Roderick and Gorlana Pt. 02

Carthala laughed, "I joke of course! Lift your spirits Gorlana! Go scream with the grievers and let out your pain and then drink and let yourself be proud of what you've done. As the rest of us will do."

Gorlana let our a heavy sigh, "I understand your point Carthala. Thank you for your efforts. This day has simply not been easy on my mind."

Carthala nodded, seeming satisfied, "That general with be a thorn in your side no longer. He's likely dead, buried under the rocks with the rest."

Gorlana nodded and turned away from her as she left. Yes. Likely dead. Never to be seen again. Lost forever. ...again.

She opened the tent and let the cold dry mountain air absorb the hotly furious tears that welled in her eyes as she walked away, alone, into the dark.

...

1 week later,

Roderick gritted his teeth and stopped, reaching down to adjust the splint that was digging into his leg. He would have to fashion a new one, and the trees were thankfully getting more numerous as they descended from the snowy heights. Their two hundred or so survivors were about fifty fewer than had initially climbed into the pass away from landslide. Only a fraction of his initial forces. So many deaths.

Frali had been among them.

He hardened his face as he set back to limping onward. Pain ripped through more than his leg and his ribs as he forced her face from his memory, and told himself there was no future with her that had been robbed from him. He once again avoided thinking about the manner in which she might have died. She was simply one of hundreds. ALL their deaths were tragic. The sting in his chest did not wane.

The fact that more enemy orcs had likely been killed by the landslide than his own soldiers was no real consolation. Whether Springsnake's army outnumbered his after the death tally, was a moot point. They were cut off from each other now, and if ever there had been a battle with no winners, that had been it.

Only a handful of enemy orcs had followed them up the pass. They had been caught. Four had been taken alive. They were given the choice of death or to help them through the pass as prisoners, with the promise of no torture. One chose death, but the three others agreed, and helped to drag the litters of the injured past the icy peaks. Roderick had recovered from his head injury enough to have a conversation with a couple of them, and they were already talking more than he expected, being given more rations when they did. Simply idle conversation as far as they knew, but he had already learned a few things he hadn't known before. He was thankful that only one of his lieutenants disagreed with the mercy, wanting to torture out of vengeance more than anything. Roderick was not alone in knowing the information from that method was usually false. He was almost beginning to hope they might turn sides and join their orcish allies, but it was too early to tell.

He took a breath, letting himself see past the pain, looking onward and feeling a shred of hope and relief at the beautiful rolling hills beneath him. Home. Not just the realm of Andralia, not just his province of Fringeland, but these very hills were the ones he had grown up in. His aging grandmother was the only one of his family who still lived there, after he moved away when he was 14, but his original home town of Highquarry was only 3 days away. Though it might take them 6 in their current state. He had already sent out some faster, healthier men off ahead to the nearest village to plea for food and supplies, and word would spread from there.

They would live; they would recover. His reputation and career however, he was less sure of. His remaining lieutenants and commanders all vehemently reassured him that he was a hero for having made it this far through what they had endured, and that they would testify as such. He honestly could not predict his superior's reactions. Losing this many men couldn't be looked upon approvingly, even if the disaster had taken more Orthalian casualties. Taking out the mountain pass itself was actually a positive though. It had been rarely used to begin with, and little to no trade had flowed through it for years, making it no more than a looming security threat. If nothing else he could be thankful he hadn't led an enemy army in pursuit to threaten his home town.

Perhaps that was why he had fought more desperately to avoid having to retreat to the pass. He remembered the pangs of fear he had, plotting their attacks and defences, feeling like he had to stop them from being led over the pass no matter what. Perhaps that was why he had faltered. That fear; that personal threat. Or, perhaps Springsnake had simply out-witted him. He and that unknown orcish general's game of intricate thrusts and parries had felt oddly personal. He felt like they knew each other's minds and personalities somehow, though they had never met face to face. He supposed that now they possibly never would.

A group of riders crested the hill across from them and he smiled seeing his own soldier at the front, with more and more riders on horses coming into view, some with small carts and litters. They waved, and a small tired cheer went up from the men around him. Time to move forward, and move on.

