The Rohan Pride Trilogy
Part One: Alone
Book Two
By:WhiteLadyOfTroy
Summary:
When Gúthwyn, the youngest child of Théodwyn and Éomund, becomes a slave of Sauron, she makes a deadly bargain with the Dark Lord. If she fails at the task he sets before her, then the lives of those she loves will be compromised.
About the Trilogy:
I have decided to do what Tolkien did with his books. The Fellowship of the Ring had two books within the text, as did The Two Towers and The Return of the King. The only change I have made is the first part in my trilogy: Alone. This will be divided into three books, the first book explaining how Gúthwyn got to where The Fellowship of the Ring started.
About Chapter Twenty-Four:
As always, names come from The Lord of the Rings UK name translator (such as the tiny character Gyllyn, which I got by typing in '1234'), with the exception of a small few that I have formed with the help of The Fourteen Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth. In the case of Hammel, I just made it up—I know it's not a proper name, but I can't think of him as anyone else. Borogor and Beregil are modifications of Beregond and Bergil, two citizens of Gondor Pippin meets in The Return of the King. Once again, please correct me on anything that seems amiss, out-of-character, or non-canon. Important: Here the story begins to become a little less accurate, canon-wise. I have tried my best to keep it realistic, but sometimes it's just not possible.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun was high overhead as Gúthwyn clashed her sword against Beregil's, blocking his strike and leaping back to avoid the retaliatory blow. Beads of sweat were streaming down her face, soaking the cloth headband she had wrapped around her head. The air was thick and unbearably hot, adding to her discomfort. She had been training with Beregil for almost four hours now, and she was swiftly tiring.
She and the children had been in Mordor for nearly two weeks. During this time, she had found herself more physically taxed than ever before, even compared to the hellish journey to the Black Land. Then, she had only needed to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other. Her first full day, she had gone for nearly twelve hours of brutal training with only a short break for lunch. By the time the sky was dark, she was incapable of walking.
A flush crept up on her already red cheeks as she remember how Borogor had had to carry her back to the tent, much to the amusement of its other inhabitants. Beregil had taken care of the children, who were as worn out (if not more) than her. The next morning, Borogor had told her that she need not feel embarrassed, as many men had perished their first day, but it still had not made the incident any less mortifying.
Propelled by anger at herself, Gúthwyn lunged forward and swung a powerful stroke at Beregil, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble. They were at equal skill level, something which had surprised Borogor at first. She, herself, had not thought that she would do so well when her only expertise had been with sticks.
"Good," Beregil gasped, holding up his hand just as a loud horn rang out.
Instantly, the practicing soldiers abandoned their training. On the hotter days, they were granted ten-minute breaks every three hours, something that Gúthwyn was immensely grateful for.
Borogor, who had been watching their skirmish, now came up to them. "Gúthwyn, I just saw the children about a hundred or so yards away," he told her, pointing to the left. "Excellent job; you have really been improving."
"Thank you," Gúthwyn replied, wiping her head as she espied Hammel and Haiweth. "I will be right back," she told the two brothers, then set off to retrieve the children.
On the way, she passed a cluster of Easterlings. They were joined by Lumren, whom she was now suspecting to be an Easterling as well. The man had said nothing to her that was not rude or derogatory. He frequently stared at her as though she wore no clothing, something that she was finding increasingly hard to brush off.
As if reading her mind, Lumren glanced over and saw her. "How is the little maiden today? Not collapsing again, are we?" he jeered, generating harsh laughter among his companions. Gúthwyn did not respond, but every inch of her body was burning with anger and shame.
Their mirth echoed after her as she walked faster, hoping to leave them behind as soon as she was able. Hammel and Haiweth were only a few yards away, still clutching their water buckets and ladles. Every day they moved along the entire training space, Hammel carrying the buckets and Haiweth offering the water. To Gúthwyn's immense relief, most of the warriors had heeded Borogor's words and avoided heckling the children. But some uttered crude jokes, ones that were understandable by all but their target. Lumren was one of these.
Haiweth it was who saw her first. "Gút'wyn!" she cried, running awkwardly over to the young woman. "Gút'wyn!"
Gúthwyn bent down and scooped the child up in her arms, hugging her tightly. "How was your day?" she asked. Haiweth beamed, not taking in a word.
