And what would Bidush do? The poor orcess would be more alone than ever, with just that hairy little maniac to keep her company.

Katag rose and turned towards her, and any opportunity to escape was gone. The large male released Aud and she shuffled to the back of the cell, shaking and furious. She was being pulled to her feet, and before Hayley knew what was happening, Katag was leading her down the corridor of cells by her elbow. The giant male orc followed their brisk pace at a respectful distance.

Hayley glanced at him and then at the small orc midwife. Katag had a grim, determined look on her face, and a little thrill of fear raced up Hayley's spine. "Where are we going?"

The orcess did not answer. She led her up a short flight of stairs and down another short hall. They rounded the corner at a dead end, and then Hayley was released. She stood for a moment, mouth agape, staring at the small room Katag had led her into.

It was narrow, but deep, about twice the depth of her cell. The walls were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, filled with containers and pots and baskets. Several varieties of herbs hung above. There was a long, low worktable on the left, covered in bits of dried petals and stems and leaves. Hayley eyed the set of shining knives hanging over the bench. Glancing behind her, she realized the massive orc male was just over her shoulder.

"Sit," Katag ordered as she pulled a metal teapot off of the low, open hearth in the back. Her eyes darting, Hayley spotted a short stool by the table and sat. Placing the kettle on her workbench, Katag used her long arms to swing to an upper shelf and retrieve a small canister. Hayley watched silently as the gobliness worked: pouring boiling water into a bowl, emptying some of the canister out, and pulling a small roll of thin cotton from another shelf. Before she knew it, a smelly, warm poultice was placed against her cheek.

Katag's eyes darted towards the male orc. "Go on, Orug, I got this." The large orc grunted and shuffled off.

She eyed Hayley appraisingly. "What'd ya do?"

"What?" Hayley blinked. "I didn't do anything! It's just like Dezek said, I told Aud to take her medicine. She's been paranoid since you put her in there. She thinks it's poison you're giving us."

The midwife frowned thoughtfully. "And that's it?"

"That's it! I swear!"

Katag glanced at Hayley's growing stomach and then her face. Reaching up, she took Hayley's hand and readjusted where she was holding the poultice. "Can't put you back in there with her," the orcess mumbled. Katag met her eyes. "You an' Bidush get on real well, don'tcha?"

"Of course we do," Hayley said. "Who couldn't get along with her?"

"Yer real protective of her, I noticed," the midwife went on.

Now, fear gripped Hayley for a new reason. "Katag… did something happen to Bidush? Did that… awful man injure her?"

The orcess huffed. "Nothin' like that. I went ta check on 'er this mornin' an' he were back in there. She looked… tired." A firm look gripped the midwife. "He ain't got no business buggerin' her when she's this far along, but she lets him in 'cause she's lonely." Katag fixed her with a shrewd look. "So, I'm thinkin' now, since you ain't gettin' on with yer penmates…"

"Oh," a little bubble of hope welled up in Hayley. "I would love to keep her company!"

"But," the midwife added sharply, "I better get no trouble from you. You been good lately, but you better not be fillin' her head with thoughts of gettin' out. Yer both dead, if you try at that. You hear?"

"I would never do something so foolish," Hayley promised.

With the swiftness of a viper, Katag gripped her jaw like an iron vice. "I mean it," she hissed. "I don't want that fucker diggin' inta her, but you better not do the same. If you do," the orcess squeezed a little tighter, and Hayley let out a small cry of pain, "I'll pop you like a tick. You get it?"

"Yes!"

Katag released her and stepped back. "Good," she said lightly. Digging under her bench, Katag produced a collar and proceeded to clip it around Hayley's neck.

As they made their way down the series of corridors that led to Bidush's cell, Katag quietly praised herself. This could work out well. Hayley would look after Bidush, they would keep each other company, and the woman would be the best Geth repellant there was. Katag was already in a foul mood after her fight with Gijakzi this morning, and seeing the outlaw, grinning and smug, when she made her rounds nearly sent her into a rage. The wizard might not give two shits about the well being of one she orc, but Katag felt bad for Bidush. She was too young to be strung around. An older, more experienced orcess would know how to handle a man like Geth, and Katag wouldn't have worried, but she would not stand by while one of her females was blatantly taken advantage of. There was a real affection between Hayley and Bidush, that much Katag could tell. She just needed to make sure the woman kept her fanciful ideas to herself. They were all stuck here. They might as well make the most of it.

