Private Tales What Does Not Kill Us

[Hath Charosh]

Hath watched her gaze carefully. He made a small smile to mirror hers. She accepted the hand on her shoulder and looked back at him before she closed her eyes.

In the darkness, his own gaze silently roamed. Hath took a slow breath, broad chest rising and falling. He felt the simple gratitude of her words, but he also couldn't agree that he always made things more simple.

"Mmm. And I can still feel anything because you came with me," he said quietly.

Hath shuffled his bulk slightly closer. With his right hand on her right shoulder, his left hand idly stroked across the new braids. Hath made a small sound of appreciation at the back of his throat.

"They seem honest people. But we watch out for each other."

 

[Pern]

Another nod of agreement, Pern's eyes flickered open at the touch of her braids. For the first time in several days her mind wandered back to the evening she'd rebraided his hair and the confession he'd made to her. Just more things muddled in among the rest now, Pern didn't feel she was capable of managing any one issue when so many had been brought to light.

After everything she'd learned today, what she really wanted was to return back to how she'd felt before then. Not to simply dismiss his feelings, but to be able to overlook them as a roadblock to simply being present in his company. Sure she had fumbled plenty of social gestures, but worrying about showing her teeth when smiling and not making too much eye contact felt far simpler than worrying about the complications of his feelings for her and his history with Scy.

Maybe it just started not with forgetting, but simply with moving on from the worry.

Being present. It was what she wanted, wasn't it?

"Did she do well?" Pern asked, her eyes glancing up as if to indicate the braids, "I feel bad ... I never did find wearing sho many braidsh very comfortable. How do the women shleep like thish?"

They pulled and pinched in places where they had been made tight so they wouldn't simply come undone.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Did she do well?" Pern asked, her eyes glancing up as if to indicate the braids, "I feel bad ... I never did find wearing sho many braidsh very comfortable. How do the women shleep like thish?"

"No? Hmm."

Hath glanced down at the braids. She seemed comfortable enough in the moment with his proximity. It caused feelings to swell up, but he continued to tamp them down. He had promised her time and they had been through a lot.

"Then they have been done too tight," he said simply. "We will sort this."

There was often a certain kind of finality to his statements. Humans from cities like Elbion liked to speak around their actions and feelings. Orcs were more direct.

He let go of Pern's shoulder and rose up onto his knees. Hath maneuvered himself behind her as he spoke.

"Here, I will help."

He set one leg on either side of Pern and sat behind her. She was relatively slender compared to his bulk and and it was easy to have her seated in front of him.

"This one is too tight," he said. "The girl tried. She does not need to know," he spoke with slight amusement as he started to unwrap the braid.

 

[Pern]

Pern wasn't certain just how long they'd been traveling together now. Six months? Longer? It didn't seem quite like a full year, but she hadn't been in one region long enough to experience the typical seasonal changes that Elbion did. Yet even just six months ago this sort of interaction would have left her furiously uncomfortable and blushing out of embarassment for lack of knowing what to do or how to act.

Now? This felt... normal. Natural, almost. Living within his clan had given her a view into a life where physical touch and language was simply the way. She had come to understand some, not all, of the nuanced gestures between clan members and had also grown an appreciation for it. In Elbion? No one wanted to touch her. Aside from the paternal affections from her father and the hands-on tutoring of her mentor at the Smithy, humans avoided her like some kind of infectious plague.

This was nice and would have been nice even if it were any other orc aside from Hath. But because it was Hath? It felt doubly so.

Pern pulled her knees up to her chest and loosely hugged her arms around them as Hath settled into place. She'd not seen him do a whole lot of delicate work with his hands - mostly she had seen him hunt and fight. He could skin a kill with quick ease and swing an axe with great power.

But braid?

"I did not know you could braid," she admitted with a small smile as he got to work fixing the first of what felt would be several over-tight braids.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hmmph," he went. "My fingers are not the best for it."

Hath took his time working free the first braid. When he finally made a start, he quickly worked his way up the braid. His fingers gently worked it free and drew the hair from the braid out into a long strand.

After all the tension and the drama, he was enjoying the quiet calm of the moment. Admittedly the quiet was slightly disturbed by the sounda that heralded Varga and Shari's own retirement. It was the mood of the moment.

Hath knew that there were many facets to being an orc. Sometimes it was being brace to fight for the tribe. Sometimes it was saying what you felt plainly.

