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Broken - Chapter X

The Journey Begins

Helm's Deep, April 8th, 3018 T.A.

Treason and desertion… Lord Théodred is gone. Those were the whispers that spread among the Rohirrim like wild fire.

A messenger, bearing the grave news, had reached Helm's Deep two days after the Prince's disappearance, but even before then the word had somehow spread… and before a rider could be sent to Edoras, another had appeared at Helm's Deep, carrying the King's orders.

And thus any attempt at softening the blow was gone with one swift stroke.

When Dríana first had heard about the events at the Fords, she hadn't been able to believe them – no one in Helm's Deep had. But, when Lord Grimbold himself had arrived at Helm's Deep, Dríana had overheard his conversation with Lord Béorath… and the truth had been hard to accept.

Quietly she had listened, her hope slowly dying with each word... but then a strange revelation had opened another window in her mind. Théodred's horse had been found grazing by his master's tent in the morning, and that had made Dríana wonder. Would a horse lord leave his precious steed behind?

That had made her hope that he might yet return, but as the days had passed without any hopeful news, she had had to accept the inevitable: Théodred wasn't coming back.

Now Grimbold and Erkenbrand were doing their best to fill the gap of command, but there was only so much they could do to encourage the sullen and disheartened riders.

With all this in her mind, Dríana tried to go on as before, but it was hard and she found no joy in her work. She remembered when Théodred had let her into his tent and she had frozen to look at his bare chest. It was strange how comfortable she had felt in his presence, even though he was a Lord of the Mark and she (the grandchild of a Lord or not) was just a farmer's daughter and a servant.

What was to become of Rohan now that the Prince was gone? What kind of hope was there for people like her? People who had no past to speak of… and now only vainly could hope for a future...

-0-0-0-

Late that evening, Dríana made up her mind. It was a reckless and stupid idea, but at least her father would have been proud to know that maybe she had a little bit of her mother's fire in her after all.

She finished the day's work, put Fréda to bed and then sneaked out to the kitchens where Hilde was finishing the cleaning. The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open, startling the older woman.

"Good graces, Dríana." She said, holding her chest as she turned around. Upon seeing that Dríana was wearing travel clothing and not her usual gown, she frowned. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I have a favor to ask of you."

Hilde sighed, half expecting Dríana to ask her to be silent about yet another nightly visit to the stables. Though considering her clothing perhaps she meant to go riding this time…

"I need you to look after my sister for a while." Dríana said, taking Hilde by surprise. "I have to… I got a letter from uncle and I need to pay him a visit. But it's best if Fréda stayed here."

Hilde, unaware of Dríana's silent prayer that the lie wasn't too obvious, shrugged indifferently. "Sure. She's a sweet little girl…"

Dríana hid a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Hilde. I knew I could count on you"

"How long will you be gone?"

Dríana grimaced, looking down at her feet. She had been afraid of that question. "I don't know for sure. Maybe… a while."

"A while?" The older woman put down the cloth and studied Dríana for a long while before sighing. "Well, I suppose I can keep an eye on her... for a while. Or actually two eyes. She's your sister after all."

Dríana smiled. "Thank you."

She then left the kitchens before Hilde could ask any more questions – or worse, change her mind. She would have to wait until dawn, however, before she could leave. The gates were closed at night and she would never get past the guards.

Having already packed some food and a warm blanket for the journey, Dríana forced herself to get some sleep. However, her thoughts gave her no pause and she tossed and turned until she gave up and simply sat on the cot, waiting for the night to end.

When it finally started to lighten outside and the moon no longer stood high on the sky, Dríana gathered her things and hurried to the stables to get Léoma. The dappled mare wasn't really hers, but no one would miss her. She was sure footed and swift, but not a warhorse.

Some stable hands were already up and about, preparing feed for the horses, but they paid Dríana no mind. She was just another early riser.

When Léoma was saddled, Dríana mounted and quickly rode out of Helm's Deep. There was no looking back now. After crossing the Deeping Stream, she steered Léoma northwest and continued over the plains of Westfold.

She was no rider of Rohan, but a long time ago when her parents had still been alive, she had been taught how to ride like one of the rohirrim. Every child of Rohan knew how to handle horses – it was in their blood and culture – but with a soldier father and highborn mother, Dríana knew the difference between riding and riding.

By afternoon she had already reached the plains close to the Isen and her body was aching from the ride. She was also beginning to regret her decision to leave Fréda and the safe walls of Helm's Deep behind… and for what? A wild case?

When she finally gave up to exhaustion and pulled Léoma to a halt, Dríana sank down on the soft grass and fell asleep with Léoma watching over her.

