A/N: I ask only that you please be gentle on me inyour reviews of this story. It isn't perfect, but I have put a lot of effort into it, and as it goes on, I think the quality of the story itself improves. Thanks for reading, leave a review, and I hope you enjoy. Regnet
Chapter I
It's dark outside. And cold. I'm still hungry, and it's just started to rain. I turn around and look in the window of the cottage. There are Rourn and Findulwyn enjoying their dinner next to a roaring fire. Rourn sees my face, makes a rude gesture, and gets up. He walks slowly to the cupboard, pulls out a piece of moldy and stale bread, walks to the door, and throws it into a puddle. Dinner.I scramble over to the bread and take it out of the puddle before any mud gets into it. I stand up and stumble over to the small barn that's next to the house. The wind begins to blow, pouring rainwater over what parts of my tattered dress and cloak are still dry, but I don't really mind because I'm used to it by now, after ten years of working for Rourn and helping his wife around the house. And every night they send me away with a piece of bread, or an occasional piece of meat or vegetable. I sleep in the stables, which isn't much help either because the ceiling leaks and even the cow and the donkey dislike me. I've lived for fourteen years and never really found a purpose in life. I have no memory before this. I don't know who I am, what I'm here for, or what I'm supposed to do. My name is the only thing they've really given to me, since I have forgotten my own. Raugwen. They never told me what it meant. They always laughed whenever I said my name. Rourn is an intelligent person, and he knows many languages. We are humans living on the plains of Rohan. Many people from around the area and even further come to ask advice of my Master. He always makes sure Findulwyn takes me out of sight when they come. I don't know, and I don't really care. I am used to this whole mess that my life really is. I don't really think there is anything better.
I crawl into the barn, pick the mold off my bread, eat it in ten seconds, and fall asleep, listening and feeling the rain.Rain had always been my favorite weather, excluding thunderstorms. We never had rain on the plains as often as I should like. It was cool, and it was almost comforting, that is, if I wasn't already cold.
---
Somebody is shaking me awake the next morning. It's Findulwyn.
"Get up, you lazy good-for-nothing wench! Your Master is having company. We can't let you be seen!"
I knew better than to test her patience, but I had been in the middle of a glorious dream, and I was reluctant to see it end. Findulwyn slapped me across the face.
"I said, 'GET UP!'" she roared. The slap stung terribly, and it meant business. I stood up as quickly as I could. "Now they're going to be here any minute! Get out!"
My stomach rumbled. I probably wasn't going to get any breakfast either, not that it really mattered. She shoved me through the barn door and out into the open. The plains were wide, and for the most part, flat; I could almost distinctly see horses and riders trotting toward my Master's small cottage. They would reach the cottage in several minutes. I didn't get a chance to admire the beautiful blue sky or the wet grass or even the one tree for miles that stood next to our cottage.
The tree was now in blossom. Rourn was very proud of it and wouldn't even let me go near it. Findulwyn shoved me down, taking a large bucket of water and dumping it over me. She didn't like that my skin got dirt on the floor. Findulwyn pushed me through the cottage door and under the bed. I stared up blankly at the rungs that held the straw mattress. When I was hid in the cottage, it meant usually the riders were here to buy the milk of the famed "Elven Cow," as if that would make the milk any more special. I believed it was all just a big fraud. Rourn was lying, I knew that much.
hey would be in the barn, and Rourn would ruin my bed so it looked natural, like nobody ever slept there. If I was told to go outside in the woods, it meant the guests would be asking for advice and buying milk. If I was pushed up into the loft where people couldn't see me by just glancing through the barn doorway, it meant they were only going to ask for advice.
Our "Elven" cow was just an ordinary cow. Rourn just used the title because he was lazy. He didn't really feel like going to the village everyday (a good three miles) to sell milk like everyone else. And there were enough people gullible enough for him to keep up the title. Not only that, but Rourn was respected, and almost anything he said was taken as truth.
