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Journey Of A Butterfly	By : Mel99Moe Category: -Fourth Age to Modern times and beyond > Het - Male/Female Views: 5714 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places of Lord of the Rings/Tolkien. No money is being made. This is for personal enjoyment only.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter 17 - The New Prisoner

Just before Terrwyn arrives at the gates of North Ithilien . . .

“No one was hurt. I don’t understand what all the excitement is about,” said the young elvish warrior. Feredir was half-elven, born and raised in Mirkwood. He had fought there during the Ring War and was now a part of the elvish guard of North Ithilien. At the age of one hundred and twenty five, he was past his maturity, but still quite young for an elf and one of the youngest guards in Ithilien. He was tall like most of his Mirkwood kin, fair of skin, high cheekbones, and a decent amount of muscle. He was strong and lean, sinewy from years of dedicated practice honing in on his warrior skills, very handsome, the embodiment of the best physical qualities of both elf and human. One noticeable difference was his jet-black hair, full, thick and hanging to his waist. Most, but not all wood elves had shades of blonde, anywhere from the dark copper tones to the very light platinum sheens. This, along with his half-elvish blood, made him stand out among the others and was something he dealt with his whole life. He was an archer and prided himself on his skill, maybe a little too much. His youth and arrogance contributed to this attitude, which was the reason the Captain of the Ithilien guard was speaking with him now.

“No one was hurt this time, Feredir, but next time it may be your partner’s life you put in danger instead of your own,” said Glandur, Captain and leader of the elvish army of North Ithilien, recruited and put in charge by Lord Legolas, and a longtime friend of the Prince. He was wise and did not miss a thing, especially when it came to the new recruits. He had seen this behavior before. Young warriors were excited and anxious. Sometimes the thrill of the hunt overpowered their good judgment and mistakes happened. Unfortunately, such mistakes could mean the death of fellow soldiers.

This was not the first time Glandur had to reprimand Feredir, and he was sure it would not be the last. There was a scuffle out on the borders and Feredir’s troop was sent to settle the differences. Most of these were handled in a mild manor and no one was hurt. However, Feredir took it upon himself to break up a fight that had broken out amongst some of the Ithilien men and a small clan of Easterlings who felt their space was being encroached upon. It was not up to the young black-haired warrior to make the decision to fight. Negotiations were to happen before any threat was made, but Feredir spoke of settling with sword and bow. Some of the Ithilien men, who were roused by his speech, came to the elf’s side, weapons in hand. The Easterlings did not wait for a compromise and a small but short lasting battle broke out on the eastern edge of Ithilien.

It was bad enough that this disturbance occurred unnecessarily, but Feredir ignored yet another rule and maybe the most important one. During the fight, he left his partner and the whole squadron as he ran off to capture an Easterling that challenged him by throwing a dagger at his head, narrowly missing him and embedding itself in a tree next to where the elf stood. As if in slow motion, Feredir watched as three long black hairs floated to the forest floor. The elf very calmly looked up to see the Easterling watch his reaction to the close call. The enemy did not tarry long to find out what an elf’s wrath consisted of and he ran off into the nearby woods. Feredir’s partner saw what occurred and tried to stop the dark-haired elf. He reminded him that none was to leave the battle, but Feredir drew a deaf ear and leapt off into the trees after his attacker. Needless to say, an Easterling learned a very important lesson that day. There is only one chance at making an attempt on the life of a wood elf. Miss and it will be the last thing you ever do.

Now Feredir stood before Glandur, accepting his own wrath of a wood elf, and the Captain no less. “This is very disappointing,” Glandur went on. “And not the first time, Feredir. No one will argue with you about your skill. You are one of our best archers.” Here, Feredir allowed himself a curt smile, which seemed to irritate his commander. “However,” Glandur said drawing out the word. “If you do not follow the rules, none of that matters. Your officers have informed me of past behavioral problems and they have been dealt with in steps. I am afraid that has done no good so far and stricter punishment must be taken.”

