Run Rabbit! by Chilled in Hithlum

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Chapter 1

Challenge: The Storyteller

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Run Rabbit!

"The winters grew colder in Dor-lómin after the departure of the noble ones, at least that is what I am told; departure hmm, that is what the Elves called it but even in my boyhood I knew that they meant loss.  I never beheld the glory of my grandsires or indeed your High Kings, but glazed of eye my fosterers told me much and often of the days of old ere the Union against Morgoth.  O Annael, so kind, so pained: I weep for him still!  He above all others was a father to me, and which orphan-child in Arda could ask for more?"

"I lost my father to the sea or so it is believed; you see he did not embark with us at this attempt for he did not return from the first - none have returned, save for myself!  I am sorry Tuor, you were telling me about Dor-lómin..."

"Dor-lómin is hateful to me, Voronwë, and knowing that I have some claim to its lordship only deepens my spite; I only hope that one day my displaced cousin will rise up and take it for his own, though it is true that I would only know of this by rumour alone for I recognize my extended family not at all, nor indeed my parents for that matter.  Nay, my joy remains in Mithrim safe among your kind, safe within the Caves of Androth; it is from there that I escaped my outlawed life, it was from there also that I first fell into bondage..."

The young man paused, looking thoughtfully into a half-opened sack before them on the ground, an unintentional and rueful tut smacked his lips; they had only caught one rabbit today and a skinny one at that, he knew this meagre thing would barely see them through the night without any vegetables to accompany it.  However. things would improve soon for they had just reached the eaves of the first wooded patch on their travels; the Núath, a narrow strip hugging the mountains nigh to the sources of the rivers Nenning, Ginglith and Narog.  And yet, even though Tuor was Elven-skilled he disliked hunting and avoided it whenever possible; but this was not one of those times for he and his companion were sleeping rough for a period as they took the arduous journey from Nevrast to Gondolin with naught but their feet to carry them.  Besides, this journey so far did not offer up much in the way of hunting, not proper hunting where at least a deer has a fair chance of escaping the archer's arrow; no, they were reduced to an act that Tuor hated most of all, trapping!  For howsoever practical the exercise, it seemed a deed so cruel to him that even now at his age he could not hide an expression of childlike pity whenever he beheld a small creature struggling for its life against wire bonds.  

The autumn afternoon gasping its last had soon wheezed into what would surely become a cold evening - winter was coming in early this year; and after a prolonged silence Voronwë began to prepare a makeshift stove, he skinned the rabbit so adroitly that the pelt seemed to fall away effortlessly in his hands as soon as it was retrieved from the bag, the same skill was applied to its preparation.  A chill wind eddied about them as the stewing pot came to the boil and Tuor huddling himself against the cold, crossed both his wrists bringing them close under his chin with a rasping shudder: this ritual seemed strange to Voronwë who said, "You will never warm yourself that way, use your hands to rub your shoulders and get some circulation going!"

"I know, I know; I just...", said Tuor self-consciously, "I cannot stand for my wrists to be cold, it began in my sixteenth year.  Ah, before that time my hands were as hot as my head and I was eager with the axe; eager for revenge against those that hunted us and kept us constrained in our own lands, hidden in caves away from the Sun.  Annael loved the sunshine and rejoiced whenever he was in her presence, he composed songs to brighten our dark hours and spoke of happier times under the naked sky.  However, in latter days he became wan and sad for Morgoth had sent his Orcs into Hithlum and Mithrim to bolster the hated Easterings who had so persecuted our peoples after the Great Defeat.  Still, this development proved unwelcome amongst the Chieftains who struggled to maintain a stranglehold over the land, but this was nothing compared to the suffering endured by the ordinary folk caught up in the middle of their squabbles.  In those days Annael lamented the Fall of the Falas and spoke lovingly of his Grey kindred that were lost; but he also spoke of hope, for news had filtered north of the New Havens in the south by the Mouths of Sirion and ever the more did he wish to join Cirdan's Folk.  It pained me to see my Foster-father so burdened and torn but I must confess to my lasting shame that I fear that my impetuosity forced his hand and we departed ere the time was ripe.  You see he spoke to me of certain things for the first time; of how long ago rumours abounded across the land of my father and his brother and their supposed adventure in Gondolin, and how they forswore any disloyalty to thy King Turgon by confirming neither yea nor nay to the truth we now know.  Turgon!  How that name stirs me, Voronwë, and for what I cannot tell..."

