Greetings, my loves! It's so good to see you all again. I hope that if you celebrate it, you had a great Christmas. If you don't celebrate it I hope you had a good end of December. Happy New Year, and here is a new chapter! We'll have a little discussion down at the bottom.
Chapter 54 - I Wonder
"I think you had best explain yourself," Aragorn said. Cerena frowned.
"This is not something that can be explained in a few words," she hedged slightly.
"We have trusted you, defended you, and claimed you as a comrade. You owe us an explanation, lass," Gimli said, and the sheer disappointment in his voice made her heart sink.
"I was not…with him, in the sense you are thinking. Occasionally I have…visions of him, where my spirit leaves my body and appears before him," Cerena said.
"Do you know how that sounds?" Legolas asked.
"Do you know how it feels? Do you know how terrifying it is to wake up in his fucking study with him staring down at you with those fucking eyes," Cerena snarled.
"Enough!" Gandalf said. "You may not understand her visions, but I was aware of them. Cerena has not endangered our mission, and you would do well to keep the derision out of your voices. It's not everyday someone can stand in the presence of the Dark Lord and keep their wits about them," he said sharply. When said like that Cerena could see the shifting on her companions' faces, as if her words had not been enough, but Gandalf's had been. But then Gandalf's attention was back on Pippin. "My lad, this is important. You must tell me: did you see something else?" By now Pippin was a little calmer.
"I saw a white tree, in a courtyard of stone. It was burning…" he said. "The whole city was burning," he added, frowning. "I could…I could hear his voice in my head. He asked me who I was. He told me to tell him my secrets, and all I could think of was not letting him get to the…you know…" he said. "He seemed so angry…he accused me of having it, said he'd burn all of the world of men," Pippin shuddered. "That's when I saw Lady Cerena. She hit the stone out of his hand a moment before you grabbed it from mine," Pippin said honestly.
"You're a fool, Peregrin Took, but you're an honest one. Come, we must speak to the King," he said.
Théoden was not amused by the Hobbit's curiosity.
"And you're sure the Hobbit didn't give out sensitive information?" he asked. Though he was not privy to the quest of the Ring, he knew that a companion of Cerena and the others would likely have some information that could be harmful if given to the wrong person.
"Hobbits may be morbidly curious, but they do possess a will stronger than their size would indicate. He told Sauron nothing," Gandalf said.
"What sort of curious meeting is this?"
Gandalf turned sharply to see Durbûrz standing at the door.
"It's awfully early for council," he said smoothly, citrine eyes passing over their faces. "Especially council that involves the Dark Lord."
"We speak in private. You were not invited to this," Gimli said sharply. Durbûrz' gaze turned to the dwarf and he rested a clawed hand against his chest.
"I'm wounded, Master Dwarf. We have recently bared arms on the same side, and now you speak to me so unkindly. Is it because I am orc? That cannot be, for I see your….Brown Lady here, just as privy to this meeting as the King of Rohan himself. If your little assembly is discussing plans of the Lord of Mordor, then perhaps I can offer council as well. After all, my people wish to see him cast down just as much as yours do," he purred.
"And why is that?" Théoden asked. Durbûrz grinned, showing his fangs in the light of the hall.
"He wishes to subjugate all to his will, using orcs as slaves and fodder. You would be surprised how hard even orcs will fight for freedom," he replied simply.
"We've been strangely fortunate. What Pippin saw in the Palantir was a glimpse of our enemy's plan," Gandalf finally said. "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep has taught him that men are not as weak as he imagined, and that there are alliances forming that he did not foresee. There is courage and strength left in the free people- enough to challenge him," Gandalf finished.
"I'd have almost liked to see the look on his face when he realized there were men and orcs working together," Durbûrz said, a dark grin twisting his mouth.
"If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must answer. The fate of the world may depend on it," Gandalf said. Théoden did not look pleased, but he did raise his head a little, straightening his countenance.
"Rohan does not forget promises," he replied. Gandalf nodded.
"I will ride for Minas Tirith to take word of an attack. I will take the young Took with me," he said. Then he turned to Cerena. "I would like to bring you as well," he added. Cerena felt a cold chill go down her spine.
"Fuck that!" she said before her brain could filter her mouth.
"Cerena!" Aragorn scolded.
