Broken
Disclaimer: Don't own Grima. Don't own Gondor, the white city, the precious, or the Four/Five idea. That's all Tolkien and Rodenberry, man!!! I love you guys!!! You and Chris Carter!!! And the title. Jessie Earl thought that one up. Oh, yes, must give credit to Arwendil Greenleaf. She FORCED me to type this up…*sigh* Who reads the disclaimer anyway? Oh, you. You are such a disclaimer-loving geek!
Claimer: I do, however, own The Girl, the slave trader, the Piece of Paper and my lovely, precious picture of Wormtongue. No!! You can't have it!!!
Broken
Grima Wormtongue kicked the wall. It had been nearly a year since he had slit the throat of his master, and he had become a very bitter man. He had found a home farming near the White City. But he had not yet relieved his anger toward Saruman. He needed anger management, but they don't have that in Middle Earth.
But Grima had an idea.
He was going to extract a sort of revenge for all the abuse he had suffered in his time with Saruman. He was going to get himself a slave. He would torture it like Saruman had tortured him. Worse, if that was possible. He would break it; make it terrified- but brilliant and strong. The perfect slave, as he was once.
So the very next day, Grima went to a underground slave trader:
"What do you want it to be like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Male, Female, age, shit like that"
"Uhh…Female, mid-teens" He had been taken in by Saruman at age 15. How perfect.
"Okay" The trader flipped through a little booklet. "I've got three- no, four- of them. One elf, a dwarf and two humans. One is broken; the other is rebellious, and educated. Which one do you want?"
"The rebellious human" Grima licked his lips.
"A challenge, eh? I'll have her for you tomorrow"
"Here you go" the trader said. The girl had light brown hair, tied back crudely; her dress was ripped and blood-soaked. She had a black eye and her hands were bound, and she was gagged. There was a rough rope around her neck. Her hazel-brown eyes were filled with rebellion, but there was also a certain fear. Of him? He wasn't sure. He took the girl home and untied her, removing the gag last, slowly, savoring the touch of her lips on his fingers. She started to stand, but Grima pushed he down.
"Sit" he hissed. "And listen to me. I see you've been hurt before. Here, you will know nothing of pain. You will know agony. I bought you because you will give me a challenge to break an intelligent bitch"
"I will not be broken."
"Yes you will."
"Will you just shut up, old man?" At that, Grima struck the girl across the face. She flinched slightly, but kept looking into nothing.
"At least you can be quiet."
"You're just not worth my time."
"I think I liked you better before you started talking"
"Too bad" Now, Grima pulled the girl to a stand position and hit her repeatedly with his black, twisted cane. She only flinched with each blow.
"You are tolerant, I see." Grima tuned to a paper he had tacked to the wall, and drew four X's on it, like this:
_________________________
I I
I I
I I
I I
I X X X X I
I I
I I
_________________________
"How many X's are there?" Grima asked the girl.
"Four"
"There are five"
"No, there are four. Are you blind?"
"Don't talk to me like that. And there are five"
"No, there ar-"
Grima grabbed the girl by her hair and kicked the back of her knees, making her fall on her knees. He yanked up on her hair, forcing her to look at the X's.
"How many?"
"Four" she panted, still recovering.
He then beat her until tears came to her eyes and she bled.
"How many?"
"Four"
This process repeated itself until the girl passed out. Then he kicked her until he got bored with her and then he threw her in a corner.
The girl stirred. She had a headache the size of Mordor. Her ribs hurt too, that was odd…She began to muse about the possibility that he was actually as weak as he had seemed when he beat her. Was he afraid of hurting her? Did he like her? Fear and compassion were tools she could use against him.
Wormtongue was outside, thinking. Had he hurt her too much? She was delicate- after all, she was a girl. But he couldn't worry about hurting her until she was broken. That's what the X's were for. When she admitted that there were five, she was broken. That's when he had complete control over her. How long would it take?
The girl stood, leaning against the wall. She walked around the room slowly. It spun around her. Her new 'home' was drab and dark. Her master was ghastly pale and gross looking. The slave trader had called him Grima, or something like that. Odd name. She curled up and rubbed her throbbing temples. She caught sight of the X's on the wall and glared. There were obviously four. Why would he try to tell her otherwise?
A blood socked belt lie next to the topples girl on the floor. She looked awful. She pulled her shirk on, glaring at the X's and Grima. It was at that moment she realized it . He was trying to break her. But she wouldn't be broken! She'd vowed that when her brother was broken. He had become a shell, a stupid, broken, hollow, frightened shell. And he had stopped protecting her…
That evening, Grima tried to remember being broken. There had been no pain. Saruman's voice was enough to make him dependent, it was like a drug you could not get off of. The had been much pain and abuse later, but Saruman had been nice at first. Maybe he should…
"Broad. Come here" Grima sat up in bed.
"What?" The girl dragged herself to his room.
"Lie down" He patted the bed beside him.
"You just beat the crap out of me, and you expect me to come to your bed?"