Stopping before Bidush's cell, Katag quickly unbolted the lock and swung the door open. She blinked a little at what was inside. Bidush was standing on her tip toes, stretching towards the ceiling, her round stomach bulging. Katag had never seen anything so silly. The large orcess froze and looked down on her guiltily. "Bidush," Katag said, bemused, "the fuck are you doing?"

Dropping her knuckles to the ground and rubbing her neck sheepishly, she blushed. "Bidush stretch," she mumbled.

"Oh," the midwife blinked. "Well, that's good fer ya! Real smart." Bidush brightened at her praise and Katag pulled Hayley into view. "Look who I bring ta keep you company."

Bidush's whole face brightened. "Time for exercise?"

"No…" Katag said slowly. "She's gonna stay in here with ya. Her penmate got too rowdy, an' I think she'll be safer with you."

Hayley gave Bidush a little wave. "Hope you don't mind," she said in a small voice.

A grin split the orcess's face. "No mind!" she said, prancing towards the door and taking Hayley's hand, leading her inside. "Enough room for two; Bidush and Hayley." Katag had never seen the orcess more excited. She felt oddly pleased with herself for making it happen.

"You two get on good now," the midwife said, shutting the door. Hayley gave her a nod, and Katag locked them in together.

Gijakzi grumbled to himself as he made his way down stair after stair to the dens where the adolescent Uruk hai were kept. He had a soft measure looped in his belt and a little pad for notes and now it was his hateful task to size up these uruks for armor. He could be doing a million, more productive things right now, but the wizard insisted. Practically made it an order. Gijakzi didn't see why they even needed armor. They weren't supposed to be sent out for several years. Their uruk trainer hadn't even arrived from Mordor yet.

As he passed through the stone archway leading to the uruk den, he glanced casually to the left. Even with a forge-burnt nose, he could smell the unmistakable stink of Man. In a gloomy corner was Geth, standing over a bound, gagged man of much taller stature. The man glared at him with defiant, grey eyes. Gijakzi recognized that mossy cloak immediately.

"What's with the tark?" he asked. Not that he expected the outlaw prick to answer him, but he was curious.

"A gift for later," Geth said with a disconcerting smirk. "After they are done with you."

Gijakzi scowled at him. "You mean when I'm done with them." He stomped past Geth, steaming. Dragged down here like some bloody tailor… who did these brats think they were?

The dens for the older Uruk hai children were a series of large rooms and connecting hallways that Gijakzi had designed to work similarly to the holes dug out by mountain orcs of Nûrn. At the moment, these dens were quartered off with a large metal gate which separated them from the nursery and the upper levels, but Saruman had been insistent that the uruks would be able to come and go freely, eventually.

Gijakzi's thoughts went back to what Katag had told him: that the wizard wanted them to think like they were tribe. A tribe indeed! Tribes assembled based on mutual benefits for several clans, and – unless they had bloke with real weight behind him to lead them – orcs rarely gathered in larger numbers than several dozen. It just wasn't practical to have more folks together than that. The food and space required to keep everyone full and happy would be astronomical, and the available game in an area would be wiped out in a few years. That's what a good chunk of these idiot northern goblins had managed to do to themselves, and why many of them had joined up with the wizard, looking for a steady meal. It nearly made him snort out loud. His folk in Nûrn did not have the luxury of mannish villages and traders to rob, or fat, dwarvish snacks scurrying in nearby holes. They had learned to show more restraint over the years, had even learned to engage in more amiable trade than many of the Misty Mountain orcs; because if you were raiding, then you were raiding orcish neighbors, and that could lead to a blood feud that lasted generations.

Saruman was planning to hold an army worth of soldiers and breeders down here. What a bloodbath that was going to be. Not that Gijakzi gave a shit either way, but thinking about the extensive renovations needed to keep all these uruks was enough to give him a headache. Gijakzi wondered how Saruman planned on feeding them all. The Dunlendings sent tributes often, and the Angmar lads were fairly good hunters, but the head smith didn't think that would be nearly enough; unless these Uruk hai planned on eating each other. Not exactly the type of behavior that built tribal alliances.

He stormed through the lower dens, and as he approached the rear chambers, he was aware of low, growling voices. Gijakzi had to admit, he was curious. Katag had said these were big sprogs. The oldest of them couldn't be more than fourteen, since that's when the first Angmar girls started showing up. He wanted to see why the wizard was so keen on this pack of half-man brats.