"You're daft if you think I'm going anywhere near Minas Tirith right now!" she hissed.
"And what reticence do you have to go there?" Aragorn asked, his voice sharp. He sounded offended.
"You don't understand. None of you understand…I…cannot be stuck in Minas Tirith. Not like this," Cerena said, feeling panic rising in her chest.
"Why?" Gimli asked. She felt hot tears on her face.
"I will die there. If I get trapped in Minas Tirith and attempt to give birth there, I will die. I have…seen it," she said. She claimed the vision for herself rather than out Elrond.
"Minas Tirith has some of the best healers in the world," Aragorn reassured her.
"The best healers in the world can't keep Mandos away if he calls," Cerena snapped. She looked at Gandalf, who was looking at her with purpose. "What you ask is unreasonable," she said.
"Cerena, you are just as much in the middle of this as anyone. Your vision and foresight is as useful as it is dangerous. You need not stay in the White City long. I feel for better or worse we are nearing the end, and that will leave plenty of time for you to flee the city of men and shore yourself up in a place you feel safe," Gandalf said. Cerena frowned.
"Why do you want me there?" she asked. "What good does it do for me to be placed in a position so close to the borders of the enemy?" she asked.
"Though your influence is wide here in Rohan, I feel the tremors of it have reached even the Black Land. Without a head, any resistance of Orcs against the darkness risks failure. Your people need a figurehead amongst the Gondorians, and arriving with me as a treasured guest was enough for the elves, so too will it ease the way in Minas Tirith," Gandalf said. Cerena felt her lip twitch as she resisted a snarl.
"Denethor hates you," she said, crossing her arms.
"While it is true he is not fond of me, he knows my counsel is wise and that I seek the same end as he," Gandalf said intently. The sharp blue of his eyes was all the more bright against his white hair.
"And what if they want to murder me on site? Gandalf, you keep wanting to bring me to places like a bear you've domesticated, marching me right up to the owners and telling them I'm perfectly safe," she growled.
"And are you not?" Gandalf asked in feigned innocence. "You've stood toe-to-toe with the Lord of all Nazgûl in defense of a Hobbit you barely knew. You devoted over three years of your life to a country of people that were not yours to save them from a threat far greater than roving bandits. You inspire loyalty wherever you go, forging your name in blood and steel and quenching it in love and compassion. Do you not seek a way for your people? Here is your entrance. Do not let the fear keep you from greatness," the Wizard told her.
"That's a fine thing to use against me," she growled. Then she scrubbed her face with her hands. "All I want to do is go home, Gandalf," she argued weakly.
"And your home is there for you to go to. Will you not make sure others have a home to claim when the fighting is done?" he asked. Cerena felt angry, her face flushing, and wanted nothing more than to rip the wizard a new one. Her nostrils flared and she glanced around the room, watching the eyes on her. Her friends, the ones she had traveled with from Rivendell, watched her with curiosity. The eyes of the King of Rohan moved between her and Gandalf. Durbûrz was not looking directly at her, his gaze at his boots.
She could not shake the intensity of the moment, as if a heavy weight were balanced on the edge of her decision. She looked at Gandalf, at the bright blue eyes that were so painfully familiar yet drastically different than the intense amber eyes that haunted her dreams sometimes. He was not just an old man like many people thought. He was a Maia as sure as Sauron was, as Saruman had been. He didn't just say things. He didn't do things just for fun. Everything he did was calculated and measured against the defeat of the Dark Lord.
"I'll need a dress to take with me. I seem to be less threatening in lace," she sighed. She saw a pleased look cross Gandalf's face before they were all thrown into a brief frenzy to get ready.
Théoden set Éowyn on the task of finding Cerena a dress. She had long given back the one she'd borrowed from the Rohir Hela. The lady of Rohan took her charge seriously, finding no less than five dresses for Cerena to choose from within twenty minutes. Cerena eyed them all critically before she made her choice. Éowyn provided her a good shift to wear under it as well as a thick petticoat.
"The ladies of Gondor are fond of wearing many layers of skirts," she said in passing. Cerena looked at her strangely.
"How on earth do you know that?" Cerena asked.
"I find the notion of the fashions of ladies very fascinating, even if I do not find them practical. I have studied sketches from Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth," Éowyn said. She helped Cerena carefully fold the dress into a separate bag. It was another piece of luggage, but it was useful.
