Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 25 - Punishment

It was a new day and Terrwyn waited for Feredir to come get her and escort her to Master Curuven’s healing house. Today, she would find out what punishment the Master Healer had in store. She did not know, but could only imagine it would be something hard and strenuous. No matter, she would take it whatever it was. She at least deserved that much for breaking the trust she had developed with the Ithilien elves, especially Feredir. Their last conversation had been harsh. He called her a liar, thought she deliberately seduced him so he would set her free. That was not her intention. And the kiss . . . that came from nowhere. It was just one moment, one unexpected moment, but it felt like forever with his lips upon hers and his body covering her own. What could make him behave in such a way? He changed from arrogant guard to a wild sexual beast, and she liked it. But then she ruined the moment when she spoke to him. When she asked him to let her go, he turned back into his usual obnoxious guardsman and everything else was lost. Maybe it was what she deserved. Her life had gotten out of control. She was lost, had no home, no family. Those that tried to help her no longer trusted her now. Once again, she was alone even though the Captain said they would still help her. Terrwyn could not see how. The elves could not get involved in her troubles. There were no witnesses that tragic night that started all of this. It was useless. She knew this. It was better to just take her punishment now and wait out the time until someone sent for her to return to Rohan. She would fight and defend herself until her dying breath, if that was all she could do. Terrwyn would not give up, no matter if they believed her or not.

There was a soft knock on the door. Feredir was here to escort her to the Master Healer’s house. The door unlocked and the elf stood there in his usual guard uniform. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Terrwyn simply nodded and walked to the door, but when she tried to leave, Feredir stood in her way. It forced her to look up at him. She was in no mood to hear his insults this morning. “Let me get my day started. I have not the energy to banter with you this morning.”

Feredir stepped aside and Terrwyn walked past him. The tension between them could be cut with a blade. It was no less than the elf expected. They walked in silence to Master Curuven’s house. Terrwyn stepped into his waiting room and saw it was going to be a busy day. Waiting was a woman with a baby that was crying, a man with his arm in a makeshift splint and an old man hunched over rubbing his knobby knuckles. Terrwyn had been doing this long enough that she could already guess what medicines she would be mixing for these patients. However, that was not her job anymore.

She looked back when she heard Feredir whispering. He was down on one knee next to the woman, smiling and saying something elvish to the baby. His large hand covered the infant’s bald head and the child instantly calmed. The woman thanked him with a nod of her head as Feredir stood back up. Terrwyn had never seen him do anything like this before. All she had ever seen was his guardsman persona. So he did have a gentle and caring side too. Why couldn’t he show that side more often?

As Feredir turned away from the woman and child, his gaze caught Terrwyn’s briefly. The smile had not left his face yet. Surely, it was not meant for her. His stare captured her for a moment, those eyes of silvery stars. Her breath caught when she thought the smile really was meant for her. A mistake, she thought to herself and broke away from him, turning her eyes to the floor. Terrwyn went to the office door and went to find Curuven and learn her punishment.

Master Curuven was sitting at his bench, crushing dried leaves and what not. He looked up and smiled when he saw Terrwyn. “Ah, my dear girl, it is nice to see you this morning. I see you have decided to stay with us a while longer,” he teased.

Terrwyn was speechless, shocked by his greeting. Feredir laughed under his breath. “She does not yet understand the ways of the elves.”

Obviously not, she thought to herself. They should be upset with her, strict and unmoving, ready to hand down her punishment. Instead, Curuven was just as kind and understanding as ever. Still ashamed of her behavior, Terrwyn bowed her head and looked at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her. “Please, just assign me to my new duties so that I may get started with my day.”

Curuven looked to Feredir who shrugged his shoulders. “Feredir, will you give us a moment? Do not leave though. I will need you in a moment.”

Feredir nodded and went to the small room at the very back of the working area. As he passed Terrwyn, she inhaled his scent. She could not explain it but to say it was like inhaling fresh air after being indoors over a long period of time. To be near him was to be refreshed, at least until he spoke, she thought. Then he lost all his charm.

Master Curuven gestured for Terrwyn to have a seat in a chair next to his workbench. She did and he went right back to grinding his dried leaves. She sat there waiting for him to say something, hands securely clasped in her lap. After a long silence, watching him work, Terrwyn spoke. “Will you not tell me what my punishment is?”

Curuven smiled without looking up from his work. “And watching me crush leaves is not punishment enough?”