Pulling the heavy key ring from his belt, he unlocked the large, iron gate and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. Gijakzi half expected the smug, grinning face of the wizard to greet him, but Saruman was absent, most likely conferring with his illustrious ally, or plotting some scheme or another, or floating about the tower being generally creepy. He really didn't know what the fuck the wizard did when he wasn't around.

In a little cubby to the right, there were a trio of adolescent females sitting in a half circle, and Gijakzi paused. Katag was with them, sniffing around their flat stomachs, and the goblin smith balked a little. Were they breeding these girls already? Female orcs that knew what they were about didn't breed for a good few years after their first heat. It was just too risky. Did that shit wizard want to lose half his breeding stock in one go? Saruman was an aloof, out-of-touch fuck, but Katag should have known better. Frowning, he loped towards the group of them. The goblin midwife glared at him over her shoulder. Apparently, she was still miffed about their argument that morning.

"Oi," Gijazki said as he approached them.

Katag gave him a cool look. "Oi," she said, gathering up her supplies and packing them away.

Gijakzi looked over the three Uruk hai girls staring at him curiously. They didn't smell pregnant, or in heat. Actually, now that he was so close, he was a little startled to realize that he could smell no man in them. Half orcs had a distinct scent that marked them, but these females bore no scent of their mannish heritage. They smelled like full blooded orcs. The smith quietly frowned; that was odd. He wondered how the scrawny old fuck managed that.

They were big girls, too. Young, but already broad shouldered with wide hips. They sat straight-backed, and Gijakzi noticed that their arms were more mannish in proportion, shorter to their bodies, comparatively, than any other orc he had encountered; and their feet were more mannish too, with no side claw that gave orcs their distinct, grasping toes. They were topless, which didn't phase him – he'd seen a pair of tits before – and the only adornment on them was a small, silver tag, with a series of numbers scratched into the metal, stapled in their right ears. Gijakzi remembered making those, but not numbering them. It was the wizard keeping track, he supposed.

They had a superior look about them, even if they couldn't be more than fourteen. The largest of them grinned strangely. "You look different than the other snaga," she said coolly.

He scowled at that. "I am," he said with a sneering smile. "You call me snaga again and I'll break yer fucking jaw."

The three uruk hai girls blinked at him indignantly, and the larger girl snarled, standing suddenly. "Oi!' Katag hissed, slipping between the uruk female and the head smith. "None'a that! The master don't want you fightin'."

"Let 'er go, Katag," the head smith growled, rising to his full height. "I'll teach 'er some fucking manners."

Katag whirled on him. "You ain't here ta cause trouble!" she snarled, pushing his shoulder. "Go do what you came ta do, and quit screwin' around. I had enough'a yer shit today!"

He dropped to his knuckles. She was really pissed. He ducked his head in reproach. "I'm sorry fer what I said afore," he rumbled under his breath. "I lost my temper, an' shouldn'ta taken it out on you."

Her spiteful glare softened a bit, but didn't disappear entirely. "You should be," she mumbled and glanced over her shoulder. The Uruk hai girl was sitting again, staring at them but remaining silent. "We'll talk later," Katag told him. "The lads're in the back. Well, what's left of 'em."

Gijakzi raised a brow at that, but Katag didn't elaborate. She turned to leave, and Gijakzi gave the Uruk hai girls a final, heartfelt sneer before heading further into the den.

A line of eight lads were standing at attention along the far wall. They looked properly roughed up, with scrapes and welts that suggested they had seen a good fight. Standing with her back to him was a tall, thin uruk, and Gijakzi immediately recognized the strong, narrow build of a easterner; a girl from Rarmoz Mal. She wore a sickle sword on her belt and held a long, metal staff that was splattered with dried blood. She wasn't as tall as the Uruk hai lads, but Gijakzi had met enough eastern warriors to know she didn't have to be. It looked like their Mordor trainer had come by after all.

As he approached, he caught her scent, and his past came up to hit him like a slap in the face. He couldn't believe it; of all the people to send… "Ghaashrak'Hasat?" Gijakzi addressed her in the proper fashion among her folk. Unlike her father, Hasat had always been a bit of a traditionalist.

