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-Six:
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-Six
With a sigh, Borogor leaned back against the canvas tent wall, watching absent-mindedly the flickering light of the lantern. It was at the other end of the tent, where Gúthwyn and the children slept; yet they were not here, Gúthwyn having taken them to relieve themselves behind the rocks.
At the thought of his friend, he frowned. A month had passed since the day of her seventeenth birthday, and things were only getting worse. She could hardly sleep. She barely ate. And fear haunted her eyes, so acute that he could barely stand to look at them. Haldor was continuing with his punishments, refusing to yield until he had broken her. Borogor did not dare interfere, as he knew what the price would be if he did.
He wished desperately that there was something he could do for her, but he was powerless against Haldor. His only hope was that their lessons, stolen hours in the dark night, helped her take her mind off of her problems, even if it was only for a little while. Yet it hardly seemed enough. He found that his loathing of Haldor was growing to alarming heights, to the point where the mere sight of the Elf made him want to put his sword to good use.
"Borogor?"
Glancing up, he saw Dîrbenn coming towards him, carrying some of the meat in his hands. Borogor gratefully accepted the offered slice, having had nothing to eat since noon.
"You look troubled," Dîrbenn commented, sitting down beside him. "Is something wrong?"
Another sigh escaped the second-in-command, but he was all too aware of how close they were to Lumren. Lowering his voice, he said, "I was just thinking about Gúthwyn."
"Ah." Dîrbenn tore of a chunk of the meat and put it in his mouth. In between chews, he asked quietly, "Where is she?"
"With the children," Borogor said, relieved that Haldor would not be calling her to his tent tonight: She had just been there a couple of days ago.
A silence now lingered between the two friends, though it was not uncomfortable. Borogor's gaze wandered around the tent, and landed with a smile on Beregil. The young man had fallen asleep almost instantly, not even bothering to eat beforehand. Yet Borogor would not wake him up to do so—his face was peaceful, and his breathing steady. It was not a rest that he wanted to disturb.
At that moment, the tent flap opened, and Gúthwyn walked in, looking as tired as Haiweth whom she held in her arms. Hammel was silent, as usual, but Haiweth was keeping up a small stream of inane chatter. He managed to hear, "Want to go sleep."
"I know, Haiweth," Gúthwyn murmured, rubbing the girl's back. Her gaze met Borogor's briefly, and she gave a small smile that was not at all reflected in her eyes.
Wondering if something had happened, Borogor watched her closely as she made her way to the two pallets. He could not help noticing that Lumren's eyes followed her as well, and his fists clenched. The man never troubled to conceal his lust; Sîdhadan had told him that, whenever he and Gúthwyn were absent from the tent, he made several lewd remarks about her. His blood boiled as he recalled some of the things the Gondorian had repeated to him. If Lumren so much as whispered them in his presence, he would rip the man's tongue out of his mouth.
Yet Gúthwyn was aware of little, if anything, regarding Lumren's interest in her. For this he was glad, as he did not want to pile any more worries on her. And as he observed her, he began thinking that something was off about her motions: She seemed terse and jumpy, even more so than usual. His brow knitted in concern.
Gradually, sleep began to take its grip on the tent. The children were the first to succumb to it, and one by one the other men started drifting off. Gúthwyn was lying down, but he knew she was not asleep, and doubted that she had so much as closed her eyes. He remained sitting, his mind turning over many of the problems that plagued him. So absorbed did he become in his musings that he did not see when Gúthwyn stood up, and only noticed her when she started walking towards him.
"Borogor," she whispered, her face in the light of the lantern ashen. "May I talk to you?"
He stood up, sensing that whatever was troubling her, she was reluctant to say it in the tent. "Where do you want to go?" he asked quietly.
"Behind the rocks," she replied, folding her arms across her stomach. She did not look at him afterwards, and hastily made her way towards the flap. Disturbed, Borogor followed her. Soon they were striding across the empty grounds towards the rocks, neither of them saying a word to each other.
When they had at last reached their destination, Gúthwyn turned to him. His eyes widened to see the wild panic that now adorned her face.
"Gúthwyn, what happened?" he questioned urgently, hating the sight of her so terrified.
For a long time, she did not answer him. A great agitation was upon her; she began pacing, seeming to be working up the courage to speak. Utterly confused, he watched her, praying that whatever it was had nothing to do with Haldor.
"Borogor," she at last said, turning back to him and drawing close, "I am late."
The meaning of her statement was lost on him, and he looked at her in puzzlement. Gúthwyn's face tightened. Taking a deep breath, she muttered, "My courses."
His breath caught in his throat as he realized what she was talking about—and then, in horror, what the implications were. "A-Are you sure?" he asked unsteadily.