-0-0-0-

Across the Isen, two days earlier...

Orcs. A whole herd of them. Though they were no ordinary Orcs. They were half-breeds. Uruk-hai. Half Orc, half human... smarter and viler than the rest of their kind.

Gwyn, however, saw them as nothing but abominations. Mutilated beasts created to serve evil. Creatures who had no respect whatsoever for other living beings…. creatures that killed for mere pleasure. Or, in this case, kept their six conquered victims as prisoners and slaves.

Their village had been burned and those who had survived had been captured. Enslaved. They were half-starved and always lived in fear of the next day. Would they live or die?

But, apparently these Orcs followed higher orders and therefore made no attempt to harm the prisoners beyond function. It was obvious, too, that they were heading somewhere. Less than a day ago they had crossed the Isen and now they were heading north across the Gap of Rohan. Why would they turn around and leave the horse lands when they could just as easily have pillaged every other village in the West-march?

At this point, Gwyn was used to waking up at the crack of dawn and being carried, dragged or pulled in a carriage across the plains for hours upon hours until the Uruk-hai finally decided to rest. They could run tirelessly for miles, but Gwyn and the others were too ragged and starved to make it even a mile without aid. The creatures had restrained themselves from slaughtering the two sturdy horses that pulled the carriages, but they wouldn't last long. Sooner or later their strength would fail.

So far every day had been the same in the Uruk camp, but that particular day something new and unexpected happened. It was almost noon and she and the other prisoners were eating what little food they had been given, when seven riders on swift horses rode into the camp.

Curiosity overtook Gwyn's hunger and she stopped to look at the strangers. The Orcs kept their distance from the men as their leader, Gurlúk, spoke to one of the riders. The man in question pointed at one of his companions, who then dismounted and dragged down another man.

The man was thrown harshly to the ground in front of the snarling Orcs and Gwyn could hear the leader of the riders say, "Keep an extra eye on this one. He's valuable."

Gurlúk snarled menacingly, but when the rider leaned closer to say something in a hushed voice, the Uruk-hai's ugly face turned into a pleased grin.

For the rest of the day the new prisoner was a mystery to Gwyn and the others. However, once they had gotten a closer look at him it had been easy to tell that he was Rohirrim. His hair was long and fair and his eyes a shade between blue and green. And despite all the dirt and blood, the man's features were fair and proud... almost noble.

Both Gwyn and Ósle had tried to speak with him once the Orcs had left him alone, but he had simply ignored their efforts. Even Dáfur had tried to approach him, but with the same result as the others. When the Orcs didn't beat him, he kept to himself.

Still it looked like he was always keeping an eye on the others. If the Orcs threatened one of them, his hands would clench into a fists and his eyes would burn into the Orcs like ice and fire both.

Dáfur said that there was a strange kind of sadness in his eyes, as if the man had lost everything and no longer cared to stand up and fight. And yet his hatred and disgust towards the Orcs seemed more soulful and deep than any hatred Gwyn had ever seen. And she had seen some in her thirty-five years. What could possibly have happened for a man to be so utterly broken?

On the second day of his arrival, Gwyn finally decided on another try to approach him. She slowly walked up to him, giving him plenty of time to become aware of her presence. Then she softly cleared her throat.

"Do you mind?" She asked politely and pointed at the empty space beside him. When there was no answer, she sat down, resting her back on the trunk of the tree. She noticed that his eyes were staring into empty space, but at least he didn't shy away.

"I was hoping that you might tell me your name today..." She waited for a response, but all she got was silence. Sighing she continued. "Well, perhaps tomorrow then. Anyway, I'm..."

"Gwyn."

The barely audible whisper took her by complete surprise and she was unable to suppress the smile that crept onto her lips. "So you aren't deaf or dumb then. We were beginning to wonder..."

She had no idea if it was just her imagination, but for a moment it looked like the man might have been smiling. Gwyn took it as a sign of trust and continued. "Here, let me look at those gashes."

She took up a cloth from the bowl of water she had brought with her, and as he still made no move to shy away, she started to clean the cuts and bruises on his arms and back.

When she was finished he smiled sadly up at her before letting his gaze wander distantly over the hills again. However, just when she was about to leave, his voice finally broke the silence. "It's Dred."

Gwyn stopped. "I'm sorry?"

"My name. It's Dred."

However, she never got the chance to rejoice in the fact that she had finally gotten his name. In the next instance, Gurlúk appeared and dragged Dred to the other side of the camp.

Moments later Gwyn could hear a whip snap and she embraced her self for the blood-curling scream that would follow. But it never did. The whip repeated its sound and movement, but not a single scream emerged from his throat.