"Good," Hammel answered, coming up to her and holding onto her pants leg. Gúthwyn freed one of her hands and extended it down to him, smiling when he took it. Exhaustion, Lumren, and the Easterlings aside, she hardly felt like she was living in the land of the Dark Lord. The sky might have been nearly dark all the time, and there was never a moment of peace with the racket the Orcs always made—the enormous Barad-dûr was visible from all directions, along with it an unsettling red light; yet the children were happy and therefore so was she.
She began walking back to where Borogor and Beregil were, determinedly looking anywhere but at the Easterlings and Lumren. She could hear muttered jests and their accompanying chuckles, but she refused to give even a glance in their directions. There was one thing that made the job easier: The sudden appearance of Haldor.
She had only seen him a few times since her first day, but she had thought about him nearly every hour. He had helped her with the basics of archery on her second day; even when she missed the target by several feet, he would give her useful tips and techniques. It was near impossible for her to forget the touch of his hands on her arms, gently moving them into place.
For some reason, whenever she happened to see Borogor, he was always looking at the two of them with an odd expression on his face. It was not anger, nor was it sadness; it was almost worry, but she could not understand why. As a matter of fact, all thinking was difficult when the Elf's bluer than blue eyes fell upon her. For the first time in her life, she might have been in love.
Almost without noticing, she had begun walking faster, eager to reach Haldor. His back was to her, as he was speaking with Borogor; Borogor did not look happy about something. Beregil was watching them with a worried expression on his face.
Just then, Borogor caught sight of Gúthwyn coming towards them with the children. The second his eyes moved elsewhere from Haldor, the Elf became aware of the attention shift and swiveled around. His face stretched into a grin. "Gúthwyn, how are you?"
"Good, thank you," Gúthwyn said with a blush, inwardly cursing herself for her lack of conversational skills.
"Borogor was telling me that your swordsmanship exceeds all expectations," Haldor continued, glancing at her keenly.
Gúthwyn smiled softly. "He exaggerates," she told him. "I have merely had some lessons, albeit brief and jumbled, before."
"Just think, then, of what a few more will do," Haldor said. Borogor's eyes narrowed slightly. "And how are the children?" the Elf asked, looking down at Hammel and Haiweth. "I hope they are not doing too much."
"They are fine," Gúthwyn responded. A week ago, if someone had told her that not all of Sauron's servants were evil, she would have thought them mad. But here was living proof of the contrary. It was surprising, and a little bit unsettling. Then again, everything about her life had been unsettled lately.
Just then, the horn sounded again. Gúthwyn winced at its harsh, abrasive tone. Nothing was gentle in this place.
"Are you going to be staying?" she heard herself asking Haldor.
He nodded. "Borogor, are you ready for some sparring?"
Was it Gúthwyn's imagination, or did Borogor suddenly look tense? "Of course," he said, his left hand drifting to his right arm.
"Behave yourselves," Gúthwyn said to Hammel and Haiweth, giving both of them a pat on the back as she stood up. Haiweth gave her a toothy grin, then tugged at Hammel's hand.
"Move," she whined. Hammel waved forlornly at Gúthwyn, trotting off behind his bouncy sister. Gúthwyn smiled to see the two of them together.
"Come, Gúthwyn," Beregil said, tapping her on the shoulder. "If we get close enough to my brother and Haldor, we may watch them spar."
Gúthwyn felt a thrill of excitement. "I have never seen either of them practice," she commented.
"Borogor usually gets up early," Beregil told her. "Though sometimes he stays late at night. No one really knows what Haldor does."
Gúthwyn memorized this as she retrieved her sword from where she had left it on the ground. It was not actually hers; otherwise she would have been far more careful with it. The blade was of horrible make, just something that Orkish smiths threw together in the forgeries of Barad-dûr. Every week or so new ones were shipped out to Udûn.
As she picked up the sword, she glanced at the Eye on her wrist and suppressed a shudder. Even after it had stopped searing and faded into a dull brown color, she still felt as though it were a flaming red. Sometimes she could feel a prickling originating from it, like a many-legged creature was sprouting from the eye and crawling around on it. She despised the mark and everything it stood for.
"Are you ready?" Beregil asked her, yanking her from her thoughts.
"Sorry," she apologized, standing up and turning to face him. "Yes, I am."
Five minutes later, however, in which each had successfully disarmed the other, an exclamation from Beregil alerted her to Borogor and Haldor. They had just begun.