"Did not the Lord of Waters tell you?"   

"He told me much as you already know and the remainder I do not understand, as for aught else I hear that only in my sleep; nay Voronwë, even now the mention of this name drives me on to my doom, whether for good or ill I am a moth caught in the fire's gaze..."

"What then became of Annael?"

"I know not for sure, but I fear that my fostering by him became his doom: for as I have told you he loved me well and I believe that he needlessly forsook the safety of his home for my sake .  He spoke of the secret way built in ages past by your folk, the Annon-in-Gelydh, by which I came to Nevrast; for Annael determined that lest our going be marked we should journey night by night in small parties, in which each group would make its own way south along the coast.  I can only pray that the first eight companies successfully escaped, ours was the last to depart; poor Annael, he would not leave until the greater part of his people were away and despite his protestations I would not be parted from him..."

He paused again to palm away his tears: Voronwë spoke, "I would not see you in distress My Friend, there is no need to continue!"

"There is need!  Understand Voronwë, I have been alone for so long now..."

Here at last in the gloom under the stripped canopy the of the Núath his tears bared out his grief, Voronwë offered a consoling arm but Tuor would be alone; therefore the Elf proceeded erect their night shelter, but soon enough thereafter Tuor lent a hand...

"My apologies!"

"Not at all Tuor, it is important that our loved ones be remembered; if you are willing I would be happy to listen to some more..."

"Alas, the final departure was marked by our enemies which to my mind did not bode well for the preceding group for we had barely descended the hills when we were assailed by both Orcs and Easterings, and in numbers far greater than they required.  The Elves scattered into the mountains that they knew so well and the last I heard of my Foster-father was his voice bidding me, ‘RUN!'  Stubbornly and foolishly I held firm determined to inflict whatever hurt I might; if only I had obeyed then things may have turned out so much for the better.  The vanguard of Orcs gave chase hither and thither; and truly as I relay this to you now, Voronwë, I know not whether they saw me as they flew past my frozen frame, none did I kill nor by any was I assailed.  I do know that I heard many anguished death-cries of my companions, for and even now at times I hear them still and my heart kindles with battle-fire at the memory... how is that rabbit coming along?"

The meal was nowhere near ready but the Elf perceiving Tuor's injury and need for a diversion lifted the lid to check, the overpowering odour of gamey musk flooded Voronwë's senses, "It needs a good hour yet, and some!"  Tuor laughed faintly as his grimacing friend wafted the steam with the lid before closing the pot, and who with mock offence said, "Thanks for that!"  Sensing the momentary easing mood Voronwë then spoke with kind sincerity, "There is every chance that he escaped you know: we Elves are fiendishly difficult to catch on the run, especially with a network of tunnels in which to hide..."

"Not unlike our pungent friend here?"

"If you are hungry I still have some of yesterday's waybread remaining..."

"Hmm, perhaps that might be better used for dumplings!"

"It is a shame we have not Lembas proper, that is a delicacy rare..."   

"Nothing else for it now but to wait, I suppose that I had better continue my tale...