At other times it was knowing that you had a safe place to sleep, a full belly and silently accepting that.

Hath stayed to braid his way down.

"They should not be uncomfortable at night."

 

[Pern]

His admittance made her chuckle.

"I don't shuposhe a warrior hash much ushe for braiding..." even a Scout, for that matter, though calling or referring to him as a Scout never felt quite right. Hath may have been very good at the role, but he had the heart of a warrior and the bravado to lead the charge. It truly was a shame he could not have taken a more prominent role in his mother's clan.

It felt terribly unfair and not for the first time she wondered if it hurt him to think on such things. If he was homesick for his clan and family. If he wished things were different. He could have been like Varga by this stage in his life and had a mate, children, and a clan to call home.

Maybe that was just her human way of thinking. Humans did like to feel their regrets and think on the past and what-ifs.

Pern lifted her arms to rest her elbows on her knees and shifted her hands to prop up her head from beneath her jaw. She watched the crackling of the bonfire beyond the tent flaps, her eyes finding the shadow of one orc left to tend the fire during the first evening watch. Even here in Wikkerton it was important to remain vigilant, it seemed.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hmm, a warrior has a need to not have hair in his eyes," he said. He made a quiet noise of reflection. That was, he thought, quite a weak explanation.

"Sometimes when there was a festival we needed to look good without bothering those with smaller hands."

He was quick to work a looser braid into her hair. He rested his left hand on her shoulder and quickly found another with his right.

"You had it up when being a smith?" he asked.

 

[Pern]

She supposed that made perfect sense. Being self sufficient was certainly an orcish trait and one that seemed to be part of their blood. Pern had learned early on not to ask others for help because more often than not no one would give her any.

"Yes," she nodded, "jusht ash you shaw me wear it in Elbion." A shrug followed, "I alwaysh wore it that way. It wash shimple and I had no reashon to look good."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"You had... Hmm."

Casual, thoughtless conversation took an interlude as he carefully considered his response.

He wanted to ask if she had reason now.

"Well it looks good either up or down," he said. That felt benign enough to carry on.

"There," he said as the second was finished. "Any others feel tight?"

 

[Pern]

For someone who rarely ever received compliments, hearing such things always caught her off-guard. Pern felt her cheeks grow warm, though not for the first time from something he'd said or did. She never knew how to respond to such things as out of practice for it as she was. A noncommittal hm was about all she could manage.

Her own hand moved up to carefully pat over the remaining braids, a slight wince of another that pulled too snug. She isolated it with her claws and held it out, "Jusht thish one I think."

After a few moments, her gaze trailed to her backpack, "Hath... do you know the date?"

 

[Hath Charosh]

He smiled behind her back, the sound in response to his compliment was little more than he expected.

He let his hand come to rest across her shoulder as she checked her braids. His thumb traced idly up and down. He could have put his hand elsewhere, but made the conscious choice to slide his hand down her shoulder and back up.

His fingers traced gently over the top of her shoulder whilst his thumb ran across her back. It was entirely selfish.

"Hmmph," he went and turned his hands to the braid.

"The date... No. I can think of how many nights since we left..."

It was difficult when they had moved across the world, by portal stone and gryphon, to keep track.

 

[Pern]

The hand and its petting did not go unnoticed, giving her pause as she reached for her bag when he took up the braid.

"Mmm," Pern said with a furrowed brow, "I have tried to track the daysh... but I believe I have mished shome along the way." So it would have to be an approximation. Or, perhaps, she might ask Varga in the morning if he or the elders knew. Though that may be less of a help than needed considering it seemed wild orcs kept track of the days differently. They were more intent on seasons and moons rather than specific dates.

How did they even keep track of birthdays she wondered.

Holidays? They had to have some way.

Maybe it didn't really matter, she concluded as Hath continued work on the braid. She knew Hearth & Heart Day was close, if not passed already, and she had planned to give him a gift she'd been working on since their time within Kardidua's clan. Hath probably had no idea what Heart & Hearth Day was, now that she thought on it. It was mostly celebrated by humans, though she had known elves and dwarves to recognize the day as well.

Pern heaved a deep sigh. This was too complicated.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"There were certain days you missed?" he asked.

The braid was quickly undone. He smoothed her hair through his fingers before he shafted to braid. He was going to have the scent of her close for some time.

He felt her sigh.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked. "Something you missed in Elbion?"

