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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
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Chapter 2 Life As She Once Knew It

Eventually Terrwyn, her brother Hathmund and her mother Larrwyn left the safety of Helm’s Deep and traveled back to their home in the Westfold. What they found was complete devastation. Their home, which was not more than a hut, along with their whole community had been burned to ashes. Horse carts, mills, everything was destroyed. The bodies of the fallen now poisoned the small lake used for their water supply. They could not live here anymore. All was in ruins, but Larrwyn would not leave. This was her home and the last place she was when Hathred, her husband, fell. There was no closure for her, no body to bury, no Captain to give her his sword or any of his warrior possessions. She had nothing and so she fell into despair. Hathmund, though only a young boy of nine, tried to talk his mother into moving on with the others. The rest of their clan decided to move to the next village and start over again, but Larrwyn would hear none of it. A small group decided to stay and try to salvage their desecrated village in hopes of rebuilding it. She asked if friends would take the children with them. She said she would stay and build a new home with her bare hands if need be then send for the children when it was done. Hathmund knew this was not the right decision, but it was out of his hands. Now all he worried about was watching over and protecting young Terrwyn.

Hathmund went to his mother. “We are leaving with the others,” he said sounding much older than his age. There was no reaction from Larrwyn except to look at her young son with such sadness and desolation, nodding in agreement.

Terrwyn quietly watched. She no longer recognized her mother. This was not the same beautiful loving person she had known. Larrwyn was just a shell of her former self, yet Terrwyn still loved her just the same. “Please don’t stay here. I need you Mamma,” she cried and ran to her mother’s arms. She wanted her mother to wrap her arms around her and tell her all would be well, that they would find a new life, but that did not happen. Larrwyn sat there upon a charred barrel in the middle of a burned down village and did not move as if paralyzed. Terrwyn held her tight, lifting her mother’s arms to make her hold her, but Larrwyn’s arms just fell back to her lap.

Hathmund came up to his sister and pulled her off their mother. “Come sissy. We have to go.”

“No!” she yelled. “I won’t leave Mamma. Father is gone and she will be all alone.”

As if she was suddenly awakened, Larrwyn focused her attention on her young daughter. “It’s alright my sweet girl. Go with Hathmund. I will send for you when we have our home back.”

“I don’t want to go Mamma. Why can’t we stay here and help you?” Terrwyn cried, tears now streaking her dirty face.

Larrwyn wiped them away with her thumb and forced a smile. “It is too dangerous right now. You will be safe with the others. Besides, I will call you home and we will be together again.”

“Do you promise?” Terrwyn asked hopeful.

Larrwyn turned away from her daughter and stared out into the distance. “I promise,” she said, but the tone of her voice was as empty as the promise itself. Still, Terrwyn believed her and only because of that did she release her mother and go with Hathmund, leaving their mother behind.

* * *

Terrwyn and Hathmund settled in with their new family. It was not easy though. The couple already had children of their own and could not really afford two extra mouths to feed. Still, they did the best they could. Hathmund did not like being a burden and found a job running messages for the Rohirrim army. He was young and fast, which is why he did so well. Soon he was gone for long periods of time, leaving Terrwyn with the family. She helped them with everyday chores and pulled her own weight while hoping every day that her mother would send for them.

Days turned to weeks and weeks to months and all too soon, it had been three years. Their mother sent letters but never one telling them to come home. Terrwyn never gave up hope but Hathmund saw things much differently. “She has forgotten us,” he said to his sister one day. He was home for a change, spending some precious time with his sister.

“Of course she hasn’t. She would not forget us,” Terrwyn argued. “Besides, what makes you so sure?”

Hathmund turned away from his sister. “Come now sissy, it has been three years and she has not called us home. She does not want us back,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Don’t say that. She just wants things to be in order. She will call us home. Just you wait,” she said fidgeting with something in her skirt pocket.

Hathmund watched her. “What have you got there?”

She smiled and pulled out the little wooden butterfly. “Remember the elf we met? He gave me this. I have kept it with me ever since.”

Hathmund did not say anything, but he too still carried the dagger the elf gifted him. He felt much stronger knowing it was with him.

Terrwyn smiled. “He said everything would be alright one day and I believe him. Elves cannot lie you know.”

