The White City

The White City

Chapter 1
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.


*

Eowyn frowned as she stood staring at a wounded Captain Boromir. He had been brought in by Captain Faramir, his brother, after they had had a run-in with Elves from Lothlorien. An ambush, Faramir had called it. The soldier was not fatally wounded, but an arrow stuck out from his shoulder at an odd angle. The young shieldmaiden crossed her arms and strained her neck, watching the woman working on him with serious eyes.

"Be careful, Narawen," she said tersely, "Don't make him bleed."

The elf nodded softly as she licked her lips and gripped the arrow with one hand. Pulling with all her strength, she managed to release the arrow from the the Captain's body.

"Aaargh!" screamed Boromir, hissing against the pain, "Bitch! Are you trying to kill me?"

Narawen moved back slightly, but the human only chastised the elder Captain. "Settle," said Eowyn gently, "We are trying to heal you."

"I do not like having this elf touching me," he growled as Narawen bit her cheek and moved back to bandage the Captain's wound. "Can't you do this instead?"

Eowyn smiled and cocked her head. "Yes, I can. But Narawen is learning. Give her a chance."

Raising her eyes to his, Narawen looked at Boromir for something akin to kindness. The Captain moved his dark gray eyes over her appraisingly before grunting and looking back up at Eowyn, "Since when are elves allowed to learn anything?"

Narawen bit back the urge to press hard against the Captain's wound. Having lived most of her life in Minas Tirith, she knew better. "Since I asked Aragorn to allow it. Narawen is good at this. She deserves to have something useful to do."

His cloudy eyes came down to her face again, this time with an expression of humour. "I have something useful she could do."

Narawen felt her skin flush at his grin, but did not look up at him. She could see Eowyn shaking her finger at the Captain. "Leave her alone, Boromir. Find your fun elsewhere."

Sighing, the man leaned back and shook his head. "Dear Eowyn, you are too soft-hearted with your servants. They don't deserve such kindness. Has your husband not convinced you of that?"

"Faramir does not have rule over my actions." Eowyn smirked softly as she took over for Narawen, completing the Captain's bandages and patting his arm softly. "Take it easy on that shoulder for a while. No battles for at least a week."

Narawen stepped back as Boromir laughed and stood up. She lowered her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back as she waited for dismissal. "Thank you, Eowyn," he said, bowing his head, "Goodnight." When he passed by Narawen, his eyes surveyed her briefly. He left without speaking.

"You did well. Don't be intimidated by him. He's just loud." Eowyn smiled and touched Narawen on the shoulder. The elf returned the smile, not really meaning it. She couldn't but but be intimidated. She had no other choice. "It's late, you should get some rest. I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, My Lady," replied Narawen. She took a deep breath as she left the building, heading out into the cool evening air. It wasn't far to her rooms, but she walked slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet. Life in Gondor was often untouched by the silence she came to love.

She trudged up the stone steps to her rooms and entered, grateful for the darkness. Her mind kept wandering to the overheard conversation between Faramir and Eowyn. The army had met with a large group of elves, elves who had hurt Captain Boromir. Narawen thought about her short life in Gondor as she changed into her sleeping clothes. She had not met many elves in her life, knowing only those who were servants in Minas Tirith. There were no memories of her time in the realm of her kind, having been taken at such a young age.

She had grown up here, without the hope that the free elves still clung to. Narawen knew that, to men, she was no more than a servant at the best of times, and a prize at the worst.

It had taken her a long time to accept that, after growing up amongst women who were not elves, but were free. As she laid back in her bed and grasped at the covers over her body, she bit her lip in worry. Even after her long years here, she could still be intimidated.

*

"Our attack was pathetic. They may have ran like scared hobbits, but we failed to capture any of them. Our mission was a failure!" The dark-haired elf pursed his lips and paced the to the edge of the cliff overlooking the land of Gondor. "They know we're still here. We must act again quickly."

A blonde elf grunted as he sat back against a rock and crossed his arms. "What is the use, Elrond? We will only get outselves killed."

"This has gone on too long, Haldir. Would you have men overtake us? They use us as slaves and labour, and force their will on ours. Do you want that to be your future?"

Haldir sighed deeply and looked at his nails, frowning as he tried to clean them off. "I would rather a future of rebellion than a future of nothing," he muttered, wiping his hands on his pants.

Another younge elf spoke up. "What if Haldir is right, Elrond? What if we try to capture someone close to the King, but end up becoming prisoners ourselves? What then? Our group is large, but we are all Lorien has left. Without us, they will be defenseless."

"Your father is still in Lorien, Legolas. They will have defenses." Elrond turned to look over the dark land leading to the White City. "We will not fail."

Haldir stood up and shook his head. "I hope you are correct," he replied, eyeing Elrond, "I would very much dislike being a pawn of Gondor."

Legolas spoke before Elrond could reply to the Marchwarden. "Do we leave in the morning?"

"Yes," said Elrond, nodding, "Early. One of the Captains will do security rounds not long after dawn. We will try to capture them again." He looked at Haldir and glared. "I suspect it will be the younger of the Captains, since the Marchwarden made it quite difficult for the elder to be of any use."

Smirking, Haldir bowed his head slightly. "I apologize, of course. My aim was off. I meant to rid the world of him completely."

"There will be none of that tomorrow, Haldir. We need these men alive, otherwise we have nothing with which to bargain."

"And you think things will change if we take the King's closest confidantes?" Haldir appeared skeptical, shaking his head. "I fail to see your logic."

"If the King cares enough, he might be open to talks," interrupted Legolas, "This is not something we should argue about. The future of the world rests with us."

