Instruments of Despair

Chapter 4

Written for Marigold's Challenge #10

Dedicated to my hubby, who just wanted the children to live.

Days passed with little reckoning or acknowledgment by Harmony. Once she regained consciousness, she was expected to do such housekeeping chores as those on a march would have. She set up camp, cooked the meals from whatever game was easily caught by the men, and the next morning she would take down camp and repack the ponies. Much of this was done while the men sat back against a tree or rock and watched her, enjoying their acquisition of a slave to do the work they were too lazy to do. At times they tried to force her to walk instead of riding on the ponies, but her legs were so much shorter then the men's, that they soon tired of whipping her to greater speeds, especially as it seemed to do no good. The men were not adverse to whipping or hitting her, but they were careful not to carry on with it so as to make her incapable of seeing to their needs. They also tried not to disfigure her overly much just in case they were to find some such being as would wish to purchase her.

Guilt and sorrow never left her. In her sleep Harmony was haunted by the dying screams of her parents and visions of their charred faces looking to her for help, their hands reaching out to her while the burned flesh peeled away from white bones. The weather had been so cold. She had very little hope that neighbors would arrive at the farm in time to save her young brother and sister. The Lomesdowns lived some distance from even the nearest neighbor. The farm lay between the rivers Shireborn and the Thistle Brook and a long days ride to the nearest village, Willowbottom. The distance for help to reach the family in time was just too great. Her parents had been eaten by fire, surely Cord and Flute had perished in the cold.

Harmony still did not know what the men intended for her, nor their eventual destination. Even if the men had seen fit to tell her their target though, she would not have understood. Hobbits in general were uninformed about the world about them and words such as Isengard would have no meaning to her. In fact, Isengard was exactly where they were going. The men who had captured her, those same men whom had told her father that they were in the employ of Lotho Sacksville-Baggins, were actually in the employ of one known as Saruman. Their task in the Shire was to begin the enslavement of the Hobbits in preparation to be conquered by Saruman.

If the men spoke of these things within her hearing, Harmony did not absorb the information. Each day the darkness consumed her a little more. The nightmares and screams no longer haunted her only at night. The charred, blackened faces of her parents floated before her face taunting her. Crystalline figures like ivory statues of her frozen siblings stared accusingly, asking her why she did not save them. If only she had just jumped on the pony bareback and ridden as fast as the pony would take her, perhaps then she could have saved them. She was convinced that her hesitation cost her family their lives and the guilt consumed her still further.

A month or so into their slow moving journey, Stor woke with the dawn. He stumbled across the camp to where Harmony lie, curled up tightly on her side with her back facing the fire. Nudging her hard with his booted foot he tried to rouse her, "Hey, girly! Get up 'n start our breakfast. I'm fair starved"

Harmony did not move.

Stor kicked her harder but she lay still and limp. Meanwhile Gant and Froag had awaken and realized something was up. Froag said, "What's up Stor? Why ain't the girly up 'n cookin' our breakfast?"

Stor reached down and roughly rolled her over so that he could see her face. Her eyes were open yet unseeing. He checked her breath and found it still there. "Well, She ain't dead, that's fer shur. 'N her eyes are open. I think she's just playin' possum tryin' ta get outa her chores. I'll just teach her a lesson, that's what I'll do." With that he picked her up by the arms and started shaking her. Still he received no response from her. Her head fell forward; every muscle in her body was limp. His anger was now growing.

"Oy, you Gant, come 'n hold this thing." Gant moved over picked her up by her upper arms and held Harmony upright and dangling in the air. Stor lifted her drooping head up by yanking up a handful of her dirty brown curls and slapped her hard across the face several times. Finally a response. Tears cut silent trails through the dirt on her cheeks, but no other movement did she make.

Stor looked pleased with his progress, "There, ya see boys! She ain't dead, just tryin' ta get outa her chores. Now let's see iffen we can perk this girly up a bit"

In the woods nearby a band of Dunadain Rangers were moving silently through the woods near the group of men who had Harmony in their keeping. They had received a summons to join Aragorn son of Arathorn and were journeying south toward the Gap of Rohan. The smoke from the men's fire had been spotted and so they dismounted from their horses and approached on foot. Now they were close enough to hear the men's voices. Even in times less dark than these, it was not wise to approach an unknown camp without care. Thus, the Dunadain proceeded with extreme caution and silence. Tharon crept ahead of the rest to scout the situation.

Like the other rangers, Tharon had taken his turn in keeping watch over various parts of north, including the Shire. So it was that he recognized the men's captive as a hobbit. It angered him to see one of those happy peaceful hobbits being so tortured. Immediately he called the other rangers to him with a small whistle like a bird indicating to them, 'Come quickly, danger!' Before any of the others caught up to him, Stor raised his arm to begin his assault on Harmony; Tharon loosed his first deadly arrow before Stor's blow struck home. There was no question of it hitting its target. Tharon was an excellent marksman, and anger drove him to perfection. Before his second arrow flew, many arrows sung through the air and the three evil men were shot through with arrows. Harmony slumped to the ground with Gant, his hands still gripping her arms. Even now when her rescue was at hand, the nightmares and shadows that plagued her did not release her. Her eyes remained open but unseeing.

Tharon's gentle hands released her from her captor and gently lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the other side of the fire, away from the corpses, and lay her down. Kneeling over her he covered her with his own cloak. At the same time he called out to Halbarad Dunadan, the leader of their company, "These evil men have taken one of the hobbits of the shire. A young girl if one can see through the dirt. She has not been well treated. It was for her rescue I called out. They were in position, one with arm raised and this small one held upright by another, to do yet more damage to her."

Halbarad came and knelt down on one knee and looked on the battered girl gently brushing her filthy curls from her face. "Surely these are dark times when even the Hobbits are not safe. We will halt for a short time while we decide what is to be done for her. We cannot halt overly long however as our quest is urgent."

While some of the rangers saw to the corpses, others put out the fire and saw to the men's ponies. Another camp was set up a distance away where the horses had been left and Harmony placed near the fire bundled up in blankets to warm her. Two elves were also with the party; Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond. These two took over care of the hobbit lass, attempting such elvish healing as was available to them away from Rivendell. After failing to bring her to consciousness, the two spoke in quiet tones together. Halbarad approached them.

"What news have you of the hobbit? What ails her?"

Elladan responded, "Physical injuries she has, typical of those that would be seen on one who has been beaten. However, these injuries are not such as would produce the state in which we find her. A deep trauma has overcome her and it requires more healing than we can give her here, especially as we are in such haste to reach Aragorn."

"We cannot abandon her however." responded Halbarad. "We must do something for this small one. What do you recommend should be done?"

"Elrohir and I have discussed this. We believe that you should send her, with one of your swiftest riders to Rivendell. There our father will have the skills, resources and time to see to her healing. Also, on the rider's return, there is the possibility that more of the Dunadain will be found and may accompany him to meet with us, thus adding to our numbers."

Halbarad thought on this for only a moment before he agreed with the wisdom of the suggestion and assigned Tharon to the task. "She is small and should not prove too much additional weight for your horse. There you will deliver her to Elrond and return to us with all haste, bringing with you any more of our men that you should find or that may answer your call. These ponies should be relieved of their trappings and released to go where they will. This area is not yet overly fraught with dangers, and there is a chance they will come to a good end."

Therefore, Tharon set off with great speed toward Rivendell with Harmony held snug in front of him. The ponies were released with elvish words of blessing whispered in their ears before the party of Dunadain and elves continued their long trek toward Rohan.