Orlmor was stabilised now, and Rothoor was in a difficult position. He had seen other orks die of similar sickness to Orlmor if they still had it by the time winter arrived. In their region, winter could get very brutal. The obvious solution then would be to take her to Relheem, as it had the best healers that were near enough and accessible and get her cured. The problem was two-fold. First, Relheem was ‘close’ only in relative terms. It was considered close because where they lived, Soloth, was semi-remote. The second problem was that the route to Relheem from Soloth wasn’t exactly safe these days.

The Nahani elves had been at war with the neighbouring Yabahri elves for years now over control over the Yabahri’s Mahan trees. Rothoor didn’t know much beyond that about the conflict, but the road to Relheem went straight through heavily contested territory between the 2 kingdoms. But in the end, there was no choice. It was dangerous, but if they didn’t go, Orlmor was even more likely to die at home. If they were going to go however, they needed to do it soon. The journey to Relheem took four weeks, and winter was about a little over a month away, so they would have to start preparing to leave now. He would have to tell Orlmor.

Rothoor looked down as Orlmor once again slept. Worryingly, her breathing was the more ragged sound he had been noticing quite often recently. He didn’t want to wake her, but there was really no choice. They had to be quick about this.

He gently shook her awake. There was a hitch in her breathing, and she began to stir, the covers sliding off as she woke to the world. Rothoor decided to be as direct as possible.

“We must get ready to travel. If we don’t get you to the healers at Relheem before winter hits, you won’t survive.”

A look of slight shock appeared on Orlmor’s face, before quickly being subdued. Her brow seemed to furrow in thought.

“Is this really the best option?” She responded.

“I know you would rather try and recover at home, but you have been getting worse for two weeks now. And if we don’t go now, we likely won’t get there in time.”

He hated having to tell her this. He knew she loved their home, and he knew the idea of venturing away from it to go on a dangerous journey to a human settlement seemed instinctually wrong to her. But it was the only choice left. He hoped she didn’t hear the fear for her in his voice.

She gave him a reassuring smile and reached out a shaky arm to sweetly grip his muscular green hand.

“I understand.” She whispered.

Relief bloomed in his mind, and he felt the corners of his mouth turn up in response. She was an amazing woman. He leaned towards her, and they kissed. Sadly, such an act wasn’t as common as it usually would have been. What Orlmor had wasn’t infectious, their tribe’s shaman had assured them of that, but she was sleeping and resting often enough to where engaging in such simple physical comfort was not as prevalent as they both would have liked.

“I’ll tell the children.” He stated.

But that was another element of this he was not going to enjoy. His 2 daughters were young enough to where they wouldn’t take the idea of him and their mother going off for eight weeks without them well. He was going to leave Mord to look after them though, but that presented another headache. Mord was well taught by him, but leaving him to look after the house for eight weeks without his mother or father added a whole range of potential problems that could occur while they were away. He was a diligent boy who cared for his family, but he still had many of the undisciplined elements of youth about him, and Rothoor didn’t want to put him in such a situation yet. He would have to ask some of the other tribesmen to help him when they could.

“Folom, Trothor, Mord! Come to the dinner table!” He called out.

All 3 of them hurried in from different areas of the house. Mord was already large enough to where he had to struggle through the front door almost as much as his father. As they entered, he saw that all of them had some sort of grim expression on their face. They were right to expect some unpleasant news. Once they were all seated, he began.

“Your mother and I are going to have to leave for Relheem. She’s too sick now so we have to get there so that their healers can fix her. It will be 4 weeks there then, after your mother has recovered, another 4 weeks back.” After his explanation he saw tears forming at the edge of Folom’s eyes. She was the youngest, so he expected as much. Trothor seemed to contain herself well enough, but he could see she wasn’t pleased. Mord looked a little sad, but he was clearly okay. When he added that Mord would be overseeing the household in the time they were away, a fleeting smile appeared on his face. Rothoor guessed the smile came from the prospect of getting to have some important responsibility for a while. If he was his age, he probably would have felt the same.

Once he was done with his talk with his children, Rothoor squeezed out of the front door and sat on a nice comfortable chair. It was definitively night-time now, and glowing red insects were buzzing around in the dark, bringing illumination to where the sun had abandoned. He began going through a mental checklist of some of the key things he would need to get ready tomorrow. The first the thing to sort out would be to go to the great village shaman and get some food charmed so that it would last longer on the journey. The thought of it was one of the few things that made Rothoor’s hair stand up. The village shaman was an intimidating and incredibly impressive man and going to him had always felt stressful. But he would do it because he must. He would also have to bring his crossbow, his axe, and his knife, and get the carriage ready amongst other smaller things as well. They hadn’t used the carriage in years, but hopefully time had been kind to it. When he was in the town, he should also discuss with some of the other people he knew about checking on Mord.

…

The next morning, Rothoor woke to an annoying buzzing and tapping sound coming from the bedroom window. An insect was uselessly slamming itself into the window, not noticing the glass that blocked its access. It may have been annoying, but it seemed to have awoken Rothoor at a good time. It was early morning and he had things to do before he and Orlmor could leave. He pulled on some day clothes, careful not to wake his wife, then moved to the pantry, where he began to fill a sack and a container full of various foods he wanted charmed by the shaman. He woke Mord and told him to take up position at the front of the house while he was gone. Afterwards he pulled on the same pair of boots from yesterday, checked to make sure the cart was in working condition for later, and set off for the main area of the tribe.

