Entanglement

Entanglement

Chapter 6
Author: Frosty the Junior Mint
Rated: NC-17
Codes: Legolas, Haldir, Elrond, OC, AU, N/C
Summary: Novlomiel is sentenced to marriage, but it doesn't work out as planned.
Disclaimer: Tolkien's stuff isn't mine.
Author's Notes: Yes, another one of those fics from Frosty. Please R&R!

*

Tears rolled down her cheeks as Novlomiel raced around her house, throwing clothes and supplies into the largest carrying bag she could find. Words and images raced through her mind, mostly things having to do with her life in Mirkwood, and her father. Her father. She would miss him, dearly, but this was something she needed to do. He had spoken freely that day about the treaty, about what exp expected of her as a wife to a leader of Lothlorien, and of how proud he was of her. He was proud. That only brought fresh tears to her already stinging eyes.

She couldn't bear to let him down. Telling him about her pregnancy, about the rape, it would all be too much. It would not only ruin the impending treaty with Rivendell, but it would be like she had failed her father. There was no way she could stand to do that.

She stifled a whimper when she thought of Haldir and Legolas. They would be so ashamed of her. How could she ever explain a thing to Haldir, and expect him to overlook who the baby's father was? It was impossible. She couldn't do that to him, not after how well he had treated her. And Legolas. She didn't know what Legolas would think. But it was too much to handle, too much to think about. She needed to get away.

So she cried as she packed, her face wet and her body hot. She didn't want to leave, but shdn'dn't have a choice. She would head to Gondor, far away from the lands of the elves. Perhaps, if she managed to hide her heritage, she could be accepted there, and maybe find some help. She had never met a human man before, and though the stories were less than choice, she knew that they would much easier be willing to accept a lost, pregnant female than a band of elves would be.

Closing the bag, Novlomiel took one last look around the house, and at the note she had left for her father (telling him only not to worry), then set out into the night. Mirkwood was quiet at this hour, and she walked in peace to the stables where she had left a horse waiting. Mounting the animal, she walked off out of the gates of Mirkwood, and into the warm, dark night.

*

Novlomiel had never been to Gondor, and during the uneventful trip she found herself wondering what it was like, and how she would be received. She made a point of pulling her long, dark hair over her ears, and wearing her cloak hood as often as possible, just in case.

It was mid-afternoon when she arrived at the gates of Gondor. Staring upwards, she gazed at the buildings made of stone, and marvelled at how different they were from elven architecture. Everything was hard and solid, cold. Her horse's hooves clopped noisily on the stone ground.

Dismounting, she led her horse to the nearest hotel, and tied him to the bar outside the building. Upon entering, she pulled the cloak tighter around her body, discomforted by the dark and quiet atmosphere.

"Do you have a room?" she asked the man at the main desk. He looked at her appraisingly, his gray eyes moving slowly up and down her form.

Novlomiel frowned when he grunted and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Room 12," he said, "Ten a night." She took several coins from her pocket and tossed them onto the counter. The man's eyebrows raised at the money in front of him. "How long?" he asked.

"I don't know," she responded, mentally counting the coins in front of her, "One week, for now."

The dark man took the coins and sealed them in a box, and handed Novlomiel a key. "Up the stairs, to the left," he said, then turned away and went about his previous business.

Novlomiel licked her lips, gathered her bags, and headed up the stairs. She passed several unfriendly faces on her way up, but kept her head down, avoiding eye cct. ct. She didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention.

The room she had paid for was small and dark, with a creaking wooden floor and a small fireplace. The bed was made up with quilts, and a candle stood on the nightstand. There was a chair at the window, and, after dropping her bags and removing her cloak, she sat down upon it, and watched the activity outside of the hotel.

Her first impression of Gondor was how bare it was. The kingdom of elves was green and treed; this place was dry and brown. She absently rubbed her belly as she thought about Mirkwood, and wondered how her father was reacting to her disappearance. It had been over a week since she left - she was sure Haldir and Legolas had probably also heard. She watched the people outside her window, distracted by her own thoughts and memories. When a small fight broke out on the street, she was relieved to be on the second floor.

