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-Eight:
Regarding names, Hammel's I made 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. Also, regarding archery and swordplay—I really don't know what the hell I'm talking about, so bear with me. I've had a few archery lessons, but nothing major. In addition, the upcoming chapters will feature disturbing images. If torture and rape scenes bother you, skip over them. I will not post warnings in the middle of the fic, so you'll have to determine for yourself which areas you would like to avoid. 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-Eight

Twang. Gúthwyn let go of the bowstring, and the arrow flew across the training grounds. It fell short of its mark—a crudely constructed wooden target—and skittered harmlessly off to the side.

"You need to draw the string back further," said Borogor, who happened to be near her.

"Right," she said, irritated and crabby. Two months of constant, daily training had passed by, and yet she still had not gotten any better at archery. She could not stand it. Her shoulders always ached from pulling the bowstring back, and until Borogor had gotten her a pair of gloves, her hands had bled after each session.

"Here, let me show you." Borogor came up to her and she gave him the bow, watching sullenly as he drew it back until his hand was just touching his mouth. His eyes narrowed a split second before he released it, and they both followed the arrow's path as it embedded itself in the center of the target. "Do you see?" Borogor asked, handing the bow back to her.

Gúthwyn sighed. "I do not think archery is for me," she replied. "What are you supposed to be doing with your feet and elbows?"

Borogor listened to her patiently, then said, "Get into position, and I will tell you what you are doing wrong."

She obeyed, turning to the right and starting to raise the bow. Immediately, Borogor interrupted her.

"Your feet are not fully turned to the side."

Looking down, she saw that he was, indeed, right. She corrected herself, then took an arrow and fitted it to the bow. Lifting it up once more, she drew it back, imitating Borogor and pulling until her fingers were touching her mouth.

With a twinge of nervousness, she saw that Borogor had stepped closer to her. It had nothing to do with him: Haldor had called her to his tent two nights ago. He had been doing this every week, and each time it just got worse. She no longer passed out when he entered her, but she thought that remaining conscious just amplified the horror.

"Gúthwyn?" Borogor's voice mercifully pulled her back in from her thoughts.

She shook her head. "Sorry, I was lost for a moment. What were you saying?"

His eyes held hers. "Do you mind if I adjust your position?"

Try as she might, she could not repress the instinctive shiver that came over her. These days, the very idea of someone touching her, however harmless the intent, filled her with revulsion.

"S-sure," she said, taking a shaky breath and holding it.

Gently he took her right elbow, raising it up slightly and pushing it back so it was aligned with the rest of her body. Carefully he squared her shoulders, then adjusted her fingers on the bow. He worked silently and efficiently, never letting his hands linger too long. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded curtly, clenching and unclenching her stomach muscles.

"Now look at your target."

Turning her head slowly, Gúthwyn concentrated on the wood structure.

"Perfect," Borogor breathed.

"I am glad to see that we are improving."

The voice was off-hand, casual, but Gúthwyn knew it from her nightmares. With a horrified gasp she jumped and twisted around, ruining the pose Borogor had just managed to get her into. All the while, Haldor watched her with his cruel and cunning eyes. "Or perhaps not," he said, stepping in so that he was only a few feet away from her. The men on either side of Gúthwyn shifted to make room.

She looked to Borogor for help, but he had already slipped off to assist Beregil. She could not blame him for avoiding a confrontation, but she felt as though she were flailing in dark waters and unable to swim.

"Get ready to shoot," Haldor commanded her. "Your technique is horrible. I will fix it."

Her eyes widened in terror and she backed away. She would never be able to concentrate with him so near her.

"Do it," he ordered, his eyes blazing and his voice deadly quiet.

Shakily she obeyed, turning back around and lifting the bow. Her hand trembled so much that she could not keep it still. She was forgetting everything Borogor had told her just moments before.

Haldor moved in close behind her, so that she almost felt their bodies touching. Her stomach turned over as he roughly took her hands and jerked them into place. "Draw the bowstring back," he said, and she complied. Her breathing was becoming faster, and feelings of alarm were swirling within her. It was as though dark walls were closing in around her and she had no escape.

He pushed her elbow up before grabbing her waist. She whimpered as he squared it, simultaneously losing the rest of her form and lowering the bow. "No," she whispered, trying to move away from him, but his hands pulled her back.

"Are you listening to nothing that I tell you?" he hissed, closing his wrists about her own and angrily moving her arms back into place. "Shoot, now!"

Panicking, she hastily let go of the string, sending the arrow flying to the far left of the target.