Feredir opened his mouth to protest, but Glandur held up a hand to stop him from making that mistake. “From this point on, I am afraid you are restricted from border duty.”

“This is absurd!” Feredir rebutted. “That Easterling tried to kill me! So you are telling me it would have been better to have stood there and let him get away than to chase him down and put an end to his miserable life?”

Glandur seemed to grow a few inches as he brought himself up straight and glared at Feredir. “This is not Mirkwood. You are not hunting spiders from Dol Guldur. We are trying to obtain peace in these new days after the war and killing at will shall not be tolerated.” The tall Captain took a step towards Feredir, closing the gap between them until the dark-haired elf could feel the heat from his commander’s chest, obviously angered beyond reason. “Until I say you are ready to rejoin your patrol and you have proven to me that you can follow a simple order, you are to report to the prison grounds. Feredir, I hereby demote you to prison guard.”

Feredir was fuming, but it would do him no good to protest. Glandur was the top elf in charge. His orders were set in stone. There was no one above him besides Lord Legolas, and he would find no sympathy there. His breathing was heavy as he glared at the Captain. “I suggest you keep those thoughts to yourself otherwise you will end up on latrine duty,” Glandur said for added measure.

Just then, there was a commotion at the main gate. They both turned to see what was happening. Feredir watched as a young red haired girl was brought before the gate guard. Glandur’s attention was redirected just then as another guard came up to him, informing him of the new prisoner. Feredir kept one ear on the conversation as he watched the beautiful girl fall into the arms of a Gondorian soldier. The man looked much older than she did. He might have thought this was the girl’s father until the elf witnessed a very long, very intimate kiss between them. ‘Obviously not a blood relative,’ he thought to himself. The kiss ended, a few more words were exchanged, and then she was handed over to the guard. Glandur finished speaking with his officer and observed Feredir watching the young human girl when a thought came to him. “Ah, this could not have happened at a better time,” he said to gain Feredir’s attention. “You will be in charge of seeing over this new prisoner. You are to keep watch over her as long as she is not in her barracks. You are never to leave her alone for a single moment. I do not care if the Valar themselves come back to Middle-earth and are walking through Ithilien; you are not to leave her side. Is this understood?”

“Yes Captain,” Feredir muttered, still watching her as she walked with the gate guard.

Glandur raised an eyebrow. “I do not think you heard me. Is . . . this . . . understood?” Glandur said with much authority.

“Yes Captain!” Feredir said louder, but with resistance. He continued to glare at the red headed nuisance when she caught sight of him standing to the side of the road. She had been crying and looked quite scared.

“Good,” Glandur continued. “You will meet your new ward in one hour . . . my office. I suggest you do not be late.” With that said and his point taken with either compliance or opposition, Glandur left Feredir where he was.

As the young girl walked by, Feredir stared icily at her until she turned from him. “She is just a girl. How difficult could it be to guard her? At least she will be nice to look at. I hope they give her a job where she will be bending over a lot,” he said to himself and smiled wickedly as he watched her slim form and rounded hips sway up the street. Then he dashed off to speak with a friend or two before having to report to Captain Glandur.

* * *

The gate guard took Terrwyn through the cobblestone streets of Ithilien. It reminded her of Minas Tirith, but on a much smaller scale. The buildings that lined this part of the street stood along with space in between them. Grass and trees grew between some of the buildings. Others had paved alleyways leading to back entrances.

When they got to the end of the street, they were in the heart of North Ithilien. Everything opened up into a large circular area. Shops lined the circle and three other streets led off in different directions. In the middle was a very large and intricate fountain. Four larger than life elvish women were carved from marble and standing with their backs to each other. Each one faced in a certain direction, north, south, east and west. Their faces were smooth and youthful as they gazed up at the sky above. Their arms extended upwards with the palms of their hands turned up. A beautiful flower lay in each pair of hands and water bubbled gently from the center of each one, trickling between slender white marble fingers and falling harmoniously into the base of the fountain. No detail was left out. Terrwyn could see creases in the knuckles and delicately carved fingernails. Their hair neatly fell down their backs, ending at slender waists. What looked like long flowing skirts all conjoined at the very bottom and formed the base of the statue. This was set inside a rather large pool, made so that the residents of the city could sit on the edge and enjoy the sound of the soothing water as it fell into the basin below. The pool itself was lined inside with light blue tiles, the color of the sky. The effect made the water look serene and refreshing.

