I Will Not Let You

Journal of Rowana, daughter of Rowetha
8 / 04 / 2120 of the Fourth Age

"Do you think it was made here?"

Azzie's voice sounded strange and small in the dark of our new root cellar—or whatever we ended up using the underground space for. The Uruk had been anxious to help as I'd cleared the steps, a bucketload of dirt and rocks at a time. None of the soil would go to waste; we still needed a couple of feet of topsoil above the concrete roof of the house for this to be a proper Hobbit-style hole. Grasses would grow up there, above out heads as we slept. An odd image.

The last part the cleaning involved dustpan and broom. No way to get a vacuum down here, not without an extension cord I didn't have. One more thing to order from Bardur, next time I was down there to stock up. Along with clothes, panties, fresh fruit...basically, anything we couldn't grow or make ourselves. Which, at the moment, was practically everything.

"I don't know," I answered Azzie honestly. Sunlight streamed in through the doorway, but the subterranean structure was still dark as a tomb. Dry and lifeless, not so much as a dead insect or root. The only dirt on the floor was from our own feet. Somebody had sealed this place up and forgotten about it a long time ago.

The Uruk clutched the ring tight in her left hand as she ran her green fingers over everything. The empty shelves and tables, anvil, the cold forge. It was a few degrees cooler down here, and with the sweat that covered me I shivered. Something about this felt like my father's old stories, the ones he would tell us late at night. Old wars. Old horrors. There were three Orc skulls above the inside lintel of our front door, meant to ward off Goblins.

The racist old bastard had actually been proud to have them. It was one of the reasons I'd left as soon as I could. I hadn't told Azzie about that yet. Didn't want her to think of me that way. For us, maybe it was best to leave the past as past. Build a future together.

Yet here we were, poking around in the dark.

There were times I wish I hadn't given her the ring. That we'd never found it. I couldn't take it away from her, though. It was hers. Practically all she had.

"Do you think we could get it working again?" Azzie picked up a piece of what might have been three-thousand-year-old charcoal, sniffed it gently, gave it a lick, and made a face. I couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe. We'd have to unblock the chimney for that," said. "We might be able to melt down the beer cans. Use the aluminum for something. I'm sure somebody's put up a video on the Matrix, do-it-yourself forging. There are whole Dwarf channels devoted to that kind of thing."

Azzie turned and shot me a look. She dropped the charcoal back on the pile.

"We could get some lights down here, yes? Run a line from the house?" she asked.

I frowned. "I mean...we could. But we still barely have enough juice to keep the house running, and even then only with most of the functions turned off. It'll be time before I can order more solar panels, set them up. We're still living off my army pension, and they basically give us just enough to drink ourselves to ****."

Her hips swayed as she stepped toward me. Every part of the Uruk-Hai seemed to jiggle in just the right place. It was a mode of locomotion Azzie used when she wanted my attention, and she got it.

"You will not drink yourself to ****," she said softly. Her hands grasped my buttocks and, short as she was, she lifted me up until my heels left the floor and my head nearly brushed the stone ceiling. "I will not let you."

By the Valar she was strong. I had to bend my head against the shoulder as she lifted me higher, until my thighs could rest on her shoulders. Then I felt something tug at the buttons on my combat trousers.

Azzie was pulling them open with her lips and teeth.

My heart leaped into my throat. We were totally exposed down here, there wasn't even a door into the cellar yet. Not that we had seen anybody since that night we had first met; even the few animals seemed to largely give our house a wide berth. Yet I couldn't repress a shudder as I felt her nose push through the fly of my boxer briefs, sniffing for cunny.

She found it.

Maybe there are some sexless old Men who are near the end of their long lives and find all thrill and desire for sex has left them. Old Halfing couples who watch their dozen kids run around and are content to hold hands. Stooped and broken Orcs who prefer to stay near the fire instead of taking their turn in the breeding pits. Dwarfs who count their credits instead of finding someone to plaid beards with.

Not me. Not Azzie either. I crossed my ankles behind her back as she buried her face in my crotch. Even with the layers of cloth, working blind, her tongue found my clit...my slit...I imagined how strong my scent must be as she breathed in all the sweat that had captured in my pubes during the hours of hard work, the salty trickle that ran down my body and formed a swamp in my pussy. Wet and squishy, hot and humid.

Just how she liked it.

She had taught me that, over the days and weeks. As much as I liked her fresh from the shower, she preferred me straight from the field. Orcs were more driven by scent and taste, it fired their own desires. Which made sense, from what I'd learned as a ranger. All the time and care we took to disguise our scent, to approach their camps from downwind, how effective stinkbombs were at distracting them, how herbs could help cover your trail. I'd heard of merc units that covered their tracks with powdered rabbit blood and cocaine, but I never believed them.

Yet here I was. Getting my pussy eaten out like some Elf princess in a terrible porn stim.

When I felt that I was getting close, I worked to make it happen. Braced against the ceiling and twitched my hips, to grind my pussy in Azzie's face. Let my breathing grow louder and more ragged in the still air of the cellar,

"Aaaah!" I made sure to be vocal when the pleasure overwhelmed me. Azzie liked that. Liked to hear me cum. If I didn't, she'd probably hold me there until I screamed, throat raw. Fucking me until I made the cute little sounds she wanted.

As it was, she lowered me down, and we shared a sticky kiss as she carried me, still wrapped around her, up the stairs and out into the sunlight.

We covered the stairs with a sheet of the bio-film leftover from unpacking the house, weighed down by rocks. I wanted to do better than that. Hadn't gotten any rain yet, but I didn't want to see the cellar flood.