Perilous Journeys. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part III

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Lieutenant Hyarion's rooms, morning of November 8, 1347
Written by Angmar.
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Held down by Hyarion, the physician's assistant, the innkeeper's wife and Mudoleth, one of the chambermaids, Elina awoke to screaming agony which was mercifully cut short when the girl fainted. Blanching, the innkeeper's wife closed her eyes and coughed sharply, attempting to calm the uneasiness in her stomach. The chambermaid, pale, her face drawn and pinched, bit her lower lip, only relaxing her grip on the girl when she saw that she had fainted.

"Lieutenant Hyarion, I have done my best," explained the physician, Pizdur Abzu, a grim-faced, dark-bearded man, as he closed off the ends of the severed blood vessels and tied them with silk thread. "She lost a great deal of blood." He turned to his assistant, a gloomy-faced young man in his late twenties. "Infection - we must be on our guard for that, Corporal. Now apply the healing salve and bind the wound."

"Aye, physician," his assistant mumbled as he opened a glass vial and began smearing an unpleasant smelling brown salve on the wound.

The physician rose to his feet, put his hand on the small of his arched back and groaned. "This damned weather is killing my bones," he grumbled.

"Come, Captain, share a glass of wine with me," Hyarion motioned to the small table with its accompanying two benches.

"So she tried to kill herself?" the doctor asked as he inhaled the fragrance of the goblet of Dorwinion wine.

"Aye, unfortunately," Hyarion nodded.

"What can you expect, Lieutenant? A young girl like that taken away from her people and all she had known. She does not half understand Common! I am surprised at you this time for buying this ignorant peasant girl. Do you not have enough women back at the fortress to satisfy your appetites without taking yet another?"

"Only two wives and three concubines," Hyarion shrugged. "You of all people should know that is a modest number in Harad. Why did I buy her? I had an itch for the girl; it is that simple."

"You always have an itch, Lieutenant! You brought at least five slave girls with you when you came from the South. Who knows how many more you have added since then? I suppose they do not count." Abzu swallowed the mouthful of pungent wine. "Now this girl... why did she try to kill herself? Were you that rough on her the first time, eh?" he chortled lewdly. "Perhaps I should have examined her..." He leaned forward across the table, his eyes gleaming.

"You rogue! I know what you really mean! No one touches my women in that way except for my eunuchs and me! What do you think I am, some barbarian swine? I was not the one who hurt her!"

The physician raised an eyebrow. "Then who did?"

"The prisoner who escaped last night!" Hyarion's eyes flashed in anger. "I thought he might have valuable information that he had not yet divulged. Attempting to gain his confidence, I had him brought to my room, ordered him unshackled from his chains, and allowed him to eat the scraps from my supper. I thought the dog would be grateful, but instead in a mad fit of rage, he overpowered me, rendering me unconscious with a blow to the back of my head. Then he rushed into the room with Elina, tied her to the bed, and had his way with her! When I returned to consciousness, I staggered into the room to find that the rogue had escaped. I later learned from the guards that the prisoner next went to the stables, took his mount and freed the rest of the beasts!"

The entire tale was a fabrication, of course, devised by Hyarion in the interval since Silmadan had fled. The girl had never been raped and was still a virgin in fact, but the story provided a plausible reason for Elina's attempted "suicide" and the prisoner's escape. The physician would believe what Hyarion told him, though.

The physician shook his head gravely. "A terrible thing!"

"Aye, indeed it was," Hyarion said sadly. "By the time I had arrived in the room, the girl had taken a dagger and sliced her wrist open. She was bleeding like a butchered ox! When I realized the situation, I sent one of the guards to fetch you, and you know the rest of the story." Hyarion looked searchingly into the doctor's eyes. "Do you think the poor maiden will be all right?" His black eyes filled with sorrow and regret, he drummed his fingertips nervously upon the table.

"My lord, the girl is very weak. She has lost quite a good deal of blood, and she needs rest and care. Then there is always the risk of infection, but if she has not worsened within three days, there is a good chance she will survive. I strongly advise you against moving her, though. She should stay here under the care and supervision of the innkeeper's wife or some other responsible person."

"I cannot do that!" Hyarion bristled. "I must be in Carn-dum as soon as possible! I have an appointment with His Majesty and he will not be kept waiting! Do not fear for the girl, though. She will ride in comfort. I have one of my men out now searching for a team of horses and a sleigh that I can rent. Then as soon as the cavalry horses are found, the cavalcade will be moving out!"

"Even with a sleigh, you still might kill her," Pizdur Abzu's voice was stern with warning.

"Then I must take that chance!"