"You are not concentrating!" Haldor growled at her, gripping her shoulders and turning them so that they were in line with the rest of her body. Gúthwyn felt dangerously close to crying.

"Get another arrow and shoot again," he said, and her fingers fumbled in her quiver before finding an arrow. It took her several tries to fit it onto the bow. She then lifted it, her breathing now erratic. Immediately Haldor's hands were on her, yanking her limbs back into position. She wanted to curl up somewhere, alone, and die.

She shot the arrow, watching with a sinking heart as it lost flight before it reached the target and fell uselessly to the ground. With a snarl, Haldor effortlessly turned her around, drawing her body to his. Their faces were so close that for a wild moment she thought he would kiss her.

"Do you think this is funny?" he snarled instead, his eyes boring holes into her. She shook her head frantically, unable to breathe. "Then why are you so incompetent?" he pressed furiously, his grip on her tightening so that it was painful.

Gúthwyn tried to wriggle away and scream, but all that came out was one word: "Stop."

"What did you just say?" Haldor asked, daggers in his tone.

All of the panic he had instilled within her came rushing out. "I said, stop!" she shrieked, and before she knew what she was doing she had reached back and thrown her right fist at him. It landed solidly on his chin.

She barely even had time to blink before something exploded on the side of her head, creating fantastic bursts of stars before her eyes. Blood filled her mouth, and she spat it out with a sickening slurping noise. Crumpling to the ground, she clutched her head in agony, feeling as though it had split in two.

Through the haze of pain she saw Haldor reach down for her. She was lifted up as though she weighed no more than Haiweth. "Do not ever challenge me again, do you understand me?" he growled, shaking her shoulders as he did so. "You have not the power nor the intelligence. If you lift a hand against me one more time, I will take those children and break their necks."

Before she could say or do anything, he wrenched the bow out of her hands. Casting it to the ground, he began steering her away from the other men. Helpless to struggle against him, she gasped, "What are you doing?"

"I am going to teach you to a lesson," Haldor answered coldly, and did not elaborate. Gúthwyn felt panicky once more. Would he really take her to his bed in the middle of the day? Her face paled, and for a moment she thought she would vomit.

The nausea increased as he pushed her along the now-familiar path to his tent. When they arrived he shoved her inside, so that she fell to her knees. More blood came out of her mouth. Haldor stepped over her, going towards his bed, and she moaned in despair. Not now, she thought wildly. Please, not now.

"Get up and take your shirt off."

At first, she did not understand the order. She looked up at his back in confusion, wondering if he had made a mistake and meant all of her clothes.

Very slowly, Haldor turned around. He held a knife in his hand. "I am getting tired of repeating myself," he said, and she heard a terrifying anger underlying his voice. She scrambled to her feet, pausing for a minute before turning around and removing her shirt. She knew that modesty was not an issue where the Elf was concerned, but she still loathed the thought of his eyes on her.

She suddenly felt strong hands on her back, pushing her towards the rock wall. She gave a muffled shriek as she was pressed against the hard surface, her ruined cheek rubbing up against it painfully. Haldor moved his hands up to her shoulders and whispered in her ear, "I think it is time you learned how to obey orders."

Pinned to the wall, she was unable to even move as he slid his arms under hers, just brushing her breasts before sliding down to her stomach. She choked, squirming against him in panic.

"Do not worry," Haldor told her silkily, before bringing his hands back to her shoulders. "I will not have you for another week. Today, we are going to do something different."

Gúthwyn swallowed hard, trying to push away the tears forming within her. In the midst of her dread, she did not notice Haldor lifting up her arm; when she did, it was too late. She heard the dull clank of iron, and something closed about her wrist.

"Haldor?" she asked, her voice wavering. She tried to move her arm, but she could not. With a horrified feeling rising within her, she slowly looked to her right. One of the manacles she had noticed the very first time she set foot in this place was circled around her wrist, holding it firmly in place. She felt its cold bite keenly against her skin.

As she made this discovery, Haldor wrapped another chain around her left wrist, securing it against the wall before she knew what was happening. She twisted, trying to make sense of what was going on. "Haldor?" she repeated.

There was no answer. Suddenly her ankles were grabbed and shackled so that she was incapable of moving them. Gúthwyn panicked, bucking away from the wall like an untamed horse struggling against its trainers. "Haldor!" she shrieked, her face pale and her eyes wide.

He came up behind her and grabbed her throat, leaning in so that his mouth was almost touching her ear. Gasping for air, she heard, "I do not want any sound from you until I am done."

She tried to pull away from him, but he increased his grip, so that she felt her face turning blue from lack of air. She went to grab at his hands, but remembered that her own were firmly tied to the rock wall, unable to be removed. As always with Haldor, she was utterly helpless.

