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 Thirty-Five:
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 Thirty-Five
The horn sounded, signaling the end of yet another long day, and Gúthwyn sighed in relief. Despite the fact that her swordsmanship had been remarkably enhanced, thanks to Borogor's persistent training schedule, she was extremely worn out. All she wanted to do was gather the children, get back to the tent, and sleep.
So much for an exciting seventeenth birthday, she thought, feeling rather miserable. She had not told anyone about the date, not even Borogor, because doing so would only make it seem like she was looking for attention. And she certainly received enough of that.
Resigning herself to a night of painful memories and little sleep, she began looking for the children. Squinting in the darkness, she tried to make out their small forms, calling out after a moment. Eventually she could distinguish them, wending their way tiredly amongst the soldiers towards her.
"Hammel, Haiweth," she greeted them as they came before her, Haiweth leaning against her leg. She picked the girl up and started rocking her back and forth, glancing around in hope of seeing Borogor. As much as she did not want to rely on someone, she felt much safer with him around.
Luckily for her he soon materialized, Beregil at his side. "Are you ready to go back?" he inquired.
"Yes," Gúthwyn replied emphatically, and reached down for Hammel's hand.
The boy was not there.
"What is it?" Beregil asked as she whirled around in a panic, still holding Haiweth.
"Hammel!" she exclaimed anxiously. "I just had him, and now he—"
"Is right here," a smooth voice finished, and a tall, thin figure emerged from the shadows. Gúthwyn nearly fainted when she saw Hammel's hand wrapped in the Elf's.
"Haldor," she said nervously, keeping her eyes on Hammel. The boy seemed remarkably calm, watching their exchange disinterestedly. "Haldor, what are you doing?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Borogor step up beside her.
His second-in-command's presence had no effect on the Elf, who merely smiled. "I am going to need some of Hammel's time tonight," he said. "Alone."
"Well, you cannot have it," she retorted, reaching out for the boy.
"It was not a request," Haldor answered, stopping her short. She paled.
"Haldor," she whispered, "give him back!"
"We will be occupied for less than an hour," he said, his eyes taking a cruel delight in her distress.
"My lord," Borogor interrupted, "will you please listen to her? What you are doing is not necessary."
The Elf turned his cold gaze on him. "We will be occupied for less than an hour," he repeated. "I think Gúthwyn's nerves can survive that long." Then he turned to Hammel. "Are you ready?" he questioned.
"Yes," the boy replied, looking up at Haldor in awe.
Gúthwyn felt her world slipping away from her. The Elf was taking the child. Not just the child—her child. Frantically she went over all their recent encounters, trying to figure out what she was being punished for. Breathing was becoming difficult. No, calm down, she told herself. She still had Haiweth in her arms.
And then, screeching into her mind, came the heart-stopping possibility: What if only one of them came back?
She suddenly lunged forward, forgetting that she was holding Haiweth, forgetting that Haldor was much stronger than even Borogor, forgetting that she was risking her own life. All she cared about was getting Hammel back.
"Gúthwyn, no!" Borogor hissed, grabbing hold of her waist and pulling her back. She struggled against him feverishly.
"Let go of me!" she demanded, feeling hysteria wrap itself tightly around her. He refused, keeping a firm grip on her. "Haldor!" she cried. Haiweth began whimpering.
Unexpectedly, Hammel slipped out of Haldor's grasp, coming up to Gúthwyn and patting her hand. "Do not worry," he said simply, and then turned his back on her.
She stood, frozen in Borogor's arms, as he came once more to the Elf. Haldor smirked at her triumphantly before taking Hammel's hand. Together, the unlikely pair walked away, neither one of them looking back.
"I cannot believe it…" she gasped, feeling sick and holding Haiweth tighter. "How could he?" Her knees were giving out.
"Steady!" Borogor grunted as she collapsed into him. Haiweth squirmed out of her clutch, sliding onto the ground and worming away faster than her panicked eye could follow.
Beregil leaped forward and caught the girl by the shoulders, picking her up and awkwardly carrying her. The unexpected change caught her by surprise, and she was silent.
Gúthwyn tried to stand on her own feet, but she could not support herself. "What is he going to do to him?" she moaned. "What if he—"
"Do not think that way," Borogor told her, holding her close as she shook violently. "It will only make things worse."
"But he could be—"
"Hush," Borogor said. "Try to relax. Hammel will return to you safe and sound, you have my word."
Despite his pacifying speech, her heartbeat grew faster. Hammel was somewhere out in the night, in the company of the most dangerous being she had ever met in her life. All on his own, with no one to protect him. He would die. Maybe he was already dead.
As the thought came to her, she heard a cry burst into the night air. It was shrill and terrified, and with it came a speeding blackness. An invisible hand had pulled on the shades in her mind, and as they came rolling down she felt her spirit removing itself from its bodily imprisonment. She wavered, and then fainted.
