The White City

The White City

Chapter 3
Author: Frosty the Unicorn
Codes: Legolas, Haldir, Elrond, Boromir, Eowyn, Faramir, OC, N/C, AU
Rated: NC-17
Summary: In Middle-earth, the elves are a race of renegades and slaves.
Disclamier: Not mine. 'Cept Narawen.
Elvish Translations are at the bottom of the page.

*

Narawen waited silently as Eowyn packed up medical supplies. It was just after dawn, and they had been summoned to tend to the elven prisoners that had arrived late last night. Her stomach tensed in anxiety as she thought about meeting renegade elves for the first time in her life. She wondered what they would think of her. She wondered if they would look down on her.

The Lady of Gondor handed a box to Narawen. "I'll carry the bag. Be careful with those."

When everything was collected, they headed out the door and down to the second level of the city. The sun was bright this day, and the morning chilly. "Lady Eowyn, why has Captain Faramir kept these elves?" It was an unusual thing for the soldiers of Minas Tirith to leave any rebel elf standing, nevermind bring them in as prisoners. There must have been a reason.

"I don't know," she said, "Perhaps we are low on servants."

Narawen knew that was improbable, and she knew Eowyn knew it, too. If any were kept for servants, it would be the young females. They took more easily to a life of servitude. These hostages were men, ones unlikely to ever stop fighting against the opression of Men. They would not be kept as servants. They would sooner be killed.

Four guards stood at the door of the small cabin that held the elves. They each bowed politely to Eowyn as she approached. "We're here to tend to the prisoners."

The elder soldier looked to the others. "I'm sorry, my lady. We are under strict order to allow only the elf inside."

Eowyn frowned and looked at Narawen. The young elf had been here long enough to understand why she would be the one sent in. She was expendable.

The Lady did not object, even though her expression was cold as she looked at the guards. Narawen took the bag she held out, gripping it tightly. She felt Eowyn's hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before the guards unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing her entrance.

The door was swift to close and lock behind her.

Narawen narrowed her eyes in the dim light. Pale sunlight filtered through the window, drawing attention to the dust that had gathered in this little-used room. When she focused, three elves came into view.

They each looked at her with an expression of puzzlement. Narawen noticed ropes and trays upon the floor. Their binds had been cut, and they had been served a meal.

She looked back up at them. There were two younger, blonde elves, and one older and dark-haired. The elder stood near the back of the room, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked utterly calm. Narawen's eyes moved back to the ones closer to her. The youngest sat upon a chair and looked tired. He frowned at her with concern. The other, one with piercing blue eyes, stood with his arms crossed and glared at her in contempt.

Pursing his lips, the older blonde elf raised his eyebrows. "Can we help you?"

Narawen opened her mouth, then closed it. Lowering the bag, she let it drop to the floor. A cloud of dust erupted from its descent. "I'm here to tend to your wounds," she said, frowning as the dust tickled her throat.

The elf pushed from the wall and walked towards her. He was somewhat imposing, his expression one of complete confidence, and she unconsciously stepped back e cae came close.

"You're here to tend to us?" Narawen nodded silently. The elf looked confused and suspicious. "Why would they send a defenseless female in here? Do the men of your city really care so little for their women?"

Narawen lowered her eyes. Part of her had hoped they would have been able to tell immediately that she was like them. Obviously she had lived with men for far too long. "They care for their women," she said, looking back up, "But I am not their kind."

The elf's sharp eyes studied her for a few moments before he reached a hand up and roughly brushed back her hair. She swallowed as he stared at her ear, then trembled slightly when he grunted and allowed her hair to fall back. "She's an elf," he said to the others as he turned and walked back to the wall, "A slave."

Shame caused a blush to soften her features. Still holding the box under her arm, she tightened her grip and looked to the floor, not knowing what to do or say. Just as she had hoped they wouldn't, they looked down upon her as nothing more than a servant of man.

Or so it seemed. The youngest of the elves stood up apprapproached her. "What is your name?" he asked quietly, his voice calming.

She looked up. "Narawen."