"I hope you are treated well in Minas Tirith," Éowyn told her earnestly. Cerena sighed.
"Me too. It was hard enough to convince Boromir that I was worthy to live, I can't imagine how much the more his father will take," she groaned.
"You get to see the white city, though. I've heard it's lovely," she could not keep the bitter jealousy out of her voice. Cerena looked at her friend.
"Your path is yours to forge, your battle yours to fight," she said, looking at the woman intently. Éowyn turned pink.
"How could you know…" she stuttered. Cerena raised an eyebrow.
"I'm a seer you horse-feather!" Cerena snickered. "Besides, how hypocritical of me would it be to tell you not to fight? Just be careful," Cerena said. Éowyn's sheepish look was replaced by a solemn smile.
"Oh! I want you to take something with you," she said, and fled the room. She was back a few moments later, holding something in her hands. She offered it to Cerena. It was a golden sun of Rohan pendant on a blue satin ribbon.
"This was my mother's. You can wear it for luck," she said. Cerena's eyes widened.
"I can't, Éowyn! If anything, you should wear it for luck!" she said.
"What you are about to do is no less of a battle. You have given me great hope, and so I offer some to you. Wear the sun of Rohan and know that you are not alone," Éowyn said. Cerena allowed the woman to tie the pendant around her neck and tucked it safely into her tunic. Then she embraced the woman.
"Let your sword fall where it means to," Cerena said thickly. Éowyn nodded, her own eyes prickling, before she hugged Cerena once more and disappeared.
Gil-Galad and Oropher came to her as she was going through her pack, making sure all of her supplies had been refreshed and that she had put everything where it belonged.
"Are you sure you are alright going to Minas Tirith?" Gil-Galad asked. Cerena sighed as she wound some extra thread into her sewing kit. "We heart about…you know…" he said, making a round motion around his middle. Cerena huffed.
"The amount of things I do not know at this point could fill the ass of Morgoth with plenty to spare," she growled. She heard Oropher make a gagging noise.
"Why are you so weird?" Gil-Galad asked.
"Because I spent too much time with you two," Cerena returned. Neither of the elves could argue the point.
"Do you want us to ride with you?" Oropher asked, having recovered from his moment.
"No. Stay with Hugi and the army. It's going to be shocking enough to Gondor to have a wave of orcs flex on them without having elves to ease the blow. Gondor has a lot of respect for elven opinion and culture, if you guys show up slapping asses with the orcs like you're friends then maybe they'll loosen the knots in their dicks," Cerena growled.
"I saw Oropher looking quite intently at one of the Uruk ladies. She leaned down to slit the throat of an Isengarder and I thought he would ruin his leggings like an elfling hitting puberty," Gil-Galad snickered, and the blond elf pinched him hard enough to make him yelp.
"Boys," Cerena warned, and the two separated, glaring at each other. For fearsome ex-Kings and resurrected warriors, those two were menaces. "I have to go soon," The two straightened up and moved forward, each giving her a quick hug.
"You will be amazing," Gil-Galad said confidently. Cerena wished she could be so sure.
She was surprised to find Durbûrz outside her door.
"A moment, seer?" he said. She fixed the strap of her bag over her shoulder, plus the bag Éowyn had carefully packed her dress into. The two elves nodded politely at the orc-King and then left.
"Of course, Lord. How can I help you?"
He held his hand forward, handing her a soft leather parcel. She blinked in mild surprise and tugged open the suede tie to reveal a delicately wrought circlet made of dark and light steel. The design intertwined like a light and dark braid, curving down into a point that rested on the forehead and had a delicate upside-down crescent charm that twinkled with precious stones.
"You are a Lady in name only in Rohan, so I bestow to you the rank of Lady in the Black Valley. I know the people of Gondor rest highly on ranks and tradition. They may recognize it, and they may not, but it cannot hurt. Besides, for everything you have done for orc-kind already I would give this to you, and am proud to do it," he said simply. Cerena moved forward, wrapping her arms around the waist of the Orc-King and hugging him tightly. He returned her embrace with a soft laugh. After a moment she pulled back and offered him the circlet. He took it with a sideways smile and reached up, placing it on her head. The metal was cool on her flesh for only a moment before her own body temperature warmed it.