Haldir sighed. "I won't argue with that." Gathering his things, he looked to the elder elf. "I will follow you, Elrond. I only hope you are sure about this endeavor."

Elrond nodded, but Legolas could see the doubt in his dark eyes. It was to be expected. He felt worry for the morning, himself.

*

Narawen was in the House of Healing early the next morning. Truth be told, she was thankful that Eowyn was kind enough to allow her to learn about tending to the injured. Most of her life she had done menial tasks, nothing of any urgency or importance. It had taken some doing, but Eowyn had convinced Aragorn she could be trusted. Narawen was grateful. At least she felt useful.

Eowyn had not arrived yet, but Narawen didn't mind. She busied herself cleaning the building and tending to the plants. It was a pleasant day, quiet. The young blonde woman was always kind to her, but she preferred being alone.

A noise at the door made her turn, and she stood straight when a man entered. "Captain Boromir," she said politely, "Is something wrong?"

He glanced around the room as if looking for something. "Is Eowyn here?" he asked, and looked very annoyed when Narawen shook her head. "Fine. I've come to get my bandage changed."

He took off his jacket and she saw that blood had soaked through the cloth. "Sit down," she said, motioning to a chair. He did so, crossing his arms as she went for more bandages.

Narawen could easily tell that the Captain was unimpressed ha her her tend to him. He was an imposing man, and she had seen him deal with others often enough to know that he could be dangerous when he wanted to be. She worked carefully and quietly, hoping to be done before he got the urge to bother her.

As she cleaned the wound, his eyes moved from the surrounding walls to her face. She noticed immediately, but did not remove her gaze from her work. "Your name is Narawen?" he asked, his voice quiet. She nodded and continued her work. "You know your place. That is good to see."

She didn't know whether he was complimenting her or not, but it didn't matter. Her life may have been spent in Gondor as a servant, but she still had the pride of her kinsmen. Wisdom prevailed, though, and she kept her reply to herself.

"Do you not speak?" he asked when she failed to acknowledge him.

Unrolling clean bandages, she decided she could be silent no longer without being impolite. "I speak."

Boromir watched her as she wrapped the cloth around his clean wound. She tried not to be intimidated by his gaze, but she had too much experience with the men of Minas Tirith to hope he was only curious.

When she tied the bandages shut and stood up, Narawen quickly made to put away the supplies. "You do good work," she heard him say, "For an elf, of course."

Turning back, she bowed her head. "Thank you." There was no other way around it. Terrible things happened to servants who did not show respect.

When Boromir did not immediately leave, she clenched her teeth hard and wished for Eowyn's presence. "I have noticed you," he said, coming towards her slowly. She stood her ground, fully knowledgeable about how to act in a situation like this. Narawen knew what he wanted. It had happened with others before. Fighting back always ended up with broken bones.

Her eyes were fixed upon the white floor. She could see his dark brown boots approach and stop just in front of her. "Look at me," he said. Narawen raised her eyes. "I may be injured, elf, but I can still hurt you if I want to. Take that to heart. Now, lay back on the table."

It had happened too often with other soldiers for Narawen to cry. She had come to accept such things. So, without hesitation, she sat on the table in the centre of the room and lied down upon it, her legs draping over the edge.

Her eyes focused on the decorated ceiling as Boromir's warm hands pushed her dress up her legs. Holding a breath, Narawen tensed as he drew down her underwear then positioned her for easy access. His zipper was loud and his hands hot on her legs as he drew her body forward and then sank himself into her.

He was rough as he jerked her hips so he could fill her completely. Narawen balled her fists and groaned at the intrusive pain. Without meaning to, she curled her legs around his hips, trying to block his movements. It did nothing to stop the pain nor his thrusts.

"Just lie still," he growled as he began moving at a steady, hurried pace. Her legs felt numb where he gripped her skin, tender from his strong hands. Tears began to form in her eyes, more from the burning than the fear. She had experienced this before. Riding it out was all she could do.

Narawen whimpered when Boromir jerked against her, shoving her body up the table. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the apprehension, but it was too much. His breathing echoed in the quiet room, and she could hear herself crying out from the pain.

Soon his movements began to quicken. The hands holding her legs tightened as he forced himself into her again and again. "Good girl," he muttered, closing his eyes and meeting his climax. Boromir thrust into her three more times before letting her legs drop and bracing himself against the table.

Narawen opened her eyes and sat up, knowing it was over. The muscles in her legs screamed in pain. Boromir did up his pants as he watched her go for her underwear and slip them up her legs, then adjust her skirts.

His voice was serious and heavy when he spoke. "Say nothing of this to Eowyn." She looked up and nodded, and then sat back against the table as the Captain left the Hall.

Her body trembled from the assault. No matter how often it happened, she never got used to the violation. Still, though, she prided herself on being strong enough to live through such things. Gathering her supplies, she put them in their proper places, cleaning up before Eowyn arrived.

It was only minutes before the young woman entered the Hall. "Good morning, Narawen," she greeted, looking not quite as cheerful as she usually did. She eyed the materials Narawen had not yet put away. "Was someone here?"

"Captain Boromir came in to have his bandages changed," she said, adding quickly, "Are you alright, Lady?"

She looked puzzled for a second, but soon smiled in understanding. "It's nothing. Faramir has gone to look for the elves. It always troubles me when he goes out."

Narawen nodded. It unnerved her to think of an active war between men and her own kind. "I'm sure he will be fine, my lady."

"Yes," replied Eowyn, distracted. Thinking it would be best to leave her be, Narawen busied herself with tidying up the Hall. Truthfully, she preferred not speaking of war or of Captain Faramir.

Neither had ever treated her well.

*

TBC