Warning: This story deals with abuse (including sexual harassment)- only read if you are comfortable. In the future, I will post any warnings not previously mentioned at the top of the chapter.
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Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the characters or the world of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.
"Papa, what is Rohan like?" Arris questioned her father.
"I've already explained this to you, Arris. They are a people that take great pride in their horses. I am sure King Eomor will accept us to live in Rohan. Listen carefully, sweetheart, then I do not have to repeat myself," her father explained, somewhat irritably.
"Sorry, Papa."
Arris and her father, Morgran, were on their way to seek permission to live in Rohan. They had been traveling across the plains for several weeks, as they had begun their trek at their former home in Gondor. After living in Gondor for seventeen years, ever since Arris' birth, her father had decided to move. They set up a camp and a fire each night, and walked and jogged during the day. Arris and her father were only a few short days from Rohan.
As the sun set across the grassy plains, Morgran called for Arris to stop, and they began to set up camp. Morgran rolled out two bedrolls side by side while Arris collected sticks for a fire. After starting a fire and cooking a stew from dried meat and broth, Arris carried a bowl to her father.
"Thank you, Arris," her father said as he accepted the stew.
Arris nodded and went back to fetch her own bowl. She set her bowl on the ground, near her father, and picked up one of her father's tunics to sew a ripped seam back together as she waited. Her father only allowed her to eat her meal once he had completed his. He had taught her this when she was a child, and she did not question his knowledge or authority on the matter. After her father had finished, he went behind a rock to relieve himself.
As Arris neared the completion of her mending, she realized that she would not have enough thread to sew the final stitches. Getting up, she quickly ran to her father's bag. He did not like it when she looked through his bag, but he hated it when she asked for something. He called her greedy and selfish. Instead, he insisted that she should be happy with what she had and, if she was in need of something, she should make it herself.
Arris fumbled for the spool of brown thread, but could not find it in time. As he rounded the rock on his way back to camp, Morgran's eyes sparked when he saw her digging around in his bag.
He ran up to her and grabbed her ear, dragging her downward. "Now, sweetheart, hasn't Papa told you it's naughty to look through his stuff?" he sneered.
Arris let out a weak whimper.
That, however, was not good enough for her father. "What was that? Answer me. Now!" Morgran yelled at her.
"I'm sorry, Papa! I know I've been bad. I was only looking for thread to finish mending your tunic," Arris explained, pointing at this unfinished tunic lying in the dusty ground.
"Stupid girl! You are trying to steal my possessions and now you are ruining my clothes! Pick that up!" Morgran angrily shouted at Arris, indicating his soiled tunic. He shoved Arris in the direction of the cloth.
Arris stumbled over to pick up her father's tunic, apologizing to him yet again in the process. She knew she had done wrong. From past experience, she knew that her punishment would be more than a sore ear.
"Here you are, Papa," Arris said, gingerly holding up his dirty tunic. He snatched it from her hand.
"Now, my daughter, I have warned you a multitude of times not to rifle through my possessions." Arris meekly bowed her head. "However," her father continued, "the stew you made was satisfactory, and I am feeling kind tonight. Now isn't that nice of your Papa?"
"Yes, Papa. Thank you. You are very nice," Arris responded, eager to appease her angered father.
"Good, good. You are not as worthless as you have suggested. Let us lie down for a night's sleep."
Arris obeyed, and wrapped herself in a blanket atop her bedroll. Her father followed on the bedroll next to his daughter's. "Give me a kiss goodnight, Arris. I do not like reminding you."
Arris gave him a quick kiss on the lips goodnight, as she had been taught.
"And let Papa give you a nice pat goodnight," her father said.
Arris squirmed. "But Papa, I do not like your goodnight pats."
"Shhhh. It is what all the bad girls get. You need to learn not be be so naughty. Okay, sweetheart?"
"Okay." Arris shivered as her father's hand caressed her body.
"There. You'll be a good girl now, won't you Arris?" her father slyly smiled.
"Yes, Papa. Of course," Arris responded, eager to be rid of her father's uncomfortable actions. She rolled on her side to face away from her father and stared into the starry night dancing above the ocean of grassy plains. The stars never ceased to entrance Arris. They pulled her in to their light, like an embrace. Arris scooted a bit farther from her father and fell into a restless sleep, hoping that the stars would offer her comfort from her confused and troubled life. Her untouched stew twinkled in the starlight, and the chilled remains would be kicked over by her father's ruddy boot the following daybreak.