I had recently acquired one my father's axes from Annael, bequeathed in holding to him by my mother; thus now I held it firmly as I stood with planted feet awaiting the onslaught of the Easterings bringing up the rear.  I fought blindly, a wildling in the night; I forgot my teachings and did not count how many foes I slew as Huor's blade found them - a deficiency I would later remedy!  At length I was disarmed and overwhelmed; they cast me facedown on the ground and many rough hands held fast my flailing limbs, I expected death!  Of all the strangest chances in Arda I believe that my life was saved by one the returning Orcs.  He had smelt my flesh and barged his way through baying crowd of Men demanding that I be given up to him for a feast, but they refused claiming me as their catch; the Orc protested that without his spies there would be no catch and fighting soon broke out between my enemies.  The melee however did not provide for me any diversion or means of escape, for as soon as it began the grappling hands bore me up and carried me out of the fray; I struggled and kicked but could not break free of them, in desperation I bit into the closest arm I could find and that was a folly I surely paid for.  They took me to a secluded lodge somewhere north of the Great Lake where I was stripped to the waist, set in manacles and received a sound kicking by my captors, especially from the teeth-marked Man with the bloodied arm.  At length they ceased: I cowered in the corner bereft of my former pride a helpless youngster battered and bruised, and being surrounded by ten towering pillars of hatefulness I was afraid.  Their discourse began...

‘Just kill him,' said one, ‘No lets kick him in some more' offered a second; ‘Run him down with dogs and let him see what it's like to be bitten,' scowled the teeth-marked Man!  

And it was at this moment that I heard for the first time the name that could come to dominate my life for the next three years; ‘We have to let Lorgan know that we have him, he'll decide what to do in the tomorrow!'  

However their cruelty did not end there, for now they had the problem of what to do with me until the morn.  I was forced to stand barefoot on a rickety stool whilst they debated in a circle about me; much had been made of the gibbet hanging outside and the majority there concluded that I would safe inside it overnight leaving them free to toast their success, and so it was done.  I slept infrequently that night for a perishing wind blew throughout causing the rocking suspension chains above me to endlessly grind.  And Praise Eru for Annael, who in his last gift to me had ensured that we had eaten hot and plenty before our doomed embarkation: if not for this I surely would have died of exposure cylindered in that barred and narrow cage!  Compressed, alone and frozen I sat out the night.  The Sun had not fully risen when I was stirred by the sound of metal on metal as the ladder hooks were applied from below, they found me shuddering in a half-naked ball with chained hands clattering under my chin..."

Voronwë looked sadly to the ground tight-lipped...

"My coiled leg muscles almost betrayed me as I was forced down the ladder onto a haywain with naught but a burlap sack across my shoulders, my wrists were still restrained and cold.  The cart stunk almost as bad as that rabbit there but at least the hay provided some warmth; my captors formed a cordon about me as we rode in convoy west through Hithlum to the topmost boundary of Dor-lómin, I cannot say how long this journey took for exhausted I slept most of the way.  We stopped outside a large house of wood and stone that sat atop a ring-fenced grassy hill overlooking the wide lands about it.  I had a rough idea of where I was because in my childhood Annael would take me to the mountain tops and point out various sites about the land of my ancestors; this house he said had been usurped by the Wolf Lord, fief under Morgoth and Chief of the Incomers.  Thus it happened that I was led into Lorgan's hall and left alone I stood a shambles before him; he sat his board an imposing figure dressed in dark finery with stole of brown fur about him, when he arose to inspect me he was smaller than I expected given the size of his henchmen but no less broad, indeed in that moment our eyes met straight but by the time I would leave him I could see strands of straggly black hair clinging to his then balding pate.  He was not altogether ugly apart from his sunken thin and churlish mouth, a feature pronounced by strong cheekbones, big brown eyes and his long nose.  He circled me in silence apart from the odd sporadic grunt of disapproval as he stopped to prod and tug at me; my instincts bade me not to react but I could not help but flinch and call out when he scooped a fistful of hair from the back of my head and yanked it forwards toward him.  

A sideways kick from his heavy boot caught my leg and downed me with a hard thud upon his stone slab floor, another boot found my gut and left me reeling; ‘Get up Strawhead!' said he.  