On they went now, the gate guard standing tall and taking long strides as he guided Terrwyn past the beautiful fountain and towards another street that led away from the city’s center. There were no buildings on this path, though it was paved with the same cobblestone as all the other streets that led from the city circle. Large oaks and maples lined this street, their leaves turning gold for the autumn season. The road curved to the left and a row of small buildings came into view. There were four of them and nothing fancy, just plain simple individual buildings, each with a door and one window. They were big enough to house one person it seemed. A breezeway ran between the buildings, supported by plain columns. The guard led Terrwyn to the closest one, opened it and motioned for her to go in.

Inside it was as plain as the outside, just a small room with a cot lining one wall and a window centered on another. At the foot of the bed was a wooden trunk with an unlit candle on top, obviously her only light source during the evening hours.

The guard finally spoke for the first time, his voice unemotional. “This is your assigned housing. You will be locked in every day from sunset to sunrise. Food will be prepared and brought to you. A guard will be posted outside of the door. Should you need something, you may ask it of the guard.”

Terrwyn watched as the tall elf picked up the candle, placing it on a small side table next to the bed, and opened the lid of the wooden chest. “In here you will find everything you need, clothes for the day, extra blankets, soap and other personal items. While you are off performing your duties for the day, these things will be replaced.”

The mention of soap got Terrwyn wondering. “Where can I wash up?”

The guard pointed to the far side of the room. There was fabric screen set up in a corner. “Behind there is the wash basin.” He turned back to her with a stone-faced expression. The elf was not here to make friends and was not through with his duty as of yet. “You are to dress in your daily attire, which you will find in the trunk. Leave the clothes you are wearing now at the foot of the bed for cleaning. You will get them back when it is time for you to leave Ithilien along with any other possessions you have brought with you. When you are ready, I will be waiting for you at the door to escort you to the Captain. From there you will be assigned to your duty.” Without waiting for her to answer or ask questions, the gate guard left the room, closing the door behind him.

Terrwyn looked around her new living quarters. Actually, it sounded like it would be more like her sleeping quarters. It seemed that she would be busy throughout the day performing whatever task was chosen. She wondered what they would have her do and hoped it would at least be tolerable. Still, she figured they would have her slaving away in a dark steamy room washing bed sheets and such, away from any kind of contact with the residents of Ithilien. She was a prisoner, after all, and it seemed she would be treated as one in some way.

The wooden chest was as plain as everything else, no carvings or elvish runes as she might have expected. Terrwyn pushed the lid open and peered inside. Ah, her daily attire and what a surprise . . . plain, just a white cotton blouse that laced up the front, long sleeves that would contour her arms and nothing fancy about it at all. She placed the shirt on the bed and took out a pair of beige leggings. They too laced up in front as expected. At least they were thick and warm for the cooler temperatures. Maybe she would have to work outside in the elements. In a way, Terrwyn would rather be out in the cold than locked up on a humid laundry room.

Beneath the leggings, she found a pair of brown leather women’s boots that looked as if they would just come above her ankles. They were flat, no heel, but with thick leather soles. Good for walking in snow, she thought and again wondered what her job would be.

The rest of the items in the chest were as the guard explained. There was a bar of unscented soap, a hairbrush, and a few other personal items for daily hygiene. She left these in the chest, grabbed her new clothes and dressed quickly.

The guard was waiting outside when she emerged from the barracks door. “Are there others in these rooms?” she asked curiously, pointing to the other houses.

“As of now, you are our only female prisoner.” His answer was short and emotionless. “Male inmates are housed on the opposite end of town.”

