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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.

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Chapter 39 - A Spy in Ithilien

Feredir and Orthorien were right behind the Easterlings that snuck past the wall. The men’s heavy footsteps were easy to follow, while the elves barely made a sound. Then the men disappeared into the heavy undergrowth of the forest. The elves senses became more in tune to their surroundings now that they lost sight of them. They stopped running and walked cautiously. Orthorien nodded his head gesturing to Feredir to go to the right. The older brother went left. Neither one went too far so that they lost visual contact.

Feredir tensed with every tree and every rock that he passed that was big enough to hide the form of a man. He heard a leaf snap from a bush and instantly his elf eyes caught sight of one of the men. His golden helm hid his features but the design signified his ranking. This was not a soldier but rather a runner, someone who delivered messages or goods between the wagons. They were not required to fight, but to keep the men in contact with each other from one end of the caravan to the other. Runners did all the little odd jobs that the soldiers did not have time to worry about. Now Feredir wondered why they snuck across the border and where they were going.

He glanced quickly and saw Orthorien still on the trail of what he hoped was the other Easterling. When his attention came back to the man, he watched as he removed a bow from his back. Now, why would an Easterling have a bow? They normally carried axes or spears. That’s when Feredir noticed that it was a Haradrim bow and the man was fitting an arrow, which he now aimed at his brother. Quick as lightening, Feredir raised his own bow and fired hitting the man in the neck. He let out a muffled cry and instantly fell to the ground. Feredir ran to his brother, who had heard the cry. Both elves now stood over the Easterling looking down at his dead body.

“He was going to shoot you,” Feredir said to Orthorien.

“He has a bow,” Orthorien said baffled.

Feredir crouched down and removed the golden helm from the dead man’s head. Black wiry hair and dark tanned skin revealed his true heritage. “This is no Wainrider,” Feredir said confused.

Orthorien furrowed his brow. “This man is from Harad, a Southron.” His anger began to seethe within him. These were the men that attacked them along with the orcs as he rode into Ithilien.

“But what are they doing dressed as Easterlings?” Feredir wondered, deep in thought.

“Spies,” Orthorien growled. He looked out into the forest. “One yet lives,” he whispered and took off at a run.

Feredir pondered the word spy a moment. These men were Southrons. It suddenly dawned on him that they may know something of the land trade and jewels Terrwyn spoke of. He looked up to see Orthorien disappear into the thick foliage. His brother would capture and kill the other man. No, he thought. He needed him alive. He may hold precious information. “Orthorien, wait!” he called after his brother and followed after him at a great speed.

It felt as if he ran forever when suddenly he heard his brother’s voice. “And why should I let you live?”

Feredir came upon them. The man was lying on his back on the leaf littered ground. Orthorien knelt on his chest, one knee crushing into the man’s sternum. The older elf held his knife to the man’s throat, a trickle of blood running to the side of his neck where the blade had already broken the skin.

“Orthorien, no!” Feredir shouted. “We need him. I need him. He may know something.”

Orthorien was distracted by Feredir’s words. “What would he know about anything besides killing? He is naught but a parasite hiding amongst the others and retrieving information to send back to his king. Anything he has seen here he would use against us. He must die.”

“No, I need him alive,” Feredir said and noticed a bit of relief wash over the man’s face. “At least for now.” The elf’s attention came back to the Southron. His silver eyes drilled into those of his captiver. “At least now we know how they have come to learn our routines. There will be more. This one . . .” Feredir scowled. “He is expendable. If he will not talk, then you can kill him. There will be more and this time we’ll be ready for them.”

The man said something in his native tongue that Orthorien did not understand. Feredir had dealings with these men and knew some of their words. Still, it was obvious by his tone and the look of fear in his eyes, he was willing to cooperate.

“We will take him to the Captain,” Feredir announced.

They bound the man’s hands with elvish rope and gaged his mouth. Orthorien walked in front while Feredir walked behind and they led the man out of the forest and towards the city. A scout saw them approaching and sent more elves out to meet them. Soon, the man was in Ithilien’s cells awaiting a meeting with the Captain of the Ithilien Guard.

* * *

Glandur was enjoying a visit with Legolas and Rhavaniel, who just happened to be visiting her husband. She had been training her replacement as the Queens new bodyguard. They felt she was ready to begin the take over and Queen Arwen gave permission for Rhavaniel to go on a reprieve. It had been quite some time since she made the trip to Ithilien. One of her highlights was visiting with the Captain and learning about Terrwyn. Glandur informed her of everything that had occurred since the woman arrived, and also the lack of findings to help claim her innocence. As if the Valar themselves heard their conversation, a private messenger interrupted then to bring Glandur word of the captured spy. When asked how it came about, the messenger informed him that it had been Feredir and his visiting brother that made the capture. A bit of pride filled the Captain’s heart to know it was Feredir who had a hand in this. Anyone else might have just destroyed the spy and been done with him.