I shifted myself painfully as Lorgan continued, ‘It's incredible, I can scarcely believe my own eyes; fifteen of my Men I am told died at your hands!  The Dark Lord knows that my Captains are prone to exaggerate but the absence of the slain belies this truth, my congratulations!  Of course the service of so many cannot be written off so lightly without any form of repayment, wouldn't you agree My Boy?  Therefore, Strawhead, you are sentenced to fifteen life terms of servitude; hmm, yes I think that should long enough to break your pride, indeed to be sure I fancy that I'll take on the task myself!'  

He stamped twice against a thick wooden block signifying that he demanded attention; he ordered me taken away and brought back within the hour in a more presentable state.  A rather fat lady took me away to be cleaned, and with no hint of mockery she said ‘He must like you!' as my chains were removed..."

"Huh!" laughed Voronwë incredulously...    

"Lorgan certainly showed no sign of this so-called liking in any future dealings with me; indeed at the beginning he would single me out amongst all his thralls for punishment whenever a task did not meet his exacting standards.  Oftentimes in order to vent his spleen he would go out his way to feign or manufacture fault whether or not any could be found.  He was a drunkard and a braggart who enjoyed ritual games of humiliation for the coarse entertainment of his Men; their particular favourites were called Blind-man's dog and Scraps.  He suffered severe bouts of malady after drinking and I was always called upon clean up after him and endure his uncouth temper.  In his nausea he would sometimes quiz me suspiciously regarding my parents, deeming closely at my ancestral lineage; but I would only tell him the sparing truth that I was an orphan raised by Elves.  

‘Nevertheless,' he would say, ‘a foundling in wartime is usually well placed,' I never claimed to be a foundling nor did I correct him on it.  

For his many faults Lorgan was no fool and he could see that I was coming to my stature, therefore within a year I was sent out to work on his fields.  This for me proved a less evil time since I was away from my master's cruel unpredictability.  The working day was long and strenuous, and the taskmaster harsh; but so it is with slave-drivers, providing that they have your rigour and your silence they will let you be.  At length he charged me the upholding of the kennels, here I developed a strong bond with the hounds and away from prying eyes I now at least had friends.  Naturally, toiling outdoors provided a better comprehension of the place's layout and organisation: Lorgan had amassed great store of grain and levied heavy tribute on its distribution to all the regions about Hithlum, the Governors were then in turn responsible for the upkeep of these regions and each of them vied competitively for their lord's favour.  The most successful among these was one Brodda who had claimed Governorship of South-East Dor-lómin, the region favoured by my Uncle Húrin and his family in days past; his finery and retinue equalled that of Lorgan and his coming was usually marked with great occasion.  Only once did I see him  at close quarters during the earlier days when I still served on Lorgan.  He was a brawny roistering guest bringing out the worst in Lorgan who seemed ever eager to impress and outdo him.  

During this visit I noticed Brodda looking askance at me whenever I came close by with food or drink; at length he asked, ‘Have I seen you elsewhere Boy?'  

‘Nay, My Lord,' said I.  

My answer did not satisfy him, ‘I am sure of it: no?  Hmm, you have a brother then?'  

Lorgan interjected, ‘The whelp claims to be an orphan; we seized him in Mithrim living among Elves, perhaps the Strawhead Lords placed him there?'  

Brodda lit up, ‘Aha, Strawheads yes, you have a sister don't you?'  

I was dumbfounded by the supposition, nobody had ever mentioned such a thing to me before: could it be true?  Lorgan blasted, ‘Answer him Strawhead!'  

‘I have no siblings, Lords; at least none of which that I am aware...'  

Brodda grew bored and shoed me away and turning to face Lorgan I heard him say, ‘She's a pretty little thing too...'  

I had long forgotten this encounter until when some two years later Brodda came in entourage aboard a striking horse drawn wagon; beside him sat a young fair haired maiden, and although I could not discern her features from afar she seemed sad to my eyes.  My guess proved true, for when they departed some hours later she was visibly distressed.  News soon spread that Lorgan was to marry this maid in the summer; however, there was further gossip stating that Brodda had brought the girl hence as punishment for receiving free aid from his wife no less..."

"I wonder why such a kind-hearted lady would marry one so cruel, it is not like this with the Elves..."

