Roderick and Gorlana Pt. 04

He knew he should feel a duty to himself. Should he feel it to her? After all this?

As he thought despondently to himself, Roderick felt foolish in the knowledge that, whether he should or not, a duty to her was likely all that kept him silent and cooperative still. Tied to this fucking pole, dragged deeper into this fucking realm, infested by these fucking Rechlingers and their foul leader. He wanted to spit and shout insults at them each time he caught a Rechlinger scent in the air, to insult their honour until they fought off the other Orthalians to put him out of his fuming helpless misery.

The rage had settled out into a numbness now. Standing cold and stiff in the brief meagre warmth of the midday sun, he barely noticed Torvrul stepping up to him.

"Open your mouth Lightbrew. Drink," the orc commanded.

Roderick had been developing a begrudging respect for his head captor over time, but he kept his mouth shut.

Torvrul grunted in irritation, "Open Lightbrew. I thought we were passed this type of petulance."

He didn't move.

Suddenly he seethed and groaned as a heavy fist thumped into his upper gut, then burly fingers grasped his jaw and held it open as water poured in. Roderick choked for a second, then swallowed. As Torvrul's hand came away Roderick spat the rest out of his mouth, but turned his head and aimed away from him instinctively.

"I don't know why I bother, since choking won't help you talk. You need to moisten your tongue and use it, if you still have any sense. The chieftains come to speak with you."

Roderick muttered, "They may speak to me if they wish. I cannot stop them."

"We did you the honour of a counsel with us, even with Springsnake privately, and now we offer the same again. What pointless anger makes you shirk it?"

"It is not pointless to have found new and better judgment of the 'honour' held by those that surround me."

Torvrul growled, "I know you bristle at the Rechlingers. None are surprised. Know that we bristle as well, but I know for a fact you share Springsnake's wisdom of the value of allies, and bending to accommodate them," he said meaningfully.

Roderick scoffed, "I would never compare the mutual respect I share with my Southern Orthalians, with whatever it is you have with these brown stunted pigs-"

Torvrul's hand cut off Roderick's words with a strike across his face. "Whether I agree is meaningless," he said flatly, "If you continue to speak like that you will suffer for it. I give you a taste, as a warning. They are a bonded clan and their honour will be respected for it, whether you, or I, like it or not."

Roderick almost smirked at Torvrul's admissions, but replied, "I don't need your advice, or your protection, Torvrul."

"Then eat." The orc scoffed a laugh. "Your starved brain clearly needs it."

Roderick didn't purse his lips tighter as Torvrul shoved the morsel of meat through them, and after a moment decided against spitting it out and began to chew.

He was left alone for a few minutes and finally heard the steps of a group of a half dozen or so, talking lowly. He picked out Gorlana's scent among them as they approached closer. His head rose and he stood straighter before he realized he had done it. They stopped, he guessed about 10 paces away.

"General Lightbrew, our council has decided to meet with you again to give you the opportunity to speak with us."

Roderick did not reply, but did not withhold a bitter laughing scoff and a shake of his head.

The orc continued unfazed, "The high-chieftain Gorlana has insisted on holding it outdoors, today. There are no others immediately around though I assure you. b-"

"There's a Rechlinger," Roderick interrupted. "Talking to me outdoors isn't going to cover up that disgusting presence."

"Traulch is leader of his allied clan, and has a-"

"Make him leave!" Roderick demanded.

"You cannot demand-"

"Let me strike him!" Traulch growled.

"Stop!"

Roderick spoke sternly, "You stand before me as if a council of honoured chiefs and yet you let this scum stand among you as if he were an equal?! You embarrass yourselves-"

"I will break you!" the Rechlinger growled.

"And you will still earn nothing of-"

"Silence human!"

He heard a scuffle in front of him, and a hand grasp his jaw, with a claw digging precisely into the soft skin behind his chin to prevent him from opening his mouth without pain.

"ENOUGH!" Gorlana shouted. "Both of you!"

Torvrul spoke softly next to him while he held his jaw, "Behave, you fool. You may have a death wish, but you will not receive it. Only suffering."

Roderick heard the chief's arguments die down and finally Torvrul removed his hand as silence fell over them again.

