Whispers in the Dark

Journal of Rowana, daughter of Rowetha
09 / 02 / 2120 of the Fourth Age

The scythe was like a Dwarf rune, cast in aluminum, with vulcanized rubber grips. In place of a blade, the long dull crescent held suspended a single monofilament, the spool locked in place.

Most orcs didn't like the sun, couldn't stand the light. The only orcs active during the day lived in the under-cities, where no daylight shined. Even out in Harad, they kept to their caves and tents during the day, only emerging at night. Azzie, though...she ripened in the sun like a melon. Her yellow-green skin had taken on a deeper shade of green, the nipples darkened deliciously, and the muscles rippled beneath her skin.

She was stronger than I was, and sometimes seemed almost tireless. The scythe rose and fell as she laid waste to the tall grasses, and I followed behind, to pick up the sheaves, twisted into ties for tinder. The Shire agricorp had naturalist databases that would have let me figure out each and every species, but I hadn't opted for that option.

I let her use the post-digger to dig out the roots on the thorny brambles, while I used my old entrenching tool for the smaller plants. We'd cleared a lot of ground. The digital map of the space was coming together. Once we'd cleared out the rocks and smoothed it, the house would go right there...and the barn over there...

I could visualize it all through their software. The prefabricated buildings were steel skeletons and pre-stressed concrete shells, with basic plumbing, wiring, Matrix access all wired in. I'd still have to make those connections—satlink, solar panels, emergency generator, the water lines from the creek, the sewage and grey water reclamation—but it was a complete package. The model I'd picked was the HomeHole 2016. The skeleton of a traditional hobbit hole, except Man-sized. Just add dirt.

Another week, and I could make the call. A lot faster than I'd planned. Thanks to Azzie.

"Who do you whisper to, in the dark?"

I had my top off, breasts-down on the sleeping bag. Azzie straddled me, and her hands worked the muscles in my shoulders.

"It's my journal," I admitted, as I realized what she was talking about. The way my lips moved. "I've got a subvocal microphone. We used it on patrol to talk to each other without making any sound. I use it to dictate my journal. Voice to text. I've got a terapulse or so of memory. We were supposed to fill it up with maps, mission briefs."

Her hands moved lower. She was so strong. I could feel her knead my tired, aching muscles with a skill I envied. When it was my turn to massage her, she always had to tell me to press harder. I didn't want to hurt her, but Uruk were hardy folk...and the noises she made when my thumbs worked the muscles along her spine was like the purr of an inline six engine.

"Am I in your journal?" she teased. I couldn't see her eyes from this position, but I could feel her gaze. Her nails scraped lightly against my shoulders as she leaned close, and her breasts pushed into my back.

All my life, I had gone without knowing the feeling of a massive pair of tits press into me from behind, while the warm, willing owner of those breasts whispered in my ear. For all the aches, pains, dust, and occasional miscommunications, the last week had been a revelation. Azzie was very much a touchy-feely person. She had claimed me like one of the barn cat had claimed an old couch we'd left out against the side of the house. Just sat right down and dared anyone to dispute possession.

"Yes," I told her.

"That might be the only record there is of me," she said, her voice strange and distant, lost in thought.

I swallowed hard. She was, very probably, SINless. No Single Identification Number. That meant no citizenship under the Reunited Megacorp or any other. Legally, she didn't exist. No rights. Couldn't even open a bank account or qualify for the most basic line of credit, much less any social services. No way to get a SIN either, unless she signed a contract with a megacorp...and what they'd have her do, I didn't like to think about.

We'd had a couple SINless in boot camp. Citizenship through service. The sergeants had treated them hard. Tried to get them to wash out. Young, hungry, ****. A SIN was a way off the street, but it meant putting your neck under the foot of someone else. There were lots of Men and Orcs that would rather die than do that...and more that didn't know any other way to be.

I was lost in those thoughts for a while, until I felt Azzie tug at my pants.

"I will give you something of me to remember," she said. "When you whisper into the darkness, tell them that Ashnazg makes your toes curl."

She did. Outside, the grass swayed beneath the waxing moon. Somewhere, a warg howled. Within the tent, our legs twisted together until I felt her smooth, hairless, puffy mons press against mine, which needed shaving. The little moonlight that trickled through the tent's screen made the tracery of mithril on her pussy shine and glow. Her clit rubbed against mine, like Lossoth rubbing their noses together to kiss in the frozen north.

We moved together, legs locked around each other, and our breath came in pants, eyes locked. The expression on her face was like nothing I'd ever seen, even with...

Azzie sat up and grabbed my neck. For a moment I thought she was going to touch my neural jack again, but instead she pulled my face close to hers, and her big, dark eyes were so intense I couldn't break her stare.

"Do not think of her when you are fucking me," she said, voice thick with threat and emotion. "I will not compete with a ghost."

Maybe that's why I tilted my head and closed the distance. Felt my lips against hers. My tongue reached out, to slither between those lips. Touched the hard, sharp teeth. For a moment, she was shocked. Her body tensed against mine. Those great big, pointed ears unfurled like a bat's. Then some part of her relented. Her teeth opened, like the gates of some ancient citadel, and our tongues touched. Her hold on my neck softened into a caress as I pulled her close...and that was how we made it, that night. Face to face, bodies undulating in the darkness, crotch to crotch. Lost, for once, not in the memories of our old lives but the new one we were building here, together.

As I lay down with Azzie's head on my shoulder, eyes closed, on the verge of sleep, I whisper her name in the dark.