The physician regarded him coldly for a few moments. "My lord lieutenant, just remember that allowing her to go on this journey is against my advice. Now if you no longer need my services, I must be going, but I shall return tonight. If the girl develops a fever, send for me immediately. Good day." Downing the remainder of his wine, the physician stood up. With a sign to his assistant, the two men bowed to the lieutenant and backed their way to the door and departed.

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Lieutenant Hyarion's rooms, King's Arms Inn, Kingdom of Angmar, morning of November 8, 1347
Written by Elfhild
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Awakening from her faint, Elina looked up into the kind plump face of the innkeeper's wife. Her head ached; the light streaming in through the window burnt her eyes like sun reflecting off snow. She closed her eyes tightly to ward away the blinding light. The taste of stale wine made her troubled stomach churn even more, and she wondered why she could no longer feel her right arm.

"You poor dear," the motherly-looking woman murmured as she sponged dried blood off the girl's body with a warm cloth. The soothing warmth of the towel was blotted over her chest, down her stomach, and then to her thighs. Though her vision was blurred as though a mist lay between her and the innkeeper's wife, Elina could see that the woman's face was strained with worry as she cleansed her gently as a mother would a tiny baby.

"Oh, you poor dear, how terrifying it must have been for you when that cruel brute attacked you," the innkeeper's wife murmured sympathetically.

Elina did not recall anything like that happening, and wondered what the woman was talking about. What she could remember was a dinner of overcooked, tasteless beef accompanied by malodorous onions, fiery turnips and sulfuric cabbage, and then a desert of oat cakes and apples. Whilst they ate, the handsome officer plied her with many sweet words, promising her marriage. Then after the dinner, he turned his honeyed lips to kissing her own... his tongue lathed down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat as his hands explored her body. She had felt strange, as though she were floating on the clouds, and the floor was no longer made of wood, but somewhere between a liquid and a solid.

Vaguely she remembered Hyarion sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her into his bedroom. He had slowly taken off her blue dress, kissing her face, her lips, her cheeks, her throat, awakening feelings in her which she had never known before. His breath had tasted so pleasant, tinged with refreshing mint, sweeter than that which grew wild. Soon she was left in only the snowy white chemise. She wondered why she did not feel at all uncomfortable at the lack of clothing, but somehow it did not seem to matter.

Her vision darkening, she fell forward, down into balmy clouds of euphoric desire and opiated rapture. He caught her as she started to slump to the floor. She felt so very warm and cozy and blissfully happy, and sleepy, yes, very sleepy... When the hazy mists of languid somnolence had parted, she found herself looking up into the canopy of a large bed, each of her limbs tied to one of the posts with silken cords... scarlet, she remembered idly.

"My dear," he had whispered as he leaned over her, "you must understand that the wedding customs are different in my land. The... er... priest... will be here soon to perform the ceremony, and then you will be my... wife."

Though she did not know it at the time, that was a falsehood, for she would be nothing more than another of his slave maids. Perhaps if she managed to satisfy him, someday he would free her and make her another one of his concubines. Since she was a poor orphan from a far land and had seen little of the world, in her innocence, she wanted to trust him.

The innkeeper's wife pushed a lock of raven black hair from Elina's forehead and peered down into her face. "Now we need to get a gown on you and change this stained bedding." Turning to the chambermaid, she told her, "Mudoleth, help me with this, please... and be careful of her wrist."

The two women soon had Elina dressed in a clean white nightgown, an old one of the innkeeper's wife and at least two sizes too big for her. The sheets were changed and fresh ones smelling of lavender were spread over the bed.

The door opened and Hyarion strode into the room, and taking in the scene, a smile spread over his full lips.

"Does she not look lovely, my lord?" the innkeeper's wife beamed as she fluffed up the pillow behind Elina's back.

"Like a blushing bride," he winked at her. "Now you women may leave us, and thank you for all your help."

"My lord, we were glad we could be of use. If you should need anything, just ring the bell. We hope you have a pleasant afternoon and best wishes for your life together." The two women blushed, curtsied and then left.

When Elina saw the gleam in Hyarion's eyes as he approached the bed, a goblet of wine in his hand, she felt a sudden pang of intuitive dread. "My wrist... Please... do not..." she whimpered as she put her good hand out to push him away.

"Drink this, my dear, and everything will be fine," he murmured huskily.

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Lieutenant Hyarion's rooms,evening of November 8, 1347
Written by Elfhild
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Some time later, Elina awoke to find herself nestled in the arms of the Southron. The lazy lassitude caused by the drugged draught had passed for the time, leaving in its wake a crystal-clear sense of clarity. She ached in places she had never ached before, but the full intensity of the pain was still dulled. Remminiscing upon memories so newly made, she tried to destract herself from the pain of chastity's sudden death with memories of bliss.