The Elf took her sudden lack of resistance as an acceptation of his orders. "Good," he whispered, and even though she was facing the rock wall she could almost see the smirk on his face. "Now, in case you are feeling tempted to disobey…"

Gúthwyn watched as he took the remaining two chains and wrapped them around her shoulders tightly. She was now only able to shake her head back and forth; every other part of her body was completely restricted from motion. Standing and bound, shivering, she suddenly became aware of just how silent it was within the tent. She could hear the drifting shouts of men from the training grounds.

A cold hand was placed on her back, followed by something small, sharp, and pointed. Tensing, she sucked in her breath. The smaller item traced around her bare skin, seeming to have no fixed route. She felt Haldor's warm breath on her neck and shuddered.

Suddenly, a sharp pain originated between her shoulder blades. Something warm trickled down her back. She gasped, trying to arch away, but the chains held her fast. Slowly, cruelly, Haldor dug the knife into her skin, carving it away as easily as he would an apple. Shaking violently, she bit her lip hard and tried to ignore the agony spreading throughout her body.

With each turn of the knife the pain increased. Her lips were bleeding profusely, though nothing compared to her back. Sweating, fighting tooth and nail to not cry out in anguish, she tried to gauge how much damage had been done. However, all thinking was next to impossible. Every nerve in her body was screaming for release, every limb shaking from the torture.

How long Haldor kept her there Gúthwyn did not know. It could have been minutes, hours, years. When the knife stopped he undid the chains, stepping away as she collapsed to the floor in a pitiful heap. She lay there on her side, eyes screwed shut and muscles taut, feeling sick and nearly screaming in agony. The only sound she could hear was her harsh breathing.

Tentatively, afraid, she reached for her back. Her fingers slipped on all the blood. With a low moan she felt out the cuts, drawing in her breath every time she felt one. The pain was incredible: Sharp, lacing, unrelenting. The incisions did not seem too deep, but even if they were shallow they could still become infected. She was shaking.

"Get up," Haldor's voice sounded, coming from above her. "Now."

Her eyes opened and she saw him standing above her, holding his knife. It was now scarlet and soaked. Spatters of red were falling on her stomach. She stood up, immediately folding her arms across her chest and shrinking away from him. She could not bear to look him in the eye.

"Get out."

The instant she heard Haldor's command she obeyed, keeping her head ducked as she ran towards her shirt and yanked it over her head. Her back shrieked in protest and she tried to ignore it, though she winced with every small movement. She felt his eyes on her and hastened her movements, each of them now infested with horror.

When she had finished she ran for the exit, pushing the flap open in a frenzy and gasping for the air outside. Haldor's chilling laugh echoed behind her and she sprinted faster, going not towards the training grounds but to her own tent. All of the other men were practicing, so no one saw her lone figure tearing through the camp, the back of her shirt drenched in dark red blood.

She came to the tent and flung herself inside, crawling to her corner and curling up in a tight ball. Her back hurt too much for her to do anything other than grab her knees and rock to and fro, occasionally whimpering as a burst of agony wracked her body. She made no move to stop the bleeding.

Slowly the afternoon passed. Her stomach was growling and her back still felt as though needles had been stuck into it, but she thought the blood flow might have stopped. She did not check it. Instead she sat up, hugging herself and biting her now black and blue lips. She waited for Borogor.

He came with Hammel and Haiweth in either hand, shortly after night had fallen and engulfed her in shadows. The only source of light was a lone candle by the door. She made no sound as the other men filed in behind him.

"Gút'wyn!" Haiweth cried, seeing her and running over. Gúthwyn unfolded herself and allowed Haiweth to give her a hug, responding slowly after a few seconds.

"How are you?" she whispered, inexplicably feeling as though she were about to sob.

Haiweth did not answer, but smiled happily and let go, sliding over to make room for Hammel. The boy solemnly wrapped his arms around Gúthwyn, but almost immediately drew them back. "Your back feels strange," he said simply.

The sentence seemed to hang in the air, rising over all other conversation in the tent and floating to where Borogor stood, watching the three of them. She saw his eyes narrow, and she met them for the briefest instant before looking back at the children.

"I think it is time for you two to go to bed," she murmured, stroking Haiweth's hair. "You would not want to be tired tomorrow."

Haiweth pouted. "No bed," she whined, yawning as she did so.

"Yes bed," Gúthwyn replied. "Come along." Her back gave a painful twitch and she winced, instinctively holding her hand over it.

