Title: Little Swan
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Genre: Angst / Drama
WARNING: Violence
Beta: None
Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, Galadriel, OCs
Disclaimer: I own no-one from The Lord Of The Rings. All the characters and place names displayed belong to JRR Tolkien except Seòras, Naelie Beleril and Bricta who are from my own imagination and are the only ones I lay claim to. I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing of this story.
Feedback: Yes please! We "aspiring" authors thrive on the stuff.
Timeline: Before the War of the Ring. Not following movie-verse.
Summary: After her mother's brutal execution, young Naelie and her father are left to piece their lives back together. But the outside world, will not allow this.
Chapter 3
Seòras' feet pounded upon the mossy ground and as he ran, his heart hammered almost painfully inside his chest. The branches snapped as he hurtled through them, their sharp edges catching his skin as he went. As fast as he ran, the trees appeared to grow even taller, towering over his tiny figure in comparison below their majestic eminence. The falling rain lashed against his thin clothing, the water stinging as it made swift contact with his bare skin. His sodden hair clung to his face and head, yet still he kept running.
Suddenly, Seòras skidded to a halt as he heard a roar of triumph from somewhere in front. He stared intently forward through the dense, murky trees. The wind began to pick up outside the woods, but filtering through the trees, it only emitted a soft sigh as it curled itself around Seòras' form, then soared past him and carried on its winding journey through the woods.
Seòras stood, his hand slippery with sweat and fear, clutched tightly around the hilt of his dagger in anticipation. Finally, he hears the all to familiar thudding of heavily shod feet and all too soon, the two lumbering yet formidable wild-men crashed through the trees, just close enough for Seòras to view them properly in the dim light. Seòras' eyes fell on the axes he had seen briefly before. They were still splattered with blood, and undoubtedly had hewed many necks that night. They were still armed. Still deadly.
Neither party uttered a word, save for the wild-men you made low predatory sounds in their throats. They slowly began to circle each other, as was the custom for warfare with the wild-men. The balance of the fight was not equal, yet Seòras clung tightly to whatever hope he had left in his pounding heart.
They continued in this fashion for a many minute, each never leaving the gaze of the other. The brutal pair acted as one, each moving in sync with the other, and neither ever breaking eye-contact with Seòras. They saw the fire ignite in his deep brown eyes, but it did not deter them an inch.
Then, without any warning, the two wild-men lunged at Seòras with identical savage cries. The clink of metal on metal echoed through the trees as Seòras fought the unfair fight. His dark brown hair whipped against his face as he span and ducked to miss the devastating swings of the axes. Suddenly, he found himself pinned against a large oak, but came to his senses and rolled onto the floor, just as the axe smashed into the trunk with a sickening crunch, sending debris and splinters scattering and flying into the air.
Panting heavily, Seòras danced around the trees, trying in vain to avoid the double blows of the wild-men's swings. Raising his dagger, he took an estimated stab, but all he impaled was thin air. The harsh sounds of the wild-men's cruel laughter rang and echoed inside Seòras' head, yet Seòras still fought on. Then, he saw one of the wild-men lunge at him and swiftly stabbed forward with his weapon. A howl of white-hot pain escaped the wild-man's grimy throat as the dagger plunged deep into his thick flesh. Seòras heard with grim satisfaction, a ear splitting crack as the dagger splintered a rib. A further cry of distress issued from his victim's mouth, then he fell sideways and lay twitching on the ground, the dagger still embedded in his abdomen.
Seòras reached forward and yanked the dagger out. No sooner did he do so, a flood of scarlet liquid sprang forth and stained the wild-man's garments a poisonous red. Seòras barely had time to dwell on his victim, when a second shout came from behind him. He whipped round, dagger raised but this time he was not so lucky. The wild-man threw the boulder he was holding and sent it crashing into Seòras' body. Seòras was bowled across the ground until he smashed into a tree's base. He laid there, silent, eyes closed.
