Shecurled into a fetel position trying to protect herself from the blows that were raining down on her one after another. She did not have to open her eyes to know that the man enjoyed it as he kicked her in the stomach and she vomited from the force. She shook and could not stop as the blows continued, alternating between his staff and his foot. She prayed that someone would give her a sword so that she could run herself through and end her pain.
She was barely conscious as the blows ceased. She was barely aware as rough hands stripped her down to her shift, and tied her hands around a tree. Then she saw a flash of light as a burning pain beyond description hit her back, again and again and again. Screams tore from her throat and she could smell her own blood. Her elven ears heard the trees speaking what comfort they could offer her and the one to which she was tied gave her what strength it had. Soon she fell into darkness and knew no more.
"Get up you wench!" screamed the angry voice that ripped through the blissful darkness that had held her since that night.
She opened her eyes and was nearly blinded by the afternoon sun. Her body was stiff and hurt in ways that she had not known that it could. She could feel her stomach was bruised from having been slung across his horse like a sack of grain, and felt also that her shift was stuck with dried blood to her back.
"Get up!" he yelled again, coming into her limited line of sight. "We're almost to Gondor and you need to get yourself cleaned up before we present you."
He threw her tattered dress on the ground in front of her and walked back to where she heard his horse pawing the ground nervously. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position but fell on her side as the world around her spun. Her mouth was parched and she felt as though she would truly give anything to have just a sip of water. She tried to sit again, this time leaning against a tree when things began to spin. Slowly she reached for her dress and as gently as she could, pulled it over her starving body and then sat limp like a child's doll waiting to see where she would be dragged next.
"Here, wash your face and fix you hair. I intend to get a decent price for you, and it won't help me if you look like an orc," he instructed gruffly.
She took the wet cloth that he offered her and sucked what water she could from it before painfully washing her face and hands. She untied her kerchief and retied her hair, smoothing it with her hands. Then she tied it again at the base of her neck being sure that the tips of her elven ears did not show as he had always instructed. When he saw she was done he threw her back onto his horse and climbing up behind her, galloped off towards the White City.
Faramir sighed deeply. It had been another long day of poor women, hoping to become queen, parading before him. Had it been up to him alone he would have left the king in his misery. He saw no need to force him to marry, despite what it stated in Gondorian law. The king had lost his true love after the War of the Ring and still now he mourned her. It was said that she simply faded, despite her elven immortality. Since her death his honoured king had become cold, caring naught what happened to the citizens of Gondor and Arnor.
He dismissed yet another hopeful peasant, who in his opinion was dressed far too revealingly to be even slightly appealing and rested his head in his hand. They had asked all the lords of Gondor, Arnor and Rohan if they would give their daughters to be the kings' wife, all had answered the same. When he had first been crowned, yes, as he was now, no. It was then that the council had the grand idea of asking women of lesser estate; they would care not at all what he acted like if they were offered grand clothes and a palace. The council had been right and Faramir had been chosen to find the most beautiful of the woman in Middle-earth to be the queen of Gondor.
He looked out the windows high above him seeing the darkening of the winter sky and decided the next woman would be his last for the day. The doors opened and a rough looking man walked in dragging something underneath his arm. It did not take long for Faramir to see that the thing he was carrying was a woman. The man dropped her roughly onto the stone floor and instructed her to step forward, giving a generous blow to the face when it seemed she could not.
Faramir was just about to say something when the woman stood, slowly walked forward until she stood only two feet in front of him. Her head was bowed and she looked as if she would fall over in the slightest breeze, but despite her shabby appearance he could see her exotic beauty. Her skin was pale beneath the grime that stained her face and her hair although dull, was the colour of a raven's wing. He stepped forward and tilted her chin so that he could see her eyes. They were a startling shade of blue. So deep they were almost black and they became darker still when tears began to fill them and spill out onto her cheeks leaving silent trails down her cheeks.
"So is she the new queen?" demanded the man.