Head hanging, Haiweth moved towards her pallet. Hammel walked just as morosely, though as it was his natural demeanor Gúthwyn was never quite sure if he liked bedtime or not.

Once the children had settled onto their pallet, instantly falling asleep as was their wont, a shadow fell over Gúthwyn. She looked up, cringing as she did so, and then realized that it was Borogor.

"It is nothing," she said as he crouched down beside her, looking concerned. She did not want him to examine her back; she wanted to forget it had happened. The pain was even subsiding.

He gave her a look. "Gúthwyn, you do not have to suffer by yourself," he told her.

She concentrated on tracing a swirling pattern on the ground, and for a few moments was silent. Nothing would take the weight off her chest more than confiding in him, yet she felt ashamed of what she had allowed Haldor to do to her.

"My back," she said eventually, turning around so that he could see it. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and she turned back to see his ashen face.

"What did he use?" he asked.

"A knife," Gúthwyn answered, curling up once more and recounting the story in whispers to her feet.

"You need to change your bandages," Borogor told her worriedly. "The blood has already soaked through them."

Gúthwyn looked at him. "I did not put on any bandages," she said dully.

"No band… By the Valar, Gúthwyn, are you trying to kill yourself?" Borogor hissed, staring at her in shock. "You could have bled to death, you could get an infection, you—"

"I do not want to look at it," she replied.

"Do you have any idea how foolish you are being?" he demanded.

Gúthwyn's eyes widened, and she turned away. A silence followed, in which Borogor seemed to realize whom he sounded like. "I am sorry," he apologized. "Please, at the least put some bandages on or allow me to."

"No!" she gasped. She would never remove her shirt inside a tent full of men; especially Lumren, who happened to be watching the two of them with a narrowed eye. Every morning she took the children behind a large pile of rocks on the outskirts of the camp, just so they could avoid the other men. It was there that they changed and prepared for the day.

"Gúthwyn, this is ridiculous! I cannot allow you to harm yourself like this!"

"Forget it, Borogor," she told him. "Let it be."

"Absolutely not," Borogor said, and his face was stern. "As a commanding officer, before you come to the training fields tomorrow, I want your back wrapped up."

She stared at him, aghast. "Get away from me," she finally snarled, backing up towards the children. "Just leave me alone!" She pulled the bottom of her shirt downward in defiance.

Instantly, a searing pain engulfed her. She gasped, her hand flying to her back. It felt as though part of her skin had been ripped off.

"What is it?" Borogor asked instantly.

Gúthwyn tugged at her tunic again, then stopped. Her eyes closed. "My shirt is stuck to my skin," she answered, her voice faint. She tried to peel a piece off, and the pain increased.

Borogor sighed. "Do you have a spare shirt?" he questioned.

"Yes… why?" Gúthwyn did not like the look on his face.

"Come with me and bring it," he said, standing up.

"Wait!" Gúthwyn protested, getting to her feet as well. "What are you doing?"

"We are going to have to cut your shirt off," Borogor explained, his expression dark. "I say 'we' because I know from experience that it is near impossible to do yourself. I am not going to lie to you: It will be painful."

Gúthwyn took a step away from him. "And what makes you think I am in agreement with this?"

"Would you rather get an infection and die from it? Where would that leave Hammel and Haiweth?" Borogor persisted, gesturing towards the sleeping children.

"You are asking me," Gúthwyn began, her voice low and shaking uncontrollably "to let you take off my shirt in front of these men?"

Borogor began to say something, but she stormed ahead angrily. "How could you?" she hissed. "You know how he has humiliated me, and yet you seek to do the same thing?"

"Gúthwyn—"

"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "Forget it! I cannot believe this!"

"Gúthwyn!" Borogor finally roared.

"What?" she shrieked back, raising her hand to strike him before realizing what she was doing.

A thick silence suddenly fell over the entire tent. Everyone was staring at them.

Borogor lowered his voice. "Peace, Gúthwyn. I did not mean to do it here."

Slowly, Gúthwyn let her hand drop by her side. "Where, then?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice under control.

"Normally," Borogor began, sounding relieved now that they were not shouting at each other, "this would be done inside, but there are no unoccupied tents we could use. Would you mind if we went behind those rocks?"

She shook her head, but warnings were creeping through her already. What was to stop Borogor from having his way with her once they were alone? He had proven himself trustworthy, time and time again, yet had Haldor not done the same thing?

Borogor saw the hesitation in her eyes. "I promise you," he said gently, "you are safe with me."

Gúthwyn looked at him, trying to read his expression. "Am I?" she asked, and he did not answer.


Ten minutes later, an agonized scream rent the air.