She turned to regard him over her shoulder, her hazel eyes knowing. "Gijakzi," she said, in the detached, even tone he always associated with her. "I had heard you were sent here."

He glanced at the lads lined up on the wall. They looked like they were waiting on an executioner. "Just this eight, then?" he asked, wanting to keep this business-like. The last thing he needed was to get in a long conversation about the past in front of these boys, and he imagined Hasat was of the same mind, if she was training them.

She smiled darkly. "Their master had me cull the weaker ones," she told him, her accent round and purring. "I imagine, he does not want me to kill them all, so you are here to clad them."

Gijakzi could almost feel sorry for these boys, but really, he felt more sorry for that tark they would get to after. He wouldn't want to be that ranger after these kids had been beaten down like this. They would be looking to pay back that humiliation on someone.

He approached the first in the line. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the ground in front. Obediently, the Uruk hai sat, his movements stiff. Gijakzi pulled his small notebook from his belt. "What's yer name, then?"

"Uglúk," the boy answered, his rough voice weary. He had a good sized gash on his temple, and there were claw marks across his neck and chest that had been salved, but he was in a bad way, bruised all over. It looked like he had barely made it out of his first "training" session.

The smith made a few, hasty marks in his book. "Arms out, boy," Gijakzi instructed, and the uruk winced as he reached out to the sides. Stretching his measure from armpit to elbow, Gijakzi took his measurements. "You havin' Katag see to them after?" he said to Hasat, making idle conversation as he worked.

She snorted. "There will be no medicine woman with them on the battlefield. It is draught and salve while they train with me; stitches, if I feel generous."

The wizard must not be nearly as keen on these lads as he thought. Ghaashrak'Hasat was going to lose Saruman a good number of soldiers while she was here. "Yer gonna run outta boys ta train doin' that," Gijakzi said.

"This first group is not many," Hasat admitted. "But their younger brothers will quickly join them, and then we will see how great are the 'fighting Uruk hai'." There was a sarcastic edge to her tone, and the lads along the wall shuffled uncomfortably. Gijakzi liked the Rarmoz Mal folk more than he liked most uruks, their number consisted of some of the best orcish craftsman – including Hasat's father – but all uruks thought the same: they all believed they were better than everyone else. Black Uruks imagined themselves the strongest; Eastern Uruks, the most skilled; Gijakzi didn't know what bend these Uruk hai would have, but he was sure it would be just as uppity. He wondered why they didn't all get into a room together and fight it out once and for all.

He finished the first Uruk hai boy's measurements, and moved along to the next. He worked quietly while Hasat kept her hawk eyes on the lads as they stood tall. A few of them looked near ready to drop. Gijakzi squared up the last lad and tucked his things away, ready to leave these poor kids to their hard fisted teacher. To his surprise, Hasat moved to leave with him, and the uruk boys sagged with relief.

She banged her metal staff hard against the floor and they jumped to attention. "I leave you now to your other teacher, but tomorrow, I reduce your numbers by half. Decide tonight, which one of you lives or dies." A blinking anxiety passed along the line. Gijakzi shook his head, and walked away.

Hasat was at his side with a few, long strides. The goblin smith raised a brow at her. "Reduce their number by half?"

A knowing smile lit her thin lips. "Of course not," she scoffed. "I am not so wasteful, but tomorrow I will let them live, and they will be grateful for my generosity."

"How many'd you end up killing today?" Gijakzi asked, curious.

"Only two," she replied lightly, "but that was enough to get their attention. This wizard might have done well to teach them a little humility."

The goblin snorted. Humility indeed, as if Hasat had any herself!

They passed the bound ranger and Geth at the entrance, and Hasat favored the outlaw with an acknowledging tilt of her head. "They are free to play," she told him, and cast a cruel smile on the ranger. "It is a shame for you, tark, that your sword was not quicker."

The ranger glared at her with furious grey eyes as Geth dragged him to his feet. "Much obliged, heart," the outlaw said with a cheerful smile. The ranger made a move to strike Geth with his boot, but his legs were manacled, and Geth slammed him hard into the wall, stunning him, before manhandling him towards the back. "Now, now," Geth said, his tone stern. "There's no point in that."

"What's that about?" Gijakzi asked as they continued down the corridor.

"Ah," Hasat purred, flicking her thick, greying braid over her shoulder, "I came across that man and his dwarf companion on my journey here. They followed me for half a day. I ambushed them when we came upon the forest."

