A/N
A new chapter and quite a long one too. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one.
Thank you again for the great reviews and enjoy!
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Aedre entered the warm, steam filled room that was the bathing area for all the serving women of the Golden Hall. Baths were not a frequent luxury, a small water filled bowl was normally the common way to keep clean, but once a month each woman was allowed to bathe fully. One tub of hot water was shared between four and Aedre had been lucky enough to be the first to arrive. She turned and latched the door so that she would not be disturbed, the others would have to wait their turn.
Aedre removed her clothing, laying it carefully over an old chair before she stepped into the warm water of her bath. The wooden tub was small and she had to bend her knees near her chest to fit into it fully, but the feel of the water surrounding her body was most welcome. She soaped up a cloth and began to wash herself, leaving her hair until last, running a concoction of eggs and sweet smelling oils through the strands with careful finger strokes. She stepped out of the bath, picked up a nearby bucket and filling it with the water, she had just washed in, rinsed her hair, allowing the liquid to run across the stone floor and into the drainage furrows. She renewed the water she had used from the large pot simmering over a small fire before wrapping herself in a linen sheet. Aedre sat down in the chair and allowed her skin to cool in the slight draft the room always seemed to have.
She let her eyes drift to the small hole cut high in the wall that enabled steam to escape and studied the sky. It was dark and at the sight her thoughts instantly drifted back to Éomer and the fact that she could have been with him in this hour. Her heart gave a strange, sharp pull as her mind's eye conjured the image of his face. She missed him bitterly, she wished she had refused Sunniva's request and saved the time for herself, that she had kept him for her own. She was suddenly surprised to know that she held a small amount of resentment towards her trusted friend, a tug of jealously that she was not now with Éomer and Sunniva was. She ran a hand absently across her face, feeling the beads of water running across her skin as her fingertips disturbed them. She distractedly lingered upon one of her scars, allowing her finger to trace its path and she fought violently within herself to not go back, but she couldn't help her thoughts free-falling into the past...
---
Laughter boomed around her, coarse and sickening. Cackles that made the thin hair upon the back of her neck stand on end. She could do nothing but huddle closer to herself, making her body as small as possible in the vain hope that they would forget her. The Orcs were sat around a large fire as the snow drifted slowly down, covering the ground around them in stark, bleak white.
The young girl felt her teeth chatter as a gust of bitter wind easily winded its way through her clothing. Her dress which had withstood many years was slowly beginning to become tattered and holes appeared and grew bigger as weeks passed. She was also growing quickly and her newly gained height stretched at the clothing, causing it to give and the small mounds upon her chest caused the bodice to strain at the tightness. Soon she would no longer fit into it at all and she knew when that time came she may freeze and the Orcs would leave her cold, stiff body here in the mountains. The thought of being left alone in death even by these foul creatures made panic flutter sickeningly within her, she wanted to be put underground, the way she remembered was right, the way she had once seen in her childhood. She knew that away from the mountains the Orcs would dig a deep hole to roll her into, they couldn't risk her being found and for that reason she hated coming into the mountains. Here no one would come across her pathetic remains, here no alert to the Orcs' presence would be sounded because no one would find her...
A violent shiver shook herself out of the many disturbing thoughts and she glanced at the Orcs as they talked in the common tongue. It was a croaked and barked sound, not something she enjoyed listening to, but she forced herself, willing her mind to make sense of the words that were being spoken, she understood so little now, she hadn't wanted to understand for such a long time.
She caught snippets and formed them into sentences as best she could. She distractedly pondered upon the last time she had used her own voice, spoken words and not just whimpers or screams. She wondered absently if she spoke now, would she sound like the Orcs? She couldn't remember what her own voice sounded like...
Her mind drifted back to the oldest memories she allowed herself to think upon. She could not remember how long she had been with the Orcs at that point all those years ago, but it had seemed an unbearable amount of time. She had been but a child then and she had cried and wailed as children often do when distress and fear cling to them. She pleaded in vain with the foul creatures to not hurt her, to take her home. But the use of her voice only gained her more punishment, more beatings and less food and so she had stopped using it, her lips tightly sealed, only conveying anything through hand gestures and nods. It seemed to please her captors greatly that the man flesh brat was quiet and most of the time they ignored her and she ignored them as best she could. She cooked, mended clothing and tended to any wounds the Orcs had and of course she was their spy for the small villages they raided. That was the reason they had kept her alive, that's why she wasn't dead, not yet.