When she came to, it took her several moments to become aware of her surroundings. At first everything was merely a blur, interrupted by a sole explosion of light in the corner of her eye. She groaned in confusion, realizing that she was lying down somewhere.
"Gúthwyn?" Borogor's voice drifted into her ears, now quiet, now annoyingly loud. She winced, attempting to sit up. A hand pressed on her shoulder, forcing her onto her back again. She did not protest.
"Where am I?" she murmured blearily, rubbing her eyes. Some of her vision cleared, and she could see Borogor's face staring down worriedly. Was that Haiweth speaking in the background?
"In our tent," he replied. Gúthwyn shook her head, trying to collect herself and remember what had happened. She looked over to her side, expecting to see Hammel and Haiweth in the pallet next to her. But it was only the girl, chatting animatedly with Beregil.
Suddenly the details of Hammel's absence came rushing back to her, and with a choked gasp she flung herself upward. Before Borogor had time to get a hold on her shoulder she leaped to her feet. "Has he returned yet?" she almost shouted.
Haiweth jumped at the sound of her angry tone and cowered. Lowering her voice slightly, Gúthwyn pressed on urgently. "Has he?"
"No," Borogor replied. "You have only been out for half an hour."
"A remarkably quiet half an hour," Lumren sneered. Gúthwyn ignored him.
"I have to go out and look for him," she said, and made to move past Borogor. He stepped in front of her.
"Absolutely not," he responded.
She tried to pass him, but he kept shifting so that all of her attempts failed. "Move!" she exclaimed furiously.
"Would you mind?" Sîdhadan shouted from where he lay on his pallet. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
"Sit down," Borogor told her. "My apologies," he said to the Gondorian. Sîdhadan looked slightly mollified, and rolled over on his side.
Gúthwyn repressed the urge to punch Borogor, shocked by his ignorant attitude. Once again she tried to get past him, but this time he grabbed her arm painfully.
"You are frightening Haiweth and disturbing my men," he hissed. "Sit down."
She cared not what the other men thought, but a glance at Haiweth's terrified form convinced her to shakily follow his instructions. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to stop herself from thinking of all the worst fates that could be Hammel's.
"Gúthwyn, you are making this much more difficult than it should be," Borogor told her. Looking up, she saw that he had kneeled down beside her.
"You do not understand," she managed to get out. "You have no idea how I feel!"
"Helpless," he said at once. "Powerless. As though you should have done something, no matter how inevitable it was. As though it was your fault—in every moment there was a way you could have prevented it, if only you had taken the initiative. You are frantic with worry, going through all of the worst things that could happen, praying that none of them do. Take all of those feelings and multiply them by a hundred, and that would be something close to it."
She stared at him. "Yes," she whispered at last.
"That is how I feel," he told her, "every time Haldor calls you to his tent."
It was the kindest thing anyone had said to her in months, and she was temporarily dumbstruck. "I-I… I am not sure what to say," she replied blankly, looking up at him uncertainly.
"You do not have to say anything," he replied, and fixed her with his eyes. "Hammel will be fine, I know it."
His tone was confident, but all the same Gúthwyn could not help fretting for the next half hour. Haiweth watched her nervously, but it was beyond her to comfort the girl when she could not even help herself. Wild images kept flooding through her mind, most revolving around Hammel's body lying on the ground, broken and bleeding, the limbs twisted irregularly and the light gone from his eyes. Before the time was up, she had vomited twice in the bucket.
Almost an hour had passed before Hammel returned, walking into the tent with something in his hand. An overwhelming mixture of relief and apprehension entered Gúthwyn as the boy made his way to her.
"Hammel," she whispered, and enveloped the boy in a fierce hug. "Thank the Valar you are back." She felt light-headed and dizzy. "What did the two of you do?"
"I cannot tell you," Hammel replied seriously, and for a moment she stared at him uncomprehendingly. "It is a secret."
Suddenly fearful, she looked down at the object he was holding. It was a wooden carving of a child—much like what Haldor had shot an arrow into. "Did he give this to you?" she asked warily.
"Yes," the boy answered, and held it out for her inspection. She took it, and realized that it came with a miniature bow and arrow. As though she were in a dream, she held the arrow and put it to the left eye, where there was a tiny hole. It was a perfect fit.
She jumped, and reached out for him. The toy clattered onto the ground. "What happened on your walk?" she asked urgently, her hands on his shoulders.
Hammel wrenched himself from her grasp and picked up the toy. "It is a secret," he said, a hint of anger in his voice. "He told me not to tell you."
"Well, some secrets cannot be kept," Gúthwyn retorted. "I need you to tell me what happened."
"No," Hammel replied flatly.
"Hammel!" she cried in exasperation and anxiety. "This is important!"