Gorlana cleared her throat, "You offered, I recall, at our last meeting to 'help us to know your worth' as you put it. We have returned to offer you, as you requested, a possible say in the manner of your ransom."

Roderick kept his mouth shut. The silence wore on until Gorlana sighed.

"If your ransom fails, your worth to us alive becomes very little," she warned.

"If I come to be worth nothing to you then you might as well go ahead and strike me down," he said quietly.

There was a longer silence.

"...high-chieftain?" one of the orcs asked doubtfully.

Gorlana's voice seemed to fight of a painful tightness when she finally spoke, "You're not stupid," she said, then let out a breath, changing her tone, and perhaps her meaning, "You must know that we want Southern Orthalia back. Will your King ransom you for it."

Roderick shook his head, "I'm not worth that to him,"

"Does he not understand that this is the only way lasting peace my occur? Or will we need your help to convince him?"

"Did you not understand that attacking our ambassador convoy to kill the princess was not a route to 'lasting peace' before you ordered your brown cretins to do so?"

"I did NOT order th-" Gorlana cut off her words in bristling frustration.

Roderick nodded, "I thought not. These Rechlingers have ruined your opportunities for peace then, besides your honour."

"Strike this weak squeaking rat! We strengthen this land!"

"Quiet!"

Roderick felt an unfriendly hand on his neck. and resisted shouting back.

"Watch your words human," Torvrul's low mutter warned him.

Gorlana let out an exasperated breath, "What would make your king think he can maintain his control of Southern Orthalia even without you?"

Roderick replied challengingly, "What would make you think YOU can?"

"It is rightfully Orthalian land, to be sworn to the Goathorn chair!" one of the chiefs replied indignantly.

"They are sworn to ME. As their high-chieftain by THEIR choice!"

"Then they are worthless fools!" Traulch spat. "And deserve to die along with you!"

"Traulch..."

Roderick rebuked, "Then go ahead and kill me, and observe how orcs with honour respond to their high-chieftain's murder! Regardless of what you may barter with the King."

"You play at the title of high-chieftain like a child in a game!" Traulch bellowed.

"A game you'll never gain the wits to understand!" Roderick shouted back, feeling like defeating this orc was the only thing worth feeling strength for. "Gorlana, send these brown pigs back to their stinking ice-shacks! Then, turn around, and take me south, and strike a deal with my Southern Orthalians for me lead them at your back to win the Goathorn chair, and an Orthalia without these honourless bastards within it!"

"DIE!" Traulch wailed.

Roderick heard shouting and loud scuffling of the dirt. A hard back of a hand struck him across the mouth. He was not sure who it belonged to. The shouting died to frustrated grunts and exclamations of disbelief. Torvrul's hand was back on his jaw, with a warning claw under the soft back of his chin keeping him from speaking further. Someone shouted questioningly at Gorlana who was apparently already walking away. They never spoke back to him after that, but all agreed that the conversation was over, and they gradually left, with agreement that Roderick would be stripped of food and shelter, though disagreeing for how long. He hung his head as blood slowly dripped from his lip, and let his mind be lost again in the din of the camp around him.

...

Roderick's suspicion of her scent was confirmed when Carthala spoke close to him, after walking up and standing next to him silently for a time. He was not sure, but perhaps she was waiting until none were nearby, or paying attention.

"I know that humans have less of a sense for the weather than orcs, but despite your blindness perhaps even you can tell that a storm cloud looms," she said.

"I suspected as much," Roderick rasped. "Whatever comes, I will face it."

"You know your punishment will involve staying tied out here in the open, until you earn your tent again with good behaviour. As winter approaches the risk of dying of exposure grows, but I do not think this one will kill you tonight. It's warmer than usual, which is why it grows so strong."

Roderick shrugged, "You don't need to explain Orthalian weather to me. I know the snows will come soon enough."

Carthala's soft words bristled in irritation, "And if you become sick from the cold our healers will tend to you, and we will find other ways of discipline that do not put your life at risk. If you keep goading the Rechlingers to kill you we will gag your mouth. You are worth too much. You need to accept that death will not be your way out of this. Though I am curious whether your suicidality is more for your own sake, or hers."

Roderick stayed uncomfortably silent.