* * *

Another year passed. Terrwyn was now ten, her brother thirteen. Hathmund was one of their best messengers and the Rohirrim relied on him heavily. Though the war was over and Gondor once again had a King, life was all but normal out on the plains. Not all men agreed with the decision to let a Ranger rule on the throne. There were Men of the South, dark skinned men up to no good, who often tested the borders. They came from Harad and had once tamed great beasts that obeyed their commands during the War. Most had been killed or captured, some vowed to serve the new King of Gondor, but others still roamed freely. They were always looking for a way to take over some of the outer lands, claiming them for themselves and ignoring the new laws of the land. It was these men that the Rohirrim were at constant struggle with and why the Westfold was still not completely safe.

Hathmund had been away doing his service for the Rohirrim army. Now that he was older and knew the lands better, he knew of different paths, one leading to their old village. He made the choice to go there and hopefully see his mother, wanting to know why she had not sent for him and Terrwyn yet. He came upon a sight he wished he’d never seen. Instead of finding a newly renovated village, it was still in ruins, but for some of the huts. There were Southron soldiers ordering the people around. A group of sickly looking village men was gathered at one end of the small dirt road. Their hands were bound as they sat on the dirt ground. A few huts lined the road, village women standing in front of their doors. The Southrons that were not guarding the men paraded up and down the road, inspecting whatever little work had been done to the village. One of the dark men went to the prisoners, speaking harshly to them. Hathmund could only make out a word here or there. It seemed one of the men was giving the Haradrim a list of some sort, tools and material needed to repair the mill. Another villager snapped in response to the first man’s request, telling him not to do this, and a Harad soldier hit him across the jaw with the handle of a large knife. The injured man fell to the ground and did not move, obviously knocked unconscious. After a little more discussion between villagers and Haradrim, the Southrons left the group of imprisoned men and headed in the direction of the huts. One particularly tall and muscular Southron went to one of the women standing in front of her small hut. He spoke to her briefly then pointed to one of the men, her husband perhaps. The woman nodded, but would not look the Southron in the eye. He turned back, glancing to the woman’s husband, smirked and focused on the woman again. He reached out and took her chin, turning her head roughly from one side to the other as if inspecting her. Then he turned her and shoved her towards the door of the small house. The woman made no fuss and moved inside, still looking at the ground. The Southron followed her, but paused before going all the way in. He looked once more to the husband and nodded silently, telling the villager that they had a deal. Then he disappeared through the door and closed it behind him.

Hathmund, though young, understood what was going on. The Haradrim were trading tools, materials, food and other resources for the use of the village women. He could not understand why they would do this, but the reason was simple. It was just another way to belittle the Rohirrim and slowly take over the outer lands of Rohan. His stomach started to turn in disgust. His and Terrwyn’s mother was here with these lowlife men. He looked around anxiously as he watched the Southrons picking which women they wished to take. None of them was his mother, but some of the huts seemed already occupied. Hathmund wondered if she was in one of these huts already with one of the Haradrim abusing her. There was nothing he could do right now. He was only one, only a boy. The situation was too dangerous now, but he would return. He would come back and protect his mother. He would not leave their mother to deal with this horrible situation alone. He went off on his own, hiding until the Southrons left. It would be another day before he could go to her. He would not be ready to see Larrwyn in the condition she was in, thin and fragile, her spirit broken.

* * *

Hathmund had been gone for quite some time. It was his longest time away from Terrwyn, three months. She hoped everything was alright and that he was just busy running messages. In the meantime, Terrwyn found employment in the village stables. To her it was a treat to be amongst the horses. The hut in which she stayed with the family seemed to be getting a little cramped lately as all the children grew. They were very kind to her and her brother though. It had been a good experience and a lesson in independence as her and Hathmund helped with money.

She soon found out that being a stable hand made more money than what the stable owner paid. The horse owners occasionally gave her a little extra, which she put away to save for a later use. For what she did not know, but hoped it would help her and Hathmund return to their mother quicker.