That was somewhat of a relief for Terrwyn. She remembered Rhavaniel mentioning something about being housed in the general population in Minas Tirith and wondered if the same arrangements would take place here. “Thank the Valar for small miracles,” she thought to herself.

The guard led Terrwyn back to the center of the city. It had been early morning when she first arrived and the circle was empty. Now there were people walking about, busy with their everyday chores. She noticed carts now set up around the circle that had not been there earlier. Anything from sweet treats to jewelry was now available to the morning traffic. A small boy hammered a tack through a parchment on one of the message boards, obviously the latest news in Gondor.

They turned down the street to their left. This road was lined with beautiful gardens on each side. Short hedges grew on either side of the road with breaks in them every so often where beautiful vine covered archways stood, inviting guests to come in and enjoy the sights and smells. Even though it was fall, some of the bushes still flowered, late blooming foliage that released the sweetest fragrances. The flowers were darker autumn shades of gold, orange and burgundy. Terrwyn had never seen anything like them before. In Rohan, the land was brown and colorless this time of the year as plants and trees went to sleep for the coming winter.

Inside the gardens were gazebos attached by breezeways topped with a lattice design. It seemed there were no corners on any of the woodworks. Everything was carved in curving infinite designs, very elvish in style. People strolled along the walkways. One couple in particular caught her eye. They were elves, beautiful to behold and wrapped in each other’s arms. The woman smiled to her mate, a very handsome ellon dressed in greens and browns. Terrwyn could tell they were in love by the look in their eyes. He brought her hands up to his lips and started to kiss them. At the last moment, he slipped a silver ring unknowingly onto her finger. The smile that spread across the elleth’s face made Terrwyn’s own heart leap slightly. A marriage proposal, she thought. How wonderful it would be to have someone to love. For a moment, Terrwyn wished she could trade places with the lovely lady elf. A tear came to her eye when she remembered why she was in Ithilien in the first place.

Finally, they came to the end of the gardens. A most beautiful palace came into view. A white stone pathway merged from the road and led to an iron gate wide enough for horse drawn carts to pass through. Two more gate guards dressed in grey and silver tunic and leggings opened the gates allowing Terrwyn and her escort entrance. Directly in front of her was the palace, certainly the home of Lord Legolas whom she had befriended in Minas Tirith. She wondered if he knew of her capture. Of course, he would, she thought. Rhavaniel, his wife, should have sent word before her arrival. She liked Legolas very much. He had been so kind and thoughtful during her unfortunate stay in the healing houses. Now she felt embarrassed to have to see him again under the circumstances.

The area was vast. There were other buildings and homes here besides the palace, but it was Legolas’ royal home that stood out above them all. It was a long building with many arched windows. It stood three stories tall, the top story being open without walls. There were many domed roofs, all seemingly connected to each other with columns supporting them. The second floor had fewer windows and intricate detail on the outer walls, all elvish in design. The bottom floor looked very inviting with a breezeway that surrounded it. Many doors and windows lined the walls of the first level. A wide set of stairs led up to the main entrance, which jetted out from the rest of the level.

The entire palace was built from a rose-colored stone and was a contrast to the white pathway that led up to it. There was also a courtyard in front of the palace. Square ponds with lily pads floating in them were deliberately placed on each end of the building. Tall evergreen topiaries lined the walkway leading to the stairs, each with a small square hedge surrounding it at the bottom. The grass on either side of the white path was very well manicured. Terrwyn had always thought Meduseld was a luxurious and spacious place. Now that she had seen this, nothing would ever compare. It was simple yet elegant, full of elvish charm, fit for royalty but not so much that it looked cold and stiff. It was very welcoming, just as Legolas himself, but now Terrwyn wondered why she was here. “Why are we in this part of Ithilien? Is this not where the Prince lives?”

“It is my lady, but this is also where the base of operations for the Ithilien Guard is located. You must meet with the Captain. He will speak with you and designate which area you will be working in,” said her escort.

