Author's Notes:
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment. I reap no monetary benefits from this and have nothing worth suing me for. Thanks to Neumeindle my beta without whom I would be lost.
Firiel was an orphan: she had known this for years, although she knew nothing of her parents or heritage and would probably believe even less of them. Nor did she remember anything of how she had come to live with her Guardian, the lady Amalia. Amalia was forever demeaning and verbally abusive toward Firiel, calling her little bastard and far worse things. Guardian was hardly a fitting word for Amelia. Indeed the term Lady could only be applied to her in its very loosest sense, as Amalia was the madam of the local house of ill repute. Amalia was a lazy and aging woman whose main interest was self-interest. Firiel seemed young, though she had lived in this house far longer than most of its ladies; she did not show the signs of aging that placed lines of age wrinkles and rolls of girth around the other females in the house. Almost her entire life had been spent under the care, if one could call it that, of the brothel owner. For years she had been kept indoors and forced to serve harlots. A life of service would not behave been so bad save that she had learned early that her youth was a thing to be envied by the women who worked in the house of lust. They took every opportunity to spite her. She also learned very early to school her appearance, such as it was, for those who delighted in young girls and the exotic were not uncommon. Firiel kept her hair in a braided bun on top of her head and covered with a worn bandana. She always waited until the end of the day to wash her hair and wipe the dirt and grime from her face, and she never wore anything form fitting or revealing. She had no wish to partake of the attentions lavished on the so-called ladies of the house.
"Firiel! Firiel!"
The screeching of her self -proclaimed guardian broke into Firiel's thoughts. She knew better than to take too long in answering, for verbal abuse had all too often been followed by a slap to the face.
"Coming my lady"
"Firiel, wash the dishes and air out the common room and see to it that it is properly cleaned before we open. "
"...But, I have not yet finished changing the beds, and then there will be linens to wash. Surely Elwen should have had these things done by now?"
"Don't yer give me none o' yer sass girl, just do what I tells ya or else!"
Firiel knew better than to inquire further and obediently began to clean. Elwen was a rather unlovely and not particularly bright servant girl, the daughter of one of the many ladies who worked selling their favors each night. Elwen could be counted on to do work only if someone gave her explicit instructions and then watched to be certain they were carried out. It was not that Elwen was lazy exactly, but she was incredibly simple minded. It was because of this unusual circumstance that Firiel happened to find herself near an opened window and overheard Lady Amalia's conversation with a rough dirty looking man outside.
"How much are ya askin fer that un who's cleanin?" Firiel heard him ask.
It was all she could do to keep her gorge from rising and she immediately turned away in disgust. Even if the males who frequented such a place had not disgusted her, the thought of coupling with anyone turned her stomach. It was this indeed that forced her to decide that she must flee. Hearing her self-described guardian discussing what profit might be had in selling her 'services' sickened her. Firiel's ears had always been sharper than those of most people. They had helped her avoid unwanted attention more than once and today were perhaps saving her from a fate worse than death. The thought made her shudder Anywhere must be better than this and she was not without skills, having had the major responsibility for all menial labor in the brothel. Surely someone would be willing to hire her as a maid or cook or even a stable hand. Firiel knew she had to get as far away as she was able as quickly as she was able. Her self-proclaimed guardian might not care over-much about her welfare, but she certainly would not let the opportunity for coin escape easily. Firiel realized then that she would have to try to make a run for it immediately, but first she would have to get her boots and cloak.
She crept upstairs listening carefully for anyone who might see her. If this was going to work she had to have the advantage of time and surprise. Once in her room, she gathered her few possessions, tied them in her sheet and after checking to make sure no one was near the back windows threw them out to the ground. Firiel grabbed the blankets and some linens from another empty room thinking the laundry would make a good place to hide some food for her trip and would alsogive her an excuse to head toward the river. If anyone saw her, they would think she was going to do the wash as always.
On her way to the back door she slipped into the kitchen. The cook always left early for market in order to get the freshest vegetables and meats. The kitchen was dark and empty. Firiel grabbed the few left over rolls and some cold meat from the night before. She was just about to leave the kitchen and head out the door when she saw a large carving knife and tucked it into her boot as an afterthought.
Firiel picked up her makeshift pack on her way out and headed towards the river. Once there she hurried along the shore until she came to the edge of the woods.
