Encumbrance

[Zilrud]

15th of Frost, 4622

The Orkhai had adjusted well enough to the niceties of the Lordling’s home. He had refused to participate in anything requiring him to clean himself, mostly because he did not feel he needed it. He had also refused to sleep in the bed he had been mended upon. Mostly because it was so soft, it felt like he was being touched on all sides by something foreign. Instead, his desired place to sleep was on the floor, next to the hearth, with the bedding and pillows spread out as if they were furs back home in Rokhan.

After nearly four days of a mixed combination of awkward silences, disapproving grunts, and eating the Lords out of their house and home, Zilrud had finally had enough. When Thomas had been busy, perhaps with Wendell or with some other form of business, he couldn’t sit still anymore. The mending muscle in his leg still ached, but it had lost the stinging sensation every time he attempted to move it. So, that robe kept about his frame, untied, with the same shorts Thomas had given him days prior, he set out from the house, the barest limp with his left leg, and cornered one of the staff.

Imposing himself on the staff, he had just one question. It was not even threatening them with anything beyond growls, grunts, and quick, simple words. He had wanted to know where there was an axe. Most were reluctant to tell him anything, but eventually, he found someone who was willing to tell him (Even if he had threatened to use their spine as a whip on the rest of the staff) where to find an axe. He had two options an axe that practically looked like a child’s toy in his hands, or a large axe, even for a human that looked moderate in size in his hand. Taking that axe, holding it in his right hand, he began walking off onto the property somewhere, where he was probably spied upon by someone from the house. Zilrud was not intending to attack anyone in the house, in fact, with what honor he had left, demanded repayment because he was not only indebted to Thomas and the others for housing him during his recovery, but he was also indebted to Thomas and Wendell because they had helped him, healed him even, when so many others, both human and non-human turned their noses up at his plight.

He was not heavily book-smart or entirely educated on civilized human nature. He knew humans behaved differently, but what he had been seeing inside of the house seemed so foreign it annoyed him half of the time, especially how they all spoke to one another. So instead, Zilrud found himself barefoot in the snow, looking up at a couple of trees. Inhaling deeply, he could smell which of the trees was the newest. They smelt sweeter, but they would also need to find hardwood trees instead of softer wood.

Once he had found a decent tree, with a single-handed swing, the axe was swung with blurring force to thunk deep into the bark and trunk of the tree. It would take the Orkhai nothing as the wedged blade was removed from the tree and slammed back into it at a slightly different angle. After a couple of good, wood-splitting whacks of the axe, a rough angle had been cut into the tree’s base. Zil pressed at the tree with a grunt, pushing it to topple over and snap from the remnants of its holdings to the base of the tree and fall with a soft, rolling thud to the snow-blanketed ground. In doing so, the tree’s leaves and fronds sent any fresher snow flailing every which way, the noise of the leaves and branches making a louder noise than the initial fall of the tree’s body.

And unless someone interrupted him, Zil was moving to the head of the tree, gripped it by the strongest branch at the top of it, and began dragging it behind him. The path left behind him showed where he was going, but he did not care. He had used the hearth every night since coming to Thomas’ estate and had the duty to at least replenish the wood he had used in the suite he was staying in. And if not interrupted. Zil would find himself closer to the estate’s main house, where he would begin hacking and hewing the remaining branches from the tree's main body; this way, it would be easier to cut more measured, usable pieces.

[Thomas]

Thomas found the company of his orkhai guest, Zilrud, bracing. He wasn't pleasant, or easy, but he was interesting, and sharp, and unpredictable. To Wendell's general consternation, Thomas spent much of his free time with the ork, taking meals with the man and walking him through the estate. At first, just the house, then the grounds and outbuildings as well. His desk piled up with correspondence from vassals, account books from clerks in their various enterprises, and the occasional personal correspondence. After a few days of such, Wendell told him he was being derelict, and Thomas pouted but couldn't disagree. So he shut himself up in his study, instead, and attended to all the work he'd been procrastinating on.

