Fauwne carefully peeked through the door to her hut. She knew that
she was not allowed inside while a meeting of the elders was going on, but
she couldn't help it. She just had to know! Her papa was the chief of their
little band, and he had seemed rather distant ever since he had returned to
their camp a week ago. Fauwne felt that this meeting would announce the
reason for his distraction. Her father's deep voice resonated in the small
hut, and Fauwne listened quietly.
"Men of Dunland, I have called you together to listen to a proposition that could regain us our lost land."
The men murmured softly at this, they had been driven to the hills nearly three centuries ago. There was nothing they would not do to regain their land.
"I have spoken to a man who will help us overthrow the Rohirrim."
Again muttering broke out, and the chief waited for silence to return. Fauwne was grateful for the noise inside the hut, for it masked her own small gasp of surprise. As much as she wanted to hear the rest of the discussion, Fauwne knew that she could not stay at the door any longer and risk discovery.
She left just in time. As she slunk behind the hut, she saw her mother emerge from another hut and glance at the place she had just vacated. Fauwne crept a few feet away from the hut before showing herself. "Where you looking for me, Mother?" she called with a bright smile.
Her mother returned her smile as she answered. "Yes, I was. I was afraid that watching the men's meeting would be too much for you to resist. I am glad to find that I was wrong." The older woman's smile grew larger. "But, that was a habit of a young girl. What a fine young lady you have become, Fauwne!"
Fauwne's face reddened in the night. She was glad her mother could not read the shame written on it. She was right! Watching the men was for young children. Fauwne was nearly fifteen, and it was time that she stopped such nonsense!
The two women walked back into the hut where the women had gathered to talk while the men met.
Fauwne sat down in a corner and listened to the soft voices around her. She was proud to be a Dunlending. In her mind, it was the noblest creature in Middle Earth. Why be a tiny Halfling, or a pale Elf, or an ugly Man when you could have the tall stature, golden skin, and black hair of a Dunlending? True, they where from the same race as Men, but ever since they had been treated so wrongly by the men of Gondor and driven from their lands, her people had thought of themselves as a distinct kind.
And now, they might regain their lands! The thought was enough to make her head spin. Their proud culture would once more be accepted in their native lands. They would not hide in fear in the hills any more. Soon, things would change.
The next day, the women where finally let in on the subject of the men's meeting. Fauwne's father, Crebain, stood in the center of the small village and announced the plan. "Dunlendings!" He cried, "Our lands have been taken from us! Now is the time to prepare-- we shall take them back!"
The people cheered wildly, and then calmed themselves as Crebain spoke again. "A man is coming to our village. He has promised to help us take back what is ours! He has a great army. We will gather all of our forces and unite all of our strength. Then we will march to victory!"
A thought came to Fauwne then. "But why will he help us? We have so few people. What can we do for him?" Fauwne did not realize she had spoken aloud until a hush came over the crowd and she realized that all eyes where on her. A long second later, those eyes swung back to Crebain, asking the same question.
Crebain met the challenging eyes, but everyone could see that he was holding something back. "This man wants to destroy the Rohirrim as much as we do, but his army, while strong, has, well, a certain weakness. That is why he requires our help. He has agreed to let us keep those lands that where once ours, and the rest of the lands he will control."
"How do we know that he will not use his army against us as soon as he gets what he wants?" One of the men spoke up.
Crebain smiled. "His army will not turn against us-- I can assure you of that."
The people were satisfied with his words for the time being, and started to disperse. One final question was posed by Fauwne's Mother, Alfirin.
"Who is this man?"
Only she and Fauwne heard Crebain's answer. "Saruman."
All that week, Fauwne had wondered about the strange man who would help them regain their lands. She could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her father had grown more distant each day. Even the other men seemed to notice the change in him. Fauwne noticed that he never spoke about their pride, heritage, or culture any more. In fact, he seemed driven only by the land. He hardly ever spoke to her or Alfirin. In fact, he was never seen speaking to any of the women anymore, and only rarely to the men.
It was with great trepidation that the day arrived that Saruman came to the village. All the people from their village, and several surrounding villages, flocked to the street as he walked slowly through the village. Beside him walked a huge man draped from head to foot with a heavy, dark cloth. Curious children ducked around him, poking and prodding him, trying to see beneath his cloak, but one hard smack from the man's hand sent one small boy flying, and ended the children's game.
Saruman and his massive follower reached the center of the village, and turned to address the people. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear Saruman's scheme.
"Good Hill-People," Saruman started in a sugary voice, then paused. "Did you know that this is the name given you by those who have stolen your land? Hill-People? How degrading. You, my great Dunlendings, are so much more than simple hill-people." He paused again, seemingly regaining his train of thought. "You have been forced from your land. Forced to live as herders and foragers, camped in tiny villages high in the hills with little food and water. That is what the Rohirrim have done to you. To me, they have done equal evils. Yet, these evil beings dwell in land that is our right." He stopped again and looked over the crowd, carefully making eye contact with each one.
Fauwne, still feeling something was not right, found herself strangely captivated by the man's words. She forced her eyes instead to the hidden being at Saruman's side.
"You cannot attack the Rohirrim because your might is not enough. I cannot attack the Rohirrim because, though my might is great, my army lacks what you have-- Eyes that see in the light. My army fights only at night. You can fight only at day. Together, we can be an invincible force."
Fauwne shook her head to clear it of the cloud that seemed to linger there. Something was wrong. But it sounded so right...
"As yet, you do not have a large enough number to aid my force. So, why should I allow you your lands upon our victory? Because, by the time we attack, your numbers will be enough. You have few warriors, but many women. I have many warriors, but few leaders. It would take at least 20 years for you to have even a fraction more fighting men. I can produce an army in only a few years." He paused and made sure that the silent group was firmly in his power before making his final announcement.
"Now, give me your women. Let them bear sons to my warriors. They will be ready to fight in ten years-- we will be unstoppable."
Fauwne gasped. What was he suggesting? She glanced around her to see if anyone else saw the evil in his plan, but the men where already nodding in agreement. The women, though a little less sure, had turned to their husbands, and, seeing their agreement, where also nodding.
Fauwne looked at her mother. Her eyes where locked on Crebain. Fauwne followed her gaze to her father, and what she saw made her blood run cold. Crebain was nodding at Saruman's words-- and his eyes where locked on her.