For a moment, the two circled each other. Gúthwyn always preferred to let the other person come to her, to make them expend their energy first. In one of their conversations, Borogor told her that he believed the same thing. "But the key," he had said, "is to have a stronger will than your opponent. If they are intimidated by you, they will strike first."
It was very clear from the beginning that Haldor was, in no way or form, intimidated by Borogor. He had a deadly calm air about him, as though he could effortlessly defeat even the most accomplished without even breaking a sweat; whereas Borogor seemed to have picked up the sword knowing that he was going to lose.
When Borogor finally lunged at Haldor, the Elf seemed to barely move his sword. However, his block sent Borogor's arm flying in the opposite direction. Borogor instantly brought it back, just in time to fend off a powerful thrust from Haldor. He was forced backwards a few steps, the Elf pushing him away with ease. For a moment, Haldor's blue eyes chilled her. They were blazing with an intensity she had never seen before.
The duel lasted not three minutes before Haldor got under Borogor's guard, placing the sword tip at his neck almost before the Man was aware of it. A small drop of blood formed.
"Quick, back to work," Beregil hissed, and reluctantly Gúthwyn turned to face him again.
"Haldor was amazing," she breathed, as they both held up their swords.
"So is Borogor," Beregil answered, open admiration on his face. "If I could fight like him…"
But as the two of them began practicing, Gúthwyn could only think of Haldor. His skill surpassed all that she had ever seen, even that of Cobryn. All of his strokes seemed to take no effort at all, and his footwork was unbelievable.
"Gúthwyn!"
Gúthwyn snapped herself out of her thoughts to find Beregil's sword not two inches from her neck. "Sorry," she said, blushing. Now is not the place to think of Haldor, she told herself.
"You have been elsewhere for the past minute," he said, drawing back his blade as they prepared to start again.
She felt herself going red again. "Sorry," she repeated, hoping against hope that Haldor had not noticed her actions. She chanced a quick glimpse over in the Elf's direction. No such luck: He was watching her.
To her surprise, however, he was not laughing; he gave her a small wave and then resumed talking to Borogor, whose face was inexplicably cloudy. Gúthwyn waved back before turning to Beregil, who was shaking his head. "What?" she asked, giving him a curious look.
"Would you like to practice now?" he questioned, though he did not seem much annoyed with her.
"Sorry," Gúthwyn spoke again. "I am ready."
A few hours later, the training grounds were too dark for the warriors to continue. The only things visible were the thousand prickling lights from the Towers of the Teeth and the Morannon; they seemed to magnify the blackness, rather than lessen it. Finally, there was that strange red glare from the faraway Barad-dûr, which Gúthwyn had never found out the nature of.
She began following Beregil towards Borogor, as the three of them and the children walked together back to their tent in the evenings. As much as she had not wanted to listen to Borogor's warning about never going anywhere by herself, she had to admit that she felt safe with the two brothers.
Suddenly someone stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. She felt a twinge of fear. "Excuse me," she said, attempting to walk around him. She could not see his face.
"Gúthwyn," he spoke, and Gúthwyn realized that it was Haldor. She gave a nervous laugh.
"I did not know who you were," she said. "It was too dark."
"Should I feel insulted?" he asked. Just then a large group of people passed by, jostling Gúthwyn in the process. Gently, Haldor put his arm around her and guided her away from them. It was lucky it was so dark; otherwise, her face would have had the color of a shining ruby.
"No," she answered, feeling regretful as he let go of her.
"Good," Haldor said. "Now, where are the children?"
"Give me a second," Gúthwyn told him, stepping away a little bit. Raising her hands to her mouth, she gave a piercing call. "Hammel! Haiweth!"
Haldor was silent, his golden hair turned dark by the night. Within a few minutes, Gúthwyn could make out the outlines of the children bobbing over towards her. "I swear, they can see in the dark," she muttered.
"Maybe," Haldor responded seriously. She turned to look at him. "I could identify you from any distance," he added.
For about the hundredth time that day, her cheeks flushed crimson red. What was it about this Elf that made her so weak?
Just then, a man came up to her. "Gúthwyn?" he asked. It was Borogor.
"Yes, it is I," she answered, squinting up at him.
"I have been looking for you," he responded. "Are you ready to go back?"
"As a matter of fact," Haldor interjected, "I was hoping she would walk with me for a little."
Gúthwyn's heart leaped into the air, dancing with the wind.
