Private Tales Out of Place

[Scabhair]

She waved it away as she stood. “If not today it would have come out tomorrow. The spirits know neither shame nor mercy.”

It had been hard then, and time had only dulled the physical pain. Even though she was mourning the loss of something she’d never had, the ache was there all the same.

“I will try to let him down easy,” she said, the uptick to her mouth lending just enough mirth to the words to underscore their double meaning. “Thank you for the welcome.”

The sun would soon dip behind the horizon, and Lessat would chase after like a dog on the heels of its quarry. In the morning it would rise breathing down its neck, blood already spilling across the sky.

Despite the somber turn of the conversation, Scabhair practically vibrated with excitement at the thought. The morrow would see them all bathe in the light of the stars.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Kardidua followed her eyes to see the pair diving for the safety of the horizon. It seemed they were far enough apart that the two would not commit the deed hiding from view beneath the world. The shamans knew better and said it would start in mid morning. They had arranged the camp to ensure they all had a view from in front of the pyre.

The chieftain touched curled fingers to the bottom of her jaw. Dismissing a subordinate, but she then smiled and offered a nod of respect. She was both, always, but not always on the surface. She didn't know Hath as well as she might have liked, but she had never picked up much of an interest in children from him. She selfishly kept the thought to herself. Regardless of Hath's thoughts, she did have a vested interest in that bloodline continuing.

Stepping away, she put her other face back on. Leaders of other tribes were arriving and there was plenty to prepare.


Hath was to their east, within sight of the tent. In the short time he had found his uncle, who had a small fire burning to sear some rabbit he had killed. This time the family resemblance was clear. His uncle had a slightly longer face and more hair but the common blood was easy to see. He was busy giving Hath an account of all he had missed in his time away.

 

[Scabhair]

No more words were exchanged, because no more were needed. Kardidua departed for other duties, and Scabhair meandered past the tents and the fires to the one where Hath and his uncle were watching a rabbit sizzle its fat away.

She slowed down once she got near, unwilling to interrupt the jubilant words flowing between them.

Well, in one direction, anyway.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Scabhair, Ghawek," Hath said, pointing to each in turn. He then waved towards the fire so that she knew she was welcome to join them for the meal. Ghawek bowed his head with the gesture, customary for the one who had brought the kill to offer permission too.

"Good to meet you," Ghawek said. Somewhere further into the area provided to other tribes a group had found song. Spirits were already rising. Hath and Ghawek both smiled at the sound, a taste of what would come. In the darkness only Lessat and the burning pyre offered light. Hath could almost smell the burning pyre and the sweet smoke of the shaman's herbs.

"Hath told me of your travels north and I was telling him of the last few weeks."

 

[Scabhair]

Once she made sure her shirt was back in place, Scabhair stepped into the pool of light and sat on the other end of a fallen log they were using as a bench. She leaned forward to grab the forearm of the other orc and thank him for the meal they would soon share.

Spirits, but that rabbit smelled delicious “Spice?” she offered before Ghawek launched into another tale, fishing the bound bundle out of her pack after she set it down at her feet.

“You are the head hunter?” Many markings differed tribe to tribe, but the symbol of the crossed half-moon was as ancient as the people themselves. There was no time in history where orcs didn’t hunt.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Throw it on quick," Ghawek said, not wanting to overcook the rabbits. "And yes, I am, and it has been a busy time," he said. There were similarities in the hand gestures he used as well. It was obvious who had raised Hath.

Hath managed to look ever so slightly sheepish at the comment. He had done some work to help prepare but more would typically have been expected of him. The clan would range far and wide and they were accustomed to not seeing him for long periods. Not as often as this recent sojourn, which had prompted Kardidua's questions. Turning up immediately before the Rites had tickled his uncle.

"Hath has promised to make it up to me. I did train him to be one of my best trackers and archers after all. That's why he has a good chance of coming out second best in the shooting tomorrow," Ghawek smirked as he challenged Hath to complain with a glance. Some of the conversation Scabhair had missed was revealed with the jibe. Hath having told Ghawek that she was indeed the better shot.