"Unless you want to sleep on the floor. I won't do anything to you"
Wearily, she lied down, far from him. But when he bade her come closer, promising not to hurt her, she complied, until he wrapped his arms tightly around her. When she was nearly asleep, he kissed her neck. She was too weak to pull away. He ran his tongue down the side of her face. She shuddered in disgust. Why was he doing this? He had promised not to. But then he stopped. He had motives. He needed this girl to trust him. She had to be his. His own. (No, I'm not going to say his precious…)Under his control, and he needed some trust for that. Because she had to trust him and serve him, not just because she was weak, but because somewhere, she nearly wanted to. Had to.
The next day, the girl was feeling better than she had the night before. She slid out of bed. She had not been too violated…She made breakfast. She ate and left a plate of food for her master.
Grima woke, and found the food, and the girl bandaging herself up. He ate it and found the girl was not a bad cook. In fact, quite good. When she was all bandaged, she re-entered the kitchen
"Morning"
"Good morning, girl. I didn't expect you to…" He was about to say 'be so nice' but reconsidered. "Make breakfast."
"I enjoy cooking."
"Indeed. Have a seat." She sat. Wormtongue continued. "You trusted me"
"I was too weak to do otherwise"
Grima stroked her hair. She pulled away in disgust. "Don't touch me"
"You belong to me"
"I do not"
"We'll see about that."
After breakfast, came the X's.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
So this continued until her jawbone was thrown out and she lie sobbing on the floor. She had never been this close to breaking. After being almost gentile with her…then Grima stopped and yelled at her, she just sobbed. She wouldn't break.
"How many X's?
"There are four X's!!!"
He grabbed her by the neck and threw her down the stairs, into the basement, locking the door.
Why wouldn't she break? This was impossible.
The next week went by in a monotonous pattern. Breakfast, X's, locked in basement, dinner, X's, night. Oh, how nights were getting worse and worse. He became bolder with her, more daring and if she resisted him, he would threaten and beat her. HE got her further and further, closer to the breaking point. But she would not break.
"How many goddam X's are there?" The girl lie bleeding on the floor. She could hardly move.
"Four" She choked out. This had started three hours ago…
"How many?
"Four"
Grima kicked he in the head, hard.
"How many X's? He kicked her with each syllable.
"F..Five" She choked out as he kicked her in the temple. Her heart stilled and her body went cold. She died, finally broken.
THE END!!!
A/N
Thank you for reading this… in all it's glory. I do love Grima, even though he is the bad guy in this fic… did you get my symbolism in not giving the girl a name? she's going to die, so it didn't matter…..oh yeah, I am so deep.
Disclaimer: Don't own Grima. Don't own Gondor, the white city, the precious, or the Four/Five idea. That's all Tolkien and Rodenberry, man!!! I love you guys!!! You and Chris Carter!!! And the title. Jessie Earl thought that one up. Oh, yes, must give credit to Arwendil Greenleaf. She FORCED me to type this up…*sigh* Who reads the disclaimer anyway? Oh, you. You are such a disclaimer-loving geek!
Claimer: I do, however, own The Girl, the slave trader, the Piece of Paper and my lovely, precious picture of Wormtongue. No!! You can't have it!!!
Broken
Grima Wormtongue kicked the wall. It had been nearly a year since he had slit the throat of his master, and he had become a very bitter man. He had found a home farming near the White City. But he had not yet relieved his anger toward Saruman. He needed anger management, but they don't have that in Middle Earth.
But Grima had an idea.
He was going to extract a sort of revenge for all the abuse he had suffered in his time with Saruman. He was going to get himself a slave. He would torture it like Saruman had tortured him. Worse, if that was possible. He would break it; make it terrified- but brilliant and strong. The perfect slave, as he was once.
So the very next day, Grima went to a underground slave trader:
"What do you want it to be like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Male, Female, age, shit like that"
"Uhh…Female, mid-teens" He had been taken in by Saruman at age 15. How perfect.
"Okay" The trader flipped through a little booklet. "I've got three- no, four- of them. One elf, a dwarf and two humans. One is broken; the other is rebellious, and educated. Which one do you want?"
"The rebellious human" Grima licked his lips.
"A challenge, eh? I'll have her for you tomorrow"
"Here you go" the trader said. The girl had light brown hair, tied back crudely; her dress was ripped and blood-soaked. She had a black eye and her hands were bound, and she was gagged. There was a rough rope around her neck. Her hazel-brown eyes were filled with rebellion, but there was also a certain fear. Of him? He wasn't sure. He took the girl home and untied her, removing the gag last, slowly, savoring the touch of her lips on his fingers. She started to stand, but Grima pushed he down.
"Sit" he hissed. "And listen to me. I see you've been hurt before. Here, you will know nothing of pain. You will know agony. I bought you because you will give me a challenge to break an intelligent bitch"
"I will not be broken."
"Yes you will."
"Will you just shut up, old man?" At that, Grima struck the girl across the face. She flinched slightly, but kept looking into nothing.
"At least you can be quiet."
"You're just not worth my time."
"I think I liked you better before you started talking"
"Too bad" Now, Grima pulled the girl to a stand position and hit her repeatedly with his black, twisted cane. She only flinched with each blow.