That night, the horror of the day seemed minimal as Saruman's 'man' removed his cloak. Had the people seen the horrible monster before they had heard Saruman's speech, they would have run him from the hills. But now, the terrible creature, whom Saruman called a Uruk-Hai, was accepted as family.
Even Saruman's flowery speech could not remove all of the horror and disgust on one young girl's face, however, as one of the men insisted that his daughter be the first mother of a Uruk-hai warrior child. Fauwne watched in horror as her best friend was led from the group by the monster, while all the rest of the village applauded.
What was happening to her people? Was Saruman some sort of wizard who had cast a spell over them? As soon as Fauwne had thought the words, she knew they where true. Her people where under a spell. Why else would they agree to this? But, why did she see through it and no one else? Her head was spinning with the horror of the day. She crept away from the group, and returned to her own hut to seek relief in sleep.
All night she tossed and turned, one nightmare chasing another through her tortured mind. She greeted the morning gladly, until she discovered what lay just outside of her hut. During the night, a whole army of the Uruk-hai had arrived. The foul creatures littered the streets. The sight of them brought back all the horror of the day before, and Fauwne thought first of her friend, Galenas, who had been given to the monster the night before.
Fauwne carefully made her way to her friend's hut, but stopped short upon hearing weeping from behind another hut. She looked, and there found Galenas, crying as if her heart would break. Rightly enough, thought Fauwne, for Galenas would have been married only a month in the future. Fauwne knelt by her friend and waited for the tears to subside.
"What will you do?" Fauwne asked her friend.
"What choice do I have, now?" Galenas answered bitterly. "I will bear a child to that monster. Saruman will have his warrior. I do not want him."
"But, he will still be your son," Fauwne pointed out. She was surprised by her friend's reaction. How could she toss away her son to that vile man to kill? Even if the child was meant for war? Did a child's birth determine his life?
Fauwne sat with her friend for almost an hour before she returned to her own hut. When she arrived, though, she found four people waiting for her. Or, three people and an Uruk-hai.
"Where have you been?" were the first words out of Crebain's mouth. Fauwne had no time to answer before he continued. "Never mind. You are here now. Do you realize that you are the only girl in the village who has not yet been chosen by one of these great warriors to bear a son?"
Fauwne's eyes where drawn to the hideous face of the Uruk-hai in the hut. Was this the creature whose son she was to bear? Her heart rebelled. She fought against the nauseous feeling that overwhelmed her.
Crebain saw her eyes on the warrior, and misinterpreted her look. "This one is not your's, Fauwne," he told her. "You cannot expect to arrive so late and get so great a fighter. No, this one is for Alfirin."
Fauwne's eyes shot to her mother. Where even married women not exempt from this order? Alfirin's eyes were downcast. Every now and then, she would raise her eyes to her husband, and Fauwne could see that they were filled with love. What love, Fauwne thought, She would do anything for him-- anything. Her thoughts were interrupted when Saruman spoke.
"You are a very special lass, Fauwne," He said in a soothing tone. "You were chosen to be the mate of the very first of the Uruk-hai."
His soft tone did not ring true to Fauwne, and the look on her father's face spoke volumes. This "special" first of the Uruk-hai, Fauwne was sure, was some sort of experiment gone wrong. Her gaze drifted back to the Uruk-hai before her. And if this was the desired outcome... what would the mistake look like?
Fauwne found out the answer to her question a few minutes later when the Uruk-hai arrived. He was as horrible as the others with one marked difference-- while all the other Uruk-hai where dark colored, this one was pale, and somewhat smaller than the others. His face, however, was every bit as hideous as the others, and his strength as formidable. His limbs where perhaps slightly less twisted and thick, more wiry and long. Over all, he made the other Uruk-hai look like princes.
The bulk grabbed Fauwne's arm and started dragging her from the room. Fauwne was to shocked to resist at first, but as soon as she was out the door, and headed out of the village, she regained her senses and started to struggle. Her attempts were completely futile.
As she was dragged farther from the village, fear made her struggle more. The creature was losing patience. Twice he threw her to the ground, and twice she tried to run away. Finally, he landed a heavy blow on the side of her head, and everything went black.
It was dark when Fauwne woke up. Every part of her body ached, and she felt-- she felt-- dirty. She ran to the river and threw herself into the fridged water, but the dirty feeling remained. She knew that all the washing in the world would not cleanse her from this-- this-- evil that she knew was growing in her.
Fauwne forced her feet to move her back towards the village. Even though she knew that it was at her parents wish that this had happened, she dreaded facing them with her shame. She snuck in the village unnoticed, and made it into her hut unobserved. Inside, she found her mother. She stared at the older woman for a long time, and Alfirin stared back. Finally Alfirin took her daughter in her arms and held her tight. The two women sat in the center of the hut and wept together until they had no more tears to cry. Then Alfirin spoke.
"It is all over, now, Fauwne. In a year, Saruman and his 'children' will be gone, and in another ten years, we will have earned our land back. You need never think about those monsters ever again. Life will get back to normal." Alfirin seemed to say the words as much for her own comfort as for Fauwne's.
As Fauwne sat there, though, the words where no comfort to her. They had bought their land back at the price of their pride. And how could life ever be 'normal' after this? Just as she had sat with Galenas and tried to convince her that she could not give up so easily, she now turned her own words on herself. Could she possibly raise this half-human child as her own? Would she be willing to give up her life to save her child's? If she remained in the village, the choice would be taken away from her. Saruman would simply take each child as he was born.
Fauwne made a decision deep in her heart. Saruman would not turn her son, vile creature that he may be, into another of his mindless killing beasts.
No sooner had Fauwne decided on this, than Saruman's voice boomed from the street. His call was too strong to resist, and Fauwne found herself and all the other women slowly following the power of his voice out to the street. When all the women had gathered, Saruman started handing out cups of a vile, dark liquid.
"This potion will insure that your child is a male," Saruman explained. Each woman drank the liquid. Fauwne could not fight it. She too, raised her cup to her lips and drank. She could feel a war start within her. The magic liquid was warring with her body, making demands that none but Eru had right to make. Fauwne was not the only one feeling the effects. One by one, women who could stand the pain no longer sank to the ground in a stupor. Moments before she, too, passed out, Fauwne turned her eyes to Alfirin. Her eyes where once more locked on Crebain, filled with love.