"You wear the crescent beautifully," Durbûrz said, pleased.
"I will do all in my power not to shame it," Cerena returned, feeling a little overwhelmed. He smiled at her and gave her a nod.
"Go now, and may the moon shine bright on your back," he said. She nodded.
"And your sword fall where it means to," she returned with solemnity.
She was soon with Gandalf and Pippin, Haldir shortly behind her.
"I suppose I should have known you would accompany us, Lord Haldir," Gandalf said to Haldir.
"I was charged with her protection by My Lady, and will not be separated," Haldir returned.
"This is good," Gandalf said. Cerena could not hear the exact words that were exchanged between Merry and Pippin, but she knew the scene by heart. Then Shadowfax was out of the barn, off like a rocket, with Lily behind him and Haldir bringing up the rear.
It was a three day ride to Minas Tirith riding fairly hard. They had to stop and let the horses breath, and Lily, checking their hooves and paws to make sure they were not swollen or damaged. Lily's legs got a good brush whenever they had a moment. Cerena could feel her heart in her throat the closer they got to the city. On the dawn of the third day Gandalf bid her to change from her travel clothes. They were on the open road, with little to shield them from eyes, but standing behind Lily was good enough to keep Cerena out of view, since her companions had no intention of trying to look anyway.
Haldir helped her lace everything once she had slipped it on, and Cerena grumbled a bit of thanks to Éowyn for having the forethought of sending a bit of lavender scented perfume in a tiny container. She carefully put a bit of the scent on her neck and wrists, arranging her sword-belt over Lily's harness and keeping only her knife from Rohan. It slid into a fold of the dress and made no one the wiser. She quickly rearranged her braid from a single, plain tail to a more pleasing plait.
The dress was the color of woad blue with a belt of soft, fine leather that had been pressed with flowers and spot-dyed to have a running design of red and yellow blooms. The skirt was loose and flowing, fluffed by the petticoat beneath it. The sleeves dropped open at the elbow into a bell-sleeve that Cerena just knew was going to get in her way. She also belatedly thanked the woman for sending the simple pendant to hang at her throat.
She adjusted her circlet and stepped from behind her wolf.
"How do I look?" she asked. Gandalf stood fluidly from the sitting position he had been resting in.
"You look like a Lady," he said. Cerena smoothed down the skirt a bit.
"Yes, well, looks can be decieving. I'm an orc, and no dress will change that. I hope your tongue is as silver as your hair, old man, because if it's not and Denethor kills me, I swear I'm going to beg the Valar to let me haunt you forever," Cerena grumbled. Gandalf simply smiled at her.
Pippin made a noise of wonder.
"You look like you've fallen right out of the sky!" he crowed. "You've got a moon on your forehead and a sun around your neck. You look like a sky princess!" he laughed.
"Well let's just hope Denethor is as awed as you are," she said. Lily had to kneel for Cerena to get on her back, and she readjusted the skirt carefully so she didn't show any leg. This was not a riding skirt, but it was loose enough not to shimmy itself up while they rode the rest of the way.
If all of this worked Éowyn was getting a huge Christmas present…..yule present….that bitch was getting something nice.
The guards at the gates of the city had mixed reactions to her. There was the obvious scorn, which Gandalf dealt with quickly but gently.
"This is a guest of mine and a sure ally for Gondor. Would I bring danger directly into the city?" and variations of that phrase were heard several times. Turns out the people of Gondor had a lot of respect for Gandalf. Either that or he was wizarding the shit out of those people. Cerena got a little suspicious that it might be the latter, but was self-preserving enough to shut her fucking mouth. What Gandalf did with his power was his business, if he was even using it at all..
The other reaction to her was curious appreciation. Many of the guards had dealt with orcs before, but never she-orcs. There were few times that female snaga were blatant warriors. They might fight in self-defense but much preferred to be comfortable in their nests and heavy with orc pups, should provisions be good enough for it. Individual female warriors usually meant infertility or were simply out for a lark. She did not like the way the Gondorians openly ogled her.
Especially not the two that were guarding her while Gandalf went before Denethor first.
"Do you see the the tits on that thing? Goddamn, perhaps we could reconsider how we purge the nests if other she-orcs look like that!" one murmured. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.
"You would lie with an orc?" his companion asked.
