Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to JRR Tolkien. I am merely borrowing his toys for a while, and promise to put them back when I'm finished.
Dedications: To Evendim, who gave me my start in this fandom and has graciously supplied me with permission to play in her playground any time I like. Thanks, sweetie… it means a great deal to me. To Ithil-valon, for tireless beta-reading and the occasional kick in the pants I need to keep writing. And last, but not least, to AJ, who is helping me write this one which started so innocently with a game of "What if…"
Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE of my own creation. That means that some facts, faces, and features found in canon might not exactly fit. All constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms; flames will be read, laughed over, and then tossed out the window for Dogzilla to eat.
Author's Note #2: This was just supposed to be an innocent little way to pass the time… AJ and I were playing "What if" games and came up with the idea that perhaps Théodred hadn't been killed at the Fords of Isen. It quickly spiraled from there, grabbed a couple more innocent-looking little bunnies, and guess what? We're off and running on another story! I beg your indulgence; all works in progress are intended to be updated and completed as time allows. This is mostly movie-verse, though there will be a few elements of book-verse involved later. Enjoy!
Chapter Three
Théodred gave Saruman a contemptuous glare, his fingers gripping the poker with a bit more force than necessary. "Hospitality, is it?" he snarled. "And was it kindness that sent the Wild Men to murder and pillage the Westfold?" He barely caught himself from spitting on the wizard. "If that is kindness, Saruman, then perhaps all I have learned in my youth was false and Sauron is indeed the kindest of all." He held the wizard's gaze, his rage pulsing within him. "Gríma. Be free of him. Help me now."
Gríma shuddered and looked as if he was going to join Théodred. He stopped, breathing hard, as he fought to join his prince. He closed his eyes as he agonized over what his heart was telling him.
"Gríma, you know that you can never go back." Saruman's voice was soft. "Théoden would kill you if he saw you again, without hesitation. Is that not what he said before he allowed you to flee?"
Halla edged closer to Théodred and made a motion to hand him her knife. "Here my prince, this is more a warrior's weapon then that poker." She glared at Saruman.
Théodred took the knife from her and gave it a sweep before him, watching Gríma closely. He could see the struggle in the man's mind. "Gríma, if it is death you fear, you need not," he said gently. "I will allow no harm to come to you, my word on it as your Marshall, as your Prince. You know I do not give that oath lightly." Help me, he pleaded silently. Come back to who you are.
Gríma bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed before nodding to himself. He shut out Saruman's words and went to stand beside his prince. "If I die at least at the last I did the right thing for my people." He pulled out his own dagger and turned, prepared to fight through the Orcs to give Théodred a chance to escape.
Saruman snorted delicately and shook his head. "You are a fool, Wormtongue. You have ever had a weak will. Do not expect me to give you what was promised." He gestured to the Orcs. "Take the prince to his new chambers. As for Wormtongue and the girl 40 lashes each should teach them a lesson they won't soon forget."
Théodred lashed out with his knife, bloodying the first Orc that came near. "You'll not take me, not without a fight!" he roared as he moved forward, his blade slicing quickly out, marking more of the Orcs. "Halla, Gríma, the door! Quickly!" He moved to protect them, keeping himself between them and the wizard. He would protect them with his life; he had given his oath. "Run!"
Gríma snorted and shook his head. "I will not leave you with him my lord." And thrust at one of the other Orcs.
Saruman sighed and used his voice, the one weapon that could truly subdue a man without physical violence. "ENOUGH! Théodred, your arms are too weak to hold that knife, and you don't really want to fight do you? You are far more exhausted than you will admit."
Halla lunged at Saruman only to be backhanded into the foot board of the bed. She gasped as she felt her body go numb.
Théodred snarled as the words began to work their magic; he had not been prepared for it. The knife dropped from suddenly weak fingers. He used all of his remaining strength to voice his own commands. "Gríma! Take Halla and go! Do what you can! Run!" He fell back, gasping for breath. The wizard's voice was a terrible weapon; he could make one feel whatever he chose with it, whether weakness or some other trait.
Gríma growled to himself and picked up the limp girl. He turned and started to fight his way out to the door when he felt pain sear into his back where an Orc had gotten through with a dagger slash.
Saruman snorted and set his staff down on the floor with a thunderous explosion sending all except himself and the Orcs to the ground. "Now take him to the dungeon. Make him understand his place in the world," he told the lead Orc as he moved over to Gríma's side. He kneeled down to look him the eyes. "I will be kind to you this once, Gríma, as you have shown me loyalty in the past. But I will still need to have you disciplined. Once you have learned you can even have the girl as you play thing if you so choose."
Théodred could have wept. How could he have failed? He was a Prince of Rohan! He was one of the Rohirrim! How could he have failed so completely to protect them? It wasn't to be borne! He struggled to rise, but the task was beyond him. His injuries, coupled with the damage from Saruman's attack, simply wouldn't permit it.
He felt the Orcs pick him up and railed at them furiously, using the only weapon he had left to him. It made no difference. He was taken to the dungeons.