What had seemed tedious before was now stultifying. With every stroke of his pen, he could not help but reflect on how he did not want to be here. He wanted to be doing almost anything else, as long as it was interesting. If it was dangerous or risky, so much the better. He completed his obligations, though, because if he was not a perfect husband he was at least a dutiful one.

No sooner had he left the last of his responses to dry in the tray than he heard a loud, satisfying thunk of an axe in wood. It was not something he heard often, but the sound of it was unmistakable, and given that they bought their firewood by the cord, he had a feeling his guest had something to do with this. He paused only to shrug into some outerwear, a fetching red wool coat and an extra pair of wool socks and a nice pair of thick oiled boots, before following his ears to where he expected to find Zilrud.

His senses did not disappoint him. The giant, still clad only in Taelian's bathrobe and a pair of shorts despite Thomas' attempts to give him additional items of clothing, had hauled a tree back from the woods just at the border of the estate, judging by the direction of the trail left in the snow, and was now reducing it to firewood.

"Good afternoon, Sir Zilrud," Thomas said, waving to him in greeting. "What's all this about, then? Feeling the need to get the blood flowing?"

[Zilrud]

Zilrud had gone mostly for peace and quiet. There was too much hustling and bustling in the house for his liking. Thomas had been annoying, too. He was always near Zil, asking him questions, and talking to him about things from his past. Even talking about things that Thomas had done that Zilrud didn’t have the first clue about. Even had it been annoying, the Ork hadn’t shoved him off or tried to get rid of him. It was the first time someone had tried talking to him or simply acknowledged his existence. So the fact he had been left alone long enough to find a tree, fell it, and drag its corpse back to nearer the home had been satisfying.

Hearing the footfalls as a single swing of the axe hewed a branch clean off the tree trunk, the branch was tossed to the side, and the Ork paused, looking over to the Lordling as he had greeted him. Red orbs glanced at the clothes the other was wearing, and he snorted as his right hand lifted, gripping the axe further up the tool’s haft and swinging it downward harshly. The axe’s handle slid through his palm, and the wedged blade slammed into the tree’s main body, splitting halfway through the tree in a single swing. Sliding his hand back up the tool. It was swung again. This time, the wood was separated into a fully around, more manageable hunk of wood.

Pausing, the Orkhai had sap on his chest and his hands and partially on the robe as well. It was what happened when one chopped a tree down with the force of a brute while wearing inappropriate outerwear. Not saying anything at first, he moved a few paces down, hewed another branch off, tossed it with the others, and began cutting through the next segment, and only when that second piece had been separated from the main body did he pause and regarded Thomas. “Zilrud.” He would correct Thomas, mostly because he hated how sir sounded attached to his name.

The dirt-covered hand lifted and wiped wood splinters and shavings from his brow, smearing sap both to his forehead and the back of his hand. “I have used a lot of firewood. Making more.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Zilrud had never had money and didn’t know what it was like to buy things that one needed, so the need to venture out and provide was strong with him.

“Tired of your scribbling?” He asked, and although it sounded short and perhaps insulting, there was slight amusement in the half-smirk the Ork displayed as he began chopping more branches off of the main body until he had enough space for two more large cuts for rounds for the tree.

“Plenty of trees ready to cut. Need to be cut.”

And just as he gripped the axe to swing, he paused and let the axe head fall towards the ground, but he did not let the haft go. Instead, he slid his hand along it, up to the metallic blade, and offered the handle to Thomas. “Cut one piece. If you do, you can stay and talk.”

And if Thomas claimed he did not know how? He needed to be prepared for Zilrud to instruct him.

[Thomas]

Thomas noted with some displeasure that the robe, already stained with food and dirt and sweat, now had sap on it, too. It needed to go in the laundry, and he was going to have be firm with Zilrud on the idea that the man needed to change his damn clothes sometimes to allow for maintenance on the ones going unused. Or, if he refused to wear anything other than the one outfit like some kind of pauper or monk, he could wait in his suite naked while they were freshened up. That could wait, though. For now, there were trees to cut.