"They were due a week ago!" she cried out, her voice rising hysterically. Borogor's stomach twisted.
"Have… have you told Haldor yet?" he questioned.
Frantically, she shook her head. "I cannot have his child!" she gasped, her face screwing up as if she were about to cry. "He would take it from me, assuming I even survived the birth! He would ruin it! A-And I am only seventeen!"
"Gúthwyn, listen to me," Borogor said firmly, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking directly into her eyes. "You are panicking."
"What do you expect me to do?" she nearly shrieked, trembling uncontrollably.
"You might get your courses next month," Borogor tried to reason, ignoring the nausea that swept over him at the thought of Gúthwyn carrying a child in Mordor. "Have you ever missed them before?"
"W-When I was younger," she admitted, her chest rising up and down erratically. "But not for years!" Her face crumpled. "Borogor, I cannot do this!"
"You are right about that," Borogor said grimly, hardly daring to imagine what Haldor would do if he found out that he was a father. "The only use Haldor has for a child is to blackmail you. We both know this."
She nodded, and with a sharp pang he saw that her eyes were glistening. "He will kill it!" she choked. "He will kill Hammel and Haiweth! He will kill me when I have to stop training!"
"Gúthwyn, stop it!" Borogor ordered, shaking her shoulders. "You do not know for sure if you are pregnant!"
"How can I not be?" she retorted, trying to pull away from him. Borogor tightened his grip.
"You do not know for sure," he repeated, willing himself to remain calm. "It is not unheard of for a woman to skip their courses once in awhile, correct?"
"C-Correct," she said, her voice so frail that he had to lean closer to hear it. "But—"
"Then you might not be with his child," he told her, praying that she was not. "Please, wait another month to make sure. It could be that all your worries turn to naught."
"What if I am with child?" she demanded shrilly. "I cannot deliver a baby in this place! We will both die! And what would happen to Hammel and Haiweth?"
"Gúthwyn, no one said that you were going to be giving birth," Borogor said, lowering his voice.
"W-What do you mean?" she asked in bafflement, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.
Quietly, Borogor told her, "Haldor cannot risk you having a child. He will be the one who faces the wrath of Sauron for his conduct. And I am telling you that, should he find out that you are pregnant, he will not hesitate to cut the baby out if that is what he has to do."
Gúthwyn gasped in horror, pressing a hand to her mouth and looking as if she were about to faint. "H-How could he?" she whispered, a tear hovering at the corner of her eyelashes. Almost instinctively, he reached out to gently wipe it away; though she cringed, she made no move to stop him.
"He does not care about you," Borogor said, hating the words as they fell from his mouth. "He only cares for himself. Whatever you do, you must not tell him."
"But he will find out!" she cried, her face turning white at the thought.
Borogor shook his head. "I promise you, he will not. If another month goes by without your courses, let me know. I will speak to Dîrbenn: He is trustworthy, and he used to be a healer. He might remember the herbs that one uses to rid oneself of an unwanted child."
"A-An abortion?" she gulped, gazing up at him nervously.
"Yes," Borogor confirmed, inwardly wincing. It was such a simple thing to say, yet he knew that it was hardly so.
Gúthwyn swallowed hard, and then asked, "H-How can you be… be sure that… you can get the herbs?"
"My name carries some influence at the Tower," he informed her. "Not much, but it is enough to get supplies when there is need. I do not think it will be too difficult to order them with raising suspicion."
She nodded, though her face was contorting as if she were about to burst into tears at any moment. "C-C-Can you imagine w-what my brother would think?" she instead choked out.
"He would understand," Borogor murmured reassuringly. "This is not your fault, Gúthwyn."
With a low moan, she leaned forward, and Borogor wrapped his arms around her frail body. "I do not want his child!" she gasped against his chest, her words hitching and catching on her hoarse voice. "I will never be rid of him!"
Borogor held her tightly, and listened as she siphoned off all of her panic onto him. His heart was twisting for his poor friend, who had done nothing to deserve all that was heaped upon her. He did not mention his feelings to her, but he would have given anything to ensure that she did not give birth to a child. He did not think she would survive the birth: She was too thin, her hips not nearly wide enough.
Gúthwyn fell silent. Small shudders were running uncontrollably through her. "Do not worry," he said quietly. "I promise, this will pass without him knowing."
"He will find out," she whispered raggedly, shaking her head. "He always finds out!"
"He has not found out about our lessons," Borogor reminded her, his eye following the path of a torch that had emerged amidst the tents. "And they have been going on for almost a year."
Gúthwyn drew a shaky breath. "W-What would he do if he discovered them?"
Borogor smiled grimly. "I would rather not cloud the practices with such thoughts."