* * *

They arrived at the Captain’s quarters, a building offset from the palace but just as intricately built. They went in through the main doors and spoke to yet another guard who led them down a hall to an office. The heavy wooden door swung open and a very handsome statuesque elf gestured with his hand for them to come in. Terrwyn smiled nervously as she stepped past him, now standing in the middle of his office, complete with chairs, bookshelves and an array of weapons carefully hung for display on the wall behind his desk. He stood straight as a pillar, hands behind his back and his head tilted down looking her over. Terrwyn stood before him in her white shirt and beige leggings, red hair slightly disheveled. She hadn’t had time to try to look presentable since riding from Minas Tirith. Why would she, Terrwyn thought to herself. She was not here to visit. She was a prisoner and should just be glad they didn’t parade her up and down the streets, yelling and calling her names. So far, everything that happened since arriving in Ithilien was done discretely and with care.

The gate guard that had been by her side since entering the city, said something in elvish to the tall Captain, who nodded and answered in the same poetic language. Terrwyn decided they could be discussing her hanging and their language would still be the most romantic she had ever heard. Finally, the guard left the room and Terrwyn was alone with the handsome Captain of Ithilien Guard.

“Terrwyn of Rohan, you have been formally charged by your King with theft and murder. You escaped your lands, ignoring your laws, and came to be in Gondor. These charges still stand and you are now under our laws. You are to be turned over as soon as possible to the Rohirrim, taken back to your lands and tried accordingly.”

Terrwyn hung her head. It seemed no one would allow her to forget these charges. It was just a matter of time before she would know what her punishment was. There were no words she could say that would change this elf’s mind. The charges were read and she would be dealt with accordingly. “Will they be coming for me soon?” she asked in barely a whisper, eyes turned downward to the floor.

Glandur observed the young Rohirrim girl. He had been a warrior a few hundred centuries and had seen prisoners of war. There was a point when their spirits broke and they succumbed to their captors. This was what he witnessed now with Terrwyn. She had been on the run for a long time and now captured. She was giving in, ready to accept her fate. There was no fight left in her soul and this bothered Glandur. Something was not right. Cold-blooded murders never stopped fighting or lying for that matter. This young girl’s heart seemed deflated as if she had nothing left to live for. She did not defend herself. She told no story. She merely accepted whatever he was telling her. Glandur glanced around the office as if looking for a reason not to get involved. He was troubled by this one and it concerned him. She was not his problem. She was a burden to Rohan. Ithilien was only doing its duty by holding her here until the proper authorities collected her. Still, he could not ignore his conscience. “Please, have a seat,” he said gesturing to a nearby chair. Terrwyn did as he said.

“Your story is very unique. Rarely are women wanted for murder. I will have you know, we do not normally accept criminals wanted for such crimes. Most people with a record like yours are put away in the dungeons of Minas Tirith. However, the Lady Rhavaniel told me yours was a special case. I am afraid that is all she told me though. Perhaps you could enlighten me with your story.”

Terrwyn sat in her chair, shoulders slumped forward, hands tucked in her lap. “There is nothing to tell. I killed a nobleman’s son. His family will not rest until I am brought back and put on trial. It does not matter how many times I tell it, the outcome will be the same. I will be executed.”

Glandur had not the ability to read minds as some of the Eldar, but he could sense a troubled soul. He knew it was true that she had killed someone, but it was not deliberate. This child of Iluvatar did not have it within her to take a life unless her own was in danger. He retrieved a stool, the closest thing to where he stood and sat it in front of Terrwyn. He sat down, never taking his eyes from her. Only now had he realized that not once had she looked up at him. Her vision remained focused upon the floor. Now that he was eye level with her, he reached out and placed a caring hand on her arm to draw her attention. She slowly raised her head to look at him, her eyes lifeless and swollen from crying.

“This man you killed,” Glandur started. “He was going to harm you wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” she said in a mousy voice.

That much Glandur could have guessed, but the reason was still a mystery. “You had something of his, the jewels.”

