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 Fifty:
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 is a modification of Beregond, a citizen 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 Fifty

Gúthwyn felt the darkness closing around her as she put a shaking foot into the room. Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to run away, to put as much distance between herself and the Dark Lord as was physically possible, yet Haldor had threatened to murder both of the children. With no other choice but to obey him, here she was.

As she stepped hesitantly inside, an intolerable heat washed over her. The temperature was such that, if it had gone any higher, she probably would have been burned right where she stood. Yet her discomfort was nothing compared to her terror. Evil itself seemed to originate from this very room, obscuring everything else with its malevolence. Nothing could pierce the dark; Gúthwyn tried to imagine Borogor's arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the shadows, but it was futile.

So, we meet at last.

She jumped as a voice addressed her, coming from both the center of the room and from inside her own mind. Immediately she began backing away, but the door swung shut with the first step she took. Total, impenetrable blackness surrounded her.

You are not going anywhere, the voice continued, and Gúthwyn realized that it was the Dark Lord himself. She quailed, hugging herself despite the heat. Something strange was happening to her mind: It felt as though it were being prodded gently by a wispy hand.

I see that you have proved better than I could have hoped.

She did not know how to respond, so she remained quiet.

Out of an entire group of twelve men, trained for years by my lieutenant, it was you—a woman—who returned alone to the Morannon.

Tears threatened to form in her eyes; Gúthwyn closed them tightly. Yet things seemed even worse when she closed herself off from the outside—now her mind was being sifted through, examined thoroughly. A host of memories started attacking her.

And now, the captain of the Easterlings lies dead at your hands.

She could remember his death so vividly, feel his blood on her hands, hear his moans as she ended his life cruelly and mercilessly. The hand reached further into her recollections, and she found herself thinking of when Burzum had broken her ribs and nose. Suddenly she was reliving the pain and agony all over again, blood pouring down her face. Borogor was above her, pale. "On the count of three," he said as he and Beregil prepared to lift her. "One, two…"

Her mind was hurtling through time and space, powerless to change direction, to stop the movement. She was pinned underneath Haldor, struggling frantically, as he slapped her and forced himself on her for the first time. He threw water on her, and crying was pathetic. A bow was in her hand; Haldor was behind her… then blood was streaming down her back as a knife clattered to the ground. She was lying down, facing humiliation by Lumren, her ribs hurting so much… Borogor was scouring the salt from her back, and she was screaming in agony.

A smile came over her as Borogor taught her how to fight, then disappeared as Haldor pressed her against the wall and pulled down her leggings—for Hammel. The darkness swallowed her once more; Haldor was sliding his hands along her stomach. No, please, no. Please! The vomit entered her mouth as she slurped it down, Haldor standing right above her. Lumren had shoved her onto the rocks and was touching her everywhere… She was in debt to Haldor, and that night…

And poor Beregil! The spear was thrown, and he was dead. Borogor slapped her. "This is all your fault!" It was… Then there was fever. Hazy nights and days. Borogor's face… Before her in Ithilien, asking for a word. The arrow. Slamming into her friend's chest, and she screamed as he fell to the ground. Begged Faramir for a proper burial. When she returned… Haldor. Golden, not brown, yet brown was all around her. She had spread her legs. "Haldor, please," she moaned, capturing his lips in yet another kiss. "Please!"

At that moment the hand withdrew, and Gúthwyn found herself on the ground, with no idea of how she had gotten there, shrieking at the top of her lungs. "Stop! Please, stop!"

Laughter, so unpleasant that she clamped her hands over her ears, echoed throughout the room. Yet it remained in her mind, refusing to leave, until it was ricocheting against her very brain.

You are frail of mind… All the better for my purpose.

Gúthwyn lifted her head shakily. Purpose? she wondered in puzzlement.

I am giving you a third chance to prove your worth, the Dark Lord informed her, and she jumped.

"M-my worth?" she stammered, slowly and apprehensively getting to her feet.