Hath shook his head, grinning at the fire. He had been entertaining irrational thoughts that Kardidua was going to rescind her invitation to Scabhair. Now he was curious what it was about, most likely an attempt to recruit her. Everyone knew you didn't go prying into the Chieftain's conversations.

 

[Scabhair]

She laughed a little as she scattered the pinch of spice over the skewered rabbit. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. He would’ve come straight back from Amol-Kalit if I hadn’t dragged him up to Elbion.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a fighting chance.” Her silver eyes danced as she glanced over to Hath, a smile curling her lips until tusks peeked out. “He’s been good company and help on the journey. You’ve taught him well.”

Instruction and teaching were well-respected among the orcs of all tribes. Knowledge was passed down from parent to offspring, from master to apprentice, from chieftain and shaman to the tribe.

“Will there be dressing and butchering tomorrow?” Her next words were for Ghawek again, curiosity replacing the grin. Perhaps someone had even gone to collect the fresh carcasses from the human camp? She tried to tamp down her excitement at the thought.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath managed a mildly abashed smile at her answer. He peered at the clutch of rabbits, considering taking them from the fire.

"Want to show your skill at that too?" Ghawek asked. "It will take place with the last of the light. Have to make sure there is meat ready for the after the singing. "I don't know why Hath could never really slice the best cuts of meat cleanly."

Hath shrugged as he leaned over the fire. He wasn't the most delicate with the knife when it came to stripping a carcass but he made do. Better to get a but of gristle with the meal than to go hungry. He licked his fingers and took a wooden stick from the flame, choosing the most plump rabbit and offering it to Scabhair. If Ghawek minded, he didn't show it.

There were now a handful of human corpses on the way back. Not a single elf had been left at the site of the battle. Though the scouts would not describe it as a battle, but a slaughter.

 

[Scabhair]

She meant to answer when Hath offered her the rabbit, and then all thoughts of conversation were gone in favour of fresh, dripping flesh. The skin had been burned to a pleasant crisp, keeping the juices inside so that the meat came off tender and bleeding off the bone. Scabhair closed her eyes and savoured the flavours.

“Good catch,” she said before snapping the bigger bones and sucking out the marrow. “And yes. You’ve curious beasts here in the savannah. I should like to see what they’re made of.”

The crocodile had proven interesting indeed, and no doubt a large pasquak wouldn’t disappoint. She would write down her findings, filling more pages in the codex.

“It is not so important in the wild, but I do enjoy a good dressing if I am home.” It was mindless, calming work, much like chopping wood or making arrow shafts. Putting roaring thoughts to rest was sometimes all she could do.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Ghawek nodded. "Makes sense. You'll see more of them crossing north in the wet season."

"Oh, we killed a crocodile," Hath exclaimed barely covering for his half full mouth.

"Fuck off!" he uncle protested.

"No, really. Well Inodeirr - that's the gathamhr I told you about - did. Must have been what, three metres long?" he asked Scabhair. He had entirely missed that part out in recounting their journey back and it was one of the pieces that would be most shocking to members of his tribe.

With such a small morsel of meat, his tusks did very little to help with the meal. He always found rabbit pleasantly gamey without being too strong. A little spice went a long way.

 

[Scabhair]

“Two and three quarters,” Scabhair agreed as she licked the last of the molten lard off her fingers. A good meal after a day of hard work; that was the life.

“Ino got lucky,” she added after a moment, having studiously retraced the memory. “The beast was busy mauling a pasqak. She turned it over and tore out the soft throat. Then she kept the pasqak.” To the victor the spoils, after all.

“Do you have any other fierce predators like that around here?”

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Well, I'm not about to try rolling one over to try it myself," Ghawek said. "Our regular sized lions are dangerous enough. Might not notice you're being hunted until its too late."

"Savanna trolls are absolute bastards," Hath added. "They come out in the wet season, about as hard to spot as lions until they stand eight feet tall and rush at you."

"What did the crocodile taste like?" Ghawek asked. He assumed they had eaten it and clearly wasn't ready to let this topic of conversation go yet.

"Like...fish pork?" Hath replied, looking to Scabhair to see if she had a better description. He turned to licking his fingers clean. He kept the rabbit bones. They were the delicate kind the shamans liked to use for various charms.

