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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9 - Shadow Man

Terrwyn and Rosloch had traveled many days now. They were within an hour of entering the land of Gondor and only a couple days from Minas Tirith. Terrwyn thought the air smelled different and the land looked quite lush. She felt the excitement of seeing something new and could not wait to get to the City.

Today they traveled as far as they could, riding into the night longer than usual. They were both anxious to end their long journey and return to city life. As they got closer to Minas Tirith, they talked about what they would do first. Rosloch, being a man, looked forward to visiting his favorite haunt, a tavern on the third level. There he would meet with friends he hadn’t seen in a long while. Terrwyn only wanted a bath in a tub of warm water with lavender soap and rose scented oils. They both realized they missed the little things most.

The night was late and they stopped at a small patch of forest that lined the left side of the road. Rosloch felt they were quite safe here, being just inside the border of Gondor so they left their horses at the edge of the wood while they traveled into the forest a little ways. There they found a small clearing between the slim pines. Terrwyn helped Rosloch gather firewood and soon he had a small fire going. Then he picked up his bow and went to find food for their supper.

“Now, do you remember the whistle I taught you?” he asked. This was something he did to pass their long days of travel.

Terrwyn touched her thumb and middle finger together and brought them to her mouth. She took a deep breath and blew. Her whistle sounded like a birdcall. “How was that?” she asked.

“Perfect,” Rosloch answered. “Now remember that, for if ever you should need me, I will recognize your call. I’ll be back in a bit. Keep that fire going. I’m pretty sure the hunting will be abundant in this area.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get the camp set up while you’re gone,” she said, and Rosloch darted off deeper into the woods.

First thing she did was spread out their bedrolls. She paused a moment, wondering if she should put them together or one on each side of the fire. She decided to put them in an L shape with their heads next to each other. The night was already getting late and she was sure whatever Rosloch caught would be small so that it cooked quicker. They were both exhausted from their journey and took sleep whenever they could.

Terrwyn pushed the glowing logs with a large stick and then added more wood to the fire. She found just the right size and shape sticks to make a spit for roasting Rosloch’s catch. Then she poured water from her skin into a small pot they used for boiling. Along the way, Terrwyn collected leaves from plants she knew would make a tasty drink. It would help warm them as the nights tended to get a little cold, even in the summer.

When everything was ready, Terrwyn sat down on her bedroll. She grabbed her pack and started rummaging around for her hairbrush. Along with the brush, she took out the wooden butterfly and the book page with the rose and Taldred’s handwriting. She sat her prized possessions on the ground in front of her, looking at them while she brushed her long reddish blonde hair. It had gotten quite long lately, all the way down to the small of her back, and it was becoming a chore to brush out the tangles. Perhaps she would have it cut shorter when she got to Minas Tirith. That way it would be more manageable.

As she brushed her hair, she smiled down at her belongings. She hoped all was well for Taldred. It was a very dangerous thing for him to see her to Firien Wood. If the guards did not believe his story, he could be tried and possibly executed for helping with her escape. However, King Éomer was quite fair and she hoped, if Taldred was tried, it would not come to that. Still, Taldred was very good at convincing people he was telling the truth. She tried not to worry too much about it.

Terrwyn finished brushing her hair and placed the brush back in her pack. Next, she carefully folded the parchment and tucked it into her bag. Then she picked up the wooden butterfly, flipping it in her fingers and feeling its unique design. She smiled to herself as she thought about the elf from so long ago. She couldn’t help but wonder what ever became of him. He was probably back in his forest homeland, climbing the trees and singing about pretty maidens and lordly legends. The thought relaxed her and kept her mind off her troubles.

She was just about to put the wooden trinket back into her pack when there was a rustle of branches. Looking up, she saw Rosloch stepping into the glade. Terrwyn smiled. “There you are. I hope the hunting was good. I kept the fire--.”

“Terrwyn!” Rosloch said in a desperate whisper. The look on his face was one of fear and concern. This confused her.

“Rosloch, what is the matter?” she said, getting to her feet.