For several minutes they did not speak. Borogor kept his arms around her, knowing that she needed support—nor did she pull away. His gaze began fixing on the torch that he had seen. What on Middle-earth was someone doing up at this hour? It was growing brighter, clearly making its way towards the training grounds.
That was when he saw it: A flash of golden hair, a glimpse of a sharp and cruel profile.
"Gúthwyn," he hissed. "Haldor is out of his tent."
She stiffened horribly, and looked up at him with terror-filled eyes. "What?" she asked, beginning to shake like a leaf in the fall winds.
"Come!" he said, releasing her. She whimpered. "Gúthwyn, if he sees us in this place, we will never be able to meet here again!"
"So you want us to show ourselves?" she demanded in horror.
"I would bet you all I own that he is looking for us," Borogor replied. He did not know how the Elf had become aware of their absences, but he had his ways.
Even with such danger hanging over their heads, Gúthwyn was—understandably—reluctant to move. Eventually he took her by the arm and led her from behind the rocks. "Pretend that we are just walking," he muttered in her ear as the torch paused for the briefest second, and then started moving towards them. "I will do the explaining."
She did not speak, seemingly not able to. A thin film of sweat was forming on her brow. Borogor shifted slightly so that he blocked her from Haldor's view, more for her benefit than anything. They continued moving along the training grounds, appearing as if they had taken no notice of the Elf. His own heart was hammering in his chest; he could only begin to fathom what Gúthwyn's was doing.
They had hardly gone ten yards before a harsh voice echoed over the grounds. "Borogor!"
Borogor came to a stop, simultaneously letting go of Gúthwyn. He hated to do such a thing in a situation like this, but there were too many consequences of Haldor seeing the gesture. As it was, Haldor's eyes were dangerously narrowed as he strode towards them, his face growing clearer under the light of his torch. Gúthwyn wrapped her arms around her stomach, looking as if she were going to be sick.
"Well, well, well," Haldor said as he approached them. Gúthwyn flinched. "I must confess myself surprised to find company on my stroll. To what do I owe this occurrence?"
"Gúthwyn had a nightmare," Borogor answered shortly, his hands curling into fists.
"A nightmare?" Haldor breathed, glee dancing in his eyes. "How dreadful." He turned to Gúthwyn, who cowered under the intensity of his gaze. "And what, pray tell, was it about?"
"I think you should know, my lord," Borogor said, keeping all but the barest hint of coolness out of his tone.
For a moment, Haldor regarded him. Then he looked at Gúthwyn, and spat, "You, slave, come here."
Gúthwyn froze, every muscle in her body taut.
"Do it," Haldor snarled angrily, "or I will go back to your tent and fetch one of the children."
Starting, Gúthwyn edged forward, quivering in fear. It was even more noticeable than usual. Borogor himself wondered what Haldor would do, and had to battle every instinct in his body to protect his friend. He did not doubt that the Elf enjoyed the sight of both of them squirming, his second-in-command hardly less than the woman.
Gúthwyn was about a foot away from Haldor when he grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up effortlessly. She gasped in pain, trying to wriggle away from him, but his grip was too strong. Borogor watched helplessly as Haldor stared at her, daunting her with his piercing eyes. She began twitching, unable to stop herself. The Elf did not relent; Borogor could almost see the monster's eyes burning holes into his friend's mind.
"Haldor," he said at length, his voice stern. He could not stand to see the way Gúthwyn was all but convulsing in his commander's grasp, nor bear to hear the frantic breaths escaping her lips.
Haldor merely looked at him, and a sinking feeling in his gut told him that he had overstepped his boundaries. He was right: Without warning, Haldor set Gúthwyn down and backhanded her across the face. The action was so unexpected and strong that she crumpled to the ground, her hands flying out to absorb her fall. She attempted to get up, but the Elf's boot stomped down onto her back. And then she gasped, for Haldor reached down and grabbed the top of her neck, using it to drive her face into the dirt.
Borogor tensed in fury, loathing how helpless Gúthwyn was; yet Haldor's eyes were smirking at him triumphantly, as if daring him to do something. He could not take the bait.
"Well done, Borogor," Haldor murmured after a moment, ignoring Gúthwyn's futile struggles against him. He shifted his grip down to her arm and hauled her up. "Leave us," he ordered, shoving her away from him.
Gúthwyn cast a frightened look at both of them, her face covered in dirt. After a few seconds, she turned on her heel and ran, sprinting into the darkness of the night. Her fear of Haldor was by far greater than the shadows.
Her small figure had barely disappeared when Haldor stalked towards Borogor and grabbed his right arm, pressing tightly downward. "You grow bold, Borogor," the commander hissed. "How many times have I told you not to interfere when I am punishing her?"