 

[Pern]

Regardless of her muddled thoughts, the sensation of Hath fixing her braid was soothing and nice. Prior to any time spent with orc clans, Pern could have counted on a single hand how many times a person other than her father had done anything with her hair.

Once at the hairdresser - a gift from her father when she was younger and one that she'd decided not to repeat upon watching the woman work around her as if she were working on some ungainly monstrosity. Another time when her hairtie had come undone in the forge and her hands were too busy to fix it, her mentor had pulled it back and braided it out of the way. Once or twice again by Scy during one of her rare visits to the city.

All in all, far too few.

"Mm," Pern mused, head tilting slightly while he worked, "there are... holidaysh we shelebrated. Feshtivalsh and shuch in Elbion. And ... birthdaysh, my own and my fathersh. But you do not recognize theshe thingsh in the tribe, do you?"

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath was taking his time on the braid. After this one he would retreat to his half of the tent and curl up. He watched the silhouette of her profile as she spoke.

"That sounds like a lot of counting," he reflected. "We celebrate times of the year. First full moons of the rain season."

"Did you miss a birthday?" he asked. "We could celebrate it."

He didn't know how that would be done in Elbion. Any coming of age ceremonies usually involved hunting, fighting, violent sports and fearing.

Hath finished the last of the braid. He set both of his hands on the ground behind him and leaned back.

 

[Pern]

Pern smiled, a sound of humor in her chest.

"We keep calendarsh deshigned by the dwarvesh hundredsh of yearsh ago. They tell ush the exact date for every day. The month. We can track our holidaysh very eashily thish way." Perhaps she should have coallated the calendars in her journal, that would have made things easier to track.

Alas, hindsight.

"I do not know my true birthday," she admitted, "my father found me when I wash a babe. We shelebrate the day he found me inshtead - that would have been sheveral monthsh ago. He would make a grand dinner, wrap giftsh, order a cake from the bakery."

Pern's brows lofted at that thought as she turned to glance back at him, "Have you ever had cake?"

 

[Hath Charosh]

She was using long words again. Hath leaned back, looking back at her as she twisted around to face him.

"I have seen cake," he said. He played her explanation of calenders around again and decided it was sometime to be seen to understand.

"Of course you did not know your birthday, I did not think," Hath admitted. He hitched up his left knee. He moved his leg to the right so that Pern could properly turn around to face him without being wedged between his thighs.

"Wikkerton market may have someone that could make a cake," he said. It was quite a naive offer when they had little to barter with.

"How did your father... No... We can talk of that another day," Hath said. There was no need for any more talk on where she came from.

 

[Pern]

Pern muffled a light chuckle at the idea of eating cake in Wikkerton for her birthday.

"Noh," she shook her head lightly, eyes narrowing in an amused thought, "shomething tellsh me that human traditionsh would be frowned upon here." A long sigh rolled from her nose as her own knees shifted to the side as Hath moved away, her hands reaching for her bag where she slowly began to sift through it.

"If my guessh ish correct, my birthday wash shome time ago. There ish no need to shelebrate now."

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath shuffled over to rest on his own bed roll. Amusement creased his expression. He thought of the weird and wonderful mix of Wikkerton residents as they sang human songs and made a cake.

He watched her as she started to sort through her bag. It was difficult in the close confines to show interest but not show his interest.

"What made you think of dates? You want to record the festival?" Hath asked.

 

[Pern]

Finding her journal, she pulled it from her bag along with the a stoppered inkwell and quillpen. The inkwell, she found with a furrowed brow, was running a bit low.

A nod answered him this time, "Yesh. I don't recall my father ever recording itsh likeness in hish notesh. He will be very pleashed to learn of it."

She moved now to lay on her belly with her journal propped just enough to catch the bonfire light coming through the open tent entrance. What she didn't want to say was that she thought she had missed Heart & Hearth Day and then, likely, have to explain the day to Hath in a way that wouldn't make her blush.

Cradling her chin in her left hand she began to scrawl her notes on an empty page with the right.

"I am running low on ink though..." she said after having to tilt the well to the side to get more from it.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Ink? They might have that," he said.

The rough dyes they made into body paint were apparently not suitable. Writing was rare. The manufacture of ink was therefore not widespread. She had explained the process, requiring sap and ground downnrusted metal.

Hath had enjoyed watching her write near the fire. The pass time fascinated him. It was if she ran through events a second time to organise them onto the page but also within her mind.