The wild-man bent over him, grunting as he did so. Finally he was convinced the boulder had done its work and backed away from Seòras' limp form. He retrieved his axe from the ground and stomped off into the woods in search of the child he had seen with the man.
Her father had been gone for over ten minutes, and Naelie was beginning to panic. But she stayed still, like Seòras had told her to. Suddenly, she heard thunderous footsteps as they stomped heavily across the forest floor. She curled herself tighter into a ball and prayed, that whoever it was, wouldn't find her. She shivered and trembled all over with fear as the footsteps got nearer, until she was on the verge of tears. She held them in though, for she knew they would give her location away.
Outside Naelie's hiding place, the wild-man was distinctly confused. He had seen the man run through in this direction with the child. But now, the child was no where to be seen. Then his small eyes fell on the space between the tree's roots and he crouched down to investigate.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the thick darkness underneath the tree, but no sooner had they done so, he caught sight of the tiny figure crouched inside.
Reaching forward a thick, hairy arm, the man grabbed hold of one of Naelie's legs and yanked her roughly out from her hiding place. In the split second that followed, Naelie jumped up and began to run as fast as her legs could carry her in the opposite direction. Reaching into his belt, the wild-man pulled out a long handled knife. Its hilt was made of leather, and the blade was sharp up to the very tip. One stroke from this weapon could tear even the toughest orc amour, let alone the flesh of his targeted victim.
The wild-man kept track of Naelie's movements for a few more seconds, then, without any warning, he flung the knife towards her. He had such skill that he aimed to miss. Instead of flying into Naelie herself, the knife pinned her to the nearest tree by her soiled nightgown. She struggled and tried to pull the knife out from the tree, but it was wedged in firmly.
The wild-man began his approach, and still making the predatory rumble in his throat he advanced upon Naelie, watching with sadistic amusement as she grew more and more fearful and panicky. She gazed up with large, frightened eyes at the monster leering down at her. He was so close, she could smell the rankness of his breath and the low rumbling noise from his throat. In one swift movement, he ripped Naelie from the tree, leaving a strip of her nightgown fluttering in the breeze, held fast by the knife. Then he grabbed Naelie, rolled onto the ground and pinned her by her arms.
Naelie screamed and fought against the wild-man's iron grip, but try as she might, her tiny fists and punches did not deter her attacker.
"You know what I'm going to do to you, little one?" he growled. "I'm going to carve your legs into little pieces. I'll rip out your flesh and take your voice from your throat". He smirked down at her, the bristles on his chin scratching at her pale, unblemished face. "And that's only the beginning. There's no-one left to save you now. Your father lies dead!"
He raised a second knife, this one even longer than the first and lowered it slowly down towards her kicking legs. Naelie screamed louder still and flailed against him, but she couldn't move an inch. Then, quite suddenly, he froze. His eyes blinked a couple of times, then he dropped the knife. It fell to the ground with a metallic thud, then the wild-man keeled over sideways, a feathered arrow protruding from his back.
Naelie's chest rose and fell as she recovered what breath she could, and lay still, in aftershock of the terror which she had just suffered. Then quite suddenly, she felt her vision going blurry and then blackness enveloped her as she passed out.
Two tall, lithe figures emerged out of the trees and hurried to the small child. One bent over her and checked her for signs of life. "It's alright, Orophin" he said. "She's breathing".
The other elf hurried to his companion's side and quickly checked her over for any injuries. "Remarkably, Beleril" he said in astonishment. "That beast didn't harm her at all."
"Save for her fainting" corrected Beleril.
"U'ma. But still, she seems unharmed"
Then, Naelie opened her eyes and slowly, she registered the two elves bending over her. She was so deep in shock that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. So, she just laid there, her eyes half open and gazing in wonder at the pair.
"Girl" began Orophin. "Can you hear me?"
Naelie didn't speak, but nodded vaguely in response.
"Can you tell us your name?"
Naelie wanted to. So badly she wanted to speak to these strangers, but she couldn't. Her voice and her brain seemed completely disjointed, as if they were no longer a part of her.