Shifting her body so that she lay upon her back - carefully, as not to wake Hyarion - she turned her head and surveyed her new husband in the dim light of the room. His eyes, shaded by thick, dark brows which almost met in the middle, were closed, deep in slumber, and now and then the corners of his lips would twitch into a smile. His long black hair was unkempt, tousled from the rigors of the afternoon and lay softly curling about his neck. The coverlet rested about his waist, and Elina felt at peace as she saw his bare chest rise and fall with his steady breathing. She reached a finger out and furtively touched the dark mat of hair on his broad chest. He stirred in his sleep, and her breath caught in her throat, but he did not wake.

Elina looked to the window, which was partially draped. She judged by the errant light which creeped into the room that it was now evening. They had spent the afternoon lost in heated passion, and this hot-blooded man from the South had taken her soaring to the stars. Though he had been ardent, demanding at times, he had taken care not to bring any pain to her injured wrist.

She was still confused about the manner of her injury. She had a vague recollection... something about a wedding ceremony, and a priest. Apparently, the priest had gone beserk and tried to kill her, but her brave, heroic new husband had saved her from this dire fate. She still did not know why the man had wished her dead, but suddenly plunged into this strange new culture, she was too timid to ask Hyarion why. Perhaps her darling Hyarion would answer all of her questions soon. They just needed a chance to talk, but being so recently wed, her husband was more interested in celebrating their union.

How strange it was for Elina, one of the Lossoth, to find herself in the arms of this man from Harad, a land which she had not even known existed until the day before. From his description of it, it sounded the opposite of Forodwaith - instead of snow, there was sand; instead of tundra there were deserts; the summers were blisteringly hot and the winters were cool and rainy. The buildings were made of mudbrick instead of sod or ice, and people travelled long distances on strange animals with giant humps on their backs.

How strange fate was to thrust her into the arms of this passionate man. Did she truly love him, she wondered, or was she just overwhelmed by the spendor of these new and wonderful experiences? Perhaps after she regained her bearings, understanding would come to her. But in the meantime, she had other worries... Though she could not explain it, she felt that a horrible sickness was coursing through her body, some dread plague which was caused by evil spirits... and this dire malady was somehow connected to the grevious cut on her wrist.

She shivered, for a chill had come over her, creeping up her arm from her wrist like the cold winter wind. She moved closer to Hyarion, pressing her back against his torso, seeking the warmth of his body. Yet it brought her little relief, and her delicate form was soon shivering as though she had fallen through an ice-covered pond into frigid water.

Her trembling awoke Hyarion, and he nuzzled the side of her neck. "Are you cold, my little northern flower?" he murmured as his palm slid its seductive way over the length of her arm. "Perhaps I can warm you up..."

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The road to Carn Dum, morning of November 9, 1347
Written by Angmar
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When the cavalcade had set out from the inn that morning, Lord Hyarion had been in a bitter, black humor. Now nearing the town of Angoul, his mood had not improved. There was really little about which to be happy.

Yesterday, after deceiving the Lieutenant of Shedun Fortress and making him appear the fool, the prisoner Silmadan had escaped, but not before setting all the horses in the inn's stables free. His men had spent needless hours searching for the runaway horses, and though they had located most of the mounts, still two of the pack animals had not been found. The loads on the other horses had to be repacked and added to the saddles of the remaining beasts. While the varlet had taken the magic dagger with him, at least he had not been able to ferret out his other confiscated possessions. The priceless emerald sheathed dagger was safe, hidden in its pack, guarded by one of his own men from Harad. Hyarion considered the prisoner's harp as useless, and if it had not been confiscated property for which he was responsible, he would have had his men toss it over some convenient bank. As it was, the men were afraid of it, muttering dark imprecations whenever its name was mentioned, and making the sign against evil behind their backs.

Aye, there were many things to make Lord Hyarion disgruntled that morning. Continuing to mull over the miserable prisoner in his mind would only make him angrier, however, and so he determined to channel his thoughts over to more pleasant matters. He frowned. Even here, there were unpleasantries with which he must deal. His new toy, Elína the Lossoth girl, had proved to be a pleasant surprise. Lovely, young, docile, obedient, and after her introduction to the pleasures of connubial bed, she had been eager for his caresses. He had planned to take the girl back to Shedun Fortress and add her to his harem of two wives, three concubines, and five slave girls. In this damn cold place, a man had little enough to console him through the long, dark nights, and no one could blame him for bringing some of the comforts of home with him.