...

Her heavy eyebrows shot wide and her green-tinged face doubled it's wrinkles in a wide excited smile as she gasped, "LOOK at you!"

Roderick was instantly filled with a familiar warmth and returned her smile, "Hi Granny."

He stepped through the doorway and into a tight hug, one that would be offputtingly strong to anyone else, coming from such an otherwise frail looking old woman, but his half-orc grandmother was still strong in more ways than one.

The old cottage a few miles into the forest from Highquarry was just as he remembered, even to the point of being filled with the sweet aroma of fresh nut-cakes from the oven. Sending word ahead that he was coming had evidently paid off, he thought to himself as his stomach rumbled.

"My little Roddy, a full grown man and a general besides," she shook her head and pinched his cheek through his rough short beard that he had been meaning to shave for some time.

He and other soldiers were starting to clean themselves up to some degree after getting some supplies from the last village, but he knew he still looked worse for wear. The real reason he had sent word ahead to his granny was so she wouldn't fire an arrow from her porch thinking he was some ruffian stranger.

As if to read his thoughts she continued, "I like the beard. Could use a trim though. I'm sure the girls would agree," she said with a wink. "Meet any of them again in town yet? You and your army's been the talk of the market since we caught word of you heading this way a week ago." She sat him down and put two large nut-cakes in front of him without asking, with a cup of goat's milk.

Roderick shook his head, "Actually I haven't even gone into town yet, I came here first and sent the army ahead."

"Then what the hell are you DOING here boy, you should be there shaking hands and waving. They were all going to be out in the streets cheering you on! I saw less buzz and excitement for the solstice parade! All the girls pickin' out there best dresses for the occasion and what not. Most of them you knew are married off already by now, but there's still a small handful I'm sure'd be eager to get to know you again. Pellina Grassworth lost her husband a year ago, or at least the army said he was assumed dead, won't ever show up again at this rate. I remember the boys scramblin' over themselves to dance with her years back, but she asked you herself at the Springmoon festival the year before you left town, never saw you turn so red. She's plumped out a smidgen after 3 kids but she's still gleanin' some stares from the men. Then there's-"

"Granny! Please," Rod chuckled, "I appreciate the effort but I'm only passing through. Though that's... sad to hear about Pellina's husband, I didn't know he was in the army. Who did she marry?"

"A fella from down in Flintridge, quite a few years older. Name was Ganther I believe. Started out well off and sure acted like it. His Pa had quite a bit of land, but he himself was shit for a farmer since he moved here unfortunately. Eventually joined the army for the pay more than anything."

"Can't say I ran across him," Rod said, thinking. "Did the army send reparations?" he asked, knowing how intentionally lax the bastards who ran the coffers were in that department.

She shrugged, "Pellina and the kids aren't dressed in rags but they're not hiring a carriage and driver either. She sold half the land a while back. That alone would do her well enough for a while. You should pay a visit and find out for yourself," she suggested with a wink.

Roderick sighed "I... maybe. If I can find the time,"

That was evidently enough to make his granny give a wide toothy grin.

He was desperate to change the subject, "You stopped filing," he said, indicating her two lower fangs that were short enough to sit below her lip if desired, but she seemed to be preferring them out in the air."

"You're damn right I did. Regretted doing it in the first place. As soon as those ridiculous sanctions and warrants were lifted I quit that painful nonsense. Everyone around here knows what I am anyway, it was just those damned visiting troops and tax collectors and officials and what not. I still say it'd have been better for your father to have stayed here rather than move to the lions den where they're far more vicious about that sort of thing. Though I suppose you'd likely not be where you are if not for that. I wish I could tell you to stop filing yours too but I'd never want you to put your station at risk. You know we're all so proud of you Roddy."

Rod fought off a blush and replied, "The lions den is hardly what I would call Fortspring, Granny. It's a big city for Fringeland but it's nothing compared to Andrapolis."

Granny raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure. I'm glad you only spent a month there in training,"

"Have you ever been?" Roderick asked.

"No and I don't ever care to from what I've heard.

