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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 54 - At Death’s Door

Feredir’s long ebony hair trailed out behind him, whipping in the wind. His horse left a trail of dirt and dust rising from the ground, disturbed by the grey mare’s large hooves. She was only a workhorse, but her speed was not lacking. Edoras closed in ahead and the sounds of people chanting reached his ears. The execution had begun and he could only pray that he was not too late. Orthorien would be along shortly, bringing Hathmund with him. Feredir would stall the proceedings until his brother arrived.

The dark elf finally reached the gates of the city. He pulled on the horse’s mane, causing the beast to come to a sudden stop. Then he threw his leg over her back and leapt down in one swift movement. His long hurried strides brought him to the gate and he proceeded to enter, but was halted abruptly by the guards.

“What is the meaning of this? Are visitors not allowed entrance to Edoras without invitation? I was here just weeks earlier and was met with a much warmer welcome,” Feredir spoke.

“We have our orders to not allow any new guests into the city,” the guard answered.

“Please, it is of utmost urgency that I speak with your ruler. I have information that he must hear pertaining to the execution of the young Rohirrim woman,” the elf pleaded.

“No one enters until we are told otherwise,” the guard replied unemotionally.

Feredir’s demeanor changed in an instant and anger washed over his face. “I need to speak to Erkenbrand and I demand entrance,” he said in a low smooth voice.

The guard did not speak, but merely stood his ground and stared back at Feredir. Then the elf lunged towards him and in the blink of an eye, his archer’s arm wrapping around the Rohirric guard’s neck. “You will let me enter or have the blood of an innocent woman on your hands,” he demanded with a growl.

At the same moment, ten fully armed guards had their weapons trained on the elf. His captor spoke again when Feredir loosened his grip on him. “The only way you will enter the city is if we have to drag your dead body through the gates. Now unhand me.”

Feredir was outnumbered and weaponless. He released the guard, who rubbed his neck after feeling the strength of an elf and knowing how easily he could have snapped his neck. Upset with Feredir’s disregard for authority, the guard signaled to two of his men who then took the elf by the arms, restraining him.

“That was a direct attack on our military and enough cause to have you arrested. It seems you just earned your way into the city by way of our dungeon.”

Feredir struggled to get free, managing to release one of his arms. He swung at the guard on his left, knocking him to the ground. The dark elf would fight all ten men barehanded if he must. Nothing would stop him from getting to Terrwyn.

He jumped and dodged the men’s attacks, knocking some to the dirt. It wasn’t until the rest of the guards rushed Feredir that he was brought down so that he tasted the earth upon his tongue, but the determined elf was not through. Using his Mirkwood skills, he bested his captors, knocking their legs out from beneath them, rolling over and jumping to his feet. The men kept coming at him, but Feredir fought with all his might, pushing and kicking them away until finally he had freed himself from them. The elf saw his chance for escape and darted through the gate. Two of the guards had bows and raised them. The gate captain yelled for them to lower their weapons. There were too many people in the streets of Edoras. They would have to chase Feredir down on foot. Then they would throw him in the cells.

Feredir disappeared quickly into the crowd and began making his way to Terrwyn. He turned back every so often to make sure the guards had not caught up to him and continued cutting a path through the Rohirric people. Terrwyn was here and, Eru willing, he would get to her before it was too late.

* * *

It had been a long and maddening walk to the gallows. People scratched and clawed at Terrwyn. They called her names and spat on her. For the most part, the sounds of their caustic chatter melded into one voice and nothing was distinguishable. The faces that met her all had the same expression, hate and excitement.

The guards pulled her along, occasionally stopping to push people out of their path. When this happened, Terrwyn took the opportunity to look out over the crowd. Each time her heart sunk a little more when she did not find anyone familiar, especially Feredir. She feared the worst had happened to him and Orthorien, that they had been captured or killed in Rhûn. She knew the odds were never in her favor. Hope had all but vanished. This was the end of her journey.