I pulled one of the many blankets off the bed and successfully dried myself. Findulwyn would never have forgiven me (like she ever would) if she had returned to the house to find a puddle of water on the floor. I thought about all the good memories I had of my life while I waited under the bed, trying not to sneeze from the dust. The time when I had seen my reflection in the creek was the best one. I don't really know if I was beautiful or not. I certainly looked better than Findulwyn with all her wrinkles. I had washed my black hair that hung down almost to my waist, but then Findulwyn had cut it when I came home, leaving me with slightly choppy hair that barely touched my shoulder blades. That was what really ruined the memory. My face was now dirty, and my hair had barely grown since that cut. I felt a sneeze coming on so I reached up my hand and plugged my nose. It worked, as it usually did. Findulwyn was outside, which meant somebody important was coming, and she was cleaning up the barn. Maybe it was a prince, or even the king. Once in a long while the king would come to ask for advice. He had even once asked Rourn to become one of his aides, but for some reason that I really didn't care to know, Rourn turned him down.
I really hated this life, but it was all I knew. Everything in my world was spiteful and painful. Planting the vegetables and wheat, scrubbing and scouring the floors until my knuckles bled, everything was wrong, off color. I heard the horses trot up to the cottage. He was here. Maybe it was King Théoden. Maybe it was somebody else. Maybe I would suddenly choke and die. Maybe everything bad could end.
Knowing my luck, my limbs will be forcibly removed from my body by Rourn in a rage before I die, I thought grimly.
I heard voices from outside. Rourn would be showing them into his barn. I could hear, somewhat, the soft voice of Findulwyn, sweet talking them into buying milk from the "Elven" cow. What a bunch of manure. There was some clatter from the barn, and it sounded like Rourn or someone else had knocked over some cannisters of what not. I felt the sneeze coming back, so I plugged my nose. My head knocked up trying to withhold the sneeze, and by hitting the mattress, I ended up just sending more dust down on me, and all that dust was going to send me into a fit of sneezes. At least they weren't going to come in here. Someone, who appeared to be heavyset by the steps he took, left the barn. I heard a horse whinny. Someone was loading the "Elven" milk. I could have burst out laughing. Only Findulwyn would have heard, and then my ears would receive a good boxing, not something I would have looked forward to. I hadn't expected a lord to be so stupid to fall for the Elven cow gag. There was some quiet for a while, as my ears couldn't pick up everything going on in the barn or outside. I heard the door to the cottage open. That was strange because I didn't hear the horses ride away.
"My lord," Rourn began, as I heard from the open door, "We did not know you would seek my advice. We have not prepared the cottage for a visit as regal as your own. Perhaps we could discuss matters outside."
"Nay, Rourn. Wind carries voices to unwanted ears. Your abode does not look poorly, in fact, it looks better than when I was here last time."
It was Théoden. Uh oh. Not good. "My lord, I beseech you. My cottage is not prepared for an esteemed visit by a lord such as yourself."
Bloody hypocrite. He preached to lords that slavery was wrong. He didn't want to be punished for disobeying his own laws. I should have screamed. I should have done something. I didn't realize it before. I could be free of Rourn's wrath. I could finally be free. I pondered that thought for a moment. I reasoned that Théoden, being the king, would probably be a lot worse as a master, considering how he probably was especially demanding, being the king and all. Either way, there was no telling what Findulwyn or Rourn would say. If Théoden was convinced that I was not being treated poorly, they would quite literally skin me alive for an outburst that could lead them into trouble. And even if I was taken away from them, adopted by someone, cared for by someone, even loved by someone, Rourn would never forget me. He would always seek revenge. Not really what I was looking for.
"Rourn, I see no problem in discussing matters of state. I know very well that the messenger I sent did not tell you of this matter to be discussed, but it had just come up before I left. I am requesting your advice." This was a death voice. Rourn and Findulwyn had frequently used it on me. But now they were going to come in, which meant Théoden's men were going to come in, which meant there weren't enough chairs, and to make a long sentence short, one or two would have to sit on the bed and inevitably squash me. Not that I minded, but running out of air was going to be a painful death. It might take as long as five minutes or more. I heard Rourn and Findulwyn's meek footsteps enter the room after the King of the Mark. I heard several footsteps more as Théoden's men entered. They all appeared to be tall, for their strides were long. The taller they were, the more muscle they had, the more muscle they had, the more they weighed, the more they weighed... well, it was easy to tell. Findulwyn seemed to get an idea of what would happen if they sat down on the bed. I heard her hurried footsteps over to the bed as she laid down full length.