"Yes, as it happens, Zilrud, I am tired of paperwork. I came to it rather late in life, and despite Wendell's best efforts, I'm not sure it's where my talents lie. I was more capable in my old professions than I am in this one, I fear."

He looked the orc square in the eye at what was clearly a challenge and drew himself up to his full height. "I'm perfectly capable of cutting wood. Perhaps not as strong as you, but capable."

He looked at the orc's proffered axe, and shook his head. He'd just make a fool of himself with a tool that big, even if the wood was in a proper chopping spot instead of still on a literal tree that the giant had felled and dragged back to dismember. Instead, he retraced his steps to where he'd last seen a hatchet. Normally, it wasn't just left lying out this way, which suggested that perhaps Zilrud had demanded to be shown some axes and the household staff had complied to the best of their ability. He returned with the hatchet and selected a branch of average thickness to hew from the trunk. First, he knocked the snow and rime off the branch to reduce the risk that the axe would slip and hit something other than its intended target. Then, he did a test swing, making sure his range of motion was right and he's actually hit what he wanted to hit.

Only then did he start swinging. The first few cuts were more dings than chops, but they established a notch for him to get the axe into, and then after that, he just had to concentrate on hitting the notch each time. He got deeper and deeper into the branch until after a particularly big swing, it snapped and clattered to the cobblestone path that Zilrud had dragged the tree onto.

Thomas smiled at the ork, cheeks flushed with exertion and puiffing a bit.

"That did feel rather good. Thank you," he said, with a grin, "for providing me with some real work to do."

[Zilrud]

Zilrud’s expression had not changed since Thomas approached and spoke to him. When he looked him square in the eye and gave the quip, the Orkhai watched the smaller of the pair return from the direction he had come and watched him find the smaller of the tools he had left behind. Leaning his head to the side, the Orkhai watched Thomas return and position himself in an appropriate space on the tree. The branch was used and then tossed away.

A movement against the tree to knock the fresher snow from it. And then it started. First, the practice swing, which would test the direction of the blade, and the first couple of swings after that notched a firm divot into the wood before the hatchet began finding its mark and cutting deeper and deeper. Eventually, the branch snapped and fell to the path, and Zilrud watched the removed piece of wood fall to the cobblestone path.

The smile was not something that he had been expecting, and it was interesting to see the pink hue in the man’s cheeks with some of the puffing. When Thomas said he was finished, however, Zilrud lifted the axe in his hand and tapped the remaining large chunk of wood. “Once more. Cut the rest of the tree in half.” He said it was the rest of the tree, but it was only a slightly unmanageable piece for a smaller human, but nothing for the Orkhai.

His face lacked empathy when the other had been complaining about writing or lamenting. Moving to one of the cut sections, he turned it the hunk of wood onto its cut side, so it stood upright. Positioning it well enough, the Orkhai’s axe was lifted and felled swiftly into the center. The green muscles beneath the robe corded and tightened as he swung the axe, only to have them relax upon impact. The bladed wedge sunk into the tree round with a sickening split of wood cracking halfway down the middle. Pulling the axe out with a squeak against the slick wood, he lifted it one more and brought it to cracking through the wood, sending each half to separate parts of the cobblestoned path.

“Hard work will always ease the soul. It is also good for distraction when your head is too full.” Zilrud had paused as his eyes glanced out of the corner of his features, watching Thomas with a curiously raised green brow as he studied him. Thomas was an intriguing human. He was trying hard to fit in with his surroundings, and he was just as much out of place as the Orkhai.

An idea crossed the Orkhai’s mind, and he looked at the tree pieces, then back to Thomas. Turning from the man, he lowered his hand down to pick up the pieces of wood he had cut and began to sack them on the cobbled path, but for once, it was the Ork who was going to try something different. Something that Thomas had done or attempted to do. And rather than have the man’s poise and attempt at etiquette, Zil’s attempt was much more like hurling a boulder threw a glassblower’s workshop.

“Why do you look annoyed when you try to be like your mate?”