They finally reached the wooden platform of the gallows. Already, the Easterling and the Southron hung from their nooses, heads covered by a burlap sack, lifeless bodies swinging from side to side. She wondered if they deserved their deaths also. Had they actually committed a crime other than being where they should not have been?

From the platform, Terrwyn could see out over the plains of Rohan. She looked in the direction of her home in the Westfold and let her mind become consumed with thoughts of her childhood. She saw her father smiling as he came running up to them after a long stay at the borders. His arms stretched out to the sides as he caught her and her brother, holding them so tight they could not breathe. Her mother, so beautiful with her charming smile, watched her love with a sparkle in her eyes. How happy they had been then. It seemed that nothing would ever change and they would always have this love and comfort.

Terrwyn focused on this moment frozen in time as the executioner placed a burlap bag over her head. The crowd cheered each time they were a step closer to seeing her die. The sounds of the crowd quieted in her head and she focused on the voices of her parents. Would she see them soon? Would she go to the same place as them after her death? This was all she had now, the only thing she could hope for.

The feel of the rope lowering around her neck forced her back to the present. She was blinded by the sack with only the sounds of the crowd to inform her of what was happening. The wooden slats of the platform creaked as the guards left, stepping down the stairs. Then she felt the skirt of her dress wrap tightly around her legs and another rope bound her ankles. This was it, she thought and wondered why she was so calm. No tears streaked her face. No lump formed in her throat. Her breathing was slow and steady. Terrwyn realized that she had found her place of peace, had accepted her death. She was young and could have had so much more to experience, but what she found was that most of what she went through was satisfying. She had met good friends, fell in love, lived amongst the elves.

Ah, the elves, now that was worth all the mithril in all the hidden mines of Middle-earth. For so long she wished to meet them, befriend them and learn from them. That was exactly what happened. And then she met Feredir and loved him to no end. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. The love he gave her filled her now, made her forget about the crowd, the noose, the sound of someone standing to her side, ready to release the lever and drop the floor out from under her. None of that mattered now. Feredir was in her heart, speaking to her, comforting her with his alluring words. Naru, he called to her . . . red. He was beautiful in every way whether he was sweet or stubborn, demanding her to follow his orders or commanding her body to react to his. Feredir was everything she had ever wanted in a man, an elf, a companion. He was a fierce warrior and a caring lover. She prayed that he would be alright and not take the path that his heart might force upon him.

“Please let him live on and not fade,” Terrwyn prayed. “May he go on without me, find love again and live his life in a peaceful existence that he has not known yet. Please Feredir, do this one thing for me. Please, oh blessed Valar please let him have this one thing.” Terrwyn repeated her words over and over again. She would not stop until she hung by the rope around her neck and life escaped her body.

The constant hum of the crowd was replaced by the sound of Feredir’s calling out to her, calling her name. A figment of her imagination, she told herself. She so desperately wanted to hear his voice one more time and thought she was dreaming, but the steady call became louder and more demanding. What was this?

“Stop the execution! Stop the hanging!” Feredir yelled when he could finally see the very top of the gallows. From where he was, he could see three ropes tied to the upper beam. Two were taut while the one in the middle hung slack. The dark elf pushed and shoved people out of his path until he burst free and almost fell into open space. He looked up and saw three bodies, two already hanging and one still alive. “Terrwyn!” he yelled as his heart leapt to his throat. He was shocked to see her bound, tied and blindfolded in such a manner. He thought his heart would explode knowing how close to death she was. His eyes widened with panic. “Cut her down. Release her now!”

“Feredir?” she said quietly, disbelieving that it was really her love. Maybe she was still dreaming. She could see nothing with the burlap covering her head. But the gasp and quiet that spread throughout the crowd confirmed her questioning. He was here. “Feredir!” she yelled louder this time.