"I'm afraid I'm feeling faint." The guards just stood against the wall. Findulwyn was small and was quite light, though even now I was forced to turn my head on its side so I could breathe. When she had lain down, it had sent dust all over me, but I could not move my hand to brush it away from my nose for fear of being heard or seen. The dust settled substantially, and I was able to turn my head back upright.
"Rourn, I must ask that your wife not be present while discussing this matter of state."
"But my lord, my wife, if she even considered telling anyone what had been said behind these closed doors which I know she wouldn't, she wouldn't be able to. She never leaves the house; we have never written any letters. She has no form of communication with the outside world."
"Even so, Rourn, I must ask that your wife not be present." Another death voice.
"Yes, my lord." Findulwyn reluctantly got up from the bed, and I heard her footsteps as they headed to the door. The door opened, and with more footsteps, she was gone. As soon as she was gone, two of the soldiers left their place at the wall for a place to sit. There must have been shock plastered all over Rourn's face, but he could do nothing without arousing suspicion. I felt a great weight settle at the foot of the bed, squashing my feet so that there was barely enough room when my feet were horizontal with the floor. That hurt. A lot. But I bit my lip to keep the scream within my mouth. I must have bitten through the skin because I tasted my blood. I was hard pressed not to spit it out, though I stubbornly refused to swallow my own blood. The other man sat down on the bed where my chest would be. Of all the luck. I might get my wish of dying after all. His weight settled on my chest. I couldn't raise my chest to breathe. My breath came in short gasps, but I managed to keep it quiet, but if he sat on my head, I was lost. Can you guess what happened next? I couldn't believe it. The soldier/guard shifted. His weight established itself on my head. Maybe I did wish to die, but suffocation is minutes of agony, never knowing when you're going to die. My eyes began to water from the lack of oxygen as I tried to struggle under his weight. He wasn't feeling anything. I squeezed my head to turn on its side, and it made a loud thump on the floor. The guards jumped off of the bed. I instantly suppressed a sigh of dismay.
"What was that?" Théoden asked, "Is no one here?"
"No one is here, sire." Rourn sounded desperate, almost pleading that the King of the Mark believe him. I could almost imagine it. Théoden King would give Rourn a look of slight distrust. He would glance around the room, looking for hiding places, looking for unfriendly faces at the windows. The soldiers abruptly stood, awaiting their lord's command. I began to cough lightly, almost inaudibly, laboring to get air into my lungs. They must have heard me cough, though. I had a strange feeling come over me as the King's footsteps near the bed. Was I happy to be saved? Was I frightened of the impending wrath of Rourn and Findulwyn? Did I even want to be saved? I didn't have much of a choice. With surprising strength for one his age, the King lifted up the bed, flipping it over, revealing me, haggard, coughing, and dirty. I looked up at the lord for a few seconds, but averted my gaze. I coughed one last time. My hands clasped each other, seeking a security I had a feeling I wouldn't find. Time seemed to slow as Théoden King looked down at me, scrutinizing me, deciding what to do with me, and what to do Rourn and Findulwyn. His handsome face was weathered, beaten by the winds of change and time. His hair was golden, and I saw the wrinkles, but more like signs of age. He must have been around 60. My fingers finding no comfort intertwined among themselves, found a pleat in my tattered skirt that I tried to smooth out. Théoden did not say anything for five seconds.
He turned viciously to Rourn, "How dare you! A spy! I would have thought better of you!" He stooped down like an eagle going after a fish. He gripped me by my shoulders and pulled me up. "You!" I had a good feeling a sarcastic reply wasn't going to help much. I kept a tight lip. I wasn't going to sign my death warrant.
There was a death silence as he waited for me to answer.