She had not been on her way very long when she heard hoof beats behind her. Firiel did not want to take the chance that anyone could tell Amalia which way she had gone, so she climbed up the nearest tree, her brown leggings and green tunic helping her blend in to the foliage. It was only a moment or two before she saw her pursuer. It was the same filthy man who had tried to pay for her earlier. Firiel's heart began beating so fast she thought he would certainly be able to hear it, but he rode right under the tree and did not even see her. He seemed to be looking for something but it never occurred to him to look up. After a while she heard him head back and she let out a sigh of relief. She stayed in the tree until she was sure he couldn't see or hear her climb down, then hurried on.
Firiel managed rather well for the first several miles. Luck had been with her and she found berries here and there, but the food she brought with her did not last long. Indeed food had not been her foremost concern. Other than a surety that those who followed had given up the chase, her main concern was water. The sun of the day was soon spent and with dusk came cold and her heart began to sink in despair. Thus it was when she heard a river running she headed toward it, ignoring the foreboding of something fell in that direction. If people were pursuing her she would simply wait till they too had given up. It was because of her ignorance of the wilds and what most folk would call monsters that she managed to, literally, surprise a band of rogue orcs.
They were the ugliest things she had ever seen and grumpy because they had just woken up.
"Garn" said one, "Whots this then eh?"
The filthy monster grabbed Firiel around the waist as the others continued to wake.
"Looks like a she elf," said another
"Kinda scrawny," said a third
"Who cares," replied the first " It's meat and I ain't had meat for days!"
"Here now," said a forth. "Let's have some fun with it before we eats it. She elves are good for more than just eatin."
Then he licked up the side of her face and pinched her breast, bucking his pelvis against her in a way that let Firiel know exactly what he thought she might be good for.
"C'mon pretty give a scream, I loves it when they screams."
Firiel managed to work the knife out of her boot and ran it as hard as she could along the arms of the one holding her.
This brought a wicked laugh from the rest of the orcs as one said,
"Looks like this ones a fiesty one!"
This only made the orc she had cut more angry.
She fought with every inch of her being but she was no match for them and was unconscious in short order. Firiel quite probably would have died then and there in the wild had fate not been with her once again.
Elladan and Elrohir were returning north toward Rivendell after running errands and messages for their father Elrond. With them was a small band of elven warriors, for it was deemed unsafe to travel alone in such dark times, even for such experienced hunters and fighters as the sons of Elrond. Several times already on their journey they had met and dispatched bands of orcs. They would not have been traveling at night but that it was urgent that their father and people learned how close to Rivendell the orcs had ventured. The beasts had come far enough north to present an immediate danger, and the twins and their band were stealthily following a large band of orcs, hoping to pick them off one by one and thus even the odds a bit before doing away with the rest. As they drew near, they were pleased to note the sounds of a battle already in progress and hoped that the infighting so common among orcs would do some of their work for them.
As they neared the camp, therefore, they were shocked to hear a feminine voice that certainly belonged to no orc. By the time they arrived, the female lay on the ground, alive but unconscious. The Orcs argued loudly over who had the greater claim to the fresh meat and spoils, and the twins took the opportunity to approach from down wind, surprising the monsters. After a long and tiring battle, the elves had slain the majority of the orcs, but the victory was hard won and the few orcs who escaped would return with more of their numbers. It was not wise to remain with so small a company.
"She's still alive, thank Varda,"Elladan noted, though what a girl would be doing alone in the woods at night was anyone's guess. Elladan pondered this while his brother stated the obvious.
"It's a girl." Elrohir was a bit taken aback, as he had at first thought it to be a young male who was fighting off the orcs.
"Why thank you for that brilliant observation brother," Elladan answered a bit sarcastically. "Next you will be informing us of the equally needless details that she is without escort and in male attire."
"Well we can't just leave her here to the mercy of those foul beasts. And there are not enough of us to face them when they return,"replied Elrohir heatedly.
"Ah yes, brother dear. I am sure those details would have escaped my notice also."
Elrohir examined her wounds and tried without success to wake her, then said,
"She has taken a blow to the head. I don't believe it will prove fatal, but she sleeps as soundly as you after the last festival brother."
At this a faint smile played across his lips. Elladan shot Elrohir a dark look at this comment, for their ada had spared no words at how unseemly it looked for a son of his house too sleep in while others were up and about working.
"Well what ever we do, we must do it soon," said Gildor. "Do you think the orcs will bandy over such things as they gather reinforcements?"
Several sharp retorts came to Elladan's mind, but Gildor was right. The party could not stay here, nor could they leave her here injured to await the orcs return. They had no time to search for her kin or escort. That left only one option: take her with them and decide how best to find where she had come from and how to get her back to her people later. Having made up his mind, Elladan was not one to wait around. He hefted her onto his shoulder and started north once again with a mere shrug at his twin's curious look.
