[Mithadan]

Gravlox sat in Sharing Hammock, waiting tensely. She will not come. Surely she has many a suitor. Or she will send instead warriors. I am a fool. He drew his dagger and tested its edge nervously as he looked about, seeking some sight of Merisu.

Then he saw, in the distance, a maiden walking in a shimmering pool of light and his heart leaped. He swallowed it back down and tried unsuccessfully to compose himself. Unbidden, thoughts cam into his mind: It is the east, and Merisu is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

She came yet closer and brought up a hand to her face as she tried to pierce the darkness with her eyes. "What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsel?"

She speaks:
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air. But he remained silent as she stepped slowly closer.

Finally, he spoke. "I have come to see you my lady, and having seen you, that is enough: I should go."

"Stay," she cried, squinting into the night. "And give me your name."

And Gravlox said, "By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word."

Her breath hissed in a gasp as at last she saw his face. He cringed but made no move to rise. "I saw you from afar," he said. "And could not stay away. Though I know my kind is repugnant to you. And yet, know that among my kind it is sometimes said that we were once as you are before the Dark One came and sat upon us."

Almost, she ran, and yet she was facinated by this Orc who sat so quietly and yet so boldly before her. "How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here."

"So be it!" he cried. "I am weary of my life. And if I cannot have more, then die I shall, but happily now that I have seen you from so close a distance." He stood slowly and walked to her. She stood quietly and did not run, but marvelled at the apparition which had appeared before her. "You find me attractive?" she said shyly.

"Yes!" he cried. He hurriedly wiped some spittle from his snout then continued. "More fair than any I have seen before. But this is foolishness. This will never work."

"No, never," she replied taking a small step closer.

"Impossible," he insisted, letting the dagger fall from his hand.

"What would people say?" she laughed, taking a deep breath.

"Unnatural," he answered stepping even closer. "Insane."

"Yes," she whispered, having slipped so close that the hilts of his sword nearly touched her. "Kind of sad, isn't it?"

He fell silent, shivering at her closeness, and bowed his head. At last he answered. "Very sad indeed." A tear fell down his cheek.

"What a mighty blade you wear," she commented. "Does it have a name?"

He laughed bitterly. "It is called the ZigZag sword and is said to be enchanted. What manner of enchantment it bears I do not know, for it will not come free from its sheath."

"Really," she said, licking her lips. "I love a challenge. Can I try?" She placed her hands on the hilts and pulled. Then he placed his hands on hers and they pulled again. The blade slid from its sheath with a whisper of steel. He looked at it in surprise. A light seemed to shine on the two from above.

"There now," she said. "That wasn't so difficult. Now where where we? Oh yes. So sad, I could cry that because of the families we were born into we could not ever be together."

"Never," he whispered. "Ridiculous." He reached a hand up to her face to console her.

"Absurd," she replied, looking into his eyes and caressing his muscular shoulders to console him.

"Laughable," he murmured, as he ran his hands along the soft material of her dress to console her.

She stepped back suddenly. "Do you compose poetry?" she asked.

"No," came the crestfallen answer. She smiled and they consoled one another vigourously throughout the night and into the wee hours of the morning.