 

[Scabhair]

She’d thought she knew more words than Hath, but it turned out she had nothing better to supply in this instance. “That sounds about right. Cuts like it’s lean but then the fat just seeps out. I don’t know if I’d risk hunting them for the meat alone, but if you ever happen upon one…” she trailed off, smacking her lips. “Definitely worth the bastard of a time we had skinning it. Those scales would make for a mighty good shield cover. I doubt even dwarven steel could bite through that.”

His earlier words kept her interest, though. “How does eight feet of troll sneak up on anything? The ones we have up in the Reach and the Spine couldn’t stalk a rock.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Sneak on all fours. Got pale yellow mottled skin with moss growing on it," Hath explained. His uncle gave an enthusiastic nod of agreement as he finished his rabbit.

"Even over the head. The damned moss and crap seems to match the colour of the scrubland."

Symbiote was a long word that Hath definitely did not know. Scabhair might have done.

"They jump up and suddenly you're got a mouth the size of your head full of blunt teeth coming at you." Hath grimaced. He could remember when Tarn had been wrapped up in a trolls huge arms. He had screamed up until it crushed his chest and chewed through his head. "Took five spears through the chest to kill the last one I saw."

"We spotted one a month ago. It ran off, riddled with arrows. Don't think it died," his uncle added. "Thank you for the fire and the words. I had better go see what Kardidua has planned for me next."

Hath stood and the pair grasped each other around the next and pressed forwards together. Ghawek turned to Scabhair and offered an arm.

"Good to meet you. If I am back from duties I will try to see you shoot."

 

[Scabhair]

She clasped the proffered forearm with a firm grip of his own. “Thank you for the meal and the knowledge.” With a nod they parted, and Ghawek disappeared to join the chieftain in the central circle.

Scabhair turned to Hath with a thoughtful expression even as she picked a stuck tendon from her teeth. “Anything else we’re meant to help with?” The food had returned some of the energy they’d wasted that afternoon. Might as well make herself useful before they passed out from exhaustion. The coming day would be long, full of blood and sweat and ash.

A good night’s sleep was a must.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath shook his head. It was mostly elders planning now. It he had been given any specific duties then perhaps there might have been, but he had turned down the offer to help Ghawek with the tracking challenges. He had done that for the last two ceremonies to keep pit of the way.

Bringing his arm across his chest, his worked his thumb into a knot in his shoulder. He rolled the shoulder around and decided that would do. Even after all the manual work an orc's muscles recovered quickly.

"In the morning we get our bows ready. Go to the big clearing in the middle of the village not long after sundown. Shamans will have prepared paints. Join the women and someone will help finish your back and face. Your tribe paint themselves for the Rites?"

 

[Scabhair]

She listened in silence as she packed up, then shook her head. “Pigment is hard to come by in the steppes. What we have we use for dyeing leather and fabrics. Doesn’t leave enough of it for paints.”

The markings they bore were permanent instead; under the skin rather than on it. “We set up sweat lodges and go as naked as the spirits made us.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Maybe the elves let us stay because we like wondering south to pick flowers," Hath said. His tone made it very difficult to tell if he was being serious or not.

"No one will have on anything but paint by the time the fires are lit. Loincloth is usual for the shooting line," he said. It seemed important to explain their customs. There was no need to have cocks swinging about in the breeze and a line of arse during the competition.

The stars were coming out of their hiding now. An ethereal screech rang out.

"Grass owl," he explained. "What's a sweat lodge?" he asked. It seemed a most peculiar phrase.

 

[Scabhair]

“That must be it,” Scabhair deadpanned in turn. “The one we met looks like the sort to frolic through meadows in his spare time.” Hunting humans, maybe. City people held plenty of stereotypes, but she’d never heard so many starry-eyed misconceptions as she’d had in regards to elves.

They started back for the tent as light steadily seeped from the world, leaving only the pinpricks of stars above and the fires below.