“Well, it is rather boring, I must admit, but sitting here not doing anything just does not seem right when there is a waiting room full of people needing your help.”

“Why do you think they call it a waiting room?” the Master teased again.

Terrwyn thought he was in an unusual mood. “I just do not understand. You should be furious with me. I broke your trust. Actually, I do not understand why I am not in a cell right now.”

“You know what you have done and you know it was wrong.” Curuven got up and walked to a cabinet across the room. He took out a vial of dark liquid and a jar with some sort of white powder, and brought them back to his workbench. He kept working as he spoke. “Elves do not have the time it takes to teach lessons to those who already know the wrong they have done. The guilt you feel is lesson enough, wouldn’t you say? Besides, you never would have made good with your plans of escape. Feredir is not the only set of eyes on you.”

“I am sorry Master Curuven. I should not have run and if you want to send me from your care I will understand.” Terrwyn was very sincere with her apology.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I think I know what you can do for me that will not only be helpful, but will suffice as punishment all the same. Captain Glandur has already told me to take away your healing privileges, which I will do, at least for a while. Still, there are other things I need done that have nothing to do with medicine.”

Curuven smiled fiendishly then called Feredir back in. “Take her to the stables.”

The stables she thought to herself. Of course, that was where they would send her. That was where she started out at in her young life, shoveling hay and horse dung. Would they tell her to sleep there also? Would she wish for the uncomfortably thin mattress of her barracks cot over a dirty stable floor?

* * *

The height of winter had passed and the days were once again slowly lengthening. People were busy with their daily routines, going here and there. Patrons filled the shops. Besides the crispness in the air of the winter breeze, it was rather sunny. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight. Winter birds hopped from branch to branch, chirping and peeping to each other. The fountain in the center of town still trickled water. Feredir proceeded to lead Terrwyn across the courtyard towards the road that led to the stables.

He was so very tall that it took a couple of her steps to match just one of his. Terrwyn felt as if she were running to keep up. He seemed to be in a hurry and she knew why. He was angry with her. He probably just wanted to get rid of her. Maybe he had orders to drop her off at the stables and then go on to another duty for the day. She had felt bad for what she’d done, for getting him in trouble.

“I’m sorry if I got you into any kind of a mess. There must be a better place you would like to be than guarding me,” she said as she trotted along behind him.

“It is what it is. I have a duty to attend. Besides, I believe you won’t be trying any more tricks for a while.” He sounded stern, but not as abrasive as usual.

Soon they were at the stable, large with many windows and very well kept. A horses head popped out from this window or that, checking to see who the newcomers were. Feredir opened the doors and Terrwyn went in. She gazed down the long hay covered hall. It was bigger than it looked from the outside. Stable boys were already busy going here and there, saddling horses, brushing some, others shoveling stalls. Terrwyn took a good look at them, figuring she would be working with them for a while. Feredir walked past her down the hall, then stopped and turned. “Come along. There is someone I think you should meet.”

Terrwyn hurried to catch up to him. He stopped in front of one of the stables and smiled. “It has been a long time since you have seen your friend,” he said and made a clicking noise with his tongue. The large black head of a horse came up and looked over the stall door. Terrwyn’s heart instantly filled with joy.

“Brannoss,” she sang as she reached out to him. The horse nodded many times, his large brown eyes lighting up when he saw his rider. “Oh Brannoss, I wondered what had become of you.” She patted his nose.

“Go on then. Give him a real welcome,” Feredir said as he opened the door for her. Terrwyn looked to Feredir. He was different somehow. This was not how he usually behaved around her.

She smiled and went into the stable. Brannoss whinnied quietly as if relieved to see a familiar face. He was in wonderful shape, very well taken care of. “Who owns him now?” she asked, picking up a brush and running is along his sides.

“You have always been his owner. The stable hands take care of him and make sure he is ridden, but he belongs to you.” Feredir seemed a little surprised by her question. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just thought with everything that’s happened . . . I figured he would have been given to a good home by now.”

Feredir came into the stall, closing the door behind him. “You are from Rohan. You should know that a horse like Brannoss only has one rider. Once there is a bond, it cannot be broken. You are his rider. He trusts you.” As he spoke, Brannoss nudged Terrwyn in the back, pushing her rather hard and making her stumble unexpectedly. Feredir caught her by her arms and kept her from falling. The warmth of her skin felt good against his palms. The scent of rosewater filled his nostrils. He held her for a moment before letting her go. Feredir could not deny the fact that Terrwyn was very beautiful, troublesome but beautiful.