He smiled, and she couldn't help but brighten because of that. These were her people, her real people. They were not slaves of Men. "I am Legolas. The others are Haldir," he motioned to the other blonde, "And Elrond. How long have you been here?"

Narawen clenched her jaw. "Most of my life."

He nodded. Noticing the grip with which she held the box under her arm, Legolas slowly took it from her. "Don't be frightened. We will not harm you." Her eyes flickered to Haldir, whose gaze was set upon her face. Legolas seemed to notice her hesitation. "Do not worry yourself with him. He did not mean to offend you."

Breathing easier, Narawen looked down at her bag. "I should take care of you. All of you. The guards will wonder why I am taking so long."

Legolas glanced at the other elves as Narawen took her bag to one of the benches. "None of us are gravely injured. Just minor scrapes and cuts."

"Alright," she breathed, kneeling down and removing bandages and bottles from her bag. Legolas set down the box beside her. "I'll take care of you first. Where are you injured?"

Sitting on the bench, Legolas pulled up his sleeve to reveal a long, deep cut on his arm. Concentrating on her task, Narawen poured some alcohol onto a rag and dabbed at the injury.

She kept her eyes on his arm as the dark elf came forward out of the shadows and sat in a chair next to the bench. "Are you privy to information, Narawen? Has anyone said why we are here?"

She set down the cloth and unravelled a bandage. "I haven't heard anything," she said, glancing up at him. His dark eyes were intense. "My mistress does not know, either."

"Who is your mistress?" asked Legolas as she wrapped his arm.

"Lady Eowyn," she replied quietly.

"Faramir's wife?" said Haldir. He moved away from the wall and came close to her, kneeling down to her level. She felt strangely cornered by having all three elves around her. "She is your mistress?"

Narawen was now successfully distracted from her task. "Yes."

Haldir smiled softly and looked up at Legolas before rising. He looked down at Elrond intently before moving away. "I imagine they will have you tend to us again, Narawen, otherwise they would not be caring for us now. Perhaps you could serve your people once again, and listen for any word on why we are here, or how we can escape."

Her heart fluttered nervously. They were asking her outright to betray her mistress, the only person who had ever treated her kindly. If found out, she would pay with her life. "What if they find out?" she asked quietly.

"You would rather remain here as a slave than help your own kind escape that very fate?" Haldir's tone was incredulous, and his expression annoyed.

She thought about what he said, then frowned. "You would take me with you?"

"We will take you with us," replied Legolas, placing a hand on her shoulder, "We will help you escape, if you help us."

Biting her lip, she sighed heavily. "Alright. I will do what I can."

Elrond smiled. He sat down beside Legolas as the young blonde patted his bandaged arm. "We're grateful, Narawen. We don't seem to have many options right now."

She nodded, somewhat sullen. "Are you injured?"

He held out his hand, palm up. "Only a small cut."

Narawen took his hand in hers as she began cleaning. His fingers curled a bit when she poured alcohol into the wound. "Sorry."

"It's fine." When she finished, she exhaled deeply and looked up at him. His eyes were kind, and understanding. "I am sorry to have to put you in this position."

Biting her lip, she looked down at her supplies and fiddled with a roll of bandages. She didn't want to discuss it. It frightened her to her soul, thinking of betraying Gondor. If they found her out, or captured her afterwards, they wouldn't just kill her. They would torture her in all ways imaginable.

Taking a breath, she looked up at Haldir. "Are you injured as well?"

His eyes were hard as he looked down at her. "No."

Legolas sighed and stood, with Elrond following suit. "Don't be difficult, Haldir. You're no good to anyone if you fall ill."

Narawen knit her brows as the Marchwarden glared at Legolas, but walked over to the bench anyways. Looking vaguely irritated, he sat down and without speaking, lifted the side of his shirt.

Peering down, she saw he had a fairly bad cut along his side. "How did this happen?" she asked, touching the wound.

He flinched as her fingers skirted the edge of the cut. "Arrow."