One day, she was at the stables brushing down a beautiful brown mare. As she carefully untangled its long mane, her thoughts took her back to Helm’s Deep and the beautiful elf she met. She thought about the elves often and how fortunate they were to live such carefree lives. It was a life she longed for, but it seemed out of her reach. She was too young yet to set out on her own and there was still the situation with her mother. Family was more important than seeing elves and so she worked on, always wondering about the fair folk. Anytime someone came into the stable telling tales of their recent adventures, she listened carefully. Sometimes, they spoke of elves and how they were leaving Middle-earth. It made her sad to think that they would one day be gone. Her hand wandered to her pocket where she kept the gift from the elf she met. She smiled and promised to one-day venture from her homeland to see the elves before they all but disappeared, and maybe find the one she had met earlier.

Time passed slowly. Four months now it had been and still Hathmund had not returned home, nor had she received a letter from her mother. Terrwyn was worried for she had heard some men speaking in the stables. They talked of activity at the borders. It seemed the Haradrim were becoming braver and assaulting the troops more often. Their numbers were quietly increasing. Terrwyn feared for her brother who was at the front lines passing messages to and from the different troops of soldiers. She hoped that this was the reason he was gone so long. His workload may have increased, keeping him away longer.

She was on her way home from a long day working the stable when she noticed some of the villagers coming from their huts. They seemed to be upset and anxious. More people started running here and there, loading packs on carts and horses. Something was happening and she needed to get home. Terrwyn picked up speed and ran the rest of the way. When she got there, her foster family was busy packing their own cart, gathering what little supplies they had. Terrwyn’s heart sank immediately. She ran to her foster father. “What has happened?”

The father, a man who looked older than his age because of fighting and injuries in war, was finishing saddling their horse and turned to her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Thank the gods you are home. There is not a moment to spare. We must be going.”

Terrwyn was suddenly filled with fear. She pushed away from him to look him in his weathered face. “What happens? What have you heard?”

“My dear Terrwyn, word has just reached us that a group of Southrons breached the border unchecked. They must have been in disguise to slip past the guards. They made their way through the plains, plundering and killing along the way. They are headed this direction. We must leave now before they come,” he said with panic in his deep voice.

Terrwyn shook her head. “No, I will not leave without my brother. And what of Mother? Has anyone received word from my old village? Has anyone been sent to warn them?”

“I do not know, but there is no time now. If we stay we will be killed and you . . .” He paused, afraid to go on and tell her the truth he knew about the Southrons. “You and the rest of the children would be in worse danger. Now go and gather only what you can carry. We don’t have room for everything, only that which is most precious to you.”

Terrwyn looked at him with tears in her eyes. “The only thing precious to me is not with me,” she said sadly, thinking of her family.

Within the hour, the family, along with the other villagers, fled from their home once again. Terrwyn sat in the back of the cart with the other children, looking back to her second home. She was deeply worried for her mother and her brother. She could only pray that they would be safe and that the Rohirrim would find and hunt down the Haradrim before they got that far.

Three days they had traveled and now they camped under the stars. They were heading for Edoras where they felt they would be the safest. It was the middle of the night and Terrwyn could not sleep. She had a terrible feeling in her gut that something happened. She needed to know. The thought of leaving without Hathmund tore at her mind. He would be looking for her and she would not be there. Her instincts told her to stay where she was and Hathmund would eventually find her. But her heart said otherwise. Although her foster family had been good to her and Hathmund, they were not her real family. She could not abandon her brother. She needed to find him. And so, Terrwyn gathered her small pack, taking a loaf of bread and a small skin of water. She went to the area where the villager’s horses were temporarily housed and found the pony that belonged to her foster family. Carefully and quietly, she saddled him and untied the reins. She fastened her pack and jumped on, walking slowly off so as not to draw attention to herself. She did not get far when someone called to her, stopping her.

“Where are you off to?” said a young man not more that eighteen or nineteen.

Terrwyn was still just a young girl and she knew he would not think she was leaving. She put on her best smile and looked warmly at the young man. “My brother is not feeling well and our water has run out. I was merely going to the spring to refill my skin,” she said innocently. She reached back and held up the skin, hoping he would not take it. Then he would know it was already full and keep her from leaving.