"I know not, Voronwë, although it was not uncommon for Easterling Men to marry our kinswomen perforce given that none our fathers returned from the Nirneath..."

"How sad!"      

"Such is the fate of my people!"

Tuor dug out a blanket to cover his back against the deepening chill and a small cup and knife in order to retrieve some sizzling animal fat from the side of the cooking pot: "Now Voronwë, about those dumplings!"

Voronwë indulged his friend with the day-old bread, although by his facial expression alone he thought the whole thing a travesty as Tuor proceeded to roll out dumplings before him on a board.  ‘At least he washed his hands in that nearby spring.' thought the Elf: "I will not permit this with my fresh supply," he said as Tuor applied the fat.

"That poor creature was far too scrawny we shall pop these in at the end to thicken the stew: I say, do you have any of those ground leaves leftover...  ah, never mind!"  

At length Voronwë enquired, "What became of the young lady?"

"The gossip died down and I heard nothing more until when several weeks later whilst on a tree clearing exercise I was accosted by Lorgan's Men and brought before their lord, my hands bound behind me.  I knew better to ask what offence I may have committed as he eyed me contemptuously from across his board; I was transported in mind to our first meeting, nothing had changed apart from myself and Lorgan's hairline - oh, and my father's axe fixed to the wall above his chair, that was new!  Also changed was the fact that we were not left alone, for my arrestors remained and among them was the teeth-marked Man; also I sensed in the air that something was different and that it would not end well for me, at last Lorgan rose to speak, ‘I should have you flogged here and now for what your family's done to me... KNEEL BEFORE YOUR LORD!'

With that a kick to the back of my leg forced me to my knees and as I fell forward Lorgan's boot found my face and thereafter all about me I felt the sting of many others beside, I curled myself up for protection like I had in times before.  Suddenly amid the pounding I realised that I was no longer a boy, Lorgan knew this too otherwise I would not be bound and he would not be accompanied; something snapped within me and like an overly abused dog at bay I bit back.  Somehow I managed to scramble to my feet and without the use of my hands I fought; head, tooth and boot!  I knew that I could not win thus handicapped and outnumbered but I would leave my mark and have my say: ‘It is you, Craven, that should be flogged and those like you that prey on the hungry at the behest of the Dark Lord who has already cheated you.  You speak to me of my family, it is because of your treachery that I have no family; thanks to your evil I am orphaned twice over and for that you have earned my everlasting hatred, and if these words have hastened my death then I welcome it in the knowledge that I am heard by you.  But before you slay me, Slave-master, I would know why you have brought me here today?'

The teeth-marked Man went to draw his sword but Lorgan stayed him: ‘NO!  This is my property and none shall inflict another mark upon him unless it pleases me!  I always knew there was more to you Strawhead, didn't I always say it?  We have come a long way together in such a short time you and I, toil has made you strong; however, I see now that I have been remiss in the application of my promise to break your well hidden pride, thus it is high time that you returned to the fold.  Of course this presents me with a problem in that I cant have a strapping young firebrand such as yourself blazing a trail throughout my halls, therefore first of all we shall have to arrive at a physical solution to remedy this before we move on to the intellectual; so for now, Strawhead, you are confined to the dungeons until we can come up with a plan for your progression.  First things first, I believe you asked me what brings you here today and fair dos you deserve an answer; but know this Strawhead, it was I that took the time and effort to find things out for you... LEAVE US!'

The room took on an unnatural air which I did like at all, I tried to free myself but the binding was devious for the rope on my wrists was connected to my shoulders and across my chest.  Lorgan beckoned me closer but I withdrew; ‘Don't worry, Strawhead, I'm not about to despoil my own hall; come closer, you want answers don't you?  I'm sure that you have heard that I am to marry, the maid is no less than the one Brodda has named as your sister.  Of course as you suspect she isn't, but what you may not know is that she is your cousin, born of your dispossessed uncle in the same year as you; small wonder you have never heard of her given your foundling background...'

‘Why are you so interested in my family?'