He wished to call back to her, but there was no time for a reunion just yet. The elf glanced around and found Erkenbrand standing at the base of the platform with a few spectators by his side. He closed the distance and without pausing to catch his breath, started to speak. “My lord, please stop this hanging. She is innocent. Please hear me out.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Erkenbrand responded.

“I have proof of the land dealings between Bregmund and the Haradrim clan he was negotiating with.” Feredir continued. “There were letters, correspondence sent between the two about the jewels and the trade for a piece of their desert land.”

“And where are these letters?” Erkenbrand asked.

“They have long since been destroyed, my lord, but I have found the slave who played messenger at the time. He saw the parchments and delivered them to the Southrons. He read them and knows what they contained.”

Erkenbrand looked around. “Where is this witness you speak of?”

Feredir reached up and removed some of his long hair that had fallen forward and stuck to his sweating brow. “He is with my brother and if you would just postpone this punishment for a moment, he will be here soon. I ran off ahead of him to stop you and now I beg of you to wait until the witness arrives.”

Bregmund’s father stepped forward, coming between Feredir and Erkenbrand. “There has been more than enough time to prove her innocence.” He turned to Erkenbrand. “I am through waiting. Hang the girl now.”

Suddenly, the gate guards pushed through and surrounded Feredir, bringing his arms behind him and pushing him to his knees. “My lord,” started the guard. “This elf assaulted me and my men. When we tried to arrest him, he escaped us and fled into the city. He speaks of nonsense.”

Erkenbrand regarded Feredir a moment before passing judgment. “I am sorry, but you have shown me nothing that will stop this from happening.” He turned to the guards. “Take him to the cells.” Then he looked to the platform and gave a nod to the executioner.

“No!” Feredir shouted as he struggled against the guards. “Terrwyn!”

Things were quickly getting out of control as the crowd began chanting. “Hang the girl!” The deceased man’s father led their protests until it seemed they would riot.

He was there . . . right there in front of her and she could not look upon him one last time. Still, she heard his voice and the terror in his tone. She wished he was not here to witness her death, but he was here and she could at least speak to him once more. “I love you, Feredir!” she shouted over the crowd.

Still kneeling on the ground, held down by the guards, Feredir looked up at her. Tears streaked down his face. “I love you. Forever will you be my Naru,” he answered. The guards lifted him from the ground and pulled him away from the platform. Feredir fought and twisted, looking back to see Erkenbrand raise his hand in the air and hold up one finger. The executioner placed his hand on the lever. Erkenbrand held up a second finger and the hangman grasped the wooden lever tightly.

Terrwyn felt the floor beneath her shift and she braced herself for what was about to happen. Feredir desperately tried to free himself from the guards. Time seemed to slow and everyone readied for the sound of the trapdoor opening. Erkenbrand’s arm started to lower, his final signal for the hangman to release the lever and . . .

“Aye, people of Rohan!” called a loud booming voice from somewhere in the crowd.

The gate guards looked up and found their King riding through the crowd sitting upon his warhorse. All but the two guards that contained Feredir bowed respectfully to their liege. The elf slowly turned his head, disbelievingly. Erkenbrand shouted to the executioner to wait and he released the lever until further orders were given. The crowd slowly quieted and all eyes were upon their King.

Eomer was among some of the tallest of the Rohirrim. He had sharp piercing brown eyes set below furrowing dark brows. His shoulder length hair was the color of the dry grasses of the plains, bleached by years of riding under the sun. A neatly trimmed mustache and beard outlined his mouth and jaw. He was a most handsome man, still in his youth and held in high authority. He was their King and well respected by all leaders of the free world.

Eomer released the reigns and jumped down from his horse, his feet landing heavily upon the earth. His armor rattled and clanked as he walked towards the platform, shocked by what he had found.

“Why is he being held captive?” demanded Eomer, his voice loud and carrying across the hushed crowd.

“My liege, this man entered without proper permission. He attacked us at the gate and we are taking him to the dungeons,” the guard answered with a bow of his head.