"It's likely not as bad as the rumours you've heard, you know."

"It's not RUMOURS, you forget your great grandfather was from there, though he rarely talked about it, and he told me enough."

"I survived easily enough,"

"You've survived the war too... though it's a different type of dance to the dangers in the city. To that end, I AM concerned you're already 28 years old and unmarried, but I'm at least glad you escaped with none of those city girls snaggin' you up in their prissy little clutches."

"They didn't seem too interested. One or two told me I smelled..."

Granny stiffened, "Well they can go f-"

"I was actually hoping to ask you about... that kind of thing," Roderick continued, trying to veer away slightly. "I... I've never really talked much about this with anyone, and I know I'm only an eighth orc, but I've struggled over the years to figure out my own nose, so to speak."

She gave him a sympathetic smile as she cleaned a dish next to the sink, "Don't worry Roddy, most like you won't be able to read scents the way th-"

"No I CAN, that's the thing. I've been getting better at recognizing what's what over the years. It's done me a lot of good actually, but I'm also concerned about how some of it might affect ME. It's hard to explain..."

Granny eyed him with a proud fascination, "You must have a knack for it then. You're Pa always said he couldn't tell much of anything, though I suspected he was sensing more than he knew. What do you pick up best? Fear? Lying?"

"I don't know what's the strongest but I can sometimes catch those yeah. I'm more unsure about... the way smells can effect us, and change us. Like the smell of fear or celebration can spread through a group and bolster it more among them. And then... " he struggled for how to ask it, "when it comes to women..."

Granny's head shot sideways towards him in sudden intense interest and she narrowed her eyes, "have you..."

Roddy opened and closed his mouth, feeling doubly awkward for having this conversation with his grandmother, "There was one..." he finally admitted.

She froze motionless until the dishcloth dropped from her hand to the floor and she suddenly jolted to stop the bowl from falling as well. Then she set it down and stepped quickly over to him, "Did she... did you..." she took his head in her hands and sniffed deeply and eyed him over, "You didn't trigger the Rutt then, since you're still here."

"N... No," Roderick said, "It was only... a one time thing. That's supposed to only happen after a while... like, at least a few times... right?"

"Yes," Granny confirmed with a sigh of relief, seeming to think herself foolish, "Yes of course."

"But... can I? Would I? Did you?"

It was Granny's turn to go red and she looked away in embarrassment. "It's very taboo for orcs to talk about these things in detail,"

"So I've discovered," Roderick said, "That's partly why I'm asking you. Orcs will have sex, but it won't make children unless they Rutt, which is... more intense? and longer? I guess? Like, how could you have had my father if you didn't? How could your mother have had you if she didn't."

"Okay okay, you're not missing anything, yes, that's basically how it is," Granny admitted in exasperation. "We both did. But our husbands survived.... mostly unscathed," she said with a guilty sideways glance, "and we both had perfectly wonderful children."

"But how? If they didn't... SHARE the scent back and forth. Isn't that how it has to happen? And when they have sex enough times then the Rutt takes hold a-"

He stopped as Granny held up a hand and sat down with a sigh and opened a bottle of mead she had already taken from the cupboard after she had picked up the cloth off the floor. She took a long swig and gave him a much less grandmotherly look. For almost the first time he could see her as just a half-orc woman and not his Granny.

"You're a grown man and you're father's obviously been too daft and in denial of his pedigree to put in the effort so here we go I suppose." She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Roddy the smell's usually a big part of it, but that's only one way to trigger what's really important."

Roderick nodded, "Fertility. Er, I read that the Sages call it Ovulati-"

"Love," his Granny interrupted with a meaningful look. "The smell is just the most straight forward expression of the emotions that the two orcs feel, and it helps the most, but it's obviously not the only way for feelings to be shared and known. And when that love, that true intense Love is shared. It changes you. Don't get me wrong it's harder for it to happen without sharing a scent, but obviously it can. Half-orcs aren't THAT rare."