“At first, that was what he wanted,” she replied. She could see the elf was trying to pry her story from her. “The jewels were given to me. I knew nothing of where they came from or that they belonged to Bregmund’s family. I hadn’t even known they existed until a short while earlier.” She continued to tell him about Alric and his gift inside the velvet bag. “He wanted me to have a better life. This was the only reason I was leaving.” She hung her head again. “And then the men came. I thought they were going to rape and kill me at first. Then they said they could use me as part of the bargain with the Southrons. . .”

“The Haradrim?” Glandur interrupted. “There was no mention of this.”

“There wouldn’t be,” Terrwyn went on. “It is only my word against theirs, but it does not matter. I had the jewels in my possession. I killed the son of the family to who they belonged. There were no witnesses, no one to protest on my behalf.”

They spoke a while longer and Glandur finally coaxed the rest of her story from her. “I’m afraid this is quite a difficult case to prove with no witness. I want you to know that I believe you Terrwyn. Call it elvish intuition, but I do not see a murderess before me. Still, I must uphold our laws. You must be held captive until you are claimed by your county.”

“I would not ask anything of you, Captain Glandur. I cannot run anymore. I can only speak the truth and that is what I will do when I return home. It is all out of my hands now.”

Glandur stood up, replacing the stool to its proper place. Then he went to his desk and sat down. He took out a piece of parchment and a feather quill and began writing frantically. He did not speak, leaving Terrwyn to wonder if he had forgotten about her. After a while, he finished, waved the paper in the air to make the ink dry quickly. Then he neatly folded it, stamping it with the seal of Ithilien. He got up and went to the door, opened it and called the guard into his office, handing him the parchment. “I have heard all that the Lady Terrwyn has to say. I hereby assign her to active work duty while she is under our watch. I do not find her to be a flight risk. She should report right away to--.” He stopped as he realized he knew nothing of her personal life. “What was your duty before coming to Ithilien, your occupation?”

“Well, when I was younger, I worked in the stables and know horses quite thoroughly. But in the White City, I worked for one of the local florists,” she answered.

Glandur, not wanting her to be bored and thinking she needed a challenge to take her mind off her troubles, smiled quite pleased with himself. “Very well, I have just the job for you. I happen to know that the Master Healer is looking for someone to help him.”

“But I know nothing about healing herbs,” she protested. “I sold flowers in Minas Tirith.”

“Oh, you will not be making medicines, but you will be kept busy,” Glandur said. Just then, there was a knock at the door. In walked the lean tall raven-haired ellon Terrwyn had seen when she first arrived. Her breath caught for he was even more handsome up close than far away. “Ah Feredir, right on time I see,” Glandur said. Terrwyn noticed how he had gone back to his Captain stature now that other guards were in the office.

Feredir did not look pleased to be there, but stood at attention in front of the Captain. “Reporting for duty.”

Glandur extended his hand to Terrwyn. She accepted and stood up. Then he led her to where Feredir waited by the door. Before introducing them, he turned to the gate guard with the letter and dismissed him with instructions to deliver the letter to the Captain of the High Guard of Minas Tirith. The gate guard bowed and left the room. Glandur turned his attention back to Feredir and Terrwyn.

“Feredir, this is the Lady Terrwyn. She is your ward now. I have put her on active work release in the healers’ quarters.” He paused and turned to Terrwyn. “Feredir is assigned to you as your personal guard. Should I be wrong in my assumptions that you will not try anything foolish, Feredir has orders to stop your escape in any way he sees fit.” This statement put a slight smile on the dark-haired elf’s face. Glandur continued. “So long as he is within his sworn duties.”

“Yes Captain,” Feredir responded.

“That will be all for now. I will take Terrwyn to meet the Master Healer. You will report at the women’s barracks first thing in the morning and begin your duty.”

Feredir bowed to his Captain. As he turned to leave, his eyes connected with Terrwyn. There was a slight glare between them and she felt as though she was a burden to her new charge. She did not even know the half of it.
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Journey Of A Butterfly