She sighed, "I don't judge you for it really. There's many an orc that's wanted to die over a woman. Especially if it's one for whom he has rutted..."

Roderick furrowed his brow, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Carthala sniffed deeply over his hair and face and then snorted, "Fine. I don't. I admit. But, I know SOMETHING was shared between you, before you met each other here. At some point. I don't know how or when, but I know you must have. I've never seen, in my entire life, the most passionate of mating pairs, the quickest orcs I've ever known to Rutt, share a love at first sniff the way you two have."

"Keep your voice down," Roderick hissed.

"Keep your SCENT down," Carthala hissed back. "THAT's what the real problem is. THAT's why I'm here."

"I was under the impression most of the orcs were having trouble reading me, they're not as used to a human."

"But they're GETTING used to you. They're getting better. While YOU'RE getting worse."

Roderick gulped.

Carthala continued, "Traulch already suspects Gorlana's growing warmth is not truly for him. Though by luck, dumb luck in his case, he does not suspect it is you. He's too proud to speak of it outright but he grows even more paranoid and doubtful of the other male chiefs, thinking it might be one of them. That is for Gorlana to worry about though, and she still stifles her scent enough... for now. You on the other hand."

Roderick hung his head with a sigh, "I don't know how."

"Yes isn't that obvious. Believe me, I've half a mind to indulge your death wish and slip you a poison or infect one of your wounds if I knew it would save my beloved friend from the disaster you might bring down upon her, but I know it would hurt her. I'd worry she might even try to follow you into death. I care too much for Gorlana. More than I do for this realm evidently. I have a feeling you do too."

Roderick gave a sombre nod, giving up on dishonesty.

"That is why I am going to... TRY to teach you how to stifle that stinking mind of yours."

He paused for a long moment then whispered, "Thank you."

"Your welcome," she said, in a calm satisfaction. "Remember though, I do this for Gorlana. Not for you. Though I perhaps can taste a hint of what she sees in you, which I suppose I will have to exaggerate if this plan is going to work."

Roderick frowned in confusion.

"That's right. You and I, as far as rumours in the camp are concerned, are going to share a fascination and attraction to each other. We will not admit this openly, but do what we can to subtly help people to suspect. Traulch has already helped to give us a head start with this, in fact. But in any case, it will have to be the explanation anyone comes to, both for your scent, and for the amount of time I'm going to be spending with you. Training you."

Roderick hesitated, then nodded, "So be it."

"So, what do you know of it?" Carthala asked.

"Of stifling one's scent? Nothing," he admitted. "I've tried to fight off feelings and remain stoic before but Korboq and the others seem to sense my emotions just as easily."

"Of course. Typical human ignorance. When you're noseblind you can have a festering fury of emotions boiling inside you, but as long as you keep your face still you think that you're 'controlling yourself'."

Roderick bristled but kept silent.

"Like that. Just there." She said. "Your irritation at my words. 'Fighting it' as you just said, does more harm than good. Your face my stay still but that is like containing a bear in a pen in order to try to keep it quiet. It will only roar all the louder."

"What do I do then?" he asked.

"You cannot completely stop an emotion. No one can. That is why I speak of stifling a scent, not stopping. The best sniffers can still read the best stiflers if they are indoors and close enough. Take solace in that at least. I will admit that there ARE some orcs who are as open with their scents as you."

"Okay," Roderick said with a shrug, but listening with interest.

Carthala continued, "The word 'stifling' is inaccurate actually. You can't fully stop it, and you can't FIGHT it. No more than you can stop the wind from blowing, or stop a bird from flying at your window. You CAN however decide whether you let it billow your sails, or let the bird stay trapped in your home wreaking havoc.

"So, instead of 'fighting it' you must allow it to pass over you. Pass through you. Instead of jumping around and flailing to catch the bird and kill it, you can't anyway, open your windows and doors and let the bird fly through. Don't try to push the wind away with your sails, tie them down and let it pass over your boat without rocking it."

Roderick nodded in understanding, "I've practised something a bit similar. Before battles, or duels. It's easier said than done though. Some winds are too strong." he said, thinking of how Gorlana made him feel."