Gríma glared at Saruman. "You think you do me kindness, but you are mistaken," he spat. "The kindness was in my Prince's forgiveness. I made my choice when I came here, to serve you as my King had been most displeased with me. Perhaps it is where I belong." His face took on a haunted cast. "But I swear to you now, my service to you is at an end. My Prince has given me his forgiveness for my treachery and I will not abuse it. You will gain no more information from me."
Saruman shook his head and caressed Gríma's cheek. "Ah Gríma, you disappointment me. I should have killed you when you returned to me. But you are just a puppet, not worth even the time it would take to kill you." He motioned the few Orcs that were left forward. "Ensure that he and the girl are properly chastised."
Halla groaned as she felt the Orcs begin to pull her away from Gríma. She tried to hold onto his arm even though she was still numb from her earlier fall. "N-no.." Her voice was soft and filled with fear.
Théodred was still cursing as the strength returned to him, though it was a useless effort. He was manacled securely at both hand and foot; there was no escape. He forced himself to still his tongue and worked to harness his rage, to turn it to his advantage. Saruman would have many questions for him, he was certain, and he wished to answer none of them.
Saruman motioned that they should turn Théodred around so that he could see the nearby whipping posts. "Since you continue to be defiant I have decided that you will see what your defiance will bring to others. Choose which of your people that you would like saved from 40 lashes."
Halla kicked at the Orc that was placing her chains to the top of the post leaving her feet to just barely touch the ground.
"Then I choose neither," Théodred stated quickly. "I would take their torment upon myself, as it was I who earned it for them. What say you to that, Istari?"
Gríma gave a choked cry. "No, my lord! I have made my own choices, for good or ill. I would take my share."
Saruman looked from one man to another and then nodded to himself. "So both brave men would take the pains yet the woman says nothing. I think perhaps she should bare all your lashes, as you both have yet to show respect for your host." He motioned for the Orc to begin whipping Halla.
Halla bit her lip hard and tried desperately to ignore the pain reminding herself that she had received far worse at the hands of the Wildmen. She whimpered as the lash licked her back with fire.
"Saruman!" Theodred's voice crackled with fury. "Leave off! Your quarrel is with me, not her! She deserves no part of this!"
Grima bit back a sob at the cries torn from Halla's throat.
Saruman turned to look at Theodred his smile warm. "Ah but she has been defiant as well. She has earned these lashes. If you would give me your word that you will not attempt to escape then I will not punish her for your obstinate
behavior."
Halla panted as the lash paused in the air waiting for Theodred's response. She realized that this pain was worse only in that her pain was hurting them. She kept silent as much as she was able; but the stinging pain was worse with every lash and she finally had to cry out against it.
Theodred closed his eyes at the agony of her cries. He could not, could not make such a promise. His duty was to all his people, not to only one of them. A harsh decision; and it tore at him to make it. "I will not make such a vow, wizard," he spat, and the words were ashes in his mouth. "I cannot."
Grima turned shocked, horrified eyes on his Prince. "He will kill her!"
Theodred could not answer. He caught her gaze with his own, silently begging her forgiveness for what he knew must happen. He could not, could not bend to the wizard's will, or all was lost.
Halla saw him looking at her and nodded. She bowed her head as she felt a sudden calm fill her. She looked up and smiled at him her eyes clear and calm as she whispered "Thank You," to him.
Saruman shrugged and nodded to orc to finish her. "As you wish, Theodred. I will remember to send her head as a gift to her father."
Theodred held Halla's gaze, vowing to himself to tell her father how brave she had been, how so very much a Shieldmaiden born she had become. He held his silence.
Grima screamed as he saw the orc's sword arc down on Halla's bare neck. "Theodred! You bastard! You promised to protect her! She supported you and you let her die!" He yanked hard on his manacles trying to break free and pay Theodred back for his lies.
Saruman sighed and blocked Grima's view of Theodred. "See, Grima, he cares only for his own life. I forgive you for being wooed by his words. He is a very persuasive man." He looked kindly down at Grima.
Theodred saw red. "Whatever it takes, Saruman, I will destroy you for this!" he raged. "Grima! If you care nothing for me, think of your people! The wizard will destroy them, all of them, down to the last child. Do not help him in that
purpose!" He forced himself to calm. "Grima, I swear to you, I did not lie. Would you have her remain here as a plaything of Wildmen and worse? I cannot, will not, give in to even ONE of his demands. It would be a betrayal of all I hold dear. Halla understood my reasons. I am asking you to consider them and try to understand, also."
Grima closed his eyes in pain silently wept for brave young woman. "Yes, Saruman, he is almost as persuasive as you. Although you have something in your favor that he does not. You have not promised something that you could not deliver. I will serve you if you will still have me." He opened his eyes the hopelessness he felt reflected in his eyes.
Saruman unlocked Grima's manacles and put a hand on his shoulder. "I am always willing to overlook the foolishness of the young. Go rest while I deal with Theodred." Saruman turned so that his back was to Grima.
"My Lord, I would prefer if you would allow me to assist you in teaching him his place here." Grima bowed his head in subservience waiting for a chance to revenge the girl's death on Theodred's tender flesh.
"In due time, Grima, in due time," Saruman purred. "There are more important things at this moment. Tell me everything you know of Rohan's defenses."