The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Ealasaide · 02-03-2005, 01:33 PM

Benia

With Barrold Ferny encouraging her to keep up the pace with the occasional shove from behind, Benia continued walking eastward through the wee hours of the morning toward dawn. Unbeknownst to her captor, however, and concealed within the folds of her cloak, her hands worked steadily at loosening the rope that bound her wrists in front of her. The rope, being of lesser quality, had stretched upon being soaked by the rainwater and now slid freely around her slender wrists. The knots had already begun to give way under her persistent fingertips. It would be only a matter of minutes before she could work her hands free, she thought, as the first hint of daylight touched the eastern sky. Maybe she could find a way to slip away from Ferny as they forded the river, whose powerful waters she could see already, sparkling in the misty distance.

Focusing her attention on reaching the distant river, Benia was surprised when Barrold Ferny suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her off of the path into the shelter of a small grove of trees. "Time to rest a bit, sweet’eart," was all he offered by way of explanation, so she followed him willingly to a small and grassy clearing at the heart of the grove. Her legs and feet ached from the forced march over the mountains. She had hardly eaten or slept since being seized by Naiore in the forest outside of Rivendell and longed for both food and rest, yet she did not trust Ferny. Benia remained standing, her cloak held closely around her shoulders by hands that were now barely bound. She watched as Ferny took off first his pack and then his sword belt, laying them down at the edge of the grove.
Then, as he turned toward her with an oily smile, Benia realized that sleep was not at all what Ferny had had in mind. She fell back a pace as he moved swiftly across the clearing toward her. With one sharp motion, Ferny ripped the cloak from her shoulders and pushed Benia’s back roughly against the trunk of a nearby tree. One of his hands closed around her throat while the other caught her around her waist.

"Now," said Ferny, pinning her against the tree trunk with his full weight. "Let’s see ’ow friendly you are, lovey-dovey..."

Nearly overcome with his stench of body odor and dried blood, Benia tried to twist away from him, clamping her lips shut against the foul kiss that he planted squarely on her mouth. Chuckling at her attempts to fight him, Ferny tightened his grip around her throat, effectively cutting off her air. Benia squeezed her eyes shut and let her instincts take over. Without thinking, she drove her knee upward as hard as she could.

"Ungh!" said Ferny, doubling over in pain as he fell backward from the blow. As he involuntarily released his grip on her throat, Benia seized the few seconds that opportunity had offered and twisted away from her captor. She tore her wrists from what was left of her bindings, gathered her skirts into her arms, and fled. Ferny threw out a hand as she passed in the hope of catching her braid or perhaps a handful of skirt, but missed. A stream of invective followed her as Benia bolted out of the trees and ran like a gazelle back toward the west and the Misty Mountains, her hope being that if anyone from Rivendell had picked up her trail, they would not be too far behind and might be able to help her. Within seconds, she heard the heavy pounding of Barrold Ferny’s feet as he raced to catch up with her.

Still gasping for breath from her near strangulation back in the grove, Benia ran as fast and hard as she could but the days of forced marching with very little food or sleep had taken its toll. She stumbled, and it was all Ferny needed to close the gap between them. Benia struck the ground hard as Ferny caught her in a flying tackle. Before she knew what was happening, he had flipped her over on to her back and planted his full weight upon her chest, his knees pinning her arms to the ground. His left hand closed again around her throat as his right struck her a forceful blow.

Benia grayed out, but even through her foggy consciousness, she could hear him speaking to her.

"Listen to me, you evil wench," spat Ferny. "I am yer lord and master. Naiore gave you to me. I decide what you do, 'ow you act, and, in the end, whether you live or die. If I decide yer gonna be friendly, then yer gonna be friendly. You get that? Now..." he leaned forward, his hot breath brushing her cheeks. "Who’s yer master?"

Swimming vaguely back toward full consciousness, Benia tried to shake her head. "No..." she murmured. Her amber eyes looked desperately past Ferny toward the distant mountains in the west. Was there no one to help her? "Help me..." she gasped, as her gaze struck on what looked to be three small shadows racing toward them across the open grassland.

"No. Wrong," answered Ferny. As Ferny sat back and raised his hand to strike her again, the distant shadows began to take shape in her eyes... a man and two... children? Hobbits? A flash of hope lit in Benia’s heart. Oh, please let them be real!

"Who’s yer master?" asked Ferny, his hand beginning its descent toward her face.

Before his blow could fall, Benia summoned all of her strength and threw herself sideways under Ferny’s weight in the attempt to dislodge him. His fist missed its mark and, although the larger, stronger man ultimately over-powered her again, for a few brief seconds, she succeeded in freeing her throat from his grip. In those few seconds, Benia found her voice.

"HELP ME!" she screamed toward the mysterious figures approaching from the west. help me...