He asked about how Thomas tried to act properly like Wendell. He was curious as to why Thomas was behaving that way at all, Orkhai did not try to be something they were not, so it was difficult for him to wrap his mind around what Thomas was doing. He understood it was human nature, but he didn’t understand why it was their nature in the first place.

[Thomas]

Thomas had been sizing up how, exactly, he was going to do as Zilrud bade him when the orkhai interrupted his thoughts with another question. "Well now, Zilrud. I can either cut a tree or answer that question, but not both."

He knew which one the orkhai would prefer, so he squared off, ready to face the trunk of the tree instead of a branch.

This would be the same as before, just harder cause the trunk was thicker than the branch. Which was a bit like saying a mountain was just a really big hill or a blizzard just a really big snowfall: it wasn't wrong, but it was an oversimplification, and a potentially dangerous one. So he started by examining the trunk of the tree visually for burls or splits or other uneven parts that might make it cut oddly. Once he was satisfied he'd found his location, he proceeded as before: removing the snow and chopping off a small nubbin of a branch that would have gotten in the way.

With a goal and the path cleared of obvious obstacles, he started as before, hewing the notch, alternating between broadening it out and deepening it so he didn't end up with a crevasse his hatchet could get stuck in and embarrass himself in front of the orkhai who would be able to handle a trunk this circumference without taking half the amount of preparation Thomas had. He wasn't sure why that made him sweat, but he didn't want to look foolish in front of this man. He didn't like looking foolish in front of anyone unless it was some kind of feint or gambit, and there was no strategic advantage in appearing weak in front of Zilrud; he'd just respect him less. Perhaps that was it.

Thomas made a few more two hand overhead swings before stopping to examine his work thus far. A little uneven, perhaps, but correctable. He was panting, but he got back to work.

Why did he care what Zilrud thought of him? And moreover, why was he ignoring the question that Zilrud asked? Perhaps because it was a good one. Perhaps -- the log made a cracking sound as he landed a particularly good blow -- it was one he'd been avoiding for some time. He continued attacking it tenaciously, not bothering to give any one chop his all because he knew with a log this size it wasn't a sprint, it was a marathon.

When it finally gave with a satisfying crack like gunpowder, his grin felt like it would split his face and he let out a whoop of excitement, before looking a little embarrassed at Zilrud. The man probably thought him silly. It didn't matter, though. He felt like he was coming alive, which led to some difficult to answer questions he wanted to push away from about how he'd been feeling before the orkhai wandered onto their estate.

"I think ... I do not know if this will make sense to you, Zilrud, but who I was before I came to be here, before I came to be married," he looked away, "was not good. I've done many things I am not proud of. That these men," Not man, men. He wondered if Zilrud would notice before moving on, "welcomed me into their home, their bed, and their marriage, forgive me my past trasngressions, and forgave my transgressions against them, well, it meant a lot to me. I wanted to honor them, and show them I could be a decent and honorable sort. Hopefully, that's what I am doing. Even if it makes me annoyed. Better to be reformed and bored than as I was, I suppose." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

[Zilrud]

Thomas had a smart mouth on him, but he had always been polite, not really talking back or finding frustration with the Orkhai. But the quick retort had Zilrud’s axe pausing in its lift as his red gaze remained on the piece of wood in front of himself. Using his peripheral vision, he allowed himself to watch as the man squared himself up to begin his work on the wood. Continuing to watch him for a moment, he moved into position on his own piece of wood and looked at his piece. Raising his axe, he lifted it and slammed it down, nigh perfectly in the center, splitting the piece of wood and sending smaller pieces flying in different directions.

Glancing back over towards the other, he had watched the man work hard at creating a path. Cutting wood was a good judge of character. He could see Thomas’s desire always to have a path created ahead of him. Just in case something went wrong, there were already thoughts on fixing it when the error happened. That was admirable to the Orkhai, even if it was simply cutting wood. So when the tenacity carried Thomas all the way through to the loud crack, Zilrud turned to look at Thomas and caught the grin that attempted to split the other’s face in half.