Every day that week, there was a different potion to drink. The women took gladly the drugs, for they had discovered, after the initial pain, it brought sweet oblivion. Fauwne however, found somewhere deep in her resolve, a strength that allowed her to pour out her drink when the others where not looking. She did not want any of Saruman's poisonous magic to taint her-- or her baby. Maybe her child would be a born killer. But.... maybe he would not be. That was a hope she clung to as the months passed.
Finally, the time came that Fauwne knew she must leave. If she stayed any longer, she would not be able to make it far enough away before the baby came, and she wanted to be sure that Saruman had no way of finding her child and making him into a mindless monster.
Fauwne slowly started gathering supplies that she would need, careful not to let anyone see what she was doing. The day before she was going to leave, the first baby was born. Galenas' baby. The pain of delivering the huge child was almost more than she could take, but in the end, she delivered the child. The other curious women gathered around to see the first of these "great warrior children", but where horrified by what they saw. The child, which Saruman proudly called a 'half-orc', had the thick, dark hair of the Dunlendings, and strong, smooth limbs of a human, but it's skin was rough and dark, and covered with deep poc marks and oozing sores from the tortuous drugs that had invaded it. It's teeth where jagged and long, disfiguring it's mouth into something like a warg's mouth. It's eyes were close set, giving it a cat-like look. It's nose was hooked, and it's chin pointed. All in all, it was a horrible creature.
In that instant, Fauwne almost changed her mind about saving her baby. But a mother's love won out, and Fauwne determined to take her child to a place where none would ever see him. He would only know looks of love, and never fear.
Her resolve was settled even more in the next instant when that horrid looking creature opened it's misshapen mouth and released it's first cry-- the same cry of any baby wanting his mother.
Fauwne left in the dead of night, a trick in itself, for that was when the Uruk-hai where most active. She made her way out of the village undetected, and started walking. She wasn't sure which way she was going, the clouds covered the stars and moon, but it didn't matter. She never planned on returning, anyway.
All that night she walked. Sometimes, she would become so tired that she could only go a few yards without stopping to rest, but she never gave up. She figured that night she made about ten miles. The next day, driven by desperation, she covered another thirty. The next night, she knew she could go no further before the baby was born. She found a small hollow, recently abandoned by a bear or some other creature, and settled in to give birth.
Fauwne could never say what was hardest-- delivering the child unaided, or forcing herself to look at it. She waited a long moment before reaching for the child. She kept her eyes averted as she cleaned him, trying to see as little of him as possible. Finally, she mustered all of her will power and held the boy out and looked at it-- her son.
The boy looked like a human for the most part. His tiny limbs seemed perfectly formed, if a little too muscular for one so small. His skin, unlike the other half-orcs, was pale enough to pass for a Dunlending-- Fauwne remembered that his father had also been pale. His teeth, while jagged, where not so long as the Uruk-hai's, so his jaw was not pushed out unnaturally. His nose was slightly hooked, but not disfiguringly so. His ears gently sloped up, much like an Elf's. In fact, Fauwne realized that from a distance, he could easily pass for a Dunlending, where it not for one thing-- His hair was pale red-tinted yellow. It was a stark contrast to the rich black hair of all her people, or even the sickly greenish white of his father.
As Fauwne looked at her son, she was overjoyed that she had been able to resist the urge to drink those potions that Saruman had given out. Her son was sleeping peacefully, without the pain from countless sores and scars that marred his brethren. Her son, born to kill, was but a baby sleeping trustfully in the arms of his mother.
The next day, Fauwne knew that she must start traveling again. Their supplies were growing low, and each moment of delay allowed Saruman's forces to come nearer. Fauwne was unaware of the fact that, with over a hundred births since she left, Saruman was far to busy to notice she was missing. In fact, the only one to notice she was gone was Alfirin, who held her peace and secretly wished her daughter all the luck she would need to survive.
Fauwne and her son, whom she had named Culumalda after the beautiful golden-red trees of Gondor, traveled on for another week before their supplies reached the dangerous level that demanded them to find civilization. For the first time since she had started out from Dunland, she looked around her and took stock of where she was. She had headed almost straight north from the moment she left, and now was in the midst of a large forest. Guessing that she must have kept parallel from the coast, she turned her steps west and hoped that when she found the sea, she would find people.
It was almost two more days before they came across a small trail. They had exhausted the last of their food, and Culumalda was crying for the milk his mother was to weak to produce for him. Hope leapt in Fauwne as she practically ran down the path. To her surprise, it took her to a village after only a few hundred yards.
"What kind of people stay so close to their homes?" She wondered. The village itself she almost overlooked, it seemed to be just a series of small hills at first. Finally, weary and hungry, she mustered the courage to knock on the first door. After what seemed an eternity, a small, elderly man opened the door, and looked up at her in surprise.
"Come in, quickly!" he hissed, and pulled her through the tiny door with surprising strength. Once the door was firmly shut behind her, his face relaxed and he motioned her to sit. "I am sorry for my behavior, lass, but the people of the Shire are not used to seeing big folk. Let me put on some tea, and then you can tell me what brings you out here." The little man ran off, and Fauwne was left alone with her whirling thoughts.
What where these people? Fauwne was sure that the little man came no higher than her knee, although she could not say for certain. She had not been able to stand up straight since entering the house.
The old man reappeared, bringing a tray covered with a tea service and small muffins. Fauwne fought the urge to swallow all the food whole, and forced herself to relish the taste of fresh food. The man seemed to see her hunger, and waited until her appetite had been slaked before asking any questions.
"My name is Bilbo Baggins," He started when she looked up from the now empty tray. "And you are in my house. I hate to seem pushy, but my nephew Frodo will be home soon, and I would just as well not try to explain your presence to him. You see, like most Hobbits, he prefers not to know to much about things he shouldn't want to know about. I, on the other hand, learned long ago to love a good adventure, so if you would not mind, you and your child may stay in the back bedroom, and please not let your presence be known to Frodo? Good," He continued without giving her time to answer. "I will see to it that more food is brought to you, and you can remain there until I convince Frodo to go to the Green Dragon with the other young lads. Then we will continue our chat." He ushered her quickly to a door in the back of the house, and before Fauwne could draw a breath to answer, she found herself in a tiny room.