With a wet cloth, Narawen dabbed at the dried blood. "You're lucky it only nicked you." Haldir snorted, but didn't reply. She carefully cleaned and bandaged the cut. "I'll have to change the bandages tomorrow."

Haldir pushed down his shirt and narrowed his eyes at Narawen. "How is it a slave like you has training in medicine?"

Pursing her lips, ignoring the insult, she answered, "My mistress requested of the King that I be allowed to learn."

"Why?" He looked at her suspiciously, as though she were hiding something.

Putting all her things back into the bag, she tightened the strap and stood up. "Because I'm good at it."

He stared at her for a moment longer, his face hard, until a smirk slowly came across his face. Standing up, he towered over her for a second before stepping away and leaning back against that familiar wall, crossing his arms.

Narawen turned and headed towards the door. "We are grateful for your help, Narawen," said Elrond as she knocked against the wood. Turning back and nodding politely, she kept her thoughts to herself and stepped out when the guards opened the door.

She took a deep breath of fresh, cool air. The inside of that cabin had felt so claustrophobic, and she had felt so pressured. Tension knotted her belly as she remembered what she had agreed to.

"How did it go?" asked Eowyn as she came forward. "You were in there quite a while."

"I'm sorry I took so long. They were hesitant." She gave a half-hearted smile as Eowyn took the box Narawen carried and they set out towards the Halls of Healing.

"All rogue elves have difficulty trusting, I've heard. It's a shame." The hand-maiden tightened her grip on the box. "Were they badly injured?"

Narawen shook her head. "It was minor. One of them will need bandages changed tomorrow, though."

"Will you be able to take care of that yourself tomorrow?"

She looked up at Eowyn with brows knit. Narawen's mistress had never allowed her to treat someone without accompaniment before. "Yes, my lady."

Eowyn smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Could you take these things back to the Hall? I have a lunch date with a friend."

"Of course." She took the box from her.

The young blonde made to turn away, but stopped at the last moment. "Oh, could you do me a favour, too? Could you let my husband know the elves have been treated? He wanted me to let him know as soon as we were finished, but I'm going to be late."

Fear flickered across Narawen's eyes, but she nodded despite her feelings. "I will go right away."

"Thanks." The elf watched Eowyn turn down a separate street and continue on her way to the centre of the city. Swallowing heavily, she let out a breath and slowly made her way towards the Hall.

As she put away the supplies, Narawen thought back to the few times in the past she had been alone with mir.mir. It was a secret she kept from her mistress for many reasons, one of which was she didn't want Eowyn to hurt. Another reason, though, was the Captain's insistence that she keep quiet, for fear of death. She had listened to him, knowing just how violent she could be.

The tension in her body increased as she exited the into the sunlight and set out towards the Hall of the King. Putting it off would do no good, only get her into trouble. She hoped Faramir would notalonalone.

After ascending the stairs, she gently pushed open the large doors and entered. The white marble of the room glinted in the light as she looked around for the Captain. As it was, he was at the far end of the hall speaking to the King.

Biting her lip, wincing each time her foot fell against the loud floor, she approached the men. Aragorn glanced at her as she came near. "My Lords," she said quietly, bowing to each of them, "I am sorry to interrupt. Lady Eowyn has asked me to speak with Captain Faramir."

Her eyes flickered up to the two men, but she didn't keep her eyes on them. As an elf, she knew it would be considered disrespectful.

"You have good timing, Narawen. The Captain and I have just finished." Narawen glanced up when Aragorn smiled and bowed, then began towards the door. Her eyes followed his trail. He was leaving.

Clenching her hands behind her, she gently looked back up at Faramir. His sharp blue eyes held a touch of impatience. "What is it?"

"Lady Eowyn wished me to inform you that the elves have been cared for. Their injuries are minor." She kept her eyes on the floor.

He was silent for a moment before speaking. "Where is my wife?"

"She had a lunch appointment."

The Hall was so quiet, she thought she could hear the hammering of her heart as they stood there. "Did you take care of the elves yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

He cocked his head. "Did they speak with you?"