Nothing had gone quite the way that Hyarion had planned it, however. After the ceremony of the night of the 7th in which he had allowed the prisoner to perform certain rituals using the strange glowing blade, the girl had not seemed the same. Throughout the course of the day yesterday, she had been beset by a bout of chills. While last night she had seemed to rally and be much her old self, the morning found her looking wan with dark circles around her eyes. Even her rosy cheeks and red lips looped pallid. Although they had experienced a night of the warmest love-making, she had awakened in the middle of the night, complaining of terrible dreams. He had managed to soothe the girl, though, and she had fallen off into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

He turned around in the saddle and looked back to the sleigh where Elína rode beside the driver. Since he did not plan to be gone long in Carn Dum, Hyarion had rented a sleigh and team from a local man and would return them after they rode back that way in a few days. Though Elína was wearing a warm woolen dress and a fur-lined cloak and was bundled in furs and blankets, the girl was shivering as she sat in the sleigh. Hyarion smiled encouragingly at her and she managed a weak little smile. He looked beyond her at the pack horse, where the emerald dagger and Silmadan's other possessions were hidden in a pack saddle. He thought to himself how impressed the king of Angmar would be when he presented it to him as a gift. Perhaps that would do much towards mollifying the king when the Lieutenant reported that the prisoner - who was suspected of being an assassin - had escaped. If Elína had not been ailing, he had even considered giving her as a trinket to His Majesty. There was no possible way he could do that now.

Though there were deep layers of snow in high banks along the sides of the road, the roadbed itself was clear. That was one thing for which he had always been grateful in this miserable cold northern country - after a storm, the road crews were out as soon as possible, clearing the trail. Things were run efficiently in the kingdom.

Riding beside the sleigh, Lord Hyarion opened one of the wine flasks which he carried on a hook on the cantle of his saddle. "Drink, my little northern flower," he encouraged her in his deep, richly accented Southern voice. "This will put some color back into your cheeks."

Smiling at him from under long, dark eyelashes, the girl took the flask and brought it daintily up to her lips and drank. "Thank you, my lord. Feel much better."

He studied her eyes and knew that she was lying. If anything, she looked even worse, but at least she was not shivering.

"My dear, look how clear are the skies today. No storms are expected, and if we continue the pace that I have set, we should be in the capital of Angmar, Carn Dum, by nightfall."

She extended the wineskin back to him with a "Thank you" and a little nod of her head.

"No, dear," he smiled as he stoppered the vessel and handed it back to her, "you may keep it to warm you as needed." He winked at her. "There are plenty more packed in the pack saddles."

"My lord, this place we go..." her brows knitted together as she tried to think of the unfamiliar Common Speech words, "what it look like? Big?"

"Little Elína," a smile came over his face, "'big' is not the word. Immense would be a more accurate way to describe it. There is a mighty fortress with a great wall and a high tower... garrisons, storehouses, blacksmiths' shops, armories, stables... and the town that has grown up around it... the fortress will be like nothing you have ever seen!"

"My lord," she frowned and stammered as she attempted to form the difficult words, "is there a.... what you call it? Chieftain?"

"No, my dear," Hyarion chuckled, "in Angmar there rules a great king, a mighty king, whose like has never been known in Middle-earth. My soothsayer back at Shedun Fortress predicts that he will be like a spectacular star which blazes across the heavens, that he will a great conqueror and destroyer of kingdoms, and that his fame will endure until the end of the world!" The girl looked puzzled, and he was not certain how much she understood.

"Oh, I see!" A look of comprehension came over her face. "A big chieftain with many furs, sleds and dogs!"

"I suppose you could say that," Hyarion grinned. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. As he was straightening back in the saddle, Hyarion detected a flicker of movement far ahead. Squinting, he made out the shape of a horsemen far in the distance and heading their way at a rapid pace. The column halted until the massager drew up, and after saluting the lieutenant, the young man, resplendent in the red and black Angmarian livery, handed him a sealed scroll. Opening the missive, the lieutenant read,

"Lord Hyarion, Lieutenant of Shedun Fortress, you are hereby ordered to report immediately to Carn Dum and present yourself before Lord Alassar, Steward to His Majesty. You are to bring all the possessions and property which you wrongfully confiscated from Lord Silmadan, His Majesty's nephew."

Blinking, Hyarion looked up from the message. "Silmadan!" he thought. "So that impudent young pup was the King's nephew? So it was true after all!" A sharp pang struck his abdomen, and he felt a brief wave of nausea rush over him. He was not yet prepared to consider the full possibilities of what this startling revelation might mean for his career... or even his life.

"Sir," the massager asked in a clipped voice, "do you have a message for me to take back in return?"

"Aye," Hyarion replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. It would never do to let this Carn Dum man think that he had any hesitancy whatsoever.

"Sir, do you wish to write it?"

"No, you can take this oral message... tell the steward that all the requested objects are in my possession, and that my escort and I should be arriving in Carn Dum by nightfall."

As Hyarion watched the massager ride away, he felt himself breaking out in a sweat even though the day was cold. The day had started out most unpleasantly and he had little hope now that it would improve.