Gwyn found herself jumping at every crack of the whip. It was as if Dred's silent acceptance had her feeling the blows in his stead. After several minutes, the silence was nearly killing her.

Scream, damn it. That's the only way they'll stop. SCREAM!

But, he didn't. Not once.

-0-0-0-

Westfold, April 9th, 3018 T.A.

When Dríana woke up, she had the feeling that someone was watching her. She slowly rose up to a sitting position and looked around. Léoma was grazing a few yards away… but not alone. A dark bay horse with two white stockings was looking at Dríana with curious brown eyes.

Dríana slowly stood up and looked at the horse, its coloring and conformation unmistakable. "Brego?"

She slowly walked towards the steed, but Brego threw up his head telling her not to come any closer. "Nán, Brego. Stille. You are looking for your master just as I am…"

She never had time to finish her sentence before Brego bolted and galloped away, leaving her alone with Léoma. Luckily the mare was not in heat… or she might have found herself without a mount… or with a pregnant one.

"Stupid horse." She muttered in the vanishing stallion's direction, but of course she knew that Brego was anything but stupid. In fact, she could have sworn that he had been looking at her as if he recognized her.

With a yawn, Dríana mounted Léoma again and continued her journey west and then north alongside the river Isen. Because of the stony terrain, Léoma had a hard time finding footing, and it took several hours for them to cover just a couple of miles. Still, Dríana preferred to follow the river, as it was her only means of knowing where she was.

However, little did she know that someone else knew of her whereabouts as well, and therefore she never saw the blow before it struck her to the ground.

When Dríana opened her eyes she was laying on a blanket, the hard ground making its uncomfortable presence known by digging into her back. Her sight was blurry, but she could tell it was long since nightfall. Turning her head slightly to one side, she could see a man sitting by her side.

"Are you awake, my lady?" He said in a voice Dríana knew, but couldn't place.

"Where am I?"

"In a tent... safely guarded by riders. We took you for a spy..."

Dríana groaned. "Is this how you treat all travelers who ride along the river?"

The man chuckled. "Not at all. We usually treat them worse. However, we didn't quite expect to find a woman of Rohan so far to the west… all by herself."

"Great..." Dríana muttered and made an attempt to sit up. Her head ached, but otherwise she felt fine. As she was sitting, her vision became clearer and she could see that the man sitting by her side was none other than Lord Erkenbrand.

Surprised, she tried to stand up. "My lord… I... I'm sorry. I mean... I should be on my way."

"My lady, you can't. It's still dark outside."

"I have to. Please, my lord."

"What's your name?" Erkenbrand looked at her, waiting for her to answer.

She sighed. As one of the men who had known her father, she knew that he would most likely remember her. "Dríana, my lord."

As she had guessed, he frowned. "Are you Argod's daughter?"

Quietly she nodded. All of Westfold probably knew of the soldier who had stolen Lady Hwitloc's heart and then married her against her father's will. Dríana's mother had been of high birth. Dríana, however, wasn't. Hwitloc's father had disinherited her the day she had married Argod instead of Lord Béorath.

"Well, I can't exactly keep you here, can I? I myself have to leave as well. The King is pulling the riders back from the West-march…"

"What? Again?" Dríana said before she could stop herself.

"Yes." He answered a bit surprised at her reaction.

"But... Lord Théodred would never…"

"You'd better not utter that name here, my lady." Erkenbrand said without emotion and Dríana wondered whose side he took – the prince's or the King's? Or perhaps neither.

Upon seeing her thoughtful expression, Erkenbrand added, "No questions. Just know that Théodred was a good friend of mine. A far too good friend…"

His voice died out and Dríana simply nodded. She knew what he meant. How much it ever pained him, the King's son was guilty until proven innocent. And the fact that he was still gone was almost proof enough.

Dríana stood up and together they left the tent. Outside, Léoma was waiting, fully groomed and content, and Dríana mounted the mare. However, before she could set off, Erkenbrand took hold of the mare's bridle and looked at Dríana.

"No matter what people say, your father was a good man. Your mother wouldn't have run away with someone less than that… and neither will you."

It took a while for Dríana to understand the meaning of his words, but when she did, she froze. He knew?

As she was unable to respond, Erkenbrand simply nodded, telling her that he knew indeed. Like her mother, she was ready to sacrifice her life for a man she hardly knew. But, like her father, she was reaching for stars that were well beyond her reach… and still she refused to look anywhere else.

And Erkenbrand had seen that fire and determination – a young woman, whose mother had disgraced her family by marrying a mere farmer's son, but still had that noble blood in her, even if she had nothing else. And, with the Prince banished and disinherited, perhaps those stars weren't that far beyond her reach after all…