She looked up, then averted her gaze as her feet shifted. "Only a little. I don't think they trusted me."

Faramir grunted. "Miserable elves," he muttered.

Narawen knew better than to ask any questions of the Captain, but the promise she made to Elrond kept weighing on her mind. Taking a breath, she spoke, "My Lord, why do these elves continue to live?"

When she looked up, she saw his attention narrow at her. His eyes moved up and down her form before he answered. "The why is not your concern. You are to tend to them, and that is all."

She flushed slightly at his terse answer. "Yes, sir. Forgive me." Feeling cornered, she bowed quickly and turned to leave. When a strong, warm hand found her arm, she froze.

Faramir turned her back to him and let her arm go. "Did I give you permission to leave, Elf?"

Her body trembled as she replied. "No, my lord."

"Then why did you go?"

Narawen licked her suddenly dry lips. "I'm sorry. I thought perhaps I had upset you."

Nodding slowly, Faramir reached out and took hold of Narawen's upper arm. He pulled gently and led her further down the hall, off to the side where tables and chairs were set up. "You haven't upset me, Narawen. Still, though, I don't like it when elves are disrespectful." He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes heated. "I'm going to have to punish you."

A thrill of fear ran through her body. She knew what was coming, knew it was going to happen, and hoped that he wouldn't be too rough. Her last enounter with him had left her with a broken arm.

She had told Eowyn she had fallen.

Faramir brought her closer to one of the large tables. Every muscle er ber body was tight in expectation. "You're lucky I'm not in a foul mood," he said, pushing her to the table and pressing her chest down. She placed her fists on the table top to provide support while his hand ran down her back. "Simple violation will be punishment enough for today."

Tears wet her eyes as he pulled her dress upwards, bunching it around her waist. Rough fingers yanked her undergarments down so they pooled at her feet.

"You ready for me?" he asked as she heard him open his zipper. He kicked her legs apart when she hesitated. "Are you?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, her voice cracking.

His hand took hold of her hips as he positioned himself. "Remember," he hissed, nudging himself along her flesh, "Eowyn never finds out about this." With that, he shoved himself forward, entering her unprepared body as far as he could.

A stiff groan passed his lips as his hands clenched the flesh of her hips. Narawen cried out at the burning sensation as he forced himself to slide into her though her body wasn't ready.

"Just relax, girl," he said in low tones as she writhed beneath him. His assault was quick and to the point as he dragged her body back to meet his as he thrust forward. She heard gasping breaths when he teased himself in her body, a slow, deep movement that quickly escalated into sharp jerks as he lost interest in prolonging the act.

Narawen groaned out each time she was pushed against the table. She knew she would be bruised and raw soon. Her head began to pound as he muttered heated phrases under his breath. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but it didn't matter.

As she closed her eyes, Faramir began to lose himself in the act. He shoved her hard against the table as his hands released her sore hips, a hard groan deep within his throat. He fell against her, his hands planted on either side of her body as he emptied into her.

Even as he pulled from her, Narawen winced. She wondered if blood had been drawn out. "Will you need to visit the elves tomorrow?" he asked conversationally, closing his pants, as though he had not just brutally raped her.

Pushing herself up, she allowed her dress to drop over her naked body before turning to him. Her eyes were downcast. "Yes, sir."

"Report back to me again after your visit. I want to know if they said anything to you." He stepped forward and touched a hand under her chin, drawing her eyes upward. "You will tell me if they speak anything of interest, won't you?"

His eyes were no-nonsense and cold. "Yes, my lor she she replied quietly.

"Good." Dropping his hand, he turned and left without a word. Narawen stood there, shock still, until she had heard the door to the Hall close. When all was quiet, when no footsteps could be heard, she gently drew up her undergarments. Her hands trembled as she smoothed out her skirts and hair, then ran her fingers under her eyes, drying the tears.

She would have to get cleaned up properly before seeing Eowyn again. She didn't want to have to make up another story about why she was such a mess. With aching legs, she made her way to the door, intent on withdrawing to her rooms for a while. She needed rest.

*

TBC