Terrwyn righted herself, but paid no attention to Feredir now. She turned back to Brannoss. “I guess I deserved that, didn’t I? Well, I am sorry my friend. I am sorry for disappearing like that, but I had no choice.” Terrwyn laid her head on his ribcage, listening to him breath as her thought took her back to that awful night in Edoras. “You should know. You were there,” she whispered.

Feredir’s elvish hearing picked up what she said. He realized the beast had been there on the night in question. He had probably witnessed what happened. He helped her escape, brought her to Gondor. There was a closer bond between these two, horse and rider, than he had realized.

“What happened, Terrwyn?” he asked quietly.

Terrwyn’s mind raced. Being in the stable with Brannoss brought back a lot of familiar and horrible memories and smells. She had a far off look in her eyes as she remembered the feel of her assailants strong grip, being pushed down, legs spread, clothes torn . . . alone. She remembered the feel on her knife slicing flesh and muscle, felt the pop of tendons and then the sight of blood spraying from his neck. “I can’t speak of it. It was too horrible,” she finally managed to say.

For the first time, Feredir’s heart went out to her. Something very terrible happened to her in Rohan. Even now, he still did not know her full story. He was her guard, but it was not his duty to know the details of her arrest. She had been accused of a crime, ran from authorities, captured in Minas Tirith and brought to Ithilien. Now she waited for her kinsmen to retrieve her and take her back to her homeland for trial. That was all he knew. That was all he cared to know. It was none of his business, but now he was curious. Feredir figured she was a thief, an imposter maybe. Looking at her now, he realized something far worse happened.

Feredir reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to pry.”

She turned her head to look at him, her long red waves falling across the back of his hand, soft beautifully thick hair. Tears stained her eyes and he wished to wipe away the one that threatened to fall down her cheek. “I thought you knew,” she answered. “You asked me once and I told you it was murder.

“I was not given any details as to your arrest. Because of that, I thought your charges were minor, theft perhaps. I thought you were telling stories when you said that, being we were not on the best speaking terms at the time.”

Terrwyn smiled. “Theft is one of them, but murder is my main crime.” She stepped away from Brannoss, now standing at Feredir’s side. “That is all you need to know then, since it is not your duty to know everything.” She needed to change the subject from the current one and getting started with her punishment seemed to suffice. “So, where shall I start, shoveling stables, sweeping floors? Perhaps there is a horse that needs to be readied for its rider.”

Feredir looked at her curiously. “What are you talking about?”

“My punishment, of course. I am to work in the stables, am I not?”

He laughed. “Work in the stables? That is not your punishment.” He patted Brannoss on the neck and spoke elvish to the black beast. The horse snorted and nodded its large head as if he understood what the elf was saying. Terrwyn was amazed to see how quickly Brannoss responded to him.

“Have you visited him before?” she asked curiously.

“No, I have only just learned that you had a horse,” he answered noticing the surprised look on her face. “You really have a lot to learn about elves, don’t you? I am a wood elf. Our race is very in touch with nature be it plant or animal. Have you never heard of the elves talking to the trees?”

“Why yes, but--.”

“But you thought it was all just a myth,” he said shaking his head and wearing that arrogant smile again. “Of all the beasts and animals, our greatest gift as a companion is our horse, all horses as a matter of fact. Especially as a warrior, we must have a line of trust and love so that we can be as one during battle. The horse becomes an extension of our own bodies, moving and thinking as one. Therefore, we can speak to them and they understand. I can’t say it is as much the words as it is a feeling that allow us to understand each other.” Feredir paused and crossed his arms. “You of all people should know that. Are the Rohirrim not the same in this way? Horse masters they call you, tamer of beasts.”

Terrwyn stood tall in a defensive stance. “We take offence to that title . . . horse master. It is as you have just said. We share a bond. They trust us and therefore they will go with us to every battle, proud to fight with us. We do not ‘master’ them.”

Feredir felt that fire from within her once again. Whenever she spoke of her heritage, her spirit shined fully. He liked that about her. Terrwyn was not afraid to stand up for herself or her people. He had heard about the loyalty of the people of Rohan to their country. He saw it now from this blazed beauty. She was like fire, astonishing and wondrous to behold, but get too close and she could burn him. Maybe he wanted to feel her fire, see what she felt when she was like this. He certainly could understand it. He was a proud elf warrior of Mirkwood. Yes, he dwelled in Ithilien now and protected it just the same, but Mirkwood was his home. That was truly where his heart lay and he had that same fire for his home as Terrwyn had for hers.