Novlomiel spent the entire day in her room, too nervous to venture out. She ate what rations she had left, and started a fire when the evening became cool. After so many nights sleeping on a hard ground, the bed felt soft and warm, and it was barely nightfall when she fell asleep, haunted by her future.

*

Novlomiel woke to the loud noises on the street outside, and vaguely wished she could stay in bed all day and for the rest of eternity. There was nothing she wanted less than to face the world, but her stomach pleadith ith her. She was starving.

She took her time dressing, and adjusted her hair so there would be little chance of her ears being seen, and left the room. The morning was warm and breezy, and the streets were crowded with people. No one took any notice of her as she walked down the lane, searching for a place to eat. It wasn't long before she came upon a small fruit stand, and her body thanked her after a small breakfast of apples and peaches.

Supposing she would have to try to find work, Novlomiel continued down the street. The shops were all dirty and dusty, and she wondered if the entire city of Gondor was so poor. She had heard about generals of Gondor, men proper and proud - this couldn't possibly be what everyone had spoken about.

A small clothing store caught her eye, and she entered it warily. A soft scent of smoke was noticeable as she walked past the many rows of dresses and suits, all visibly worn. Approaching the desk, she spoke hesitantly. "Excuse me," she said, "But would you happen to be hiring?"

The woman turned and surveyed the girl before her. "No," replied the older woman, and she immediately turned back to her papers.

Novlomiel frowned. Not only were they dirty, but they were rude, too. Turning and leaving the store, she started to think maybe coming here was a really huge mistake.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see several men walking towards her, and accidentally bumped them on their way past. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, looking up at them, "Are you alright?"

The three men, at first looking displeased, soon had expressions of interest. "I'm fine, darling," said the one, a tall, blonde man, "How about you?"

She took immediate notice when his hand touched her arm, and remained there. "I'm, uh, I'm fine," she replied, stepping back a pace so the man's hand fell from her. She turned to leave, but another hand touched her shoulder, and stilled her movements.

"Where are you going, beautiful?" asked the blonde man, turning her back around, "I think you owe us something for that little accident."

The other men grinned, but Novlomiel became annoyed. "I said I was sorry," she said, "What more do you want?"

The man exchanged glances with his friends, and Novlomiel's heart sank. Her eyes searched around her, but the streets had become suddenly empty. A hand crept over her abdomen, and she became fearful of what these men had planned.

"My buddies and I could use a little fun," he replied, "We haven't seen a fresh girl like you around these parts in a long time."

Novlomiel stiffened when one of the other men approached her and stood uncomfortably close, studying her. "I'm pregnant," she whispered, her hand becoming tighter on her abdomen, "Please don't hurt me."

While they look momentarily surprised, their expressions quickly recovered to ones of intensity. "That's okay, love," said the darker man standing next to her, "There are lots of different ways to fuck."

A shriek of fear coursed through her body, and before she could think she turned and ran. The men quickly caught up with her, though, and when they did they slammed her against a wall and held her tightly. "Listen up, bitch," growled the blonde, "I don't want to have to hurt you or your baby, but I will if you don't co-operate."

Novlomiel's eyes widened in fear, but she wasn't going to take this again. Not without a fight. So she screamed as loud as she could, and continued screaming until a hand fell against her face, slapping her to the ground.

She gasped and looked up at the angry faces. "Do that again and I'll fucking beat you, understand?" said the young man, angry. She couldn't believe this was happening. Not again.

As she felt herself being pulled up by the arm, a soft voice came from behind the group. "Is there a problem here?" came the voice, and Novlomiel's attackers parted. A man walked forward, his face unreadable, but he wore the clothes of royalty.

Novlomiel felt a rush of relief. Surely he would help her. "They're tryio huo hurt me," she said, and the blonde man holding her arm tightened his grip. "Please, you have to help me."

The man looked at her impassively, and the blonde spoke up. "Don't mind her, sir," he said, his voice calm, "The girl and I were just havin' a little argument. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Novlomiel again became frightened. The soldier wasn't showing any signs of caring about what the men did to her, and obviously this treatment of women wasn't an unusual thing. She could feel her face begin to sting where she had been slapped, and wondered what she could possibly have done to be put through this hell.