You will find yourself rewarded richly if you complete a certain task for me.

He was playing with her, cruelly keeping the necessary information away, leaving only tantalizing hints. "W-what task?" Gúthwyn asked, hardly believing that she was actually conversingwith the Dark Lord.

To find an item of value that I have lost.

Gúthwyn frowned in confusion. How could Sauron have possibly lost something?

It has been found again of late, in the keep of one Baggins from the Shire.

The shadow might as well have been whispering in a foreign language. She did not know who or what a Baggins was, nor where this Shire lay.

It is a land over the Misty Mountains, whose people have gone unnoticed until recently. Baggins is one of them. You will find him, and bring the item back to me. I do not care if you have to slay the wretched thing to get it!

His voice grew more threatening, and Gúthwyn retreated into the wall. Her back brushed up against something that was most definitely not rock or stone, and she shrieked as she leapt away from it. All along her body, her hair was standing on end.

"Why m-me?" she asked, her tone slightly hysterical. "Why n-not the B-Black Riders?"

I already have them searching for it, you fool. Thus far, they have been unsuccessful, because all living creatures scatter at their approach and go into hiding. As a woman, you will attract far less attention. Men will spill their secrets to you for the prize of one night.

Gúthwyn bristled, revolted at the very idea.

The Baggins that you will seek is a Halfling.

She thought she had heard of the Halflings, or the Little People, as they were sometimes called; yet she had believed them to be only a myth, a tale told by mothers to their young children.

Children. Hammel and Haiweth. This 'task' Sauron wanted her to do would take her away from them—over the Misty Mountains was no small distance. To traverse that could take weeks, more likely months. Then there were still the leagues between the Mountains and the Shire, in addition to the fact that she had no idea where the land of the Halflings was. Neither did Sauron, from the looks of it. Her face paled as she realized that such a journey could easily take a year.

"M-my Lord," she whispered, sinking to her knees. "Please, I-I have children, I c-cannot leave them…"

I am aware that you have children, the voice hissed angrily. Do not think to use them as an excuse!

"Please, my Lord, please!" she begged, feeling tears pricking at her eyes.

He dismissed her pleas. Question my orders again, and I will have you thrown into one of the windowless pits beneath this fortress.

The threat slammed into her, and she was silent.

I am glad we have an agreement.

Suddenly an idea came to her, one so risky that she hardly dared to ask it, yet what came with success was so precious that she could not afford not to. "M-my lord," she started, praying that this would work, "you said I would be rewarded if I… if I find this item and bring it back to you?"

I always reward my faithful followers.

"If I return with this thing, will you grant the children their freedom?"

There was a silence. Gúthwyn shifted nervously back and forth, wondering if she had gone too far. Hammel and Haiweth's faces flashed before her, and she knew that their freedom would be at heavy cost to her. She did not expect to be freed herself, yet to know that they were safe would make even the nights with Haldor more bearable. Borogor, have I made a good choice? she asked, tilting her head upwards to the heavens, where her friend must have been at this very moment.

Why should I? Sauron questioned at last. The air was thick with suspicion.

"Please, my lord, I ask for nothing for myself! I only wish for their freedom, for you to release two children who are of no importance to your vast and great army." She paused, panting slightly. "Please, I will do anything for them!"

You are a fool, to throw away your reward for the sake of two children. Yet I will grant you your folly—if, and only if, you return in triumph.

Gúthwyn nearly crumbled to the floor in relief. "You are generous, my Lord!" she cried out, ignoring the twisting of her stomach that came from praising Sauron. "Thank you, thank you!"

However, if you do not come back… There was a coldness in the air now, one that made her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. Their lives will be forfeit.

The sentence sealed both her fate and determination. "I will find it," she vowed. The brand on her wrist seared and burned, though she made no sign of it. "I will find it and bring it to you, no matter what."

Good… very good.