"No," he repeated.
A shadow fell over the two of them, and Gúthwyn glanced up to see Borogor. He crouched down and explained, calmly and patiently, to Hammel, "She is worried for your safety. Will you ease her fears by telling the secret? She will not breathe a word to anyone."
"No," Hammel said firmly, and when she looked into the boy's eyes she knew she would not get anything from him.
Abruptly she stood up, making her decision and feeling all the more nauseous for it. "I am going to see Haldor," she told Borogor, and immediately he rose.
"Gúthwyn, I do not think that is a good idea," he said. "Hammel has returned safe—that is all we need to know. I am willing to bet all I own that he is doing this to bait you. Please, do not go."
His tone was low and urgent; more than anything she wanted to listen to him, but she could not ignore the chance of him being wrong. "I have to," she replied, trembling.
Borogor took her hands. "No, you do not," he argued. "I fear you are falling right into a trap."
"See you soon," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Eyes downcast, she pulled away and turned towards the tent flap. Taking a deep breath, she stiffened her resolve and put one foot in front of the other, at last pushing aside the canvas and stepping outside.
For a terrifying instant she could not see anything, but then her eyes grew used to the dark and she could identify the flickering torches in the distance. They helped her find her way as she walked to Haldor's tent, haste marking her movements, fear evident in her features. Think of Hammel, she told herself, but when she arrived at the Elf's tent she could not muster the courage to call out.
She stood there for a full minute, shifting her balance ever so often, debating with herself what she should do. I can turn back right now, she thought. I can turn back right now and never know what happened. Borogor is probably right—I am only making a fool of myself by coming here.
Yet the nagging part of her, the part that cared deeply for the children's well being, said otherwise. Haldor could have done anything, it warned. If you do not investigate now, you will not be able to prevent whatever else he might start doing in the future.
The thought was too much for her to refute, and she opened her mouth.
"Come in."
Gúthwyn jumped at the sound of the Elf's voice, instantly regretting her decision. Quaking from head to foot, she stepped reluctantly into his tent. A lantern was in the corner, housing a flame that burned merrily. The light from it threw Haldor's face into sharp relief, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Remember Hammel.
"What did you do to him?" she asked, approaching the Elf cautiously. He was lying on his bed, but at her question pushed himself up and swiveled around so that his feet were resting on the ground. He did not appear remotely surprised.
"Did he not tell you?" he replied, the shadow of a grin flickering on his face.
"You ordered him to keep it a secret," she said, gritting her teeth.
"And I suppose you want to know it?"
She nodded, and Haldor stood up. The very action seemed to magnify his height so that he was towering over her.
"Just how much?" he asked softly.
Gúthwyn closed her eyes, and when she opened them he was just a foot away from her. "What do you want?" she returned, attempting to disguise her dread, folding her arms over her stomach and standing her ground.
He smiled wickedly, then raised his arms and pushed her so that she stumbled back into the wall. "Do you still want to know?"
"Yes," she said, regaining her balance and shivering against the rock. Already her back, which had just recovered from its latest ordeal, was aching.
Haldor was drawing nearer to her by the second. She let him come, trying to keep her eyes focused on his armor stand rather than his face. Yet then she gasped, for with one hand he had grabbed a fistful of her hair at the base of her skull; the other he pressed into her stomach, keeping her pinned against the wall. Effortlessly he twisted her head back so that their eyes were inches apart.
"Do you still want to know?" he asked again. Gúthwyn cringed, but nodded.
"Yes," she whispered.
A burst of pain originated from her head as she was lifted up by it, so that her face was now level with Haldor's. She felt his hand sliding down to her pants and gulped.
"How about now?" the Elf asked, his blue eyes daring her to ask him to stop. She nodded, knowing that there was no going back.
Her pants fell to the floor, followed by a second rustle that she realized to be Haldor's. Burning with terror and shame, she looked up at the ceiling, determinedly avoiding his gaze. But he merely pulled her head down again. "Watch," he commanded.
A second later she gasped as he entered her, groaning as she was pressed against the wall. With a savage brutality he drove in and out of her, making his movements rougher as she whimpered in fright. She felt the familiar pain growing within her. Every thrust hurt more than the last. For Hammel, she reminded herself, wincing as Haldor humiliated her, trying to make believe that this was not happening.
And then he let go of her, so that it was only his body holding her up. Caught wildly off balance, Gúthwyn was forced to grab onto his shoulders to avoid falling. Somehow her legs had wrapped around his hips, and she repressed a sob as she realized what she must look like. No wonder the men call me a whore, she thought bitterly, biting back a shriek when Haldor pushed into her. The Elf was showing no signs of stopping.
