My first Lord of the Rings fiction, I was quite nervous about posting as there really are so many greats fics to do with LOTR, so please be kind.
I hope anyone that reads it finds something to enjoy. I don't claim to know everything about Lord of the Rings so if I do get anything wrong please forgive me ;)
Just a small warning, some may find the content of this fiction quite dark and depressing. Rated 'Mature' for scenes of violence and scenes of a sexual nature.
All names used that are none canon are Anglo Saxon. I got the idea for this story from a true story I read many years ago, about a young boy being abandoned in a jungle at only six years old, the boy was again found at age ten and he could not speak at all, though it seemed he still remembered some words, he could not understand what was spoken to him. After six months to a year later he was able to speak and understand once again. So from that tale sprang this story....
She glanced about the dark, dank cave that was her home, or at least the closest thing she had to a home and only as long as her keepers decided to stay. The foul smelling broth of half rotten meat stewed in the pot over, a small acrid smoking fire. She brushed her matted hair from her dirty face and rocked quietly on her haunches, trying in vain to gain any kind of warmth into her cold body. The rags, remainders of a dress that clung to her form barely covered her modesty, but mud and dirt caked any skin that was bared through the tattered cloth.
She probed idly at the cooking food and wondered how much she would be given after 'they' had finished and had their fill. At the thought of them she looked over to the mouth of the cave where another small fire burned, hidden from prying eyes by jutting rock. Several of the Orcs had gathered around it, each wrapped in a crude, lice ridden blanket. They talked loudly in their own tongue, she did not understand most of what was said but over the many years she had guessed some of their language and had a small knowledge of basic words. She made out the word 'war' used many times in what they now spoke lengthily upon and 'leave', the rest was vague guesses and she paid little attention to them. She silently wondered if they planned to send her into another small village and use her as a scout for how many men were away in the fields, fewer men meant easy pickings for the Orcs.
The first time they had used her thus she had been young, but a child. She had tried to tell the village women, clung onto their skirts, pulled at their hands, but her appearance disgusted them and they had pushed her to the ground with words and gestures she did not understand. She knew if only she could speak she could have explained, made them understand, but she knew no words of this land and she could find no voice to speak with, only pleading whines and begging eyes and none took notice of such small things.
And so she had been shoved to the ground, sneered at and spat upon by children and adults alike, thinking her no more than an evil omen to be chased from their homes. She had cried then, wailed as they jeered her from the village, and she had wandered hopelessly back to where the Orcs awaited her. She signaled with her hands that no strong men remained and the Orcs had shoved her aside with fists and clubs, bruised her flesh and forced her screaming into a ball as they took their sport and rallied themselves for the slaughter ahead. And then they had left her, shaking and sobbing, their minds fully upon the easy plunder that awaited them.
Slowly she had risen, wincing from the many blows, and followed them, stemming the warm blood that dribbled from her nose and lip with the sleeve of her dress. Fire and screams met her ears as she had once more approached the small village, the dwellings burned in bright flames against the grey clouded sky making it almost seem as if the sun were setting upon the horizon. Bodies were strewn haphazardly upon the ground, motionless, dead and others were bloodily hacked down as she watched, their dying screams and gurgles ripped through her, made her want to cover her ears and curl back into a tight ball… And yet she felt a strange sense of guilty gratification, in her mind they were being punished for treating her so badly and this thought made all the carnage at least bearable to a child's eyes…
"What's it doing!" The gruff voice and a sharp painful kick to her ribs brought her forcefully out of her thoughts and with a pained grunt she fell onto her side. "It's burning the food!" The Orc that had delivered the kick barked as the others began to crowd around.
Another ambled up close to her and glanced into the pot, it's ugly distorted face clouded with rage, she looked on in growing terror as he reached down and grabbed her by a handful of her hair, yanking her up onto her knees as a searing pain radiated through her scalp. The Orc quickly grabbed her hand, she knew what was about to befall her and her eyes widened. She struggled as a surge of fear took over her mind, but he was stronger than her famished body and wasted muscles and he easily lowered her hand down as she shrieked, pulled and squirmed to no avail. She felt the pain burn through her, the hot liquid that the meat boiled in felt like her flesh had been plunged into the coldest lake, the pain unbearable, and she screamed, scratching hysterically at the Orc's arm with her free hand in a fit of frantic madness as the agony scorched to her very bones until he finally relented and let her pull it out.
She gave a hissed groan as she beheld her hand, the skin was red, swollen and strangely shiny looking, she held it to her chest trying to comfort herself but yelped as the fabric of her clothing brushed against it, sending the same shot of agony through her. She whimpered softly as they snarled laughter around her and helped themselves to the stew, being sure that tonight none was left for her.