The Captain looked up to his guests. “An important matter has come to my attention. Lord Legolas, usually I would ask you to join me in something like this, but because Rhavaniel seems to like to get involved, I thought she might like to participate in the interrogation of a spy from the south, a Haradrim as a matter of fact.”

Instantly the husband and wife knew what importance the man played should he hold any information. Rhavaniel looked at Legolas and smiled. “These are your lands he has intruded upon, my lord. And I have not yet officially taken my throne by your side. My duty still lies within Minas Tirith.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and I have tried desperately to change that one little detail.”

Rhavaniel touched her hand to his fair face. “Soon, my love,” she said to soothe his anxiousness about the situation. It seemed to work and Legolas’ features softened.

“Go then. I know how much you love an interrogation, my dear,” Legolas smiled.

Rhavaniel kissed him before she left. “You should be ready in your quarters by the time I get back,” she whispered quietly in his ear so that the Captain could not hear. Then she made her way to the door and joined Glandur.

* * *

The spy was brought to an empty stone room with no windows and only a few lanterns to light the dark and dampened space. He was placed in a heavy wooden chair, arms and legs bound so he could bring no harm to himself or others. The elves that brought him there, left him blindfolded and gaged. He breathed heavily, worried about what would happen to him. In his mind, it would have been better to be killed instead of taken prisoner. Of what he knew of the elves, they were magical and cruel. Surely they would slowly drive him insane until he begged them to end his life.

The door opened and in walked a massively tall golden haired elf. Behind him was a female elf, just as tall and just as dangerous looking. A seductress, the man thought. She would use her sexual magic to draw out any information he might hold.

Glandur could feel the man’s fear for he wore it like a badge. He walked up to the man, waving to Rhavaniel to stay back. She was not needed at this point. The Captain started the conversation by accusing the man of espionage, disguising himself as an Easterling and breaching the borders. He questioned his intent and his finding thus far. He threatened the man’s life should he choose to stay silent, a slow death of course.

The spy, afraid of long drawn out torture before meeting his makers, wagged his tongue and divulged any information he had. Glandur listened and tucked every word away for later use. Thinking he was done, the man asked, “What will you do with me now?”

“Well,” Glandur started. “I could turn you over to her,” he said tilting his head towards Rhavaniel. “She thrives off of the blood of men such as yourself.”

The man shivered at the thought and Glandur continued. “Or you can tell me one more bit of information. You are a spy and something tells me you know of what I am about to ask.” The Captain circled around behind the bound man and Rhavaniel came out of the shadows.

“What do you want to know then? I have told you everything ,” the man said nervously.

“What I want to know is not about Ithilien. Tell me, do you know of the purchase of some of your land by a man of Rohan? Something about a fair trade of precious jewels for a piece of your soil?”

Instantly the man’s lips sealed tight and Glandur was sure he knew something. “No? You will not speak now? Oh, and here I thought we had opened the lines of communication. Such a pity. Well, if you will not speak to me, perhaps I should leave you alone with the elleth. I know for a fact she is quite capable of getting men to . . . open up to her.”

Rhavaniel licked her lips and smiled wickedly as she intertwined her fingers and gave her knuckles a good cracking. She approached the man, walking seductively, one foot in front of the other. She put her hands on the arms of the wooden chair and leaned down to the man. “Oh, what fun I will have getting you to talk.” She licked her lips again and stood up straight. Her foot came up and slammed down on the seat between the man’s thighs. He jumped realizing how close he came to losing his own precious jewels. Rhavaniel, who hated dresses, changed into one just for this occasion. Now she slowly pulled the skirt over her bent knee, fingers trailing along her skin in a seductive manner. The man’s eyes widened as he witnessed the supple flesh of the inside of her thigh. Just when he thought he would get a view of something better, she stopped. “Ah, ah.” She wagged her finger back and forth. “Not so fast.” Then her hand pulled a knife from a garter strapped to her thigh. The silver metal flashed in the light of the lanterns as she waved it in front of the man’s face. “We will play this game by my rules.”

Glandur stood behind the man and out of his view. Watching Rhavaniel in action was quite a treat. He could understand why the Prince was so in love. She was dangerous and daring, a perfect match for his lord. Still, he couldn’t help but smile and laugh to himself as he watched the man shiver in his chair.
Suddenly the man blurted out a name. “Mazzin. There is a man named Mazzin who knows of what you speak.”

Rhavaniel brought the knife up under the man’s chin, the point sticking into his fleshy jaw. “Mazzin is not here but you are. Speak now.” She pushed on his flesh, drawing blood.

“I . . . I know nothing. I was not there, but I have met the man I speak of. He was a message runner. He knew of the deal. He was there and heard everything.” The man’s voice wavered as his eyes rolled around trying to look at anything but this dangerous elleth in front of him.

“And where would we find this . . . Mazzin,” Glandur asked from the shadows.