"I see," Borogor replied slowly, his voice suddenly wooden. "Gúthwyn, I will take the children back if you wish."
Gúthwyn hesitated. As much as she would love to spend some time with Haldor, she did not want to leave the children, even if they were in Borogor's trustworthy and capable hands.
"No, it is fine, they may come," Haldor said. "I have not gotten to know them yet."
"You do not mind?" Gúthwyn asked the Elf, rather surprised.
Borogor seemed taken aback as well. "It is really no trouble," he said.
Gúthwyn made her decision. Though she appreciated Borogor's offer, she really did not wish to be separated from the children more than was necessary. "Thank you, Borogor," she told the man, "but I would feel better with them with me."
Borogor shrugged. In the dark she could not read his expression. "As you wish," he responded. "I will see you soon, then?"
"We shall not take long," Haldor spoke.
It was then that the children finally arrived. Gúthwyn bent down to pick Haiweth up, swinging her around for a bit before placing her on her hip. "We are going for a walk tonight," she informed the two of them. "With Haldor."
"Haddor?" Haiweth repeated.
"Haldor," Hammel said quietly.
It was one of the few words he had spoken since he and his sister were first captured. "Yes," Gúthwyn confirmed, reaching forward to take his hand.
"Let me," Haldor offered. "You already have one of them."
"Are you sure?" Gúthwyn asked, marveling at how kind the Elf was.
Haldor said nothing, yet clasped Hammel's hand in his. Hammel was silent as well.
They began walking around the training grounds, using the distant lights to see where they were going. Gúthwyn herself was not able to make out much, but Haldor seemed to know where they were. At one point, she stumbled; for the second time that night, the Elf put his arm around her and helped her along. "Does this bother you?" he questioned after a few moments.
"No," Gúthwyn answered, feeling perfectly at ease. Haiweth was already falling asleep.
"How is he doing?" she asked Haldor, unable to see Hammel.
"He is fine," Haldor responded. Gúthwyn smiled.
For a time, no words were exchanged. She could not begin to describe how happy she was. Just the mere sight of Haldor was enough to make her day. The only thing that bothered her was Borogor's unhappiness. I will ask him about it when we come back, she decided.
"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Haldor broke the silence, squeezing gently on her shoulder. She felt as though she would melt.
"Go ahead," she invited him.
"How is it that you came to be here?"
Gúthwyn stopped, cringing on the inside. She was not sure if she was ready to tell the tale.
"If it discomforts you, you need not say anything," Haldor said, picking up instantly on her unease.
She debated with herself. It would be a relief to be able to talk to someone about her fears and doubts, yet she did not know if he would scorn her or be uninterested. Telling the story would be like placing herself before him for his judgment, and she was unsure whether she wished to hear the verdict.
At length, one side won out. "How much time do we have?" she asked, looking at Haiweth and rocking her gently. The child was asleep, her head resting on Gúthwyn's shoulder.
"As long as you need," he responded.
For the next half hour, while they walked along the training grounds, she told him everything that had happened since her half birthday, except for one thing: Her relation to the King of Rohan. She had long ago learned to keep that part of her secret. But all else that she knew she now told the Elf—the other slaves, Gríma Wormtongue, the Wargs, Chalibeth's death.
When she got there, when she was recounting the outbreak of Wargs, she arrived at the sight of Chalibeth lying spread-eagled on the ground and could not go any further. Her voice faltered, and to her horror she found herself struggling to hold back tears.
Haldor, who had been listening quietly up until now, spoke soothingly. "You do not have to go on. I would not want you to cry."
Gúthwyn shook her head vigorously. "No," she managed to get out. Rapidly blinking her eyes, she struggled to bring herself under control. It took several moments, but eventually she had calmed down enough to finish telling the story.
When she was recounting the days spent in the cage—the girl, the voices inside her head—feeling rather sick as she did so, Haldor held her tightly. "I am sorry," he said. "I should have brought a torch. Are you still afraid of the dark?"
"Not with you," Gúthwyn answered, wondering at her boldness. Haldor did not say anything.
They had gone around the training grounds by this point, and were now doubling back to return for the night. The clusters of tents were coming closer as Gúthwyn now recalled the last pieces of her tale: Her horrible dream of Éowyn's death, the journey with the Uruks, finding the children. Haiweth was still asleep in her arms.