His line of sight shifted from Terrwyn to somewhere just past her. Instantly, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She was about to turn when she was grabbed from behind. She let out a gasp and started to struggle, knowing this was her only chance to retrieve her throwing knife that was attached to her thigh. There were two dark skinned men, each holding one of her arms. They had a strong grip on her and she could not get her weapon. She started to struggle even more and yelled.

“Terrwyn please don’t make things worse. Just give them what they want and I think they will be on their way,” Rosloch said to try to calm her. “I think they are just thieves and will leave us once they have what they want.”

Terrwyn looked at Rosloch and wondered why he was just standing there. Why wasn’t he coming to help her? That’s when she saw another dark skinned man step out from behind Rosloch. They must have captured him in the woods and made him bring them to their campsite.

Suddenly, the two men holding her started speaking to each other in a strange tongue. “Rosloch, do you know what they are saying?”

Rosloch shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I think they are speaking the language of the Haradrim, but I know not their words.

Terrwyn froze in her spot as she tried to understand what they were saying. She didn’t recognize a single word, but their tone was familiar. They started speaking in hushed voices, laughing under their breath. This was not good, she thought to herself. Then, the man on her right ran a finger up her arm, over her shoulder and along her neck. His fingers then entwined themselves in her long freshly brushed hair. He made a moaning noise and Terrwyn knew what he was thinking.

Rosloch watched the scene play out in front of him, helpless to do anything but yell. “Get your filthy hands off of her,” he demanded, whether they understood him or not.

The other dark man on Terrwyn’s left laughed and lifted her hair from her shoulder and away from her ear. He ran his tongue along the outer edge. Terrwyn closed her eyes and made a face as if his touch burned her.

Rosloch was getting angry. “Hey!” he yelled and started to lunge forward, but the third man behind him caught Rosloch and quickly pulled a knife out, holding it to his neck. Rosloch stopped before anything worse happened, but he didn’t stop yelling. “Leave her alone. Take to your thieving and be gone.”

The two men that held Terrwyn laughed again and started pulling her along with them out of the glade and towards the trees. She struggled knowing what these two had in mind. They were not only looking for treasure, they were going to have their way with her. She knew they would kill her and Rosloch too, then raid their belongings and leave them to rot. Terrwyn’s mind flashed back to when she was a child and the Haradrim attacked her village. She had seen the devastation these cruel men could inflict. They would show no mercy. She knew there was no talking her way out of this. They already had their minds made up as to what they wanted and what they were going to do.

Rosloch could stand it no more. “Terrwyn!” he yelled, making the two men stop and look back. His loud outcry seemed to throw his own captor off guard just long enough for Rosloch to grab the man’s arm that held the knife. The two men struggled and fell to the ground. Fists were flying and it seemed to Terrwyn that Rosloch had the upper hand. The two men holding her took this opportunity to hurry her along into the woods while the Gondorian and the third man were distracted.

“Rosloch, help!” she screamed just before one of the men stuck a cloth into her mouth. She struggled against her captors, unaware that she dropped her elven trinket in the dirt. As the men attempted to gain complete control over her, they kicked up the dirt, burying the butterfly.

Now the dark men had Terrwyn to themselves in the forest. She could still hear Rosloch fighting with the third man. The sound of metal clashing told her that he managed to gain a weapon, but so did his attacker. She could no longer yell as she was gagged. The first man pushed her up against a tree while the second man held her arms behind the rough pine trunk. They were talking to each other in their own language, laughing and eyeing her body. Occasionally she could her Rosloch yell her name, trying to find out which way she had gone. Then someone yelled out in pain. She could hear the thump of a body falling in the dirt and hoped it was not Rosloch. The dark man in front of her grabbed her shirt and ripped it, exposing her breasts. The metal horse medallion that Taldred gave her hung around her neck. He observed it a moment and scowled at the symbol of Rohan. He said something to the other man, who made a disgusted face and spit on the ground. Then the man in front of her began fondling her body with greedy hands. She tried to scream, but only a muffled cry came out, barely loud enough for the two dark skinned men to hear. Off to her right, she heard leaves rustling and sticks breaking beneath someone’s feet. Terrwyn looked through her tear-stained eyes and saw that it was indeed Rosloch that came to her aid. He must have bested the other man.