Eomer noticed three of the men adorning swollen eyes and bloody noses and laughed to himself. “Your first mistake was regarding him as a man. He is an elf and you are all very lucky to be alive right now. I have fought alongside the elves and I know what strength and deadly skill they possess.”

Feredir, still held captive by two of the guards, looked at Eomer and felt the slightest bit of relief. “King Eomer, I have information that will stop the execution of this woman, but they will not hear me out. Please, you are about to make a mistake by hanging her.”

“I am fully aware of the situation,” Eomer answered and Feredir watched as Orthorien came towards him, stepping out of the crowd like an apparition.

“Orthorien,” Feredir said and smiled with relief.

Eomer nodded and the guards released the dark elf. Feredir got to his feet went to his brother, grasping forearms. “You seem to make friends fast,” the young elf commented.

“As quickly as you seem to make enemies,” Orthorien said looking at the beaten guards. “Oh,” he continued smugly. “And I brought you the King.” He patted Feredir on the back and leaned in to his ear. “You can thank me later, brother.”

Eomer looked up at the gallows and then glanced around at his people. “Release the girl,” he commanded.

“But my lord,” Erkenbrand started then quieted when Eomer raised a hand to stop him.

“I said release the girl. There will be no hanging,” Eomer commanded.

The crowd slowly began to protest and Bregmund’s mother spoke next. “But my King, you are releasing a murderess.” With that the crowd broke into another round of shouts as a guard climbed the stairs and pulled the sack and the noose from Terrwyn’s head. Then he released the rope from around her ankles, her skirt slowly unraveling from around her legs. Finally, he cut away the bonds from her wrists and she massaged them where the rough rope had rubbed her flesh.

Feredir immediately ran to her, taking the steps two at a time. He gathered her in his arms and she seemed to collapse. Finally, all the fear, all hopelessness fell away and Terrwyn began sobbing uncontrollably against Feredir’s chest. He held her tight, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve got you now. It is alright. You are safe. Oh, my sweet Terrwyn, you are safe.”

The people felt cheated out of their show and their voices rose to a higher level. Eomer jumped upon the platform and addressed his people. “What is this? Since when do the people of Rohan behave like such barbarians? Why do you cheer for the death of one of our own? Where is your pride? This is not how we should behave. This is not the reason why I have fought in recent wars, to revert into the customs of our forefathers. It is a sad day in our history when we feel satisfaction in witnessing another’s death. If we behave in such a manner, then we are no better than our enemy.”

The crowd quieted once more, but Bregmund’s parents were not done being heard. The father stepped forward. “Say what you will, but my son is still dead and this woman will walk free. Where is the justice in that, my lord?”

“I have spoken to the witness and I say this woman acted only to protect herself. I am sorry to both of you, but your son Bregmund was not innocent in this matter,” Eomer informed them.

The mother came up and stood next to her husband. “Then let us hear from this witness. Let our own ears hear what he has to say.”

Orthorien walked back into the crowd and reappeared with Hathmund. Terrwyn watched from the platform and gasped as if she had seen a ghost. “It is . . . is that my . . .?” she stuttered.

“He is alive, Naru. This is your brother,” Feredir whispered and Terrwyn released her hold on the elf. Her legs wobbled and she started to fall, shocked by what she was seeing. Feredir caught her and held her steady as she looked on with disbelief.

Hathmund stepped into the cleared space between the platform and the crowd and faced Eomer and Bregmund’s parents. “My name is Hathmund. As a child, my family was slain and I was taken by the Southrons, forced into slavery. In order to survive, I did as I was told and was eventually entrusted as a message runner for one of the Haradrim clans. I read every letter that passed my hands with hopes of escape and bringing the precious information back to my home. I clearly remember one letter above all, for I was witness to the deceit of one of our own.” Hathmund turned to the parents. “I am sorry to inform you that your son, Bregmund claimed possession of jewels and was going to trade them with my clan leader for a piece of his land. He had offered them money at first, but it was not enough. The Southrons wanted something more substantial for giving up a piece of his property, that and a contract for your son to supply his clan with slaves, women and children. That’s when he sent note of the jewels. He listed each one and its value. I can tell you if you like, but you will see that these were the exact jewels that went missing from your household.”