‘Tuor, you are of noble descent, an enemy lord's nephew; that makes you quite the prize and one never knows when that will come in useful.  Tell me, what did the Elves report of your Uncle Húrin's fate?'

‘I believe that he died in the war!'

‘Wrong!  He lingers still, a captive in Angband; just imagine what a bargaining chip you would be with the Dark Lord!  Just imagine how useful it would be for me to be married to his daughter!  Alas that bird has flown, for she has escaped with her witch of a mother; have no fear, Strawhead, my hunters will track them down and mayhap then we could have a pleasant little reunion at the wedding.  Until then I have you!'

He proceeded to circle me as was his wont, trailing a fingernail along the rope so that it made a ripping sound; he came about and snorted with arousal in my face, I knew then that I had to escape.  With that Lorgan stamped against his wooden block and his Men returned to the room, to everybody's surprise he said ‘Send him back to work!'    

‘My Lord, but didn't you say he was to be detained in the dungeons?' said one.

‘THERE'S A COMPLETE PATHWAY TO CLEAR THROUGH THAT BLOODY FOREST:  DO YOU WANT TO TAKE HIS PLACE?'

‘No, My Lord!'

‘Then don't question my orders again!  Besides we have plenty of time for all that, eh Strawhead?'

I could not believe my luck, I was to be sent outside and handed an axe to turn against my oppressors; alas it would not be my father's, that item I would never look upon again but still I hope the sight of it galls Lorgan's heart...."

"I am very sorry to interrupt, Tuor, but I believe that it is time to make use of your dumplings... and perhaps a few ground leaves!"   

Tuor smiled at this gesture and made his final preparations for the meal: he resumed...

"There is little more to tell, sufficed to say my plan succeeded.  Lorgan had sent three guards to escort me back to work; again I was in the company of the teeth-marked Man and by his general demeanour I could sense that this fellow still bore a grudge.  We neared the eaves of the small forest where at last my bonds were severed so that I might regain some feeling in arms in order resume work as quickly as possible; indeed my initial removal from the gang had somewhat displeased the taskmaster and it seemed now that my guards were unwilling to incur his further wrath.  I was led at sword-point to the workplace where I was first waylaid but the gang had moved on, although by a happy chance my axe remained embedded in the tree where I left it.  This was it, my one and only chance of escape: with the swords at my back I leapt forward like a deer to retrieve the weapon, ‘NO YOU DON'T!' came the call from behind.  In all haste I snatched the axe and turning about to throw it the blade in mid-swing punctured the right breast of the teeth-marked Man, his sword poised.  I ran!  Amid shocked voices and his agonised screams I heard him shout ‘AFTER HIM' but I was too quick and too far ahead; I soon gathered that my course was leading me straightway toward the work-gang and that I needed to change direction.  My best chance of escape lay to the north-east bringing me nigh to the angle of the Mountains of Mithrim; however this way took me deeper into the forest and I tarried there longer than I would have wished.  Lorgan sent out trackers but I had seen his methods before and this held no fear for me; for you see the hounds were always sent on ahead of the hunters, therefore I awaited my canine friends and after a final farewell they returned home at my command.  Indeed then I understood that kindness towards animals had paid for my freedom, for it was their abrupt change of direction that enabled my escape from a life of thraldom under Lorgan, the Wolf Lord.  Once I reached the mountains of my childhood I knew that I was safe.  But at what price?  I was doomed to years of solitude in the vast emptiness of familiar walls with naught but memories to cling to; indeed my only comfort came in hunting those that would hunt me, those that had overrun my homeland and robbed me of my joy..."

"Eat up!" said Voronwë; a plateful of rabbit stew and dumplings appeared under Tuor's nose, during his final summary he had been totally unaware of his companion's serving-up and indeed wondered if the Elf had been listening at all...

"Fear not Tuor, Son of Huor, you are no longer alone..."        

The kindness and profundity of this simple remark brought home to Tuor what joy could be gained purely by sharing a meal with a friend.