"What do you think you were doing!" His voice had just changed from anger to rage. With response or no response I'd most likely die. Well, might as well.
"I'm not spying!" I pleaded, "He hid me here so you wouldn't see me." There. I had finally said it. A nice pat on the back would have completed it.
Théoden shook my shoulders, "Who are you!" I was not about to say Raugwen because that would earn hilarious remarks from Rourn, if he had the guts to say any. My mind strove for an answer. I decided not to say my name. That left me at an impassé. What exactly was I? Slave? Maybe, but I didn't want to say that. I might as well admit that I'm a lunatic if I say 'slave.' 'Non-paid servant' sounded stupid. What was I anyway? My mind strove for adjectives in the seconds that would give me time to think: harshly treated, hungry, damp, dirty, and... lost. Yep, lost, I suppose. I wasn't Rourn or Findulwyn's child, that's for sure. Oh, might as well say slave. It will only kill me afterwards.
"A slave," I said with as much emotion as possible, looking for a pity factor in him.
Even slightly sarcastic, the word was bitter on my tongue. I had finally admitted verbally of my existence. It wasn't pretty. 'Servant' would have sounded better, but Rourn and Findulwyn didn't pay me, except for room and board, which really wasn't room and board.
"Why were you listening in?"
"I couldn't care less what you were talking about," I snapped, "Do you think I even wanted you to come in here? Do you think I wanted to be shoved under the bed this morning? Do you think I wanted to be smothered?" I had forgotten manners. This was the king to whom I was talking. But afterall, I had never really talked to anyone higher than Rourn's status. Oops. Théoden's grip left my shoulders. He brought one hand up, as if to slap me, but brought it down as if he thought better of it. His eyes softened at me, which surprised me. I had just insulted him. well, I had just been rude to him, at least.
"This was not your fault," he said softly to me. Oh really. How fortunate I am to have you tell me these things. But I didn't say that. He didn't know. He was ignorant of my servitude, if it could be called that.
Théoden turned his face toward Rourn. Théoden King was livid, to put it very lightly.
"My lord!" Rourn cried with a final desperation. He had been watching our exchange with the utmost horror on his face, "I can explain!"
"No explanation can save yourself from your hypocrisy!" Théoden snarled. I couldn't have said it better myself. "You have a girl in your keeping that you obviously mistreat! You have made her your slave!"
If Théoden would have allowed him, I think Rourn would have died right then, but Théoden wasn't finished. "I cannot believe I ever trusted such a traitor with my questions and secrets! Take he and his wife away! They will come to the dungeons to rot for their treachery not only toward me, but toward this girl!" Théoden's guards let their spears give an eloquent speech of their own to Rourn. He would have struggled, but the fine points of the spears spoke for themselves, rendering him speechless, and almost helpless. But he was not so helpless that he couldn't verbally retaliate.
He turned in rage on me, "You foolish girl! You brought this on me! This is your fault! You haven't seen the last of me!" His threats were empty. Even I knew that, which made him seem even more pathetic.
The men dragged him away, out of the door, calling to the other guards who found Findulwyn crouching by the window, racking with sobs. She had been listening in anyway. Théoden turned back to me, a fatherly gaze piercing my face.
"I'm sorry this grievous incident has happened." You could say that again. I was sorry too. "Do you know where your parents are?"
"I have no memory before this life." "How long have you been here?"
"Ten years, I think." "Ten years!" he exploded. I made a mental note not to get him mad. Ever, "That does make quite a difference!" I rubbed my thin arms as he vented his anger on the bed I had vacated when he had flipped it over. With his sword, he easily sliced it in half.
He breathed for a while, holding his sword in his hand. The guards had wisely left us alone, probably fearing Théoden should choose to blame one of them, especially the one who sat on my face. He sheathed his sword, turned and smiled at me.
"What is your name, child?" I twisted a lock of hair between my fingers.
"I don't know."
"I will give you a name then, child." I nodded. I really didn't care.
"Your name is Ardeas, child." It didn't sound bitter. The name rolled off my tongue with ease. "Ardeas."
A/N: Raugwen meaning "demon maiden" in Sindarin