Bregmund’s parents looked upon Hathmund with stunned faces, but his mother was still not convinced. “How do we know that she was not in on this also? Maybe she learned of this information and decided to steal the jewels for herself, killing my son.”

Hathmund turned to look at his sister for the first time in nine years. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered. He paused a moment before answering the question, smiling to his beloved sister. “Terrwyn would not, could not have murdered this man in cold blood,” he said in a loud voice so that all could hear.

“And just how can you be so sure?” asked Bregmund’s father.

“Because . . .” Hathmund paused, looking Terrwyn straight into her green eyes. “My sister is not just a Rohirrim. She shares another heritage, one she knows nothing about, but the purity of her blood would not have allowed her to make a senseless killing and she could only kill out of necessity for her own safety. Coursing through her veins runs the blood of the elves as well as the Rohirrim.”

A gasp spread across the crowd like the sound of the wind blowing over the open plains. Feredir and Terrwyn were stunned and unable to move. It was as if time froze and Hathmund was the only one not turned to ice. He walked to the stairs and looked up at his sister.

“Hello Terrwyn. It is good to see your lovely face,” he smiled. It seemed like such a trivial greeting, but he could think of nothing else to say.

She took an unsteady step forward and Feredir took her arm, leading her down the stairs until she was standing face to face with her brother. Tears filled her eyes and her lip quivered. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Is it you? Is it really you?” She seemed to ignore this bit of new information as if she had not heard what he had just revealed.

“I have waited so long that I thought this day would never come,” Hathmund said taking Terrwyn into his arms. Brother and sister clung to each other for what seemed like eternity. Then they finally released one another and Terrwyn searched his face.

“What you just said, I . . . I can’t even fathom it. What makes you think this? I am not half elf. I am human . . . Rohirric. If you are telling them this just to prove my innocence--.” she whispered so no one would hear.

“It is true, Terrwyn. Oh my dear sister, there is so much I need to tell you.” Hathmund pulled her to him again. She could feel him shaking against her. She was shaking too, shocked by everything that had just happened.

“Oh, how I prayed every day that you were alive and now--. I can’t believe I am actually holding you,” Terrwyn cried.

“Good people of Rohan,” Eomer announced. “Let us rejoice. One of our lost brothers has been returned to us and an innocent life has been saved. It is a good day in Edoras. Tonight we will feast.” Eomer stepped down from the platform, joining Terrwyn and Hathmund. “You are free Terrwyn. Hathmund has provided enough proof and I am satisfied. However, not all of the people here will accept or understand my decision. The fact is, someone is dead by your hands. I still have much to take into consideration, but take peace in knowing you will not be imprisoned or face further punishment. You have my word.”

Terrwyn released her brother and got down on one knee, bowing to her King. “Thank you, Sire. Thank you for giving me my life back.” She looked up at Hathmund. “Though I do not know what this new life holds just yet.” She was still in a state of shock and disbelief. How on this good earth could it be true? She could not possibly be half elven.

Feredir and Orthorien joined the two siblings. Terrwyn turned to Feredir and jumped into his arms. “I don’t think my brother knows what he is saying. The Southrons must have filled his head with untruths.”

“I do not know what to think either my love, but for now I am just thankful to have you back. I thought I had lost you forever. When I saw you up there, tied and--.” Feredir could not continue and held her against him. “I would have faded. I could feel my soul start to die already.”

“But I am here, Feredir. I am alive and I love you,” Terrwyn whispered against his neck.

“And I love you, my sweet Naru,” he answered before capturing her lips for the first time in what felt like forever.
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Journey Of A Butterfly