It seemed to take hours for all of them to be satisfied. The bloody globatish shuffled down the tunnel, often pausing to lean weakly against the wall as he went. He would be safe in the barracks; his pizbûr saw to that.

Aching in every limb, he struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Not for the first time, he longed for death. At times like these, the fear of it was outweighed by the promise of relief. But only for a moment. What if the fate that awaited Orcs in the next world was worse? What if the abuse he suffered was merely a taste of what was to come? The snaga assured him that his kind, unnaturally bred and birthed in foulness, would suffer greatly. There would be no rest, no relief, no ending to the torment.

So he carried on. He grit his teeth and took it. He survived, hoping the next round would be his last, yet dreading it even so.

As he'd hoped, Graursnaag, another globatish, was here. Like all of those pressed into the service, Graursnaag was nervous and wary. He looked past the Uruk anxiously, making sure he wasn't followed. Sagging against the wall, he tried not to show how glad he was to see him.

"Come along," Graursnaag urged, motioning to the injured globatish. "In here."

He forced his legs to follow in Graursnaag's wake, ducking through a tight, low-ceilinged cut in the rock wall. Beyond lay a nest of sorts; a place to hide and heal. Though he was pleased by Graursnaag's presence, he hid it well. They were Uruk-hai, after all. No favor was given unpaid for, not even among globatish.

"Got some salve put by," Graursnaag told him as he spread out a ragged blanket on the stone floor. "Got gagged hard for it, but it's good shit."

"Graur," he said cautiously. "I can't... I can't."

"Pssh," the Uruk snorted, waving away the globatish's discomfort. "Lay down. I'll see to yuh."

Bowing his head in defeat, he unbuckled his kilt with slow, shaking hands. He could feel the blood and seed drying on his thighs, making them itch. He hurt so much... But he'd endured it before. Many times, he'd been had outside the mess hall, and once more by the privy less than an hour later. He no longer counted the number of Uruks, or how many times each one used him. If a moment's peace and the use of Graur's salve were to cost him another humiliation, what did it matter now? He dropped the kilt on the floor and knelt on the blanket.

"Nasty-smellin' shit," Graursnaag muttered, wrinkling his blunt nose as he cut open the stopper on a small pot. "Does the trick, though." Turning to the globatish, he nodded once. "Go on."

Gathering himself for the inevitable, the globatish lay flat, and parted his legs. He held his breath and clenched his teeth in anticipation.

"Ah, they fucked yuh up," Graursnaag murmured sympathetically. The globatish started when he felt the Uruk's rough-skinned hand, coated in salve, slide between his buttocks. "Yer torn up a bunch. Hold still. It'll sting, I'll warrant."

"I thought... I thought you would...," he stammered, then sucked air through is teeth as the Uruk's fingers rubbed the salve into the tears.

"Sorry 'bout this," Graur said softly, ignoring him. "I know it hurts. Can't be helped."

After a few minutes of the Uruk's treatment, the salve's numbing quality took effect, and the pain lessened. The globatish let out a long sigh of relief.

"Any time they have at yuh," Graursnaag told him, "you come see me. And... I'll come see you when it's my turn, eh?"

The globatish nodded.

"Feel better?"

"A bit. Thank you." He felt Graursnaag's hand pushing his leg, and jerked a little.

"Sorry. I done all I can. You can close up." Seeing the globatish's curious look, he shrugged. "That don't have to be the way it is, not 'tween us." Ducking his head, he busied himself replacing the stopper on the pot of salve. "Guess I, uh... feel like I know yuh. Like... you and me should be... friendly."

The globatish slowly turned on his side and regarded his fellow. He'd felt something similar, and nodded with recognition. "Yes. I feel that, too. Was it... sudden?"

Graursnaag nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I remember lookin' at yuh and just... I wanted yuh." Furrowing his brow with frustration, he added, "In a different sorta way. Not like all'uh them do to us. I mean... like this." Reaching out, he slowly drew the backs of his fingers down the globatish's scarred cheek. "And like this." Lying down, he faced the globatish on the blanket and awkwardly wrapped an arm about his waist, taking care not to scrape the globatish's sensitive skin.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed in Graursnaag's embrace. This was what he'd wanted as well. He slipped his arm about Graur, and inched closer. He could feel the Uruk's member hardening, but his own lay silent, as it had for almost a decade. For the first time, he wished it would waken.

"Narbûf," Graur murmured, nuzzling the Uruk's ear.

He furrowed his brow. "Where did you hear that name?"

"It's yours, ain't it?" Graur replied. A slight smile curved his mouth. He gazed with half-lidded eyes at Narbûf. "Yer pizbûr ain't my pizbûr. I don't have to call yuh by that stupid name he gave yuh. Yuh ain't broken, Narbûf."

"I am not worthy of the name," Narbûf said tightly.

Graursnaag shook his head. "I think yuh are, so I'm usin' it, if it's all the same tuh you."

Narbûf clenched his jaw and tried to look away. A lump had risen in his throat, and hot tears stung his eyes. Inches away from Graursnaag was not where he wanted to lose his grip.

"Hey now," Graur said softly, pressing his cheek to Narbûf's. "Long as you keep drawin' breath, yuh ain't defeated. These pigs can't do us in. Not me and you, not now. We're gonna make it, right? Graursnaag's with yuh."

"And... Narbûf's with you," he replied fiercely, holding the Uruk close.