Fauwne stood hunched over, still not fully understanding everything, but, when she saw the bed, realized that understanding could wait. She curled up on the tiny bed and drifted into a sweet, deep sleep.
Bilbo woke her some hours later. "I am so sorry to disturb you," he said, speaking considerably slower now, "but my nephew has left and I really would like to discover what brings you here."
Fauwne was glad to comply to her charming host's request. "My name is Fauwne," she started, "and this is my son, Culumalda. We are from the Gondorian side of Dunland. Our village is in the hills there."
Bilbo's eyes widened in recognition of the place, but he remained silent and she continued.
"Some time ago, a wizard named Saruman" here Bilbo's eyes grew even larger, "came to our village with a proposition that was to help us regain our lost lands, which where stolen three centuries ago by the Rohirrim. He said he had a great army, but that they where useless in the light."
"Orcs." Bilbo interrupted. "Saruman has an army of orcs." It was half question, half statement.
"No," Fauwne replied, "He called them Uruk-hai." Bilbo nodded and didn't press the matter. Fauwne continued. "He said that we had to few warriors to fight, and his warriors, while powerful, would not stand a chance against the superior minds of the Gondorians. So he made a deal with the men of my village, that the women of the village would mate with his Uruk-hai monsters, and the children would be raised as warriors." Fauwne's eyes misted over as she remembered the horror that was her friend's child. "They made the women drink magic water, and it makes the children be born deformed. Saruman will take the children and make them follow him into battle. The others seemed to think it a fair proposition, but," tears fell freely down her face, "I cannot let them take my son! I left so they would not find him. There can be good in him, even if he is one of those creatures!" Fauwne's voice broke and she lowered her head to weep.
It was good that she did so, or she would have seen the look of horror pass over Bilbo's face as he realized that he was sheltering a half- orc in his house. As it was, Bilbo managed to school his features before Fauwne looked back up. Bilbo knew that she wanted him to assure her that she had done the right thing, but deep inside, he wondered if there could be any good in an orc. He simply said, "It is right that Saruman does not get him. And it is good that you have told me this. If Saruman is raising an army, then Gandalf needs to know about it."
Inside, Bilbo wondered what he should do. This young girl and her son had won a place in his heart already, and he didn't want to expose her son's origin to those who would have him killed-- even if it was for the best. The news of Saruman's army was news that must be told, but how could he tell it without reveling his source? And what would they do to Culumalda if they found out? As he sat wondering, his hand, as it often did, reached inside his pocket and felt for the reassuring cold gold of the ring he always carried with him.
Bilbo lay awake for long hours that night. In the room to his right, he could hear the soft breathing of his nephew Frodo. Two rooms to the left, he could just make out the soft murmuring of Fauwne to Culumalda. He held himself still, blocked out the sound of Frodo's sleeping, and tuned all of his senses to make out the words Fauwne was saying.
"Culu," Fauwne whispered, "All will be well, soon. We will find a way to go far, far from all people. To a place where no one shall ever call you cruel names like 'orc' or 'Uruk-hai'. We will live alone if we must, my little Culu. I know we shall be able to make it somehow. I can't explain it to you, but this place gives me peace. It tells me that we will be all right. No matter what happens, Culu, you will always know that your mother loves you. We do not need that evil Saruman, or his terrible henchmen. I will teach you to hunt, and herd, and forage, and walk silently. I will teach you all the knowledge I know. But I will not teach you to fight. You will never need to fight, Culu. Let the children of Saruman fight and die for land they have never seen. The child of Fauwne will live in peace on the land Eru lends him."
Bilbo turned over in his bed and relaxed. He knew now what he had to do. Fauwne would raise her son so that he would never fight, and he would see that she got the chance.
Bilbo hid Fauwne for the next two days while she regained her strength and he made preparations. He knew how easy it would be to sneak her out if he would loan her his ring.... but he just couldn't. So instead, he made painstaking arraignments. He readied a cart full of hay, and hid a mountain of provisions in it. Then, one night, he snuck Fauwne and Culu into the hay as well. At the crack of dawn, he announced to Frodo that he had to go to Bree, and would be late getting back. Frodo was surprised, but had long since learned to expect anything from his uncle.
Bilbo set out, but no sooner was he out of sight, he turned the pony's head toward the Blue mountains. When they were alone on the open road, Fauwne and Culu emerged from the hay to sit with Bilbo. It was then that Bilbo told them of his plan.
"Many years ago," he told them, "There where many Dark Elves who lived to the north of the Shire. Over time, they have left, some to the Undying lands, some to Numenor, some to realms in the south, some just to wander to new lands. Many where wiped out in a great battle that destroyed many kingdoms and sunk most of Bereriland in past ages. But there is one small corner of the land that was spared, called Lindon. The elves, as I have told you, have mostly deserted this place. But it is still beautiful I am told, and a worthy home for a good lass as yourself and a strong boy as your son. Many buildings are still standing as they where centuries ago, so you will have no lack of shelter. The supplies I have given you will help you for perhaps a month, until you learn what is good to hunt and forage. If you should happen across any still living there, I think that you could tell them that your husband was an Elf who was bringing you and your son here when you met with some calamity. They will either take you in or leave you be, either way you will be fine. Culu, I think, could pass for the son of an Elf and a Dunlending. Any Rangers you might encounter will blame the discrepancies on his Elven heritage, and any Elves will blame his Dunlending heritage. All in all, it is a good land were you can live in peace. I do not think you will be disturbed."
Bilbo's every word had brought more and more comfort to Fauwne. Finally, when the time came that Bilbo must turn back, he kissed Fauwne and Culu both on their foreheads and wished them well. Fauwne stood for a long moment watching the wagon retrace it's way to the Shire before shouldering her supplies and turning towards her unknown home.
Bilbo returned to his house late that night. He crawled into his bed, and sighed contentedly. He would still have to tell Gandalf about Saruman. The ring seemed to itch in his pocket and he drew it out and gazed lovingly at it. No reason to rush to Gandalf, he realized. The next time he was in town would be soon enough. After all, Saruman only had a few babies. It would take years to raise them. Fauwne would have a good head start. In fact, Bilbo thought as he slipped the ring back into his pocket, there was no reason why Fauwne could not have a good twenty year head start.