"Yes, no one can do it perfectly as I said. But anything would be better than nothing at this point. It takes practice, and that is what we will do. With practice one can tie down their sails enough that even large gusts will not throw their boat off kilter, so to speak. You can build larger windows and doors in your home to let even a large bird pass through without damage."

Roderick chuckled, "How many birds do you have c-"

"It was an example. An image to guide you. I am trying to help you," she retorted in annoyance. "We will practice, so that you can let the feelings that occur, come and go quickly out of your mind without growing and filling you up as they do. This way, even the irritation of my claw itching at your nose..."

Roderick crinkled his nose as turned away as she mimicked a fly dancing on his nostrils.

"Or your hunger at the thought of a juicy mushroom-sauced yak-steak seared to perfection chewed tenderly and swallowed into your starving gullet," she whispered in his ear and laughed as she sniffed, evidently sensing his hunger.

Roderick then felt her claw dance down the side of his torso and over his groin, felt the heat of her body press against him as she teased over his genitals through his ragged pants and breathed heavily against his ear.

"...or the lust at the thought of being with a certain orc-woman, feeling her legs possess you and your sweating tormented bodies seizing their vindication in each other, and mating with wild abandon," she purred in his ear, and rubbed her hand over his quickly swelling cock. "Mmm, I can almost see the allure... I'd let you call me by her name you know." She pressed her cheek against him, her tusk scratching lightly down and under his jaw. "Breathe in my scent, general. THIS will help to throw the others off your true desires. It you can imagine I'd be more than a bit of fun between the furs..."

He was beginning to, despite it being against his will.

Then she leaned back suddenly to take her body warmth away from him. "Or... when you think of that pleasure being had by that stinking Rechlinger Traulch instead. Mating with Gorlana freely while you stay tied up and helpless out here."

He bit his tongue and tightened his fists, knowing that if she was testing him that he was failing utterly.

In confirmation she said with a sigh, "We have much practice to do. I should not get so much pleasure from toying with you so, but perhaps that will be my excuse. Perhaps you WILL die from exposure tonight and this will all be for nothing. Perhaps that will be easiest for everyone if you do. If you DO survive this thunderstorm though, and wish to weather the storm of the Orthanhall moot that is to come, then you need to start putting in some effort."

With that she was gone and he stood alone and cold once again.

...

Alone and cold and soaking wet, shivers racked his body again as torrents of rain doused him unrelentingly in the pitch black of the night's storm. His skin was numb and clammy, his muscles tensed painfully, shaking of their own volition in waves of shivers almost in concert with the waves of the torrential downpour barraging him. He had no idea how far into the night he had made it, but he was growing more sure he would not make it through. Not without falling viciously ill if he somehow were still alive in the morning. Carthala was right, it was warmer than usual, but warmer than the typical late autumn days was still too cold to endure soaking wet.

He would die after all. Why did Carthala have to go and give him hope like that? She had almost convinced him that there would be a way that his carrying on might actually help Gorlana rather than put her in jeopardy. Just enough hope to make him regret his impending doom.

Suddenly he saw a flash.

He actually saw the flash... The black of night, which had been equivalent to the black of his blindfold, was lit up by a lightning flash. Thunder sounded at the same moment that realization hit him, that the hard barrage of rain had forced his blindfold down on to his neck. His cold, numb, shivering face hadn't even noticed until now. The thunder was only somewhat louder than the roar of the rain, and he hadn't been able to see very far in the flash, but the sudden, almost alien sensation of sight was like being unchained for a moment.

It will only worsen the suffering of your death, seeing the world around you slip away, he thought. He stood up though, wondering how far he might see. Another flash and the pitch black world around him lit up, mostly with the blur of the rain but he made out grass in front of him and a small tree to the left. That was all though. He couldn't even see to the nearest tents. He sighed, but continued to stand, feeling like this final gift should at least be appreciated before he grew too weak do so.

Another flash and he saw a face. Not just any face. It was her.

Gorlana?

Was he going delirious already? It couldn't have been. Why? Why now? He blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying to jar some sense back into himself against the opaque blurring storm.

Another flash and there she was again, closer, unmistakably her. He could smell nothing but the downpour but he could see her in the brief flashes. Wet and blurred by the sheets of rain but it was her. She was holding something in front of her.