�Please, oh please, oh please, Methos�you�ve got to help us� several CDCers and friends pleaded with the lounging elder lazily sun-bathing next to the pool.

They held out a smallish box lined with a sky blue baby blanket of the softest fleece. Snuggled in the folds of the bedding was a tiny, sleeping, infant orc peacefully sucking its thumb. Words tumbled and swirled around the indifferent immortal, growing more insistent and passionate: �We found it abandoned�how could anyone do such a thing �.its cries were so feeble�.it was hungry and cold and all alone ��.we couldn�t just leave it there��.something had to be done!�

Methos took a second look at the creature and just shook his head. �You have completely lost your collective minds.� he said. "You can�t keep it. You can�t feed it. You can�t....�

�Awwww, Methos, look. It�s so cute.� The girls said together as the little critter squeaked and stretched in its sleep, totally oblivious to the ruckus around it.

Methos sighed, sprawled back down in the lawn chair, and proceeded to ignore the whole preposterous notion of adopting and raising an orc.

Perhaps that should read he attempted to ignore....

The girls were unrelenting in their pleas and questions. What can we feed it? Should we keep it in the dark? What can we do about this smell? It�s so tiny and helpless. Come on Methos, you have been around for five thousand years; surely you can give us some advice on the care and feeding of baby orcs.

The ladies cajoled and teased and stroked his biceps and kissed his nose and ruffled his hair.

Methos, acting amused and immune, just rolled his eyes and sighed. At least that was the fa�ade he was exhibiting for the girls.

�Okay,� he sat upright and looked narrowly at the clan sibs before him. �I do this for you and you help me get the key to the backhoe.� At that, he turned his gaze directly toward hayden, for he knew the Mistress of Mayhem was also the Keeper of the Key.

That crafty hayden never skipped a beat. She squinted right back at him and said, �Methos, you have nothing to worry about.� She reached into the front of her t-shirt and pulled out a shiny key that hung on a satin ribbon around her neck. It sparkled once in the sun and then was dropped back down her shirt. She grinned.

A dubious look flitted across the immie�s face but outwardly he chose to play along to see where he could go.

�Well, we will have to feed it and that will mean orc milk for a little while. We do need to keep it in the dark. The smell comes from the creature�s innate evilness, but I have heard it said when an orc is raised with kindness and tenderness that the odor eventually dissipates. We will need a dark room with fans and humidifiers to reproduce an outdoor climate. Playing a cd with forest sounds might make this little one feel more comfortable at night. But the first order of business will be to milk an orc!!� He ended triumphantly.

There was a discouraged silence and then the little one turned once more in the box, dislodging its thumb but continued sucking air as all babies of all species have done for all times.

The girls all sighed in unison and it only served to reinforce their resolve to nurture this wild orphan and not one of them missed Methos� use of the first person plural in his last statement.

�Okay, milking an orc---would you say that is similar to milking cows?� MacNair, the farmer�s daughter, asked.

Methos snorted.

�Well, if your cows are slavering torch bearing creatures with yellow teeth and bowed legs who inhabit the night like a bad dream, then 'yes', it is very similar.�

Methos only enjoyed the descending gloom over the girls for a second and then he lifted their spirits with: �I am 5000 years old, do you not think I would have a trick or two up my sleeve? Come on, let�s get started, dusk is coming and the little one will be hungry.�

There was a slight problem of what to do with the baby while they went orc hunting. The girls weren�t too sure what Duncan and Connor would think of this, but they figured they could wrap Richie around their fingers with chocolate chip cookies and kisses. He succumbed without a whimper and as they left him in the darkened room they could hear him softly crooning Madonna tunes to the little orc.

Methos directed the gathering of disguises and hunting paraphernalia. Everyone had a long, black, hooded cape and gloves, charcoal rubbed on their faces and the one thing guaranteed to catch, tame and milk an orc: sparklers�lots and lots of sparklers. The orcs were attracted to the light and yet immobilized by it. It was a fleeting temporary reflex, but Methos, the Master Mind, thought if they all worked quickly they could get the milk and retreat to safety.

CDCers and friends met behind the garage at sundown, checking supplies and testing lighters, each sensing and easing the others� anxieties. Methos joined them and passed around buckets which he had spray painted black.

They proceeded cautiously and quietly up the hills behind the compound. When they stood on the edge of the wilderness they could hear the terrible snarls and scuffles of the wild things, and smell the horrible stench that awaited them. Methos silently demonstrated the lighting of the sparklers and stepped courageously forward. More than one CDCer and friend thought ruefully�this must be a lot easier if you happen to be an immortal, an immortal with a big sword hidden somewhere in that secret katana space. But spurred on by an eternal and ageless call to protect and nurture the weak and defenseless and by a shared fear of being left alone in the murk and the gloom they followed their leader.

Methos held his sparkler high. He always had another ready to light as the first one fizzled out. He directed the closest CDCer, who happened to be Denise, to the paralyzed orc right at her feet. She jumped back surprised, but once she regained her composure she approached the creature with boldness, quipped softly, �Got milk?� and she proceeded to milk the orc like she was born to do it. She smiled broadly as the pale liquid squirted into the bucket and the �squinck-squinck� sound echoed through the dusky hinterlands.

The others, encouraged by their friend�s bravery and success, teamed up silently and spread out to find their own prey. They were quiet and gentle and spoke softly to the unsuspecting donors. All across the hills, sparklers glittered and milk splashed merrily in buckets, but as supplies dwindled, Methos grew concerned and whistled�their predetermined signal to regroup. Just at that moment lahoffy lit her last sparkler. Unfortunately, it happened to be a dud and the orc right in front of her started writhing and grunting to life. Sheeza came up behind her, saw her predicament and immediately lit a Morning Glory-extra long sparkler, giving lahoffy time to scamper off to safety while the orc seemed to visibly deflate in the strobe-like flame.

As everyone was accounted for on the edge of orcland, a triumphant euphoria settled over the group. They happily chattered and compared milk buckets as they skipped down the mountain. Methos sauntered behind the clan with his great sword slung protectively over his shoulder.

The lights in the house twinkled invitingly as they approached, but they wondered what kind of reception they would receive when the two Scots learned of their escapades and intentions.

It was quiet as they entered the bright kitchen and they noticed the door to the living room was closed. This was very unusual. So they tiptoed over, still wearing their capes, and, with soot smeared on their faces and muck on their shoes, they listened.

They couldn�t believe what they heard. Someone turned out the kitchen light and they quietly opened the door and found three immies on the floor playing with the toothless burbling baby. A bandana over a dim light shadowed the room in blue. The girls giggled softly, went back into the kitchen to get bottles of milk ready and wipe their faces. Then they joined the baby sitters on the floor, cooing and making googly faces at the chirping child.

Richie got to feed the baby first. Everyone cuddled together as they watched the youngest immortal take on this fatherly duty.

Methos stood by the door, the blue light reflected in his face. Hayden looked up at him questioningly; he just barely shook his head, took in the scene before him and smiled.

pacemCDC
Mar 29 2003

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