Little did Bilbo know that night as he drifted off to sleep, that the ring he held in his pocket, the nephew that slept in the next room, and Saruman's army would be destined to meet to decide the fate of Middle Earth in less than ten years.
"Men of Dunland, I have called you together to listen to a proposition that could regain us our lost land."
The men murmured softly at this, they had been driven to the hills nearly three centuries ago. There was nothing they would not do to regain their land.
"I have spoken to a man who will help us overthrow the Rohirrim."
Again muttering broke out, and the chief waited for silence to return. Fauwne was grateful for the noise inside the hut, for it masked her own small gasp of surprise. As much as she wanted to hear the rest of the discussion, Fauwne knew that she could not stay at the door any longer and risk discovery.
She left just in time. As she slunk behind the hut, she saw her mother emerge from another hut and glance at the place she had just vacated. Fauwne crept a few feet away from the hut before showing herself. "Where you looking for me, Mother?" she called with a bright smile.
Her mother returned her smile as she answered. "Yes, I was. I was afraid that watching the men's meeting would be too much for you to resist. I am glad to find that I was wrong." The older woman's smile grew larger. "But, that was a habit of a young girl. What a fine young lady you have become, Fauwne!"
Fauwne's face reddened in the night. She was glad her mother could not read the shame written on it. She was right! Watching the men was for young children. Fauwne was nearly fifteen, and it was time that she stopped such nonsense!
The two women walked back into the hut where the women had gathered to talk while the men met.
Fauwne sat down in a corner and listened to the soft voices around her. She was proud to be a Dunlending. In her mind, it was the noblest creature in Middle Earth. Why be a tiny Halfling, or a pale Elf, or an ugly Man when you could have the tall stature, golden skin, and black hair of a Dunlending? True, they where from the same race as Men, but ever since they had been treated so wrongly by the men of Gondor and driven from their lands, her people had thought of themselves as a distinct kind.
And now, they might regain their lands! The thought was enough to make her head spin. Their proud culture would once more be accepted in their native lands. They would not hide in fear in the hills any more. Soon, things would change.
The next day, the women where finally let in on the subject of the men's meeting. Fauwne's father, Crebain, stood in the center of the small village and announced the plan. "Dunlendings!" He cried, "Our lands have been taken from us! Now is the time to prepare-- we shall take them back!"
The people cheered wildly, and then calmed themselves as Crebain spoke again. "A man is coming to our village. He has promised to help us take back what is ours! He has a great army. We will gather all of our forces and unite all of our strength. Then we will march to victory!"
A thought came to Fauwne then. "But why will he help us? We have so few people. What can we do for him?" Fauwne did not realize she had spoken aloud until a hush came over the crowd and she realized that all eyes where on her. A long second later, those eyes swung back to Crebain, asking the same question.
Crebain met the challenging eyes, but everyone could see that he was holding something back. "This man wants to destroy the Rohirrim as much as we do, but his army, while strong, has, well, a certain weakness. That is why he requires our help. He has agreed to let us keep those lands that where once ours, and the rest of the lands he will control."
"How do we know that he will not use his army against us as soon as he gets what he wants?" One of the men spoke up.
Crebain smiled. "His army will not turn against us-- I can assure you of that."
The people were satisfied with his words for the time being, and started to disperse. One final question was posed by Fauwne's Mother, Alfirin.
"Who is this man?"
Only she and Fauwne heard Crebain's answer. "Saruman."
All that week, Fauwne had wondered about the strange man who would help them regain their lands. She could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her father had grown more distant each day. Even the other men seemed to notice the change in him. Fauwne noticed that he never spoke about their pride, heritage, or culture any more. In fact, he seemed driven only by the land. He hardly ever spoke to her or Alfirin. In fact, he was never seen speaking to any of the women anymore, and only rarely to the men.
It was with great trepidation that the day arrived that Saruman came to the village. All the people from their village, and several surrounding villages, flocked to the street as he walked slowly through the village. Beside him walked a huge man draped from head to foot with a heavy, dark cloth. Curious children ducked around him, poking and prodding him, trying to see beneath his cloak, but one hard smack from the man's hand sent one small boy flying, and ended the children's game.
Saruman and his massive follower reached the center of the village, and turned to address the people. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear Saruman's scheme.
"Good Hill-People," Saruman started in a sugary voice, then paused. "Did you know that this is the name given you by those who have stolen your land? Hill-People? How degrading. You, my great Dunlendings, are so much more than simple hill-people." He paused again, seemingly regaining his train of thought. "You have been forced from your land. Forced to live as herders and foragers, camped in tiny villages high in the hills with little food and water. That is what the Rohirrim have done to you. To me, they have done equal evils. Yet, these evil beings dwell in land that is our right." He stopped again and looked over the crowd, carefully making eye contact with each one.
Fauwne, still feeling something was not right, found herself strangely captivated by the man's words. She forced her eyes instead to the hidden being at Saruman's side.
"You cannot attack the Rohirrim because your might is not enough. I cannot attack the Rohirrim because, though my might is great, my army lacks what you have-- Eyes that see in the light. My army fights only at night. You can fight only at day. Together, we can be an invincible force."
Fauwne shook her head to clear it of the cloud that seemed to linger there. Something was wrong. But it sounded so right...
"As yet, you do not have a large enough number to aid my force. So, why should I allow you your lands upon our victory? Because, by the time we attack, your numbers will be enough. You have few warriors, but many women. I have many warriors, but few leaders. It would take at least 20 years for you to have even a fraction more fighting men. I can produce an army in only a few years." He paused and made sure that the silent group was firmly in his power before making his final announcement.
"Now, give me your women. Let them bear sons to my warriors. They will be ready to fight in ten years-- we will be unstoppable."
Fauwne gasped. What was he suggesting? She glanced around her to see if anyone else saw the evil in his plan, but the men where already nodding in agreement. The women, though a little less sure, had turned to their husbands, and, seeing their agreement, where also nodding.
Fauwne looked at her mother. Her eyes where locked on Crebain. Fauwne followed her gaze to her father, and what she saw made her blood run cold. Crebain was nodding at Saruman's words-- and his eyes where locked on her.
That night, the horror of the day seemed minimal as Saruman's 'man' removed his cloak. Had the people seen the horrible monster before they had heard Saruman's speech, they would have run him from the hills. But now, the terrible creature, whom Saruman called a Uruk-Hai, was accepted as family.