"I would get you more light. Do you have much to write?" he asked.

 

[Pern]

More ink would do the trick! It would give them a reason to finish wandering through the Wikkerton market tomorrow. Pern felt as though they'd merely scratched the surface, given how far the encampment beyond the town buildings extended.

"Oh, I'm fine," she shook off the offer of more light, "I may make a terrible orc in the wildsh, but I can shtill shee in the dark." A clawed digit pointed at her saffron eyes crinkling over a smile before she looked back down to the page she'd started writing on, "No, shouldn't take too long. Do not let me keep you awake, though."

She wanted to slip his gift and the note out while he slept. Hath had proven to be a light sleeper for good reason - a scout had to be able to wake at the slightest sound of threat, but over the months he'd grown accustomed to the sound of her late-night journal entries. An errant scratch of a quill or gentle sounds of her sorting through her bag did not often wake him fully.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hhmph, turns out you can make yourself a good Orc," Hath said.

"Not all orcs must fight."

He silently reflected for a few seconds.

"I am good at surviving alone. I am a scout."

Hath made himself comfortable. His parents had been warriors and leaders, not scouts. His uncle had taught him that it was his path as it had kept him out of danger following the death of his father.

His breathing slowed and he rolled onto his back. There was a strong tribe around them. He didn't know if he could trust them, but he felt safer tonight than he had done in some time.

---

To: Hath Charosh

A cloth wrapping containing a hand forged and crafted hunting knife with a staghorn handle, sized to fit a certain orc's grip near perfectly. A heavy leather sheath with a bone attachment that allowed it to easily be slotted onto a belt or strap guarded the razor sharp blade.

With it a note torn from the page of a journal:

I'm not even sure if you can read this, but I made this blade for you while we stayed with your mother's clan. Took time to finish it - I would work on it while you slept. Thank you for everything you have done for me and seeing me through what has been the greatest adventure of my life.

Pern

Hath woke when the light was a dull orange filtering in through the tent. He slowly lifted his head.

Pern had her back to him. Her shoulders and arm free of a blanket.

As he drew himself up he placed his elbow against the roll beneath his head. Something felt too solid. He lifted it, then unrolled it until he found the cloth wrap.

He looked at Pern, watched as she moved slowly. It was the pace of breathing when she was fast asleep.

Hath carefully picked the edge of the cloth and unravelled it. He gingerly unsheathed the knife, testing it's edge with his thumb.

She had once provided a skinning knife from her shop. This was a much finer gift.

Hath sat in silence for some time, looking at the letter and willing the words to take shape. His gut churned with a confusing mix of emotions.

Should he ask the tribe if they had a writer? It was unlikely. Did we want someone in the town reading Pern's words? He decided that he did not.

Hath turned and sat crosslegged in the tent. He waited for Pern to wake. She would see the tender affection on his expression as he waited patiently with the knife across his lap.

 

[Pern]

She'd not been sure where to place it. Traditional Heart & Hearth Day gifts were set out near the prior evening's fire or by a candle. But where did one place it when the fire was not your own and there was no candle? Pern had dithered for some time and decided, finally, to place it between them, but somewhat on his bedroll.

He'd never miss it there.

A light sleeper she was not. Quite the opposite, as Hath had learned. Pern lived a cushioned life with her father in Elbion, in a comfortable bed within a secure home. Aside from an errant pounce from the cat, there was seldom much that roused Pern from her sleep easily. The sound of whooping gnolls or a shout from Hath about danger notwithstanding, she woke most naturally with the light of the day.

To that point, Hath didn't have to wait much longer before she stirred, rolling onto her back with sleep still heavy on her eyes as it always tended to linger.

"Hmm," Pern said as her way of greeting as she found the silhouette of Hath sitting up, the thought of his gift mostly gone from present mind. When she finally blinked herself into a more wakened state, she found Hath staring at her with a most unusual expression.

"What?" she asked sleepily, curiously, "Did I shnore again?"

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Hmm no," went Hath.

For a few seconds he was confused. The knife must have come from Pern. It was what she had been rooting around for in her bag.

He started to wonder if she had remembered leaving it for him yet. That had to be it. He might not be bale to decipher words, but he could recognise her script.

"Thank you," he said in earnest. Hath let his gaze fall, concerned that he was starring at her in such close proximity.

"I... Cannot read this," he said apologetically.