“I stand corrected then. I shall never use the term again,” he apologized. Terrwyn’s eyes were still wild and captured him. For a moment, the two countries mingled together within their stare, grass plains and lush forests, the smell of open dry air and humid forest decay. They were two very different places, but both with the same feel of home.

Feredir shook himself from the moment. “Come on then. Let us be on our way. There is a lot of work to be done.”

“So if I am not to work in the stables, then what have I been sent to do?” she asked. Feredir once again headed off taking his long strides, leaving Terrwyn behind to play catch up. They left Brannoss’ stall and walked the long length of the stable, exiting out of the opposite end.

A great workhorse stood attached to a flatbed wagon. It was very rustic looking; a seat on metal rusty springs barely big enough to hold two people. The bed itself looked like it had seen better days and Terrwyn wondered that it would not fall apart when they ran over the first pothole they encountered.

“What are we doing with that?” she asked disgustedly.

Feredir laughed, enjoying being the one to hand her her punishment. “We are riding out to the forest. You,” he said putting emphasis on the word. “. . . are gathering firewood for Master Curuven.”

“Firewood?” she said surprised. “That is to be my chastisement?” Terrwyn was shocked. At first, it didn’t seem like much. As a girl, she and her brother had gathered firewood all the time. That was part of their daily chores. Thinking this would be easy, she smiled at the elf, ready to take her punishment proudly and then return to start practicing her medicine again. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving.”

Terrwyn stood by the wagon a moment, inspecting it. “Is it safe?”

“I would not let you on if I thought it wasn’t,” Feredir replied. He was enjoying this, but of course, he knew there was more to it than gathering firewood. Maybe ‘gathering’ was not the right choice of word. Oh well, she would be mad at him again, but that was nothing new.

They hopped up onto the seat. Terrwyn was correct in her assumptions about its size. It was rather small and she squashed up against him, not that she minded too much. She would not admit it, but she rather enjoyed the feel of his leg against hers. She could feel the muscles in his thigh that she hadn't realized he had from just looking at him. Hard sinewy muscles beneath brown leggings, not that she cared.

He took the reins and clicked his tongue. The horse started walking slowly until they were out on the cobblestone road, then he went into a trot. Every once in a while, Feredir’s arm rubbed against her soft skin. Again, she felt his archer strength. He really was magnificent to behold. She felt a sense of security with him, and not just because he was her guard. He had been nice to her today, never once calling her that horrid name he always used. He even allowed her to visit Brannoss. That’s when she realized she hadn’t thanked him.

“I really appreciate what you did back there, in the stable. Truly, I thought someone else bought Brannoss by now. I did not expect the elves to keep him for me. It was like seeing an old friend.”

“It was nothing. I thought it might cheer you up to see him again. I think he misses you and it gladdened his heart to see you too,” Feredir smiled.

“You know, you’re not so bad when you are not acting like the haughty, self-opinionated guard that you usually are,” Terrwyn admitted.

“And you are not so bad when you are not acting like the winded chatterbox.”

Terrwyn shot him a sidelong glance. “I will ignore that last comment.”

They rode out of town and followed a dirt wagon trail to an older part of Ithilien. This area looked as though it sustained heavy damage from the war. There were many dead trees, some lying on the ground and some still upright sticking sadly into the sky. Terrwyn watched Feredir’s reaction to the sight before them. “It saddens you to see this, doesn’t it?”

“Some of these trees were hundreds of thousands of years old. Some of my ancestors walked among their branches. It is a shame to see such destruction. I will never understand why anyone would want to harm something so defenseless.” His solemn voice was barely a whisper.

“Why did the elves not help to regrow this part of Ithilien?” she asked.

“It is said that there was a battle here. Many men lost their lives when others did not come to their aid. Their blood has soaked into the soil. New trees will not grow here yet. The elves left it this way to remind the survivors that without unity there can be no future. It is my hope that the trees will grow here again someday, that men will remember long after the elves have all sailed and forever unite.”

The mention of elves sailing saddened Terrwyn’s heart. She looked at Feredir and could see conflict in his face. “You do not know yet whether you will stay or sail, do you?”