"If they looked like that? Yes. She could pass for a whore of Harad except for those eyes of hers," the other returned. His companion snickered.
"Well, if the Steward throws her in the dungeon maybe you can make a little visit. I know it was you that made that prostitute squeal last week,"
"Hmph. I asked her what time her legs opened, and when she didn't let me preview the wares I simply gave her a taste of the prisoner's rod until she reconsidered," the other replied.
"I heard she couldn't sit for two damn days you menace!" his friend joked.
"Let's be honest, she doesn't do much time sitting in her profession anyway," and the two snickered together. Cerena frowned. While working a brothel and prostituting were not her choice of job, she'd known several ladies who made good money doing it, and to hear someone so disrespected so obviously made her angry. But she said nothing. She simply kept her eyes on the ground, staring at the tip of Haldir's boot. He had a small nick on the leather he'd need to buff out. She'd have to tell him after this.
"Orc! My friend and I are taking bets on how you managed to fool Gandalf into secreting you into the city. He thinks you've used some sort of orc magic. I think you did something a little more common. Tell me, how often do you find yourself on your back with the old man? Can he even perform?" the guard asked.
Cerena did not answer them.
"Orc-slut, a Man has asked you a question. You'd do well to answer," one of them said. He reached for her and was quite surprised when Haldir grabbed his hand in a crushing grip. He winced, looking up a the elf.
"You would do well to keep your hands to yourself," Haldir said softly, pushing the Man's hand away. The man rubbed his hand and looked at his companion.
"What'd he say? I don't speak that damn elf-language," he mumbled.
"I think he called you a name," his companion said.
"Yes, well, at least I don't look like a damn flat-chested woman. I bet he likes it up the arse," the guard growled. They quickly stood at attention when the door opened again, and Gandalf walked to Cerena swiftly.
"I have convinced Lord Denethor to give you an audience. Come," he said, turning back again. Cerena looked up slightly, looking at the guards through her lashes. The one looked her over and smirked. She looked away.
The Hall of the Kings was a cold place. Not by temperature, necessarily, though there was a bite in the air, but there was no cheer in that place. Where Théoden had a cheerful Hall filled with drinking and laughter, there was naught but silent marble and stone. The hall was a long rectangular room of mostly white stone and marble, the floors polished to a gleam, with white and black pillars that reached to the roof. There were accents of silver and gold here and there, using a shape like the wingspan of a bird. She could see the wing motif in a lot of the stone. At the end of the Hall was a dais of several steps. At the top sat the white throne, empty and forbidding. At the base of the dais sat the black throne of the Steward, and Denethor sat in it, the white rod of the Stewardship in his hand.
He was a forboding older man, his hair steel grey and his face carved from the same stone as the hall around him. It was clear that Boromir looked greatly like him, but this version was older, harder, colder, and had the most power of any single man in Middle Earth at the time. Aragorn would be more powerful when he took the throne, but until that happened this man before her ruled an entire country, and his family had ruled it longer than Rohan had even been an organized government.
When she was close to the black throne she curtsied low, bringing one hand to her chest as she flared the skirt of her dress.
"Lord Denethor, son of Ecthelion, of the line of Stewards, long may you reign. I thank you for your incomparable generosity in giving audience to such a lowly creature as me," Cerena said, her voice soft and polite. Denethor seemed like a man who wanted women to be soft-spoken and meek. Those things she might not normally be, but she was willing to play a part if it got her what she wanted.
"Well, at least it's well behaved," Denethor said, likely to Gandalf. "You may rise, orc," he said, and Cerena straightened up, though she kept her gaze down. She clasped her hands in front of her demurely. "You are the first and only orc that has ever been granted an audience with the Steward. This is unprecedented. Tell me now why you are in my city," Denethor's voice was clipped and sharp. He was a man used to telling people what to do and having his will done.
"The overwhelming grace of the Lord Steward amazes me," Cerena responded, her voice still soft and subtle. "I come to this radiant and unblemished city in search of sanctuary from the forces of the East. I have some measure of foresight, which is rare among my people, and so I am wanted for what information I might part," she said.
"You are a seer?" Denethor asked with interest. Gandalf had not mentioned this about the girl.
"My gift is not perfect, Lord, because I am flawed and corrupted, but I have several times made accurate predictions based on things I have seen," she continued.