"You are tolerant, I see." Grima tuned to a paper he had tacked to the wall, and drew four X's on it, like this:
_________________________
I I
I I
I I
I I
I X X X X I
I I
I I
_________________________
"How many X's are there?" Grima asked the girl.
"Four"
"There are five"
"No, there are four. Are you blind?"
"Don't talk to me like that. And there are five"
"No, there ar-"
Grima grabbed the girl by her hair and kicked the back of her knees, making her fall on her knees. He yanked up on her hair, forcing her to look at the X's.
"How many?"
"Four" she panted, still recovering.
He then beat her until tears came to her eyes and she bled.
"How many?"
"Four"
This process repeated itself until the girl passed out. Then he kicked her until he got bored with her and then he threw her in a corner.
The girl stirred. She had a headache the size of Mordor. Her ribs hurt too, that was odd…She began to muse about the possibility that he was actually as weak as he had seemed when he beat her. Was he afraid of hurting her? Did he like her? Fear and compassion were tools she could use against him.
Wormtongue was outside, thinking. Had he hurt her too much? She was delicate- after all, she was a girl. But he couldn't worry about hurting her until she was broken. That's what the X's were for. When she admitted that there were five, she was broken. That's when he had complete control over her. How long would it take?
The girl stood, leaning against the wall. She walked around the room slowly. It spun around her. Her new 'home' was drab and dark. Her master was ghastly pale and gross looking. The slave trader had called him Grima, or something like that. Odd name. She curled up and rubbed her throbbing temples. She caught sight of the X's on the wall and glared. There were obviously four. Why would he try to tell her otherwise?
A blood socked belt lie next to the topples girl on the floor. She looked awful. She pulled her shirk on, glaring at the X's and Grima. It was at that moment she realized it . He was trying to break her. But she wouldn't be broken! She'd vowed that when her brother was broken. He had become a shell, a stupid, broken, hollow, frightened shell. And he had stopped protecting her…
That evening, Grima tried to remember being broken. There had been no pain. Saruman's voice was enough to make him dependent, it was like a drug you could not get off of. The had been much pain and abuse later, but Saruman had been nice at first. Maybe he should…
"Broad. Come here" Grima sat up in bed.
"What?" The girl dragged herself to his room.
"Lie down" He patted the bed beside him.
"You just beat the crap out of me, and you expect me to come to your bed?"
"Unless you want to sleep on the floor. I won't do anything to you"
Wearily, she lied down, far from him. But when he bade her come closer, promising not to hurt her, she complied, until he wrapped his arms tightly around her. When she was nearly asleep, he kissed her neck. She was too weak to pull away. He ran his tongue down the side of her face. She shuddered in disgust. Why was he doing this? He had promised not to. But then he stopped. He had motives. He needed this girl to trust him. She had to be his. His own. (No, I'm not going to say his precious…)Under his control, and he needed some trust for that. Because she had to trust him and serve him, not just because she was weak, but because somewhere, she nearly wanted to. Had to.
The next day, the girl was feeling better than she had the night before. She slid out of bed. She had not been too violated…She made breakfast. She ate and left a plate of food for her master.
Grima woke, and found the food, and the girl bandaging herself up. He ate it and found the girl was not a bad cook. In fact, quite good. When she was all bandaged, she re-entered the kitchen
"Morning"
"Good morning, girl. I didn't expect you to…" He was about to say 'be so nice' but reconsidered. "Make breakfast."
"I enjoy cooking."
"Indeed. Have a seat." She sat. Wormtongue continued. "You trusted me"
"I was too weak to do otherwise"
Grima stroked her hair. She pulled away in disgust. "Don't touch me"
"You belong to me"
"I do not"
"We'll see about that."
After breakfast, came the X's.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
"How many?"
"Four"
Slap.
So this continued until her jawbone was thrown out and she lie sobbing on the floor. She had never been this close to breaking. After being almost gentile with her…then Grima stopped and yelled at her, she just sobbed. She wouldn't break.
"How many X's?
"There are four X's!!!"
He grabbed her by the neck and threw her down the stairs, into the basement, locking the door.
Why wouldn't she break? This was impossible.
The next week went by in a monotonous pattern. Breakfast, X's, locked in basement, dinner, X's, night. Oh, how nights were getting worse and worse. He became bolder with her, more daring and if she resisted him, he would threaten and beat her. HE got her further and further, closer to the breaking point. But she would not break.
"How many goddam X's are there?" The girl lie bleeding on the floor. She could hardly move.
"Four" She choked out. This had started three hours ago…
"How many?
"Four"
Grima kicked he in the head, hard.
"How many X's? He kicked her with each syllable.
"F..Five" She choked out as he kicked her in the temple. Her heart stilled and her body went cold. She died, finally broken.
THE END!!!
A/N
Thank you for reading this… in all it's glory. I do love Grima, even though he is the bad guy in this fic… did you get my symbolism in not giving the girl a name? she's going to die, so it didn't matter…..oh yeah, I am so deep.