“He is near the Sea of Rhun, last I heard. I have not been back in a long time. He may even still work for the same man who set up the trade. He was a slave, that much I know. Slaves rarely get traded for they know too much, but if he has talked he would be dead by now.”

Rhavaniel lowered her knife and her skirt. She stood up straight and looked down at the captive. “Too bad he talked. I was looking forward to playing with him.” Then she raised her hand and slapped his face, leaving it burning as it reddened. “That was for thinking I would let scum like you touch me.” Rhavaniel left the room and two guards came in.

“Take him back to the cells until we figure out what to do with him,” Glandur ordered, then he too left the room and met Rhavaniel out in the hall.

“So what do you think?” Rhavaniel asked. “It is not much to go on.”

“No,” Glandur said disappointedly. “But it is something. We need to get someone into Rhun, see if we can’t find this Mazzin.”

“That is a big risk,” Rhavaniel said concerned.

“Time is running out, Rhav, and I don’t have any other answers.” Glandur was sure this man knew something. If they could just find him, they could worry about extracting information from him later.

Rhavaniel went off to join Legolas and Glandur made his way back to his office. Feredir was sitting on the floor, back leaned against the office door. As soon as he saw the Captain, he jumped up and stood at attention. Glandur patted his shoulder. “Job well done, Feredir.”

“Did he know anything?” Feredir asked desperately.

“He gave us the name of a slave who knew about the deal. He was a message runner at the time, but whether he is still there or even if he is still alive, I do not know. It is a longshot.”

Feredir looked to the floor, eyebrows furrowed. “I promised her, Captain. I promised Terrwyn I would find an answer and I mean not to break that promise.” Feredir sighed heavily. “I will go if you will allow it. Let me be the one to find this man.”

“Feredir, I can’t let you--.” The Captain was interrupted.

“Please, you know what it is like to love someone and be on the verge of losing them. I have to do this, Captain.” Feredir begged.

“Let me think on it, Feredir,” Glandur answered softly.

Feredir bowed. “Thank you Captain.”

The black haired elf left the Captain’s building. He went back to the healing house so he could see Terrwyn again. He had been gone for a long time and was anxious to hold her in his arms. He wondered if she heard news of his return, if she waited for him. He only wished he had better news.

On his way, he met Orthorien. His brother asked what happened with the spy and Feredir told him all he knew. He told him that he requested to go and find this man. The brothers walked in silence for a block or two. Then Orthorien captured Feredir by his arm, stopping him. Feredir looked at his brother curiously, readying himself for another confrontation, but there was a look on Orthorien’s face that he had never seen before. He stood silently and waited for the golden elf to speak.

“Your love is this strong that you would risk your life by marching into the hands of the Haradrim to find this man?” Orthorien asked.

Feredir did not speak, but only nodded in agreement. Orthorien looked at him intently, searching for some sign that he was not speaking the truth, but saw none. “I did not think it went this deep, brother. I only thought you sought to--.”

“I am not like you Orthorien, though I have tried to be. I did not go looking for it, but it found me. My heart has been touched. I cannot turn that aside.” Feredir spoke with sincerity.

Orthorien smiled slightly and laughed to himself. “Mother was right. You were born with both the blood of the elves and the blood of men and nothing I could have said or done could keep you from knowing that.” He placed his hands on Feredir’s shoulders. “I did say those words to Mother and I did not mean for you to hear. I was trying to convince her of something, but more importantly I was trying to convince myself. You are my brother and I love you. And I . . . I do not want to lose you, not to the world of men. I am selfish and want you with me on that ship when it is time to sail.”

This admission may have been the one thing Feredir had always needed to hear. For so long he thought Orthorien did not see him as an equal, thought he was beneath his brother. Now he understood why he was like this. “I have made no decision just yet, Orthorien.” He tried to ease his brother’s mind.

“No, but you are close now. You have found love and it is among humans. You are right, Feredir. Mother is strong and though she will miss you, she will survive and be glad to know you have found more than just a decision. She wanted you to find a love like the one she shared with your father. I can never express the hurt and anger I felt when I learned that she betrayed my father, and he out on the borders laying down his very life for her, for us. Not until you were born did I come to understand what she found in Minas Tirith. That one chance meeting provided her with an eternity of happiness, and you her gift. Forgive me, brother. I meant not those hurtful words. I just loved you too much to see you leave me and sail alone.”

Feredir embraced Orthorien, pulling him into his being and sharing a rare moment of brotherly love. “I love you too, brother. It is not over yet. I do not know what the future holds and neither do you. The one thing I do know is that I cannot sit by and see injustice done to an innocent woman. Whether my heart belongs to her or not, I must do something.”

The brothers released each other. Feredir looked to his feet, completely lost for any more words. Orthorien felt this. “We will look for an answer together,” he reassured his young brother. “Now come, there is a beautiful woman anxiously awaiting your return.” They shared one last look of certainty and returned to the healing house.

A/N: Thank you for your recent reviews. They are very much appreciated.
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Journey Of A Butterfly