"And why should I risk my city for you, orc? What prevents you from stealing into this city and causing mischief among my people?" he asked.
"The Lord Steward is ever-wise to suspect an orc of mischief and wrong-doing. But here I present myself to you, Lord, to be monitored as you see fit. I humbly beg the protection of the White City for me and my unborn child," she replied. Denethor made a noise of disgust.
"You are with child? How disgusting," he said.
"I beg the Lord's forgiveness for such a state. As an orc I was hard pressed to ignore my baser instincts, and was pleased to find a mate to continue my bloodline, but I can see how this may offend the Kind Lord, as one might find a stray dog distasteful when it begins to show with pup," she continued, her blood running hot. Denethor considered her. He stood from his seat on the black throne and approached her. He did not miss the way the man beside her shifted. He looked again. Not a man. Elf. The mystery grew ever deeper.
He reached out and grabbed her chin in his hand, wrenching her face up towards him. She winced slightly but kept her eyes down towards his furred collar.
It was definitely the eyes that were the most telling of what sort of creature she was. To listen to her talk might indicate a Lady of above normal breeding, her dress as well, but one look into those yellow eyes made it unmistakable that she was an animal, fit for little else than killing. However, even a dog had its uses.
He turned her head forcefully to one side, studying her. Her ears came to a sharp, elongated point and he could see that there were piercing marks in the lobe even if there were no rings or studs. What a base practice, piercing…. He could see a few faint scars on the top of her shoulders where the neckline of the dress scooped low. He turned her head again to study the other side of her face. He caught a whiff of perfume and was confused. Was she an orc? A whore? She dressed well for an animal. And that circlet… He released her chin and tapped her forehead.
"What is this symbol? I have never seen it before," he said.
"The Lord Steward looks upon the symbol of the Black Crescent Valley. I am a Lady under the orc-King, Durbûrz," she said, resisting the urge to reach up and rub her chin where he had grasped her. He snorted in derision.
"An orc King? King of what, a dung-heap? Does he sit on a throne of bones and sticks?" he asked, laughing at his own joke. "Hmm. Alright, Orc. I'll take you in, the stray bitch that you are. You will be heavily guarded. I make no promises to you, many of my men have faced hardship at the hands of your people and if they wish to jostle you it is part of the price of your safety. In return you will See for me," he said. Cerena looked over at Gandalf, who looked a little sour about the arrangement.
"Surely a man of Gondor is more honorable than to mistreat an expecting woman?" Gandalf asked. Denethor looked at the wizard.
"But this is not a woman, Gandalf. It's a mongrel dog, a pet you've picked up and brought to my city. The thing being pregnant might make some of them more likely to shove her down a flight of stairs," he said matter of factly. Cerena looked at Gandalf again. Denethor called a guard to him, pushing her towards the guard.
"She is to be taken to the prisoner of state room, and put under watch. If she does anything suspicious, whip her. Make sure no one kills her, she is useful to Gondor," he said.
Haldir moved foward as the guard took Cerena's arm.
"And what is this? What is this elf?" Denethor asked.
"I go with the girl, she is my duty," he said. Denethor tilted his head.
"There are whore innumerable in the city. What is an orc to an elf?" the Steward asked curtly. Haldir regarded the man.
"She is known to my Lady Galadriel, and the life within her is sacred. She is under my protection and the protection of the Golden Wood," Haldir replied.
"That may be, but that protection was not enough if she needed to seek the aid of the city of Men. You may stay with Gandalf," Denethor said, as though it were final. Gandalf touched Haldir's arm.
"Cerena will not find harm under the roof of Denethor. If she or the babe is harmed it could interfere with her Sight," Gandalf said. Denethor frowned at the Wizard, then turned to the guard again.
"Do not treat the thing ill, but if she does anything violent or suspicious, deal with it appropriately," he said. The guard nodded. Haldir watched as the guard led Cerena from the room. His last view of her was her looking back into the Hall, her eyes wide with fear. He turned to Gandalf.
"I hope you are right, for her sake," he said softly. Gandalf looked at the spot where Cerena had disappeared. He hoped so too. Then he looked at the Steward.