That feeling that was on Thomas’s face, was what Thomas needed to feel. His heart was not pumping oxygenated blood full of endorphins when inside the house, sitting at a desk and writing things on paper. Which had brought Thomas to answer the question finally. Turning away from the man, he began plucking up the pieces of wood, listening to him as he divulged how different of a person he was. It was not lost upon the green giant that the man had said he was married to more than one man, but if Zilrud felt one way or another about it, he had not made any outwards notion of it. Once the wood was stacked, Zil turned his head to regard Thomas as he finished explaining why he was acting the way he had the last couple of days. And since Thomas was sharing and there were no servants or staff around, Zilrud lifted the axe's blade to look at it as he replied.

“I was drugged. Kidnapped. Brought here many years ago. My people, my weapons, everything I had, including my honor, had been taken. I was stripped of everything and forced to fight bare-handed for so long that I have forgotten when it started. They made me popular in private for money when I was popular enough.”

That was all he was going to share, a lot more had happened, but it wasn’t that serious to get that in-depth with. “You had your marriage to pull you in and give you something that you wanted. What did you give up, and why change anything about yourself, if human marriage is about acceptance of each other?” As he asked this, he lowered the axe and looked to Thomas.

And that was where he paused and for the first time since Thomas had arrived to keep him company with his attention on the tree, and instead squared up on Thomas, moving to stand within two or so steps and looked at him. “You smiled when you cut the wood just now. Your hands are dirty. You are not in your study. You have lost parts of yourself for your marriage. I have lost parts of myself because I was used for amusement. The only difference is that yours keeps you warm in your soft beds at night, and you share smiles that are as untrue as the ones your mate gives me from down the hall.”

Perhaps it was rude flat-out to say something like that in a civilized conversation. Still, Zilrud did not have a filter and the idea that the difference in Thomas’s smile from the sarcasm in the beginning to the genuine elation to completing a tangible manual task. Zilrud turned from the boy, placing the axe down, and started gathering firewood that had been cut in large quantities. This way, he could begin delivering what had been cute for hearths and ready for any other needs for burning wood.

[Thomas]

Thomas didn't flinch or even really react to Zilrud's account of what had happened to him in Lorien. For one thing, it was not surprising. When people had the ability to abuse power, some of them would, and a Nameless orkhai, far from everything he knew or understood, was vulnerable, no matter how many logs he could split with an axe. The fighting sounded bad, but the mention of him being "popular in private" was what really worried Thomas. He was no stranger to selling all kinds of things, including himself when times were lean and he was out of other commodities, but that had been his choice. It was a coerced choice due to poverty, perhaps, but he had still chosen it.

What Zilrud was describing was worse. He had not chosen any of it, and had just survived as best he could.

"You've endured much," was all he said. He didn't want Zilrud to mistake compassion for pity, or for weakness. So instead, he let his statement stand: he was impressed by the orkhai's toughness.

It wasn't a lie. Many people in that position would have been moved to suicide. The fact that he thought instead of escape showed an indomitable will that Thomas felt a kinship with. He'd never been that hard by, but he'd been in bad situations, and he'd survived. He knew better than to compare their plights; nothing showed someone you weren't really listening like turning the conversation back to yourself. Still, it made him feel closer to Zilrud to be privileged with this information.

At Zilrud's question, he shook his head a bit. "This may be the first time that you have an idealized view of something humans do, Zilrud. Marriage is not about acceptance. Partnership is, sure, and love, but marriage is a separate process from all of that. Marriage is about compromise, and legal agreements, and appearances, and politics. I suppose you might find it baffling, or too high a price, but... when you love a man, sometimes you do stupid things for him, and when you want something, sometimes you accept it before you have an idea of the strings that are attached."

He wondered if Zilrud would pick up on that -- married to men but in love with a man. Not that he didn't love Wendell. The man had many charms, and in some alternate universe where they'd met without Taelian's involvement, Thomas could see them ending up in one another's lives. Or at least, he could see himself ending up in Wendell's bed all over again, and being kept by the man for a while. Taelian, though, had forged this triangular arrangement, and it had been an asymmetric from the start, with both of them more involved with him than with one another. Then he had left for the front, and then for Radenor, and though he had returned periodically, his heart did not come back to them. Thomas, an expert at acting, lying, and manipulation, had no trouble spotting faltering interest, and just chose to overlook it.