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The path toward Soloth was a faint trail of pebbles pressed into the ground. He followed it as it went downhill, bringing him closer and closer to his goal. After following the path for a good half-hour, he could now see indications of civilisation. The path was now much more defined, and as he cleared a hill, he could see an arrangement of small buildings sprawled around a large clear space. Small unidentifiable figures moved around the buildings, attending to various tasks.

When he approached the gate, one of the two guards, Fromol he thought his name was, gave him a quick nod as he watched the surroundings. They used to only have one guard at each gate, but after the nearby Elven war began, they were being a lot more cautious now. None of the fighting had come to their lands so far, but it wasn’t an unthinkable scenario.

Rothoor walked through the streets of Soloth and quickly found the shaman’s sanctum. It was a distinctly orkish building unlike Rothoor’s house. Its walls were constructed with the local orange coloured wood that was associated with Orkish lands. Inside, support pillars made out of massive Toroga Whale bones gleamed in the light. Toroga Whales were insanely sized creatures that were very hard to hunt. Having their bones be the structural elements of a building was impressive, especially considering Soloth wasn’t that close to any ocean, so the bones would have to have been brought from lands he had never seen.

At the end of the long building sat the tribe’s shaman, Kormal. Rothoor slowly walked towards him, keeping his head bowed as tradition dictated. When he reached the steps to Kormal’s jagged throne, he shrank to kneel on one knee and looked straight down. The traditions of respect for shamans like Kormal existed because they had very much earned it. Kormal had lived for 230 years, had refined his magic to that of a master and he had gained much wisdom in his time amongst the living. One of the few things he wasn’t a master of was healing magic, as orks tended to struggle with such techniques. Put simply however, he was the most impressive man Rothoor had met.

“Rise.” Kormal simply said. Rothoor rose from his kneeling position and looked up, meeting Kormal’s gaze.

“What is the purpose of your visit Rothoor?”

Rothoor swallowed. “I come to you today as my wife is ill. We plan to make the journey to Relheem before winter arrives to get her cured, and I am here to request you to charm my food so that it will better last the journey.”

Kormal considered him for a few seconds, then a slight smile stretched out on his wrinkled green skin. “Your request will be fulfilled. Leave your food here. Come back in twenty minutes.”

Relief filled Rothoor as he quickly left the food and exited the building. The fresh air did a good job at improving his mood. While he waited for the food to be ready, he might as well get around to organising people to assist Mord.

After twenty minutes, Rothoor had managed to talk 2 people into the agreement. They would occasionally check in on Mord for the time he and his wife would be gone and give him some assistance if needed. It probably would have been a bit easier getting them to agree to it, but living as far from everyone else as his family did mean they weren’t as close to the others as most would be. Living this way clearly had its disadvantages, but Rothoor had grown up this way, and he had no desire to change how he lived his life.

He stood in front of the shaman’s sanctum once more, feeling unease fill his body, then stepped inside. The unease immediately worsened, but it was something he could at least partially put to the back of his mind. When he was halfway to the throne, a small boy around Mord’s age timidly approached Rothoor and handed him the various the food he had left to be enchanted. The boy was likely Kormal’s apprentice. It was almost disturbing imagining such an innocent and inexperienced boy potentially becoming just like Kormal one day. Rothoor took the food from the boy, thanked him, and left at a brisk pace. He was glad he didn’t have to actually talk to the shaman.

…

By the time he made it back home, the morning was almost over, so he made sure to quickly get breakfast ready for his family. It was a little frustrating, but it needed to be done. Afterwards it was time to get the cart ready, so he ambled towards the crumbling stone stable where their cart and singular horse resided. The horse gave a short snort as he approached, and Rothoor began slowly hauling the cart out of its shelter. It looked good and felt sturdy despite its age. Once he had positioned the cart, he slowly approached the solitary horse and led it to the carriage. It was a cooperative beast named Hanrari. They’d had her for a few years after buying her from some traveling Nahani elves. That was back before the war, however. He tied the beast to the cart and gave it a carrot before finally heading back inside the house after Mord acknowledged him with a nod.

Orlmor was awake but sitting up in bed, watching the garden out of their small window. A melancholic look was spread across her face. Rothoor sat down next to her and they both gave each other an uneasy smile. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her hand. Despite assumedly being in the house since she had woken, her hand was colder then his. She lay her head on his shoulder, and they stayed this way for a while. After a few minutes Rothoor whispered to her:

“I’ll make breakfast, and afterwards I’ll help you get ready to leave.” The muscles in her hand tensed a little when he mentioned that they would have to leave soon, but quickly returned to their relaxed state. “Thank you. I know this must be hard on you and I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden.” She responded. She had moved her head and was looking into his eyes now. He felt a warmness settle deep inside his bones and he smiled. “There is no need to apologise, it’s not your fault.” They hugged for a few seconds before Rothoor left to prepare breakfast.

Today’s breakfast was simpler then yesterday’s dinner. It was a serving of cooked bread with Ramura bean paste and salt on top, and it seemed everyone enjoyed it well enough. Orlmor tried to offer to help with the cleaning up, but Rothoor refused the assistance. Afterwards, he began packing everything else they needed into the cart. By the time they were ready to leave it was still mid-day. Orlmor was snuggly in the cart, but before he could go, he would have to say goodbye to the children. He told Mord about how he would receive some routine visits and gave him some last minute advice on looking after the household and the girls. Folom and Trothor both cried and hugged him when he said goodbye, and he had to hold back some tears himself. Once all that was finished, he hopped into the front of the carriage next to Orlmor. He gave one last check of everything in the cart, then they finally set off as they both waved to their children they wouldn’t see again for roughly two months.