“It’s a yurt of sorts. A tent. You have to build it properly or you end up choking on the smoke.” She gestured through the air to illustrate the curve the saplings had to take. “Our shaman leads the cleansing rites as we make ready to welcome the new season.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

He recalled one of their earliest conversations where she had challenged his stereotypes of elves and they had spoken of orcs dancing to the fires and elves reciting poetry. He smiled to himself. They had been travelling for some time now and he had grown quite fond of them travelling together.

"Tomorrow we will all gather when the big drum starts to beat slowly. They will pass the bowls of smoking herbs. Take it in two hands, bring it to your chin and inhale," he said, mimicking the gesture. "Just take half a breath at first and see how it works with you, then pass it on. If you really want to bring vision talk to one of the clan shamans before they start to lead the chanting. I expect each tribe will try and drown out the voices of the others."

Hath supposed a sweat lodge would be pleasant during the winter in the more temperate northern climates. One sweat enough on the savanna regardless.

He ducked through the first tent flap and picked up his bag to carry through the second. He could still hear some of the other tribes reciting the chants in the distance. They were likely teaching the younger ones at their first Rites the words.

Hath set out his bedroll the the left of the door. For once, in the safety of his own tribe, he did not place a short sword against himself. The knife he had bought from Pern was placed above his head, still within arms reach.

"Tomorrow will be a good day."

 

[Scabhair]

She nodded as they walked, taking care to memorise the steps he explained. Tradition and custom were important to orcs, and doubly so when it came to the Great Rites.

They puttered about the tent in the companionable silence they had developed during their travels. Bedroll unfurled and weapons set aside for the night, Scabhair let the exhaustion of the day settle on her bones.

“So it will. Rest well, Hath Charosh.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

True to Hath’s word the snack of choice was being seared in the pit. Dog was a fatty meat packed with flavour. With some spice saved up for the day applied before it met the flames it made a particularly tasty and portable snack. There were rough cubes of blood pudding too. The first event was completed, the day moving ever on towards the moment Lessat caught her quarry.

“Those were some exceptional arrows,” Hath said as he fell into step beside her. It felt like a lot more time had passed since the painting than the reality. He had seen several of his own tribe looking put out that two outsiders had been the final ones left on the line.

“I owe you an apology,” he said quietly. He could see the smoke rising from the firepits, smell the meat being seared. The last thing he wanted was to go into the Great Rites that that confusion still hanging between them.

 

[Scabhair]

Over the months of sharing the road with Hath, Scabhair had grown accustomed to his presence; had learned to feel it in the crowd without looking. He had a recognisable gait now, and a smell she could pick out despite the packed camp and hundreds of orcs, burning meat, and smoke that lingered on the air.

“Thank you,” she said after a beat, catching his smile out the edge of her vision. “The wind was good to me.”

She didn’t speak again until they’d pilfered a few skewers of dog meat for themselves and perched on a felled log off the main clearing. Once she’d washed down that first warm meal with a swig of mushroom ale, Scabhair set down the clay mug and turned fully to Hath.

“I told you to stop with that nonsense. Just talk to me.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

He nodded. She had told him to stop with the apologies, but upon reflection he had decided that he hadn't acted in an entirely honorable fashion.

“I did not say anything on the road over the weeks. And then I hid behind a custom that was not your own,” Hath explained. “That was not fair of me.”

Whilst the wind had been kind to everyone on the line, the saying was not literal. Instead he simply put a small wooden bowl with a few cubes of blood pudding between them. He couldn’t resist the delicious snack any longer.

“You would have had a few more after your right arm if they had seen you shoot before,” he chuckled.

 

[Scabhair]

“What’s done is done. No use moping about it.” Scabhair had always been closer to a summer storm than the long blizzards of winter. Whatever fury lingered she’d blown off by burying arrow after arrow in the targets.

Still, perhaps that needed saying. “I’m not angry with you, Hath.”

She glanced at him before popping a cube into her mouth. Leaning back against the log, Scabhair let the blood melt a little before speaking again. “Your mother might be, though. I told her I didn’t mean to keep you, and then…” she motioned to the paint on their arms, “well.”

Her nose wrinkled as she peered into the fleeing sun. The colours seemed that of a sunset even though it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Do you?” Scabhair met his gaze over her shoulder, silver eyes as clear as a mountain lake. “Mean to keep me?”