She returned her focus back to their conversation, if shouting and insulting each other could be called so. It seemed once again they were joking about cooking and eating her, it apparently amused them immensely to tell this same jest over and over. She had grown so used to hearing it that the threat no longer worried her, as long as they had a use for her and food was available she knew she was relatively safe from the pot. She curled up upon the cold ground, wrapping a scrap of old cloth about her body. As the hours passed their voices rose into hoarse shouts as the foul black drink they each guzzled affected their minds as it so often did. Fights soon broke out and injuries were sustained, it wasn't long before one of them was looming above her, it was Gorûrz, the would be leader, since the death of their last leader all vied for power but each bided his time. Gorûrz's black, sticky blood dripped with dull, soft thuds into the snow. He delivered a sharp kick to her legs and she rose without objection. His rough hand wrapped about her wrist and he tugged her back with him to the fireside.
"Mend it!" Gorûrz barked pushing the stinking, oozing wound upon his upper arm into her face. She gave a nod and went to a large pack nearby fishing out the tools she needed that the Orcs always carried with them. When she returned to his side the blood had seeped down his arms and still gushed, hot and fresh. She picked up a handful of snow and pushed it against the wound, for the act she was swiftly rewarded with a blow as the Orc lashed out, experiencing renewed pain. "It should be careful!"
She recoiled from the reprimand but was soon once again going about her task, tarrying even for a moment, was not an option. The coldness of the snow slowed the blood flow enough for her to see more of what she was doing. She took out a bone needle and thin leather twine and began to stitch closed the ragged cut. Gorûrz flinched but allowed her to continue. She wrapped a scrap of cloth around the shut wound, tying it tightly when the stitching was done.
Only once she had finished did he take out his anger, as if it had been her fault that he felt pain, she who had inflicted the wound. He beat her down onto the ground until she withered in a tight ball of agony, the screams of protest she had begun with were now no more than pitiful whimpers. Gorûrz laughed before clutching at her skirts and pulling, the material gave easily and within that small moment, half her dress was gone, torn into tatters. She felt the tears welling within her eyes for the loss she had sustained but only had a moment to dwell upon it as he was upon her once again, his stinking body pressed close to hers and his ugly face mere inches from her own, filling her senses with the stench of death and decay.
"It's old enough to give sport now, man flesh has its uses."
With the words ringing within her ears, her mind grabbing at the random words she understood and trying to make sense of them, Gorûrz was grasping at her skirts as his fingers dug unrelentingly into the flesh on her thighs, forcing her legs apart. She gave a strangled scream, hating the feel of his hands grasping at her skin and the hungry look in his eyes. Her mind flashed up the idea that perhaps he had finally decided to strip her flesh and eat her. She pushed him away with all her strength and rolled onto her stomach but before she could get to her feet he was upon her again, bringing her back down to the ground with a heavy thump, preventing her escape as her nails raked uselessly through the snow to the dark earth concealed below. She again gave a yelp of distress as his hands sought up her legs and he let out a cruel cackle.
"Get off It!" The roar of words broke the struggle and the weight of the stinking Orc was pulled from her. She was quick to scramble away, huddling her body as tight as she possibly could to prevent further attack. Her eyes shot to the commotion that was now breaking the stillness of the winter air, Gorûrz stood in a battle stance against another Orc, another that would be leader, Ufthak, her saviour of sorts.
"We don't lie with man-flesh!" Ufthak spat in a hiss, baring his brown teeth.
Gorûrz cocked his head in a fast unnatural fashion. "Why! It serves us!" He chattered his teeth. "You are not leader!"
It seemed Ufthak had no ready answer and as was often the case resorted to insults instead. "You rotten maggot!"
Gorûrz seemed to cower, lowering his position before unexpectedly launching himself into a deadly pounce, his dagger already drawn. He knocked Ufthak off balance and they both fell backwards onto the ground where they proceeded to fight with both fist and weapon. "I'll kill It!" Gorûrz roared gleefully. "After you are food for the worms and I am leader, you can rot next to the man-flesh brat!"
Although Gorûrz was smaller than Ufthak he was also faster and he was quickly gaining the upper hand. Her eyes widened in dismay. If Gorûrz succeeded her life was forfeit, none would stand up in her defence against one who had fought another and won, he would become the leader and her fate sealed at the end of his blade. Slowly she rose, wincing from the aches of pain her bruised flesh made known to her. Her movements were shaky but her will to live solid and strong and she clutched at it, using the emotion as a crutch. If she didn't do something all was lost, this Orc would change the way of things, Gorûrz hated all man flesh and would not tolerate her alive. Her head throbbed, she couldn't permit things to change.