""I am sorry, my lord," Borogor said woodenly, trying not to cringe as the pain in his arm reached excruciating heights.
Haldor's gaze was foul. "The threat of Beregil's life seems to deter you little: You cast it aside all too willingly to protect her."
Borogor could think of nothing to say, and decided it was best to remain quiet.
"Why do you do it?" Haldor asked, his voice soft, yet cold as steel. "Why are you always the one trying to protect her, foolish as the task is?"
"Because she is my friend," Borogor said curtly, "and someone has to. You know that."
"Do you do it to spite me?" Haldor pressed, his eyes narrowed slits. "If you are going down that road, then be prepared for the consequences."
"I have done nothing with the intent of spiting you," Borogor replied, keeping his voice even. "But I will not stand aside and let her deal with what you have done to her on her own."
Haldor's eyes flashed. "Learn to," he hissed, tightening his clutch on the second-in-command's arm, "or you will find yourself faced with the choice of either killing one of those children or taking her to your bed, with your brother's life as the price of disobedience. Do you understand me?"
Borogor's eyes widened at the ghastly prospect, a horrible image of Gúthwyn's face as he drove a knife through Hammel or forced himself on her ravaging his mind. "You—" he managed, then stopped short as he thought of what angering Haldor might do.
The Elf laughed, sending a wave of disgust through him. "Keeping your tongue has its rewards, does it not?"
He arched an eyebrow when Borogor did not answered, and the man ground out, "Yes, my lord."
"I am glad we had this talk," Haldor said, the trace of a grin on his features. "Now go back to your tent and comfort that wretched creature in whatever way you can. It will do no good."
Borogor had no choice but to obey. When he returned to the tent, Gúthwyn's face was clean of the dirt, but not of the shame, and she did not meet his eyes.
That month, time crawled by as slowly as a weary snail. The chance of a baby in Gúthwyn's womb gnawed at both her and Borogor's minds, until neither of them were getting much sleep at night. He started noticing her putting her hands on her stomach when she thought no one was looking—not in the way that she did when she was nauseous or frightened, but in a gentle, careful way.
Yet as far as he knew, Haldor remained unaware that of the possibility that he was the father of an unborn child. Gúthwyn's sessions at his tent had not been prolonged, nor had she been beaten for what the Elf would deem a disgrace. Borogor lived in a state of constant edginess, even more so as the next month neared. The days came, and went, but Gúthwyn still had not sought him out.
Then one morning, shortly after he had awoken the men, Gúthwyn entered the tent with the children in tow. They had been dressing at the rocks as usual, and as usual he scanned her face carefully for a sign of something different. Her face was impassive; however, as Hammel and Haiweth occupied themselves in their corner, she approached him.
"May I speak with you?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.
Anxiety flooded through Borogor at her words, but he only nodded. They walked out of the tent, him trying to decipher the tensing of her back. Please, do not let her be pregnant, he prayed to the Valar. He could only imagine what having an abortion would do to her mind.
Gúthwyn led him towards the training grounds, though not to the rocks; she chose instead to go out of the hearing range of the tents. When they had gone far enough, she turned to him. "I-I am not with child," she whispered.
Relief—complete, total, utter relief—swept through him. "You… You are sure of this?" he questioned, studying her eyes closely.
She nodded, and he was surprised to see something like sadness coming over her. "I am sure," she replied, swallowing hard.
"Are you alright?" he inquired gently.
"I-I am fine," she replied, drawing in a shuddering breath. "I just…"
Borogor waited patiently, but when she did not finish her sentence he prompted her softly. A cynical smile tugged at her mouth, and she looked at him with glistening eyes. "I know it is stupid," she said bitterly, "but I thought… I just thought that maybe, if I had a child, he might… he might change."
For a time, he looked at her, pitying her naivety. Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head. "I know," she said. "It is stupid. Forget it. I should not have said…"
"Gúthwyn," he began, but she cringed.
"Let us not speak of this anymore," she responded quietly. It wrenched his heart to see the misery on her face as she continued, "Please, can we just pretend this never happened?"
He would not refuse. "Of course," he answered, inclining his head.
"Th-Thank you," Gúthwyn spoke, and turned away. He watched her silently as she returned to the tent, her arms folded across her stomach and her shoulders hunched over against the cruelty of the world.
Later, Borogor came to think that she truly had put the incident from her mind, banishing it to the point where she ceased to remember it. She never spoke of it to him, nor did her hands stray to her belly in the tender gesture of a soon-to-be mother. He did not broach the subject with her, not wanting to disregard her wishes. And as time went on, and he began to understand more of her mind, he soon sought to remove it from his own. But Haldor's threat lingered over him, and the weight of it began slowly settling on his shoulders.