Her eyes pleaded with the stranger, and he met her gaze for a few moments before smiling at the men around her. "We don't need any trouble here, boys," he said, "Do we understand each other?"

The blonde grinned. "Yes, sir," he replied, "No trouble at all." Novlomiel panicked, and tried to yank arm arm from his grasp. He pulled her back violently, and she whimpered and turned to lean against the wall, preparing to accept her fate.

"Give her to me," said the soldier quickly, and Novlomiel frowned at him. His demeanor had turned agitated, and she looked from him to her attackers, who appeared quite confused.

"Sir?" came the reply, but the stranger didn't explain. He grabbed Novlomiel's arm and pulled her hastily from the blonde's grasp.

"Take off, all of you," he said gruffly, and when the three men looked as though they might not listen, he put his free hand on hilt of his sword. "Now."

He watched them carefully until they disappeared down the street, then abruptly let go of Novlomiel's arm. His grasp had been strong, and she rubbed her skin softly. "Thanks," she said, not quite sure what was going on with this man. He appeared almost angry.

His blue-gray eyes pierced hers, staring at her as though she had done somethinong.ong. He looked around, then back at her, and said something that sent a chill down her spine.

"Cover your ears."

Novlomiel inhaled sharply and ran her hands along her head. Her hair had shifted, probably from when she was hit, and her ears were visible. She quickly covered them over with her dark locks, and then look up at the soldier hesitantly, scared of what he would do.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and he sounded suspicious.

Novlomiel crossed her arms over her breast and licked her lips. "I needed somewhere to go," she said quietly, "I promise you, I am not a spy."

He narrowed his eyes and searched her face, looking for any signs that she could be lying. He seemed to be considering something. "Come with me," he said, and started walking in the opposite direction of her hotel. Novlomiel hesitated, looked back, and then ran to catch up to him.

"Where are we going?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she became irritated. "Look, my things, my horse, they're back at that hotel. If you're taking me somewhere, I want to collect them first."

His stride was long, and she had to hurry to keep up. "Your things will be sent for," he replied, not looking at her. She self-consciously felt for her ears again, and he took notice of that, glancing her way quickly and briefly.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered, worried she might be jailed, or worse. Though she was relieved to be out of the slums of Gondor (their surroundings slowly became more wealthy), she wasn't sure this man was trustworthy.

He only cast her a vaguely annoyed glance, and continued walking. Novlomiel held her tongue and walked alongside him. They eventually came to a large white building, obviously a place of royalty. Gardens lined the walls, and the barrier around the palace was guarded by men. The man with her entered out out problems, though she garnered some curious looks.

Another younger man, standing at the foot of the stairs to the main entrance of the building, approached them when he noticed their presence. "Boromir," he said, addressing the man Novlomiel was with, "I've just gotten word that Aragorn is on his way." He paused, and looked over Novlomiel. "Who is this?"

Boromir scowled. "No one." Novlomiel frowned. "When will Aragorn be arriving?"

The younger man looked her over before turning back to Boromir. "In a day." They started walking up the steps, and Novlomiel followed, feeling a little bit like a nuisance. "He brings news from Rivendell."

Novlomiel stopped abruptly and stared at the two men. Boromir looked at her, his eyes demanding that she remain silent, and turned back to his companion. "Very well. I'm taking her to one of the guest quarters. I will speak to you again later, Faramir." The younger man, Faramir, nodded, looked curiously at the girl once more, then left.

Novlomiel remained quiet until she was sure they were alone. "Rivendell?" she asked, but Boromir made no move to reply to her query. Instead, he walked through the main foyer, up a long flight of stairs, and down a narrow corridor. Novlomiel followed obediently, wondering why she was doing so little to fight this treatment. She didn't even know why he had brought her here.

"You will stay here," he said, opening a door and stepping into a large, white room. It was many times the size of her hotel room, and much more luxurious. While she admired it, it was no comfort for the way she had been treated.

She took a long look around the room, and turned to ask Boromir again why she had been brought here, but was taken aback when she saw the door closing. Running up to it, she jerked on the handle, but he had locked it. "Let me out!" she yelled, slamming her fist on the wood. She sighed, knowing full well he was gone and wasn't coming back anytime soon.

*

TBC