Even Saruman's flowery speech could not remove all of the horror and disgust on one young girl's face, however, as one of the men insisted that his daughter be the first mother of a Uruk-hai warrior child. Fauwne watched in horror as her best friend was led from the group by the monster, while all the rest of the village applauded.
What was happening to her people? Was Saruman some sort of wizard who had cast a spell over them? As soon as Fauwne had thought the words, she knew they where true. Her people where under a spell. Why else would they agree to this? But, why did she see through it and no one else? Her head was spinning with the horror of the day. She crept away from the group, and returned to her own hut to seek relief in sleep.
All night she tossed and turned, one nightmare chasing another through her tortured mind. She greeted the morning gladly, until she discovered what lay just outside of her hut. During the night, a whole army of the Uruk-hai had arrived. The foul creatures littered the streets. The sight of them brought back all the horror of the day before, and Fauwne thought first of her friend, Galenas, who had been given to the monster the night before.
Fauwne carefully made her way to her friend's hut, but stopped short upon hearing weeping from behind another hut. She looked, and there found Galenas, crying as if her heart would break. Rightly enough, thought Fauwne, for Galenas would have been married only a month in the future. Fauwne knelt by her friend and waited for the tears to subside.
"What will you do?" Fauwne asked her friend.
"What choice do I have, now?" Galenas answered bitterly. "I will bear a child to that monster. Saruman will have his warrior. I do not want him."
"But, he will still be your son," Fauwne pointed out. She was surprised by her friend's reaction. How could she toss away her son to that vile man to kill? Even if the child was meant for war? Did a child's birth determine his life?
Fauwne sat with her friend for almost an hour before she returned to her own hut. When she arrived, though, she found four people waiting for her. Or, three people and an Uruk-hai.
"Where have you been?" were the first words out of Crebain's mouth. Fauwne had no time to answer before he continued. "Never mind. You are here now. Do you realize that you are the only girl in the village who has not yet been chosen by one of these great warriors to bear a son?"
Fauwne's eyes where drawn to the hideous face of the Uruk-hai in the hut. Was this the creature whose son she was to bear? Her heart rebelled. She fought against the nauseous feeling that overwhelmed her.
Crebain saw her eyes on the warrior, and misinterpreted her look. "This one is not your's, Fauwne," he told her. "You cannot expect to arrive so late and get so great a fighter. No, this one is for Alfirin."
Fauwne's eyes shot to her mother. Where even married women not exempt from this order? Alfirin's eyes were downcast. Every now and then, she would raise her eyes to her husband, and Fauwne could see that they were filled with love. What love, Fauwne thought, She would do anything for him-- anything. Her thoughts were interrupted when Saruman spoke.
"You are a very special lass, Fauwne," He said in a soothing tone. "You were chosen to be the mate of the very first of the Uruk-hai."
His soft tone did not ring true to Fauwne, and the look on her father's face spoke volumes. This "special" first of the Uruk-hai, Fauwne was sure, was some sort of experiment gone wrong. Her gaze drifted back to the Uruk-hai before her. And if this was the desired outcome... what would the mistake look like?
Fauwne found out the answer to her question a few minutes later when the Uruk-hai arrived. He was as horrible as the others with one marked difference-- while all the other Uruk-hai where dark colored, this one was pale, and somewhat smaller than the others. His face, however, was every bit as hideous as the others, and his strength as formidable. His limbs where perhaps slightly less twisted and thick, more wiry and long. Over all, he made the other Uruk-hai look like princes.
The bulk grabbed Fauwne's arm and started dragging her from the room. Fauwne was to shocked to resist at first, but as soon as she was out the door, and headed out of the village, she regained her senses and started to struggle. Her attempts were completely futile.
As she was dragged farther from the village, fear made her struggle more. The creature was losing patience. Twice he threw her to the ground, and twice she tried to run away. Finally, he landed a heavy blow on the side of her head, and everything went black.
It was dark when Fauwne woke up. Every part of her body ached, and she felt-- she felt-- dirty. She ran to the river and threw herself into the fridged water, but the dirty feeling remained. She knew that all the washing in the world would not cleanse her from this-- this-- evil that she knew was growing in her.
Fauwne forced her feet to move her back towards the village. Even though she knew that it was at her parents wish that this had happened, she dreaded facing them with her shame. She snuck in the village unnoticed, and made it into her hut unobserved. Inside, she found her mother. She stared at the older woman for a long time, and Alfirin stared back. Finally Alfirin took her daughter in her arms and held her tight. The two women sat in the center of the hut and wept together until they had no more tears to cry. Then Alfirin spoke.
"It is all over, now, Fauwne. In a year, Saruman and his 'children' will be gone, and in another ten years, we will have earned our land back. You need never think about those monsters ever again. Life will get back to normal." Alfirin seemed to say the words as much for her own comfort as for Fauwne's.
As Fauwne sat there, though, the words where no comfort to her. They had bought their land back at the price of their pride. And how could life ever be 'normal' after this? Just as she had sat with Galenas and tried to convince her that she could not give up so easily, she now turned her own words on herself. Could she possibly raise this half-human child as her own? Would she be willing to give up her life to save her child's? If she remained in the village, the choice would be taken away from her. Saruman would simply take each child as he was born.
Fauwne made a decision deep in her heart. Saruman would not turn her son, vile creature that he may be, into another of his mindless killing beasts.
No sooner had Fauwne decided on this, than Saruman's voice boomed from the street. His call was too strong to resist, and Fauwne found herself and all the other women slowly following the power of his voice out to the street. When all the women had gathered, Saruman started handing out cups of a vile, dark liquid.
"This potion will insure that your child is a male," Saruman explained. Each woman drank the liquid. Fauwne could not fight it. She too, raised her cup to her lips and drank. She could feel a war start within her. The magic liquid was warring with her body, making demands that none but Eru had right to make. Fauwne was not the only one feeling the effects. One by one, women who could stand the pain no longer sank to the ground in a stupor. Moments before she, too, passed out, Fauwne turned her eyes to Alfirin. Her eyes where once more locked on Crebain, filled with love.
