Login

Lost Password?

Create New Account

Navigation

Penance

Chapter 3: Interlude - Another Journal Entry

by Magdaleina

Penance
-A Lord of the Rings fan fiction-

*Written by Magdaleina*

Disclaimer-Same stuff over and over again. I don’t own the characters, nor do I believe I could do them half as much justice as their creator could. I am merely writing.



Another Journal Entry


The longer this day goes on, the more I am convinced that my impulse to make up an Elvish name may very well end up being my downfall. Elvish was the nature of the first name I had been given once I came to Middle-earth; it felt only natural. Now, I am not so sure. I recognize the Halfling leading the group, the male, though only just. Last I remember, he was more than eager to see my innards splayed across the road. Now, he is suspicious. He says nothing yet. I do not doubt that he knows the name Sulloeneth is untrue. His travels with the Ringbearer, if this Halfling followed as long as I suspect, should have been experience enough to indicate that.

The Ringbearer. I feel ill just thinking of him. Him and his damnable pity. Lot of help it did me, and Mithrandir wondered why I would not accept his charity, his offer for penance and forgiveness. In the end it does me little good but make me vulnerable to attack.


The Halfling does not speak now because we are moving. I am settled blessedly well enough in this rickety death-box he calls a wagon. No one we have passed has noted my presence as of yet, the effect he was hoping for no doubt. He also keeps silent, I am sure, because his woman and child are not aware of what he knows, and he would have to explain to them in the end. They certainly ask no questions so long as he keeps his own to himself.

They ask no questions that would do any immediate harm, anyhow. The young one is especially talkative, but I try to pay her little mind. After my one panicked blunder I am hesitant to speak again, lest I make things worse for myself. I keep having to remember that without my old body, without the power I was given before, my voice is no longer a weapon. Apparently, the words my lips and tongue tend to form, now, are beyond clumsy. With that in mind, I shall just keep my silence until I am sure I can control what comes out of my mouth with a little more ease.

I’ve at least given myself the time to calm down and collect my thoughts and I have tried to figure out the purpose of this form. The body itself is far too frail and awkward to walk on properly at most times. I will allow, however, that the gracelessness of this shell might simply be the newness of it. Or I could attribute it with the overly small clothes I have been forced to don.


Now that I think on it more, female bodies simply fail to be the most practical of things. End of story, no matter how one looks at it. In my own case, I have been gifted with skin that, as the day wears on, has proven to disagree immensely with too much sunlight. Breasts, I have also come to find, bear no actual purpose save to cause constant and extreme pain, especially when forgotten about. It is twice an inconvenience to work around them, even when just sitting here scribbling a thought now and then. I have not yet had to stop and figure out how it is that I am supposed to relieve myself, and I dread when that moment may come, so I have refused as much food and water as possible without alarming the two female halflings. (Given their propensity to stop and eat as often as possible, it was no easy task to stave off worry or suspicion.)

The point of giving me a female body has to lie somewhere along the same reasoning that youth must have been a deciding factor: I’m being humbled, humiliated, punished. Where as an Istari, I took the form of an aged man in order to appear wise, I must appear young now as some way for the Valar to tell me just what they thought of my conduct. There really is no other explanation.

Why female, and of Men? Well, from what I have known and what I can tell now, women of this race do not tend to be much good for anything save having children, slaving about their holes for their husbands and remaining decorative -- in most cases. I’ve seen females belonging to the nation of men that would look quite cozy among a tribe of Orcs, but that certainly does not give them a lot of purpose. Even women of nobility, as I have witnessed it in the last few decades, tend to play smaller roles in the way of things, with a few careful exceptions.

Conclusion, then? This is all about degrading me to the point of total subservience. I know that for a fact. The Valar might have chosen an unusual way of going about it this time, but they are not unknown for working their criminals in such a manner, placing them in positions of servitude. As I know it, Sauron would have been in a similar arrangement had he not fled and hidden.

Rather than serve the Valar themselves, then, am I destined to be the slave of common mortals? To do menial labor? To bear children?


…I care not what anyone tells or insists from this point forward: under no circumstances will I submit myself to the latter.

The more I consider all of this, the greater the desire to run becomes. But, like pity, that has not proven to be a helpful course of action in days gone by. So all I can really do is wait and prepare myself.

My Halfling Caretaker still shoots a guarded look my way time and again. I can imagine that as soon as he has a moment with me away from his wife and child, he will ask what I do not want him to. There is little I can do to stop him, but I have until then, whenever that is, to think up a few creative answers.

If I choose to speak at all, that is.



To Be Continued.

Chapters

Jump to chapter

Chapter name
Interlude - Another Journal Entry
Created
29 Aug 2004
Last Edited
29 Aug 2004
Hits
303
Words
1075