"She's in deep shock, Orophin" explained Beleril. "I would be surprised if she says anything for a while"
Orophin nodded and was about to stand up again, when Naelie uttered two single words.
"Papa. Dead".
"What did she say?" asked Orophin hurriedly to Beleril.
Beleril sat in silence, his eyes wide. "How could they?" he murmured.
"What?"
"She said they killed her father" he said solemnly, his head bowed in grief.
After saying these two words, Naelie found her voice again and dissolved into heart wrenching sobs. The two elves looked at each other, neither sure of what to do. Going with his gut instinct, Beleril reached forward and put his arms round Naelie and cradled her like he would a distressed elfling. She hugged him tighter and sobbed into his tunic, while Orophin looked on helplessly. Give them legions of orcs, they would cope. Give them wolf ambushes. No problem. Give them a distressed human child who just lost her father. Valar help them!
Finally, Naelie's sobs grew quieter and softer until she could cry no more. Sensing this, Beleril eased her from him, and gazed down at her, concern and pity reflected in his grey eyes.
"Will you tell us your name?" he asked her kindly.
"Naelie" she replied, tears still glistening in her liquid brown eyes.
Beleril looked up at Orophin, a slightly intrigued expression on his face. "I'm no expert on human names" he said. "But doesn't that mean 'swan-like'?"
Orophin shrugged. "It could do. Ask Haldir, he knows more than I do. But Beleril, what are we going to do with her?"
"Well, we can't leave her out her, that's plain" Beleril replied.
"Let me come".
The two elves looked back down at Naelie and Beleril smiled. "Will you come with us then, if we ask?"
Naelie nodded and almost started weeping again. "I have nowhere to go, so if you'll let me come, I will".
Orophin looked at Beleril, his expression difficult to read. "Bel, if we take her with us, you know what will happen".
"But she's only a child, Orophin" argued Beleril. "They surely cannot shun her for that".
"I suppose" mused Orophin. "But remember, there are those around us that will not welcome her presence."
"Well, that's their problem" snapped Beleril. Orophin stopped, startled by his friend's outburst.
"I'm sorry, Orophin" apologised Beleril. "But we must take her with us. There is no other way, and I will not leave her out her, alone and vulnerable."
"Alright" Orophin agreed. "You take her, she seems to like you anyway. I'll clear up here."
Beleril nodded and picked up Naelie in his arms where she put her arms around his neck and clung tightly. "Make sure to bury him properly" reminded Beleril motioning to the corpse of the wild-man.
"I know, Bel" replied Orophin, sighing.
--
Hours had passed since Naelie had been found, and morning's light could just be seen breaking through the clouds and waking the world gently with its golden rays.
A hunched figure crawled through the foliage towards the very area where Naelie had been attacked. His thin clothing was tattered and torn, he had a deep gash on his right leg and was having immense difficulty breathing. His breath came in short, sharp gasps as he neared the tree which Naelie had hidden under.
Suddenly, a ray of light filtered through the trees and caught his face. He was pale as death and his dark brown hair hung limply around his bruised face. It was Seòras.
"Naelie" he tried to call, his voice barely a whisper. He crawled to the tree and peered under, hoping against hope that his daughter would be there still. Upon seeing the emptiness, his heart sank further with sadness and grief.
Then he saw the knife sticking out the tree, and pinned by it was the tiny shred of Naelie's nightgown.
"NAELIE!" Seòras yelled, his voice grazing against the raw pain in his throat. He staggered towards the tree and yanked out the knife. The shred of Naelie's nightgown fluttered into his open palm and he fell to his knees, weeping openly. It caused him pain to cry, it caused him torture not to. As his tears came in torrents, he clutched the tiny piece of material tight to his chest, and then finally, grief overcame him. He curled up into a ball on the ground, and shook violently as he wept.
"Oh, Naelie" he sobbed. "I-I failed you. I'm s-so sorry!"