For five more agonizing minutes he violated her, caring not when she moaned or cried out in pain. She sensed the end was coming as his thrusts became more rapid—then she pretended that she could not feel the liquid running down her legs when he pulled out of her for the final time. Instead she panted heavily, shuddering violently as she realized that her limbs were still entwined about him. She was worse than a peasant girl cavorting with a married man behind the stables.
She did not have time to prize herself away from Haldor before he dropped her, letting her fall half-naked onto the ground. Dirty, bruised, and utterly disgraced, she dazedly remained where she was.
Suddenly Haldor grabbed her neck, pulling her up so that their faces nearly met. "The boy spent the entire time watching me as I carved the toy," he hissed in her ear. "The only thing he said to me was thank you and no, when I asked him if anyone else had given him something to play with. A rather boring child, but no doubt you already knew that."
With that he released her, and she fell down once more. With a hideous surge of self-loathing she saw that Borogor had spoken the truth. Nothing had happened to Hammel. Haldor had been merely using him to bait her, and she had played right into his hands.
Shaking horribly, she stared up at him. "You are so predictable," he whispered. "I knew you would come running in here for the information, and you did not disappoint me."
The bile rose in her throat. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she reached out for her leggings. She did not want to go back and tell Borogor how easily she had been manipulated, but anything was better than staying here.
Haldor's foot stomped down on the fabric, narrowly missing her own hand. "This little escapade of yours does not excuse you from our next meeting," he informed her, making it clear that the incident had been her fault from the beginning, as though he were a parent having to discipline a rowdy child. She realized that he was right: If she had only heeded Borogor's warning, none of this would have happened.
"Yes," she mumbled, hanging her head.
He still did not remove his foot. "Yes, what?" he asked.
"Yesmylord," she replied, stringing it all into one word so that her humiliation would end quicker. It had been a year since she looked into a mirror, yet she knew that if she had now her face would have been beet red.
He stared down at her. "I will have you begging yet," he said softly, and stepped away.
Hastily Gúthwyn retrieved her pants, standing up to put them on. Haldor had turned his back on her, no longer interested, and she took it as her cue to leave. Her feet slapped at the ground as she ran from the tent, hearing his chilling laugh fade into the night. This day had been horrible—she nearly wanted to cry at how bad it was. Angrily she pinched herself as she slowed down before her tent, using the pain as a distraction against her grieving heart.
It took pure strength of will, of which she had little, to walk back into the tent and tell Borogor how terribly wrong she had been. When she finally ducked inside, just about everyone was asleep. The only sound she could hear was their steady breathing. They were clearly untroubled by anything. She envied them sorely as she walked dejectedly to her pallet. This had been the worst birthday of her entire life, including even the fateful day of her capture. At least then she had been unconscious for most of the time.
A sudden rustling noise met her ears, and she twisted around to see Borogor sitting up. Wincing, she opened her mouth to tell him what had happened, but he placed his finger over his lips. Quietly extricating himself from his blanket, he made his way over her, taking care to not wake up any of the others. "What did he do?" he whispered when he arrived, sitting down next to her.
Once again she sighed. "It was nothing, just like you said." Misery overwhelmed her. Why had she not listened to Borogor? Why had she convinced herself that Haldor had done something sinister to Hammel, when the boy had returned safely and without a scratch?
Her despair must have been plainly written across her face, for Borogor told her gently, "Do not blame yourself. You did what you thought was right."
To her horror, she felt a huge lump forming in her throat. Why today, of all days? Haldor did not even know its significance, yet he had managed to ruin it for her anyway.
"Gúthwyn?"
She turned to Borogor, her vision blurry with tears. Angrily she wiped them from her eyes, looking away in shame as she struggled to gain control of her emotions. "It is nothing," she muttered, staring down at her knees. She had drawn them in to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible.
He was silent, and suddenly as her sadness pitched to unknown depths, Gúthwyn burst out, "Today was my seventeenth birthday." She did not know why she said it; yet suddenly it seemed vital to the conversation, for Borogor to truly understand what was going through her at the moment.
His eyes widened in shock as he looked at her, and then were filled with sympathy as she buried her face in her hands. "It has been awful," she whispered. A great weariness was unexpectedly weaving its way into her. "I just… I just wanted today to… to be uneventful. Was that so much to ask?" She almost lost it then, and she could not stop her shoulders from heaving up and down.
Gently, hesitantly, Borogor's arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her close when she did not protest. "Tomorrow will be better," he promised. "We have the afternoon off, remember?"
She nodded, but both of them knew that the training schedule was the least of her concerns. "I-I think I am going to go to bed now," she said. It had to be nearly midnight, and her mood would only be worsened if she was too tired to fight in the morning.
Patting her shoulder comfortingly, Borogor stood up and bade her good night. "Sleep well," he added quietly.
"The same to you," she replied, and began stretching out beside the children.
"Gúthwyn?"
She glanced up at Borogor.
"Happy birthday," he said, and turned away.