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Adar kept his word. Arondir wasn’t chained. For the most part, he was allowed to roam the village as he liked. No guard followed him about, but of course, he wasn’t truly free.
Arondir was certain Adar would know if Arondir strayed too far. The bond was a constant source of irritation. It was as if Adar was always there, an unwanted companion that never truly left. No matter how Arondir tried to block him out, there was a part of his mind that was always aware of where Adar was, and sometimes a vague sense of the alpha’s emotions. Arondir knew that the bond could grow deeper. Bonded pairs could open their minds to one another to communicate as easily as speaking. The closest couples would sometimes reach states where the boundaries between the alpha’s and the omega’s thoughts became almost nonexistent. For most elves, such a bond was a sign of devotion.
Arondir was determined to keep as much as himself from Adar as possible. He avoided the alpha during the day, only returning to the house they shared at night. He guarded his thoughts and kept a wall up in case Adar tried to delve into his mind, and he didn’t attempt to search Adar’s thoughts, afraid that doing so would allow the alpha more access to Arondir’s own mind.
Even besides the risk the bond posed, there was nowhere he went that was free of orcs. None followed him, but he could constantly feel their eyes on him. However, they seldom tried to speak with him or interfere with his movements unless Adar ordered them to. So Arondir was somewhat surprised one day when Jargblok stood in front of him and didn’t announce that Adar requested his presence.
“Hello...” Arondir spoke after a moment of silence.
Jargblok thrust out his hand. In it was some type of fabric. “Ragash... my mate... asked me to give this to you. She said it can get cold at night and that omegas like this type of thing.”
Hesitantly, Arondir reached out to take the fabric. It was a blanket, thick and heavy. It was clearly homemade, though in a style he wasn’t familiar with. A bit crude, but Arondir didn’t know more than basic stitches, so he wasn’t one to judge. “Thank you. Tell her I said that I appreciate it. It’s beautiful.”
Jargblok nodded, and then he turned to leave abruptly. Clearly, he saw no point in carrying on the conversation now that his task was completed, something Arondir was somewhat grateful for since he wasn’t sure how to interpret the gift. He didn’t trust the orcs, but they hadn’t tried to harm him since Adar had claimed him. He couldn’t think of any way the blanket could be a threat. So, he brought it back to the house he shared with Adar.
“She means it exactly the way it looks.” Adar told him later that night. “Uruks give practical gifts, and Ragash is skilled in knitting.”
“I thought orcs only created weapons.”
“Uruks.” Adar corrected. “We prefer the term uruks. It’s true that my children have seldom had time for craftwork. Morgoth bred them for war. But that does not mean they are not capable of learning. Since Sauron’s death, they have had the opportunity to learn more than just war.”
Arondir supposed it made sense. He'd seen enough of war to know how easily art and the memory of different skills could be lost forever simply because an artist was killed before they could pass on the knowledge. It was all too easy to imagine how the moriondor could either lose all knowledge of elven craft or simply be unable to pass it onward.
The blanket was, indeed, warm, and Arondir found he treasured it in a way. It might not have been particularly valuable, but most things in the house were Adar’s. This, at least, belonged to him.