"War is coming, Denethor. The enemy is on your doorstep,"
"Yes, Gandalf, and you dragged a specimen of it before me, as if I should be happy to see a breeding flea,"
The guard led her firmly, but not unkindly, down several halls. He greeted another guard as they were let through a locked door, the guard pulling a key off of the ring he was holding and giving it to her escort, and she was taken to the last door of another hall. The guard opened it with the key and led her inside. It was not a large room, plain, with a small sleeping pallet on the floor, a plain wooden desk and chair, and a shelf with three books on it. She shuddered at the sight of the chamber pot in the corner.
"Prisoners here are fed three twice a day, and someone will empty your pot in the mornings. If you can read there are other books you can request, and if you can write you will be provided with writing leather," the guard said. "I find the idea of you strange, but Gandalf seemed keen of you, so as long as you don't try to cause any trouble, I ain't one to harm any sort of expecting creature, animal or otherwise," he said. Then he turned back, walking for the door.
"W-wait!" Cerena said. He turned back to her. "Is there any light?" she asked. He pointed to a window whose shutters were closed. The window was barred with iron bars that were embedded into the stone. So the only light she would have is daylight. Good thing she was an orc. Her eyes were fine in the dark. "I see. Thank you," she said. Then the guard was gone.
She supposed she should consider herself lucky. Denethor could have laughed at her and just put a rope around her neck, or put her on a chopping block immediately. Instead he seemed more amused by her than anything. She went over to the bed pallet, carefully slipping off her boots beneath her skirt and sitting down. The bed had adequate padding, was indeed luxurious compared to sleeping on the floor. She sighed and leaned her head against the wall and started to sing softly.
"I see the same sky through brown eyes that you see through blue, but we're worlds apart. Worlds apart…"
He wasn't surprised when she appeared before his throne. He was surprised when she didn't immediately get up and start bothering him. She was sitting, dressed differently than she normally was. Normally he saw her in tunic and leggings, with a pair of leather boots. This time she was in a shift and petticoats with no dress, her feet bare and her arms wrapped around her knees. For several minutes she didn't move, eventually prompting his curiosity. He stood from his throne and approached her, angry at himself for letting his curiosity at this little creature get the better of him.
Then he saw why she was likely not moving. The shoulders of her shift were dotted with black blood and her entire body was trembling. She was in a state of undress, whatever overdress having been removed. A small sound escaped her, a whimpering sob, and she leaned forward a bit to relieve the pressure from her back. He could see tears in the shift where a whip had cut the fabric, revealing angry black weals that were bruised and bloody at the tips.
"Who has done this to you?" he asked. She jumped and raised her head, and he did not miss the way her face twisted in misery. How well he knew the sting of lashes. She had a clear handprint marked on her face, each finger discernable against her brown skin.
"I am a prisoner at the moment," she said simply. She was subdued, her normally caustic attitude smashed properly with the welts on her back.
"I take it your warden didn't take kindly to that acid tongue?" he asked, a little smug. It was as he had told her before; if he could touch her she would never have spoken to him in such a way. If she spoke to someone else like she spoke to him then it was no wonder she'd gotten a serving of leather on her back end.
"Oh, that's not it. One of the guards wanted me to strip so he could see what a naked she-orc looked like and came to my cell after I had slipped my overdress off to sleep. I slapped him when he grabbed my skirt. Two of them held my arms while the other whipped me. It's literally my first night," she said, and tears flooded her eyes.
He felt uncomfortable. Not because she was crying. He had seen tears through the years, men and women alike begging him for mercy that he was not interested in giving. But over the last few months this little creature had seemed so confident and sure, most of the time. She was annoying and arrogant, and at many times he had wished to slap her face to make her shut up. But now, seeing her so…subdued…he did not like it. It was like seeing a lake bed that had dried up, or the dead husks of crops that had not been farmed. Where there was once life it had been tamped down. Her eyes, that expressive orcish yellow, though shining with tears, seemed dull.
"I told Gandalf it was a bad idea! I'm not…I'm not a fucking house-cat that he can just put on a pretty collar and parade on a leash. At any point I'm deemed useless I can be strung up for their amusement, or have my head lopped off like a yule goose. It's wouldn't be the first time someone has looked at me with disgust, like I'm trash, and told me they'd love to watch me kick for a while. 'If they do it right, it can last for minutes,'"she mocked. "And the looks on their faces, like it gets them off to think about," she snarled.
