The Keep

The two had sat, Mathis the forsaken, and the orc without a name, on the soft-fur rug in front of the fire, sipping their tea until long after the darkness grew black, and the night animals could be heard. Mathis had attempted conversation, but talking to a blank slate grows tiresome, so he had taken to talking to her, instead of with her.

He explained to her about what an orc was, from a forsaken's perspective, as well as telling her about the horde, and of course, the undead. He wasn't an educated man, in life, or death, but he was kind in his own way. He would glance at her, occasionally, her eyes focused on the flames that would dwindle before he threw another log on. Unsure if she was listening, or even hearing, his talk, he nodded and picked himself to the small cot in the corner.

"You can sleep there, if you like. You're welcome to stay the night, if you like."

The orc woman didn't move. She lay, still nude, on her stomach, her feet crossed behind her, facing the fire. Soon, Mathis was making disgruntled sleeping noises and grinding his teeth and the fire sputtered and died. Letting out a low moan, the woman dropped her chin to her hands, now completely enveloped in the all-consuming darkness of Tirisfal.

She had been listening, and trying to come to terms with what he was telling her. Her people were to be savage, brutal killers with a thirst for power and blood and pain of their foes. She focused, trying to picture a savage beast with skin the green of hers, scoffing at the thought. She certainly didn't feel savage. But somehow... the rest rang true with her. For some reason... it seemed as though killing were natural, as though the lust for power swam in her veins.

She puffed up her cheeks, both confused and incredibly annoyed at not being able to remember anything before this night. She rolled onto her back, resting her hands onto her stomach and fell into a dark sleep.

~~

She stayed with Mathis for many nights after that, him always talking at her while she stared off, both trying to absorb what he was saying, and find her place in it. She had him look at the things in her bag, and explained to her the odds and ends and what they were used for. She could only assume that she was experimenting with potions and, what Mathis called, fel magics, before she lost her memory.

She took it all in, wrapping her mind about it and trying to think of where to go next, and what to do with herself. She rarely left the comfortable little hut that Mathis had made her temporary home, and he seemed to be good company. After a few days of being called "little girl", she decided that it would be a good step to get an actual name. Mathis helped with what he could. Apparently, he had actually enslaved a few orcs in his living days and had overheard his fair share of orcish names.

"What about... Graka?" she pondered. He only shrugged, "Doesn't suit you. It's too harsh." "Melou?" He shook his head, "Too soft for an orc." She grumbled, "Raka?" He paused, considering, before hissing a "close." Pausing, she looked up at his eyeless-eyes, "Renkka?"

His rotted mouth turned into a smile, and he only nodded. She twirled it around in her mouth a few times, letting her tongue and lips perfect it, smiling happily and clapping her hands together. He let out a half sigh, half smile, "You're too happy and warm to be an orc, Renkka," he said quietly, lifting her chin with his bony finger. "You need to find some... learn to be like them. I like you, Renkka, you're not bad. But it's not fair that you don't know anything about yourself, let alone your own people."

He turned his back on her, busying himself with making some more tea, humming a soft, sad melody as he often did. “I think you’re right, Mathis… but… I’d like to take a bit more time… spend some time here, uhm, if you’d have me, before I go find more orcs.” He chucked, “stop stuttering, little girl – Renkka. No need to be shy here,” he said, tossing a grin over his shoulder at her. She smiled, “’course. So can I stay, Mathis?”

He finished making their tea, sitting next to her on the fur carpet so that his fleshless knee touched hers. She gratefully took the mug, sipping on it, staring back into the fire. “Of course. Stay as long as you need. It’s nice to have company.”

He smiled, sadly, before returning to his humming tune. After a minute or two, Renkka’s own low and honeyed voice met with his high and garbled one, both staring into the fire, entranced.