She rose. The door that she had not been able to see in the dark now opened, revealing a wonderful light beyond it, but she could not leave until she learned one more thing. "What is it that you want me to find, my Lord?"

The answer was swift, immediate. The Ring.

For a moment, Gúthwyn gaped into the shadows, certain she had not heard correctly. "A ring?"

The One Ring. It was forged from the fires of Mount Doom, and appears as a simple gold band. Bring this to me, and I will allow your children to be freed.

Gúthwyn could not believe that she was risking her life, and those of Hammel and Haiweth's, for a piece of jewelry. Yet she bowed compliantly. "I will find it," she repeated.

You are leaving the day after tomorrow. A horse will be provided for you, as well as some weapons. DO NOT, under any circumstances, reveal the nature of your mission. I will know who has betrayed me.

"I would never do such a thing," Gúthwyn promised, and she meant it. If doing so would endanger Hammel and Haiweth, not even torture would force her in that direction.

Now, get out of my sight.


Night was changing into day when Gúthwyn returned to the tent, stepping inside silently and tiptoeing to the corner where the children slept. All around her, men were breathing heavily and deeply, untroubled by anything beyond their training schedule. She felt as though she were not a part of this scene, as if she was an intruder, not belonging or deserving to belong to this group of people.

She crouched down beside Hammel and Haiweth. When they woke up in the morning, she would tell them. Haiweth would not react well to the news; she had to think of ways to placate her, false hopes of her safe return. Gúthwyn did have every intention of returning, but she could not tell them that when she did, they would be leaving Mordor without her.

At least from there they had a chance of rebuilding their lives. A lump came to her throat as she thought of them living without her. They would find a family, certainly, one to take care of them and love them—but would they know that Haiweth could sing songs in nonsensical languages for hours on end, if she was permitted? Or that Hammel sometimes slept with his eyes open? Would they know what to do if Haiweth started crying uncontrollably, or if Hammel refused to speak to anyone?

Do not think of such things, she told herself sternly. She had to be strong, and learn to let them go when she returned with this ring.

A ring! she thought incredulously. How ridiculous! What kind of master sent his servants across enemy lands and mountains to search for a piece of jewelry that could be easily reforged? There had to be something special about this thing, but for the life of her she could not possibly guess.

Gúthwyn shuddered as she recalled another conversation from the night. When she and Haldor had returned to the Black Gate, he had walked her back to her tent, much to her grievance. No time had he wasted informing her that he wanted to see her the night before she left—a goodbye present was in order, he had said. She felt herself trembling weakly at the prospect, wondering fearfully what he had in store for her.

Yet she would have to face it, as she always had. And after that… she would be traveling hundreds of leagues away from him. With the exception of Hammel and Haiweth's freedom, this was the only good thing about trying to find her way to the Shire and recover a ring.

Panic started to worm into her, but she refused to let it take a firm hold. So what if she was horrible at directions? So what if she did not know where to begin? So what if she had to forage for food on her own, and had never been hunting before? So what if it took her months to find the Shire, and several more to find the Ring? She would do it—she had to. Hammel and Haiweth's lives were at stake.

More than anything, she wished Borogor were with her. He would know what to do. At the very least, he would promise to watch the children while she was gone; in addition, he would have advice for how to survive, how to find food, how achieve her goal. She missed his firm yet soothing voice, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. His arms, wrapping around her, allowing her to lean on him in need…

No, stop it! she told herself. Already tears were beginning to form. She stuck her fists in her eyes and rotated them, effectively stopping such weakness.

What she needed now, at this current moment, was sleep. An hour, perhaps, was what she would be able to have before they rose to straggle out onto the training grounds. Dîrbenn usually had the task of waking them up, as he was an early riser. No one, of course, had even thought of using Gúthwyn for the job.

Lying down alongside the children, she reached out and touched Haiweth's hair, running her fingers through it absentmindedly. The child did not stir, and within a minute Gúthwyn's body was as still as hers—both were frozen by sleep.