Every day that week, there was a different potion to drink. The women took gladly the drugs, for they had discovered, after the initial pain, it brought sweet oblivion. Fauwne however, found somewhere deep in her resolve, a strength that allowed her to pour out her drink when the others where not looking. She did not want any of Saruman's poisonous magic to taint her-- or her baby. Maybe her child would be a born killer. But.... maybe he would not be. That was a hope she clung to as the months passed.
Finally, the time came that Fauwne knew she must leave. If she stayed any longer, she would not be able to make it far enough away before the baby came, and she wanted to be sure that Saruman had no way of finding her child and making him into a mindless monster.
Fauwne slowly started gathering supplies that she would need, careful not to let anyone see what she was doing. The day before she was going to leave, the first baby was born. Galenas' baby. The pain of delivering the huge child was almost more than she could take, but in the end, she delivered the child. The other curious women gathered around to see the first of these "great warrior children", but where horrified by what they saw. The child, which Saruman proudly called a 'half-orc', had the thick, dark hair of the Dunlendings, and strong, smooth limbs of a human, but it's skin was rough and dark, and covered with deep poc marks and oozing sores from the tortuous drugs that had invaded it. It's teeth where jagged and long, disfiguring it's mouth into something like a warg's mouth. It's eyes were close set, giving it a cat-like look. It's nose was hooked, and it's chin pointed. All in all, it was a horrible creature.
In that instant, Fauwne almost changed her mind about saving her baby. But a mother's love won out, and Fauwne determined to take her child to a place where none would ever see him. He would only know looks of love, and never fear.
Her resolve was settled even more in the next instant when that horrid looking creature opened it's misshapen mouth and released it's first cry-- the same cry of any baby wanting his mother.
Fauwne left in the dead of night, a trick in itself, for that was when the Uruk-hai where most active. She made her way out of the village undetected, and started walking. She wasn't sure which way she was going, the clouds covered the stars and moon, but it didn't matter. She never planned on returning, anyway.
All that night she walked. Sometimes, she would become so tired that she could only go a few yards without stopping to rest, but she never gave up. She figured that night she made about ten miles. The next day, driven by desperation, she covered another thirty. The next night, she knew she could go no further before the baby was born. She found a small hollow, recently abandoned by a bear or some other creature, and settled in to give birth.
Fauwne could never say what was hardest-- delivering the child unaided, or forcing herself to look at it. She waited a long moment before reaching for the child. She kept her eyes averted as she cleaned him, trying to see as little of him as possible. Finally, she mustered all of her will power and held the boy out and looked at it-- her son.
The boy looked like a human for the most part. His tiny limbs seemed perfectly formed, if a little too muscular for one so small. His skin, unlike the other half-orcs, was pale enough to pass for a Dunlending-- Fauwne remembered that his father had also been pale. His teeth, while jagged, where not so long as the Uruk-hai's, so his jaw was not pushed out unnaturally. His nose was slightly hooked, but not disfiguringly so. His ears gently sloped up, much like an Elf's. In fact, Fauwne realized that from a distance, he could easily pass for a Dunlending, where it not for one thing-- His hair was pale red-tinted yellow. It was a stark contrast to the rich black hair of all her people, or even the sickly greenish white of his father.
As Fauwne looked at her son, she was overjoyed that she had been able to resist the urge to drink those potions that Saruman had given out. Her son was sleeping peacefully, without the pain from countless sores and scars that marred his brethren. Her son, born to kill, was but a baby sleeping trustfully in the arms of his mother.
The next day, Fauwne knew that she must start traveling again. Their supplies were growing low, and each moment of delay allowed Saruman's forces to come nearer. Fauwne was unaware of the fact that, with over a hundred births since she left, Saruman was far to busy to notice she was missing. In fact, the only one to notice she was gone was Alfirin, who held her peace and secretly wished her daughter all the luck she would need to survive.
Fauwne and her son, whom she had named Culumalda after the beautiful golden-red trees of Gondor, traveled on for another week before their supplies reached the dangerous level that demanded them to find civilization. For the first time since she had started out from Dunland, she looked around her and took stock of where she was. She had headed almost straight north from the moment she left, and now was in the midst of a large forest. Guessing that she must have kept parallel from the coast, she turned her steps west and hoped that when she found the sea, she would find people.
It was almost two more days before they came across a small trail. They had exhausted the last of their food, and Culumalda was crying for the milk his mother was to weak to produce for him. Hope leapt in Fauwne as she practically ran down the path. To her surprise, it took her to a village after only a few hundred yards.
"What kind of people stay so close to their homes?" She wondered. The village itself she almost overlooked, it seemed to be just a series of small hills at first. Finally, weary and hungry, she mustered the courage to knock on the first door. After what seemed an eternity, a small, elderly man opened the door, and looked up at her in surprise.
"Come in, quickly!" he hissed, and pulled her through the tiny door with surprising strength. Once the door was firmly shut behind her, his face relaxed and he motioned her to sit. "I am sorry for my behavior, lass, but the people of the Shire are not used to seeing big folk. Let me put on some tea, and then you can tell me what brings you out here." The little man ran off, and Fauwne was left alone with her whirling thoughts.
What where these people? Fauwne was sure that the little man came no higher than her knee, although she could not say for certain. She had not been able to stand up straight since entering the house.
The old man reappeared, bringing a tray covered with a tea service and small muffins. Fauwne fought the urge to swallow all the food whole, and forced herself to relish the taste of fresh food. The man seemed to see her hunger, and waited until her appetite had been slaked before asking any questions.
"My name is Bilbo Baggins," He started when she looked up from the now empty tray. "And you are in my house. I hate to seem pushy, but my nephew Frodo will be home soon, and I would just as well not try to explain your presence to him. You see, like most Hobbits, he prefers not to know to much about things he shouldn't want to know about. I, on the other hand, learned long ago to love a good adventure, so if you would not mind, you and your child may stay in the back bedroom, and please not let your presence be known to Frodo? Good," He continued without giving her time to answer. "I will see to it that more food is brought to you, and you can remain there until I convince Frodo to go to the Green Dragon with the other young lads. Then we will continue our chat." He ushered her quickly to a door in the back of the house, and before Fauwne could draw a breath to answer, she found herself in a tiny room.
Fauwne stood hunched over, still not fully understanding everything, but, when she saw the bed, realized that understanding could wait. She curled up on the tiny bed and drifted into a sweet, deep sleep.