Without allowing her mind to dwell upon her task she ran forward, feeling her feet sink into the soft, cold snow as it crunched under her weight. The world about her seemed to slow and blur as she bent, scooping up a small meat knife from nearby the fire. Then she jumped, hurling her body forward and landed with a harsh thud upon Gorûrz's back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, tight and secure and she pushed the blade against the exposed skin of his neck and within that instant his struggles with Ufthak came to an abrupt end as he froze.
Ufthak looked up, his expression one of surprise as to why his foe had stopped attacking, his black gaze met the young girl's wide, frightened stare.
She found she too was as frozen as the Orc beneath her, she couldn't bring herself to go any further yet still she clung on and pressed the sharp edge against skin; and part of her longed to make that one fast movement while another urged her hand to be unmoved by the thought. A sly, ugly smile spread across Ufthak's face as he saw fear in the eyes of Gorûrz and he again looked into the girl's gaze, knowing this fate was crueller than anything his fetid mind could have lingered upon, Gorûrz would be killed by that which he hated most.
"Cut him!" He instructed with a grin, mimicking what he wished her to do with a finger to his throat.
Her eyes widened and she made no move to do as she was instructed, her head twitching slightly as if she was willing herself to shake it in protest.
"Cut him or else worse for It!"
She closed her eyes, already imagining the beating that would be dealt out if she disobeyed and what was worse she would also be prey to Gorûrz too if she allowed him to live... and she wanted to do it, didn't she? He'd given her permission and it was all so easy. Quickly and with a strength she thought had deserted her long ago, she jerked the knife upwards and across, slicing through the clammy skin and felt the body beneath her shudder as a warm, sticky liquid coated her fingers which still clutched the knife in an iron grip. The body fell taking her with it and she rolled off, coming to lie sprawled upon her back on the cold ground. She closed her eyes at the impact, hearing the strangled gurgles of the dying Orc echo in her mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes and took in the clear night sky above and the mocking stars that seemed to laugh down at her with each twinkle. Her breathing was laboured as the Orc she had just saved came to loom over her.
He seemed to study her for a long moment with his cold, cruel eyes. The other Orcs watched on with excitement. They had a new leader and death had swept through their camp, much to their entertainment.
"It doesn't touch weapons!" Ufthak roared suddenly and reached down, she tried to curl into a ball but his fingers soon sought her hair, grabbing a clump and yanking her upwards so he could hold her before him. She tried to struggle as little as possible; knowing to fight would only cause the pain that now radiated through her scalp to intensify. Finally he threw her roughly back into her small sleeping area.
"Next time It touches, It dies!"
As she was once again left alone to wallow in self pity she allowed her tears to fall, hot and wet down her cheeks, not just for the pain she felt but for the relief and remorse the act of taking that foul creature's life had brought. No matter how vile the act had been it had given her some revenge and some triumph, she had protected herself and she knew that signalled that hope still lay somewhere within her and with hope there was always life. It had been so easy to slide the knife, to kill and she had been brave, something she had doubted she could ever be, she had preserved her way of life and for that she could only feel contented.
---
The months passed and she found the harsh emotions she had felt upon that snow covered night dimmed and became just a distant memory. It was just life, she told herself, life was never fair and the Orcs were her life. They had made camp in a small, dry cave near the base of the mountains. The deep winter months were only occupied with the gathering of food and finding shelter, the villages were useless for raiding during this time. The men stayed away from their fields and near their homes and because of this the ease the Orcs enjoyed so much was taken away and so they waited for the harsh weather to lessen before they again began their pillaging.
Her clothing gave her little warmth now, she constantly shivered and her limbs felt stiff from the continual cold, the cave offered little relief unless she was allowed near the fire and this was not something that was allowed to her often.
A band of Orcs had gone out looking for food, they had been away for many hours before she heard the familiar heavy footfalls that told her they had returned. Ufthak was now the leader and he was no kinder than any of the others but it seemed he had a distaste for Orcs using man flesh for pleasure and she had been safe from clammy hands upon her body in that manner since the night of Gorûrz's death.
She stayed huddled close the wall as the returning Orcs greeted their companions and threw down various items of food and clothing.
"Travelling party with young." One of them cackled, pulling a dead pig behind him.
Ufthak strode in, pride showing as he puffed out his chest at the bounty he had brought back. Without hesitation he made for her and she cowered, expecting his wrath. Instead he stopped before her and flung down a rust coloured garment. She stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and pulling it to her as Ufthak gave an impatient snort. She held it in her hands studying it and becoming aware it was a dress. She glanced up, her eyes meeting his fearfully.
"Put on!" He commanded. "It has job to do!"