“It is true that I have a choice and I never gave it much thought when I was younger. I have always felt more elf than human. I just always assumed that I would sail with the others,” he answered. “But there are more things to consider now that I am older.”

Terrwyn was about to ask him more about his background when Feredir brought the cart to a stop. Just as quickly as the dark mood appeared, it disappeared and he was once again smiling, a bit of swagger coming back into his silver eyes. “Well, here we are.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a pair of worn gloves that looked two sized too big. “You can wear these so you won’t chip a nail or get blisters. We wouldn’t want to injure your pretty little hands now would we? If you need anything else, it is in the chest at the foot of the cart.”

Terrwyn stood there, dumbfounded watching him head off to the nearest living tree. He easily hopped up and assumed his usual position on a branch, just as he had done when she was picking herbs, roots, and such. That was so like him, like the elf she knew. There was no explanation, no help, not that she needed any. She looked around at the area. There seemed to be plenty of stuff to collect.

His comments seared a hot spot in the back of her brain. “Chipped nails, indeed,” she thought to herself. “He hasn’t the slightest idea of how hard I’ve worked my whole life. Gathering wood is not a punishment. I’ll show him and not complain once. I’ll just do my job and soon I’ll be out of these weeds.”

Half way through the day, Feredir produced a bag full of fruit, took an apple for himself and tossed the rest down to Terrwyn. They didn’t speak much. Terrwyn just wanted to gather her wood and be done with it. A couple more hours, and she figured she would be done. Most of the wood around here was fallen logs too big for her to handle.

Even with it being winter, she still worked up a sweat. Her arms were bruised from carrying branches. Her back hurt from bending over. Her feet ached from constantly walking over stones protruding out of the ground. The cart was almost half-full and there was nothing more to gather. Feredir silently leapt down from his tree and joined her at the wagon. She was out of breath and she looked exhausted.

“Well, that is about all I can manage. We can head back and deliver this to Master Curuven,” she panted heading for the front of the wagon.

“Oh,” he cried cheerfully. “You are not done yet, though what you have done so far has been very productive.”

Terrwyn didn’t like his tone. She turned a murderous eye towards him. “What do you mean I’m not done yet,” she hissed.

“There is plenty of wood to collect yet and the cart is only half full.” He smiled in that way that made Terrwyn want to rip his pointed ears right off his egotistically large head. Then he produced an ax from the chest he told her about. “You never even looked in here did you? These are your tools that you’ll need to finish the job.” He handed her the ax and crossed his arms.

“You . . . want me . . . to chop wood?” she asked through clenched teeth. “You could not have mentioned this from the beginning?” Her voice was getting louder with every word. “I have been running all over this forest gathering wood. And let me remind you, you lout, that you said ‘gathering’, not chopping. There is a difference you know.”

Feredir simply smiled, but had enough smarts to step back a few feet, out of the range of an ax swing. “I told you about the chest. You should have known there were tools in there for completing the job.”

Terrwyn picked up the ax, holding it in both hands in front of her and looking very dwarf-like all of a sudden. “Why, you rotten son of a--.”

“I will remind you, Lag that you are not in charge here. I am still your guard and you have work to do. Now get back to it.” His voice was stern once again. Even though he did not think she would actually strike out at him, she still held her stance. No woman had ever threatened him, least of all a young woman of Rohan.

The look Terrwyn shot him would have brought down a heard of oliphants. He was right of course. This was her punishment for trying to escape. She had no argument. If she had to chop wood then she would do it without further disagreement. She glared at Feredir for a long moment. He never dropped his eyes from her either. She could tell he was waiting for her to start a yelling match, one in which he would probably enjoy and win at. Terrwyn would not give him the pleasure. Chip a nail my ass, she thought to herself. She would not give him the satisfaction. So, instead of reminding him what a pompous son of an orc he could be, she lifted the head of the ax up and examined it, then rolled her eyes to him. “Is it sharp?” she muttered in a low tone.

Feredir did not answer, but stepped aside as she marched off towards the woods once again. He did not expect her to give in so easily. He was waiting for her to cry and carry on about how women did not chop wood, etc. When she did not, when she stomped off and started chopping at the first log she came to, Feredir felt a newfound respect for Terrwyn. This woman could hold her own. If she could take his bantering, then she must be very strong indeed. Still, he would give it about an hour and expect to see her whining, he thought. Off he went back to his post in the tree. Aye, he’d be glad when this day was done.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Journey Of A Butterfly