The scene Rosloch came upon made his blood boil. Without thinking, he advanced upon the two men holding Terrwyn captive. “Release the girl. You will both die before I let anything happen to her,” he yelled.

The man in front of Terrwyn spun on his heel, eyes glaring at Rosloch. He calmly said something in his dark language then laughed. Rosloch watched as the man behind Terrwyn held a long knife against her throat.

“You . . . no move!” the first man yelled. “Girl’s mine!”

Rosloch took a step towards them and the knife was pushed harder against her skin. He froze in his spot, hearing a muffled cry coming from Terrwyn. When the men were sure he would not interfere, the first man went back to touching her. She wriggled and the knife cut her flesh. Tears streaked her face and all Rosloch could do was watch. If he tried anything, they would slash her throat. His mind quickly came up with a new strategy.

The two dark skinned men were laughing as the first one groped her naked chest. Just when it seemed nothing could be done, there was a call from deeper in the forest where the ground gently inclined. The two men assaulting Terrwyn seemed not to hear. Then the call came again, a foreign demanding voice. The men stopped and looked up to the top of the small hill.

Terrwyn opened her eyes and turned her head to see who this new intruder was. Up the tree covered hill stood the silhouette of another man. She could not see any of his features since he was covered in shadow. It sounded like he spoke the same language, but with more authority. Now she worried that this was their leader and that he wanted her for himself. The shadow man did not advance though. He only stood there at the top of the hill, barking orders. The groping man seemed to argue with the newcomer. He was answered with some kind of strict demand and backed away from Terrwyn. The second man standing behind her tightened his grip on her wrists, the rough bark digging into her skin. She whimpered out a cry from behind her gag. Shadow man said something and dark man holding her captive fingered the medallion hanging around her neck. Then he answered calmly and released her. Instantly she pulled the cloth from her mouth and ran to Rosloch who was still at the edge of the tree line, afraid to move for fear of them injuring her. He captured her in his arms and held her while she cried into his chest. Rosloch never took his eyes from the shadow man. It was dark and he could not tell if the new man had a weapon. Shadow man yelled once more in his bitter language and the two intruders trotted up the hill to join him. They stopped a moment and then went on their way, but Shadow man stood still, looking down to where Terrwyn and Rosloch stood. She glanced back once more to see who he was, but it was still too dark. All she could tell was that he was a tall man, well built, a leader for sure. His hair was not as long as the others were. After another brief moment of the shadow man observing Terrwyn, he too darted off further into the woods and disappeared.

Terrwyn was finally able to speak between sobs. “The other man, where is he?” she said desperately.

“Dead,” Rosloch said. He gestured with a nod, looking up the hill. “That man, he looked at you as if he recognized you.”

“I know no one of their race. They are cowards. They killed my family and kidnapped my brother,” she said angrily, forgetting what she was saying.

“You said your father died in the war and your mother died of illness. You never mentioned having a brother,” Rosloch said.

Terrwyn, being frightened and angry, suddenly realized what she had just admitted. She remained silent, still shaking from her ordeal. “All Southrons must die,” she whispered.

Rosloch looked back up the hill. He was confused by this new information and by the shadow man who released them. “Well, if it wasn’t for that Southron we might very well be dead.” Rosloch looked down, seeing that Terrwyn was still exposed and pulled her torn shirt across her chest. As he did, he noticed her necklace. “He seemed interested in this too,” he said gesturing to the medallion.

“It is the symbol of Rohan. Taldred gave this to me, for luck.”

“Well, it seemed to work. You had better hang on to that piece. We may still need it,” Rosloch said looking around the area. They were not safe where they were. “Come. We cannot stay here. He might change his mind and come back to finish the job. We ride until we get to the City. In the meantime, you can tell me what is really going on and how it came to be that the Haradrim took your family. I always knew there was more to your story.”

They got back to their campsite, quickly packed up their things and headed for the horses. However, in all the excitement, Terrwyn forgot about her little butterfly and would not think about it for a long while. There it lay, forgotten and buried in the dirt next to the extinguished fire. It seemed like a small price to pay to insure Terrwyn and Rosloch’s safety. Therefore, without any further hesitation, they were on their way, riding out under a starlit sky, but at a quicker pace.
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Journey Of A Butterfly