Bilbo woke her some hours later. "I am so sorry to disturb you," he said, speaking considerably slower now, "but my nephew has left and I really would like to discover what brings you here."
Fauwne was glad to comply to her charming host's request. "My name is Fauwne," she started, "and this is my son, Culumalda. We are from the Gondorian side of Dunland. Our village is in the hills there."
Bilbo's eyes widened in recognition of the place, but he remained silent and she continued.
"Some time ago, a wizard named Saruman" here Bilbo's eyes grew even larger, "came to our village with a proposition that was to help us regain our lost lands, which where stolen three centuries ago by the Rohirrim. He said he had a great army, but that they where useless in the light."
"Orcs." Bilbo interrupted. "Saruman has an army of orcs." It was half question, half statement.
"No," Fauwne replied, "He called them Uruk-hai." Bilbo nodded and didn't press the matter. Fauwne continued. "He said that we had to few warriors to fight, and his warriors, while powerful, would not stand a chance against the superior minds of the Gondorians. So he made a deal with the men of my village, that the women of the village would mate with his Uruk-hai monsters, and the children would be raised as warriors." Fauwne's eyes misted over as she remembered the horror that was her friend's child. "They made the women drink magic water, and it makes the children be born deformed. Saruman will take the children and make them follow him into battle. The others seemed to think it a fair proposition, but," tears fell freely down her face, "I cannot let them take my son! I left so they would not find him. There can be good in him, even if he is one of those creatures!" Fauwne's voice broke and she lowered her head to weep.
It was good that she did so, or she would have seen the look of horror pass over Bilbo's face as he realized that he was sheltering a half- orc in his house. As it was, Bilbo managed to school his features before Fauwne looked back up. Bilbo knew that she wanted him to assure her that she had done the right thing, but deep inside, he wondered if there could be any good in an orc. He simply said, "It is right that Saruman does not get him. And it is good that you have told me this. If Saruman is raising an army, then Gandalf needs to know about it."
Inside, Bilbo wondered what he should do. This young girl and her son had won a place in his heart already, and he didn't want to expose her son's origin to those who would have him killed-- even if it was for the best. The news of Saruman's army was news that must be told, but how could he tell it without reveling his source? And what would they do to Culumalda if they found out? As he sat wondering, his hand, as it often did, reached inside his pocket and felt for the reassuring cold gold of the ring he always carried with him.
Bilbo lay awake for long hours that night. In the room to his right, he could hear the soft breathing of his nephew Frodo. Two rooms to the left, he could just make out the soft murmuring of Fauwne to Culumalda. He held himself still, blocked out the sound of Frodo's sleeping, and tuned all of his senses to make out the words Fauwne was saying.
"Culu," Fauwne whispered, "All will be well, soon. We will find a way to go far, far from all people. To a place where no one shall ever call you cruel names like 'orc' or 'Uruk-hai'. We will live alone if we must, my little Culu. I know we shall be able to make it somehow. I can't explain it to you, but this place gives me peace. It tells me that we will be all right. No matter what happens, Culu, you will always know that your mother loves you. We do not need that evil Saruman, or his terrible henchmen. I will teach you to hunt, and herd, and forage, and walk silently. I will teach you all the knowledge I know. But I will not teach you to fight. You will never need to fight, Culu. Let the children of Saruman fight and die for land they have never seen. The child of Fauwne will live in peace on the land Eru lends him."
Bilbo turned over in his bed and relaxed. He knew now what he had to do. Fauwne would raise her son so that he would never fight, and he would see that she got the chance.
Bilbo hid Fauwne for the next two days while she regained her strength and he made preparations. He knew how easy it would be to sneak her out if he would loan her his ring.... but he just couldn't. So instead, he made painstaking arraignments. He readied a cart full of hay, and hid a mountain of provisions in it. Then, one night, he snuck Fauwne and Culu into the hay as well. At the crack of dawn, he announced to Frodo that he had to go to Bree, and would be late getting back. Frodo was surprised, but had long since learned to expect anything from his uncle.
Bilbo set out, but no sooner was he out of sight, he turned the pony's head toward the Blue mountains. When they were alone on the open road, Fauwne and Culu emerged from the hay to sit with Bilbo. It was then that Bilbo told them of his plan.
"Many years ago," he told them, "There where many Dark Elves who lived to the north of the Shire. Over time, they have left, some to the Undying lands, some to Numenor, some to realms in the south, some just to wander to new lands. Many where wiped out in a great battle that destroyed many kingdoms and sunk most of Bereriland in past ages. But there is one small corner of the land that was spared, called Lindon. The elves, as I have told you, have mostly deserted this place. But it is still beautiful I am told, and a worthy home for a good lass as yourself and a strong boy as your son. Many buildings are still standing as they where centuries ago, so you will have no lack of shelter. The supplies I have given you will help you for perhaps a month, until you learn what is good to hunt and forage. If you should happen across any still living there, I think that you could tell them that your husband was an Elf who was bringing you and your son here when you met with some calamity. They will either take you in or leave you be, either way you will be fine. Culu, I think, could pass for the son of an Elf and a Dunlending. Any Rangers you might encounter will blame the discrepancies on his Elven heritage, and any Elves will blame his Dunlending heritage. All in all, it is a good land were you can live in peace. I do not think you will be disturbed."
Bilbo's every word had brought more and more comfort to Fauwne. Finally, when the time came that Bilbo must turn back, he kissed Fauwne and Culu both on their foreheads and wished them well. Fauwne stood for a long moment watching the wagon retrace it's way to the Shire before shouldering her supplies and turning towards her unknown home.
Bilbo returned to his house late that night. He crawled into his bed, and sighed contentedly. He would still have to tell Gandalf about Saruman. The ring seemed to itch in his pocket and he drew it out and gazed lovingly at it. No reason to rush to Gandalf, he realized. The next time he was in town would be soon enough. After all, Saruman only had a few babies. It would take years to raise them. Fauwne would have a good head start. In fact, Bilbo thought as he slipped the ring back into his pocket, there was no reason why Fauwne could not have a good twenty year head start.
Little did Bilbo know that night as he drifted off to sleep, that the ring he held in his pocket, the nephew that slept in the next room, and Saruman's army would be destined to meet to decide the fate of Middle Earth in less than ten years.