She obeyed, dragging the tattered matted remains of her old clothing over her head and replacing it with the soft, new dress. The Orc also threw a long plain piece of material at her and signalled she was to tie it over her hair as a scarf, this would disguise her disturbing look of unkemptness from prying eyes when she was sent into another village.
She smoothed her hands over the dress feeling the material until her fingers brushed upon a damp patch. She pulled her hand away and studied the red liquid upon her fingers, instantly knowing it to be blood, it looked just like her own. She rubbed her fingers together, her brow furrowing as her mind settled upon and tried to come to terms with the fact that the owner of this clothing had died so she could wear it and betray more of her own kind. She shook herself inwardly and reminded herself again, it was just life and life was cruel.
---
The spring seemed to come with swift speed and soon the harsh winds of winter were far behind them. The world about her began to blossom with new life and the Orcs once again prepared her for going into a village. They travelled for many miles, stopping each day to rest before setting off once more under the cover of night. The journey was hard and she lagged behind many times only to be met with a sharp push that urged her onwards.
It was a muddy, wet and grey clouded day they chose, with no sun shining, it was perfect conditions for them. The Orcs went about their usual ritual of putting on armour and banging their chests and helms to aid them in being prepared for battle. Two of them then lead her to the brow of a hill and pointed down at the dark outline of a small village. Fire smoke curled lazily from round holes in the many roofs. She gave a certain nod, telling them she understood her task and began to make her way down towards the unsuspecting village.
She'd learnt long ago that fighting against this task was useless, trying to warn the people within the villages also brought her nothing but beatings and so she did as she was bidden, it made her life easier and that was all she wanted.
The village had no gates, or walls, it was exposed to the elements and the wooden buildings with their golden straw roofs looked small and insignificant alongside the vast expanse of empty land that surrounded them. She briskly walked, her footfalls rustling the tall grass about her until she stepped onto the stone road that the men had built for ease of access. She soon passed the first building and her eyes began to search. People passed her by in a rush of their daily chores some glancing at her in silent wonder of who she was, others ignoring that she existed. On impulse her hand softly touched the scarf on her head, hoping it was still in place.
Her gaze glanced across the buildings, lingering upon stores of food, cloth, weapons; anything the Orcs would want. She also took in how many adult males she saw that were not old men. It seemed this village had few and would be easier pickings. She wandered through not rushing her charge, her eyes and ears blind and deaf to anything but her chore. Finally she guessed she had been in these surroundings long enough to gain a good idea of what she need report. She turned and made her way back through the main street. As she passed a stall her eyes took in a fresh loaf of bread, it still steamed slightly from being in a hot oven and the warm smell invaded her senses. She paused, wanting that loaf badly but she quickly scolded herself, knowing she didn't have time to dwell upon her wants and needs. She took a step forward but was prevented from taking another as something snagged her arm. She gave a soft noise of surprise and turned, her gaze met that of a young man and he grinned as their eyes met. With a startled yelp she pulled away from the grip he had on her arm and backed away, willing all her being to not panic, if she panicked and ruined the plan that had been set she'd get a beating and this threat at least stilled her from causing a scene.
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to scare you." The youth spoke but it was words she could not understand and she continued to stare at him with wide eyes. "Are you new to the village?"
Her eyes darted about, searching for an escape route she could bolt down. Finally she managed a nod, the only action she could think of performing.
"I guessed so." The boy said. "I am Bron." He continued trying hard to make the young girl talk.
She again nodded and then turned, hoping this would be enough for him to leave her be but her hopes had been in vain as he was soon trotting beside her, keeping pace with her quick steps.
"How many winters do you have?" Bron asked grinning again. "I have fourteen, next year I will be a man." He stated proudly.
The girl remained silent. "You look about the same age as I am." He said, trying once again.
Her pace gained a little and the youth's look took on realisation. "Your mother told you to not speak with strangers?" He smiled. "Mine too, but perhaps we will not always be strangers." The girl again did not reply. "I shall let you travel home, you look as if your journey here was hard."
She again made no move to reply and he decided it was for the best to leave her be. He allowed the pretty, dirt smeared young girl to walk ahead and watched after her as she disappeared into the small crowd that had gathered around the little market area. He would ask his mother whose family she belonged to and, if he felt so inclined, make a visit to her home bearing welcoming food. His mother and father would soon begin to ask him when he would take a wife, out here finding a woman was not always easy but perhaps the Vala had smiled upon him, bringing a new family and their pretty daughter into his very path. He turned and made his way back into the heart of the village unaware that he would never know a wife or a life past this one, violent day...