She continued, seeming to read the confused look on his face, "They tell tales of orcs that had their noses smashed in, but it doesn't mean their mates couldn't eventually trigger their Rutt, it just takes more effort. It's the same with any pure blood orc and human, though it can take years of marriage and love-making. My mother obviously did, and had my sister and I."

Roderick nodded in appreciation, "I guess that makes sense, so you, since you're half though..."

She took another swig, "I did for your twin aunts, but didn't for your father. We mix-breeds are a mix bag in all ways. So don't go thinking you can't sire me any great grandchildren the usual human way. And, I don't think your Father did. Your mother doesn't seem like the type that could've handled it."

Roderick hadn't intended to touch the bottle she had placed in front of him but grabbed it and took a drink at the notion.

"So don't worry Roddy, if it ever happens to you it's not going to take you off guard out of nowhere. There'll likely have to be very strong feelings brewing for a while," she reassured him. There was an awkward silence for a moment until his Granny's sly smile returned, "...Who was the orc-girl?" she asked.

Roderick paused and was suddenly bailed out by a knock at the door. His granny frowned and muttered wondering who it could be.

She opened the door and took a step back in shock at the fine-liveried gentleman standing on her rough cottage porch. The man took a step back as well but quickly regained his poise.

"Good day, my... lady, I am an official messenger of King Rheume and the acting Steward Princess Valessa. I am looking for General Roderick of Highquarry, though I am thinking I may have been given the wro-."

"That's me," Roderick said, already standing up and walking over to shake the man's hand. Instead of his hand, the messenger placed a scroll in it, and Roderick frowned and lifted it to inspect the seal.

"Good day General. You will find within a summons to the Royal Palace of Andrapolis, to present yourself post-haste for a meeting with her majesty Princess Valessa regarding the ongoing war in Orthalia."

"Th... thank you," Roderick said, opening it and confirming it indeed said what the man had explained. "It will take me some time though."

"As a token of her seriousness she has included these fine steeds behind me to aid in the expedience of your journey. You and a small bodyguard are to make immediate haste, while the rest of your army is to continue on, back to Fringeland's capital FortSpring for further orders."

Roderick nodded as he read, "Understood,"

"I will return then, telling her of your assent. Is there any other message you wish to send to her before your arrival?"

Roderick cleared his throat, "Um, no. That's fine, tell her I will get there as soon as I can."

The messenger gave a curt nod and turned away, revealing three flawless well-bred horses tied to his granny's old splintering fence posts.

"Not one for small talk that one," Granny commented, seeing him riding away quickly.

"None of them ever are. I suspect he was waiting longer than he cared to in a town that was much less fancy than he's used to, and trekking out here to find me couldn't have been to his liking either," Roderick said, looking down at the elegant parchment again with nervousness.

"Well that's quite exciting. Meeting the King, or at least the princess," his granny said cheerily.

"Hard to tell if it's good or bad at this point honestly," Roderick said.

"Oh come now, you're a war hero, ain't no one can say otherwise. She should be as excited to meet you as you would be to meet her."

Roderick read her tone and looked up to meet her eyes and scoffed with a chuckle despite himself, "I thought you wanted me to stay away from city girls, Granny."

"Oh. Well... MOST of them but I mean, you could make an exception for... a princess."

"I'd be just as likely to marry the Orcish queen Granny. The princess, if she isn't already promised, will end up with some rich foppish lord with a title and a noble lineage."

Granny crossed her arms, "It isn't always like that,"

Roddy thought there was something odd in the way she said it but brushed it off and turned back inside. "Well, I guess this means heading East to Andrapolis rather than South to Fortspring. Mom and Dad'll have to wait to see me again. If you talk to them before me, send them my regrets."

"I will if I do, but your Pa doesn't visit as often as he should. You should trek down into town though. If your stay's gonna be shorter than you thought, you should use the time well."

"I should stay and visit with you, I haven't seen you in years. I don't know when I'll get to come around again, and if you'll even be around t-"

"Oh shush with talk like that. Get lad. They're all waiting to see you I know it. It was wonderful to see you again. I hope I was able to offer some advice... Though I don't know whether to warn you more against orc-girls or city-girls, I suppose I just hope you end up happy."