Qhal'Deth who Bloodies

Qhal'Deth's fine shirt was torn and bloody, but his expression was satisfied. He walked at a measured pace across the pit towards his mother.
She shook her head.
A flicker of fear twitched at the corner of his eyes, but he turned towards the jagged cave that led under the stands.

He ignored the grunts and moans of a dozen fighting slaves with the practice of a dozen years in the pit. The guards barely glanced at him as he passed. He settled into his cell, decorated with wax sculptures and burnt herbs, and a near fortune's worth of individually worthless trinkets, trophies from each conquest.
Trying to think of nothing, Qhal'Deth stripped off his garments, and peered at the ring he had stripped from the mutilated body of his Orcish opponent. The ugly green of ill-tended copper, the ring was worth less that the hand that had worn it, had Qhal'Deth been given the right to a death fight. Today was Thirdday, though, and the stands were nearly empty. No sense wasting a death when so few were there to see it. It was a surprise even that mother had come. He'd hoped that meant she had an outing for him, but if she wouldn't speak to him in the stands, perhaps she was angry.
He bit his hand to drive away the fear.

MOTHER. He heard her swift footfalls before he saw her. When she came to the cells, no fighter didn't know it. The guards were silent and still always, but when she stepped in, even their breath was inaudible, even their hearts seemed to still. Qhal'Deth hid his bitten hand, folding it in the other on his lap, waiting like a noble overworld schoolboy politely expecting cake.

She came to his cell, the guard swinging Qhal'Deth's cell door open so that she didn't miss a stride. MOTHER. Mother took Qhal'Deth's giant head in her hands and pressed it to her bosom. She sang

      Far away the light of wrong
     Far away their doubt
    For someplace She gusts
     Closer now the right of strong
    Closer now be stout
   For Mother of Lusts

Qhal'Deth, now inexplicably sleepy, laid his head in her lap.

Mother murmured, "Tomorrow everything changes, dear."