#mostly for spelling errors and improved aesthetics (shoutout to @thecutestgrotto!)

[pengtheplush]

If Brûz took part in Mordor’s conquest of Minas Ithil, I imagine him to be the type to flirt with captives. This is my take on that hypothetical scene. Critics are welcome to point out ways to improve, so with that said, enjoy!

[Scene: Dusk descends upon a ruined Gondorian outpost. The heady scent of blood hangs thick in the air. The camera pans over the aftermath of a recent skirmish, battered bodies strewn about like discarded toy soldiers. The orcs who still draw breath—the victors—limp or lounge amongst the black and crimson-painted rubble, tending to themselves and their newly acquired possessions. At the heart of the carnage stands BRÛZ THE CHOPPER —hulking, smug, and gloriously bloodstained.]

[Enter TERRA, a Gondorian scout: clothes caked in dirt and dried leaves, disheveled but none too worse for wear. She strides in with as much dignity as the two Uruks corralling her on either side allow. She’d just been captured before the battle but isn’t acting much like a prisoner.]

BRÛZ (grinning wide as he turns to her): “Well now, look wot we’ve got ‘ere! A little mouse sniffin’ round my grounds. You lost, luv?”

[The keeper on her right lets out a gravely cackle while the other on her left grips her shoulder like a vice. Terra ignores them both in favor of observing the towering figure before her, the first Olog she’s ever seen up-close.]

TERRA (raising an eyebrow; his ‘grounds’ belonged to her kinsmen not 2 hours ago): "Depends. Is this the part where you bash my skull in, or the part where you make some crass joke about my ‘brittle tark bones’ first?"

BRÛZ (chuckling deeply): “Heh! Got bite, this one. I like that. Most tarks either squeal or faint when they see ol’ Brûz. But you? You look like you’re almost enjoyin’ the view.”

TERRA (eyeing him up and down, reluctantly amused): "You're not entirely unpleasant to look at, that is if one's into massive, mace-wielding murder machines."

BRÛZ (stepping closer, voice dropping to a sly rumble): “Careful now, you keep talkin’ sweet like that, and I might think you’re flirtin’. Which’d be very dangerous for a… slight lass like yourself.”

TERRA (tilting her head curiously, trying not to smile): "Is that so? I thought orcs didn’t have much use for… charm."

BRÛZ (grinning wider, revealing a pair of sharp, white canines): “Oh, we mostly don’t. But I’m a rare breed. I chop heads off by dusk, woo trespassin’ bewdies till dawn. Balance, innit?”

[He circles her slowly, casually, as if it wasn’t the blood of her kin he was treading over. Terra doesn’t flinch. Instead, she watches him, equal parts wary and intrigued.]

TERRA (playfully sarcastic): "You are surprisingly well-spoken for someone who got intentionally mauled by a caragor just to try and win a drinking contest."

[Brûz’s stride halts for a moment, surprised yet refusing to let it show. So, the little mouse knew a thing or two. It would seem his moves to cut off Minas Ithil from the rest of Gondor hadn’t truly gone unnoticed, nothing their pitiful defense would have lead him to believe. Despite the offense, he had to give her some credit. He couldn’t be too mad since he does love an audience after all.]

BRÛZ (chuckling again, but with a darker undertone that makes Terra shiver —almost imperceptible beneath his gaze): “Won that contest, thank you very much. And I’ve got the marks to prove it.”

[Beat. There’s a long pause as they lock eyes, a strange kind of tension fills the space between them, like a primed bow string. Terra finally breaks it.]

TERRA (exhales sharply, feeling heat beginning to rise in her cheeks): “This is ridiculous. I should be planning my escape. Or stabbing you. But instead, I’m just… standing here, wondering what you'd be like if you weren't an enemy."

BRÛZ (leaning in close, his breath hot against Terra’s upturned face): “Oh, don’t let a lil' thing like war get in the way, darlin’. I always say: ‘Chop first, chat later.’ But for you? I could... rearrange the order.”

[Brûz graces her with a disarmingly lazy smirk, and for a moment, Terra is visibly blushing —which she immediately curses herself for.]

TERRA (turning away with a huff): "This is insane! You're unbelievable."

[Brûz waves his hand to signal she be taken to what are to be his new quarters for the foreseeable future.]

BRÛZ (calling after her as she’s escorted away): “Sure, but you like that, don’t ya?”

[The camera lingers on Terra’s flushed face as she’s escorted away. Her flustered expression hardens… but there’s a definite, undeniable grin tugging at her lips’ ends. Although this battle has died, it would seem something else stirs within the ashes…]

[Fade to black.]