At the victory celebration that night, the girl was everywhere, quietly serving wherever she could. She still had not spoken a word since Isengard.
Legolas stood off to one side, watching her. He surreptitiously observed her grace and her poise. He also noted her skittish nature, never speaking, shying away from all touch, and verging on panic whenever she did something she perceived to be wrong. Her behaviour was a great mystery to the Mirkwood prince.
As the girl bent to pass under the gesturing arm of a soldier of Rohan, Legolas froze. One pointed ear showed through the girl's ever-present curtain of strawberry hair. The glimpse was so sudden, so shocking, that Legolas was not even sure that he had seen it. But he had to know for sure. Looking up, he met Gandalf's eyes. The wizard had been watching him, waiting for the elf to connect the dots. Gandalf nodded to a side room, then vanished into the crowd.
Legolas approached the girl, trying to think up something to say that would not scare her. But he knew his mission was hopeless when he ran right into her. The poor girl gasped and nearly choked in panic. Seeing that a diplomatic approach was lost to him, Legolas simply put on his 'you are in trouble now' face and led her to the room Gandalf had indicated.
The room was empty and dark, lit only by a candle or two and the moonlight shining in through a single window. Eomer, Theoden, Aragorn and Gandalf sat in a circle, waiting. Legolas took the last empty seat in the circle and the girl warily sat on the floor in the middle of the ring. Her hands shook slightly and she kept her gaze riveted on the flagstone floor.
Theoden broke the heavy silence. "Gandalf, what is this about? Tonight is a night of feasting, not of dark secrets." A muffled roar from the feast hall punctuated his words and Gandalf looked to Legolas.
The elf stood slowly and started toward the girl. She curled up on herself, but otherwise did not stop his advance. He stopped when she cringed. "Understand," he said, "I do not mean to harm you." She murmured something, but stayed still as Legolas reached and folded her hair behind her ears. A charge ran through the room as the points were unveiled.
Gandalf spoke as Legolas took his seat. "I think it is time you told us your story. And your name."
The girl's voice was as a low tolling of evening bells, yet came forth as a dull monotone. "My name is Rosegold. I named myself, for my master never saw fit to give me a name.
"Few now alive know that when Celebrian was taken to the torment dens of the Orcs, she was with child. I doubt even Elrond knew. My mother was tortured for many months, and it is a miracle that she did not miscarry me. When I was born alive into a torture pit, the Orcs were shocked and ready to end my brief life. But by another miracle, Saruman had heard of the pregnancy of Celebrian. He thought an elven lad may have some use in later days. So he sent for me just in time, and I was brought to Isengard.
"When I came into his house and he saw that I was not a son of Elrond but a daughter, Saruman flew into a rage. But he did not kill me, oh no. He kept me as a slave in Orthanc." She drew a deep, shuddering breath and started to rock back and forth, wrapping her arms around her knees, which were drawn up to her chest.
"I was beaten and starved. Saruman kept alive, through his magic, images of Celebrian's torment. He made me watch them for hours on end, all the while telling me the terrible truth. Celebrian's pain was my fault" The elf's shoulders shook as she thought of the screams.
Rosegold lifted her head and said quietly, "All manner of things were done to me. I was even...even made to bear the child of Saruman the White."
Eomer was on his feet in a heartbeat. "A child of Saruman?" Theoden put his hand on the young man's arm, and Eomer slowly sat down again. But his gaze was fixed on the girl with a single question on his lips.
The elven maid smiled faintly. "A son of Saruman. His only son and heir. Raised to hate, raised to rule. He is trained somewhat in the ways of his father's magic. He hides still in Orthanc, afraid for his pathetic life."
As she dropped her eyes again, Aragorn and Legolas traded glances, saying nothing.
After a pause, Rosegold continued. "During my time as Saruman's slave, a man entered Saruman's service. His name was Grima. also called the Wormtongue." At that name, Theoden and Eomer both tensed. Rosegold flinched at the intensity of their interest. "Grima came out of a desire to have the hand of the White Lady of Rohan, but as the years drew on we became closer and closer. He was a man for many women, but I believe that I was special to him. We had a...brief relationship.
"When Wormtongue rode into Isengard telling of his banishment and the loss of power over Rohan, Saruman was enraged. He turned on Grima, striking him senseless. His son, Angrenbor, had hidden, knowing enough to be afraid of his father's anger. I did not have the right or the foolishness to run.
"Saruman used his hands and his magic to release his rising rancor. When at last it was spent, I could barely move. Grima came and helped me recover, without Saruman knowing it. He was a coward, among many other things, and was not willing to risk Saruman's wrath, even for me (though he claimed that he loved me).
"When Isengard was taken, Saruman's wrath was greater than it was at Rohan's defiance. Grima, learning from experience, hid with Angrenbor. The white wizard, after searching fruitlessly for his son and his servant, came to find me, wrath doubled. He tied my hands and beat the skin from my back. He used an Orc whip and used it well until I could scream no more and hung limp."
She bit her lip, shuddering sobs wracking her thin body. When, after a time, she had composed herself, she went on.
"Soon after that was when your party entered the valley. Saruman was searching for me again, for some random misdemeanor which was very likely imagined, not committed. Angrenbor was around somewhere, practising the dark arts his father was teaching him. Grima took pity on me and so we hid in one of the good places that Angrenbor had shown him. Then you came and Saruman left off the hunt to treat with you. Grima, curious and tired of being cooped up, left me to go up there too. I listened at the door until... Wormtongue was..."
She put her head on her knees and tried to quell her weeping. There was a long silence in which no one moved or spoke. Finally Gandalf broke the stillness and approached the elf. He laid a hand on her head and she flinched. Looking up, she saw who it was that touched her and scrambled away, eyes wide in panic.
The wizard sadly realized that his being a white wizard excited her fears rather than comforting them. Very slowly, and trying to appear non-threatening, he knelt, laying aside his staff. He extended his open hands to her, saying quietly, "I am not Saruman, or anything like him. True, I am a white wizard, but Saruman was twisted by Sauron. That is no excuse for what he did, of course, but I cannot atone or answer for his actions. I can only attempt to make them right. I want to help you."
Rosegold scooted further away from him and ended up pressed back against Aragorn's knees. When she hit him, she looked up sharply, her green eyes reflecting alarm. He reached down to her and pulled her into a strong embrace. The sincerity in his eyes pulled Rosegold up short. She had never experienced the like before. After a moment, she melted into him, weeping her heart out. Aragorn gave Gandalf an apologetic look. The wizard, for his part, was not disturbed by the girl's rejection. He stood and gathered his staff, taking his seat in dignified silence. The other men sat in silence, unwilling to break the spell of the moment. Aragorn's hands worked soothingly, but with some hesitation, over the girl's back, healing what wounds he could, both in her body and in her heart.