The young man looked at her and then to the pony who was obviously used for making short trips. He nodded in satisfaction and told her to be quick. Terrwyn thanked him and headed in the direction of a nearby spring. It was opposite of the direction she needed to go, but there was a tree line not far where she could disappear into unnoticed and at a safe distance. She looked back several times to see the man watching her and pretended to fill her skin. Then she went back and attached it to the horse. That was when the young man seemed to be called away by someone. He pointed in her direction and the new person waved his hand as if to tell him not to worry about it. Then they both went off and out of view. Terrwyn leapt onto her pony and took off towards the trees. This was her only chance to slip away and she did just that. Her horse was small and the trees were far enough apart that she could ride slightly further into the woods. Then she would change direction and go the way she needed to go. It would take her a little longer to ride around the camp but it was all she could do. With that, Terrwyn slipped off into the night heading back to her original village where she hoped to find her mother.

* * *

It took Terrwyn all of three days to get back to her old village, the one where her foster family lived. It was completely deserted and ransacked. Nothing was left unturned. Crops were destroyed, some buildings were burned. She went to her home and found furniture upturned, pottery smashed, closets emptied. It was obvious the intruders were looking for anything of value, but why waste time in these small villages. Most people had not much and were poor. She went to her room and found her bed flipped onto its side. On the dirty floor was a picture book. She had forgotten about it. It was tucked beneath the hay-filled mattress, kept safe from the younger children who might rip its pages. Terrwyn kept it as a reminder of her father. He had given it to her as a gift after returning from one of his long missions. Now the book lay on the dirt floor, trampled on, pages torn and completely in ruins. A tear escaped the corner of her eye. Why had she forgotten it when they left? She grabbed other things that meant less to her heart. Maybe it was because she had not thought of her father in a very long time. Every year that passed, it became harder to remember what he looked like or sounded like. She picked up what was left of the little book and a page fell out floating to the floor. Terrwyn picked it up and looked at it through teary eyes. It was a picture of a rose, one of her favorite flowers. She had never seen one except in this book. It was in full bloom and a dusty pink color that reminded her of the twilight skies in the plains. Some of the petals were drawn to look like they were falling from it. For some reason, she always loved this picture more than any of the others. Now she neatly folded it and tucked it into her pocket. This was all she had left to remind her of her father.

Suddenly, fear struck her heart. Whomever did this would have come across her mother’s village first. It was only a two-day ride away and she knew she could not stay here for fear of the Southrons returning. She took one last look around the hut and went outside. A turned over barrel lay off to the side and she could see apples spilling from it. Grabbing some and putting them into her pack, she returned to her pony and fed him one. The small horse was exhausted but she had to go on. She had to find her mother and so after a short rest, she moved on.

Smoke rose just over a small hill. Terrwyn’s old home was on the other side. She prayed that it was smoke from a wood fire, someone cooking an evening meal. Her prayers went unanswered as she reached the top of the hill and looked down. What was left of the old village was destroyed once more. One small hut smoldered, the reason for the smoke. This was the first time Terrwyn had been back since Larrwyn sent her and Hathmund away to live with family friends. It looked like the progress had been slow, but now whatever effort they made was demolished once again. She made her way down the middle of the village and gasped at what she saw. Bloody and beaten bodies of the deceased lay strewn about. She felt her stomach lurch, but was afraid to leave her pony and went on. Then she came to her old home. The door was ripped off and lay to the side. Some of the thatching from the roof was strewn about. Terrwyn paused a moment, afraid to go any further but knowing she had to see if anyone was inside. Slowly she slid from the ponies back, looking around to make sure there was no other movement. Then she walked to the doorway and peered in. There was nothing inside but for a small table with two chairs, some pots and clay bowls, and to the back, there was a torn apart makeshift mattress. Something stuck out from under it. Terrwyn was terrified to see what it was, but it glinted in the soft sunlight shining in through a window. She approached and found a small knife lying on the dirt floor. At a closer look, she saw it was her brother’s knife, the one the elf had given him. It had blood on the blade. Terrwyn swallowed hard and picked it up. As she crouched down, a heaped shape in the corner caught her attention. Slowly she stood up only to find it was her mother lying on her side, her arm twisted unnaturally and covering her face. The young girl immediately began crying. She walked to her mother and looked down. Almost afraid to touch her, Terrwyn nudged her leg with her foot. The body rolled over and she saw what had been her mother’s fate. Larrwyn was extremely thin and pale, as if she had not eaten in a very long time. She had two blackened eyes. Her lips were swollen and bloodied. Her clothes were torn and there looked to be blood under her fingernails. There were red marks around her neck, like the imprints of fingers. It seemed her mother had fought off her attackers but lost her life in the end. She had been beaten and strangled. Terrwyn also knew what else these Men of the South were capable of and that explained the torn clothes. She knelt down next to her mother’s body and wept. What would she do now? She had no family. Her father and mother were now dead and her brother . . . Well, she did not exactly know what happened to her brother. Why was his knife here? Had he given it to Larrwyn during one of his visits? Had he been here recently?