Faramir looked up at him and released the woman's face.
"If this young woman wishes to serve her kingdom by marrying the king, I would allow it." he answered formerly.
"Oh, she wishes don't you worry."
"Why don't we let her answer, hmm?"
Shefelt the man in front of her watching her, waiting for her answer. She did not wish to marry the king of Gondor, or any other king for that matter. She could also feel the eyes of her master, boring into her back and shook at the thought of what her punishment would be if she said no. Life as the Queen of Gondor could not possibly be as terrible as her life with her master. There would be no beatings, she would be fed and clothed, and it certainly could not be any worse.
"It is not my wish to marry the king," she answered slowly, "but if it would serve this kingdom, and please my master I would do so."
Faramir had no time to wonder at her answer before the man threw her to the ground and began to kick her.
"Guards!" he called, "Seize this man and remove him from the city!"
The man did not go willingly and Faramir could hear his curses long after the large doors had been shut. He knelt beside the woman and felt sorrow as she cringed away from his touch. She was motionless but breathed heavily and so he knew that she was alive. He picked her up as gently as he could and carried her to the Halls. He laid her out on a bed and then raced to another room to locate the woman he sought.
Maeve was startled to hear the young steward calling for her so urgently as she tended to one man's dwindling fever. She feared something terrible had happened though when he ran into the room, gasping for breath.
"There is a woman in the first room who needs your immediate attention, Lady Maeve. She is badly hurt."
Maeve knew not to question the young man and nodded quickly before following him to where he had told her. A young woman lay on top of the bed, in a tattered and stained dress. She quickly removed it, knowing that the steward had remained outside. She took a sharp intake of breath at what she saw, despite her many years as a healer. The girls' arms and legs were covered in bruises, some old, others still quite fresh. She tugged at her shift but stopped when the woman cried out.
Maeve gently turned her over and covered her mouth, fighting to keep her composure. The back of the shift was no more than bloody rags and strips of the skin on her back had been torn. She immediately filled the tub in the corner with warm water and placed the girl into it. The water was soon stained a muddy red colour , but she was able to remove the shift. She wrapped her in a large white towel and laid her out on the bed and carefully, thankful that the woman was unconscious, began the tedious task of examining and caring for her numerous wounds.
Shewoke and found herself in a strange bed, her first thought was that she had overslept and she tried to pull herself up but cried out as her injuries protested her sudden movements. Immediately there was someone beside her and she opened her eyes to see a kind, older woman, looking down on her with concern. The woman placed a gently firm hand on her chest,
"You are not going anywhere young one."
"Please, my master, he will…."
"He will do absolutely nothing. You are under my care now and I intend to see to it that you rest until your wedding and coronation."
Shefelt a sense of fear wash over her in a wave as she remembered her master kicking her and a man kneeling beside her. She could not however at the moment where she was or why she was here.
"Where am I?"
"You are in Gondor…"
Shebegan to cry as it all came rushing back. Running from her master, the beating and standing before a man and telling him she would marry his king. The woman smoothed back her hair and crooned as if she were a child.She revelled in the woman's tender touch for she had felt nothing but pain from the hands of others for many long years. The woman cradled her head in her lap and stroked her head gently speaking soft words of comfort while she cried. Finally when her tears had run out the woman began to speak.
"Now, there is no need to cry. You will be safe here. You will be crowned the queen of all the men of Middle-earth." Maeve looked down at the frightened creature and smiled. "It may not be your desire to marry the king, but you will be much better off than your previous situation, and I will always be here for you. Now no more tears, alright?"
The young woman nodded and brushed her tears away with the backs of her hands.
"Now," continued Maeve, "if I am to serve you I must know your name. I am known as Lady Maeve and have been a healer in this palace for many years."
"I am Saeorii."
To be continued...
Next Chapter we'll meet our king and see how losing Arwen has changed him! Love to get reviews and hear your thoughts, it makes it much easier to write. Update soon!