Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: there is material here that may offend some people. Nothing will be too graphic, I assure you. This story is pretty AU, but definitely not a Mary-Sue. Anyhow please read and review if you have the stomach for it.
Summary: The Queen of Gondor has died untimely. Aragorn is bereft and angry. This volatile grief leads to some dark desires. A young chambermaid learns and relishes these desires.
My name is Erendis, and I find pleasure in pain. Not pain of the heart, nay, but pain of the flesh. The beautiful sensations that tingle and burn. My parents were repelled by it. When I was a young child, spankings proved to have an alarmingly converse effect. Thus is my fate, and I relish it. Despite all that has befell me, I still relish it.
I was hired as a chambermaid to the royal family of Gondor when I was thirteen. My parents were more than willing to be rid of me. My, already, disturbing sexuality was a family secret and had to remain so lest the neighbors find out.
I performed the miscellaneous tasks of a maid in the King and Queen's bedchamber. Changing bed linens, folding clothes, and the like. Despite the vast rumors that nobles often slapped and whipped their servants for minor transgressions, the royal couple were against such harsh treatment. That was a severe let-down to me. I would've so enjoyed a strike from that tall, dark, ruggedly-handsome Aragorn. I cared not that he was more than old enough to be my father. Alas, he was a kind and gentle man. He never reprimanded unless compelled to do so. His wife, Arwen, was likewise sweet and gently. She had an air of grace that bespoke her Elven lineage.
Thus, were the glory days of Minas Tirith. The King and Queen were in love with each other and their people. They had a young son who would one day be king, and all was deemed good in the world. It was not to last, however. Not in the palace itself, at any rate.
By the time I had served in the palace for nearly four years, Queen Arwen was again with child. These four years had been relatively uneventful for me. Every time I tried to endear myself to a pageboy or squire I was roundly rejected once they learned of my hidden desires. The sweet, giggly girls were the ones they flocked around. Not that I was all that bad looking, really. I was tall and had an athletic build, my eyes were hazel and I had a mass of curly, dark brown hair. Yet for all that, I was quiet and kept to myself, and at times moody with sexual frustration.
The queen's pregnancy was without event until the seventh month. It was thought that she merely was having early labor, but it proved to be much more heinous. She was carrying twins and the first had not turned around properly for the birth. They were stuck. Arwen's screams were heard throughout the palace. She was losing a lot of blood, and as time drew on, her cries had less volume as she began to weaken. The midwives eventually got the first baby out. It was tiny and tinged blue. It was a girl, and it was dead. There was little hope for the other child.
Throughout all this, the King stalked the hall outside the royal chambers like a madman. He was shouting and cursing. His friend, the elf prince Legolas, tried to calm him, but it was all for naught. He could not be consoled. I observed this sitting on a bench in the hall with the other chambermaids, who cringed at King Aragorn's unwonted wrath.
Some three hours after Arwen's first pains, there was silence in the bedchamber.
"What is it?" Aragorn cried. "What's wrong?!" He pounded on the door. "Tell me or I shall come in and see for myself!"
A little old midwife came out. There were tears in her eyes. "My lord, there were twins and they were stuck. We made out best effort, but there was no saving them. And the queen…"
"What of my wife?!" cried the King, he almost shook the old woman, but Legolas held him back. "What of my Arwen?!"
"My lord," shuddered the midwife, "your wife lost too much blood. She… she died."
Aragorn let out a cry of anguish too great and terrible to imagine. He pushed his way into the bedchamber. More of his cries echoed out to the rest of us watching. The remaining midwives fled the room, leaving the king to his grief. There was a smashing noise that sounded like something being thrown against a wall. I assumed it was the vase that stood on a pedestal near the queen's mirror. I was later proved right.
The kingdom went into mourning for the late queen. Everyone, even down to the lowliest pig farmer knew of the King's grief. King Aragorn's rage toward life and new violent nature caused everyone to cringe with fear. Everyone that is, except for me.
Well, how was it. Not too depressing I hope. Please review.