02-03-2005, 01:33 PM	#11
Ealasaide Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: The Fencing Lyst Posts: 810	Benia With Barrold Ferny encouraging her to keep up the pace with the occasional shove from behind, Benia continued walking eastward through the wee hours of the morning toward dawn. Unbeknownst to her captor, however, and concealed within the folds of her cloak, her hands worked steadily at loosening the rope that bound her wrists in front of her. The rope, being of lesser quality, had stretched upon being soaked by the rainwater and now slid freely around her slender wrists. The knots had already begun to give way under her persistent fingertips. It would be only a matter of minutes before she could work her hands free, she thought, as the first hint of daylight touched the eastern sky. Maybe she could find a way to slip away from Ferny as they forded the river, whose powerful waters she could see already, sparkling in the misty distance. Focusing her attention on reaching the distant river, Benia was surprised when Barrold Ferny suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her off of the path into the shelter of a small grove of trees. "Time to rest a bit, sweet’eart," was all he offered by way of explanation, so she followed him willingly to a small and grassy clearing at the heart of the grove. Her legs and feet ached from the forced march over the mountains. She had hardly eaten or slept since being seized by Naiore in the forest outside of Rivendell and longed for both food and rest, yet she did not trust Ferny. Benia remained standing, her cloak held closely around her shoulders by hands that were now barely bound. She watched as Ferny took off first his pack and then his sword belt, laying them down at the edge of the grove. Then, as he turned toward her with an oily smile, Benia realized that sleep was not at all what Ferny had had in mind. She fell back a pace as he moved swiftly across the clearing toward her. With one sharp motion, Ferny ripped the cloak from her shoulders and pushed Benia’s back roughly against the trunk of a nearby tree. One of his hands closed around her throat while the other caught her around her waist. "Now," said Ferny, pinning her against the tree trunk with his full weight. "Let’s see ’ow friendly you are, lovey-dovey..." Nearly overcome with his stench of body odor and dried blood, Benia tried to twist away from him, clamping her lips shut against the foul kiss that he planted squarely on her mouth. Chuckling at her attempts to fight him, Ferny tightened his grip around her throat, effectively cutting off her air. Benia squeezed her eyes shut and let her instincts take over. Without thinking, she drove her knee upward as hard as she could. "Ungh!" said Ferny, doubling over in pain as he fell backward from the blow. As he involuntarily released his grip on her throat, Benia seized the few seconds that opportunity had offered and twisted away from her captor. She tore her wrists from what was left of her bindings, gathered her skirts into her arms, and fled. Ferny threw out a hand as she passed in the hope of catching her braid or perhaps a handful of skirt, but missed. A stream of invective followed her as Benia bolted out of the trees and ran like a gazelle back toward the west and the Misty Mountains, her hope being that if anyone from Rivendell had picked up her trail, they would not be too far behind and might be able to help her. Within seconds, she heard the heavy pounding of Barrold Ferny’s feet as he raced to catch up with her. Still gasping for breath from her near strangulation back in the grove, Benia ran as fast and hard as she could but the days of forced marching with very little food or sleep had taken its toll. She stumbled, and it was all Ferny needed to close the gap between them. Benia struck the ground hard as Ferny caught her in a flying tackle. Before she knew what was happening, he had flipped her over on to her back and planted his full weight upon her chest, his knees pinning her arms to the ground. His left hand closed again around her throat as his right struck her a forceful blow. Benia grayed out, but even through her foggy consciousness, she could hear him speaking to her. "Listen to me, you evil wench," spat Ferny. "I am yer lord and master. Naiore gave you to me. I decide what you do, 'ow you act, and, in the end, whether you live or die. If I decide yer gonna be friendly, then yer gonna be friendly. You get that? Now..." he leaned forward, his hot breath brushing her cheeks. "Who’s yer master?" Swimming vaguely back toward full consciousness, Benia tried to shake her head. "No..." she murmured. Her amber eyes looked desperately past Ferny toward the distant mountains in the west. Was there no one to help her? "Help me..." she gasped, as her gaze struck on what looked to be three small shadows racing toward them across the open grassland. "No. Wrong," answered Ferny. As Ferny sat back and raised his hand to strike her again, the distant shadows began to take shape in her eyes... a man and two... children? Hobbits? A flash of hope lit in Benia’s heart. Oh, please let them be real! "Who’s yer master?" asked Ferny, his hand beginning its descent toward her face. Before his blow could fall, Benia summoned all of her strength and threw herself sideways under Ferny’s weight in the attempt to dislodge him. His fist missed its mark and, although the larger, stronger man ultimately over-powered her again, for a few brief seconds, she succeeded in freeing her throat from his grip. In those few seconds, Benia found her voice. "HELP ME!" she screamed toward the mysterious figures approaching from the west. help me...