As the party of elves moved on, Elrohir contemplated that while Elladan had made the only decision time and expedience allowed, at least this time Elrohir would not be the one teased for bringing home a stray from the wilds. The remainder of the trip north was for the most part quiet. They moved as quickly as the worst injured among them were able. Elrohir contemplated the bedraggled looking female slung over Elladan's shoulder like a sack of potatoes as they walked. Her clothes were hardly the finery to which he was accustomed to seeing at home and she certainly needed a bath, but she had not acquired the tell tale stench which caused mortals to stand out so when they were unwashed for long periods.
Elrohir had once heard the seneschal say that an unwashed mortal could be smelled five leagues distant. He had thought this a gross exaggeration until one day a ranger had entered Imladris on an errand of some import. In his haste, the man had run afoul of a woodland creature which, taking exception to be trodden on, had used its only defense and sprayed the unfortunate man. Foul was indeed the correct word for it! Elrohir's nose wrinkled at the remembered odor. Elrond had insisted the Ranger bathe at once and despite murmured protests, the man had agreed. The maids had filled the bath water with over -generous amounts of sweet herbs, for even their nostrils were assaulted by his mere presence. Elrond provided the man with fresh clothes of the finest silk, a gift worthy of a king of men, yet the ranger had seemed a bit put out that Elrond had ordered his clothing burnt and the ashes buried. Yes, mortals and their ways were difficult to comprehend. Elrohir grinned to himself at the memory.
Elladan, seeing his grin and thinking that perhaps his twin found something humorous in seeing his brother with a damsel slung over his shoulder, took steps to rectify the situation and set her down gently on the thick grass. While he had not found her any great burden, even an elf needed some rest. They had come a considerable distance since they had first found the girl and most of it had been at a hurried pace to avoid more foes while so many of their number were injured. Even he had sustained a few cuts and bruises.
"We will stop here for a time to refresh ourselves before continuing home," Elladan ordered.
The others in the party, quite accepting of the fact that Elladan was in charge, began unwrapping lembas and drinking from oilskins. Elrohir however would not let an opportunity pass to get a dig in.
"Weary so soon brother?" Elrohir quipped. "Home is not far distant and surely such a burden would be better examined in a bed? Unless you like your women dirty?"
"I was merely seeing if we could awaken our slumbering guest yet," Elladan retorted, and then added, "However since you find the lady so fascinating that you prefer watching her over my shoulder to eating and drinking, then you may carry her the rest of the way home!"
"I would not dream of denying my brother such obvious pleasure," Ellrohir countered. "If such pleasure you deem it, then it is yours brother. Perhaps you will be able to keep this female more easily in hand than the lady Aredhel," he jibed.
Elrohir's eyes and head came up sharply at that. He had not realized Elladan knew anything about the time he passed with lady Aredhel, though being a son of Elrond it would not surprise him that some over-merry tongue or other had gossiped to his twin. There was a saying, ancient even among the firstborn, which loosely translated said "A falsehood could travel all the realms of middle earth before the truth had a chance to dress and mount." While it was true that elves were not given to telling outright falsehoods, it was not beyond them to embellish a tale a bit for interest's sake. Elrohir had no wish for his twin to continue on this line of conversation, so he agreed to carry their unconscious guest, hoping Elladan had not noticed that his true intent was to change the direction the subject had taken.
The sun was rising in all her glory, and painting a resplendent canvas across the eastern sky as the elves crossed the bridge toward home and hearth. Elrohir had hoped that his brother would be the one suffering the jests and jibes of the outland guard. Alas, Elladan had found a suitable excuse to escape from such indelicacies. Even after all these years Elrohir still managed to stumble into his twin's well-laid baits. Thus it was that he now played at fencing off the genial catcalls he received from all whom they passed.
"What is this you carry my Lord? It does not look like that which you set out to hunt unless our eyes greatly deceive us?" Galdor laughed merrily.
Elrohir grimaced and rolled his eyes at the good natured, albeit annoying, tease.
"Perhaps this is yet another pet for the menagerie?" quipped another. Elrohir 's habit of bringing home woodland creatures which required healing or attention to greater or lesser degrees had neared the realm of legendary.
"It was not I this time," Elrohir insisted. "It was Elladan who said we should bring her to adar."
"Of course it was," replied Galdor ,smirking.
At that moment Elrond appeared and, having heard the jokes, smiled and said
"Son, why can't you ever bring me home something small and easy to heal, like a bird?"