When she had at last finished, when she could go on no further, Gúthwyn heaved a great sigh. "Is Hammel still awake?" she asked Haldor.
"Barely," the Elf responded, then looked back at her. "As horrible as it may seem, I am surprised that you have survived so far."
"As am I," Gúthwyn agreed, shivering slightly. "Pure luck, I suppose." It was chilling to think of how many times she might have perished already.
Once again Haldor was silent, but he held her tightly all the way back to the camp. Their faces were within inches of each other, something Gúthwyn was very conscious of. "It has been a pleasure to speak with you," he said as they came to her tent, "though I am sorry for your sadness. If there is anything I can do…"
"Thank you for listening," Gúthwyn told him earnestly, taking Hammel in her hand. "I appreciate it."
Haldor inclined his head. "Good night."
"Good night," she replied, then ducked into the tent.
Inside, everyone was asleep except for Borogor. He was sharpening his sword by the light of a small candle. "I was getting nervous," he said, a small frown on his face. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Gúthwyn answered, looking at him curiously before moving over to the two sleeping pallets she and the children used. She laid Haiweth down carefully, stroking the girl's hair. Hammel was barely able to move; the instant he lowered himself to the pallet, his breathing slowed. She smiled before asking, "Why would I not be?"
Borogor seemed uneasy. "Never mind," he said. "I just thought… Well, it is nothing."
Gúthwyn stood up. Walking to stand before him, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Borogor, what is it?" she asked. "You have been in a foul mood for almost the entire day. Please, if it is something I did, let me know so I can fix it."
He sat up straighter, appearing as though he were debating whether or not to tell her. "I was merely worried about you," he eventually said, heaving a sigh.
"You did not have to be," she told him. "I was with Haldor, remember?"
Borogor's expression hardened at the mention of the Elf.
"What?" Gúthwyn pressed. "You told me earlier that he was a harsh person, but he is nothing of the sort. He listens to me, and does not judge me. Why, then, must I be careful around him?"
For a moment, Borogor's eyes darkened; she took a step backwards, suddenly afraid. But then the next instant she thought she had imagined it, for he seemed more tired than ever. "Gúthwyn, just forget I said anything. You should get some rest."
She repressed the urge to groan in frustration. "Borogor, will you not let me know what is going on?"
"It is nothing," Borogor answered, in a tone of voice that brooked no room for argument. Gúthwyn fell silent. "Please, go to sleep. You will need it for tomorrow."
"Right," she said dully, and turned away without another word. Her fists were clenched in annoyance. What was it that he was not telling her? She did not even know if she believed him about Haldor. Surely if it was something horrible, he would have cautioned her with clearer words.
Nevertheless, her night had been spoiled by Borogor's cryptic warning. She lay down on her pallet, wrapping a protective arm around the children, still mulling over their conversation. What was it that bothered him so?
The sound of Borogor blowing the candle out came just before the darkness. She tensed, wishing that she were still outside with Haldor. Even now she could feel the warmth of his arm around her. Try as she might to suppress them, images kept floating to her mind of kissing him. Her body was no longer tense from fear.
If only… she thought. But he is an Elf, and I am a Human. She imagined that he only saw her as a companion, no matter how much she wanted to be something more. These emotions both excited and scared her. Never before had she been in love with someone—to find herself falling head over heels was unnerving.
"Gúthwyn?"
It was Hammel. Opening her eyes, she looked over at the boy. In the darkness, she could just make out his eyes. "What are you doing awake?" she whispered. "You should be asleep."
"My hand hurts," he said, stretching it over the sleeping Haiweth for her inspection. She took it; there were no cuts or bumps that she could feel.
"Do you remember doing anything to it?" she questioned.
"Haldor had it," Hammel answered.
"Yes," Gúthwyn agreed, "but what made it hurt?"
"Haldor had it," Hammel repeated.
Gúthwyn sighed. "I know, Hammel."
"It hurts," the boy added.
"Maybe when you wake up it will feel better," Gúthwyn suggested. Her body was gradually beginning to shut down for the night.
"No."
Gúthwyn paused. There was something in his tone that frightened her, for reasons she could not explain. "Hammel?"
Yet there was only steady breathing. He was fast asleep, his little hand still in hers.
Shortly after, Gúthwyn's chest was rising and falling with a calm rhythm. At the other end of the tent, Borogor listened to the sounds of her inhaling and exhaling, his heart telling of dark times to come.