"I wondered what that were about," the smith said. "Buncha lads come runnin' inta the forge with a hairy little tark on their backs. Said they caught 'im themselves, the liars."

Hasat waved her hand dismissively. "Let them say what they like. The little tark was a simple matter, he swung his axe without thought, and I incapacitated him easily, but the ranger…" she smiled salaciously. "He was a challenge. I think I may enjoy the war to come. I would not mind fighting more of his kind. I have heard of the men of Numénor only in legend."

Gijakzi shook his head at her. "Cocky bitch, you be careful what you wish fer."

She grinned at him. "As if they could hope to stop us. Age has made you humble, Gijakzi."

He glared at her. "Age 'as made me cautious, you stupid twat. I'm surprised it ain't done the same for you."

She laughed, a warm, rumbling sound. "I have missed you, cranky goblin. I am pleased that time has not softened your tongue."

"Yea, yea," he grumbled, feeling a blush form. How did this bitch always manage to catch him off his stride?

"So," Hasat said conversationally, "How are Korklûb and Hinagir? Did they come here with you?" Gijakzi stopped dead in his tracks, and though he said nothing, his grief must have shown somewhere, because Hasat's face morphed into a concerned frown. "Oh," she said quietly. "I did not know. How…"

"The breedin' pits," Gijakzi snapped.

Her frown deepened. "Oh…" She swallowed roughly. "It is a regrettable loss. I was fond of your shaûk, and your daughter as well."

He glared at her. "Let's not harp on it," he growled, continuing on. "It happened a while ago."

"Of course," she said, regaining her composure. She reached down to pat his shoulder.

Gijakzi sighed. "Am I gonna run into the same trap askin' 'bout yer dad?"

"My father lives," Hasat assured him. "Though long in fang, Ghaashrak'Kor is as hale as he ever was. He still speaks fondly of his favored apprentice."

"I bet 'e does, the bastard," Gijakzi grumbled. "After all the work I done fer 'im. Where's 'e at? He head ta Mordor proper yet?"

"No," Hasat said. "The Call is weak in the east, and he is still needed in the city. There has been much growth there, since Goiruk has become a center for all trade moving through Nûrn. I traveled with a caravan of merchants as a guard, and was appointed this task when I arrived in Lugbúrz." She frowned thoughtfully. "They have done the plains of Gorgoroth no favor."

"Hurr," Gijakzi growled. "Give it a few years, an' you won't be able ta see the sky at all, what with how Mount Doom keeps spewin' smoke." They reached the forge gates, and Gijakzi reared up, giving Hasat a poignant look. "You shoulda stayed in the east," he told her.

"A storm approaches, Gijakzi," she said with a hungry look. "I will not hide in my house and bar my windows against it, like a frightened child. I would be the wind itself."

"You fuckin' easterners an' yer poetry," the goblin sneered. "This is gonna be a bloody mess. I got this sick feelin'... what they're doin with the girls here… what they done in Lugbúrz…"

"We are the fist and boot of our Master," she said. "Sacrifices must be made. When we are done with the west, the world will never be the same."

He couldn't believe that kind of drivel would come out of her mouth, but he shouldn't have been surprised. The uruks of Rarmoz Mal were just as devoted to the Eye as the uruks of the Ash Mountains, more even, since somewhere in their history was mannish blood. They always seemed to be making up for their balaak ancestry. Gijakzi spat, furious with her. "That's what I think a yer fuckin' boots," he said, sneering. "I didn't figure you fer a bloody disciple."

She frowned at him. "And I did not think you a heretic. Careful, Gijakzi, you are here by the leave of our mighty lord. You have a job to do, and I am here to see that you do it."

He knew it was suspicious that an easterner was here. Why not send a Black Uruk captain? Because easterners were clever cunts, and that's who the Eye wanted snooping around. "I knew you come fer more'n just trainin'," the smith rumbled, glaring.

Ghaashrak'Hasat smiled darkly. "All will be revealed in good time, old friend," she said. "Just see that you do your part…"

Ramroz Mal is the orcish word that refers to the eastern section of the Mountains of Shadow (Ephel Dúath), the mountain range that divides Nûrn and Khand. (You can reference the Splint Map for this, but keep in mind that the distribution of orcish and mannish populations reflected in that map are post-war. I will be working on a TBH prewar map in the near future.)