She was allowed to retreat to a far corner of the cave where she sat crying and lamenting her burnt hand, large blisters had begun to appear, blooming in painful welts across her skin. She stared, transfixed by the pain, watching as her hand throbbed and made her feel as if her whole body swayed with the beat.
Hours passed, the Orcs retired to their beds, the fire died to glowing embers and shivering with shock she slowly lay down upon the cold rock ground, the ache of hunger mingling with the wretchedness that already lay heavily upon her. She closed her eyes but knew that the affliction would not let her rest this night, she wondered silently into the darkness if the pain would kill her this time. It always made her think it would, each time she was burnt or beaten into a wheezing submission… and she found her thoughts straying into the realms of death and where it would lead. She tried once again for the many hundredth time to remember her mother and father , her life before this… but found as she always did that their faces were blurred, unrecognizable and her home was nothing but the smell of grass and the warmth of sunshine, things that a small child remembered. She looked out towards the mouth of the cave, the crescent moon shone brightly and the sky was clear but for a few wisps of light cloud, allowing the stars to be seen… had she once been loved? Had a name? A purpose?
She could no longer remember...
She fell into a fitful stupor, the pain not allowing sleep to fully claim her; the sweat ran through her hair and down her body, leaving dirty streaks across her brow and cheeks. A small but forceful push to her shoulder awakened her fully; the throbbing in her hand was the first thing she became fully aware of. She groaned lowly and looked up into the face of one of the Orcs, he gave her a snarl of a grin showing his crooked, brown pointed teeth fully. She knew why he was there and gave out a small whimper in protest to his presence and was rewarded with a hard blow to her face.
She knew it was useless to fight against him, the first time one of them had taken her she had barely been out of childhood, she only knew it as another way to punish her, a way that seemed more wrong and hurtful than a lashing with a whip and yet she dared not fight them off, being aware that if she tried to struggle he would call another Orc to hold her down, restrain her and she would get a beating to go along with it. There were thankfully only two Orcs that treated her this way, the rest were happy dealing out beatings and tormenting her, she'd even noticed disgusted snarls twisting some of their lips as they watched one of the two take her, heard them mock the two Orcs afterwards for cavorting with manflesh, but still she was grateful that this 'punishment' happened rarely.
He nudged her roughly with his foot and she rolled onto her back and made sure that her hand was well out of harm's way, it still throbbed hard and she focused her mind on it, each pulse radiated through her, the pain was a better ideal than what was about to befall her. She cast her eyes from him and waited for the fetid weight to press down upon her chest, his clammy hands and fingers to linger over certain parts of her body, to roughly and violently probe, his stinking breath and tongue upon her face, her mouth…
"It doesn't know" she heard the Orc mumble, knowing that she still understood some of the common tongue to make out words but not sentences, and using the name they always used to describe her - 'It'. "Tomorrow it will be no more, leave you in a ditch for the crawlies to feed on, no use for you now the war is over." He gave a strangled sound that was meant to be a laugh and grinned wolfishly, knowing that she did not understand he was telling her of her fate. "Useless manflesh that it is anyway." He gave her a violent kick to the ribs, knocking the wind from her lungs, before crawling on top of her, tearing at the remainders of her ragged skirts, pulling them harshly over her hips, his hands wrapping around her thighs, forcing her legs apart…
She focused hard upon the pain of her hand and closed her eyes tightly awaiting the first wave of unpleasant sensation to hit her and fill her with a queasy sickness.
Her body shuddered with shock as shouts, roars and the sound of horse hoofs clambered around her ears, breaking the silence that had moments ago enveloped them. The noise was near deafening and she felt the Orc's weight leave her, heard him draw his sword and his footsteps retreat away from her, his own war cry sounding as metal clashed upon metal. The large cave seemed to vibrate with the pandemonium and she dared not open her eyes. She curled into a ball and tried to pull herself as close as she could to the wall, her heart thudded hard in her throat as she awaited the uproar to quiet and finally after what seemed an age, it did. Small throaty grunts sounded as the last few bodies fell about her with heavy thuds. She heard the sound of torches crackling gently in the breeze and voices, not the gruff, guttural sound of Orcs but smooth, soft voices that seemed to remind her bitterly of a place she had once known.
She heard the clanking of armor as they came closer and she retreated further against the wall, unable to keep whimpers of fear escaping her lips.
"An Orc hides back here!" A voice called towards the mouth of the cave. "A cowardly one by the looks of it." She heard more heavy footfalls.
"Stand cur!" A commanding older voice demanded. "Stand and fight!" The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath echoed. "You and all yours shall pay for the villages you have pillaged over these many years!"
She covered her head with her hands and whimpered fervently and the cave fell into deadly silence, the only sound that permeated it were her weak cries. A sharp intake of breath reached her.
"It's no Orc!"
She heard mumbles of confusion from the other men that now filled the cave.
"It's a woman."