There was a sound of pots clinking from the front room. Terrwyn gasped and looked around. Someone was in the hut. Afraid it was the Haradrim come back to check for treasure, she hid in a corner behind an upturned table and prayed the intruder would leave without finding her. Someone moaned and a clay jar crashed to the floor. Whoever was in the house sounded as if they were injured. Terrwyn peeked from around the table and saw a man, a villager, crawling on his belly, searching through the fallen pots and pans. She went to him and saw that he was badly injured. He slowly looked up at the small girl.

“Water. Please,” he said in a raspy voice.

Terrwyn ran from the hut to her pony, grabbed the water skin and returned to the man lying on the floor. She helped him to sit up against the wall and held the container to his mouth. He drank a little and then choked in pain. There was a big gash in his side and blood poured from the wound. He was beyond helping now.

“You must go and warn others. More will come,” he managed to say.

“The other village left more than a week ago. I was with them but came back to find my mother,” she said.

The battered man squint his eyes. “You are Larrwyn’s child,” he whispered.

“Yes. My brother, was he here? I found his dagger and--.”

“He was here. He came to warn us, but it was too late. They took him,” said the man. “The Southrons took him. They take all children they find, enslave them and turn them against their own people.” He looked up into Terrwyn’s eyes. “You must get far from here or the same thing will happen to you, only worse.”

“I have to find my brother,” she cried. “If he is still alive, I must find him. He is all I have now.”

“He is gone child. They have him now. There is no telling where they took him and if he is too much trouble, they will kill him anyways. Now go. Leave this place and never look back. Get to Edoras and warn them.” As the man finished speaking, he coughed up blood. Suddenly he could not breathe. He was drowning from fluid in his lungs. He leaned his head back against the wall, looked to the ceiling and took his last breath.

There was nothing more she could do. Terrwyn had to go, but she hated the thought of leaving her mother’s body for scavengers. Digging a grave would take too long and she had no time. So she found a torch lying on the ground, lit it from the smoldering hut and came back to her old home. She lit the thatched roof on fire and soon the entire hut was ablaze. When she was sure it would burn completely, Terrwyn jumped back onto her pony and headed back towards Edoras. All she could think of was her brother and needing to find him.

Tired, cold and hungry, Terrwyn had traveled nearly a week now. She rode out of the woods, the same ones she disappeared into. More devastation. The group of villagers she left behind was attacked. All were dead. By now, some of the Rohirrim were patrolling the area. Terrwyn was never so glad to see the tall golden soldiers. She was weakened by hunger and her pony could barely take another step, but she moved towards the Rohirrim soldiers. They saw her small figure and went to her. Terrwyn told them her story about how she returned to her home, found the dead villagers and her missing brother.

“We found the Southrons as they were rummaging through the debris.” said one very tall, golden haired man of Rohan.

“My brother was with them,” she cried. “They took him.”

“We saw no one but the intruders. We left none alive,” he said to the girl. She faltered and started to fall but the strong man caught her before she hit the ground. He carried her to a group of other soldiers. As he carried her, Terrwyn managed to open her eyes and see the dead bodies of both villagers and Haradrim. And then something caught her eye. Reddish blonde hair on a body lying face down in the dirt. Terrwyn struggled in the man’s arms.

“Put me down.” she screamed with sudden strength and the man could not hold her. He put her down and she ran to the body. She knelt next to him. It looked like Hathmund but she could not be sure and turned the body until the face was clear. Terrwyn broke down into a fit of tears.

Finally, the same tall man came to Terrwyn’s side and kneeled on one knee next to her. “I am sorry,” he said.

Terrwyn looked up with a tear-streaked face. “It is not him, but he is not here. They have him.”

The tall Rohirrim opened his arms to her and held her like any parent would hold a grieving child. She cried until her tears ran dry and she fell asleep. They placed her in a cart and took her along with them to Edoras.
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Journey Of A Butterfly