Assaj preferred not to think anymore about what had just transpired between her and the one raised by golug. The anger and the threats that had emanated from him still lingered, despite his apology. She still didn't understand much, except for two things. He did not wish to be called Master and if he ever left her behind, she'd be irrevocably alone. The moment he had stormed off to cool down had been enough for her to realize she could not face the loneliness any longer. It angered, humiliated and scared her. She had barely found freedom for two meager years and she had already bound herself to a new, unwilling, master.
It made her sick.
'Weak! Disgusting whelp! You didn't win fast enough, why do I even bother feeding you?! Seems like you need another round in the pen!'
The woman shuddered. Finding rest was impossible, memories and visions plaguing her unbiddingly, pictures of her companion overlapping with older ones from those who had owned her. She forced her body to keep on breathing slowly, imitating sleep, body as lax as she could.
The stiletto he had ordered her to take dug in her side, layers of leather and cloth being the only obstacle between the blade and her flesh. The man's story had evoked old fears, the savage woman have no doubt about magic having been part in how his former sword had been shattered into dust. It made her fear what they could possibly find in Angmar; not only The Weakling but also things that could put her back in another Pit.
She pressed harder on the blade, as if wishing for it to pierce her armour and kill her. But she stopped, before it could truly cut through anything. He wouldn't want that. And her life and body was his. She was no equal, never would be, she reminded herself. Her place was still to obey. After all, while he accused of her insulting everything he cared for at every turn, he certainly did not...he did not do any better either. There was some kind of wall between them that she could not overcome. Because while she was supposed to come to respect his views, he would not return the favour; no one would wish to do anything like monsters and orcs in any possible way after all. No, he wished for her to be molded into something after his image.
Assaj had done that before, throwing away everything she had been. She could do it again.
Her hand brushed the bump of the recipient full of salve that rested in her pocket and paused in her thoughts. And realized she couldn't do that, no matter how hard she wished for it. Somehow, the Savage Woman realized, she had gotten attached. To what exactly, she didn't know yet; if it was the quest, the Weakling, the company, having a purpose...That, she could not determine, and it terrified her even more than what they could possibly face in Angmar...