"There are many who get aroused at hangings. I've often had soldiers seeking a moment with a whore after a public execution, or even a moment to themselves if none is available" he said, as if it were normal. Cerena looked at him.
"And you? Does it excite you to kill someone in such a way?" she asked, and he didn't like the accusatory tone in her voice.
"I do not feel arousal in the same way as mortals. I do feel satisfaction at eliminating a threat, or punishing someone who has wronged me, but if your question is about sexual pleasure then no, I feel no arousal at executions," he said. She looked at him for several moments as if trying to work out a problem.
"Why were you so angry last time?" she asked. He sneered at her.
"Those bastards are far too meddling for their own good," he growled. She lifted her hand with the tarnished silver ring.
"You made it, didn't you?" she asked. He turned his head away from her.
"It was before I sought the knowledge for making Rings of Power. I made it for…for her. I used one of Varda's lights as a charm, but they burn hotter than I anticipated, the metal was not treated well. It was an amateur attempt at best, but she…loved it. She must have left it behind when she came to Arda. It is just as well, I suppose. He would have never let her keep it," Mairon said bitterly.
"I didn't know. They gave it to me…" she said.
"I could make far more impressive gifts now. Keep it, 'tis but a trinket," he said dismissively. She winced when she lowered her arm.
"You loved her," Cerena said quietly. Mairon did not respond immediately.
"More than anything," he finally said.
"You know what keeps you here," Cerena whispered. His face twisted slightly.
"And yet I need it to escape. Will you not help me?" he asked, and for once his voice didn't sound so demanding. He sounded almost as if he were…pleading.
"I cannot help you," Cerena said. He roared suddenly, startling her, as he slammed his fist forward and punched the stone wall. She heard his knuckles crack, and saw the split skin afterward, the bubbling blood seeping up out of the ragged wound.
"Then I will have to take it from the corpses of anyone who stands in my way!" he snarled. Cerena sighed softly.
"I cannot help you," she repeated, turning her head away from him and resting it against the wall behind her. After a moment she did not hear him anymore, and opened her eyes to see she was in the dark room she was being held in at Minas Tirith.
A food tray was sitting in her room with a bowl of porridge and some older bread. Two wilted carrots were draped across the wooden tray. She ate them first, nearly gagging at the limp texture. Then she softened the bread a bit by dipping it in the porridge. She didn't need this many carbs, but she'd be damned if she turned down food.
Every movement made her sore back twinge, making her angrier by the moment. That meddling fucking wizard was getting a wolf turd in his boots if she got out of this alive.
And if she didn't, she'd fucking well make good on her promise to haunt him.
High in a tower in the city of Minas Tirith, a Palantìr flared to life.
A/N: Okay, well Cerena seems like she just can't escape anything, doesn't she? :)
Okay, my word on Denethor: I was of a couple minds here. Boromir despised Cerena on sight and wanted nothing more than to kill her. Denethor is not her friend, but is a little more coldly calculating than Boromir. In fact, both Boromir and Faramir are both pretty wholesome despite the life they've led. Boromir was a little more cut and dry, 'orc is bad, make stabby-stab.' Faramir is the starry dream-child, loves the elves, tea parties, and would have invited the Nazgûl to his wedding if they hadn't been such dicks to his soon-to-be-wife. (Probably not.)
Denethor was crazed by grief, it being very much more pronounced in the movie-verse. Cerena didn't see the conversation with Denethor, Gandalf and Pippin. Denethor heard the word 'seer' and immediately saw a way to use her. He hates her kind and would kill her if she caused problems, but for now he sees her as a useful but distasteful tool.
Also Gandalf most likely didn't use magic against anyone, it being kinda against what he came for. Here's the thing: who the actual fuck, regardless of job or station, is going to actually tell Gandalf no? All he has to do is insinuate that the Steward knows they're coming, that he is bringing her to be used for the glory of Gondor, etc… and not a single person is going to question him. As we saw.
If anyone has a question as to why some people refer to Cerena's pregnancy with singular adjectives, it's because they simply don't know she's pregnant with twins. She is not really showing right now, and women show in vastly different ways, some earlier some later, but she will start to show soon simply because she's growing two.
If I've made any mistakes or anyone has any questions, feel free to ask through your review, or even send me a PM and I'll try to get back to you.