Not for the first time, as he helped Zilrud stack wood, he found himself wondering what in his unknown mother's name he was doing here.

[Zilrud]

You have endured much.

Zilrud understood the reason behind saying it, but he would always feel everyone endured something not many others could understand completely. With that thought gone, he had moved on to picking up more wood as Thomas explained what marriage was and what it meant to him. Legal agreements, appearances, politics, compromise. One after another, every one of the things Thomas had listed chipped away at a person, one way or another.

“I would not know.” That was all he said regarding how a marriage worked. None of it sounded exciting to him, and at first, he was going to let it go, but when he glanced over to Thomas, the man seemed to be holding onto something. He could not quite tell, and perhaps it was the attachment of the strings he had mentioned. But when Thomas finally had no more wood in his grasp, he would feel the back of Zilrud’s hand against his chest, giving him a shove back, away from the wood and the mess left behind from the chopping of the tree.

“Most think Orkhai are dumb killing machines. And maybe we are. But one thing I know besides fighting and war is when we find our mate.” There was another tap, although a tap for Zilrud was not quite a tap for anyone else who was not an Orkhai, and gave him a bit of a shove with his knuckle to Thomas’s chest. “It is filled with honor and pride. In front of Jaxkael, we connect our souls.” Grumbling his disinterest in their conversation, suddenly, he turned from Thomas and began picking up the rest of the wood.

“Humans do strange things.” He said this quietly and moved to take in the rest of the firewood and store it somewhere dry enough and kept away from the snow. Returning to where they had been cutting the wood, he picked up the axe and would, take up the hatchet that Thomas had been using, and began to make sure there were no leftover remnants of useable wood before he headed off to put away the axes.

He returned to Thomas only when the axes were put away, having remained practically silent since his assessment of human marriage. “It is your life, little one. You make what you will of it. Do not depend on someone else to make you happy. If you are happy in your….” He lifted his gaze to the large estate house. “…home. Then let this old Orkhai ramble to the snow, and you return to your mate’s bedside.”

Zilrud was not judging and did not understand the point of keeping oneself so unhappy for the sake of the idea of something else.

“…I like you better when you chop wood than scribbling on your papers.”

Thomas could take that in whatever way he wished. Once he ascertained they were finished with the firewood, he made his way to the same door he had come out of. Only when he arrived at the door would he pause and wait for Thomas. Orkhai could survive in the cold for some time. The little Lordling would not last a few hours.

[Thomas]

Zilrud touching him, even in ways meant to be amicable and kind was intense. The man either did not know his own strength or didn't care to adjust it to Thomas' frame. In either case, though, he took the prods at his chest in the spirit they were offered. Perhaps Zilrud was addressing his heart in this way, or perhaps he just meant to get Thomas' attention; he was unsure. In either case, it did help, though, to bring him back to the present: the chill air, the smell of freshly splintered wood that had to be dried, and an orkhai in the robe of a fine gentleman who seemed to be enjoying himself doing something other than eating or sleeping for the first time since Thomas had known him.

Humans do strange things. Thomas had no counter to that, because he agreed.

"We do. I think to do strange things is proof that the mind is a tangled and splendorous thing, and I don't think that's bad. Wish mine didn't tend to get knotted into clumps, though." It was said lightly, but it was not a joke.

He took a seat on the nearby steps. He could feel the chill of the cold stone through his coat, but for the moment it felt good, like an anchor to what was real before his mind ran away from him entirely. He smiled at the orkhai's pronouncement that he preferred Thomas here to the one in the study, toiling away behind a desk.

"I prefer this me, too," it was said quietly, like a confession. He wasn't sure what he was confessing to, exactly, but to even contemplate this felt like rebellion.

His union provided many comfortable things for him, and in return, he was expected to be a certain person. If he were moving away from being that person, he was not sure what that meant for the stable life he'd tried very hard to be good at for the better part of a year.